ã€ŠThe Maiden of Moonfane Forgeã€‹


 Chapter 1: Apricot Blossoms, part 1

    Three little boys ran past, laughing and yelling, swinging their wooden swords, bound on some heroic quest in their imaginations. Marigold shielded her eyes from the midday sun with her gnarled hand and watched them go by. The old woman snapped her fingers and elbowed the young woman standing beside her.

    ¡°Ah ha!¡± she laughed. ¡°See how those three hellions looked at us? See that? Bet you a bag o¡¯ coins on the dinner table it¡¯s them this Barrier¡¯s going to be for. Not any village goats or climbing rats.¡± The stooped old woman clasped her hands behind her back and walked out of the courtyard and into the street where the boys had run past. She watched after them until they turned a corner out of sight, then sniggered and walked back to where her companion still stood beneath the shade of a flowering tree. ¡°Mm. See if I¡¯m not right when we do this for real when the fruit begins to ripen.¡±

    Lily smiled. ¡°If you¡¯re right ...¡± the young woman mused, ¡°it changes nothing about the Casting, correct? It¡¯s about who can move through the Barrier, not who can¡¯t, in this case.¡± She looked up into the pleasant green foliage and pink flowers of the apricot tree, gauging its size. It was not a big tree, just the usual kind of small fruit tree commonly found in the courtyards of some houses around Moonfane Forge town. For Lily¡¯s Mage-Matron, Marigold, it wouldn¡¯t be any sort of challenge. Apprentice Lily, however, had never attempted such a Casting. ¡°It will still keep out village goats.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± grunted Marigold. ¡°Animals are a different matter. There¡¯s not a Barrier-Caster yet who¡¯s figured out how to permit any kinds of beasts through a Barrier, so they all get locked out. Or in. And why is that?¡± The old woman lifted her eyes up to fix them on Lily.

    ¡°Because Barrier-Casting is an emotionally resonant magic,¡± Lily recited.

    ¡°And? ... ¡±

    ¡°And we can only discern the minds of other humans closely enough to specify which of them can or can¡¯t get through a Barrier.¡±

    ¡°Good. Just testing,¡± said Marigold. ¡°That was an easy one, though.¡±

    Lily reached up and plucked one of the little pink blooms. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want a goat swallowing any apricot pits anyway. It¡¯s not good for them. But goats you could keep out with a fence.¡±

    ¡°The same can¡¯t be said of apricot-thieving little boys,¡± Marigold agreed with a chuckle. ¡°But, yes, for our purposes, and for this exercise today, it changes nothing about the Casting. We¡¯re not concerned with who this Barrier will keep out; you¡¯re going to cast it so it permits only a specific person through. Everyone else will be held out by default.¡±

    Lily twirled the little flower between her finger tips and looked down at her mentor. ¡°So it will be the family who lives here, parents and daughter, permitted through. And they want their neighbors to be able to pick apricots, as well, so ... five people total that the Barrier will need to allow through to the tree?¡± She let the blossom fall to the ground and took a breath.

    Marigold placed a hand on her own lower back and grunted as she pushed on it and stretched. ¡°Mhm. Five total. But that will be when we do this for real, later. Not today. Don¡¯t look so apprehensive, girl.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± Lily said. ¡°I was only ... preparing myself.¡± She pushed an escaped lock of her wavy brown hair out of her eyes. ¡°If not that, then what are we doing today?¡±

    Marigold cleared her throat and began slowly walking around the tree. ¡°You¡¯ve cast basic Barriers of about this size before, some even with a curve to them.¡±

    ¡°Mhm,¡± agreed Lily. Without a thought, she took up behind her Mage-Matron, also circling the tree while the old women talked. Lily loved Marigold. The old mage was not only her teacher in this unique magic that boasted so few practitioners, but had in a short time become something of a surrogate grandmother to her, as well. They were the best of friends, despite the great age gap, and had been nigh on inseparable since Lily had entered into a mage-apprenticeship under the master Barrier-Caster some five years earlier at the age of fourteen.

    ¡°You¡¯ve also started casting smaller Barriers, imbued to either permit one person through or keep them out. You¡¯ve been getting that down.¡± Marigold paused in her lap of the tree and looked up at Lily. ¡°Which of those was hardest for you, by the way? Larger, curved Barriers or ones imbued with specific parameters?¡±

    Lily answered immediately, ¡°Curved Barriers. They still come out kind of wavy and brittle, don¡¯t they? I believe I¡¯m overthinking those.¡±

    Marigold chewed the side of her cheek in thought. The old mage was short and brown-skinned and wrinkled as a walnut tree stump, an almost comical contrast to Lily, who was fair-skinned and lithe, and tall as many of the men in her town. Marigold shook her head.

    ¡°Over-physicalling, I¡¯d say. You know what I mean. We¡¯ll speak on that more later. At any rate ...¡± She resumed her slow walk. ¡°Today, you combine the two. You will cast a Barrier over this entire tree¡ªa dome shape, like¡ªand imbue it with a Permission for me and me alone. It doesn¡¯t have to be cast to last long, an hour at most. Just long enough for us to test how well you did.¡±

    ¡°That big, and curved, and with an Imbuement,¡± breathed Lily. ¡°I¡¯m going to be in Caster¡¯s Slumber for ...¡±

    Marigold nodded her head. ¡°Yes, yes, perhaps up to a week. Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ve prepared for this. Learning to combine these attributes in a Barrier is essential for you taking over my position one day. Remember, this is only practice, a good occasion to find out how a Barrier-Casting of this magnitude affects you at this juncture.¡± The old woman showed her discolored, gapped teeth in a grin and clapped her hands together. ¡°So! Shall we?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t mean ¡®we¡¯, you mean ¡®me¡¯,¡± Lily said through a wry smile.

    Mage-Matron Marigold gestured over her shoulder as she strode away from the tree and sat herself down in a chair in the corner of the courtyard. ¡°Exactly.¡± She pulled her shawl closer around her¡ªlate winter¡¯s lifting cold could still bite through a sunny day and an old woman¡¯s robes.

    After a moment of playing ¡®who will blink first¡¯ with her mentor, and deciding she would get no further guidance from Marigold until she had at least tried the spell once, Lily turned her attention back to the apricot tree. She took a few steps backward so she was out of the range of where she planned the Barrier to reach, then another two steps to her right so the sun would not be in her eyes. She took a breath, brushed her skirts flat, and then reached up to re-tie her thick, wavy hair into a more secure ponytail. Another breath. She raised her hands in front of her.

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    ¡°Enough delaying,¡± creaked Marigold. The old woman made a ¡®get on with it¡¯ gesture with both her arthritic hands. ¡°Cast the spell, girl!¡±

    Lily pulled a face at her teacher and aped the hand gesture. ¡°Shush, I¡¯m concentrating.¡±

    Marigold smiled, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms.

    Lily made an effort at wiping the answering smile from her own face. She squared her shoulders and planted her feet. Again, she raised her hands before her, wrists bent and palms flat. A kind of blank and far-seeing expression came over her face as she began to move her hands in a fluid motion across her own body, encompassing in that motion the tree in front of her. She set her jaw and leaned her entire body into the gesture. Translucent waves of shimmering gold appeared in the air. ...

    ¡°No, no, no, no, stop.¡± Marigold¡¯s voice carried a note of exasperation.

    Lily gasped and dropped her arms to her sides. The shimmering gold hue in the air dissipated.

    ¡°What? What was wrong with that?¡±

    ¡°Too much concentrating.¡± The old woman grunted as she stood up and walked back over to her charge. ¡°Slacken your muscles. This isn¡¯t like milking a yak, girl. Remember, magic ain¡¯t physical, it all comes from your mind. Wizardry is wisdom, not brawn.¡± She poked at Lily¡¯s shoes with the toes of her boots, forcing her to move her stance. ¡°Moving our arms and bodies can be useful as a focus, but you must stop tensing your muscles. We¡¯re not soldiers like your handsome beau in the garrison. Use your mind. That¡¯s where the heavy lifting must come from.¡±

    She returned to her chair, sat down, and said, ¡°Now, cast the Barrier.¡±

    Lily made no attempt at humor this time. She nodded her head and said, ¡°Yes, Mage-Matron.¡±

    With an effort at leaving her body out of the equation, she turned to the tree once more and this time raised her hands only as a conduit for the intentions of her mind, the wellspring from which magic came. She ignored her muscles and gave herself to the vulnerable state of mind. On this attempt, it was as if her arms moved themselves in response to a flowing of her mage¡¯s knowledge. The wave of shimmering gold reappeared in the air, and she guided it into its planned shape over the tree as a rough dome. As she cast the Barrier, Lily thought of one person, her teacher Marigold, and imbued into the Barrier a Permission by which that one person would be allowed through the Barrier, and no one else. She focused in on and directed these combined techniques, shaping and imbuing, until the new Barrier-Casting was completed.

    With the dome of translucent gold set in place and hanging over the entire fruit tree, Lily dropped her arms. Her expression changed from one of blankness to one of scrutiny, lips pursed in assessment of her own work. Suddenly, Marigold was at her shoulder. She patted Lily on the back.

    ¡°Good!¡± and then, ¡°Good,¡± in a quieter tone of voice. The old woman hummed and also scrutinized the Barrier for some moments, while Lily remained silent. Marigold¡¯s keen gray eyes took in the entire tree with its new shimmery Barrier. ¡°We¡¯ll let it bake in for a time and then test it,¡± she said. Lily nodded.

    In a few minutes, the wavering gold color began to disappear in much the same fashion as steam gradually clears from a mirror, at length leaving the Barrier invisible. But the magic remained. Both Mage-Matron and Mage-Apprentice could sense its presence easily. Lily watched as bees that had been on the tree blossoms bumped and bumbled against the inside of the invisible Barrier like it was glass, unable to pass through.

    ¡°Good,¡± Marigold said again, with the inflection of a master artist viewing her student¡¯s newest painting. ¡°And how do you feel?¡± she asked of Lily.

    ¡°Not ... not tired, Mage-Matron,¡± Lily reflected. ¡°More like my body wants to float up off the ground.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± said Marigold. ¡°As I thought, about a week for your Slumbering, then. Now, let¡¯s test the Imbuing.¡± The elderly mage stepped up close to where they could both sense the Barrier began. She paused, then stepped right through it as if it were air and plucked one of the little pink flowers from the tree. Grinning openly now, she returned to Lily¡¯s side and handed the young woman the bloom. ¡°Now, your turn.¡±

    Dropping the flower into a pocket in her kirtle, Lily stepped up to the invisible Barrier and tentatively put her hand out. Her palm met with resistance, just as if she were pushing on a thick pane of glass. Only, unlike glass, a well-cast Barrier would not give or shatter from any force less than magical. It was more like steel that one could clearly see through. Lily pushed hard with both hands, walked around the tree and tried the same thing in different places. She even gave the bottom edge of the Barrier a few kicks where it met the ground. She could not pass through.

    Grinning herself now, she turned to her teacher.

    Marigold cackled and gave her customary nod of approval. ¡°A worthy Casting, Lily. The shape is still a little wavy, but such a solid Imbuing on a Barrier of this size and shape? That¡¯s a passing grade, girl. Handsomely done.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mage-Matron. The Imbuing still felt easier than Casting such a difficult shape.¡±

    ¡°Good, that¡¯s good,¡± Marigold said with an almost preoccupied air. ¡°More commonly, it¡¯s the other way around. Many mages find the emphatic connection required for this kind of magic the most difficult. When that is the case, it is a struggle for them to learn to imbue their Barriers with any sort of Permissions. But you seem to take to it. I think that comes from being the kind of person people like.¡± She showed her teeth in a smile. ¡°That¡¯s not a trait all mages have¡ªeven some very talented ones. It¡¯ll always serve you well.¡±

    Lily let herself take pride in the compliment, and made to reply, when of a sudden she swayed on her feet and would have toppled over if not for her reaching for Marigold¡¯s shoulder to steady herself. The old woman almost crumpled under the unexpected weight. With a grunt she kept her feet and helped support the taller Lily.

    ¡°My poor back, girl. Warn an old woman next time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ... I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°No, no, don¡¯t be.¡± Marigold moved her arm around Lily¡¯s waist to more effectively prop her up until the spell passed and she could steady herself on her feet again. ¡°You will be falling into Caster¡¯s Slumber soon. We should be getting you home and into your bed now.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I ... yes, that would be best,¡± agreed Lily in a tired little murmur. It never came on like true sleepiness. It was strange and overpowering, the magical exhaustion that followed any Casting. Even the most skilled masters of Barrier-Casting could only fend off the magical Slumber for a short time before they must succumb. The more expansive and complicated the spell, the longer the Slumber that must follow. It was the cost for what they were able to do.

    ¡°You let your parents out at the dairy know you¡¯d be Slumbering for a few days?¡±

    ¡°Mhm,¡± answered Lily softly. ¡°And left Fae there with them for the week.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Marigold got a glint in her eye and asked, ¡°And you told that handsome young soldier of yours, as well?¡±

    ¡°W-why would I tell him?¡±

    ¡°Oh, Lily ...¡± Marigold clucked her tongue. ¡°Lily, Lily. You poor girl. I¡¯ll let him know next time I have business over by the barracks. So he knows not to worry after you when you don¡¯t stop by every other day with some new excuse to visit and bat those hazel eyes at him.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not ... I¡¯m not ... he¡¯s¡ª¡±

    Marigold cackled. ¡°Of course, of course, dear. Very convincing. Pay no mind, I¡¯ll let him know tomorrow. Let¡¯s get you home now.¡±

    The two women leaned on one another for support as they headed out of the little courtyard. Before they turned onto the street to make their way home and get Lily into bed to fall into the magical Slumber quickly closing in on her, Marigold waved her free hand in an easy and practiced motion across the apricot tree as they passed it. Both mages sensed the invisible Barrier being dispelled and instantly disappearing, as if it were never there. Lily knew such a Dispelling would cost a master mage like Marigold only a negligible nap once they were home.

    Behind them, the no longer entrapped bees rose from the apricot tree and buzzed along their merry ways.

 Chapter 1: Apricot Blossoms, part 2

    Above Moonfane Forge¡¯s South Gate, Vetch leaned out over the timber parapet and watched a lone figure making his way up the dirt road toward the town. Vetch yawned. He had drawn the early gate duty the previous night and been up since well before dawn. Now it was hardly an hour past noon and he was already thinking of his bunk back in the barracks. As undesirable as an early gate watch assignment typically was, Vetch had been anticipating that this day¡¯s shift might at least prove a little more interesting than the usual boredom. A new recruit from the King¡¯s Capital City was expected to arrive any day now, the first new blood from outside town to be assigned to their garrison in years, and Vetch figured he had a passable chance at being the first one to spot him or her if they arrived that morning. Outside travelers to Moonfane Forge were typically advised to arrive early in the day, due the unique properties of the magical Barrier, cast by their resident mage Marigold, that surrounded the entire town proper. But no new recruit had shown up on the road that morning, and even the dwindling chance that they could still arrive on this day¡ªand Vetch be the first one to alert his captain of their arrival¡ªwas proving less and less interesting by the hour to him than dinner and his soft bed were.

    He kept his eyes on the lone man nearing hailing distance out on the road. Behind Vetch, the ladder up to the little perch above the gate creaked and another one of Moonfane Forge¡¯s soldiers, Neschi, joined him. She leaned her elbows on the parapet next to Vetch in that same ¡®bored soldier¡¯ way Vetch was doing.

    ¡°That the new recruit?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Can¡¯t be,¡± said Vetch. ¡°Doesn¡¯t even have a horse.¡±

    ¡°Too bad. Cap¡¯n Tarese is about as excited as she gets at the prospect of someone from the capital arriving. Might bring news from her family back there. At the least, whatever scuttlebutt is happening these days in the King¡¯s City.¡±

    Vetch lost the battle against another yawn, nodded his head once. ¡°It¡¯s a long journey from there. By the time this recruit gets here, it¡¯ll all be old news.¡±

    ¡°New to us.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you that.¡±

    Below them, another one of their rank stepped out from the shade of the gate¡¯s open arch and onto the road. The older soldier rested a hand on the pommel of his sword, hawked a few times, then spat into the dirt.

    ¡°What do we ¡®ave here?¡± said Ennric. The question was pitched for Vetch to hear.

    ¡°Looks like some ragged traveler or passerby,¡± Vetch answered. Old Enrric was blind in one eye and even the good one was going cloudy on the man, Vetch knew. ¡°No hawker¡¯s cart or nothin¡¯. Beggar maybe.¡±

    Ennric made a scoffing sound and walked farther out into the sun, hand still resting on his sword. With his other hand, the veteran soldier waved at the approaching man. The man lifted his hand in reply and came on until he stood a couple paces away. Up on the perch, the two younger soldiers watched with indifference. The man on the road was a grubby looking youth¡ªscrawny, unkempt short black hair, and the kind of sharp, lanky features Vetch associated with the people who came from the other side of the mountains that loomed close over town. The man¡¯s clothes were more akin to those favored in the lowlands to the southeast, however. Hardly the kinds of garments that would keep a man warm this high up near the mountains.

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    ¡°Business in Moonfane Forge?¡± gruffed Ennric.

    ¡°Yessir,¡± the man said and bobbed a nod. ¡°Er, not here. Passing through, sir, on my way home over the mountains. Plan to rest here a few days first.¡±

    Ennric turned his good eye up to Vetch. Vetch still didn¡¯t quite understand why many of the other soldiers, even the older and more experienced ones, frequently looked to him when their captain was otherwise unavailable to consult. Vetch was twenty-one and only a few years in the garrison, not even of a rank above most of the other soldiers, yet they did it all the same. He didn¡¯t understand it, but he¡¯d become accustomed to the responsibility of command, albeit unofficially. He raised his brows at Ennric, then nodded wordlessly at the stranger¡¯s belt. Ennric took his meaning. Both of them.

    ¡°The knife I¡¯ll take,¡± Ennric informed the man. ¡°When you¡¯re prepared to move on, you can collect it at our barracks.¡± The man bobbed another nod and handed the knife over. It didn¡¯t look to Vetch like it was capable of cutting anything anyway. As this was happening, he turned and climbed down the ladder to join Ennric on the road to stand between the man and the entrance to town. Ennric wasn¡¯t yet done with the man. ¡°You got coin?¡± he asked and indicated the pouch on the man¡¯s belt.

    The stranger made a dissatisfied face and looked from Ennric to Vetch and back. ¡°This isn¡¯t one of those towns that shakes a man down before letting him come in for an ale and a bed, is it?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s not,¡± Vetch answered for Ennric. He met the man¡¯s eyes and crossed his arms. ¡°Just making sure that that ale and bed will be paid for. This is a small town, but as you see, a well-guarded one.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I got coin,¡± said the man, and tapped the pouch to make it jingle. ¡°Can I enter the town now? Had my fill of nights sleeping beside the road.¡±

    Ennric looked at Vetch. Vetch made a head motion that gave the call back to the old veteran. Ennric cleared his throat and launched into his usual spiel.

    ¡°You might have heard Moonfane Forge is a town with a magical Barrier. If you don¡¯t live here, you won¡¯t be able to pass through it unless it¡¯s daytime. When you leave, make your plans accordingly. The taverns and inns are straight up this road. You¡¯ll see ¡®em. Don¡¯t make trouble here, stay out of the Silversmith¡¯s District, and for spirits¡¯ sake, man, get yourself some warmer clothes if you¡¯re crossing the mountains. You¡¯ll find a lot of good yak¡¯s hair clothing here for less coin than anywhere else in the kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Yessir. I¡¯ve heard that, sir. My-my thanks.¡±

    The old swordsman nodded his head and stepped aside, and the man passed under the gate arch with only a slight hesitation at this supposed magical Barrier.

    Ennric thrust the traveler¡¯s knife into his own belt for safekeeping. ¡°I suspect that¡¯ll be the extent of our excitement for the day. Shift¡¯s about over. Looks like no new recruit on our watch.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± their companion said from the perch above them and pointed. ¡°Is that him?¡±

    The two soldiers on the ground gazed out to where she was looking down the road. Vetch shaded his eyes.

    ¡°On horseback, sword on his back ... and those are the royal garrison¡¯s colors, aren¡¯t they? That¡¯s gotta be our man!¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± laughed Ennric. ¡°Boy, more like. But not for long, eh?¡±

    ¡°Neschi,¡± Vetch called up to the perch. ¡°Wanna go inform the captain?¡±

    ¡°Letting me take the credit, Vetch? Really?¡± she taunted, but was already halfway down the ladder. Her boots hit the ground running. ¡°Don¡¯t pull the horse trick before I¡¯m back!¡± she called.

    Ennric chuckled. ¡°Hurry up, then!¡±

    Vetch grinned and gave his companion a couple shoulder taps with the back of his hand. ¡°Well, then, let¡¯s go greet our new recruit.¡±

 Chapter 1: Apricot Blossoms, part 3

    Ennric had been spot on; the new recruit really was more boy than man. Easily no older than sixteen. Compared to this smooth-faced youth¡ªwith his keen light eyes and his blonde hair cut in some short King¡¯s City style¡ªVetch felt even he must look like a weathered and jaded veteran. But the young recruit seemed to know his stuff. Road-weary as he appeared, he had dismounted sharply, made a proper salute, and was now already engaged in a spirited conversation with Ennric. The recruit must even have stopped to wash and don his King¡¯s City colors¡ªwhite with thin stripes of green, silver, gold, and black¡ªbefore his arrival, so he would present properly upon reporting to his new garrison. That would have been no small effort for such a negligible detail after a long, wearying journey from the capital. It gave Vetch a good impression of the youth right away.

    The three soldiers stood out in the road outside the South Gate speaking as soldiers speak, getting to know one another in the short time they had before their captain arrived and made them do things officially.

    ¡°Yes, you know how it is, then,¡± the boy was saying. ¡°I¡¯m the youngest son out of three. So, of course, my oldest brother will get the title and holdings, middle brother will take over the farms, and me ... well, practically soon as I could stand upright, I was dropped on the doorstep of the King¡¯s garrison and a sword put in my hand.¡±

    ¡°Youngest son¡¯s the soldier,¡± quoted Ennric with a broad grin.

    ¡°I like it, though. I like the soldier¡¯s life,¡± the recruit said. ¡°I asked to be assigned here. Moonfane Forge, home of The Maiden of Moonfane Forge. A town with a mage. Is it true she can cast the magic so a man could walk through the Barrier, but it wouldn¡¯t allow any of his weapons to pass through with him?¡± The recruit had been stealing glances around him during the conversation, particularly at the open gate arch. ¡°I¡¯d heard the Barrier appears like a glowing gold wall that hangs in the air. Is it down right now?¡±

    Vetch made to talk, but Ennric cut him off. ¡°Could be. Dunno much about the ways of mages. Ask Vetch. He¡¯s courting her apprentice.¡± The older soldier scratched his gray-whiskered cheek to disguise his meddlesome grin.

    The recruit turned a surprised gaze upon Vetch.

    ¡°We¡¯re not courting,¡± said Vetch.

    ¡°Then you¡¯re as stupid as she is comely,¡± returned Ennric, plainly enjoying trying to embarrass Vetch in front of this new recruit. ¡°You kids don¡¯t even know what courting is. Think it¡¯s like gifts of perfumed handkerchiefs and kissing maiden¡¯s hands and all that stupid shit. No, Vetch, those silly eyes you two make at each other when she stops by, that¡¯s courting.¡±

    ¡°Would you shut up, old man?¡± Vetch turned his eyes skyward, then glanced back at the town gate in the hope their captain would arrive on the scene soon to save them all from this idiocy.

    ¡°Though, what she sees in this oaf, I¡¯ll never understand,¡± Ennric went on. ¡°Look at him, sun-ruddied as a shepherd and hair as coarse as a yak¡¯s.¡± He reached to muss Vetch¡¯s lightly curled, auburn hair. Vetch shoved the old soldier¡¯s hand away as the new recruit tried to decide whether he should laugh or not.

    ¡°At least I¡¯m not gray as a gaffer and built like an old rain barrel that needs replacing,¡± growled Vetch.

    Ennric guffawed. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ right, always give it right back.¡± He pointed a stubby finger at the new recruit. ¡°Take that lesson, boy, you¡¯ll fit right in here in no time.¡±

    Mercifully, it was then that the captain of Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison arrived, striding confidently through the gate arch with Neschi in her wake. Vetch dropped his voice for the new recruit¡¯s benefit.

    ¡°Captain Tarese.¡±

    The boy nodded and came to a smart salute, as did Ennric and Vetch.

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    Captain Tarese of the Moonfane Forge garrison was the kind of woman who commanded respect from any and all within her presence. Fair and pale and in her thirties, her steely green eyes and short-cut blonde hair marked her as having a similar King¡¯s City pedigree as the new recruit she now faced down. While not the tallest woman, she had the build and body language of a true lifelong swordswoman, all soldier¡¯s swagger and steeled muscle. It tended to leave an impression.

    She looked the boy up and down, then placed her hands on her hips, and smiled.

    ¡°Look at this one,¡± she chuckled. ¡°It would have been ... oh, over ten years now, when I was the one standing right where you are, decked out in my King¡¯s City stripes, nervously holding my horse¡¯s reins.¡± She kept the appraising smile on her face as she held out her hand. ¡°I¡¯m Captain Tarese, your commander here at Moonfane Forge.¡±

    The boy stepped smartly up to shake her hand. ¡°Wenzl, Captain. Reporting for permanent reassignment from the King¡¯s Capital City royal garrison to the garrison at Moonfane Forge.¡±

    ¡°You have your paperwork?¡±

    Wenzl made a short nod. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am!¡± The boy turned and went into his horse¡¯s saddlebag to draw out the packet of papers, which he handed over to Captain Tarese.

    She perused them momentarily, nodding a couple times. ¡°Ah. Captain Tyne. I knew him.¡± Satisfied, she looked up and slapped the papers in the palm of her hand a couple times. ¡°These look good, recruit. Some shining recommendations in here. How old are you, Wenzl?¡±

    ¡°Seventeen, ma¡¯am. I know I¡¯m small for my age, but I¡¯m a good swordsman. All my instructors said so.¡±

    ¡°And you requested this assignment? It wasn¡¯t a punishment?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°I did, too,¡± said Tarese. ¡°Moonfane Forge is a good place to make a life. But you still have to earn it. It may look quiet out here, well away from the capital, but we¡¯re still king¡¯s soldiers and we have a lot of lives and livelihoods to protect here. We do not slack in this garrison. You get lazy, or you don¡¯t measure up, I send you right back to the comfy capital. Clear?¡±

    ¡°Clear, Captain!¡±

    The boy actually grinned. Vetch was suddenly reminded of his own first days in the garrison, and all the years of his boyhood watching the soldiers in their sharp black and silver uniforms, how much he wanted to prove himself in their ranks.

    Captain Tarese shoved the papers into her belt. ¡°Alright. Vetch, Ennric, your shift¡¯s about over, eh? Take Wenzl, show him around. Explain how things work here and find him a bunk. Wenzl, take your ease the rest of today. Stable your horse, get some food in you, and settle in. Uniform and assignment tomorrow. Until then ... welcome. It¡¯s good to have some new blood from the King¡¯s Capital here. You¡¯ll have to fill me in on all the news from home later.¡± She turned her eyes upon the rest of the soldiers standing around and raised her brows. ¡°As you were, soldiers.¡±

    The three soldiers and the new recruit saluted as the captain turned and strode off back through the gate.

    Vetch, Ennric, and Neschi looked to one another. Neschi grinned.

    ¡°This way, Wenzl,¡± she said. ¡°This is the South Gate, the main gate into town. She turned and walked through.

    Wenzl nodded, clicked his tongue and followed, leading his horse by its reins. Vetch crossed his arms. Ennric suppressed a chuckle.

    The young recruit walked through the gate as one would through any open gate. But as the horse followed placidly on its reins, before it reached the open gate, suddenly its nose bumped into the invisible Barrier, just as if it had walked into a solid wall. The horse whinnied in surprise, pulled its head against its reins, and sidestepped back into the road. Wenzl stumbled and was yanked off his feet into the dirt.

    Neschi doubled over laughing. Ennric and Vetch both chuckled. For his part, Wenzl didn¡¯t look so much embarrassed at being the butt of the joke as amazed. The boy stood up, wide-eyed, and stared at where he now knew the magical Barrier was.

    ¡°Animals can¡¯t pass through it, boy,¡± said Ennric. ¡°And it¡¯s only gold colored for a while after it¡¯s first cast. It¡¯s invisible after that. And it¡¯s never down.¡±

    Up the road a ways into town, Captain Tarese turned on her heel and looked back at the scene. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Do you three have that out of your systems now?¡± she called back, and without waiting for an answer, continued. ¡°Good. Neschi, you can take the boy¡¯s horse around the outside of town to the stables, unsaddle it, feed and water it, and brush it down. Vetch? Ennric? What I ordered before.¡±

    Chastened, but still smiling, the three saluted again to see their captain off. Neschi accepted her punishment with grace and, after Wenzl had collected his saddlebags, took the horse from the boy to lead it around the outside of the town to the stables.

    Vetch brushed some of the dust off the back of the new recruit¡¯s surcoat and then clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. ¡°That was it, Wenzl, we promise. Come on, we¡¯ll drop your things off in the barracks and then take you around Moonfane Forge. I think we¡¯re all hungry and thirsty, so we¡¯ll start at the alehouse.¡±

 Chapter 1: Apricot Blossoms, part 4

    Moonfane Forge began life as a tent settlement for the silver miners working the mines of Mt. Moonfane, the steep, stony mountain which rose above the town to its north. The mountain¡¯s foothills held an abundance of the ore, and so Moonfane Forge had thrived and grown beneath the mountain slopes around its silversmithing trade, eventually becoming a small but prosperous town, and attracting new peoples of many different trades. Aside from silver, the other thing the mountains had in abundance was yaks, hearty mountain beasts that could be caught and tamed and kept for their hair and milk and meat. Over time, the textiles and cheeses produced by these great creatures became renowned the kingdom over, regarded as vastly superior to those produced by the cattle of the kingdom¡¯s lowland regions, and commanding prices to match. Eventually, the yak textile and dairy trades had surpassed the profitability of even the still-flourishing silversmithing trade. Outside of Moonfane Forge¡¯s town limits, and its magical Barrier, were many fenced pastures and farms and dairies long dedicated to the keeping of these unique Moonfane yaks. The beasts themselves were even more prized than their products, and they were only rarely sold, but when they were, the purchase of even a single one of them could cost a small fortune.

    Vetch, Ennric, and new recruit Wenzl stood on the old worn cobblestones of a narrow and sloping road that led up into the hilly northwestern section of town, where older houses and buildings of stone and rough timber perched on graded little roads and cross-streets. They had eaten and drunk well in one of the alehouses near the barracks and then come to this place, the oldest district in Moonfane Forge, which looked down over the rest of town.

    ¡°This is the Silversmith¡¯s District,¡± explained Vetch. ¡°Not much of interest to be found in this area unless you¡¯re working silver or buying it.¡±

    ¡°Or wanting to steal it,¡± added Ennric.

    Vetch crossed his arms and nodded. ¡°Which is why travelers who are only passing through town don¡¯t need to be in this district. For the most part, the town guardsmen¡ªsee one of them there, in the jerkins with brown and yellow trim¡ªthey see to that. We don¡¯t get footpads sneaking in at night because of the Barrier. But just know the silversmiths don¡¯t like anyone skulking around here who doesn¡¯t have legitimate business here.¡±

    Wenzl nodded thoughtfully. The boy had shed his King¡¯s City surcoat in favor of the plain riding clothes he¡¯d brought on his journey. He looked even more a boy without it, Vetch thought. He hoped the youth was as good a swordsman as he claimed, to make up for what he lacked in muscle.

    ¡°That includes us, most of the time,¡± said Ennric. ¡°The town guards take care of things around here, but if they ever did call for some more muscle in the Silversmith¡¯s District, well, this is where you¡¯d run to.¡±

    Vetch began walking back down the cobbled way to rejoin the newer street they¡¯d arrived by. Ennric and Wenzl followed.

    ¡°See over on that hill, there¡¯s more Trades District¡ªtextiles, dyers, and the like,¡± Vetch said, pointing. ¡°In the center part of town down there is where most people live. The markets are down there, too. And you saw the inns and taverns closer to the South Gate by our barracks. The two other gates are the East and West¡ª¡±

    Ennric clapped Vetch on his shoulders. ¡°You pups continue on without me. It¡¯s getting dark. I¡¯m going home.¡±

    ¡°Tour¡¯s not over yet, old man.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen my home town before. And I¡¯ve got a wife waiting at home. Wenzl?¡± Ennric punched the youth on the shoulder. ¡°A pleasure, kid. We¡¯ll test those sword skills with some practice sparring soon, huh?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir!¡± said Wenzl.

    ¡°Good lad. ¡®Night, Vetch.¡±

    ¡°¡®Night, old man.¡±

    Ennric strolled off, but stopped after a few paces and turned back.

    ¡°Before I go.¡± He slipped the dull knife from his belt and held it out to Wenzl. ¡°First assignment, boy. Take this knife back to the weapons locker in the barracks for me.¡±

    ¡°Yessir,¡± said Wenzl, and slipped the knife into his own belt. Ennric, with a wink of his blind eye, took his leave then.

    Vetch rested his hands with one on his sword pommel, the other on his waist, and observed the darkening air around them. The night was cold and clear, with a breeze coming off the mountain slopes to tousle his hair. He returned his attention to Wenzl to find the wide-eyed boy scanning the town¡¯s rooftops.

    ¡°You¡¯ll learn your way around before you know it,¡± Vetch told him. ¡°¡®S¡¯not a big town.¡± The young soldier nodded in a distracted fashion, so Vetch went on, ¡°We¡¯ll show you where the stables are outside town in the morning, so you can look in on your horse. Would do it now, but you won¡¯t be able to get through the Barrier now the sun¡¯s setting. Consider it a probationary curfew until Marigold casts the next one. Then, you¡¯ll be included as a resident and will be able to walk through at any time. That¡¯ll be ... oh I¡¯d say another couple months.¡± Vetch chuckled. ¡°So don¡¯t get caught outside town after sunset until then. You¡¯ll find yourself sleeping out in the pastures.¡± The youth again didn¡¯t answer, prompting Vetch to quiz him the same way Ennric would always do to Vetch back when he was brand new to the garrison. ¡°You get it all, then? How things work around here? What our job is? Explain it to me. Repeat back what Ennric taught you in the alehouse.¡±

    Wenzl finally looked at him. If Vetch was expecting to catch the new recruit off his guard, he was pleased to find that wasn¡¯t the case. Wenzl spoke promptly.

    ¡°Most town garrisons are there to fend off raids,¡± he began. ¡°But since Moonfane Forge has the magical Barrier, raids on the town are nearly impossible. The town¡¯s mage, Marigold, protects the place from outside attacks with that magic. But then ...¡± The young man looked a bit confused at this point. ¡°All of us soldiers are here to protect her. Why?¡±

    ¡°You heard of Caster¡¯s Slumber?¡± Vetch asked. Wenzl shook his head. Vetch made a motion with his hand to start them strolling toward the town¡¯s center once more. ¡°Mages like Marigold pay a price for their magic. After every spell they cast, they fall into a kind of magical sleep they call Caster¡¯s Slumber. It looks like sleep, but it¡¯s not really. It¡¯s some magical state. Bigger the spell, longer the Slumber. They can¡¯t be woken up from it, and they¡¯re completely vulnerable until it wears off. Now,¡± Vetch explained as they threaded their way between houses and through an empty courtyard with a washing fountain where Vetch paused to splash his face before continuing on. ¡°Imagine how many kingdoms would not scruple to do anything to capture and keep a mage of Marigold¡¯s caliber¡ªa mage who can cast a Barrier around an entire town. Wars have been fought over such mages.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t just make a mage do what they don¡¯t want, though,¡± said Wenzl. ¡°Right? If she¡¯s that powerful.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not a battle mage. Barrier-Casters can¡¯t cast walls of fire onto a cavalry unit, or call a lightning bolt down onto a field commander. Marigold is an old woman. She¡¯s vulnerable to attack or capture just like anyone else, and more are the people who¡¯d want to do so because of what she¡¯s capable of. And when she¡¯s in a weeks-long Slumber after a large Barrier-Casting, she¡¯s completely helpless. And that,¡± said Vetch. ¡°Is why a town that wouldn¡¯t normally be big enough to have a garrison at all, has a well-trained and decently sized one like ours. She protects us with her Barriers, then we protect her when she sleeps. There¡¯s not a lot of action here, admittedly, but the idea is to stay ready. Oh, and that¡¯s another thing; the yaks.¡±

    ¡°The ... yaks?¡± queried Wenzl. Vetch almost had to stop himself from chuckling. It was a lot to take in for the boy¡¯s first day in town. The duties of Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison were different than most, thanks to its relationship with the town mage. But there were some duties that a soldier would know well, no matter where he came from, such as protecting the farmsteads outside of a town or city. Vetch was confident they¡¯d have this recruit whipped into shape, on duties of that nature at least, in no time.

    ¡°I assume you saw the yaks as you neared town? You¡¯d have to be blind not to.¡±

    Wenzl bobbed a nod and grinned. ¡°Oh, yes, of course I saw them. When I saw the first herd in the distance from the road, I thought I had arrived, but then I passed another herd, and another, and another, and it was a while still before I even sighted the town.¡±

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Vetch laughed easily. ¡°There¡¯s farms and pastures and pens all around Moonfane for miles, almost all of them devoted to our yaks, and those are some very valuable animals. They¡¯re most of Moonfane Forge¡¯s livelihood. Of course, because animals cannot pass through the Barrier, they¡¯re all outside the town proper. And as valuable as those yaks are, it never fails we get at least a few thieves or even bands of rustlers attempting to steal some of them every year. Riding out and protecting those herds is our other main job. All the farmers and herdsmen out there have warning bells they can ring. We hear those, we drop what we¡¯re doing and ride out there.¡±

    ¡°Now, that sounds exciting!¡±

    ¡°It can be,¡± agreed Vetch, seeing a very familiar enthusiasm for action mirrored on the recruit¡¯s face in the fading light. ¡°Breaks up the drilling and gate watch monotony.¡±

    Night came on quickly in the mountains and full dark was soon upon them. The shops and workhouses of the Trades District behind them closed down and became dark themselves. Elsewhere, the windows of houses all over the Residential District glowed with candle and lamplight. Brightest of all were the streets they were returning to, down nearer the South Gate, where most of the inns and restaurants and taverns were. The noise and music and general easygoing boisterousness of such establishments reached their ears upon their turning out of the alley they¡¯d cut through and onto one of the main thoroughfares. Townsfolk who¡¯d just finished their workdays hurried out of the late season¡¯s cold to meet up with friends or sweethearts in quiet eateries, or to crowd around fire hearths and lift mugs of ale in noisy taverns.

    Wenzl was quiet for a time as the two soldiers walked. Then, as if he¡¯d been thinking over whether the question was an appropriate one to ask or not, spoke haltingly.

    ¡°Uh, I know I¡¯m brand new here and all,¡± he began. ¡°But could I meet Marigold one of these days? To say I¡¯d met The Maiden of Moonfane Forge? Would she agree to see a normal soldier like me?¡±

    Vetch looked down at the young man for the measure of a few strides.

    Wenzl gained confidence, adding, ¡°Because Ennric said you were courting her apprentice and all ...¡±

    Vetch made a snrking sound in the back of his throat. ¡°Never you mind what Ennric said.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I shouldn¡¯t have asked.¡±

    Vetch turned a serious glare on the young man beside him, just long enough to make him squirm. Then Vetch laughed and backhanded the boy in the shoulder.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve heard about mages. Marigold isn¡¯t some reclusive hermit casting spells up on the mountain, man. We went right by the street she lives on not a few minutes back. You¡¯ll meet her sooner or later. Go to the markets on the right day and you can beg her help with picking out the ripest persimmons. Now, enough of the tour and talk of mages, eh? How about we stop back in at the alehouse, I¡¯ll treat us both to one last round before we head to our beds in the barracks.¡±

    As they came around the corner to the patchily lit street fronting the alehouse, curses and sounds of a struggle met their ears. Beneath a street lantern, three men were fighting. Two town guardsmen in their brown and yellow uniforms just about had their hands full with a scruffy looking drunk who was keeping them both at bay with wild swings of his fists. One guard looked for an opening by which he could bring his truncheon down, while the other had dropped his to clutch at his face.

    ¡°He bloodied my nose, the little pisser!¡± he moaned to no one in particular.

    ¡°Get the hell away from me!¡± the drunk man bellowed, and aimed a punch that nearly carried him around in a circle.

    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± Vetch said, striding forward with Wenzl quick on his heels.

    Seeing the two soldiers, the guardsman who still remained in the fight took a step back, knowing that reinforcements meant they could swarm the man all at once.

    ¡°You two, lend a hand,¡± he said. ¡°He¡¯s a scrawny sot, but damn can he fight, and he¡¯s had too much drink to know when to stop.¡±

    Vetch and Wenzl spread out to hem the drunk man in between themselves and the guardsman. Nearby, onlookers crowded around the flung-open door of the alehouse to watch the entertainment. One of the establishment¡¯s front windows was shattered. The chair that had evidently caused the damage lay in the street.

    ¡°Enough now!¡± Vetch commanded. ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡±

    The drunk man wheeled around as if noticing the soldiers for the first time. He took one glassy-eyed look at Vetch, then rolled his gaze to Wenzl. Behind him, the remaining guardsman lifted his truncheon, but not quickly enough. The moment the drunkard fixed his eyes on Wenzl, he bellowed angrily and charged at the young man, swinging wildly, perhaps judging the smaller youth the easiest target. He judged wrong. Wenzl weaved back with the grace of a trained fist-fighter, causing the drunk man to stumble forward, his blows pawing harmlessly at Wenzl¡¯s belt. In the same motion, the young recruit brought his fist down heavily in a targeted punch across the drunk man¡¯s jaw. The man gasped out an almost comical yelp and dropped straight onto his face on the cobblestones.

    To the man¡¯s credit, he remained remarkably still conscious, but it was clear the hard blow had knocked all the fight out of him at last. He languished on the ground for a few moments, running his hands over the cobbles as if searching for his equilibrium, then finally dragged himself up into a sitting position. He rubbed at his rapidly swelling face.

    ¡°Why¡¯d y¡¯go an¡¯ do that?¡± he asked pathetically.

    The guardsman nudged the drunk man none-too-softly with the toe of his boot. ¡°Take one guess, man!¡± Looking up, he added to Wenzl, ¡°Nice punch, boy.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

    ¡°What the hell happened here?¡± Vetch asked. He glanced through the alehouse¡¯s busted window to see the interior hadn¡¯t come out much better. Tables were overturned, puddles of ale and a few shattered mugs littered the floor, and it appeared the one guardsman wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d ended up with a bloodied nose. Some of the patrons inside were in like condition.

    ¡°Nothing much to tell,¡± the first guardsman said as he kept a wary eye on their prisoner. ¡°He drank through all his coin, started running his mouth off at a townsman who didn¡¯t take kindly to it. Next thing you know, he¡¯s brawling over tables and into the street with anyone in reach. We were right off duty and just sitting down in there ourselves when it all got started.¡±

    The tavernkeeper pushed her way through the onlookers and pressed a clean kerchief to the other guard¡¯s bleeding nose, as he attempted to recover some of his pride by asking, ¡°What d¡¯ya want us to do wid ib?¡±

    ¡°I want him to pay for all this damage,¡± she stated angrily.

    ¡°I ain¡¯t got no more coin,¡± the drunkard mumbled.

    ¡°What a surprise,¡± returned Vetch.

    The first guardsman leaned down and grabbed the man by the elbows to heft him roughly onto his feet.

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll pay for it with time in a cell.¡±

    ¡°I-I can¡¯t!¡± the man slurred. ¡°I have to be somewhere!¡± He began to struggle again, but a cuff from the guard across his swollen face made him docile again.

    ¡°Wait ...¡± Vetch stepped in closer and peered at the drunkard. ¡°I know this man. He arrived by the south road only this afternoon. Said he was passing through on his way across the mountains. Hey, look at me,¡± Vetch ordered him. ¡°We told you to stay out of trouble. This is the thanks we get for letting you into our town?¡±

    The man only shrugged, head hanging, sweaty hair lank over his eyes.

    The guardsman scoffed and gave him a prod in the back. ¡°Should¡¯ve listened to the soldiers, man. Could¡¯a saved yourself a lot of trouble. Let¡¯s go. Move your feet.¡±

    ¡°C-can¡¯t,¡± the man continued to mumble as he was led off by both guardsmen, the one still pressing the offered kerchief to his nose. They both nodded their thanks to the garrison soldiers on the way by.

    The tavernkeeper whistled at the retreating guardsman. ¡°You two, after you¡¯ve tossed that sot in jail, come back here. There¡¯ll be a round of ales on the house waiting for you. You two, as well,¡± she said to Vetch and Wenzl.

    Vetch looked at the state of the alehouse, then shared a glance with the youth beside him. ¡°Another time,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve lost my taste for it tonight. C¡¯mon, Wenzl, let¡¯s get back to the barracks.¡±

    ¡°Another time,¡± the tavernkeeper echoed and favored the two soldiers with a smile before turning around to assess the damage to her window.

    Vetch and his garrison¡¯s new recruit left the scene behind for the relative peace and quiet of the barracks. Vetch¡¯s reservations about the young soldier¡¯s capability dispersed like the onlookers back at the alehouse.

    *

    ¡°In you go.¡± The guardsman gave the drunkard a shove into one of the small cells in the guardhouse¡¯s jail. He ignored the man¡¯s slurred pleadings of ¡°can¡¯t, I can¡¯t¡± and ¡°let me go, please¡± as he shut the stout wood door and locked it. ¡°Shut up,¡± he added, and hung his keys back on his belt. ¡°Shut up and get some sleep.¡±

    Exiting the jail, he clapped the shoulder of the guardswoman sitting on watch duty inside the door. She exchanged a nod with him, then yawned, and crossed one of her boots over the other. Inside the cell, the man was still mumbling and pleading. She ignored him for a time, but after a while, when he still hadn¡¯t stopped, she tapped her truncheon on the wall to get his attention.

    ¡°Hey! Didn¡¯t you hear what you were told? Shut up and go to sleep,¡± she ordered, and this time the man finally got the picture and became quiet. She slid her truncheon back into her belt and leaned back in her chair, speaking to herself. ¡°Prolly won¡¯t even remember why he¡¯s in there come morning, can smell the booze from here.¡±

    The drunk man stood clutching at the door¡¯s barred window for a time, red-eyed and looking around at what he could see of the little jailhouse he was in. His cell was the only one occupied. It was small, but positively luxurious compared to those of some other small towns. There was old but still clean straw on the stone floor, a couple buckets in one corner¡ªone with water in it, another for waste¡ªand the bed was up off the floor. That was rare. It was little more than a cot with a single blanket and thin straw mattress and pillow on it, but he¡¯d slept on much worse.

    He gave up standing at the bars at last and sat down on the bed, where he delicately put his head in his hands. His face, swollen and starting to become discolored from the punch he¡¯d absorbed, stung. He sat there in that fashion for the better part of an hour, looking down at the drink-doubled view of his shoddy shoes.

    At length, he peeked blearily up at his guard to see that she was dozing. Only then did he pull out his knife from where he¡¯d hidden it in his shirt. What luck he¡¯d spotted it, and managed to grab it from the young soldier¡¯s belt and quickly palm it in the scuffle.

    Slouk turned the blade over in his fingers a few times, then quietly hid it inside the straw pillow. He lay down facing the stone wall of his cell then and let the room spin around him until he passed out.

 Chapter 2: Bells, part 1

    Lily opened her eyes to a brightly back-lit vision of Marigold¡¯s wrinkled face grinning down at her.

    ¡°Five days!¡± exclaimed the old mage, holding up her hand with her spindly brown fingers splayed wide. ¡°Only five days you were in Slumber, girl!¡± Marigold clapped her hands, laughed, and bustled away across the room, speaking to Lily while she opened window curtains to let in more light. ¡°For the Barrier you cast, I was certain it would be six at the least, perhaps seven. You¡¯re coming along beautifully. More complicated Imbuements are in your near future, make no mistake.¡±

    The old woman prattled on excitedly, and Lily heard the thump of her boots going down the creaky stairs. Lily lay in her bed and let the strange ethereal feeling in her body lift little by little. Just as falling into the magical Slumber was unlike the feeling of normal sleepiness, so, too, was waking from Caster¡¯s Slumber unlike waking from true sleep. She felt light as gossamer¡ªfully awake; restored, yet somehow unrested. To describe the sensation to someone without magic might give them the impression that waking from Caster¡¯s Slumber left a mage sluggish and tired still, but that wasn¡¯t quite the case. Lily felt mentally sharp and ready to be about her day, yet her body took its time in catching up, taking some moments to feel as if its weight rested properly in her bed once more.

    When it did, Lily swung her bare feet out of bed onto the floor. She found herself smiling with pride. It had really only been five days? She reached up to loose her hair from the bun she¡¯d had it in for sleeping. It fell about her shoulders as she shook it out and stood. Hers was the single upstairs room in the house she shared with Marigold. It was not much larger than the room she¡¯d had in her parents¡¯s farmhouse as a girl, yet since moving in with Marigold to begin learning under the Mage-Matron, Lily had come to feel more at home in this room than she could ever imagine feeling anywhere else. She had her little writing desk, which she used mostly for displaying the collection of knickknacks she¡¯d found in the markets over the years rather than writing, her clothes trunk, and the table beside it with a mirror and small wash basin and pitcher¡ªsimple things that made her space hers. Marigold¡¯s house was old and lived-in. It was creaky and wood-floored, and the plaster and pale blue paint were chipped and peeling on the walls outside. But the place was light and homey. Being at the top of a hill above the other houses on its street in the Residential District, with the windows open, it always caught the fresh breezes coming down from the mountain. It was home.

    Lily¡¯s bare feet carried her across the room to her window. She unlatched the casement windows and pushed them open so she could lean out and look over the rooftops to the north and east. Straight ahead, she could see all the way to the East Gate of Moonfane Forge, where the road led out into pastureland and eventually to her family¡¯s dairy. If she leaned a little farther out, off to her left she could catch partial sight of Mt. Moonfane itself, snowy and sharp and black where its jagged stone stuck out. When she heard Marigold¡¯s steps on the stairs again, she turned back to the room.

    ¡°Five days. Only five days!¡± Marigold was still going on proudly. The old woman carried a serving tray which she set down on the lone clear corner of Lily¡¯s desk. Upon it was a cup of steaming tea, a glass of water, and a bowl of yak¡¯s cottage cheese and dried fruit. Lily¡¯s mouth watered at the sight. Marigold put her hands on her hips. ¡°Aren¡¯t you cold with the window open in just your nightgown?¡±

    ¡°It feels nice,¡± Lily replied. She swept up the bowl of cottage cheese and fruit immediately. Five days in Slumber meant five days of not eating. Marigold would have given her nutritious broth in that time, but broth could hardly be called a meal. The first real food after a long Slumber was always positively sumptuous. Lily closed her eyes in bliss on the first swallow. After that, she paced the room and spoke between bites. ¡°Anything happen while I was Slumbering?¡±

    Marigold seated herself in Lily¡¯s chair. ¡°Oh, nothing of note. Ah! Though, I did hear the new soldier from the King¡¯s City finally arrived¡ªand helped Vetch break up a tavern brawl that very same day. Aside from that. ...¡± The old woman shrugged. ¡°Things were quiet. Your parents will be glad to see you awake so soon. I went out to the dairy directly after the barracks. I hadn¡¯t seen your younger brother in some time. He was giving your father some competition at the farm work.¡± Marigold nudged the steaming teacup across the desk toward Lily. ¡°Drink the tea, girl.¡±

    Lily eyed the tea. She could smell it from across the room. It was one of those grassy restorative teas Marigold insisted helped with recovering from Caster¡¯s Slumber. Lily suspected its effectiveness was highly exaggerated, but she humored her mentor with a polite sip anyway.

    ¡°Mats will be working circles around him before the year is out,¡± she agreed, setting the tea down in favor of the water, which she gulped down before returning to the remaining spoonfuls of her breakfast. ¡°I¡¯ll go out there today to pick up Fae and bring her back to the stables.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Marigold affirmed. She grunted as she stood up. ¡°Take your day of rest. Light Casting tomorrow. Five days!¡± she cackled. ¡°We¡¯ll try that same exercise again before too long. Once you can cast that same kind of Barrier with only a day or two of Slumber after ... well! It¡¯ll be about time you can attempt some complex Imbuements! I am proud of you, Lily.¡±

    Lily grinned, and her teacher grinned back. Marigold looked at the tea again. She picked up the cup and offered it again to Lily, who shook her head. Marigold shrugged and sipped it herself. ¡°But rest today. Go see your parents.¡± She took the tea with her as she went back to the stairs to leave Lily to herself. ¡°And close that window before you go. The draft comes right down into the sitting room.¡±

    The road out from Moonfane Forge¡¯s East Gate was a wide dirt track leading down an easy slope through rolling pastureland between farmsteads and penned herds of yaks and goats. Fed and washed and dressed in a white and brown kirtle with a split riding skirt, Lily strolled along the track, soaking in the early sunlight and invigorating breeze. The sounds of her footfalls intermingled with those of mellow bells on goats, and distant farm work, and the placid grunts of yaks, sounds that had comprised the background of Lily¡¯s life from her first memories until she had moved to within the town proper. The road swept northwards eventually, leading up into the pass through the mountains, but Lily continued walking straight along a smaller track that soon became little more than a wagon-rutted footpath. Her family¡¯s dairy was out at the end of this track.

    As always, the first sight to greet Lily were the doe goats in the front paddock. They always heard her coming, and the curious does had lined up at the fence to see who this day¡¯s visitor would be. Lily¡¯s family¡¯s dairy made products mostly out of yak¡¯s milk from the neighboring farms, but they kept none of the large beasts themselves, only a few goats of their own whose milk was turned into specialty cheeses. Even then, Lily always thought of them more as pets.

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    ¡°Hello, ladies,¡± Lily greeted them as she let herself through the two latched gates. She made sure to give the crowding does each a good scratching on their back or flanks, while patiently warding off the furtive attempts some made to chew her skirt. Up in front of her parents¡¯s cottage, her younger brother, Mats, was pulling dried laundry down from the line. He looked up when he heard her come through the gate into the cottage¡¯s garden and his face brightened.

    ¡°Lily! You¡¯re up already?¡±

    ¡°Matty! Good morning.¡± The siblings shared an embrace. Marigold had been right. Even though Lily saw her brother fairly frequently, it still seemed he was a little taller every single visit. The boy was growing like a weed. At fifteen, he was surely only a few years out from being strong enough to take over the lion¡¯s share of the heavier work around the place from their father. ¡°Only five days,¡± Lily confirmed with a smile. ¡°I know because Mari kept reminding me of the count all this morning when I woke.¡±

    Mats called through the door of the cottage, ¡°Ma, Lily¡¯s here! She¡¯s awake!¡± before returning to grabbing clothes off the line. ¡°Y¡¯here for Fae?¡±

    ¡°Mhm. Where is she?¡±

    ¡°Out in the back paddock beside the cheesery. Still won¡¯t let me or mom get anywhere near her. Only dad.¡±

    Lily chuckled. ¡°He has a way with animals. And where is he?¡±

    Mats dropped the last of the dry clothes into the basket and looked around, scanning the small buildings and sheds in sight where variously butters, yogurts, and kefirs were made. ¡°Uhhh ... dunno.¡±

    The cottage¡¯s front door opened and Lily¡¯s mother appeared. She was a sturdy woman of generations of farm stock, with the same wavy hair and fair complexion as her daughter.

    ¡°Lily!¡± she exclaimed gladly, ¡°Marigold had us thinking we shouldn¡¯t expect you until tomorrow or the next day. Matty, would you run these letters into town?¡± she said, giving the boy a packet of folded papers. He took them and was off like a shot. Lily¡¯s mother hefted the basket of clean laundry. ¡°Come in, Lily, are you hungry? Oh, you must be here to get Fae, aren¡¯t you? Such a nasty beasty. Do you know just the other day, she nearly got me with one of her horns when all I did was try to scratch her under the chin? Don¡¯t laugh, young lady! I don¡¯t know how you and your father can charm that creature so!¡±

    Lily covered her mouth, but couldn¡¯t prevent the giggles. ¡°She¡¯s not like one of the goats, mother. Or even a yak. You have to know where she wants to be scratched and when.¡± She followed her mother into the house. ¡°Then again ... perhaps she is like the goats in that respect.¡±

    ¡°Ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°Do you know where father is?¡±

    Lily¡¯s mother dropped the basket of laundry. ¡°He¡¯s out there cooing away to the monster as we speak. In the back paddock. Are you hungry?¡± she asked again.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, mom. I already ate.¡± Lily took her mother¡¯s hand and gave it a squeeze. ¡°And I¡¯ll get the monster out of your hair right now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m only teasing, of course,¡± her mother said with a glint of humor. ¡°But, yes, get that terrifying thing out of our yard.¡±

    Lily chuckled again on her way out the back door. Behind her family¡¯s cottage was a small building where the cheeses were made, and down a short walkway from there was the small back paddock usually reserved for the buck goats when they needed to be separated from the does. It was at the edge of their property, overlooking a view of Bannerman¡¯s Wood, the tangled forest that bordered the end of the foothill pastures.

    Her father was actually in the paddock with Fae, fearlessly petting her striped haunch while she nuzzled her horns on his shoulder. Lily watched this scene in wordless amusement for a time, until Fae caught her scent on the breeze. The big panthegrunn shouldered Lily¡¯s sturdy father aside as if he weighed nothing, and practically pranced up to the paddock fence to lean her head over it until the wood creaked under her weight.

    ¡°Hello, Fae!¡± Lily cooed. ¡°Did you miss me?¡± She brushed her face against Fae¡¯s yak-like nose, scratching at the beast¡¯s cheeks with both hands. Fae chuffed one of her lowing roar-grunts as she snuffled Lily¡¯s face and then licked her ear. The fence creaked even more under the animal¡¯s enthusiastic press.

    ¡°Look who¡¯s already out of bed,¡± said Lily¡¯s father, his weathered face breaking into a grin. ¡°I guess that means your latest Barrier-Casting went well?¡± He stepped up beside Fae and absently scratched her behind the ear. ¡°Here, Marrta, bring her away from the fence or she¡¯s gonna push it over.¡±

    Lily urged Fae back from the fence and then climbed into the paddock beside her father. ¡°Lily, Dad. You know I go by my mage¡¯s name now. And the Barrier-Casting went very well! Aside from the shape being kind of bumpy. But it worked exactly as intended with the size and Imbuement, and I woke earlier than Marigold estimated.¡± She laughed to herself, her happiness at the accomplishment still sinking in.

    She and her father both watched Fae stalk lazily back to the middle of the paddock and nose at the close-cropped grass. Fae was a panthegrunn, one kind of a number of chimera-like animals of magical nature existing in the world, collectively known as charge-beasts. Charge-beasts were rare to the point of being practically mythological. Few could say where they truly originated from¡ªwhether they were birthed in nature like normal beasts, or created by some older, lost magic, as some texts implied. The only certainty is that they existed, that they were extremely hard to come by, and that magic was inherent in them to no small degree. It was due to this last fact that those that could be found young, and be tamed, were almost exclusively the companion animals of mages. Some mages swore that even being in the presence of such creatures helped charge and revitalize their magical strength and ease the effects of Caster¡¯s Slumber, hence their moniker.

    Fae¡¯s appearance was typical of a panthegrunn, so far as Lily had been told. She was easily as large as the yaks common to the region, and had the heavy, shaggy-haired head of a yak, white-haired, broad-nosed, and bearing black, upright horns. But behind her broad shoulders, her fur became shorter and her body not like a yak¡¯s at all, but more akin to that of a large cat, like a panther or lion, all sleek muscle rippling beneath uniform bright white fur, except for her haunches, which bore light brown tiger¡¯s stripes. Her legs, likewise, were like a big cat¡¯s, but ended in cloven hooves instead of paws. Her tail was short and tufted, and if one brushed aside the long hair that typically covered her eyes, they would see that they were golden and round-pupiled.

    Fae moved with all the dangerous grace of a big cat, and yet also could charge and toss her horns with the power of any full-grown yak. Lily knew these things, and she knew also that Fae would never harm her. She had raised her from the time she was a calf, after all.

    Lily¡¯s father clapped Lily gently on the shoulder. ¡°Lily,¡± he confirmed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, daughter. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll ever get used to that.¡± A smile imbued his voice as he squeezed her shoulder where his hand still rested. ¡°At least this forgetful man has learned better than even Marigold to always expect the best out of this young mage right here. I had no doubts that you¡¯d wake early. Send for me next time she has you cast a Barrier like that. I¡¯d like to see it in practice.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, father,¡± she said and rubbed his back in a side-embrace. ¡°And I will do that. Mari is good about alerting me ahead of time when she¡¯s going to have me try an exercise like that, so I can plan for it. I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re in on the next one. I could cast a Barrier only you could pass through.¡±

    ¡°Could you now?¡± Her father chuckled. ¡°Well.¡± He walked forward to give Fae a couple pats on the flank. ¡°Should I fetch Fae¡¯s tack?¡±

    ¡°Please.¡±

 Chapter 2: Bells, part 2

    Sitting astride Fae outside the front paddock gate, Lily turned in the saddle to wave goodbye to her mother and father. Then she clicked her tongue and tapped the panthegrunn¡¯s sides gently with her heels, setting her to an easy pace up the footpath. Riding a panthegrunn was unlike riding a horse in practically every way that mattered. Fae was both powerful and agile, and could stop and start and change directions faster and with more force than any horse could. Not only did she move differently, but had different proportions than any normal animal. This meant one couldn¡¯t sit atop her in quite the same way one would sit atop a horse. The saddle and stirrups had to be custom made to account for this, allowing Lily to ride Fae comfortably for long periods at both casual walking speeds and the exhilarating running speeds she was capable of. Upon having first trained the great panthegrunn to accept a saddle and carry a rider, Lily had had to train herself, too, to forget all she had known of riding horses and re-train her body to flow with Fae¡¯s unique gait.

    Fae¡¯s tack included reins, but Lily seldomly used them. It was easier to grip Fae¡¯s shaggy yak¡¯s mane and direct her using gentle touches and words. When she walked slowly like this, Lily could even lean forward to fold her arms atop Fae¡¯s broad head and rest her chin there. But Lily could sense that neither of them cared for a slow stroll this morning. She brushed her fingers through¡¯s Fae¡¯s thick hair and rubbed behind her ears.

    ¡°Poor panthegrunn,¡± she empathized. ¡°All cooped up in that goat¡¯s paddock for five whole days. It was better than your stall for that long, at least. But I know how you feel.¡± She leaned over the great animal¡¯s head and kissed her there before scratching more at her mane and ears. ¡°You want to stretch your legs, don¡¯t you? Well then ...¡± Lily gripped Fae¡¯s shaggy head tightly and tucked her legs closer to the great beast¡¯s powerful body. ¡°Go, girl,¡± she whispered and gave Fae a light heel tap.

    The panthegrunn needed nothing more than that. Her great cat¡¯s body sprang forward with all the strength and acceleration of a lioness springing to the chase. Her hooves pounded the dirt path while she chuffed great breathes of air in and out of her broad yak¡¯s nose. Lily let out a whoop of joy, keeping her head tucked in close to Fae¡¯s, and still the wind of their passing pulled Lily¡¯s hair loose from its tail and made it stream wildly out behind her. They chewed up the path and then the main road to the East Gate. Only when they came in sight of town did Lily finally rein Fae in to a walking pace once more and direct her around the town, outside its Barrier, to where the stables were located near the South Gate.

    When they were within sight of the stables, Lily deftly dismounted and took Fae¡¯s reins to lead her in. At the same time, she spotted three riders approaching from the south road, all wearing the garrison¡¯s black and silver¡ªsoldiers returning from a patrol. Lily shaded her eyes to watch them, and then smiled when she recognized the rider at the front.

    Vetch would already easily have recognized Lily from a distance, for who else but she would be leading a panthegrunn into the stables. He waved and reined in before her, as did Neschi beside him, and a young blonde-haired soldier behind them that Lily didn¡¯t recognize. She remembered Marigold telling her that the new soldier from the King¡¯s Capital had arrived and decided this must be him. But her glances at him and Neschi were perfunctory. It was Vetch that drew her attention and caused the easy smile that now shaped her lips.

    ¡°Well, hello there, soldier boy,¡± she greeted Vetch, as he stepped down from the saddle. The two stood a couple feet apart, both holding the reins of their respective mounts. In all the years they had known one another, Lily could not remember a time when Vetch¡¯s unruly hair didn¡¯t look half-disheveled from a brisk ride, even when they were small children and he¡¯d yet to sit a horse. It suited him, she¡¯d always thought. It went well with his unpretentious smile. It also reminded her of how her own hair must look after her exhilarating ride back into town on Fae, and she dropped Fae¡¯s reins so she could pull it back and tie it into a tail again.

    But before Vetch had even a chance to respond to Lily¡¯s greeting, the blonde soldier exclaimed, ¡°What is that?¡± and slid down from his horse to cautiously approach Fae.

    ¡°Have you never seen a panthegrunn before?¡± chided Neschi playfully. She, too, dismounted and strode right up to the great beast. ¡°Good morning, Fae,¡± she said in a singsong voice as she scratched Fae on the top of her head. Fae grunted her approval and nosed her head up into Neschi¡¯s hand.

    Wenzl stood in disbelief at a length out of the range of the panthegrunn¡¯s impressive horns. His eyes flicked between the intimidating animal and Lily. Lily took pity on the boy.

    ¡°As Neschi said, she¡¯s a panthegrunn. A kind of charge-beast.¡± When Wenzl only gawked, Lily added, ¡°You can pet her if you¡¯d like.¡±

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    The boy stepped up cautiously beside Neschi to rub Fae on the top of her head. Fae grunted and shifted on her heavy hooves, causing Wenzl to step back. Neschi laughed.

    ¡°Did I anger her?¡± Wenzl asked.

    ¡°More likely she¡¯s being spoiled with all this attention,¡± said Lily.

    ¡°Where did you get her?¡±

    Lily reached to scratch Fae behind the ear. ¡°She was gifted to me as a calf by my Mage-Matron, who purchased her from a traveling merchant.¡±

    ¡°Mage-Matron? Then you¡¯re ...¡± His eyes widened.

    Vetch chose that moment to clear his throat. ¡°Lily, this is Wenzl, our new man in the garrison. Wenzl, Lily.¡±

    Lily realized then that before he had spoken, Vetch had been quietly staring at only her during the entire exchange. She felt her cheeks color. She spoke distractedly.

    ¡°Pleased to meet you, Wenzl.¡±

    Wenzl¡¯s wonder at seeing a near mythological animal in Fae was transferred instantly to Lily herself. ¡°You¡¯re Marigold¡¯s apprentice?¡± he asked with no small amount of awe in his voice. ¡°You¡¯re a Barrier-Caster, then. Could you cast a Barrier now? Just a small one? I¡¯ve never seen such a thing done, even in the capital.¡±

    ¡°Wenzl,¡± Vetch said. ¡°Act like a soldier, man. I¡¯m sorry, Lily.¡±

    Lily shook her head quickly. ¡°I-it¡¯s okay, Vetch.¡± She smiled and looked to the new recruit. ¡°Another time, perhaps, Wenzl. I woke from Slumber only this morning. Traditionally, an apprentice will do no Casting whatsoever for a full day after waking.¡±

    Vetch waited but a beat to see how Wenzl would respond, but as he appeared to be tongue-tied, Vetch grinned. ¡°Well, there¡¯s your answer.¡± He grabbed the boy by the shirt collar, tugged him easily away from Fae, and gave him a good-natured shove back to the horses. ¡°Walk your horse and put him up. And Neschi?¡± He held out his reins to the other soldier. She allowed herself a smirk, but took his meaning.

    ¡°Good seeing you, Lily. And you, Fae,¡± Neschi said, giving the big panthegrunn one last good scratch between the horns. She took the reins of both Vetch¡¯s horse and her own and followed Wenzl away to the wing of the stables allotted to the garrison.

    ¡°Sorry about Wenzl,¡± Vetch said. ¡°I think he¡¯s still getting used to everything here.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Vetch, really.¡± Lily smiled self-consciously and loosened Fae¡¯s saddle straps to give her hands something to do. ¡°Are you off-duty now?¡±

    Vetch made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a grumble. ¡°Tragically, no. There¡¯s a stomach ailment making its way through the barracks, so those of us who escaped it are pulling doubled shifts. Morning patrol followed by afternoon gate duty for me.¡± He moved in beside Lily and helped her pull Fae¡¯s saddle off. Lily felt his shoulder brush hers, then watched as he hefted the heavy saddle. He led the way into the shade of the stables and she followed, leading Fae. Fae¡¯s large stall was down at the other end of the long stable building, where she could have more space to herself and be apart from the horses.

    ¡°Shame,¡± Lily said. ¡°We could have gone to the markets today.¡± She led Fae into her stall and removed her bridle, then went about shaking out fodder for her and filling her water bucket.

    After hanging up the saddle, Vetch leaned over the stall wall and watched her. ¡°There is nothing I¡¯d wish to do more today than that, would that I could get out of gate duty.¡±

    The words made Lily¡¯s heart flutter, but it was his eyes on her that caused her traitorous cheeks to redden again. She couldn¡¯t fathom why it did so often these days. How long had they known each other? And where was Fae¡¯s hair brush? Had not she brought it into the stall with her?

    As if reading her thoughts, Vetch took up the brush from its hook outside the stall and handed it across to her. ¡°Tomorrow?¡± he suggested. ¡°Or the day after? I¡¯ll be owed some covered shifts after today.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve more Barrier-Casting exercises tomorrow,¡± Lily said thoughtfully, beginning to brush out Fae¡¯s shaggy head hair. ¡°Which means a rest day after that. Mari will probably have me studying her notes on techniques and theories that next morning. But ...¡± She grinned at her lifelong friend over Fae¡¯s head. It was his eyes. How his dark eyes seemed to gain more light when they looked at her.

    ¡°But? ...¡± he said.

    ¡°Uh,¡± she smiled to herself and returned to brushing Fae. ¡°But I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll release me from that by midday. She usually does. We¡¯ll go then.¡±

    The man smiled the same familiar smile he had always done, even when he was a boy. But he was a man grown now, and looked one, and it made that familiar smile carry something much more significant to her.

    ¡°We¡¯ll go then,¡± he confirmed brightly. Then, something in his peripheral caught his attention, for he turned his head and looked down the stable¡¯s long hall. Lily leaned over the stall wall and followed his gaze. Neschi and Wenzl evidently had finished with the horses and were milling about conspicuously by the door. Vetch sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. ¡°We¡¯ll go then,¡± he repeated.

    Lily nodded happily, wondering where all her words had gone today. They stood looking into each other¡¯s eyes for the length of a couple breaths, and then Vetch broke the spell by favoring her with one more smile and tapping his hand on the stall door, before he was off to rejoin his companions. Lily heard them joking and jostling on the way out of the stables. She let out a breath, and then quirked her mouth and shook her head at herself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t laugh,¡± she told Fae, lifting the shaggy hair that hung down over the panthegrunn¡¯s eyes and looking into them to make certain that there was no undue amusement hiding there. Fae grunted and nudged her snout up to lick Lily¡¯s hand. Lily was the one who laughed then.

    She finished caring for the great animal and then left her with a promise of another ride early in the morning before the morrow¡¯s training with Marigold began. But Lily¡¯s mind was already wandering to the day after that, with thoughts of early spring sunshine, and strolling the markets with a handsome soldier at her side.

 Chapter 2: Bells, part 3

    Two walls of solid timber were still not enough to completely muffle the sound of one of the soldiers over in the women¡¯s side of the barracks being sick. Vetch didn¡¯t envy her, nor any of the other soldiers who¡¯d been afflicted with whatever stomach ailment had swept through their ranks. It was a reality of the soldier¡¯s life living in a barracks, where men and women slept all in close quarters in stacked bunks. Whatever the ailment had been, it had thankfully already done most of its damage and passed on as quickly as it had come, leaving only a few stragglers still puking up the last of it. All the rest of them slept on through whatever noise. Soldiers became used to doing such¡ªuntil at least such a time as they got married or rose up in the ranks enough to move out of the barracks and into their own dwelling. So, it wasn¡¯t any unpleasant noise that was keeping Vetch wide awake, despite the long day of doubled duty that would normally have seen him asleep the moment he hit his bunk.

    No, it was that his mind was afire with thoughts of Lily. It had been more than a pleasant surprise to see her awake from Caster¡¯s Slumber at least a day early and riding her panthegrunn back to town with her hair streaming wildly out behind her, laughing in her exhilaration and daring Fae to go faster. Vetch hadn¡¯t been prepared for how much it would quicken his heartbeat to see her so unexpectedly¡ªher beauty and presence stunned him anew every time they encountered one another. Since they had parted in the stables that morning, he had replayed in his mind every word she¡¯d said, every little smile, even the way she had unconsciously tried to brush a few stray strands of her hair back from her face, even though none had escaped, as she sometimes did when she was tongue-tied.

    Vetch held the entire chance meeting in his mind, along with how they had so easily planned a day together. What did it all mean? It didn¡¯t feel like when they were children and would meet up in town and shirk the errands their parents had sent them on in favor of climbing trees, or when they would gather their friends together for games of hide-and-seek in the yak herds. This was different, like something all their own. There was a significance to it. Something had changed between that time and now, over the last few years while Lily was beginning to learn magic and Vetch had gone for a soldier. Vetch felt completely swept up in it, so that every infrequent encounter with her, no matter how short, or what they talked about, mattered more to him than anything else in his day. And now they were making plans like this, and it felt like something was growing between them that they were taking all for themselves.

    Vetch wasn¡¯t even sure of what this one day of walking the markets together would mean, or was supposed to be, or where it would lead to. Perhaps nothing and nowhere. Perhaps he was putting too much thought into it. One thing he was sure of, though, is that tomorrow¡¯s duties would be some of the longest and most tedious he¡¯d ever endure, while waiting for the day after, when he could see Lily, and hopefully find out. He also knew he¡¯d be much better off going into tomorrow with a full night¡¯s sleep under his belt, but that knowledge was only a single bubble popping on the surface of the thoughts and hopes and anticipations that had been simmering in him all day, and still showed no signs of abating.

    It must be past midnight, he thought to himself, and his eyes weren¡¯t even closed. At least the sound of retching the next room over had finally stopped.

    The sharp peal of a distant alarm bell struck Vetch like lightning. He sat bolt upright in his upper bunk. It was one of the outlying farm bells, a distant one out on the south road. He threw his blanket off and vaulted out of bed to the floor. Around him, the other soldiers were waking to it as well, and were rousing themselves with oaths and questions on their tongues. The barracks came alive with activity, soldiers all going through the same precise dance motions¡ªlighting lanterns, grabbing up their uniforms, dressing in haste. Vetch was pulling on his boots when a second bell¡¯s alarm joined the first, this time ringing from the east and significantly closer. The warning bells were loud and carried far, meant to wake soldiers and townsfolk alike to any threats or attacks outside the Barrier. Hearing one was enough to put even veterans of Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison on edge. Vetch had never before heard two ringing at once. A third began clanging to the west before he had even finished belting on his sword, and so Vetch was not surprised after that when the town¡¯s gate bells all began ringing nearly at the same time, until the chilling sounds seemed to come from all directions and distances.

    ¡°What in all the hells?¡± complained one voice.

    ¡°Is it a drill?¡± queried another hopefully.

    Vetch knew it wasn¡¯t a drill. A soldier could tell. If it were, there would be grumbling and jesting and foot-dragging. But there was none of that. When he looked around him at his fellow soldiers, he saw in their eyes nervousness, fear, resignation. This was no drill, and they all knew it. This was serious.

    His eyes landed on Wenzl across the room. The young recruit was dressed and armed, but frozen and looking to him for guidance. Vetch pointed to the door of the armory.

    ¡°Bring a bow and arrows!¡± he bellowed across the room to the boy, making sure he said it loud enough that other soldiers who needed to be were reminded as well. Wenzl made a sharp nod and dashed for the room. Vetch grabbed up his own bow and quiver of arrows from beside his clothes chest and strode outside.

    Having been awake already when the alarms began, he was one of the first prepared and out the door. The shouts of guardsmen and townsfolk became an undercurrent to the cacophonous blanket of multitudinous bells. Beneath those nearer sounds, Vetch¡¯s ears discerned the thundering of horse¡¯s hooves and the panicked lowing of livestock in their paddocks outside the Barrier. It made real the implication of the alarms; raiders or rustlers outside the town. Possibly a lot of them. There might be fighting. The Barrier would ensure that no raiders could enter the town proper at night, but it couldn¡¯t protect the farms and the people and livestock outside its span. That was a job for which the tools were not magic, but sharp steel.

    The rest of the soldiers were streaming out of the barracks around Vetch, looking like grim wraiths in their black and silver uniforms, breath steaming in the frigid night air. Still more of their ranks were arriving on the scene from their own houses around town. Captain Tarese appeared and shoved her way through the throng without breaking stride.

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    ¡°Form up!¡± she yelled, and the soldiers scrambled to close in behind her in two sharp queues. ¡°Swords and bows! South Gate! Follow me!¡±

    The captain led the way to the wide main street and then along it to the the town¡¯s South Gate. Vetch found himself formed up beside Neschi. He caught a glimpse of Wenzl a few rows behind them, bow in hand. Townsfolk crowded around the marching line of soldiers, shouting questions or pleading with them to ride out to their family¡¯s farms first. The soldiers ignored these people and pushed through them. Moonfane¡¯s town guard would soon enough clear them out and order people back indoors. They would handle things within the Barrier, while the garrison handled things outside it. Vetch thought of his parents at their tannery just up the road from the West Gate. And then of Lily. Her parents and brother were also outside the Barrier¡¯s protection.

    ¡°What in the hell is going on out there?¡± shouted the captain as they neared the South Gate. ¡°And stop ringing the damned bells; we¡¯re here!¡±

    The South Gate¡¯s bell was stifled, but all the others in town and outside continued ringing. A soldier on duty above the gate shouted down, ¡°Riders on horseback out there, Captain! We¡¯ve had a few herdsmen and shepherds ride in, and runners from th¡¯other gates, and it¡¯s the same on all sides. They seem to be after the livestock. None¡¯ve come within an arrow¡¯s flight of town yet.¡±

    ¡°Did I hear you right, soldier? In all directions?¡± the captain asked.

    ¡°All of ¡®em, Cap¡¯n. ¡®Cept from the mountains.¡±

    Vetch heard the captain swear and then they were striding on through the gate to the stables. The two soldiers above the gate came down the ladder and fell in with them. When they were all mustered out on the moonlit grounds before the stables, Captain Tarese halted them and made two swift cutting gestures with her arm at the massed soldiers, roughly dividing them into three groups.

    ¡°Trimm, you take that group and head down the east road,¡± she ordered. ¡°Vetch, that group and the south road. The rest of you are with me up Tanner¡¯s Road. I want everyone on horseback, you hear me? Focus on driving them away from any herds and habitations. If it¡¯s as simple as running ¡®em off, then run ¡®em off. If they want to make a fight of it, then indulge ¡®em, but keep yourselves between any attackers and Moonfane itself. If you have to regroup, give three horn blasts and fall back to your gate. Mount up!¡±

    To the untrained eye, it would look like chaos, but Vetch and his fellow soldiers had trained in drills like this so many times it came instinctively. Sleepy stable hands had already begun bringing out the garrison¡¯s horses at the first peal of bells, while those horses still in their stalls were quickly retrieved and saddled by their owners. In a trice, all were mounted up and organized back into their groups. None of them needed to wait for any signal. As soon as boots were in stirrups, then hooves were pounding the earth in three directions out to the pastures. When livestock were being stolen, or farmsteads harassed, every passing minute mattered.

    Vetch felt a moment¡¯s unease that he was assigned neither the road upon which his parents lived, nor the one that led out to Lily¡¯s family¡¯s dairy, but he stuffed that feeling down. Every man and woman in the garrison had at least one family member or friend or sweetheart outside of the Barrier that they¡¯d want to see safe first, but good soldiers put that aside in order to protect the town as a whole, because that was their job. Vetch considered himself a good soldier. He¡¯d been put in the lead of one of the groups. That meant his captain trusted him, and his fellow soldiers did, too. He¡¯d give none of them any reason to regret him being given that responsibility.

    He kicked his mare into a full gallop and his garrison-mates followed suit, pounding the dirt down the wide south road.

    ¡°Spread out!¡± he ordered. ¡°Let ¡®em see our numbers!¡±

    The soldiers did as commanded, sweeping their horses out into a rough geese¡¯s V spanning the entire road. The night was loud. Their own horses¡¯s hooves thundered in their ears, and they could hear the nearing turmoil of other horses and the attackers¡¯s shouts somewhere out in the night, and the lowing and grunting of agitated livestock, along with the now pervasive alarm bells clanging from seemingly all directions. The sounds combined to create an agitation in Vetch himself. He had drilled with his fellow soldiers for attacks like this, and he had ridden out to drive off small bands of yak thieves. Neither drills, nor running off small bands of thieves, was experience enough to allow him to entirely cage the nerves sizzling through him now. Did any soldiers ever become truly acclimated to the act of riding out to what could prove a full-scale confrontation? To know they must draw swords and have swords drawn on them? And here his captain had rattled off his name to ride at the head of one group of defenders without a second thought. He himself was given no first thought. Perhaps it was better that way. There were yak rustlers out there¡ªmany of them, it appeared¡ªand the garrison¡¯s job was to drive them off. With arrow and blade, if required. It was no more complicated than that. Vetch kicked his mare¡¯s sides again and charged ahead.

    Then the tone of the night changed so abruptly, it was as if a storming, clouded sky had become blue and clear with the snap of a finger. All around them, the distant alarm bells ceased. It wasn¡¯t that a few stopped ringing and others soon followed suit. In all directions, out in the dark of the pastures and distant farmsteads ranging around Moonfane Forge town for miles, every last bell stopped sounding at once.

    Some of the soldiers eased their horse¡¯s gallops in confusion, causing the line their group had formed to break apart. But even before Vetch could whip them back into form and urge them onward, they all the rest of them had to rein in to an easy trot, and then a walk, because of what loomed up out of the darkness ahead. The road, and all the surrounding land to either side of it, was overrun with yaks. Edgy and restive, the great beasts milled aimlessly all around them as far as the eye could see, looking like hulking apparitions in the moonlight.

    The soldiers spread out to take their horses warily through the out-of-place herd, staring all around them at the eerie scene with disquiet.

    ¡°What on this earth?¡± said one man under his breath.

    ¡°Did they drive them out of their pens and leave them?¡± asked another.

    ¡°Vetch,¡± said one soldier off to his right. She brought her horse alongside his and spoke quietly. ¡°Could be they meant this to slow us up. While they make off with all the animals they could take farther out.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be awfully organized for yak thieves,¡± said the first soldier.

    ¡°Why¡¯d the bells all stop at once?¡± came a voice from the back of their group.

    ¡°Everybody, quiet,¡± said Vetch. ¡°Remember what we¡¯re about here. We get through these animals as fast as we can and then we ride hard again. We¡¯re not done until we see the rustlers off with our own eyes. Like Cap¡¯n Tarese said, drive them off if we can, but be ready to fight, too. Bows and arrows first.¡±

    His words were heeded. Faces became grim in the pale night. Ennric brought his horse up alongside Vetch¡¯s. The old soldier said not a word, only shared a stone-faced look with Vetch and nudged his horse into a trot, carelessly weaving through the shifting yaks. Vetch did the same, as did the other soldiers around him.

 Chapter 2: Bells, part 4

    The clanging of the alarm bells outside the guardhouse jail walls was like a brick to the side of Slouk¡¯s head. He fell out of his rank pallet and jumped to his feet, wide awake. The lone town guard watching him stood up as well, fast enough that she knocked her chair over.

    ¡°Shit,¡± she said.

    Slouk launched himself at the door of his little cell and gripped the bars so tightly his knuckles turned white.

    ¡°Let me out! You have to let me out of here,¡± he pleaded.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± his guard said.

    ¡°Please!¡± Slouk pulled on the door and tried rattling it, but the thing was solid and wouldn¡¯t give.

    The guardswoman was on him in two strides to snap her truncheon against the bars barely an inch above his knuckles, causing him to jerk back. ¡°Enough! Shut the hell up.¡± She went to the outer door and peered out to ask someone a question. Slouk couldn¡¯t hear a reply, but he could hear people running and shouting outside. The guard came back in, slammed the outer door shut, and picked up her chair. She set it upright and sat down on it backwards, glowering at Slouk.

    ¡°Let me out,¡± he said.

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s happening out there?¡± He didn¡¯t expect her to answer, and was surprised when she did.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you hear? Alarm bells. Trouble out at some of the farms. Garrison soldiers¡¯ll take care of it.¡± After a moment¡¯s consideration, she added, ¡°Don¡¯t worry. No attackers can get through the Barrier at night.¡± She sounded to Slouk like she was reminding herself of that as much as him.

    ¡°Please, you have to let me out,¡± Slouk said desperately. ¡°I have to be on my way! There¡¯s someone I¡¯m supposed to meet!¡±

    ¡°Too bad,¡± she replied. ¡°Told you once, told you a thousand times. You get let out when the alehouse¡¯s window is fixed, and it ain¡¯t fixed yet.¡±

    ¡°Please, I have to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough! Shut your mouth and take your hands off the bars or I¡¯ll break your damn knuckles.¡±

    Slouk wailed in frustration and started yanking on the cell door¡¯s bars, alternately kicking the door¡¯s timbers and thrashing his body violently against them.

    ¡°No! Let me out now! Spirits damn you, let me out! Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out!¡±

    The guardswoman knocked her chair over again standing up, pulling her truncheon from her belt as she did so. In the two strides it took her to reach the cell door and draw back the instrument, the pealing of bells outside ceased. She paused with her truncheon readied, as both jailer and prisoner listened to confirm that the alarm¡¯s sounding was truly over.

    When it clearly was so, Slouk let out a tortured moan and slumped down to the floor of his cell miserably. His guard peered down through the door¡¯s bars at him, then scoffed and shook her head in disgust. She returned her truncheon to her belt, righted her chair a second time, and sat down heavily.

    In his dark cell, Slouk dragged himself back to his bed, where he lay down and began sobbing quietly.

    *

    The dark silhouettes of various farmsteads came into view in the moonlight to either side of the road as the soldiers waded their way through the great throng of loosed yaks. Soon, the mass of placid animals thinned enough to allow the soldiers to re-group and set their horses to running down the road once more. With each farm they passed, they all were expecting to sight these livestock rustlers at any moment. Yet, still they had not caught up to them. Vetch could sense the apprehension in the men and women around him. He felt it, too. How far down the south road must they gallop before they would spot whatever threat had prompted so many farms to raise the alarm? And what of the other two groups of soldiers? Had they, too, found only hoof prints and loosed animals where a threat should have been?

    ¡°Something¡¯s not right,¡± growled Ennric above the drum of hooves.

    Vetch did not answer at first, and not because he disagreed with the veteran soldier. Something else had caught his attention. Faint and barely discernable above the sound of their blowing horses. It wasn¡¯t the familiar low timbre of all the yaks they had passed. It was thin and desperate.

    ¡°There!¡± Vetch shouted, and pointed off the road. ¡°Do you hear it? That way!¡±

    ¡°Hear what?¡± asked Ennric.

    Vetch turned his horse off the road and galloped ahead, pounding across a newly sown field. The other soldiers followed his lead. The cries for help were apparent to all before they spotted the old woman standing stark in the night in only a white nightgown before the splintered remnants of what had been a fenced animal pen beside her farmhouse.

    ¡°Here! Here!¡± she wailed across the open field, waving her arms. As Vetch and his fellows neared and the woman was sure they had seen her, rather than beckoning them, she pointed off into the night. ¡°There! They rode that way! Please get my animals back, please!¡±

    And then Vetch saw them¡ªriders fleeing across the open pastures off the road, and, driven ahead of them, a number of Moonfane Forge¡¯s treasured animals. The other soldiers saw them at the same time as Vetch, and suddenly the realization of the chase, and what was being stolen from their town, dashed all apprehension from the ranks. Without Vetch needing to give an order, the men and women of the garrison gave the reins to their mounts and surged forward as one body after the thieves. Vetch unslung his bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver hooked to his mare¡¯s saddle. He was an average bowman, even when not on horseback, but they didn¡¯t need to hit any of the thieves to make their point known.

    ¡°Separate them from the animals and drive them off!¡± he shouted. He held tight to his bow and chosen arrow with one hand, keeping his reins with the other. They weren¡¯t yet in range to try a volley, but they were gaining. Beside him, his companions were also readying their bows and urging their horses on. Vetch looked to his left, expecting to see Ennric, but it appeared the veteran had fallen back; perhaps to give space to the better archers. Ennric was better with his sword than his bow. Vetch hoped it wouldn¡¯t come to swords.

    It was apparent then that the rustlers knew they were pursued because, of a sudden, they broke ranks and started to scatter. The soldiers around Vetch raised whoops and jeers at the cowardice of these thieves when presented with more opposition than lone shepherds and yielding farmers. Vetch smiled to himself. They would drive off these thieves and recover the livestock without a fight. By morning, they would set up soldiers all around to keep watch over the herdsman, so they could gather up all of the animals that had been turned out and drive them back to their pens and pastures.

    But if he thought it would be easy going now, he was mistaken. He realized he should have expected from the get-go that a band of livestock rustlers this large would be better organized than the small smatterings of thieves he¡¯d encountered before in his time in the garrison. That point was driven home when the mass of night-obscured riders ahead of them did not simply bolt, and nor did they actually scatter in the fashion of people merely trying to escape. They broke off into smaller groups and, to Vetch¡¯s alarm, intentionally charged through the cluster of yaks they¡¯d been making off with, separating the beasts and throwing them into a panic. The great animals grunted and lowed and charged off in all different directions. This action brought the rustlers into bow range, and a few soldiers around Vetch took shots. He didn¡¯t see whether any hit the mark. Almost too late, he and his companions noticed how some of the yaks had intentionally been driven right back at them.

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    ¡°Ware!¡± someone screamed, and then the powerful beasts were bearing down on their ranks. Vetch pulled hard on his reins, making his horse whinny and turn in place while tossing her head in agitation. Some of his fellow soldiers did the same, while others attempted to guide their horses aside and out of the way. It was nothing short of luck that no horse was bowled over. The yaks crashed by them, avoiding some horses only at the last second, and continued on beating the earth with their hooves into the darkness.

    Vetch cursed, yanked his horse¡¯s reins to point her back in the direction of the rustlers. She danced sideways, but Vetch dropped her reins, nocked his arrow and drew back the bowstring. He sighted down the arrow shaft out across the fields in the moonlight for any of the thieves.

    They were gone. All he could see was vague motion well off in the night¡ªtheir fleeing backs as they made their escape, covered by the confusion they had wrought.

    Vetch lowered his bow with a soft oath under his breath. His horse was still dancing nervously under him. He took up her reins again and rubbed her neck, shushing her with a calming voice.

    ¡°There, girl, shh shh shh shh ... it¡¯s all over.¡±

    She calmed¡ªgrudgingly, it seemed to Vetch. He slung his bow over his shoulder and discovered he¡¯d dropped the arrow. He didn¡¯t care to dismount to pick it up, so he didn¡¯t. His fellow soldiers re-grouped again, bringing their horses in close, likewise calming them and letting them catch their breaths. Everyone was quiet. They all seemed to be waiting for Vetch to say something. Some of these soldiers had been in the garrison since a time when he was still playing with wooden swords, and still they looked to him. He shoved his unruly hair out of his face and put on a grin.

    ¡°They sure didn¡¯t want a fight with us, did they?¡± he called out loud enough for all to hear. A short cheer from all answered him. There were some claps on backs, some rude remarks made at the expense of the rustlers, and a general easing of tension.

    ¡°Got a little dicey there,¡± someone commented, to murmurs of agreement.

    ¡°That, it did,¡± agreed Vetch and patted his horse¡¯s neck once more.

    Another soldier scoffed. ¡°They turned tail like frightened hares,¡± she said. ¡°And not a single blade had to be drawn.¡± This drew more general voicings of agreement.

    Vetch turned his horse around to face everyone. ¡°Exactly like Cap¡¯n Tarese wanted, eh?¡± He settled into the role of command, eyes scanning over everyone. ¡°But let¡¯s ride a little farther out to ensure they really did keep running, or else she¡¯ll send us right back out here, won¡¯t she?¡± The other soldiers laughed because they knew it to be true. Vetch smiled and reined his horse back around. He clicked his tongue and set her to an easy trot, and the others followed, out beneath the cold moonlight, across black fields churned up by anxious hooves.

    There had been no point trying to discern a trail from all the scattered hoof prints crisscrossing the landscape. Whichever ones belonged to the rustlers¡¯s horses were obscured by the hoof prints of the soldiers¡¯s own mounts, and all of them were intermingled with many more from the yaks. The livestock thieves had evaporated into the night like spirits. It would be impossible to tell in which direction now. It was the same for the yaks that had been chased off. There would be no telling how many of the beasts had been stolen until morning, when the process of rounding up, sorting, and driving home all those let loose and left behind would begin.

    But that would be up to herdsman and shepherds and other able farmers and riders. Now that the threat had been chased off, those men and women could gather their animals and put things back to rights. The soldiers of Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison had done their duty and now returned to town victorious. Tired soldiers handed off tired horses to sleepy stable hands, backs were clapped, news was shared with waiting townsfolk. Vetch sat his horse watching it all. Ennric reined up beside him.

    Vetch glanced at the old soldier and raised his brows. ¡°There you are, old man. I lost sight of you out there. Thought maybe those thieves had mistaken you for a gray-haired yak and made off with you.¡±

    Normally good humored in his crusty way, Ennric didn¡¯t smile. Instead, he shifted in his saddle and winced.

    Vetch turned in his saddle and leaned in closer. ¡°You alright, old man?¡±

    Ennric stared straight ahead at all the other soldiers coming in. There were some arriving from the West Gate now. He shifted uncomfortably again in his saddle. ¡°My back¡¯s killing me, boy. I can¡¯t ride that hard anymore, let alone fight in the saddle if it came to it.¡± He spoke quietly and with a strain in his voice making his words sound clipped. Vetch saw then the rigidity in the veteran soldier¡¯s weathered face, the tight set of his jaw, evident signs of pain only held at bay with an effort. Ennric turned his good eye toward Vetch so he could see him in the dim light cast by the stable¡¯s lanterns. ¡°Don¡¯t think I could dismount on my own right now. Not without twisting my back and falling on my ass in front of everyone.¡±

    Around them, the atmosphere was cautiously celebratory. It appeared that the two other groups had also succeeded in driving off the thieves they found out in their sections of pastures. There were congratulations going around, soldiers from different groups greeting each other and confirming to one another that they had seen a certain family member or friend was unharmed. One confirmed as much to Vetch on his way by¡ªthat Vetch¡¯s parents were alright out at their tannery on the western Tanner¡¯s Road, that while they had heard all the ruckus, they¡¯d not even caught sight of any of the rustlers. Vetch thanked the man, then patted at his belt in confusion.

    ¡°Damn,¡± he said aloud. ¡°I think I dropped my riding gloves out there on the road on the way in. Ennric, help me ride back a ways and look for them, would you?¡±

    Ennric grunted, but followed as Vetch turned his horse around and walked her easily back into the shadows of the road beyond the stables. When they were out of sight of the stables and South Gate, Vetch reined in. Ennric eyed him dully.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t even bring your riding gloves out,¡± he stated.

    ¡°Nice to know your brain is still working even if your back isn¡¯t,¡± Vetch replied. He dismounted and went to Ennric to offer the man his help. Ennric only grunted again and allowed Vetch to help support him as he braced his hands on Vetch¡¯s shoulders and haltingly swung down from the saddle with an oath of pain. Once his boots were on the ground, he stood gritting his teeth a moment, then Vetch watched as he stiffly walked a few paces, as if confirming to himself he could manage even that. ¡°I¡¯ll take your horse in and put him up, you get on home,¡± Vetch offered.

    ¡°Captain Tarese hasn¡¯t dismissed us yet, you dolt.¡±

    Vetch gathered in both horses¡¯s reins. ¡°If she asks, I¡¯ll say she put me in charge of the group and I said you could go.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s your hide then,¡± said Ennric. ¡°But I ain¡¯t arguing.¡± He shrugged and gave Vetch a nod. It was all the gesture of thanks Vetch would get out of him over such a thing, but he needed no more. Soldiers had their pride; stubborn old ones most of all. Vetch watched him head off up the road, before leading both horses back to the stables.

    As he returned, more of the group who had been sent down the east road toward the dairy were arriving. With them was Wenzl, riding amidst a few others, including Neschi. All of them were grinning and laughing and heaping praise upon the new recruit.

    When Neschi saw Vetch, she hopped off her horse with the grace of an acrobat, calling, ¡°Vetch! Vetch, wait till you hear what Wenzl did! He got one of ¡®em! Nailed one of those bastards with an arrow¡ªriding at a full clip, no less!¡± She pulled the tie from her ponytail and shook her straight black hair out around her thin face. ¡°Damndest thing I¡¯ve ever seen!¡± she added with a toothy grin.

    ¡°You managed to kill one of them?¡± Vetch asked in surprise, turning his eyes to Wenzl. The new recruit and the other soldiers around him dismounted, and it took a moment for the jostling and hair-tousling to abate enough for him to answer.

    ¡°Not killed, no,¡± he said. ¡°At least, I don¡¯t think so. It was a lucky shot. Got him in the arm, I think.¡±

    ¡°Lucky, nothin¡¯,¡± scoffed Neschi. ¡°Should¡¯ve seen it, Vetch. We caught the rustlers by surprise off their horses trying to bust up someone¡¯s corral. And Wenzl here, he looses a shot from distance, same as the rest of us did, just to scare ¡®em off, and he actually hits one! The rustler yelped like a scalded cat and dropped his axe climbing back on his horse to escape. They knew we were serious then. What cowards! One boy with barely his moustache in was all it took and they were off fleeing like surprised jackdaws.¡± She shoved Wenzl and laughed uproariously.

    Another soldier put his arm around Wenzl¡¯s shoulders and gave him a shake. ¡°Lay off, Neschi, this ain¡¯t no boy. This here is a Moonfane Forge garrison soldier! And if he isn¡¯t quite a man yet, then he¡¯ll soon be made one when all the young lasses in the taverns hear this tale!¡±

    Wenzl blushed furiously then, but the grin on the young man¡¯s face would have taken a pry bar to remove.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll be the first in line to give ¡®im a roll!¡± Neschi joined in, and gave Wenzl a teasing light clap on the cheek with her palm, causing him to blush even brighter. There was no replying to that. But no chance for reply was given before Neschi and the other soldier both burst into laughter, with Neschi adding, ¡°I¡¯m only kidding, Wenzl. You¡¯re not my type. But I will be the first in line to buy you a mug of ale. Where¡¯s Cap¡¯n Tarese to let us out to the taverns?¡±

    Their captain did arrive and, after everyone was done taking care of their horses, and the group leaders had reported, dismissed them all for the night¡ªall those except the unlucky few who had to return to gate duty, or ride back out on patrols to ensure none of the livestock rustlers returned. The impending approach of dawn did not dissuade some of the garrison¡¯s ranks from indeed making their way to the taverns for a celebratory mug or two, though just as many preferred to return to the barracks for what sleep they could catch in the few hours remaining to them. Vetch was amongst these. He had still not slept at all that night. But it wasn¡¯t that which kept him from joining his companions for a toast to their duty carried out. He didn¡¯t feel like celebrating. Not after how effectively the rustlers had used his town¡¯s own yaks against them as a distraction that likely let them escape with a number of the valuable beasts. His group had succeeded in driving their lot of the thieves off, yes, but it had been messy under his command.

    And there was something else. Ennric¡¯s words from earlier in the night kept returning to him. Something¡¯s not right, the old soldier had said. The more Vetch thought about it, the more he was inclined to agree. He just couldn¡¯t put his finger on why.

    It wouldn¡¯t be until the coming day that that inclination would ring true.

 Chapter 3: A Flower Plucked, part 1

    It wasn¡¯t an overly warm day¡ªthe beginning of spring in the mountains tended to feel like lingering winter still clinging to new greenery, with belatedly receding tendrils of frost¡ªyet still the noontide sun felt overbearing to Vetch, and he was already sweating in his padded garrison uniform. He and a handful of garrison soldiers rode slowly behind Captain Tarese, as she in turn rode beside a herdswoman and her teenaged son along what had been a long line of fencing that divided one farmstead¡¯s yak herd from another¡¯s. This particular herdswoman was the head of a group who watched over both herds. As she pointed out the worst of the damage, she told a story that had become all too familiar already to Vetch and his companions that day: what seemed like a small army of livestock rustlers had descended on the pastures in the night and begun letting out as many yaks as they could. Those watching the herds who had tried to get to the alarm bells had been driven off and had little choice but to flee to the town. What some of those people had witnessed and heard as they had fled was truly baffling. It was the thieves themselves who rang the alarm bells, not any of the farmers or shepherds or herdsmen.

    All that morning, Vetch and his fellow soldiers had accompanied their captain on an inspection of all the farms hit, and all that morning it had been the same story told to them by everyone they had spoken to, whether they kept two yaks or oversaw two hundred: the rustlers were numerous and chiefly concerned with freeing as many of the animals as possible, and most strangely, it had been the rustlers themselves who had sounded the alarms.

    But that wasn¡¯t all, as Vetch and his companions had witnessed for themselves all morning now that daylight could show them the true import of the attack. The thieves had not been content only to open the gates of the various paddocks and pens. They had in fact destroyed as many of the enclosures and fences as they could. Even now Vetch noted an axe with a broken handle left behind in the grass by one of the perpetrators, beside the splintered remnants of fencing. He recalled, too, how the man Wenzl had hit with an arrow had also dropped an axe. These thieves had come prepared, and done much worse than stolen some valuable animals; they had obliterated the very pens that the remaining beasts should have been herded back into. There was simply nowhere left in most cases for all the milling yaks to be gathered up and returned to. Some farmers and herdsman were furious over it; others destitute. Even now, hundreds of the prized beasts roamed aimlessly in the roads, or mingled in pastures not their own, or trampled through newly planted crops. And many others had been driven to stampeding off into the night, who knows how many miles away from their home farms by now. Even if they could all be found and brought back, where could they be securely housed?

    The slow ride back into town was a solemn one. Vetch had always known their captain to be free with sharing her thoughts with the rest of their rank and file. She never left her soldiers in the dark about what she was thinking or what she expected of them. So, he found it troubling now that she said not a word during the ride back. Her expression was grave and her brow tense. It would be her job now to report the extent of the losses to the heads of town. Vetch could understand something of how weighty a task that would be. The day¡¯s dawning had brought to everyone in Moonfane Forge¡ªtownsmen, farmers, and soldiers alike¡ªa dawn of understanding about how truly serious their situation was. It was not just the loss of a few animals; not even the scattering of so many that could be gathered up and brought back to safe enclosures. With no place to house them, many more could still be lost, to predators, to other roving thieves, to the tangle of dangerous woodlands to the east. This could mean the end of some farmsteads, the ruin of entire families, and a hit to the livelihood and reputation of Moonfane Forge itself for years to come. Vetch sighed and wondered how Captain Tarese would break the news to those who ran the town, even as behind him a couple of his companions discussed the very same topic in hushed tones.

    Vetch knew that the entire garrison had done what they were trained to do. It had seemed a victory of sorts when they were all riding back to town the night before. Now, it felt hollow. How could they have been prepared for this? How could they have prevented it? Could he have led his group better? On top of those questions were now the myriad others about just what the rustlers had meant to accomplish by their actions. It had seemed ludicrous, at first, that the rustlers themselves had rung the alarm bells. But everyone they had spoken to on this day had agreed in no uncertain terms that that was exactly what had happened. The thieves themselves had sounded all the alarms. Why?

    Captain Tarese led them to the stables and then relieved them of their duty for the time being, but warned them to not spend the day at the taverns, because some of them might be needed again for gate duty or patrols that evening. Vetch needed no second bidding. He had another destination in mind.

    As he passed under the platform above the South Gate, he looked up into the unmistakably hung-over face of Wenzl. The young soldier nodded. Vetch returned the gesture.

    ¡°Vetch,¡± called the man standing guard beside Wenzl. ¡°You look as sour as the captain did. It really that bad?¡±

    Vetch shaded his eyes and put on an attempt at a smile, but agreed, ¡°It¡¯s not good.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± said the man. In that one word was a full summation of the malaise that would be making its way through the entire garrison by the time Vetch had reached the Residential District of town. Word traveled fast. The rest of the soldiers would soon know what he and the small group who had ridden out with their captain had seen that morning.

    The day felt no cooler to Vetch, now that he was treading the cobbled streets up and down the hilly districts that composed Moonfane Forge. Even with a decent breeze from the mountain sweeping down narrow avenues, he still felt hot from the exertion and cursed himself for not stopping by the barracks to trade his heavy uniform out for something he had not been sweating in all morning. As he frequently did lately, he paused at the head of the street that led a gently winding course up to the little house Lily shared with Mage Marigold. He was tempted to pay them a call, but then he remembered that Lily would be training this day. Even if they were home, it would be best not to disturb them. As he understood it, magic took a kind of concentration most non-mages could not grasp. Once again, his mind wandered to tomorrow and their date for a day strolling the markets together. He would see her soon enough.

    His true destination was Ennric¡¯s house. The old soldier and his wife lived farther up in the Residential District, near the Trades District. Ennric¡¯s home had once been a shop that sold horse tack, as Vetch understood it. But that was before Vetch¡¯s time. Before even Ennric¡¯s time. Nowadays, it was a dwelling that suited the old soldier well. It bore neither the plaster nor paint that was in fashion on the exteriors of Moonfane Forge homes. Instead, it was composed of plain timber atop a stone and mortar foundation. The interior was no less rough and rustic. It fit Ennric. Vetch could imagine himself living in such a home one day when he settled down.

    Ennric was sitting on a padded chair on his wide and shaded porch beside a short table bearing a pitcher and cup when Vetch arrived.

    ¡°Look what the cat¡¯s dragged in,¡± he greeted Vetch.

    Vetch came up the stone steps and stood before the man. ¡°Afternoon, old man. You didn¡¯t bring a chair out for me?¡± he asked, gesturing around as if affronted. He regarded Ennric, noting how unused he was to seeing him in his regular townsman¡¯s clothes, rather than his garrison black and silver. ¡°How¡¯s your back feeling?¡±

    Ennric sat up straighter in his chair as if testing it. ¡°Better than you look. I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s not good news. Hang on, boy, let me get you that chair. Arlette!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother her, I can get the chair,¡± said Vetch, but before he could step to the door, Ennric¡¯s wife came outside. She favored her husband briefly with a raised-brow expression, before turning a smile toward Vetch.

    ¡°Vetch, welcome. It¡¯s good to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure?¡± Ennric¡¯s wife Arlette wore her years a fair bit better than her husband. She displayed only the beginning streaks of gray through her thick black hair, while the crow¡¯s feet at the corners of her dark eyes, and the lines around her mouth, contrastingly spoke less of rough decades of soldiering and more of a lifetime of smiles and laughter. ¡°Can I fetch you a cup or are you still on duty? This one¡¯s having ice wine.¡± She indicated Ennric.

    ¡°I¡¯m off duty for now, but that could change later, so no wine for me,¡± said Vetch. ¡°I stopped by with some news.¡±

    ¡°Coffee, then?¡± she offered. ¡°You look like you could use some.¡±

    Vetch brightened at the idea. ¡°Please, yes.¡±

    Arlette smiled. ¡°Grab yourself a chair from inside, and one for me, also. I¡¯ll brew the coffee.¡±

    Once Vetch had settled himself in his chair, with Ennric¡¯s wife joining them, Vetch told Ennric the tale of all he had witnessed in the morning¡¯s visits to all the farms that were attacked, of the destroyed fences and paddocks, how the rustlers had sown panic throughout the herds so that many more animals scattered and fled than were taken, and, the last strange piece of the puzzle, how the thieves themselves had rung the alarm bells. Throughout the recounting, Ennric had sat with a stern look across his wide, weathered face. When it was done, he appeared to collect his thoughts. The old soldier took up the wine pitcher and poured himself and his wife each another cup. Vetch had hardly touched his coffee while speaking. He sipped it now and found it had become lukewarm. The energizing effect it would have on him was the important thing, but that could only last so long. He would need a meal soon. And sleep.

    ¡°Why did they ring the bells?¡± Ennric voiced the obvious question. ¡°If they hadn¡¯t done that, they could¡¯ve gotten away with a lot more of the animals before we were alerted.¡±

    Vetch shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said through a yawn. He set his cup down and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. The previous night¡¯s lack of sleep was preying on his ability to order his thoughts.

    ¡°You said they intentionally scattered the yaks,¡± Arlette offered. ¡°Ennric told me this morning how that had delayed your pursuit of them last night.¡±

    Ennric fixed his wife with an odd stare, something between amusement and false severity.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked.

    ¡°This is soldier¡¯s talk, woman.¡±

    ¡°And? What of it?¡± she rejoined.

    ¡°He means you¡¯ll have to dumb things down for us,¡± said Vetch.

    Arlette drew herself up and smiled wryly. ¡°So ... maybe that¡¯s why they rang the bells. Maybe they thought it would help to startle all the other yaks, to make it harder for you to chase them down.¡±

    Vetch and Ennric both considered this.

    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± agreed Ennric after a moment. ¡°All the loose animals certainly muddied things for us. But then to take all that time to break all the fences and pens ...¡±

    Vetch nodded. ¡°And they brought axes for it. They planned it out, and took the time to do it. To do all that, and to cease ringing the bells all at the same time to make their escape, would have taken considerable planning and coordinating.¡±

    ¡°All to stick around longer than they needed to, just to break everything?¡± questioned Arlette.

    Ennric threw back the last of his wine, then levered himself up from his chair with a grunt. He walked to the porch rail and leaned heavily on it to look out over the town. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make any sense. They gave themselves less time to avoid the garrison by ringing all the bells ... all while they were destroying fences, which took up more time that they could have used to make off with even more yaks last night.¡± He shook his head and repeated, ¡°It doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    Vetch had been staring into the dark depths of his coffee. Despite himself, his sleep-deprived mind had begun to wander. But part of Ennric¡¯s musings brought him back to the present.

    ¡°Last night,¡± he said. ¡°They could have taken more yaks last night.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± said Ennric, turning around to settle his good eye on Vetch. ¡°So why didn¡¯t they?¡±

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Maybe ... maybe so they could keep taking yaks indefinitely.¡±

    Ennric scowled and crossed his arms. ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Think about it,¡± Vetch said, warming to the notion as it came to him, even as the implication sent a chill down his spine. ¡°Them destroying all the fences and pens means we have nowhere to safely put the animals now; they¡¯re all just roaming around outside of town. There¡¯s no way for us to guard all of them, or even know how far away some of them have wandered. Those thieves can come back any time they please, as many times as they please, to take even more of the yaks in the night, well out of sight of our farms.¡±

    ¡°Then they weren¡¯t scattering them to delay you,¡± Ennric¡¯s wife said quietly. ¡°They were scattering them to set up more thefts later.¡±

    Ennric stared hard at Vetch. ¡°Shit,¡± he said at length. ¡°I wish I could find some reasoning to call you wrong right now, boy. Captain Tarese should be told of this. Right now.¡±

    Much more awake now, Vetch drained the rest of his coffee and stood. ¡°Then I¡¯m off to do that. Arlette,¡± he said and nodded to Ennric¡¯s wife. Then in passing, he clapped Ennric on the shoulder. ¡°Think you¡¯ll be feeling better enough to be back with us tomorrow?¡±

    The old soldier smiled wryly. ¡°Either way, I think I¡¯m going to have to be.¡±

    *

    Lily paused at the top of the long stone staircase that led one up to Silver Mine Street, the oldest street at the top of the Silversmith¡¯s District. This place had been where the early silver miners had set up the tent settlement that would eventually grow to become the permanent town of Moonfane Forge. It was a plain and dour section of town, composed of old stone streets and buildings that were the first true buildings built in the area, and seemed always to rest in Mt. Moonfane¡¯s shadow. But being that it also was one of the town¡¯s highest points, it afforded one an astounding overview of Moonfane Forge and its surrounding lands. Lily could not keep the smile from her face as she looked fondly out over her home. Moonfane Forge¡¯s different districts¡ªits houses, gardens, establishments, and courtyards¡ªwere spread out below her on their gentle hills and slopes and avenues. Beyond the town itself were all the hilly green pastures and farms and fields. Altogether, the region looked not unlike a giant patchwork quilt thrown haphazardly across the land, so that its rumples were the foothills and valleys upon which everything resided.

    A fine and cold mist wafted over Lily from the small seasonal waterfalls that formed high up on the black cliffs behind the town this time of year, when the lower mountain snows began to melt. It created rainbows in the afternoon sunlight which hung across Lily¡¯s vision. It would have been a perfect vision of her beloved town, if not for all the loosely roaming yaks that she could see as brown and white and black dots out in the pastures and upon the roads. The sounding of alarm bells the night before had been terrifying and confusing, and very few townsfolk had been able to find out what it had even been about until morning, when some of the details had spread throughout town. It was a stark reminder now that something more serious than a mere taking of a few animals had been inflicted upon them, and recalled Lily, also, to the reason she now found herself in a part of town she rarely had reason to visit.

    Huffing and puffing, Mage-Matron Marigold at last mounted the top step and came to stand beside Lily, ostensibly to also spend a moment taking in the view. Lily offered her arm for support to the old mage, who took it and patted the back of Lily¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Thank you, girl. I¡¯m fine.¡± Marigold chewed her lip in thought, causing her face to become even more wrinkled than it normally was. ¡°One of these days, I¡¯m going to demand they move the town¡¯s Council to some other building.¡± She waved her hand vaguely at the middle of town below them. ¡°Somewhere over there, like.¡±

    ¡°By the taverns?¡±

    ¡°Why not? ¡®S¡¯nothing to be discussed in an old building at the top of a long, long stairway that can¡¯t be discussed over a couple pints at the alehouse down the street.¡± She grunted and leaned backwards in a stretch. ¡°Ah, but listen to me. I chose to live here, and I still choose to live here. It¡¯s all my town. Silly to complain about the parts of it that make my knees creak.¡±

    ¡°I thought your parents chose to move your family here when you were a young girl.¡±

    Marigold glanced up into Lily¡¯s face with a subtle smile. ¡°Mm. Same thing. At the very least, I chose to come back to stay after traveling enough to see what else was out there.¡± She chuckled throatily. ¡°And I also typically get to choose if and when I ever walk the streets that have stairs like this one.¡± She sighed and turned to face the broad stone building up the street that was the meeting place of Moonfane Forge¡¯s town Council, where a runner had bid them come immediately. Marigold nodded to Lily. ¡°Except for today. We are summoned, so let¡¯s dally no longer. This is part of being a town¡¯s mage, Barrier-Caster or otherwise. Consider this a replacement for your lessons for today.¡±

    With that, the old mage strode purposefully up the street and to the old building, with Lily matching her stride. Marigold paused before the solid wood door long enough to push some strands of her long silver hair back up under her kerchief, then she let herself inside.

    Lily followed and closed the door behind them. The interior of Moonfane Forge¡¯s Council Building¡ªor, the Silversmith¡¯s Council Building, as it was properly known¡ªwas composed of one rectangular hall, a place where official meetings could be held and decisions of import could be made, where the representatives of the town¡¯s various districts could gather and discuss the types of things the heads of a small but prosperous town must discuss. It was also the place where messengers arriving from the King¡¯s Capital City would be received, and official replies were drafted. It was not a place Lily ever had need to visit but for a handful of times in her life. The last time she had been in this room, she realized, had been five years prior, when she was fourteen and had arrived with her parents and Marigold to be officially recorded in the town¡¯s records as Mage Marigold¡¯s mage-apprentice. As it had then, the nicely furnished hall, with its old wood floors, yak¡¯s hair rugs and wall hangings, and antique tables and chairs, smelled to her of the kind of mustiness that no room, no matter how opulent, escaped taking on when it was so old and used so sporadically.

    The first thing she noticed as she trailed Marigold into the room, beneath the subdued glow of its candle chandelier, was Vetch. She was surprised to see him here. He stood at the shoulder of the garrison¡¯s captain before the town¡¯s Council members. Everyone in the room had looked up when Lily and Marigold had entered, but Lily¡¯s eyes found and held Vetch¡¯s face in that moment. He looked tired. But as their eyes met, he smiled at her and seemed to stand more squarely. Lily had only the chance to return the smile before Marigold commanded the attention of all in the room.

    ¡°I¡¯m here. What¡¯s all this about?¡± she demanded unceremoniously. The old mage¡¯s keen eyes roved the room and everyone in it, from the two soldiers she chose to stop beside, to the faces of the town¡¯s four Council members¡ªrepresentatives of the Silversmith¡¯s, Trades, Residential Districts, and outlying farmsteads, respectively¡ªto the captain of the town guard, who stood in his brown and yellow uniform with arms crossed and a harried look on his face. None of the people in the room sat at the broad council table. Instead, they were all standing together informally in the center of the room, like a group of acquaintances mingling at a party. Only they all wore looks of concern and stress. Lily got the impression the conversation had been tense before she and her Mage-Matron had interrupted things with their arrival. Marigold looked from one face to another, then raised her hands, palms upward, in a gesture of questioning. ¡°You called for me?¡±

    The representative of the Silversmith¡¯s District was a small and spindly man who had always looked to Lily like a kind of insect, with his hunched posture, bald pate, and thick spectacles. Yet, for his feeble appearance, he was the most skilled silver-worker in Moonfane Forge and could boast a family lineage going back to some of the oldest inhabitants of the town. It was only natural that he was the de facto head of the Silversmith¡¯s Council. The man cleared his throat.

    ¡°We did,¡± he said in his soft voice. ¡°We¡¯ve just been listening to Captain Tarese and one of her men about the ... attack last night. And what the damage could mean.¡±

    ¡°Will mean,¡± put in Captain Tarese.

    The head silversmith hadn¡¯t taken his eyes from Marigold, but nodded in acquiescence to Captain Tarese¡¯s assertion. ¡°How much have you heard about the attack?¡± he asked Marigold.

    ¡°Some soldiers¡¯s gossip,¡± the mage hedged. ¡°A bunch of thieves broke up some paddocks and made off with some of the animals is what we heard. Though I can tell it was something more serious than the usual bands of ne¡¯er-do-wells thinking they could make their fortune by snatching a yak or two. And you wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve called me here unless you wanted a Barrier cast. The thing I can¡¯t figure is what you¡¯d need one for. Cap¡¯n Tarese¡¯s people did their job, I¡¯ve no doubt.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it is serious,¡± he said wearily. ¡°More serious than even the bedlam of last night portended. I¡¯ll let Captain Tarese tell it and then I¡¯ll tell you the plan we¡¯ve all decided upon.¡±

    Lily and Marigold both turned their attention to the taciturn soldier.

    ¡°Where to start?¡± Tarese seemed to ask herself, then sighed and launched into the tale.

    As she filled Marigold in on the details of the attack, Lily caught Vetch¡¯s attention once more and mouthed silently is my family okay? She had to do it twice before he understood. He nodded once to her and Lily breathed a sigh of relief. She had tried to leave by the East Gate that morning to visit her parents and brother to check on their wellbeing, but the soldiers there had advised her to stay in town. And while word had gotten around throughout the day that nobody was hurt in the attack, only animals thieved away, Lily still felt much better to have it confirmed by Vetch. Her eyes stayed on him as he stood behind his captain and turned his attention back to the business at hand. His eyes had lingered long enough that Lily was certain he wished to say more, and now she wondered if they¡¯d get the opportunity to speak after this summoning. Lily felt a sharp jab in her ribs and was startled. She turned to find Marigold had elbowed her.

    ¡°Oww,¡± she whispered.

    The old mage didn¡¯t give her the pleasure of reacting. She didn¡¯t even look cross about Lily not paying attention, but simply kept her own attention on the silversmith, who was again speaking, a subtle rebuke to Lily to do the same. She took her Mage-Matron¡¯s lesson and did so, just as the silversmith wrapped up what he had been saying and asked a question. To Lily¡¯s surprise, he asked it not of Marigold alone, but of she and Lily.

    ¡°Could the two of you together cast Barriers to be temporary enclosures for the yaks, to protect them while their original fences are rebuilt?¡±

    Lily saw the look that passed across Marigold¡¯s face undisguised. It was the look of a master being asked to do something by someone with no knowledge whatsoever of their craft.

    ¡°No,¡± Marigold said simply. When the head of the Silversmith¡¯s District only knit his brow in confusion, Marigold sighed and elaborated. ¡°Without knowing how long to cast them for? How long will it take to repair the fences? And how many Barriers? And for how many of the yaks? That much Casting, I¡¯d be in Slumber for months. The town¡¯s Barrier would wear out and disappear well before I woke. And Lily ... if Lily tried to do that much Casting alongside me at her current skill, good as she¡¯s coming along, well ...¡± She looked at Lily, who herself shrugged. Marigold shook her head. ¡°Years in Slumber for her. And that¡¯s all besides the fact that you never want both a mage and her apprentice in Slumber at the same time, because one depends on the other to watch over them. Shall I number off the thousand other reasons that idea wouldn¡¯t work and is, in fact, terrible?¡±

    ¡°No, Mage Marigold, you¡¯ve made your point,¡± he said and rubbed at the furrows in his brow. ¡°I asked only because I don¡¯t rightly favor the plan we all actually settled upon.¡±

    ¡°And that is?¡±

    Captain Tarese answered. ¡°We¡¯d like you to take down Moonfane Forge¡¯s Barrier. Then the yaks could be herded into town¡ªas many as possible, at least¡ªand kept safe from further thieving here long enough for the fences and paddocks out there to be rebuilt. Once they are, the herds get moved back out to where they belong, and you can re-cast the Barrier.¡±

    The captain of the town guard chose that moment to speak. ¡°Every street and chicken yard is going to be crammed with the great beasts.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be temporary,¡± argued the head of all the farmsteads. ¡°Or do you want to explain to all the owners of those beasts that we¡¯re just going to leave them out there unguarded, so more of them can be spirited away? Because there aren¡¯t enough soldiers in the garrison to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Alright. Peace,¡± said the head silversmith. ¡°We argued this already and settled this already. Mage Marigold?¡± he asked, looking to her.

    The old woman chewed her lip a moment and nodded slowly. ¡°Seems sound to me. To dispel the Barrier would cost me only a few days in Slumber. I¡¯ll probably wake before the new fences are finished. When that¡¯s done, and the animals are back in their pastures, I¡¯ll re-cast the town Barrier.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like the Barrier being down,¡± said the guard captain.

    ¡°Nor do any of us,¡± said Captain Tarese.

    ¡°Build quickly then,¡± Marigold suggested. ¡°And, one more thing!¡± She pointed a knobby finger at Lily. ¡°Lily does no Casting. None. So don¡¯t ask it of her.¡± She looked firmly up at Lily to make sure she understood that command as well as everyone else in the room. ¡°My apprentice stays awake to watch over me while I Slumber.¡± She turned that adamant gaze upon every other face present, and when she was satisfied there was no argument, clapped her hands and said, ¡°Then that¡¯s settled. Give my apprentice and I the rest of the evening to prepare. I will dispel the Barrier at first light.¡±

    ¡°We realize how large of a thing we are asking, make no mistake,¡± said the head silversmith.

    Marigold waved her hand dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s my job. And my home, too. It¡¯ll be done. Just you make sure you use the time it¡¯ll cost me well.¡± Without waiting for further comment, she turned and headed for the door.

    With a last glance at Vetch, Lily followed. She could not tell exactly what was conveyed by his expression before she was out the door to catch up with Marigold. At the top of the stairs at the head of the street, she took the old mage¡¯s arm and this time matched her slow pace navigating down the stone steps.

    ¡°Can¡¯t take your eyes off him for even a second, can you?¡± Marigold creaked beside her. Lily flushed. Before she could decide if it were a rebuke or not, Marigold burst into cackling laughter. ¡°I thought not! He is a handsome lad, no mistake. Though you should tell him to run a comb through his hair once in a while. Or better yet, take Fae¡¯s comb to him!¡±

    Lily near snorted trying not to laugh and encourage her teacher¡¯s teasing. She partially succeeded. She hoped at least it would disguise the color on her cheeks now. ¡°Can we even make it down these stairs without you needling me so? Let¡¯s just get you home,¡± she tried changing the subject. ¡°There will be a lot of preparation for this, won¡¯t there? And not much time.¡± It was true; they both needed to prepare. Even if Lily herself would be doing no Barrier-Casting, her share of the work would not be insignificant.

    ¡°Mm,¡± Marigold agreed. Then, ¡°But not home, no. I¡¯m hungry and I don¡¯t feel like waiting for either of us to cook. Let¡¯s go to that new eatery. You know the one, the place with the big fireplace and the murals painted on the walls and the little courtyard out back? There¡¯s a braised chevon dish there I¡¯ve been wanting to try. And a drink or two while we plan things out wouldn¡¯t go amiss.¡±

 Chapter 3: A Flower Plucked, part 2

    Evening was drawing in. The musicians who had been playing out in the little courtyard of the eatery had come inside to the main room in order to escape the growing chill in the air. They had settled themselves by the large fire hearth, where they now picked out some lively songs to entertain the diners and drinkers inside.

    Lily had not eaten here before, but was pleased with Marigold¡¯s choice. The establishment wasn¡¯t as loud and boisterous as the taverns the old mage usually favored, but at the same time wasn¡¯t exactly quiet and snobbish either, which would have suited Lily even less. The paintings on the plastered walls were beautiful¡ªthere were pastoral scenes, scenes from fairy tales, tendrils of painted vines climbing up to the ceiling¡ªand the two-sided hearth kept the main and side dining rooms well-warmed. If the place was a little small and cramped otherwise, it made up for it with the food, which had been absolutely delicious. Lily already had designs on bringing Vetch here.

    Their empty plates were pushed aside now, and Lily and her Mage-Matron were a few rounds of ale into their strategic discussion. Any time a mage was anticipating casting a spell significant enough that they must endure an extended period of Slumber, they would plan everything out with their apprentice, whose job was to watch over and care for them as they slept. Lily had performed this service for her teacher many times before, as Marigold had done for Lily throughout her training, but this situation involving first dispelling the Barrier, and then re-casting it again in short order, was quite a bit different from the norm. It meant a significant interruption in Marigold¡¯s schedule, and in Lily¡¯s training. But they had settled on the most straightforward plan. After the Barrier had been dispelled, and Marigold awoke from its resulting Slumber a few days later, she and Lily would resume light training sessions until all the fencing was repaired and the yaks moved back into their pastures. Then Marigold would cast the town¡¯s Barrier anew, but made to last for a shorter duration than she typically cast them to. Her Slumber from it would be shorter, and it would allow for the new Barrier to wear out at about the same time the last one should have otherwise, so the next could be cast on the same schedule that so many of Moonfane Forge¡¯s populace relied on.

    ¡°That¡¯s settled then,¡± Marigold said with the slight slur of ale in her voice. She swigged from her mug, clunked it back down on the tabletop, and grumbled, ¡°Was a foul business breaking the fences. They can¡¯t rightly think we¡¯d let them keep makin¡¯ off with animals from right under our noses without doin¡¯ something about it. ¡®Complishes nothing more than petty destruction.¡± She chewed her lip, tapping a fingernail idly on her mug. ¡°It¡¯s despicable is what it is. Steal a couple animals and someone loses some coin. Life goes on. But break all the herds out and drive ¡®em off, that¡¯s despoiling entire livelihoods! And us now forced to bring the Barrier down? Foul business. Piss on those rustlers.¡± She drained the last of her ale and raised her mug to the serving girl¡¯s attention for another.

    Lily stared at the golden liquid remaining in her own mug. She was falling behind against her mentor. She took another gulp. ¡°The sooner it¡¯s all mended, the better.¡±

    ¡°Right you are, girl,¡± said Marigold, as she watched her mug being refilled. She slipped the serving lass a couple coins and then tipped back another gulp of her own. She smacked her lips. ¡°That¡¯s what us mages do. We mend things. With our brains instead o¡¯ our muscles.¡± She laughed tipsily to herself. ¡°I am sorry this puts such a damned long damper on your training. Complex Imbuements. Would have been doing complex Imbuements soon.¡±

    ¡°I will find things to do,¡± said Lily. She drained her drink, covered her mouth to burp, then held up her mug for another. ¡°I¡¯ll study your instructive writings, and our place could use some tidying. Take Fae out, go visit my parents ... and tomorrow! Tomorrow, I¡¯ve a date to stroll the markets with Vetch. I¡¯ll be going and meeting him after you are settled into your Slumber.¡± She went to open her coin purse as the serving girl returned, but Marigold clinked a couple more coins down on the table before she could.

    ¡°That is fair news,¡± exclaimed the old mage. ¡°Good for you, girl.¡± She leveled a wry smile at Lily then and chuckled knowingly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± beseeched Lily. ¡°It¡¯s just a stroll through the markets!¡±

    ¡°Stroll through the markets, my ass,¡± Marigold grinned. ¡°I see what you are about.¡± She held up her forefinger. ¡°You listen to me as I tell you this, girl, and I implore you to heed this advice ...¡±

    Lily rolled her eyes and spoke before her mentor could continue. ¡°Oh, I suppose you¡¯ll tell me to keep him at arm¡¯s length and keep my legs closed, right? Because magic requires all of our energy reserves, and the old tales are rife with wizards who better had remained chaste so as not to have had their power dwindled by greedy lovers. Is that it?¡± She eyed her mentor as she took a drink from her newly refilled mug.

    Marigold eyed her across the table. ¡°No, you silly girl,¡± she said. ¡°Piss on the old tales! What I was going to say was that the both of you are clearly like bleating goats in segregated pens, and it¡¯s about time you invited him into yours.¡± Listening to this, Lily blanched, then blushed and took a long drink from her mug to hide it. What had she gotten herself into? But Marigold was far from finished. ¡°Listen to an old woman, Lily. Do exactly this. After your stroll, invite him to a tavern for some cups of ale. Match him drink for drink, loosen up both of your purse strings. Then, you take that boy back to your bed and let him split you like a log. Spirits know it¡¯s obvious you¡¯re both desperate to roll each other, and he is a finely built lad.¡±

    Lily choked on her mouthful of ale and spat half of it onto the table, the rest dribbling down her chin. She coughed and cast her eyes about the room for who else might¡¯ve heard. ¡°Mari!¡± she hissed.

    The old woman cackled loudly. ¡°The look on your face just then! Ah, so I¡¯m right, aren¡¯t I? Aren¡¯t I? Take the advice girl, and don¡¯t lose your nerve. Go capture that part of life for yourself the moment you can.¡± Marigold leaned back in her chair. The mirth in her wrinkled features remained, but her tone was more sober as she said, ¡°I have told you how I came to be referred to as The Maiden of Moonfane Forge, have I not?¡±

    ¡°Because you never married or had children,¡± Lily answered, finding a napkin and using it to mop ale from the tabletop and her kirtle.

    ¡°By choice, or so the legend goes,¡± said Marigold. She looked down and fingered her mug absently as she spoke. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t. It was because I didn¡¯t jump at my chance when I had it, never made a grab for the one I was in love with while he was still there for me to try. Then, one day, he wasn¡¯t anymore. And after that heartbreak, I pushed all others away.¡± When she looked up at Lily again, her eyes were filled with both kindness and wisdom. ¡°So, you heed me. Spirits know those like us must Slumber away so much of our lives already. It¡¯d be a waste not to enjoy your moments awake. Don¡¯t let a chance at something you want slip through your fingers, you hear me?¡±

    ¡°I hear you. But ... well, you didn¡¯t have to put it in such crude words,¡± Lily said under her breath.

    Marigold chuckled throatily. ¡°You get to be my age, you learn not to mince words. Ambiguities only leave openings for misunderstandings.¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°How is it you have you had that much ale and not trip over words like that?¡± Even as Lily asked, she could feel how much her own tongue struggled to obey her. The old mage across the table winked.

    ¡°Also comes with age,¡± she declared. Marigold downed the rest of her ale and stood. When Lily went to do the same, the old woman snatched the mug out of her hand with surprising quickness and drank off the rest herself. She wiped her sleeve across her mouth and then grinned at Lily¡¯s feigned affront. ¡°You save that for tomorrow when you¡¯re enjoying your time with your beau. Last I¡¯ll get to have for a few days. Shall we?¡±

    Lily smiled and offered her elbow to her mentor, wondering if it were even possible to be fonder of the old woman than she already was. Marigold took her arm and together they staggered out the door, singing a ribald tavern song to the night.

    A large crowd of Moonfane Forge¡¯s residents had already gathered outside the town¡¯s South Gate by sunrise the next morning. Word always spread fast in a small town, and a good many of the people had probably never seen a Barrier be dispelled before. The occasions when Marigold cast the town Barrier were always large events providing plenty of spectacle, with the magical Barrier manifesting in all its shimmery golden glory around the entire town. But if the people of Moonfane Forge thought there would be something similarly spectacular and magical to witness on this day, Lily knew they would be disappointed. There would be nothing to ¡®see¡¯ of the invisible Barrier being dispelled. Only the mages themselves would even be able to sense the difference when it happened.

    Marigold stood far out on the southern road outside town, far enough away that she could sight and encompass the entire old Barrier in her dispelling. To her side, Lily stood placidly, watching her mentor with the eye of a student keen to witness how their teacher would perform something particularly difficult. Behind them was a veritable sea of lowing and grunting yaks, all those gathered up by sleepless herdsmen and women through the night, ready to be moved into the safety of the town¡¯s boundaries once the Barrier was down. Many had already been given places in empty stalls in the stables. It would be a unique challenge for all the townsfolk to live shoulder to shoulder with the great beasts for however long it took to repair all the paddocks and fences. Lily hoped the builders worked fast. They, too, had already begun their work far out in the pastures.

    Lily watched as, ignoring all the onlookers, Marigold closed her eyes and settled herself into that state of physical relaxation. Inwardly, Lily could sense the magic building from within and around her mentor. Marigold opened her eyes and raised her arms, moving them slowly from one side of her body across to the other, and so across the entirety of Moonfane Forge. Lily felt the spell. It was like a breathing out¡ªnot from the lungs, but from the mind. It was powerful. And, yet, to all the townsfolk looking on not trained as mages, it appeared as nothing more than an old woman casually waving her arms. Then, just like that, the Barrier that Lily could always feel was gone. Marigold swayed on the spot and Lily steadied her. Around them, it was as if the town held its breath, wondering what had happened. Then, Marigold turned her eyes up to the nearest herdsman atop his horse and gave him a nod of her head toward the town gate. The man hesitated a moment, then wheeled his horse around and signaled to all the other riders. Yaks were urged into motion. They ambled heavily up the road. Lily and her Mage-Matron moved aside into the waiting crowd of people. A gasp went up throughout the crowd when the first yaks passed right through the gate without issue. Only then was the magic that had just been done tangible to them.

    The rare scene broke the spell over the crowd and people realized it was time to get to work. Animals needed to be moved both in and out of the town, tired builders in the pastures needed to be relieved, and much of the town still needed to be prepared to feed and house all of these large animals who were already filling the main streets with their shaggy bulk.

    Marigold nudged Lily wordlessly, and Lily nodded her head. The old mage was already feeling the aftereffects of the spell and needed to be home and in her bed before she fell into Caster¡¯s Slumber. The two were content to blend into the crowd to re-enter the town, and from there take narrow side streets back to their home. Once they were through the door, they fell into a routine that was well-practiced. Marigold shed her robe, having already been wearing her nightgown beneath it. The old mage grunted as she kicked her boots unceremoniously off in the sitting room and then ambled down the hallway to her bedroom in the back of the house. Lily followed, picking up the robe and boots as she went. The old mage was already in bed with the covers drawn up when Lily arrived and draped the robe over the open door of the wardrobe. She set the boots near the door.

    ¡°No more than a week,¡± Marigold muttered. ¡°Five or six days, most likely.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Lily answered, moving a chair from the window to beside the bed for herself. She would not need to keep a constant vigil, but an apprentice was expected to be present more often than not. It was her duty to give broth and water at regular times, to take away, wash, and replace the bedclothes as needed, and most importantly, watch over her Mage-Matron while she was defenseless. For as long as Marigold would be in Slumber, the responsibility of her wellbeing was entirely in Lily¡¯s hands.

    ¡°You hear me, girl?¡± Marigold murmured.

    ¡°Yes, Mage-Matron. Five or six days. I¡¯ll have your clothes washed and set out, and a meal and your favorite tea ready when you wake.¡±

    Marigold smiled and nodded at her. It was an unnecessary reminder; it was simply Marigold¡¯s way to quiz her student about even routine duties. Lily knew what was expected of her and what her teacher liked to have ready when she awoke.

    In the time it took Lily to turn to the window to close the drapes and then turn back, Marigold had closed her eyes and fallen into the magical Caster¡¯s Slumber. This, too, was something a fellow mage like Lily could sense. It was nothing like sleep. There was no yawning, no tossing or turning, not even the flutter of eyelids; the old woman lay serenely with her knobby fingers clasped atop the covers, her breathing quiet and tranquil. She would remain that way until the enchanted state wore off.

    It sometimes astounded Lily how powerful a mage Marigold was. She looked upon her Slumbering mentor now with reverence. It was a large and challenging thing she had done this day. To many people it must seem trivial, a woman waving her arms and then going to sleep. But Lily understood how many decades of intense study and practice it took for a mage to perform such magic and hope to ever wake up again at all, let alone do so in less than a week. This stooped old woman truly was a master.

    Lily went about preparing tea and breakfast for herself and then perused some of the instructional writings Marigold had assigned her. This was only for as long as it took her to eat. She had no intention of studying this day. Today was when she was to meet Vetch for their day in the markets together. All the other activities of the morning had been a fair distraction that staved off her nerves, but now that her duties for the time being were finished, and she had the rest of the day for herself and him, the butterflies had begun flitting about in her stomach. And once that had begun, she figured she might as well get ready.

    Upstairs in her little room, she had left out a particular white and blue dress bearing embroidery much fancier than that of any of her more functional dresses and kirtles. It had been a gift from her family upon reaching the age of majority. She typically saved it for special days out, such as during festivals and holidays. Along with it, she chose some of her favorite slippers, the ones that were comfortable even after walking for hours in. She cleaned her face and applied some subtle color to lips and cheeks, then pulled her ponytail loose, brushed her hair out, and weaved it into a thick braid down her back. Lastly, she applied a tiny dab of scent to her throat and then looked at herself in her mirror. She smiled.

    She was just in the process of heading downstairs when she stopped, went back up, and looked over her little bedroom. Then, quickly, she cleared some of the worst clutter from her clothes chest and writing desk, and straightened out the coverlet on her bed. Satisfied, she went back downstairs. She had reached the front door when she remembered she¡¯d left her coin purse on her desk. With a sigh at her own absentmindedness, she went once more to the stairs and had just grasped the banister ... and that¡¯s when she heard the first screams. The loud peal of the town¡¯s alarm bells followed almost instantly. But only for a brief moment. In a few seconds, they stopped. But the screams outside only grew louder.

 Chapter 3: A Flower Plucked, part 3

    How much difference a day could make. That was the first thought that came to Vetch as he stepped out of the barracks to meet the temperate spring morning. Only twenty-four hours prior he had been decked out in his heavy soldier¡¯s uniform, sweating and sucking in dust as he rode behind his captain on their inspection of the damaged fences, followed by a long day of running all about town relaying information and then waiting in case he was needed again later. And now? Now, he was fresh from a brisk bath, dressed in his nice townsman¡¯s shirt, trousers and soft leather boots, and on his way to meet Lily in the markets. It was a beautiful day and his feet felt light on the cobbles as they led him to her. Not even all the livestock still being driven through the streets to various holding pens and warehouses about town would delay him from arriving on time. He merely diverted to the winding side streets and alleys he¡¯d known since he was a boy, cutting through gardens and little plazas, away from the bustle of the main thoroughfares and their busy establishments. He hopped over a short wall and then pushed his hair back from his face. It had gotten to that awkward length where it would get in his eyes but was not yet long enough to tie back. He would have to have someone trim it for him later. Then, just as quickly, he didn¡¯t care. A broad smile spread across his face. Lily was waiting on him, and that was the only thing he cared about this day, a day they would have all to themselves, together.

    The sounds of all the yaks and their herdsmen a few streets over¡ªand the complaints of townsfolk who were none too pleased at having gardens trampled and narrow gates shouldered through¡ªat first disguised a more distant sound building. When it had grown enough for Vetch¡¯s ears to catch it, he at first believed he couldn¡¯t be hearing what he thought he was. But it grew and grew, a wretched thundering. A general clamor began to course its way through the streets of the town at the edge of hearing until it was drowned out by screams. The alarm bells at the gates began ringing and then there was the unmistakable hiss of arrows in flight, and the alarm bells were cut off.

    Vetch felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck and his entire body became chilled. Immediately he turned back the way he had come and began running, jumping garden walls and pounding the cobbles of little hilly side streets. To the barracks. He must get back to the barracks and his sword, to join his fellow soldiers. He met a rush of townsfolk as he neared the main road up from the South Gate. They jostled with panicked livestock and with each other in their wild flight to get away from the gate and the central part of town. Vetch felt like he was swimming against a river current as he shoved his way against the grain through the throng and across the street. He had to grasp a lumbering yak¡¯s horns and clamber gracelessly over the lowing beast to reach the street that led back to the barracks. But this path, too, was choked with people and animals. One stubborn herdsman was off his horse and pulling desperately at her reins while the animal steadfastly refused to shift.

    ¡°Move, damn you!¡± Vetch growled his frustration at anyone and everyone around him. He shoved the herdsman. ¡°Leave the animals and get to the Silversmith¡¯s District!¡± That was where people were supposed to flee to if there were ever an attack. The old buildings there were large and thick-timbered and could easily be barricaded from the inside.

    Vetch chanced a look back at the South Gate then and caught his first sight of the raiders, confirming what he had already guessed: Moonfane Forge was under attack. The arrow-pierced bodies of the soldiers who¡¯d been on gate duty lay across the parapet. Through the gate and up the main street, the raiders were pouring into town on horseback. They had been somewhat held up by the clot of livestock in the way, but were pushing and driving the animals forward as they came. Some had dismounted and were stabbing and slashing indiscriminately at any townsfolk unfortunate enough to be in their range. Others were tossing lit torches onto roofs and through windows of buildings as they passed. They wore no uniforms that Vetch could see at a glance¡ªno colors or patterns or crests. Instead, they were clad in a mishmash of different styles of plate or chainmail or leather armor, so that Vetch could not even tell what region or country they might be from. He hated to run away from the invaders, but he¡¯d do little good without a weapon.

    His soft boots pounded the cobblestones up the way to the barracks. As the long stone building came into sight¡ªhis fellow garrison soldiers already pushing their way toward him¡ªa raider stepped out from a side alley directly into Vetch¡¯s path. They nearly bumped into one another, and the raider¡¯s face appeared almost surprised through the eye holes of his helm. It was his mistaking Vetch for a regular townsman in his normal clothes that gave Vetch the upper hand in reacting. As the man went to lift his sword, Vetch caught him by the wrist and put his elbow into the man¡¯s chest, charging forward to shove him roughly against the wall of the building behind him. The raider dropped his sword to claw Vetch¡¯s forearm away from pressing higher on his throat. They struggled and suddenly they were on the ground, punching, clawing, and kneeing in a wild and primal fashion. Vetch managed to rip the man¡¯s helm off and was met by a face alike to his own in age, but with pale and scarred features and closely shorn hair. Vetch went for the man¡¯s throat again, but was countered with a knee to the gut. Vetch felt all the breath go out of him and haphazardly pushed himself up onto his knees to narrowly dodge the punch that followed.

    The raider got up into a crouch, showing blood-lined teeth in a grimace of advantage. Still gasping painfully, Vetch didn¡¯t anticipate the next punch in time. Hard knuckles clipped his jaw and set stars to capering before his eyes. He staggered up. He needed to get out of this man¡¯s range, to get his breath and balance back. But his opponent saw this too and made a wild grab at Vetch when he tried to dodge backwards. The man¡¯s fingers ended up clasping around the coin pouch on Vetch¡¯s belt and tearing it loose. Coins went scattering everywhere across the cobblestones as the raider was left off-balance and holding only the empty pouch. It was enough of an opening for Vetch. As the man tried to stand, Vetch met him with a brutal headbutt to the face. Vetch felt a splash of hot pain explode across his cheek bone as the man before him bellowed and threw his hands up in defense. Vetch got his own boots more solidly underneath him and kicked the man hard down onto his back, then proceeded to stomp his face and neck until he went limp.

    There was a ringing in Vetch¡¯s ears as he stood doubled over with his hands on his knees recovering his breath. He knew he should be in more pain than he was, but at present all he could feel was the heat of the blood dripping from his right cheek. He watched the dark drops make red flower patterns on the cobbles before the toes of his boots. As the ringing faded, the sounds of battle, of clanging steel and shouts and screams, reached his ears. He forced himself upright and looked around to regain his bearings. All around him in the streets, pockets of vicious fighting had broken out between Moonfane Forge¡¯s black and silver clad soldiers and the motley invaders. The area had mostly cleared of fleeing townsfolk and frightened animals, though Vetch could see those who hadn¡¯t escaped the raiders¡¯s blades lying wherever they¡¯d fallen. Ugly brown smoke billowed and swirled all across the horrific scene as torched buildings belched flames from their windows and roofs. Which way had he been running before? Where was the barracks?

    ¡°... tch! Vetch! ... VETCH!¡± Vetch whipped his attention around and found Ennric striding for him. The old veteran¡¯s blade was already bloodied, and in his other hand was Vetch¡¯s sword. There was none of the stiffness in Ennric¡¯s movements that had been there the day before as he tossed Vetch his sword. ¡°Looking for that?¡±

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Vetch caught it and almost smiled. The familiar texture of its grip against his palm, the balanced heft of its weight; it was like a spell had been broken then, having his blade in hand. He was a Moonfane Forge soldier. This was his town. These were his people. He and his fellows would fight these raiders to their final drops of blood. ¡°Thanks, old man!¡± he yelled above the tumult. Side by side, he and Ennric charged into the heaviest of the fighting.

    Blades clashed and crunched, fighters clawed, choked and bit, lost their weapons and wrestled in the dirt and blood and manure. Horses screamed and bolted wildly away from the fighting and fire, not caring who or what they trampled. Vetch cut down a raider, while Ennric dispatched another beside him. A garrison soldier was taken by an arrow. The raiders had positioned archers above the gate who were picking off anyone they could. Across the street, Vetch caught a short glimpse of Wenzl, blonde hair partially wet with blood, skillfully taking on two raiders at once with his blade. And then Vetch was narrowly fending off the first swing of an axe from his right. He turned to face off against the haggard looking battler who had swung it.

    Whomever these raiders were, they were hardened fighters. They seemed to neither need, nor be taking, orders from anyone amongst their ranks, yet they fought with precision as well as brutality. None of them went down easily, and their numbers were only being reinforced as yet more swarmed through the unguarded town gate. Vetch knew he couldn¡¯t think about the battle as a whole just then, only about the man in front of him. After all the years of training and drilling and sparring, his sword arm moved almost of its own accord. He hadn¡¯t even the protection of his leather-reinforced garrison uniform to deflect blows, so he fought as if the first blow he took would be his last. He countered and parried and stabbed and slashed. He lashed out with the pommel of his sword. And when his opponent was breathing hard and finally let his guard drop too low, Vetch targeted a place on his body unprotected by chainmail and drove his blade home between the man¡¯s ribs. He went down with hardly a sound and Vetch promptly forgot about him and looked for the next threat.

    He realized, however, that despite any of the individual fights that he and his fellow soldiers won, they were still being driven back. Worse than that, many of the raiders just joining the fray were bypassing the fighting altogether and riding past them and deeper into town, and many of those also carried lit torches. Above all the noise, Vetch recognized Captain Tarese¡¯s voice shouting out over their ranks.

    ¡°Fall back! Moonfane, move back!¡±

    Inexplicably, the alarm bell off at the West Gate started ringing again. It added a strange tone of absurdity to the milieu, Vetch thought. ¡°The Silversmith¡¯s District!¡± someone shouted. Vetch sought out Captain Tarese with his eyes and began moving back toward her. Some garrison soldiers were doing the same. Others were still engaged in life-or-death struggles. Someone slammed into Vetch¡¯s side and he turned expecting another fight, only to find it was Neschi who had run into him as she, too, retreated. Her eyes were wide and her face dirt-smeared and bruised. Together, they and a small group of soldiers made it back to Captain Tarese. Then she was leading them on a jogging retreat back through the winding and hilly streets of town.

    ¡°Cap¡¯n, where¡¯re we going?¡± someone queried.

    ¡°Silversmith¡¯s,¡± she answered breathlessly. The captain was already bloodied in places herself, her sword certainly not the least of all.

    Vetch realized that neither Ennric nor Wenzl were amongst their little group. The last Vetch had noticed of them, Wenzl had dispatched one opponent and was being pulled away from the other and into a side street by Ennric. And where was everyone else? The fighting had been scattered piecemeal all over the central area of town near the South Gate. Even now, he could hear and see fighting all around as they moved. Soldiers and town guards were fighting for their lives against pockets of raiders, even as more homes and establishments were now aflame and billowing choking brown smoke that shrouded the blue sky. How many of their town¡¯s ranks had already fallen? Would they make the Silversmith¡¯s District in time to set up a stronghold or would the raiders already be there? How much of Moonfane Forge had they already infiltrated, as they had undoubtedly attacked and come through all three town gates?

    As if harboring the same thoughts, Captain Tarese said, ¡°We fight and kill any of them that we can, and protect what we can. They must be after the silver, but that¡¯s where most people will have fled. We protect the people first.¡±

    ¡°What about Marigold?¡± Vetch said. ¡°We have to protect her.¡±

    ¡°Sent people to get her,¡± his captain answered shortly. ¡°To take her to the Council Building.¡±

    The primary duty of Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison was to protect the elderly mage, and so Vetch was not surprised their captain had already seen to that. But the thing on his mind now, that he simply could not shake, was who would see to Lily¡¯s protection? He hoped desperately she had been with her teacher when soldiers came to bring her to the Silversmith¡¯s Council Building. He didn¡¯t want to imagine her having been in the crowded markets already when the raiders fell upon them.

    Tirelessly, he and his fellow soldiers jogged behind their captain until they reached the narrow road that marked the beginning of the Silversmith¡¯s District. Only a week prior, Vetch had stood in this same road with Ennric and Wenzl, the day the new recruit had arrived in town. As they approached the road¡¯s apex now, Vetch soon had his hopes dashed that the fighting would not yet have reached the town¡¯s oldest district. The raiders had beaten them there. Already, the town¡¯s guardsmen and women were engaged in battle with at least a dozen raiders. If battle it could be called. Moonfane Forge¡¯s town guard were a poor match for these unscrupulous invaders. A number of them already lay dead in the road. Heedless of the fighting, some of the raiders had sheathed their weapons and were carrying off ingots of silver and fine jewelry from the silver shops.

    Vetch took all this in in a matter of seconds. It wasn¡¯t only guards and soldiers who lay in the road. Some townsfolk, too, had not made it away in time. These raiders were killing and looting and burning Moonfane Forge, and they were winning.

    Beside Vetch, Captain Tarese let out a roar of rage as she drew her sword and ran straight at the villains. Her soldiers would follow her through all the hells and back, and that¡¯s what they did now. Vetch and his companions roared their challenge together and ran crashing into the fight.

    *

    It sounded like a battle was being fought outside. Slouk pressed his face against the bars of his cell door and pleaded with the guardsman watching the outer door.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening? What¡¯s going on out there? Please, let me out!¡±

    The guardsman didn¡¯t even favor Slouk with a ¡°shut up¡± this time. The man looked antsy. The sounds of battle were getting closer. No other guards had arrived with any information since all the noise had begun, so Slouk suspected this guardsman was just as in the dark as he was.

    ¡°Please,¡± Slouk tried one more time.

    A loud scream issued from seemingly just outside the building. With one baleful look back at Slouk, the guardsman licked his lips and appeared to come to some decision. He pulled his keys from his belt, and for a moment Slouk felt a flood of relief, but instead of unlocking Slouk¡¯s cell, the guardsman disappeared through a door on the other side of the room that Slouk could not see. When he returned, he had with him a pitted but serviceable short sword. Without a word, the guardsman left by the outer door, leaving Slouk unguarded for the first time since he¡¯d been locked up.

    Slouk watched the door. He didn¡¯t want to face whatever it was that was happening outside. But he couldn¡¯t stay either. He was already days late. And finally, finally, no guard was there watching his every move. Quickly, he grabbed up the flattened straw pillow from his pallet and pulled his hidden knife from therein. The dull blade was unimpressive and practically harmless, but that was the point. Slouk worked the hollow false handle free from the blade. From out of it, he shook his lockpicks into his open palm.

    He overturned his water bucket and set it before the door. Standing on it, he could just hook his scrawny arm through the bars and reach the lock on the other side of his cell door. After testing a few different picks on the lock and deciding he could manage it, he set to work.

 Chapter 3: A Flower Plucked, part 4

    Outside Moonfane Forge¡¯s East Gate, surrounded by a guard of hand-picked raiders, Lady Iris raised her hand before her and moved it through the air as if searching for something unseen. When her fingers met no resistance, she dropped her arm by her side and a subtle smile came to her painted lips.

    ¡°At last,¡± she whispered. Then, commandingly, ¡°Follow me.¡± Without turning back to her retinue, she walked purposefully through the unguarded gate and into Moonfane Forge. The straight, raven tresses of her unbound hair trailed and played about the small of her back as she went. To see her striding through the now-deserted streets of the town¡¯s Residential District was to behold an image of a mythological war-maiden, if a war-maiden had spurned her armor for the rich dress of a noblewoman¡ªexpensive skirts and bodice that accentuated her buxom form, in magentas and purples that complimented her olive skin. Prominent cheekbones and a high brow gave Lady Iris the kind of chiseled features one would attribute to great heroines of days of yore. She knew this, and she carried herself to display it, chin held high and posture implying preeminence. Yet the effect stopped short of her dark eyes, which showed only disinterest as she stepped over bodies and strode between smoldering houses, searching.

    She didn¡¯t have to know in which of the idyllic little houses, amongst the many that crowded the twisty, hilly avenues, Mage-Matron Marigold would be. She could feel it. She found the place where it stood at the top of a hill, its paint peeling and rainspouts in need of repair. Lady Iris paused upon the front walk before the door.

    ¡°How provincial,¡± she said to herself. She turned then to the group of black-clad guards who had accompanied her and indicated the door. Two men stepped forward and impassively kicked it in. From inside was heard a short shriek of surprise. Lady Iris led the way in and followed the sound to the back bedroom. Her guards crowded in around her, but she could see now she hadn¡¯t even needed them. There was her prize: Marigold, master Barrier-Caster, helpless and Slumbering. And only some willowy girl keeping watch over her. ¡°Move aside,¡± Iris told the girl. When she only stood quaking and frightened, Iris spoke to the raiders. ¡°Get her out of my way. Do whatever you wish with her.¡±

    The two who had kicked the door in needed no second bidding. They stepped across the room and went to grab Lily. Before they could, Lily made a swift sweeping motion with her hand across her body and suddenly a golden, shimmering Barrier divided the room and blocked the two raiders from getting at Lily and Marigold behind her. The two put their hands to the Barrier and shoved against it in frustration.

    ¡°Stop,¡± Lady Iris commanded. ¡°Get out of the way.¡± The two men grudgingly followed the order and stepped aside. Iris approached the Barrier and stared hard through it at Lily. ¡°You?¡± Iris said quietly, before her voice rose in disbelief. ¡°You? This twig of a tall, pale, tavern girl ... is Marigold¡¯s apprentice?¡± Disbelief was quickly replaced with amusement as Iris voiced a lilting, dark laugh. ¡°How endearing. Here. I will teach you more than she ever has, or ever will.¡±

    With an almost apathetic wave of her hand, Iris dispelled Lily¡¯s Barrier. Following up instantly, Lady Iris cast a Barrier spell of her own. Shimmering gold appeared in the shape of a cylinder around Lily, entrapping her. Lady Iris smirked then as she performed a twisting motion of her hand and watched the girl¡¯s eyes widen as the cylindrical Barrier began to move, tightening and closing in around her.

    ¡°She never taught you how to do this, did she?¡± Iris taunted. She continued to cause the Barrier to squeeze in around Lily as she mentally dismissed the girl and stepped toward the Slumbering form of Marigold in her bed. She looked down upon the old woman.

    ¡°Get away from her!¡± Lily shouted. Somehow, she must have found a way to move her arm just enough, because, suddenly, the girl who was to be constricted dispelled Iris¡¯s Barrier and cast yet another of her own. Iris found her herself physically rebuffed by a Barrier before she could lay a finger on the Slumbering Marigold. It was inconceivable. How could this mere apprentice manage such? With a seething anger in her face, Iris rounded on Lily.

    ¡°You little bitch!¡± she spat. ¡°I could¡¯ve made your death painless. Have it your way!¡±

    In stark motions, one following after the other, Lady Iris practically clawed Lily¡¯s second Barrier out of existence and then dragged one of her own up from the floor underneath Lily. Iris swept her hand quickly upward, and with that motion also went the Barrier. It lifted Lily clean off the floor and rapidly up at the ceiling. Lily screamed as she crashed through it, up through her own bedroom, and then was blasted clear through the roof of the house and away into the sky like a doll thrown by an angry child. One moment she was there, and the next, all that was left was the smoky sky seen through the hole in the roof, and the shingles and crumbled plaster littering the room.

    Lady Iris swayed on her feet, but with an effort steadied herself. She flipped her hand at Marigold¡¯s Slumbering form. ¡°Bind her!¡± she ordered the raiders through clenched teeth. ¡°And do it well, as we spoke about. And burn this place!¡± With that, she strode out of the house.

    Waiting out in the street now was a carriage pulled by two horses. Soon, the raiders who had accompanied Lady Iris came outside with Marigold bound tightly by ropes around her hands, feet, arms, and legs. The Slumbering mage was loaded carefully into the carriage. A weathered raider bearing a pocked face, straight black hair tied in a tail, and a dark moustache with long sides that hung down below his chin stepped down from the carriage driver¡¯s seat to the cobbles. He came to stand before Iris as another raider took his place on the carriage and started it away.

    ¡°Do you depart?¡± the raider asked.

    Iris ran her fingers through her long hair and then shook it out as, behind her, flames started to lick up the inner windows of the house. ¡°Yes. When you and your people are finished here, you know where to find me for your payment.¡± The man nodded stoically. ¡°The rest of you ...¡± Iris said to her retinue. She paused and looked around her. From out of a side street, a little yellow mongrel of a dog had come limping toward them. With hardly a thought, Iris cast a cylindrical Barrier around the dog and then slowly tightened it, constricting the poor thing. It had time only for a confused yelp before the Barrier squeezed the life out of it. ¡°Burn everything we pass,¡± she said, and looked back at her guards to make sure they were clear on her orders. ¡°Everything. But we move quickly. I will need to Slumber in my own carriage soon.¡±

    Lady Iris led the march back through the town. As she did, her guards torched as many homes and buildings as they could. And, as an extra cruelty, Iris herself paused at some houses long enough to cast Barriers around them, so that neither could anyone get near them to extinguish the flames until they had done their damage, nor any people hiding inside hope to escape.

    Additional carriages and a larger retinue of mounted raiders awaited them at the town¡¯s East Gate. From there they departed, leaving Moonfane Forge to its fate, and carrying away from it its beloved mage.

    *

    They had lost, and soon would lose everything. They had fought as hard as they could, and still the raiders had cut them down one by one. Vetch and Neschi were the only two left of those who had charged into the fight near the Silversmith¡¯s District. The guardsmen and women were gone, as were the other garrison soldiers. If there were any others still alive and fighting elsewhere in town, they were unable to come to their aid. Captain Tarese lay dead at Vetch¡¯s feet. She had taken a number of the raiders with her, but in the end, it was not enough. Vetch had taken a dozen glancing cuts and blows himself. His townsman¡¯s shirt was blood-soaked and torn. His hands ached from clutching his sword too tightly and deflecting so many jarring blows. His eyes burned with sweat and his hair kept obscuring his vision. He didn¡¯t know how much longer he could continue to lift his arms, but still he fought on. At some point, to his shame, he had ceased fighting for Moonfane Forge, and begun doing so entirely to stave off death for as long as he could. He knew it was coming, but he was scared to face it.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    He stood back-to-back with Neschi. She growled viscerally with every sword thrust she turned away, as noisy in battle as she was out of it. Vetch could feel her exhaustion through her back. Both of them were becoming sluggish in their reactions. It seemed as if the handful of raiders who engaged them now were only toying with them. They laughed, they feinted in, they made cuts meant to wound rather than kill, letting Vetch and Neschi see their own deaths coming from well off. In fact, it seemed only the preoccupation of some of these raiders wanting to join their fellows in the looting that had allowed Vetch and Neschi to hold them off as long as they had. Certainly, some had abandoned the fight to go picking through what valuables were left in the surrounding shops and homes.

    Vetch deflected a slash from the raider before him and then was satisfied to land a lucky stab that pierced her leather armor just below her collar bone. It was a superficial wound. He hadn¡¯t the strength left to drive his blade any deeper. She gritted her teeth in pain and then slammed the flat of her blade into Vetch¡¯s elbow. He grunted as he felt his entire arm go numb and his fingers give out, letting his sword clatter to the cobbles. He stumbled onto his hands and knees and that caused Neschi to overbalance and fall down behind him. She held onto her blade, but something in her posture told Vetch that she, like him, was only waiting for the death blow to come.

    ¡°We go! We are leaving!¡± a gravelly voice ordered loudly. Vetch peered up through his sweat-soaked hair at the man who had arrived at the scene on horseback. It was the first time since the invasion had begun that Vetch saw a raider who looked like he might be their commander. He rode about berating the other raiders. ¡°Take what you can carry now! No more! We go!¡±

    There were grumbles, but the raiders followed the command. They began retreating with whatever valuables they could carry, those who still had horses swinging onto them and cantering away as if the fight had never mattered. The raider who had been about to kill Vetch barely spared him a sneering smile before she, too, went to scoop up whatever booty was left on the cobbles and flee. The one who had been battling Neschi did the same.

    Vetch looked up at this raider commander and managed to the catch the man¡¯s eyes. He looked weathered beyond his years, face pocked and nose crooked above a long black moustache that hung down below the jaw guards of his helm. What expression was it that passed across the man¡¯s face as he looked down at Vetch. Detachment? Disdain? They held each other¡¯s gaze for only a second or two before the man apparently dismissed these two remaining soldiers from his thoughts, reined his horse around, and trotted away down the cobbled street. Vetch crawled after him for a few feet, but the man was soon gone. Looking around, Vetch saw that he and Neschi were alone in the road. As quickly as the raiders had descended upon Moonfane Forge, they were now departing, like a sudden downpour in summer that passes quickly and leaves behind only the smell of wet earth to prove it had ever been.

    Neschi¡¯s sword scraped on the cobbles as she levered herself upright and then offered her hand to help Vetch up. All around them fires raged and bodies lay haphazardly in the road. Vetch knew it could only be mid-afternoon at the latest, yet all the thick, oily smoke in the air shrouded the town in darkness as if dusk were falling. He found his sword and was surprised at how much he ached all over simply to bend and pick it up.

    He put his hand on Neschi¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Barracks,¡± he panted. ¡°Gather anyone still alive.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°Council Building. Marigold.¡± And Lily, he thought to himself. ¡°Bring whoever you find there.¡±

    Again, Neschi nodded, and then left him. Vetch stood a time longer catching his breath and then he ran. He took the shortest route he knew to the long flight of stone steps that led up to the town¡¯s Council Building. He passed more bodies and scorched, smoldering structures. When he arrived at the Silversmith¡¯s Council Building, he was encouraged to find it unmarred. He pounded on the barred door and announced himself. He was recognized by some inside and let in. Vetch entered the large room to a chorus of questions about the raid and exclamations about his own gruesome state. There were injured townsfolk, frightened old people, confused and wailing children. Vetch almost could not parse what he saw and heard. He was glad to find people had made it here to safety. But there were so few of them. He scanned the room desperately for Lily and did not see her. Nor did he see Marigold or the soldiers that would have accompanied her.

    ¡°Marigold,¡± he said, and his voice came out scratchy from how dry and smoke-abraded his throat was. He swallowed and tried again, louder. ¡°Mage Marigold! Is she here? Has anyone seen her?¡± Vetch already knew she wasn¡¯t there. Neither was Lily. The confused stares and sad shakes of heads that met his questions were like a punch in the gut.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening out there?¡± someone asked.

    ¡°The raiders have left,¡± Vetch answered without thought.

    ¡°We¡¯ve won? The garrison has fought them off?¡±

    Vetch stared at the man, uncomprehending. ¡°No,¡± he said. He raised his voice. ¡°Everyone here, listen! If you are not already caring for the injured, come out. There are others hurt that need your help, and fires that need to be put out. Young and old, we need everyone who¡¯s able!¡±

    More questions followed, but Vetch ignored them and pushed his way back to the door. They¡¯d have to organize and see to what of the remaining town and townsfolk they could themselves.

    Again, Vetch ran, down the street and the long stairs. From them he could see over the entirety of Moonfane Forge. So much of it burned and smoldered. He could also see groups of the retreating raiders departing across the pastures in all directions. He couldn¡¯t deal with any of that just now; he had to reach Marigold¡¯s home and see to the mage¡¯s safety. He prayed he would find Lily there, too. For one silly, fleeting moment, he convinced himself both of them would be safe because Marigold could cast a protective Barrier around their home. Just as soon, Vetch remembered that Marigold would be Slumbering by now. Was Lily yet capable of Casting a Barrier like that? He didn¡¯t know.

    It was difficult to recognize his own town with so many familiar landmarks reduced to smoking husks of charred timber, and as he pounded his way to the Residential District, a few times he took a wrong turn, or there was too much fire to allow his passage and he was forced to double back. At one point, he passed the bodies of two garrison soldiers lying in the road that ran between the town¡¯s center and the part of town where Marigold lived. Only later would Vetch come to realize that these were the soldiers Captain Tarese had sent to retrieve the mage and carry her to safety. They had never even made it to her.

    Up ahead, portions of the Residential District were all aflame. Vetch turned down a narrow street where the smoke was not so severe. Ahead of him, he saw a familiar figure sitting huddled in the middle of the street, amongst the bodies of Moonfane Forge soldiers and raiders both. Vetch recognized the old man¡¯s broad back.

    ¡°Ennric? Ennric!¡± For a moment, the old man was still, and Vetch feared the worst. Then, he saw Ennric shift and the old soldier turned his head to look back over his shoulder with his good eye.

    ¡°Vetch?¡± he said, and his voice was pained.

    Despite that, Vetch smiled in relief to see the man alive and he went to him. ¡°You survived, old man,¡± he panted. ¡°Knew you would.¡±

    Ennric turned his face away again. ¡°I couldn¡¯t,¡± he mumbled.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t what?¡± Vetch asked.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t ...¡±

    Stone-faced, Vetch walked around to face Ennric. Half the old soldier¡¯s face was caked in dried blood and his left arm hung limp at his side. Only as Vetch came before him did he then see that Ennric cradled someone against his body with one arm, his chin tucked in on the boy¡¯s head as if to protect him. Vetch saw the bloodstained blonde hair, the young face that had been so vibrant only that morning when he had excitedly watched Moonfane Forge¡¯s mage using her magic¡ªWenzl. The blood soaking the entire front of his uniform told the tale. He had been run clean through. That youthful face was pale and cold now, its eyes dim, and forever would be. The boy was dead.

    Vetch sank heavily to the ground before Ennric, two soldiers alive amongst too many dead. Ennric met his gaze briefly and then the old soldier clenched his eyes shut and his face screwed up in despair. Vetch could do no more than press the heels of his hands to his blurring eyes and bow his head in anguish.

 Chapter 4: Eclipse, part 1

    The entire town, or what was left of it, was rank with the smell of charred wood and straw. It stank, and the remaining smoke from still-smoldering buildings made the inner nostrils feel as if pricked by needles. What was worse was the undercurrent of burnt flesh¡ªthe animals and townsfolk who¡¯d not been able to escape the many blazes. That had been the most difficult part of the long night of battling fires and searching for wounded, arriving too late and finding the scorched remains of people buried beneath the smoking timbers of their own homes or shops. Whether they had been killed outright by the raiders or had simply succumbed to the smoke and flames while hiding mattered little now; it still made Vetch sick to think about. He had not slept, and his stomach had turned out what little food he¡¯d attempted to eat.

    It had been a long, difficult, and horrific night. There was only a smattering of garrison soldiers remaining, many of those injured. There were even fewer of the town guard left alive. None of Moonfane Forge¡¯s district heads were yet accounted for. Of those townsfolk who were able, many had simply organized themselves into small teams to fight the worst of the blazes. Others had searched for any who still breathed amongst the dead. Some people had simply roamed through the streets with dead eyes, calling out for loved ones who would never respond.

    The garrison had done what they could. There was no use guarding the town from any return of the raiders, as there were far too few Moonfane Forge soldiers left to repel any kind of attack, so they had joined their fellow townsfolk in whichever tasks were deemed most urgent. Vetch himself had worked on a bucket brigade throughout much of the night. They succeeded in saving some homes, but for the most part it served only to staunch additional damage. One of the houses they could not save was that belonging to Mage Marigold. It had already burned to the ground by the time Vetch had arrived in hope of finding her and Lily. The ashes of the place had been too hot still for Vetch to search through them, and so he had reluctantly gone to help elsewhere. He had tried to tell himself throughout the night that they would have escaped, that Lily would not have remained in the house had she been there during the attack, that she would have carried Marigold to safety with her. But no one he spoke to had seen either mage since before the attack began.

    When the next sickly morning had dawned, when everything that could be done about the fires had been, people had turned to collecting the dead and laying them to rest. The cemetery just northwest of town had grown substantially in only half a day, and continued to grow as more bodies were found. With a gut-wrenching feeling of somehow being responsible, Vetch had watched Wenzl go into the ground. The boy¡¯s stark face appeared even more youthful having been washed of blood in preparation for burial. Only his garrison uniform, and the memories of his actions in the battle, marked him a soldier. Trimm was laid to rest beside him, and others who had been too horribly wounded to identify. At the head of the long line of new soldiers¡¯s graves was that of Captain Tarese. There had been an additional pall over everyone gathered when she was lowered into the ground. Not a one of Moonfane Forge¡¯s soldiers could fathom what would happen now without her leadership.

    Vetch had left after that and made his way back into town to the pile of gray ashes and blackened support timbers that had been Mage Marigold¡¯s home. There, he had rooted through the warm ashes by himself for what felt like hours, fearing to find any remains of the old mage or of Lily. When at length he was finally certain that neither of them had been there, the relief that he¡¯d hoped would come failed to proffer itself to him. He was trying not to fear the worst, but with every passing hour, the most unthinkable of those fears were rooting themselves in him. If Lily and Marigold had not been in their house, if they had not perished in the fire, then where were they?

    That question is what had brought Vetch to where he now presently sat, at the end of the narrow track that led from Moonfane Forge¡¯s East Gate down to Lily¡¯s family¡¯s dairy. The glimmer of hope that had caught at Vetch when he¡¯d first had the thought to seek her there had been mercilessly snuffed out when he¡¯d seen the charred wreckage of the farmhouse in the distance. For a second time that day, with his stomach twisted with dread, he had sifted through ashes for the body of the girl who had become more to him than just his lifelong friend. He had not found her or Marigold. But he had found three other bodies there; Lily¡¯s mother, father, and younger brother.

    Vetch sat now, resting in the mild afternoon sunlight beside the three new graves in which he had buried them at the edge of their front garden. In his nose were the scents of char and burnt bodies, but also of newly turned earth and the new spring grass in the pastures. Would he ever be able to disassociate those pleasant aromas from those of loss and death again? He didn¡¯t know. When he had rested long enough, he left.

    On his way back up the road to town, Vetch was unsurprised to meet Ennric coming to find him.

    ¡°Was Marigold there?¡± the old soldier asked, even as his hardened expression made it clear he had already read the answer in Vetch¡¯s eyes.

    Vetch shook his head. He had never imagined a man could be this weary and still stand. ¡°No. Nor Lily.¡± It was needless to add, but he did so anyway. ¡°Her family, though ...¡± Ennric nodded before Vetch had to make himself say it. What was worse, finding Lily alive and having to tell her about her family¡¯s deaths, or finding she was amongst the dead and spared the pain of knowing? Vetch immediately felt guilty over the traitorous thought, made worse by the fact that his own parents had survived the attack. He had gotten word that morning that they were safe out at their tannery. It didn¡¯t seem fair, who had died and who hadn¡¯t, and how little difference there was in what went into deciding one against the other during the raid.

    Ennric sniffed and put his arm around Vetch¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Come on. Food and a place to sit. That¡¯s what you need.¡± They fell into step and together trudged back up the road into town.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Vetch asked. Their path took them in the direction of what had been Mage Marigold¡¯s home. For a moment Vetch wondered where they were going, before he recalled that many streets were still blocked by detritus or dead livestock and that to get anywhere meant finding alternate routes.

    ¡°You¡¯re asking me?¡± Ennric said. The man winced and adjusted his broken left arm in the sling that now held it. Vetch noted that Ennric wasn¡¯t wearing his sword, despite his sword arm still being sound. The old soldier had clearly taken some knocks in the battle, but looked a whole sight better than he had the night prior. The gash he¡¯d taken just above his hair line had been cleaned and stitched up. Vetch bore stitches of his own over his right cheekbone, not to mention the bruises.

    ¡°Your wife and daughters okay?¡± Vetch asked, the thought suddenly coming to him.

    Ennric grunted an affirmation. ¡°My Arlette blocked the door and waited things out with her grandfather¡¯s sword in hand the whole night. Th¡¯raiders never made it up that high in the Residential, thank goodness. Eike was outside town visiting her older sister and her husband at their little farm. All are well.¡± He offered a weighted smile.

    ¡°I am gladdened to hear that,¡± said Vetch, though in truth, no good news could outweigh all the bad pressing on him.

    Their boots scuffing the dirty cobbles was the only sound made between them for a time. Then Ennric said quietly, ¡°We¡¯ll find Lily, Vetch.¡±

    Vetch feared as much to voice a similar optimism as he did to voice his doubts, so he remained quiet and felt shamed for it. Gray clouds had started to roll in from the mountain overhead to cover the sky, and a cooler breeze was kicking up. The smell of the first light raindrops hitting the dusty streets was an overture to the steady sprinkling that soon began falling. Ennric cursed the cold droplets and struggled to tug his collar higher without jostling his broken arm in its sling.

    ¡°You hear that just then?¡± Vetch asked. He paused in the road.

    ¡°No,¡± grumbled Ennric. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything. Let¡¯s get out of this damned rain.¡±

    ¡°Wait. Be quiet a moment,¡± said Vetch. Despite giving him a sour look, Ennric paused and obeyed.

    A faint call reached their ears between the raindrops. ¡°Help! Help me!¡±

    The two weary soldiers shared a look. Ennric lifted a stubby finger and pointed. ¡°Up that way?¡±

    Vetch nodded and took the lead, jogging toward the weak cries while Ennric followed more slowly. They were on the same street upon which Marigold¡¯s house had once stood. In fact, Vetch could see its remains up the way, but the cries came from nearer, from another half-burned husk of a home. As Vetch came nearer and could hear the calls more clearly, he knew it was not Lily¡¯s voice. But it was a survivor and he would find them.

    ¡°Where are you?¡± Vetch called out, scanning the various fire-damaged dwellings that stood out amongst their untouched neighbors like rotten teeth in a smile.

    The cries stopped for a moment, then, ¡°Over here! Help me! Get me out from here, please!¡±

    Before Vetch was the partially tumbled down remnants of a large house whose entire front half had collapsed from being weakened by fire. Yet the back of the house, while scorched and blackened, still stood. Vetch could view inside all the rooms in both stories as if it were a pastry that had been sliced in half to reveal its layers. The muffled cries issued from somewhere in all the debris.

    ¡°Hang on, keep talking,¡± Vetch called back. He followed the pleas, which began to devolve into a series of relieved sobs as he scrambled across piles of ash, charred portions of furniture, and sections of inner walls and roof timbers that had tumbled out into the street. His boot slipped on a chunk of decorative mosaic made slick by the rain and, in the process of stopping himself from falling, dislodged more bits of wood and detritus that fell away to reveal the partially burned corpse of a man. For all the death Vetch had already seen, the sight of the gentle rain cleaning the caked ash off the dead man¡¯s face stunned him. Yet another one of Moonfane Forge¡¯s people he had failed to protect. With an effort, he tore his gaze from it. He swallowed and steeled himself and went more carefully across the hill of loose debris. There was one here he could save, at least. ¡°Where are you? Speak up!¡± he grunted as he climbed.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Here ... I¡¯m here. Please,¡± a young man¡¯s voice sobbed. ¡°My legs are trapped.¡±

    At last Vetch clambered over a mostly intact bed frame and found where the man was trapped. He could just see the shadow of his face beneath an entire section of the second story¡¯s floor that had fallen and created something of a roof overtop a little cavity in the debris. It had probably saved the man¡¯s life when part of the house had fallen, despite it also pinning him there.

    ¡°Found him?¡± came Ennric¡¯s voice from the street. ¡°Need my help?¡±

    After a moment, Vetch answered, ¡°Stay there, old man. I can shift this.¡± To the man trapped under the rubble, he said, ¡°I¡¯m going to try and lift this. You pull your legs free then and take my arm.¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± was the only response Vetch received, but he was already putting his shoulder underneath the section of floor. With a grunt, he shoved it a few inches upward.

    ¡°That do it? Are you free? Hurry and take my hand!¡± He heard the man scrambling and shifting and more debris crumbling into the cavity, but then the man reached his skinny arm out and grasped Vetch¡¯s hand. Vetch pulled and could feel by the man¡¯s movement that his legs were freed. He let the section of floor down gently and grabbed at the man¡¯s shirt with his other hand. As Vetch pulled, the man clawed his way up and out of the little hollow. He made a sound somewhere between relief and surprise as Vetch took hold of his surcoat and dragged him bodily over the pile of wet debris to the street. Behind them, the piece of flooring collapsed into the cavity with a large puff of ash dust.

    Vetch had felt relief at first, having found this surviving guardsman, for it was the Moonfane Forge town guard colors he was dressed in. But then Vetch had caught sight of the man¡¯s face as he was dragging him free of the hole and recognition had flared, and along with it anger. Now, he let go of the man¡¯s surcoat and sat down on the cobblestones beside Ennric¡¯s boots. Before them, the man got to his hands and knees and coughed violently for a time before breaking out into sobs of joy.

    ¡°Thank you. Thank you. Oh ... by all the spirits and hells, I thought I was going to die. Thank you.¡± He looked up into the faces of his saviors then and the expression of relief on his face changed to one of confusion. Then, of fear.

    Vetch got to his feet and said to Ennric, ¡°Would you look who it is?¡±

    Beside him, the old soldier glowered down at the scrawny man with the nest of unkempt black hair. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± said Ennric. ¡°It¡¯s our tavern-brawler.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d you get out of your cell?¡± Vetch demanded. ¡°And why are you wearing a guardsman¡¯s uniform? Where¡¯d you get that?¡±

    Still blubbering on his hands and knees, Slouk looked up into the two soldiers¡¯s hard faces. Vetch and Ennric saw the brief change in the man¡¯s eyes the instant before Slouk jumped up onto his feet and made a wild attempt at dashing off.

    Vetch cursed and tried for an unsuccessful grab at him. The scrawny man was fast. Ennric was closer than Vetch. The old soldier just got a fistful of the loose surcoat and yanked the man back and off his feet.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Ennric growled, as the action jolted his broken arm. He followed up with a kick to Slouk¡¯s jaw that caused the man to yelp and cover his face. ¡°Don¡¯t try that again!¡±

    Slouk wailed pitifully, ¡°I won¡¯t! I won¡¯t run again. Stop!¡± As he lay there clutching his jaw, Vetch bent and ripped the brown and yellow surcoat unceremoniously off the man.

    ¡°Where¡¯d you get this,¡± he asked once more, holding it up balled in his fist.

    ¡°Probably took it off a dead man,¡± said Ennric.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t, I didn¡¯t, I just found it,¡± moaned Slouk. ¡°They let me out of the cell, said I could fend for myself. I found the shirt. I was cold.¡±

    ¡°Horseshit,¡± said Ennric.

    Vetch stooped and pulled the knife from Slouk¡¯s belt. ¡°And this?¡± he said. ¡°I remember this one. I suppose one of our people just gave it back to you?¡±

    ¡°What in all the hells ...¡± said Ennric. ¡°How¡¯d he get that back? It should¡¯ve been safe in our barracks.¡±

    Vetch had noticed a rattling sound when he¡¯d taken the knife. He turned it over in his hands and then noticed how the handle was not quite securely affixed to the blade. He worked the knife handle side to side a couple times and then gave it a sharp tug, yanking it apart. Against Slouk¡¯s desperate protests, Vetch poured the lockpicks from the knife handle into his open palm. These, he showed to Ennric. Both soldiers turned grim expressions onto the pitiful man at their feet.

    ¡°Okay, I escaped!¡± he stuttered. ¡°You were holding me longer than was fair! Your town was being attacked and I saw my chance, so what? Don¡¯t you have bigger problems to deal with than me? Let me go, I¡¯ll leave here and not come back, I swear it!¡±

    Ennric very deliberately pressed his boot down on the man¡¯s ankle until he stopped talking, and then applied a little more pressure than that to keep him in place. With his good eye on Slouk, he consulted with Vetch. ¡°Awful long way from the jail to here. If he¡¯d wanted to escape, he¡¯d have gone back to the South Gate, not come this way.¡± The old soldier pawed rain from his face and squinted over at the partially burned house Vetch had pulled the man from. It was one of the largest dwellings on the street. While it was in ruins now, it was easy to see it for the home of someone with means. ¡°I think he was looting,¡± Ennric concluded.

    ¡°No no no no, wait wait wait ...¡± began Slouk.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± said Vetch, and Ennric applied more pressure to the man¡¯s ankle to drive the command home. Vetch looked at the set of lockpicks in his hand, and then he turned his head and gazed up the street to where Mage Marigold¡¯s little house had once stood, the place nothing but a blackened lot now.

    ¡°What do you think, Vetch?¡± prompted Ennric.

    Vetch clenched the lockpicks in his fist. ¡°Not looting, no. He shows up directly before there¡¯s a raid on our livestock, a few days before our town is attacked, with lockpicks on his person. And he gets out of his cell during the attack, and somehow isn¡¯t killed by any of the raiders, and now we find him here, right outside the home of our town¡¯s mage. That seems like more than coincidence to me.¡±

    ¡°You think he was with the raiders somehow?¡± asked Ennric, his face creasing in puzzlement.

    ¡°What? No!¡± Slouk protested. ¡°No! What mage? I don¡¯t know anything about that!¡± He looked from one soldier to the other and shook his head wildly, eyes wide and fearful.

    ¡°Did you set these houses ablaze?¡± Vetch pressed. ¡°Were you sent into town before them to find Marigold? Where is she?¡± he demanded harshly.

    Slouk cowered and tried to curl himself into a ball on the wet cobbles. ¡°I don¡¯t know! I didn¡¯t do anything. I don¡¯t know who that is!¡±

    Vetch had had enough. The stress of the fighting, seeing all the death and devastation, burying his friends, his town¡¯s people, Lily¡¯s family. And Lily. Where was Lily? That came back to the forefront of his mind like an avalanche. Where was Lily? With an inarticulate shout, he hurled the lockpicks and knife away and reached down to grab Slouk. He dragged the wailing man back into the rubble of the half-collapsed house to the partially scorched corpse still lying amidst the ashes. Grabbing Slouk¡¯s hair, he shoved his face close to that of the dead man and held him there mere inches apart from his lifeless eyes.

    ¡°There!¡± Vetch shouted. ¡°Take a good look at him! Look at what you and your friends have wrought! You were a part of this!¡±

    Slouk struggled against Vetch¡¯s strong grip, sobbing, ¡°No no no, I wasn¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°Vetch ...¡± Ennric began.

    Ignoring the soft rebuke, Vetch only pushed the man¡¯s face closer to the corpse¡¯s. ¡°You knew they were coming. You knew what was to happen and you said nothing! You were part of this. You did this! We should kill you right now.¡± With that, Vetch released the man and stood up. In one smooth motion, he drew his sword.

    ¡°Vetch!¡± Ennric barked forcefully.

    ¡°No!¡± Slouk screeched. ¡°I didn¡¯t! I didn¡¯t know! Don¡¯t kill me!¡±

    ¡°Then speak the truth!¡± shouted Vetch.

    Slouk had scurried back from the dead man and now lay in a heap at Vetch¡¯s feet, pleading. ¡°I didn¡¯t know! I swear to you, and by the only family I have left, I didn¡¯t know. It was The Lady! The Lady did all of this. They took her. I was only hiding from them. Please ...¡± The man broke down into racking sobs, clutching at Vetch¡¯s boots.

    With a look back over his shoulder at Ennric, Vetch sheathed his sword and dragged Slouk back to the street, where he dropped him. The man sat there pitiably and rubbed at his face. Ennric scratched his whiskers and looked on nonplussed.

    ¡°What lady?¡± asked Vetch. While he no longer shouted at the man, the edge of anger in his words made it clear he would tolerate no more attempts at avoiding his questions.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Slouk miserably. ¡°There was a lady with dark hair. Raven dark. She came with soldiers. There were soldiers everywhere, so I hid in the house. They took someone, an old woman, from there.¡± He pointed up the street to where Mage Marigold¡¯s house had stood. ¡°I had nothing to do with it. I wanted only to escape the town.¡±

    Vetch drummed his fingers on the pommel of his sword, aware that the scrawny man was watching him do it. ¡°This lady and her soldiers, they took the old woman out of that house. Then what?¡±

    Slouk looked from Vetch to Ennric and back. ¡°That¡¯s all. They put the old woman in a carriage and left. The soldiers burned the houses as they went.¡±

    Ennric made a gruff sound in his throat and furrowed his brow. ¡°And you just stayed put in a burning house?¡±

    ¡°Not because I wanted to! Do you think I¡¯m so stupid I would have stayed in there if I could¡¯ve escaped? The Lady, she ... she had magic. She waved her arm across the house as she was leaving. Like that. And I was trapped behind one of those magical walls, and I couldn¡¯t leave. And then the whole place came down on me and I thought I was good as dead.¡±

    The red of anger drained from Vetch¡¯s face, to be replaced with stark white. ¡°Wait. Do that again,¡± he said. ¡°That arm motion. Repeat it.¡±

    Slouk looked blankly up at him. Ennric kicked the man¡¯s boot. ¡°You heard him. Do it.¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay!¡± The man looked as if he feared some sort of trap, but he obeyed. He raised his arm, hand turned up with his palm flat and outward, and swept it across his body. ¡°Like ... like that,¡± he said.

    Ennric looked to Vetch. Vetch nodded.

    ¡°Which way did they leave by,¡± Ennric prodded.

    ¡°What of the girl?¡± Vetch cut in. ¡°There would have been a girl with the old woman.¡±

    Again, the man looked as if he feared to answer. Then he shook his head. ¡°She killed the girl. Used magic to blast her right through the roof and into the sky. She screamed, and that was that. Killed her just like that.¡±

    Vetch clenched his eyes shut hard. He turned and began to walk up the street. It was as if the bottom had dropped out of his entire being. The cobblestones beneath his feet felt insubstantial and pitiless. He vaguely marked Ennric saying something to him, then to their prisoner. But he didn¡¯t care. He found himself standing before the black ruins at the top of the street, where Lily had breathed her last, and before his eyes was a despair so acute that it could only be overshadowed by the cold anger flaring inside him. In that moment, he could not tell who it was for most, this Lady, for what she had done ... or himself, for not preventing it.

 Chapter 4: Eclipse, part 2

    Vetch was only partially aware of the order he himself had given, to take the man back to the town¡¯s jail and lock him back up until they could decide what should be done with him. He had sat in the chair left there by the guardsman as Ennric had questioned the man further. All he seemed to know beyond what he¡¯d already told them was that the carriage carrying Marigold had left headed in the direction of the East Gate. After telling them that, there had been more pleading from the wretch to be let free, that they had no right to hold him there any longer. Ennric had put a quick halt to those declarations. They had provided him with clean water and found a townsperson willing to sit and guard him on the promise of a meal and ale to be sent there later. Then, they had left.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s certainly a liar,¡± Ennric mused quietly. ¡°And a thief, too. But no more than that. You look at that sorry wastrel and tell me he¡¯s anything akin to the people we fought yesterday. I don¡¯t see it.¡±

    They sat together now in one of the remaining taverns with the least fire damage to it. By some coincidence, it was the same one the scrawny man back in the jail cell had broken the window out of during a drunken brawl the day he¡¯d arrived in town. An entire outside corner of the building had been scorched by flames, and the place still carried the reek of smoke, but the inside had been preserved¡ªalong with its food stores and ale casks¡ªand was doing good business as a result. Through a kind of gauzy shroud of despair, Vetch had only vaguely been aware of Ennric ordering food and ale for them, and then the both of them sitting down at a damaged table in the lantern-lit main room. A number of townsfolk populated other tables, but few were those who spoke above quiet commiseration. Most just silently nursed their drinks, some also nursing wounds.

    Vetch stared at the now boarded-up window and said nothing. He had not touched his food. It smelled like ash to him, and he knew it would taste the same. It was only by clutching the handle of his ale mug so tightly his knuckles turned white that he held back the outpouring of grief that squeezed at his heart with cold fingers. Lily ... dead. He would never see her again. Never again would he hear her laugh, or feel that thrill whenever she turned her sparkling hazel eyes upon him. The thousands of smiles and conversations and moments together that he had just assumed there would be between them for many years to come, gone. Lily, gone. There would be no more. Tears threatened Vetch¡¯s eyes yet again, as they had innumerous times since he¡¯d first had to swallow that hard reality. He wanted only to return to his bed in the cold, empty barracks and weep himself to sleep and never wake up. For what world would he ever want to wake to again that did not contain Lily?

    ¡°Who were those raiders? Where did they come from?¡±

    Ennric voiced the questions and Vetch realized he had missed an entire chunk of the conversation to his own desolate withdrawal. It was like having a blindfold removed and finding he was in a different section of town entirely than where he had believed he was. That thought only recalled him to the fact that nothing of his town looked the way he¡¯d known it to anymore. Ennric tapped Vetch¡¯s fingers with his empty mug. When Vetch finally looked across the table at him, the old man raised his bushy gray eyebrows. Vetch shook his head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he answered in a voice pitched low. ¡°I saw no crests, no colors, no insignias.¡±

    Ennric exhaled through his nose, nodded. ¡°Nor I.¡± He scratched delicately at the stitched gash on his head, then grimaced as his fingernail inadvertently caught at the wound¡¯s edge. He put his weathered hand back down on the table. ¡°Foreigners?¡±

    Vetch thought about it and then shook his head in ignorance. ¡°Could be. Some of them looked it. But I could understand the speech of those I heard speak. I couldn¡¯t say.¡±

    ¡°I heard a few different accents. A few were maybe northern men. But it all was a lot of chaos, wasn¡¯t it?¡± The old soldier knit his brow and clenched his eyes shut momentarily, resisting the urge to scratch at his wound again. ¡°I saw a lot of different qualities of armor, different types of weapons. Sellswords would be my best guess. It didn¡¯t look like one unified force, did it? Then there¡¯s the relation to the livestock thieves. Was it all the same people?¡± The old veteran reeled off these questions as if asking them would help with divining the answers. ¡°And where did they go? They all left in different directions. So, where would they all be bound for now? Or did they simply disband?¡±

    Vetch understood that Ennric was quizzing him, as he¡¯d done frequently back when Vetch had first joined the garrison as a boy, when he was not much younger than Wenzl had been. Wenzl. There was another source of pain Vetch couldn¡¯t quite confront just yet. He knew Ennric was trying to help, trying to force him to find some kind of focus, to think of other things and not dwell on Lily¡¯s death and the deaths of so many of their friends and companions. But Vetch could hardly see the point of it. What did it matter at this point? What was there to be done, even if they had the answers to all these questions? Moonfane Forge was as good as destroyed, its trades laid to waste, livestock dead or fled, townspeople dead, their Barrier gone, their mage gone. Even the heads of their town Council were gone, three of them dead, one still missing. Of the handful of garrison soldiers and town guard left alive, there were too few to do anything or protect anyone. And where were the rest of the soldiers and town guard now, Vetch wondered. Without their captain to guide them, they had been left to their own devices. Soldiers and guards and everyday townsfolk had all been brought level, just a loose assortment of survivors trying to put a town back together when not enough pieces of it remained.

    ¡°We got our asses kicked,¡± Ennric stated bluntly, abandoning his procession of questions when Vetch remained silent. ¡°It¡¯s the worst feeling in the world. You know why they handed it to us so easily?¡± he asked in a low rumble. ¡°Because those raiders we fought yesterday had seen war. You could see it in their faces. That¡¯s why we lost. They¡¯d seen war and we hadn¡¯t.¡±

    The tavern door opened and closed as a few more patrons arrived looking for food and warmth. The brief rush of cold air from the opened door chilled Vetch¡¯s neck and made him shiver.

    ¡°Vetch,¡± Ennric said, and Vetch looked up again to see Ennric¡¯s one good eye staring at him with brusque intensity. ¡°Don¡¯t give up yet, lad. We¡¯re not dead. Neither is Moonfane Forge. We¡¯re soldiers, and soldiers who make it through a battle alive have not truly lost yet. So don¡¯t you go losing yourself. We have more to do.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± said Vetch. It was the best he could muster for his friend and mentor. In truth, he felt only hopelessness and despair. He pushed his full ale mug across the table. ¡°You have this one, old man. I¡¯m going to bed.¡± He stood, but before he could leave, Ennric grabbed his arm.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    In a tone pitched for Vetch¡¯s ears only, he said, ¡°Hey, I¡¯m sorry about Lily, boy.¡±

    Vetch stared down at him and then nodded. Ennric let him go and Vetch made his way out the door. Leaving the light and warmth behind felt appropriate. Away from the few remaining lit buildings and street lanterns, the night was cast in monochrome. It had stopped raining, but the breaking up of the clouds overhead seemed only to accentuate the frigid bite in the air. Vetch was unsurprised to find the Barracks mostly dark and almost as cold inside as it was outside. The men¡¯s side was deserted. The garrison¡¯s wounded would be up in the Silversmith¡¯s Council Building, which had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. As for the rest ... Vetch supposed they were out drowning their woes like Ennric, or lodging with friends or family. What point was there staying in the garrison barracks if the garrison itself was all but obliterated, a ship whose rudder and sails had been blasted to matchsticks? Vetch wondered why he was here if that were true.

    There was dim light coming from the women¡¯s side of the building. That was all well and good as far as Vetch was concerned. At least he wasn¡¯t the only one who couldn¡¯t bear to go anywhere else this night. He went through the motions of building up a fire in the hearth and undressing as if in a trance. It was when his head was on his pillow and he could lay and watch the firelight dancing on the wall before him that the tears at last came unchecked. His chest felt as if compressed as choking, breathless sobs took hold of him.

    Liquid morning sunlight fell directly across Vetch¡¯s face and woke him. How late had he slept? From the angle of the sunlight through the windows, he could tell it was much later than any soldier would be allowed to sleep normally, were there any other soldiers about, even if off duty. His body felt heavy with the exhaustion brought on by grief, and he was still sore all over from the battle. How strange it felt to wake in the long building to silence, without other soldiers clamoring about, or their captain rousing layabouts to their assignments. He lay in bed for a time and cursed wakefulness for subjecting him again to the knowledge of Lily¡¯s death. Again, the tears came, but silently this time. He wondered if anyone had found her body. Had she already been discovered and buried, and he not there to bid her goodbye properly? A thousand thoughts and fears about her passing paraded through his mind, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. He softly cried his way through them until his eyes were dry and red.

    With nothing left to shackle him to his bed, instinctively he dragged himself out from underneath his blanket and climbed down to the cold stone floor, and shambled to the privy. When he was finished there, on his way back through the long barracks to his bunk, he saw that someone was asleep in what had been Wenzl¡¯s bunk. That¡¯s who must have fed the fire throughout the night, for it still burned warmly, and Vetch could not recall ever once waking to feed it himself. There was a moment during which he debated with himself between getting dressed or returning to bed. He wasn¡¯t tired anymore. Not truly. Worn, yes, but not tired. Still, he chose to climb back up to his bunk where he lay on his back and stared sightlessly up at the ceiling.

    ¡°What now?¡±

    The question came from Wenzl¡¯s bunk. If Vetch pretended, he could almost imagine it was the voice of a young man, a voice not unlike Wenzl¡¯s. But it wasn¡¯t. Vetch knew this voice.

    ¡°Neschi? Why¡¯re you sleeping in here?¡± He continued to stare up at the ceiling, seeing the same patterns and swirls in the wood ceiling beams that had greeted him each and every morning for years.

    ¡°You had more firewood on this side,¡± came her answer. ¡°And I didn¡¯t like being alone over there.¡±

    Vetch nodded to himself. One soldier had come here to be alone, the other to not be. Ever since he was a child, Vetch had wanted to join the Moonfane Forge garrison. He had wanted to wear the uniform, carry the sword, be a soldier amongst soldiers. Time alone was practically a foreign concept to a soldier. Why he felt the need to be away from everyone just now, he couldn¡¯t say. The garrison was like his family, but most of them were gone now. They had not even a captain to tell them what they should do. How could he decide for himself now? What was there to do? Ennric seemed to think there was something more. And now Neschi had wondered aloud about it, as well. Vetch had not even considered his own options until now. They were there, but everything had heretofore been eclipsed by the loss of Lily. He tried to turn his mind from that for long enough to ponder those other things now. What really was left to tie him to this soldier¡¯s life? To Moonfane Forge? His family had survived the attack. Would they move on or remain here? He had never wanted to be a farmer or a tanner, but he could be. He could lay down his sword and make a new start. No. He still didn¡¯t want to be a farmer or a tanner. He could go for a soldier elsewhere. But who would take him? Who would take on a soldier who had failed to protect his town, who had failed to keep his fellow soldiers alive, or at least been brave enough to die alongside them? Who would want a soldier who had failed to protect his charge, the Maiden of Moonfane Forge, whom he had sworn to guard with his life?

    Vetch stared at the ceiling. The patterns in the ceiling beams had not changed in all the years he had been a soldier of Moonfane Forge. They had stayed the same. Had his duties changed, or were they still the same, too? What was it Ennric had said? Something about, if a soldier made it through a battle still alive, then they hadn¡¯t really lost yet. What was to be done with all this grief?

    ¡°Neschi?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s left?¡±

    ¡°Huh? What d¡¯ya mean?¡±

    ¡°Of the garrison,¡± Vetch said, sitting up in his bunk. ¡°How many of us are left, both injured and hale? Do you know?¡±

    ¡°Um ...¡± Neschi groaned and sat up, too. Half of her face was blotched purple and yellow with bruises from the battle. She rubbed her eyes carefully and then kept them clenched shut as if concentrating. ¡°I saw, I think, eleven or twelve injured in the Silversmith¡¯s Council Building. And Ennric, with his busted arm.¡±

    ¡°What about healthy? You and I could still fight, though we look like hell. Who else?¡±

    Neschi looked at Vetch dubiously, but chuckled all the same. ¡°Dunno who you¡¯d want to fight. But of who could? After you and me? Maybe half a dozen. Rolande and Oderyk are fit. They¡¯d come back here to get pikes and ended up holding the barracks. Mora came through unhurt; saw her at the stables yesterday, or what¡¯s left of the stables. And Iannitz ...¡± Neschi shook her head and smiled wryly. ¡°Poor sod spent the entire battle pinned beneath a dying yak. His pride¡¯s banged up, but he¡¯s fine otherwise.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all? Anyone else?¡± Vetch asked. He climbed down from his bunk and began to get dressed. He was likely one of the only soldiers whose uniform had made it through the battle unscathed, having been in his townsman¡¯s clothes when the attack began. Those shredded and blood-brittled rags still lay on the floor beside his clothes chest where he¡¯d tossed them the night of the battle.

    ¡°Renzo, maybe,¡± said Neschi. ¡°I saw him yesterday. At a distance. He looked sound, at least. Why? What¡¯re you thinking?¡±

    Vetch cinched his sword belt tight and pushed his hair out of his eyes. ¡°Not sure yet, but do you think you could gather them for me? Anyone who¡¯s still in fighting shape, bring them to Ennric¡¯s place. I¡¯ll meet you there later.¡±

    Neschi eyed him for a moment, then made a scoffing sound and shot him an exaggerated salute. ¡°Whatever you say, Cap¡¯n Vetch. I¡¯ll see if I can hunt ¡®em down.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Neschi. See you there.¡±

 Chapter 4: Eclipse, part 3

    The little jail stank. Vetch couldn¡¯t think of a time it had ever smelled particularly nice, but the stench that greeted his nose upon entering the dank little building was far worse than what he¡¯d grown to expect out of Moonfane Forge¡¯s town guard. They always had run a tight ship. Then again, Vetch reflected, that was when there had been town guards to steer the ship at all. He looked at the rangy old man drowsing in his chair just inside the door. He hadn¡¯t even woken upon Vetch¡¯s entry. Vetch kicked the old man¡¯s boot and he startled awake.

    ¡°What in the hells, boy? Scaring an old man like that!¡± he complained.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have been sleeping,¡± Vetch said. He held out his hand. ¡°The keys we left with you?¡±

    The oldster scowled at Vetch like he was an annoying child as he fished the keys out from his pocket and slapped them into Vetch¡¯s hand. ¡°Am I done here yet? When¡¯s more food and ale coming?¡±

    ¡°What about food for me?¡± whined Slouk from his cell. The scrawny man pressed his face against the bars, eyes dark-ringed and sullen.

    ¡°Did you give him food?¡± Vetch pressed the man on guard.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t!¡± said Slouk. ¡°No food, wouldn¡¯t take the waste bucket away, nothing! Let me out of here, damn you!¡±

    The old man on guard cowered under the look Vetch turned upon him. If he¡¯d thought to lie and refute the prisoner¡¯s claims, he quickly thought better of it. ¡°No one told me to! You just said to watch him and I have.¡±

    Vetch looked at the plate sitting on the floor beside the old man¡¯s chair. There was a crust of bread left on it, at least. Vetch bent and picked it up and then went to hand it through the bars to the prisoner.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you get a proper meal after this. Step back, I¡¯m going to unlock the door.¡±

    The man in the cell eyed Vetch with suspicion, then moved back to the farthest corner from the door and stood there, shoulders hunched, jamming the crust of bread into his mouth like a hungry rat. Vetch opened the cell door and put himself in the doorway between the prisoner and freedom, noting how the man¡¯s eyes darted to his sword belt right away to confirm he was armed. The reek was even worse inside the cell than out. Vetch wrinkled his nose and nearly gagged as he used the toe of his boot to slide both the full waste bucket and the empty water bucket out of the cell.

    ¡°Go empty the waste bucket and find fresh water to fill the water bucket,¡± he ordered the oldster on guard. ¡°I¡¯ll have meals sent for the both of you when I¡¯m done here. And take care not to mix those buckets up.¡±

    ¡°What, d¡¯you think I¡¯m stupid?¡± said the old man, scowling as he stooped to lift the buckets and depart to his task, grumbling all the while, ¡°And don¡¯t mix them up, he says. Takes a lot of brains to swing a sword, don¡¯t it? ...¡±

    Once they were alone, Vetch stepped into the cell. The two men eyed one another and Vetch could see the prisoner considering how quickly he could dart past Vetch. Vetch hooked his thumbs into his sword belt and shook his head.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± he asked.

    The scrawny man¡¯s eyes darted all about the room and finally settled on Vetch¡¯s face. He sighed. ¡°Slouk.¡±

    Vetch scoffed. ¡°Right. Pull my other leg while you¡¯re at it.¡±

    ¡°It is! That¡¯s what people call me. S¡¯only name I¡¯ve got.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Slouk,¡± Vetch sniffed. ¡°My name¡¯s Vetch. I¡¯m one of the last garrison soldiers this town¡¯s got, after your friends attacked us and took about everything we had.¡±

    ¡°They weren¡¯t my friends! I didn¡¯t know them! Let me out of here!¡±

    Again, Vetch shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you, Slouk. I think you know more about the raid than you¡¯re letting on. And I think you know more about this woman who abducted our town¡¯s mage. You¡¯re going to tell me who the woman is, and where she and her army came from. Where would they be going back to?¡±

    ¡°I-I-I don¡¯t know!¡± Slouk stuttered.

    It was the flick of his eyes that gave his thoughts away before he acted. He rushed at Vetch and quickly tried to dart past him through the open cell door. But Vetch had been expecting it. He caught the man around his middle with both arms and pushed him backward. Slouk pounded at Vetch with closed fists; one of the blows caught Vetch glancingly on his stitched cheek and the wound stung enough to make his eyes water. Fortunately for Vetch, the man had not the muscle of a trained swordsman, as Vetch did, nor did he seemingly have the kind of fight left in him that he¡¯d had the night he¡¯d drunkenly brawled his way through the tavern. When Vetch shoved him backwards onto his pallet bed, the man wilted and sat there docilely.

    He ran his fingers through his lank hair and moaned pitiably, ¡°Why do you think I would know about any of that? Look at me! I¡¯m a traveler who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your people have done nothing but treat me like dirt. I should never have entered this damned town! I don¡¯t know anything about The Lady, except what I told you already. Let me out of here. I¡¯ve served my time and then some. Please.¡±

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    Vetch put fingers delicately to his cheek and then looked at them, glad to see them come away clean. So, the stitches at least had not been torn open. He looked down at Slouk. ¡°Let you out? Last I checked, the tavern¡¯s window still isn¡¯t repaired. And now ...¡± He held his arms out wide in a gesture encompassing all. ¡°Now, we¡¯ve got an entire town to rebuild! So, you¡¯re not getting out until you tell me everything you know about the attack and those who carried it out, because I know it¡¯s more than you¡¯re letting on. And if you don¡¯t, then I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re in here not just until the tavern¡¯s window is repaired, but until every other last destroyed building in this entire town is rebuilt. I¡¯ll give you some time to think hard on that and jog your memory.¡±

    Vetch turned on his heel and strode out through the cell door. He slammed it shut behind him and turned the key in the lock.

    ¡°No! No, please! Wait!¡± Slouk launched himself at the door. He grabbed the bars and yanked on them fruitlessly, wailing, ¡°Please! They have my sister! Please, wait ... they have my sister ...¡± he trailed off into sobs.

    ¡°Who has you sister?¡± Vetch pressed, staring the man down through the bars.

    ¡°The soldiers. The ones who were with The Lady when she took your mage.¡±

    ¡°Why do they have your sister? What for?¡±

    ¡°I ...¡±

    ¡°Out with it!¡± Vetch kicked the door and the man cringed back.

    ¡°Okay, okay ...¡± Slouk ran his grubby sleeves across his face and sniffled. After a moment, he seemed to gain control over himself again. He looked at Vetch through the bars with destitute eyes. ¡°We¡¯re thieves, my sister and me. Okay? Are you happy? We¡¯re horse thieves.¡±

    Vetch crossed his arms and took a breath. Now he was getting somewhere. If he could just get the man to open up and keep talking. In a calm voice, he asked, ¡°You came here to steal a horse?¡±

    Slouk shook his head. ¡°No. To pay off a debt.¡±

    ¡°Explain.¡±

    With a shaky sigh, Slouk turned and began pacing the cell¡ªthree steps one way, three steps the other¡ªspeaking as he did. ¡°A job we had went wrong, and because of it my sis and I owe someone a lot of money. Money we don¡¯t have. But word had been going around in our circles that this Lady was looking for people, and that she paid well.¡±

    ¡°What kind of people?¡± Vetch stepped closer to the bars and watched the man pace.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Mercenaries. Soldiers. Anyone who could fight and ride.¡±

    Vetch dug his fingers into his arms and spoke through gritted teeth. ¡°So, you and all these sellswords took money from this woman to burn a town to the ground, and kill its people, and take everything from us that we made our lives with? To attack us and scatter our livestock and abduct our mage?¡± Vetch seethed within. It was fortunate for his prisoner that he was no longer standing in the cell with him, else he would have knocked the pathetic man flat right then and there.

    ¡°No! No, no, no, no! No attack, no attack!¡± Slouk screeched. ¡°I never heard anything about an attack, about any of this. I didn¡¯t know! It was only to steal the yaks. The prize yaks, that¡¯s all they were after. That¡¯s what they told me, nothing about a raid, I swear it. It was my job to come into town and count the soldiers. How many soldiers, how many guards, that¡¯s all. So they could steal the animals. They held onto my sister and said they¡¯d release her when I returned, and then they¡¯d pay us enough to clear our debts.¡±

    ¡°Horseshit,¡± said Vetch. ¡°You don¡¯t gather that many armored swordsmen to steal livestock. Anyone could¡¯ve seen that.¡±

    ¡°I swear. I never even saw all those soldiers until the same day you did.¡± Slouk returned to the cell door and gripped its bars, though he averted his eyes from Vetch¡¯s now. ¡°I don¡¯t know what they meant to do to my sister if I didn¡¯t return on time. They made ... threats. I need to find her. She¡¯s the only family I¡¯ve got. You have to let me go.¡±

    Closing his eyes, Vetch turned inward for a moment, thinking. He felt a headache building and recalled then that he¡¯d eaten nothing all day. Nor the day before. When he opened his eyes again, he found Slouk staring past him at the jail¡¯s outer door. The next questions Vetch asked were the ones he had been building toward.

    ¡°Who is the woman who commanded the raid? What is her name? Where are she and her forces based?¡±

    Slouk looked at Vetch with a face full of confusion. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Then you can rot in there.¡± Vetch made to turn away.

    ¡°Wait! Wait, wait, wait!¡± pleaded Slouk. ¡°I don¡¯t know! I¡¯m telling you the truth about that. I never spoke to her, only to one of her guards. A man with a long moustache, and I don¡¯t know where he came from. I only met up with a group of them down the road from here. The soldiers would never say her name. They only ever called her The Lady. Always ¡®The Lady wants this¡¯ or ¡®The Lady commands that¡¯. But ...¡± He trailed off.

    Vetch again moved close to the cell door. He watched his prisoner with hard eyes. There was more. The man knew something that could be of use. He¡¯d use it to bargain. Well, let him, Vetch thought, so long as he got the information he wanted.

    ¡°What else?¡± Vetch prompted.

    Slouk shook his head, mastering himself, almost seeming to stand up straighter now that he realized he had something of value to hold back. ¡°If I tell you where you can find her, will you let me out of here?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Do you promise.¡±

    ¡°I promise,¡± said Vetch.

    The scrawny man swallowed and hesitated. Then, ¡°There were other people like me in the group I met. Thieves, cutpurses, not proper soldiers like the ones you fought. They weren¡¯t always so quiet about what they knew about her, like they were supposed to be. Well, some of ¡®em were hired on a lot earlier than me, nearer to where The Lady came from. They described it. They said it was a rich place in the east. That she lorded over a big black-stoned castle there, all surrounded by wheat fields.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it? No names, no town or city you could point to on a map? In our kingdom or another one?¡±

    Slouk looked down and shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s all of what I heard. A black-stoned castle to the east, all surrounded by wheat fields. Will you let me go now?¡±

    ¡°Soon enough,¡± Vetch said. He left the jail and strode back out into the ruins of Moonfane Forge. He kept the keys to the cell with him, closing his ears off to the wails and pleadings of the prisoner left behind.

 Chapter 4: Eclipse, part 4

    ¡°A black-stoned castle surrounded by wheat fields?¡± Ennric¡¯s knit brow betrayed his doubt.

    ¡°That¡¯s what he said,¡± replied Vetch through a mouthful of roasted yak¡¯s meat. The butchers in town had not let any of the livestock killed in the raid go to waste, so at least Moonfane Forge did not have a scarcity of meat to go along with all its other problems. Vetch swallowed and could almost feel his strength and drive returning to him with each savory bite. ¡°That ring any bells for you?¡±

    The old soldier shook his head and leaned back in his chair. The two men sat once again at the little table on the shaded porch fronting Ennric¡¯s house. Once again, Vetch was dressed in his black and silver uniform, Ennric in his regular townsman¡¯s clothing. Vetch had been surprised to see Ennric so plainly clothed when he¡¯d arrived to tell him everything their prisoner had claimed. For whatever reason, he felt as if wearing his uniform was keeping a part of what Moonfane Forge was to him alive. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t the same for Ennric. Vetch watched as the veteran soldier mulled over everything he had been told.

    ¡°What do you hope to do?¡± Ennric asked at length. ¡°Follow this Lady? Get revenge? She¡¯s got an army, Vetch, and, according to this horse thief, is a mage herself. And I get the impression you believe him about that part.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± answered Vetch. ¡°That was the same arm motion we¡¯ve seen Marigold perform all our lives. It was Barrier-Casting. The man had to have seen it to mimic it so perfectly.¡±

    ¡°So, then ... a mage with an army. I ask you again, what do you hope to do?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s our duty to protect Marigold, Ennric. That¡¯s why Moonfane Forge even has a garrison. If she¡¯s still alive ...¡± Vetch sighed and pushed his empty plate aside. ¡°I don¡¯t know. You¡¯re right. A mage and war-ready soldiers.¡±

    Ennric rested his elbow on the table and leaned in closer to fix his good eye on Vetch. ¡°I understand, boy. You want to up and do something, because otherwise you feel powerless. What you don¡¯t tend to think through when you¡¯re young, though, is whether what you¡¯re thinking of doing is smart or not. How it will turn out in practice.¡± He grunted and leaned back in his chair again, staring off at a view from his porch that had changed much in a few short days. ¡°Spirits and demons both, look what this Lady did to us. It was never about the yaks, was it? Hell, even stealing the silver was probably secondary for them. They wanted Marigold. It was about getting the Barrier down, and they found a way to make it happen, so they could attack and snatch her in all the chaos. Damn them all!¡±

    ¡°They wanted Marigold, yes¡± Vetch agreed. ¡°But then, if this Lady is a mage, too, why not bring down the Barrier herself? Why bring down the Barrier at all? She and her army could have attacked without horses and walked right through it in daytime¡ªthe very thing we were supposed to be able to defend against,¡± he added bitterly.

    ¡°Maybe they feared the battle would last until night, when they would¡¯ve been trapped?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Vetch bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

    ¡°And maybe this horse thief we have locked up is full of horse shit. Any of what he said could be true, or none of it could. Maybe ... maybe Marigold isn¡¯t even alive anymore. That¡¯s something we have to consider. Something much bigger happened that day than what a couple run-of-the-mill swordsmen are meant to fathom; the kind of thing mages get involved in. S¡¯the way I see it, at least.¡±

    Vetch sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not content to let it go simply on the guess that Marigold might be dead. We¡¯d have to know for certain ourselves. But how? Where do we seek her? What¡¯ve we got to go on? Practically nothing.¡± He pounded his fist on the table. ¡°Fuck! We just don¡¯t know enough. What the hell do we do?¡±

    Ennric leaned over in order to place his hand on Vetch¡¯s shoulder. At the same time, the front door opened and a young woman bearing a striking resemblance to Ennric¡¯s wife cast in earlier years leaned out and leveled the two soldiers with a dark-eyed gaze.

    ¡°Everything okay?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Fine, daughter,¡± said Ennric

    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± she said, and the sliver of sarcasm in her voice was reminiscent of her father. ¡°Vetch, you want some more to eat? There¡¯s plenty to go around,¡± she asked with a nod at Vetch¡¯s cleaned plate.

    ¡°No, and my thanks, Eike.¡±

    Ennric gave Vetch¡¯s shoulder a couple gruff pats. ¡°Let¡¯s move this inside. It¡¯s gettin¡¯ cold out here, and we¡¯ll need more chairs and plates for them, I¡¯m sure.¡± He hitched his thumb at the street, indicating the group of uniformed garrison soldiers arriving with Neschi.

    Neschi¡¯s accounting of how many of Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison were still fit enough to fight was accurate to a soldier. Aside from her and Vetch, there were five total. Vetch had known their garrison had sustained terrible losses, but to see that all those left alive and uninjured could be seated around a single table was devastating in a way that left him feeling both cold and utterly disheartened. He took a seat at the kitchen table and watched his fellow soldiers do the same. They were all of them as battered from the battle as he was; he saw bruises, stitched gashes, and the telltale marks of blows deflected by their uniforms. Rolande had the knuckles of one hand heavily bandaged. Mora¡¯s uniform showed signs of having been scorched by fire, and she walked with a slight but noticeable limp. Oderyk appeared to have come through unscathed; on the outside, at least. Vetch could see a different kind of injury in the man¡¯s eyes¡ªhe had lost his wife in the raid. Vetch wondered if his own eyes appeared as lifeless. All of them had been hurt in the battle, but these few were still capable of lifting a sword. Too few, Vetch knew, for what he had planned.

    ¡°Ennric, what¡¯re we here for?¡± Renzo asked in his typically surly way. The sandy-haired man appeared too restless to sit. He leaned against the kitchen block with arms crossed. Vetch had never been able to befriend the man, nor knew anyone who had, but he knew him to be a hell of a fighter. He had no injuries that Vetch could see, but the hem of his uniform and one sleeve of it were stiff with dried blood. Ennric¡¯s daughter had taken one look at the man and moved away from him to go and stand behind her father. Even those used to soldiers tended to feel uneasy around Renzo.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask me,¡± said Ennric, uncorking a bottle of something stronger than ale or wine. He took a swig from it and then passed it to Mora beside him who did the same. ¡°Vetch is the one who¡¯s been doing the legwork.¡±

    All eyes turned to Vetch, making him unconsciously sit up straighter in his chair. He was used to this, or at least he had been. Other soldiers tended to look to him, so how come all of a sudden he felt as if the plan he¡¯d been so firm on that morning was now the worst possible idea? There was nothing like nearly being killed in battle to shake a man¡¯s confidence. He hadn¡¯t even survived by his own skill. He¡¯d simply been lucky.

    ¡°Vetch,¡± Ennric prompted. ¡°Tell them about what we were discussing. About the horse thief and Marigold.¡±

    ¡°What about Marigold?¡± Iannitz asked quietly. He sniffed at the bottle passed to him and pushed it over to Rolande without taking a drink.

    Vetch took a breath and settled into the matter-of-fact voice he used when discussing swordplay or battle tactics. ¡°For those of you who hadn¡¯t heard yet, Mage Marigold was taken during the raid. Ennric and me think the entire attack might have been only a ploy to get at her. We¡¯ve a horse thief locked up in the jail who saw another mage come with soldiers and take her.¡± Vetch paused and met the eyes of the other soldiers around the table. He read doubt on some faces, intrigue on others. The bottle came around to him. He took a swig, then winced at the harsh burn that scoured the back of his throat. Handing the bottle back to Ennric, he cleared his throat and spoke on. ¡°I have a lead on the direction by which they fled with her, and a description of the place they¡¯re supposedly going.¡± He let the statement hang for a few seconds, hesitant to say what he was thinking to do with the information. When no one else volunteered their thoughts, he forged on. ¡°It¡¯s our job to protect her. If she¡¯s still alive ...¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking we go after her?¡± asked Rolande skeptically. She rubbed her bandaged knuckles and shook her head, setting her short brown hair to swishing like a theater curtain being drawn closed. ¡°We¡¯d be killed.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always been the mission of our garrison,¡± said Vetch. ¡°We should have protected her in the first place. And Moonfane with her. Are we even soldiers anymore if we abandon her to her fate?¡±

    ¡°What about everyone else here?¡± Oderyk asked. His voice was deep but strangely soft for such a tall and muscled man. He was closer in age to Ennric than to any of the other able-bodied soldiers at the table. But he appeared to have aged years in the short time following the battle, his salt-and-pepper hair and beard more gray than black now. ¡°There are townsfolk who¡¯ve resolved to stay here and try to rebuild. It¡¯s our job to protect them, too.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°It¡¯s not as if we could stand up to a second attack,¡± Neschi said. ¡°What good could we do here anymore?¡±

    ¡°Regardless,¡± said Oderyk. ¡°There¡¯s more than our mage to consider. What about help for Moonfane?¡±

    Across the table from him, Ennric nodded. ¡°He makes a good point. If any of the heads of the Silversmith¡¯s Council were left alive, they¡¯d have been organizing that already by now, wouldn¡¯t they? Word of the attack needs to be sent to the King¡¯s Capital City, and to the king himself. He could send aid and soldiers back. Maybe even someone there would know who this ¡®raven-haired¡¯ bitch the horse thief described is. The royal garrison could be sent to run her down then. We should organize a retinue to go to the king and petition him for help. He¡¯ll listen. Moonfane Forge has always provided well for the kingdom with our goods. Hell, I¡¯d wager it¡¯s probably a Moonfane yak¡¯s hair that stuffs the cushion his royal ass sits on all day.¡±

    The mild laughter around the table eased the tension in the room somewhat, but Vetch couldn¡¯t muster even a chuckle.

    ¡°That¡¯s the correct and wise plan,¡± he said into the ensuing quiet. ¡°For our town and townsfolk, or what¡¯s left of them. It just doesn¡¯t feel right not doing what we were pledged to do in the first place by chasing this Lady and her guard down ourselves right now and getting Marigold back.¡±

    ¡°No. It doesn¡¯t. I never said going to the king was a plan to make any of us feel better,¡± Ennric said sternly. ¡°If it were up to me, and I were able, I¡¯d much rather mount up right fuckin¡¯ now, hunt this other mage down, and ram a sword right down her spellcastin¡¯ throat. If it were me in charge. But, thankfully, it¡¯s not. Because that¡¯d be a dumb thing to do, much as I know all of us here want to.¡±

    ¡°Who is in charge?¡± Iannitz asked timidly. All eyes at the table turned to him. The young man had joined the garrison a couple years after Vetch had. He was a serviceable swordsman, but in Vetch¡¯s estimation lacked the kind of instinct that kept a man alive in a real fight. Perhaps he would grow into it. It seemed to Vetch that it was fortunate fate had seen to it he¡¯d not been able to participate in the battle; he¡¯d have the chance to grow into being a soldier now, and perhaps be ready for a next time. ¡°What I¡¯m saying,¡± Iannitz went on slowly, ¡°is, who decides what any of us do now? With Captain Tarese dead and those next in rank dead, too. Who¡¯s even in charge? Of us or the town?¡±

    Silence met this line of inquiry, as around the table the soldiers all considered their own thoughts on the matter. It complicated things. As Vetch himself had pondered that very morning, what was even stopping any of them from simply leaving Moonfane Forge and not looking back, from starting anew somewhere else? What now chained any of them to their town or duty?

    ¡°The royal garrison at the capital will choose a new captain,¡± said Ennric finally. ¡°Or send one from their ranks to take over the post.¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t know who to choose any better than we do,¡± Neschi said pragmatically. ¡°I say we make Vetch captain. Everyone already listens to him.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Vetch.

    ¡°Why not? It¡¯ll take forever for anyone we send to reach the capital. Who else thinks Vetch should be captain?¡± She lifted her hand as she fixed Vetch with a playfully smug look.

    Before Vetch could even voice an argument, Iannitz raised his hand. ¡°Vetch. Yeah. I say Vetch, too.¡±

    In his wake, the others around the table voiced the same.

    ¡°There,¡± said Neschi. ¡°That¡¯s off the table then. Captain Vetch.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said again and shook his head. ¡°The royal garrison should name the new captain.¡±

    Beside Vetch, Ennric cuffed his arm. ¡°Captain Vetch,¡± he echoed. ¡°It¡¯s decided, boy, so you may as well start livin¡¯ up to it.¡±

    Vetch pinched the bridge of his nose. He took in one breath, then breathed it out. ¡°Acting captain, then,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll accept the position of acting captain, until either that¡¯s officially confirmed or someone else is named properly.¡±

    ¡°Acting Captain Vetch,¡± Ennric declared and took a swig off the bottle. ¡°So ... Acting Captain Vetch, as it appears we¡¯re the only ones left who can make decisions for Moonfane Forge, what¡¯s the orders? What¡¯s our next move?¡±

    It was no strange thing for Vetch to have the eyes of his fellow soldiers on him, awaiting his advice or opinions. But never had his words been sacrosanct. They had always stood only as a temporary buffer until one of the higher ranked soldiers, or Captain Tarese herself, arrived to confirm or veto his choice. It was about as much self-governance as rank-and-file soldiers could exert when required, no matter who they looked to in a pinch. That had always made it easy to dole out orders, the knowing that someone with more experience had the final say if he was wrong. Without that now, Vetch felt the true weight of command for the first time. Most of the men and women sitting around the table had more experience than he did, but his was the final say now. If he made the wrong decision, the penalty would be paid with lives.

    He swept his hair out of his eyes and felt the short crescent line of stitches over his right cheekbone. ¡°Ennric¡¯s right,¡± he said, thinking through his orders even as he voiced them. ¡°Moonfane Forge needs aid¡ªworkers, soldiers, coin, building materials. We¡¯ll send a retinue to the King¡¯s Capital City with news of the attack and a petition for their help. They need to know, at the least. We can send representatives of all the districts, townspeople who can speak for all of us in the royal court, along with some guards, livestock, and what little coin we can raise. There are plenty of other villages and towns along the way who may be persuaded to send workers and supplies up here for the right payment. In that way, we might have help getting started rebuilding here even before our retinue reaches the capital.¡±

    Around the table, heads nodded in agreement.

    ¡°A wise plan, boy,¡± said Ennric.

    ¡°It¡¯s your plan; I¡¯m only using it,¡± Vetch said in reply, and in his next breath heard himself say, ¡°And it¡¯s why I¡¯m putting you in charge of it.¡±

    Ennric¡¯s answer to that was only to subtly raise his bushy gray brows.

    ¡°Vetch ...¡± Ennric¡¯s daughter Eike spoke for the first time. She had until then stood quietly behind her father during the meeting, listening with avidity, but not daring to butt in on the soldiers¡¯s talk until now. ¡°He¡¯s in no condition to travel that far. Look at his arm.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, daughter,¡± Ennric said and reached up to pat Eike¡¯s hand where it rested on his shoulder. ¡°You and your mother would only get sick of me tottering around here with this useless arm before too long. It¡¯ll give me something to do. I was years younger than you the last time I got to see the capital.¡±

    Eike looked down at her father with pinched lips, then turned her eyes imploringly to Vetch.

    ¡°He¡¯s the best man for the job, Eike,¡± he reassured her. To Ennric, he added, ¡°Can you do all that, old man, gather up the right people, a few carts, whatever supplies you need to get there, and make the trip? You¡¯ll effectively be Moonfane Forge¡¯s representative.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± grunted Ennric, before adding, ¡°I don¡¯t know a damned thing about court protocol, but I¡¯ll find people who do and get them there safe.¡±

    ¡°Make whatever promises you need to,¡± said Vetch. ¡°Yaks, mining permissions, trade agreements¡ªwhatever it takes, we¡¯ll back it up. The sooner our people here are protected and able to get back to their normal lives, the better.¡±

    ¡°How is anyone going to get back to their normal lives after this?¡± Eike said softly, and then cast her eyes down as if she¡¯d not meant to voice the question aloud. Nobody had an answer for her.

    ¡°And us, Cap¡¯n Vetch?¡± asked Neschi plainly. ¡°What¡¯s our orders?¡±

    Vetch pushed his chair back from the table and stood. ¡°We are going after this ¡®raven-haired¡¯ Lady and getting Mage Marigold back. So, gather your supplies, sharpen your swords, and be prepared to ride in two days. Dismissed.¡±

    As the soldiers stood and went to carry out his orders, Vetch saw that some of them smiled, while others looked grim. He ignored both reactions. They were soldiers of Moonfane Forge. If they still considered themselves that, then they knew they still had a job to do, and they¡¯d be ready to do it.¡±

    Once the others had left, Vetch and Ennric walked back out onto the porch to lean on the railing and look out across their town in all of its tragic ruin.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised,¡± said Vetch quietly. ¡°I¡¯d¡¯ve figured you¡¯d be the first one back in your uniform and insisting to me that you were going with us after these people, busted arm and all.¡±

    For a long time Ennric was quiet, staring straight ahead, and it was only by the way he gripped the porch rail so tightly that Vetch could see he was wrestling with his thoughts.

    ¡°This soldier¡¯s fighting days are done,¡± Ennric said at length, in a voice low and full of emotion. ¡°Hear me? That¡¯s the truth of it. And, now I¡¯ve said it, I can stick to it.¡± The veteran stood for a time, eyes level, jaw set. Yet, when he spoke again, there was a slight trembling in his gray-whiskered chin. ¡°It doesn¡¯t happen the way you expect it to, you know? At your age, you think it will. You think your last time soldiering will come either when you fall in battle, or when peace has finally been won and you retire fat and comfortable to a little farm with your blade hanging over the mantle. But that¡¯s never the way it goes. I saw it happen to the old ¡®uns in my time, and so I can recognize it now. You just wake up one day and realize that the last time you drew your blade ... will forever be the last time. Not because you want it that way, but because your body is done with it all, and if you ever went and drew it again, your body wouldn¡¯t be up to the task of keepin¡¯ you alive. The fighting goes on, but not for me.¡± He turned to Vetch then and gave a half shrug.

    It was hard to meet the older soldier¡¯s steely eyes in that moment, so Vetch put on a mollifying smile and clapped Ennric on the back, telling him, ¡°How ¡®bout you wait until that arm heals before talking like that. Nobody feels themself when they¡¯re down and out. You¡¯ll heal up, old man.¡± Ennric¡¯s reply came in the form of a stolid grunt. Vetch turned the subject. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to make what preparations you need and make it to the capital for us? I didn¡¯t hang too much on you in front of everyone?¡±

    Ennric turned his eye back on Vetch then and there was at least still a sliver of the man¡¯s gruff nature in his expression. He chuckled. ¡°No. No, I¡¯ll get it all done. The king¡¯ll see our plight, don¡¯t you doubt it. And if he doesn¡¯t at first, then I¡¯ll find a way to make ¡®im.¡±

    To that, Vetch smiled and found that he felt reassured by his mentor¡¯s reemerging attitude. ¡°Then I¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± he said, and nodded to Ennric, but before he was down the porch steps to the street, Ennric made a short whistle to get his attention.

    Fixing Vetch with a hard stare, he said, ¡°Vetch, there are plans that are the smart ones, and then there are those that are the right ones. A good captain knows when to order the smart plan, and when to take on the burden of the right plan. You¡¯ll make a fine captain, boy.¡±

    Without saddling Vetch with the time or obligation to have to answer to that, the old soldier simply smiled at him and then went back inside.

 Chapter 5: Bound, part 1

    Gone from the stables was the familiar air of warmth and welcomeness the place had always held for Vetch. The long building lay partially in blackened ruins now, with the remaining section appearing like the stump of a recently amputated limb. The smells of horses and their manure, of fresh straw, feed, and oiled leather tack were dulled or missing, replaced by the ever-present miasma of burned wood and ashes. The stench was made even worse by being damp from the sporadic rain of the previous days. Even the undamaged half of the stables that had not been touched by the fires had not escaped being infused with the odor of smoke and char. These smells were becoming all too familiar to Vetch. Seeing so much of his town, the only town he¡¯d ever known, reduced to empty plots of blackened sticks was traumatizing enough as it was. The fact that he couldn¡¯t even capture the familiar aromas of his home as he walked through it now caused an even deeper, instinctual kind of disquiet within him. It was as if his senses were telling him that Moonfane Forge did not exist anymore, or never had. That scared him. As he stood there beneath the eaves of the stables, it suddenly became extremely important to him to remember all the smells he associated with Lily¡ªdairy-fresh milk, the sweet grasses she fed to the goats, and in recent years the flowery perfume she sometimes wore, and the herbal tea her teacher Marigold was always brewing in their home. Vetch was fearful he would forget these things about her; forget the sound of her voice, or the hue of her lips when the sunlight fell across her face.

    Nearby, a horse nickered uneasily, causing Vetch to return to himself. Horses could sense when a person was anxious, and became anxious themselves. With an effort, Vetch forced himself into a calmer posture and went to stroke the white blaze on the horse¡¯s nose soothingly. The lone stable girl Vetch had found feeding the remaining beasts when he¡¯d arrived had sullenly told him to just take whichever horse he wanted, as ¡®all the other soldiers had.¡¯ Many of the garrison¡¯s horses had perished in the fire, or had been turned loose and run off who knew how far. Well, it couldn¡¯t be helped. For all he knew, the owners of these animals were dead, and it didn¡¯t seem there were many people left who had been visiting the stables to care for them. The animals Vetch¡¯s small band took would be fed and looked after at the very least, so he felt no reservations about taking them. He would do what he must to track down Marigold. He hoped desperately that she was still alive. He hoped also to soon face down this mysterious Lady, the one responsible for the deaths of his friends and the destruction of his town.

    The horse before him nosed at his hand. Vetch considered her. She was a sturdy brown mare with white splotches across her flanks. He could take this one. She appeared to have a calm demeanor, and looked strong and fit. But upon closer inspection, Vetch ruled her out. She was heavy with foal. No, he would need a mount that would be fast on open stretches and sure-footed enough to navigate whatever other terrain he and his fellow soldiers might encounter, for east they meant to ride, and many were the topographical obstacles in that direction.

    Vetch strolled down the open run between the stalls, bootsteps muffled by wet straw and un-swept dirt, looking in at each animal he came across. Someone had housed all these horses in whichever spaces were available. Not all were horses meant for riding, and scattered amongst them were other animals, too. Some Moonfane yaks occupied the least damaged stalls. Another held a couple small cart mules. Yet another housed a few chickens. How had his fellow soldiers found decent mounts amongst these slim pickings?

    Something told Vetch that the horse he found in the final stall would be his choice. Lately, it seemed as if life had been making his decisions for him by running him out of options before he¡¯d even known he¡¯d had his pick. Like with the raid. Like with the enemy fighters who had looked down on him and chosen not to even waste their energy in killing him. He¡¯d had no say in either, and he wondered now if anything he could have chosen to do beforehand would have given him one. Yet, when he came to the end of the hall and looked into the final stall, he found it empty.

    ¡°Not a great portent to begin a quest on,¡± he mumbled to himself. He turned and went back up the run and this time his eyes settled on a horse he¡¯d made no note of before. It was a slim and angular gelding, dark gray with a dusting of lighter gray at shoulders and flanks. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re it,¡± he said. The gelding watched alertly as Vetch opened the stall door. It was wary at first when he introduced the bridle. Wary, but not defiant. Vetch could understand the sentiment. Some soothing words and strokes calmed the gelding enough for Vetch to get the bridle and reins on him and then lead him out. The stable girl he¡¯d met before was using a pitchfork to muck out a stall. Vetch stopped before her. ¡°I¡¯m taking this one. Don¡¯t suppose you know his name?¡±

    The girl ran her sleeve across her nose and regarded the horse. She shook her head. ¡°Uh-uh. No one¡¯s come for that one.¡±

    ¡°Do any other people come around here to help you with the animals?¡± Vetch asked.

    ¡°Mora was, but she¡¯s leaving with you, huh?¡±

    Vetch nodded, to a look of disappointment on the girl¡¯s face. ¡°Find others if you can,¡± he offered. ¡°You¡¯ll all be paid, when things are rebuilt and people have picked up the pieces of their trades. I promise you that.¡±

    The girl stared at him, and in her eyes, Vetch saw some of the street-tough children he used to run into in the dingier parts of town when he was a boy. ¡°Sure, we will,¡± she said, and turned her back on him to resume her work, effectively dismissing him.

    Vetch led his horse outside to where he had left his saddle and packed supplies. On a whim, he draped his horse¡¯s reins over the nearest stall door latch and walked down through the remnants of the burned side of the building. The very end of the structure was all that was left standing, just a partially charred nook where once there had been a couple larger stalls and a room that the stable hands used for storing feed. Vetch looked at the blackened walls of the stall that had belonged to Lily¡¯s panthegrunn, Fae. It was empty. That was fortunate. What was more, he could see that the entire stall door and been wrenched out of its frame in a way that no fire would have caused. So, Fae had broken out of her stall and escaped the flames. That was no surprise to Vetch. The beast was easily both strong enough and willful enough to have made easy work of doing so. He hoped that wherever the panthegrunn had gotten to that she was faring well. From what little Vetch understood of them, charge-beasts could readapt to living wild with an alacrity that no normal domesticated animals could boast.

    He patted the stall wall with his hand and returned to the gray gelding. Once his new mount was saddled, and his travel supplies stowed in its saddlebags, Vetch had only a couple things left to see to before he met up with his fellow soldiers and set out in search of Marigold. His first order of business came into view out on the south road as he led the gelding back around toward the town¡¯s South Gate. Vetch and his horse¡¯s shadows stretched out across the grass before them in the morning sun. In the road before town was gathered a ragtag assembly of people, carts, horses, yaks, and other beasts of burden. Tradespeople loaded carts or made secure packs on their animals, while others milled about, eager to be on their way. The retinue that would go to the King¡¯s Capital City and petition the king for aid. Viewing them all, Vetch wondered if a significant number of the people making the trek would simply settle in any number of other towns or cities they visited along the way. How many would complete the journey to the capital and deem whatever aid they won worthy of a return trip to Moonfane Forge and the inevitably long and difficult work of rebuilding it?

    Worries, Vetch reminded himself. Worries and concerns about things he had no control over and hadn¡¯t occurred yet. He had left the mission in capable hands and so he would trust that it would be carried out in a way that would help them all. He spotted the man he¡¯d put in charge of the retinue, in short order. Ennric¡¯s stout form could be seen standing in one of the carts, his shouts carrying as he directed the stowing of the last supplies. Vetch hurried over to the man just as he was taking his seat in the cart and taking up the reins.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Come to wish me luck and see me off?¡± said Ennric.

    ¡°I know you don¡¯t need luck,¡± replied Vetch. ¡°But to see you off, yes. And for one other thing.¡± Vetch went to the bedroll stashed behind his horse¡¯s saddle and pulled from it a sword in its scabbard. This, he held out to Ennric. ¡°You forgot this up at your house.¡±

    Ennric lowered his chin and looked at Vetch from under heavy brows. He turned in the cart seat to spit in the dirt. ¡°No, boy. I told you, my sword-swinging days are done.¡±

    But Vetch was determined to out-stubborn the old veteran for once. He held the sword out in a defiant gesture. ¡°Take it. You might need it.¡±

    They eyed one another. At last, Ennric made an annoyed sound in his throat and took the sword. He set it behind the cart seat and took up the reins again. ¡°Happy now? Already letting your new rank go to your head,¡± he grumbled.

    ¡°Take care of these people, old man,¡± Vetch said. ¡°And yourself.¡±

    ¡°And you, Captain. Stick a few of those raider bastards for me when you find ¡®em.¡± Ennric cleared his throat and turned in his seat to raise his hand to the waiting retinue. ¡°We move!¡± he bellowed over their heads. With a flinty nod to Vetch, Ennric clicked his tongue at his horse and set off. Vetch stood aside with his gelding and watched the train of townsfolk and animals follow the old veteran down the road.

    Vetch patted his horse¡¯s neck. ¡°One more person to visit,¡± he told it.

    It was a strange thing leading the horse beneath the South Gate arch and into town. Vetch half expected the horse¡¯s nose to bump into the Barrier as they walked through the gate. That it didn¡¯t was another reminder of how changed everything was. The bodies of townspeople and animals had been removed from the streets, and much of the detritus from burned buildings had been cleared away to allow normal passage, but it couldn¡¯t disguise the injury done to Moonfane Forge. Few people were about where normally there would be throngs, and those who were acted wary and subdued. Nobody stopped to speak with acquaintances or browse shop wares; all seemed in a hurry to accomplish whatever task they¡¯d ventured out for, the sooner to be away from the devastation.

    The gelding¡¯s hooves clicked on the cobbles as Vetch led the way up the central thoroughfare of town and then turned right onto a wide road that led away from where most of the taverns and inns had been. Eventually, he stopped at another crossroad. Normally, this is where he would turn left, were he walking up the winding, hilly streets that led up through the markets and into the Residential District. Today, however, his destination was the squat stone building that stood sentinel on the corner. The guardhouse¡¯s jail. It was dark inside when he entered. The old man who¡¯d been acting as the lone guard had abandoned his post. The space was drafty, and the lanterns had gone out.

    ¡°Hello?¡± came a meek voice from the only occupied cell. The horse thief¡¯s sharp face peered out through the barred window in his cell door, eyes squinted against the light pouring in from outside. He blinked a few times and then, ¡°You! All spirits and demons damn you, let me out! You promised you¡¯d let me out! Lying soldier bastard!¡± Slouk kicked at the door¡¯s heavy timbers so hard Vetch was surprised the man didn¡¯t break his toes. Yet, he continued to do so, alternately berating Vetch and pleading with him at the top of his lungs.

    When it seemed at last that the prisoner had exhausted himself, Vetch held up the cell key. ¡°I am letting you out. As I promised.¡± He stepped up to the door and turned the key in the lock, all the while keeping his eyes on the man in the cell. He opened the door and stepped back.

    Slouk stood in place and watched him, then gestured with open hands. ¡°That¡¯s it, then? I¡¯m free to go?¡±

    ¡°Not free.¡± Vetch shook his head. ¡°I never said you¡¯d be set free. I said I¡¯d let you out. You¡¯re coming with us.¡±

    ¡°Us? Us?¡± Slouk turned and looked about the jailhouse. ¡°What ¡®us¡¯?¡±

    The dejected expression that had come over the wretched man¡¯s face upon hearing he wasn¡¯t to be let free yet was almost enough for Vetch to rethink his plan and turn the man loose. Then, he remembered the man¡¯s lies from before, and how he was the last one to see Marigold and the mage who had taken her, and hardened himself. This horse thief was the key to finding them. Not to mention Vetch was certain he still knew more about the raid than he let on.

    ¡°Myself and my remaining soldiers,¡± Vetch stated. He turned and left the jailhouse, allowing the man to follow him. He was almost daring him to attempt an escape or even to attack him. Vetch would¡¯ve welcomed the excuse to take his anger out on the man. He could tell himself that he wouldn¡¯t take pleasure in it, but that¡¯d be a lie. Outside, he retrieved his horse¡¯s reins from the post he¡¯d draped them over and looked back. Slouk hadn¡¯t moved from his cell.

    ¡°Why?¡± he asked. ¡°Why do I need to go with you? To where?¡±

    Vetch motioned with his hand. ¡°Come on. Out.¡±

    ¡°Not until you tell me what¡¯s happening. Just let me leave this stinking place.¡±

    Early morning was past. The other soldiers were waiting on Vetch, and the sooner they all got on the move, the better. He sighed. ¡°To track down this Lady you described.¡±

    The surprise on Slouk¡¯s face appeared genuine as he stated, ¡°I described for you her hold. I don¡¯t know how to get there.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ve seen her. You know her face and the faces of her guards. And did you not say they have your sister? I¡¯m guessing you want to find her, which means we¡¯re seeking the same people.¡±

    Slouk hesitated, face screwed up with inner turmoil. ¡°Do I have a choice in this?¡± he asked.

    Vetch raised his brows sardonically.

    Slouk scowled. ¡°No. Of course not.¡± Finally, the man shuffled out of his rank cell and into the sunlight, shielding his eyes.

    ¡°And don¡¯t even think of running,¡± Vetch said, swinging up into the saddle. The gray gelding sidestepped and tossed his head, causing Vetch to have to guide the skittering beast to calm. Too late, he realized he should have tried riding him before he dealt with Slouk. Well, he¡¯d look a fool, but he wouldn¡¯t be taken for one. ¡°Or we¡¯ll charge you down.¡±

    ¡°Tch, what do you take me for?¡± Slouk scoffed. ¡°Y¡¯think I¡¯d be any good at thieving horses if I didn¡¯t know anything about them? This one looks as likely to throw you as run where you point ¡®im.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll test my accuracy with my bow, instead, hm? Now, shut up and move. Up this street.¡± Vetch could see the war within the man¡¯s mind, gauging his chances at making an escape. But the thief¡¯s next question told Vetch that he at least thought further than making a mad dash for it and hoping things worked out.

    ¡°Will there be food?¡±

    There it was. That would be the leverage Vetch needed to keep the man in line. For how long, he didn¡¯t know. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°You help us find The Lady and don¡¯t make trouble, and you¡¯ll be treated fairly, and eat the same as the rest of us. It¡¯ll be a hell of a lot better than you would find for yourself out there alone. So?¡±

    Grudgingly, Slouk nodded and began walking. Vetch clicked his tongue and he and his horse followed.

    Waiting outside the town¡¯s East Gate was the small band of soldiers who would be Vetch¡¯s constant companions for however long it took for them to find Marigold. They stood as soldiers do while waiting for their captain to tell them to move, all in uniform, arms and mounts readied, faces grim and stoic. Seven total, including Vetch. When Slouk saw them all, his face blanched.

    ¡°Remember what I said about not running,¡± Vetch told him. ¡°Mora?¡±

    Mora came forward with the reins of the extra horse procured for the prisoner. Slouk looked at the offered reins as if they were a snake ready to bite him.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have all day,¡± she said. ¡°Take ¡®em.¡±

    Averting his eyes, Slouk did as he was bade. At a nod from Vetch, all the other soldiers mounted and turned their horses down the road. Slouk followed suit, and if the man looked as if he would rather be in the grave than a party to this foreboding mission, he still displayed a natural ease in handling his horse. So, there was another thing he had been truthful about. Vetch was keeping tally. This lone, deceptive thief was the one tenuous thread remaining that could lead what was left of Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison to Marigold; to redemption, and perhaps, to revenge.

    East down the road, they passed the rain-washed remains of Lily¡¯s family¡¯s dairy and came to the tangled, looming shade of Bannerman¡¯s Wood. The signs of carriages having entered the wood were apparent. It was probably via this seldomly-traveled forest they had arrived, too, Vetch reflected. One by one, the mounted soldiers and their reluctant guide ducked beneath branches and crunched into the undergrowth. Vetch found he had not even the sentimentality to take a last look back at Moonfane Forge. There was nothing behind now, only what he hoped to find ahead, his aim narrow as the road they followed. Shadows and foliage closed in around him.

 Chapter 5: Bound, part 2

    *

    She had been rained on. And she had soiled her dress. Her mouth tasted like mud and ash. She was lying in a pile of dirty bolts of fabric underneath some temporary structure of wood and broken plaster. She could see the stars, and moon, and wisps of cloud through a hole in the roof. She was cold and her dress was torn to shreds. Moisture had soaked through her underclothes to her skin. Yet, for all the discomfort and pain all over, her body felt light and insubstantial. She knew the sensation intimately. Had she been in Caster¡¯s Slumber?

    A soft, chuffing grunt caught Lily¡¯s attention. When she tried to turn her body, the burning pain that shot through her was immense. The sound was followed by the warm sensation of breath exhaled across the top of her head, then a soft nose pushing behind her ear. Large hooves stepped over her and then the broad nose was pushing at her face and shoulder. Despite herself, Lily uttered a small laugh that came out like a sob, and raised her aching arms to wrap them around her panthegrunn¡¯s broad, shaggy neck.

    ¡°Fae,¡± she whispered in a dry croak, burying her face in the placid beast¡¯s hair. What had happened? She felt pain, but most of all she felt confusion. It was the distress of not knowing what was going on, or why she was where she was, that turned into soft sobs, which were muffled by Fae¡¯s mane. It was a childish reaction, crying for no other reason than that she was confused and scared. But, as childish things sometimes bring comfort in times of duress, the tears and clinging to her panthegrunn soothed her, at least enough to begin thinking through her situation. It took time for her head to clear and her thoughts to sharpen. That was strange, for usually when she awoke from Caster¡¯s Slumber, she felt mentally reinvigorated. The first thing she recalled was the attack on Moonfane Forge, and that sent a cold shiver down her spine. She had seen them out the window, the raiders moving through the streets, breaking into homes and attacking townsfolk. She had guarded her Slumbering Mage-Matron while listening to the sounds of fighting outside, fearful to cast any Barriers of her own, lest she fall into Slumber as well and leave Marigold unprotected. She had thought nothing could be as terrifying as the screams and cries that went on and on outside, for what had seemed like hours, until. ...

    Lily remembered what had happened next, how the raiders had broken into their home, led by the woman with long raven-colored hair. Lily could recall the woman¡¯s face perfectly; how beautiful it was. But that beauty was somehow tainted, first with indifference, then with rage. The woman had come to attack Marigold, and Lily had stood in her way, only to discover that this strange woman was another Barrier-Caster with skills far surpassing Lily¡¯s. How easily she had cast spells that would have taken Lily¡¯s utmost concentration. She could make Barriers move. And, then, Lily had been rising rapidly up off the ground. She remembered crashing through the roof of their home and screaming and then ... that was all.

    With an effort, Lily calmed her rapid breathing and burrowed deeper into Fae¡¯s thick hair. Her heart was pounding. Fae grunted softly, a rumbling sensation that Lily felt against her breast. Where was she? She must be outside the town because Fae was here, but then she remembered that the town¡¯s Barrier had been down. Lily gazed up through the hole in the roof above her and knew that it had been made by her body falling through it.

    She sniffed and dried her face on Fae¡¯s shaggy neck, then leaned back so she could take the beloved panthegrunn¡¯s broad snout in her hands and kiss her on the nose. ¡°You found me, Fae. Thank you.¡± Fae chuffed a warm breath across Lily¡¯s face and Lily smiled hesitantly. She had so many questions, but first she had to get out of this place. She was freezing cold, and starving, and parched beyond comprehension. She needed water. In attempting to protect Marigold, she had cast Barriers without thought. As a result, she had been in Caster¡¯s Slumber with no one to care for her for an unknown number of days. Mages had died that way before. It was not unheard of. If a mage casted a spell beyond their ability and fell into Slumber with no one around to care for them and give them water or broth, they could easily die of thirst, or exposure. Knowing how lucky she was that she hadn¡¯t did nothing to diminish her desperation.

    It took all her strength to grasp Fae¡¯s horns and pull herself shakily to her feet. Her shoes were gone and her feet were scratched and bruised. So too were her arms and legs, and likely her back, from smashing through first her own home¡¯s ceiling, then this structure¡¯s on the way back down. Her dress, her favorite dress, gifted by her family, hung in shreds off of her as she picked her way delicately down from the bolts of fabric she had landed on. She had a notion of where she was; there were little storage buildings like this all over the Trades District, where goods that had been sold were stored until they could be delivered to their buyers. This was confirmed when she got outside and began walking.

    The night air was frigid. The icy cobbles were like needles in the soles of her bare feet. Lily leaned on Fae, who padded patiently along beside her. She had guessed her location correctly. She was somewhere in the Trades District a few streets up from her home. There was no light coming from any buildings and no people about, but Lily could see some illumination a couple streets over. Haltingly, painfully, she made her way there. Things always looked different at night, but it was made worse by the devastation she saw as she went. Entire houses had been burned to the ground, leaving a wrongness to the familiar streets. As she turned onto her own street and made her way up the hill to the cozy little house she and Marigold had shared for years, a sour sensation began to grow in Lily¡¯s stomach. Passing more and more burned homes, she suddenly knew that hers would be amongst them. She could feel it. So, when she saw it, the dark, empty husk of crumbled timbers, she was not surprised, but, still, she was devastated. She stood staring at her lost home and felt empty inside. Had Marigold died? Had they killed her?

    ¡°How could anyone do this?¡± she whispered into the dead night. Tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks as she clutched tightly at Fae¡¯s fur with her fingers. Yet, something felt wrong inside her, like the full weight and emotion of the situation was not reaching her. Instead, her body screamed at her for water, for food, and she couldn¡¯t think or process until she found them. She looked around and saw nothing but emptiness. Even the houses that were undamaged appeared to have no one in them. Clearly the attack had been even worse than she¡¯d been able to perceive at the time. Had they lost the battle? That could not be. Moonfane Forge had an entire garrison to protect them. Where was everyone? Where was help?

    Home. She needed to go home to her family¡¯s dairy. Things would make sense there. She could eat and drink, change her clothes, learn what had happened. Yes, she needed to go home. Like a thoughtless fog, Lily drifted through the strangely bereft streets of her town, barely recognizing them or herself, stopping only once to slake her thirst at a rain barrel. The water in it tasted stale and acrid. She moved on. Her panthegrunn followed. They met no one. Beyond the East Gate, some few animals roamed the dark pastures. It was the view of the stars that first told Lily she would find no solace at home either. She could see stars that would normally have been obscured by the silhouette of her parents¡¯s house. It was gone as well.

    Fae sat down on the little dirt path as Lily walked through what had once been the front garden¡¯s gate. The garden, the house, everything, was cold, ashen ruin. Lily put her hand to her mouth as she nearly stumbled over the charred corpses of her little dairy goats. She stared at them in horror and backed away. Her bare feet found newly turned soil then, and this is how she discovered the three new graves; her parents and brother.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The barrier within Lily that had been holding back her emotions finally cracked open then and out flowed a cold, rushing sadness. She fell to her hands and knees and wailed in sorrow.

    ¡°No ... no, no, please! ...¡± She could not catch her breath, gulping air between sobs as she bowed her head and cried uncontrollably, tears falling to the soil where her draping hair brushed it. The grief was such that her shoulders hunched and she nearly retched when she had cried for so long that her eyes ran out of tears to give. Still, she remained, digging her fingers into the soil as if she could let them know that she was there and loved them. She needed to tell them somehow, one more time. It was not fair that she couldn¡¯t tell them now.

    It was the sunlight crawling above the trees of Bannerman¡¯s Wood that snapped Lily out of her sorrowful trance at last. She had been staring blindly at the soil of her family¡¯s resting places for she knew not how long. As if sensing it was time to move on, in that pragmatic way of animals, Fae came to her side and nudged Lily¡¯s shoulder with her heavy head, prompting Lily to stand. She didn¡¯t want to leave, but she knew she must. For now.

    She rode draped limply on Fae back into Moonfane Forge and then dismounted and walked with her through the ravaged streets. She had no idea where she intended to go, but soon found herself in the center of town. The fires had been much worse here. Only some buildings still stood. Where once all the eateries and inns had resided, now there was a giant bird¡¯s nest of charred and blackened timbers fallen at crisscrossed angles. Visual markers Lily had known her entire life were gone, leaving her confused about which direction she was even walking.

    There were people out now, but they were few, and Lily could sense only fear and apprehension in them. No one spoke to her. They only glanced sidelong at her and the great panthegrunn at her side, as if they were ghosts who had forgotten to dissipate with the sunrise. Lily didn¡¯t so much see the destruction of her home as she sensed the emotions of it. It was difficult to take in the fact that any of this had happened so quickly. As she went aimlessly up the street, she sensed the sadness and anxiety of Moonfane Forge¡¯s people as a whole, the downtroddenness of them. It was like she swam in hopelessness. There was no sense of ¡®tomorrow¡¯ to be found.

    Without knowing why, her emotional compass drew her up to the Silversmith¡¯s District, which she found was mostly intact. There were more townsfolk in the area, and signs of normal daily activities going on. Still, even those were fractured and stabbed through with signs of despair and deprivation; a scorched food cart overturned in the center of the street, a woman quietly weeping in the doorway of a ruined shop, rats and carrion birds picking through rubble. Lily passed two little boys who sat huddled together against the wall of a building, their faces grubby and dirt-smeared. Lily had to stop and stare at them, certain she knew them. It dawned on her that these were two of the boys who had run past she and Marigold the morning Lily had practiced her Barrier-Casting on the little apricot tree. But where was the third boy? Could it be he was simply somewhere else, or? ... It began to truly sink in just how catastrophic the raid had been. They had lost, hadn¡¯t they? Moonfane Forge had been ravaged and left to rot. Did that mean the garrison soldiers were dead? She hadn¡¯t seen a one of them. Suddenly her heart caught in her throat. Where was Vetch?

    ¡°Lily? Oh, my goodness, Lily!¡± Lily felt the hand on her shoulder before she registered the sound of her own name. A young woman peered into her face, eyes full of shock and concern. ¡°It really is you. Spirits, Lily ...¡± The woman embraced her and then held her by the shoulders at arm¡¯s length to peer at her once again. ¡°Lily? Are you hale? Oh, my goodness, you look terrible. What happened to you? Come, let¡¯s get you indoors.¡±

    Lily knew this young woman, though not closely. They had played together sometimes as children¡ªshe and Lily and Vetch¡ªthough their paths seldomly crossed nowadays. ¡°Eike,¡± Lily said, as if to refresh the name to herself. She was the daughter of the grizzled older soldier Vetch was always with. That was it. ¡°Eike,¡± she said again, and felt as if her tongue were covered in grit. She was thirsty again, and starving. How could she think of food when her family was dead?

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Eike confirmed. ¡°You remember me. Of course, anyone would recognize you, especially with your great cat-yak beast with you. Oh, Lily, what in the world happened to you? Where have you been? Do you know that your name was included in the list of the dead days ago? Come. Do you have anywhere to go? Come with me back to our house. We¡¯ll get you cleaned up and find you some clothes. Your dress is falling off in shreds. I think some of my sister¡¯s old clothes might fit you. She¡¯s closer to your height.¡± The young woman spoke with the kind of desperate rapidity of one seeing to an urgent concern, causing Lily to wonder just how bad she looked. Aside from her great hunger and thirst, she didn¡¯t feel as if she¡¯d sustained any great injury. Her legs carried her along; her fingers could clench and unclench, could they not? But then, nothing felt quite the way she was used to it feeling after a lengthy spell in Caster¡¯s Slumber. It was as if she had woken inhabiting someone else¡¯s body, one that was being pummeled from all sides by a sadness so omnipresent as to be almost a physical sensation. The young woman took Lily¡¯s hand and led her along. Fae followed them.

    ¡°Panthegrunn,¡± Lily uttered.

    ¡°What?¡± asked Eike, looking at Lily with more concern than Lily felt was justified. Wasn¡¯t it a mage like herself who was supposed to be the one helping people during a disaster like this?

    Lily swallowed. ¡°Panthegrunn. Fae is a panthegrunn. Not a cat-yak.¡±

    Eike favored her with a tight-lipped smile, tipping her dark eyes back to the great charge-beast following them. ¡°So, it is,¡± she agreed. ¡°Does he, it, need food? What does it eat?¡±

    ¡°She,¡± said Lily. ¡°She eats most things a yak would.¡± It struck Lily that Fae had likely gone without a meal as long as she herself had. Fae would have stayed with her once she found her.

    ¡°Well ... we¡¯ll see about finding her some food as well, once we¡¯ve taken care of you.¡±

    Lily nodded vaguely. She followed along as though she were a little girl following her mother through the markets, aware that everything she held dear was gone. No. Not everything. She had Fae, and clearly parts of the town and its townsfolk had survived and were attempting to rebuild. But something still nagged at her and dragged her back from her diaphanous state.

    ¡°The soldiers. Where are the soldiers? I¡¯ve seen none.¡± Lily realized her error in asking the question as bluntly as she had only after the words had left her mouth. Eike was a soldier¡¯s daughter.

    The young woman¡¯s expression became neutral and firm. She took in a breath through her nose and released it. ¡°The ones who lived? Some are still being treated for injuries up in the Silversmith¡¯s Council Building. But most of them died defending us.¡± She clearly steeled her emotions as she stated this. Lily felt for her. This young woman would have known many from the garrison through her father. Certainly, she had lost people she cared about. She must have read Lily¡¯s face, because she added, ¡°My father survived. He was injured, but it¡¯d take a lot more than that to kill someone with a head as hard as his, or so my mother put it.¡±

    ¡°... And Vetch?¡± Lily near-whispered, not intending her voice to shake as it did. ¡°Is Vetch up in the Council Building, too? Is he alive?¡± Lily clenched her teeth and held her breath as she awaited the answer. Eike must know Vetch¡¯s fate¡ªher father and Vetch were good friends. But Lily feared the answer. She had already lost her parents, her brother ...

    ¡°Vetch is fine, Lily,¡± said Eike, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ¡°He and the remaining soldiers who weren¡¯t too badly hurt left just yesterday morning to rescue Mage Marigold. A retinue also left yesterday, bound for the King¡¯s Capital City, to ask for aid. My father went with them.¡±

    ¡°Wait. Rescue Marigold? Eike, I¡¯ve been in Caster¡¯s Slumber since the attack.¡±

    Eike turned a sympathetic eye to Lily. ¡°Oh! Oh, Lily. Then you don¡¯t know anything of what has happened, do you? Come. We¡¯re almost home. I will try to detail everything while we get you cleaned up and fed.¡±

 Chapter 5: Bound, part 3

    It was a shock to Lily to hear just how devastating the raid had been. Even the destruction she had witnessed throughout town had not prepared her for the telling of how horrific a night Moonfane Forge¡¯s people had been subjected to. Then there was the warring of emotions within her over her own losses, which could be softened only so much by the knowledge that they were not all-encompassing. Her family was dead. Her home and everything she had in it was gone. But Marigold was alive, albeit abducted, so far as anyone knew. And Vetch was alive. Lily felt shamed for the fact that knowing he had survived the raid somewhat helped with the despair she felt over her family. She wished he were beside her so he could hold her in his arms while she wept. But he wasn¡¯t even in Moonfane Forge anymore. Lily knew what soldiers did. They fought and they killed. Their lives put them in constant danger. She did not like to think that¡ªhaving survived in the face of near certain death that day¡ªVetch had already thrown himself right back into the thick of danger. And for what? To try and rescue Marigold, Lily¡¯s friend and mentor. He had taken up the task meant for Lily, Marigold¡¯s apprentice.

    By the time Lily had eaten, bathed, and had her wounds looked at and dressed, she was no closer to knowing how to feel. Emotionally, she was like the steam rising from the cup of hot tea she held in both her hands, cast moment to moment in unpredictable directions by the faintest shifts in the air. Physically, however, she felt oddly reinvigorated, albeit sore and battered. For the first time since she had awakened, she recognized the feeling of her body coming back to itself in the wake of Caster¡¯s Slumber. It had never taken so long before. This is what Marigold had warned her about with tales of mages who had tried spells beyond their means; that the effects of such attempts were even more dangerous and unpredictable than whatever magic was wrought. Lily had woken days after her wild duel with the strange raven-haired mage, but she could just as easily have not woken at all. Magic could never just be thrown about as she had done. It had to be planned for and executed precisely. There had to be thought and concentration behind it. She knew she was fortunate to have only experienced whatever unfamiliar state she had been in throughout the morning, rather than something worse, but it scared her at the same time.

    Then, there was the puzzle of Marigold and the raven-haired mage. Did Marigold have enemies? The notion was difficult to comprehend. She was beloved by everyone in Moonfane Forge. Yet, the dark-haired woman¡¯s eyes as she had looked down on Marigold¡¯s Slumbering form had been ... what? Wrathful? Jubilant? Some strange mixture of the two? But, if it was personal, then why go through all the trouble of abducting Marigold at all? Why not just kill her? Could it simply be that some other kingdom saw the advantage of having such a powerful mage under its control and had moved on the opportunity? That didn¡¯t strike Lily as quite the right answer, either. At least, for as little as she knew about such things.

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    She took a cautious sip of her tea and then set the cup down on the table. She stood now, barefoot, hair newly washed and combed out, on the porch before Eike¡¯s house, wearing a dress that had once belonged to Eike¡¯s older sister, Eoforill. The dress was a mite small on Lily¡¯s tall frame, but it would do. Below the porch railing, Fae sat like a very large, impatient cat, lashing her tufted tail to-and-fro while staring up at Lily through the shaggy hair that shrouded her golden eyes.

    ¡°She should be back soon, Fae,¡± Lily told the great beast. ¡°Then we shall find you some food. I promise.¡± The panthegrunn had already availed herself of the house¡¯s rain barrel to quench her thirst, but had turned her nose up at the grain Eike and her mother had produced from their pantry.

    Fortunately, before Fae became impatient enough to try nosing her way into the house, jogging footsteps on the cobbles signaled Eike¡¯s return. The girl worked as a cobbler¡¯s apprentice, and had insisted on raiding her master¡¯s shop for shoes for Lily when nothing could be found in the house that fit her quite right.

    ¡°Here, these should do,¡± Eike said, coming up the porch steps. ¡°Nothing fancy, just sturdy leather shoes for workin¡¯ and walkin¡¯.¡±

    Lily tried them on and found that Eike had a good eye for fit. They¡¯d serve, after some breaking-in. ¡°They¡¯ll more than do, Eike. Thank you. Your master won¡¯t mind?¡±

    The young woman looked down and shrugged. ¡°Haven¡¯t even seen him anywhere since the raid. Don¡¯t know if he¡¯s alive. Terrible as it sounds, everyone is just kind of taking what they need right now from where they can get it. Anyone who hasn¡¯t reclaimed their shop by now, well ...¡±

    Lily nodded soberly. Both women looked at one another. Lily put on what small smile she could. ¡°My gratitude, Eike. Would it be alright with you and your mother if I returned here tonight? I have nowhere to go.¡±

    ¡°Of course, you can. For however long you need.¡±

    ¡°I ... I think I¡¯ll only need one night,¡± said Lily. ¡°I¡¯ll return before dark. I must find some food for Fae and also find out who amongst those I know is still alive ... and who is not.¡±

    The look Eike gave her told Lily that she had already been through the same impossibly difficult experience and that the wounds were still fresh. Lily hoped she could appear as strong as Eike did now, once all was said and done. For the time being, she went down the porch steps and, with Fae following, struck back out into her ruined town.

 Chapter 5: Bound, part 4

    *

    As the hours of riding slowly through tangled and overgrown forest stretched on, Vetch couldn¡¯t help feeling that, in a fashion, he and his fellow soldiers were only running away from their problems by departing Moonfane Forge. As much as he was determined to think about nothing but what lay ahead of him, he still wondered if they¡¯d not be doing more good by staying and helping the townsfolk. Yet, that course of thought always brought him back around to the same conclusion, that there was really no good a small handful of soldiers could do there. They were not heads of town, they were not planners. The oldster who¡¯d been guarding their prisoner had not been wrong about it taking little thought to swing a sword. Moonfane Forge didn¡¯t need soldiers and swords right now. If Vetch and his compatriots were mere sword-swingers, then let them turn that skill toward enemies worthy of receiving the sharp ends. Tracking down the raiders is where they would do the most good, should they succeed.

    Vetch ran his fingers through his hair and then scratched at his three-days-grown whiskers. He had never imagined that having command meant doubting and second-guessing every decision he made. Yet, here he was again, convinced he was making the best decision in the circumstances presented to him, and still feeling no better about it all. He brought up the rear of their little procession, keeping an eye on Slouk, who rode sullenly before him. Well ahead, Neschi was leading the way along the narrow woodcutters¡¯s track they followed, scouting and blazing their trail. Rolande and Mora rode close together, studying a map of the region that one of them had procured from the Silversmith¡¯s District Archives. Near them, stoic Oderyk sat atop his tall horse like a statue, appearing to Vetch as if he, too, meditated upon their situation.

    ¡°Hey! Thief!¡± Renzo called from their flank. The stocky brawler turned his mount back to the trail, crunching his way toward them through the undergrowth. He had taken it upon himself to look for signs of the raiders¡¯s passing off the clear track. ¡°You claimed this Lady had personal guards. How many? How many other regulars accompanied her?¡±

    Slouk¡¯s head rolled up on his neck to peer at Renzo. When he didn¡¯t answer, Renzo brought his horse in close to Slouk¡¯s and, without warning, cuffed the scrawny man hard across the face.

    ¡°Answer, thief!¡±

    ¡°Hey, there¡¯s no call for that!¡± protested Iannitz. The youngest soldier of their group had been riding close to Slouk all day, tasked with keeping an eye on him, but mostly the job had boiled down to listening to him complain under his breath for hours on end.

    Slouk yelped and shielded his face. ¡°I don¡¯t know, damn you! I wasn¡¯t with her. I was only swept up in this all by acci¡ª¡± His words became a stunted squawk of fear as Renzo raised his fist again.

    ¡°Enough,¡± barked Vetch. Renzo lowered his fist, but persisted in glaring at the cowering horse thief. The command drew the attention of the other soldiers riding ahead of them.

    Iannitz reined his horse back to draw in close to Vetch. ¡°Captain, what¡¯s the point of treating the man like that? He¡¯s told us what he knows.¡±

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t,¡± asserted Renzo, though he chose not to elaborate.

    Vetch made a placating gesture with his hand at Iannitz. ¡°He¡¯s lied before, soldier. He already admitted to being a party to the raid. Don¡¯t let him fool you into believing otherwise. Slouk, answer the question.¡±

    Slouching in his saddle, Slouk kept his eyes on Renzo, wary of another strike as he mumbled, ¡°Five guards, maybe. No more than six.¡±

    ¡°What about other soldiers?¡± Renzo persisted.

    Slouk shook his head. ¡°How should I know? There were soldiers all around that day.¡±

    ¡°Renzo, what¡¯re you getting at?¡± Vetch asked.

    Renzo¡¯s jaw moved as if he were chewing something. ¡°Signs of rough camping well out from the track. But they¡¯re old. Could be people who waited to rejoin the Lady after the raid.¡±

    ¡°Or it could be woodcutters, or mushroom gatherers, or any other unrelated people who came through here,¡± Iannitz said, though he sounded unsure of his own theory.

    Rolande looked up from her map-studying to speak up. ¡°Woodcutters and mushroom gatherers camp on the road, if they spend the night out at all. These woods are dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Then, what does it mean?¡± asked Iannitz, looking from one fellow soldier to another. Throughout this exchange, Slouk kept his head down, though it was clear he was listening in on every word.

    Renzo scoffed, kicked his horse into a trot, and left them to move off into the brush again.

    ¡°It means,¡± Vetch said, ¡°that we could be facing a larger force than a couple carriages would indicate.¡± He tried to make the words sound as if this wasn¡¯t so much a concern as it was an added detail. He didn¡¯t want anyone else to begin second-guessing their mission, as he had been doing all morning. It was one thing to prepare for and set off on a quest; quite another thing to stick to it as the hours and days wore on, and un-presaged elements began rearing their ugly heads.

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    Well up ahead, Neschi dismounted and waved her hand to gain his attention. Vetch nudged his gelding to a quicker pace. ¡°Watch him,¡± he ordered Iannitz, indicating Slouk.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how many soldiers. Never saw ¡®em. Maybe it is just woodcutters,¡± Slouk whined, either to himself or Iannitz as Vetch left them.

    Vetch passed the other soldiers on the track and they fell in behind him, eager to see what Neschi had discovered. What had been a woodcutter¡¯s trail, broad enough for two horses to go abreast, widened out into a proper road, though it was ill-kept, and grown-over at its edges. Bannerman¡¯s Wood, as Vetch understood it, had been more commonly traveled in days of yore, but its roads had fallen out of use before his lifetime, owing to safer roads being made that skirted around the dense wood. Even when the forest had been more trafficked, it had never been considered particularly safe, being home to large predators, bands of thieves, and less knowable creatures and devils. Or, so it was said. Few traveled the wood these days; even fewer resided in them. The place was dark, foreboding, and its flora seemed to grow unnaturally fast. Not the kind of place anyone would choose to trek through for any length of time. Not unless they were trying to disguise their tracks.

    When he reached Neschi, Vetch noted right away what had caught her attention. She pointed out the signs while he dismounted.

    ¡°Look at these, Cap¡¯n,¡± she nodded at the dirt road where a clear trail of new carriage wheel ruts marked The Lady¡¯s passage. While this was no new thing¡ªthey had after all been following the carriage wheel tracks all the way from Moonfane Forge¡¯s East Gate and through the forest¡ªit was the signs off the road that were noteworthy. Vetch swept his gaze over the large, open area beside the road where Neschi now stood.

    ¡°It¡¯s been completely cleared out,¡± he said. The dense undergrowth had been unmistakably cleared away, while above their heads low tree branches had been cut to allow for the height of the carriages. Upon closer inspection, Vetch could even spot signs of a camp having been made there, though someone had made an attempt at deliberately clearing away all evidence. There was little left now save some scorch marks in the dirt where a fire had been, and more wheel ruts, but the tale those told was clear.

    ¡°See it?¡± Neschi asked. By then, the other soldiers and Slouk had gathered around to look upon the scene.

    Vetch nodded. ¡°At least two carriages passed by here. You can see the trail that we¡¯ve been following goes straight through. But there was another carriage or wagon waiting for them here. Maybe two. Those tracks join the original ones.¡±

    ¡°Look at this, Vetch,¡± called Rolande. ¡°More limbs cut from above the road.¡±

    ¡°Those are recent cuts,¡± said Oderyk. It was the first the man had spoken all day. ¡°But older than the ones above the cleared spot.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d been preparing this,¡± Vetch said quietly. ¡°They probably arrived to Moonfane by this route, as well. They¡¯d already made sure there would be clear passage for the carriages, the ones they knew would be carrying The Lady away ... with our Marigold.¡±

    ¡°Hells ...¡± whispered Mora. ¡°How did word never reach us? Someone must have seen this army, or had word of a plot.¡±

    ¡°Someone did.¡± Renzo practically growled the words as he pulled Slouk roughly down from his horse. ¡°What say you, thief? Were you one of the whoresons out here with a saw laying out the red carpet for your Lady and her killers?¡±

    Slouk wailed, but said nothing, only shook his head emphatically and threw up his hands. Vetch met Renzo¡¯s eyes and the soldier released the thief. Standing with hands on hips, Vetch looked back up at the cut limbs. He realized how dim it was getting out. He needed time to think about what this new evidence would mean for them. He also wanted to question Slouk further. But later. Away from Renzo¡¯s heavy-handedness. Vetch felt the other soldiers¡¯s eyes on him. They¡¯d always looked to him, even before they had called him captain. They wanted to see what he would do or say now, how he would guide them, what tone he would set.

    ¡°It¡¯s getting dark,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯ve gifted us a campsite, so we might as well take advantage. Certainly, they won¡¯t be traveling quickly through this tangle, so we don¡¯t need to rush in. We should be rested for when we meet them.¡±

    ¡°And the sorrier they¡¯ll be for it,¡± Oderyk stated darkly.

    Vetch nodded grimly. ¡°Oderyk, Rolande, Neschi, set up camp. Mora, you have the horses. Renzo, take a tour around and see that there¡¯s nothing in the immediate area that poses us any threat, then you and I will be on first watch. Iannitz, get us a fire started and some food cooked up. Something hot and hearty. It was a good day today, soldiers, so finish these tasks and then take your ease. We¡¯re one day closer to winning back our mage.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a cheer that followed his words. Vetch didn¡¯t expect anything of the sort, given their situation. But the uniform ¡°yes, Captain¡± that answered him, and how his soldiers jumped to their tasks, was a great encouragement. It would suffice for his first real day in command.

    Only when all the other soldiers had set about their work did Slouk speak. The man had been standing in the road with such a kicked-puppy posture that Vetch had nearly forgotten he was there at all.

    ¡°What of me?¡± he asked in a small voice.

    ¡°Help Iannitz with the fire,¡± Vetch decided. ¡°Then you can rest beside it until we eat. Don¡¯t stray from it. If you have to piss or shit, you let me know first and then someone always goes with you. Clear?¡±

    The man nodded meekly and went to his task.

    Night deepened even faster in the dark forest than it did underneath the shadow of Mt. Moonfane. Vetch almost regretted taking first watch upon sitting down and discovering how utterly exhausted he was. But, then, he¡¯d been through many shifts of watch duty on little sleep over the years, so it was nothing new to him. Now, more than ever, it was important that his soldiers saw that he could put their respite ahead of his own. They spoke little as they ate, clearly as tired as he was, but none of them complained about anything. Another good sign for the first day on the trail. Vetch hardly marked the passage of time from when he finished his meal to when the shift in shadows across the moon-speckled road told him that it was time to wake Oderyk and Neschi for the second watch. In that time, he¡¯d seen nothing of concern and had heard only strange, distant animal calls from deeper in the woods. He fell deeply asleep within seconds of wrapping himself in his blankets and closing his eyes.

    The next morning, Slouk and his horse were gone.

 Chapter 6: Three Barriers, part 1

    Too many dead. Too many missing. The stories had been horrific. Soldiers, merchants, innkeepers, husbands, wives, children. The raiders had made no distinctions between any of them. They had simply killed whomever was in their way. Lily had ventured back through the town hoping¡ªor dreading¡ªto find word of people she knew, from distant relations, to friends, to familiar shopkeepers. Instead, people had spoken to her in generalizations¡ªnot who had died, but how many, or what state the bodies had been in. For every townsperson identified, there were many others who had been injured beyond recognition, or had simply been buried before anyone who had known them in life could be located to give them their name. Nobody even seemed to have a consistent tally of how many people had gone with the soldier Ennric and his retinue to the capital, let alone who those people were. Some who were counted dead might still be alive, like Lily, and vice versa. Moonfane Forge was in disarray; every individual surviving however they could, with little care for anything that didn¡¯t help them in the moment. Lily felt heartbroken to not be able to glean any solid information, and she didn¡¯t have the time to try and hunt down every acquaintance on her own. Not if she were to be rested and ready to move in the morning.

    In the end, she had settled for helping any townsfolk she could on her way back to Eike¡¯s home. People recognized her and her hulking panthegrunn roaming the streets and had asked for her aid in the form of Barriers. Barriers to keep chickens from being snatched, Barriers to protect shops that still contained wares worth stealing, a Barrier across a child¡¯s bedroom window to make them feel safe as they slept. Most of what Lily had been asked to do would be too much for her apprentice¡¯s skill, or would see her Slumbering much too long again. Turning people down was gut-wrenching. She felt their sadness, their fear, their anger, and wanted to do something for all of them. But she simply couldn¡¯t. Expectations had to be tempered. She was not Marigold. Not even close.

    ¡°Three Barriers,¡± Lily whispered to herself through a yawn. Marigold had early on taught her to keep track of the Barriers she cast and the durations of the Slumbers that followed those Castings. She lay in Eoforill¡¯s old bed, wearing Eoforill¡¯s old nightgown, tallying up her day¡¯s work. Three small Barriers she had made for people. By Lily¡¯s accounting, they would equal out to a full night in Caster¡¯s Slumber¡ªa regular night¡¯s sleep to anyone else¡¯s eye. It was daunting to work out the time herself, but she believed she had it about right. Always, Marigold had been there to help her. She had kept a journal for years, delighting as, over time, her entries showed her Barrier-Casting becoming more complex, while her periods of Slumber became shorter.

    That journal was gone now, burned up with the rest of her home. With a wrench to her heart, Lily remembered that all of the other writings that had been there were gone with it¡ªMarigold¡¯s written exercises and practice guides, books passed on to her by her own Mage-Matron, all the other various works and treatises on Barrier-Casting she had collected that were to be Lily¡¯s one day. Her training materials. Her inheritance. Gone. Sorrow, upon sorrow, upon sorrow. It was a significant loss. Such layering of tragedy would make it impossible to sleep. But, then, she wouldn¡¯t be sleeping, she remembered bitterly. She would Slumber. Already, she felt as if her body were becoming lighter, like she would drift up off the bed and scatter, as so many dandelion seeds in the wind. And no one was here to watch over her. To cast magic without another mage to watch over one¡¯s self was to be as a soldier going to battle knowing there were no healers nor supplies waiting back at camp.

    Like Vetch did now. That thought was both a fright and a comfort to Lily, that they shared something so completely different and yet so very much alike. So many tears had come unbidden to her eyes throughout the day, but now, as she watched the moon cresting the summit of Mt. Moonfane through the window, Lily smiled through those tears. In the morning, she would set out to fulfill her obligations to her Mage-Matron, and in doing so, she would find Vetch and protect him, too. However she must.

    She floated up and off her bed, or at least she felt she did, and in that moment, Lily opened crusted eyes to full morning daylight streaming through the window. Mt. Moonfane stood its eons-long watch. Crisp spring sunlight glittered off the mist of wind-blown snow at its peak. So, she had Slumbered and woken. About a full night¡¯s sleep, just as she had estimated. Any other day, Lily would have felt proud to have calculated the time so accurately, just as Marigold could do. But there was so very much to worry about that any feelings of pride and accomplishment withered on the vine.

    She waited. Soon, the sensation of weight returned to her body, allowing her to feel once more a part of herself. It was closer to how she was used to feeling when waking from Caster¡¯s Slumber. That was encouraging. Her head was clear; her thoughts ordered. Yes, it was time.

    ¡°Alright. No thinking, just go,¡± she counseled herself. If she thought too much, she would begin thinking of everything she had lost, or of the frightening task she had set for herself, or, worst of all, what few remaining precious things she hoped to win back. The last thing she needed was more tears, or to face the complexity of what she planned to do and talk herself out of it. ¡°Get up, girl,¡± she said to the empty room.

    Lily stood, and by habit took the two steps past the foot of the bed that would have brought her to the wash basin in her own bedroom. Remembering where she was, she turned to the other side of the room and found the wash basin and ewer left for her on a side table. There was a tap on the door.

    ¡°Lily? Are you awake? It¡¯s Eike. Is there anything you need?¡±

    Lily poured water into the basin and wetted her fingers, rubbing them gently across her eyelids to clear them. Even after washing her face, when she opened her eyes and looked at herself in the little mirror provided, she still appeared tired and haggard. Her eyes were reddened from crying and the skin below them was dark and discolored, evidence of a lack of real physical rest. It was such a contrast to how she had looked when she had been preparing for her day out in the markets with Vetch¡ª

    ¡°Lily?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m awake,¡± Lily said huskily, before clearing her throat and adding, ¡°No, there¡¯s nothing I need, Eike, thank you.¡±

    There was a slight hesitation before Eike¡¯s voice returned. ¡°There¡¯s porridge over the fire in the kitchen.¡± There was another pause, then Lily heard Eike¡¯s footsteps retreating down the hall.

    With a sigh, Lily shed her nightgown and got dressed. She didn¡¯t truly want to leave this place. Eike and her mother had been so kind and accommodating. But she had to leave, didn¡¯t she? If she didn¡¯t, then what was she doing but being a coward?

    ¡°Stop thinking,¡± she tried again to counsel herself. It wasn¡¯t working, but her aching arms and hands went through the motions regardless. She gathered her hair back into a simple tail and lifted the rucksack she had packed for herself. The previous day¡¯s wanderings about town, while not fruitful in assuaging her concerns about friends and family still missing, had at least been so in preparing for the trip she must undertake. Eike had been correct; townspeople were simply taking whatever supplies they wanted from shops and storehouses. It had felt strange at first, stepping through splintered doors and over broken glass in order to raid shops for what she needed. She would have been tempted to leave coins behind, if she had had any. But what good was coin in a ravaged town? Who would return to collect it? So, in this way, she had acquired for herself a sturdy canvas rucksack and waterskin, a knife, rope, cooking and fire-making materials, and as much dried fruit and salt meat, soldiers¡¯s hardtack, and grain as she could carry. Additionally, she had been relieved to find Fae¡¯s riding tack undamaged in what remained of the stables. She added to it plundered saddlebags, which she had filled with as much fodder as she could get her hands on. Knowing how much the panthegrunn typically ate, it would not last more than a few days, but she¡¯d rather that than nothing. After that, Fae would have to decide for herself what was palatable along the way.

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    Lily found Eike and her mother, Arlette, sitting at the kitchen table speaking in quiet tones. They stopped speaking and offered smiles and soft ¡®good-mornings¡¯ when she appeared. A place had already been set for her, with a steaming bowl of porridge waiting. Lily sat heavily and fell to eating rotely, while the two women across the table watched her. Lily tried not to meet their eyes. She didn¡¯t want to confront the pity there.

    ¡°You¡¯ve packed for travel,¡± Arlette offered, in a way that held no appraisal, when she¡¯d judged Lily had eaten her fill. Still, a question hung in the air.

    Feeling better for the full belly after the night of Slumber, Lily nodded. ¡°A mage¡¯s apprentice is tasked with watching over her when she is in Caster¡¯s Slumber. Knowing that Mari is still alive out there somewhere, it is up to me to find her and take care of her. She may have woken by now, but that changes nothing. She¡¯ll be alone and held by all those guards. She¡¯ll need someone who understands ... to explain what ...¡± Lily swallowed and looked down at her empty bowl. ¡°Mari is my only family now. I will not abandon her.¡± She paused, confronting the other reality she had been attempting to hide even from herself. ¡°And I have nowhere else to go. I cannot bear to see Moonfane Forge like this,¡± she finished quietly.

    ¡°You can stay here,¡± Eike ventured. ¡°Vetch is taking care of it. He and his people will bring her back.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right, you know,¡± Arlette added. ¡°Take it from me, those soldiers were stung by this loss as much as anyone in this town. Don¡¯t think for a second they¡¯ll let any of this go unpunished. Leave them to their work. There¡¯s more you can do here, preparing for their and Marigold¡¯s return.¡±

    ¡°I can cast Barriers,¡± Lily bristled, wondering both why she must defend herself, and if she even should. Why not let their arguments win her over and have a perfectly reasonable excuse to give into her fears? She squared her slim shoulders. ¡°Only basic ones, but that¡¯s better than nothing. Traditionally, there were mages in garrisons to support men-at-arms, not just be protected by them.¡±

    ¡°Battle mages,¡± Arlette clarified.

    ¡°And I know I¡¯m not one,¡± she admitted. ¡°Still, I must go. I can¡¯t explain it. I just feel it. I don¡¯t expect to fight or confront anyone. But I cannot be around this death and despair a day longer without doing something or I will fall to pieces. It would be enough if I could even just find where Marigold has been taken and then perhaps ... I don¡¯t know. Catch up with the garrison and help them somehow. Either way, a mage depends on their apprentice or assistants to keep watch over them when they fall into Caster¡¯s Slumber. That¡¯s how it has always been. Even if I had to turn myself over to these raiders and become a prisoner myself, it¡¯s imperative that I am there for Mari.¡±

    The thought had come to her so suddenly, and slipped past her lips before she¡¯d truly had a chance to consider what she said. Would she truly give herself over to these raiders as an additional prisoner in order to return to Marigold¡¯s side? Of course, she would. She loved the old woman as she would a beloved grandmother. That was not in doubt. But, then, the raiders and their leader had shown no mercy to Lily. The dark-haired woman had been prepared to throw Lily to her guards, and when that didn¡¯t work, she had tried to kill her. What was making her think now that she¡¯d be able to bargain with them and be allowed to attend Marigold in captivity? Lily shook off these thoughts. No good wondering until she got there. If she got there.

    Eike made to speak, but her mother placed a hand gently on her forearm and spoke in her stead. ¡°Then go, Lily. With our blessing, and let us hope it doesn¡¯t come to that. Find Vetch and help him. Let him know that you are alive. Take anything of ours that you need.¡±

    The smile that came to Lily¡¯s face then was heartfelt. She saw the strength of this soldier¡¯s wife and discovered she had a deep admiration for it. What did it mean to learn to accept that a husband or wife, or a son or daughter, might walk out the door with a sword in hand and never return, and yet still let them go, with a smile and a blessing, because it¡¯s what they must do, because it¡¯s the life they chose? She was affording Lily that trust and freedom now. And, suddenly, Lily felt her concept of Vetch as that cavalier boy she¡¯d grown up with fading, to be replaced with Vetch the soldier. If she wanted him, and she knew she did, it would mean accepting him living by the sword, as Arlette did her husband.

    And, yet, Lily did not feel herself to be the type of woman who would want to sit at home waiting to find out if he¡¯d ever return.

    She thanked Arlette and Eike, and stood up from the table.

    Upon leaving town by the East Gate, Lily went to mount Fae and then caught herself.

    ¡°Of all the things to forget,¡± she chided herself. She looked down at her borrowed dress and its not-quite-long-enough skirt. A skirt not split for riding. ¡°I suppose you would find this funny?¡± she asked Fae. The panthegrunn glanced at her disinterestedly, then went about nosing at the grass. Lily furrowed her brow. She didn¡¯t want to go back into town to scavenge for additional clothes. ¡°Nothing else for it,¡± she muttered to herself. She swung her rucksack down and dug through it for her knife. Standing there on the path, she made two clumsy, ragged cuts down through the nice fabric. ¡°There,¡± she said, and stowed the knife, before swinging the pack back over her shoulders. She swung herself up into Fae¡¯s saddle and took up her reins. ¡°Okay, girl, let¡¯s go find our friends.¡±

    The great charge-beast stepped out on the road with the enthusiasm of a dog that had been begging to be let outside. Lily watched the pastures pass by with a new heaviness in her heart. Would that she was enjoying a typical, brisk morning ride with Fae. At least she would not steal that experience from Fae. She gave the panthegrunn her head and let her stretch her great cat-like muscles all the way down the track toward Bannerman¡¯s Wood.

    Lily reined her in only to make a stop at the gravesite of her parents and brother. She had promised herself she would not tarry long there, but it was difficult to see the fresh graves once again and not drop to her knees beside them and pour her heart out. She dismounted from Fae and, instead, knelt down and touched her fingers to the freshly turned soil. It was just starting to become warm under the morning sun.

    ¡°Mom, Dad, Matty ... I have something I must do. But I will return soon. And when I do, I will raise a proper stone of remembrance for you all here.¡± She sniffed and drew her arm across her eyes. ¡°And rebuild the dairy. I will be safe,¡± she added. She couldn¡¯t promise that what she was going to do would be safe, but it was something her parents would tell her to do. She filled in their words for them. She clenched her eyes and took in a shaky breath before standing and returning to Fae.

    She mounted, then a gentle touch of her heels on Fae¡¯s sides got them moving and they left the site behind them. The track led them into the woods. She knew that Vetch had a head start of a couple days¡ªand the people who had taken Marigold more than that¡ªbut a panthegrunn could move swiftly for its immense size. She and Fae would catch them up.

 Chapter 6: Three Barriers, part 2

    *

    ¡°Who in the hells was on last watch?¡± Vetch fumed. It was dawn. The forest was waking. The soldiers of Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison stood in their black and silver in a rough semi-circle, arms crossed, or hands on hips, waiting for the shirker to be singled out. Soldiers would know who it was, but they wouldn¡¯t say. It fell to the captain to suss them out and order punishment. It wasn¡¯t hard for Vetch to determine the culprit. Immediately, the posture of Iannitz, the youngest, told him exactly who had fallen asleep on watch and given Slouk his chance to escape. Vetch pushed his hair out of his eyes. ¡°By all the hells, Iannitz!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Captain,¡± the youth said. ¡°I just, I just fell asleep. The thief was asleep, too!¡±

    ¡°Like hell he was, I¡¯m sure,¡± Renzo muttered.

    Vetch¡¯s eyes bored into the youthful soldier. He didn¡¯t want to be too harsh, not this early in their quest, but he couldn¡¯t let him off easy, either, lest it set a tone for their entire mission that he would let things like this slide. ¡°There¡¯s more out here we need to be watchful for than our horse thief making a run for it. You know that.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Captain,¡± Iannitz said, looking down at his feet.

    Vetch realized his mistake too late. It didn¡¯t matter who had fallen asleep on watch and allowed Slouk to disappear. Not yet, at least. They should have set out after Slouk immediately, rather than wasting precious time calling his soldiers to muster and berating the one responsible, however much it was deserved. That could have waited. Vetch knew that. Captain Tarese would have known that. Vetch cursed himself and remedied the misstep as best he could.

    ¡°Neschi, Mora, Renzo!¡± he barked and was pleased to see them still came to attention sharply. ¡°We¡¯ll ride after Slouk. His trail shouldn¡¯t be tough to follow if he¡¯s stuck to the road. Rolande, Oderyk ... and Iannitz, break camp and come behind us. We¡¯ll stop when we catch him.¡±

    ¡°Sir?¡± Rolande spoke.

    ¡°Make it quick,¡± Vetch said. He was feeling irritable. He wanted to get things back under control, and soon.

    ¡°Do we even need Slouk anymore? The carriages left a clear path.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d as soon be rid of him as the rest of you, Rolande, believe me,¡± he answered honestly. ¡°But he could be trying to meet up with them to tip them off. He¡¯s also the only one who knows the faces of Marigold¡¯s abductors. When we meet them, I want there to be no mistake.¡±

    Rolande nodded sharply. Vetch took that to mean no one else had any issue. He mounted up and kicked his horse into a gallop up the forest track. Neschi caught him up and ranged out ahead on her quicker horse, while Renzo and Mora trailed them.

    Despite their swift pace, the signs of Slouk¡¯s passage were easy to spot. Ahead of Vetch, Neschi kept her horse to one side on the road so her passing wouldn¡¯t overstep the clear new prints Slouk¡¯s horse had left for them all to follow. The stride of the prints made it clear the man had led his mount only out of sight of the camp before he¡¯d mounted and whipped his horse to a run. So, he would flee wildly, without any attempt to disguise his trail or throw off their pursuit. Vetch would have done the same. No smart man would strike too far off the path in these woods. He¡¯d be as likely to get himself lost or attacked by wild beasts as he would to elude his pursuers. Despite the tradeoff of leaving an easy trail for Vetch and his fellows to follow, Slouk still had a few hours¡¯s lead on them. There was a good chance the horse thief had arrived at Moonfane Forge by this very path and only made it appear as if he¡¯d traveled there by the southern road, Vetch reflected bitterly. Were that the case, then he¡¯d know the woods better than the soldiers. Vetch cursed the day he and Ennric had so easily granted Slouk permission to enter Moonfane Forge. What an ill omen the young man¡¯s arrival to town had been.

    Up ahead, Neschi waved her arm and slowed her pace. The horses were breathing hard now, but it wasn¡¯t for a rest that she signaled. Two massive trees lay across the road. She reined in and Vetch did the same beside her. Mora arrived soon after that, while Renzo took his horse off the road and out around the thick trunk of one of the trees.

    ¡°They were felled with a saw,¡± he called.

    ¡°The horse thief couldn¡¯t¡¯ve done this,¡± Neschi said.

    On the other side of the road, Mora dismounted and led her horse around the canopy of the first tree. ¡°Over here, there¡¯s some horse and boot prints.¡±

    ¡°Slouk?¡± queried Vetch.

    Mora nodded and continued through the brush around the two trees. Vetch and Neschi dismounted and followed her around, while Renzo picked his way by on the other side. One tree had grown north of the road, the other south. It was plain to see the trees had been cut down deliberately to create a barrier. When the garrison soldiers met back up on the road past the two substantial obstacles, they found that not only did the trail Slouk had left continue on, but so did that of the older, but no less prominent, carriage and wagon wheels left by the raiders they pursued.

    ¡°The raiders really took pains to make sure no one¡¯d follow ¡®em,¡± Neschi said.

    Silently, Vetch led his horse a way farther up the road on foot and gazed in the direction they must follow. The road, if it could be called that anymore, was becoming narrow again, overgrown and neglected. It stretched well ahead into deep green shadow, a tunnel composed of gnarled trees and clinging ivies. The day was warming, but in the perpetual shade, Vetch still felt chilled. Somewhere a raven croaked. It was echoed by another, farther away. Without a word of command, Vetch re-mounted his gelding, patted him on the neck, and nudged him back into a trot. The others took his lead and followed.

    Greenery soon overtook the dirt track. Roots and stones jutted up from the leaf litter, necessitating that the soldiers must slow their pursuit to a walk, sometimes even having to dismount and lead their horses through particularly tangled patches of growth. If it frustrated their hunt, they were consoled at least by the knowledge that it would have slowed Slouk, as well. In addition to that, the trail left by the carriages became even more obvious. All could see where their passing had torn leaves and twigs from bushes and trampled down the lush undergrowth.

    ¡°What will we do if we catch him?¡± Neschi asked quietly, bringing her horse in near Vetch¡¯s.

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    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll keep a closer eye on him and make sure he can¡¯t run again.¡±

    It didn¡¯t appear to be an answer that gave Neschi any comfort, for she only nodded and kept her eyes forward. Vetch wasn¡¯t comforted by the idea, either. Perhaps Rolande had the right idea: let the thief go and be finished with him. They had the raiders¡¯s trail without him, after all. If it hadn¡¯t been that both paths were presently one and the same, he might have changed his mind and cut their losses. For now, it made no difference. And, in a way, keeping control over the horse thief was the only thing reminding Vetch that his garrison¡¯s defeat had not been total, the one aspect of the raiders¡¯s plan that he and his soldiers had confounded. There was something of his own pride mixed up in ensuring that he kept his grip on that miniscule victory. Quietly, he scoffed at himself. Was he becoming as stubborn as Ennric? Stubborn, but without the veteran¡¯s experience to steer him?

    The track soon began to wind back and forth and in on itself to skirt around and through large old-growth trees and patches of fast-growing, impenetrable brush. They could no longer see far enough ahead up the trail to watch out for danger or ambush, putting them all on edge. The woodland itself felt heavy and oppressive. Shrubs and branches and spiny vines clung to and tugged on their uniforms as they passed. The place was deeply unsettling, not at all the bright, airy kind of forest described in children¡¯s tales, nor like the honest tracts of pineland clothing Mt. Moonfane¡¯s hips. It was no wonder why most humans, save eccentrics and ne¡¯er-do-wells, avoided the depths of Bannerman¡¯s Wood if they could help it. The more the trees closed in, the more Vetch noticed half-glimpses of strange animals in the brush at the very edges of his vision. Or he would hear something large move up in the canopy, only to look and see nothing there but the swaying limb and falling leaves left in its wake. Even the smell of the place was beginning to bother him. It was dank and loamy, with an undertone of fungal aroma that reminded Vetch of a particular mushroom dish his mother used to cook that he¡¯d hated as a child. Those mushrooms had come from these woods.

    Vetch pushed his hair out of his eyes for the umpteenth time and then slapped a mosquito dead on his neck. ¡°Damn this forest,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Sir!¡± Mora whispered urgently. The tone in her voice gave them all pause. Vetch looked to her and she nodded up the track. When he followed her gaze, he spotted the break in the uniform green and brown that had caught her eye. As they came around a bend in the path, the nature of the object became clearer. Partially disguised beneath a pile of limbs and ivy was the jutting corner of a blue and white carriage.

    Immediately, Vetch ducked lower and slid down off his horse, while the three soldiers beside him did the same. He put a finger to his lips and spoke as quietly as he could.

    ¡°Renzo, Neschi, with me. Mora, take the horses and keep them out of sight.¡±

    ¡°Do we attack?¡± Renzo whispered.

    Vetch shook his head. ¡°Let us see how many there are first.¡±

    They handed their reins off to Mora. The horses appeared to sense the added tension in the air as she led them back the way they had come so they would not give away the soldiers¡¯s presence. Vetch unsheathed his sword and moved off the path, crouching low and creeping tree to tree in the shadows toward the carriage, eyes peeled for the raiders and their own animals. Instinctively, Neschi and Renzo fanned out to either side of him. As one, the three soldiers made their way toward the camp, step by cautious step, keeping to the denser growth beside the path. Vetch¡¯s heart thrummed in his chest. His chance at a reprisal might come sooner than anticipated. Well, let it come, he decided, rolling his sword¡¯s grip slowly in his fingers. He breathed as quietly as he could and cautioned his eyes against blinking. His nostrils flared for any scent of a cookfire or horses that might lead him to a first spotting of their enemies. With any luck, they¡¯d be resting. They could get an accounting of their numbers and readiness, then formulate a plan of attack. He wondered how far behind Rolande, Oderyk, and Iannitz were. Hopefully, they would arrive soon, and Mora could convey to them the situation.

    Closer and closer they crept. Vetch could see the ornamental designs on the exposed part of the carriage now, its decorative woodwork and elaborate paint. When he came to a distance from which he could make a surprise charge if he so needed, he stopped and kneeled, peering out from behind a thick, wrinkled tree. There was no motion, still no raiders to be seen, nor signs of their camp. It was possible they¡¯d be set up farther back in the trees, away from the path. Vetch knew it would not do to give themselves away before they had determined where their enemies might be. Until they knew that, approaching the carriage seemed out of the question. Perhaps it was even left there intentionally, as a means of drawing curious pursuers out into the open.

    Vetch glanced to his left at Neschi. She peered back at him and subtly raised her brows, awaiting a command. Vetch looked to his right at Renzo, who was staring intently at the carriage.

    ¡°Renzo,¡± Vetch whispered, but the man kept his eyes on the carriage. He shifted his feet slightly on the ground and stood up straight. ¡°Renzo,¡± Vetch said again.

    Boldly then, Renzo sheathed his sword without a care for the sound it made and strode out into the open directly toward the carriage.

    ¡°Renzo,¡± Vetch put command into his voice. ¡°Shit. Renzo, come back! Soldier, the hells are you doing?¡±

    Renzo looked back at Vetch just before he reached the carriage. Decisively, he took hold of a few of the leafy limbs disguising the carriage and, one by one, pulled them away and dropped them on the ground. As he exposed more of the carriage, its missing wheel and damaged axel became apparent.

    ¡°There¡¯s no one here,¡± Renzo stated, as if having to point it out irritated him.

    With a sigh of relief, Vetch stood and sheathed his sword. He and Neschi approached the carriage while Renzo continued to pull limbs and dead vines away from it. Neschi circled around it before she, too, was satisfied that there was no one else in the area and put up her weapon. Once all the brush was out of the way, they saw that not only was one wheel missing, but that the other three had been chopped to pieces with axes. Not unlike the fences and paddocks out in Moonfane Forge¡¯s pastures, Vetch reflected.

    ¡°It¡¯s right in the middle of the trail,¡± Neschi observed.

    Vetch nodded. ¡°It broke down, so they made sure it wouldn¡¯t move again and left it in our way. Like the felled trees we passed.¡± He crossed his arms and breathed out through his nose, coming to a quick decision. ¡°Renzo. Go get Mora and the horses. We¡¯ll all wait for the others here and make camp.¡± The man turned to go without a word, but Vetch called him back. ¡°And, Renzo. Don¡¯t ignore my orders again.¡±

    The solid man eyed Vetch up and down, then a moment before it would have stretched into impertinence, said, ¡°Yessir,¡± and went on his way.

    When he was gone, Neschi shivered. ¡°I¡¯m surprised,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°That they¡¯d even expect us to follow them. Going to this kind of trouble, even with the way they obliterated our garrison. This Lady must be one paranoid woman.¡±

    ¡°That could be,¡± hedged Vetch. ¡°But I think it more likely she simply knows the high value of the woman she took. She wouldn¡¯t have overlooked the possibility of pursuit.¡±

    Neschi chewed briefly at her thumbnail, thinking. ¡°Damn. You¡¯re right. Stealin¡¯ a mage is no small thing, is it?¡±

    ¡°Worth destroying a town to disguise,¡± Vetch said, more to himself than to Neschi. Every new sign they had come upon painted their quarry as even shrewder and more capable than initially credited. The voice of doubt over his plans rose in Vetch¡¯s thoughts once again.

    As he stood there, Neschi levered herself up into the carriage. Both of the doors had been wrenched off. Had it really not been obvious, even from afar, that the carriage had been abandoned and that no threat awaited them here? It meant Slouk would have put even more distance between himself and them while Vetch had wasted their time here. He could attribute it to caution, but too much caution would lose them their mage.

    ¡°Vetch, look at this,¡± Neschi said from inside the carriage.

    Vetch poked his head through the splintered doorframe. Inside the carriage, instead of the seats he would have expected to find, there was a nearly full-sized bed, stripped now of valuable blankets. At the foot of the bed were some frayed and cut ropes.

    ¡°This is where they had her,¡± Neschi said fervently. ¡°This is where they fucking had her, Vetch! We need to get ¡®em. We need to make ¡®em pay.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to get them,¡± Vetch confirmed, his voice echoing Neschi¡¯s resolve back to her. ¡°We¡¯re gonna get them, and we¡¯re gonna bring Marigold back.¡±

 Chapter 6: Three Barriers, part 3

    The next morning¡¯s subdued daylight saw the soldiers going about their activities with significantly less enthusiasm than they had only the day before. Mora, Oderyk, and Iannitz had arrived at the broken-down carriage around nightfall and learned that Slouk had not been found. Iannitz took the news poorly. In blaming himself for the thief¡¯s escape, he¡¯d performed his lot of the tasks setting up camp in a distracted and fragile fashion, which only served to get in the way of the other soldiers, visibly irritating some. There wasn¡¯t much Vetch could do about it other than tell the young man to pay better attention to his work.

    What had most disheartened them all was seeing the bed in the carriage¡ªtheir first tangible confirmation of Marigold not only having been stolen away, but that it was a heist that had been well planned for. What had at first seemed just a larger than usual livestock raid had solidified into something much bigger and more sinister than anyone could have imagined.

    Vetch stood by his saddled gelding, waiting for the last of his people to finish making ready to ride. He still hadn¡¯t named his horse. While not exactly the most enthusiastic mount, he had been steady on the unfamiliar path thus far. The horse was wary, but intelligent and adaptable. He could work with that.

    ¡°Captain!¡±

    All the soldiers¡¯s heads turned. Iannitz returned from taking a piss in the woods bearing a flat chunk of wood in his hands. It looked to Vetch at first as if he¡¯d found a shield, but upon closer inspection he recognized it for what it actually was: part of one of the carriage doors. The soldiers gathered around to look down at the object Iannitz displayed.

    ¡°Found it right over there in the tall grass,¡± he hastily explained. ¡°Other pieces, too.¡±

    All of them could see the significance of the object right away, for painted on the carriage door was a family coat of arms.

    ¡°So, that¡¯s why they pulled the doors off,¡± offered Mora. ¡°This could identify them.¡±

    ¡°Something they overlooked,¡± Oderyk added. ¡°Or didn¡¯t destroy well enough.¡±

    Vetch brushed his hand across the coat of arms to clear dirt away and then tilted his head, staring down at the design. He smiled. Staring up at him was a black castle rampart overtop a gilded field. Above the rampart was a purple flower. Below it, a red heart. But it was the rampart and golden field that Vetch focused on.

    ¡°A black castle surrounded by wheat fields,¡± he said. ¡°So, the horse thief was speaking true, and we¡¯re on the right trail.¡±

    ¡°See? I told you! Didn¡¯t I tell you? I wasn¡¯t lying.¡±

    They all turned to the voice and were surprised to see Slouk leading his horse down the center of the path toward them. He appeared weary and on edge as he approached them, like a wild animal tempted by a tidbit of meat held out to it.

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    Neschi, Renzo, and Vetch all drew their swords at the same time.

    ¡°What trick is this?¡± Oderyk demanded of the thief.

    ¡°No trick!¡± Slouk squealed, cringing small. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I ran. I was tired of that one hitting me.¡± His eyes indicated Renzo.

    Vetch advanced on him, sword still in hand, making his threat clear. ¡°Then why come back? Did you catch up to your friends and alert them to our presence? Are they coming here now? If they do, they¡¯ll find the fight of their lives.¡± When he reached Slouk, he grabbed him by the shirt, shoved him down to the ground, and leveled his sword point on his chest. Already, the other soldiers were spreading out on the path and staring up it, some with swords drawn, others with bows readied. Vetch kept Slouk pinned while his eyes scanned the forest, ears primed for any sounds of horses or men.

    ¡°I keep telling you, they¡¯re not my friends.¡± Slouk spoke breathlessly, eyes on the blade leveled at his chest. ¡°No one is out there. I know because I tried to find ¡®em.¡±

    ¡°And warn them?¡± Vetch persisted.

    ¡°No, stupid. To ... to get my sister back. I was tired of plodding along with you lot, and getting hit by that one whenever you weren¡¯t looking.¡±

    ¡°He lies,¡± Renzo gritted. ¡°Never touched him but that one time. And he earned it.¡±

    Vetch shook his head and looked down at Slouk again. ¡°Still doesn¡¯t explain why you came back.¡± The pitiful young man appeared to wilt then. He had the look of a man who¡¯d not slept in days, and his fear of Vetch¡¯s blade was clear in his wide eyes. Vetch met those eyes with his own and said, ¡°I don¡¯t have to explain to you why no one here trusts you, least of all me. I¡¯m going to put my blade up, but the next time I have to draw it on you, it¡¯ll be more than just a threat. Now, you better start talking. Why¡¯d you come back?¡±

    Slouk took half a dozen breaths through his nose, chest rising and falling as Vetch¡¯s blade eased back from him and was returned to its scabbard. Slouk swallowed and spoke around a dry mouth. ¡°Thought I could catch up to them on my own. Find my sister. Sneak her out and get away. But I couldn¡¯t. They¡¯re long gone. And I ... I couldn¡¯t survive on my own out here. There¡¯s strange things in these woods. So, I came back.¡± He pointed then at the chunk of carriage door Iannitz had dropped to the ground. ¡°But I told you, didn¡¯t I? I put you on the right track. You should be kinder to me. Everywhere I go, with soldiers its always cruelty.¡±

    Vetch flicked his eyes up at his fellow soldiers, still poised to meet an attack. The woods remained tranquil. A breeze picked its way through the higher branches. Birds called somewhere not far off. Vetch frowned to himself and offered a hand to Slouk. ¡°Okay. Back up on your horse. Moonfane,¡± he addressed the other soldiers. ¡°We¡¯re wasting time. Mount up and let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t find ¡®em. They¡¯re too far ahead of us,¡± Slouk said. Hesitantly, he gripped Vetch¡¯s hand and let himself be pulled roughly up. Despite his complaints, he did as he was told and got back on his horse. The soldiers did the same.

    ¡°Iannitz,¡± Vetch called. ¡°It¡¯s your lucky day. For falling asleep on watch, you get to carry the carriage door.¡±

    ¡°Sir?¡± The young soldier queried.

    ¡°Mayhap as we get further east, we can find someone who can put a name to that coat of arms. Pack it onto your horse. And stay by Slouk. Watch him, as you hadn¡¯t before.¡±

    ¡°Yessir,¡± Iannitz replied, chastened. He saluted, accepting punishment that was more symbolic than anything. Vetch knew from experience that, sometimes, being called out in front of the other soldiers made a lesson stick more firmly than the usual doubled duty. There was no gate duty he could order out here, anyhow.

    Once Vetch was in his saddle, he caught Renzo¡¯s eye and added, ¡°And, you, Renzo. Stay away from Slouk.¡±

    Renzo only scoffed a breath through his nose and saluted wordlessly

    Clenching his teeth, Vetch nudged his horse into a trot and rode up to lead the procession. His soldiers and Slouk fell in line behind him.

 Chapter 6: Three Barriers, part 4

    *

    Nearly from the moment Lily had entered Bannerman¡¯s Wood, she had sensed magic in the place. Only a few times in her life had she ventured beyond the first trees into the shadow of these woods. All those times were as a child, for herb-picking or firewood gathering, and she¡¯d always been accompanied by an adult then. She¡¯d never wanted to go there for any other reason, certainly not by herself. Adventurous as she¡¯d been as a girl, Bannerman¡¯s Wood had an aura about it that had kept her away. People simply didn¡¯t go there without good reason.

    As she rode astride her panthegrunn now, underneath the gnarled and lush boughs, taking in the strange sights and sounds and smells, she tried to recall those few times she¡¯d followed her mother through the woods looking for herbs to add to their specialty cheeses. Had she ever sensed magic in the place back then? Even from the time she was very young, she could always sense the Barrier encircling her town. It was a common thing for people with an affinity for magic to start sensing spells early on, especially if those spells were particularly focused or powerful. As she had aged, she¡¯d become better at noticing not only the Barrier, but its strength, its shape, when it was beginning to fade, until the day she had realized she could almost pick out where Mage Marigold was in town simply by sensing the power emanating from the old woman.            But she could not recall if she had ever felt even a smidge of magic from the forest back then.

    Yet, now, trained in magic, and grown more attuned to it in adulthood, Lily could feel a minute buzz of wild magic all about her. It wasn¡¯t the kind of focused energy, the light flashing from just beyond the corner of the eye sensation, that would represent a spell cast by a mage. It was like she was immersed in a fine mist of power. It was subtle but all-encompassing. And just like a mist, she felt that if it were somehow gathered up and compressed down, it would represent a dense and tangible strength, the origins and potential of which were beyond her. It was more than a little off-putting.

    Hours had passed, and at least a dozen times during each of those hours, Lily had considered turning back. The thing that had kept her going forward was the knowledge that there wasn¡¯t anything for her to do or be anymore if she turned back. The problem was that she had to keep reminding herself of that. Her mind stubbornly clung to the notion that, somehow, her old life was still back there waiting for her. Her home, her family, Marigold. That¡¯s where she would belong, were it true. But it wasn¡¯t, and it hadn¡¯t sunk in yet, so she had to keep reliving the shock of it with each passing thought. She wished desperately she could turn around and race with Fae back to Moonfane Forge and find it intact and idyllic again, with everyone she knew still hale and happy. Then, her thoughts would return to reality, and again she would remember the destroyed homes, the destitute people she¡¯d passed in the streets, the new graves with their freshly-turned soil sunken down after the rain. No. She didn¡¯t want to go back and revisit any of that. She couldn¡¯t yet.

    More than all that, as a mage¡¯s apprentice, she had devoted her life to being not only a student, but an attendant to her teacher. Marigold was no longer in Moonfane Forge, and where Marigold went, Lily would follow. So, she did. Deeper and deeper into the strange woods, following a trail left by carriages and horses, with Fae¡¯s large, cat-like strides carrying them swiftly along on silent hooves. Fae, at least, seemed confident. The large panthegrunn prowled the road as if it belonged to her.

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    Lily sniffed and wiped moisture from her eyes. Thinking about her parents and brother again. That wouldn¡¯t do. ¡°Toughen up, girl,¡± she told herself, then giggled despite herself when she realized it was a quote straight out of Marigold¡¯s repertoire. She sighed and leaned forward to cross her arms atop Fae¡¯s broad head. ¡°How are we even going to explain the attack to Mari when we find her, Fae? She¡¯s not even going to know what happened. She doesn¡¯t know about her home ...¡± Fae was silent. Lily closed her eyes, feeling herself carried in the familiar, swaying rhythm of Fae¡¯s walking stride. Unbidden, a memory of being carried by her father when she was a girl bulled its way into her thoughts¡ªcomforting then; painful now. She snapped her eyes open. ¡°Enough of that,¡± she said aloud. ¡°Something else. We need something to do, besides just walk and think. Don¡¯t we, Fae?¡±

    Leaving her reins draped over the saddle horn, Lily grasped Fae¡¯s horns and slipped deftly down from the large beast to walk beside her. It was a trick she¡¯d practiced many times. Neither she nor Fae even broke stride, just continued walking along, side by side.

    ¡°Lessons,¡± Lily said softly. As she walked, she went into one of Fae¡¯s saddlebags and found some strips of salt meat to nibble. ¡°I should probably keep up on my lessons, shouldn¡¯t I? Guess what I was to learn next, Fae. Complex Imbuements!¡± She took a bite of the dried meat, chewed the leathery stuff, and swallowed. ¡°Ugh, is this what Vetch has to eat when they go out on training rides for days?¡± She resigned herself to the overly-salty meat and swallowed another bite. ¡°Yeah, it was complex Imbuements. That¡¯s probably what Mari was going to have me reading about while she Slumbered, so that¡¯s a good place to start.¡± Lily frowned to herself, remembering how all of her study material was now lost. Those days when she would sometimes lag in her reading took on a new significance. She¡¯d never again be able to draw from the knowledge in those books. How much had she lost forever by not staying on top of things when she had been told to? ¡°What do I remember about complex Imbuements? There are different types of Imbuements, Fae,¡± Lily said, endeavoring to explain things in the same fashion Marigold would. ¡°A simple Imbuement typically takes the form of a Permission, when you decide who can pass through a Barrier. Casting a Barrier with a Permission for one person? Pretty easy. It gets more difficult the more people you add, because you have to encompass all of those individuals into your thoughts while you are Casting. And that takes some significant skill!

    ¡°But it¡¯s not considered complex yet, because it¡¯s only one type of Imbuement. When things really get complicated is when you begin to combine different types. Are you paying attention, Fae?¡±

    Lily took hold of one of Fae¡¯s horns and gave it a playful shake. The panthegrunn grunted softly. Lily smiled. She stowed the remaining strips of meat and found a handful of fodder, which she fed to Fae as they walked. Fae chuffed her pleasure and licked Lily¡¯s palm clean.

    ¡°One example of a different kind of Imbuement is when you give a Barrier a Condition of time, like the way Marigold casts the town¡¯s Barrier to keep non-townsfolk from passing through it after the sun goes down. That¡¯s difficult enough to do on its own. But when you take something like that and also give the Barrier a Permission, that¡¯s complex Imbuement.¡±

    She sighed and brushed her hands on her skirt. ¡°But the thing is, Fae, I don¡¯t know what new Imbuements Mari meant to teach me next in order that I could learn to start combining them.¡± She found her waterskin and took a sip from it. She replaced its stopper, stowed it, and then climbed nimbly back up onto Fae. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll have to ask her when we find her, huh, girl?¡± She took up Fae¡¯s reins and gave her sides a gentle nudge with her heels. ¡°Come on, girl, let¡¯s make haste.¡±

    Fae obliged her.

 Chapter 7: Downfall, part 1

    ¡°My horse has got the shits,¡± Renzo complained from the back of the train of soldiers.

    ¡°I told you to stake him more carefully at night,¡± Mora called back. ¡°Probably been nibbling on something he ain¡¯t supposed to is all. They need to be kept out of reach of bad plants.¡±

    ¡°My horse, as well,¡± Oderyk put in.

    ¡°I staked him as I always do,¡± Renzo grated. ¡°What do you want me to do, build them a corral each night? There¡¯s plants everywhere. The horses are gonna get at them.¡±

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not a stable master, I¡¯m a swordswoman,¡± Mora said, more forcefully than was typical for her. ¡°I can¡¯t care for all the horses by myself. If you want to slack with your animal, that¡¯s your business. Don¡¯t whine to me when you suffer the consequences.¡±

    ¡°Peace, Mora,¡± Vetch said. ¡°Enough for now, from both of you.¡± He didn¡¯t disagree with Mora, but best to put a halt to this squabbling before Renzo inevitably escalated things. The soldiers quieted. Vetch let it stand that way for a time. The path they followed had only become yet more narrow and overgrown throughout the day, making the going slow and tense. It was only the trampled undergrowth and torn brush to either side of the trail¡ªevidence of a carriage, or carriages, passing¡ªthat told them they were still on the right track. But the difficulty of navigating the confining forest, and the newly realized threat of their quarry having anticipated their pursuit, had everyone on edge. They were starting to get on each other¡¯s nerves and that was the last thing Vetch needed. He felt no less anxious about the situation himself, but it wouldn¡¯t do for a captain to show that, so he¡¯d pushed them on throughout the day, speaking little except to issue orders when needed.

    The waning of conversation, however, meant that his mind was free to wander of its own accord. When it did, it invariably returned to the subject of Lily. The hollow pain that¡¯d been gnawing his stomach took another bite. He¡¯d never look at anyone again the same way as he had her, never feel about anyone again as he¡¯d felt about her. They¡¯d never even gotten a chance. It wasn¡¯t fair, her being gone. She¡¯d deserved so much better. So did he. She¡¯d deserved a life, and they¡¯d deserved one together. Then the prickling thought came to Vetch¡¯s mind: did he? Did he, really?

    Tears began to threaten. Vetch clenched his teeth and gripped his horse¡¯s reins so tightly his palms ached. Not in front of everyone. They had a job to do and there was too much danger ahead of them to let this paralyze him right now. Vetch glanced over at Oderyk. The man had lost his wife in the attack. How did he go on?

    ¡°You need to feed ¡®em more often, idiot.¡±

    At first, Vetch didn¡¯t know who had spoken. Then, Mora brought her horse up alongside Slouk¡¯s and spoke with a challenge in her voice.

    ¡°What¡¯d you say, thief? Call me that again.¡±

    ¡°I said ... never mind,¡± Slouk mumbled. These were the first words Vetch had heard from the horse thief all day. From morning until late afternoon, he¡¯d duly ridden along, hunched over his reins, head down and sweaty hair hanging over his face. To Vetch, the man looked ill.

    ¡°No, why don¡¯t you say that again,¡± Mora persisted. It was unlike her to get worked up over a petty insult. More evidence of how this undertaking was wearing on them all.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, thief, let¡¯s hear it!¡± This from Renzo, goading them both on, fanning the flames.

    Before Vetch could jump in, Slouk raised his head and turned in his saddle to address both Mora and Renzo. ¡°I said ¡®feed ¡®em more¡¯, stupid! If you don¡¯t want ¡®em nibbling on things, make sure they¡¯re not hungry. You should¡¯ve been shaking out portions of feed more often.¡±

    ¡°Says you,¡± countered Mora, though she sounded uncertain.

    ¡°Says someone who grew up amongst horses,¡± Slouk said. The more he spoke, the more confidence he seemed to gain, as if touching on a subject near to him gave him the courage to stand up to the soldiers he had cringed away from for the majority of their trek. ¡°Look at my mount. Mine¡¯s not the one dragging his hooves. Should be stopping to feed them more often.¡±

    ¡°That would only slow us down,¡± declared Vetch, seeking to put an end to this conversation. ¡°And run more quickly through our limited feed.¡±

    Slouk wouldn¡¯t let it go. ¡°Who¡¯s slowing us down? Not me. It¡¯s that dimwit not knowing what he¡¯s doing,¡± he spat, jerking his thumb toward Renzo.

    ¡°Shut your mouth, you little shit!¡± Renzo shouted. ¡°Better yet, I¡¯ll shut it for you!¡± Before anyone could stop him, the burly soldier drove his horse up alongside Slouk¡¯s and shoved him roughly out of his saddle. Slouk hit the ground hard with a pained grunt, his horse taking off into the brush. Rolande and Iannitz both went after it. In the chaos of horses startling and soldiers shouting, Renzo dismounted. He advanced on Slouk and, without pretense, began pummeling the man about his face and shoulders with heavy fists. Slouk did his best to cover up and curl into a ball, his demeanor shifting instantly back to the fearful and tyrannized man he¡¯d been in his jail cell. He squealed under the assault, half-sobbing out his pleas for help.

    Both Vetch and Oderyk were off their horses at the same time. Oderyk¡¯s hand closed around Renzo¡¯s shirt collar and yanked him back, while at the same time Vetch shoved him off of Slouk. He kept his hand on Renzo¡¯s chest as Renzo defiantly sought to break free.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Vetch shouted in his face. ¡°That¡¯s a fucking order! You stand down right now, Renzo, or by all the spirits and demons¡ª¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Renzo shouted back, his eyes wild and locked still on the cowering Slouk. ¡°Or what, Captain? Let¡¯s kill this piece of shit and be done with it. Or have you forgotten it was him that led the raiders straight to our mage¡¯s doorstep? Why protect him? Wasn¡¯t it you and Ennric who let the little pisser into town in the first place? If it were me, I¡¯d have remedied that mistake with my blade after he escaped from his cell. Ennric made you soft like he is, made you forget what it is us soldiers do.¡±

    Vetch had heard enough. Without a word, he drew back his arm and then crashed his fist solidly into Renzo¡¯s jaw. Renzo dropped on his backside in the dirt. The other soldiers stood watching this with aplomb. Vetch shook his fingers out, clenched and opened them a couple times to satisfy himself he¡¯d broken no bones. In his six years in the garrison, he¡¯d seen Captain Tarese have to resort to outright knocking a soldier off their feet with a punch only a handful of times. It sometimes just had to happen. But a good captain could make sure those times were few and far between. With distaste, Vetch wondered if he¡¯d be making a habit of it.

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    ¡°You make sure you don¡¯t forget why we¡¯re out here,¡± he said, standing above Renzo, ¡°and what it is that we all are heading into. Slouk¡¯s here to help us identify the people who took Marigold. When we find those people, we need to all be on the same page to have a chance against them.¡± Vetch made eye contact with all the others standing around, before settling his hard gaze once more on Renzo. Renzo merely looked up at him from the ground, a half-smile on his bloodied lips. Vetch turned on his heel and stalked back to his horse just as Rolande and Iannitz returned leading Slouk¡¯s animal. ¡°Mount up!¡± Vetch ordered.

    Wordlessly, they all obeyed, Renzo and Slouk included. As they got moving again, Vetch placed himself in the middle of the train. Neschi once more took the lead in order to scout their path. Iannitz and Rolande trailed her. Behind Vetch came Oderyk and Mora and, finally, Renzo, silent but holding his head high in defiance. Slouk brought his horse in close to Vetch¡¯s.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said meekly. His forehead and cheek were already beginning to swell.

    Vetch looked at him until Slouk was forced to turn his eyes down. ¡°Go ride up front. By Iannitz,¡± Vetch said. Slouk flicked his eyes up once more, opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it. He nodded and clicked his tongue to his horse, riding up to take his place beside the young soldier. With any luck, he¡¯d stay quiet now. But if he did return to his bellyaching, Iannitz at least would tolerate it with the least complaint.

    It was becoming like one of those puzzles, Vetch thought, the ones in which a farmer must take a wolf, a goat, and a cabbage across a river in a boat that could hold only the farmer and one animal, or the cabbage, at a time, all the while trying to keep the wolf from eating the goat, or the goat from eating the cabbage. That was how he felt now, ordering his soldiers and the horse thief so they wouldn¡¯t come to blows with each other. When Vetch had been a child, a friend of his father¡¯s had once challenged him with that puzzle. Vetch had thought about it and then asked why the farmer was trying to keep a wolf in the first place. Wasn¡¯t the solution simply to set it free?

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why the thief returned.¡± Oderyk spoke softly, so only Vetch could hear him. The veteran had brought his horse up alongside Vetch¡¯s while his mind wandered.

    ¡°Nor I,¡± replied Vetch.

    ¡°I don¡¯t trust him.¡±

    ¡°Nor I, Oderyk. But what can he do?¡±

    Oderyk met Vetch¡¯s eyes with his. ¡°That is the question, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    As evening fell, they found a place to make camp near a little stream. There was less friendly chatter than there had been the night before. The soldiers sat near each other around the fire, yet they appeared isolated from one another in their demeanor. Vetch had considered Slouk¡¯s advice and decided it would not hurt to portion the horses¡¯s feed out in more frequent feedings throughout the night if it meant keeping them healthy for the journey. It would serve as a convenient way of punishing Renzo for his insubordination. Vetch had assigned him the first watch of the night, and in addition to that, he¡¯d have to get up at intervals throughout the remainder of the night and see to all the horses. Some of the animals were clearly fatigued. Perhaps they were animals that had never been ridden this far and long before, or Mora was right and they¡¯d browsed something that¡¯d given them ¡®the shits¡¯, as soldiers liked to put it. Whatever the case, Vetch hoped the change would have them in better form tomorrow.

    Vetch finished his dinner and stood up from the campfire, walking over to the little stream to scrub out his bowl. When he was finished with that, he sat down beside it, took his boots and socks off, and plunged his bare feet into the cold water. He¡¯d take advantage and have himself a bath here in the morning before they set out again, he decided, cold be damned. As he felt the current across his skin, he watched the other soldiers in the light of the campfire. Most simply stared into the flames. Rolande discussed something in quiet tones with Oderyk. Iannitz gamely listened to Slouk¡¯s susurrous chatter, the horse thief no doubt complaining about Renzo to the one soldier who would listen to him.

    Neschi walked over and sat down beside Vetch. ¡°Good idea,¡± she said, tugging off her boots and dipping her feet into the water beside his. ¡°Ahh, that¡¯s better.¡± She leaned back on her hands and regarded Vetch. ¡°Think this is gonna be a problem? With Renzo, I mean.¡±

    Vetch turned to her. He was glad to see that the bruises she¡¯d sustained in the battle were beginning to fade. Noting her injuries only made him more aware of his own, and reminded him that the stitches in his cheek itched. With an effort, he refrained from scratching at them. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± he replied, after some consideration. ¡°I¡¯ll see to it it¡¯s not.¡±

    Neschi nodded, kicked her feet a little in the water. Her toes were wavery white against the dark stream bed. ¡°How d¡¯you think Ennric¡¯s getting on?¡±

    ¡°Hopefully better than we are,¡± Vetch answered.

    ¡°We¡¯re not doing so bad,¡± Neschi said and nudged his arm. She picked up a pebble and flicked it into the stream. It disappeared into the night-black water without a splash.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already had to knock the head of one of my soldiers. That¡¯s not great.¡±

    Neschi scoffed. ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t think Ennric has already pummeled a few townsmen? Or a couple o¡¯ the town guards who went along?¡±

    Vetch found himself smiling at the idea. He knew well how little patience Ennric had for Moonfane Forge¡¯s town guards. They did their job, sure, but never with the kind of discipline the old man preferred to see, not with the discipline of soldiers. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s thought about it a time or two by now,¡± Vetch conceded. ¡°But he won¡¯t have. Not with that busted arm. Old man¡¯s gonna have to learn to talk his way through problems until that heals up.¡±

    Neschi slapped her knee and laughed. ¡°Ha! That¡¯ll be the day. Would be nice if he were here, though. I don¡¯t mean that to sound as if I think you¡¯re not leading us well,¡± she added quickly.

    Vetch shook his head. ¡°I knew what you meant. And I agree. I¡¯d prefer to have the old man here, too. But out of all of us, he was the best man for going to the capital.¡±

    Neschi nodded thoughtfully. Abruptly, she said, ¡°Anyway, I think Renzo¡¯ll be fine once he has someone to stick his sword into.¡± She lifted her feet out of the water and stood. ¡°We all will. We¡¯ll get those bastards, Vetch, I know it.¡± Grabbing up her boots, she saluted Vetch and went off to her blankets.

    Vetch picked up his boots and stood to follow her lead. He wanted them to be ready to move again at first light, so he knew he must set an example and not linger awake when sleep could be snatched. As he moved through the little camp, he reflected on the day. Despite the earlier scuffle, it had borne fruit. The broken carriage had provided them with a possible lead on the identity of whomever they were chasing, and also bolstered their confidence that the raiders were having a hard go of getting their entourage through the woods. If Vetch could keep his people focused, they would catch up to this Lady and her guard. And then ... then, the remaining soldiers of Moonfane Forge would pay them all back triple for what they had done to their town and garrison.

    He reached his own bedding, dropped his boots nearby, and lay down. Overhead, shards of the moon could just be seen through thick black foliage. Vetch stared up at those dark leaves and thought of the wood patterns in the ceiling beams above his bunk back in the Moonfane Forge barracks. There, it had been the same view, every night, every morning. But out here he was faced with a new perspective each day. Whatever the view, whatever the challenge, good or ill, it was up to him to deal with it, and see his soldiers through it with him.

    Vetch turned onto his side and huddled deeper into his blanket. Everyone else was burrowing into theirs as well. Everyone except for Renzo, who had first watch. Vetch watched through lidded eyes as Renzo sat by the fire jabbing away at the coals with a stick. Neschi was right, they needed to meet these raiders again, blade-to-blade, sooner rather than later, for all their sakes. While their mission was to rescue Marigold, a big part of it also was their needing to finish the fight the raiders had started. They were soldiers; it was part of their makeup. It was just as Ennric had said: all those here had survived the battle, so as long as any of them still drew breath, they had not yet lost. Vetch was certain that the raid¡¯s perpetrators must think otherwise. To them, it must seem as if victory had already been claimed days ago. Well, the soldiers of Moonfane Forge still had something to say about that. None of them would be able to get on with their lives until they had met their adversaries and finished the fight. He knew he wouldn¡¯t, win or fall.

 Chapter 7: Downfall, part 2

    Breakfast and the breaking of camp went more slowly than Vetch was happy with. His soldiers moved sluggishly through their tasks, yawning and dragging their feet. This wasn¡¯t what he was used to. Even through complaints and jesting barbs directed at ¡®Tarese the Taskmaster¡¯ when she hadn¡¯t been within earshot, the Moonfane Forge garrison had always been sharp and expeditious. Yes, soldiers lost sleep to surprise drills and assignments at odd hours. They were expected to wake early, sometimes after staying out late drinking. There were days when you were dog tired and your leather boots felt like lead weights, but tasks always got done when they needed to get done, and orders were always followed promptly. What was so different between then and now? Was it truly that they had not seen enough real action among their ranks to handle this mission they had set themselves?

    If Vetch was being honest with himself, it wasn¡¯t all his soldiers lagging. Neschi, as had become her daily provision, had struck out at sunrise to scout out their path. Oderyk and Mora worked in tandem to finish securing the last of the supplies on the horses, both of them stoic and quiet in their work. Rolande stood watch over Slouk, who stood beside his horse keeping his eyes straight ahead and looking at nothing, as if unwilling to even acknowledge the soldiers around him anymore. Or, perhaps, hoping to provide no reason for them to acknowledge him. It was Renzo and Iannitz who were holding things up. Renzo was slow about readying his horse, swearing and grumbling his way through getting the animal saddled. But, in all fairness, he had slept little, and that was by Vetch¡¯s order. Vetch could not fault the man for bearing the effects of his punishment. He had carried it out without complaint, rising throughout the night to dole out feed for the horses. Despite his surliness, he was being a good soldier, working through exhaustion to follow his orders. Maybe he¡¯d just needed a good punch to the face all along.

    Then there was Iannitz. Again, it wasn¡¯t his fault that they waited on him. He had taken it upon himself to shake out a little more food for all the horses before they rode, which was a sound idea, but it meant he was now burdened with re-securing the feed to Mora¡¯s mount, after it had already been packed up earlier. That was another thing Vetch felt he could rightly take partial blame for. If he had better organized the way they broke down camp, or started them earlier after waking, they could have been riding by now. As it was, the sun was well up, and all he could think of was the wheels of the carriages they chased turning, while he and his soldiers stood still.

    Suddenly he had the answer to his question. What was different between the way his garrison operated prior to the attack and now?

    ¡°Me in command,¡± he spoke under his breath. The breeze that swept through the eerie woodland carried his words off and tousled his hair. He went to help Iannitz just as Neschi returned leading her horse.

    ¡°I think we¡¯re catching up,¡± she said excitedly, as her lathered horse puffed beside her. ¡°The path starts widening out into a road again, sure to let their carriage move faster, but ...¡± and she smiled, pushing her tongue into the side of her cheek, ¡°all the wheel and horse tracks are newer, more recent.¡±

    There was a general murmur of eagerness through the ranks. Soldiers mounted up and turned their horses to the trail, Rolande practically shoving Slouk onto his horse through his complaints.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Vetch said, then spoke the command a second time, louder. ¡°Hold, soldiers. Form up.¡± From wanting them to rush to holding them back, Vetch saw the looks of confusion that passed over a few faces. But they did as ordered, all mustering their mounts into a rough line and giving him their attention. Vetch swung up into his saddle and faced them. ¡°We know the raiders are having no fair time in this damnable forest,¡± he began.

    ¡°Are any of us?¡± commented Rolande, to the sound of a few grim chuckles.

    Vetch smiled wryly. ¡°Sure as shit, we aren¡¯t,¡± he agreed. ¡°And no reasonable man or woman could¡¯ve expected otherwise. The point is, this raven-haired mage and the town-razing whoresons she commands fled this way out of fear that we might follow. They hoped all this¡ª¡± he indicated the tangle of trees surrounding them ¡°¡ªwould confound us. Well, Neschi said the path opens up again, and we can move faster than any damn carriage. So, we push hard now, but we do so quietly. Keep your eyes peeled and be ready to draw steel at any moment. We kill as many of ¡®em as we can and take back what they stole from us. Let¡¯s move, soldiers!¡±

    From then on, it was as if they all were reminded of who and what they were, soldiers before the destruction of their town, soldiers after. As a unit, matching in their black and silver surcoats, the soldiers took up the path again with a purpose. They drove their horses to a steady and unyielding pace and spoke no words between them. The passage of the day was marked only by the beat of hooves on the path and the jingle of tack. As promised, the path widened and became a rough road once again. More than that, the forest, too, began to disentangle itself. The dense, shadowed woods they had endured for days became a patchwork of light and shadow, the trees they passed smaller and set farther apart and no longer choked with hanging mosses and thorny vines. Swatches of blue sky showed above, and there were open spaces of shallower undergrowth and leaf-matter to either side of the trail.

    Riding at the head of the line, Vetch allowed himself a small smile. An objective was what his soldiers had needed. What all soldiers needed. Once they had been reminded of their target and how close it was¡ªonce they could envision drawing their weapons a second time against those who had taken their friends and family members from them, who had burned their homes and laid waste to their farms¡ªeverything fell into place and they became not just individual soldiers, but a garrison again. Vetch knew every single one of his people must remember a face, one face amongst all the raiders, that had done them particular wrong, a face that was seared into their memories in the hope that they would meet that villain again and get to pay them back. Vetch was taken back to the day of the raid, how close he had come to death as, battered and bloody, he¡¯d looked up into the face of a man who appeared to command the raiders. Vetch recalled the weathered features and long, dark moustache. Though they had not crossed blades, the man¡¯s disinterested dismissal of Vetch and Neschi as threats had stuck with him like a chicken bone in his gullet.

    Vetch¡¯s smile faded, to be replaced with an expression of stony determination. He gave his gelding¡¯s flanks two sharp taps with his heels to spur him to greater speed. ¡°Yah! Let¡¯s go, boy!¡± he shouted. His horse surged forward, puffing and breathing hard. Vetch heard similar exclamations from his fellow soldiers behind him. The raiders would not escape under cover of darkness this time, not like they had after they¡¯d freed all the yaks and sown chaos throughout Moonfane Forge¡¯s surrounding pastures. This time, he and his soldiers would run them down. And, no matter how the numbers stacked up, they¡¯d give whomever they caught the fight of their lives.

    The gelding¡¯s hooves pounded heavy on the road, the wind whipping Vetch¡¯s hair back from his face. No matter the purpose, the ride was exhilarating. Then, strangely, despite how his horse worked and strove, Vetch felt his mount slowing. He tapped his heels again, and again, and still his horse slowed. It slowed and yet only breathed harder. Soon the breaths were coming out in wheezes and, looking down at his laboring mount, Vetch saw foam and drool streaming from his gelding¡¯s mouth. He reined back and the horse came to a staggering stop, almost throwing Vetch. In an instant he was down from his saddle and taking the horse¡¯s muzzle in his hands.

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    ¡°What¡¯s wrong there, boy?¡± he asked, frantically checking mouth, nose, and eyes to see what was ailing his animal. It was then that Vetch glanced back down the road and saw that he had left the other soldiers behind. Far down the road, they, too, had all dismounted, were waving and shouting for his attention. It took a moment for understanding to dawn on Vetch. They hadn¡¯t been sharing in his exclamation, not joining in his war cry. They had been calling for him to stop, trying to halt him. But why? Vetch¡¯s horse staggered in place and nearly bowled him over. He caught up the reins and tried to turn him back and walk him to the other soldiers. The horse stubbornly stood his place, wheezing through labored breaths, before lifting his tail and defecating a liquid foulness that splattered on the road.

    Another shout went up from his fellow soldiers back down the road. When Vetch looked, a rider broke free of them, his horse running hard up the road directly at Vetch, hooves pounding the dirt as if devils chased it. Vetch only had seconds to recognize the man and what was happening. Slouk.

    ¡°No ... No!¡± Vetch shouted. He drew his sword and put himself in the middle of the road, practically daring Slouk to run him down if he had the balls. He readied himself, raised his blade. He¡¯d never cut down a passing horse before, but he would, and if Slouk broke his neck in the fall, then so be it.

    But at the last second, Slouk pulled hard to the side on his reins. Vetch saw the whites of the horse¡¯s eyes as it swung its path desperately to one side of the road, narrowly avoiding crashing through Vetch and his horse on the way by. Vetch swung his sword, but it cut only air behind the horse¡¯s streaming tail. And then Slouk was by them and as good as gone, pounding his way wildly up the road.

    Vetch stabbed the point of his sword into the dirt and stared unblinking after the traitorous man. ¡°Damn you!¡± he shouted impotently. ¡°Damn you, you bastard!¡±

    Before he disappeared around a bend in the road, Slouk had the gall to take a look back. His dark eyes locked with Vetch¡¯s for a split second before he was gone. His expression had been blank, unreadable.

    Vetch sheathed his sword and stared, powerless. Knowing not what else to do, he returned to his horse and attempted to soothe the poor beast. ¡°Come on, boy, shh shh shh ...¡± he whispered, willing calmness to carry through his voice, even as the bile rose within him. Vetch knew, even before he caught up his horse¡¯s reins and coaxed him into a slow walk back to the other soldiers¡ªeven before he saw their horses ailing in the same way, a couple already lying on the ground struggling to breathe¡ªhe knew who had done this.

    ¡°You fucking fool!¡± Mora yelled, as Vetch approached. Her anger wasn¡¯t directed at him. She shouted at Iannitz, her face only inches from his as the boy quailed before her.

    ¡°How was I supposed to know?¡± he protested pitiably. In his hand, he held a bundle of crushed-up herbs. Around this scene, the other soldiers stood with subdued expressions. The language of their bodies told a story of defeat.

    ¡°How? How?!¡± Mora shouted, the pitch of her usually level voice rising. ¡°Because he was our prisoner, not our damned friend! Did you forget that?¡± Suddenly, she caught up Iannitz¡¯s wrist, holding it tight as she tore the herbs from his fingers with her other hand, like an irate mother taking a forbidden item away from a protesting child. She held up a pinch of plant matter. ¡°This? Bracken fern!¡± She threw it angrily on the ground. ¡°And this one¡ª¡± holding up another pinch of tiny leaves ¡°¡ªyew! And here is buttercup! These are all poisonous to horses, you, you ...¡± She hurled the rest of her handful of herbs into the dirt and stomped on them to make her point. ¡°Fucking lackwit.¡±

    ¡°He gets it, Mora,¡± Neschi said, before Vetch could voice the same.

    ¡°I-I ... he said these herbs helped a horse¡¯s digestion. He said if I mixed them in with their feed, it¡¯d cure the runs they were having. He knew about horses. I was just following¡ª¡±

    ¡°Following what a lying thief told you to do. And secretively, without the rest of us knowing,¡± Mora accused him, her voice lowering to a darker anger that was beyond shouting.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think ...¡± Iannitz went quiet. He stood there in the middle of the road by his prostrate horse, shoulders hunched, eyes down, looking more to Vetch like a distraught and devastated boy than a soldier.

    Mora only shook her head. Then, suddenly, she lunged. Yet, before she could strike Iannitz, Neschi caught her up in a bear hug and pulled her back. Mora struggled against Neschi¡¯s wiry strength for only a few seconds before she gave up. Neschi loosened her grip and Mora shoved her away and stormed off to her own horse, which had gone down to its knees. Mora lowered herself down beside the animal and stroked its nose, whispering soft words.

    From the moment Vetch had recognized Slouk as the rider making his wild escape, he had put together who was responsible for the horses becoming sick. It had taken only those few seconds to realize it had been some deliberate act by Slouk. That was why the thief had left and returned. That was why he had implored them to feed the horses more often, with fodder that he knew to be tainted. It was undoubtedly to make his escape more complete, to ensure that the soldiers would have no hope of running him down and catching him. He¡¯d be free and clear now.

    But to discover that he had done this evil by tricking Iannitz into performing the actual deed of poisoning the horses himself was an added twist of the knife.

    ¡°Iannitz,¡± Vetch said.

    ¡°S-sir,¡± the boy replied and came to attention.

    ¡°Slouk told you to put those plants in the horse feed?¡±

    Iannitz looked down. When he answered, his voice was barely audible. ¡°Yes sir.¡±

    ¡°And just now he was preparing to feed them even more of it, to ¡®help¡¯ them.¡± This came from Mora, her words a clear indictment. The anger in her voice did not disguise the pain. She had never looked upon the horses simply as tools of the trade, as many other soldiers did.

    For the time being, Vetch let her words slide. He kept his attention on Iannitz, but he raised his voice so everyone else could hear. ¡°And then I followed Slouk¡¯s advice to feed them more often. I gave the order, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    Iannitz looked uncomfortable, at a loss for a response.

    ¡°Are all the bags of feed so fouled?¡± Vetch asked.

    Iannitz shook his head. ¡°No sir. Only the last one we¡¯d been feeding them from.¡±

    Vetch stared hard at him for a moment, then nodded. He turned away from Iannitz and made the order for all. ¡°Save which horses we can. Check the rest of the feed to make sure it¡¯s still good.¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t Slouk¡¯s horse carrying the cooking gear before?¡± asked Rolande. She had pulled the supplies and saddle off of her horse and was going through her things. Her horse looked unsteady on its feet, much like Vetch¡¯s gelding, but in better shape than some of the others. ¡°This bag held salted meat before ... and this one dried lentils.¡± She held up the bag as if to confirm. In her other hand was the cooking cauldron she¡¯d found in it instead.

    ¡°And here are more cooking implements and the bundle of extra arrow shafts his horse had carried,¡± added Renzo. He stood up from his clearly dead horse and overturned the bag. ¡°Our extra waterskins had been in here before. The thief switched out the tools and things we¡¯d packed on his horse for extra food and water for himself.¡±

    Neschi cursed under her breath. All around Vetch, the soldiers stood dazed as the full extent of the horse thief¡¯s subtle treacheries became apparent. Vetch noticed how Renzo chose not to bring up how this could have all been avoided if Vetch had allowed him to kill Slouk, or even had kept him in bindings and more closely watched him. Vetch had sought to allow Slouk some measure of dignity, and as a result, they were all paying for it. Yet, when he could have injured Vetch the most, Renzo chose to remain quiet. Vetch could not decide if he was thankful for that, or if he wished the man would simply lay into him and say what they all must be thinking¡ªthat his poor leadership had cost them their mission. Perhaps, even their lives.

 Chapter 7: Downfall, part 3

    *

    Darkness closed in much faster than Lily had anticipated. The innumerous tree branches interwoven overhead left the area under something of a constant twilight by day. Once the sun had dipped below the tree canopy, night fell like a trap sprung. Lily had been so preoccupied with trying to make a fire that when she finally looked up from her fruitless work, she was startled to discover that she could hardly see any further than the reach of her own hands. Beside her, Fae was a ghostly apparition of pale fur against black forest, munching on the food Lily had shaken out for her.

    With the shroud of darkness came a steady awakening of night sounds, clicks and hoots and screeches that put tremors of fear through Lily. She shivered both from the cold and from her imaginings of what terrible things were out there that could see in the dark, while she could not.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like this, Fae.¡± She uttered the tremulous words as she went back to work on the fire, striking her bit of steel down the flint and watching sparks repeatedly fail to catch on her meager tinder. She had lost track of how long she had been at it. It seemed that every time she managed to produce some bit of smoldering flame in her tinder that she wasn¡¯t fast enough with feeding smaller sticks into it for a proper fire to catch. A few times, she had tried to find different materials to use for her tinder, and dryer sticks to heap upon a flame, but with no better results until, at length, it became too dark for her to feel safe wandering off the road for more. ¡°You¡¯re not even afraid, are you?¡± Lily asked Fae through gritted teeth. She glanced up to see the panthegrunn lounging comfortably like a satiated lioness. She turned her head toward a few of the stranger sounds issuing from the night, but appeared entirely unconcerned about them. ¡°No, of course you¡¯re not,¡± Lily muttered. Once more, she struck the flint and this time her fingers slipped and the bit of steel jabbed her palm, tearing open one of the blisters the work had raised there. Lily winced and took in a sharp intake of breath at the sudden pain. ¡°Damn it!¡± she exclaimed, throwing the flint and steel down in frustration.

    She brought the stinging wound to her lips. It was right between the base of her forefinger and her thumb. Right where Fae¡¯s reins would be rubbing on it all the next day. The moment Lily divined that, the last shred of her composure crumbled, and tears of frustration began to slide down her cheeks. She sat down in the middle of the road and put her head in her hands. The promise of a hot meal and warmth flitted away on the cold night wind, and along with it, the hope of having a little bit of light to hold back the strangeness of the woods.

    As if sensing Lily¡¯s sadness and fear, Fae roused herself. The big panthegrunn nosed her broad snout into Lily¡¯s face, pushing at her hands and washing her face in warm-aired chuffs until Lily couldn¡¯t help but laugh and push her away. Fae only pushed her shaggy head against Lily¡¯s face again, grunting softly. Lily sniffled and threw her arms around Fae¡¯s broad neck, finding herself feeling better.

    ¡°I know. I know, Fae. You¡¯ll always protect me.¡± She scratched behind Fae¡¯s ears and about the roots of her horns and into her shaggy hair, then she took her by the horns and gave her great head a playful shake. Fae grunted again, licked her face, and then settled herself back down on the road again at Lily¡¯s side. With a sigh, Lily patted Fae¡¯s muscled shoulder and levered herself up onto her feet. ¡°But, still, just to be safe ...¡± Lily took a few calming breaths and raised both her arms up before her, palms outward. She judged a small circle that would encapsulate both she and Fae. Then, relaxing her body and lidding her eyes, she began to move her hands. Against the black of night, shimmering gold appeared. Then ... ¡°No,¡± Lily whispered and dropped her arms. The golden beginnings of the Barrier dissipated like steam. ¡°Not without Mari here to watch over me.¡±

    She wanted there to be something she could do, something that would make her feel completely safe and secure falling asleep in such a strange and forbidding place. It struck her suddenly how easy it was to rely on the security of a Barrier to make one feel safe, even back in the once-peaceful town that was her home.

    ¡°I guess we¡¯re going to have to get accustomed to this, aren¡¯t we, Fae?¡± she said quietly. She sat back down on the cold road and resigned herself to a dinner of more salt meat and water. Following her paltry meal, she wrapped herself in her blanket and, hoping that morning would not take too long in arriving, snuggled in close against Fae¡¯s warmth and fell into a fitful and dream-filled sleep.

    *

    Slouk chanced another glance behind him. The soldiers weren¡¯t following. Good. Those of their horses that didn¡¯t die would be in no condition to catch up with him again any time soon. He and the raiders would be long gone their separate ways by then. At last, his work was done. His debt was as good as repaid. He was free and clear. All he had to do now was catch up to The Lady¡¯s men that he had previously met at the broken carriage, collect his sister, collect their pay, and then he and she could disappear. Perhaps they would flee north across the mountains, take up with their own people for a while and lay low. Or, they could go south to where the large cities were, maybe even to the capital itself, where people like them could get lost in the crowd and skim prized animals away from their unwitting, be-leisured owners. Things were about to turn around for them.

    But first, they would return to Pasanhal Town, where this whole mess had begun, and pay back the money they owed to that crooked merchant whose job they had botched. The man could take his coins and choke on them for all Slouk cared, so long as he and his sister no more had to look around in fear that some petty sellsword would be haunting their tracks trying to collect the bounty on their heads.

    Slouk looked back again. Still, no one. He finally reined his horse in to a leisurely canter, no longer the frantic dash that had gotten them away from those damned soldiers. If Slouk never saw another one of those black and silver uniforms again, it would be too soon. He wouldn¡¯t wish the bloodshed that had happened in their little town upon anyone, but considering how they had treated him, well, maybe they had brought it upon themselves. At any rate, he would shed no tears over it. It wasn¡¯t his doing, whatever trouble their ill-fated mage had gotten them all tangled up in. He had never been privy to any of that information, had not even known the scheme had involved mages until afterward. He was only a man given a simple job for simple pay. While he¡¯d botched the first job, the raiders had given him another chance, when he¡¯d first tried to flee and found a few of them who had stayed behind to turn one of their broken carriages into a roadblock. All he had to do was return to the soldiers, find a way to stop their pursuit, and he¡¯d get his sister back, with their original pay. Somehow, it had all worked out.

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    He let himself smile. His thudding heartbeat began to settle, while his horse¡ªthe only one he¡¯d made sure never consumed the tainted feed¡ªcaught its breath. The forest road was much easier to follow now. Even the woodland itself looked less intimidating than it had only a day¡¯s ride back, almost enough to make for a pleasant ride. For the first time in weeks, Slouk felt something akin to optimism. Still, he would be quite happy to leave this cursed wood behind as soon as possible and never see it again. The Lady must be mad to intentionally travel by this route, mage or otherwise.

    Suddenly, up ahead, a man stepped out from the cover of the trees and into the center of the road. He held up his hand, imploring Slouk to halt. Jolted at first, in the next moment, Slouk recognized the face of one of the raiders and slowed his horse.

    ¡°I did it,¡± Slouk said lamely.

    The man scowled, put his finger to his lips and then, with insistent gestures, directed Slouk to dismount and follow him. Slouk slid from the saddle and led his horse as he followed the man off the road and through the trees. Slouk knew who he was being led to. That he had done his job successfully made him no less fearful. These people¡ªthese soldiers, or marauders, or sellswords ... whatever one called them¡ªwere The Lady¡¯s elite guard. It was their leader who had given Slouk his original task back at the yak town. These men and women weren¡¯t cut-and-dried criminals like Slouk and his ilk. No, these people were much worse. These people thought nothing of trampling entire villages for coin. Slouk had been made to understand that. They were not to be trifled with.

    Slouk was led through a small clearing where the group of raiders had set up a hasty camp. At his approach, the commander of the raiders turned his attention to Slouk.

    ¡°Here he is, chief,¡± the first man said, and then he left them.

    The raider with the pocked visage and long black moustache and crooked nose crossed his arms and stared down at Slouk with his dark, impassive eyes. ¡°Have you done it?¡±

    Slouk bobbed a nod. ¡°Yeah ... yeah, I did it, just like you said. Poisoned their horses. They won¡¯t be following anymore.¡±

    The commanding raider raised his thin brows. ¡°Poisoned their horses,¡± he stated. He paused in his speech, just long enough to make Slouk fear more explanation was needed, but then he spoke on. ¡°Idiot. You were supposed to kill them, slip something into their food or water and end them.¡±

    Slouk hesitated. His horse nickered. He stroked his mount¡¯s nose to calm it. ¡°No, I ... no. That¡¯s not what you told me. That wasn¡¯t the deal. You told me to slow ¡®em down, and I did,¡± he contended, feeling compelled to then add, ¡°I¡¯m a lot of things, but I¡¯m no killer.¡±

    ¡°Hear that?¡± the raider raised his voice. ¡°Not a killer.¡± This elicited some chuckles from the others loitering nearby. One of them said something in another language, prompting more laughter.

    Slouk peered about him, afraid to make eye contact with any of them. ¡°I-I-I did my job,¡± he stuttered. ¡°I did what you told me to do, did I not? I earned my coin. My debt¡¯s paid, now? For my mistake in the town?¡±

    Again, the raider merely stared down at him. Then, with no more expression than a flaring of the nostrils as he exhaled, he waved his gloved hand. ¡°The debt¡¯s paid. Give him his coin.¡± Then he turned his back on Slouk and walked away to where the raiders¡¯s horses stood waiting. He mounted up, while the others broke down their rough camp and went to follow his lead. As one raider walked by, he pressed a heavy bag of coins into Slouk¡¯s hands.

    For a moment, Slouk stared after them, confused. He found his voice. ¡°And my sister? Should I follow you? Take me to her. That was the deal. Where is she?¡± Slouk went to follow the commander, but two large raiders put themselves in his path.

    ¡°Your sister?¡± one of them said, as Slouk watched the raiders¡¯s leader ride away. ¡°I¡¯ll show you where to find your sister.¡± The man raised his hand and pointed behind Slouk.

    Slouk turned his head but saw nothing. Confused, he turned back. ¡°Where?¡±

    The raider pointed again. ¡°There. Back up the road. We left her back in one of those stinking yak pastures for you. If you hurry, maybe you can dig her up and take her home, before the scavengers do.¡±

    Slouk stared at the man, stunned and befuddled. ¡°W ... what?¡±

    ¡°Did you not hear me, idiot? We slit the bitch¡¯s throat the very night you didn¡¯t return from your task in the town, as you were supposed to. That was the deal. But don¡¯t worry, we took your debt out of her in other ways before that, a group of us did,¡± he said with a lilt of amusement in his voice. ¡°She was skilled. Earned you every last one of those coins you¡¯re holding.¡±

    The smirk on the raider¡¯s face sent a burning chill down Slouk¡¯s back. Around him, other raiders chuckled knowingly, while they mounted their horses and departed. Slouk¡¯s breaths became short and panicked, while his vision contracted into a blood red tunnel and his ears filled with a shrill ringing.

    ¡°Nooooo! Nooooo! Nooooo!¡± Bellowing a guttural growl of pain and fury that rent the afternoon air, Slouk launched himself at the leader of the raiders, somehow squeezing between both the larger men blocking his path and despite their attempt to stop him. He hurled the heavy bag of coins at the raiders¡¯s leader. The man turned just in time to lift his arm in defense. The bag struck him and came open, gold coins flying free, raining down in a shower around them both as Slouk leapt for him on his horse, thinking only to pummel him, choke him, claw his eyes out.

    It wasn¡¯t to be. Slouk managed no better than to grab and scratch at the man¡¯s pant leg before the other raiders fell upon him. They yanked Slouk violently back and held his arms as he thrashed and screamed. Then, both of them began plunging their daggers into Slouk¡¯s belly, chest, and ribs. He fought and shouted, until blood spewed from his mouth and choked off his wordless cries. The raiders didn¡¯t stop with their assault until they felt his legs weaken and stop thrashing. Then, they dropped him like a sack of grain, face down in the dirt. One of them stood over his body and shoved his blade a couple more times into Slouk¡¯s back to make certain, as the other stooped and began picking up the loose gold coins lying in the growing pool of blood.

    Above them, sitting his horse as if nothing had happened, their commander cleared his throat. When the man collecting the coins looked up, he made eye contact and slowly shook his head.

    The raider shrugged and dropped the bloody coins back where he¡¯d found them. He and his cohort then mounted their horses and, as one, The Lady¡¯s guard ghosted back through the trees to the road.

 Chapter 7: Downfall, part 4

    *

    Neschi¡¯s and Iannitz¡¯s horses were the next two to die. Iannitz paced inconsolably up and down the road with a stricken look on his paled face. Mora was on her knees beside her dying mount, futilely rummaging through a bag of medicines for any sort of remedy. Oderyk¡¯s horse was in a similar state, but, pragmatically, he had already given the animal up for dead and was busy emptying its saddlebags, even as it seized and struggled to draw breath. Renzo and Neschi also were consolidating their supplies, separating which things they would all need from which they could do without. Out of all the horses, Vetch¡¯s and Rolande¡¯s were the least affected. Both were still standing, though their haunches shook and they swayed on their hooves. Perhaps those two might be saved.

    Vetch pulled the saddle and saddlebags from his gelding and let them fall to the ground. He looked up the road in the direction they¡¯d been heading, then back in the direction they¡¯d come from. Slouk had stolen enough of their water that they would need to return to the little stream to fill what containers that remained to them. That meant walking back. He could split his group of soldiers in half, have some stay here and watch over the two horses who might recover, while the others went back for the water. He calculated these things in his head¡ªhow much time it would take, how many days it would rob them of their pursuit. That was, if they chose to continue on. If who chose? he thought to himself. It was his command to give, was it not? And would it not be a suicide mission to carry on? There¡¯d be no way to even catch the raiders now. Even two healthy horses could not transport seven soldiers and all their supplies. They could abandon the horses and walk, but again, they¡¯d be giving up speed and the ability to carry most of the supplies they¡¯d brought. What choice was there left but to abandon Marigold and return to Moonfane Forge?

    Perceiving that as the only option remaining to him, Vetch could feel a toxin breeding within him. It was bad enough to lose Marigold, but it also meant losing his chance at revenge. He had felt his desire for it growing every day since the attack. It was a poison that accumulated and steered his actions, and if it could not be purged by facing the attack¡¯s perpetrators, it would overwhelm and drown him. He was not proud of it, that his want for vengeance had begun to overshadow his mission to recover Marigold. But it was true. He was also fearful of how his fellow soldiers would see him if he robbed them, also, of their hope for retribution by ordering their retreat.

    Again, he looked up the road, and then down it. He could go neither way.

    Oderyk stood and dusted off his pants. ¡°At least the thief chose only to poison our animals and not us,¡± he observed, as if fishing for some silver lining.

    ¡°Inspect all of our food supplies carefully before anyone eats anything else, to be safe.¡± Vetch heard his voice giving the orders automatically, as if it were someone else taking charge for him. But it was not someone else. Orders had to be issued, and command had to be taken, so it fell to him and he did it. ¡°We should empty all the water skins out and return to the stream to refill them, as well.¡± Before the grumbling of the other soldiers became too loud, he added, ¡°I know, I know. It could be that Slouk never touched our own food and water. But we can¡¯t be certain. We need to get more water to replace what he took from us either way, so rather than waste time complaining about it, let¡¯s hurry up and do it. Bring the horses who are still standing, leave the others¡ªI¡¯m sorry, Mora.¡±

    There. He told himself he was not being cowardly by delaying giving the order that they would abandon their mission and retreat home, merely that he was choosing to wait so his soldiers would be focused only on the next task at hand. Once they knew their supplies were safe and sufficient to see them out of the forest again, he would broach the rest.

    Up the road a way, Iannitz turned to rejoin the group and prepare to move. A sharp hissing sound cut through the air to be was followed immediately by a solid thwack. The young soldier made a sound as if he¡¯d been punched in the gut and, with a grimace of fear, turned back around again to look up the road in confusion. The shaft of an arrow stuck out of his upper back. Before he knew what had happened, two more arrows punctured his chest. He let out a panicked yelp and stumbled to his hands and knees, trying to crawl away. The first raider crashed out of the trees on his horse and cut Iannitz down with his sword from the saddle. Suddenly, the woodland exploded with war cries and pounding hooves as the rest of the small band of raiders broke from their cover and fell upon Vetch and his garrison soldiers.

    The shock of the surprise attack made it impossible to wonder how this group of raiders had doubled back and stolen upon them so swiftly. There was only the ingrained, instinctual reaction left to a soldier: fight. Vetch whipped his blade from its scabbard and ducked a sword cut, as another raider bypassed him and charged down Mora. Her sword thrust was not enough to penetrate the raider¡¯s armor as they followed through and caught her a blow to the head with their mace. Fights broke out around Vetch. Neschi, Oderyk, and Renzo had all managed to draw their weapons quickly enough to repel the first strikes at them.

    ¡°Into the trees!¡± Vetch yelled, sickened as he leapt over Mora¡¯s body to heed his own command.

    His heart pounded in his throat and a roaring filled his ears. Adrenaline made his body tremble even as he marshalled his muscles to action. He swept behind the trunk of a tree just before a raider¡¯s axe edge shaved bark off where his head had been. Stepping quickly around the other side of the tree, he put himself behind the mounted raider and surged forward with his sword, catching her with a stab to the thigh. She growled in pain and reined her horse back out of Vetch¡¯s reach, in the same motion jumping down from the saddle to face him on level ground. She hefted her axe, showing him a rictus grin from out of her feather-topped helm. She attacked without hesitation, pressing forward on Vetch with testing axe swings. Vetch had the advantage in height and the reach of his blade, but the raider¡¯s ferocity demanded his complete attention. It was the same as he¡¯d seen back in Moonfane Forge. Whoever these fighters were, they were experienced and relentless and they would kill him without hesitation if he made even a single mistake.

    Twice, she came forward with jabbing motions meant to test and taunt Vetch¡¯s ability to deflect them, and twice Vetch turned them aside. The third time, he stepped in and brought his blade down in a cut across her arm that made her drop her axe and clutch at the bleeding wound. He had her dead to rights now, or so he thought. In the next moment, a horse trying to avoid the chaos slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground. His foe had drawn a dagger. Seeing her opening, she pounced forward. Then, yet again, the pendulum of advantage swung back in the other direction as an arrow took her in the ribs. Vetch looked across the road in time to see Rolande nock a second arrow and fire, hitting the raider in the hip, in a soft spot between two panels of leather armor. Vetch kicked the woman¡¯s legs out from under her and she went down hard with a muffled grunt, rolling and clutching at the arrow shafts.

    Vetch was up on his feet again in an instant, tossing his head to get his hair out of his eyes as he raised his blade, ready for whoever would come next. To his surprise, he faced no second attacker bearing down on him. Rolande had dropped her bow and was engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle with a raider, the pair of them falling to the ground, rolling in the dirt and over thorny brush, fighting dagger against fists. Elsewhere, the other soldiers had followed Vetch¡¯s command and retreated into the trees where the raiders would be forced to dismount. Riderless horses shifted and danced between the various struggles, wide-eyed yet trained not to bolt. Vetch had but a moment in which to assess the situation around him, but saw clearly that they were outnumbered. Already, Oderyk fended off two attackers with his longsword, while they sought to wear the older man down. He couldn¡¯t see Neschi or Renzo, but could hear the grunts and growls and pings of steel on steel from the fights they must be engaged in. How had these attackers fallen upon them like this? Had The Lady anticipated everything they would do and left her people to set an ambush in response?

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    The sound of a new horse¡¯s approach alerted Vetch to another raider arriving on the scene. He looked up, and in the dwindling light of the red setting sun, saw a face he recognized. The raider with the long black hair, crooked nose, and tendrilled moustache cast his eyes around as if only mildly interested in the battle that was taking place before him. He stopped his horse and dismounted beside Iannitz¡¯s body. Almost as if it were an afterthought, he drew his sword and stabbed it perfunctorily into Iannitz¡¯s still form.

    Witnessing that caused something to break in Vetch then. His blood boiled in his veins and he lost sight of everything else around him. It was at this moment that the commander of the raiders chanced to look up and meet eyes with him. Whether there was recognition in that stare or not, Vetch failed to note. He charged forward with his sword held high, a wordless shout of rage breaching from his lungs.

    The mustachioed raider countered his first downswing with a practiced deflection that left pain briefly shooting up through Vetch¡¯s arm from the jolt of clashing steel. Vetch ignored it and brought his blade back in a return cut. He was quick enough to catch the raider by surprise, for the man had no deflecting counter ready the second time. Instead, he jumped back to avoid Vetch¡¯s return swing and nearly stumbled when he backed into his own horse. Vetch went to press another attack, but caught himself and stopped just short when he saw the raider recover his stance surprisingly fast and level his blade at him.

    Both men eyed one another and Vetch got his first good look at this raider commander. He was tall and wiry, but the fit of his boiled leather armor betrayed steely muscle underneath. His weathered and pocked face did not disguise the hard, angular features of a northerner, his dark northerner¡¯s eyes squinting against the sun, appraising Vetch from within the shade of his helm.

    ¡°Where is The Lady taking Marigold?¡± Vetch demanded.

    For a moment, the raider only regarded Vetch with the slightest lift of his brows. Then, he chuckled and shook his head. The amusement in his deep voice mocked Vetch, and set his teeth to grinding.

    ¡°Answer me!¡± he bellowed, raising his sword. Around them, fighting was still going on, but it sounded distant and muffled. Vetch couldn¡¯t take his attention off his adversary. His ears still managed to catch the sound of Neschi fighting hard somewhere in the trees, her voice in the struggle recalling him to the day of the attack, when he¡¯d stood back-to-back with her, the both of them wreathed around with flames and smoke and raiders, waiting for the icy cut of death¡¯s scythe. The same day the man he now faced had stood over him and regarded him as no more than a bit of mud to be scraped off his boot sole.

    All this flashed through Vetch¡¯s mind as, even now, this raider would not even deign to speak to him. The amusement on the raider¡¯s face disappeared, to be replaced once more with that same cold detachment. He gave his horse a slap on the rump to send the animal out of their way and then, standing there in the center of the road, he adopted a swordsman¡¯s stance and waited for Vetch to come.

    And Vetch did. With all the rage and heat of emotion that had built and built inside of him for days on end, he charged in again. Their swords clashed and scraped, they jockeyed for position, testing each other with thrusts and slices at arm¡¯s length. Vetch¡¯s swings were forceful, carrying his anger behind them. He knocked the raider¡¯s blade aside and in the same motion crashed his shoulder into the man¡¯s chest, hearing the grunt driven from the raider¡¯s lungs by the blow. Too close in to drive his blade home, Vetch instead grabbed for the man¡¯s sword arm with his free hand and used the hilt of his sword in a vicious back-strike to pound his ribs, satisfied to feel how solidly it impacted the raider¡¯s stomach through his armor.

    His adversary, though, proved to be versed in both classic swordplay and the kind of ugly, brutal combat that kept a man alive in real fight. Vetch had expected nothing less, having faced these raiders before in Moonfane Forge, and felt ready for them now. But he was not prepared for the knee lifted sharply into his gut. The air went out of him and he staggered back as the raider shoved him onto his back and then brought his sword swinging down. Vetch rolled out of the way and the blade¡¯s tip cut into the dirt. He popped back up to his feet and disguised the agony he felt from the blow with a series of practiced stabs and feint cuts to push his opponent back. In seconds, Vetch found his breath again, parried an overhead swing, countered, and was rewarded to land a cut of his own through the raider¡¯s leather armor up near his armpit. The man grunted and stepped back, hunching his shoulders to hide the wound and positioning his blade low. Vetch recognized the stance and anticipated the raider¡¯s next move¡ªhe¡¯d try to rush in under Vetch¡¯s defense and stab upward. The muscles in Vetch¡¯s arms and legs tensed like steel, coiled to strike.

    The raider sprang forward and went for just the rising stab Vetch had expected, the blade aimed to shove up under his sternum. And Vetch countered it, sidestepping and putting all his strength into a downward swing meant to cleave the man¡¯s arms off at the elbows. But Vetch¡¯s blade impacted nothing. The raider commander¡¯s upward thrust was a feint. The very moment Vetch lifted his arms and committed, the raider halted his own motion and danced backward. Vetch¡¯s blade sliced only air and rebounded off the ground. His momentum overbalanced him and carried him forward, his hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision. Before he could even register his surprise and recover, the raider lifted his sword in a continuation of his dodge and brought it down. The blade punched through Vetch¡¯s uniform and bit deep into the flesh between neck and shoulder on his sword arm. He cried out in pain and dropped his blade. Relentlessly, the raider followed up by smashing the cross hilt of his sword into Vetch¡¯s face. Vetch felt hot blood explode from his nose and pour down his chin. His vision warred between dark splotches and dancing lights. He didn¡¯t even realize he was falling until the back of his head impacted the earth.

    The raider callously stepped over him then, and Vetch understood he was no longer deemed a threat, not even worthy enough to be finished off. The raider with the moustache merely discarded him there in the dirt and went to aid his fellows.

    Lying there on the road, Vetch teetered between consciousness and blackout. The sounds of fighting were dwindling, drowned out by those of him gagging on his own blood. He could not hear Neschi anymore, but he thought he recognized Renzo¡¯s voice. The man was laughing. Laughing! Well, he¡¯d always loved a good fight, hadn¡¯t he? Perhaps he was having a better go of it than Vetch had. But then the laughing stopped, and Vetch could not tell if the battle had concluded or if he had merely lost consciousness.

    Overhead, the dark boughs of the trees swayed gently in a rising evening breeze. Birds flew over, black shapes cutting across a twilit sky. The ground felt chill against his back. There were snippets of conversation now, along with footsteps and horses being led about.

    ¡°Murzagis¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªbe quick about it ... catch up with¡ª¡±

    ¡°That one is¡ª¡±

    The taste of blood dominated Vetch¡¯s senses, but more sounds made themselves apparent¡ªsaddlebags being rifled through, things being dumped out on the road. A horse screamed, then there was a heavy thump. Footsteps approached. Through slitted eyes, Vetch saw the commanding raider come into view standing over him. The man had removed his helm, his long black hair unbound and falling about his shoulders.

    With a command of, ¡°We go now!¡± he ordered his people back to their horses. Then he looked down at Vetch. Matter-of-factly, he turned his sword over in his grip and stabbed it down through Vetch¡¯s chest. It went straight through him into the earth, then was yanked cleanly back out. Vetch hadn¡¯t even the strength to voice his shock and pain. It was cold, yet searing, radiating quickly throughout him. The raider wiped his blade and re-sheathed it, sparing Vetch not even a second glance before returning to his own mount. Vetch listened as the raiders mounted up, turned their horses up the road, and trotted away.

    Blood soaked through his clothes, hot at first, but soon cooling and making him cold. His hair, teased by the wind, tickled his eyelashes, making him want to brush it away, but he couldn¡¯t muster the strength to lift his arms. His fingertips and toes began to tingle.

    So, this is how I will die, he thought to himself. What a waste. What had he accomplished? He had been a soldier. A good swordsman, but not good enough, a poor archer, an average rider. He thought he had found love, but he¡¯d never gotten to express it or experience it. He had failed to protect all he was pledged to protect. He had lost Marigold. He had led his soldiers to their doom. He had allowed Lily to die. Lily ...

    Let there be an afterlife, as some claim, he thought. So that I might meet Lily again. This existence was not for him. He had led a lie of a life in the garrison. He had been a pampered fool in a sharp uniform, who had trained endlessly for battles that never came, thinking he was a warrior because he could chase off livestock thieves and break up tavern brawls. When real battle finally had come, he had been nowhere near up to the task. He had protected no one.

    Sorry. That would be the first thing he¡¯d say to Lily when he met her in the hereafter. Sorry. Let me be better for you in the next life than I was in this fading one. Let me try again. Please.

 Chapter 8: Afterlife, part 1

    In all of Ennric¡¯s fifty years, he could not recall a day during which he had not been a soldier. That included his childhood, for what was the youngest son of a soldier, but a soldier-in-waiting? He had known his path from his first memories. As he sat now in the driver¡¯s seat of the wagon leading the Moonfane Forge delegation south down The King¡¯s Road, he reflected on that. Since he was sixteen, what were the most days in a row he had gone in which he did not don his garrison¡¯s uniform at all? Three days? Four? He had surpassed that now, and he didn¡¯t miss the heavy, padded uniform that chafed and stifled, even as it protected. Not in the least.

    Clattering along on the cart, he felt light in his townsman¡¯s shirt and trousers. He wore no gloves on his callused hands, no heavy sword belt. The sun warmed his back, the breeze played at his shirt collar and across the hairs of his forearms. If the reason for the expedition were not so tragic and vital as it was, Ennric would have found it a pleasant one. He had not once touched his sword. It still lay behind his seat, exactly where he had placed it before setting off. There, it would remain. He had no designs on taking up his blade ever again, as he¡¯d made clear to Vetch.

    He chuckled, of a sudden. ¡°Damn. Should¡¯ve requested my formal release from the garrison from ¡®im while he was captain,¡± he grumbled under his breath to himself. The cart horse shook her mane and lashed her tail once. Ennric yawned and delicately adjusted his left arm in its sling. ¡°Who¡¯m I kidding? He wouldn¡¯t have granted it.¡±

    ¡°Ennric, a word?¡±

    Ennric startled. Pay attention, old man, he thought to himself. Too much daydreaming. Thankfully, Purcell didn¡¯t seem to notice that she had caught him off guard. ¡°What is it, Purcell?¡± he asked her.

    Purcell struggled to bring her horse in close to his cart and keep it walking along at the same pace without it yanking at its bit or trying to sidestep away. Ennric could tell that Purcell had little experience with horses. Still, she had insisted on riding one rather than accepting a place in one of the wagons or walking beside them.

    ¡°They¡¯re at it again,¡± she said.

    ¡°Who?¡± asked Ennric. ¡°Who¡¯s at what again?¡±

    ¡°Um, the grain merchant. I forget his name. Arguing with his wife again.¡±

    Ennric shook his head, irritation creeping into his voice. ¡°They do that, Purcell. They¡¯ve been arguing nonstop since we left. Leave them to it.¡±

    ¡°But ... it could be a problem,¡± Purcell said.

    ¡°Not your problem and not my problem.¡± Ennric wanted to return to watching the miles slowly creep by, not listen to Purcell¡¯s hemming and hawing right now. ¡°It¡¯s not a fight in the street you have to break up, right?¡±

    ¡°Um ...¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not. We¡¯re not in town. No need to be a town guard here. If they want to argue, they can argue.¡±

    Purcell looked down at her guardswoman¡¯s surcoat, but whether she felt embarrassed to have it pointed out that she was still trying to do her job days removed from Moonfane Forge, or injured by the dismissal, Ennric couldn¡¯t tell. Out of all the townspeople who had decided to join the delegation, she was the one he interacted with the most, though frequently not by choice. It was an odd assortment, this caravan bound for the King¡¯s Capital City. Despite Ennric being in charge of the mission to the king, it wasn¡¯t as if he were in charge of any of the individual people who had agreed to come with him. Nobody had to be who they¡¯d been in Moonfane Forge anymore if they didn¡¯t want to. In fact, Ennric suspected that that was the entire reason many had chosen to follow; they were simply looking to leave their old lives behind. So long as that didn¡¯t interfere with his mission to petition the king for aid, nor with the folks who were along to help him do that, Ennric took no issue with anyone else¡¯s motivations. Purcell was different. The woman seemed incapable of shedding her status as a town guard, and seemed to see it as her personal mission to continue playing that role for the jumble of carts and wagons that made up their little ¡®town¡¯ on the road. Since leaving Moonfane Forge behind, she had attached herself to Ennric like a cocklebur, reporting to him daily as if he were her captain.

    ¡°But they¡¯ve stopped,¡± she mumbled, prompting Ennric to ask her to repeat herself. ¡°They¡¯ve stopped, sir,¡± she said more confidently.

    ¡°What?¡± Ennric twisted in his seat, felt a twinge in his back and grimaced. Sure enough, he could see the final wagon was stopped in the middle of the road and growing smaller in the distance behind them. ¡°Shit.¡± Briefly, he considered stopping the entire train, but then thought better of it. ¡°Come up here, Purcell.¡±

    ¡°Sir?¡± she queried, with such a look of confusion that Ennric had to master his temper. How many times had he told her she didn¡¯t need to call him ¡®sir¡¯, that he¡¯d never been her captain?

    ¡°Drive the cart, Purcell,¡± he clarified. ¡°I¡¯ll go back and talk to ¡®em. No, just leave your horse there. I¡¯ll take it with me.¡±

    He didn¡¯t wait for her to answer. His little cart horse would continue trundling along even without him in the seat. He stepped down from the cart and indicated with his head that Purcell should take his place. The firm scowl on his face must have clued her in to the fact that he hadn¡¯t the patience for any more questions today, because she did as told without another word, climbing awkwardly down from her horse and taking what had been his spot at the cart reins.

    ¡°Just keep us all moving ahead,¡± he told her. ¡°Easy down the road. I¡¯ll be back in a jiff.¡±

    Ennric took her horse¡¯s reins and went on foot, trudging back up the road against the flow of the slow-moving train, past townsfolk in little rickety wagons, herdsmen driving yaks and goats, merchants with all the wares left to them bundled upon their backs, and carts driven by townspeople of varying trades and statuses intent on bringing their plights to the king. As he passed by them in the other direction, he invariably had to greet each, or pause to listen to a new complaint, or explain what he was presently on his way to deal with. When had it become his job to play nursemaid to so many squabbling people? Was this what the heads of the town¡¯s council had dealt with on a daily basis, an endless train of townsfolk bickering over petty slights? He was not the kind of man made to handle such things. Not in the style they would have.

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    As soon as Ennric had the thought, he chastised himself for his inward complaining. He might be more suited to being a soldier than a diplomat, but was it not he himself who had chosen to put away his sword for good? Did he expect he could up and leave one responsibility behind and no others take its place? Ennric himself had suggested this mission and Vetch had put him in charge of it. And, since there was no more town council of Moonfane Forge to represent them before the king, Ennric was, for all intents and purposes, Moonfane Forge¡¯s town council now. That notion lent a nerve-wracking new gravity to his responsibilities.

    ¡°Foolish old man,¡± he admonished himself. What was he getting himself into going to the capital and asking for an audience with the king? Maybe he had been too hasty in putting up his blade. Soldiering was difficult, but it was straightforward. This, however, was not something he could solve with a sword, even if he were in his prime again. No, he¡¯d better learn damn quick how to deal with things in other ways. His town, where his wife and daughters waited on his return, was depending on him succeeding. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself in the royal court and lose the chance at securing aid for Moonfane Forge. Despite the young king¡¯s reputation for fairness, Ennric was loathe to trust anything entirely to the whims of a boy so newly come to the throne after his father¡¯s untimely death. There was a lot of pressure bearing down on his aging shoulders.

    The grain merchant¡¯s stationary wagon had fallen so far behind the rest of the group that it was almost out of sight of it by the time Ennric reached them. The merchant and his wife had both climbed down from the seat and were standing there in the middle of the road yelling at each other, the wife gesturing in anger at the sacks of goods in the back of their wagon. The quarrel was so heated that neither of them noticed Ennric¡¯s approach.

    He drew a deep breath into his broad chest and, in his soldier¡¯s voice, bellowed, ¡°What in all the hells are you two doing? Get back on your wagon and catch up with the rest of us! We don¡¯t have time for this!¡±

    For their part, they both looked appropriately cowed, after their startlement dissipated. Then, the wife¡¯s demeanor changed as she immediately sought to win Ennric to her side.

    ¡°Do you see what my oaf of a husband did?¡± she asked Ennric, gesturing at the wagon. When Ennric looked at the wagon, he saw nothing amiss. It was piled with sacks of grain and the couple¡¯s other possessions, same as it had been when they had departed Moonfane Forge.

    ¡°I don¡¯t, and I don¡¯t care,¡± he said, hoping that would put an end to it, but the woman persisted.

    ¡°Well ... he went and made no inventory of what we¡¯ve brung, so now ...¡± she perused the contents of the wagon, as if assuring herself she was in the right before forging ahead. ¡°Now, I¡¯m dead certain we¡¯re missing a few bags. And not only are they missing, but this ... this ...¡± she waved her hand at her husband. ¡°He doesn¡¯t even know what was in the ones what are gone! Someone stole ¡®em!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s none missing, woman! As I¡¯ve told you.¡± He stood scowling with his arms crossed. Turning to Ennric, he made his expression kinder, as if sharing tavern-talk with a companion about the pitfalls of wives. ¡°I traded a couple sacks, one grain and one flour, away the other night for extra blankets and some other things, and she¡¯s just forgotten. You know how it is.¡±

    He winked at Ennric then, and Ennric had to restrain himself from backhanding the codger across the face. Here they were, still half a day¡¯s ride out from the next nearest habitation, where any number of mishaps could befall a caravan such as this, and these two would lag behind arguing in the middle of the road. And now both sought to win Ennric¡¯s favor to their cause, like two children competing for their teacher¡¯s attention?

    ¡°It¡¯s more than two! And I ain¡¯t seen no new blankets¡ª¡± the wife began.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it, you couple of idiots!¡± Ennric raised his voice over hers, and put just enough of his soldiers¡¯s meanness into his tone that they both thought better of speaking again. He looked from one to the other, turned his good hand palm upward. ¡°We¡¯re done then? Good. Get back up on your wagon and catch up. You can argue all you damn well please once we reach the next town. But for the rest of today, shut up and don¡¯t fall behind again.¡±

    Then, he stood and watched as they both climbed grumbling back into the seat of their wagon and got their pony moving once more. There. How was that for judicious? he thought as he watched them clatter down the road.

    Now came the difficult part. He hadn¡¯t been waiting and watching them because he wanted to ensure they were minding his orders. Getting up on a horse had become difficult enough with his back paining him as it was, but with a broken arm in a sling, it was downright embarrassing in its awkwardness. Only once the couple were far enough ahead not to notice his attempt did Ennric grab the saddle horn of Purcell¡¯s horse and lever himself up, grunting. He made it into the saddle first try, surprising himself.

    ¡°There,¡± he said, patting the horse¡¯s neck. ¡°Wasn¡¯t so bad.¡± Ennric appraised the horse. It was a good mount who would remain so steady and still for such an awkward mounting up as he¡¯d just done. A good horse for a beginner. Perhaps Purcell could learn to ride properly on this one if he gave her some instruction.

    Ennric chuckled at himself, took up the reins, and clicked his tongue. He bypassed the grain wagon and returned to his own cart at the head of the train. Dismounting wasn¡¯t any easier, but he managed it. He looped the horse¡¯s reins onto the back of his cart so it would follow along and then climbed up onto the seat beside Purcell.

    ¡°It¡¯s taken care of,¡± he said, leaning back in the seat. ¡°But Purcell, next time you have something important like that to tell me, rather than bobbing around the subject and waiting for me to draw it out of you, just out and say it first thing. Understood?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± she answered, dropping her eyes down.

    Ennric chose not to concern himself with correcting her about calling him ¡®sir¡¯ yet again. It really wasn¡¯t that important, was it? Besides, the guardswoman was only trying to help, and Ennric would certainly need good allies when they reached the capital. Along the way there, he would have to decide who in this motley company could be counted on and who could not. Purcell, at the least, was showing that she wanted to be one of those who could be counted on.

    ¡°Sir, here you are,¡± the guardswoman said quietly, offering Ennric back the cart horse¡¯s reins.

    He shook his head. ¡°You keep driving for a time. I need a break.¡± Purcell nodded her head and squared her shoulders. She drove the wagon stiffly, as though she feared scrutiny. After a while watching this, Ennric took pity on her. He tapped her on the shoulder. ¡°Relax. The horse can feel when you¡¯re tense, even through the reins. If you¡¯re calm, your horse will be calm.¡± He saw her make an effort to ease the set of her shoulders, yet she still looked tense. Trying to prove herself, he realized. He¡¯d seen it in plenty of young soldiers in his time, how they always longed to show they were capable of doing things they had not enough experience doing yet. Sometimes that led to recruits biting off more than they could chew. Sometimes it was best to let them, in order to teach them a lesson. Other times, it was not.

    ¡°We should reach the next town before sunset,¡± he said. ¡°Then we can all let our guard down for a night, eh? Eat in a proper inn, have some ale. That should do everyone some good.¡±

    ¡°And you, as well,¡± Purcell said. ¡°You look as if you could use it.¡±

    He offered her a wry smile. ¡°Hm. Suppose I could.¡±

 Chapter 8: Afterlife, part 2

    *

    The campfire was tiny and not particularly warm, but Lily was proud of it. After her cold and discouraging first night huddled against Fae, she¡¯d risen the next day and determined to plan her time out better. She¡¯d halted their trekking much earlier, while there was still sunlight to be had in the dim woodland, and prioritized gathering plenty of materials with which to start her campfire and keep it burning through the night. Sparking her tinder and then successfully kindling it into a true fire had given her the kind of thrill she¡¯d felt when she had cast her first Barrier. She¡¯d let out a whoop of joy that sent birds scattering from a nearby bush. Even now, the little flickering yellow flames did much for her confidence and mental wellbeing. She had cooked and eaten a serviceable meal, tended to her blisters, and prepared her bedding. Things were much better this second night. She could maybe succeed in this venture, after all.

    But not all was well. With a full belly and her physical comfort secured for the night, Lily¡¯s thoughts turned back to the day of the raid on her town.

    ¡°How do you think she did it, Fae?¡± Lily asked her panthegrunn. She sat with her back propped against Fae¡¯s side. The panthegrunn was asleep and had no answer for her, just the rhythmic rise and fall of her belly as she breathed. ¡°It didn¡¯t even appear like she needed to concentrate on it,¡± Lily murmured to herself. ¡°Only¡ª¡± she raised her hand and mimicked the twisting motion of her wrist, watching her fingers silhouetted against the firelight. ¡°And her Barrier moved.¡± She adjusted her sitting position against Fae, stretched her arms, and yawned. ¡°Never knew that was even possible. I don¡¯t think Mari ever mentioned it, and it wasn¡¯t in any texts I read.¡±

    For a time more she stared into the fire, letting her thoughts drift. She wished she could wash her hair. She was dirty and sweaty from the day¡¯s travel, and had gotten even more so getting the fire started. Locks of her wavy hair had gotten free of the tail she¡¯d tied it back in and were tickling her face annoyingly.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna try it,¡± she declared suddenly. Fae grunted as Lily sat up but did not open her eyes. Lily brushed dust from her split skirt and then straightened.

    Standing above the little fire, she took a slow breath in and breathed it out. She could still practice. She knew Mari would want her to continue practicing even in her absence. It was silly to think that she had to refrain from Barrier-Casting entirely just because Marigold wasn¡¯t here to watch over her in her Slumber. She would simply have to stick to only very small Barriers, the kinds of spells that would result in only negligible periods of Caster¡¯s Slumber¡ªa few minutes, an hour or two, time that she could blend in with her normal sleep. Mages who were still training did that on their own all the time. You didn¡¯t need someone looking over your shoulder for every little spell. She certainly didn¡¯t. And with her study materials burned up with her home, she had to do something to keep her skills sharp, after all. It only made sense, right?

    ¡°Right,¡± she spoke the confirmation, wondering if she sounded suitably convincing to herself. ¡°Why not? Like a Journeyer would do,¡± she added under her breath, and felt a twinge of anxiety. Journeyer mages cast magic without their masters watching over them, sometimes without even an assistant or attendant to guard them in their Slumber. It was part of the next phase of training for a mage, doing things on their own and being able to calculate and take on the risks. That was an essential part of wizardry. While mages typically had help in mitigating the hazards of their craft, it wasn¡¯t always the case. One had to be prepared for those times of isolation if they expected to ever make their own way in the world with their skills. Having a deep and fundamental understanding of the cost of being able to cast magic, and knowing how and when to pay it, all on one¡¯s own, was what separated those who were merely magically-inclined from those who made magic¡¯s practice their life¡¯s work.

    Only, those were Journeyer mages who did that. To be elevated to the level of Journeyer was to graduate from being an apprentice and go out into the world on a Mage¡¯s Journey, seeking out other teachers and learning to practice their skills in real situations on their own, without the guidance of their Mage-Master or Mage-Matron. Lily was still an apprentice, yet Journeyer status had seemed to be in her near future. Marigold had spoken of it often. There would be a time at which Lily would be raised above her apprentice status. Then, she would be expected to spend the next few years of her life roaming the kingdom, away from Marigold, learning and exploring her trade on her own. That was the path of a mage: apprentice, then Journeyer, then Master. To gain the status of Mage-Master or Mage-Matron, one would have to complete their journeying, then return to their teacher and be judged as having gained sufficient skill and knowledge over the course of those years.

    Lily didn¡¯t often think things that far down the road. It was silly to worry about things years removed from the present. But that was what mages did if they wanted to make magic their life¡¯s work, and Lily did. She wanted to one day be as skilled as Marigold. However, her rapidly approaching advancement to Journeyer status filled her with dread. Sometimes, she wanted never to leave Moonfane Forge, and just remain an apprentice. Never go out on the road, never leave the happy comfort and familiarity of her idyllic little town, her daily lessons and jesting back and forth with Marigold ... her family. ...

    ¡°My town and my family are gone,¡± she whispered.

    And there it was, the reason that the hard lessons her first night in the woods had taught her had not scared her back home. There was no home to go running back to. All that remained in her life that represented home were Marigold and Vetch, and they were no longer in Moonfane Forge. She would need to continue forward to find the both of them.

    Lily took in another breath and then tried to keep it from wavering when she breathed out. She set her jaw. Enough of those thoughts. Practice, girl. What was this trick the woman who had stolen Marigold had performed on Lily? She widened her stance and closed her eyes, envisioning the arm and hand motions she had seen the mage perform in those brief moments. She had cast Barriers effortlessly and with tactical precision. If what she had done with them hadn¡¯t been so terrifying, Lily might have called the spells magnificent, like Marigold¡¯s Castings were magnificent.

    She began by miming the motions¡ªnot summoning the magic itself, but merely trying to recall and perform the focusing movements. She held her fingers and thumb upward and gradually gathered them in close, almost as if she were trying to form them into the shape of a narrow cup, like a champagne flute. Then, she combined that with the precise twisting of the wrist she had witnessed. Lily opened her eyes and pursed her lips to one side. It was hard doing this while at the same time maintaining the relaxation of body that Marigold had taught her. This other mage appeared to have a very different style of Casting than Lily was familiar with.

    ¡°Worth a try, though,¡± Lily pressed on. She licked her lips. Again, she slackened her muscles, let her eyelids droop, made her face neutral and relaxed. Then, she raised her arm, and with a small circular gesture of her hand cast a tiny cylindrical Barrier around her campfire. Gold and shimmery, it manifested into being, and Lily was pleased to see that she had managed to make its shape uniform and smooth. She grinned to herself and wished Marigold could see this one. True, it was very small, but shapes like this had always been a challenge for her and she¡¯d pulled off the shaping of this one so much more perfectly than many of the other shaped Barriers she had attempted before.

    But that was the easy part. It was just a normal Barrier, without Imbuements or Permissions. Now, she had to make it move. Another breath in, another breath out. She raised her hand again, this time gradually arranging her fingers in the champagne flute shape, while simultaneously turning her wrist counterclockwise. She focused the intentions of her mind into the motions of her body, felt the magic well and shimmer and course. She projected thought and emotion outward at the Barrier. She could sense the power of her own Barrier, but how did one make an already-cast Barrier into something different than it was? Did it all happen at once or was it like casting two independent spells? She watched through lidded eyes. The air wavered with translucent gold, but in sensing her own Barrier, she could feel nothing additional that could be done with it beyond a Dispelling. It simply remained there, solid and unmoving, as Barriers always did.

    Suddenly light-headed, Lily dropped her arm and caught up a large breath. Had she been holding it? The wavering gold hue above the campfire faded. She stared after it in consternation. It wasn¡¯t just that she had failed to perform the spell she¡¯d intended, it was that she¡¯d never once felt any hint during the Casting that such a spell was even possible. Her magic had had nowhere to go. Frustrated, she gave the existing Barrier a little kick with the toe of her boot before she dispelled it. She staggered on her feet then and had to quickly sit down so as not to topple. The sensation of light-headedness grew.

    ¡°Too much,¡± she murmured. She felt Slumber closing in and prayed it would not last beyond a single night¡¯s sleep. She had tried too much. Would she wake in a day? Or three? She had no way to know. ¡°Stupid, stupid, stupid,¡± she scolded herself. ¡°Stupid! Trying to cast something I know nothing about. Don¡¯t do that again, girl.¡± She could hear her Mage-Matron¡¯s criticism in her own words, almost as clearly as if Marigold were sitting right next to her.

    Nothing she could do about it now. She already felt as if her body were trying to float up off the ground. She crawled into the bedding she¡¯d set out for herself and resigned herself into the magical state of Slumber.

    It felt instantaneous, but when next she¡¯d woken, she knew she had been fortunate. So far as she could tell, she had been in Caster¡¯s Slumber for less than two days. Her estimate had been based on how hungry and insistent on being fed Fae was upon her waking.

    Now, she rode along, stiff from lying on the hard ground for so many hours, belly none-too-pleased with the overly-salty food she¡¯d fed herself, and feeling preoccupied by any number of concerns. Who was this strange mage who had stolen Marigold? What was she capable of? These questions returned to Lily over and over as she rode listlessly along the woodland track upon her panthegrunn. In her years studying as an apprentice mage, she had read about many different mages and magics. She knew that every individual mage had his or her own style, strengths, and weaknesses. But never once had she come across any information in the discipline of Barrier-Casting that spoke of anything like she had seen Marigold¡¯s abductor cast. As a student of magic, it fascinated her. As Marigold¡¯s friend, and in hoping to find her and help her, it terrified Lily.

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    She¡¯d already promised herself she¡¯d not go trying any new and unfamiliar magic again. She would stick to known spells, very small and basic Barriers, things she knew how to cast and that would cost her little time in Slumber. She wasn¡¯t about to let her skillset go dull, but she¡¯d be more careful. This seemed a reasonable enough way to maintain her studies.

    Practicing would at least give her something to look forward to when they paused in the evenings. Traveling Bannerman¡¯s Wood was alternately monotonous and disconcerting. There were hours on end during which she and Fae simply walked along the trail and there was nothing so noteworthy to see or hear as the myriad trees, the wind, and quiet birdsong. Other times, the strangeness of the woods would assert itself. She would hear calls from animals that she had no names for, or see evidence of old human habitations well off the track in the trees, singular old walls or still-standing chimneys covered over with plant life, so that no surface of stone or brick could be seen beneath. She knew the place had been more traveled and inhabited of old, and supposedly some people still did make their homes in the wood, but that made her feel no less unwelcome. Moreover, the persistent sensation of magic all around still weighed on her. She could forget about it sometimes, but then she would catch herself quickly turning her head to try and see what had felt like a burst of magic, only to see nothing there but more trees and bushes and vines.

    The next night and day were uneventful, but as the time and miles stacked behind them, Fae became displeased with having to carry her saddle and saddlebags for so many hours on end. It had been rare back home that Lily would ask her to wear her saddle for longer than the duration of some brisk morning exercise. Fae made her displeasure about the change known with irritated grunts and a streak of stubbornness atypical for her. It began with her ignoring some of Lily¡¯s commands by either plodding along too slowly, or surging forward faster than she should, ladened as she was with the full saddlebags. Lily eventually decided to dismount and walk beside her. It was easier on her blistered hands, at any rate.

    Yet, even unburdened with a rider, Fae took to pushing her great head against Lily¡¯s shoulder, or leaning into her, and by extension driving Lily to the side of the trail. At length, Lily shoved the great beast¡¯s snout away with her hand and then halted on the path, hands akimbo.

    ¡°You stop that,¡± she said, eyeing Fae with mock severity. ¡°You know what I¡¯m talking about.¡±

    The panthegrunn stopped and turned her great cat-like body to face Lily, watching her from beneath the shaggy hair that hung over her eyes. Lily wasn¡¯t certain how, but she could see the humor hiding behind her charge-beast¡¯s impassive expression.

    ¡°Are you going to behave yourself so we can keep moving?¡± Lily asked. When Fae only stared at her, she added, ¡°You want to find Vetch, don¡¯t you?¡± At the sound of Vetch¡¯s name, Fae lifted her head and gave a grunt. Lily smiled. ¡°Well, I do, too. And we won¡¯t do it by messing about. I am sorry that I cannot carry the saddlebags for us. You¡¯re much stronger than me. But the sooner we find Vetch and the other soldiers, and help them track down Mari, the sooner we can all go home. You want to go home, right?¡±

    To this, Fae responded with a chuff and by pushing her broad snout into Lily¡¯s hand. Then, to Lily¡¯s amusement, Fae turned her head to her own haunch and attempted to nose into the saddlebag there. Her cat-like form allowed for the same flexibility of a feline and soon the great beast was turning herself in slow circles trying to get at her fodder in one of the bags. Lily laughed despite herself.

    ¡°Oh, you silly thing. It¡¯s not even close to time for us to stop for the night. We need to keep moving.¡± Fae continued to turn circles. Lily knew she¡¯d get nowhere fighting the panthegrunn¡¯s willfulness now. When an animal of her size and cleverness wanted something, it did little good to stand in her way. ¡°Oh, all right, you win. You can have something to eat,¡± she said. ¡°No, stop tugging at the straps, you¡¯ll break the buckle!¡± Lily grabbed one of Fae¡¯s horns and pushed her head aside. ¡°Enough, girl. Hold still and I¡¯ll get you some food. I guess we can take a little break. I have to pee, anyway.¡±

    Lily loosened the strap securing the bag of fodder to the saddle and then wiped the panthegrunn drool from her hands. The supply of fodder was dwindling quickly; soon Fae would have to make do with what she could browse in the woods. Lily shook enough food out onto the road to pacify Fae for a few more hours and then re-secured the bag to the saddle. Fae grunted happily as she went about eating, her tufted tail flicking side to side.

    ¡°Alright, girl, you stay here and eat. I¡¯ll be back in a minute.¡±

    She left the panthegrunn happily occupied with her meal, and tramped off the trail a way into the trees and underbrush. Finding a likely spot, Lily hiked her split skirt up and squatted. She watched the woodland around her with a combination of serenity and wariness. Strange how a place could appear both picturesque and peaceful, yet at the same time make her want to keep her eyes peeled and be vigilant for danger at all times. It wasn¡¯t only the tales of demons and spirits and highwaymen meant to ward children away from the place that cautioned her. Now that she was deep into Bannerman¡¯s Wood, she felt a legitimate trepidation about the place that was entirely her of her own making in the present. She could tell for certain now that peoples¡¯s avoidance of the large tract of forest was not only due to children¡¯s tales. There was a tangible sensation of wrongness that marred the place, telling her that the tales had to have come from something real. But she and Fae were alone here, as far as she could tell. A reasonable amount of guardedness in unfamiliar surroundings was not unwise, yet there should be no reason to be afraid. Should there?

    Lily finished and stood up again, letting her skirt fall back into place. It was then that she felt a flash of magic so acute that she felt certain someone had cast a spell just behind her. She raised her eyes and looked all around, seeing nothing, yet she could tell that Fae had sensed it to. The panthegrunn had stopped eating and was staring intently past Lily and into the trees. When Lily followed her gaze, she saw nothing at first. Not until it moved. Stalking through patches of shadow and light, the animal made itself known, its golden eyes fixed directly on Lily. It was a great cat, tawny of pelt and splotched with spills of darker brown, like a jester in motley of earth tones. Lily had never seen its like before. It was not as big as Fae, but it easily had to outweigh Lily, its body long and muscled. Its long tail lashed and its lips curled, revealing gleaming white fangs as it appeared to taste the air for prey. Lily felt the strong magic close by as the cat moved in parallel to her position. That magic must have been coming from the cat, or from some other source related to its appearance.

    In complete silence, it began stalking toward her, muscles bunched and coiled, and Lily understood instantly that the sleek predator was closing the distance for a deadly pounce that would snuff her out. From behind her, there came a great grunting roar and suddenly Fae was at her side. The panthegrunn shoved past Lily with head lowered in order to level her large horns in challenge to her foe. The forest cat, surprisingly, refused to back down. It showed its fangs and voiced a yowl and hiss before crouching low and lashing its tail.

    ¡°No!¡± Lily shouted.

    As the forest cat made its pounce, and Fae charged with her horns lowered, without thought Lily swept her arm across her body. A golden Barrier manifested before her. She felt a faintness hit her and then stood transfixed in horror as the forest cat and Fae both collided with the Barrier. Able to see and smell each other, but unable to pass through it to get to one another, they both growled and spat and assailed the Barrier, nose to nose as the cat slashed with its claws and Fae shoved with her horns, as if she could shatter the Barrier. But she could not. It held firm, separating both seething animals.

    ¡°No!¡± Lily shouted again. This time it was a command. ¡°Fae, no! Come, Fae! Come on!¡± She was terrified. The Barrier extended only a short span side to side. The animals¡¯s preoccupations with being face to face would not keep them from tearing each other to shreds for long, were they to find they could step merely around it. And despite Lily¡¯s confidence that few living non-magical beasts could successfully fight a panthegrunn, she didn¡¯t expect it would happen without grievous injury to Fae. In that moment she wanted only to be away from the terrible, spitting forest cat and the bloodlust in its eyes.

    She caught up Fae¡¯s reins and yanked hard. Fae resisted for a moment, but then to Lily¡¯s vast relief, she yielded. Following Lily¡¯s coaxing and pulling, she backed up, never taking her eyes off the large cat. It began to pace and soon found the edge of the Barrier. Again, it advanced on them.

    ¡°Go away!¡± Lily yelled at it. Then, to herself, ¡°Stupid, stupid ...¡±

    This time, she forced her panicked, shaking hand to move with purpose, willing her thudding heart to calm. Step by step, the cat advanced, as Fae tossed her head against her reins, unwilling to take her eyes and the aim of her horns off the approaching predator. Lily stopped pulling for a second, counseled herself to relaxation, and then waved her free hand before her a second time. To this Barrier, she gave shape. Shimmering and gold, it formed into the cylinder that Lily¡¯s gesture had guided around the animal. At the same time, she let her will flow into the Casting, imbuing it to last until nightfall, trapping the forest cat.

    Finding itself suddenly unable to break free from its magical cage, the cat lashed out at its enclosure, turning circles on itself in its desire to escape. Its newfound restriction shook its confidence. The cat now sensed it was at a disadvantage and desired only to flee, but it could not. Instead, it turned to face them and hissed, a warning to stay away. The tension seemed to abate then, as Fae, too, appeared to understand that the confrontation was at an end, as animals do.

    That did nothing to ease Lily¡¯s fright, however. With one more tug, she was able to get Fae to turn and come with her back to the path. She quickly hauled herself into the saddle and put her heels to Fae¡¯s flanks.

    ¡°Go, girl! Take us away from here!¡±

    Fae ran, and Lily was thankful that her panthegrunn would always heed her when push came to shove. Fae¡¯s hooves thundered down the path, putting rapid distance between them and the near-death experience. As they coursed down the narrow track, Lily felt Caster¡¯s Slumber beckon. Buoyant and ethereal, she lay her cheek atop Fae¡¯s steady head.

    Again, a flash of magic came. Lily turned her eyes up to the canopy of the trees whizzing by and saw a strange red bird winging quickly above them, keeping pace with Fae¡¯s powerful strides. The bird was large and bright, with a great long plume of a tail. It looked completely out of place in a forest such as this and seemed to follow them with intent. When Lily fixed her eyes on that bird, she felt clearly the magic emanating off of it. There was the source she¡¯d felt earlier! It was not the forest cat, but this bird. A charge-beast! Could there be charge-beasts in the form of birds? Was this why the woods felt as they did, because wild charge-beasts resided in their depths? Or even high in the branches?

    Just when she thought that the bird would continue to keep pace with them indefinitely, it suddenly banked its wings and peeled off into the trees out of sight. For a moment longer, Lily could feel its magic. Then, the magic was gone. Clutching Fae¡¯s mane tightly, Lily fell again into Slumber.

 Chapter 8: Afterlife, part 3

    *

    Crickets were chirping the first time he woke. The second time, they had ceased their songs. Stars were out. He could feel that it was deep night. Vetch could also feel that his underclothes were stuck to his wounds with dried blood. When he went to try and lift his shoulders off the ground, that fabric tore away from the sword wounds painfully. He screamed and slumped back to the earth. Little white clouds issued from his mouth while he caught his breath. Moving reopened the wounds. He felt hot blood flow anew.

    The next thing he knew, there was sunlight on his face, stabbing through his eyelids. They fluttered and he opened his eyes to a peaceful morning. He viewed the same tree boughs as before, only instead of stars in a black sky beyond them, it was lofty white clouds in a blue one. He was burning with fever. Only living men suffered fevers. How was it that he was not dead? Much more carefully this time, Vetch turned himself onto his side. He felt the tearing around his sticky wounds once again, but it was not as bad as the first time. He was wracked with a coughing fit that brought on its own new burst of pain.

    All around him was quiet, save for the shush of a pleasant spring breeze through the leaves. Fighting his stiff muscles, he lifted himself up painfully onto one elbow and craned his neck to look around. He saw Iannitz. Flies made a little black cloud around his corpse. Looking in the other direction, he saw Mora lying on her back by her dead horse, her face a mask of dark crimson, her eyes still open. Slowly, Vetch turned onto his stomach and bowed his forehead to the ground with his eyes clenched shut. He choked on a sob, yet no tears came to his eyes. He was too dehydrated. At that moment, he would have been content to remain where he was and simply die. But still he drew breath, and overhead the sun still crawled across the sky. Again, he wondered how he was alive. Had the blade that had impaled his body somehow missed everything vital? Be that as it may, he knew that even a superficial cut could bring deadly infection under the right circumstances. That he was feverish told him that such would be his fate if he did nothing to intervene. Again, there was the temptation to simply lay there and let nature take its course. But if he were still alive, that might mean others could be, too.

    Cursing the pain that told him he had somehow survived another battle, at least for the time being, Vetch pushed himself up onto his knees and from there stood up, staggering at first before righting himself. He shambled toward Mora first, before remembering that he¡¯d seen her killed early on in the skirmish. So, there were two he¡¯d lost. Who remained to find? Leaving behind the dark red puddle of his own vitality left in the dirt, Vetch dragged his feet past two more dead horses and farther up the road. He found Oderyk face down. His throat was cut. His fingers were curled as if they still held the grip of his longsword, but the weapon was gone. The bastards had taken it as a prize.

    Wandering away from the road into the underbrush, Vetch came upon the place where he had left the dying axewoman, but she was not there. In the confusion of battle, he¡¯d thought certain her wounds were fatal. Either the raiders had taken her body with them when they¡¯d departed or she had survived in the same implausible way he himself had. Nearby, he found his horse had been stabbed dead. What kind of a person did such a thing? The poor beast had been dying already.

    Renzo was harder to find. He lay well off the road out in the trees. His knuckles were bloodied and there were stab wounds in his back. Beside his body, there were two human-sized depressions in the grass. Maybe the brawler had taken a couple of the whoresons with him, but their bodies, too, had been carried off by their comrades. Vetch viewed all these scenes as if through another man¡¯s eyes. It was all too horrific to fathom. Had he the strength to even express it, he wouldn¡¯t have known how a man might mourn something so terrible as this without dying of sadness himself. This was his fault. He¡¯d led his soldiers to their deaths. He might as well have killed them himself.

    Nearby, something he had at first discerned in his peripheral vision as merely a shadow dappling the forest floor suddenly made a sound. Hope flared in Vetch as he looked closer and recognized Neschi. He made his feet carry him to her side, where he fell to his knees.

    ¡°Neschi?¡± he coughed through blood-caked lips. ¡°Neschi.¡± No response. She lay on her back, eyes closed loosely and face slack, but she was breathing. ¡°Neschi, can you hear me?¡± Nothing. She appeared unharmed, save for a patch of blood in her hair on one side of her head. While she continued to take regular, shallow breaths, Vetch could find no way to wake her. ¡°Stay here,¡± he said automatically, then he pushed himself back up onto his weary feet and returned to the road to rummage through all of their possessions that had been scattered across the scene by the raiders. He found a waterskin with some water still in it and returned to her. He kneeled beside her once more and dribbled water onto her lips. Her lips moved and she appeared to take in the cooling water. He gave her more and she drank it. Heartened by this, Vetch sat down and continued to furnish her with small sips of water for as long as she would drink. Then, he drank as well and sat with her. A few times, her eyelids fluttered, but she responded to none of his words and still would not wake.

    Vetch had seen something like this before, a man in the garrison who had been kicked by a horse and suffered a similar looking head injury. He had been unconscious for days, but eventually he had woken and been himself again, after a long recovery. Vetch held that hope in his heart as he sat there for the remainder of the day tending to Neschi, only leaving her side for brief periods to find more water, some hard biscuits, and bandages. He cleaned and bandaged her head wound, then sat with her some more, giving her water when she would take it, speaking to her softly the rest of the time.

    As afternoon and then evening fell, Vetch finally got down to the task he had been dreading: assessing his own wounds. Almost, he hoped that if he never looked at them, he could fool himself into believing they wouldn¡¯t kill him in the next day or two. He needed to survive to nurse Neschi back to health. Then, he and she could make the difficult trek back to Moonfane Forge.

    He shed his black and silver surcoat, then pulled off his padded shirt. Beneath that was his undershirt. It was soaked red and had to be peeled painfully off his chest and back. There was nothing dramatic about the wound itself, but seeing the shape of a sword¡¯s stab in his own chest was enough to cause him to hyperventilate and become faint from the unreality of it. This was the same type of wound that had killed Wenzl. A sword had gone through his body. Whether he died right away, or in a few days¡¯s time, a man did not survive that.

    Yet, with a detachment he could only attribute to a base instinct for survival, Vetch cleaned and dressed the wounds in his chest and shoulder, and did the best he could for the difficult-to-reach exit wound in his back. He cleaned the blood from his face and was surprised to discover that his nose was not broken, though the stitches in his cheek had been ripped open. That was the extent of all he could do¡ªclean and dress things on the surface. There was nothing he could do for whatever injuries he¡¯d sustained to his insides, nor for any infection that fate might curse him with. When he was finished, he merely returned to sitting there quietly to resume his vigil over Neschi.

    Hour by hour through the night, he sat by her side. For periods he was silent, keeping track of time by the rhythm of her breathing, on edge every moment that it might slow or cease. Sometimes he would speak to her, talking about anything at all, anything that would take his mind off of the horrific scenes of battle they had just endured together, and his own distressing injuries. The night seemed both to take forever and to slip by in the blink of an eye. He didn¡¯t notice how the moon moved across the night sky, nor how its light was strong or obscured depending on the branches above and the sparse clouds that came and went. He only sat and watched her, ever fearful.

    ¡°Did you ever tell me about what family you had back home?¡± he asked Neschi. He had just finished telling her about his family, how his parents had not wanted him to be a soldier, but to follow them in their trade by taking over the tannery. And how they seemed still to resent him for his choice, despite the time he¡¯d lived as his own man, by his own decisions. ¡°If you did, I don¡¯t recall it. You never talked much about your childhood, either. I can¡¯t even remember if you¡¯d grown up in Moonfane Forge. I¡¯m sorry if you¡¯ve told me and I don¡¯t remember.¡± Vetch cleared his throat. It was becoming terribly dry and he¡¯d exhausted the waterskins he¡¯d found amongst the carnage. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll get you back to your folks, wherever they are. Neither of us ever have to be soldiers again. You can work with me at the tannery. It¡¯s not pleasant work, but it¡¯s honest. But first, we¡¯ll need to track down everyone¡¯s families. Whoever they have left¡ª¡±

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    ¡°Na ...¡± Neschi¡¯s lips barely moved, the speech little more than a weak whisper. ¡°... Nadia.¡±

    Vetch surged onto his knees and placed a hand on Neschi¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Neschi?¡± He squeezed her shoulder gently. ¡°Neschi, do you hear me?¡±

    Neschi gave no sign that she could hear him or feel his hand. Her eyelids fluttered, but did not open. Once more, her lips moved, as though she were trying to speak again, but that was all. No words issued. Her countenance remained unchanged, her face slack, pale.

    ¡°Please speak again, Neschi. Who is that? A friend? A sister? We¡¯ll find her, I promise.¡± Vetch searched her face for any sign that she at least was aware of his presence, that she might be on the verge of waking. Speech was a step in the right direction, and for a few exciting moments Vetch felt hope blossom. But with every additional minute she didn¡¯t speak again, apprehension filled back in to take its place and before long Vetch was banished once again to his earlier state of emotional dormancy. Hours passed and Neschi remained the same as when he¡¯d found her, alive and breathing, yet unaware of the world around her. After a time, Vetch wondered if he had only imagined that she had spoken at all.

    The sun was rising when Vetch could ignore his returning thirst no longer. The hard biscuits he¡¯d found and eaten had only made it worse. Neschi, too, would need more water, and so he would need to find more. He didn¡¯t want to walk back through the scene of the battle on the road amongst the dead, view the empty eyes of his friends and fellow soldiers anymore, but he must. He steeled himself and stood.

    ¡°I will be right back, Neschi,¡± he told her.

    Returning to the road, which was just beginning to be touched by morning sunlight, Vetch cautiously looked around. If he feared any of the raiders might have returned, his fears were unfounded. The scene was as he¡¯d left it¡ªdead Moonfane soldiers and their horses and supplies strewn about. Crows and vultures jockeyed and cavorted about Iannitz¡¯s corpse, plucking at his uniform. Vetch looked upon this tableau with sadness, but found he had not the stomach to do anything about it. He forced himself to look upon Mora and Oderyk as he passed them and he felt guilty for being alive. He¡¯d been allotted a plot in this impromptu graveyard for soldiers, but he¡¯d gotten up and walked away from it, as if he were too good to join his fellows in stillness.

    The raiders had rushed through their looting, not that there had been much of value for them to take. Only some spare weapons and horse tack were gone; the rest had simply been thrown about the road in their haste to be gone. Vetch found his own waterskin in the underbrush a short distance from his horse. They¡¯d run his horse through just like they¡¯d done to him. The poor beast lay on its side with flies beginning to gather. One of Vetch¡¯s saddlebags was trapped under it, and briefly he lamented that his fire making supplies had been in there. He would have to find somebody else¡¯s before he and Neschi could begin their walk home.

    Taking his waterskin, he retreated back into the shade of the trees to Neschi and sat down beside her.

    ¡°I¡¯ve some more water,¡± he said, as he unstoppered the skin. He bent over her and carefully tipped the water to her lips. As it dribbled over her cracked lips, only then did Vetch notice that she was breathing no more. Confused, he dropped the waterskin and held her cheeks in his hands. ¡°Neschi? Neschi!¡± He felt for breath from her mouth and nostrils, found none, felt for a pulse at her throat, and again found nothing. Panicking, Vetch shook her shoulders, calling, ¡°Neschi! Neschi, wake up, soldier!¡± as if he could stir her back to life with such commands. Neschi¡¯s head lolled to the side. She was gone. It had been pointless¡ªsitting with her through the night, speaking to her, helping her drink water¡ªall of it. None of it had mattered in the end. Vetch could do nothing. The last little shred of hope that someone would survive along with him, that he could save just one of them and bring her home, was mercilessly snuffed out.

    From the initial numbness and dazedness, a welling of emotion flooded Vetch¡¯s senses and everything finally came pouring out of him. He stumbled up onto his feet, taking up the waterskin and hurling it away as he shouted an inarticulate cry of pain at the world. He stomped in different directions, bellowing all his sadness and frustration until he was too out of breath to remain on his feet. Then, he sat down hard beside Neschi¡¯s still form, pushed his fists against his forehead and bawled. For every one of the soldiers he¡¯d led to their deaths, he bawled like a child¡ªfor Neschi, for Wenzl and Captain Tarese, for Lily and Moonfane Forge and all its townspeople, he shed those most bitter tears left remaining to him.

    But none did he shed for himself. He refused to include himself in that outpouring, because it had been his fault it had all come to pass. He deserved no pity and no sympathy.

    When he had exhausted himself with his mourning, to the point that his face tingled from crying, Vetch sat with his head in his hands and caught his breath. His fruitless raging had started the blood flowing from his wounds again. The bandaging was soaked, and a trickle of blood trailed down his stomach. He watched the sanguine droplet reach his belt and be absorbed by the material of his trousers. The calm that comes over a person directly after spending all their emotions settled over Vetch. He looked at Neschi¡¯s pale face. She¡¯d been his dear friend in the garrison. She looked calm and serene. He nodded to himself. He likely didn¡¯t have long either, not with the kinds of injuries he¡¯d sustained, not with the fever that even now was making his head pound and his joints ache. But he couldn¡¯t just lay down and die. He couldn¡¯t leave his fellow soldiers as they were.

    Forcing himself up onto his feet again, Vetch returned to the road. This time, he made for Iannitz¡¯s body. Nearby, Vetch¡¯s sword lay in the road. He didn¡¯t wonder why the raiders had chosen not to steal it. He simply picked it up and used it to drive all the carrion birds away from the dead young soldier. Then, he sheathed his blade, grabbed Iannitz by the boots and unceremoniously dragged him off the road and back underneath the trees to where Neschi lay. He placed the boy beside her, then went back for Mora. Then Oderyk. Then Renzo. One by one, he dragged his companions there and placed them beside one another, arranging them with care, as one would to prepare them for their funerals.

    The last was Rolande. He had not seen her since the beginning of the battle. He recalled the location from which she¡¯d been firing arrows, including the two that had saved his life early in the skirmish. He went to that place across the other side of the road and there is where he found her, lying atop the raider with which she had struggled as Vetch himself had challenged the raiders¡¯s commander. It appeared that Rolande and the raider she had fought had killed each other simultaneously, and her body had hidden that of her foe. The raiders had missed this man in claiming and taking away their dead.

    As he had done with the others, Vetch brought Rolande back to where he had placed her fellow garrison soldiers, and arranged her in line with them. Like the rows of newly-dug graves he¡¯d seen outside of Moonfane Forge the day after the raid, like soldiers, who always stand in rows, these soldiers now lay shoulder to shoulder in a neat row. Only, Vetch had not the strength to dig graves for them. He already felt unsteady on his feet from dragging their bodies. With the last of his remaining strength, he cut branches from trees and used them to cover up his fallen companions. This was as good as he could do, though he knew it was not good enough. He didn¡¯t wish to think of the forest¡¯s scavengers finding them. There was nothing he could do to prevent that. He was only glad that he would be gone from the place by the time it happened.

    His only plan now was to walk home. He had nothing else. He would try to make it back to Moonfane Forge before his injuries killed him. In searching through the things scattered on the road for the supplies he would need to keep him alive on the walk back, he came again to the dead raider. He knew it was pointless, but his curiosity got the better of him. Kneeling beside the man, Vetch scrutinized him. He had different features than some of the others, not like those of a northerner. It was his armor that he was most interested in, however. This man wore a motley of chainmail and studded and boiled leather. Vetch found the marks of a few different makers in the various bits of protective clothing, but nothing that would indicate where the man had come from. These raiders were all dressed in what they could loot from whatever foes they defeated, in whichever lands they fought them, not equipped by any lord or garrison. It was as Ennric had guessed, and the horse thief had described: sellswords.

    ¡°So ... a mage with an army of mercenaries,¡± Vetch spoke to himself, as if he were at last getting around to deducing possibilities from the conversations he and Ennric had had after the raid. ¡°Would she not have had a proper garrison at her back, if she were in the employ of another kingdom¡¯s ruler and been sent out to abduct our Marigold? Is she a rogue mage?¡±

    Vetch spoke the words and wondered why it mattered to him now. He would never find this woman. She had won. She and her army, with their prize, Marigold, in their clutches, would return victorious to their ¡®castle surrounded by wheatfields¡¯ and Vetch would never see them again. He would return home with his tail between his legs and become a tanner.

    ¡°If I make it home,¡± he amended his inner voice.

 Chapter 8: Afterlife, part 4

    Leaving the other soldiers beside the road in the manner he had felt strange, and Vetch could not shake the feeling that he should turn around and go do something more¡ªapologize, or say better words, or rearrange the branches that covered them with more care. He knew it was stupid and pointless. They were gone and he¡¯d done what he could. Still, the feeling assailed him.

    Hours had passed since he¡¯d departed the site of the battle. Over his shoulder, he carried a bag with what essential supplies he could salvage, along with his bow and a bundle of arrows. His sword felt heavier at his hip than it ever had before. His destination was the stream they had camped beside a couple night¡¯s prior. For a healthy man, it wouldn¡¯t have been a difficult walk, but Vetch was far from healthy. His fever had been getting steadily worse and the flesh around his sword wounds was red and angry. He had left behind his padded garrison uniform in favor of a spare regular shirt he¡¯d found in his one accessible saddlebag, but now he was coming to regret it. The fever was playing havoc with his body temperature. For bouts he would feel too chilled in the light shirt, then he would become overheated to the point of stripping it off. His head was throbbing, as well. It was agony. Yet, he knew that if he stopped walking, it would be even worse, so he pushed himself onward, shambling like a dead man walking.

    He began alternating between walking in the sun on the road when he felt chilled and moving beneath the shade of the trees when the direct sunlight became overbearing. It was as he was trudging through the woodland¡¯s underbrush in this way that he first caught a sense of the stream up ahead. He had not expected to reach it until nightfall or later. Had his fever muddled his sense of time? No, it was still midday. Yet, up ahead, he could hear the burble of the water clearly. Confused, Vetch looked around him and then understood what had happened. His fever had not muddled his sense of time, but it had confused his path. In his weary trudging under the trees, he¡¯d not been keeping track of where the road was and had wandered far enough into the forest that he could no longer see it. He had no idea where the road was anymore in relation to where he had found himself. But he could hear the stream. Very likely, it was the same one they had stopped at before, and he had stumbled upon an upstream section of it. Cool water was near, to drink and to clean his wounds with. Hope kindled and he made the snap decision to forget about the road and follow the merry sound. It seemed to call to him and to give him life and a faint optimism that if he could only make it to the water, and refresh himself, he could have a much better chance at survival and, from there, make it home.

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    Deeper into the wood, he went. It again became a tangle of thicker growth, with vines and hanging mosses and thorny bushes clotting the forest floor between the stout trees. It was arduous simply to forge a path forward. There were not even game trails, no direct and obvious route to take. Despite the fact that the stream sounded as if it were just up ahead, he never seemed to come any closer to it, repeatedly forced as he was to alter his course every time the choking woodland undergrowth barred his path.

    Somewhere in the back of Vetch¡¯s mind, he knew he was making a mistake. Bannerman¡¯s Wood had a reputation for being both strange and dangerous; being alone away from the road was unwise. But he didn¡¯t know where the road was anymore, and the siren song of the stream was too tempting. He could rest there, refresh himself, survive. His only option was to press forward now.

    As his frustration with the constraining undergrowth was mounting to a boiling point, fortune favored Vetch, for he stumbled upon a trail. Not a game trail, for this appeared to be man-made. Stones lined the sides of a little footpath that wound its way through a cleared track into the forest¡¯s shadows. The moment Vetch stepped onto the path, he could hear the stream more clearly. He even felt as if his fever was easing. Without a thought, he took to the path and followed it. It led a winding course between odd, squat trees, and then began to go uphill. As Vetch walked, the woodland surrounding him became darker. Evening was falling, and soon it would be cold out, but he felt hopeful again, almost glad. He needed only to reach the stream, and get a fire started, and everything would be all right.

    The stream came into view just before the encroaching dusk made it too dark out to see. The path led Vetch onto a little wooden bridge that spanned it. What met his aching, fevered vision across the bridge made him forget all about the stream. Here, at the footpath¡¯s end, was a squat stone cottage with a red roof and red door, little square windows, and a chimney spouting thin but aromatic smoke. Vetch almost laughed. He would live. He could rest and he would live. He hardly had the strength to take another step, yet his feet carried him across the bridge to the house, where he summoned the last of his dwindling energy to lift his hand and rap on the door.

    Inside, someone lit a candle. The windows glowed with a welcoming yellow light.

 Chapter 9: Introductions, part 1

    -20 years prior-

    ¡°The private audience chamber is this way, Mage Marigold. I know it¡¯s a bit of a climb; Black Crux Manor was not built for comfort, originally. However, once you have concluded your arrangement with Lord Marcus, I will show you to what will be your chambers, and I assure you they are some of the best and most comfortable in the castle.¡±

    The steward led the ascent up the steep, winding stairway. Marigold followed a few steps behind him. When she had arrived earlier at the portcullis of Black Crux Manor, the stiff-walking and primly-dressed old man had been there to greet her. He had led her between the guards at the first gate, then up a sloping bridge across a jagged and stony dry moat to a second portcullis and gatehouse. The wind had whipped Marigold¡¯s skirts about and swept through her long black hair as the guards at the second gate had perfunctorily questioned the steward before letting them through. The black-stoned castle itself loomed stark above her as she followed the man through its doors and into its interior. They had passed through the entrance chamber, then skirted the main hall and followed a side hallway to the winding stairs. Being it the early afternoon, there were a number of people about. Marigold saw servants rushing to and from their tasks, men-at-arms taking meals, townspeople who loitered around hoping to get an audience of their own with the lord of the manor. A thriving seat of power like this one was always busy, regardless of the hour.

    ¡°It did look a right fortress from the outside,¡± Marigold spoke. ¡°But inside it has quite a different feel.¡±

    In deep contrast to the dark, dour stone outside, the interior of the manor was warm and tastefully decorated. There were new rugs on all the floors, tapestries and wall-hangings insulating the plastered and painted walls, and all the wood and metal ornamentations were clean and polished. There were no missing candles in any of the candelabra, and the aromatic herbs left out in bowls on corner stands were fresh that day. It was clear great pains had been taken to make the manor a proper home, despite its intimidating exterior.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the steward answered, turning to favor her with a smile over his shoulder. ¡°Yes, the castle is one of the oldest still in use in the kingdom, and, you are correct, it was originally a dedicated fortress. It¡¯s long ceased to be used as a martial stronghold, however. My lord¡¯s forebears won a flourishing peace in this region many, many years ago, and Lord Marcus has maintained it for the benefit of his people and our king. As you can see, he keeps a good house.¡±

    ¡°No one in the dungeons, then?¡± asked Marigold, as they arrived at the top of the stairs and passed down another hallway.

    The steward paused and turned back to her, brows raised and a look of alarm on his face, at which Marigold chuckled. ¡°Ah, I see that you joke,¡± he said. ¡°Lady Gilliana will enjoy that, I believe. No, nobody in the dungeons. In fact, they were walled over in my grandfather¡¯s time. He turned and resumed his stroll down the hallway, arriving at an unassuming door. ¡°Here we are. Go right in.¡± He knocked once and then pushed the door open while stepping aside for Marigold.

    After a slight hesitation at the lack of ceremony she¡¯d been expecting, Marigold strode confidently past him and into the small chamber. The door clicked shut behind her, followed by the sound of the steward¡¯s footsteps receding as he returned to his duties elsewhere. The man at the desk in the middle of the room looked up and gave a subdued smile.

    ¡°You are Mage Marigold,¡± he said, a statement rather than a question. Marigold answered as if it were one anyway.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. That¡¯s me,¡± she said and returned a polite smile. ¡°And you are Lord Marcus. I understand there is a young woman in your keep who has shown an incredible inclination for magic, and that you want me to teach her. Not in my own home, but here. That¡¯s unusual. But your summons was a very persuasive one; the offer of payment you made for me to do this ...¡±

    Lord Marcus stood up from his desk. The man was tall, though plain-looking, with a regal nose and thinning, short black hair that he wore in an outdated style. His manner of dress, likewise, was outdated, but the expensive materials made his high standing clear. Going by his appearance, Marigold judged his age as perhaps a handful of years younger than her own forty-seven. The thin smile remained on the lord¡¯s face as he nodded his head once in affirmation.

    ¡°Enough to make your relocating from Hold Moonfane worth it to you.¡±

    ¡°More than enough,¡± said Marigold, cutting him off before he could say more. She looked around the little audience chamber. Everything in the room was of the highest quality, neat and ordered, yet austere. There was nothing garish. She was surprised at the restraint shown. ¡°It¡¯s not many people who have this kind of wealth and aren¡¯t falling all over themselves to show it off in every way,¡± she commented offhandedly.

    ¡°It¡¯s even less who would speak to a lord in such a casual manner.¡±

    Marigold drew herself up. She was not tall, but she never let that stand in the way of anything. She smiled. ¡°You¡¯ve never met a master mage, I see.¡±

    Lord Marcus pinned her with a stoic expression. Then, he smiled wryly and nodded, as if to himself. ¡°You¡¯ll do perfectly.¡± He moved out from behind his desk and went to gaze out the room¡¯s one small window, which looked down upon a little courtyard below. ¡°The young woman I want you to teach is my wife, Lady Gilliana. We were married only this past year. She is from common stock¡ªwe married for love, not by some arrangement of convenience between nobles¡ªand due to that, she is unused to life in a keep like this. She ... has little to occupy her time.¡±

    Marigold crossed her arms. ¡°I do hope you didn¡¯t coax me all the way here because a rich woman is bored. I¡¯m not a juggler. There are any number of Journeyer Mages you might hire if she¡¯d like to learn some simple magic.¡±

    Lord Marcus turned back to the room. ¡°Would they be able to handle her?¡± The question put Marigold off guard, and before she could choose a response, Lord Marcus went on. ¡°It was a Journeyer Mage passing through my hold who pointed out my wife¡¯s strong predilection for magic in the first place, and pressed upon me how only a master mage would do for teaching her. As I¡¯m to understand it, you mages can feel magic in each other, can you not?¡±

    Marigold chewed her lip, before nodding and admitting quietly, ¡°Yes. I could feel her before I even caught sight of your castle. She¡¯s like a little blazing bonfire out in that courtyard right now, isn¡¯t she?¡±

    ¡°To me, in one way; to you, in another.¡± For the first time, Lord Marcus¡¯s smile appeared genuine. These noblemen loved their negotiations and diplomatic waltzes, Marigold comprehended. He had done his due diligence and already knew how intrigued she would be by the power she felt, even before she¡¯d stepped out of the carriage sent to fetch her here from the inn. The extravagant pay was only a formality. ¡°She needs to be taught¡ªshould be taught,¡± he went amended. ¡°If it also occupies her and ... entertains her, so she is happier, all the better.¡±

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    ¡°That ain¡¯t the only factor that goes into this sort of thing,¡± Marigold said, trying to wrest control of the situation back from the nobleman. ¡°It depends on her wanting to learn, and being able to learn the kind of magic I can teach. If I work with her and find her not an apt student ...¡±

    ¡°Then keep the advanced coin you were already given and return home with my blessing,¡± said Lord Marcus easily. He nodded at the window, his voice softer now. ¡°Go and speak to her for yourself. You shall see she is eager to learn a skill. Once you¡¯ve been introduced, return to me here and we can finalize the contract. Your things should already be in your chambers by now.¡± The man stepped back around his desk and took his seat once more, and Marigold was grudgingly impressed at how adroitly he pivoted the conversation from being a deal discussed to a deal struck. He peered up at her only long enough to add, ¡°I thank you, Mage Marigold. It is a prestigious thing for you to take up residence as Mage-Matron of Black Crux.¡±

    With that, he called for his steward, who appeared as if by magic of his own behind Marigold to conduct her from the room.

    The girl stood in the center of the little courtyard, dressed all in cream skirts and bodice, in stark contrast to the black stonework surrounding her, and the black tresses that fell nearly to the small of her back. When Marigold stepped into the courtyard, the girl turned and her dark eyes appraised both she and the steward who¡¯d led her there. The expression on the girl¡¯s well-sculpted face was one that sought to project both maturity and authority, but did not quite pull it off.

    ¡°Lady Gilliana,¡± said the steward, presenting the young woman to her teacher. ¡°My lady, this is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mage Marigold,¡± Gilliana said in a silken voice. The young woman tipped her chin up at the little window above. ¡°He thinks I cannot overhear him up there.¡± Then she smiled in a way that suggested she¡¯d had little to smile about all day except for this small tidbit of a secret shared. Returning her attention to the steward, she said, ¡°Thank you. You may go.¡±

    Marigold could tell the old steward had wanted to say more, or perhaps had meant to stay and ensure the meeting went successfully. Instead, with a tight-lipped smile toward Marigold, he turned and took his leave.

    ¡°So ... you are a master mage?¡± Lady Gilliana spoke with curiosity when the man was gone. She looked upon Marigold as if she were some new type of bird presented to her for her amusement. Marigold wondered if she were. ¡°Is that what I¡¯ve been feeling all morning? Like a ... a growing presence ... somewhere.¡±

    ¡°You could sense me from that far away?¡± Marigold asked, surprised despite herself. ¡°This morning, I¡¯d not yet left the inn at the edge of town.¡±

    ¡°I felt something,¡± the young lady hedged. ¡°Like, when a Journeyer plies their trade somewhere in town and there is a little tingling in the air.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± said Marigold. She studied this girl more closely. She was older than most boys or girls typically would be when they began a mage apprenticeship, yet still so young¡ªno more than half the age of her new husband, Marigold gauged. Young enough still to adapt to a new skill, so long as she had the disposition for the study. She certainly had a well of magical potential to draw upon, from what Marigold could sense.

    ¡°I want to learn something real, something useful,¡± said Lady Gilliana, as if picking up the threads of a previous conversation Marigold had not been present for. ¡°I could do something that would impress my husband, and all the tiresome people who parade through our hall to speak to him everyday while ignoring me like I¡¯m some bit of the scenery. I may not have grown up noble, so I am well behind in a proper education, but I still have ideas of my own, things I could contribute to this hold and my people.¡± As the young woman spoke, her eyes lit up with a faraway look that seemed to gaze beyond the stalwart walls of the old fortress that enclosed her.

    ¡°But my husband never likes my ideas.¡± She related this last piece of information with eyes downcast, yet her voice still level, as though she simply stated a fact. When she looked back up at Marigold again, her expression had become quizzical. ¡°What is it that you do, I should ask. I have read about master mages, ones who caused the ground to liquify beneath attacking armies, or made invaders believe they had been struck blind, so they could not fight ...¡±

    Marigold allowed herself a subdued smile. It was always thus with young people who wished to learn magic. They spoke with excitement only about the kinds of terrifying spells that steered historical events, won battles, or toppled monarchs from their thrones. They never spoke with that same excitement about the subtler kinds of magic that were useful in day-to-day applications. More often than not, when they heard those such spells described, they reacted with disinterest and disappointment. Those were the young people who would be turned away by any wise mage, potential or no. It took more than potential to learn to cast magic. One had to see more than glory in it, and be willing to work hard to attain it.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t I show you?¡± Marigold offered. ¡°Then you can decide for yourself whether what I teach is something you want to learn.¡±

    Marigold turned to the open gate by which she had entered the little courtyard. Aware that the young noblewoman watched her with avidity, she relaxed her body and then, with practiced ease, swept her arm upward, her hand motioning across the open space of the doorway. A gate-shaped rectangle of shimmering gold appeared there. Like stained glass, it shone in the afternoon light. The Barrier cast, she let her arm fall and turned back to the young woman to witness her reaction. What she saw in her face was not disappointment, but curiosity.

    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Wait a moment,¡± replied Marigold.

    Together they stood and watched the Barrier shimmer and sparkle, then gradually the golden hue faded and disappeared. In moments, there appeared to be nothing there. Now, the young lady¡¯s expression became one of confusion, the knit of her brows bringing lines to her otherwise smooth complexion.

    ¡°I felt that,¡± she said tentatively. ¡°When you made that magic, I could feel you do it. I still feel it. But, forgive me, I don¡¯t understand what it is that you did.¡±

    ¡°Well, you will come to,¡± said Marigold. ¡°Now, follow me. The demonstration isn¡¯t quite done yet.¡± With that, Marigold clasped her hands behind her back and strode through the open gate. She didn¡¯t have to look back to see that Lady Gilliana followed. Just as expected, she heard the young noblewoman come into contact with the Barrier and utter a cry of surprise. Eyes full of merriment, Marigold turned back around and looked through the gate¡¯s threshold at Gilliana. ¡°That is what I did.¡± She said, and allowed herself a good-natured chuckle. ¡°Go on, try to get through.¡±

    Eyes now wide with wonder, the young woman explored this invisible ¡®gate¡¯ with her hands. She braced them before herself on what appeared to be only air, yet when she leaned forward with all her weight and pushed upon it, it withstood her.

    ¡°I cannot,¡± she breathed. ¡°It is completely solid. Yet, you walked right through it.¡±

    Marigold smiled. She saw none of the dispassion many prospective mages displayed upon being shown Barrier-Casting. To the contrary, she could read on the young noblewoman¡¯s face first contemplation, then an intense alacrity. Marigold decided she could teach this one.

    ¡°I, my lady, am a Barrier-Caster. Are you familiar?¡±

    Lady Gilliana shook her head, causing her long raven tresses to sweep her shoulders. ¡°Not until this day. But I wish to learn this magic with all my heart!¡±

    Marigold¡¯s face creased lightly in a smile and she dipped her chin. ¡°Then it will be my privilege to teach it to you. Now ...¡± she swept her hand across the threshold and effortlessly dispelled the Barrier. ¡°Come on, girl. You can walk through now. Come help me unpack my books and we shall begin planning out your studies.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother with that,¡± said Lady Gilliana. ¡°I¡¯ll have a servant see to the unpacking of your things. That is what they are here for.¡± She stepped through the now unobstructed doorway and, with the kind of smile at home on the face of any young woman showing off for a new friend, summoned a maidservant and set her to the task.

    Tight-lipped, Marigold watched the servant race ahead of them. ¡°Very well,¡± she said. ¡°Then, I suppose we can begin whenever you like. Henceforth, apprentice, you may refer to me as your Mage-Matron.¡±

 Chapter 9: Introductions, part 2

    *

    Lily woke to the sound of Fae sloppily lapping water, her great horned head bowed over a still pond that reflected sharp sunlight painfully up into Lily¡¯s eyes. The moment she opened them she had the sensation that she was falling. Her heart in her throat, she made a wild grab at Fae¡¯s shaggy mane to steady herself. She was draped uncomfortably atop her panthegrunn, saddle horn digging painfully into her sternum. Fae grunted in response to the new motion atop her and shook herself.

    Clumsily, Lily slid out of the saddle and sat down on the moist soil amidst reeds and cattails. She knew she had Slumbered. The Casting had been necessary, to protect herself and Fae from the wild cat. But how long had she been in the magical state that followed? She fathomed immediately that she had been draped over Fae the entire time. More alarming than how long she had been in Slumber was the question of how far the big panthegrunn had carried her in that time. Looking around, Lily saw no sign of the woodland path they had been following, only trees and reeds and the pond.

    A great thirst overcame Lily as she looked at the water. Again, she experienced the feeling of waking from a Slumber of unknown duration, having had no one to watch over her during that vulnerable time. And again, she felt the extreme thirst and hunger, the privation of her clothes and body from not washing for days. She stank and was filthy, and her eyes felt gummy, and her mouth gritty. As if feeling sorry for herself wasn¡¯t enough, she looked at Fae and realized that her beloved panthegrunn had had it no easier. Not only had she borne Lily¡¯s weight for days, and been given neither food nor water, but she had been stuck wearing her saddle the entire time. Lily knew it had to be uncomfortable for her.

    ¡°Oh, Fae ... I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she croaked, and immediately regretted speaking for how dry and rough her throat felt. Stiff and sore, she fumbled with the straps and buckles until she could let the saddle and saddlebags fall unceremoniously to the ground. Fae again shook herself and grunted, lashing her tail at finally being free of the annoying encumbrance.

    Lily knew better than to taste pondwater, so she dug into a saddlebag to find her waterskin. As she gulped the stale water down, she clenched her eyes shut and reflected on her situation. There were countless things to consider: Where were she and Fae, and where was the road in relation? How much longer could her food and water supplies hold out if she were lost? How long could she keep pretending she had any business trying to follow Vetch, or do anything at to help Marigold were she to catch up with her abductors? As it stood, she couldn¡¯t even use her rudimentary Barrier-Casting to keep herself safe, not when every time she used magic, she risked waking days later, even more starved and cold and lost.

    As soon as she knew that thought, she knew she didn¡¯t want to face it. Not any of it. Not now. She stoppered the waterskin and stood up. Her body felt battered, and suddenly she despised the feeling of the borrowed dress she wore chafing her skin with the dirt and dried sweat of days.

    ¡°Later. Everything, later,¡± she mumbled, dragging the dress up over her head and off. She bent to pull off her boots, then shed her underclothes. In doing so, she discovered she had started her month¡¯s blood, too, while she had Slumbered, and that only added an additional degree to her physical misery. If she could just be clean, just for a single day, then maybe she could order her thoughts and decide how to get herself out of this predicament. Even her empty belly, twisted as it was with hunger, could wait until she was free of dirt and old sweat.

    The wind through the woodlands was chill across her bare skin, but the sunlight felt good. While Fae wandered off to sniff at various plants for edibility, Lily knelt beside the pond and shoved her clothes into the water. She worked automatically, simply so she didn¡¯t yet have to face questions she had no answers to. She soaked, scrubbed, and wrung out her clothes, then repeated the process¡ªsoaking, scrubbing, wringing. When the garments were as clean as she judged she could get them, she draped them over tall cattails to dry. Fae was nowhere to be seen now, but Lily trusted the panthegrunn to take care of herself. She would return when she had browsed enough to sate her hunger.

    Now, it was Lily¡¯s turn for a good scrubbing. She stepped tentatively through the reeds and waded into the water. The surface of the pond was warm from the sun shining down on it all day, by which Lily knew it had to be late afternoon, but underneath the surface, the water was cool enough to raise goose-pimples on her skin. Her toes squished in the soft mud of the pond¡¯s bottom. She dipped her entire body under the water and came back up with a gasp, the breeze across her wet skin even more brisk. She didn¡¯t care. Even without it being a warm bath in a proper tub, to simply be able to wash herself, her hair, her face, after so many days of going without was a pleasure. She delighted in combing the tangles out of her hair with her fingers, and getting the dirt out from underneath her nails. By the time she was done, she felt as if she¡¯d scrubbed a solid layer of the surrounding forest off of her. It was remarkable how the simple act of washing oneself could leave one feeling so invigorated and refreshed.

    Lily picked her way back through the prickly reeds and out of the pond, and only then realized she had nothing with which to dry herself.

    ¡°Ugh ... very wise, Lily girl,¡± she chastised herself. When would it sink in that she wasn¡¯t at home in her cozy little house in Moonfane Forge, with all the comforts and amenities that were always just there? Every time she thought she¡¯d won some small victory over the woods, and felt like she could survive on her own, something she¡¯d not even considered slapped her across the face to remind her that she was out of her element and not as clever as she¡¯d believed herself. She couldn¡¯t even dry herself on Fae¡¯s shaggy fur, for the great silly beast had still not returned.

    So, Lily sat down on Fae¡¯s saddlebags, cold and naked, to drip-dry. As she did, evening began to fall, clouds moved in to cover the sky, and the wind picked up, brushing coldly through her and hissing between the reeds and cattails. For reasons that she could not divine, the simple optimism that had infused her at being able to bathe fled, and she began to feel an overwhelming sadness. Pictures of her home back in Moonfane Forge, or how it had been, flooded her thoughts. On the heels of that, she recalled how it had appeared the last time she had seen it, as a pile of stinking black rubble. The feelings of hopelessness and sorrow that came over her were just like those she had felt when she had awoken from Slumber days after the raid on her town. She had wandered the streets bereft of sense, feeling only a crushing morass of loss and grief that seemed to press in on her from all sides. Was what she felt now similar, a strange side-effect of Slumber suffered after exerting herself with spells beyond her meager skill?

    She sat like a statue, unable to even summon the energy to unpack food for herself, let alone start a fire to warm and dry herself. The sadness descended with the night and soon Lily was powerless to do anything but sit there, while visions of all the death and destruction she had seen shouldered their way into her mind. Her final memories of her home would be memories of charred wreckage and bloated animals in the streets and newly dug graves stretching row upon row. She remembered then the graves of her parents and brother. She remembered their final resting place, and how the new soil had smelled as the morning sunlight hit it, but she could not remember the last words she¡¯d said to any of them while they yet lived. Had they laughed? Had she remembered to tell them she loved them? Or had it been some hasty, meaningless small talk before she¡¯d rushed out their door? Tears were running down Lily¡¯s cheeks now.

    She shuddered and choked on a sob. It had become too dark to see and the strange magic she sensed in these woods felt like it was growing. Then she felt a flash of magic and everything became still. Lily¡¯s world became still. Her parents and little brother, forever still.

    ¡°Mom ... Dad ... Matty ...¡± she cried, feeling like a little girl, lost and frightened and powerless. She dropped her head into her hands and bawled.

    *

    -17 years prior-

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    ¡°Today is finally the day,¡± declared Marigold. The mage stood in the center of Lady Gilliana¡¯s drawing room on the second floor of Black Crux Manor, a playful smile on her lightly creased face, hands behind her back, concealing something. ¡°You have learned to perform the motions flawlessly, and in your concentration of thought, I feel your ability to cast magic is ready to find its focus at last. It is time. Today, you will cast your first Barrier.¡±

    Dressed in a fine robe of white with gold embroidery, Lady Gilliana looked upon her teacher with an expression caught between eagerness and annoyance. ¡°Now? Here?¡± she asked. ¡°Three years I have waited¡ªand studied, and practiced, and recited¡ªto finally be allowed to cast a Barrier, and the time you choose to call me here for this is when I have only just stepped out of the bath? Mage-Matron, my hair is not even dry yet.¡±

    Marigold canted her head and leveled a wry smile at her apprentice. ¡°Young lady, it wasn¡¯t me who chose the time. The time chooses the mage.¡±

    Gilliana exhaled a breath through her nostrils, tipping her chin up and looking down past it at the shorter woman. Then, a soft laugh escaped her. ¡°I thought you were going to make me wait until I began to have streaks of silver through my hair, like you do. Hair that, I remind you, is still damp, and it is chill in this large room.¡±

    ¡°Ah! You¡¯re a smartass about that now, but just you wait, girl. Even the magnificent Lady Gilliana won¡¯t have such uniformly jet-black hair when she is my age. Enjoy it while you can. Now, quit the bellyachin¡¯ and come here. I have a gift for you.¡±

    At the mention of this, the young noblewoman sighed and approached the table that Marigold stood before. Despite the display of annoyance, Marigold could see in her apprentice¡¯s face and bearing that she was intrigued. Gilliana crossed her arms and waited.

    Marigold waited a beat of her own, then revealed the simple wooden box she had held behind her back. She placed it on the table before her apprentice. ¡°There. Open it.¡±

    ¡°What does this have to do with casting a Barrier?¡±

    ¡°Open it.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± Lady Gilliana placed her delicate fingers on the box¡¯s lid and slid it open. She peered inside and immediately let out a little screech, stepping hastily back from the table and dropping the lid to the floor. Looking across the table at Marigold, hand on her breast, she said, ¡°That is not funny, Mage-Matron!¡±

    ¡°Beg to differ, girl!¡± Marigold chortled. ¡°The look on your face!¡± She waved her hand before her face, calming her laughter. ¡°Sorry, sorry, I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d give you such a fright.¡±

    ¡°I am in no mood for jests today, Mage-Matron. What a cruel thing to do!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no jest. Now, come here. Come here. This is part of your training.¡± When Gilliana only stood still, silent and dubious, Marigold relented and softened her voice. ¡°Come back to the table. Please, apprentice. It¡¯s a harmless little praying mantis. You won¡¯t even have to touch it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s horrible. Where did you even find it? Don¡¯t tell me someone is selling these in the markets.¡±

    ¡°Markets?¡± Marigold scoffed. ¡°Perhaps somebody does, but no. I plucked this little one off the wall in the courtyard, where it was sunning itself. And it¡¯s going to teach you to cast your first Barrier. So, come here ... a little closer, Gilliana. There. Now, d¡¯you remember everything I¡¯ve taught you? How to relax your entire body and let your mind do the lifting? Know the Barrier you wish to cast and then shape it with a small sweep of your hand.¡±

    Gilliana nodded, never taking her eyes off the little green insect, while it sat perfectly still in the box. ¡°I remember,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I¡¯ve felt I could do it for a long time, if you¡¯d have only let me.¡±

    ¡°Today, I let you,¡± said Marigold simply. ¡°You are to cast a Barrier here.¡± She motioned with her fingers across the center of the box. ¡°Cast the Barrier in the center of the box so the mantis is trapped on one side.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± said Gilliana, looking up at her teacher finally.

    ¡°You say ¡®that¡¯s all¡¯, but this will take you some tries. Are you ready?

    Lady Gilliana set her mouth and peered down into the box once more. She exhaled and nodded. ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve been ready.¡±

    Marigold smiled, gray eyes glimmering with anticipation for her student. ¡°Then cast the spell.¡±

    Standing as still as the mantis she towered over, Gilliana settled into the physical relaxation and focus of mind Marigold had tutored her in for the past three years. Marigold watched as her student raised her arm, palm held up and outward. The Mage-Matron felt the magic build and then contract, thoughts becoming energy to be spent and directed. Gilliana drew her hand across the center of the box, then she exhaled as if from exertion and peered down. Nothing had happened.

    ¡°Not bad, not bad,¡± encouraged Marigold. ¡°Try again.¡± Marigold had learned to choose her words of counsel carefully. There were days when words meant to teach or encourage sent Gilliana¡¯s spirits spiraling downward, and others when they raised her fury to the point of throwing flower vases or tearing down the drapes from her windows. In this instance, she simply took a few breaths and raised her arm again. The young lady had been looking forward to this for three years. She was determined.

    When she waved her hand over the box, this time the distinctive shimmering of gold appeared in the box, gradual and wavering, but unmistakable. The little green mantis fled to one corner of the box. A smile appeared on Gilliana¡¯s face and her eyes widened at her own creation. Then, just as soon, the color dissipated and Gilliana staggered back almost as though a strong gust of wind had hit her. She breathed heavily and knit her brow.

    ¡°I felt it and then ... what happened? I feel lightheaded. Something went wrong.¡±

    Kindly, Marigold said, ¡°Perfectly normal, girl, perfectly normal. At first, it¡¯s very easy to get distracted by your own spell forming and lose your concentration. It¡¯s a matter of learnin¡¯ to ignore what you¡¯re making until the spell¡¯s complete. You¡¯ll get there.¡± She stooped to pick up the box¡¯s lid from the floor. ¡°That¡¯s enough for today. That was a worthy effort; I¡¯m very pleased with this. For now, take some rest and¡ª¡±

    ¡°No. I can do it now.¡± Gilliana stepped close to the table again and raised her hand, her face set, almost challenging.

    ¡°Don¡¯t overexert yourself,¡± Marigold cautioned. ¡°If you get too emotional or attempt too much ...¡±

    The look Lady Gilliana shot her was one from the noblewoman of the manor, not the apprentice Barrier-Caster. Marigold held her tongue. She knew this wouldn¡¯t work, attempting a Casting when worked up as Gilliana was now, but there was only one way for an apprentice to learn that lesson, and that was to let her attempt it one more time.

    Magic infused the space around them even before Gilliana, for a third time, calmed her body and held her hand over the box. Marigold kept the surprise off her face, but knew a moment of intrigue as, again, a sparkling of gold characterized the air within the box. She felt the magic slim itself into a dagger¡¯s point from her apprentice¡¯s thoughts. Then, with a slow sweep of her hand, Gilliana drew the Barrier into the box, neatly dividing its center. She staggered back again, breathing as if she¡¯d been running. Marigold looked into the box. The little gold wall shimmered like satin billowing in the sun.

    ¡°Extraordinary,¡± she whispered. ¡°To succeed on the first day ...¡± She poked her finger into the box and nudged the little praying mantis, watching as it skittered against the Barrier in its haste to flee. She left the insect be and looked up to receive a triumphant smile from her apprentice.

    Then, ¡°Diann!¡± Gilliana called, even as she swayed on her feet. One of her maidservants entered the drawing room in short order with a ¡°Yes, my lady?¡± Gilliana indicated the box with her hand. ¡°The box on the table, with the insect in it? Take it outside and dispatch the thing.¡±

    ¡°Take it outside, but let it go,¡± Marigold amended. She waved her hand over the box and dispelled the Barrier. As the girl took the box away, Marigold walked around the table, hands clasped behind her back. ¡°Gilliana, you¡¯d do well to get yourself a pet of some kind¡ªlearn to care for a creature¡ªa small dog, or a cat or bird. One day, maybe you could have a companion charge-beast. If we¡¯re fortunate enough to find and acquire one for you.¡±

    Her apprentice didn¡¯t answer. Gilliana had wandered to a window and was staring out of it.

    ¡°A first spell is one to be proud of,¡± Marigold added. ¡°You truly are a mage now, and you better believe we¡¯ll celebrate when you wake from Slumber. After that, the real work begins.¡± Again, no response from Gilliana. ¡°How do you feel?¡± Marigold tried.

    Softly, Gilliana spoke to the window. ¡°Light ... and accomplished. I will Slumber now?¡± she asked, turning back to her teacher.

    Marigold nodded. ¡°Yes. I suspect you can feel it already. It¡¯s all taken care of. I will be there to watch over and attend you as you Slumber, and I will be there when you wake. I will also make certain your hair is dry,¡± she added, chuckling. ¡°Doesn¡¯t do to go to bed with wet hair, does it?¡± Still, Gilliana seemed to only half hear what was being said to her. Marigold knew that the effects from casting magic could be different from mage to mage, particularly when casting a spell for the first time, so she thought nothing of it as she crossed the room and took her apprentice by the arm to lead her to the bed that had been specially prepared for Slumbering, in a spare room off the bedchamber she normally shared with her husband. ¡°And when you wake, probably in a day or two, you can think about what mage¡¯s name you would like to take for yourself now that you can cast magic.¡± Marigold spoke assuming that her apprentice was beyond hearing her¡ªthe girl appeared as if she were in a trance. But as they crossed the drawing room, Gilliana reached out to let her fingers trail delicately across a purple flower held in a vase near the door.

    ¡°I already chose one,¡± she said, in a voice distant and dreamlike. ¡°Iris.¡±

 Chapter 9: Introductions, part 3

    *

    Fever dreams had suffused Vetch¡¯s reality, until he was unsure of how much time had transpired between when he had stumbled upon the little forest cottage and the present moment. He knew he had met the dwelling¡¯s occupant, had done his best to convey his situation, and then been conducted inside. By the time he had been shown to a chair and given something hot to drink, he had been so tired that he had fallen asleep directly after. He couldn¡¯t remember what he had said or what words had been said to him. He had simply left his fate in the hands of a stranger and promptly passed out.

    Now, he blinked filmy eyes to find he was lying abed with white sheets pulled up over him. His sword wounds stung fiercely when he sat upright. For a time, he sat gritting his teeth against the pain, his hair hanging over his eyes irritatingly. The sheets fell away and he was surprised to discover that the puncture in his chest was no longer bandaged, yet the flesh around it was not as red as it had been. It had been cleaned and then left as it was. It was the same for the cut where his shoulder met his neck, and for the smaller wound in his back where the point of his foe¡¯s blade had punched clear through him.

    Looking around, Vetch saw that he was in a modest little bedroom. Strange knickknacks hung from the ceiling, or were pinned up on the walls, little designs made from birds¡¯s bones and sticks and colorful stones. The bed quilt lay on the floor, telling Vetch he¡¯d likely thrown it off in his sleep. Draped over a chair were his trousers, newly washed and dried.

    Swinging his feet to the floor in order to stand up woke every possible pain and agony throughout his body, but now that he was awake and lucid, he had to find out where he was. Unable to find his shirt, he pulled on his trousers and walked bare-chested and barefoot into the main room of the cottage. Another fire burned in a larger hearth there. There were well-trod but soft rugs on the wood floor, a couple chairs before the fire, and a table near that bearing a basket of dark brown bread rolls. A melodious twittering drew Vetch¡¯s attention to a large wicker cage in the corner of the room. Inside the cage was a large bird with long tailfeathers and plumage of such vivid red that it made the bird look like a precious jewel. As Vetch stared at the bird it opened its hooked, obsidian beak and sang another stanza of notes. He had never seen a bird like this before, not even in illustration. It regarded him with its equally obsidian eyes, which appeared to hold an intelligence behind them that was unnerving.

    Another song met his ears when the bird ceased its melody, and Vetch realized it was coming from outside. Upon stepping out the front door, he came upon his benefactor. Her back was turned to him as she bent over the stream, washing his tattered shirt in the chill water. She wore only a long red skirt around generous hips. Her upper body was bare, honey-hued hair falling about her shoulders. While Vetch stood frozen on the threshold, she stood up, turning toward him as she lifted his shirt dripping out of the water. She remained unaware that he stared as she wrung and then shook out the garment, the motion causing her heavy breasts, capped with large brown nipples, to jiggle enticingly. It was only when he moved to avert his attention that the woman became aware of him, and then she made a surprised little sound followed by a giggle.

    ¡°I certainly didn¡¯t expect you to wake so soon,¡± she said.

    ¡°My apologies,¡± said Vetch, keeping his eyes averted. When she made no response, he glanced up again by habit. A blush had come over her plump cheeks, but she smiled. Once she had his eyes again, she shook her head as if to dismiss any need for apology. Making no effort whatsoever to cover herself, she walked to where a clothesline was strung up and pinned Vetch¡¯s shirt up on it. She then took down a dry white blouse and put it on.

    ¡°You¡¯re looking much better,¡± she said, buttoning her blouse and striding back to the house. She brushed unceremoniously past him through the door and he followed her back inside.

    ¡°I¡¯m certain I owe that to you, uh ... if you¡¯ve told me your name already ...¡± he faltered.

    Again, the woman shook her head. ¡°I did, but considering your state when you arrived at my door, I was surprised you even remembered your own: Vetch. Such pretty little plants, those. You¡¯re more handsome than pretty, I¡¯d say, though.¡±

    ¡°My thanks,¡± said Vetch distractedly. ¡°... and your name?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Of course,¡± she said. ¡°Then I shall give it to you again. It¡¯s Hayleigh.¡± She turned and smiled cheerily at him, her dark eyes nearly swallowed up by her cheeks. ¡°And you were injured in some kind of battle, I gathered. I saw the aftermath. Horrific. You have been here for a day, but have been asleep for most of it. And, somehow, the blade that went through you missed everything vital.¡± She touched his chest, just below the sword wound. Her fingers, fresh out of the stream water, were cold on his warm flesh. The touch made him shiver. ¡°Regardless, infection would have killed you outright, had you not found me here.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Vetch peered down at where her cool fingers still rested on his skin. The sight of the wound still disturbed him, but it appeared much improved since he¡¯d last looked at it. The edges of the puncture were no longer angry and red with infection, but a less alarming pink, less swollen, less painful. It seemed impossible that it had healed so quickly in only a day. His fever, too, while not gone entirely, was only a softer ache at the edges of his awareness.

    ¡°Whatever you did ...¡± he began. ¡°And you¡¯re certain the blade went clean through? How can you know?¡±

    In answer to this, Hayleigh swept away from him, speaking while she went to stoke up the fire, the smile never leaving her face as she bustled about. ¡°I can see it, silly. Didn¡¯t nick a thing. You are a very lucky man.¡±

    ¡°See it? What do you mean see it?¡±

    With the fire burning well again, the woman began laying silverware out on the table. At Vetch¡¯s question, she turned back to cant her head at him. ¡°Like this, of course.¡± Moving close, she again set her fingers to his skin. ¡°I¡¯m a mage. Of the healing sort.¡± She traced a precise line around the wound in Vetch¡¯s chest. As she did, he felt a tingling sting, a sensation not unlike when one¡¯s skin brushes against stinging nettle. Yet, it was also cooling, and not unpleasant. Vetch held his breath. The woman lifted her fingers from his skin and looked up at him, the blank expression on her face breaking into the omnipresent smile again. ¡°But I shan¡¯t do more of that until tonight, when I can sleep it off properly. Fear not, handsome warrior. You will not die and you will suffer no infection. I will make sure of that. Given enough time, I might even be able to lessen the scarring. Now, have a seat.¡± She pulled out a chair at the table. ¡°Even wounds healed by magic still benefit from rest. Sit down while I see what I can whip us up to eat. If you don¡¯t mind the bread being a bit old, help yourself until I¡¯ve made us something more substantial.¡±

    Vetch sat. Even though he¡¯d only just gotten out of bed, it already felt good to be off his feet again. He took up one of the rolls and tore off a piece. After days of soldiers¡¯s travel fare, even stale bread was sumptuous to his palate.

    ¡°How is it you live alone in Bannerman¡¯s Wood?¡± he asked between bites. ¡°Pardon. If you do in fact live alone.¡±

    ¡°That, I do,¡± she said. She slipped out the cottage¡¯s back door and returned with a duck that had been hanging from the eaves. She set it on the kitchen board and went to work plucking it. ¡°Years ago, I lived in a farming town south of these woods. Pasanhal, it¡¯s called. Still visit from time to time for supplies. I had been married then, but my husband got eyes for another woman and left.¡± Upon these words, her feather plucking became more vigorous. ¡°Staying there meant seeing him around with her every day, like he was flaunting it in my face. So, I moved.¡±

    ¡°I am sorry to hear that,¡± Vetch said. ¡°I imagine that had to be hard.¡±

    She chuckled softly. ¡°It was. But more so for my husband. Died by drowning the very next year. I shed no tears for him. I suppose I could have moved back after that, but by then I¡¯d grown fond of this place.¡±

    ¡°Of Bannerman¡¯s Wood? Is it not a dangerous place for one woman alone? The reputation of this forest is not a good one.¡±

    Hayleigh shrugged her shoulders. She reached for a knife and began preparing the plucked fowl for the spit. ¡°Nothing¡¯s ever bothered me.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps they¡¯re all stories then.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. Though, danger did find you here. Albeit, danger not of the forest, but come to it. It¡¯s usually quiet, but not lately.¡±

    Vetch made a sound in his throat. ¡°Yes.¡± He was going to leave it at that, loathe to speak about the ambush that had taken the rest of his companions from him and doomed their mission to failure. But, doomed as it might be, he still could not leave the problem of Moonfane Forge¡¯s attackers alone. The scant information he had bubbled back to the surface. ¡°Pasanhal, you said? South of here?¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡± Hayleigh thrust the duck onto the spit and hoisted it into place over the fire. She sat down in the chair beside the crank and turned it as she spoke. ¡°South and ... a smidge east.¡±

    ¡°And you say it¡¯s a farming town? Do they grow wheat there?¡±

    ¡°Plenty of wheat and other things beside.¡±

    Vetch felt his pulse quicken as he asked, ¡°Then, do you know of a black-stoned castle there?¡±

    The healing mage stopped turning the spit while she considered. Slowly, she shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Not that I know of. But it¡¯s a spread-out kind of town. And Pasanhal is only the largest of the towns in all those flat farmlands. There are lots of smaller villages out past it that I¡¯ve never been to.¡±

    Vetch sat back in his chair and stared at the rough tabletop.

    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± Hayleigh asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Vetch answered. ¡°It¡¯s not like I can do anything about it now anyway.¡±

    ¡°As well you shouldn¡¯t. You nearly died. Like your friends did. Horrific what happened to them. Worry yourself not; it¡¯s bad for healing. Stay here and rest and don¡¯t bother yourself with whatever was happening before.¡± Vetch nodded slowly, feeling more relaxed as the wafting smell of roasting duck meat and fat reached him. He forgot about everything but his desire to eat and rest. ¡°Could you take over turning this for me for a bit?¡± Hayleigh asked. ¡°I do have to give in to Slumber for a short while. I should wake about when the duck is done.¡±

    Nodding again, Vetch stood and wordlessly took over the healing mage¡¯s place at the fire, while she retired to the bedroom. The fire¡¯s warmth felt good, and the little cottage, and the aroma of cooking food, was comforting. Outside, the light slowly dimmed. Tree branches swayed as the wind picked up. Vetch was glad not to be out in that chill wind tonight.

    Thoughtlessly, and somehow contentedly, he turned the spit.

 Chapter 9: Introductions, part 4

    The following day was more of the same. Hayleigh had ministered to Vetch¡¯s wounds, made sure he was well fed, and gave him ample time to rest, either drowsing in bed or sitting in the chair by the fire watching the flames flicker and lick across the logs. The mage¡¯s magic was strange. Vetch had never seen any magic save Barrier-Casting in his life. The precise hand motions, the sensations that were both uncomfortable and comforting, and the gauzy-headedness that followed, all combined to leave him in awe of this healing magic. Hayleigh would focus on one wound at a time, for short durations at a time. Afterward, she would need to Slumber in a chair or in bed. As she described it, her healing magic could not miraculously take a man¡¯s ills away, but it would stave off infection and speed the tissues toward healing and closing up. Vetch had witnessed injuries of all sorts, for even during training, soldiers took their share of licks, and yet he had never seen even a minor cut heal as quickly as his ghastly sword wound was healing, proof that this strange magic was working.

    When she wasn¡¯t healing him or Slumbering, Hayleigh lived a life that appeared to Vetch extremely plain and monotonous, hauling water, chopping wood, going out in the woodland to gather or hunt food. She seemed content in the life. She did not fit at all Vetch¡¯s image of what a recluse of the enigmatic forest would be like. She was not old and haggard, not eccentric or strange, just a widowed woman living in self-imposed isolation.

    Clouds obscured the sky outside and there were briefs periods of rainfall the third morning of Vetch¡¯s stay in Hayleigh¡¯s home. He sat before the fire again, stripped to the waist, while she attended to his injuries. He was beginning to enjoy the sessions of magical treatment. The sensations of restoration and vitality moving through him from her fingers were pleasant and reassuring. Muzzy-minded, he stared blankly over her head, her hair occasionally brushing his chin whiskers while she concentrated on the wound in his chest. Her breath caressed his skin as she worked her magic. When she stood up and bent over him to shift her attentions to the cut where his neck met his shoulder, he found his gaze now of a height with the neckline of her blouse. And as she bent forward, Vetch could not help but be met with a view down her shirt, treating him again to the sight of her ample breasts. They appeared supple and heavy and soft, and this time he did not avert his gaze. He saw her dark nipples, wondered at how they would feel under the brush of his fingers, and felt himself stir in his trousers.

    Hayleigh¡¯s fingers lifted from his neck and she moved a half step back, finished with the afternoon¡¯s treatment. Quickly, Vetch looked away, hoping she had not noticed, his face flushing hot. He had been staring like some of the cruder soldiers did in the taverns. What had he been thinking? Silence stretched as Hayleigh looked down at him. Her face was flushed the same, and Vetch knew she had caught him.

    ¡°I¡ª¡± he began.

    ¡°I¡¯m not married anymore,¡± she said suddenly, cutting him off. ¡°You can look upon me.¡± As she spoke these surprising words in a near whisper, she reached to unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse, bringing to bear tantalizing cleavage.

    Vetch was caught speechless. Perhaps she misread his silence for shyness, for she giggled softly, her eyes darting swiftly to the crotch of his trousers and the interest therein that he could not disguise. She smiled and leaned closer, this time giving him freely the view he had stolen before.

    ¡°More than look, if you wish,¡± she added near his ear, in a voice gone husky. ¡°Unless ...¡± she bent and touched her lips to the corner of his jaw, ¡°there is someone back home who would be cross with you?¡± Another faint brush of her lips, lower down on his neck. ¡°They¡¯d need not know. This is one thing these woods have never provided me, but that is a still a need. One I desire very much. Do you desire me, handsome soldier?¡±

    The mention of a someone back home cast just enough cool water on the searing skillet, as Vetch was recalled to Lily and his deep desire for her, how he had wanted to be near her night and day, and how the time between their brief encounters always felt like time without sustenance. He had ached for her words and laughter, the joyfulness in her eyes. He had ached for those things as hotly as he had ached for her physically, something he had only imagined experiencing, before all of her, her very self, the person he had fallen for, had been cruelly taken away.

    Like a bubble popping, he experienced again that she was gone. The despair at knowing the woman he had loved was dead invaded him like jagged ice opening fissures in stone. For days after her death, he had been sure that he would never again feel anything for any other woman.

    Yet, here was a new warmth seeping into those cracks, sensations he had not expected to feel again, let alone so soon after such loss. Love, it was not. Affection, perhaps? Affection for one who had been kind to him, and who was candid about her interest in him? It was the first of any such good emotions he could remember feeling since the attack on his town, and it was something he wished to explore. Did he not at least deserve to let his guard down after all he had been through, feel something close to happiness again? What if ... what if he simply never returned to Moonfane Forge and all the pain that thoughts of that place brought him now? What was stopping him from staying here, and having all that entailed?

    Hayleigh¡¯s hands were on his bared shoulders now. While Vetch¡¯s thoughts writhed in conflict like fish hauled up from the water in a basket, she touched her full lips to his, a gentle press that warmed him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t answer yet.¡± She spoke softly, trailing her fingers over his body as she stood back from him. ¡°I regret I must Slumber now. So it goes with us mages. But it shouldn¡¯t be long. And then ... later on ...¡±

    Vetch found himself nodding dumbly. She favored him with a smile, her eyes alight with promise, before she left him there at a robust simmer in order to return to her bedroom and the magical state of Slumber she must heed. He watched her go and knew attraction to her. She was unlike Lily had been. She was not tall, not lithe, but round of face and ample of body. Perhaps it was her being so different from Lily that helped him set aside his pain and consider her in this way. He could tell she was older than him, but not by many years as he judged, a woman of an age to be confident and settled into her own physical bearing. And she used that bearing, translated through her hips in her stride away from him, and the effect on him was another stirring that took some time in fading, even after she had retired to the other room.

    Vetch sat for a time and did little more than feed wood into the fire. Eventually, the heat of his physical interest cooled to be replaced by the soporific heat of the fire. In like fashion, the strange cloudy-headedness that came over him while Hayleigh was working her magic on his wounds cleared. His mind felt more relaxed than it had in many days, yet without the conversation and ministrations of his host to keep him occupied, his thoughts began to wander again to all the tragedy that had brought him to her home. There was little to do in the humble cottage besides thinking before the fire and listening to the strange red bird sing its sporadic songs.

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    The bird was allowed to come and go as it pleased, its cage always left open. There was a flap set underneath the eave of the roof by which it could leave and enter the cottage at its leisure. It was gone at the moment.

    Of a sudden, Vetch felt too restless to be drowsing before the fire like an old dog. It was much of all he could do the day prior, but with the help of the magic-guided healing, his energy was returning to him at the same improbable rate as his wounds were mending. He took his shirt from where it had been draped over the opposite chair and pulled it back on, then put on his boots and let himself outside. The high gray clouds and gusty wind made it feel more like fall than spring, but the sprinkling rain at least had abated.

    He hadn¡¯t really any thoughts on what he wanted to do other than take in some fresh air and move his legs. Funny how years of being a soldier had created a man so averse to staying sedentary for longer than a day, he thought. Even without a place he was supposed to march, he felt the need to march regardless. He strolled a lap around the little cottage, seeing it all for the first time. The foundations and lower walls were stone, upon which a newer home of wood and thatch had been built. Possibly there had been the remains of a much older dwelling prior to Hayleigh¡¯s arrival and she, or someone before her, had built upon it. It was a similar composition to Ennric¡¯s house. Vetch wondered how Ennric was getting on. If they¡¯d had the old man¡¯s sturdy experience with them during the battle upon the forest road, could Vetch and his fellow soldier¡¯s have come out the victors? Or would Vetch only be mourning yet one more friend now? Ennric had said he was finished with fighting. For the first time, Vetch felt he could understand where the old man was coming from with that sentiment.

    For no reason other than it was the direction he was facing upon completing his circuit of the cottage, Vetch chose to stroll beside the stream that ran before it, following it upstream through the trees. It was only when he was well out of sight of Hayleigh¡¯s home that he realized he¡¯d not even thought to bring his sword with him, but had left it leaning beside her door. Still, he felt no apprehension at these woods anymore. After the terror the raiders had inflicted upon he and his soldiers, there was little else Bannerman¡¯s Wood could offer up that would make him feel afraid.

    The land rose gradually uphill and soon Vetch came upon a narrow path, little more than a clearer track in the leaf litter. Probably Hayleigh used it when out gathering food in the forest. It turned away from the stream and Vetch found himself walking beneath tall trees with bright green, fan-shaped leaves that clapped gently against one another whenever a breeze stole through. He paused to stare up at one of these giants when a motion in his peripheral drew his attention. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he gazed off to where something moved behind a stand of thick shrubs as tall as a man. The thing that moved was large enough to shove its way through the dense vegetation. Leaves shuddered and fell, and branches strained and snapped.

    Instinctively, Vetch¡¯s hand went to where his sword grip would be, were he wearing his sword. When he realized again that he wasn¡¯t, the ghost of the battle upon the road made him freeze in place. He couldn¡¯t run, couldn¡¯t act. No action came to him. This had never happened to him before. He stared like a child caught out in the road before a galloping horse, unable to move to one side or the other until a parent grabbed them by the arm and swept them out of the way.

    And then the great beast thrust itself through the shrubs and gave its broad, horned head a shake. Leaves and twigs fell from its shaggy white mane. Vetch stared uncomprehending as the panthegrunn spotted him, gave a friendly grunt, and then trotted to him like a friendly dog.

    ¡°Fae!¡± Vetch spouted in disbelief, as she pushed her great snout into his face. He took hold of her horns, as he¡¯d seen Lily do so many times, to keep her from bowling him over in her enthusiasm. ¡°Were you following us all this time? You poor beast, you¡¯re a mess!¡± He pulled more sticks and leaves from out of her hair and brushed more off of her back, before giving her a good scratching behind both ears. ¡°But who else would you follow, I suppose, with Lily gone, and Marigold too? At least you made it away from the fires and kept yourself alive.¡±

    The possibility of staying in this place with Hayleigh, that Vetch had considered before, now warred with his sense of responsibility. Surely, it would be best to lead Lily¡¯s beloved panthegrunn back home? Someone had to take care of her. Who would he entrust her to, though? Who but the two mages in town had even known how to care for such a beast?

    As if reading Vetch¡¯s thoughts, Fae gave him a particularly strong nudge with her head that nearly staggered him off his feet. She then turned and, with her uniquely lioness-like strides, walked off the way she had come.

    ¡°Fae. Fae!¡± Vetch called. ¡°Come here, girl!¡± He hadn¡¯t expected calling her to work. Only Lily had ever been able to command the strange beast in such a way. Still, he would have to find a way to lead her back to Hayleigh¡¯s cottage. Hayleigh was a mage, so perhaps she would know what to do with a charge-beast. He certainly didn¡¯t want to leave Fae to roam the forest alone. If she had followed he and his fellow soldiers this far, then she clearly still sought human companionship. Vetch felt it would be a betrayal to the memory of Lily if he were to simply let her beloved panthegrunn wander off into the wild on her own.

    Fae pushed her way back through the thick shrubs and Vetch reluctantly followed, now wishing he had his blade with him simply for cutting a path through the scratching, snagging branches. Fae bullishly pressed on through the plant life while Vetch tried to keep pace. He could find no way to regain her attention or coax her to come back with him as she led him out from beneath the tall trees to a clearing marked with moist, spongy ground, grasses, and cattails. They went beside a pond that Vetch recognized as the source of the stream that flowed before Hayleigh¡¯s cottage. He didn¡¯t want to find himself traipsing through some wet mire, if that was where the panthegrunn was going, especially with the day getting on toward afternoon and a sprinkle of rain starting to fall again. If he followed for too long, too deep into the woods, he might find himself lost. Hayleigh would wake from Slumber and wonder where he¡¯d gone.

    As Fae walked around the curve of the pond, Vetch smelled faint woodsmoke and then his eyes fell upon a heap of rags lying beside a little campfire. Fae stopped and sat down like a contented housecat. Perturbed, Vetch approached the campfire. The rags stirred, and then sat up, and he saw that it was a woman who had been asleep beside the weak fire, wrapped in a blanket and dressed in a torn skirt. When she turned her head toward him and their eyes met, Vetch¡¯s jaw fell open and he began trembling all over.

    ¡°Lily?¡± No. It could not be her. She was dead. Killed by the evil mage who had raised an army against their home town and stolen Marigold away. He was dreaming. He had fallen asleep before the fire in Hayleigh¡¯s little cottage and was having impossible dreams as an after-effect of the magic done upon his injuries.

    ¡°Vetch? Vetch!¡± Lily clapped her hands to her mouth and stood quickly. For a moment, she stared at him. When he heard her voice, he knew she was real. No dream could recreate such perfect music in his ears. She opened her arms and hastened to him, and then he was enclosing her in his embrace, as she held him as tightly as she could. And his trembling grew and suddenly tears were streaming down his face, and her hair dried them from his cheeks as he sobbed.

    ¡°How? How?¡± he asked again and again. But he didn¡¯t care how. He didn¡¯t care. His Lily lived, and he would never let her go again.

 Chapter 10: Rivalry, part 1

    Watching Vetch carrying Fae¡¯s saddle and saddlebags recalled Lily to the last time they had been together and spoken. He had helped her put Fae¡¯s tack away in the stables at that time, and then watched as she had tended to her panthegrunn. They had made their date to stroll the markets together, something that had never come to pass. They strolled now, side by side through the woods, with the glum weather closing in around them, to a place that Vetch assured her was a safe haven.

    Following their emotional reunion, Lily had come to understand from Vetch¡¯s breathless explanations that an ambush in the woods had resulted in him being the only one remaining of the soldiers who had ridden out from Moonfane Forge to track down the people who had attacked their town. He had spoken in short bursts of speech, biting off each word as if it pained him. Lily had been heartbroken, not only to learn of yet more devastation wrought upon the good people of their town, but to see the desolation in Vetch¡¯s eyes as he delivered the news. She, who had lost her family, still struggled to know how it must feel for him to lose nearly his entire garrison¡¯s worth of compatriots. He looked as if he had aged years since the last time she had seen him.

    He had been anxious to change the topic and she could not blame him for that. He had been beside himself with disbelief that she was alive, then brimming with curiosity about how it was she had survived the confrontation with the mage who had stolen Marigold, before coming to find him in this unlikely place. She had explained all, haltingly at first, for the wounds of those memories were still fresh and frightening. But he hung on every word and, painful as it was, she could not deny him any truth of all she had experienced in the aftermath of the raid on their town. He had looked upon her with awe and relief and then folded her into his arms again when tears had come to her eyes.

    Now, as they walked a narrow path beside a little stream with Fae following them, he looked at her still, in a way she had never been looked at by anyone except him, and it brought color to her cheeks.

    ¡°There it is,¡± he said, grunting as he hefted the heavy saddle and saddlebags higher. Lily had wanted at least to carry the saddle, but he had insisted, even though she could see that he had been battered in the attack that had killed his companions. She carried only her canvas rucksack on her back, with Fae¡¯s bridle held loosely in her fingers.

    Through the dwindling daylight, Lily saw the little cottage come into view. It looked like something out of a fable, a lone stone and wood dwelling set deep in an otherwise wild and uninhabited forest. She could not decide whether the apprehension she felt upon seeing it was due to the stories it reminded her of or for fear of imposing on someone who was already taking such great pains to live removed from other people. Vetch, on the other hand, seemed to benefit from a surge of energy as they approached the place. As he set down Fae¡¯s tack beside the doorstep, the door opened and a woman in a bright red skirt and white blouse stood looking at her. The woman¡¯s hair was pinned up as if she¡¯d just woken from sleep. Lily had felt the concentration of magic in the area almost from the moment she and Vetch had left the pond behind. Now, its source was clear to her.

    ¡°Who is this?¡± the woman asked. Her words, kind and conversational, were directed at Vetch. Her eyes, however, remained on Lily. The warmth in her voice did not extend to Lily in that look.

    ¡°This is Lily, a friend of mine since childhood,¡± Vetch said, sweeping his hair out of his eyes and smiling at the woman. ¡°She is apprentice to the mage who was taken by the people my soldiers and I were tracking when we were attacked. Lily, this is Hayleigh. She saved my life.¡±

    Lily hesitated, feeling awkward and out of place for no reason she could pinpoint. She swallowed and said, ¡°You have my gratitude for saving Vetch. I sense you are a mage, too.¡±

    ¡°She casts healing magic,¡± Vetch explained.

    Hayleigh stood in the doorway, as if she were barring it against entry, it seemed to Lily. But then the woman smiled in a way that creased her eyes. ¡°That, I do,¡± she declared, stepping aside. ¡°It is good to meet you, Lily. Huh, another mage. To think, I have more guests at my household this day than I had the entire last year. Well, do come in and warm yourself. Your ... your charge-beast, it will be all right on its own outside? I have no place to put an animal of that size, you see.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes,¡± Lily answered. ¡°Fae will be fine out here.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± the woman responded.

    Vetch went inside the cottage, and as he did the woman touched his shoulder and allowed her fingers to trail down his arm in a way that was almost tender, her eyes remaining on Lily the entire time. While the gesture itself struck Lily as overly-familiar, it was Vetch¡¯s lack of reaction to it that discomfited her. After another small hesitation, feeling like she was a stranger to the situation, Lily followed him inside.

    The warmth inside the cottage was pleasant, as was the sensation of having true shelter around her for the first time since she had left the home of Eike and Arlette. Vetch removed his boots and took a seat in a chair before the hearth, appearing for all the world like a man come home to his own domicile of years. Lily stood awkwardly in the center of the of room, suddenly and strangely embarrassed by her own appearance¡ªher ripped and ill-fitting dress, her blistered hands, scratched arms, the messy way she had tied back her wavy hair. On some level, she knew that no sensible person would expect her to not appear ragged and worn after her harrowing experiences in the woods, yet, still, she couldn¡¯t help feeling like a peasant invited into the home of lords on the pretext of some compulsively charitable whim.

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    Barely had Lily decided to sit down in the seat opposite Vetch, thinking to speak with him more, when Hayleigh said, ¡°Vetch, dear, come help me with the preparations for dinner. I need water drawn from the stream, then if you would collect the game birds hanging out back?¡± Vetch gave Lily an oddly blank smile as he answered her with a ¡°Gladly¡±, put his boots back on, and went to perform these things. As he did, Hayleigh stood at her kitchen board chopping root vegetables and humming to herself. She neither looked at nor spoke a word to Lily.

    Darkness fell in the woodland outside, making the cottage its own glowing little ship in the night. Lily sat with her hands folded in her lap, as Vetch helped the woman prepare supper for them all. The two traded small exchanges of conversation and smiles, the woman voicing short giggles and always finding reason to place her hand on Vetch¡¯s shoulder or the small of his back. And Lily sat in silence, like a child excluded from an adult conversation. Only when the meal was ready and they all sat down at the table to eat did Hayleigh finally speak to her.

    ¡°I see you went through much getting here,¡± she said. ¡°All alone, with a ... domestic magic only to protect you?¡±

    ¡°Not all alone,¡± Lily replied. ¡°I have Fae. And now Vetch. We go to rescue my Mage-Matron, Marigold. You must understand how it would be,¡± Lily added in a small voice. ¡°You would do the same for your master or matron, surely.¡±

    Hayleigh chewed thoughtfully. Seated beside her, Vetch listened to the conversation with the face of a man mildly drunk, though they¡¯d had no ale or spirits with their dinner. ¡°I have no master or matron,¡± Hayleigh said at last. Lily thought the woman would elaborate, but she merely returned to eating.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Lily. They sat in strange silence for a time. Lily took a drink of water from her cup and then stirred the game meat and boiled vegetables on her plate. The food was good, far better than she¡¯d had in days, yet her appetite was absent.

    ¡°She must be very important to you,¡± Hayleigh added finally. ¡°To come so far through these woods. There are wild animals out there, you know. Dangerous ones. But I admire your quest, and you should fulfill it.¡±

    ¡°I should,¡± Lily echoed and wondered why the notion bothered her.

    As the evening wore on, Lily could think only of wanting to speak to Vetch alone, to confide in him her discomfort with the situation they found themselves in. The magic she could sense in the household unnerved her, and made clear thought difficult. She wanted to be away from it. But Vetch seemed as content as could be. He smiled at Lily across the table, laughed at Hayleigh¡¯s little jokes and observations, and spoke shiningly of her skill with healing magic. When Lily excused herself to go and feed Fae, neither Hayleigh nor Vetch offered to come help her.

    Standing outside and shaking out fodder, she breathed in the cool night air and felt her head clear somewhat. She scratched Fae between her horns as the panthegrunn munched away.

    ¡°I am happy to find Vetch and know that he is safe,¡± she said quietly to Fae. ¡°But I don¡¯t like it here. I wish I could speak to him privately and ask what he plans to do next. I only wish to leave here and continue on to find Mari.¡± Lily ran her fingers through Fae¡¯s shaggy mane and then hugged her round her neck, burying her face in that thick hair. She breathed in the clean and herbaceous animal smell of the panthegrunn, scents that reminded her of her little dairy goats back home, and was comforted. Strength came back to her. Then, she sensed a spell being cast, and her attention was drawn to the little cottage.

    When Lily went back inside, she found that dinner had been cleared away and Vetch now sat shirtless, while Hayleigh knelt before him pressing her fingers to his chest. Lily put her hands to her mouth in horror at her first viewing of Vetch¡¯s terrible wounds. She had not even imagined their severity. He had cuts and stab wounds all over, places where the blade of a sword had bit deep into his flesh. She felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to drop to her knees before him and ensure for herself he was not at risk of dying soon.

    Instead, she stood stock-still, afraid to interfere with the healing mage¡¯s work. She could feel the magic being done. This, perhaps, was the reason Vetch himself seemed so out of sorts. Despite all that she knew from her own studies in magic, she had never before witnessed magic worked into another human being. While it was rougher and less focused, she could feel the magic build in much the same way it did for Barrier-Casting. It was only when the woman applied the magic gathered within her mind to Vetch himself that it became completely foreign to Lily. She could not understand how it moved through him, nor the mechanism by which it worked. Perhaps his distracted and drunken manner was the side effect of this kind of magic, a magic that could save a man from injuries that to her eye should have been fatal.

    ¡°Vetch ...¡± she whispered, her voice quavering.

    Hazily, he looked up at her, read the look in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m okay, Lily. I¡¯m okay. Hayleigh has taken care of me. She says I will heal in full.¡±

    ¡°With more of these Castings, you will,¡± Hayleigh spoke through her concentration. Finally, lifting her hands from him, she stood up and wavered on her feet. Lily recognized the after-effects of over-extending one¡¯s power. Hayleigh took in a shallow breath, composed herself, let it out. ¡°This is what I can muster for now, dear soldier. I will Slumber and you must to bed. Lily, forgive my haste. You know how it is. Please, lay out your bedding anywhere you wish. I have given my own bed over to Vetch, for his recovery, and made a place for myself nearby him.¡± She smiled at Lily, said ¡°Goodnight,¡± then turned and hastily took herself from the room.

    Before Lily could say a word to implore Vetch to stay and speak with her, he stood and looked at her with unfocused eyes. Apparently misunderstanding the apprehension on her face, he only smiled at her and said, ¡°I¡¯m feeling much better. Much better.¡± The man who looked through those eyes at Lily did not strike her as being her Vetch, but he did not remain in the room long enough for her to comprehend why. He turned and followed Hayleigh into her bedroom, closing the door behind him.

 Chapter 10: Rivalry, part 2

    *

    The broad, low farmlands of the vast land basin reflected in Iris¡¯s dark eyes¡ªfields of young wheat and other grains, pastures containing cattle and horses, windmills and little villages dotting the horizon. Her long raven hair shifted about her back in the morning breeze. She was surprised at the sense of relief the vision brought to her. At last, they had left behind the imposing mountains and choking forest. She could see again, as far across the distance as her eyes allowed, survey everything, hold court over everything. Years of preparation had paid off. Success was only days away now. The completion of only the first of what would be her many great achievements was only days away. She allowed herself a thin smile and let the gauzy shade fall back in place over her carriage window, cutting off the view. Sitting back in her padded seat, she luxuriated in the feel of finally being on a proper road once again. For days upon days, she had suffered the jarring bumps and jolts from uneven forest trails and deeply rutted tracks, and listened to the endless scraping of low tree branches and untamed underbrush scratching her carriage¡¯s sides. They had lost one carriage; the others would have to be repainted. But no matter. It was over now and it would all be worth the great pains she had gone through when they arrived finally back at Black Crux.

    One of the horses pulling the carriage that trailed her own whinnied. Iris¡¯s eyes snapped open. She had not realized she¡¯d been dozing. Waking from Slumber sometimes left her so vigorously energized that she spurned regular sleep and remained awake for days. That had been the case upon waking in the woods, and it was catching up with her. Suddenly, one of her own carriage¡¯s horses grunted and there was an abrupt lurch sideways as the beast stumbled. Iris caught herself from being thrown against the door. At the same moment, there was a sound of wood cracking, followed directly by one of her guards cursing loudly.

    ¡°Stop!¡± someone shouted, and Iris¡¯s carriage came to a halt. Normally, she would never tolerate anyone giving orders to her driver except her, but in this case, she let it go. She sensed what had happened. She thrust the door of her carriage open and was hastily handed down by one of her guards, irritation defining the set of her expression. The old woman was at it again. ¡°Murzagis,¡± she called, and the man was at her side. His long hair and oddly styled moustache were lank from days on the road. He and his men had had to ride hard to catch up, but she had been pleased to hear from his report that they¡¯d tidied up the last of the loose ends that could have caused her problems. Now, as he awaited her command, his dour and pocked face betrayed nothing. He would already know why she was so displeased¡ªthe captain of her sell swords was a sharp one¡ªso Iris chose to say nothing, eyeing the man as she breathed through nostrils pinched with annoyance. Murzagis simply nodded and reported.

    ¡°We bind her well, my Lady,¡± he said. He kept his voice even, though Iris knew he must be as frustrated as his men were with their ungrateful charge. ¡°Still, she finds ways to cast her spells. They¡¯re subtler each time. She makes it seem as if a horse has thrown a shoe or a rider has caught his leg on a branch.¡±

    ¡°And with these little tricks, she has outsmarted your people and destroyed one of my favorite carriages in the woods. Bind her tighter,¡± Iris commanded and turned away to climb back into her carriage.

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    ¡°Any tighter and it would permanently damage her hands,¡± Murzagis remarked. The man conveyed no hesitancy to inflict this were he so ordered, he merely stated it as fact.

    Iris paused with her foot on her carriage¡¯s step. Her sell swords were capable fighters, and as discreet as Murzagis had promised her when she had hired them, yet too many times had they tried and failed to prevent a frail old woman from playing childish tricks that constantly hampered their progress. While it could not be expected that swordsmen would be versed in handling a mage¡ªespecially an exceedingly powerful one¡ªIris had expected them to at least show some more gumption in dealing with her.

    Yet, so far, their threats to Marigold had only resulted in even more canny acts of defiance, and Iris was growing weary of the endless delays that marked their travel, and of her guards constantly grumbling about the danger the old mage represented. She had so desired to save this reunion between master and apprentice until they were home, where she could be properly refreshed before formally revealing herself and welcoming her teacher back into her service. But the old woman insisted on making things difficult, and Iris was not blind to the effect it was having on her sell swords. Marigold had grown even more powerful over the years than Iris had expected. If she didn¡¯t intervene now, the old mage might actually find a way to stop them, and if that happened, how much extra coin would be required to keep her guards in line?

    With an exasperated sigh, Iris stepped back down from her carriage and swept past the commander of her guards, striding back to the trailing carriage that housed her once-mentor. She heard the old woman¡¯s complaints as she approached.

    ¡°Who are you people? Answer me! You have no right to do this! Let me go, you bunch of dung-washed, piss-soaked barbarians!¡±

    Iris yanked open the carriage door and leveled her dark eyes on her teacher. Mage-Matron Marigold lay there across the carriage seat, bound tightly from shoulders to ankles. How she had managed to cast any kind of Barrier, let alone with such precision, while immobilized thus was beyond Iris. When the old woman looked squinting up into Iris¡¯s face and recognition dawned on her, her complaints fell dead on her tongue and her gray eyes widened.

    ¡°Gilliana?¡± she said, and her voice quavered with disbelief.

    Iris studied Marigold¡¯s shocked features. It had been many years since she had heard the master mage¡¯s voice. It was deeper, thinner. Old.

    ¡°My name is Iris, Mage-Matron, as you well know. You must cease these silly games now. No more of these Barriers that stop my horses and terrify my guards.¡± She paused, adding thoughtfully, ¡°Hm. This reminds me of the last time we saw one another. Do you recall that day?¡±

    Marigold¡¯s mouth worked wordlessly as she sought to make sense of this revelation that cast her situation into an entirely new light. ¡°What is going on here, Gilliana?¡± she asked at last. ¡°How did you ...? Where are these swordsmen taking us?¡±

    ¡°I am taking you home. And we are nearly there, so stop this ridiculous struggling once and for all or I will be forced to have my sell swords put an end to it however they see fit.¡± Iris stared the old woman down, awaiting one of her typical witty and defiant replies. Instead, Mage-Matron Marigold stared back at her in silence, her wrinkled face a mask of confusion. ¡°Good,¡± Iris said.

    Her point had been made. She slammed the carriage door shut and was pleased to hear nothing more out of Marigold¡¯s mouth as she returned to her carriage.

    Without needing to be commanded to do so, her guards re-formed their ranks around the carriages and got them moving again.

 Chapter 10: Rivalry, part 3

    *

    A bold slash of ruby drew Lily¡¯s gaze upon waking. The strange bird, with its long plume of a tail, sat on its perch in an open cage in one corner of the room like a bloody red heart in a ribcage. There was no mistaking that this was the very same bird Lily had seen directly after her confrontation with the forest cat. Indeed, it was a charge-beast. She could sense its presence and recognized how the magic she felt coming from it was of a kind with the magic she had sensed in her first days in the woods, and again when she had camped by the pond. As Lily stared at it, it met her gaze with obsidian black eyes.

    The door of the bedroom opened and Hayleigh entered the room looking chipper and refreshed from her night in Slumber. She was dressed in a simple shirt and kirtle of homespun, but had taken pains to braid her hair into an intricate plait. She swept past Lily and went to stir a pot hanging over the fire. Only then did Lily realize that the fire was burning strongly and that Hayleigh must have already been awake to stoke it up and prepare breakfast around Lily as she slept. She didn¡¯t like that the woman had been moving about without her knowing, but she couldn¡¯t place a finger on why. And, besides, she was the guest here, not the other way around. Why should she be bothered at having been allowed to sleep?

    ¡°There you are, my ruby boy!¡± exclaimed Hayleigh, as if she had somehow missed the presence of the strikingly bright bird in the otherwise drab room until that moment. ¡°Come here, come here,¡± she said.

    The bird hopped to the open door of its cage before using it hooked black beak and feet to climb its way up the outer wicker bars to stand atop it. From there, the bird launched itself and in two and a half wing beats landed upon Hayleigh¡¯s shoulder. She cooed to it and stroked the bird¡¯s neck plumage.

    ¡°You have a charge-beast,¡± Lily said in wonder. She pushed herself up to a sitting position on her bedding and felt immediately the stiffness in her body from sleeping on the floorboards before the fire. ¡°I¡¯ve seen that bird before. Days ago, in the forest.¡±

    Hayleigh tasted the porridge bubbling in the pot, then used a hook to lift the hot vessel from the fire and move it to the table. ¡°My Scarlet ranges where he pleases,¡± she said matter-of-factly. As she moved about her home, setting the table with bowls and utensils, the bird rode her shoulder like a sailor rides the deck of a ship. ¡°He probably sensed you out there and wanted a closer look.¡± She smiled at Lily in her fashion, cheeks encroaching on her eyes. ¡°Come sit down to breakfast. You do look as if you hadn¡¯t eaten well out on the forest road. Travelers make that mistake sometimes. They think to take a shortcut through the woods and assume they¡¯ll find an inn or market along the way.¡± She barked a single, loud laugh. ¡°Not likely!¡±

    Lily had slept in her clothes, the same borrowed dress she had been wearing since departing from Moonfane Forge. It was cleaner now after being washed in the pond, but that wasn¡¯t saying much. Its material hung lank and stretched and wrinkled, and Lily felt she was somehow imposing on even a simple breakfast board.

    ¡°Sit,¡± Hayleigh repeated. ¡°Vetch will join you soon. He was only just waking before you did. Let him know we¡¯ll continue his healing midday.¡±

    Without offering any explanation of where she was going, Hayleigh took a basket from a hook on the wall and left by the back door of the cottage, taking her bird with her. In short order, Vetch appeared. He strode into the room dressed but with his hair messy from sleep, and Lily was reminded of how he had always looked when they were children.

    He smiled at her and said, ¡°Good morning.¡±

    ¡°Morning,¡± she mumbled softly. She couldn¡¯t help smiling. Even with the emerging beard that only accentuated his masculine jaw and chin, she still saw in him the smiling boy, with messy hair and bare feet, that she¡¯d run through the pastures and streets with as a child. He sat down at the table and went straight to spooning steaming porridge into a bowl, and set that bowl in front of Lily¡¯s place at the table. Lily sat. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. Even the unease she still felt about Hayleigh¡¯s abode could not dash her hunger. She fell to as Vetch filled a bowl for himself.

    ¡°Where did Hayleigh go?¡± he asked, lifting a first spoonful and blowing on it.

    Lily shook her head. ¡°She didn¡¯t say. Vetch, did you know she has a charge-beast?¡±

    He knit his brows momentarily, then, ¡°Her bird? Is it? I¡¯ve never seen a bird like that before. I thought it must have come from some foreign land.¡±

    Lily watched him return to eating. He looked so much better this morning than he had the night before. She knew, of course, that the ghastly sword wounds were still there underneath his shirt, but his color was much better and he looked and sounded clear-headed once more. She nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s a charge-beast. Sometimes, I feel it strongly. Other times, it¡¯s like it¡¯s not there.¡± She paused and reflected, stopping short of mentioning to Vetch that at present, she once again felt the mild yet all-encompassing magic that had characterized the forest for her from the first day she¡¯d entered it.

    Vetch peered at her through his hair, and his eyes on her was like a balm. ¡°You came all this way,¡± he said. The way he mentioned it, it was as if she had given him more compliment in that action than he could possibly deserve. Lily¡¯s cheeks colored.

    ¡°To catch up with you and help save Marigold, however I might,¡± she confirmed.

    The expression on his face became troubled. He set his spoon down in the bowl and looked at the table, saying quietly, ¡°I have fouled up everything, Lily. I failed as a soldier. I had always wanted to be one, so much so that I spurned my family¡¯s trade to do it. And what did it lead to? I couldn¡¯t protect anyone at Moonfane, and then I couldn¡¯t protect the few who came with me to get revenge. My orders led them to their deaths. I¡¯m only relieved you didn¡¯t catch up to us sooner. I wouldn¡¯t have been able to protect you, either.¡±

    ¡°You speak as if you¡¯re not a soldier anymore.¡± Lily¡¯s voice was barely above a whisper. The encouragement she¡¯d felt at Vetch speaking like his normal self again was stifled as the bleakness of his words cut her.

    He closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, the light she was used to seeing there seemed shuttered away. ¡°If ever I was,¡± he said bitterly. ¡°All I¡¯ve left now is to see that you return safely home.¡±

    ¡°What home? There¡¯s no home to return to. Vetch, Marigold is still a prisoner of those people. I have to at least find her. Is there nothing we can do?¡±

    Vetch turned to stare into the fire and she saw him working through possibilities. ¡°Not without an army,¡± he said at last. ¡°Because they have one, Lily. And a mage leading them.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± she said. ¡°I met this mage and she tried to kill me. But she didn¡¯t succeed. And she didn¡¯t kill Marigold, either, she took her. She took her when she was at her most vulnerable, in Slumber, when a mage trusts that their apprentice will protect them. There is nothing I could do against that other Barrier-Caster,¡± she added softly. ¡°But I still have to find Marigold. She¡¯s probably woken from Slumber by now. With her and I and you, maybe ...¡± She let the words hang and was discouraged when Vetch didn¡¯t pick them up.

    A strong breeze stole down the chimney, whipping the flames about in the hearth. They settled again. The logs burned steadily. Vetch lifted his shoulders in a shrug and let them drop. ¡°I¡¯d rather not see you go into danger. Neither can I stop you.¡±

    His words were so very unlike him. Confused, Lily watched him. Was it fear or self-doubt in his eyes? She could understand if it was fear. She herself had not been free of fear¡¯s clutches since leaving Moonfane Forge. But self-doubt? Giving up on himself? That was not Vetch. Perhaps he really wasn¡¯t back to his normal self yet like she had thought.

    ¡°But then what will you do?¡± she asked, fearing to hear his answer.

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    She didn¡¯t get to. The back door of the cottage opened and Hayleigh returned with Scarlet on her shoulder and her basket brimming with duck eggs. Perpetual smile on her face, she set the basket down on the kitchen board while her bird launched from her shoulder and returned to its cage.

    ¡°He wakes,¡± she commented, upon seeing Vetch at the breakfast table. As if she were witnessing some odd dream play out, Lily watched as the woman went to Vetch, bent over him, and kissed his cheek. And he smiled up at the woman as she did it. ¡°Shirt off, handsome,¡± Hayleigh commanded. ¡°I¡¯ll work on your wounds again while you eat.¡±

    Lily sensed the initial thrumming of a spell being cast when Hayleigh set her hands to Vetch¡¯s bared torso. He shivered once at her cool touch and Lily felt something clutch in her heart. Her appetite gone, she stood.

    ¡°I must go see to Fae,¡± she excused herself. Neither Hayleigh nor Vetch voiced a response. Vetch merely smiled at her with a dreamy, drunken expression.

    Inside his cage, Scarlet twittered a strange little song before using his beak and feet to climb out and up to the top of it. As Lily retrieved a bag of fodder from her saddlebags and went out the door, the bird hopped up to a ceiling rafter and squeezed itself through a flap beneath the roof thatch. She stood on the threshold and watched the bird wing away into the woods, a red flame weaving through brown and green. Lily felt a brief burst of magic from it, and then it was gone, replaced by her awareness of the strange spell being worked upon Vetch inside the cottage.

    The rain had cleared in the night and left the morning air cool and clean. The stream before the cottage flowed fuller and faster. The ground was still wet and Lily could smell the soil and all the greenery of her surroundings. Fae grunted her usual greeting at Lily and trotted up to her to push his heavy head into her arms. She chuckled, despite herself.

    ¡°Are you greeting me or the bag of food I have?¡±

    Fae answered her question by first licking Lily¡¯s face, then nosing at the fodder bag she protected in the crook of her arm so the great beast wouldn¡¯t tear it open trying to get at the food.

    ¡°Back up, back up, back up,¡± Lily chided. She held the fodder bag over her head out of Fae¡¯s reach until she could walk over to an open patch of grass by the stream and upend the bag for her panthegrunn. Fae fell straight upon the food, making happy panthegrunn noises as she munched away. Lily folded the empty bag. She had only one more bag in her supplies and it was not a full one either.

    She sighed. Through the cottage window, she watched Hayleigh casting her healing magic. Vetch was speaking, saying words to her that did not reach Lily¡¯s ears outside. Whatever it was, it made Hayleigh laugh and she lightly cuffed Vetch¡¯s shoulder before resuming her Casting.

    ¡°I think we should leave here soon.¡± Lily spoke softly, as if afraid someone besides Fae would hear her and know her foolishness. What right had she to expect Vetch to join his quest to hers, after all he had been through? He had watched his fellow soldiers die and only barely escaped the same fate himself. Lily was heartbroken to know that so many from Moonfane Forge¡¯s garrison had died, and she was hardly acquainted with any of them. But for years, Vetch had spent his every waking moment with those people. And then he had seen their violent deaths. With the garrison all but vanquished, who would know better than he that bringing his one sword against the raiders now would never win Marigold back? The shambles that were their lives now would not be mended by that suicidal act.

    Instead, he had found himself here¡ªsafe, healed, cared for¡ªall while believing Lily dead. Was it such a betrayal that he could enjoy the attentions of an attractive woman who had saved him? What right did Lily have to whisk him away from happiness? He and she were never pledged to one another, were they? She had always wanted to be in his company, more so with every year as they grew into adulthood, and Vetch had always seemed to want to share that company, as well, had he not? But they had never pledged anything to one another. Lily found her previous view of things wavering. What had their brief conversations and plans to spend time together truly been? Had she only presumed there was more meaning behind those moments than truly there was? His clear joy at discovering her survival had reinvigorated her with all those strong feelings, but since then, he had seemed mostly indifferent to her presence, happy she was alive, yet reserving his attentions for the forest woman.

    Lily thought back and wondered how she had been so mistaken. Could it be he only ever thought of her as his childhood friend¡ªthe lanky girl who had used to hang her arms over the fence of his parents¡¯s tannery trading jokes with him¡ªand deigned to treat her to a day in the markets only because he had always been kind to her like that? Why would he not prefer someone like Hayleigh, a woman who appeared to have experience and ease of speech with men, as Lily did not, and was vibrant and buxom and attractive ...

    Without having noticed their appearance, Lily found that her cheeks were wet with tears. How could she have been so foolish? Vetch was never hers. She had never expressed her true desire to him as she should have, as Marigold had advised her to do time and time again. She couldn¡¯t stop him from pursuing a new life of his own after their town¡¯s destruction, any more than he would stop her from continuing on her quest to find Marigold, the one person remaining to her that could tie her to her old life.

    Brushing the fodder dust off her hands, Lily stared forlornly through the window. Vetch was pulling on his shirt as Hayleigh, with eyes faraway after a difficult Casting, said something to him and returned to her bedroom to Slumber. Lily thought of how any other time she would have been excited to meet another mage. She should have been happy with her fortune at finding Vetch, even as the news of the other soldiers¡¯s deaths marred their reunion. And she had been, but now she felt only like she was an interloper, like she had stepped into a strange couple¡¯s household and witnessed intimacies not meant for her eyes. Only, Vetch was not a stranger. He was her oldest friend, the boy she had played with when they were children, who had grown into the man that she felt ... no, not simply affection for, but love. They had been apart for only days, yet something had change between the raid on Moonfane Forge and now. Or maybe it hadn¡¯t changed at all, and it was only that Lily comprehended the truth now. Either way, this woman¡ªthis strange and isolated, yet gregarious and forward woman¡ªhad already captured Vetch in Lily¡¯s absence. If a few days was all it took, then she couldn¡¯t have ever been as important to him as he was to her. He had made his choice; who was she to fight it?

    ¡°We should leave here soon,¡± she said again, this time to herself alone, her voice coming out in a trembling whisper. ¡°I am only in their way here.¡±

    Almost, it took more courage than she could muster to put on a neutral face and go back inside. Vetch, lounging before the fire, turned a drunken smile upon her.

    ¡°How is Fae?¡± he asked inanely.

    Lily swallowed down a shuddering breath. ¡°We ... I need to be leaving.¡±

    ¡°Back to Moonfane Forge?¡±

    Lily shook her head. Some locks of her hair had come free from her loose ponytail. She brushed them out of her eyes. ¡°I need to go find Marigold. I wish ...¡± she hesitated. ¡°Vetch, I am sorry about your friends from the garrison. I know there¡¯s nothing more you can do. Maybe nothing more I can do, either. I still have to go.¡±

    The soldier knit his brow as he looked up at her. She saw a struggle in the lines of his face that she didn¡¯t understand. She was struck by his beauty. Even with his sun-ruddy face and unruly hair and the patchy beard, he was beautiful. Beautiful and yet troubled.

    ¡°There is a town south of here, out of the forest,¡± he said, and his words were delivered in the stark cadence of a soldier informing his men. ¡°Pasanhal, it¡¯s called. I think that is where Marigold is being taken. To a castle of black stone, surrounded by wheatfields. Please be safe, Lily, if you must go after her. Though I would prefer you returned to Moonfane.¡± He returned to staring at the fire.

    Lily anxiously stroked the palm of one hand with the thumb of the other. She didn¡¯t understand him. Why could he not speak to her as he always had, before the raid had happened? Did he hope to make their parting easier by not injecting too much emotion into it?

    ¡°Pasanhal,¡± she repeated, and shivered. Having the name of the town made real the hornet¡¯s nest she planned to go into. And she would have to do it alone. No band of soldiers. Not even Vetch by himself. Lily cast her eyes about the cottage. ¡°Then ... I go to make ready. Your healing ... I hope it continues well, that you recover. If I can get Marigold back somehow ...¡± She trailed off, not knowing what else she meant to say. He only nodded.

    In truth, there was little to make ready. Lily had only to gather her bedding from the floor and stuff it back into a saddlebag. Vetch did not even rise from his chair to help her with saddling Fae. It was strange how such as miniscule inaction could say so much about how their relationship had changed in the course of a few days. As she tightened the straps of Fae¡¯s saddle and checked once more that the saddlebags and her rucksack were secure, she wished she could go back in time and have her duel with the Barrier-Caster who had taken Marigold to do over again. Would that she could she have been more skilled in her own Casting, and woken hours later rather than days and been able to go with Vetch and his soldiers when they departed. Would that have changed things? Perhaps, if she had been at his side all along, that would have kept things as they were.

    ¡°No,¡± Lily whispered. She knew it wouldn¡¯t have. She sniffled and mounted her panthegrunn.

    The door of the cottage opened and Vetch stood there, barefoot still, a small, almost regretful smile on his handsome face. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and lifted that same hand to wave to her. It was a simple gesture of parting, but to her it may as well have been a dismissal. She put a smile on her own face, telling herself she was doing what was right for him and required for her, as she lifted her hand in kind. Then, so as not to have to look into his eyes a moment more, and be reminded that the light from them no longer shined on her, she turned Fae toward the little path and nudged her flanks.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, girl.¡±

    As Fae carried her across the footbridge arching over the stream, she heard the cottage door close. From there, they followed the little path that took them away from the cottage and into the dense and shadowed forest once more.

 Chapter 10: Rivalry, part 4

    The path wound its way beneath the trees on a track nearly as gnarled as the limbs overhanging it. As hours passed, Lily understood just how far her panthegrunn had carried her away from the road in her Slumber in order for them to arrive at the healing mage¡¯s home. It wasn¡¯t until the sun was cresting the sky directly above that they arrived on the main track of Bannerman¡¯s Wood once again. With reins held carelessly in her fingers, Lily sat stiffly in the saddle and let Fae choose her own easy pace up the road. As sorrowful as she felt at losing Vetch to another woman and departing without him, having made her choice and to now be following it eased some of the tension within her. It seemed the farther away from the cottage she and Fae went, the lighter and more clear-headed Lily felt.

    Next, she would need to find her way out of the forest and south to this Pasanhal town. Vetch had mentioned a castle of black stone surrounded by wheatfields; that was where he believed Marigold had been taken. While Lily could not guess how he had gleaned that information, she trusted it.

    Another thing that seemed to be ebbing as she went along the road was the subtle misting of magic that hung about the forest like an invisible noose. She could still feel it, but it bothered her senses less, and she was glad to be escaping it. Known magic excited Lily, but unknown magic frightened her. She hoped that by the time she left the forest behind entirely, she would have left behind its disconcerting magic with it, like brushing bits of hay off her clothes after feeding the goats and leaving their pen.

    It was this gradual lifting of the forest¡¯s perpetual magic that allowed Lily to first sense the lifeform above her. She turned her eyes up to the trees almost before her wits conceived of why she did so. And, there! Hopping branch to branch, following her and Fae, was the red bird, Scarlet. Unnerved, Lily watched as the bird kept pace with them high up out of reach, its fathomless black eyes watching her fixedly.

    Just when she thought to shout at it and scare it away, abruptly it hopped to a higher branch, leapt off, and flew away. Lily turned in Fae¡¯s saddle to watch it go, steadying herself with a hand on Fae¡¯s head, between her horns.

    Suddenly, she felt bolstered. The pall of magic upon the forest seemed to clear and, unmistakably, Lily sensed a spell being cast, back in the direction from which she had come. It was a powerful spell, and not only could Lily sense its Casting clearly, but she knew its nature and origin without question. She clenched her fingers into Fae¡¯s shaggy fur and took in so sharp a gasp that stars scattered before her eyes. Why was she leaving? Why had she left him there? Quickly, and with her entire body trembling with adrenaline, Lily reined Fae around and put heels to her flanks.

    ¡°Go, Fae! Run, girl!¡±

    The panthegrunn grunted and shook out her great head before heeding Lily¡¯s command and stretching her powerful pantherine muscles. Her hooves pounded back up the road and then took them crashing through the underbrush onto the smaller, nearly hidden track back to Hayleigh¡¯s cottage. Lily kept her head tucked down, letting Fae¡¯s wide horns clear away the low branches before them, as tears of anxiety and fear were torn from her eyes by the wind.

    She wanted to scold herself as a fool for not having put together what was being done in that cottage from the moment she had arrived there. Then again, the magic that had been cast on her, by its very nature, made that next to impossible. She knew that, but she still hated it. It was only now that she saw and sensed everything with perfect clarity, because the spell was no longer being directed at her. Now, it was being cast on Vetch alone, and he had no magic of his own to let him sense the ill being done and so gird himself against it.

    Lily hurried, yet as swiftly as Fae could eat up the path back to the cottage, it felt to her as if it took a lifetime to arrive again at the docile little forest dwelling. Lily saw it now for what it truly was: a spider¡¯s lair.

    Fae¡¯s hooves put dents in the planks of the little bridge over the stream. Once across it, Lily slid down from Fae¡¯s saddle before the big panthegrunn had even entirely arrested her run. Fae gave voice to a grunting roar and stomped the ground with her hoof, puffing hard, caught up in her companion mage¡¯s sense of alarm. Terrified, angry, determined, Lily shoved the cottage door wide open and stood on its threshold looking upon a scene that, to her eyes, was intimate, yet to her sense of magic was abhorrent. Vetch lounged back in his chair before the fire, torso bared, his face a picture of infatuation. Above him, with one knee lifted salaciously up on the chair between his thighs, Hayleigh perched. She was naked, her generous flesh paler where normally covered by her clothes, her hair hanging down in curtains around Vetch¡¯s face. She held his cheeks in her hands, cradling his chin atop her large breasts.

    As Lily entered the cottage, the woman was just in the act of drawing Vetch¡¯s mouth up to her own, her lips brushing his in the prelude to a kiss. And all around them, like an overly-strong perfume, was a haze of untamed magic, such that Lily felt she pushed her way into a dense, stifling fog. This was not healing. It had never been healing magic. Lily had read about this kind of mage years ago in her studies: Emotion-Casters. Even now, the very concept made her shudder, as it had back then. Everything made sense to Lily, now that the repugnant magic was not leveled at her. Hayleigh had cast a wide magical net out across the forest. She drew in those she wanted, while those she did not, she compelled to leave, and all by impressing emotions upon them. Lily recalled her sudden despair beside the pond ... and the pressing feeling that she had been imposing upon lovers that had coerced her into leaving. All of that power was directed into Vetch now.

    Despite all Lily understood now, still her heart wrenched in her breast upon witnessing the momentary tableau of her Vetch in a lover¡¯s embrace with another woman. The sight, and the feeling, passed in an instant, as the sound of the door banging against the cottage wall startled Hayleigh. She whipped her gaze over to Lily and her face showed shock, then outrage.

    ¡°What are you doing? Get out!¡± she cried. There was as much surprise in her voice as there was anger. The skin of her face and throat were still flush with desire and for a moment, she looked like any normal person interrupted in the midst of such a vulnerable act. But her hands remained on Vetch¡¯s skin and the magic still swirled. ¡°How dare you!¡± she yelled, recovering herself enough to summon more strength and awareness into her words, even though it made her concentration on the magic waver. ¡°Get out of my home and leave us be!¡±

    ¡°Take your hands off him, witch!¡± Lily demanded. ¡°Vetch, do you hear me? She is not a healer!¡± Lily dared not take her eyes off of Hayleigh, so she could not tell if her words reached Vetch at all.

    ¡°Witch?¡± Hayleigh spat the word as if she¡¯d been struck. ¡°How dare you. How dare you!¡± She slid back from Vetch in his chair and advanced on Lily, chin tipped up in proud indignation, caring not at all about her nakedness, but seeming almost to taunt Lily with it, as if to flaunt what had won the handsome soldier away from her. ¡°You would name me what women with magic have been profaned with for centuries? Because we have power that could be wielded rightfully upon men who would only belittle and betray us otherwise?¡±

    The moment the emotions mage removed her hands from Vetch, Lily noted an ebbing of the spell being cast on him. Vetch blinked his eyes and appeared aware of Lily¡¯s presence for the first time. Lily was encouraged by this, but in another instant sadness welled up in her. Aware of the magic¡¯s nature now as she had not been before, Lily could identify the spell invading her emotions and redirecting them. Even prepared for it, there was no way to stop it. The imparted desire to leave this place caused her to begin backing out of the cottage and away from it. But while her feet retreated, she steeled her resolve and forced sureness into the words she flung back at the other woman.

    ¡°It¡¯s the rightful name for a mage who uses her magic to ensorcell and manipulate someone. You don¡¯t deserve to practice magic.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Hayleigh asked calmly. She stood on the door¡¯s threshold now. Briefly, she spared a glance back into her house at Vetch. The magic moved, keeping him in check as well. To Lily¡¯s senses, it was a wild and uncaged magic with an erratic focus. Something was off about it. The woman¡¯s next words told her what. ¡°Because I am untrained? Because I had no master mage, like you, and had to make do begging lessons off of traveling Journeyers? I deserve the magic I worked for as much as anyone! And I deserve Vetch,¡± she added throatily. ¡°After my husband left me for another, I deserve a man who devotes himself only to me. Vetch loves me. Don¡¯t you, dear soldier?¡± she cooed back at him. In his chair, Vetch nodded dumbly, his eyes glassy and fixed on her.

    Then he blinked again, and a look of confusion stole over his face. He stood and came toward them. ¡°What? ... Lily?¡±

    With an imploring smile on her face, Hayleigh set her hand on Vetch¡¯s shoulder. Again, the magic shifted. Its focus left Lily and surrounded Vetch. Skin contact. That was the key. She couldn¡¯t cast her untrained magic well without it, necessitating the healer ruse.

    ¡°You love me, don¡¯t you, Vetch? Don¡¯t you want her to go away and leave us be?¡±

    The drunken smile that came over his face pierced Lily. He looked at the woman with eyes full of desire as he spoke. ¡°I do. I love you, my dear. Tell her she should go elsewhere and leave us be.¡±

    When Hayleigh touched Vetch, she had to release some of the spell of sadness being cast at Lily. Lily could not tell how much of what she felt now was real, and what was residual magic. It didn¡¯t matter. Either way, it rent her heart to hear Vetch speak those words to another woman before her.

    ¡°You heard him. Leave,¡± Hayleigh said. She smiled still, but it was strained. She had Vetch firmly ensnared with touch, but she struggled to juggle that spell with the one that kept Lily in doubt. Already, the artifice was lifting. Lily wondered if she could outlast the woman, wait until she overextended herself and passed out into Slumber. Or, could she push her way through the magic discouraging her and take one step forward, then another, and knock the woman flat on her back?

    ¡°I won¡¯t let you do this to him!¡± She gritted her teeth and took a step, fighting every inclination to turn around and leave this place behind. That feeling wasn¡¯t real. She would not leave without Vetch, would never abandon him. ¡°Take your hand off him now! He and I are leaving. Together.¡±

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    The emotion magic whipped and snapped through the air, invisible to sight but like banners violently thrashing about in storm winds to anyone with magic. Hayleigh¡¯s gaze became dark as Lily took another half step forward. The mocking smile left her face and a hitch of fear made the corner of her mouth twitch. Her words were stilted and unsteady.

    ¡°No. Never again will a beautiful young maiden take my man away from me. He¡¯s mine. Scarlet! Scarlet!¡± She cast her gaze all around at the surrounding trees, calling for the bird in a desperate voice. Lily felt the same flash of magic she¡¯d experienced the first time she saw the strange bird. To her astonishment, the feathered charge-beast seemed to appear out of thin air mid-flight above Hayleigh, to alight on her bared shoulder. Instantly, it was like the woman was reinvigorated. Her face broke into a smile of relief as she raised fingers to stroke the bird¡¯s red-plumed head, cooing to it, ¡°There you are, Scarlet, my brilliant ruby boy.¡±

    The moment the strange charge-beast was in physical contact with its companion, Lily felt the woman¡¯s magic flare and re-align itself. Lily knew that charge-beasts were said to lend magical strength to their companion mages, yet she had never imagined that that contact could be utilized in such an extreme way. Hayleigh¡¯s magic was both magnified many times and condensed into pinpoint focus. She didn¡¯t need to touch Vetch anymore. Untrained or no, with the bird lending her its inherent magical strength, she could cast emotion spells to almost the same degree that a master mage could. Lily sensed all this in one horrifying moment.

    Hayleigh dropped her hand from Vetch¡¯s shoulder and he remained standing there grinning like a fool, love stricken. She held Vetch in this state with ease, but at the same time directed the lioness¡¯s share of her Casting at Lily. An impossible wave of sadness crashed into her. Any sense of her own emotions, or that these were not of her own heart, was swept away like doomed mariners from the deck of a storm-tumbled ship. She stumbled backward, her entire body shaking.

    ¡°Who was it?¡± Hayleigh asked softly, following Lily as she backed toward the stream. ¡°What makes you so sad?¡±

    Lily¡¯s legs buckled when she reached the edge of the water and she dropped to the ground in a heap there. Images of her lost family assailed her, memories of all the happy years, buried now beneath grave dirt. She had not loved them enough, not spent enough time with them, not been a good daughter and sister. All the other memories she should have made with them when she had the chance, she had not. They were dead in the cold ground forever. Her mother, her father ... ¡°Matty,¡± Lily whispered, and her shoulders heaved on a choking sob.

    ¡°Matty,¡± Hayleigh confirmed, her face a picture of blank concentration as she stood above Lily and wove despair around her like ribbons around a maypole. ¡°That was his name, wasn¡¯t it? You let him down and it will never be made right. You can¡¯t bear that sadness a minute longer. The only thing in the world you want now is for it to end. For you to end. You could go into the stream, Lily. It would not be so bad, to take the water into your lungs and never feel sorrow again. Drown yourself. Like my husband drowned himself.¡±

    It would be so easy, Lily decided. The notion came to her as if it had been her own, a way to flee the anguish that must surely stay with her forever, just let the water wrap its chill tendrils around her like loving arms, breathe in, and never more would despair touch her. There was no path forward through such sadness. Only fleeing would free her of it. She wanted it more than anything, the cold and soothing water filling her lungs until she blacked out. She had been staring through her tears into the stream. Hayleigh had ceased speaking, yet the magic that Lily no longer sensed as magic embraced her and amplified every pang of sorrow that could ever be. To herself, she nodded. It was her decision alone. She would take it. It was easy.

    She slid one boot into the stream; the water burbled over the leather and its chill reached her toes. Yes, she would slip into the water, end the pain, leave Vetch to the better woman. He deserved better than herself. He always had. This, she would do for him. Bracing her hands on the mossy soil, Lily eased her other boot into the stream. The hem of her skirt touched the water, which began to soak upward through the fabric. Cold. But inviting. Like contemplating one¡¯s sorrows. Her fingernails dug into the soil as she stepped down and then the water was at her knees. She stood there for a moment, hesitating, shivering, her tears spattering the backs of her pale hands. Lily looked up and saw Vetch through those tears. He looked not at her, but at Hayleigh, his eyes radiating love and adoration, while his smile was that of a simpering boy. When she saw his eyes looking upon another in that way, the sorrow that was shredding her heart from the inside out redoubled, a blast so powerful it was like a physical force she must obey. She stood upright and moved backward, boots wobbling on the slick, stony streambed as, step by step, she walked out into the brisk current. The water reached barely above her waist here. She had only to submerge herself and breathe in. The idea was almost alluring now.

    Heavy thuds resonated on the streambank as, quicker than a beast of such immensity had any right to be, Fae charged and butted the broad top of her head into Hayleigh¡¯s chest. With a pained oof of displaced breath, the woman was knocked bodily to the ground. She had been so engrossed in her Casting that she¡¯d not even braced herself. Her red bird took to the air as his companion fell, flapping wild circles around Fae and screeching in indignation. Fae gave her broad skull a shake, brandishing her horns and scraping the dirt with a heavy hoof.

    With the wind knocked from her, and robbed of contact with her charge-beast, Hayleigh¡¯s spell dropped. Lily felt both her sadness and the magic recede from her like clouds clearing away from the peak of a mountain. More importantly, she could sense the magic as magic again, and know how it had tempted and invited her into the stream with the intent to end herself. She looked up through cleared eyes. Vetch stood by the cottage door, numb-faced and confused. Without appearing to know why, he reached back inside the open door for his sword, which had stood against the wall there since his arrival. Yet, even when he had his blade in hand, he seemed not to know what to do with it, nor even how to draw it, he just stared dumbly down at it in its scabbard.

    Fae turned away from the toppled Emotion-Caster and came splashing into the stream to push her head into Lily¡¯s arms. Lily dug her fingers into her panthegrunn¡¯s thick hair and was pulled by the great beast back up onto the streambank. She fell to her knees there, still recoiling from what had been done to her. Recognizing how the manipulative magic had been slinking through her innermost self revolted her. But as she clung to Fae, her strength and mastery of herself returned quickly. It was subtle, not like what the strange red bird did for Hayleigh, but Lily could feel how her own beloved charge-beast revitalized her, magically and emotionally, through proximity. This was why Marigold had paid nearly all the coin she¡¯d had to her name in order acquire the calf for Lily years before.

    As Lily regained herself, Hayleigh also was getting to her feet, holding her hand to her bruised breast. Her emotion magic rose with her, but it was weakened without her bird. Even as the thought came to Lily that she must do everything in her power to keep the two separated, Hayleigh took in a pained breath and called for her charge-beast. The gleaming red bird wheeled around and swooped down to her.

    Lily gasped and pushed herself to her feet. She raised her arm to cast a Barrier. There was no time to focus or concentrate, no time to consider that she would Slumber and Vetch would not know what to do with her, nor was there time to worry that her Barrier may fade before she woke, leaving her helpless at the feet of the Emotion-Caster. She would cast it, and they would run. That was all. Translucent gold began to shimmer in the air between Hayleigh and the descending bird. Yet, before Lily could move her hand and cast the spell, Fae shoved her aside and charged a second time. The beginnings of the Barrier wavered and disappeared, and Lily watched in amazement as the panthegrunn leapt up and neatly caught the bird out of the air in her mouth. Her hooves impacted the ground and, like a housecat worrying a mouse, she clamped her grazer¡¯s teeth down and shook her head back and forth. There was a snap, then Fae tossed her head and flung the bird away. Its body smacked limply against the side of the cottage and dropped to the ground, dead.

    Hayleigh screamed. ¡°Scarlet! My Scarlet! You¡¯ve killed him!¡± Wild-eyed, she clawed at her face and hair. Lily felt the sharp stab of agony that burst forth from the woman, but the strength had gone completely out of her repellent emotion magic. Even without direct contact, much of her focus in her magic had been lent to her by the powerful bird. Magic still flowed from her, but it found no target. To Lily¡¯s senses, it whipped about like grapevine tendrils ripped from their trellis by strong winds. Hayleigh¡¯s own emotions were thrown into that blind Casting, and Lily knew instinctively how the woman would burn herself out and Slumber long.

    A grunt from Fae drew Lily¡¯s attention. The panthegrunn advanced on Hayleigh and dropped her head to ready her horns. She also felt the wild magic, and still meant to protect Lily from it ...

    ¡°Fae!¡± Lily shouted breathlessly. ¡°Stop, Fae! Stop.¡±

    Fae did. She halted short of the wailing sorceress and raised her head. She stood grunting and puffing her anger through her nostrils a moment, then turned away and came to Lily. Hayleigh went to her bird, stooped, and picked it up. Its brilliant red feathers still gleamed iridescently while it hung limp in her hands. Despite everything, Lily still felt a pang of legitimate sympathy for the mage who had lost her charge-beast, for she knew how broken she herself would be if she lost Fae. But her feelings of sympathy were brief. This woman had tried to murder her and ensorcell Vetch.

    Vetch. Lily looked to him. The man still stood dumbfounded, though the look of confusion on his face was genuine now. He drew his sword and stared at the strange scene before him of Hayleigh, naked and weeping over her lifeless bird. The woman stood up and looked from Lily to Vetch and back, still holding her bird before her, as though she offered up an atrocity to them. Her lips moved, but she spoke no words and she swayed on her feet, stumbling to one side with a faraway look in her eyes. Lily knew the signs of encroaching Slumber.

    Lily swallowed, mustering her courage. ¡°You should go inside before you fall into Slumber,¡± she suggested, not so much as a kindness as simply desiring to have the woman out of her sight. Absently, she wondered how many days of Slumber so much venomous magic casting would cost her.

    It was unclear if Hayleigh comprehended Lily¡¯s words at all. Rather than going back inside her cottage, she sat down in the dirt and slowly sank onto her back. With her precious bird clutched to her breast, she lay down as if in a featherbed, closed her eyes, and dropped into the uncanny state of Slumber. Lily watched the dead bird¡¯s body rising and falling with the woman¡¯s steady breathing.

    She was startled by the sound of Vetch returning his blade to its scabbard. She looked at him and met his eyes. Unveiled in them was such a mix of emotions that her heart ached. She held her hand out to him.

    ¡°A moment,¡± he said huskily. He went into the cottage and in short order returned dressed and with his boots on and carrying his things. He walked to Lily, but before he reached her, he paused. He turned back and Lily wondered if he meant to go to Hayleigh, to speak some farewell to her. Instead, he stepped around her Slumbering form and reached up beneath the eaves of the cottage. From them he took down a couple game birds recently hung there. Lily mounted Fae, as he returned bearing these and stowed them in Fae¡¯s saddlebags. Lily held her hand out to him a second time and this time he took it. As she handed him up onto Fae behind her, she saw him in his eyes again. She saw Vetch. The fear that had so infused Lily evaporated.

    Grunting once against his still-painful wounds, Vetch settled himself as comfortably as he could on the panthegrunn behind her saddle. Lily touched Fae¡¯s flanks with her heels and wordlessly they departed.

    For how long the Emotion-Caster would Slumber back before her open cottage, naked and exposed to the elements, Lily did not know and did not care.

 Chapter 11: Ill-Gotten Coin, part 1

    ¡°Moonfane Forge has been attacked and razed!¡±

    The habitual call was lifted over the waking markets of Thornsway town. The delegation to the king from Moonfane Forge had arrived here late in the night and stolen what little sleep they could. Now, they would spend a day imparting their dire news to the local populace, and beg their aid, before moving on. The town was the largest inland habitation they would pass through before reaching their ultimate destination, the King¡¯s Capital City in the south. Thornsway was an important trading hub in the kingdom of Kaldura, a waypoint that linked the various trade regions of the kingdom to one another. Crops and livestock from the inland holds arrived here from the east, while fish and foreign goods came directly from the coastal towns to the west. Moonfane Forge sent many of its silverworks and yak¡¯s hair textiles here. Likewise, ideas, innovations, and proclamations arrived from the capital, to be disseminated throughout the kingdom.

    Ennric had been to Thornsway a handful of times in his life, and it seemed bigger and noisier to him with every visit. He dreaded the inevitable bustle of the capital, a city that dwarfed Thornsway.

    Standing beside his cart on the edge of the market, he grunted and raised the little mirror in his left hand. He was able to move his busted arm better now, but it still pained him, and still needed to rest in a sling most of the time. With his able arm, he brought his razor up and scraped the gray whiskers from his chin with careful strokes. He¡¯d never much cared for shaving his face clean daily as some men did, but if he was going to look presentable for an audience with the king, he¡¯d best get used to it now. He concentrated on his face and the earnest task of shaving, letting the words Purcell shouted out to merchants and marketgoers alike filter past his ears. Over the days of trekking down the King¡¯s Road, through little villages and towns, his retinue of survivors from Moonfane Forge had developed a system for taking shifts imploring the locals for help. Purcell was getting better at it; she no longer muttered to her feet. It had taken Ennric a few days, but he¡¯d tutored her to speak loudly and, if not yet with full confidence, at least with assertion. He wondered not for the first time how she could have been an effective town guardswoman when she seemed to have so much trouble speaking to a crowd. Perhaps she¡¯d been one of those types who did her speaking with her truncheon.

    A small crowd was gathering now, most of them apparently more interested in gawking at the valuable Moonfane Forge yaks tethered to their wagons than in hearing what Purcell had to beg of them. Just as many people passed by without a second glance. In the other towns Ennric and his people had stopped through thus far, they had convinced some folk of varying trades¡ªor no trades at all¡ªto make the trek up to Moonfane Forge to bolster its workers, with promises of advantageous pay and trade to come once the town was back on its feet. But it was fewer folk than Ennric had hoped to convince, and much fewer than it would take to see Moonfane Forge rebuilt and resuscitated. As if that wasn¡¯t discouraging enough, almost as many of his own people had peeled off from the caravan to stay behind and start their lives over again in one or other of the little villages, as if Moonfane Forge were a lost cause unworthy of the effort of rebuilding.

    Well, he had expected that, had he not? Some townsfolk had made no bones about joining his company solely with the intent of abandoning the ransacked Moonfane Forge and settling in whichever new place caught their fancy along the way. Still, it was frustrating to see how easily some people gave Moonfane Forge up for lost. And the lack of willing replacements they met along the way only added to that frustration.

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    The capital, and the king¡¯s good graces, would be their only hope if things kept on like this. Ennric didn¡¯t doubt the king would see the wisdom of aiding Moonfane Forge, even if only to ensure the supply of its valuable commodities would not dry up. But how high of a priority would he give them? How much coin, how many workers, how many soldiers would he see fit to send? How long would it take? Could he also send riders out to aid Vetch? Surely, no king would tolerate such an attack happening in one of his holds. Would someone in the palace be able to identify the raven-haired mage who had stolen Marigold, or have an idea of where she and the fighters she commanded fled to? These were the questions that plagued Ennric¡¯s mind day in and day out.

    He finished scraping his face and put his shaving implements away. The cart jostled as Purcell finished her spiel and stepped down from its seat where she had been standing. Another of their people took her place and took up their plea for aid. The beseeching words were just one voice drowned out in a din of hawkers and barkers and hagglers.

    ¡°They want the coin now and I don¡¯t know what to tell them,¡± Purcell said at his elbow.

    Ennric dabbed his finger at a spot where he¡¯d nicked his cheek, nodded resignedly. ¡°They¡¯re all going to keep asking that. We¡¯d best get used to it and have answers prepared.¡±

    ¡°But we don¡¯t have enough coin anymore. And they don¡¯t want to go on our promises alone.¡±

    Again, Ennric nodded. They¡¯d had this discussion before. It was like they sought only to confirm it with one another with each new habitation they visited. He faulted himself for spending their limited coin too freely in the early days of their mission. Few people saw relocating to a partially destroyed town to help rebuild it as appealing, at least until solid coin was clinking into their open palms. Ennric had authorized what he¡¯d had to in order to get people to agree. It was in that way their resources had rapidly dwindled. Unsurprisingly, not even the promise of greater returns down the line was securing many volunteers, not in the way that a handful of silver on the spot could.

    ¡°Bag o¡¯ coins on the dinner table.¡± He muttered the saying to himself. People wanted something they could clasp in hand now, not something they must wait until later for. He couldn¡¯t blame them. To Purcell, he said, ¡°Just make them the promises. Future pay, trading agreements, land, anything Moonfane Forge has at its disposal.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel right promising people things we don¡¯t know we can deliver.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯d be the first town guard to feel that way,¡± he said before he could stop himself. Purcell looked at him with a face like a sad puppy dog¡¯s. ¡°Look,¡± he said gruffly. ¡°We have a task here before us, do we not? There are livelihoods at stake back home.¡±

    ¡°People have been asking for yaks of their own, if they make the move.¡±

    That gave Ennric pause. Ostensibly, the animals they had brought along were also for the purpose of trade and payment in exchange for work and aid. At least, most of the animals were¡ªgoats, horses, and mules could be spared. Moonfane Forge¡¯s yaks, however, were guarded jealously. Such prized beasts were rarely sold or traded even within Moonfane Forge, let alone to outsiders. Those that they had brought with them were, by unspoken agreement, reserved for the king himself, as tribute to ensure his favor.

    Ennric weighed his words for a moment, lowered his voice. ¡°Make whatever promises it takes, Purcell, and let the others know to do the same. Until you see greed shining in people¡¯s eyes at the prospect of helping us. Moonfane Forge¡¯s survival might very well depend on it.¡±

 Chapter 11: Ill-Gotten Coin, part 2

    *

    -15 years prior-

    ¡°You¡¯re distracted today.¡± Marigold spoke delicately. It was neither question nor accusation. ¡°Perhaps we should return to this lesson another time.¡±

    She stood beside Iris atop Black Crux¡¯s inner wall, watching her apprentice out of the corner of her eye. Iris gazed out over the parapet, arms crossed, her brow and eyes hard as she took in the view of the town below the black cliffs upon which the old fortress-turned-manor stood.

    ¡°One in my position always has a full plate, Mage-Matron,¡± Iris stated. She turned her head slowly, casting her eyes from one side of the town to the other and then to the abundant golden fields stretching beyond it to the horizon. A soft and cool breeze swept through her long tresses and tugged at the skirt of her richly embroidered dress. ¡°I am used to making decisions while other responsibilities press upon me. So, I am likewise capable of casting Barriers while considering other things, as you well know. What would you have me try today?¡± Her eyes never strayed from the view beyond the parapet.

    Inwardly, Marigold knew she was right. Lady Iris excelled at Barrier-Casting and, in pure skill at least, was beginning to show an ease in magic usage that presaged her being ready for Journeyer¡¯s status. However, she gave little regard to Marigold¡¯s assertion that she must devote her entire self to her spell Castings and to living a mage¡¯s life. So, the more Iris¡¯s skills grew, the more the lessons had become like this one, brusque and fraught with fruitless bargaining. Marigold would find herself beseeching Iris to adhere to the exact nature of her lessons, only for Iris to show herself capable of casting the spells she was directed to without the motions or state of focus asked of her. ¡°If I don¡¯t need your teas and concentration exercises to cast my Barriers, then I simply don¡¯t,¡± she had once said, and Marigold could think of no argument.

    ¡°We waste our time here,¡± Iris declared, facing her teacher at last, impatience lining her brow. ¡°Tell me what Barrier I must cast to prove to you I have kept up with my studies and I will cast it. Or don¡¯t. My husband has a meeting with a foreign delegation soon and I will attend it.¡±

    ¡°If you want to beg out of today¡¯s lesson, just say so, girl.¡± Marigold realized her words had come out harsher than intended. She attempted to inject some humor into them by adding, ¡°Or are you worried that what I have in store for you will be too advanced? Are you scared you can¡¯t cast it?¡± Challenging the young woman was typically the most effective way to get her to focus. When it didn¡¯t set off her temper. ¡°And such confidence! Are you so certain you won¡¯t be dropping instantly into Slumber after today¡¯s little test? Hard to attend a meeting in that state.¡± That was another thing. Iris could delay Slumber with an aptitude nearly unheard of in an apprentice. No mage could stave it off indefinitely, but skilled Masters, and even some Journeyers, could learn to resist it for a few hours. Sometimes, that made all the difference when it came to saving Slumber until the time of greatest convenience. That Iris could do so as an apprentice was a testament to her raw skill.

    ¡°Test?¡± Iris queried, raising her brows.

    Marigold had her attention now. She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled. ¡°That¡¯s what I said. You are to cast a Barrier across the top of the wall here. It must have a Permission to allow Siegert through it when he passes by here before noon on his patrol, but! ...¡± Marigold held up a finger, smiling wider. ¡°After the sun has passed into afternoon, that Permission must expire, leaving him unable to walk through when he comes back.¡±

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    ¡°Siegert?¡±

    Marigold sighed. ¡°One of your inner keep guardsmen, Lady Iris. The tall one, with the dirty blonde hair and the little mole on the tip of his nose. He has been in your service for years; you should really know his name.¡±

    Iris waved her hand. ¡°Yes, yes, I know him. Let him pass through the Barrier before noon, but keep him out after noon. A Permission and a Condition of time.¡± A smile appeared on her face. ¡°This is a complex Imbuement.¡±

    Marigold credited herself for the snap decision to make this test more difficult than she had originally intended. It wouldn¡¯t even matter if Iris was ready to pull it off yet, only that she was intrigued sufficiently to throw her full concentration into trying.

    Then, as if suddenly reminded of something, Iris scowled. ¡°But if I must cast it and stand here waiting for the sun to crawl across the sky, I will miss the meeting. That won¡¯t do. And, look.¡± She gestured up and down the wall. ¡°Do you see a single guard? What if he¡¯s late in his patrol? Why are there not more men-at-arms here? There should be more. This is yet another thing I must bring up with my husband, one that he probably will not listen to me about. If Black Crux were to be attacked¡ª¡±

    Marigold lifted her hand. ¡°I¡¯m certain the amount of guards and patrols are sufficient. Lord Marcus¡ª¡±

    At the mention of Lord Marcus, Iris¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°My husband,¡± she emphasized, ¡°is not the only one who rules here at Black Crux. And he clings too much to old habits. One of us needs to look at the state of things as they are and determine how to improve upon them. Evidently, that always falls to me.¡±

    ¡°Lady Iris, I did not mean¡ª"

    ¡°Speak of my husband no more.¡± Iris spoke stiffly, making it a command from a noblewoman, rather than a request from an apprentice mage. ¡°You are here to teach. I don¡¯t want to hear how you believe he has the entire running of this hold under control without any input from me.¡± She looked around her, appearing at once to recall what they had been speaking about before her ire was raised. ¡°This test you have set me would take much too long and cause me to miss the meeting. I¡¯ll do it in a quicker way, one that will still satisfy even you, who seemingly doubts my abilities in much the same as my husband does.¡±

    Before Marigold could voice a word against that, Iris¡ªher expression taking on a calm determination¡ªswept her arm up and outward over the parapet. Instantly, a rectangular Barrier formed in the air just beyond the wall, like a short platform of golden-hued glass.

    Then, as Marigold watched in horror, Iris nonchalantly kicked off her slippers, stepped up onto the parapet, and walked onto the Barrier. She stood there on it, with the open air gaping beneath, nothing between herself and a perilous fall onto jagged stones except for the thin, ethereal Barrier.

    ¡°Iris, please, come down from there,¡± Marigold gasped, her heart in her throat.

    Iris turned and looked down upon her teacher with a triumphant and challenging grin on her face. ¡°There! You see?¡± She stamped her bare foot on the Barrier, demonstrating its solidity. ¡°Did you not think I could do it? Well, here it is, Mage-Matron, as you asked. The Imbuement for the guardsman¡¯s Permission is sound, and it will change at the strike of noon. You are welcome to wait on him in order to test it.¡± She held out her hand. ¡°Come. You can stand on it, too. Or are you worried I¡¯ve got it wrong, so when the sun reaches its zenith, you will fall through to the rocks below?¡±

    Outwardly, Marigold kept her composure, but inside, trepidation roiled. She chose not to dignify the taunt. ¡°If you mean to attend meetings with foreign envoys, my lady, you¡¯d be smart to give up that dark humor.¡±

    Iris voiced a soft sound through her nose, as though her fun had been spoiled. She hopped gracefully down from the Barrier back onto the solid stone wall. Sliding her feet back into her slippers, she said, ¡°If there is nothing more today, Mage-Matron, I go to the meeting now.¡± With that, she swept past Mage Marigold and strode away.

    Marigold didn¡¯t watch her go. When the sound of Iris¡¯s footsteps had receded, she went to the parapet and looked at the Barrier. Its shimmering gold hue was already dissipating. The sun traversed the sky toward its apex. On the warm stones of the walkway, Marigold¡¯s shadow gradually shortened, until it was only a black spot beneath her feet.

 Chapter 11: Ill-Gotten Coin, part 3

    *

    Vetch flinched and nearly fell over sideways from where he perched behind Lily¡¯s saddle. His muscles acted of their own accord to keep him upright, causing him to gasp silently in pain. His injuries ached abominably. Had he been asleep? He could not tell one way or the other. Yet, night had fallen since he had last been aware, and they had somehow found themselves back on the main road of Bannerman¡¯s Wood. The small trail that had led them away from Hayleigh¡¯s secluded cottage was an afterthought, left behind like a fever dream. Bright moon and starlight lit their way, silvering the leaves overhead and dusting the pathway before them. Night insects whirred and chirped. It was tempting to simply close his eyes and drowse again, but Vetch decided he best not.

    Lily¡¯s panthegrunn padded easily along the road, carrying the two of them and her laden saddlebags without any discernable effort. It was the first time Vetch had ridden on Fae. Her gait was so different from that of a horse. He could feel her casual strength. What a terrifying animal. He had the vague recollection of watching her effortlessly throw Hayleigh off her feet with but a toss of her great head, all to protect Lily. Yet, with Lily, this strange, dangerous beast was as benign as a kitten. Vetch noted, too, her unusual stamina, and briefly he wondered at how she carried the both of them long into the night without a hint of the fatigue a horse would have shown. How much more effective could a garrison be, outfitted entirely with charge-beast mounts instead of horses? He discarded the disturbing prospect almost as quickly as he thought of it; charge-beasts rarely tolerated the company of anyone save their companion mages. Fae was docile with a few individuals that Lily looked liked, but there was a reason Lily also chose to care for and feed the animal herself, despite the availability of capable stable hands in Moonfane Forge.

    Vetch¡¯s wandering mind alerted him to how tired he was and how late the night had grown. He touched Lily¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Lily. It is night. We need to stop and make a camp.¡±

    She didn¡¯t startle as he had expected her to. Instead, she quickly ran the back of her hand over her eyes. Had she been weeping in silence? He saw her shoulders rise and fall, as if she took a breath to steady her voice, before she said, ¡°You¡¯re right. Let¡¯s ... let¡¯s find a place to camp.¡±

    That place was a sheltered bower directly off the road, where the trees might disguise a campfire should more of The Lady¡¯s sellswords appear. Vetch chose the spot without mentioning to Lily that reasoning. There, he kindled a small fire and cooked the game birds they had taken from the malignant mage, while Lily saw to Fae. They worked as if there were a fence between the two of them, saying little save what was necessary, and Vetch knew that they both quietly bore the tiredness and confusion of the day¡¯s events. It was only after they had eaten¡ªand with the taste of the unpleasant, gamey meat still on his tongue¡ªthat he thought to speak, to try and detangle some of what they both had gone through, and what they might do next.

    ¡°We¡¯re heading east,¡± he noted, attaching no presumptions to the statement.

    Across the pitiful fire, Lily hugged her knees to her chest and sat looking into the flames. She looked as if she had gone through much since he had last seen her. She was dirty and had faint scratches on her lithe arms. Her hair hung lank and dull where it had come out of its tail. Her eyes, in which he was used to seeing such buoyancy and light, were destitute. Even her dress was ripped. She had clearly been wearing the same one for days. He¡¯d not seen this dress before. Borrowed, he realized, because all of her possessions would have been lost when her home burned. Had she even brought extra clothing? Did she know how important that was when expecting to travel for days on end?

    Despite all of these things, she was still so beautiful to him, the most beautiful sight he could think of. To look upon her, and know that she lived, rejuvenated him, made his heart light. But, at the same time, to see her typically lively bearing so marred by what the attack on their town had taken from her put his thoughts in a dark place. He desired nothing more than to take revenge on the villains responsible. So, when Lily nodded to his words, he found himself nodding along before she even voiced her answer.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she murmured. She took a breath. Then another, deeper one. ¡°I must find Marigold and be at her side. I had hoped to catch up with you and the other soldiers ...¡±

    Her words trailed away as Vetch made a short nod of his head. Before finding Lily alive, he had been resigned to abandoning his mission and going home. Even now, he still considered advising they do that. But that would be wise cowardice, and the notion fluttered away at the resoluteness in her voice, compelling him to reorder his thinking.

    ¡°There¡¯s not much we can do, you understand,¡± he cautioned. Already, he saw that if she meant to go on, that he would follow. He would follow her without question. Still, he could not do so without cautioning her. ¡°We¡¯ll be seeking merciless people, Lily, just the two of us, with little recourse to defy them should we succeed in locating them at all.¡±

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    She nodded her head faintly and hugged her knees in closer. She had no argument against that and neither did he.

    ¡°What will happen to that woman?¡± Vetch asked into the shared silence. The question had come to him and escaped his lips before he could decide whether or not it was a fair moment to ask it. Lily¡¯s eyes met his and her brow knit in confusion. When he clarified ¡°Hayleigh¡±, he saw how her posture stiffened. He felt a pinch of guilt for his ill-advised curiosity. If she chose not to answer, he wouldn¡¯t have blamed her.

    ¡°The weather is mild. I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll take too much ill from being outside a few nights.¡± Lily¡¯s voice settled into the cadence of a student of magic, speaking from a direction of expertise divested of emotion. ¡°She used her magic for horrible things, but without her charge-beast, I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll be a threat to anyone anymore. She hadn¡¯t the training to summon that strength herself. Already, I can no longer sense the net of magic over these woods that had been here before.¡± Vetch knew nothing about this ¡®net of magic¡¯ Lily spoke of, but he stayed silent and listened on. ¡°She will wake from Slumber eventually, thirsty and hungry and alone, and go on with her life.¡±

    The way she asserted this last was as if she finished the chapter of a book and closed it, leaving Vetch with the impression that it would be spoken of no more.

    ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°Then ... then we go on.¡± To this, Lily nodded adamantly. Vetch smiled. Yes, she was right. It was not in his hands to give up on Marigold and return home, nor to let the raiders escape his blade. In this endeavor, the two of them represented Moonfane Forge¡¯s scant hope that the attack would not be its final breath. ¡°Okay,¡± he reiterated. ¡°Then, if we¡¯re to see this through, we need to sleep now and wake early. We are on the right trail. We¡ªthat is to say, my soldiers and I¡ªhad been catching up to them, but you and I have lost some days to them now. The Lady who took Marigold flees to a black-stoned castle surrounded by wheat fields. We had found a coat of arms that confirmed that description. Still hadn¡¯t ferreted out who The Lady is, but to the south and east of here is a town called Pasanhal. It seems a likely region for this black castle to be located. We need to find our way out of these woods and make our way to that town. From there ...¡±

    The light of the flickering flames from their campfire caught and highlighted the quiet tears running down Lily¡¯s cheeks. Vetch saw then how she drew herself even smaller and clenched her jaw tightly with her eyes cast down at the fire, as though she heard him not at all. But the moment his voice trailed away, she looked up into his eyes and he saw how she¡¯d been holding everything in. When she saw the matching look of dismay on his face, she burst into sobs. Instantly, he went to her side and drew her into his arms.

    ¡°Oh, Vetch, my family are all dead,¡± she keened into his chest, her voice breaking and her breaths coming in plaintive gasps. Vetch held her quaking shoulders and soothed her hair with his cheek as the tide of her mourning spilled over. In that moment, he felt more powerless than he ever had in his life.

    ¡°I know, I know, shh, shh, shh ...¡± he whispered helplessly. There was nothing he could do. He knew that. No way to bring them back for her and no way to ease her pain now. He could only hold her and let her cry. ¡°I am so, so very sorry, Lily.¡± He squeezed her and she huddled herself tighter to him. The warmth of her lithe body warded off the chill of the night, but not the chill clenching his heart.

    For a long time, they stayed like this, until her sobs softened and her breathing became even once again. And Vetch rubbed her arms and kissed the top of her head, and then her temple. He closed his eyes and calmed his own breathing down, matching it to hers as one paltry comfort he could offer.

    Even as he comforted her, he wondered at how could he have been so callous. Her family was no more and she sought only to save the one remaining person who was like family to her. She didn¡¯t deny her pain, nor hide from how it drove her on. Unlike himself, who attempted still to banish the images of his fellow soldiers¡¯s dulled eyes from his thoughts, so he would not have to confront their deaths under his command. That brought to mind the encounters he¡¯d had with the raiders who had killed them, and how he had twice been bested by them. What would it take for him to protect Lily from those kinds of people, should they ever meet? Must he harden his heart and become as cold and merciless of a slayer as his enemies in order to stand a chance against them? Did he try to forget his dead companions because he feared such anguish would overwhelm him, or because he suspected that the only way he would survive a third encounter with the raiders and their commander was if he learned to disdain all emotion?

    Even as Lily let her emotions course freely, and found therein the strength to move forward, would Vetch have to make himself something appalling in order to keep her safe? As he viewed things at present, he was not capable of protecting her. But if he did what he must to become capable, what would that make him into? More alarming, how would she see him then?

    A soft brush of her fingers on his arm alerted him to the fact that he¡¯d been unknowingly tightening his embrace of her to the point of discomfort, as if that might provide protection from all the hurts that assailed her. He relaxed the grip of his arms. Rather than move away, she lay down while maintaining their closeness. Vetch kept his arms around her and followed, arranging himself on his side behind her, as she pressed her back against him and lay her head on her pillowed blankets. She sniffled once, but then closed her eyes and was silent.

    He wanted so badly to whisper comforting words to her, to promise her that together they would succeed, that they would set things right. But he could not bring himself to do it. He had been wrong so very many times already.

    In minutes, Lily¡¯s breathing fell into the steady rhythm of sleep, and the tension she¡¯d held in the corners of her eyes, and the set of her mouth, released. Vetch lay awake and held her, staring for a long time into the darkness and everything therein that soon they must face, until he, too, was finally able to drift and dream.

 Chapter 11: Ill-Gotten Coin, part 4

    Morning found them going on foot along the forest road, with Lily¡¯s panthegrunn plodding unconcernedly beside them. They had woken to a cool and clear morning, with a deep blue sky showing in patches through the tree canopy. Throughout their hastily prepared breakfast and the breaking of camp, they had restricted their conversation to the topics directly before them, things such as their destination, and how soon they might be able to quit the forest. The anguish of the friends and family lost, and the confusion of the preceding events that had led to he and Lily reuniting, had receded temporarily with their avoidance, like the ache of a wound that neither of them had the desire to prod at again just yet. Vetch was thankful for this¡ªat least, in part. The days he had spent in Hayleigh¡¯s forest cottage were a muddled haze of emotions that now baffled him. Lily, he knew, would have a clearer picture of what had happened back there, but his desire to find clarity did not yet outweigh his reluctance to revisit the topic. It was not hard for him to read the same in Lily. After her outpouring of the night before, she appeared to be intentionally keeping her emotions small, to the point of it showing even in how she carried herself. It was in the set of her shoulders, and the way she held her chin up and kept her eyes forward on the road. He could understand it, and yet was saddened by it, that their joyous reunion had to be threaded through with so many thorns of loss and heartache, so that they must both dance cautiously with their words, lest they prick one another with reminders of fresh traumas.

    So, Lily spoke not of her lost family, and Vetch not of his lost companions, except to bring Lily up to speed on the few precious clues he and his fellow soldiers had discovered. Lily nodded solemnly to his supposition that the livestock raid was only a ploy meant to lead to Marigold dispelling the town¡¯s Barrier, so that Moonfane Forge might be attacked and she herself stolen away. He told her of the escaped thief who had witnessed The Lady taking Marigold, and of how the raiders had taken great pains to cover the tracks of their escape through the woods. The pride he once would have felt at how he and his soldiers had overcome those efforts was absent. He described all he knew only to share with Lily all information that might help them.

    When he told her of the carriage with the bed and bits of rope in it, where Marigold had clearly been held bound, the set of Lily¡¯s jaw became tight. Vetch immediately regretted giving her cause to imagine the abuse her beloved mentor may have already suffered at the hands of her abductors. He had sought only to reassure her that Marigold still lived¡ªfor only a living person with fight left in them needed to be bound¡ªbut too late he realized that he did so with the blunt manner of a soldier.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said sheepishly.

    Lily gave a short shake of her head and Vetch feared he had injured her. Something in her eyes changed then; her gaze became thoughtful and tempered. Her next words surprised him.

    ¡°She could make Barriers move, Vetch.¡± She looked at him and again shook her head. ¡°I¡¯d never heard of anything like that before. I¡¯m uncertain if even Marigold could do such a thing.¡± There was a note of frustration in her voice, as though this were a puzzle she could not solve. And there was something else there, not in her voice, but in the way her eyes briefly flicked to the ground: fear. She feared this strange mage as much as Vetch feared the fighters she commanded.

    ¡°You are saying this Lady can use Barrier magic in a way even Marigold cannot? Is she more powerful than Marigold?¡±

    Lily knit her brow, gave a helpless shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What I could sense of her spells, I didn¡¯t understand. If I ...¡± she paused, thought for a moment, started again. ¡°If I were to cast Barrier spells the way this woman did, they would be careless. And dangerous. But from this Lady, there was, I felt ... what¡¯s the word? Expertise? It was like watching tumblers at a fair, standing three or four tall on one another¡¯s shoulders. As you watch, you know that what they¡¯re doing is difficult and hazardous, and that you¡¯d be a fool to try it yourself. Yet, they do it with seeming ease.¡±

    She turned a helpless expression on Vetch and finished with a lame shrug.

    It left him with even more questions and nothing to add. He tried anyway. ¡°From the time I was small, I¡¯d always heard that Marigold was the most accomplished Barrier-Caster in the kingdom, if not the most skilled living mage outright.¡±

    Lily was quiet. Fae grunted and nosed at her hand. Automatically, Lily went into one of her saddlebags for some food for the panthegrunn. She came up with only a paltry amount of rain-spoiled fodder that Fae turned her nose up at.

    With a sigh, Lily dropped the fodder and brushed her hands off on her skirt. ¡°She¡¯ll force us to stop soon, whenever she decides she¡¯s found a place to browse around for a meal.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s as well,¡± Vetch decided. ¡°We know where to seek The Lady now. We gain little by rushing headlong into danger at this point. We¡¯ll need rest and sustenance ourselves, and to formulate some kind of a plan.¡±

    He left unsaid that with every wasted hour, more was the chance for Marigold to be ill-treated by her captors, or worse. Not knowing why Marigold had been taken ate at him. Despite having it drilled into his head from his first days in the garrison how valuable a target a mage such as she represented, there was still a chance the raiders had no idea who they held. Sellswords tended not to ask too many questions, and they could be hired by anyone. Even an unscrupulous mage could ... no. Not just anyone could hire a force like that, not that many fighters, not that strong of a mage. Whomever set this in motion, if it were not The Lady herself, must have considerable resources at their command.

    All of that aside, it took only one drunken sellsword to lose his temper and kill Marigold, or for a deal to fall through and the old woman be left to rot in a cell in some fortification somewhere. It could already have happened and they¡¯d never know. The more Vetch considered the possibilities, the more tangled up the situation appeared.

    Lily¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts. ¡°What is that smell?¡± she asked.

    She had paused in the road. Beside her, Fae stood tensed, her large nostrils working in agitation. A shift in the wind brought the smell strongly to Vetch. His heart sank at its familiarity. At the same time, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, something large and dark in the trees. Lily noticed it as well and softly gasped. She placed her hand on Fae¡¯s shoulder, as if to hold her back, or take comfort from her, or both.

    Silently, Vetch held out his hand. Lily rested her long fingers in his palm and he crept forward, leading the way off the road and keeping his other hand on his sword grip. Fae followed them less quietly. With each cautious step forward, the smell grew stronger, a stench that made Vetch wrinkle his nose and gird his stomach. Fae grunted, snapping a stout sapling in two as she shouldered through it. The panthegrunn rendered their attempt at stealth moot. Still, Vetch controlled his breathing and kept his eyes peeled for whatever it was that had caught his attention with its movement.

    They came into a small clearing just out of sight of the road. A quick scan of the area showed Vetch that there had once been a small camp here, but he saw neither man nor beast present now. He still didn¡¯t like the feel of the place. Something was off. Lily gave his his hand a squeeze. He squeezed back and together they stepped out into the open. His gaze was so fixed on their surroundings, searching for danger, that he didn¡¯t notice the dark lump partially hidden in the grass until he kicked it with his boot. Lily let out a little gasp as a swarm of black flies erupted into the air before them. They buzzed in a roiling cloud above the dead body lying face down in the dirt that they had covered. As one Vetch and Lily recoiled back, frozen momentarily by the horrendousness of the sight. The multitudinous flies whipped and weaved around the body, before settling back on it.

    Taking a step forward, Vetch wedged the toe of his boot under the body to nudge it face up. Lily made a small sound of protest, but didn¡¯t try to stop him. The cloud of flies erupted again as he flipped the body over. The smell of decay was released anew, a stench so thick it was like a physical wall assailed them. Vetch covered his nose and mouth and fought not to retch. Lily, too, clapped her hands over her mouth in horror and voiced a whimper of dismay at what was revealed. The dead man¡¯s face was a writhing mask of maggots. They displanted his eyes, wriggled from nostrils and mouth, and writhed around the many ragged stab wounds in his stomach.

    Even with the man¡¯s face entirely obscured by the carrion-feeders, Vetch recognized him: Slouk.

    ¡°Do you know him?¡± he heard Lily ask. She paused and swallowed and he knew she tried not to gag. ¡°Part of the garrison?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Vetch said. He chose to say no more, and Lily did not press him. So, this was where the horse thief¡¯s betrayal and duplicity had led him. A short road in life, with a harsh end. If this is what the raiders had done to him, Vetch thought, then what would they have done to his captive sister? If she had been real and not just another of the thief¡¯s fabrications.

    He stared at what remained of the young man, trying not to equate this vision with how his fellow soldiers would also appear now, elsewhere in these woods. Lily touched his shoulder. Her voice was a whisper of disbelief.

    ¡°Vetch. Look.¡±

    He turned to her and then followed her gaze to the tall grass surrounding Slouk. A glint of yellow metal captured his gaze and held it. A coin. A thick gold coin, nearly obscured in the tall grass. Once his eyes had found that first one, then he could perceive all its companions, too. There were gold coins scattered everywhere, a small ransom¡¯s worth, all around Slouk¡¯s body.

    Lily and he looked at one another. Then, without preamble, Vetch stooped and began picking them up, one by one. They clinked heavy in his palm. He ignored the flecks of old dried blood that marred so many of them, even as he felt Lily¡¯s eyes on him and wondered how she judged him for this cold action. For a brief moment, he considered dropping the coins and expressing shame, but he could summon none. It was survival, plain and simple. They didn¡¯t expect to stay in the wilderness forever; soon they would depart the forest and make for the town they sought¡ªPasanhal. And when they got there, they would need coin. Despite that, Vetch¡¯s cheeks burned. He felt as though he thieved, though he could not say who he thieved from.

    Without a word, Lily bent and began to help him, and Vetch breathed easier for the understanding that passed between them. Now was not the time for questioning this strange windfall. Between the two of them, they soon had gathered up all the coins they could see. As Vetch straightened and cast about for any they may have missed, movement out of the corner of his eye recalled him to the reason they had chosen to investigate off the road in the first place. He was alerted to a presence at the edge of the clearing. Lily and Fae became aware of it at the same moment.

    Vetch had but a second to drop his coins and re-draw his blade. He put himself in front of Lily just as the horse came crashing through the undergrowth into the open. Lily shrieked as it charged directly for them, hooves thundering up clods of dirt in its wake. Vetch¡¯s body readied itself for battle automatically, even as his thoughts begged ¡®please, no more.¡¯ Would they ever be free of these raiders who sought to harry and kill them? He raised his blade.

    Then, in another half second, he saw that the horse that bore down on them carried no rider at all, and it ran at them, not as part of an attack, but out of enthusiasm. Vetch dropped his blade in order to catch up the beast¡¯s reins. It made the task easy for him by sliding to a halt before him, tossing its head, and nickering a greeting. Vetch was not surprised to recognize it as the horse Slouk had ridden from Moonfane Forge. Little wonder it came to them so eagerly; the animal would have been days removed from the fodder it was accustomed to, left alone for all this time since its rider¡¯s death, burdened and chafed still by saddle and bridle. A horse used to the company of humans, having lived in Moonfane Forge¡¯s comfortable stables, saw friendly faces now and asked them for their help.

    ¡°Poor thing,¡± Vetch breathed. He took the horse¡¯s muzzle in his hands and stroked its nose. The beast calmed under the touch.

    ¡°Damn, if he didn¡¯t give me a fright,¡± said Lily at his shoulder. ¡°Where did he come from?¡± To this, Vetch tipped his head to Slouk¡¯s corpse.

    ¡°That was the man who witnessed them taking Marigold. We¡¯d brought him along as someone who could recognize The Lady, but he betrayed us. Took off with our best supplies. Which means ...¡± Vetch opened a saddlebag, peered inside. ¡°Ha! Our food and water. And now, along with this coin ...¡± He smiled to Lily and chuckled. ¡°We¡¯re a sight much better off than we were yesterday.¡± Lily favored him with one of her illuminating smiles. He pulled from the saddlebag one of the garrison¡¯s basic travel bowls and filled it from a full waterskin. This he held for the horse, who drank greedily.

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    His optimism was tempered when Lily asked, ¡°And the people who killed this man? ...¡±

    ¡°The same who tried to kill me,¡± he confirmed solemnly. ¡°The same who took your teacher. They would be The Lady¡¯s guards.¡± He saw in Lily¡¯s face the grave understanding that blossomed. Vetch had seen the ruthlessness these people were capable of. He did not desire to ever subject Lily to it. Yet, these were the people they chased after, the people they must confront. As he met her eyes, he saw her square her shoulders and take a measured breath.

    ¡°We need to get moving, then.¡± She spoke this with a mix of fear and determination in her voice.

    Vetch gave a short nod of his head. ¡°Let me check the horse over and see that he¡¯s fit to come with us, then we¡¯ll be on our way.¡±

    No sooner had he spoken than the horse snorted and backed away from him, its nostrils flaring. At the same time, Fae raised her head from her oblivious grazing to stare off into the trees. The sound of voices reached their ears.

    ¡°Ugh. Smell that? Smells like Murzagis¡¯s work, don¡¯t it? This looks like the place up here.¡±

    It was two stout men. They arrived in the clearing from the same direction Lily and Vetch had. When they saw they were not alone, they stopped in their tracks and their postures became alert.

    ¡°Who¡¯re you?¡± the taller of the two asked, jutting his chin out and putting authority in his voice, as though he owned this pocket of forest in which they all stood. He was a large man, with a belly rounded like an ale cask, bald-headed and boasting a messy black beard. Both he and his companion were dressed in townsman¡¯s clothes. So, not the armor-clad sellswords Vetch feared to run across again. Travelers? Vetch marked the sword on the smaller man¡¯s belt. It was a standard-issue blade. One from Moonfane Forge¡¯s armory. Just how did he come to have that, Vetch wondered.

    The one with the sword¡ªa slighter man with an equally unkempt beard and receding hair¡ªlicked his lips and nudged his friend¡¯s arm, before indicating with his head the coins Lily still held in her hands.

    ¡°Those don¡¯t belong to you, do they, girly?¡±

    Vetch spoke in her stead. ¡°What makes you say that?¡± As he spoke, he bent smoothly and picked up his own blade from where he¡¯d dropped it in the tall grass, keeping his eyes on the two men the entire time. Now, they knew he wasn¡¯t unarmed. He gave his blade a deft flip in his hand, a motion to show them he knew how to wield it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± said the larger man, and drew a belt knife. ¡°Give us those coins and everybody goes their separate ways from here. They were dropped by our people. We came back for ¡®em. They¡¯re ours.¡± He tried to put a note of reason in his tone, but it sounded a sour bargain to Vetch¡¯s ears.

    Fae chose that moment to grunt and scrape the earth with a hoof. The smaller of the two drew his sword to back up his friend, but he held it nervously, his eyes darting between the hulking panthegrunn and Vetch.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to do this,¡± Vetch said, and hoped that they would take his word for it. He thought little for how amateurishly either of these men held their blades, but even as he took his stance, he fought not to grit his teeth against the pain his wounds caused him. If it did come to a fight, he¡¯d not be able to hide his injuries for long. Weakened as he was, even a couple of inexperienced brawlers could quickly overwhelm him. All he could do was bluff.

    ¡°For that much gold? Yeah. We do.¡± The bigger man smirked as he moved in with shuffling steps, his knife held out before him.

    Vetch¡¯s focus was on the two assailants. He would try to kill the bigger man first, the bolder of the two. The shorter one had not moved yet. The bigger man mumbled under his breath, getting his courage up. In a moment he would charge.

    In calculating his chances of getting himself and Lily out of this alive, Vetch did not notice how Lily had gone to her panthegrunn to calm her, nor how she closed her eyes and lifted her hand. He did see, however, the way the air between he and the knife-wielding man began to shimmer with a wavery apparition like golden glass.

    As soon as the smaller man saw this, he hopped forward and grabbed his companion¡¯s sleeve, desperately trying to pull him back while shouting, ¡°Wait wait wait wait! Stop! Stop! She¡¯s like her! Stop!¡± Uncertainty flashed across the bigger man¡¯s visage. He scowled at his friend, who shook his head frantically at him. ¡°No,¡± he whispered. ¡°She¡¯s like her.¡± There was great fear in those words.

    There was a moment during which the larger man thought about it. Then, reluctantly, he held up his hands in a signal of peace. ¡°Okay. Enough, then.¡± He directed his words to Lily. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that. See?¡± He sheathed his knife. The other man had simply dropped his sword.

    The beginnings of the Barrier that Lily had brought into being faded. She opened her eyes and caught up a short breath. She still kept her hand raised, holding them at bay with the threat of magic. Vetch knew immediately that these men had seen Barriers cast before, in ways that made them fear them.

    ¡°Like who?¡± Vetch demanded. The two men snapped their eyes from Lily back to him, as if they saw him for the first time. ¡°Who is she like?¡± He chanced an easy guess. ¡°The Lady? The one with the raven hair?¡±

    The two men exchanged a glance. Then the larger of the two scratched at his beard and sneered. ¡°The noblewoman. Yeah. And fuck her. Fuck her and the old hag, too.¡±

    ¡°The old hag?¡±

    ¡°The crone. The bitch trussed up in the carriage I was given to drive.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare speak of her that way!¡± Lily spat. ¡°But ... she lives?¡±

    The big man scoffed. How quickly he¡¯d regained his arrogance. ¡°Lives, complains, pisses herself. Finds ways to cast little spells to hold us up, or make the carriage horses run into an invisible wall. Fell out of the seat and nearly broke my damned neck one of those times.¡± He spat in the dirt. Then, in a voice dripping with spiteful amusement, chuckled, ¡°Oh, The Lady¡¯s not going to be happy when she learns someone¡¯s still followin¡¯ her.¡±

    Lily was breathing harder, her face flushed at hearing how Marigold struggled against her captors. Vetch shot her a glance and indicated calm with his hand. ¡°Where are they bound for?¡± he asked the two men. ¡°Where is The Lady taking the old woman? How many swordsmen surround her?¡±

    ¡°Swordsmen? Murzagis¡¯s men, you mean? You talkin¡¯ about those bloodthirsty bastards?¡± He licked his lips and spoke conversationally. ¡°You know, those swordsmen are gettin¡¯ paid a whole hell of a lot better than me or my friend here ever did. Well enough to not even mind leaving a bunch of gold coins behind in the forest and laughing about it amongst themselves later. You¡¯re asking me how many of them? Hm ... how many? ...¡± He left the question hanging, eyes flicking to the coins at Vetch¡¯s feet. So, that was his game now, a bribe.

    ¡°No,¡± Vetch said. ¡°You¡¯re just going to tell us.¡±

    So, another piece of the puzzle. Vetch recalled something Slouk had mentioned, about how there were trained soldiers and petty criminals both in The Lady¡¯s employ. The soldiers were the ones who had laid waste to Moonfane Forge and killed its people. But then there were men like this, like Slouk, who looked for any jobs they could hire on to. These types would have neither the discipline nor the discretion of professional sellswords. And, apparently, The Lady did not treat them well. Could he and Lily turn this tidbit of information to their advantage? If they managed to catch up to the carriages, were there some hirelings who might be convinced to leave their posts and allow them to spirit Marigold away? His mind worked furiously.

    ¡°One,¡± said Lily abruptly, and held up one of the gold coins. ¡°One of these for what you know.¡±

    ¡°One?¡± The large man shook his head. ¡°Spirits damn you, woman.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one coin or two panthegrunn horns. Take your pick. Where have they taken Marigold and how many people are guarding her?¡±

    The man appeared to be weighing his options. Behind him, his friend wrung his hands nervously, eyes fixed on the coin Lily held. It wasn¡¯t nearly the offer they wanted, but they feared her magic. Finally, the big man relented. ¡°Not as many as there were. Just enough to see the mage back to her keep. She let a lot of ¡®em go their own ways after she had the old woman.¡±

    ¡°And where is her keep?¡± Vetch prompted.

    The man considered for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. He shook his head. ¡°Nobody talked about that. It was just do your job and keep your mouth shut or else one of her sellswords cracks your skull. Get it?¡± He chuckled darkly. At a look from Lily, he added, ¡°Look, we slipped away once we reached Pasanhal town. We¡¯d had enough. But people there seemed to know who The Lady was, or at least not to piss her off. So, near there¡¯d be my guess. Supposed to be some old fortress or something.¡±

    Vetch shared a look with Lily. It was scarcely more than they already knew. Her face appeared troubled, but she nodded.

    The man scoffed. ¡°Then, if that¡¯ll be all, m¡¯lord and m¡¯lady, I¡¯ll take my gold and we¡¯ll be on our merry way.¡± He sketched a mocking bow and then waited with his open hand out for his bribe.

    The smaller of the two piped up suddenly. ¡°And for me? Please, my lady, give us one apiece. One for me, too? I beg you.¡±

    Vetch sheathed his sword, gathered up the coins he had dropped, and stowed them in the horse¡¯s saddlebag. Loathe as he was to press the poor beast further before he could see more thoroughly to its care, they needed to be away. He mounted up and the horse bore him well. Lily, meanwhile, produced a second coin and tossed them both onto the ground before the larger man¡¯s boots. But before either of the two could swoop in to collect their prize, she waved her hand in a circular motion and a small dome-like Barrier formed over the coins. No matter how the men tried, they could not get their fingers through it to get at the gold.

    ¡°You can have them when that wears off at nightfall,¡± Lily informed them against their curses.

    She mounted up on Fae and started her moving back through the trees to the road. Vetch clicked his tongue and followed on his horse. When they emerged once more on the track, he looked back over his shoulder and caught a glimpse through the trees of the two men sitting on the ground in the clearing, staring at the little Barrier like it was a campfire. He smiled. With one small Casting, Lily had chained the two brutes to that clearing for the remainder of the day. Whatever experience had driven them from The Lady¡¯s service had also been enough to put them off from testing another mage like Lily. They¡¯d take the guaranteed coin, rather than push their luck by following.

    With that danger averted, Vetch¡¯s mind turned again to how they could make use of what they had learned from the encounter. So, some of sellswords had been released from their service? He wondered at the reason for that but, frankly, it didn¡¯t matter. If it turned out to be true, it could only be a good thing. And, if he could also further extrapolate that more of The Lady¡¯s people might be fed up with their unsavory work and receptive to abandoning her¡ªor even turning against her¡ªa confrontation with them just might be survivable. If a confrontation it had to come to.

    Their best options hinged on catching up with The Lady and her raiders on the road. An injured soldier and an apprentice mage alone could not storm a castle keep. It was time to discuss with Lily what they would do.

    ¡°Once we find our way out of the woods¡ª¡±

    ¡°Vetch, be quiet for a moment and listen to me,¡± Lily interrupted him. ¡°I have to say all this quickly.¡± Despite her words, she took a moment to compose herself. Watching her riding alongside him on her panthegrunn, Vetch could see how the encounter had shaken her. But more than that, the resolute way she looked at him made him pay close attention. Clearly, he was not the only one who had been silently chewing over the sparse information they had gleaned. But her next words showed him that what she had taken from the encounter was decidedly different. ¡°I didn¡¯t need to, but I imbued that Barrier with a Condition of fading daylight, just as I told them. It¡¯s something I don¡¯t have much practice in, so even as small as the Barrier was, I may Slumber the rest of the day away. I can already feel it falling upon me.

    ¡°Listen, Vetch, if I¡¯m to help you ... if we are to help each other, and together help Marigold, I am going to need to be confident in any Castings I must perform. So, you should know what you¡¯ll be facing when they cause me to Slumber.¡± Again, she paused, and color rose on her cheeks. ¡°I trust you, Vetch. I¡¯ve always trusted you, and I know that you¡¯ll look out for me. I will need you to act as my mage¡¯s attendant in this. When a mage ... when I Slumber, there will be no way to wake me until the state wears off.¡± Vetch nodded his awareness of this much. Lily spoke quickly through it, as if not to lose her nerve. ¡°But there¡¯s more to it than simply watching over a Slumbering mage. We still must eat and drink. I will need water given to me regularly, and for longer Slumbers something sustaining, like a good broth. And ... and the body does not ... pause in its ... it¡¯s other functions. Um ...¡± She swallowed, restarted. ¡°With this Casting, hopefully I will be out no longer than a few hours, but, you understand¡ª¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Vetch confirmed. Her cheeks were fully reddened now. Vetch felt more flattered that she would put this trust in him than from anything else she could have said to him in that moment.

    At the same time, it cast in a new light his earlier reservations about who he would have to become, as a man and as a soldier, were he to succeed in protecting her¡ªas he had not succeeded in protecting his fellow soldiers. It seemed she asked for his utmost sensitivity, while he had been counseling himself toward coldness.

    ¡°Mages can do powerful things,¡± Lily went on, sailing now in more comfortable waters. ¡°And, while I¡¯m not particularly powerful, I can add what I can do to your swordsmanship, and hopefully that will be enough. But after any magic I use, I will be helpless. I will be relying on you entirely. I will need you.¡±

    From her lower riding position on Fae, she looked up at him through her long lashes, a request there in her eyes, a vulnerability she was sharing and entrusting him with. He was caught speechless by her beauty then. She had begun her speech with such assertion and urgency, but her words had ended small and unsure, as if she feared he would reject this, or even part of it. He couldn¡¯t even imagine doing such a thing.

    ¡°You have me.¡± He spoke without hesitation, and was pleased beyond measure to see the anxiousness in her gaze evaporate. She smiled, and he smiled back.

    ¡°Then ...¡± she reined Fae in to a halt and slid from the saddle, swaying slightly on her feet when they touched the ground. Vetch halted his horse, a querying look on his face. ¡°Hand me up in front of you,¡± she said, offering her hand. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to Slumber for hours slumped over Fae again. I still have a little crick in my neck from the first time.¡±

    Vetch chuckled. ¡°We can¡¯t have that. Not after the way you saved our bacon back there.¡± He gave her his hand. He still had to grit his teeth against the pain of his fresh wounds as he pulled her up to sit before him in the saddle.

    ¡°Oh. You had to go and mention bacon. I wish I had the time to eat something now.¡± She settled herself in front of him and leaned into him, back against his chest. He gripped the reins around her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll prepare something for us when you wake. A proper meal, or at least the closest I can muster using these supplies. Fae will follow us?¡± he asked.

    Lily didn¡¯t answer. Vetch leaned to one side to peer at her face. Her eyes were closed. She Slumbered already. He clicked his tongue and started the horse up the path again. Fae grunted and kept her own pace beside them.

 Chapter 12: A Wedding, part 1

    The pair of them must have made for an odd sight to the locals, upon their entering Pasanhal town proper¡ªtwo disheveled and bone-weary travelers sharing a horse whose head drooped with fatigue, while a beast the likes of which few living humans had ever seen trailed them. It was a blessing then, Vetch thought, that so few people they passed in the streets gave them anything more than a curious glance.

    Leaving the forest had been both one of the easiest and yet most difficult things Vetch had ever done. When he had come to the fork in the woodland road, the southward trail leading out of the forest, it had lifted his spirits almost as much as finding Lily alive had. To leave the dark and brooding tangle of trees behind was like escaping a net. The little-used track became a proper road that meandered down through squat hillocks dotted with fragrant bushes and wildflowers, until finally it spilled out across a wide grassy valley¡ªthe low flatlands of Hold Pasanhal. The carriage wheel ruts he had followed all the way from Moonfane forge were prominent here, leading straight ahead toward a distant town spread out beside the shore of a lake. It was not Moonfane Forge, with its high pastures and sharp mountain landscape, but as they passed by sedate farmsteads and their patchwork fields, Vetch could not help but be heartened by the sight of civilization and the prospect that they closed in on their quarry¡¯s destination.

    It did not dispel entirely the faint tugging at his heart that while he had escaped the woodland, his fellow soldiers had not, and never would. How long would that dark cloud of regret hang over him, he wondered. He knew the answer. Always.

    Lily woke from her Slumber just as their shadows were growing long across the road with the setting of the sun. Vetch had offered to stop and make camp, or to at least give her time to stretch and resume her place upon Fae, but she had seen the lights sparking to life in the town before them and told him to press on, that she¡¯d prefer finding an inn to another night of camping rough. So, he had coaxed his weary horse onward and they had arrived in town just as the inns and taverns were becoming boisterous.

    But for a few excursions to other villages in Hold Moonfane, Vetch had traveled very little in his life. As he and Lily rode slowly through Pasanhal town, he took in all that was around him like a gawking youngster. Pasanhal was not what most people would refer to as a city, though it was bigger than Moonfane Forge, and most certainly the largest habitation in the hold that shared its name. Where the buildings and streets of Moonfane Forge were compacted and clustered tightly together on hills and slopes, everything in this town was spread out upon the flat, open grassland. He could look down one street and see across miles to the fading haze of twilight on the distant horizon, then turn his head in the other direction and catch a glimpse between buildings of the inky blackness of the lake whose shore the town hugged. He could smell the water, its scent carried to them on the evening breeze, along with aromas of grass and wildflowers, woodsmoke and cattle. Everything was unfamiliar, yet it was still like any town, with people finishing their day¡¯s work and moving off to the taverns, guardsmen and women patrolling with easy strides, shepherds urging animals along.

    It was only as they were nearing the town¡¯s center that he reflected upon the fact they¡¯d been able to walk right into town, along with their animals, after sunset. That would have been impossible in Moonfane Forge, thanks to its Barrier. It made the place feel naked and vulnerable. Yet, its people looked happy. Vetch almost felt an intruder, knowing that he came to this peaceful place on a mission of vengeance. Strange it was to him that there were still people in the kingdom whose lives remained unaffected by the destruction that had been visited upon his own town, that they still smiled, shared tankards of ale, bickered over the prices of market goods. Had word even reached this place yet of what had happened only a few days¡¯s ride away to the north and west?

    Lily shifted against him and murmured, ¡°Those flowers, they smell delightful.¡±

    A flower seller stood at a corner with a basket of what remaining flowers she¡¯d not sold in the day¡¯s market, their honeyed scent reaching them. ¡°Shall I buy some for you?¡± Vetch offered.

    She was quiet a moment, then shook her head, her hair catching in his scratchy beard where it brushed under his chin. ¡°An inn,¡± she countered, then added, ¡°And a bath. We don¡¯t smell good.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°That is true.¡± There was no point sugarcoating it. They both stank. ¡°But where is a likely inn?¡±

    She shifted in place before him, settling back more against his chest. Her back was warm against his body, driving away the cool of evening. ¡°Anywhere we choose for the coin we have.¡± She spoke through a yawn and then pointed at an ostentatious looking building. ¡°What about that one?¡±

    He cleared his throat. ¡°I think that¡¯s a brothel.¡±

    There were a couple beats during which Lily said nothing, and though he could not see her expression, he could imagine the flush on her cheeks before she said in a small voice, ¡°Are you certain?¡± And then followed with, ¡°How would you know what a brothel looks like?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a soldier,¡± he stated flatly.

    Her body stiffened and she turned her head back to try to look up into his face. ¡°And that¡¯s supposed to mean? ...¡±

    He smiled. ¡°It means I¡¯ve been sent to them enough times in order to haul back other soldiers who were late for their shifts.¡±

    She made a sound that fell between amusement while simultaneously wanting to convey that she was not amused. She nodded up the street. ¡°And that one? Is that also a brothel, soldier boy? You, being the expert.¡±

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    ¡°That ... no. That actually appears to be a nice inn. And it looks to have stables as well.¡± He reined his horse in before the inn. It came to a halt and stood swaying in the street, its head hanging. Vetch had not felt good about pushing the poor beast so far and hard, yet he was thankful that it had been up to the task. He would find some way to make it up to the animal. There was a good chance they would be in this town for a time searching for The Lady¡¯s stronghold. He decided that, in that time, he¡¯d spare no expense in providing this horse with a well-deserved rest and plentiful food. The same went for Fae, and for himself and Lily, while they could have it.

    He dismounted and helped Lily do the same. Her panthegrunn came to her and shoved her big face into Lily¡¯s arms. She kissed Fae between her horns. ¡°Hear that, Fae? No more sleeping in prickly bushes and eating old fodder.¡± The panthegrunn grunted in response to Lily¡¯s cooing words. Lily took up her reins and those of Vetch¡¯s horse. ¡°I¡¯ll see these two to the stables, while you get us a couple rooms. And hot food. And¡ª¡±

    ¡°And baths,¡± he finished for her. She smiled. He smiled back and saluted as if she were his captain.

    She scoffed but continued to grin as she took the animals away and around the side of the building. Vetch went through the front door and found a well-appointed common room. It was clean and warm, and there was the smell of savory food in the air, and the patrons sitting at tables and around the hearth looked like normal enough patrons and travelers. There was a minstrel standing on a bench in one corner, plucking out a lively tune on some long-necked string instrument. The place looked almost too good after what he and Lily had come through, it was such a drastic change. The candle and firelight, the companionableness, the aroma of fresh bread all combined to make Vetch feel like the trek through the forest had been some kind of extended nightmare he¡¯d finally woken from.

    Gazing over the room, he spotted what would be the innkeeper already looking back at him, taking his measure. Vetch knew he looked rough, and the fact he carried a weapon probably did not lift him in the man¡¯s regard. Well, he¡¯d let the gold coins do the talking. Cold hard gold tended to smooth things over in any situation.

    When all was said and done, he¡¯d secured for himself and Lily their use of the stables, a sufficient room, hot food, and bath service to be sent to their room at their beckon. As predicted, the innkeeper was happy to look past Vetch¡¯s state as soon as the coins were produced. Vetch had no idea whether Lily would prefer to eat or bathe first, so he told the man to have both prepared and sent up to them as soon as they were ready. After having a peek into the room to ensure it would do for the both of them, he took himself out to the stables.

    Full night had closed in around town by then. Warm lanterns lit the small courtyard outside the inn and the path around its side to the stables. The air was fragrant with spring and alive with the soft droning of night insects. Lily was just leaving the stables as Vetch approached. Even as travel-worn as she looked, even with her hair tangled and her dress torn and stained, the sight of her brought a smile to his face. She returned it.

    ¡°They¡¯ll bring food up to our room soon, and a tub and hot bath water,¡± he said, and saw the relief that came over her face. ¡°They only had one room left¡ªsome festival or event is happening this week that has brought people in from all around. You can take the use of the room and bath first. I¡¯ll wait in the common room. Perhaps there¡¯s someone here who knows of the black-stoned castle. I¡¯ll ask around.¡±

    She nodded, and he could see the tiredness in the set of her shoulders. But at least she no longer appeared tense and frightened, as she had before. ¡°Thank you, Vetch,¡± she said, and the tiredness extended to the pitch of her words. ¡°Then I¡¯ll come and find you there when I¡¯m finished.¡± She touched his shoulder as she passed by on her way into the inn.

    A sense of debt to the horse who had carried them here made Vetch enter the stables to check on the animal. Lily knew her way around animals, and he trusted that she had seen to their care with the expertise of a girl raised on a farm¡ªfunny how he still thought of her that way sometimes, rather than as a mage¡¯s apprentice¡ªbut he would still visit the horse, so it would know he wasn¡¯t abandoning it. Then, perhaps he would have a drink or two in the common room and see what information he might dredge up from the inn¡¯s patrons.

    The stable building was small but clean and well-appointed inside. At one end, a handful of stable hands were gathered around Fae, watching as the magnificent charge-beast chewed her food in a most mundane way. Vetch¡¯s horse¡ªfor he could come up with no reason why it wasn¡¯t his horse now¡ªwas in a stall directly opposite the door. The drowsing animal perked up and nickered at him as he entered.

    ¡°There, boy,¡± he said softly, and let himself into the stall. He stroked the horse¡¯s nose, speaking softly. ¡°You¡¯ve certainly had a rough time of it, haven¡¯t you? Taken away from Moonfane Forge and ridden hard through the woods ... then left alone without even so much as a person to take your saddle off.¡±

    He saw that the horse had been already brushed down. He found the brush and began to run strokes over the its coat anyway. ¡°Well, there will be no more of that. I think you¡¯ve more than earned some time to rest and eat your food and drink clean water for a day or two, eh? And when all this is over, we¡¯ll head back to Moonfane Forge.¡± He had always found that speaking to horses calmly endeared them to him. Some were more interested in making friends than others, but this one seemed more than pleased to have the company. This animal was a survivor of the attack on the forest path as much as he himself was. For all Vetch knew, this horse had lost stall-neighbors, as he had lost bunkmates.

    He put the brush up and regarded the horse before him. Mora had clearly chosen well of the animals they¡¯d taken from the remnants of Moonfane Forge¡¯s stables. Even this animal, given to the care of the horse thief they¡¯d kept semi-prisoner, was a good one. He was a gelding, black all over save for splashes of white down his back legs. He was built strong and sleek, and Vetch had seen how capable he was of short bursts of speed. Vetch wondered who in Moonfane Forge had owned a horse that appeared to be bred for racing, then decided it hardly mattered. This was his horse now.

    ¡°I never named the horse I rode out on from Moonfane Forge,¡± he said, the detail suddenly occurring to him. A strange pang of guilt cut him. ¡°I won¡¯t let that be the case again. What should your name be?¡± He considered. Smiled. ¡°Ennric?¡± He chuckled softly to himself. ¡°No. That¡¯d be the name for a much more stubborn beast.¡± The next idea that came to him erased his smile: Wenzl. He had known the new recruit for less than a dozen days, and still it was the image of the boy bloodied and pale and dead that returned to Vetch most often whenever he thought back on the attack that had devastated his life and home. But using his name here didn¡¯t seem a fitting tribute. The only tribute Vetch wanted to pay to his fallen brethren was attaining revenge for them. Vetch felt a cold chill run through him. ¡°Revenge,¡± he whispered. ¡°That is your name. Revenge. And we shall have that.¡±

 Chapter 12: A Wedding, part 2

    *

    Her visage in the room¡¯s little table mirror had appalled her. Not because she was dirty, nor that her hair was tangled and lank, or that she wore still-healing scratches and bruises on her arms and legs¡ªshe had, after all, grown up running around town barefoot, climbing trees and playing in yak pastures. No, it was how fatigued she appeared that startled her, and not only from the physical privations she¡¯d experienced, but undoubtedly due to the emotional toll that the last few days had taken on her. When she had been a little girl and her grandmother had passed away, she had witnessed the very same weariness in her mother¡¯s face. It was not only sleep that was required to mend such weariness, but time.

    Lily had lain the mirror face down on the table and avoided looking at her reflection again until she had finished eating, bathing, and brushing out her hair. Time moved of its own accord, but she could at least choose to spend that time seeing to her immediate needs. The food Vetch had ordered for them was hearty and plentiful, and was as much a balm to the ills of the forest as being clean again was. At some point a young woman had tapped on the door and offered to launder her clothes. Gratefully, she had agreed and handed her torn and road-abused dress around the door, and also asked that more hot water for the bath be sent up later for her companion. It only occurred to her after the woman had left that she only had her undergarments to wear until her dress was returned in the morning, and that Vetch would return well before that to the room. It should have been a less than negligible worry, given the circumstances they were in, but it was there all the same. In her next thought, she recalled how she had already entrusted herself to him for when she must Slumber. Well, there were things they would both have to become accustomed to, weren¡¯t there? Him seeing her in her underclothes was likely the least of her problems. In fact, the idea suddenly sent an odd little thrill through her.

    ¡°Lily, is this really the time and place for thoughts like that?¡± she cautioned herself. She considered what Mage Marigold¡¯s answer to that question would be. ¡°And definitely don¡¯t think about that right now, either,¡± she added. ¡°Not wise.¡± She couldn¡¯t come up with any reason why it was not wise, nor why she should have to be wise at present, but considering the rush of confusion such possibilities brought her, she settled on the idea of just taking herself to bed. Even after having spent much of the day in Slumber, true sleep was a very attractive prospect.

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    She peeked out into the hallway from around the door, but saw no one, and there was no view of the common room below. She wondered if Vetch was having any luck learning about where they must go next, and she prayed to all the spirits that whenever they got there, they would find Marigold and somehow be able to secure her release. Perhaps it was a childish wish, believing that saving her mentor would somehow restore something of her old life. As much as she hoped it would, she had to be realistic. It was difficult to imagine how either would come to pass. Still, it was all she had left to cling to. The faint hope stuck with her.

    Too many thoughts racing in too many opposing directions. Sleep. That¡¯s what she needed. She stoked up the fire in the room¡¯s little hearth, moved the saddlebags away from where the stable boy had dropped them in the middle of the floor, so that Vetch would not stumble over them when he came in, and then blew out all the candles except for the one on the table where the food was set out. He would be able to see it and the bathtub waiting for him. She slid under the warm blankets and sighed in pleasure at the feel of a soft mattress cradling her, luxurious after days of sleeping on the hard ground. The bed was not big, but big enough to accommodate two in close proximity. She left room for Vetch and was asleep before she realized she¡¯d even closed her eyes.

    The sound of him taking off his boots woke her and then apprehension kept her awake as he ate and went through the routine of undressing and bathing. He was as quiet as possible throughout, not even so much as lighting more candles so he could see. The effort flattered her, and yet almost she wanted to sit up and tell him he didn¡¯t need to be so courteous on her account. But he was in the bathtub now! Vetch, bathing in the same room, only a few feet behind her. No. Stop that, she thought. Her cheeks flushed and, very pointedly, she remained perfectly still and huddled in the blankets, though she wanted the throw them off, as she was suddenly suffused with warmth. What was she supposed to do? She listened with cats¡¯s ears and a pounding heart. He stepped out of the water, he dried off, he blew out the candle. She heard a shuffling of fabric and she waited for his weight in the bed beside her.

    It did not come. The sound was him spreading her travel blanket out on the floor. Had she really not considered he might do something other than share the one bed they had acquired for themselves? She had even gone to sleep balanced on one side of the bed to give him room. What was this she felt as she heard him settle and yawn and become silent, leaving the entire bed to her? Relief? Disappointment?

    His breathing steadied. Asleep. It was long before she could return to the same.

 Chapter 12: A Wedding, part 3

    Morning sunlight graced Lily¡¯s eyelids. Despite Vetch trying to be quiet, his moving around the room had stirred her to wakefulness. She was not surprised he had woken before her. He was a soldier through and through and she knew he had always taken great pride in that occupation. Blinking her eyes against the light cascading in through the window, she saw him seat himself at the table. He¡¯d spread their shared supplies out on it, with more scattered around the floor at his feet. She watched as he pushed his hair out of his eyes and began sorting through their sparse possessions, separating what was useful from what they could discard. The gold coins they¡¯d plundered from the forest floor were stacked neatly at one end of the table, easily more money than either of them had ever possessed. An exorbitant amount. Why had it been scattered in the woods like that? What would they do with it all?

    On a chair beside the bed lay her dress, clean and dry and neatly folded. Past that the fire had been built up warm in the hearth to chase the early morning chill from the room. Lily would have been content to burrow herself further into the blankets and sleep the morning away, listening to the comforting sounds of the fire crackling and Vetch working at his simple task. They were sounds of home, not her home and not his, but a home, possibly one that could someday be.

    ¡°You awake?¡± Vetch spoke softly, as though to keep from waking her should he be mistaken.

    ¡°Mm,¡± she murmured. She peered at him and for a moment they just stared at one another. He looked so different bearded. It was not unattractive. And, yet, she decided she preferred his face shaved smooth. Her eyes flitted to her dress folded on the chair. He smiled and pushed his chair back to stand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be down in the common room with breakfast waiting,¡± he said. ¡°Take as much time as you like. I was thinking that once we¡¯ve eaten, we could go search the market for new clothing for both of us, and new supplies. Should be as good a place as any to gather the information we need at the same time.¡± He counted out half of the stacked coins on the table and scooped them into his belt pouch, leaving the other half as her share. ¡°Anything you want me to ask after for breakfast?¡±

    Suddenly being able to request any food she desired made Lily¡¯s mouth water. ¡°Tea,¡± she murmured dumbly.

    ¡°Tea?¡± he queried. ¡°Just tea?¡± A wry smile touched the corner of his mouth.

    She shook her head and laughed softly to herself. ¡°Anything, Vetch. Whatever they have. Eggs and good cheese. And bread. And fruit, fresh or dried. And bacon.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± He grinned at her openly now. ¡°Are you sure there¡¯s nothing more?¡±

    Lily waved her hand at him to shoo him away. ¡°Whatever they have,¡± she repeated.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± He stood a beat longer before tapping his hand on the table and sweeping out the door. She heard his boots going first down the hall, then down the stairs.

    She threw the blankets off and stood. The smooth wood floorboards were cool under her bare feet. Yawning and stretching her arms above her head, Lily went to stand on the rug before the hearth. The contrast of the chill morning air in the room and the heat put off by the fire raised goose-pimples on her skin. She turned and let the fire bake the backs of her legs. The room Vetch had secured for them was a modest one¡ªsmall and humbly furnished, but clean and well attended to. She recalled the morning of the attack on Moonfane Forge; how butterflies had swum in her stomach as she prepared to meet Vetch for a stroll through the markets. She had been both anxious and excited, yet content. Since that last good moment until now, she had known no peace, only apprehension. But standing in this room, warmed by the fire, with the sounds of a town waking outside reaching her ears, and Vetch¡¯s familiar scent¡ªhorses, leather, male¡ªstill lingering in the room, she felt her guard drop. She was a fist finally unclenching, a held breath finally exhaled. There would be much to do today, and dangerous plans to make for the coming days, but she would face those things as they came. And, now, she would have someone by her side when she did.

    Pulling her dress on and straightening the skirt, Lily discovered that the woman who had washed it for her had also taken it upon herself to sew up the long split that Lily herself had cut in the skirt for easier riding. No matter. She would buy herself a real riding skirt in Pasanhal¡¯s market today. She looked at the stack of coins left on the table.

    ¡°Coins on the dinner table.¡± She smiled. They went into her canvas rucksack and, upon consideration, so did the knife she had brought from Moonfane Forge. She slung the rucksack over her shoulder and went down to breakfast with Vetch.

    There were breakfast foods in abundance spread out on the table¡ªsteaming hot oatmeal, toasted bread with fruit preserves, slabs of bacon and boiled eggs and a firm, sharp cheese of a quality that would have rivaled the cheeses made at her parents¡¯s dairy. Vetch ate with the practical expediency of a soldier, but even once his plate was cleared, he made no effort to hurry her along. Lily took her time in savoring everything on the board. While she ate, he spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯ve talked to a few more people here and in the stables this morning, and still nobody could point me to any black-stoned castle surrounded by wheatfields. Mostly what I¡¯ve been told is that wheat is grown all throughout this hold. It could be any number of places in a very large region.¡±

    Lily knit her brow as she chewed, swallowed, and took a sip from her mug of tea. ¡°Isn¡¯t this town the seat of Hold Pasanhal¡¯s council ... or lord? It¡¯s even named the same.¡± She wished that she had a better knowledge of her kingdom¡¯s composition. Her schooling had long focused almost entirely on magic. One more reason the prospect of becoming a Journeyer and traveling the roads as a working mage was more than considerably daunting to her. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t a castle with an army be here specifically, if it was anywhere?¡±

    Vetch leaned back in his chair and scratched at his dark auburn whiskers. ¡°That had been my thinking, too,¡± he agreed. ¡°If not here, you would suppose a place like that would at least be known to most folk. But, then, they were sellswords. ...¡± He sighed, adding this last as if to himself.

    ¡°Nobody saw carriages like the ones you were tracking?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± he hedged. ¡°But there¡¯s a problem: there¡¯s a spring festival going on in town. The innkeeper said revelers have been arriving in wagons and carriages and on horseback for days, so nobody has taken anything amiss in that. The wheel ruts led out of the woods and straight here, but they must have blended in with everyone else arriving in town.¡±

    It was not what Lily wanted to hear. The carriages and the black-stoned castle had been such straightforward leads to pursue. Now, they had no reference for either, and just as it seemed they had been closing in. Lily looked down at her plate, discouraged. Vetch must have noticed the change in her expression. He reached across the table and placed his hand atop hers, causing her to look up into his dark eyes. He smiled at her, and the light in his eyes made her feel like she was back at home.

    ¡°I¡¯m just so worried about Mari ...¡± she whispered.

    He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. His fingers were callused and rough, but his touch was gentler than any touch she¡¯d known. When he spoke, his words were pitched low with his conviction. ¡°We¡¯ll find her, Lily. We¡¯ll find her and save her. This inn is but one place here amongst many. We still have an entire town to comb over for clues. Someone here is bound to know something. We¡¯ll start in the market.¡±

    His words of encouragement dismissed any obstacles in their path as if they were trifles. She nodded to him and for a time they looked into each others¡¯s eyes across the table, while he continued to stroke her hand, imbuing her with confidence as she might have imbued a Barrier. She would have been happy to stay thus, but then he slid his hand back. Only then did she realize how fervently she had been returning his gaze.

    Casually, as if he hadn¡¯t noticed, he counted out a few smaller coins that he placed on the table for their food, musing, ¡°There¡¯s no sense rushing into anything until we know where we are going and who we might be facing, so let us use today to learn everything we may. When we do face these people, or whatever it is we must do to reclaim Marigold, we should be rested and prepared.¡± He stood and held out his hand to her. She took it and let him draw her to her feet.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. If it has to be just the two of us, we¡¯ll want to be ready.¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯ve one advantage on our side, it¡¯s that The Lady and her soldiers likely think we¡¯re both dead. If that is the case, then maybe they¡¯ve let their guard down. Though, if their stronghold is somewhere near, as I believe it must be, we should be discreet in asking about it. Much as I don¡¯t relish the thought, some people in town may be allies of theirs. We don¡¯t want to give them any reason to be on the alert again.¡±

    They stepped out from the inn into a bright and lovely spring morning. Pasanhal town¡¯s lively daytime rhythm opened before them. Though its folk spoke the same language and dressed in similar clothing, the lakeside town felt like another country in comparison to the mountain town where Lily had grown up and spent her entire life. Pasanhal took full advantage of the flat and open terrain it sprawled out on. The streets and byways were wide and and straight, and instead of cobble, it was soft dirt they walked upon. The buildings and domiciles were low-roofed and wide, set well apart from one another. It seemed even in the most densely populated parts of town, each dwelling had its own yard sufficient for goats or chickens or geese. As with the streets, neither did any buildings feature stone in their composition. The larger and fancier structures were built from timber, while simpler dwellings mere made from mud brick. There were no hills or slopes, no stairs or twisty streets that cut back in on themselves, such as Moonfane Forge had. Lily thought of Marigold and how this place would agree with her aged knees and back. At the same time, she knew her steadfast teacher would never wish to leave Moonfane Forge. Certainly, never by her own choice.

    Vetch found the part of town where clothing could be purchased by following a girl pushing a cart heaped high with newly harvested wool. It was strange seeing so many people going about their errands, haggling in the markets, and greeting colleagues, as if a town in their neighboring hold hadn¡¯t been devastated by an attacking army.

    When Vetch had noticed Lily staring around at all this with her face troubled, he had touched her hand and said quietly, ¡°Probably no one from Moonfane has come here to bring word. No one here knows about the attack yet. But with any luck, Ennric and his group should be nearing the capital by now.¡±

    Lily wondered what they would ask of the king and how they would convince him to grant it. Would it even matter if he did? It was so hard to imagine Moonfane Forge ever being restored to how it was, no matter whether their king helped them or not. Hope was a difficult thing to have when thinking back to all she had witnessed there, yet hope was possibly all she had to drive her on now. ¡°Could we ever be like this again?¡± she asked, nodding her chin toward the people they passed.

    There was the same troubled expression on Vetch¡¯s face when he looked to her. But there was a resoluteness there, too. Seeing it, she knew that she would believe whatever it was he would say in response. Yet, he spoke no words. Instead, he found her hand again, took it in his, gave it a squeeze. That was all. It was a better and more honest answer than any placating words he could have offered.

    Her eyes settled on a likely shop displaying colorful bolts of fabric outside and a sign advertising tailoring services. ¡°There,¡± she said simply, and Vetch nodded and followed her inside.

    The shopkeeper looked up from the cascading dress he was working on only long enough to nod them a terse greeting. ¡°Ready-made or custom?¡± he asked, eyes intent on his work. ¡°If you want custom, and you¡¯re leaving town after the festival, it won¡¯t be ready in time. Too many other orders I have already.¡± Nearby, a young apprentice practiced at sewing, while another was busy showing different materials to other customers.

    Lily scanned the shelves piled high with various fabrics. There were displays of the tailor¡¯s work¡ªtrousers, dresses, shirts and blouses, vests, doublets, coats¡ªall made with considerable skill, to her eye. She was reminded of one of her favorite little shops back home, one she could rarely afford to shop in. Money would be no issue for her this day.

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    ¡°Ready-made,¡± she said, and went straight to a displayed kirtle of a kind she favored. ¡°Do you have any split riding skirts?¡±

    The tailor paused in his work and regarded her. ¡°Not by design. But if that¡¯s your need, choose a skirt and Davaa here can do a fair enough job altering it today.¡± This was evidently taken as a compliment by the apprentice girl seated next to him, for she looked up from her own work and gave a bright smile and bob of her head.

    ¡°Be happy to, ma¡¯am,¡± she chirped.

    Lily shot Vetch a glance to convey her approval of the shop. Then she reeled off to the tailor, ¡°Can she do two today? And your ready-made dresses, are these all the ones you have, on this shelf here? I will also need a few shirts, and undergarments. And socks. And is there a good cobbler in town?¡±

    Interrupted once more, the tailor glanced this time at Vetch and raised his brows.

    Vetch scratched at his beard, reached for the coin pouch on his belt. Before he could pull out one of the gold coins to entice the tailor, Lily spoke.

    ¡°Yes, we can pay. We ran into some foul luck on the road, but we¡¯ve coin. What about gloves? Can I purchase riding gloves here?¡±

    Returning to his work, the tailor grunted, ¡°Everything on those shelves was made by myself; the shelves below it, by my journeymen. Socks and undergarments on those hooks. There¡¯s used clothes in the bin in the corner, sold as they are. Gloves, I don¡¯t make, but you¡¯ll find those, as well as a good cobbler, in the leatherworking district. Up the street and past the plaza with the banners flying over it.¡±

    Beside Lily, Vetch felt the material of a shirt. He raised it to his chest to gauge its fit, then took it and another of the same. He went to the trousers and chose a couple pairs of those in the same cursory fashion, along with a few pairs of good socks. He brought all these to the shopkeeper, who quoted a price for the lot. Vetch placed the coins in the man¡¯s hand, asking, ¡°What about mail?¡±

    The man quirked a brow to this, then shook his head. He clinked the solid coins in his palm and then they disappeared into his pocket. As with the innkeeper, the sight of the gold was enough to earn his goodwill. He turned his attention to other customers entering the shop and left Lily and Vetch to browse at their leisure. Lily was more meticulous in making her choices. She chose two skirts of heavier material to give over to the young apprentice for hasty alterations. They would be less comfortable as the weather warmed, but for the practical purpose of riding Fae, they would hold up much better than what she had been wearing.

    In addition to those, she found two dresses that would fit her, a kirtle, three light shirts, and socks and undergarments. Each time she thought she should be more sparing with her choices, she remembered the substantial gold she possessed, and then she chose the best quality of everything that would suit her needs. If not for her choices being guided by the knowledge that she was dressing for a confrontation with extremely dangerous people and¡ªif she and Vetch survived¡ªa long ride home, she would have enjoyed this experience more. Yet, the task ahead of them remained in mind, tarnishing the novelty of getting to purchase all that she wanted. Still, as it was, it did not prevent her from picking vibrant colors and designs she liked.

    After paying for the clothes, she decided she could not stand to wear the tattered, borrowed dress she had been restricted to for so many days a moment longer. When she begged the shopkeeper for a private room in which to change, Vetch declared he would go on ahead to the leatherworkers¡¯s shops, so she agreed to meet him there in the plaza with the banners above it.

    The light material of the new blouse she pulled on felt like featherdown being drawn across her skin in comparison to the old threadbare dress. To go with it, she chose the new kirtle. It was dark blue and decorated with swirling patterns of threads in lighter blues and silver. She smoothed down the skirt and sighed in pleasure at once more having a garment that fell past the tops of her boots properly. Looking at herself in the mirror, she freed and then re-tied her hair in a simple tail, and then she smiled at the effect. To be in clean, newly made clothes, to have her skin clean of all the grime of the road, to be in a proper town again ... the relief was tantamount to the relief she had felt filling her belly with good, hearty food at the inn.

    She folded the rest of her new wardrobe and packed it with care into her canvas bag. The apprentice girl had by then neatly split the two skirts for riding and reinforced them with some hurried extra stitching. Lily added those to her bag and stepped outside feeling better than she had in many days. The day was warming quickly and the flow of people had increased. She wished she could spend more time simply exploring the town, but she had to meet back up with Vetch. Together, they had much to do. She set off up the street. Pasanhal town¡¯s open layout, with its proximity to the lake on one side, and open lands on all others, meant a steady breeze passed through the streets. It was cool on Lily¡¯s face and teased through the wavy tresses of her hair. She passed shops and stalls, and people pushing carts or driving animals along. There was commerce and trade and socializing, people both working and taking leisure. It was a town as one should be in the prime of the spring season, busy and vivacious. It was that very type of vivacity that had been snuffed out at Moonfane Forge.

    At last, the busy street gave way to the wide, circular plaza the tailor had described. High above on tall poles set at intervals all around it long, colorful banners flapped in the wind. The gathering place was larger and more open than Lily had imagined it to be, and for a time she stood staring all about her in awe, trying to discern where Vetch might be. In the center of the plaza, a large wooden stage had been erected, with scaffolding from which a canvas backdrop had been draped, displaying a scene of a glowing oasis at night, with a vividly painted pool reflecting the stars from the painted night sky. No actors had yet taken to the stage, but a crowd was already gathering in anticipation of a performance. Men and women jostled for prime viewing places, and children darted through the throng, laughing and screeching. At another end of the plaza, jugglers and sleight-of-hand artists plied their trades, and near to them hawkers sold sweet and savory treats that Lily could smell at a distance. In this one plaza was a microcosm of the festivities and celebratory mood buzzing around the entire town, like the fairs that would spring up in the pastures outside Moonfane Forge whenever Marigold renewed the town¡¯s Barrier. So many townsfolk smiling, and children laughing, and young couples flirting. The air was suffused with sounds of revelry and the aromas of sweets and spiced breads and roasting meats.

    Deciding whether she should search about the plaza and its surrounding shops or continue up the street momentarily froze Lily. The temptation to join in with the town¡¯s festivities was strong, even as her thoughts tugged at her to find Vetch so they could resume their information gathering.

    Also, there were unsavory things she had to consider. Rather than enjoy a festival, she needed to use this time to prepare herself, in case she again had to confront the raven-haired Barrier-Caster who had nearly killed her. Unlike Vetch, who could equip himself with the tools of soldiering here, there was little that Lily could do to prepare for if things turned violent once they located Marigold. She would not be able to stand toe-to-toe with the evil mage who had taken her. She knew that for the truth it was. Just as she had back in Moonfane Forge, she found herself struggling to come up with any way she could be of use, no matter how much she told herself she must find a way. New clothes and boots could not provide her the additional decades of magical prowess she required.

    While these worries warred in her mind, a woman in a billowy, bright red costume and feathered hat stepped out to the center of the stage, bowed, and cast her voice loud over the plaza assemblage.

    ¡°Gentlemen and ladies of Pasanhal town, children and old ones¡ªeven you. Yes, you, trying to cut that woman¡¯s coin purse!¡± A laugh rose from the crowd as the caught-out thief abandoned their thieving and hastened away. The actress went on, ¡°Gather in close, one and all, for we will now present to you a harrowing tale of swashbuckling adventure, comedy, and unbreakable romance in a distant desert kingdom. Gather in, gather in! Our tale begins at a quiet oasis far in the south. A wealthy lordling steps out of the shadows for a clandestine meeting with a traveling jewel merchant of ill-repute ...¡±

    Having set the scene, the woman whisked herself offstage, making way for two even more gaudily dressed actors to take the stage and launch into a laughter-inducing exchange.

    In no time, the pleasant diversion had Lily laughing along with the crowd. She pushed closer to the stage, spellbound by the performance. It was unusual for acting troupes to make their way as far north as Moonfane Forge. She was captivated by the costumes, the flourishes with which the actors and actresses moved and spoke their lines, the seamless changes of scenic backgrounds. Soon, she¡¯d lost track of how long she had been watching.

    A touch at her elbow made her jump. She turned and breathed a sigh of relief to find it was Vetch. He looked different. He, too, had changed into new clothes. Not the townsman¡¯s trousers and shirt he¡¯d purchased at the tailor¡¯s shop, but sturdy pants suitable for riding, and a shirt of paneled leather armor overtop a padded undershirt. He had a new belt with a new dagger hanging from it. The effect was striking. It was not his garrison uniform, but was likewise the accoutrement of a fighting man. It accentuated his shoulders and contrasted their width with the trimness of his waist. He looked once more as she was most used to seeing him: a soldier.

    ¡°There you are,¡± she breathed, and she smiled at him. Even with his hair falling in his eyes and his beard unkept as it was, she found the man too handsome for words.

    He showed his teeth in a grin. ¡°There you are,¡± was his reply. He turned his eyes to the stage and the players cavorting about it. ¡°I found the cobbler¡¯s shop,¡± he said, as he watched. ¡°Neither of us should have any trouble finding suitable boots there.¡±

    Lily nodded. It was so good to stand beside him and watch the colorful players act out their play, even as she knew they must not while away the day with such a thing, nice as it would be. It took an effort for her to tug her thoughts away from the tale, so she could recall what they still needed to find in the markets.

    ¡°Boots, yes. And some more comfortable shoes for walking, if they have some. What about food for Fae and your horse?¡±

    He chewed his lip in thought and shook his head. ¡°I think the castle we¡¯re trying to find must be in this region, if not in this town. With luck, we¡¯ll not need to travel much farther. A day or two only, I hope, and there¡¯s ample grazing in this hold for them. We¡¯ll find this place. We¡¯re close,¡± he reminded her. ¡°We need find only one person in this town who can put us on the trail again. We¡¯ll ask every last one of them if we have to.¡±

    Again, Lily nodded. So many thoughts were racing through her head: she must get new boots and shoes, ones that fit better than the ones she had tolerated since leaving home. They might want to find supplies for treating injuries, too. She didn¡¯t want to think of Vetch getting hurt again, but she would be foolish not to prepare for the possibility. Plus, she thought it wise to have another look at the wounds he already carried, to ensure for herself they were healing. Could they possibly use the surplus of gold they now possessed to buy back Marigold¡¯s freedom? Who would they speak to in order to broker something such as that? Then, as quickly as she had the notion, she discarded it. The coin they carried had been paid out by The Lady to her soldiers in the first place. At least, according to the ruffians who had accosted them in the woods. If only it were that easy. She had a feeling it would be anything but.

    She sighed. ¡°There is so much we must do and possibilities we must prepare for ... and we¡¯ve no way of knowing what we¡¯ll be stepping into if we find these people.¡± Without meaning to say it aloud, she added, ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±

    Her voice fell to a whisper on the last word, in stark contrast to the jocular bombast playing out on the stage before them. There, characters danced a duel, clashing comically large scimitars together. She wanted to enjoy the fantasy for a little longer, but morning was passing into noon. Having had a taste of recovery the night before, her body and mind begged for more, but she knew the urgency of their mission. It was time they got back to their search, difficult as it was.

    As if acknowledging that actuality, a bell pealed across town to mark the midday hour. She coaxed her expression to one of resolve and turned to Vetch. At her impulsive admittance of fear, she had felt him tense up where his arm brushed against hers. Now, as she took a breath to say she was ready to visit the cobbler¡¯s shop, she saw he¡¯d been watching her rather than the play, and something in his expression made her hesitate and forget what she¡¯d been about to say. Seeing his concerned look, she frowned.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked him. ¡°What is it?¡±

    He only shook his head, and his auburn curls swept across his eyes. As he brushed them out of the way, his worried expression was replaced with a smile, the kind of smile he so readily could give to her that made her feel suddenly giddy.

    ¡°You know ...¡± he mused, and paused as if in consideration before continuing. ¡°We never did get to have our date strolling the markets of Moonfane Forge.¡± She looked to him and raised her brows in confusion. He shrugged and chuckled softly, suddenly bashful, and it was the most endearing thing she could imagine. If he intended his next words to be convincing¡ªas if she would ever need convincing when it came to him¡ªthen he needed not trouble himself. He did anyway, speaking softly, until the play and the crowd faded away and she leaned closer to hear only his voice. ¡°We have come this far and gotten this close in our quest. It can keep for one more day. For today, let us give it no more thought. Back home, I promised you a day in the markets, just for ourselves together. Let¡¯s take that day today, and concern ourselves with nothing but enjoying the festival and each other¡¯s company.¡±

    She was already completely ensnared by his words, but then he had to grin and add, ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s a soldier alive who¡¯s ever had this much coin as I do to spend on his sweetheart at the festival.¡±

    And then heat and color came to Lily¡¯s cheeks. They flushed even hotter as, while she glanced down, overwhelmed in the most wondrous way, his eyes lingered on her, as they had in the stables back home when they¡¯d first made their date.

    ¡°What say you?¡± he asked softly, dipping his shoulders and head so he could peer up into her eyes. ¡°One day of our own, and then tomorrow we¡¯ll continue on. We deserve this. You deserve it.¡±

    Lily brushed a stray strand of her hair back from her face, tongue-tied. There were so many reasons for her to refuse. Not refuse him. Never. But to put this off, be sensible, get back to tracking down their town¡¯s attackers. Those things flashed through her thoughts, but she found she was nodding to him instead. ¡°One day,¡± she agreed. ¡°To ourselves.¡± And the way he laughed and touched her arm made any doubts about her decision, or need for rationalizing it with herself, vanish.

    ¡°Wait here,¡± he said, and strode off to a nearby vendor. When he returned, he had two skewers of small fried balls of dough, sweet and sticky with honey and cinnamon. They were fresh and hot and delicious. They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the play as they ate them.

    Letting go of the haste they had applied to their task, just for one day, was like lifting a spell. Lily¡¯s anxieties melted away, replaced with the sweetness of the festival food, the laughter they both shared at the antics of the actors, the closeness of Vetch in the press of the audience.

 Chapter 12: A Wedding, part 4

    They watched the entire play, and then stayed to hear the musicians who took the stage after. When the music was finished, they went not to the cobbler¡¯s shop for necessary boots, but sought out the crowded open markets in the center of Pasanhal, where yet more stalls lined both sides of the streets and goods of all kinds were being bought and sold. They saw items that were specialties of Pasanhal, and many more that had come from faraway regions of the kingdom. Lily found new paints for her face, to replace those she had lost in the fires back home, and a small bottle of fragrance that smelled unlike anything she had ever come across before, yet, when Vetch noted that he liked the fragrance, immediately bought. Or, she would have, if he had let her even once take some of her own coins from her rucksack before he produced the payment first.

    But when they found another clothier, and Vetch stood long admiring an elegant townsman¡¯s shirt made from such fine material in a deep shade of blue that would so perfectly compliment his complexion and hair, she produced the coin before he could argue and purchased it for him before his eyes.

    ¡°What apprentice mage has ever had this much coin to spend on her sweetheart?¡± she mimicked his earlier remark and then laughed melodiously when he glared at her with feigned disapproval at the extravagant purchase. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna let him deny me the pleasure,¡± she added, and then Vetch also laughed.

    He insisted on changing into the new shirt on the spot. In his leather armor, he had looked as she was most accustomed to him looking, a handsome soldier. But when he stepped back into view clad in the stylish blue shirt, the effect was striking in an altogether different way. He was a vibrant townsman now, the man she had imagined she was to meet at the markets back home, before the attack had happened. That felt like a lifetime ago, and she had not expected to so soon recapture the feeling of that morning¡ªbefore the screams, before the fire¡ªwhen she had looked at herself in the mirror one final time before descending the stairs. But here it was: that same feeling, their second chance at that day.

    For a few hours, they forgot all about the perils they had survived, and those that still awaited them. And they refused to think about the people they pursued, people who would gladly finish the job they¡¯d begun in Moonfane Forge, should Vetch and Lily find them and take even one wrong step. Instead, they blithely strolled the colorful and radiant town. They ate more sweet foods, and watched jugglers and acrobats. They allowed themselves to smile and laugh and converse about trifling things. For Lily, it was reinvigorating in a way she didn¡¯t have to think about. It was a gentle day, a day of sunlight and music, of the breeze wisping through her hair.

    As they strolled side by side, she took furtive glances at the man beside her. It wasn¡¯t only his appearance that so captivated her, it was the way he held himself with confidence. Vetch walked with self-assurance, as if he knew the town as well as his own. He held his head high, and when he spoke to vendors and shopkeepers, he gave them his full attention and spoke to them with equal parts respect and ease. It was the same way she had seen him conduct himself amongst his fellow soldiers. It was why even the veterans had so frequently looked to him for leadership. She was not a soldier herself, but she would gladly follow him anywhere.

    Much too soon, the daylight began to fade. The markets closed and the crowded streets gradually cleared. The festivities moved from the streets and open plazas to the taverns and gathering halls and private homes. Unsure of which crowd to follow, and reluctant to return to their inn so soon, Lily and Vetch made their way closer to the lake¡¯s shore and followed a plank walkway past bobbing ships at rest on one side and boisterous sailors¡¯s taverns and humble fishermen¡¯s huts on the other. The air was cold off the lake, its slate, perpetually shifting waters uninviting to two who were mountain-born. But it was exciting simply to wander the unfamiliar place together. Sometimes they would talk animatedly with each other, then for periods of time they would walk in restorative silence, and both were equally good.

    Scraps of distant music carried to them by the wind lured them away from the lake and back into town. They strolled a different quarter now, far away from where the markets and festival activities had been. Here were only simple domiciles with quaint little courtyards separating them. Unlike the wide thoroughfares and deliberate layout that characterized central Pasanhal, everything in this quiet and subdued district looked as if it had been built willy-nilly. Little dirt pathways wove in between one-room houses, around humble wells and gardens, sometimes turning back round on themselves.

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    ¡°It¡¯s like the lower Residential District back home,¡± Vetch observed, even as Lily had been about to express the same.

    ¡°Peaceful,¡± Lily agreed, and Vetch nodded.

    At length, the music brought them to another courtyard, larger than the others, the common gathering place for its particular neighborhood. Warm lanterns and little torches surrounded the open space where a crowd was gathered. All faces were turned toward a young couple.

    The man wore the clothes of a farmer, but they were newly clean and in good repair. The young woman who faced him wore a simple white dress and a wreath of white flowers in her hair. As they stood looking into each other¡¯s eyes, a town headman read to them vows of joining.

    Lily put her hand to her mouth. ¡°It¡¯s a wedding,¡± she exclaimed softly. ¡°Let us stay and watch.¡± Vetch made a quiet sound of agreement. And, so, they stood apart from the gathered crowd and listened while the headman led the young couple through the little rituals, and spoke to them well-wishes for their future life together.

    When he bid the two to hold hands, Lily felt a soft touch on her fingers and she gasped. Without a word, Vetch¡¯s hand sought hers and gently clasped it in his, mirroring the couple they watched. When she looked to him, she found his dark eyes on her, and what she read in them made her breath come faster and a tingling run up and down her arms. She folded her fingers into his and as one they turned their attention back to the wedding. In a world of their own, they held hands just as the couple did, while the headman concluded the ceremony and declared them married.

    Heat. Bliss. Delightful agitation. All came and went in a fraction of a moment. How could such an innocent gesture mean so much? Then, Lily found herself plunged back into the scene surrounding her, as Vetch released her hand to join in with the cheers and applause for the newly married couple. Her head still spinning, Lily joined in. Then, in a mutual decision to leave the couple and their families and friends to their celebration, she and Vetch turned to leave. They had taken hardly a step when an older man grabbed Vetch¡¯s arm.

    ¡°Stay, stay!¡± he bid them.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know them.¡± Vetch shook his head. ¡°We only stopped as we were passing by and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stay,¡± the man repeated, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. ¡°All are welcome. The more who celebrate a joining, the better. Please, celebrate with us. Please, please.¡± He gestured with a callused farmer¡¯s hand, and before they knew it, Vetch and Lily were being conducted to a table laden with food and drinks.

    No one challenged their presence or hesitated to include them in the merriment. It did not matter to the quarter¡¯s local farmer and shepherd folk that they did not come from Pasanhal. They were invited to eat and mingle. Strangers struck up conversations with them. They were even introduced to the bride and groom. Through them, they learned that the man who had bid them to stay was the groom¡¯s father. When he and his son and new daughter-in-law learned that Lily was a mage, they treated it as a point of pride, declaring her presence to be a good portent for the marriage.

    The minstrels struck up their music once again and dancing broke out; not the stilted, soldierly court dancing of the upper class, but the informal and joyous dancing of common folk celebrating on a temperate night beneath the stars. Lily and Vetch were swept up in it all, their steps and turns kicking up dust around skirt and trousers. The revelry continued on well into the night, well past the time the bride and groom took their leave together, and still Lily and Vetch danced on. The press of Vetch¡¯s palm to hers, the touch of his fingers on her waist, the jubilance in his eyes whenever he tossed his head to clear his hair out of the way, made her feel light and invigorated, as if fatigue and worry could not touch her. In the lulls between dances, they shared in the food and drink, becoming drunk on a local barley wine. It was bitter, but the way it made her feel was anything but. The world spun and yet also seemed to stand still for them.

    In that precious bubble of unmarked time, Lily forgot all about her fatigue and her hurts and her fears. She let herself be carried away with the rhythm and passion, and by the closeness of Vetch. Even the small stab of guilt that had burrowed itself into the corner of her thoughts, that she was somehow betraying Mari by them halting their search for her, even if only for a few hours of ease impulsively stolen for themselves, could not reach her against the maelstrom of music and elation.

    In the morning, it would find her again. She knew it would and accepted it. But not on this night. This night was theirs.

 Chapter 13: A Sundering, part 1

    -13 years prior-

    ¡°How does it work?¡±

    Marigold was silent, considering how to put an answer into words. Or there was the easier route: lie and say it could not be explained in words. She already knew what her apprentice¡¯s rejoinder to that would be. Iris would ask for a demonstration. No, she would demand one. Such a demonstration would cost Marigold days in Slumber. Not ideal when the entire manor was like a stirred-up ant¡¯s nest, preparing for the arrival of some important guests from the King¡¯s Capital City. None of the serving folk¡ªMarigold¡¯s best sources for gossip¡ªseemed to know who these guests were, yet they all knew they were set to arrive this very afternoon and that everything had to be made perfect. Marigold knew better than to do any magic casting that would leave her indisposed in Slumber when important guests were expected; the lord of Black Crux liked to flaunt the master mage he employed to any visiting aristocrats.

    Iris paced the room behind Marigold, her slippers a whisper on the thick rugs of the high sitting chamber. Marigold had come here to sit by the window and watch the day dawn while having her morning tea. It was a simple routine she¡¯d developed, one that typically afforded her a bit of peaceful contemplation time before starting her day proper. Today, it did not.

    ¡°Say I desired to cast a Barrier that would prevent my husband from entering his audience chamber for a meeting with his advisors any time he intended to keep the meeting a secret from me?¡± Iris spoke as if she had only now come up with the idea, but it was clear she¡¯d thought it out carefully and extensively.

    Again, Marigold held her tongue. A treacherous notion came to her that it would, admittedly, be an intriguing exercise in advanced Barrier-Casting to try something to that effect. It would be a unique application of the magic, and a challenging one, even for a master mage. How would she go about performing such a Casting, she wondered. Then the fear followed: would Iris be capable of learning it? The possibility disturbed her.

    Iris persisted. ¡°The least you could do is tell me whether it would be possible or not. Do not act as if you do not hear me, Mage-Matron. It is already true that when I speak to my husband these days, it is like petitioning a cow chewing its cud. Don¡¯t you go taking inspiration from him.¡±

    Marigold set her teacup down on the table, but remained where she sat looking out the window. ¡°It is unfair to characterize your husband that way. Lord Marcus dotes on you.¡± Marigold left untouched the way Iris¡¯s insult had been extended to include her as well. She didn¡¯t have to look at Iris to know the younger woman crossed her arms.

    ¡°In the bedroom, perhaps. Nowhere else. And why should I not speak of him that way when it is true? He treats me as if I am still a girl only recently come to my majority, wide-eyed and naive at this golden castle in which I am to live. I am a woman grown, Marigold. One afforded power by my title, at that. I have learned the ways of the court and kingdom. I see the bountiful resources of my hold and how we might use them. Yet he sits, like a frog in a stagnant pond, without ambition, refusing to see plainly all we could do. He will not even entertain the idea of expanding our borders, winning new lands for our hold. With Draffor¡¯s surplus, we could raise forces to drive off the bands of raiders who stalk our border and then overtake their territories as our own. Add to that the advantage of a magic as great as ours, and entirely new holds could be ...¡±

    Marigold let the words drift past her ears. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands together tightly as a way of counseling herself to remain calm. Then, she sighed and massaged her knuckles. They had begun to ache on cold mornings like this one. She resisted the urge to state the obvious to her apprentice: just because one could do something does not mean that it was wise. She had tried to communicate that in different ways over the past year. Iris always found ways to rebuff her, or to declare that Marigold simply did not understand the way of things that were not magic casting.

    Marigold did not claim to walk in the same sphere as nobles¡ªnor did she have much desire to involve herself in her lord and lady¡¯s personal quarrels. She did understand, however, that Lord Marcus placed peace and stability above all other things in his hold, as his forebears had done before him. Did it mean he sometimes bribed foreign raiders with tributes of goods and coin to maintain that stability, rather than send his garrison out to deal with them and have fighting break out that might require the crown to inevitably get involved? Yes, it did. Some would view that as capitulating, but it worked. Hold Draffor, and its seat of power at Black Crux, had enjoyed peace and prosperity for generations.

    Holds that did not cause the crown trouble were viewed favorably by the king. That was a concept even a mage could understand. Marigold could not blame Lord Marcus for having grown tired of his wife¡¯s increasing obsession with winning more territory through magic and war. Perhaps Iris could be forgiven for wanting to do something of import with the rare skill she had worked so tirelessly to learn, to use magic to raise herself to level ground with her husband as head of an entire hold. But this was not the way to do it. It was misguided and childish, and it disregarded Hold Draffor¡¯s subjects.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    None of these things would Marigold say to Lady Iris. Not today, at least. However, if they continued to clash over the implications and repercussions of turning magic such as theirs toward ambitious ends, Marigold feared that one day she would not be able to hold back.

    She looked out the window at dawn rising over Black Crux town. It was pleasant little town, small for a hold¡¯s seat of power, but boasting the amenities of many a larger habitation. Its close-set black stone houses and shops stood together as close friends stand together, most converged around the central stony gully that apexed at the split black cliffs upon which Black Crux Manor stood over all. From this window, Marigold could look down over most of the town. Its small market was already bustling with people trading in goods from both within the kingdom and without. These were a hard-working people, a happy people content with the prosperous existence Lord Marcus maintained for them. Marigold saw shopkeepers opening shops, messengers running about, wagons coming into town on the little farm roads that split the uniform wheat fields to the west and south.

    It was different from where she had been born in the northern climes, and different also from Moonfane Forge, the mountain town where she had grown and learned her magic. But she liked Black Crux. She had made a home here. She liked its dependable rhythm. She liked the freedom she was afforded in teaching and practicing her craft. It was why she chose to stay.

    Or, perhaps it was more accurate to say it was why she still hesitated to leave. Her life was privileged here, and most master mages could only dream of finding and teaching such a skilled pupil as Iris. A mage could leave a striking legacy upon the world written in a student such as this one. If only ... if only she could instill in her a proper mastery of how such magic should be used and looked upon. Magic, in Marigold¡¯s eyes, was about more than the ability to cast it. There had to be restraint. A mage had to develop a set of ethics related to their craft, one that they must imbue into their students. In the past year or so, Iris¡¯s words¡ªthe way she spoke of using her increasingly powerful skill¡ªhad begun to disturb Marigold. Barrier-Casting was not a war magic, despite the views of some outlier mages she was aware of. Even martial magics were cast only with the utmost discretion, not on a whim that they might help a noblewoman expand her hold. She had tried in vain to rein in her apprentice¡¯s ambitions in this regard, but it was easier said than done.

    In more recent weeks, she had even begun to consider holding certain practical lessons back from Iris. That shamed Marigold. How could she deny lessons to her apprentice? Yet the idea kept returning. It might be prudent, she reasoned, at least until Iris¡¯s grasp of the philosophy of Barrier-Casting caught up with her raw ability.

    As if to bring those discomfiting considerations back to the fore, Iris snapped her fingers in front of Marigold¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Are you listening? He does not respect me. He shuts me out of meetings, heeds not my words and ideas. He gives me nothing! Not even a child to bear, in his infertility. He will leave this hold in the hands of some distant nephew one day, who will then push me out, I am certain of it.¡± She made a small sound of displeasure.

    ¡°Lady Gilliana¡ª¡±

    ¡°Lady Iris.¡±

    ¡°Iris. You revisit this same bitter argument every time some high standing figure pays us a visit. You know my stance on things. It ain¡¯t up to me to tell your husband to include you more in all of that. I do wish he would. Make no mistake, I side with you on that. But rather than waste your energy complaining to me about it, I suggest you focus on your magic studies instead.¡±

    The very moment the words were out of Marigold¡¯s mouth, she regretted them, for Iris seized upon them immediately.

    ¡°So, we are in agreement. You will teach me the trick of Intent in Barrier-Casting.¡±

    Marigold spoke through exasperation. ¡°Intent is difficult, my lady, even for a master Barrier-Caster. Only a Journeyer would even have begun reading abo¡ª¡±

    ¡°And there is another thing!¡± Iris was relentless. ¡°I should be made a Journeyer now, should I not? I should have been raised above apprentice years ago. Why do you insist on holding me back?¡±

    Because I fear what you will do with the things a Journeyer might learn in her travels, Marigold thought. What she said was, ¡°Because you refuse to set aside your life as Lady Black Crux to travel the roads for years, as required.¡±

    ¡°I cannot simply give up my standing here and uproot my¡ª¡±

    Marigold raised her hand, and her voice. ¡°Again, we revisit the same arguments. I¡¯ve heard it all before, girl. You know how bein¡¯ a mage works. You want to be a master one day, then you need to put bein¡¯ a lady on hold for a while. Why do you test me so on this today? What is it making you act like you¡¯ve got a pin stuck in your smallclothes?¡± A thought came to Marigold. ¡°Exactly who is it arriving from the capital today?¡± She turned finally to face her student.

    Iris raised her meticulous brows, a wry smile riding her immaculately painted lips. ¡°Ah. So, for once there is something that my husband tells me before you somehow catch wind of it. Will surprises never cease?¡± She waited a beat before revealing the news to her teacher. ¡°Truly, you had not yet heard? The guests coming today are Queen Orla herself and the young crown prince.¡± The surprise Marigold felt spread to her face and she could see how much pleasure her apprentice took in being the one to deliver such gossip. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll be more inclined to demonstrate one of your most powerful spells to them, should they request it, than you are for your own apprentice, who desires to learn it and is more than ready to do so. Don¡¯t be late for dinner, Mage-Matron.¡±

 Chapter 13: A Sundering, part 2

    The arrival of an invitation to attend the evening¡¯s dinner with the queen and crown prince came as little surprise¡ªLord Marcus had always loved to flaunt the fact he employed a master mage to any and all important guests that visited. What was surprising was the nature of the invitation. ¡°You are required ...¡± the little page boy had begun the message. Never had Mage-Matron Marigold been required to do anything; certainly not at Black Crux Manor. For all of Lord Marcus¡¯s sniffy demeanor, he was a fair man and always had allotted Marigold her freedom, both in the way she taught magic and in how much or little she chose to participate in any of the manor¡¯s goings on. Typically, she chose to decline invitations to formal dinners with guests, for she had never thought of herself as the type to rub elbows with aristocrats, and there was only so much of the delicate foods and prescribed banter she could endure at any one sitting before she was weary of it all. She much preferred the common inns and taverns down in the town, where people were less concerned with social status and politicking, and more interested in hearty food, strong drink, and bawdy tales.

    She also cared little for the constant requests for demonstrations of her magic. Nobles who had no experience in magic themselves always wanted to see some little show of it, like it was a circus act to be trouped out at their bidding. They never seemed to comprehend what even simple tricks may cost a mage in time lost Slumbering. It wasn¡¯t that she never used magic for fun, or to make a point, but she chose those moments carefully, not based on impulsive requests, like a tavern minstrel might. Even small spells required consideration.

    But this was different. The queen and crown prince were guests well above the station of any rank-and-file nobles or diplomats that passed through Hold Draffor, and they would have traveled a vast distance to get to Black Crux from the King¡¯s Capital City. In Lord Marcus requiring Marigold to attend the first formal dinner honoring these esteemed guests, there was the implication that he expected her to put on a show for the co-sovereign of the kingdom and her young son.

    Marigold grumbled to herself as a serving lad pulled her chair out for her. Once he¡¯d seen her seated at the long dining table, he bowed and hastened away. She had been placed only a few seats away from the head of the table. There was no sign yet of the lord and lady of the manor, nor of the queen and crown prince. Important people from all around Black Crux milled about the richly-adorned room, one of the few chambers in the old manor that had been decorated to impress. In the far corner, a trio of musicians played a cheery tune to set the scene.

    A serving girl set a glass of pale golden wine before Marigold, for which she thanked her. It was one of the region¡¯s very best. Marigold savored its flavor and tried to put a smile on her face. It wouldn¡¯t be so bad. It was an honor to get to meet the queen and crown prince, after all, and she was curious despite herself to see what kind of person the queen was in person. All she had to do was suffer one fancy dinner and likely perform a simple bit of Barrier-Casting, and that would be that. She wondered what kind of spell she could cast that would be easy for her, yet impressive to royalty.

    As she considered, she picked up one of the little silver forks placed before her and turned it in her fingers so it reflected the chamber¡¯s candlelight. It had probably begun life as ore mined out from underneath Mt. Moonfane. Suddenly, she wished she were strolling the hilly streets of Moonfane Forge this night, taking the fresh air beneath that mountain, rather than sitting here in a stuffy dining hall full of chattering nobles.

    The musicians suddenly struck up a formal melody and all the guests found their seats and stood looking to the far door. Marigold followed suit by standing.

    A little page boy appeared and proclaimed, ¡°Lord Marcus and Lady Gilliana of Black Crux, seat of Hold Draffor.¡±

    Iris entered the room first and Marigold had to smile. Beautiful and dignified, her apprentice had grown well into her noble role. She wore an opulent dress in hues of peach and apricot that complimented her olive skin. Her long raven hair was unbound so it flowed nearly to her waist, the envy of many a young woman in town. Iris so commanded all the attention in the room that most hardly noticed her husband, Lord Marcus, entering behind her dressed modestly in soft grays and velvet blacks.

    He and his wife stood behind their chairs as the page announced, ¡°The queen, Orla the third, sovereign of the kingdom of Kaldura and protector of its peoples and holds. The crown prince, Caiside the sixth, son of the king, Caiside the fifth.¡±

    Marigold surprised herself by standing on her toes to see over taller people as the queen and her young son entered the room. Queen Orla III wore a rich gown of deepest purple, with white and sparkling gold patterns spilling down the sides of her skirts and embroidering her bodice. She looked truly a queen in her clothing and accoutrements, but were it not for those she might look as any other woman of Kaldura¡¯s southern coasts might. This was no delicate, waifish royal. She was tall, with a sturdy bearing, wide of shoulders and hips, a queen who looked as though she could do a day of commoner¡¯s work. Yet, the way she held herself was anything but common, with her chin raised confidently high and her dark eyes only grazing the tops of the dinner guests¡¯s heads. Her heart-shaped face was framed by styled ringlets of straw-gold hair, over which a simple golden circlet set with a glittering clear stone rested. Around the queen¡¯s neck was a delicate chain of Moonfane silver.

    And at her side was the crown prince. The boy could not be more than eight or nine years old, caught between the age when he would have been oblivious of his station, and the quickly approaching years in which he must step up to it. Dressed in sharp black trousers and an ornate blue jacket over a shirt bearing pearl buttons and lace at the throat, the boy attempted to match his mother¡¯s royal manner as he escorted her past all the dinner guests who bowed before them.

    Trailing unobtrusively behind them was a young woman who Marigold guessed at a glance to be the queen¡¯s lady-in-waiting, or more likely the young prince¡¯s tutor. Behind her came an assortment of retainers. The queen made a show of greeting Lord Marcus and Lady Iris in front all of her subjects, before seating herself at the head of the table to Lord Marcus¡¯s left, the place typically reserved for Iris. The prince was seated on the queen¡¯s other side, while the tutor and other retainers took the remaining chairs nearest the lord of the manor and his royal guests. This put Iris beside Marigold. Iris turned a sympathy-seeking glance to her teacher, looking decidedly sour.

    All the rest of the people in the hall were then seated, and immediately servants appeared from the kitchens, rushing hither and thither with starting dishes and drinks. The food was exquisite; the musicians passable. Marigold ate and drank and made small talk with the people around her. She caught little of what the queen discussed with Lord Marcus, and cared even less. Iris, though, watched them avidly. She spent the entire evening hardly talking, and sending dishes back after taking only a bite or two. To Marigold, it was plain to see what was going on: Iris had expected to be seated to her husband¡¯s other side and included in the conversations between he and the queen. But she was not. One of the queen¡¯s retainers sat there instead. Iris stared daggers at the man.

    Underneath the table, Marigold placed her hand atop Iris¡¯s and leaned close to whisper, ¡°Let it go for this night, girl; try to enjoy yourself. You will have other chances to speak to the queen.¡±

    ¡°I should be there,¡± Iris said through clenched teeth.

    ¡°In the queen¡¯s seat?¡± Marigold asked, seeking to make a jest. Iris only turned a hard glare upon her. The young woman did not scowl or frown, but displayed a kind of detached condemnation that only those who knew her well would mark. Marigold set her jaw. No use arguing now. She would speak with her apprentice about it later.

    ¡°That is her, right there! Do you see? Well, looks can be deceiving because, I assure you, she is quite powerful. Marigold! Mage Marigold, please come talk with us!¡±

    The edges of Lord Marcus¡¯s words were softened with strong drink. He could be uncharacteristically talkative when in his cups¡ªand, sometimes, rash and impulsive. Marigold steeled herself. She had not truly expected to escape the evening without being singled out to perform some Casting or other. As Lord Marcus beckoned her, with the queen and her retainers looking on, Marigold adopted a humble smile, rose, and went to them. She curtsied and bowed her head low first to her queen and the crown prince, then dipped her head respectfully to her employer.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Our queen wishes to see some Barrier-Casting, Mage-Matron.¡±

    The hawk-faced man sitting to Lord Marcus¡¯s right spoke. ¡°Yes, Mage-Matron, favor us with some of your magic. We have heard much about your skill since arriving.¡± The queen smiled and gave a dignified nod of agreement.

    Marigold looked around and felt as a fish out of water amidst such lofty company. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nothing when compared to some of the mages you must have in the capital,¡± she said to the table. A thought struck her. Maybe she could use this as an opportunity to soothe Iris¡¯s ruffled feathers. ¡°Would you perhaps like to see a Barrier cast by my apprentice, Lady Iris? She is extraordinarily skilled for an apprentice. Her ability to shape her Barriers surprises even me sometimes.¡±

    Iris stood. ¡°I would be happy to, my queen. I have been practicing forming a Barrier that¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, no.¡± Lord Marcus dismissed his wife with a wag of his finger. ¡°Sit and be quiet, my dear. The queen wishes to see a master mage at work, not an apprentice. Mage Marigold, if you please, something to astound our queen and young Prince Caiside.¡±

    Marigold knew her mistake and cursed herself inwardly. In trying to give Iris her due amongst her house¡¯s guests, she had succeeded only in bringing more belittlement down on the young woman. She flicked her gaze over to Iris long enough to see her sit back down with her cheeks deeply colored with embarrassment. Or fury.

    She would have to wait until later to apologize, for all eyes in the room were upon Marigold now. Returning her attention to the eager faces before her, her gaze met that of Prince Caiside. He bore some of his mother¡¯s features, most notably in his chin and jaw, but he had dark, deep-set eyes and was skinny as a rake. She wondered how long it had taken the lady who sat beside him to get his pale blonde hair to stay in place on his head before they had come down to the dining hall. Even now, a couple spikes had come free and stuck out at odd angles. Forgetting the differences in their respective stations, Marigold grinned at the boy. Prince or no, he was still a young boy, one who looked to be rapidly tiring of this long and formal dinner. She was hit with a bout of inspiration.

    She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. ¡°How about a contest?¡± she asked of the room. ¡°A contest that uses Barrier-Casting to decide the winner?¡± Now, she had them intrigued, royal guests, diners, and servants alike. Even Iris looked on attentively. There were calls of encouragement from up and down the table, but Marigold waited until she received nods from both the queen and Lord Marcus. She dug into the pouch on her belt and drew out a spare button. This she held up for all to see as she spoke. ¡°One of the most difficult skills in Barrier-Casting is called Intent. It involves imbuing a spell with the perceived thoughts of another human being. Even for master Barrier-Casters, this is monumentally challenging.¡±

    While everyone in the room watched, she hurled the button up into the air so that it landed atop one of the ceiling rafters. ¡°The spell is difficult,¡± she explained. ¡°But the contest is simple ...¡± She settled herself into the state needed for casting a Barrier, relaxing her body and using the motions of her hand as a focus. ¡°All you have to do to win is retrieve the button.¡± She spoke softly in her concentration, forcing everyone to become quiet in order to hear her. As she spoke, she made precise slicing motions with the flat of her hand¡ªvertical, horizontal, vertical, horizontal, and so on. There were gasps from those who had not seen a Barrier cast before as, before their eyes, a set of shimmering, golden stair steps appeared in the air, leading right up to the ceiling. When the spell Casting was complete, Marigold opened her eyes and took a measured breath.

    ¡°It costs one gold coin to attempt to walk up the stairs and retrieve the button. Whosoever succeeds is the winner and keeps all the coins.¡± Already, men and women were rising to attempt the challenge, but Marigold raised a finger. ¡°Ah! But there is a trick to it, as I¡¯m certain some of you have already guessed. Because of the Intention in the spell, only someone who knows and thinks of the name of the town where I was born will be able to tread these stairs. Everyone else¡¯s feet will pass straight through them.¡±

    Now, there were murmurs about the hall. Nobody seemed to desire to go first, until a large man, red-nosed with drink, stepped forward and clacked his gold coin down on the table.

    ¡°You are well-known in this hold, Mage-Matron,¡± he slurred. ¡°All know you came from Moonfane Forge originally. This shall be easy. Even though I win back only my own coin!¡± he added, to the cheers of his companions. He gathered himself and went to set his foot on the first step. It passed through and the drunk man tumbled inelegantly to the floor. As many at the table guffawed, Marigold offered her hand to help him rise.

    ¡°I did come from Moonfane Forge, but I was not born there. Come now, someone must be able to make a guess. Put your coin down and have your try.¡±

    One by one, people added their coins to the growing pile on the table, and one by one their boots and shoes and slippers went right through the first stair step. In no time at all, the entire dining hall was captivated by the game. As each participant put their coin down, they called out the name of the town or city or village they were thinking of, eliminating possibilities for those who waited to try after them. Eventually, there was a small fortune lying on the table for the taking, and still no one succeeded. Even the serving folk were invited to try, having coins put down for them by the nobles cheering them on.

    Finally, few remained who had not made an attempt. No one had yet guessed where Marigold had been born. By now, the golden hue of the stair-shaped Barrier had dissipated, leaving the steps invisible and perilous yet still present.

    ¡°Anyone else?¡± Marigold asked. She controlled her breathing. Slumber beckoned her, but she could hold it off for a little longer. ¡°My queen?¡± She offered the challenge.

    To this, Queen Orla shook her head. ¡°A worthy demonstration of magic, Mage Marigold,¡± she declared in a soft voice. ¡°And entertaining for all. I dare say if no one else steps forward, then you have more than earned the coins for yourself.¡±

    ¡°I would not, my queen,¡± she answered, ¡°Lord Marcus pays me well enough. And there must be someone left who can make a guess and claim the prize.¡± She fixed her eyes on the crown prince. ¡°What about you, Prince Caiside?¡±

    The boy looked to his mother and then spoke in a similarly soft voice. ¡°But I do not know where you were born.¡±

    ¡°Make a guess,¡± Marigold suggested. ¡°Pick a town no one else has picked. Something less obvious than anyone else has yet tried. Hold the name of that place in your thoughts, and see if you can walk up the stairs to get the button.¡±

    Again, the boy looked to his mother. She smiled at him, then took a gold coin from her belt purse and pressed it into her son¡¯s hand. ¡°Go on. Give it a try.¡±

    To general cheers and encouragement, the young prince, his cheeks flushed red from all the attention focused on him, walked around the table to where Marigold waited, and placed his coin atop the tall stack.

    ¡°Where are the stairs, please?¡± he asked.

    Marigold placed her shoe on where she sensed the lowest invisible step to be and gave it a couple good stamps. There were exclamations of surprise around the room. She raised her brows at the assemblage. ¡°What? Of course, I know where I was born,¡± she said, eliciting laughter. ¡°Now, your turn, Your Highness. The first step is right here where my foot rests.¡±

    The boy took a breath and set his skinny shoulders, then he raised his shining black boot and brought it down. It met resistance. He gasped and looked up at Marigold in surprise. ¡°He¡¯s guessed it, he¡¯s guessed it!¡± someone exclaimed. Another said, ¡°Keep going, Your Highness. Get the button and win the game!¡±

    The prince shifted his weight and took another step up, wavering at first at not being able to see the stairs he trod upon, but soon getting the feel of it. Step by step, he climbed the invisible Barrier stairs. His confidence grew and he grinned boyishly.

    ¡°Look, Mother, I walk on air!¡±

    Up to the ceiling he went, neatly grabbed the button from atop the rafter, and then carefully made his way back down. When his boots hit the floor, the room cheered him, nobles and advisors alike pounding the table like rowdy tavern patrons. The boy made a neat little bow as he presented the button back to Marigold.

    As she accepted it from him, she said quietly, ¡°That was a clever guess, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°It seemed the least likely place,¡± he replied. ¡°You don¡¯t look at all like the people from the southern island chains usually look.¡±

    Marigold shared a conspiratorial smile. ¡°As Lord Black Crux mentioned earlier, looks can be deceiving.¡± She raised her voice. ¡°There is your prize stacked on the table, Your Highness. I¡¯m certain you can buy your mother something very nice with all that coin!¡± Marigold dispelled the Barrier with a wave of her hand. To Queen Orla, she said, ¡°I hope this demonstration of Barrier-Casting has pleased Your Majesty. I regret that I must hasten to my bed now, as a spell of this complexity will soon put me in a state of Slumber that will last for a few days.¡±

    She waited for the nod of permission from the queen and from Lord Marcus and then took herself from the dining hall to her own chamber. As she climbed the stairs there, she did not hear Iris following, but it mattered not. Her apprentice would still visit and attend her in her Slumber when she could also get away from the dinner. Marigold swayed down the hallway and made it to her bed, but only by steadying herself with her hand on the wall. It was not as complicated a spell as she had made it out to be, but denying Slumber as long as she had still taxed her. Doing that was truly a more advanced skill than any Barrier spell.

    She sat down hard on her bed, unlaced her shoes, and kicked them off. She regretted that she had not had the opportunity to speak to Iris about the evening¡¯s events before she Slumbered, but that would have to wait until she woke. She hoped her apprentice would get her chance to reclaim some of her pride before the queen in the ensuing days, and if not, that she would not let her emotions carry her off into doing anything rash. Concern nibbled at the edges of Marigold¡¯s thoughts as she felt she floated up off her bed.

 Chapter 13: A Sundering, part 3

    Every one of her joints ached. A raw deal it was getting old, Marigold thought to herself. She went to sit up in bed and only then discovered she had been lying half in, half out of her bed, with one leg dangling painfully over the edge. Moving woke burning throughout her muscles. With a pained grunt, Marigold sat up and looked down at herself. She still had on the eggshell blue dress she¡¯d worn to dinner with the queen. Her same shoes were still on her feet. How long was the dinner to last that Iris had not yet made her way here? But that couldn¡¯t be right, Marigold decided. The spell she had cast should have seen her Slumbering for a full day at the least. How could she have woken this quickly? What had happened?

    She craned her neck to look at the vase on her little writing desk. The geraniums that had been there before were gone, replaced with pink rhododendron blooms. That meant that at least a full day had passed, if not more, for a maid had entered the room and changed out the flowers. So, why had Iris not come to attend her in her Slumber? Had something happened to her apprentice?

    Marigold stood up with a mind to find out, but the moment she was on her feet, she knew she must see to herself first. Using her fingers to disentangle her silver hair from the simple plait she¡¯d had it in, she stepped into the hallway outside her chambers. It appeared to be morning; she could smell the remnants of breakfast and hear the clatter of servants clearing the table in the main hall. The first person she ran into was a maid carrying a bundle of clean laundry.

    When the maid saw Marigold, she halted and said, ¡°Good morning, Mage-Matron,¡± yet she kept her eyes averted to the floor.

    ¡°Ingrid,¡± Marigold greeted her. ¡°Good morning. Do you know where Lady Iris is? Is she alright?¡±

    ¡°I ... am not certain where she is right now, Mage-Matron, but she appeared fine at breakfast.¡±

    Marigold attempted to order her thoughts. She was still shaking off the gossamer threads of Slumber. As her mind cleared, she noticed all of her body¡¯s wants: food, water, a warm bath, for a start. ¡°She didn¡¯t attend me in my Slumber,¡± she said. ¡°Nor did anyone else. Yet, clearly, people have gone in and out of my chambers.¡±

    The look of self-reproach on the girl¡¯s face was easy to see, and her cheeks reddened. ¡°Lady Iris commanded that no one was to touch you while you Slumbered, Mage-Matron.¡± She continued to look down at the floor, fingers bunching the laundered sheets she carried.

    An undesirable picture began to form for Marigold, that this was Iris¡¯s intent. She could find no other explanation for why she had been left without care. Why would her apprentice do such a thing? But Marigold knew why, and that knowing filled her with bile. She opened her mouth, then thought better of it. It would not be right to unleash her anger on the servants of the household; they had done only as they were commanded.

    Marigold¡¯s jaw tightened as she bit down what she had been about to say. With an effort, she softened her words and said instead, ¡°Ingrid, please have a hot bath drawn for me. And if there¡¯s any breakfast left, have a plate sent here. And coffee. And hot water for tea.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mage Marigold. Right away.¡± She was clearly relieved to take her leave and be about her tasks.

    Returning to her chambers, Marigold tried to calm herself. She hardly noticed the servants who arrived to prepare her bath and set out food and drink for her. Instead, she spent the time looking out her window at the overcast day. When the bath was ready, she sent the last of the servants away. She bathed and then dressed in one of her simple robes. As she ate breakfast, she steeped a tea of restorative herbs. She returned to staring out the window as she sipped it. Physically, she felt refreshed now. Her thoughts, though, were a maelstrom. She closed her eyes, concentrated, and ... there. A small flash of Barrier-Casting. Precise. Pinpointed. Powerful. Marigold knew where Iris was.

    She left the interior of the manor and went out to the walkway atop Black Crux¡¯s inner wall. There she found Iris. She was surprised to see that she was with the crown prince and his tutor. The boy stood back from the edge of the wall watching Iris.

    ¡°Go ahead, my prince, point out another one.¡± She spoke without turning, her eyes on the clouded sky, black hair whipping out behind her in the wind, tendril-like.

    The crown prince turned his dark eyes up to his tutor. The woman gave him a tight-lipped smile, but said nothing. The boy spoke softly, as if reluctant, raising his hand and pointing to a flock of geese passing low over Black Crux town.

    ¡°Th ... that one. At the front.¡±

    Iris lifted her arm, fingers tracking the goose at the head of the great V. With a quick slicing motion, she drew a Barrier in the middle of the air overhead, directly in front of the goose. The hapless bird smacked into the Barrier and plummeted, its brethren honking in alarm and desperately flapping around it.

    Marigold stared in disbelief. It was a masterfully cast spell¡ªthe control, the distance ... all for such senseless cruelty. ¡°Enough!¡± she sputtered when she had control of herself. ¡°What in all the hells do you think you¡¯re doin¡¯, girl?¡±

    Calmly and nonchalantly, Iris turned and hopped down from the edge of the wall. The look on her face was one of mild confusion as to the reason for Marigold¡¯s anger.

    ¡°Do you speak to me, Mage-Matron?¡±

    To the young prince and his tutor, Iris¡¯s confusion must have appeared genuine. The acting was as precise as her spell casting. To Marigold, however, the mockery in her apprentice¡¯s voice was clear. If there had been any doubt left in Marigold¡¯s mind about whether Iris had intentionally left her unattended in her Slumber, it was gone now. Her hands trembled with her fury. But that topic could wait. The scene before her needed to be addressed first.

    ¡°Who else would I be speaking to? You are casting magic while your teacher Slumbers, which you well know you should not be doing. But worse than that, this is how you choose to use your magic, by killing birds in the sky for sport? Things like this, young lady, are why you have not been raised to Journeyer. This is shameful and repugnant behavior!¡±

    There was only the slightest shift in the set of Iris¡¯s expression, a twitch of her brow, a narrowing of her eyes. Did she she subtly smile? ¡°Be cautious how you speak to me,¡± she said. ¡°I am the Lady of Black Crux Manor and head of Hold Draffor. You are merely a teacher. I don¡¯t have to explain my actions to you. But I will remind you, you are speaking to me thus in front of Prince Caiside.¡±

    The explosion of outrage that Marigold felt bubbling to the surface was only quashed at the mention of the prince¡¯s name. She had been so entirely focused on the appalling way her student was behaving that she had nearly forgotten the boy was there. Mastering herself, she turned her attention to him. There was uncertainty in the young boy¡¯s eyes, and in the eyes of his tutor. Both could see clearly that they had found themselves in the middle of a dispute they didn¡¯t fully understand. Marigold wondered by what manner of pretense the prince had been invited here to watch such a disgraceful display of magic without his mother the queen with him. Had it been Iris¡¯s idea? Or had the prince himself requested to see more magic? Marigold chewed the inside of her cheek, caught in a brief conflict of her own. She did not want her future king thinking that what he had seen this day was any legitimate representation of Barrier-Casting. But how much authority did she have to tell the prince of her kingdom, young as he was, that he should take himself away to other activities now. Had it been any other little boy, she would simply have shooed him away. She settled on addressing his tutor, speaking only her opinion.

    ¡°I do not believe this is appropriate entertainment for a young boy, prince or otherwise. Do you?¡±

    Mercifully, the tutor appeared to have been looking for just such excuse and took the cue smoothly. She patted the young prince on the shoulder, smiling down at him and saying, ¡°Come, Your Highness, I think it is time we go and find your mother. We shall be departing from Black Crux soon and she will want to know that you are packed and prepared. Thank the mages for their demonstrations.¡±

    To his credit, the prince recovered himself quickly. The boy sketched a perfect bow to each of them. ¡°Mage Iris. Mage-Matron Marigold. I thank you for your demonstrations of Barrier-Casting, and for your hospitality,¡± he said in his small voice.

    ¡°It was my honor, Your Highness. Safe travels,¡± Marigold replied, as the boy¡¯s tutor conducted him away.

    Iris said nothing as they departed. Then, to Marigold¡¯s surprise, she said accusingly, ¡°You did not imbue that staircase Barrier with any Intent at all. It was a simple Permission, allowing for everyone in the room to pass through it. Everyone except for you and the prince. The contest was staged. Not an easy Casting, but one I could have performed, too, given the chance.¡±

    Marigold gawked at her. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± she hissed. ¡°You left me unattended in Slumber for two days, without even water! For two days, you left me lying half out of my bed in the same fouled clothes and in danger of dying of thirst. That alone is beyond unacceptable, apprentice. But what was even more petty and wretched was ordering the servants to deny me aid as well. What were you thinking? I should cast you out from my tutelage this very instant!¡±

    The change in Iris¡¯s demeanor was instantaneous. No more was she the haughty noble exerting her position in front of the prince, but like a child spurned. The pitch of her voice rose to carry her words across the windswept walls. ¡°And you made a mockery of me in front of the queen! You and my husband both! I asked you that very day to show me the trick of Intent and then you went and invoked the word whilst performing your little parlor trick for the prince. You did it to throw it in my face in front of everyone. You and my husband conspired to make me appear foolish and inept, so you could show off and be the center of attention. I merely gave you a taste of what it¡¯s like to be so disregarded.¡± She waved her hand and added, as if suddenly regretful, ¡°It was only for a day or two. Not nearly the same as what I have endured time and again.¡±

    For a brief moment, Marigold seethed. But she could not deny some of what Iris said. She closed her eyes and pushed the heels of her hands against them. When she opened them again, dark spots flecked her vision against the overcast sky. She controlled her breathing.

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t considered that pretending I was using Intent in my spell would open a wound for you. For that, I¡¯m sorry. It still does not excuse what you did, and it does not mean I or your husband intended to snub you.¡±

    Iris made a short scoffing sound. The young woman crossed her arms over her bosom and stared out across the town below.

    ¡°Am I understood, Iris?¡±

    She stood there refusing to meet Marigold¡¯s eye. After a time, she said, ¡°Yes.¡± Then, more quietly, she added, ¡°Perhaps you did not do it on purpose, but Marcus did. I know he did. For the last two days he has prevented me from having any audience with the queen whatsoever, while he drinks and ingratiates himself with her and her retinue. And now she is leaving. Not one chance did I have to speak with her or show her what I am capable of. I thought I could show the prince, at least.¡±

    ¡°And an ugly demonstration you concocted, girl.¡± Marigold sighed. ¡°I¡¯m exhausted. We will speak more on this later. Until then, consider your lessons suspended, and,¡± she added, raising a finger. ¡°You will perform no more Barrier-Casting until I say otherwise. Is that clear?¡±

    The wind whipped Iris¡¯s hair and dress about as she continued to stare off beyond the manor¡¯s walls. A strange smile appeared on her lips.

    ¡°We will discuss this later, Mage-Matron, for now I go to Slumber until dinner, when I shall at least get to speak with one of the queen¡¯s advisors who is remaining behind for an additional day. Don¡¯t worry about attending to me. I have been training my maids to handle it in your stead.¡±

    After Iris had left, Marigold made her way back to her chambers. She felt old. Powerless. Servants and manor folk and guests ghosted by her in the hallways, seeing in her face that she did not wish to speak with any of them. She wanted only to use the remaining day to recover, perhaps spend some time writing, or simply sitting in her chair.

    The day passed thus, with Marigold hardly marking the time. The light through the window in her sitting room hardly changed hour to hour. The day remained overcast and drab. She was surprised when there was a tap at her door and the servant she had spoken to in the morning, Ingrid, entered to ask if she wanted dinner sent up.

    ¡°Dinner?¡± asked Marigold, closing the book of poetry she had been reading. ¡°You mean lunch?¡±

    For a wonder, the girl smiled. She looked harried. Unsurprising, given all the frantic activity of the household in service to hosting the queen and young prince. Marigold surmised that all the manor¡¯s staff would be pleased to see things return to a normal routine again with their departure. She knew she would be.

    ¡°Lunch time came and went, Mage-Matron. It is early yet for dinner, but the cooks are preparing a special banquet tonight for Lord Marcus and a guest. The cooks wish to be certain that anyone not dining with them is fed before they must turn all their attention to that.¡±

    ¡°I heard of that,¡± Marigold said. That would be the queen¡¯s advisor Iris had mentioned. Truly, people like that probably wielded more power behind the scenes than any monarch. Lord Marcus would surely go all out in impressing that one before he departed to catch up with the queen¡¯s travel retinue. Marigold was glad she¡¯d received no invitation to that. It would probably be a long evening of trade negotiations and political maneuverings, all in the guise of painfully dry dinner discourse. Just the kind of thing Lord Marcus loved.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    She yawned. She was tempted to skip dinner entirely and go to bed early, but in the same thought she realized she was famished. ¡°I will take dinner here,¡± she decided. ¡°Something simple and hearty. Whatever the cooks have that¡¯s easy. And then, you should take the rest of the evening off, girl. You look a sight.¡±

    ¡°Kind of you, Mage-Matron.¡± said Ingrid, folding her hands over her apron. ¡°I¡¯ve already been given leave to do just that, through tomorrow as well.¡± Her smile widened. ¡°I¡¯m going to go visit my sister just up the road. I¡¯ve a new nephew!¡±

    Marigold leveled a smile on her. ¡°How about that! Give my congratulations to your sister, and my wishes for good health for both she and the babe.¡±

    ¡°I will. Thank you. If there¡¯s nothing else you need, Mage-Matron, I will go and let the cooks know to send up your dinner.¡± The woman turned and was halfway out the door before she paused and asked, ¡°Do you know where I might find Lady Iris, to have dinner sent for her, as well? She wasn¡¯t in our lord and lady¡¯s chambers, nor anywhere else I searched.¡±

    Marigold had picked up her book again and begun thumbing through the pages to the spot she¡¯d left off at. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t bother, if I were you. She told me she was attending the dinner with Lord Marcus.¡±

    The look the servant gave Marigold made her heart drop. She knew what was coming before the woman even spoke it.

    ¡°But ... Lord Marcus has forbidden his lady wife to dine with himself and any of the queen¡¯s retinue these last couple days.¡± At the look on Marigold¡¯s face, she hesitated.

    ¡°Tell me,¡± Marigold implored.

    Ingrid took a breath. ¡°They ... The night you went into your sleep, after the crown prince had won your contest, Lady Iris was, pardon my saying ma¡¯am, but she was furious over something. After the dinner, when the queen and everyone else had retired, she went through the halls smashing anything she could get her hands on, tearing down wall hangings and the like, before locking herself in her chambers. When later Lord Marcus went there and found himself barred from his own bedroom, he ... well, he¡¯d drunk quite a lot that evening and was not pleased, to say the least. They argued through the door, until he went and found a key, and then it only became worse after that. A number of us heard it, ma¡¯am. It was quite heated. They have spoken hardly a word to each other since.¡±

    The woman stood there, plainly uncomfortable at having had to deliver such news, yet somehow looking relieved to no longer be carrying the burden of withholding it from Marigold. Had Iris also forbidden the serving people of the manor from revealing this fight? Marigold set her book back down.

    ¡°On second thought, don¡¯t bother with dinner for me, Ingrid. Nor for Lady Iris. That will be all. Enjoy your time off with your sister and new nephew.¡±

    Ingrid waited a moment, as if Marigold would say more, then she gave a short curtsy and took herself from the room. Marigold forced herself to remain seated until she had gone, then she was up out of her chair. Mumbling curses to herself, she shed the simple robe she¡¯d worn all day and hastily dressed in clothes appropriate for another fancy dinner with the nobility. It was not difficult to deduce that Iris would already be in the dining hall waiting for her chance to sidestep her husband¡¯s stupid forbiddance and say who knows what to this advisor to the queen. Could she do anything about it, Marigold wondered as she pushed her tired feet into her good shoes. She doubted it. Yet, something in her gut told her it would be best to be present anyhow. When her apprentice was in one of these moods, the calming hand typically came from Marigold, not from Iris¡¯s husband.

    She arrived to the main dining hall to find it empty, then cursed herself again for a fool and hurried to a more private and intimate dining room that Lord Marcus preferred to use when hosting far fewer people. When she entered the room, Lord Marcus and Lady Iris were already there, seated at the small table. Serving people bustled around them refreshing drinks, setting out new courses of delicacies, and taking away finished ones. Marigold had arrived in the middle of a meal already in progress, and she sensed immediately that she stepped into a tense atmosphere. Neither Marcus nor Iris so much as looked up at her entrance, so intent were they on one another. Some of the serving people paused to acknowledge her and one hurried to set another place at the table. Marigold had expected there to be at least a few other guests present at table, but there was only one person sitting with the lord and lady of the manner. This man was the one who rose and bowed to Marigold. Before she could even find words with which to impose herself into the charged gathering, he spoke in her stead.

    ¡°Mage-Matron Marigold,¡± he enunciated in carefully crafted words, through the woolliness of drink. ¡°Please, sit with us. I was hoping I would have a chance to meet you in more intimate circumstances before I departed. Take this seat beside me and help elucidate me on this concept Lady Iris has proposed of using Barrier-Casting to expand the borders of Hold Draffor.¡±

    Before Marigold could answer, Lord Marcus interjected with words dripping with dwindling patience, yet sugared with feigned casualness. ¡°You¡¯ll find that Mage Marigold is of the same opinion I am, that her magic is not to be used for such things. And, besides that, we keep an unquestionable peace here in Draffor, my lady wife.¡± He spoke this last while patting Iris¡¯s hand fondly, even as his eyes tried to bore holes through her.

    Marigold could not have felt more out of place. She had obviously arrived too late to curtail another fight between the couple. It was clear that Lord Marcus had not meant for his wife to have interjected herself into this attempted one-on-one meeting with an important advisor from the capital. She could tell, too, that tense words and alcohol both had been flowing for some time already prior to her arriving. Lord Marcus himself was already red in the face from drink, a state increasingly common for him when he was displeased with his wife.

    ¡°Pardon me, Widald. Where are my manners?¡± Lord Marcus added, gesturing with his wine glass just as Iris had appeared about to speak. ¡°Mage Marigold, please, I would like you to meet Lord Widald of Boar¡¯s Helm, advisor to, and close personal friend of, our king and queen.¡±

    Inwardly, Marigold walked on a tightrope. To this high advisor, however, she showed a cocky grin and nodded her head. ¡°A pleasure, Widald. Friend to the king and queen? You sound important! I¡¯m not interrupting anything by joining you all for dinner, am I?¡± she asked through a grin, as she took the seat pulled out for her by Lord Widald.

    ¡°You know you are always welcome at my table, Mage Marigold,¡± Marcus said smoothly, though he bit his words off shortly.

    She hated all of this, the politicking for one, but lately having to play peacemaker in her lord and lady¡¯s marriage. As much as she wished to be anywhere else but here, upon looking across the table at Iris, she knew she must be. More than refusing to return her smile, Iris already looked primed to explode. Her jaw was tight, her eyes a dark storm brewing. Clearly, she had already been trying to press her ideas upon this noble from the capital, and Lord Marcus would have been pretending it was all light conversation, while simultaneously dismissing every word his wife uttered. This was not good. Despite Marigold¡¯s disinterest in the aristocracy, it was not difficult for her to guess how disastrous for Black Crux it would be should the lord and lady of the manor air their dirty laundry in front of a friend of the royals.

    Swiftly, she cloaked her bitterness at having to wade into this with humor. ¡°Magic and borders?¡± She waved a servant away and took up the nearest bottle of wine at hand, pouring herself a generous glass. As she did, another servant brought out a large pot and from it served out a simmering duck cassoulet, with sides of cabbage, potatoes, and toasted bread. The succulent aroma made Marigold dizzy with hunger. ¡°Why speak of that when it appears you are already engaged in a drinking contest?¡± she asked, taking up her spoon and gesturing with it at the number of empty bottles before both lords. ¡°That¡¯s far more interestin¡¯ to me, and I wager I could beat you both.¡± She tasted the cassoulet and closed her eyes in bliss. The cooks had really outdone themselves. She tried to counsel herself to temperance; she was not here for pleasure tonight.

    Beside her, Lord Widald laughed. ¡°You do truly have the humor Marcus claimed you did. That was a fair coup you played with Prince Caiside the other evening¡ªhe was talking excitedly about it all the next day.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased to know that, my lord,¡± Marigold returned. She swirled her wine in her glass and took a sip. ¡°You¡¯re from Boar¡¯s Head?¡± she asked, turning the topic away from magic. ¡°Never heard of it. Where is that?¡±

    ¡°Ah. Boar¡¯s Helm, Mage-Matron. It is a region just northeast of the capital city itself. My family owns farms all about the area.¡±

    ¡°Farms never in danger of being raided and sacked.¡± Iris¡¯s comment was spoken softly, yet seemed to carry around the table. Even a couple of the servants could not hide their reactions entirely.

    ¡°Gilliana ...¡± Marcus warned. He had been quietly observing as he ate. Now, he set down his spoon and took up his wine glass.

    Iris ignored her husband. ¡°Lord Widald, every year raiders come and shake down Draffor¡¯s farmers. They sack small villages and steal what they please. And what do we do? We pay them! We bribe them with coin and produce from our own coffers to convince them to stop. Why?¡± She turned her attention to her husband now, speaking on despite how Lord Marcus glared at her with anger rising in his expression. ¡°And the crown sends no forces to stop them. But we wouldn¡¯t need that, if only we crushed the problem ourselves. We have the funds, we could raise armies, and with my magic growing in power¡ª¡±

    ¡°Admittedly ...¡± Marigold stepped in, addressing her words to Lord Widald. She had to quickly swallow the wine she¡¯d been sipping, and dab her chin with her napkin in her haste to get a word in to put a halt to this. ¡°There are those who believe Barrier-Casting could be applied to warfare. Personally, I disagree. As did my teacher, Mantis, and her teacher, Beetle. It¡¯s not at all practical, nor is it¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you would but teach me Intent, Mage-Matron, I could adapt Barrier-Casting to any use I wished.¡± Something in Iris¡¯s words chilled Marigold. She looked at her teacher with distant eyes. She had not touched her food, nor had she taken even a sip of her wine.

    As Marigold grasped for a response, Lord Widald spoke in a reserved tone, ¡°His Majesty is aware of the raids on this region.¡±

    ¡°Then why does he not do something about it?¡± Iris pressed. ¡°You must tell him to send us soldiers.¡±

    ¡°Gilliana!¡± Marcus said forcefully.

    ¡°Iris,¡± she hissed.

    ¡°We have been over this, wife.¡± Lord Marcus raised his voice. In his hand, his wineglass shook. Marigold could see the blood coming to the aging man¡¯s cheeks. His words were slurred but unfaltering as he launched into a lecture she¡¯d heard him give his young wife many times before. ¡°Raising armies for war is not moving game pieces around a board! It means people dying. People from our towns and farms. You do not comprehend what a boon it is to have generations of peace for only the small price of a little coin given into the hands of raiders.¡±

    ¡°He can think for himself!¡± Iris spat, gesturing sharply across the table at Widald. ¡°Let him only bring my plans to the king and queen and they can decide. It¡¯s not only peace I speak of, but expansion! We could take the lands of those raiders and make them into more than rough territories overrun with nomads. We can safeguard our hold¡¯s people without prostrating ourselves before our attackers. With the raiders wiped out, peace would be free and lasting. But you are a coward without ambition. Our hold could be as powerful as King¡¯s Hold if you so desired, not some backwater as it is now. How can you not see this? If you will not do what¡¯s necessary, then I certainly shall when you are gone!¡± This last she added almost as an afterthought, but it rang like a promise ... or threat.

    At this, Lord Marcus roared and slammed his wine glass down on the table. The base of it broke off from the stem, causing wine to splash over the tablecloth. Rising from his seat, he flung the remaining glass past Iris. It shattered against the wall behind her. She gasped and flinched, eyes wide as she stared at her husband with a mix of surprise and hatred.

    ¡°Enough of your insolence!¡± Marcus shouted, pointing to the door. ¡°Get out of my sight! Take yourself to that Slumber chamber or yours. I will not share my bed with such a recalcitrant excuse for a wife!¡±

    Iris stood as well, shouting back, ¡°You cannot send me to my room like some disobedient child!¡±

    ¡°I can,¡± Marcus replied. He leaned forward with one hand braced on the table, the other clutched to his chest. He swayed, gulped a breath, and pointed again to the door. ¡°I can,¡± he repeated more quietly. ¡°And count yourself fortunate I do not cast you out of my home altogether.¡±

    Marigold looked on in horror, while beside her Lord Widald labored to betray no emotion whatsoever. Around the room, servants waited and dared not breathe. Marigold expected Iris¡¯s reaction to be substantially worse than her husband¡¯s. So, she was surprised when Iris simply turned and strode from the room without a word, her skirts sweeping behind her.

    Displaying a composure that hardly matched the situation, Lord Marcus lowered himself back into his seat and lifted his chin at the nearest servant.

    ¡°Bring the dessert course now. And serve the port.¡± As the servants beat a hasty retreat to do so, Marcus folded his hands before him and looked first to Lord Widald. ¡°My apologies, Widald. I hope you do not take that as anything more than a temperamental woman attempting to assert ideas well above her upbringing. Will you have dessert?¡±

    Marigold noted that Widald gave just enough consideration to the idea so as not to appear impolite before stating, ¡°Regretfully, no, my friend. I leave early in the morning and I have much packing to do. It has been a pleasure. Rest assured, Her Majesty was quite pleased with how Hold Draffor is prospering under your care.¡±

    The words may have placated a less savvy man, but Lord Marcus¡¯s face betrayed that he knew these were empty platitudes. The queen would be hearing of the strife shown this evening. Lord Widald stood, adding, ¡°Mage-Matron, thank you for the graciousness you showed the young prince.¡± When it appeared he might say more, instead he showed her a tight-lipped smile, nodded, and took himself from the room. It was a truly aristocratic dismissal, if Marigold had ever seen one.

    She found herself alone with her employer.

    ¡°Mage-Matron? Dessert?¡± he offered.

    Marigold slowly rose from her chair. Her body seemed to creak like old door hinges these days. That would only ever get worse, she thought to herself. She said, ¡°I should go and speak to her.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± agreed Marcus.

    With that, he clearly dismissed her from his thoughts and lifted the new glass of port set before him.

    As Marigold roamed the night-quiet halls of Black Crux Manor, suddenly she was more weary of her position than she had ever been. For years, Black Crux and its lord had been good to her. It was here that she had expected to train someone into a master mage of exquisite skill, the kind of student any mage would be proud to teach. But as she steeled herself to plunge deeper into the machinations and melodrama of nobility, power, and magic, she felt as if the manor¡¯s heavy stone walls were closing in around her. When had magic, her life¡¯s passion, become a chore to her? Never before this year had she found herself reluctant to teach it. Yet, here she was still having to lecture her student on all the ways she shouldn¡¯t be thinking of, or performing, magic, things that an apprentice should have learned by now.

    Actualizing her new disinterest made Marigold feel despondent, and almost she decided to simply retire to her own chambers, but she found herself before the door to Iris¡¯s sanctuary, the chamber she used for Slumber. Marigold tapped on the door and received no response. Trying the handle told her that Iris had locked herself in. Speaking through the door elicited nothing. It was late and she was weary in a way that went beyond the physical. Telling herself that Iris must already be asleep, Marigold left it for morning.

    Back in her own chambers, she left her shoes and dress in a heap on the floor, stoked up the fire in the hearth, and lay down in bed. As exhausted as she was, it made no sense to her that sleep did not come instantly. When finally she did manage to fall asleep, her sleep was fitful and marred by odd dreams. She woke and slept, and woke and slept. At one point very late, she dragged herself from under her warm blankets to build up the fire and use the privy.

    As she returned to her bed, having just burrowed herself back under her blankets, she sensed it: a tiny snap of magic elsewhere in the castle, so focused that even she was unsure if what she had sensed was accurate. She waited, wondering if there would be something more, something to confirm what she had felt. Of course, there would be nothing to deny it if she had been mistaken. Strange. She waited. And waited. More odd dreams, perhaps, she thought. She was much too exhausted for this. She yawned, turned over, and put it from her thoughts. Finally, she slept deeply.

 Chapter 13: A Sundering, part 4

    She snapped awake to the sound of a maid screaming down the hall. It was not a single screech, but a series of screams that came again and again, followed by running footsteps. Marigold rose, still weary but on the alert. Dressing in haste, she could hear more people moving about in the corridors of the manor, speaking to one another in words both frantic and hushed.

    Outside her chamber she saw a servant rushing in the direction of Lord Marcus¡¯s rooms. She followed him and arrived outside the manor lord¡¯s open door, where a gaggle of serving people clustered around, peering in and whispering to one another. Marigold pushed her way through them into the bedroom; none challenged her doing so. Lord Marcus¡¯s elderly steward sat on the edge of his master¡¯s bed, head bowed and eyes tightly closed. When he felt Marigold¡¯s presence in the room, he looked up and his wrinkled face was wet with tears. He opened his mouth, only to shakily close it. At Marigold, he shook his head and then bowed it again over his master.

    Lord Marcus lay under his blankets, with his hands composed atop them, still and serene. In death, he looked as if he could merely be asleep, but for the sunken state of his cheeks and the pallor of his skin. His thinning hair was plastered to his scalp, much as it had been the evening before when she¡¯d watched him fling his wine glass against the wall.

    ¡°His heart gave out, I believe.¡± The quiet words came from the steward, though his mouth hardly moved. ¡°He ate and drank to excess last night, long after you and Lord Widald had both retired to bed.¡±

    Marigold nodded sadly to herself. She thought back. He had looked unwell the night before. The stress from the queen¡¯s visit, and the unleashing of his anger on his wife, combined with an overindulgence in rich food and drink ... these were enough to put an unhealthy strain on any man. She clenched her eyes against the sting of emotion. In many ways, Lord Marcus had been a lofty and inflexible man, but he had always treated her fairly, the same as he had treated the people of his hold, from farmer to merchant to tradesman. She mourned the man.

    ¡°Where is Lord Widald?¡± she asked softly. It was all she could think of to ask. The remaining guests would need to be informed, as would the crown. In a way, it was fortunate Lord Widald had lingered behind an extra day, for word could go swiftly with him when he left to catch up with the queen¡¯s retinue. Iris could then be confirmed as the sole Lady of Black Crux and of Hold Draffor. Where was Lady Iris? As soon as she had the thought, Marigold dreaded that she also must be informed of her husband¡¯s death. Losing her spouse would be bad enough, but the fact that she must forever live with their final interaction being one of their fights ...

    The steward stood up and straightened his coat. ¡°He departed before dawn this morning.¡± His voice brought Marigold back to the present and it took her a moment to understand he spoke of Lord Widald. That didn¡¯t bode well, the advisor leaving without so much as a farewell to the lord and lady of the household. The steward looked past Marigold at the gathered servants and spoke stiffly. ¡°Be about your duties.¡± They scattered at his command. To Marigold, he said, ¡°I will make arrangements to contact Lord Marcus¡¯s extended family, and begin to put his final affairs in order. Someone must wake Lady Iris and tell her.¡±

    Marigold knew that someone was her. She nodded and the steward swept past her, issuing orders as he went down the hall. She looked at the still form of Marcus in his bed and sighed. Time enough later there would be to reflect on how this man¡¯s influence had changed her own life so drastically, and upon how it would change further now that he was gone.

    Down the hall was the door to the separate sleeping chamber reserved for Lady Iris¡¯s use when she must Slumber. In recent years, it had nearly as frequently been the place she was banished to whenever she and her husband had had a heated disagreement. When Marigold knocked on the door, there was no answer. She tried the handle and found it unlocked this time. Letting herself in, she sensed something amiss right away. The window curtains were drawn, casting the room in dim shadow, but a single candle burned on the table by Lady Iris¡¯s bed. Iris slept still. No. She did not sleep. She Slumbered. Marigold came to stand by her bed, looking down on her apprentice. It was unmistakable. She Slumbered. She had been casting magic, directly against Marigold¡¯s instructions. While she puzzled over this, one of Iris¡¯s maids entered the room. She startled when she saw Marigold.

    ¡°Oh! I ... you startled me, Mage-Matron,¡± she stuttered. ¡°L-Lady Iris said no one was to disturb her. If you¡¯ll kindly¡ª¡±

    ¡°How long has she been in Slumber, girl?¡±

    ¡°I ... I ...¡±

    ¡°How long?¡±

    ¡°She woke me¡ª¡±

    ¡°She woke you herself or sent another servant to do it?¡±

    ¡°Herself, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Sometime after midnight,¡± she answered meekly. She was not supposed to be divulging this, it was clear by her hesitant words. But she could no more disregard Marigold¡¯s questions than she could disregard the commands of the lord and lady of the house. ¡°After the change of the wall patrol, I think it was.¡±

    ¡°Keep talking,¡± Marigold pressed her. ¡°Out with it.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    The maid took a breath. ¡°Lady Iris said I must attend her in her Slumber, but tell no one of it, and let no one into her chambers. I only stepped away to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Marigold cut her off. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Go make yourself useful somewhere else.¡±

    ¡°But, Mage-Matron.¡±

    Marigold raised her brows and turned her steel eyes upon the girl in such a way that she turned and fled the room without another word. When she was gone, Marigold turned back to Iris. Supine in a nightgown of black, her face was peaceful, her long raven tresses uncharacteristically braided and pinned up. Marigold watched the steady rise and fall of her breast as she breathed. She recalled the flash of magic in the night and, slowly, raised a shaking hand to her mouth.

    ¡°How could you? ...¡±

    She left the room quickly, pausing only at Lord Marcus¡¯s door to look in on him a last time. A single one of his house guards now sat beside his bed in vigil. He nodded to her and she moved on. She bypassed her own chambers until she came to a boy replacing candles in a side hallway.

    ¡°You,¡± she said, pointing at the boy. ¡°You¡¯re new here, are you not? Do you know who I am?¡±

    The boy nodded. ¡°You¡¯re the wizard. The magic teacher.¡±

    ¡°And do you know where my chambers are?¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°Go find someone who does, tell them to have a couple porters sent to Mage Marigold¡¯s rooms. Then, go into town and hire a carriage for me. Tell them to wait for me at the first gate. Go, and after you¡¯ve done all that, there will be a silver or two waiting for you.¡± The boy nodded and ran off.

    She went back to her chambers then. Such a coward she had been. For the better part of a year, and possibly longer, she¡¯d had thoughts of leaving, doubts about her apprentice, and about hitching so much of her own life to this castle and to a student whose clashing perspective on magic made Marigold fear to teach her more comprehensively.

    ¡°Coward of an old woman,¡± she scolded herself as she pulled books from her shelves and rammed them into a travel trunk. Had not her own Mage-Matron impressed upon her the perils of ignoring one¡¯s own misgivings when it came to magic? How many years had she ignored that lesson? And why? Because her life here was comfortable? Because she was well paid, and this was the type of position master mages dreamt of holding?

    But as she packed her things, the other question came: if she had left sooner, could not this have happened sooner?

    Ugly black clouds were moving across the sky by the time she had packed up all her things and begun having the porters carry them down to the waiting carriage. Black Crux¡¯s serving people were much too busy dealing with the ramifications of their lord¡¯s passing to question what their resident master mage was up to, and the gate guards hardly gave her a second glance as she passed by them on her way down to the road.

    She didn¡¯t go hurriedly. She told herself she wasn¡¯t fleeing, not for fear of anything. It was simply about being decisive. If she thought too much about all the kind people she knew here, or what she was giving up, then she might hesitate again. Hesitation had no place in the heart of a mage. She had made her decision, at last. No point in delaying it even a day more. She hoped Black Crux Manor would find its way into worthy hands once everything was settled. But she would not be there to see if it did.

    ¡°Mage-Matron!¡±

    Marigold had one boot in the carriage. She could ignore it, step in, and tell the driver to go. She closed her eyes. ¡°Spirits damn everything,¡± she muttered, and waited. Upon opening her eyes, she saw Iris¡ªno, Gilliana¡ªmarching down the bridge from the castle to the road, where the carriage and Marigold stood ready to depart.

    ¡°What is this? What are you doing?¡± Gilliana demanded. She was barefoot and still in her nightgown, though she had taken down her hair. The long black tresses whipped about in the winds that always seemed to course and shift across Black Crux Manor¡¯s bridges.

    ¡°I am leaving, Gilliana.¡± Marigold spoke plainly, refusing to raise her voice. Raindrops began to fall sparsely.

    ¡°Leaving? Leaving for where?¡± Her black nightgown fluttered about her legs. For any other woman, standing barefoot in her nightgown in the street might make her appear mad or destitute. To Gilliana¡¯s credit, her countenance cut a powerful figure still. She had learned over the years to hold herself in such a way that her classical beauty made others take heed of her importance. ¡°I thought we would have lessons today.¡±

    ¡°There will be no more lessons, girl. Never again. Not after what you did.¡± Gilliana went to speak, but Marigold cut her off. ¡°The Casting in the night. Lord Marcus. I don¡¯t know how you did it, and no one will ever be able to prove it, but I know you did it.¡± She steeled herself to speak her next words. ¡°I hereby release you from your apprenticeship. You will learn no more magic from me.¡±

    From confusion, Gilliana¡¯s face shifted to indignation. ¡°How dare you accuse me like that! I am a woman in mourning!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t look it. Goodbye, Gilliana.¡± Marigold turned and stepped into the carriage. Gilliana grabbed the door to prevent her from closing it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare turn your back on me. I command you to get out of this carriage and return to your chambers!¡±

    ¡°Driver,¡± said Marigold. The man lifted his reins.

    ¡°Driver, stop!¡± Gilliana commanded. She raised one hand, as if to cast a spell.

    Marigold matched the motion, quicker than her apprentice. ¡°Don¡¯t test me, girl!¡±

    They stood seemingly at an impasse. The carriage driver sat frozen, while his horses shifted and nickered nervously. Only the two mages knew just how great of an advantage the elder Marigold had. Anger suffused Gilliana¡¯s eyes and face, the muscles in her neck standing out. Time stood still. The wind swirled past them. The rain strengthened. With a tormented growl, Gilliana finally released the carriage door. She let both her arms drop.

    ¡°You are mine!¡± she spat. ¡°Bought and paid for! It is not for you to say when you stop teaching me! Return to your quarters this instant!¡±

    ¡°Driver,¡± Marigold said again, and yanked the door shut. The driver gave the reins a shake and the carriage lurched forward, turning down the road toward town.

    ¡°I will raise your pay! You cannot leave! You belong to me! You belong to me!¡± The rain began pouring down as Gilliana stood in the road before the first gate, watching the carriage go and venting her vitriol at her former teacher.

    Marigold folded her shaking hands in her lap. She closed her eyes and closed her ears off to the hateful words as they faded behind. Not a coward, she told herself. Not a coward. Not for this. The horses¡¯s hooves clipped steadily down the road, taking her away from Black Crux.

 Chapter 14: Pathways Cleared, part 1

    Screams penetrated Ennric¡¯s dreams even before they rattled him into wakefulness. For a few baffling seconds he was back home in Moonfane Forge, in his bed next to his sleeping wife, hearing the screams of his youngest daughter waking from a nightmare. In a moment, he would open his eyes, drag himself out of his bed, and go comfort his daughter until she could get back to sleep. His eldest would complain that it had woken her, too. He would have to pacify the both of them, for one daughter was never content with her sister being given attention unless she also received some to make things even. Sometimes he almost suspected his two daughters conspired in this way between themselves in order to get their way. It was push-and-pull, having two such intelligent and independent children, so alike to their mother.

    He would see to them both, make certain they were both comforted and back to bed, so his wife could continue sleeping. Then, perhaps he, too, could catch a few more hours of rest before he must be awake with the rising sun and report for guard duty at the South ... no, the East Gate, he was on the East Gate today.

    In another moment, he recalled where he was. Not back home in his own bed, but wedged uncomfortably in a smelly bunk that would have been more at home on a ship than this seedy little inn¡¯s room. It was little more than an old mattress in a box. Like a coffin. He couldn¡¯t stretch his legs straight in it, nor roll over without banging his mending arm on the frame. Even the bed he¡¯d had in the barracks back before he¡¯d gotten married had been more comfortable than this.

    Not only was he not back home, his daughters were both women grown now, not children who screamed for their parents when nightmares woke them. The reality of the present returned with his waking consciousness, like bats returning to a barn¡¯s loft with the dawn. He wasn¡¯t sore and cranky because he¡¯d been drilling hard with the other soldiers the day before, it was because he was an old man now and too many days on the road, forced to sleep in places like this¡ªwhen they were lucky enough to find room at an inn at all.

    He heard the next scream for what it really was, not a child waking from a nightmare, but the scream of an adult woman in distress. It came from outside, somewhere nearby and below his second floor window. Across the dark and cramped room, Ennric heard one of the men from his traveling party stir in his own bed.

    ¡°What in all the hells? ...¡± came a groggy voice.

    ¡°Dunno,¡± answered Ennric automatically. He clawed at the windowsill and pulled himself up into a sitting position so he could peer through the smokey glass of the little window. It was still pitch black out. The village they had stopped in hardly had enough people living there to merit calling it a village. It was little more than a dirt crossroads with a few scattered hawker¡¯s stalls and the inn, which also served as the lone tavern. There were no street lamps, as one might find in a larger town. All that Ennric could make out was some kind of commotion happening down in the road, around which most of the people remaining in his party from Moonfane Forge had set up camp for the night.

    ¡°What is¡ª?¡±

    ¡°I said I don¡¯t know, man,¡± Ennric grumbled. He squinted his eyes shut and groaned. He¡¯d had too little sleep of late and a headache was beginning to throb behind his temples. He¡¯d have to be the one to deal with whatever was going on out there. He always was. Even if this settlement had any guardsmen¡ªand he strongly doubted it did¡ªit was always more prudent to handle his people¡¯s problems before any local truncheon-swingers got involved. The last thing he wanted was to have their mission further complicated by someone getting injured or thrown in a cell.

    By consensus, the remaining people of his party had agreed to give up attempting to muster aid for Moonfane Forge in any more of the small towns and villages they passed on the way to the King¡¯s Capital City. Their resources by which to entice anyone had dwindled to almost nothing and they needed to preserve what they had left. The capital was their sole hope now, so they traveled quickly and spent as little time in the towns they came to as possible. The less opportunity for his ragtag group to cause trouble for any locals the better.

    Leveraging himself out of the narrow box of a bed, he couldn¡¯t avoid banging his arm on its frame. He stood in his stocking feet sucking air through his teeth until the pain subsided, then groped around in the dark for his boots.

    ¡°Stay here,¡± he ordered the man in the other bed, as he went through the tortuous process of tying his laces. ¡°I¡¯ll see what it¡¯s about. D¡¯ya know where Purcell was sleeping tonight?¡±

    No answer, then soft snores. Ennric made a sound of disgust in his throat. How many days had they all been together on the road, all connected by what they had gone through with the ravaging of their home town, and yet so few of them acted like they gave a damn anymore. It was as if the farther away they traveled from their mountain town in the north, the more they forgot they had ever had lives there at all, lives and livelihoods that might only be restored should their mission to the king succeed. They should have all become closer by now, united by a common cause. But more often than not, what Ennric saw was a gaggle of people who had perhaps not so much lost their way as had never known what their way had been in the first place.

    ¡°That¡¯s why they followed, old man, that¡¯s why they followed,¡± he grumbled to himself, making his way stiffly down the stairs as hastily as he could without stumbling to the dingy tavern that served as the inn¡¯s common room. ¡°Profit, or escape, or needing someone to listen to, now that the heads of town are dead.¡± The words passed his lips in a more bitter tone than he¡¯d intended, but that was the truth of it. It was because the leaders of Moonfane Forge were gone that he himself had been given this task in the first place. Well, if any of these people hoped to find an inspiring leader or astute diplomat in me, he mused to himself, then they¡¯re shit out of luck. Aloud, he added, ¡°Damn you, Vetch.¡±

    He found Purcell curled up in front of the hearth like a puppy. Whenever there were rooms available at an inn they came to, and funds could be spared to rent one or two, they all drew lots to decide who would get the beds for the night. The rest of them either slept where they could find an open bit of floor or made do camping beside their carts and wagons outside. Purcell had won a berth in the room this night, but had steadfastly insisted on giving the luxury over to Ennric, ¡®on account of your arm and all, sir¡¯, she had said. Looking at her now, he decided she may have gotten the better part of that deal. At least on the floor, she had the space to stretch her legs out by the fire.

    ¡°Purcell,¡± he whispered, and stooped to shake her by the shoulder.

    She came awake instantly, blinking up at him in the dim light. ¡°Hm?¡±

    Before he could say anything, there was more shouting from outside, followed by a string of curses that would¡¯ve been considered excessive even in the soldiers¡¯s barracks. Purcell simply nodded her understanding and reached for her boots. From having found her irritating at the start of their journey, Ennric was happy now to have Purcell along. She was someone he could count on in a pinch. She wasn¡¯t as sharp as Vetch, but she was always ready for action without question. A good trait for a soldier.

    ¡°¡®S¡¯going on out there?¡± she asked, as she followed him to the door. Ennric grunted. Purcell seemed to take his meaning not to ask. They¡¯d find out soon enough.

    It was unseasonably frigid outside. Weren¡¯t the kingdom¡¯s southern holds supposed to be warmer by this time of year? They were well into King¡¯s Hold, not far out now from the capital, and it had been cold and rainy for days. Ennric¡¯s boots squelched in the track of mud that was the road, as he tramped toward the shoddy camp of tents his people had set up. With his one good eye still adjusting, he saw that most everyone was awake and standing around watching a strange scene unfold.

    ¡°No! You can¡¯t have that; it¡¯s the last we own!¡±

    ¡°Give it over! You don¡¯t want any trouble. Listen to your husband, lady.¡±

    ¡°Please, wife, let them have it. Let them have it!¡±

    It was hard to make out who was who in the pitch black. Sunrise was still hours off. It was the voices that Ennric recognized first: the bickering grain merchants. As he and Purcell came up to them, he found the elderly wife standing behind their cart, clinging gamely onto the corner of a yak hair blanket, while a man Ennric didn¡¯t recognize worked to yank it from her clutches. He was practically dragging the old woman¡¯s boots in the slippery mud by it. Nearby at hand, her husband stood out of the conflict, hands balled up against his chest.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Please, let them have the blanket,¡± he pleaded in desperation, lowering his voice, as if it could make his words sound more convincing. They were drowned out by yet another scream from his wife, and then she followed that up with a new string of obscenities, directed not at the man trying to take her blanket, but her husband.

    ¡°Damn you, you pigheaded pile of shit. Spirits and demons all damn you and your, your ...¡± she grunted and yanked back on the blanket again. The man at the other end of it looked almost bored, as if he would simply wait for the old woman to exhaust herself. He was the first to notice Ennric and Purcell.

    Giving Ennric a dismissive look, he gestured with his chin. ¡°This ain¡¯t none o¡¯ your business. Back to your tents.¡±

    ¡°Like hells it isn¡¯t,¡± Ennric growled. ¡°You would steal a blanket from an old woman? Let it go.¡±

    He noticed then the additional movement behind the husband. Two more men and a woman lifting sacks of grain and other supplies out of the merchant¡¯s cart and loading them into their own wagon. Ennric looked from them to the husband and then to the pathetic struggle between the wife and her tormentor. He pointed at the husband, the old man who had once tried to ingratiate himself with Ennric.

    ¡°You. Explain all this. And you, let go of the fucking blanket!¡± he added to the man accosting the old woman. Her cursing had been replaced with desperate whimpers. She spoke through them.

    ¡°He ... he wasn¡¯t trading nothing! He was letting them ... steal from us! My worthless husband, the coward! The liar! All along, in every town, they came and ... let ... go!¡±

    Ennric turned his gaze back to the husband. The old man had the gall to smile at Ennric, hastily jumping in with, ¡°It¡¯s fine, I swear. Please let me handle this. They take the goods and then they sell ¡®em, and give us a share. In every town we pass through. It¡¯s all agreed upon; there¡¯s no trouble here. None.¡± He turned his pleas back to his wife, again lowering his voice, speaking to her as if her were explaining something to a child. ¡°Let them have it and we¡¯ll get coin for it later. Please, wife ... they¡¯ll hurt us if we¡ª¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve been shaking you down,¡± Purcell mumbled.

    ¡°No. No,¡± the husband tried. ¡°Helping us sell our goods. In the towns. F-for a share¡ª¡±

    ¡°Please ...¡± the old woman whined. Her hands were beginning to tremble. Ennric wondered at how she fought so fervently to retain a single blanket while the rest of the gang relieved her and her husband of everything else they had to their name. Perhaps it had sentimental value to her. Or, perhaps, it was the only thing she felt she could get away with keeping.

    ¡°You all need to start loading those things right back into the cart where they belong this damned instant!¡±

    Purcell¡¯s booming voice startled Ennric. Where had that come from, he wondered. That was how a Moonfane Forge town guard was supposed to sound. She approached the three unloading the grain cart, hand on her belt where her truncheon would have been if she had it. For a wonder, the three actually paused in their thieving and gave her their attention. Momentarily, at least. Her implication of a threat wasn¡¯t enough to last. In another moment, they laughed and went back to moving bags and boxes. Undeterred, Purcell turned to all the gawkers who had gathered around, gesturing with her arms wide.

    ¡°What is wrong with you all? You¡¯re just going to let ¡®em steal from your fellow townsfolk?¡±

    There was an assortment of mumbles. A few people turned away and shuffled back to their tents. One sneered, ¡°What town? It¡¯s every man for himself.¡±

    Ennric knew this was getting out of hand. Some of the locals had woken and were gathering to look on. One had brought out a lantern that illuminated the odd scene. By its light, Ennric recognized the woman and one of the men who were busy moving goods. He¡¯d seen them many a time while out on patrol in the pastures around Moonfane Forge. They were brother and sister, and both had worked as herdspeople watching over Moonfane¡¯s yaks. Ennric didn¡¯t know their names, but they were all familiar with each other from the many days of travel in close proximity. He didn¡¯t think there were any words he could say to them that could sufficiently express his disgust at their actions. These were people who had once been guards against thievery. Now they thieved from their own. And here were all the local townsfolk gathering to watch, people who would view this as an example of what kind of folk came from Moonfane Forge. An end needed to be brought to this. Right now.

    Once again, it was Purcell who was a step ahead. Not far away was Ennric¡¯s own wagon. She went to it and retrieved his sword from behind the seat. Before Ennric could shout at her to stop, she¡¯d drawn his blade and now advanced on the three thieves by the grain wagon. She held it two-handed above her head like a club. It would have been comical, the way she charged at them with the sword held high, if it wasn¡¯t so horrifying.

    Taken by surprise by this, the siblings and their cohort dropped a heavy sack of grain and scrambled for their cart, loathe to test this mad woman charging them with a gleaming blade. The grain sack burst open, spilling its golden contents in the mud. One of the gang clambered into the driver¡¯s seat and grabbed up the reins, while the siblings jumped in with all their stolen goods. The man still trying to wrench the blanket away from the old woman gave it one last cynical tug, finally succeeding in pulling it away from her. He fell on his backside in the mud. Before he could rise, Ennric stepped up and directed a solid kick into his ribs. The man let out a pained ¡°ooof¡± as the breath was knocked out of him. Gasping, quick as he could, he struggled to his feet and ran, leaving the blanket behind and being pulled up into the cart by his fellows. His wheezing breaths joined in with their mocking laughter as the man in the driver¡¯s seat snapped their horse into motion. The cart rattled off up the road into the night as Purcell ran after them. She took one useless swing at the cart with Ennric¡¯s sword, missing wildly and slipping and falling in the mud herself, eliciting even louder laughter from the retreating cart as it disappeared into the night.

    Purcell pushed herself to her feet. She had mud all down one side of her clothing. There was no reclaiming her dignity after the ungainly fall. She settled for reclaiming Ennric¡¯s sword from the mud. Then, not knowing what else to do, she stood there with her eyes cast down, catching her breath, her face flush from a mix of exertion and embarrassment.

    At Ennric¡¯s feet, the grain merchant¡¯s wife crawled on her knees over to the discarded blanket. She gathered it up and held it to her bosom, blubbering into it, heedless of the mud and filth clinging to it.

    Ennric looked up the road into the dark where the gang of thieves had fled. He knew for a fact those four would never be seen in their traveling party again. So, that was how some people reacted to losing everything. While some banded together, others turned into predatory scavengers who would knife their own neighbors in the back. For one spiteful moment, Ennric hoped someone would end up backstabbing them in the same way. They¡¯d find out then just how worthwhile it had been to burn all their bridges for half a cart¡¯s worth of modestly valuable goods.

    In the next moment, he decided he was too tired and fed up to care what happened to them. Unbidden, his wife and daughters came again into his thoughts. He hoped they were getting on well back home, that they weren¡¯t having to suffer such petty savagery from their fellow townsfolk. How he wished the dream he¡¯d woken from on this damnable night had not been a dream. How he wanted to be back in that place, in that time ...

    ¡°Wife, let me help you up.¡±

    Ennric¡¯s attention snapped back to the present. The grain merchant came groveling to his wife, arms outstretched in obsequiousness. But rather than accept his offer to help her to her feet, the old woman shoved him away. Clutching the precious blanket, she stood up on her own and spat at his feet.

    ¡°No!¡± she shouted through tears. ¡°No! No more. You did this. You did all of this!¡± She gestured at their wagon, most of their possessions gone from it now. She cared not at all about the crowd still gathered around, nor the rude jeers some made at this makeshift entertainment. ¡°Our lives! That was all that were left of our lives in that wagon, and you, you just gave it to them. Of course, they weren¡¯t gonna stop. Of course, they came for more and more once they knew they could bully you out of it. And you hid it from me. You made it out like I was crazy! Bastard! Coward!¡± Again, she spat at his feet.

    The old man clasped his hands together at his chest, trying to make himself small against his wife¡¯s wrath. It had no affect on her; she continued to lay into the man. ¡°Well, you ... you can have it! You¡¯re on your own now! Better yet, go! Go off with them bullies and get the little bit o¡¯ coin they were gonna give you for selling our goods!¡±

    ¡°Wife, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re one your own now!¡± she repeated, making it decisive.

    She shoved past him and nearly wandered off into the night holding her blanket like it was a shield, until a woman from their traveling part took pity on her and went to her. The woman took her by the shoulders and directed her through the door of the inn. The grain merchant could only look on, speechless, his chin trembling.

    When he looked over to Ennric for sympathy, he found none. Ennric shook his head, saying mercilessly, ¡°You made that bed, merchant. You¡¯re gonna have to sleep in it.¡± He turned his back on the man and crossed the road to the inn, calling, ¡°Purcell!¡± She came like a hound to heel.

    ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°Rouse our group, get everyone ready to move. Everyone who still wants to stay a part of this group after all that,¡± he added.

    ¡°First light, sir?¡±

    ¡°No. Now,¡± Ennric clarified. ¡°We¡¯re leaving now. We make straight for the capital. No more stopping in towns. Make it clear that anyone who isn¡¯t entirely on board with our mission to the king at this point should stay behind.¡±

    After only the slightest hesitation, Purcell bobbed her head in a nod. Before she rushed off to do as he ordered, she offered Ennric his sword and scabbard back. He shook his head.

    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°You keep it. Come tomorrow, I begin showin¡¯ you how to use it.¡±

 Chapter 14: Pathways Cleared, part 2

    *

    Lily recalled little of their walk back to the inn after the wedding celebration had concluded and dispersed. In the heat of the revelry, they had lost track of time. But it hadn¡¯t mattered a lick to her. She didn¡¯t feel fatigue or soreness, not even the blisters on her feet. All of those things had fallen by the wayside the moment the music had struck up, like she had a shield against every scrap of pain and tiredness. It had remained that way, even as she and Vetch took a rambling and circuitous route back through Pasanhal town to their inn. They had held hands the entire time, and Lily had been surprised at how natural it felt, how the nerves she normally would have had bothered her not at all. It simply was. The night air had been cool and breezy, but Vetch¡¯s hand was warm, as was the brush of his shoulder when the path compelled them to walk closer together. The woolen kiss of inebriation on her senses was only an overture to the euphoria she felt at being so close to the object of her affection. She walked on clouds.

    Before she knew it, they were back in their room and she was laughing as he attempted to get his boots off. When he overbalanced and fell, he feigned annoyance from the floor, which only made her laugh all the more. He finally kicked his boots off and away from him, as if they were the ones at fault. Only then did he relent and join in with her laughter. He shook his hair out of his eyes and she turned a pitying look upon him, offering her hands to help him back to his feet.

    ¡°Shall I have the innkeeper prepare hot bathwater?¡± he asked, as she pulled him upright. His cheeks were ruddy, as she was used to seeing them, only tonight it was not from his days patrolling in the sun as a soldier, but from drink and revelry and ... something else. The same thing that made her own cheeks flush. It was that they were together, that something that had only bubbled beneath the surface for them for years had suddenly and openly been expressed in a single day and night they had taken for themselves.

    ¡°I will wait down in the common room so you can use it first,¡± he added, when she hesitated in answering.

    ¡°No,¡± she decided, shaking her head. She tapped her finger to her lips. ¡°No. Could you please just heat some water in the tea kettle over the fire? And then sit right here.¡± She went and drew one of the chairs from the table over closer to the fire. Vetch studied her face with a look of confusion, but then did as bidden.

    While the water heated, Lily went into her things. She found her belt knife, along with some soap and a comb she had purchased earlier in the markets.

    ¡°Tea?¡± Vetch asked, while steam began rising from the kettle. ¡°I think I have some in my bag.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Lily said. ¡°Sit. Please,¡± she bade him, when he turned the same look of puzzlement on her again.

    Wordlessly, he sat in the chair, looking up at her through his hair. He fidgeted like a little boy, curious about what was truly being asked of him. Lily simply poured the steaming water from the kettle into a clean bowl. She wetted the soap and leaned close to him to begin spreading a layer of lather over his whiskers.

    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± he chuckled. ¡°I could do this mys¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shh,¡± she silenced him, keeping her eyes on her task. She spread the warm lather evenly as she spoke. ¡°Would you rather do it by yourself? Or me?¡±

    He thought for a moment, then smiled. ¡°You,¡± he whispered.

    ¡°I thought so,¡± she replied, eliciting another small chuckle from him. After that, he was still. She held his face and went about methodically scraping it smooth. ¡°I used to do this for my father,¡± she explained, ¡°when he hurt his hand and couldn¡¯t do it himself while it was healing.¡±

    ¡°I remember that time,¡± Vetch said, his voice soft. ¡°And you had to help him with a lot of extra things around the dairy. I didn¡¯t see you much those days.¡±

    Lily smiled, nodding her head at the memory. She surprised herself at how she could smile at a memory of her father, rather than it make her eyes brim with tears. For a time, she and Vetch were both silent and the only sounds were of the fire burning low, the scrape of her blade across his whiskers, and their breathing. The exotic and energizing sensation of dancing with him in a crowd of merrymakers was replaced by one of soothing calm. When his face was all smooth, she paused to admire the effect. Some men looked fairer bearded, but Vetch she liked clean-shaven. It displayed the pleasing masculinity of his jaw, the subtle cleft in his chin. Even the new scar he had sustained in the battle back home could not diminish his beauty. He went to stand, but she pushed down on his shoulder.

    ¡°Not finished yet. Take your shirt off.¡±

    This time, he didn¡¯t fidget or try to discern her aim. He only raised his eyebrows slightly, then complied.

    Truly, he was a well-built man. Lily was not naive to how occupations like farming and soldiering sculpted the bodies of men. She saw them in summer stripped to the waist and had admired how their work shaped them. Vetch had a reputation for being ever-diligent in his sword drilling and it showed. He had the honest musculature of a man who took no shortcuts in his very physical occupation. Beautiful. Always, Lily had heard the word used to describe women, but in looking at Vetch, she knew that men could be beautiful, too. With Vetch, it was not only in his appearance, but also in his strength and composure, in his unhesitating selflessness.

    She smiled at the way his torso was still paler compared to his face and forearms, and suddenly she desired nothing more than to trace her fingers over his chest and the sparse nest of auburn hair there.

    Then, her eyes fell to the gruesome stab wound and she was reminded harshly of the reality of why he trained as he did. He had removed the bandaging earlier that day. Seeing the injury again now, she put her hand to her mouth at how red and and angry the skin around it still was.

    Vetch looked down at the wound, answering her unspoken questions. ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± he said. ¡°It still aches, but ...¡±

    ¡°It looks infected. Vetch, she ... that woman was not truly a healing mage at all ...¡±

    ¡°I know. And I¡¯m fine, Lily. Really. Yes, she fooled me into thinking I was healing faster than I was. It will take time. But I¡¯m okay. I promise you. If the blade had not passed clean through me, I would have been dead days ago. It looks worse than it is.¡± He touched her arm, and she looked at his face again as he said, ¡°Tomorrow, when we are out seeking leads about the castle, we¡¯ll make time to find a real healer. Would that make you feel better?¡± She nodded and he favored her with a cheeky grin. ¡°Now, why was it you wanted my shirt off?¡±

    Lily flourished her knife. ¡°So we don¡¯t get hair on it, of course.¡± To his questioning look, she added, ¡°You look as shaggy as Fae. I¡¯m going to cut your hair, silly. Now, hold still again.¡±

    He did. The man sat patiently while she cleaned off the blade and then scrutinized him in the dim light. Now, she took up the comb and ran it through his lightly curled hair until it all hung evenly. This was something she had never attempted before on anyone. The difficult part was not in recalling how he liked his hair, but having to concentrate while his eyes were on her. It felt almost like a gift how he put his trust in her when she finally chose a lock of hair, trapped it with her fingers, and neatly sliced it shorter. The auburn curls fell to the floor. Others soon followed it, with Lily stepping back to gauge her work after every few cuts. When at last there was a neat ring of trimmed hair on the floor around him, she stepped back once more, looked at him, and smiled.

    ¡°There,¡± she said. ¡°I can finally see your eyes again.¡±

    That was the least of it. He looked like himself again. It would take practice until she could do it as well as whomever had cut his hair in the barracks, but here again was the face she always looked forward to seeing around town, the handsome soldier with the dark eyes full of light. Those eyes stayed on her as she set the blade down and distractedly brushed some loose locks from his bare shoulder to the floor.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    At the same time, he suddenly brushed the backs of his fingers tenderly along her cheek. She caught her breath and met his eyes, heart pounding.

    It only took him making the slightest tilt of his chin upward, an invitation subtle as an avalanche. She lowered her mouth to his, at the same time laying her hands on his solid shoulders. The press of his lips to hers was firm and soft and warm. He tasted of the strong barley wine they had drunk together. And he smelled of soap, and his new clothes, and of that distinctive scent of a man that was both universal and yet uniquely his. Heat suffused her body with her rushing heartbeat, until her innards tingled, so that she barely knew what to do with her hands, or any of the rest of her.

    But she needn¡¯t have worried. Her body found its own way. Without hesitation, without thought, she lowered herself to sit atop his legs, facing him in the chair. She was caught up in his embracing arms and happily plunged herself deeper into the shared kiss. It was as if she were tumbling down a mountainside, or falling into deep water until it closed in around her and stole her breath from her lungs. Only this wasn¡¯t unpleasant. She desired more of the feeling, of tumbling breathlessly into new and deeper fathoms, more than anything else she had ever desired. When they allowed their lips to part, so that they might each take a breath, Lily was left gasping. The room felt so warm now. So, why did she shiver? Vetch¡¯s breath caressed her mouth. She cast aside all thought and lowered her lips to his again. His mouth was hungry yet gentle. His hands held her waist and kept her to him, and she pressed needfully back. She ran her fingers over his upper back and shoulders, exploring the lines of his shoulder blades. Inanely, she wondered if her fingers were cold across his warm skin. If they were, he didn¡¯t show it.

    The second time they mutually parted to catch their breath, they sat gazing into one another¡¯s eyes. The first thought that flitted through Lily¡¯s mind was that she could not believe this was at last happening with Vetch. And how very good it was. She realized she could feel him through his trousers and she could not help but utter a surprised gasp upon understanding what she felt. Of course, she had learned about men and lovemaking, from her mother, from friends¡ªMarigold could be particularly blunt about the mechanics of it when she was in her cups. What was she supposed to do now? What would Vetch do? They were both caught up in one another, understanding what was next, but staying still. Everything was perfect. How did she initiate? ...

    Then her thoughts pushed an icy cold knife between her ribs. Why did it have to be here? With everything that awaited them come morning? Why not in her bedroom back home, a home that no longer existed? And why must she suddenly remember the sight of him with that woman in the forest cottage?

    ¡°Vetch?¡± she spoke, and he looked up at her with love-drunk eyes. But when they came into focus on her face, his expression changed to one of concern. No. Not concern. Fear. He feared he¡¯d done something wrong. She felt his hands inch back up to her waist, which only caused her to feel guilty. She was going to ruin this, wasn¡¯t she? He was looking at her, wondering what was the matter, waiting for her to say something. Just play it off, she thought. Let it go and let this keep going. Her mouth betrayed her. ¡°Vetch, would you ... was there anything there with that woman that you would want to go back to?¡± The man¡¯s brow knit and she felt horrible, but now that she had begun, she had to press on. She couldn¡¯t accept something so good as this was with questions still hanging over her unanswered. It wouldn¡¯t feel right. Not perfect. Not like she had always imagined it would be.

    ¡°I know how unlikely it is that we¡¯ll ever find Marigold,¡± she admitted, turning her eyes down as she spoke. ¡°Even if we do, there¡¯s probably nothing we can do to help her. Not against the army that destroyed our town. They¡¯ll probably just kill us. So, if you¡¯d rather end this wild quest here, forget all this ... and go back to her ...¡±

    He was already shaking his head. Confusion seemed to war with defiance when he said, ¡°Never. Lily, never.¡±

    ¡°I keep remembering you in her arms, how happy you both looked ...¡±

    ¡°I was ensorcelled by Hayleigh. You know that. It only felt real at the time because of that. But it wasn¡¯t real. Since we escaped that place and her magic, I have felt nothing for her. I have not even a shred of desire to return there.¡± When she remained silent, he brought his fingers to her chin and gently guided her eyes back up to his. ¡°Lily, I am sorry.¡±

    ¡°There is nothing¡ª¡±

    ¡°Still. I am.¡±

    She took in a shallow breath and let it out. How could she be so childish about this? Had she not confirmed the wicked magic done to the both of them herself? Why did she still feel so stung that she must dredge up the past and ruin this wonderful night they had been having together? Because, even though it had been false desire forced upon him by a spell, Lily had still gone through the experience of feeling how it was to lose Vetch to another woman. It forced her to concede that it could have happened at any time, even without magic causing it. All those years while he was training with the garrison, and she was learning to be a mage, she had not said anything or made any move. She had been shy and aloof, never telling him how she felt, always assuming they would end up together, somehow, regardless.

    ¡°I was so stupid,¡± she said, and sniffled. Despite herself, tears started to brim in her eyes. It didn¡¯t matter that it was over now. The fear she had felt during those days, that she had lost him, came tumbling back. ¡°So stupid,¡± she spat more bitterly, feeling the first tear slide down her cheek to her trembling chin. ¡°I could have spoken up. Years ago. I wanted you even then, and I never had the courage to just say so. Because of that I could¡¯ve lost you. Forever,¡± she ended in a trembling whisper.

    She felt his fingers tighten on her waist. Then, to her surprise, he started chuckling. Then the chuckling turned into laughter.

    Hurt at first, her sadness quickly turned to irritation. ¡°Stop laughing! I mean it. I¡¯m admitting how stupid I have been and you laugh? I ... I love you. I¡¯ve been in love with you all this time, ever since I was a little girl, and I never said it when I should have.¡± How could he laugh at her when she was only speaking the truth? Yet, at her words, his merriment only grew.

    ¡°I love you, too, Lily,¡± he said through tears of laughter. Despite his words sending a jolt of elation through her, him laughing only confused her and made her more cross.

    She cuffed him on the shoulder. ¡°Then stop laughing, you idiot! Say it like you¡¯re supposed to say it, all romantic and such.¡±

    To this, he only roared louder, until his entire body shook, and hers as well atop him. He tried speaking, but he couldn¡¯t get the words out, such was his mirth.

    This was enough for Lily. Putting her palm to his chest, she pushed herself up and out of his lap. She stormed a few steps across the room, before turning back to him with her arms crossed. He remained in the chair, finally getting his laughter under control, and then he sat there looking upon her with a dreamy smile, like a little boy with a crush. How could men be so maddening?

    ¡°We¡¯ve both been stupid,¡± he said at last. ¡°You take the blame on yourself, but it belongs to me as well. All this time, I could¡¯ve said something, too. Oh, look at your face. You are beautiful even when you¡¯re angry! Oh, Lily, I love you!¡±

    Something about the way he was looking at her, and his stupid words ... she couldn¡¯t maintain the anger on her face. Her chin trembled, but this time it was not with sadness. The absurdity of the entire moment dawned on her and suddenly she, too, was trying to hold back laughter. And she succeeded, up until the point he noticed what was happening and gave her the subtlest raise of his eyebrows. Then, she broke and doubled over laughing, and his triumphant grin only made her laugh more. He stood and approached her, arms wide for a hug. She shoved him back.

    ¡°No. Say it for real, you dunce!¡± she demanded through her laughing.

    ¡°You first!¡± he rejoined.

    This only caused them both to redouble their fits of giggling, until they were leaning against one another clutching their stomachs and wiping tears from their eyes. If she had not been so swept up in the moment, Lily may have examined it and discovered how the outpouring of emotions and declarations of love were a balm for the both of them, that the tears and laughter both were born from the emotional dam between them finally bursting. But in her state of relief, there was no need to understand it, only to let it envelop her, just as his arms enveloped her once their hysterics had at last given over to tenderness. Vetch held her and he kissed away the tears on her cheeks.

    As if in a haze, they helped one another undress while retreating to the bed and the warmth of its blankets and each other. The apprehension Lily had felt melted away. They lay underneath the blankets in complete dark and she delighted in the heat of his skin, the press of his lips to hers, the gentle touch of his hands across her tingling body. It was natural, easy. She drifted her fingers over him wherever they might go. Every touch, given and received, was more tantalizing than the last, more significant than ever she could have imagined a touch could be. His were exploratory¡ªhalting at first, then adventurous. They awoke in her a kernel of need somewhere deep inside, one she had discovered before in her own explorations, but had never yet found a clear path to.

    She allowed him to take the lead and then followed gamely in after him. His desire was obvious by the murmurs he emitted and the lunge he gave against her, showing no sign of dissatisfaction at her lack of practice. Together they built pleasure upon pleasure, heat and wetness. She felt him stiffen all over and then the fruits of her efforts surprised her. The sound of contentment he voiced after flattered her and she delighted in it.

    And they were content. A natural interlude presented itself, soon stretching into lassitude. They surrendered to it and reposed. Lily sensed the unlocking of possibilities. There was more. So much more. And it would be. But now, the hurriedness of before waned. The immediacy of Vetch had turned to still waters that she was enjoying drifting upon. Here was good ground upon which to camp.

    Tender kisses gave way to drowsy cuddling and yawns. They acceded to the need for rest, holding the unspoken assertion that this was theirs now. Lily closed her eyes with her forehead against his chest, more content than ever she had been in her life there in his arms. She held the man she loved, and he held her. They both slipped into a slumber as easy as dreaming.

 Chapter 14: Pathways Cleared, part 3

    *

    Dawn was a weak overlay of gray through the window when Vetch woke. For all the walking in the markets, the strong drink, dancing with Lily at the wedding, and remaining up with her into the very late hours, he was still a soldier through and through. When dawn came, tired or not, his body came awake. As had become his habit of late, he reached down beside the bed to ensure that his sword still leaned against the wall where he had left it. It necessitated reaching across Lily¡¯s sleeping form. The warmth of her bare shoulder where his forearm brushed it brought a smile to his face. She stirred, tensed briefly, then relaxed. With a sigh, she peered up at him with sleepy eyes and drew the blankets up closer about her neck.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± he said, and dipped down to kiss her.

    She kissed him back, smiled, and murmured a muzzy ¡°Morning.¡±

    He stared avidly down at her. She was so beautiful. As she had been in her swirling skirt at the wedding, so she was after that in nothing at all, and even more now.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked, the faintest smile of amusement on her lips.

    Vetch shook his head and grinned. ¡°You were right. I never did say it properly.¡±

    ¡°Say what properly?¡±

    ¡°I love you.¡± Color came to her cheeks at the words. Impulsively, Vetch found her hand with his and drew it to his lips to place a kiss there. ¡°I believe you specifically requested ¡®all romantic and such¡¯.¡± In his most courtly voice, he began, ¡°My fairest maiden, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ah!¡± she cut him off before he could go on. Tight-lipped, wide-eyed, she extended her index finger and tapped the tip of his nose with it. ¡°Uh-uh, don¡¯t you even, mister. Too late for that now. You had your chance.¡± Vetch laughed a joyous laugh, and while Lily tried to keep her face firm, she couldn¡¯t prevent the wry smile from appearing there. ¡°Could you just build up the fire again, please?¡±

    Slipping from underneath the blankets, he went unabashedly naked to the fire, feeding it some small logs and poking it up to life again. When he turned back to her, he found that she had drawn the covers over her head and burrowed deeper into them.

    ¡°And go down and get us some breakfast?¡± Her voice came muffled from underneath the blankets. ¡°I wish to get dressed.¡±

    ¡°Then dress. Are you being shy now?¡± he wondered. ¡°Last night ...¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no longer last night,¡± came her reply. ¡°Please, Vetch.¡±

    ¡°As you wish,¡± he said, more soberly. He found it confusing, but he acceded, grabbing up his clothes from where they had been discarded on the floor. They were cold, yet still so much nicer than what he had worn through the forest. Despite Lily still being ensconced underneath the blankets by the time he was dressed, he swept her an intricate bow. ¡°As thou dost wish, my lady, fairest of the fair, I will¡ª¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°Shut. Up!¡± she said, though he could hear the suppressed laughter in her voice. ¡°Just go!¡±

    Grinning, Vetch found some coins and left the room. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn¡¯t miss her mumbled ¡°Fairest maiden, my ass¡± from under the blankets.

    He chuckled. Descending the creaking stairs to the common room of the inn, the blissfulness he felt as an aftereffect of the previous night coursed through him. Nothing could unseat him. Not even how the dancing and carousing had awakened the burning sword wounds in his torso, nor the fatigue that went bone-deep. Not even the blisters on his feet. He felt a confidence that he had not felt in a long time, certainly not since before the battle at Moonfane Forge that had claimed so many of his friends. Whatever stood to defy he and Lily now, he was confident they could face it. They would unearth the location of the black-stoned castle this very day, then make a plan of attack and reclaim Marigold. He was certain.

    Few patrons were up and about in the common room. Even the innkeeper appeared as if he was still shaking off the cobwebs of sleep. Unsurprising, given the prior day¡¯s festivities. The man raised his eyes to Vetch, a wordless question: did they wish their breakfasts made ready? Vetch gave the man a nod and received one in return. That taken care of, he continued out the front door and made his way to the stables. He would check on Revenge and Fae.

    In the half-light, the lantern-glow streaming out the stable¡¯s open door cast an odd rectangular shape across the inn¡¯s yard. Standing in that rectangular light was a tall man with stooped shoulders and his neck pushed forward by the obvious hunch in his back. He wore clothes of good quality, strangely offset by the sagging, ratty hat on his head. In his fists he held the reins of two fine horses who stood tossing their heads restlessly behind him.

    ¡°¡ªgot the space. So, what of it?¡± It was one of the stable lads who spoke. Vetch had seen him around the day before.

    The tall, hunched man made an exaggerated roll of his eyes toward the sky, lifting both hands in a shrug that made his annoyance physical. ¡°So, allow me to stable them. It¡¯s an easy concept to grasp, is it not?¡± He slowed his speech, as if to imply he was speaking to a simpleton. ¡°We¡¯ve got no room in our stables. They¡¯re full. So ... we put these horses in your stables for a few days. Right? It¡¯s decided.¡± He tried to walk forward through the open door, leading the two animals with him.

    The stable boy stepped neatly in front of him, arms crossed. ¡°No. Now, that¡¯s the third time I¡¯ve had to say it, and I know you¡¯ve been warned about this very thing by my master in the past. This ain¡¯t one of the those ¡®do me a little favor¡¯ situations. You can stable the horses here if you pay the fees for them, same as ever¡¯body else.¡±

    ¡°Look here, boy¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know your mistress gave you the money, Claude,¡± the lad cut him off sharply, raising his voice. He was young, true, but Vetch quickly got the impression he was not one to be fooled easily. ¡°Especially for animals this fine,¡± he went on. ¡°Probably owned by some noble, ain¡¯t they? Don¡¯t think you can pawn ¡®em off on us for nothing so you can pocket whatever your mistress gave you. I won¡¯t be catching a whipping from the stable master, as you go whistling off to the brothels.¡±

    Vetch stood just out of the lantern light, watching impassively. He had already decided that if it came to blows, he was going to turn around and head back inside. Stepping in between rival stable hands was not high on his list of priorities this day.

    For a moment, they stared each other down. Then, ¡°Fine,¡± the tall man groaned, dragging his hands over his face. Still holding the reins of his charges, he shoved one fist into his pocket and pulled out a stack of coins that he clinked into the lad¡¯s open palm. ¡°And I hope you slip in a pile o¡¯ manure,¡± he added as, now permitted to pass, he led the two fine horses inside.

 Chapter 14: Pathways Cleared, part 4

    Vetch stepped out of the shadows and followed. The lad gave him a cursory nod on his way in. Never did Vetch tire of the scent of a clean stable building. While some people might find the smell of animals and their leavings offensive, to Vetch it was something honest, honest in the same way the cobbles of Moonfane Forge had always felt underneath his boots on an autumn evening patrol. It reminded him of home. But, inevitably, simple reminders such as those would revive memories of the loss of those things back home. Always now, there was that bitter taste to spoil sweet memories of things lost. Bitter like the stench of burnt straw. He thought of the young girl who had been working in the stables that morning before he had left on this mission of revenge. Had he asked her name?

    Fae let out a grunt of recognition upon seeing him. Vetch forced a smile and scratched the big animal between her horns, as he had seen Lily do innumerable times.

    ¡°Hi there, Fae,¡± he greeted her. The panthegrunn licked his wrist, while he checked that she had food and fresh water and new straw. Food and water had been replenished. He judged the straw in her stall could us refreshing, but before he called to the stable boy about it, he remembered how Fae would not tolerate strangers in her space. No doubt Lily would have warned the hands to stay out.

    ¡°What in all the hells is this thing?¡±

    Vetch turned to find the tall, hunched man peering over his shoulder at Fae with a dubious look on his face.

    ¡°Panthegrunn,¡± Vetch muttered, adding, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t get close. She doesn¡¯t get along with too many people, and she¡¯s quicker than she looks.¡± With that, he gave the man an amicable nod and went to check on Revenge down the other side of the stable.

    ¡°My mistress¡¯ll buy it off you,¡± the man offered to Vetch¡¯s departing back. ¡°She breeds and deals in fine animals. She¡¯ll pay you well for it. She¡¯s got the finest stables in Pasanhal, just you mention the name Yvelise around here and people¡¯ll tell you that. Finer than this hovel, by a piece and a half.¡±

    ¡°Claude, take your ass out of here with that talk before the stable master returns and hears you,¡± the stable boy spoke. Vetch noticed he had been cleaning near enough by to the tall man to keep an eye on him, without making it so obvious as to be insulting.

    Claude chuckled and offered up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. ¡°You know it¡¯s true, boy. Hey, hey, listen to me about this,¡± he said excitedly, returning his attention to Vetch. ¡°Only the very best animals get stabled at my mistress¡¯s buildings. There¡¯s no denying that. See those two horses I brought here today? Look at ¡®em. Prime animals, bred from Wheel-and-Spoke stock. I¡¯m not supposed to say this. ...¡± He paused, clearly relishing what he was about to reveal, and lowered his voice conspiratorially. ¡°They belong to Lady Iris of Black Crux.¡±

    ¡°Get out of here!¡± the stable boy exclaimed, ¡°I don¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°The look on your face says otherwise,¡± Claude chuckled. ¡°So, what say you, young man? You know there¡¯s not a breeder around who¡¯ll set you right with a bag of coins as fat as the one Mistress Yvelise can for this strange beast.¡± He thumped the door of Fae¡¯s stall to make his point and was rewarded with a warning roar from Fae. He stepped back from her hastily, but seemingly unperturbed, rambling on, ¡°My mistress is the one Lady Iris herself chose to care for her horses until her men return for ¡®em. Just come talk to her at our stables. She¡¯s been looking for something to astound the rich buyers again, after that ugly little incident with Night Made Burgundy. We¡¯ll all stand to make a lot of money.¡±

    Turning his back hadn¡¯t worked; now Vetch only half listened while he brushed Revenge. Clearly, the implied dismissal hadn¡¯t been enough to halt the man¡¯s jabbering. ¡°That¡¯s a good tale, friend,¡± Vetch tried. ¡°But I¡¯m not from around here, so none of those names mean anything to me. And besides, Fae¡¯s not for sale. You¡¯re barking up the wrong tree.¡±

    ¡°He gave it a pretty girl¡¯s name,¡± Claude let out a laugh that was partially a cough. ¡°Never give the breeding stock personal names, man. They¡¯re for making money, not getting attached to.¡±

    Vetch ignored the comment and hoped the man would get the message and leave him alone. But the stable boy picked up the thread left dangling.

    ¡°The ruler of all Draffor up and leaves her horses with you, and you bring them here?¡± The lad shook his head and brayed a laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t believe a word of it, Claude. Get out of here and leave my patron in peace.¡±

    ¡°Serious as a plague, boy!¡± Claude rose to the challenge. For all the man¡¯s odd proportions, he managed to puff his chest out, eager to defend his claims. ¡°She came in a train of carriages, all pulled by horses like these ones. Told my mistress she was leaving them with us, horses and carriages both, on account of she¡¯s returning home by ship across the lake. She was beautiful as people say she is, too,¡± he added, with a crooked-toothed grin. ¡°I¡¯d give my left leg for a roll with that one. Anyway, she paid more than I¡¯d ever seen anyone pay for boarding animals, long as we moved the carriages into one of our barns and kept them out of sight until she sent people back to come and get ¡®em.¡±

    As the man spoke, more and more of his words began to trigger the sparse bits of information Vetch had gathered directly after the attack on his town. The story was directed at the stable boy now, but Vetch took in every word, and pieces began to fall into place.

    The stable boy had hopped up onto a barrel by this point. He sat there swinging his legs as he asked, ¡°Why¡¯d you bring ¡®em here then?¡±

    ¡°Told you. We were all out of space. All the nose-in-the-air types here for the festival leave their animals with us. We¡¯re packed to the gills. Well, we got a couple more in just this morning, and my mistress figured she¡¯d¡ª¡±

    ¡°Figured she¡¯d double her coin by freeing up stalls she could rent to someone who just arrived. And you freed those stalls by sending these horses here for a few days, while Lady Iris¡ªor whoever it was you mistook for Lady Iris¡ªis gone and none the wiser.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like your master wouldn¡¯t have done the same in our place. It¡¯s festival season, boy. There¡¯s coin to be made! And it was Lady Iris. Swear it on my daddy¡¯s grave. You come by later and I¡¯ll show you the carriages that prove it. Got the Black Crux coat of arms on ¡®em and everything. You never saw such rich things. But bring a silver to pay me for the sight.¡±

    ¡°What kind of a coat of arms?¡± Vetch asked. Both Claude and the stable boy looked over at him. ¡°Was it a black castle overtop a gilded field? With a purple flower above it and a red heart underneath?¡± The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he saw recognition come into the tall man¡¯s eyes even before his voice confirmed it.

    The man chuckled, spoke to the stable boy. ¡°Weren¡¯t it just a minute ago he was ¡®not from around here¡¯ and didn¡¯t know the name Lady Iris? If you didn¡¯t want to talk money, just say so.¡±

    ¡°Lady Iris,¡± Vetch pressed, striding back over to the man. ¡°That¡¯s her name, the one who traveled in carriages bearing that coat of arms?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said.¡±

    ¡°But you claim she¡¯s taking a ship across the lake? Why would that be? Is not her castle, the one depicted in her coat of arms, in this region? Hold Pasanhal is full of wheat fields, like the gold field on her coat of arms. I need to find that place and that woman.¡±

    A chill of fear ran down Vetch¡¯s spine as he begged information. If this was all true, then they had missed her. The Lady had been here, and no doubt with Marigold in her possession, but was gone now? Gone and crossed the lake? Why? It didn¡¯t add up. Then, something Vetch had not considered shouldered its way into his mind. Why did he assume The Lady would be returning to her home? Was it not also possible she transported Marigold to somewhere out of the kingdom, to some foreign ruler for a mountainous reward? Ennric would have seen that possibility. Why hadn¡¯t he? As all of Vetch¡¯s plans unraveled before him like a dropped ball of yarn, the tall man¡¯s guffawing cut through his thoughts.

    ¡°He really doesn¡¯t know who she is!¡± He elbowed the stable boy and laughed until he coughed again. Once he had composed himself, he shook his head, a mocking smile on his lips. ¡°What, are you simple, man? Lady Iris of Black Crux is the ruler of Hold Draffor. Why would she live in Pasanhal? More important, why would you need to find her? Spotted her out in the festival, did you, and more desperate for a roll with her than I was, huh? Ha! I get it, young man. But she¡¯s about at high up as you can go without being King Caiside himself. You ain¡¯t getting any of that! How could you not know who she is? Idiot. Are you even from greater Kaldura? No, no, no. She rules from Black Crux, way out on the kingdom¡¯s eastern border. Where they also grow wheat, I¡¯ll add. Lots o¡¯ places grow wheat.¡± He gave the boy beside him a look of mocking disbelief. Politely, the boy did not share in it.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s time you got back to your mistress, Claude,¡± he said.

    Vetch put the stable boy¡¯s words aside and directed his questioning to the the tall man. ¡°Claude. Sir. I need to know where that woman was headed and how many swordsmen she had with her. Did she have an old woman in her care? If she took a ship across the lake, what ports could that ship be headed to?¡±

    Even as he asked the questions, his mind was racing. The ruler of Hold Draffor? How could that be true? How could one of the kingdom¡¯s heads of an entire hold¡ªwho answered only to the king himself¡ªhave perpetrated an attack on another hold¡¯s seat of power, and done so in such a secretive way that news still hadn¡¯t reached many neighboring towns? And to what end? If the king knew of this, the woman¡¯s head would be on a block. It sounded insane and, yet, who but someone that powerful would have the means to pull such a thing off? Still, there was one more thing that bothered him.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°The head of Hold Draffor, this Lady Iris, is a mage?¡± he asked. If such a high-born person was also a master mage, surely it would be common knowledge the kingdom over. Yet, he had heard no mention of it. Certainly, Lily would have been aware that such a prominent person was a Barrier-Caster, and yet had given no indication.

    ¡°A mage?¡± asked the stable boy.

    Claude scoffed. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? Are we talking about the same person?¡±

    Vetch sighed. This was not going where he expected. ¡°Just ... please, tell me what you know about Lady Iris. She ... I just need to know where she is going.¡± Internally, he cautioned himself. If this woman truly was the head of one of the kingdom¡¯s holds, then things would be much more complicated than a simple abduction. These would be political affairs he and Lily were dipping their toes into. Not to mention, there might be plenty of people in the town of Pasanhal who would see a neighboring hold¡¯s Lady as an ally, not someone they¡¯d like hearing accusations leveled.

    From his earlier dismissiveness, Claude¡¯s demeanor changed. He leaned his odd frame back against the door of Fae¡¯s stall, cavalierly close to the big animal. He smiled. ¡°How much is it worth to you?¡±

    Bribery. So, it came to something so uncouth. Well, Vetch could play that game easily now, much as he disdained it. Even as he went fishing into his belt pouch for a coin, he was thinking how Ennric would have punched this man¡¯s teeth in by this point. Perhaps he should have begun his line of questioning there. But he was in no shape to start a fight.

    ¡°Not in my stables.¡± The gruff voice alerted Vetch to the arrival of the stable master. ¡°Claude, take your shifty dealings out from under my roof.¡± The stable boy hopped off his barrel and grabbed up a shovel to look like he¡¯d been working. The stable master glanced once at him, then looked up and marked the two new horses in their stalls. Jutting his chin at Claude, he asked the stable boy, ¡°He paid?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± the boy answered sharply.

    ¡°Then there¡¯s nothing else he needs to be here for. You can go, Claude. I¡¯ll see that Yvelise¡¯s animals are well cared for here. And, you, sir,¡± he added with a glance at Vetch. ¡°If it were me, I wouldn¡¯t get caught up in any ¡®deals¡¯ this man offers. Not my business if you do or don¡¯t, just some friendly advice. If you do, at least take it out of my stables and my yard.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be leavin¡¯,¡± Claude declared. ¡°But I¡¯ve a right to inspect an animal my employer might want to buy. You,¡± he addressed Vetch. ¡°Come find me at my mistress¡¯s stables. Much nicer facility than this. Bring this strange animal with you and we¡¯ll talk business. And maybe some information on the side, if a good bargain can be made.¡±

    Vetch let the gold coin he had grasped within his belt pouch drop unrevealed. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± he said and turned for the door. He had to tell Lily what he had learned. If the woman they pursued was bound across the lake, they needed to be after her as soon as they could manage. Inwardly, he cursed himself for the day of leisure he¡¯d suggested. Had they robbed themselves of the chance to ride ahead of a ship and waylay it when it reached its port? Only yesterday, a single day had seemed insignificant. Now, it represented potentially losing their chance at recapturing Marigold. Learning how powerful her abductor¡¯s standing in the kingdom was changed things dramatically. Vetch suspected now more than ever that their town¡¯s mage would be lost for good if this Lady Iris succeeded in reaching her destination with her.

    Vetch reconfigured his and Lily¡¯s plans. They would need to finish their resupplying and make haste to depart town. He had already determined he¡¯d have better luck asking around at the docks and bribing people there than this churlish stable hand. If he could confirm the man¡¯s information, then they would hire passage on a ship this very day.

    He was nearly through the door out to the stable yard when he heard the click of a stall door opening behind him and froze. Dread mixed with exasperation as he turned to confirm what he feared. The tall man had opened Fae¡¯s stall and stepped in with her, as if he had any right to inspect her like some milk cow bound for the auction block. It would have been disrespectful under normal circumstances, but this was no horse or milk cow. Fae was a charge-beast, and one who could be aggressive when it came to protecting her personal space. The man had no idea just how much danger he had put himself in. Without a thought, Vetch ran. He heard Fae¡¯s roar and the heavy stomp of her hoof on the ground right before he grabbed the man¡¯s shirt collar in his fist and yanked him violently back out of the stall, just in time for Fae to miss his face with the wild toss of her horns. The action caused Vetch to grunt in pain from his sword wounds, as both he and Claude fell against the opposite stall door.

    You idiot! You fucking fool! Vetch had to think the insult rather them direct it at the man whose life he¡¯d just saved, because he¡¯d knocked the wind out of himself in doing it. Gasping, he pushed himself back up to his feet. But if he hadn¡¯t exactly been expecting gratitude from the man, the way he did react took Vetch completely by surprise when the first punch connected with his gut. Claude¡¯s knotted fist pushed fire throughout Vetch¡¯s stomach, radiating out from his burning sword wound and thwarting his attempt at regaining his breath. The second blow felt like it cracked a rib. The tall stable hand was surprisingly strong in that hard, wiry way of a lifelong laborer.

    ¡°Who said you could put your hands on me, friend?¡± he snarled at Vetch through clenched teeth.

    Vetch braced for a third punch, his hand going for his sword only to discover he wasn¡¯t wearing it. The punch didn¡¯t come. Instead, Claude grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him upright, and shoved him bodily away. Vetch stumbled and fell into the pile of fouled straw the stable boy had been mucking out of a stall. He coughed and spat and was horrified to see a tinge of blood red in his spittle. Again, he pawed at his belt, hoping he had at least thought to have his knife with him. He had not.

    ¡°Who do you think you are?¡± Claude drawled over him. He nudged Vetch¡¯s boot with his own. ¡°Get up and try to put your hands on me again, face to face this time!¡±

    Vetch knew this was bad. His entire torso was on fire and he felt dizzy and sick. His insides twisted in pain even when he was able to drag a much-needed breath into his lungs. When he rolled over to rise to his knees and put his fists up to defend himself, he knew he did so only as a bluff. He, who had once taken on droves of enemy soldiers sword-to-sword and fist-to-fist, had been reduced to a cringing puppy by the wounds dealt to him in his last battle. This was how he would end, killed by some random stable hand, in a pile of manure, over a stupid misunderstanding.

    Claude lunged down for him. As Vetch tensed his body and prepared whatever weak attempt he could muster at fending him off, strong arms wrapped around Claude¡¯s midsection from behind and hauled him back.

    ¡°Come away! Stop it, man!¡± the stable master bellowed. His command and the terrified shouts of the stable boy intermingled with the nervous sounds from the horses and Fae¡¯s enraged roar. Someone had shut her stall door again. Now, she wrenched it off its hinges with a push of her muscled shoulder. ¡°Hells and demons, Claude, what is in that scarecrow head of yours!?¡± the stable master was relentless, keeping the tall man in a tight bear hug and dragging him backward.

    Claude tried to wrench away, kicking his legs and demanding to be let go of, but the stable master was no weakling either. He succeeded in dragging the man to the open door and then, with a twist of his body, tossed him out through it onto the ground¡ªit would have made proud any tavernkeeper similarly familiar with expelling belligerent drunks.

    ¡°Get out of here and don¡¯t you come back around. Got it? Tell Yvelise to send someone else for her horses. If I see you again, I¡¯ll turn ¡®em out in the street!¡± With that, the stable master slammed the door closed.

    ¡°She¡¯ll fucking buy this place!¡± Claude yelled. A moment later something impacted the door, as if he¡¯d thrown a rock at it. His voice faded as he left, but he still yelled as he went, ¡°Dumb shit! Could¡¯ve made a lot of money. Y¡¯ain¡¯t getting that information now. I¡¯ll see you in an alley some night, dumb shit. Teach you to put hands on me!¡±

    The stable boy came and kneeled down by Vetch. He had a wet rag that he offered. ¡°Are you okay, sir?¡±

    Vetch swallowed and took the rag, pressing it to his forehead. Why did he feel feverish all of a sudden? He nodded to the boy, coughed, spat in the straw. This time, thankfully, there was no blood. But his insides felt wrong. ¡°I¡¯m fine, boy,¡± he mumbled when the lad remained kneeling and watching him. The stable master offered his hand and helped Vetch to his feet.

    ¡°Hells and demons, I apologize, sir.¡±

    The boy piped up. ¡°He paid, sir. He had the horses and I didn¡¯t let him in at all until he paid.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, don¡¯t worry, son. I know, he can talk nice and do proper business one minute, then blow up the next.¡± He stood in consideration a moment. ¡°Lad, go finish your chores, then we¡¯re going to go over to Yvelise¡¯s place together and straighten things out so nothing like this happens again with that jackass. He¡¯s not welcome here anymore.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir.¡± The lad made himself scarce out the back door.

    The stable master put his hands on his hips, sighed, ¡°Again, I¡¯m sorry.¡± He considered Vetch, then said, ¡°That¡¯s a fine shirt he ruined. It was in my stable; it¡¯s my responsibility. Tell you what, for the rest of your stay, the housing and feeding of your animals is on me. And don¡¯t worry about the stall door. I¡¯ll have that fixed.¡±

    ¡°I doubt we¡¯ll be staying beyond breakfast,¡± Vetch replied. At the look on the other man¡¯s face, he added, ¡°Not because you haven¡¯t done right by us. Something came up and we need to take passage across the lake this very day.¡± He struggled to stand up straight and speak with an unstrained voice. He wanted nothing more than to lie down. ¡°Is it possible to buy passage on a ship on such short notice?¡±

    ¡°It is. If you¡¯re in a hurry, you should know you might have to settle on a smaller cargo ship.¡± To this, Vetch nodded. The stable master went into his pocket, drew out a few coins. ¡°If you won¡¯t be staying on our hospitality, then at least accept back what your woman paid me before. I insist.¡±

    It was such an honest gesture, from a clearly honest man. As a soldier, Vetch was more used to meeting the kind of people who operated on anger, not reason. ¡°Keep it,¡± he said. ¡°For pulling that lout off me. And for the stall door.¡± He patted the man on the shoulder and staggered past him out the door.

    In the fresh air out in the stable yard, he paused. The sun was up in full now and just pushing its light through some early clouds in the east. The cool morning air seared his lungs. Looking down at himself, Vetch saw what the stable master had meant about his shirt. The nice blue townsman¡¯s shirt Lily had bought for him in the markets was smeared and stained with manure. A fine time for his wounds not to be bandaged. Almost, he wanted to take it off and throw it away, so Lily would not see how he had already mistreated such a fine gift from her. It was a silly and impulsive thought. He would never give up anything given to him by her, though he lamented he wouldn¡¯t have time to have it laundered before they must find a ship that would take them to wherever The Lady had fled to.

    Walking up the short path back to the inn, Vetch noted he smelled like a dirty horse stall now. Soon his other things would as well, once he changed clothes and packed the prized shirt in with them.

    Well ... I grew up working in a tannery, he reflected. I¡¯ve smelled much worse than this before. That was certainly true. But whether he had ever felt worse. ... He couldn¡¯t think of a single time.

    Taking a deep, painful breath at the inn¡¯s front door, he composed himself to hide his injuries and went in to deliver to Lily the disastrous news.

 Chapter 15: Arrival, part 1

    Through a sliver of clear glass that the carriage¡¯s window shade did not quite extend over, Marigold could see blue sky and white billowy clouds. A clear sunny sky looked much the same the kingdom over, but somehow by this sky she could tell they were well into Hold Draffor, probably nearing the town of Black Crux itself now. It was something about the feel of the place. It pressed on her, much as it had years ago.

    The carriage rattled along a stony road, jolting her in her bonds. Her hands and feet ached deeply and she knew the pain would be excruciating once they were untied again. Those rare times always now were in the presence of Lady Gilliana. She wouldn¡¯t let her so much as piss anymore without being there to see that Marigold didn¡¯t try to cast any magic. Sensing Gilliana¡¯s present power, Marigold was not stupid enough to risk it at anyway. Her former apprentice burned like the sun with magic.

    The trip by boat had thrown off her sense of distance and time. When in her middle years she had first traveled to Hold Draffor in order to accept a position as Mage-Matron of a promising young noblewoman, she had traveled the longer route, by road around the southern shore of Lake Pasanhal. That was the same route she had fled by. But she knew that travelers could also go by ship across the lake. It was faster, but more expensive. Of course, Gilliana would have chosen a ship.

    This journey across the lake had felt like a seemingly endless period of disorder. Marigold had been blindfolded and carried like a sack of potatoes from the carriage she had been confined to, up a rickety gangplank, and onto the deck of a creaking ship. From that moment on, in darkness and isolation, she had endured the stomach-turning roll and sway of the boat¡¯s progress. She had called out for help until her voice was hoarse, but no one had come to her aid, nor even spoken to her. Every few hours, a ladleful of water was held to her lips. That was all.

    Had Lady Gilliana paid the sailors to ignore what they saw and heard? Or were they also mercenaries in her employ? It didn¡¯t take long before the stacked hours of nausea made it impossible for her to care about such trifles. She had no allies. That, she knew.

    When the rolling finally ceased, she had been lifted again into a different carriage. This one had normal seats, but by now she found it difficult to sit upright for long. At least she had managed to get her blindfold off. The mercenaries all but ignored her now. On the ship, she had vomited on herself, and no one had cleaned it. The dry yellow stain down her nightgown remained. She could smell her own sick from it and it was difficult not to be sick again with the way the carriage bounced and jostled. Eastern Draffor was a rocky land. Rocky, with good soil. She remembered that.

    The moment she felt the carriage transition from the dirt road to the stone cobble of a street, her breath caught in her throat.

    ¡°One street ... left onto Market Way ...¡± she whispered. She felt the carriage driver turn the horses left, and then they were rolling around a gradual corner that straightened up Market Way. Was it quieter than it typically would have been in the busy day market? What day was it? And what time?Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Right ...¡± she spoke, and the carriage veered right onto a different street. Up and up through the town it took her. ¡°Bridgeway,¡± she said. The carriage¡¯s wheels clattered onto a much older road. She felt every bump and pothole. Every familiar one. Her heart sank, and what few shreds of hope remained to her fled. ¡°Here,¡± she finished, almost exactly in concurrence with the carriage driver calling a halt. The horses halted and pawed at the ground, their harnesses jingling. They sensed they were home.

    As did Marigold.

    The carriage door was yanked open and bright daylight assailed her eyes. The leader of the mercenaries¡ªMurzagis, they named him¡ªstood there. Without a word, he proffered his gloved hand.

    ¡°Make this easy on both of us,¡± he said in his disaffected voice.

    Marigold looked at his hand, then at him. She swallowed and her throat was sore and dry. ¡°Go wipe your ass with stinging nettle.¡±

    Murzagis didn¡¯t give her the satisfaction of a response. The man had stone for a soul. He might as well have been a statue come to life. With one hand, he reached into the carriage and grabbed the rope that bound Marigold¡¯s ankles. Ignoring her protests, he effortlessly dragged her off the carriage seat and out the door. With her hands still tied, her hip and shoulder impacted the ground first. Pain shot through her old bones and left her gasping on the dirty cobbles. Oblivious to this, Murzagis drew a knife and sliced through the rope binding her ankles. Then he walked away without even a glance back.

    The burning tingle that suffused Marigold¡¯s legs could only take her mind off her other ills for so long. There was nothing else for it but to stagger up onto her feet until the pins and needles subsided. There she stood, hands still bound, swaying slightly and peering around her at a familiar setting that she had hoped never to see again. Over a decade had passed, but the bridges spanning the stony gully up to Black Crux Manor looked exactly the same as they had the last time she had been here. It had been raining and dreary that day. Despite the mild spring sunshine of this one, she trembled. She hadn¡¯t been prepared for this. A sour feeling in her stomach presaged what horrible things might happen to her if she should ever enter that castle again. So, she stood frozen, looking up at the forbidding black-stoned castle, the place she had once called home. Her nightrobe flapped against her chilled legs, disguising how they shook.

    She watched Murzagis walk by the impassive guards posted at the gates and disappear into the manor. Lady Gilliana was nowhere to be seen. Was Marigold¡¯s former apprentice so brazenly arrogant as to expect her to follow without a fight? Marigold felt no fight left in her, but she would be damned if she passed through those gates ever again of her own accord.

    Her fixation on the looming castle above her distracted her from the fact that two of Murzagis¡¯s people were standing behind her. Evidently, they had decided to give her the opportunity to walk by choice, but their patience didn¡¯t extend far. Marigold felt something dull and metal prod her painfully in the back, accompanied by a harsh, ¡°Move yer ass, old woman.¡±

    Like she had ever had a choice. She closed her eyes and walked. Her wet-stockinged feet shuffled on the gritty stone. Her silver hair, long come loose from its bundle, thrashed unevenly in the wind about her wrinkled face.

 Chapter 15: Arrival, part 2

    *

    Since dawn, the sun had been fighting to break through the gray clouds hanging low over Lake Pasanhal. Only now, as Vetch led his horse down the gangplank from the ship he and Lily had taken across, did it finally succeed in penetrating the cloud cover with a few ragged rays. The contrast in colors was striking. The weather for most of the short voyage had been dull and drizzly, uniform gray skies over a drab, blue-gray expanse of water. But as he and Lily stepped ashore onto the pier at their destination, golden-hued beams pierced the clouds to fall in great diagonal shafts across lake and lakeside town alike. They made the water sparkle and cast strange islands of light and shadow across the streets and buildings that populated the hills rising up from the shore. This town¡ªGull, one of the sailors had named it¡ªseemed a foreign place to Vetch. They were still in Kaldura, their own kingdom, but they stood on Hold Draffor¡¯s soil now. It felt as different from gentle Pasanhal as Pasanhal had felt from mountainous Moonfane Forge.

    The land here rose up sharply from the lake shore in little bluffs and hillocks composed of dark stone and patchy, buff-colored tufts of grass. The buildings of Gull seemed all to be built from the same dark stone. Most had roofs of thatch, but some few were shingled, closer in style to the houses and shops Vetch was used to seeing back home. Here, though, there was a roughness to their composition, the buildings like craggy old men and women sitting up on the hills, watching over the lake¡¯s billowing waters. If not for the townsfolk going about their mornings, Vetch might have mistaken some of these abodes for old ruins.

    ¡°Are you feeling okay? You look pale.¡±

    Lily¡¯s voice was soft at his side, pitched only for his ears. She had stolen up so quietly in his preoccupation with the town. Beside her, Fae gave a shake of her head and tugged on her reins, clearly happy to be off the ship and eager to be away from it. Vetch could sympathize.

    ¡°Fine,¡± he said, making his smile one that he hoped concealed his lie. Foolishly, he went and added to it by saying, ¡°The wind is just so cold here by the water.¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± she replied. For a few minutes they stood beside each other, sizing up the strange new town they had found themselves in, while dockworkers filed past them carrying crates to and from waiting ships.

    It wasn¡¯t entirely a lie that the cold wind was affecting him, but in truth Vetch was not chilled, but burning with fever, and he was distraught to know he looked poorly enough for Lily to notice.

    Ever since his scuffle with the tall stable hand back in Pasanhal town, he had felt increasingly ill. By the time he and Lily had found a ship willing to take their blood-flecked gold in payment for conducting them and their animals across the lake to Draffor, Vetch¡¯s fever was causing his head to pound and his body to ache all over. It made the already unpleasant trip across the lake practically intolerable. On the ship, he had been able to play it off as the motion from the choppy waters making him feel sick. Lily had been too preoccupied keeping Fae calm on the deck to wonder otherwise. But daily, Vetch had changed the bandaging on his sword wounds only to find them increasingly red and inflamed. Looking back, he suspected that during the fight, when he had been thrown into the pile of fouled straw and manure, some had soaked through his shirt and gotten into the open puncture in his chest.

    Even now the thought of it made his skin crawl. He had seen the ugliness that could result from infected wounds. In his first year in the garrison, an older soldier had been thrown from his horse and broken his leg, with the bone punching through the skin. That wound had become badly infected and the man had nearly died. It was only by the removal of that leg, up near the hip, that he survived. But he never soldiered again.

    Vetch¡¯s wound was not on a limb that could be sawn off to save him. Nor did he have the luxury to put his and Lily¡¯s mission aside again to search hither and thither for a proper healer. With that being the case, he had decided to conceal it from her and press on. He would not again cause some needless delay that might jeopardize her quest to rescue Marigold. It was he and his fellow soldiers who had failed to protect her family during the raid on Moonfane Forge. If helping her find Marigold, the only remaining person Lily had left to call family now, meant he must push himself until these wounds festered and finished him, then so be it. He certainly felt wretched enough to believe it could come to that.

    Lily brought him out of his fevered stupor with a gentle touch to his elbow. ¡°We should move,¡± she said. At the same time, Fae chuffed a warning rumble at a dockworker who¡¯d ventured too near. Vetch took it Lily meant they should move out of the path of the workers rushing about on the docks.

    But then Lily hefted herself up into Fae¡¯s saddle and nudged the great panthegrunn into an easy walk up the street, causing Vetch to recall what they had discussed on the ship the night before. They had decided it would be best not to stop in this town, but hurry through it and cover as much ground as they could with the remaining daylight. If this Lady who had stolen Mage Marigold truly was Lady Iris, noblewoman and ruler of Hold Draffor, then it meant they walked amongst her subjects now. Vetch had thought it best not to mention here the attack on Moonfane Forge, nor arouse any suspicion amongst the local populace that he and Lily planned to bring vengeance to Lady Iris¡¯s door.

    Already, Lily was well ahead of him, her panthegrunn¡¯s heavy hooves clopping up the cobbled road leading from the docks up through town. Reflexively, Vetch mounted Revenge and stirred him into following. They would bypass the town of Gull, eat from their supplies on the go, and stop to camp only when their animals needed to be rested.

    They found themselves on the main thoroughfare leading up through Gull. It was cobbled with the same dark stone that characterized the buildings and the hills that those buildings squatted upon. Vetch kept his eyes forward. Up ahead, Lily cut an easy path for them on Fae. People in the street stared at the panthegrunn, but parted to give her ample space as she passed. Despite his discomfort in the saddle, Vetch had to smile. Lily looked like a queen, sitting tall above the crowd on her magnificent charge-beast. She wore the new clothes she had purchased in Pasanhal, a brown kirtle with split riding skirt embroidered with stitchings and designs in subdued goldenrod. The shirt she wore underneath was not pure white, but a softer cream hue that reminded Vetch of fresh milk. He wondered if Lily had paired the clothing with the color of her hair and tone of her skin on purpose. Certainly, they accentuated one another.

    The trip across the lake had done Lily wonders. Unlike Vetch, she had made good use of their idle time on the ship by resting and preparing herself for the days ahead. When she and Vetch were not strategizing, she was putting her supplies in order, caring for Fae, and even practicing small spells. Vetch, on the other hand, felt as if he¡¯d squandered the free days. With no space sufficient for practicing his swordplay, and feeling ill and restless, he had drifted aimlessly around the ship, wandering between the open deck when he needed fresh air, and its stifling but warm hold when he became chilled. Sleep had come only fitfully. Now, finally divested of the ship¡¯s tossing and cramped quarters, he still felt weary and unprepared.

    They passed through the denser hub of town that crowded the lakeside and soon were following the road up through the hills. The cobbled way began to wind in long, sweeping switchbacks up between those hills and Vetch saw how much of the town had actually been hidden out of view from the lake. More homes and little farmsteads populated the rolling landscape off the road, fields for crops and pastures for animals sweeping upward. On bluff sides, placid sheep and stalwart cattle grazed.

    At length, they reached the plateau of the rising land that had taken them away from the waterside. Here, the cobbles ended and the dirt road leveled out and straightened across a long stretch of buff land. They began to see less dwellings and less people along the path. It was here that Lily put their day¡¯s plan into motion. Vetch watched as she gave Fae¡¯s flanks a gentle tap with her heels and said, ¡°Go, girl.¡±

    Fae¡¯s great cat-like musculature rippled beneath her pale pelt as she launched into a full gallop, her hooves pounding up the road. Lily let out a whoop as she and Fae raced ahead. Now that they were away from town, they could give their mounts their heads and churn up as much ground as possible. Vetch coaxed Revenge to a gallop and felt how the horse not only responded to his command, but also seemed to relish the opportunity to test himself against his new charge-beast companion.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Upon their animals, Vetch and Lily tore across the landscape, with Lily and Fae taking the lead and demonstrating the panthegrunn¡¯s near-magical endurance. Vetch¡¯s Revenge was no slouch. His horse ran hard and showed himself to be up to the task of keeping pace.

    Miles passed by while the shrouded sun rode the sky behind the clouds. Every so often they slowed their animals to a walk and allowed them to rest while Lily and Vetch ate in the saddle. Then they would run again. Vetch watched the land they passed¡ªthe eastern vestiges of the forest on their left, stony-soiled farm lands off to their right. It provided scant distraction from his pain and fever, but thanks to Fae and Revenge seeking to outdo one another, they made it a fair distance that first day.

    Vetch was glad to be quickly closing in on their destination, as he was also glad to finally stop for the night, once it became too dark to press on. He ached all over and his sword wound felt hot and tight. Dismounting and setting up camp was a tiring affair. They had not come across The Lady¡¯s carriages on the road that day, which meant they would sleep light, wake early, and run again the next in hope of catching up.

    The second day of hard riding passed in a blur of fever pains and a pounding headache for Vetch. The closer they came to Hold Draffor¡¯s seat of power, Black Crux, the more the land took on the characteristics he had heard about. They passed rolling wheat fields and innumerous little farms and villages. They stopped at none of them. With every mile, and with no sighting of the carriages they pursued, Vetch became increasingly discouraged. For her part, Lily showed no sign that it affected her. She rode stoically, crouched forward in the saddle with her face framed by Fae¡¯s sweeping horns, while the panthegrunn forged their path ahead with powerful strides.

    How much time transpired, Vetch could not say. Only when the looming black hill fortress that was Black Crux Manor itself finally rose into view in the distance did he and Lily halt their mounts. In silence, they sat on their animals in the road and stared. The implication weighed heavily on them. They had failed to catch up with Marigold¡¯s abductors before they reached their stronghold. How, by all spirits and demons, would they ever manage to spirit the old mage out of such a place, the castle of a noblewoman, who was a powerful mage herself, and surrounded by her guards and the city she lorded over?

    Vetch could think of nothing to say. When it seemed Lily might speak, she instead remained silent, only leaning forward to scratch her panting charge-beast behind her ears. Vetch ran his sleeve across his sweating brow. The clouds had blown through in the night and the sun had beaten down on them all day. His shirt was soaked through with sweat. He felt Lily¡¯s eyes on him as he dismounted and trotted Revenge in a circle to cool him down and realized she was waiting for him to say something. As a soldier, he must have some idea about what to do now, right? But he didn¡¯t. He¡¯d known old soldiers in the garrison who had been in battles, who had gone on long campaigns and laid siege to castles. He never had. This situation was foreign to him.

    He paused in walking Revenge and went into a saddlebag for a bit of fodder to give him. The only thing he could think of to offer Lily was, ¡°We¡¯ll make our way into the town and see what we might, trying not to draw too much attention if we can help it. I suppose the first thing we can start with is finding out if this Lady Iris has moved on to somewhere else with Marigold or if they truly are up in that castle. Until we know one way of the other ...¡± He finished with a lame shrug. He felt so stupid, so useless. Captain Tarese would have mocked him for such a pathetic plan. But Lily nodded gravely, causing him to feel guilty for the trust she placed in him. What did she see in him? Confidence? Determination? He felt neither.

    ¡°Okay,¡± was all she said.

    They went on, walking now. They passed increasingly large farms and settlements that gradually formed into the outskirts of Black Crux town proper. Above it all reigned the black-stoned castle surrounded by wheat fields. The roads became more trafficked, dirt became cobblestone, and the noise and bustle of a sizeable habitation closed in around them. It was impossible for them not to draw attention to themselves. People stared at Fae. The first order of business became getting their animals somewhere out of sight and finding an inn where they could refresh themselves and discuss their next step.

    Activity in Black Crux followed the pattern of any thriving city. Townspeople walked the black-cobbled streets, shop owners implored passerby to view their wares, and the smell of roasting meats and freshly baked breads implored people to stop at the various stands and eateries. It was a city familiar in its unfamiliarity. Most of the buildings were fashioned from the same local stone. Dwellings, warehouses, and shops alike were all cast in black stone, with pointed shingle roofs, like poor miniatures of the great castle hanging over them all. The broad streets spread out from either side of the low river gully that split the town, with bridges spanning the long furrow at regular intervals.

    As they led their animals along a wide thoroughfare, Vetch kept his eyes peeled, surveying his surroundings like a scout sent into an enemy¡¯s hive. He saw no regular guardsmen about town; no one in uniform. While he did spot some various people who wore weapons at their sides, it was impossible to tell if any had been amongst the attackers who had fallen on Moonfane Forge. Mostly, he saw common folk¡ªfarmers, laborers, craftspeople. There was no indication that anything was amiss in town, aside from a general sullenness about the passerby.

    As with Pasanhal, it was clear word had not reached this place about Moonfane Forge¡¯s fall. How would these people take that news, when weighed against the movement of their Lady and her army? Would they see the connection? Or had she covered her tracks as effectively in her home realm as she had elsewhere? People could not see a large army moving if it only gathered in smaller pockets directly before the attack ... and then scattered in many different directions afterward, exactly as it had done. How few or many marauders had ended up back here? And where were they now?

    ¡°There,¡± said Lily, prompting Vetch not only to look to her, but to wonder if she responded to his thoughts without him needing to voice them. She was peering straight ahead, over the rooftops, at the castle. ¡°Can we get closer to it?¡± she wondered aloud. ¡°I can already feel magic from it.¡±

    ¡°First, let¡¯s find lodgings,¡± he offered. ¡°Then we¡¯ll go there.¡±

    The inn they found was a modest one on the northern side of town. Neither rough nor ostentatious, it looked like any other inn you¡¯d find the kingdom over, but for one key feature that drew Vetch to it the moment they spotted it during their wanderings. The common room was fronted by a large veranda where there were tables and benches set for people to eat and drink and mingle outdoors, and the tables were crowded already at midday.

    ¡°Ennric taught me this my first month in the garrison,¡± he explained, as he and Lily went down a side street to find the inn¡¯s back courtyard. ¡°If you want to learn the temperature of a place, take your meal at the tavern most popular with people from a broad assortment of trades. That¡¯s where gossip is most freely thrown about. This looks like the one for Black Crux. It may well serve us as a source of information.¡± He peered around the corner of the courtyard. ¡°Damn. They don¡¯t have stables.¡±

    Lily placed a calming hand on Fae¡¯s shoulder. The panthegrunn was growing restless, even to Vetch¡¯s eye. She was not used to being in town amongst so many people.

    ¡°Should we try elsewhere?¡± Lily hedged. ¡°If gossip flows freely here, as you suspect, then we¡¯d surely be included in it. You and I are gonna stick out like goats in a flock of sheep.¡± She shifted her tone then, asking, ¡°Are you certain you are hale? You¡¯re soaked with sweat.¡± She brushed her hand over his forehead, eyes full of concern.

    He shook his head and put on a smile he didn¡¯t feel. He wanted to avoid talking about how he felt now, so he focused on her first concern. ¡°The Lady and her sellswords think us both dead, remember? We¡¯re just two travelers from Pasanhal. The only one who might be a problem ...¡±

    ¡°Fae,¡± Lily agreed. ¡°We need to get her out of sight.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go inside and ask.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go in and ask.¡± Lily thrust Fae¡¯s reins into his hand. ¡°As Marigold would put it, you look like twice-trampled yak shit. Stay here.¡±

    Vetch didn¡¯t argue. He didn¡¯t think he looked quite that bad. But he felt much worse. He sipped some water and waited anxiously.

    When Lily returned, she confirmed that the inn had no stables of its own, but that there was a storage barn a couple streets over whose owner sometimes rented to travelers looking to house their animals. She had secured them a room and the innkeeper had even sent his boy to run to the barn¡¯s owner. They could take Fae and Revenge there now, and a meal and bathwater would be awaiting them when they returned.

    ¡°They hopped at the sight of the gold,¡± Lily explained. ¡°The innkeeper¡¯s exact words were ¡®I haven¡¯t seen gold pieces like that hereabouts in a while.¡¯ Then he asked me if I was a dignitary here to petition Lady Iris.¡±

    At this, Vetch quirked his brow, asking, ¡°And what¡¯d you tell him?¡±

    Lily shook her head. ¡°I couldn¡¯t think of an answer to that, so I just repeated our request for a room.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s probably for the best. Let him think what he wants.¡± After a moment¡¯s thought, he added, ¡°Petition Lady Iris for what?¡±

    Again, Lily shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Vetch considered what that could mean, but his fever made it hard to think. Perhaps it meant nothing. Nobles hosted important visitors all the time, did they not? He clenched his eyes shut for a moment. The strain of his pounding head was threatening to overwhelm him.

    ¡°¡ªget these two sorted, then come back here.¡± Lily¡¯s voice was a welcome chime cutting through the fevered cacophony of his thoughts.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he agreed, without fully comprehending, and followed her back to the street.

 Chapter 15: Arrival, part 3

    *

    After they had hidden Vetch¡¯s horse and Fae away in the barn¡ªand paid the building¡¯s owner decidedly more than any stable would have demanded, to ensure he didn¡¯t go flapping his gums about the strange charge-beast left in his care¡ªthey had returned to their inn room. There, they had refreshed themselves and changed their clothes. Lily was pleased to at last be out of the dirtied clothes she had worn throughout their hurried ride across Draffor¡¯s farmlands, but she could not help feeling jittery about what they must do now. It was one thing to say they were going to steal Marigold back from a powerful mage and her bloodthirsty marauders by any means necessary. It was quite another to find themselves at the foot of The Lady¡¯s castle, just the two of them, and feel how absolutely absurd that notion truly was. She felt no more certain now about how she could save her mentor than she had back at Arlette¡¯s breakfast table the morning she had set out to chase down Vetch and his band.

    Lily waited in the common room for Vetch to join her. He came down the hallway straightening his cleanest townsman¡¯s shirt, his face washed and his hair brushed. For anyone else, he would have passed muster, but the man still looked unwell to her eye. It troubled her.

    They stepped out now as regular townspeople, visitors to Black Crux going to browse the markets. Lily held Vetch¡¯s hand. He was more adept at gauging a city than she, so she went along with where he led them. The streets and byways, the traffic of people and carts, were things that had been his domain back home. It took him no time at all to find his stride in this place. To Lily, one part of Black Crux looked much like another. The town did not appear to have distinctive districts, as Moonfane Forge had.

    But it was true enough that in any town, one might simply follow the steadiest flow of people to find its center. Black Crux town¡¯s market was no different. The street it stretched up was the widest they had yet walked, a cobbled way that curved gradually along the shape of the river gully, before straightening into a long thoroughfare. To either side, hawkers and merchants plied their noisy trades. At its end was an unimpeded view of The Lady¡¯s castle on the hill. Afternoon sunlight reflected off the black stone. They headed toward it.

    Markets were always lively places, brimming with noise and activity. They were happy places. Or, at least, they had always been so for Lily. So, she was taken aback by how cheerless Black Crux¡¯s market street appeared. Looking about her, she noted how hastily people concluded their business and went on their way. It was very unlike the markets of Moonfane Forge, or even Pasanhal town, where people gathered to socialize and catch up on tidings. There was buying and selling, of course, but those had been social places where folks saw their friends and engaged in long discourses about nothing at all.

    This place was different. Few were the people conversing in this market. Time and again, as she and Vetch slowly walked, listening and watching, Lily saw people choose their produce, haggle over prices, and quickly close their bargains without ever making eye contact or uttering a word more than necessary. It created a nagging unease in her, like watching someone pet a cat the wrong way.

    ¡°Lily. Lily.¡± The urgency in Vetch¡¯s harsh whisper caught her attention. She had been so blithely walking and staring about. Now she turned her head to see that Vetch¡¯s eyes were wide and staring, looking not at her, but up the street. Instantly, she was on the alert, but for the life of her, she could not spot anything that would have him so agitated. Even so, when he tugged on her arm and gestured with his head desperately to follow, she did.

    He whisked her quickly between two market stalls. A hawker shouted at them when Lily inadvertently bumped a basket off a table, sending some kind of root vegetables spilling all over the cobbles, but Vetch didn¡¯t stop until they had crossed a backing street and were away from the market stalls and carts. There, he paused under the eave of an empty shop front. Lily looked at him. His face was flushed and he was breathing hard from the short dash. His eyes were still intent on the market street. When Lily tried to follow his gaze, but still saw only the normal bustle of a town market.

    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked. When he didn¡¯t respond, she touched his elbow. ¡°Vetch.¡±

    He slowly raised his arm and pointed back at the crowded street. Through a gap in the stalls, Lily saw the man he indicated. To say that he stood out from the rest of the common townsfolk would not have been an exaggeration, but not for any flamboyant appearance. Dressed in well-tailored but subdued townsman¡¯s clothes, the only accoutrement that marked him as a soldier was the inornate sword on his belt. But even without that, Lily could have picked him out as unusual. This man moved like a world-weary mountain cat, like someone who had seen a rough life and rougher battles and survived it all. It was written into the weathering of his pocked face and crooked nose, coarseness contrasted by the meticulousness of his sleek black hair, which was worn pulled back into a tail, and his dark moustache, styled into two tendrils that hung down below his chin. Lily watched as he strolled by a baker¡¯s cart, plucked out a steaming pastry, and continued on his way without paying. The baker at her cart didn¡¯t so much raise a word of protest against this.

    ¡°Him,¡± said Vetch. Lily turned to see him still tracking the man with unblinking eyes. ¡°He was the commander in charge of the raiders who attacked Moonfane Forge.¡±

    Lily looked again, but by then, the man had moved beyond their view. How could that be, that a man who strolled easily through the market nibbling a pastry could be the same who had led a horde of murderers against their town? Yet, she knew Vetch could not be mistaken, not by the way he growled low under his breath.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°And did this,¡± he added, with a touch to his covered wound. He continued to stare after the man as though he could see through the stalls and buildings, his hand drifting down to where his sword would have been, had he not left it in their room so they might remain inconspicuous. ¡°Damn,¡± he muttered. He took one deep breath in and let it out, then offered Lily his hand again and said, ¡°Let¡¯s go have a look at the castle.¡±

    The emotional effort it took for him not to follow the swordsman was palpable to Lily. She hoped they would never see that man again.

    Up close, the manor that bestowed its name upon Black Crux town was a sight to behold. While a manor in name, it was nothing less than a castle fortress, the kind built in ages of yore, a structure meant to proclaim its power over the surrounding region through sheer physical presence. The gully that divided the town apexed here at the feet of the squat hill that the castle stood upon. Like a crack running up the side of a bowl, water burbled from the dark-stoned fissure. The hill itself was furrowed with additional stony gulches, walled by sharp black cliffs, so that they formed a series of natural dry moats that necessitated the two prominent bridges leading up from the street through the manor¡¯s gates. All these things, Lily and Vetch took in from where they stood down the road. Guards were posted at the beginning of each bridge. On the battlements were more patrolling sentries.

    Unlike the man in the market, these swordspeople were unmistakable as accomplices to the ones who had menaced Lily in her very own home, when they had come with The Lady to steal Marigold away. The very sight of them swaggering about up on the battlements made her insides churn with a fear she had not been prepared for. Her thoughts were thrust directly back to that morning, when only her desperate Barrier-Casting had turned back the brutes and prevented them from doing the terrible things they¡¯d undoubtedly had planned for her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see any way in or out except for those bridges,¡± said Vetch. She was surprised by how casual his tone remained, for the implication of his words was dire.

    Lily gazed beyond the looming castle walls, the sharps cliffs, and ready swordsmen. She allowed her vision to lose focus and slowed her breathing and ... there.

    ¡°There.¡± Her voice echoed her thought. A spontaneous smile came over her face. ¡°She¡¯s in there. I feel Marigold. She¡¯s alive.¡±

    ¡°You can tell that?¡±

    Hot tears began coursing down Lily¡¯s face unbidden. She wiped at them with the heels of her hands and nodded. It was the first time she had sensed her teacher¡¯s magic clearly since the day of the attack. Marigold lived. And now she knew for sure where she was.

    ¡°Both of them are in there,¡± she confirmed. ¡°Mari ... and the raven-haired mage. Lady Iris. It could be no others, two such powerful sensations of Barrier magic. She turned her face up to Vetch¡¯s. ¡°What now?¡±

    ¡°If only I knew,¡± he murmured.

    While they watched from down the road, taking care not to draw attention to themselves, various people came and went from the castle. There were those who were dressed lavishly and who arrived in carriages. These people were allowed through the guarded checkpoints and across the two bridges to the main door. Others, those who were dressed as farmers or common craftspeople, were most frequently turned away. The ones least harassed by the sentries appeared to be servants of the castle, the various working folk of the manor, ostensibly known to the guards.

    Lily chewed her lip. The elation of knowing that Marigold was alive and near was short-lived. She was near, but how could they get to her? She thought back to one of their earliest ideas and reluctantly discarded it.

    ¡°We won¡¯t be able to ransom Mari back, will we?¡± she asked.

    Vetch shook his head. ¡°No. Not with their own gold. What we found in the forest is a pittance compared to what this noblewoman spent to acquire her.¡±

    ¡°What about for Moonfane¡¯s silver? Or our yaks?¡± She asked. She knew the answer even before Vetch shook his head to this as well.

    ¡°The attackers stole as much silver as they could, but still left much behind when they were ordered to leave,¡± he said. ¡°Our yaks, they could have had during the first attack, when they freed them in the night. This Lady Iris and her army could already have taken all that Moonfane Forge had, if they had wanted to. We¡¯ve nothing to offer them. It was always about getting Marigold,¡± he concluded. ¡°That, and that alone.¡±

    Lily knew as well as him the truth of it. ¡°What about the guards?¡± she tried. ¡°Could one of them be bribed to ... I don¡¯t know, let us in, or even to fetch Marigold and bring her out to us?¡±

    This idea was a harder nut to crack, and she saw Vetch giving it consideration. Again, he shook his head, but hedged, ¡°Maybe? Some of her people deserted her, like the two we met in the forest. But those two were different from these sellswords.¡± He nodded at the guards at the bridge. ¡°Of the blades-for-hire who remain, how would we find one who wouldn¡¯t betray us to her? They¡¯re not just ruffians. They¡¯re paid well. They¡¯ll be loyal.¡± He sighed. Lily watched him as he appeared to take in the entire location¡ªcastle, bridges, hill, cliffs¡ªlike a commander surveying the field of battle. ¡°There¡¯s certainly no attacking the place,¡± he decided. ¡°Or sneaking in. Not unless we could become invisible like your Barriers. Neither sword nor magic will serve us here.¡±

    Lily pressed her fingers to her temples, willing herself not to become frustrated. It was difficult. ¡°Yet, those are what we have. We have to get to her, Vetch. We have to bring her home. She likely doesn¡¯t even know what happened to Moonfane Forge. I must tell her. I¡¯m the one who must be there for her.¡±

    Vetch put his arm around her shoulders and she allowed herself to be drawn in close to him. His breath was warm in her hair as he spoke quietly.

    ¡°We will find a way. I promise,¡± he whispered, and kissed her forehead. For a moment, they stood quietly. Then, ¡°What is happening up there now?¡± he wondered aloud.

    An argument had sparked up at the gatehouse by the street, between the two guards there and a stout man carrying the tools of a carpenter. The guards appeared uninterested in letting him through. As this went on, an old man in an ornate doublet had been stiffly making his way down from the manor. He crossed the bridges unchallenged and arrived at length at the gatehouse. With only a few terse words and an exasperated flip of his hand, he ordered the two guards to let the carpenter pass. He then led the man back up across the bridges to the manor door. Lily shook her head, unable to make anything of it.

    Vetch, however, grinned. ¡°I have a way to get in there,¡± he declared. ¡°One that won¡¯t require any fighting or magic, if all goes as planned.¡± He turned his toothy grin on her. It was the most he had looked like his normal self in days. That easy, cocksure confidence that bolstered her own. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to the inn,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll explain as we walk.¡±

 Chapter 15: Arrival, part 4

    The walls of the inn¡¯s large common room were festooned with hunting trophies¡ªdusty heads of proud bucks holding glass-eyed court over the drinking rabble. Vetch¡¯s inkling about the inn as a source for gossip had proved true and then some. By the time night had fallen, the establishment was packed with so many patrons of all trades and persuasions that not a bench or table went unoccupied. Some folk even stood leaning against the walls, and more crowded the veranda outside, eating and carousing. Boisterous chatter and the press of people warmed the common room as much as the fire in the hearth. The talk they overheard was of a kind one would expect to hear in a busy inn¡ªdiscussions about planting and harvesting, whose neighbors were having marital troubles, complaints about taxes and land allocations¡ªlittle they could use to their advantage.

    Lily used her fork to push a last piece of potato around her plate in consternation. They had ordered dinner and ales, but even a full belly and the pleasant buzz from the ale were not enough to dispel her anxiety.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t like you going into that fortress alone.¡± She spoke above the clamor of the room, revisiting the same concern she had first voiced to Vetch upon hearing his wild plan.

    Across the table from her, he leaned back in his chair. ¡°Nor I. But it¡¯s the only way to gain access to the place without raising any alarm.¡± His face was flushed and he had broken out in a sweat again. His newly trimmed auburn curls were plastered to his forehead. He hadn¡¯t even touched his ale. She knew he felt unwell, despite how he tried to disguise it. She feared it was his wounds, but he avoided the topic in favor of his single-minded focus on their goal.

    It was that he was in his element, she decided, making plans and decisions, as he always had when called upon by the other garrison soldiers. She trusted his instincts in this, but at the same time, what he had proposed filled her with trepidation.

    ¡°Look around at all the people here, Lily¡± he offered, leaning forward with his elbow on the table. ¡°Undoubtedly, there are a few of the common workers and serving folk from the castle in this crowd. It will be simple: tomorrow, we go and watch the castle again. When evening falls, some of the people who work there will leave for the night to go home, or to the taverns. We follow them and watch them, choose one who looks like they need the coin¡ªperhaps they all do,¡± he added as an aside, shrugging. ¡°Anyway, we sit near them in a tavern and listen. That¡¯s all. It may take a few nights, but we¡¯ll find someone who has no love for their mistress and would be willing to lead me past the guards and inside to find Marigold, for the right price. The sellswords might be paid well enough to refuse a bribe, but a maidservant or a steward? We can offer them enough coin they could leave that station forever. What would they care if they helped me bring Marigold out to safety in the process?¡±

    Lily had been staring down at the table while listening, anxiously running her thumb up and down the side of her empty tankard. Even after the benefit of a couple ales, the plan still gave her cause for concern.

    ¡°What of everything else?¡± she asked. ¡°How will you find her? And how will you lead her back out? Surely, they¡¯ll know no one has permission to take their captive out. They would be told that. No matter what explanation your bribed helper concocts.¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t know one way of the other.¡± When Lily fixed him with a dubious eye, he chuckled. ¡°Trust me. The last people to ever be told anything about anything are the ones pulling gate guarding duty. And besides, that¡¯s why you will remain outside. In case they do challenge us.¡±

    Lily raised her eyes. His expression had changed from one of levity to one of measured confidence. ¡°With Fae and Revenge,¡± she prompted.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Yes. Be on the road with them, and with all our things packed up. If things go wrong on the bridge, and the guards try to stop me and Marigold, cast a Barrier that halts them but allows she and I through. Then, the three of us will ride out of this town as fast as we can before the Barrier fades.¡±

    That aspect of the plan was the one Lily at least felt some confidence in. A Barrier-Caster could do much to stop people following or challenging them. Would that she could cast Barriers freely, she could walk directly into that castle herself and no one could stop her. But she couldn¡¯t. She would fall prey to Caster¡¯s Slumber long before she could ever retreat with Marigold. And that also ignored the fact that Lady Iris resided there, who was a vastly more powerful Barrier-Caster than Lily, and who would sense Lily¡¯s Castings in a moment and dispel them with ease.

    But, if she needed only to cast one Barrier, and only once Vetch had already brought Marigold outside, in order to give them time to escape ... that was possible. More than possible. She knew she could pull it off and that it would work. If it provided them even a small head start, Fae and Revenge could do the rest. Their mounts could get them far away. Somewhere they could hide, before Lily fell into Slumber.

    That Vetch¡¯s plan was workable made things no less terrifying. There were still so very many things that could go wrong. What if it resulted in Marigold being harmed? Or Vetch? ...

    She knew she had been silent too long when he reached across the table to lay his hand on hers. He didn¡¯t say anything, only met her eyes. She nodded.

    ¡°Ladies and fellows! Turn your eyes here, friends! Quiet down and listen!¡±

    The shout from the corner by the hearth drew the attention of all in the common room to a skinny young lady standing on a tabletop, who was dressed in hose and shirt of uniform black. When the noise quieted, and she had all eyes on her, she swept a formal bow before raising her hands.

    ¡°Such a crowd this night, such a crowd! And such a gathering deserves a show worthy of it, and worthy of its coin! On this splendid evening, we present to you, my friends, a very special play in our repertoire!¡± She clapped her hands and gestured at something on the floor covered by a dark cloth. At her, gesture, a stooped man, likewise dressed all in black, pulled the cloth away to reveal a puppet stage, painted beautifully in reds and golds. The young lady continued, ¡°Settle yourselves and witness this tale of our esteemed Lady Iris and how years ago she came to rule Hold Draffor, at a great sacrifice to herself, but for the good of all of us! So ...¡± she wagged her finger at her audience, ¡°drink up and have your coins ready, friends, and enjoy the show.¡± With that, she hopped deftly off the table and disappeared behind the little stage, along with the stooped man.

    When the first puppet made its way onto the stage, Lily clenched her teeth and stared. The little figure glided to center stage and looked out at its audience. It was a young woman with long, raven-black hair, dressed in a flowing purple gown of a color so like her real-life counterpart had worn when she and her sellswords had broken into Lily and Marigold¡¯s house the morning of the attack on Moonfane Forge. The gathering cheered as the little puppet nodded her head in regal acknowledgement. It then swept its little puppet arm up, and by a trick of a scrap of golden fabric held on a thin wire, appeared to cast a little Barrier in the air.

    If there had been any doubt remaining in Lily¡¯s mind about just who The Lady was, this dispelled it. There was their attacker. There was the true commander of the army that had fallen upon her town. There was the mage who had nearly killed her and stolen her beloved teacher away. Lady Iris of Black Crux.

    Lily sat transfixed. Another puppet made its way onto the stage, clapping its little hands. In a comically exaggerated old woman¡¯s voice, it proclaimed, ¡°Perfect, my apprentice! That was perfect. You truly are one of the most talented students of magic in all the land!¡±

    The puppets continued speaking to one another, but the words became an unintelligible hum to Lily¡¯s ears. She stared at the second puppet in its white robe, with black hair streaked with gray, face a rich brown, and little painted silver eyes. But ... was not this play meant to portray events from years ago? How could this be?

    Lily gaped at the little puppet in disbelief. It was her teacher. Marigold. Praising their enemy.

 Chapter 16: Puppet Play, part 1

    -10 years prior-

    Waves lapped placidly against the stone jetty Marigold walked upon. The ocean bespelled her. Watching ships sailing in and out from the King¡¯s Capital City, she considered buying passage on one and seeing the southern island chains. She wondered what magics she might encounter in those exotic places.

    Then the cold wind off the water whipped up and reminded her of the aching in her joints.

    ¡°Sea travel, old woman?¡± she queried of herself. ¡°Just what I need, a rocking deck underneath my feet when I already dread going back up the stairs I took to get down here.¡±

    She chortled at herself as she made her way back up the spray-slick steps to the street. The King¡¯s Capital City felt perpetually busy. Even on this little side street above a strip of beach, people and animals and carts and messengers dashed hither and thither with no mind whatsoever for an old woman who simply wanted an unobstructed look at the ocean. It had been a pleasant enough walk in the seaside air getting here, but now she was thinking of a hot meal in the warm common room of her inn.

    The capital had seemed the inevitable destination for her after three years of roaming all over Kaldura. Since leaving her position as Mage-Matron at Black Crux Manor, she had felt too restless to return to Moonfane Forge. Besides, it had its resident mage, her own Mage-Matron, Mantis, who had taught her when she was young. Mantis would doubtlessly have taken on a new apprentice by now, one to step into her place when the time came. No, Marigold needed to find her own place elsewhere in the kingdom, a position for a mage of her caliber.

    But rather than finding employment, she had without thinking settled into an extended period of Journeying. How strange it was that a master mage, particularly one of her age, would be wandering the roads from town to town, learning and practicing new magics wherever she could. Often, she had wondered if it was her way of rectifying things in the wake of training Gilliana against her own better judgement, a mistake that had resulted in the woman ultimately using Barrier-Casting to murder her husband. Marigold deeply regretted the chain of events that had led to Lord Marcus¡¯s death. She still puzzled over how her apprentice had managed to work such a horrific spell.

    Maybe that was why she persisted in her travels, because she hoped to one day understand what Gilliana had done and be able to prove it.

    In the ensuing years, however, she had found she enjoyed seeing as much of the kingdom as possible for its own sake. She visited so many new places¡ªlarge cities, small hamlets, and everything in between¡ªmet other mages, taught, and learned. Thus far, she had turned down all offers of employment as a resident mage and still steadfastly refused to take on another apprentice. Where she ultimately intended to settle, and what she intended to do there, she hadn¡¯t a clue. So, inevitably, over the course of years, she had made her way from Black Crux in the far northeast to here, the King¡¯s Capital City, all the way in the far southwestern corner of the kingdom. She couldn¡¯t get any farther away than that. Not unless she fancied a voyage by ship.

    Marigold chuckled again at the idea. She shook her head, mumbled to herself, ¡°About as much as I fancy a swift kick to the backside.¡±

    Stopping in the road, she took stock of her surroundings. Was it this cross street or the next that would see her back to her inn? The capital was such a large city. Truly, it was more like a number of smaller cities all clustered into one. She scolded herself for not keeping better track of the various turns she had taken while making her way down to the shore. She chose the next turn she could take and followed it along sandy-hued cobbles up a gentle, meandering slope. It didn¡¯t take long to ascertain she had chosen wrong, but there were a number of interesting shops this way, and there was a mouthwatering aroma of roasting meat and spices coming from up ahead. She might as well take her meal at whichever establishment the alluring smell was coming from, then ask directions back to her inn. As long as she didn¡¯t dally and made it back in time to get a full night¡¯s rest. She had an early appointment with a mage of King Caiside V¡¯s court and she was not about to oversleep and miss it.

    She spotted the eatery around the next turn. Thick joints of meat were roasting on spits out in front of the place. Yes, this was the place she would eat at. Then her eye was drawn to a little curio shop next door. The front window displayed various foreign knickknacks and baubles, along with a gilded cage full of colorful birds twittering the most melodious little songs. Marigold smiled and went inside. The shop¡¯s interior was warm and tinged with the smell of incense.

    ¡°Welcome, madam,¡± a pudgy, dark-skinned man in a green robe greeted her. ¡°I am honored to have a mage visit my little establishment. ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken ...¡± He stroked his thin beard. ¡°You would hail from the far northern regions, up past the Karkhuls. Welcome to the King¡¯s Capital City.¡± Before Marigold could confirm this, the man grinned and gave an absent wave of his hand. ¡°You have that look about you. My family originated there. In fact, I had a great aunt who had eyes much like yours¡ªgray as rainclouds.

    Marigold smirked. ¡°That¡¯s a good trick, young man. Ah, but I¡¯m more interested in how you marked me for a mage,¡± she said, tactfully not confirming it one way or the other.

    ¡°Easy enough,¡± he replied. ¡°I could sense magic from you as you entered my shop. I have a very small talent for it. Not enough to be trained, mind you, but I always had a vested interest in magic. You might find, ah ... that shelf over there to you liking.¡± He stood up on tiptoes and pointed to the far corner of his shop. ¡°I¡¯ve amassed a small collection of texts written by various mages.¡±

    ¡°Have you now?¡± said Marigold. She was no spring chicken. She had met her fair share of merchants and shopkeepers who would swear up and down that the magical artefacts they possessed were rare and authentic. Very, very few of them truly were. But she humored the man and went to the shelf.

    She had expected the usual much-circulated books written about various mages and magics, or volumes that collected snippets of writings from famous mages of old¡ªthe kinds of things that were popular with aristocrats who took an interest in the subject. What Marigold did not expect was to recognize one of the books before even picking it up, because she herself had been tasked with reading it decades earlier. Not a copy, but the original, in the hand of her teacher¡¯s teacher. What was it doing here? It should still be sitting on its shelf, back in the house she grew up in, in Moonfane Forge.

    ¡°Ahh, you have a good eye.¡± The shopkeeper spoke from directly behind her when she lifted the volume. ¡°That was penned by¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mage-Master Beetle,¡± Marigold said.

    ¡°Yes. He practiced a lesser-known magic, but was considered a master of exceptional skill. You¡¯re familiar with him?¡±

    ¡°I should be,¡± replied Marigold. ¡°He was Mage-Master to my own Mage-Matron.¡±

    ¡°Your own ...¡± the shopkeeper trailed off.

    ¡°Mage-Matron Mantis,¡± said Marigold.

    For a brief moment, the shopkeeper¡¯s forehead creased, then his eyebrows shot up. ¡°Oh! Truly? Well, then it is a fortunate day for me, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯ll surely be interested in this item, then!¡± He went bustling back to his desk and returned with another book, jabbering, ¡°I only just received this one in a second shipment from Moonfane Forge ...¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Marigold snatched the book directly out of his hands. She knew this one, too! She didn¡¯t need to open it. She knew every nick and scratch across its worn cover by heart. It was a volume on various topics of magic written by her teacher, Mantis, and it had lived on the bookshelf in her house. Both this book and the one penned by Beetle were teaching tools, one-of-a-kind books meant to be passed down from mage to mage, not sold.

    ¡°I¡¯m certain you weren¡¯t aware,¡± she said, putting a note of sternness into her voice that she hoped the shopkeeper would not mistake. ¡°But these were stolen. Mantis would never sell these books. They are tantamount to personal journals.¡±

    The shopkeeper held up his hands placatingly and showed a disarming smile. ¡°Ah, ah! I am certain you are mistaken, madam. Perhaps not in her lifetime. But I can assure you these were not stolen, but purchased legitimately with my own coin, in person in Moonfane Forge. I do not deal in stolen goods. Now, if you would like to buy them, I can make you a very fair bargain for the pair. Now, seeing as how you knew her ...¡±

    ¡°In her lifetime?¡± Marigold dropped her arm to her side. The change in the shopkeeper¡¯s expression told her all she needed to know.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said the man. He opened his mouth, closed it, then started again. ¡°I am sorry. You had not known that Mage Mantis of Moonfane Forge passed away?¡±

    Marigold¡¯s chin trembled as she managed only to ask, ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Last year, madam,¡± he said in a softened tone. ¡°I received word from a friend recently that some of her possessions were being sold, as she¡¯d had no apprentice to leave them to. I ... was only acquiring items that I had an interest in, being concerned with magic. I traveled there myself and bought them fairly, at great expense. You have my condolences for the loss of your teacher. Know that I mean no disrespect when I say that I still must make my money back if you wish to buy one or both. I will make you a good bargain.¡±

    The book very nearly slipped from Marigold¡¯s fingers they so quaked at this sorrowful news. Had Mantis been ill? Fading? If Marigold had known, she would have gone to her. The woman had treated her like a daughter. How could she not have gone back home to visit her even once in the three years since leaving Black Crux? She should have. And Mantis had not taken a new apprentice? Not even an attendant? Who had been in charge of what she left behind? No one with even a passing knowledge of the importance of a mage¡¯s personal writings would ever have conceived of selling them off to a merchant.

    She had to return home to Moonfane Forge, to take up Mantis¡¯s position and make certain her legacy was honored.

    Somewhere in the background of her awareness, the shopkeeper was rattling off expenses¡ªfor travel, for shipments, for tariffs. He quoted a price.

    ¡°What?¡± Marigold spouted reflexively. ¡°Are you daft? That¡¯s more coin than I could raise in a year.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a one-of-a-kind book, madam.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a stolen book.¡±

    ¡°I ... ah ... I cannot ...¡± The man made a delicate plucking gesture with his hand for the book. The message was clear. If Marigold was not going to buy it from him, he no longer wished her to be holding it.

    She snatched it out of his reach. ¡°Make ya a trade,¡± she declared. ¡°You¡¯re interested in magic?¡±

    ¡°Ah ... yes,¡± he answered. His face showed more worry than intrigue, but Marigold forged ahead.

    ¡°Ever seen real Barrier-Casting?¡±

    ¡°As a matter of fact, madam, yes! I once had a Barrier-Caster visit my shop and cast a Barrier over that very birdcage in my window, so that when the cage was opened, the birds still could not escape, try as they might!¡± The excitement in the man¡¯s face as he described this simple feat was all Marigold needed to seize upon.

    She cackled. ¡°That¡¯s all? Child¡¯s play! No, no, no, young man. I asked you if you¡¯d ever seen real Barrier-Casting.¡±

    Now, there was intrigue on the man¡¯s face, along with the telltale glint in the eyes universal to merchants when they heard of an interesting bargain. ¡°For that book? It would have to be a spell of magnificent proportions, madam. One that I could tell my grandchildren about. One that all the people out there on the street could witness and spread the word that my shop is the one to patronize. An advertisement, if you will.¡±

    Marigold scoffed. Yes, she could do that. But, then again, she had learned much in recent years, and had improved yet further upon her already masterful skills. One of the tenets of mastery was using only just enough magic to get the job done, and no more. Magnificence was earned, not given out in exchange for stolen personal effects.

    ¡°Follow me,¡± she said. She also grabbed up the first book she had looked at, the one written by her teacher¡¯s teacher, adding, ¡°And this one, too.¡± With that, she strode back through the shop toward the door.

    ¡°Th-that one, too? This better be a spell worthy of¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to match the trick with the bird cage,¡± Marigold declared over him. ¡°On a much grander scale.¡± Without even waiting for the shopkeeper¡¯s leave, she swept her hand across the door of the birdcage. A tiny golden Barrier appeared across it. She neatly flicked open the cage door to show that the birds could still not escape. Then, with the books pinched securely under her arm, she continued on her way out the door of the shop.

    ¡°Wait!¡± the shopkeeper called, following her outside. ¡°You are not taking those without a more impressive spell than that! On second thought, perhaps I expressed enthusiasm for this bargain too hastily. If you would please give me the books back, we will part ways amicably today. Then, when you have the coin for¡ª¡±

    Marigold turned sharply to face the man. ¡°Who said I was done? Now, watch.¡± With another sweep of her hand, Marigold cast a perfectly formed Barrier across the shop¡¯s open door. For his part, the merchant appeared suitably pleased at getting to witness such a Casting.

    But quickly, he recomposed his face. He went to the newly shimmering Barrier and pressed on it, finding it impassable. ¡°I grant you, that is impressive. I have never personally seen its like before this day,¡± he admitted, though his voice betrayed a growing impatience. ¡°But locking me out of my shop for the amusement of passerby is still not a spell worthy of such valuable items. Now, please¡ª¡±

    ¡°Still not done,¡± Marigold declared. With a small motion of her fingers, she dispelled the tiny Barrier keeping the birds caged in the shop. Immediately, they flew out the open cage door and scattered in all directions, fluttering wildly about the shop looking for means of escape.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± The shopkeeper practically whined the question. He pushed against the Barrier again. ¡°Let back me in, please! There are fragile and extremely valuable items in there that their ... leavings could ruin!¡±

    Marigold waited a beat. It was amusing watching the man put his shoulder into the Barrier, no matter how much it withstood his efforts. This was serious, however. She had nothing against the merchant; perhaps he truly did think he¡¯d bought the books fairly, though Marigold knew that whoever had sold them hadn¡¯t had the right to do so. The knowledge of that, and the sad news of her teacher¡¯s passing, left her with little humor today. She needed to conclude this business and be on her way.

    ¡°We¡¯re in agreement then? That the Dispelling of a Barrier would be a magnificent enough spell to earn these two books for me?¡± The merchant goggled at her. She spoke plainly. ¡°A Dispelling in exchange for the books. Make up your mind quick, before those birds shit all over your shop.¡±

    The shopkeeper pushed his fingers to his temples, then he waved his hand at her and relented. ¡°Yes! Yes! Take the books, they are yours. Now, give me back my shop!¡±

    Marigold made no fuss about it. She passed her hand across the doorway and the Barrier vanished out of existence. The shopkeeper didn¡¯t even spare her a glance before he rushed into his shop, slamming the door shut behind him.

    Marigold felt no satisfaction in her deed, but it got the job done. There was no time to waste. Truly, her teacher, Mage-Matron Mantis, had died a year prior? And without an apprentice or attendant left in her wake? Her house. Her possessions. Her legacy and obligations. Who was seeing to those things? And Moonfane Forge? It was without a mage to help watch over it? Marigold¡¯s sorrow intermingled with a new sense of duty. She had to go there, to the Silversmith¡¯s District, and speak with the heads of the town. Her period of roaming was over. It was time for her to return home and take up her rightful obligations.

    That decision was the easiest one she had made in a decade. As she strode up the street, she felt lighter, and not only because of the impending Slumber that creeped in on her. She bypassed the eatery. Food could wait. Similarly, she would not be attending her appointment in the king and queen¡¯s court in the morning at all. She needed to make arrangements to travel home immediately.

    Moonfane Forge would not be without its mage.

 Chapter 16: Puppet Play, part 2

    *

    The puppet dressed as a serving lass jumped and cavorted about the little stage in the corner of the inn¡¯s common room, waving her arms in distress. ¡°Arise, arise!¡± she wailed. ¡°Our gracious Lord Marcus lies dead. He has succumbed in his sleep to the stress of administering to our hold!¡±

    Behind the jumping puppet, a lordly man in doll form lay dead in a little bed, while puppet Lady Iris wept over him. The puppet serving lass exited the stage calling for all the household to wake.

    Puppet Lady Iris rose and lifted her arms. ¡°Oh! My dear, beloved husband. You leave me much too soon, and without a child of our own to one day inherit your title. Woe to Hold Draffor. Our subjects will weep, but none as much as I!¡±

    From the side of the stage by which the serving lass had departed, the puppet Marigold entered. ¡°My Lady Iris, I have just heard and now see for myself that your husband is dead. I mourn for him, and for you.¡±

    ¡°Mourn for our hold, Mage Marigold, for it has lost a fair and proud Lord.¡± The puppeteer caused her to raise her head proudly, as though the virtues of her deceased husband strengthened her.

    The innkeeper had extinguished most of the candles and lamps in the room. Only the light from the hearth, and from a couple lamps the puppeteers had positioned before the little stage, lit the performance. The crowd of inn patrons watched the show raptly. It was telling the story of the lady of their hold, extoling her virtues, and by extension theirs as well.

    Vetch turned his eyes toward Lily. She, too, watched the play intently, but not with a smile and murmurs of approval, like so many of the inn patrons. Her expression was unreadable. She sat perfectly still, one hand covering her mouth, taking in every word of the performance. He wondered what she must be thinking. This was new information to them both, but, for her, it must carry a significance he could not fathom. He returned his gaze to the little stage.

    ¡°Such a tragedy, my dear apprentice, such a tragedy,¡± lamented the puppet Marigold. ¡°But despair not, Lady Iris, for your lord husband has kin who may be summoned here to take up his title and the rule of Hold Draffor. And you, now freed from those responsibilities that were yours by marriage while Lord Marcus lived, may now devote yourself entirely to the learning of magic.¡±

    The puppet Lady Iris moved to the little window painted upon the stage¡¯s backdrop and appeared to gaze long out of it in deep contemplation. Again, Vetch stole a look at Lily. She was subtly shaking her head. Puppet Lady Iris turned to look out at her audience in the common room.

    ¡°It is true, I have studied long and hard under your tutelage to learn magic, Mage Marigold, as was my talent and my desire. But if I must choose between my magic and my hold, I choose Hold Draffor and its people.¡± The puppeteer paused in her speech to allow for the cheer from the audience. Once it died down, she went on louder. ¡°I renounce my apprenticeship in magic, willingly and without regret, to take up my responsibilities as Lady Iris of Black Crux, to continue my husband¡¯s work and make Hold Draffor the brightest jewel in all Kaldura. Go now, Mage Marigold, with my thanks. I retire from my studies in magic in order to steer Draffor.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    The puppet Mage Marigold bowed her head in respectful deference. ¡°Then, Lady Iris¡ª¡±

    ¡°What a pile o¡¯ horseshit!¡±

    The outburst came from the back of the room. People turned their heads at the interruption. Vetch and Lily did, too. The man who appeared to have been the speaker wasn¡¯t even looking at the stage. He sat alone at a back table, head bowed over his tankard, long hair hanging down over his face.

    When he had the room¡¯s attention, he followed up his first comment with a second, louder one. ¡°I was there and it wasn¡¯t like that. Those two never stopped arguin¡¯, and Lady Iris hardly gave a damn ¡®bout ¡®er ol¡¯ husband croakin¡¯. But he was a good lord, a good¡ª¡±

    Vetch couldn¡¯t discern the rest of what he said, for he was drowned out by numerous shouts of anger from people all around the room. Some pleaded for him to shut his mouth, while others taunted and goaded him on. One woman threw half a boiled potato that missed him by a thin margin.

    ¡°Oh, give it a fucking rest, Siegert!¡± the innkeeper shouted over the clamor. ¡°We¡¯ve all heard enough of that. Don¡¯t start up again!¡±

    The man shook his head, causing his long hair to sweep wildly back and forth across his face. He raised his head and leveled a drunken smirk upon the innkeeper. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve heard enough outta you, Jann. So, why don¡¯t you shut up. I was there, not you.¡± He stood up from his bench and gestured at the stage with his tankard, so that ale sloshed out onto the table. Vetch was surprised the man didn¡¯t fall over in the process, so unsteady was he on his feet. ¡°The play¡¯s horseshit,¡± he resumed his diatribe yet louder, heedless of those who tried to shout over him. ¡°Iris never said any o¡¯ that and she don¡¯t care about any o¡¯ you. Our lady only cares about power, and bleedin¡¯ us all out o¡¯ our hard-earned coin with higher and higher taxes.¡±

    ¡°Throw him out!¡± Jann the innkeeper roared. Some of the patrons were only too glad to do his bidding. A number of burley laborers converged on the drunk. They grabbed him by the shoulders and began hurrying him toward the door. He didn¡¯t fight, just let his tankard fall to the floor and went on with his ranting. Vetch thought it fortunate the man didn¡¯t try to resist, for he was tall and well-muscled, despite his otherwise disheveled appearance. He could do some real damage to those forcing him out if he had a mind to.

    ¡°You know, and you know,¡± he slurred at the various people he passed on the way out. ¡°Don¡¯t act like I¡¯m the only one who¡¯s hated workin¡¯ the farms under her rule. Tell me this, how many o¡¯ you¡¯ve had to resort to paying your taxes in kind lately, eh? Not only me, I¡¯d wager! But who¡¯s doin¡¯ anything about it?¡±

    That was the end of the commotion. He was shoved bodily out the door, before it was slammed shut behind him. With that bit of side entertainment concluded, order soon returned to the room. The innkeeper nodded his head at the anxious puppeteers and they ducked back behind their little stage to resume the show. Quiet, however, did not resume as quickly, as Vetch¡¯s ears picked up a few whispered conversations related to what the drunken man had been saying about taxes. Not all were in denial about it.

    He felt a touch on his hand and Lily leaned in close to say, ¡°I¡¯m going back to our room.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to finish watching the play?¡± he whispered, but she shook her head and stood. ¡°I¡¯ll come with you then,¡± he said, and stood to follow.

    On the stage, Puppet Mage Marigold re-started her speech.

 Chapter 16: Puppet Play, part 3

    Late afternoon was fading into evening the following day when Lily and Vetch spotted the servant they would try to buy to their side. Following their dinner in the noisome inn, they had slept, woken early, and returned to the street before the castle. All day they had watched from the shade of a building¡¯s side alley as people came and went, each having to pass the scrutiny of the guards on the two bridges. Lily found it hard to measure one visitor from another. There were those who appeared to be dignitaries or nobles of some sort. Others were clearly serving folk of various ilk. There were the soldiers, too.

    It was hard to focus on the people they spied on, because all the while she could sense Marigold up in the castle. Almost, she felt she could point out the very room, somewhere halfway up its imposing structure. She had whispered this to Vetch at one point. His eyes had followed to where she had indicated and he had nodded grimly.

    The setting of the sun brought out a cool breeze, which carried upon it the fresh, mossy scent of the water springing from the apex of the castle hill¡¯s gully. It also brought out a small parade of serving folk from the castle, all those whose duties had finished for the day. They trooped down across the two bridges in small groups and then went their separate ways upon reaching the street. This group of people seemed most likely to deliver to them their access into the castle.

    Lily stood up from the uncomfortable crouch she¡¯d been in and stretched. Vetch remained kneeling, idly scratching his stubbled cheek. Lights were appearing up in the windows of the manor and soon the flow of people dwindled. It was getting almost too dark to see beyond the torches burning at the gates when a single woman in maidservant¡¯s attire came from the manor and made her way across the bridges. Unlike the other servants who had been allowed to pass straight through unchecked, the guards at the lower gate stopped this one. Lily was too far away to hear what words passed between the maidservant and two soldiers, but their laughter and the woman¡¯s meek posture told her all she needed to know. After some more words, the maidservant side-stepped the two men and hastened through the gate. One of them managed a rough grope of her backside on her way by, but that was all. Their laughter followed her as she hastened up the street and disappeared around a corner.

    Lily touched Vetch¡¯s shoulder¡ªa question.

    ¡°Her,¡± he agreed with a nod. ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s go.¡± He rose and together they followed the woman. They kept their distance until they were well enough away from the eyes of the castle.

    The maidservant led them a merry chase through Black Crux¡¯s markets and thence through the city¡¯s center toward a less populous quarter. Vetch had wanted to spy and eavesdrop first, to be absolutely certain that the target they chose would not betray them, before they approached and made their offer. But as the woman disappeared around another corner, leading them further and further away from the inns and taverns where one might easily sit near and eavesdrop, Lily made a snap decision.

    In a hushed tone, she said, ¡°I don¡¯t think we should wait. Let¡¯s speak to her now.¡± She heard Vetch¡¯s assent and they both sped their pace around the corner, only to halt fast. The woman had stopped before a small bakery and was haggling with the baker over the day¡¯s unsold loafs. When the baker lifted her gaze toward Lily and Vetch, Vetch turned and pulled Lily into a close embrace, just two lovers finding a quiet spot off the main street to share a moment. It was enough to dissuade attention away from them. The baker and maidservant resumed their haggling.

    Despite her pounding heart, Lily chanced a smile at the man and blushed. If only they really were just out for a stroll and stealing a quick moment of intimacy. But it wasn¡¯t for them. Not right now. In silence, Lily gazed into Vetch¡¯s eyes, while surreptitiously they both stole glances at the maidservant and baker.

    ¡°Somewhere without any other people,¡± Vetch whispered. ¡°We¡¯ll give no one a chance to overhear us and take word back to the castle.¡±

    Lily nodded. When the transaction was finished, and the baker had gone back inside her shop and locked the door, they resumed their pursuit. Again, the maidservant rounded a corner. This part of Black Crux was a veritable warren of small, cramped domiciles. It was dark, and there were few torches, and the gutters stank with discarded night soil. Each new narrow street the maidservant turned down Lily hoped would contain no people, so they could make their move. But there was always someone¡ªanother worker returning home, a beggar holding out their hand for a bit of copper or crust of bread. Lily, at least, was confident that they had chosen the right person to help them; anyone who resided in this part of town would benefit greatly from the gold she and Vetch could offer. Still, she would not feel at ease until they had spoken to this woman and confirmed an agreement for getting Vetch inside the castle to Marigold.

    They finally got their opportunity when the woman turned into an empty, moonlit little courtyard and stopped to dig a pebble out of her shoe. Vetch stepped forward out of the shadows.

    ¡°Excuse me, mis¡ª¡±

    Before Vetch could reveal himself, there was a harsh whisper of ¡°Wait. Wait, don¡¯t!¡± Out from a shadowed cross alley, a strange man stepped directly into his path. Before Vetch could react, the man grabbed him roughly by the shirt and yanked him back into the alley¡¯s gloom, slamming him against the side of a woodshed. Lily yelped in surprise.

    Frightened by the clamor, the maidservant in the courtyard let out a little screech and took off running. For a second, Lily watched her go, their chance at buying their way into Black Crux Manor fleeing into the night. Then, she whipped her head around to see Vetch engaged in a heavy scuffle with the man who had grabbed him.

    In the dark of the alley, Vetch threw a short punch that caught the man in his ribs. He grunted but still held fast to Vetch, pinning him against the wall of the shed. It was hard to make the man out clearly as they fought in the shadows, but Lily could see he was big, with arms that bulged with muscle as he growled and pulled on Vetch¡¯s shirt only to shove him back against the wall a second time. Vetch cried out at the violent jolt to his injured body and nearly crumpled, only held on his feet by the strength of his attacker. With his face screwed up in agony, Vetch managed to free one arm and raise it in defense. Vetch was a strongly built man himself, so it disturbed Lily to see him man-handled so. She felt frozen to the spot watching this play out, willing Vetch to fight back. And all the while, Vetch¡¯s attacker was saying forcefully, ¡°Shut it! Be still, be still! Quiet!¡±

    Vetch¡¯s hand went to his belt. He had not neglected wearing his dagger this day. But the other man noticed before Vetch could reach it. He stepped back and raised his fist, ready to rain a blow down. That¡¯s what jolted Lily into action.

    ¡°Stop!¡± she cried. ¡°Stop!¡± Without pausing to think or concentrate, she threw her arm up and drew her upraised hand through the air before the attacker. The Barrier she cast shimmered into being in the dim alley, a perfect half-circle that instantly caged the man against the wall of the building behind him, one of his arms pinned at his side, the other above his head. The violence stopped.

    For a moment, the man struggled, unaware of how he¡¯d been trapped. But then he stilled himself and looked in bemusement at the Barrier holding him captive. His eyes swept from the hunched and panting Vetch over to Lily. To her surprise, he smiled, displaying stained, chipped teeth.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be cursed,¡± he chuckled. With a look somewhere between surrender and amusement, he gazed again at the shimmering Barrier. ¡°Look at this. This does change things ...¡±

    ¡°The fuck it does,¡± Vetch grunted through gritted teeth. He pushed himself back upright from the wall and drew his dagger. ¡°That Barrier might stay my hand, but cold steel can still pass through it.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± said the trapped man, shaking his head so his long hair swept his broad shoulders. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    Vetch coughed, turned his head and spat, wiped his mouth. ¡°Gimme one good reason not to.¡±

    ¡°Vetch,¡± pled Lily.

    ¡°¡®Cause I just saved you from a world of trouble,¡± the man said. He looked between the two of them, the smile on his face remaining as he spoke. ¡°And ¡®cause I think I can help you.¡±

    ¡°What trouble did you save us from?¡± Lily asked skeptically. She moved to stand beside Vetch. Seeing how he still held his knife at the ready, she added to him, ¡°He¡¯s not going anywhere.¡±

    ¡°I know it,¡± the man answered, as if she had meant this last for him. ¡°And what I saved you from was spilling your scheme about getting into the manor to one of Lady Iris¡¯s spies.¡± When Lily turned her head to peer in the direction the maidservant had run off in, the man nodded in confirmation. ¡°Servant, spy, same thing. Those foreign soldiers our lady employs tell her all, and the household servants tell all to the soldiers. Every whisper makes its way up to Lady Iris eventually.¡± Looking to Vetch, he added. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to rough you up. I had to act before the girl saw your faces. You can have no doubt she would have told the soldiers tomorrow morning, and by noon those foreign bastards would be out scouring the town for you two. Do you have any idea what Lady Iris does to folk who lie their way into her house? A long stay in a dank cell would be the least of your worries.¡±

    ¡°But ...¡± Lily began.

    Vetch sheathed his dagger and stepped closer to the trapped man in order to peer in at him through the wavery golden ¡®glass¡¯ of Lily¡¯s Barrier. ¡°It¡¯s the drunk from last night,¡± he exclaimed. ¡°You were the one heckling the puppet show. You were eavesdropping on us.¡±

    ¡°You two weren¡¯t exactly being quiet with your plan. I probably wasn¡¯t the only one who overheard. I am, however, the only one who followed you and stopped you from making a big mistake.¡± He attempted to lower the arm trapped above his head by the Barrier, grunted, then gave it up as useless. ¡°And because I heard you mention the name Marigold.¡± He turned his eyes imploringly upon Lily. ¡°Is she here in town with you? The mage? If it¡¯s no trouble, I would like to meet with her, so I can thank her.¡±

    ¡°You know Marigold?¡± Lily asked, despite herself.

    ¡°Aye. I was a guard at Black Crux Manor for years. She shielded me and my fellows from her apprentice¡¯s wrath on more than one occasion.¡±

    Lily knit her brows in confusion. First there was the strange puppet show, and now this man¡¯s odd claims. ¡°She was here before? And she taught Lady Iris? She never mentioned ...¡±

    Vetch snapped his fingers. ¡°Siegert. That was your name. Frankly, I¡¯m surprised you remembered our conversation considering how pickled you were last night, before they threw you out.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me. And I wasn¡¯t as drunk as I made out. Inns are good places to learn things, and nobody remarks you when you¡¯re drowning in your tankard. I admit I lost my temper at the puppet play¡ªthat wasn¡¯t how things really happened. Would you please let me free from this Barrier? My arm is becoming numb.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Lily raised her arm, but Vetch made a motion to still her. ¡°First, tell us what you want. You said you can help us. There must be something you¡¯re looking for in return.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s as you say,¡± Siegert agreed. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for a way in there, too, but it¡¯s no easy feat for myself alone. When I heard you two talking at the inn, and especially when you mentioned Marigold, I realized I could trust you. Mage Marigold was always kind to me, and she was no friend of Lady Iris when they parted ways. Whatever you¡¯re doing here in her name, you have my support. I could show you a route that bypasses the bridges, only it¡¯s inaccessible by normal means. With a Barrier-Caster¡¯s help, though ...¡± he rapped his knuckles on Lily¡¯s Barrier and smiled at her. ¡°It would be easy.¡±

    Lily shared a look with Vetch, then, sweeping her hand over Siegert, she neatly dispelled the Barrier entrapping him. The man grunted and began massaging life back into his numbed arm.

    ¡°My thanks,¡± he said. He rotated his arm a couple times, wincing as sensation flooded back into it, then held out his hand to Vetch. ¡°We got off on the wrong foot. Again, I offer my apologies. My name is Siegert. As you gathered.¡±

    ¡°Vetch,¡± said Vetch, clasping the man¡¯s large hand. He offered it then to Lily, who clasped it in turn.

    ¡°Lily,¡± she said.

    ¡°Ah. Flower names,¡± said Siegert. ¡°Marigold. Iris. Lily. Then you must be her apprentice, as Iris was years ago. I heard that¡¯s the way of it with mages, taking their new names in kind with the names of their teachers.¡±

    Lily acknowledged that with a nod and crossed her arms to stave off the night chill. It was growing late, and they were not in a good part of town. She could see how Vetch continuously scanned the courtyard and alleyways around them with a dogged wariness. Siegert¡¯s confirmation that Marigold had once lived in this place and trained Lady Iris brought forth strange emotions in her, not the least of which was an odd sense of betrayal that her beloved teacher had never divulged to her that period of her life. It also further complicated how the attack on her town tied in with Marigold¡¯s abduction. She had never known Marigold to have enemies. How could the relationship between student and teacher have become so poisoned?

    ¡°So, you know of a different way into the castle,¡± Vetch said, bringing them back around to their shared purpose.

    ¡°Just that,¡± Siegert confirmed. ¡°And I¡¯ll be happy to explain it all, and propose my plan to you. If you two only knew how much you represent the answer to all my prayers. Would you allow me to invite you to my home, where we can talk? It¡¯s close to here.¡±

    ¡®Close¡¯ turned out to be only a few streets over from the little courtyard. Siegert¡¯s dwelling was a ramshackle stone and plank shack sandwiched between two similarly run-down abodes. He invited them in and offered Lily one of the chairs at his table, before stoking up the coals in the fire grate and throwing some wood on. The fire chased some of the chill from the room, and lent pleasant light to cheer the otherwise bare apartment. There was a teapot that had been left near the coals to stay hot. Siegert took it up and poured from it, offering a mug first to Lily. Catching its aroma, she declined politely, but Vetch accepted one.

    Siegert also offered him the table¡¯s only other chair, but Vetch shook his head, saying, ¡°My thanks, I¡¯m fine standing.¡± He chose a place by the door to lean against the wall, content to cradle his mug of tea and let it warm his hands.

    Shrugging, Siegert pulled the second chair out for himself and sat down heavily, before pouring his own steaming mug. He swept his long hair back from his face with a rough hand, took a sip of his tea, and leaned back in his chair so that it creaked under his muscled frame.

    ¡°Well. I¡¯ll get right down to it, then. As I said, I¡¯d been a guard up at the manor under Lord Marcus. He was Lady Iris¡¯s husband, and a good lord. It was a good job, being a guard in his household. After he died, things began changing. Not only in the manor, but in all of Draffor.¡±

    ¡°When did he die?¡± interjected Vetch.

    Siegert took another sip of tea, swallowed, and tapped his lips. ¡°Ahh, twelve ... thirteen years ago. It was a sad day. We were all taken by surprise. The entire manor was in disarray for what seemed a very long time. Lady Iris ran things differently. We all¡ªthat is to say, myself and most of the soldiers who had been employed under Marcus¡ªwere kept around for a few years. But just when things seemed to finally be settling back to normal, one day she sent us all packing, just like that. Some of the people she turned out belonged to families who¡¯d worked there for generations, grandchildren of guards who¡¯d patrolled the walls for Lord Marcus¡¯s grandparents.¡±

    Siegert wrapped his large hands around his mug and stared down into the dark tea for a moment. When he went on, there was a well-aged bitterness in his voice. ¡°Iris dismissed us, one and all, and replaced us with those damned foreign sellswords. Good Drafforan soldiers replaced with farm-raider scum!¡±

    At the mention of raiders, Lily shared a significant look with Vetch. His eyes did not betray what he thought of this information, but when he turned them back to Siegert, there was a new avidity to the way he watched and listened to the man¡¯s tale. Lily could only wonder at how Vetch felt hearing all this. Here was a fellow soldier who had also lost his garrison, just as Vetch had. It had happened in quite a different fashion, yet still as a result of the actions of Lady Iris and her raider army. Did he see a kindred spirit in this man? Did Vetch look at him and imagine his future? As a soldier adrift? No. Vetch would not let things come to that. Neither would Lily allow it to happen. They still had a chance to rebuild their lives and Moonfane Forge, and that began with saving Marigold.

    Still looking down into his tea, Siegert took a calming breath that caused his broad shoulders to rise and fall. ¡°After we were turned out of the manor, we tried to find whatever work we could, but those of us who remained in Black Crux found there was little to be had. I tried hiring out as a bodyguard for a while, but those jobs were too infrequent to make ends meet. So, I did the same thing a lot of us former guards did. I took up farm labor. I put up my sword and went to work in the wheat fields. It¡¯s backbreaking and thankless work. The owners of those fields drive us hard from sunup to sundown. But it put food on the table.

    ¡°Or, at least, it did for a time.¡± He sighed and looked back up, his drab eyes seeking sympathy. Perhaps it was not often that someone would hear his story out like this. By the interior of his dwelling, Lily could see no one lived with him. Had he ever had a wife or a sweetheart? She could tell he had once been quite handsome, with strong features that made his deep-set eyes stand out, and chestnut wood-hued skin, tanned from farm work, as Vetch was tan from long days patrolling in the sun. Even the little mole on the tip of his nose was not unsightly, but merely distinct.

    But she could also see the wear that middle years and hard farm work had etched into his face and body. The creases around his eyes were deep cracks, his long hair lank and stringy, and while he had the sturdy muscle of a swordsman, he moved as if his joints pained him.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Lily asked, when it seemed as if Siegert would leave his tale off there.

    The smile he gave her was one of irony as he answered, ¡°Lady Iris began raising the taxes on every trade imaginable. It gets worse by the year. She squeezes every copper piece out of us, until we are left with hardly enough to buy a meal at the end of the day. Lord Marcus knew how to manage Draffor without doing that, and the people loved him for it. But Iris seems only to be concerned with filling her coffers. Spirits know what she spends it on. I suspect those foreign soldiers of hers don¡¯t come cheap.

    ¡°It¡¯s been the hardest on good folk like me and my fellows, who don¡¯t own the fields we work in. We didn¡¯t make much to begin with, but with every passing year, it gets harder to keep Iris¡¯s tax collectors satisfied. If you cannot pay, her new soldiers come to bully it out of you. So, some people, myself included, have begun paying in kind with whatever we have. Animals, tools, family heirlooms.¡± He voiced a humorless laugh and glanced off into an empty corner of the room.

    ¡°Quite a sob story, but not my first. What does this have to do with us?¡± Vetch¡¯s hard words surprised Lily. She resisted the urge to admonish him. Should they not be keeping on Siegert¡¯s good side? Here was someone able to provide them a better way into the castle than ever the serving girl could have, if his claim of knowing an alternate route proved true.

    She jumped in her seat when Siegert pounded his knotted fist on the table. Yet, it wasn¡¯t anger she saw on his face, but amusement.

    ¡°I knew I liked you,¡± he said, pointing a finger at Vetch. ¡°I¡¯ve been spending too many years only talking to dullard farmers. You speak the same language I do. Get to the point and take action, right?¡±

    Vetch crossed his arms and waited. Only Lily could see how much effort it cost him to appear casual, to appear as if he wasn¡¯t still smarting from the jolt against the wall in the alley.

    ¡°Right,¡± Siegert went on. ¡°Okay. So, here¡¯s the way of it. A lot of folk are fed up with it all. Sure, some fools worship the ground Lady Iris walks on, like those jackasses cheering the puppets in the inn. But some ... some are talking revolt, including some of my old garrison mates ...¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Vetch stopped him. ¡°Are you talking some kind of armed rebellion? Against the head of all Draffor and her men-at-arms?¡±

    Quickly, Siegert shook his head. ¡°Rebellion?¡± he said incredulously. ¡°Hells and demons, man, no. Nothing like that. I¡¯ve seen what mages like Marigold and Iris could do with their magic and, begging your pardon, young lady,¡± he added with an acknowledgement to Lily, ¡°I want no part of that. Nor her swordsmen, if I¡¯m honest¡ªthough my pride would have claimed otherwise in my younger days. No. They¡¯re killers. And I¡¯m just one farm laborer. It¡¯s been a long time since I swung a blade at anything bigger than a stalk of wheat.¡±

    ¡°Then why do you want to get into the castle?¡± Lily asked. It was difficult to sit patiently through Siegert¡¯s tale. With every passing moment, she feared more for Marigold up in that fortress with all those soldiers. The word ¡®killers¡¯ was accurate. She had seen their work, upon waking to the carnage left over from the attack on Moonfane Forge¡ªin the streets, in the rows upon rows of fresh graves, in the charred homes. Those were the people who held Mari this very moment.

    ¡°Why?¡± Siegert asked rhetorically. He showed his chipped teeth again in a grin that faded quickly. ¡°Because I want to steal my tools back.¡± At the looks of confusion on the faces of both Lily and Vetch, he said, ¡°I know, it sounds pathetic. But look around me.¡± He spread his arms wide to indicate his home. ¡°I¡¯ve fallen a long way in a few short years. Earlier this year, when Lady Iris¡¯s tax collectors came, I didn¡¯t have enough. My choice was to pay with what I had or be condemned to a debtor¡¯s cell. So, I paid with what I had: a good sickle and a flail.

    ¡°My taxes are paid now, but without those tools, I can¡¯t work to earn the money to feed myself, let alone purchase them back. The farm owners won¡¯t lend us tools for fear we¡¯ll take ¡®em and sell ¡®em. I just want to get into the storage buildings behind the manor and steal them back, so I can work again. It¡¯s the same with some of my friends. Those brave enough will be joining us.¡±

    ¡°And nothing else?¡± There was an edge of caution in Vetch¡¯s question. ¡°None of your friends plan on stirring up trouble? Like something that would draw attention to us?¡±

    ¡°You have my word that I¡¯ll keep them in line. We just want to get in there, take our tools back, and leave. Nobody at the manor will find out. If you can help us do that, then I¡¯ll guide you along an old trail I know of on the far side of the hill. It leads to a dead end where a chasm guards the back of the manor. But I know of a place where the chasm is narrow enough that it could be bridged.¡± Here, Siegert grinned again and this time his cheer was genuine. He jerked his thumb toward Lily. ¡°That¡¯s where you cast us a bridge over the chasm. We go across it and we¡¯re right there behind the manor, where no one patrols. My friends and I can go take our things back, and you two have your access to the castle to do whatever it is you came for. Can you do that, Mage Lily? Do we have a deal?¡±

    ¡°Walk across a Barrier?¡± The words were out of Lily¡¯s mouth before she could mull the possibility over. Vetch was studying her face, awaiting her answer. She averted her eyes down to the table, thinking about it. Why couldn¡¯t she? It wouldn¡¯t even have to be a complex Barrier. Yes. Of course, she could do it.

    ¡°Once, years ago,¡± Siegert added conversationally. ¡°I witnessed Mage Marigold create a Barrier staircase.¡± He chuckled. ¡°You¡¯d never believe me if I told you who it was that walked on those magic stairs. But it¡¯s possible, right? You could make a Barrier for us to walk on?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Lily said softly, then more confidently. ¡°I could. There would be a limit on how long it lasted ...¡± She looked up at Vetch.

    He shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long it will take me to find her. Perhaps Siegert can give me an idea of the castle¡¯s inner layout before we go in.¡±

    ¡°I can do that,¡± he agreed.

    ¡°Good. That should cut down on searching. I don¡¯t think the time matters, though, Lily. I won¡¯t leave until I have her. If the Barrier has faded by then, either you or Marigold can cast another.¡±

    Quiet fell around the table. Lily sensed that all three of them were considering what they were planning, seeing if they could poke holes in it. Would it hold water? Siegert broke the silence.

    ¡°Do we have a deal?¡±

    Vetch looked first to Lily. She nodded her confidence.

    ¡°We do,¡± said Vetch. ¡°Tomorrow night? The sooner the better for us.¡±

    ¡°Suits me just fine,¡± agreed Siegert. ¡°Will Mage Marigold be coming with you?¡±

    Vetch and Lily shared a look. Lily answered, ¡°She¡¯s a prisoner of Lady Iris. We¡¯ve come here to rescue her.¡±

    Siegert¡¯s brows lifted in surprise at this revelation. He leaned back heavily in his chair and crossed his arms. ¡°Huh. Then we both go to steal something from The Lady of Black Crux. Let us wish each other luck then, that we will both get back what was ours.¡±

 Chapter 16: Puppet Play, part 4

    *

    The sad patter made by Marigold¡¯s slippers on the steep, winding stairs of Black Crux Manor¡¯s inner sanctum contrasted oddly with the heavy boot falls of her two minders. She had grown so used to Lady Gilliana¡¯s grim swordsmen that it hardly struck her to consider how silly it looked that such killers were needed to guard a stooped old woman in a robe and slippers. At least, that would be the outward appearance. She was well aware that with the sweep of her hand, she could have both these guards imprisoned within a Barrier on these very stairs for a week.

    But, then what? Gilliana would sense the spell. And while she was neither Journeyer nor Master, she still exuded such power in Barrier-Casting that Marigold was loath to test her. Certainly not in this weakened state. Plus, Gilliana aside, the castle was crawling with many more of the foreign soldiers than the two who guarded her presently. Could she trap all of them and shamble out of the manor before at least one got close enough to jam a knife in her ribs? Because that was what they claimed Gilliana had commanded them to do if any of them saw her attempt a Casting. One of Marigold¡¯s guards in particular¡ªa tall woman with a thick accent who seemed to delight in the sadistic¡ªgleefully reminded Marigold of this near daily.

    This was the first she had been allowed out of the room they kept her in since she had arrived. She refused to think of it as her chambers, despite the fact they were the very same she had once occupied and thought of as her home. They were a cell to her now. She had been locked inside and guarded night and day. She had been allowed to bathe, once, and then given clean clothes and regular meals. But for the first few days, she had not been let out and no one had come to speak with her. Not once had she seen Gilliana.

    The bitch, Marigold thought. It was just like her to go through all the trouble to imprison Marigold here, only to leave her waiting for days wondering why, up until summoning her this evening. She suspected now was the time she would find out at last what her fate was to be.

    They turned and went up a thick-carpeted hallway. Marigold knew where they were going now. The audience chamber. No one but Gilliana herself would be awaiting her there. But, as familiar as she still was with the layout of Black Crux Manor, the other changes in the place saddened her. Keeping her head down, she swept her eyes across the rooms and halls they passed. No more was the manor a place of austere dignity. Lord Marcus¡¯s minimal but tasteful decor was long gone. Strangely, it hadn¡¯t been replaced with sumptuous accoutrements, like the kinds of things Gilliana had always adorned herself with in the form of gowns and jewelry. In fact, it appeared as if Gilliana had done nothing at all to make Black Crux Manor her own. Familiar wall tapestries and paintings were missing. The ornate old candelabras that Lord Marcus had retained from his forebears were gone as well. Ornamentations of wood and metal had not been polished, and dust caked candle alcoves. In some places, the plaster had crumbled away to reveal the stonework beneath. In one room, Marigold even witnessed what looked like fresh blade gouges in the mantle of a fire hearth. What had gone on there?

    She wasn¡¯t given pause to wonder.

    ¡°In there,¡± one of her guards instructed, and gave her a rough shove.

    Marigold bit back her response as she stumbled into the audience chamber. This room, at least, had been kept in order. The audience chamber always had been one of Lord Marcus¡¯s rare concessions to extravagance. All the better to impress visiting diplomats. Rich tapestries from other lands draped the walls, underneath an ornately carved and decorated ceiling. Fresh flowers sprouted from fine vases set in the corners, each one masterfully painted with scenes from Black Crux¡¯s surrounding landscape. At the end of the room was the elaborately carved chair upon which Lord Marcus used to hear out his petitioners. A servant had recently lit tall candles all around the room. Their warm glow could not dispel the coldness Marigold felt here now.

    And there stood Gilliana. She made a motion with her hand and the two guards who had accompanied Marigold took up places to either side of the door.

    ¡°What in the hells have you done to Lord Marcus¡¯s castle, you stupid girl?¡± Marigold spat. ¡°It looks like a rat-gnawed old barracks now. It¡¯s disgraceful.¡± She would not give Gilliana any satisfaction by asking any of the many questions burning within her. Least of all the one she almost feared to ask.

    In the short time it took Marigold to speak her piece, she also assessed the room. Gilliana stood by the window, her arms crossed under her bosom, face composed, the sunset outside silhouetting her. After all these years, she looked much the same to Marigold. Physically, she had matured, a full woman now with half her life under her belt. Yet, behind her eyes, Marigold still saw the ambitious, aggrieved girl she had always been. A commoner raised up thanks to her beauty and the desire of an older man, who had quickly forgotten where she came from. No, that wasn¡¯t quite it. Marigold doubted Gilliana would have turned out any better even if she had never married Lord Marcus. Such potential this girl had had. And all of it a waste.

    While she was mindful of the two guards on the door, they did not worry Marigold. Nor did Gilliana. Much. It was the other individual in the room who truly unnerved her. Murzagis, the man who commanded all these soldiers, perched nonchalantly in what had been Lord Marcus¡¯s chair, elbow on the arm rest and chin in hand. He showed no reaction to Marigold¡¯s vitriol. It was Gilliana who answered.

    ¡°Have you had enough time to rest, Mage-Matron?¡± she asked. Her voice was neither honeyed, nor mocking. She sounded almost distant. ¡°It was a long trek for the both of us, but soon I will expect you to resume my lessons in Barrier-Casting.¡±

    Marigold gawked at her in astonishment. ¡°Your what?¡±

    ¡°My lessons, Mage-Matron,¡± Gilliana said more loudly. ¡°When will you be ready to continue?¡±

    ¡°Are you mad, girl?¡± Marigold sputtered. ¡°Fuck your lessons! Release me and let me go home!¡±

    Lady Gilliana rolled her eyes and then turned them upon the man in the chair. He shifted and Marigold felt a quiver of fear run through her. Gilliana strode purposefully up to Marigold, and to her shame, Marigold cringed. When she was close, Gilliana leaned in, so her face was quite near, and when she spoke, her voice was a dagger wrapped in silk.

    ¡°Thirteen years apart and that is how you greet your apprentice?¡± She emphasized each word. ¡°I will be clear. You are mine. You agreed to the contract and took the coin. Running away did not release you from your obligation to teach me. And, since you would not come out from your hiding place in that frigid cattle town on your own, I decided to take you back myself.¡± She inhaled through her nose, lifted her chin, then turned and strolled back to the window to stare out at the dimming sky. ¡°You will resume your place here training me in Barrier-Casting. You will raise me to Journeyer. You will teach me how to imbue my Barriers with Intent ...¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    She had gone mad. Marigold listened, but couldn¡¯t believe what she was hearing. This was why Gilliana had abducted her, using carriages and sellswords and secrecy? All this trouble because she still could not accept that Marigold had turned her out from her training? Marigold could not even recall what words they had said to one another all those years back when she had fled the castle following Lord Marcus¡¯s death. Yet, here was Gilliana picking up the conversation as if it had begun only yesterday.

    ¡°Were my other refusals not clear enough?¡± said Marigold, not caring that she interrupted. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You do not get to refuse me this time, Mage-Matron. You¡¯ve been¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me Mage-Matron. I¡¯m not. Not to you anyway. Get that through your spoiled head, girl. I ain¡¯t yer teacher anymore. I¡¯ll teach a cart donkey Barrier-Casting before I ever teach you again. That clear enough? Now, let me leave.¡±

    ¡°Cart donkey?¡± Gilliana turned back from the window with a feigned look of bewilderment. ¡°Oh. Your skinny tavern girl of an apprentice?¡±

    Marigold¡¯s throat went dry. She tried to swallow and could not. ¡°What ... where is Lily?¡± The question she had dreaded to ask. She had not felt Lily even once since first waking tied up in the carriage. She knew the girl had not been taken as a captive with her. But, then, where was she? Marigold could only hope she¡¯d been left behind and unharmed. She hoped that so fervently.

    ¡°Lily.¡± Gilliana sang the name, imbuing it with honeyed mockery. ¡°Shaky, ill-formed Barriers,¡± she reflected. ¡°Brittle. Like the girl herself. Tell me, Mage-Matron, had you raised that one up to Journeyer yet? She looked of an age. But who cares?¡± She dismissed the thought by returning to her sky-gazing. ¡°Forget her. You have a student with real talent before you once again.¡±

    ¡°No. No, no, no.¡±

    Gilliana rounded on her again, and this time she gave vent to her suppressed anger. ¡°How dare you continue to deny me! I am Lady Iris of Black Crux! You will teach me, because I command it! It¡¯s because of your selfishness that our kingdom has been robbed of more than a decade it could have been benefitting from my skill in Barrier-Casting. The extraordinary things I could have done already, for my hold, for all the holds. I could have surpassed your skills years ago and offered my service to the king himself. I am the best candidate to inherit your teachings, as you well know. With how much raw power in magic I have ...¡±

    ¡°Who cares!¡± Marigold shouted. Her aged voice sounded thin in the big room, but it still caught Gilliana off guard. ¡°The best pile o¡¯ horseshit in the barn is still a pile o¡¯ horseshit.¡± She chewed the inside corner of her mouth, shaking her head. ¡°That pile is you, if you didn¡¯t take my meaning. All the magical potential in the world doesn¡¯t amount to a heap o¡¯ manure without the discipline and restraint to use it properly. As you well know.¡± She lifted her hand to point a gnarled finger at her once-student. ¡°You never had that and you never will.¡±

    That final dig had hardly passed her lips before one of the guards on the door grabbed her raised arm and wrenched it painfully back behind her. ¡°No magic, old woman!¡±

    Murzagis stood up from Lord Marcus¡¯s chair, but Gilliana, with a gesture, invited him to sit back down. She approached Marigold again herself, commanding the guard, ¡°Don¡¯t injure her arm. She¡¯ll need it for teaching me.¡±

    Marigold felt the hold on her arm loosen enough that it would not injure her, but it still hurt. She could see by the pinch and flare of Gilliana¡¯s nostrils, the tense lines in her face, how the woman seethed under the surface. In her younger days, she would have exploded in a fit of rage by now. Perhaps she had learned some restraint, after all. But not in any way that put Marigold¡¯s mind at ease. Were she not being restrained so painfully by the guard, she might have attempted a Barrier then. She¡¯d had just about enough of her former apprentice for a lifetime and wished only to flee this place once and for all. She stared her defiance at Gilliana. Despite being in no position to fight, she would not tolerate such disrespect from this insipid little girl a moment longer.

    Craning her neck forward, she spat on Gilliana¡¯s fine slippers. ¡°Piss on teaching you.¡±

    This time, the commander of the sellswords was not slow in rising from his seat. Faster than Marigold could account for, Murzagis crossed the floor and dealt her a vicious backhand across the face. It caught her flush in the mouth. She whimpered and crumpled to the floor, while white spots popped and sparked across her vision.

    With another gesture, Gilliana ordered the soldiers to lift her up, which they did by grabbing her under her arms and dragging her roughly to her feet again. Head lolling and ears ringing, The Maiden of Moonfane Forge watched through her lank gray hair the stark drops of blood falling from her mouth to the floor.

    ¡°Make her look at me,¡± commanded Gilliana, and they did. Gilliana stooped to put her face level with Marigold¡¯s.

    When it was clear she had Marigold¡¯s attention, Gilliana took a step back, lifted her hand, and performed a slow, intricate gesture. Marigold felt the way the magic focused and formed into the shape that Gilliana dictated. Then it hung there in the air between them, a Barrier shaped into a perfect representation of a human heart, shimmering in translucent gold. Marigold stared in astonishment. Could any master Barrier-Caster, past or present that she knew of, cast a Barrier into such a complicated shape, let alone an apprentice? But it was more than that. What Gilliana did next chilled her. With another gesture, she caused the heart-shaped Barrier to constrict, making it smaller and tighter. This was an application of Barrier-Casting that shouldn¡¯t have been possible. Marigold herself could not imagine performing such a thing, even if given an entire second lifetime over which to train. But her surprise was far outweighed by her revulsion at what her former student was showing her plainly.

    ¡°You did it,¡± she said, her voice quavering around her loosened teeth. ¡°You murdered him. Killed your husband with magic. Always knew, but never knew how.¡±

    Gilliana made her voice a near whisper, so Marigold¡¯s old ears strained to hear her. ¡°You will finish teaching me, Mage-Matron. If you refuse, I will allow these soldiers to beat your compliance out of you. Even a mage as powerful as you can do nothing against that for long. And if you continue to refuse me even then ...¡± She raised her hand once more. The Barrier she cast this time was a simpler shape, a cylindrical collar around Marigold¡¯s neck. While she went on speaking, she caused the collar to tighten just enough that Marigold could feel its press on her windpipe. ¡°Do not expect it will go as quick and easy for you as it did for my husband.¡±

    ¡°Gilliana ... please,¡± Marigold choked.

    ¡°My name is Mage Iris.¡± Iris dashed her hand through the air, dispelling both Barriers. ¡°Take her back to her chambers,¡± she ordered. Turning, she resumed her place at the window. Murzagis joined her.

    Marigold gasped for air as she was partly led, partly dragged out the door by her two guards. Once they had unceremoniously deposited her back in her cell and locked the door behind her, she collapsed to the floor. She clenched her eyes shut and tasted the salt from her tears on her lips mingling with the iron of her own blood in her mouth. Gilliana would break her. If she did not accede, she would break her or kill her. There was no doubt about that, and naught she could do.

    The brief flash of magic she felt caused her to snap her eyes open. There. Somewhere below, in the town!

    Lily.

    Quick as she could, Marigold swept her arm across her chamber¡¯s door, casting a Barrier before it. If Gilliana had felt the Casting from the town, perhaps this new one could disguise it enough that she might mistake both of them for Marigold acting out her frustrations in her room.

    She could only hope. Hope, as she hoped Lily would not find her, but would give her up for lost, and not come into this terrible place, where The Lady of Black Crux reigned.

 Chapter 17: Culmination, part 1

    -7 years prior-

    The flower vase that Iris sent shattering against the wall of her audience chamber created a most satisfying sound, a crash followed by the plinking of the porcelain shards on the floor. The messenger who had come bearing the unsatisfactory news cringed back as if struck, then stood there motionless and uncertain. After a moment, she bent and began picking up the broken pieces. Normally, Iris would have told the messenger not to bother, that the servants of the manor would see to that. But that was for messengers who brought favorable news. Let this one bow her head and bruise her knees.

    ¡°When you are finished with that,¡± Iris said. ¡°Take yourself out of my castle. And don¡¯t dally returning to the capital to conduct my disappointment to the king.¡±

    Iris swept from the room, her intricate skirts trailing her. She cared not at all that it was customary to give a messenger a meal and a room for the night, nor that she had not furnished a proper return message to His Majesty. Let the messenger woman find a ratty inn in town and concoct whatever meaningless formal words she wished to conduct back. Even those would likely never reach any of the king¡¯s advisors, let alone the king himself.

    Iris¡¯s temples throbbed as she went up the stairs to the tower sitting chamber. How dare he? How dare the king postpone his plans to visit Black Crux due to illness? As if Iris herself wasn¡¯t ill. Ill from the years of living in the shadow of her deceased husband. Ill from the complaints of the townsfolk and farmers. Ill from the restlessness in the lake region, where a small town had decided it no longer wished to be a part of Hold Draffor and declared itself part of Hold Pasanhal instead. As if peasants could decide where the borders lay. How did the crown expect Iris to deal with such vexations if her rule of Draffor was not legitimized in the eyes of her people by an in-person endorsement from King Caiside? It had been years since her husband¡¯s death and the crown still continued to spurn her. And always through the most convenient of excuses.

    She lifted her hand as she passed down a corridor, neatly tipping another vase off its pedestal. The violence of its breaking was an insufficient balm against the insult that had been dealt to her with this latest postponement.

    The man awaiting her arrival in the sitting room flinched when she threw open the door and entered. She appraised him at a glance. Short and skinny, as if he¡¯d not been fed sufficiently as a child. He wore a beard, though it was the thin and patchy beard of a man only newly able to grow one. His traveler¡¯s clothes were clean and cut to fit him well, in fabrics of light brown and blood red that complimented his dark skin and eyes. It lent him a mysterious air. A proper mage in appearance, at least.

    Only ...

    Iris sighed. ¡°You aren¡¯t powerful enough.¡±

    ¡°My lady?¡±

    ¡°I had you summoned here to teach me the trick of Intent. But I can feel it¡ªor the lack of it. You¡¯re not strong enough in magic for what I want.¡±

    The man took a step forward, smiling disarmingly. He had a charming smile, she had to admit. ¡°Lady Iris, firstly, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And ... I am only a Journeyer Barrier-Caster ...¡± He went into a pocket of his vest and pulled out the folded summons she had sent out. He perused it as if to refresh himself of its words before saying, ¡°You have been looking for Barrier-Casters to train with, and so here I have arrived, but there was no mention of Intent in your letter.¡±

    Iris regarded the man. One disappointment this day had been enough. Now another stood before her. Another disappointment, another Journeyer mage who¡¯d answered her call, only to turn out to be less powerful than she, despite being more advanced in rank. The old bile rose. How was it that Mage-Matron Marigold had never promoted her to Journeyer? Try as she might, Iris had been unable to locate Marigold in all the years she¡¯d searched, so she could finally¡ªrightfully¡ªbe raised above apprentice. It was an outrage. She had missed out on years of training and advancement. She could do more with Barrier-Casting than any of these roving teachers, yet she languished beneath them in rank. She resented Marigold for forcing her to settle for bits and snippets of instruction in magic like this. Resented her, yet needed her.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    She had the impulse to simply walk out of the room and tell one of her servants to send this mage away. He wasn¡¯t the one she needed. But, then, he had come a very long way, from the lands over the mountains, where Marigold herself had come from originally. She might as well prod what information she could out of him before sending him on his way.

    ¡°Journeyers do begin learning Intent, do they not?¡± she questioned him.

    The man¡¯s nice smile returned. ¡°Indeed, my lady, and I have had some training in it. It is an advanced technique, however, and one I am not close to mastering yet.¡± He paused to regard her and there was something of his own appraisal in that glance. Confidence. His next words also revealed his honesty. ¡°Much as I would like to take the very generous coin you advertised and teach you what I know, if it¡¯s Intent you¡¯re after, you are better off finding and training with a master Barrier-Caster.¡±

    ¡°Who is your Mage-Master?¡± Iris asked.

    ¡°My Mage-Master likes his anonymity,¡± he answered smoothly.

    Iris exhaled through her nostrils. What a waste of time this had been. ¡°I shall have one of my people show you out,¡± she declared and turned to go.

    ¡°Very well,¡± he returned. ¡°Sorry we couldn¡¯t come to an accord. Barrier-Casting is not a commonly practiced magic, but there are masters out there you may have better luck with. There is one who resides in the town of Moonfane Forge you might petition. She has quite the reputation. She can cast a Barrier around an entire city.¡±

    ¡°That would be Mage-Matron Mantis, and I am already aware of her,¡± Iris said distractedly, pausing in the doorway. ¡°She no longer teaches. And she is a master of only moderate skill. The idea that she, of all mages, could cast a Barrier around an entire city is laughable. No one is that powerful.¡±

    The young man¡¯s smile returned. She no longer liked it. It seemed to mock her now, though she could not say why. ¡°Actually, Mage-Matron Mantis died a few years ago,¡± he informed her. ¡°It is a different master Barrier-Caster who resides in Moonfane Forge now.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Though she asked the question, Iris already knew the answer.

    ¡°The people there refer to her as The Maiden of Moonfane Forge.¡±

    *

    Watching Vetch pull on his undershirt, Lily couldn¡¯t help but focus on the conspicuous bandaging he¡¯d wrapped around his chest. Freshly changed that morning, it nevertheless already oozed some wet foulness from underneath, where the reddened puncture wound persisted. In another moment, it was hidden from view. Next came the heavy, padded shirt. Overtop that, chainmail that he had been able to track down and buy second-hand before they had departed Pasanhal. He went about the routine of putting on the gear with a soldier¡¯s stone-faced fortitude.

    Finally, he donned the hardened leather armor he had purchased in Pasanhal¡¯s leatherworking district. He drew the buckles snug, checked and re-checked the fit and ease of motion until he was satisfied.

    ¡°Do you really expect to have to fight?¡± Lily asked. She surprised herself with how even her voice came out. She didn¡¯t want to burden him with the fear and concern roiling within her.

    ¡°I¡¯m not planning on it,¡± he replied, buckling on his sword belt. ¡°But I¡¯d be a fool not to be ready for it.¡±

    She took in, and let out, a shaky breath. He looked up and favored her with a confident smile.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. I will be in and out before anyone even notes me. As Siegert said, none of the serving folk will question another swordsman roaming the halls. The sellswords are mostly stationed on the walls, not inside the manor.¡±

    The sun was setting outside their inn room window, its reddish light casting Vetch¡¯s auburn hair in hues of flame. Lily looked upon this man¡ªher lifelong friend, her beau, the man she wished to spend all her days with. In his new armor, he cut the figure she had fallen in love with. The colors of Moonfane Forge were not present, not the black with silver she associated with him and his fellows, but emerging here again was the soldier¡ªVetch, standing on the perch above the town gate scanning the horizon. Vetch, sitting tall on his horse leading his fellow soldiers across the pastures. Vetch, locking eyes with her in the markets and smiling as he was smiling now.

    A girl¡¯s romanticizing of a warrior, she realized. She now saw the mail and armor and blade for what they really were. They were not Vetch the man. They only represented his responsibilities, responsibilities that pressed him into danger every day he donned them. Being a soldier was his magic. Wounds, and possibly death, his Slumber. Two edges of the same blade. A trade-off that fueled conflict in her. Here, he looked the part, the soldier he had wanted to be since they were children, the soldier she had desired to be with. The soldier could not be separated from the risk, just as the mage could not escape Slumber.

    Pulling on his riding gloves, he asked, ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    Lily stood. ¡°I¡¯m ready. I know you will find her and bring her out of there back to me.¡±

    He took her hand.

 Chapter 17: Culmination, part 2

    It was no small hike to reach the far side of the hill upon which Black Crux Manor stood. By the time they had lumbered up its slope over stony terrain and through rough brush to reach the meeting point that Siegert had directed them to, Lily was puffing for breath. Vetch had already chosen to remove his gloves and shed the leather armor and chainmail, carrying them all as he led the way in the dark. The sun had now fully descended beneath the horizon and the trail was perilous by moonlight, a serpentine course that skirted deep fissures and unnavigable hillocks. But the former guardsman¡¯s directions were accurate. They arrived at length to a narrow plateau dotted with short trees that blossomed with fragrant flowers Lily had no name for.

    Vetch set his armor down and peered through the dark. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s here yet. This is the right place, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Lily stood in the middle of the little plateau, in full moonlight. ¡°It looks like it. He did say it may take some time for him to gather his friends together.¡± She lifted her eyes to the great black-stoned castle above them. From this back side of the hill, most of what she could see was a stalwart wall, the inner sanctum and towers peeking above it, and all cast in liquid moonlight and silhouetted against the stars. She concentrated and let herself feel the magic that emanated from the place. Lady Iris was there. She didn¡¯t burn presently, she smoldered. Probably sleeping. Elsewhere in the manor, she sensed Marigold as an indistinct beacon encapsulated within the frozen stone. Her magic felt small and withdrawn. Lily swallowed.

    ¡°I hope Siegert arrives soon,¡± she said. ¡°I wish to get this over with quickly, and have you and Mari back here safe. If I knew where this chasm he spoke of was located, I would cast the Barrier now.¡±

    Vetch¡¯s gaze followed hers. He spoke while he surveilled what little they could see of the castle above. ¡°I, too, wish he had given us the rest of the directions. But I understand why he didn¡¯t. Neither of us can get inside without the other.¡± He chose a spot and sat down on the ground. He yawned.

    ¡°How can you be so calm?¡±

    He offered her a smile. ¡°Much of being a soldier is getting used to waiting. When Siegert arrives, we¡¯ll move. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ve plenty of night. Sit with me.¡±

    She would have laughed were she not already feeling so tense. ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯m too nervous.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the one going in there. It¡¯s me who should be nervous.¡±

    Lily turned her gaze back to him. There was ease in his expression and posture. He could have been lounging on the fence of her family¡¯s goat paddock, as he used to when they were children. Normally, seeing him like this would have lifted her heart and brought an unavoidable smile to her face. But the fears that swirled around her, about everything that could go wrong, quashed that feeling. She could only frown.

    Vetch¡¯s face fell. ¡°I was only jesting, Lily. I am nervous. More nervous than I can describe. But there¡¯s nothing we can do until Siegert gets here. We have to steal what rest we can, while we can take it.¡±

    Despite his sensible words, Lily couldn¡¯t bring herself to sit down. For a time, she stood in place, attempting to maintain her focus on where the two more advanced mages were within the castle. Time passed and neither moved. Both were doubtless asleep. Being so close to Marigold and not being able to reach her or talk to her was agonizing. She wouldn¡¯t be there when she woke. It would be Vetch, decked out in unfamiliar armor, possibly bloodied from battle. Marigold would recognize Vetch, of course, and she would trust him. But it would still be a fright at first, one Lily wished they hadn¡¯t needs to inflict.

    As more time passed and Siegert did not appear, Lily took to pacing. The night was clear and cool, the trees unable to entirely shelter her from the breeze that stole through her blouse to chill her, even as her anxiety made her feel paradoxically warm.

    ¡°Where is he?¡± she asked, glancing up at the castle again. How long was it that they had been waiting here? Hours?

    ¡°He¡¯ll be here,¡± said Vetch. Though even he had begun looking down the hill for their coconspirator¡¯s approach.

    Lily was finding it difficult to stay still. If she wasn¡¯t pacing, she was standing in place worrying the hem of her blouse sleeve, where a loose thread was getting on her nerves. She had been ready to act the moment they reached the top of the hill, but all that preparedness had found no outlet and panic was rising in its place. Would the former guardsman show up at all? Had he been sold out by one of his friends and detained by Lady Iris¡¯s sellswords? Or had it all been simply some cruel prank from the start?

    ¡°What if we can¡¯t help Mari tonight?¡± she said, turning. When she voiced the fear, her voice rose in pitch with her growing apprehension. ¡°What if we never find our way in there at all and she remains imprisoned by that witch forever? What ... what if ...¡± she stole a few quick breaths and found she was hyperventilating. She hugged her arms around herself tightly.

    Vetch rose to his feet and came to her. ¡°Lily. Lily, Lily ... shh shh shh shh. It will be alright.¡± He enclosed her in his arms and drew her close to his warm body. She clung close to him and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. The sturdy material of his padded shirt was rough against her skin. His chin stubble caught on her hair as he spoke calming words by her ear. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if he doesn¡¯t show. We will simply find our own way in. Somehow. We are not leaving this town without Marigold. I promise you that. Do not fear.¡±

    Softly, he stroked her hair with his rough hands. He brushed a stray lock from her face and tucked it behind her ear, as she did for herself so often without thought. It intrigued her how his touch could be so gentle when he was capable of so much strength. She realized she was shaking against him and felt embarrassed, but he only held her tightly until her shaking subsided. And even then, he didn¡¯t let go, but stood and held her still.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s okay,¡± he kept repeating.

    Soon, Lily ceased to mark his specific words and only experienced the intent of them, like soft brush strokes of comfort across her senses. She drew in a breath and, with its exhalation, allowed her fears to ease some. And when she could, she relaxed her tight grip on Vetch, so she could look at him. She meant to murmur a thank-you for helping to calm her, but instead of speaking, she lifted her mouth to his and kissed him, softly, silently. He reciprocated, a sure press of his lips to hers. She felt the tight embrace of his arms ease, so that his hands could sink lower to lace fingers at the small of her back.

    What began as a small, shared reassurance became deeper. Lily sheltered herself in her man. His stubble on her skin was a tantalizing tingle. She parted her lips in an invitation that he graciously accepted. Heat suffused her body. She was shaking again, only it was not from fear now. The sensations running through her were stronger than any magic she had experienced.

    The spontaneous thought came from out of nowhere. Now, Lily, she told herself. Now. Her thought. Her voice. With purpose and certainty, she drew herself back from the kiss and pressed her hand to Vetch¡¯s chest. ¡°Lie down.¡±

    He made a sound as if slow to comprehend, and she giggled and repeated herself. This time, he murmured an affirmation and eased himself down into the spring grass beneath one of the flowering little trees.

    Without hesitation, Lily followed him to the earth to straddle his legs. Her eyes intent on him, her fingers worked the buckles of his sword belt and then his trousers. She found him already rising and helped expose him to the night air. His eyes showed surprise, at first, then delight.

    ¡°Here?¡± he asked, with brows raised and a smile playing in his eyes.

    She nodded eagerly. And when he looked as though he would say more, she pressed her finger to his lips. ¡°Shh.¡± The throaty chuckle he answered her with was inviting.

    She moved up his body, allowing her splaying knees to force her underclothes up her thighs and causing her skirt to pool out around his hips in a blossom of fabric.

    ¡°Lily ...¡± There was no requirement in Vetch¡¯s utterance. He spoke her name simply to speak it. She met his eyes with hers; they shined. His countenance was one of intoxication.

    ¡°Vetch,¡± she spoke in a husky whisper.

    Steadying herself with one hand on his shoulder, she found and took hold of him, raising herself while guiding that desirous vitality of his to her, bare flesh to bare flesh. The first touch sent a jolt throughout her body. She felt the clumsy jab of him against her and gasped a breath. Somehow, they both knew how to move to bring themselves together and achieve their shared aim.

    It was startling, that first moment he entered her. He sensed the shift of her body and he made his press slow. She welcomed it, composed herself, then dared herself, moving her body to take him in further. His groan was soft, quiet in the night, but overflowing with desire and echoing hers.

    Now, she reaffirmed for herself, as she anchored her upper body with her hands on his shoulders, and began to discover for herself the rhythm and the touch needed, the feel. She made adjustments, learned to move her body as felt right, her deep breaths gaining in confidence. There was warmth and wetness and pressure. She explored it, taking its measure. When she looked down into Vetch¡¯s handsome face, she saw therein a mix of pleasure and disbelief, so that she almost had to stave off a fit of giggles. There was no one moment to reflect on how it felt¡ªhow she felt. Wonderous. Complete. Realized. All in one experience. Her first time. It was not in her soft bed back home. Not by some chance opportunity in the barracks when no one else was around. But here, on this hillside, in the open night air. Funny, how different it was from all the ways she had imagined. And how different from all the ways she had been told it might be. No description she had ever heard could match how thrilling and enlivening and natural it was truly.

    She took the lead, guiding she and Vetch through this garden they cultivated together. She cradled his face in her hands and bent down to kiss him. His kiss was sweet and as needful as hers. His hands rode the motion her hips directed, following their lead. The pleasure they shared built and grew. Lily¡¯s breath came heavier and her soft moans began to keep countermeasure with Vetch¡¯s deeper sounds of exultation. His hands roved lower on her and he seized her skirt in the passionate clench of his fingers, bunching up the material so that her backside was bared to the chill night air, causing goose pimples to rise on her flesh.

    Lifting from their kiss, she found his shoulders again and they moved in concert. Lily lost track of time. It could have been forever or only a few minutes. She would gladly have had this night last always, with this wonderful man who embraced her, and comforted her, bolstered her, and looked upon her with love and adoration, as she looked upon him.

    Something was building deep inside her, though she wasn¡¯t quite certain to what end, nor how she was meant to chase it. She was caught up in that sensation, and in Vetch¡¯s eyes, when he quite suddenly gripped her harder. He bucked beneath her a few swift times and then was taut and unyielding and then, once his impassioned release was exhausted, lay back panting like a happy dog. Just like that, they were resting and breathing and looking to each other. She was captured in a euphoric mist, her entirety buzzing with what she had just experienced. She shifted and he slipped from her and warm wetness trickled down her inner thigh. But still they remained as they were. Lowering herself into his ready embrace, she waited for her scattered thoughts to reform themselves into coherency. So, this was how it felt.

    Voices issued from down the hill and the both of them startled.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°... little way up ahead. Just there.¡±

    The spell was broken as Lily pushed up from Vetch and shot to her feet. She hastily pulled her underclothes up and straightened her skirt, while Vetch fumbled his trousers and belt buckle closed. She handed him up to his feet and they had only a couple spare seconds to exchange looks of shared humor and relief before Siegert and his small band of friends came up through the trees. Lily brushed her hair back off her brow and re-tied it in its tail as the light from his muffled lantern fell across them.

    ¡°You made it,¡± he said through labored breathing. ¡°I am glad. Have you been waiting long?

    Vetch stepped forward to greet the big man and his companions, saying, ¡°Not long.¡± He clasped Siegert¡¯s hand and then offered an acknowledgement to the people he had brought with him. Lily sized them up as introductions were made¡ªthree men and one woman. Like Siegert, they were dressed as farmers, but also like Siegert, they carried themselves like fighters. Two wore swords, something Vetch had clearly not failed to notice, as he confirmed again, ¡°We¡¯re all clear, still? No violence. No sabotage. Nothing that¡¯ll bring the guards down on us.¡±

    One of the armed men pounded his gloved fist into his palm. ¡°I would love to ram a blade up Lady Iris¡¯s ass for what she did to us ...¡±

    ¡°Or set fire to one of her storage buildings on the way out,¡± the woman mumbled.

    ¡°Or that,¡± the first chuckled. ¡°But Siegert made things clear. No trouble. You¡¯re doing us a big favor helping us reclaim our possessions. We¡¯ll stick to our word. I see you¡¯re dressed for a fight, though,¡± he added, noting Vetch¡¯s accoutrements. Even as the man spoke, Vetch was re-donning his chainmail and leather armor.

    ¡°Just a precaution,¡± said Vetch, pulling on his gloves and giving his sword belt¡¯s buckle a final check.

    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Siegert said. ¡°And I pray you won¡¯t have need to draw steel. Shall we get to it then? Mage Lily?¡±

    Lily nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready. Lead the way.¡±

    To reach the narrow point in one of the chasms that Siegert had described required an additional bout of hiking up a steep and gravelly span of the hillside. Siegert led the way with his shaded lantern. While it wasn¡¯t much farther along from where they had all met, Lily was certain she and Vetch could never have found it on their own, much less in the dark. When they reached the edge of the chasm, Siegert set his lantern down next to it, so they all could see where it lay and avoid falling. They were directly underneath Black Crux Manor¡¯s rear wall now. Lily could make out subdued torchlight in some outlier buildings. Those would be the places Siegert and his companions would make for, to steal back their tools. Vetch would skirt around the wall to a servant¡¯s door Siegert had described for him, and make his way up into the inner keep from there.

    Lily ran her eyes from the looming behemoth of the castle down to the chasm. She could see the other side by the dim lantern light, after which it was only a stone¡¯s throw to the castle wall. She judged that casting a long Barrier across this gap would present no problem. It was easy to be confident in her magic. The difficult part would be suffering through the resultant Slumber, hoping she would wake to find that Vetch had been successful.

    Up until now, she had given the lead over to Vetch, with his training in making and carrying out plans like this one. But within that interlude they had shared, something that felt like a dream now, despite having happened only minutes before, had been her opportunity to take control of herself and the moment. She had been so nervous and restless. Vetch had soothed her, and then she had taken them the rest of the way. She still was experiencing the glow of it all. It was more than a physical outlet¡ªthough that had been a part of it. In that act, she had exercised her own volition, and she and Vetch had strengthened their bond. She radiated love for him. And she was rather proud she had taken Marigold¡¯s advice about acting when the moment presented itself. She felt grounded now, confident, and in charge of herself. This was the kind of will and self-assurance Marigold had taught her to cultivate. She could cast now.

    ¡°Do you need more light?¡± asked Siegert quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t think they can see us here from the manor, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to be cautious.¡± His companions were all peering at her, looking anxious.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m ready,¡± she repeated. ¡°I¡¯m going to make it last for two hours. Will that be enough time?¡±

    ¡°More than enough,¡± agreed Siegert.

    As Lily stepped up to the edge of the chasm, Siegert¡¯s people fanned out to watch, and Lily recalled how people had come to watch Marigold dispel the town Barrier prior to the attack. Only a few hours more, Lily, she told herself, then we¡¯ll have Mari back and we can go home. She took in a slow breath, released it partway, lidded her eyes, and raised her arm. With one forward sweeping motion, she cast a glowing, shoulder-wide Barrier across the gap. It rode the yawning span of darkness as a shimmering, golden walkway. Lily allowed the post-spell sensation to wash over her and then she stepped back.

    ¡°Okay. Good luck,¡± she said.

    Siegert was the first to step forward and test the walkway. Tapping it with his boot, he chuckled. ¡°Ha. My boot goes right through, but my feet land on it. What a strange sensation. Well, friends, here we go. Everyone quiet now.¡± He walked forward. His cohorts followed him single-file.

    Vetch followed up last. He took the first step onto the Barrier, putting his boot down. His leg went straight through. He gasped and plummeted. Without thinking, Lily lunged for him, grabbing for the straps on his armor. At the same time, he twisted his body and fell hard with his arms clinging to the edge of the precipice. He scrabbled to pull himself up while Lily dragged him back with all her might. After some panicky seconds, together they got him back on solid ground. He sat there, gritting his teeth against the knock to his injured body, then he looked up at her in confusion.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°I ... I don¡¯t know,¡± said Lily. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense. It¡¯s just a normal Barrier. No Permissions. No one should be able to pass through it.¡± To test this for herself, she placed her foot on the Barrier, applied her weight. It held. It was solid for her.

    Across the gap Siegert and his friends, alerted by the sound of rocks and soil being dislodged by Vetch¡¯s mad scramble, looked back. ¡°Everything okay?¡± Siegert called in a pitched whisper.

    ¡°A moment,¡± Lily called back. To Vetch, she said, ¡°I¡¯ll re-cast it. Are you okay?¡±

    To her consternation, he took a deep breath and actually chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m okay, but it gave me a hell of a scare.¡± He stood, brushed himself off, and pushed his hair out of his eyes. ¡°What could have¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Lily repeated. ¡°I will have to ask Mari about it later. Let me try again.¡±

    She closed her eyes and focused. It was a challenge to calm her racing heart after seeing Vetch nearly plummet over the edge to his death. She tried to banish the self-doubt now pressing on her. Again, she concentrated, letting her muscles go slack throughout her body. As Marigold had counseled innumerous times, she channeled the magic from her thoughts, down her arm, and out through her fingertips. A new walkway emerged above the first, shimmering in the dark. Lily released her restrained breath.

    ¡°Try now,¡± she quietly murmured.

    Vetch did not step confidently out this time, but pressed his boot to the Barrier like he was dipping his toes in the chill water of a swimming hole before jumping in. Lily held her breath. Yet again, his entire foot passed easily through her Barrier.

    Turning to her with impatient eyes, he said, ¡°Lily. It needs to be now.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. But ... this isn¡¯t how Barriers work. You should be able to walk across it like the rest of them did. I don¡¯t understand what is happening. A mage must imbue a Barrier with a Permission for someone to pass through it. I didn¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain you didn¡¯t do it by accident?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m certain,¡± she said in exasperation. She didn¡¯t want the distraction of this conversation, nor to have Vetch doubting her this moment. She was as confused as he, but this was not the time.

    ¡°Maybe ...¡± he hedged. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because we just ... I mean, you and I, a short time ago.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± she said, lowering her voice even as her cheeks colored. ¡°It has nothing to do with our making love.¡±

    ¡°What else then? Could it be something is wrong with the way it was cast?¡± He was relentless, frustration edging through his words. He looked from her to the castle walls across the chasm and back. ¡°It needs to be now, Lily. Tonight. What if you simply didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know the spell I cast, Vetch!¡± she replied, her words coming out louder than intended.

    Even as she defended herself, doubts were creeping into her thoughts. Internally, she was running down every lesson that she could think of that might explain this, and was drawing a complete blank. Nothing fit. What had she done wrong? Not relaxed enough? Been too nervous, too emotional? Briefly, she even entertained Vetch¡¯s suggestion¡ªthose silly old notions from fairy tales, about how mages must remain chaste, lest their magic somehow become diminished. But those were only that¡ªfairy tales. Marigold had told her so.

    And, yet, Marigold herself had been known over the course of her life as The Maiden. Was that why she was as powerful as she was? Because she had never taken a lover? Had Lily made a fatal mistake this night by impulsively expressing her passion, a mistake that would doom their rescue attempt to failure before it even began?

    And why must Vetch persist with this prodding of her, rather than allow her to concentrate on working out how to fix the spell? Must he inject a bitter taste into what had been so sweet before?

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Are you coming?¡± Siegert whispered. The big man appeared out of the dark, returning across the Barrier bridge with his lantern.

    ¡°I can¡¯t walk on the Barrier,¡± Vetch said matter-of-factly. ¡°I pass right through it.¡±

    Siegert looked to Lily. ¡°Could you try again?¡±

    She could only shake her head. ¡°I did. Something¡¯s wrong and I don¡¯t know how to fix it so he can cross.¡±

    Siegert was quiet. As he stood there, the gold coloration of the first Barrier began its slow change toward translucence underneath his boots. Soon, it would become impossible to see. The second one she had cast would shortly follow suit.

    ¡°Well ...¡± began Siegert. ¡°Why don¡¯t I just carry him across?¡±

    ¡°Carry me?¡±

    ¡°Sure. The bridge is solid for me. You can ride pickaback.¡±

    ¡°Can you handle that?¡±

    ¡°Heh. I¡¯m not as young as I used to be, and you¡¯re no child, but I think I can manage. Come on, let¡¯s be about it. Time¡¯s wasting.¡± He stepped onto solid ground by Vetch and knelt down.

    Turning to Lily, Vetch offered a tight-lipped smile. He still looked confident, but there was tension in the set of his pale brow that hadn¡¯t been there before.

    Lily tried not to think on it. ¡°You¡¯ll have to have Mari cast the bridge for you to return,¡± she told him. ¡°I hope she¡¯s able. She feels weak.¡±

    He gave her a nod of acknowledgement. ¡°Lily, pay no mind about the Barrier. I¡¯m sure this was just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Vetch, just go. And be careful.¡±

    Another nod, then he stepped close and kissed her cheek. ¡°I¡¯ll see you back at the inn, and I¡¯ll have Mari with me.¡± With that, he put his arms around Siegert¡¯s broad shoulders and allowed the big man to heft him onto his back.

    A couple steps out onto the Barrier, Siegert turned back to Lily. ¡°Are you not coming with us, Mage Lily?¡±

    ¡°No. I must go Slumber. I feel it approaching already.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Right. Then, here, take my lantern and be careful on your way down the hill.¡± Having passed the lantern to her, he turned and, step by cautious step, carried Vetch across the void until they were lost to the shadows beneath the great castle wall. Lily heard them reach the other side and then heard their bootsteps hastening away in different directions.

    Finding herself alone, she lingered only long enough to watch both Barriers lose their golden hue and become invisible. Too late now to worry about whether Siegert had thought to somehow mark the ground on the other side where the bridge could be found, for when they must return by it. If not, they would have to wait for Vetch and Marigold to arrive. Mari would be able to sense its location, or cast a new one they could all walk across. Even Vetch.

    She wavered on her feet. Slumber was calling. ¡°Back to the inn,¡± she told herself. ¡°No sense dawdling around here fretting.¡±

    Carefully, she picked her way back down the slope, holding the muffled lantern before her. Its obscured light cast odd shadows around stones and trees. Those shadows crept in half circles along the ground as she passed by. She found the small plateau beneath the short trees and from there the game trail that would lead her back down to the edge of town. It took all her concentration to remain focused on her footing, so she wouldn¡¯t slip on some scree and go tumbling. The ethereal feeling of Slumber closing in made it difficult to the point of hazard. Each step felt weighted, while at the same time, her body was infused with the sensation of wanting to lift off the ground.

    She considered it a small miracle when she reached the bottom of the hill having only slipped once. The harmless fall had left her skirt dirtied, but, of course, it already had been from her interlude with Vetch earlier in the evening. That reminder brought a smile to her face and made her cheeks color again. Why must they have quarreled? It irked her. That was not what she wanted to remember this night for.

    She arrived back onto the dirt road that gradually became the cobbles of a lonely street on the edge of Black Crux town. It couldn¡¯t even be midnight, yet the streets and buildings were dark and silent. She saw no one about. Concern for Vetch¡¯s mission warred with her need to lie down and let Slumber overtake her. She felt helpless returning to their inn room. Despite her confidence in Vetch, she wished she could have gone with him.

    Again, she wavered on her feet, this time nearly toppling. The onset of Slumber felt nothing like being drunk, but it left one¡¯s legs similarly unsteady. Lily turned down a narrow alley, steadying herself by trailing her hands on the walls of the buildings enclosing it.

    At the end of the alley, she found ... a dead end. That wasn¡¯t right. Then, she remembered. It was one more street up, then a turn into an alley. That¡¯s the way that led back to the market street and thence to their inn.

    She turned around, but then she had to sit down on the cobbles. She hadn¡¯t anticipated casting two Barriers this night, only one. She had thrown so much concentration into the second spell. Her body now felt like it was rising up off the ground. She knew enough of Slumber¡¯s signs to know she would not make it back to the inn this evening.

    The dead end of this alley it was, then. She wondered when she would wake, and hoped it wouldn¡¯t rain before then.

 Chapter 17: Culmination, part 3

    *

    -5 years prior-

    The dark veil obstructed Lady Iris¡¯s vision as she was handed down from her carriage by her bodyguard. The winter day was clear and frigid. A thin crust of snow from the night before dusted the road and the yak pastures to either side. Afternoon sunlight reflected off the white expanse and pierced the delicate black lace of her veil, forcing Iris to squint to see through it as she took the arm of her bodyguard and, together with him, started trudging up the road. Their bootsteps crunched in the snow, leaving a fresh trail of prints.

    There was nothing particularly noteworthy or impressive about the Southern Gate of Moonfane Forge. It looked like any town¡¯s gate, little more than a wider gap between two buildings that had been fashioned into something of an arch above the main road. The town itself, however, did have a certain majesty to it, she had to admit. It rose behind its gate in twisting roads and close-set buildings that wound up and up through the foothills of jagged Mt. Moonfane. Iris had studied up on the place before making the trip. The merchants and artisans who dwelled in the buildings highest up in the hills, nearest to the mountain, controlled great quantities of silver that had been mined here for generations.

    The silver made them rich, but, surprisingly, not as rich as did the malodorous animals lowing in the surrounding pastures. That a town¡¯s fortunes could rest so heavily on the shoulders of shaggy, wild beasts that were notoriously difficult to keep was laughable. The textiles made from their dirty hair was prized all over the kingdom. But what would happen if disease ran through the herds? Or the nobles in the capital suddenly decided that yak hair was no longer in fashion?

    Iris sniffed. Much as she wanted to dismiss this town as inferior to her precious Black Crux, she could not deny its influence over the crown. King Caiside V had loved his silver and yak hair-producing jewel of the north. Now that he was dead, would his son continue to shower the same favor upon it? Iris¡¯s mind wandered to how she might entice the newly coronated king to visit her seat of power and favor it instead. The last time she had courted Caiside VI¡¯s favor, he had been but a bashful little princeling shadowed by a fussing tutor.

    It was Marigold who had ruined that moment for her. Iris had only been demonstrating magic for the boy, showing him something he might remember when he ascended to the throne one day. But staunch, principled Marigold had to arrive and launch into one of her diatribes about how magic should or should not be used, as if it did not belong to each practitioner who could wield it, theirs to decide what to do with.

    Memories of her teacher drew Iris back to her present mission. Over the course of the previous two years, she had written personal letters to Marigold, then sent official missives from her court, and finally even dispatched messengers to the heads of Moonfane Forge, first requesting, then demanding, that Mage Marigold return to Black Crux and resume her old duties as Lady Iris¡¯s instructor in magic. Not a single reply had come back from Marigold. Only once did Iris get a response from the town¡¯s head silversmith¡ªas if that were some station of significance¡ªstating shortly that, apologies, but Mage Marigold refused to treat with her. That had been all.

    For years, Iris had spared no expense quietly searching for Marigold¡¯s whereabouts without success. Yet, now that her old master had finally seen fit to come out of hiding, she refused to even acknowledge Iris¡¯s summons. It was unconscionable. How dare she force Iris to make this trip. It was hardly appropriate for the ruler of an entire hold to have to call upon a commoner like this in person. But it seemed the only way, necessitating this bit of subterfuge with a rented carriage and face-concealing veil, so tongues would not wag. She also had to maintain the appearance that she had given up practicing magic since her husband¡¯s death. That¡¯s what she had told her subjects at the time. It was a more comfortable explanation for why her teacher had left than the humiliating truth of it¡ªthat Marigold had refused her commands and abandoned her.

    It would all be righted today. Iris would find the old woman and bring her to heel. Then she would have all the Barrier-Casting techniques bestowed upon her, as was her right. She would become the master mage she was always meant to be, then reemerge as a powerful practitioner of Barrier-Casting. Not even the new king could ignore her then.

    From outside the town¡¯s gate, Iris could sense the powerful old mage¡¯s presence within. That, however, was an afterthought compared to the sensation of the impossibly large Barrier that surrounded all of Moonfane Forge. Even in its presence, Iris found it difficult to accept that such a spell was feasible. It was not simply a Barrier of enormous size, but one that supposedly would last for months, imbued with a Condition allowing only residents of Moonfane Forge to pass through it both day and night. All other people could only pass in and out of town during the day. This was the kind of power Iris desired to possess. No more would her old teacher be allowed to selfishly withhold it from her.

    At Iris¡¯s approach, from underneath the gate arch, a woman stepped into the light. She was dressed in soldierly livery of silver and black, and wore a proper sword on her belt. So, they placed soldiers at their gate, rather than common town guards. Iris stored that bit of information away. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Afternoon,¡± said the soldier, and stood with her gloved hand resting on her sword¡¯s hilt. ¡°What¡¯s your business in Moonfane Forge?¡±

    ¡°Visiting an old friend.¡±

    The soldier yawned. ¡°Fine then. But we¡¯ll be having your bodyguard¡¯s sword and dagger while you¡¯re in town. And mind you that you¡¯re arrivin¡¯ kind of late in the afternoon. This town¡¯s got a magical Barrier that visitors cannot pass through at night. The inns are¡ª¡±

    ¡°So, I¡¯ve heard,¡± Iris said tersely. She nodded to her bodyguard. He unbuckled his scabbard and dagger and handed them over to the soldier.

    As she took possession of the weapons, she rolled her eyes in plain view of Iris. ¡°Well, then, I¡¯m certain you know more about it than me,¡± she muttered, and took her time in stepping aside.

    If only she knew who she was speaking to, she would be rushing to apologize. Iris took note of the woman¡¯s face, then commanded her bodyguard, ¡°Come.¡±

    Iris brushed past the gate guard, with her man-at-arms following behind her. She did not relish having to walk up the steep, snow-crusted streets, but her carriage horse would not be able to follow. Animals could not pass through a Barrier, only humans granted a Permission by the casting mage. In fact ...

    Abruptly, Iris halted. She stood stock-still just short of the gate¡¯s yawning arch and tentatively lifted her hand to where she sensed the Barrier. She touched it ... and met resistance. There was still daylight in the sky, though. That meant ...

    ¡°You said visitors could pass through the Barrier during the day.¡± She spoke over her shoulder to the gate guard.

    ¡°They can.¡± The woman didn¡¯t even look up, too busy picking at her thumbnail.

    ¡°Then why cannot I?¡± Iris demanded. She pressed harder against the transparent Barrier to demonstrate. The only reply the gate guard offered was an indifferent shrug. Iris turned to her bodyguard. ¡°Have you ever lived in this town?¡± When he shook his head, she commanded, ¡°Walk through it.¡±

    ¡°Where is it?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Just walk through the gate.¡± He obeyed, walking directly through the gate and partly up the street before Iris called for him to stop and come back. Iris knit her brow and touched the Barrier again, pressing harder and harder. It was more than a physical denial; the Barrier seemed to resist her very self specifically. ¡°Intent ...¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Guess you¡¯re not seeing your old friend today,¡± snickered the gate guard.

    Iris clenched her teeth behind tight lips and took in a series of slow, deep breaths. She turned on the spot. ¡°Move,¡± she said, shoving her bodyguard out of her way. Positioning herself a few steps away from the gate, she rounded to face it again. Taking more slow breaths, she calmed herself. With purpose, she raised her arm and swept her hand across the gate. She felt magic surge and course through her, an ocean wave to pound a wall into sand.

    The strength of the magic she worked made her stagger back and she was only prevented from falling by inadvertently stumbling into her bodyguard. Had it worked? Had she dispelled it? Shrugging her bodyguard off, she stomped to the gate and reached out again. Again, her hand met a solid, invisible wall.

    ¡°The hells are you doing?¡± the gate guard asked. She appeared as if she were debating whether she should step in and intervene.

    Iris ignored her. She had to concentrate. Marigold¡¯s Castings had always been strong ones, but Iris could dispel this one if she concentrated hard enough. Once more, she composed herself, focused the magic within her, and swept her arm across the gate. She put everything into it, all the power and precision she could muster.

    Nothing happened.

    Again, and then again, she waved her arm at the town gate, and each time that she sensed no change in the masterful Barrier before her, her frustrations grew, until she could do nothing but stand and utter an inarticulate shriek. She marched forward and shoved against the Barrier with her hands. The empty space resisted her.

    Suddenly, from above her came the sound of laughter, followed by someone asking, ¡°What on earth is she doing down there?¡±

    Iris stepped back and looked up. In her fury, she had failed to notice the elevated guard post above the gate. Peering down at her from it were additional soldiers, all of them guffawing. Behind her veil, her cheeks burned hot. They could not even fathom the skill and concentration they witnessed. They thought she was making a fool of herself. They were the fools!

    At the same time, she could not deny she had been bested by her erstwhile teacher, and the worst part of it was that she didn¡¯t even know how. How had Marigold done this? Iris had never conceived that a Barrier could defy her like this, that one could resist her every attempt at a Dispelling, yet still permit other people through, with Conditions of daylight and time and location. How? How did Marigold do it? These were the techniques Marigold denied her, denied the student she was supposed to share all with! Instead, she hid away and hoarded the magic that was Iris¡¯s by right!

    The laughter up on the high gate post continued, until one man broke into a coughing fit so that his fellow had to clap him on the back. The woman before her only made it worse by declaring, ¡°If you¡¯re not going into town, then take a hike, lady.¡±

    Years it had been since Iris had turned her Barrier-Casting upon another human being. The temptation was so strong. She practically gagged at not giving in to it. But she couldn¡¯t. The other soldiers would see. Then it would not be long before someone deduced who she was. She would never again have her chance at putting Marigold back in her place. On top of that, Slumber was creeping in. She already felt her legs becoming wobbly, and feared to slip and fall in the snow. At a complete loss, Iris turned and trudged unsteadily back to her waiting carriage, the sounds of mockery blurring into the buoyant and ethereal sensation stealing over her.

    She had come all this way for nothing.

    No. Not nothing. In this humiliating incident, she had gained some valuable insight. This was a Barrier Imbued with Intent. There was no other explanation. Marigold must have anticipated that Iris would one day find her. But as livid as Iris was at this continued defiance, it only confirmed that Marigold possessed skills and techniques that Iris would do anything to attain. What she sought was here. One way or another, she would solve this lock that was Moonfane Forge, reclaim her teacher, and take back her rightful magical inheritance.

 Chapter 17: Culmination, part 4

    -2 years prior-

    ¡°You requested my presence, my lady?¡±

    Lady Iris heard the disaffected voice, but remained looking down at her lap where she fingered a little jumping jack. It was children¡¯s toy, only this one was not made for children. It was cast in pale gold and encrusted with precious jewels, the little man bearing miniscule ruby eyes. It was a beautiful little bauble, masterfully made. She had bought it for herself not long after getting married, back when she could barely fathom the kind of wealth the union had put at her disposal. Or, perhaps, it had been Marcus who had purchased this particular thing for her. She couldn¡¯t remember now. He was always buying her sparkling trinkets like this in the early months.

    Turning it over in her fingers, she could feel Murzagis¡¯s eyes on the back of her head. Another servant or soldier would have cleared their throat or repeated themselves by now, under the assumption she had not heard them the first time. Murzagis wouldn¡¯t. He would stand there in silence until nightfall, awaiting her command. He was a well-honed tool. She wondered if he desired her. She understood he had a wife and child somewhere back in his home country, but that never stopped men desiring more.

    She set the jeweled jumping jack down in her lap. ¡°I want you to increase my garrison. As many battle-tested fighters as you can summon here from your lands. These should be soldiers experienced in campaigning and invading. And I want it done quietly. It should not appear as if I am amassing forces.¡±

    Murzagis was quiet for a time, and Iris knew he was working through how to carry out her command. However he chose to do it, she had confidence he would get it done.

    ¡°It will take much time. And much coin.¡± There was a brief pause before he added, ¡°Enough coin to be worth waging war for.¡±

    He knew her well. Or, at least, he understood the logic at hand. One did not raise an army they didn¡¯t intend to use. ¡°You¡¯ll have the coin, and you can promise much more to be taken as plunder later. As for time ... you know how I don¡¯t like to wait, but make certain no corners are cut.¡±

    ¡°Understood, my lady.¡±

    No sound of bootsteps followed his statement. Iris smiled. She took up the jumping jack again and watched its jewels sparkle in the morning sunlight from the window as she pulled the string to make the little man dance and leap. She let its limbs fall limp once more and then offered it to Murzagis.

    ¡°Sell this. The coin it fetches should get you started.¡± Taking the valuable bauble, he flicked a short nod, and turned to leave. Before he was out of earshot, she added, ¡°And have my tax collector sent to me.¡±

    There. She sat back and looked down at her hands, now divested of the jeweled toy. With a slow turn of her fingers, she cast a miniscule Barrier in the shape of the jumping jack. It wasn¡¯t exact, but it was close enough to please her. That trick, she had developed while studying with a blind mage far to the east. It had not been easy disguising her travels over the last three years, but she had managed. Her trips had been a mage¡¯s Journeying of her own devising, same as any Journeyer mage would undertake. She had tracked down skilled mages in foreign lands and studied with them, learning much. She estimated she could now be considered a master mage in her own right, missing only a teacher to bestow that title on her.

    Yet, the strides she had made in skill and knowledge still did not appease her. She had control and precision, but not the strength and magnitude that Marigold commanded. She would never be the mage she envisioned herself as without the old woman to finish her lessons. Nothing she had learned in her travels came near to giving her the expertise to cast anything like Marigold¡¯s town Barrier, let alone bring it down.

    Fortunately for her, she had discovered more than new magic techniques in her travels, in the form of Murzagis and his hardened mercenaries. She had seen the advantages that bringing them into her garrison would afford her. They had proved themselves loyal, and would continue to be, so long as the gold and goods kept flowing back over the border to their families in the east. What better way to stop them raiding her hold than to make them her own? Her husband had never thought of that, nor any of the other things that one might do with such a force.

    With the army Murzagis would raise for her, she had the complimentary piece to her magic, the combination that would bring down Marigold¡¯s Barrier and see the old woman placed before her feet.

    *

    Full bright sunlight assaulted Lily¡¯s eyelids. She opened them and the sun itself directly pierced her pupils. Closing them tightly, she rolled onto her side and groaned. Strange to feel the feather down gossamer of Slumber lifting from her senses at the same time that the alley¡¯s uneven cobbles were digging into her hip. Waking from Slumber did not involve the clearing of mental cobwebs that normal sleep could. Lily¡¯s thoughts were sharp and ready, and she was instantly aware of the position of the sun and what it meant. It was noon. Of the following morning? Or had the second Barrier spell she had cast extended her Slumbering into the day after that?

    She stood and brushed dirt from her wrinkled skirt, groaning again. ¡°Ow, ow ...¡± All of her body ached from lying inert on the cobblestones. As she made her way back out of the secluded alley to the street, she discovered that one part of her was sore in an altogether different way, one that was titillatingly pleasing¡ªa reminder of Vetch¡¯s exuberance. The smile that inspired on her lips faded the moment she set foot out on the street and gazed up at the stark castle on its hill.

    ¡°No ...¡± she whispered. The sensations of magic coming from the place were unchanged. She sensed Marigold, still in there. She sensed Lady Iris, as well¡ªawake. A conflagration of magical strength. Had Vetch failed to discover where Mari was being held, or had he run into trouble? He had no magic himself, so there was no way for her to tell if he was still up there in that place. Or even if he was alive or dead.

    People passed Lily on the street, uninterested in this young woman with hair and clothes disheveled from a night spent sleeping on the ground. It had to have only been one night, she reasoned. Yes. It was the following morning, otherwise she would feel much more parched than this. She well remembered that lesson from her other, more lengthy misadventures Slumbering in strange places. So, not much time had passed. That was something positive. It was possible Vetch had needed to hide out within the castle and make his move at a more opportune time. But she had so convinced herself that he and Marigold would be right there by her bedside when she awoke in their inn room. Even now, having not made it back to the inn, the fact that Marigold was still up in that fortress gnawed at her. It didn¡¯t feel right.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Setting off, Lily spurned the route back to the inn and instead returned to the dirt road and hill trail she had come down from the night before. It was a hot and sweaty hike back up the far side of the slope. More than once, she mistook the way and had to double back, but, ultimately, she arrived at the plateau under the fragrant trees, and from there trudged toward the chasm. She would wait there for Vetch to make his appearance. She could even bridge her own way over if she sensed any trouble. Anything to lend him her support and see that he and Marigold returned safe. At the very least, she preferred to be here to greet them straightaway, not spend the day pacing the length of her inn room.

    Scraggly plant life tugged at her skirt as she went up the final steep stretch of ground that Siegert had shown them the night before. Cresting it, she came to the chasm. She almost didn¡¯t duck back down fast enough for the guardsmen patrolling its far side to miss spotting her. They were all over! In the brief glimpse she¡¯d had of the area, she noted two of Lady Iris¡¯s men scrutinizing the edge of the chasm, right where her Barriers had been. Another two guards were loitering by the storage buildings underneath the castle wall.

    Lily heard one of them say, ¡°Right around here.¡± She risked another peek. The second guard began sweeping his spear over the chasm¡¯s edge. A spear would pass straight through a Barrier¡ªeven if those she had cast hadn¡¯t already faded¡ªbut Lily could still see that their intent was to discover the invisible bridge.

    They knew.

    ¡°Shit,¡± she whispered. Frantically, she kept crouched and scrambled back down, her shoes sliding on loose soil and rocks.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    It was one of the guards who yelled. Lily couldn¡¯t tell if she had been spotted or if the man had only heard the noise she¡¯d made and meant to alert his companions. She didn¡¯t pause to wonder. As quickly as she could safely manage, she navigated her way down the hill. With any luck, they wouldn¡¯t know by which route she had gotten here, and wouldn¡¯t be waiting for her when she reached the street below.

    Panting raggedly, she came to the road and ran. As she went, she thought back. They had definitely been Lady Iris¡¯s sellswords, and they were certainly scrutinizing the area around where Vetch had crossed with Siegert and his companions. But did that mean they had been caught? Or had Lady Iris sensed the spell and sent them to check what might be amiss? It was bad tidings either way.

    Lily slowed when she reached a street that was more populated. Trying to catch her breath and not look out-of-place, she hastened her steps toward the inn. She would return to their room and give it more time. As tortuous as it was, she still couldn¡¯t assume that anything had gone wrong. Siegert and his people had probably taken their tools back and left long before her Barrier bridge had faded. And Vetch could still very well be hiding up in the castle somewhere, waiting to make his move safely, unknown to the guards Lily had seen.

    He and she had spoken about this possibility the day before. It might take time. He might have to hide himself somewhere and wait until he could free Marigold without setting up an alarm. He had told Lily she should wait in their room and not worry unless he failed to return after a full two days. If he and Marigold did not appear by the third day, he¡¯d said, then she should flee Black Crux and make her way home. Aid from the King¡¯s Capital City should have begun trickling into Moonfane Forge by now. She could send word to the capital about Lady Iris waging an attack on Hold Moonfane. Then it would be a matter of leaving it to the royal garrison to mete out justice and free Marigold and Vetch.

    It had sounded so rational and routine when Vetch had detailed it all out to her¡ªsoldiers learned early on that being captured was always a possibility, and they knew how to bide their time through it, until they were either ransomed or their captors were defeated and they were freed. The important thing was that Lily saw to her own safety first, by returning to Moonfane Forge and sending for help.

    Ideally, she wouldn¡¯t have to consider any of that. She didn¡¯t want to. And what she hadn¡¯t told Vetch¡ªas she had been listening to all of the backup plans to backup plans that he had conceived¡ªwas that she had no intention of abandoning him, no matter what happened.

    ¡°Silly fears, girl,¡± she told herself under her breath. ¡°Don¡¯t let them get in your head. Calm yourself.¡±

    How do they know about the Barrier bridge?

    Her traitorous mind flung the question at her like a dart. It was the one thing she couldn¡¯t explain away. If Siegert and his friends had safely escaped with their things, and if Vetch were simply hiding out until he could make contact with Marigold, then the sellswords wouldn¡¯t be looking for her Barrier. Even if they discovered the boot prints along the chasm edge, there would be no reason for them to suspect any magic had been cast there.

    No. Calm down. It will be alright. She didn¡¯t want to believe that something had gone terribly wrong. She would not think of that. Vetch had been adamant: give him time. Do not make any moves or put herself in danger until she was absolutely certain he had failed in his mission to free Marigold. As difficult as it would be, she should not assume anything. Give him time. She would try.

    Taking inspiration from her training in magic, she slowed her breathing and forced herself to walk at a slower pace. She would order a meal and a bath, change into clean clothes, then go collect Fae and Vetch¡¯s horse. She would bring them to the back of the inn, saddle them both, and then wait until it was time to move, when she sensed Marigold leaving the castle.

    Staying ready to act, while having nothing to do but wait and wait. How did Vetch do it and appear so calm?

    Upon reaching the street before the inn, Lily witnessed a stocky swordswoman standing guard out front of its door. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she scanned passerby. Immediately, Lily moved herself out of view and around a corner. So much for silly fears. Something truly had gone wrong. They knew about her and that she would return here!

    Lily¡¯s mind raced. Even if Vetch were captured, he would never have revealed anything about the means by which he had infiltrated the castle, nor about Lily and her whereabouts. She knew that. But who would? One of Siegert¡¯s companions? No, none of them knew where she and Vetch were lodging. Siegert, then. Siegert knew. Had he been captured and made to talk? Or had he betrayed them by design? Could it be that Lady Iris¡¯s soldiers knew Vetch was somewhere within the castle, but had not located him yet? That seemed the very best possibility that Lily could hope for at this point. She didn¡¯t want to consider the grim alternatives that were also possible¡ªthat he had been captured, hurt, killed. She didn¡¯t want to imagine those things. Nor did she want to believe they had been betrayed.

    But denial did not sweep away everything she now saw and sensed. Something had gone very wrong. Vetch and Marigold were still in the castle, and Lady Iris¡¯s people were searching for Lily. For what other reason would one of her soldiers be skulking about outside their inn?

    The certainty raised a lump in Lily¡¯s throat and made her feel sick to her stomach. Her efforts to calm herself had been for naught. With her heart racing in her chest, she took a roundabout way and approached the back side of the inn, intending to sneak in and get their things. But there, too, she found a burly swordsman on the door. There was no mistaking it now; they had been found out.

    ¡°Damn, damn, damn, damn.¡± Lily beat her fist on the bricks of the garden wall she concealed herself behind. She sunk down to a crouch with her back to the cool stone. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter how, girl. Figure out what to do about it.¡± Words for herself from herself, but they might as well have come straight from her Mage-Matron. She thought of Marigold. And Vetch.

    What to do about it ... what to do? Flee, as they had planned? Wait and hope Vetch still found a way to Marigold? No. Even if he hadn¡¯t been discovered yet, they would know he was somewhere in there and that he was after Marigold. He might not even realize yet that he was hunted. No. If Lily waited or fled now, she left Vetch alone to his fate, a fate she would have no hand in affecting. She wasn¡¯t about to do that. She had to do something. What, then? She considered.

    She decided.

    Lily straightened and hastened away from the inn. The building where Fae and Revenge were stabled was not far.

 Chapter 18: Reunion, part 1

    -Weeks prior to the attack on Moonfane Forge-

    Slouk crept out from the shadows behind the backhouse and slunk up underneath the shuttered window of a lopsided little shack of a dwelling down by the lake shore. He tapped on the shutters.

    ¡°Clip,¡± he whispered through them. No answer from inside. It was too dark to see through the slits of the closed shutters if Clip was in there or not. Maybe she was asleep.

    Dawn was rising over Pasanhal town and there were guards all over the place looking for him. Slouk didn¡¯t want to step into the open street long enough to pound on Clip¡¯s door, lest a guard come up the street and spot him.

    ¡°Clip,¡± he whispered again and rapped his knuckles harder on the shutters. ¡°Damn it, Clip, if you¡¯re in there, open up!¡±

    There was a stirring inside. He heard a stool knocked over and then a muffled curse. The shutters clacked open and then Clip¡¯s doughy face was at the window. She peered at him with eyes squinting against the daylight.

    ¡°Slouk? Ugh. What d¡¯ya want?¡±

    ¡°Let me in! Quickly. There¡¯s a lot o¡¯ heat on me.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± she said through a yawn. ¡°Calm your skinny ass and come ¡®round to the door.¡± She closed the shutters in his face.

    Slouk crept around to the door, looking to his left and right. The street was clear. That was good. When Clip opened the door, he pushed past her inside. ¡°Thank you, thank you! I owe you one.¡± He looked around the room. ¡°Is my sister here?¡±

    ¡°Why would she be?¡± Clip asked, taking a peek outside before shutting the door softly and latching it. She rubbed her eyes and went to light a candle that sat on a rough table covered in little metal filings.

    ¡°Because she was supposed to meet me here.¡±

    Clip shook her head. ¡°I ain¡¯t seen ¡®er. What d¡¯ya want? I¡¯m tired. I was up most the night.¡± She picked up a blouse from the floor and pulled it on over her woolen nightgown, before righting the stool she¡¯d knocked over and sitting. ¡°Seriously, what are you doin¡¯ here? You look like a rat with an alley cat on his ass.¡±

    ¡°We fouled up a job pretty bad and the whole town guard¡¯s out for us. But we earned a fat bag of coin in the process.¡±

    ¡°And you brought that heat here? Shit.¡± She stood again and peeped through the window shutters.

    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it, we lost ¡®em,¡± he said. He looked for a place to sit, decided he was too jittery, and began pacing. ¡°Do you see Bryne?¡±

    Clip shook her head. ¡°Nope. Wait. Here she comes!¡±

    With a sigh of relief, Slouk sat down heavily on Clip¡¯s bed and ran his fingers through his hair. ¡°Oh, thank all spirits.¡±

    Clip opened the door in time for a young woman to slip through and into the now crowded little room. Again, she peered around outside before closing and latching the door.

    ¡°Look at the pair of you,¡± Clip stated, shaking her head. ¡°Now, Slouk I¡¯d expect to be all wound up over some guards searching for him, but not you, Bryne.¡± She sized up the young woman. ¡°Never seen you so pale. What kind of trouble are you in, anyway?¡±

    Breathing as though she had been running hard, Bryne sat down on the stool Clip had previously occupied. Before she could respond, Slouk touched her knee and asked, ¡°You got it still?¡±

    The look Bryne shot Slouk was one of carefully constructed confusion. ¡°Got what?¡±

    If not for the woman¡¯s close-fitting trousers and blouse that put her womanly lines on display, she might easily have been mistaken for her brother. The angular lines of her face were so similar to Slouk¡¯s that it was easy to mark them as siblings, right down to the dark eyes and brows, sharp nose, and wild black hair. The most notable difference was that Bryne wore her hair long to her shoulder blades, and had put decidedly more effort into mastering it into something presentable compared to Slouk¡¯s bird¡¯s nest. She pulled her loose hair back now, produced a thing length of leather and tied it in a tail.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t tell me ...¡± Slouk began, his face shifting from relief to despair.

    Clip crossed her arms and chuckled. ¡°It was a good try, Bryne, but Slouky here already spilled the beans. ¡®A fat bag of coin¡¯, he said.¡±

    Bryne pinched her lips and kicked Slouk¡¯s boot with her own. ¡°Stupid.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d let us hide here if we didn¡¯t have nothin¡¯ to offer!¡±

    ¡°He is right about that,¡± Clip said through a yawn. ¡°Not for long, at least. You think I want any city guards sniffin¡¯ around my place? C¡¯mon, Bryne, out with it. Let¡¯s see it. Then we¡¯ll discuss my cut of it, in exchange for you two gettin¡¯ to lay low here.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    With another dark look at her brother, Bryne lifted the back of her blouse and pulled from her belt a leather pouch which she dropped on the table. ¡°There. You can look to your heart¡¯s content. And not a single one of ¡®em clipped ... Clip.¡±

    ¡°Nobody saw you slip in here?¡± Slouk asked.

    Bryne shook her head. ¡°You know me better than that.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± agreed Clip, tugging the leather pouch open. ¡°Bryne¡¯s a shadow.¡± Peering into the bag, she whistled. ¡°Shit. These are gold! How¡¯d you two ever steal something like this? I thought you were more about takin¡¯ horses.¡± She began removing coins from the pouch and clinking them into a neat pile on her table.

    ¡°I said you could look,¡± said Bryne. ¡°But that¡¯s the beautiful thing. We didn¡¯t steal ¡®em at all. They were given to us fair and square by this rich merchant. Payment for a job that ... well, the important thing is we got away with the payment. Put those back in the bag.¡±

    Ignoring that, Clip went on stacking coins. She chortled. ¡°Yeah. Slouk said you botched the job, so now the whole town guard is out looking for you two.¡±

    Slouk lay back on the bed with his boots still on the floor. ¡°The heat¡¯ll die down. Then we¡¯ll sneak out of town and go somewhere else for a while.¡±

    ¡°Mhm,¡± mumbled Clip. She produced a pair of sturdy metal shears and with them began snipping around the edge of one of the coins, creating a thin curl of gold.

    Bryne shot up from the stool. ¡°Hey! What d¡¯ya think you¡¯re doing?¡±

    ¡°Relax, Bryne. Sit down,¡± she said, finishing with the coin and putting the shears down. ¡°It¡¯s coming out of my cut for hiding you.¡± Without a thought for Slouk being in the room, she removed her blouse and nightgown, then threw on a plain green dress and shoes. ¡°I¡¯m just gonna have a little stroll around town and see what kind of heat we¡¯re talkin¡¯ about here.¡± She held up the newly clipped ringlet of gold, then made it disappear into her sleeve. ¡°I¡¯ll bring back some breakfast. Stay here. Don¡¯t go out before I get back.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± replied Bryne. She sat down with a sigh of annoyance. ¡°Why¡¯d you mention the coin to her?¡±

    ¡°Already told you.¡±

    Bryne swept up the stack of coins Clip had made. After a moment of consideration, she placed a single one back on the table, dropped the rest in the bag, and tied it closed. Slouk leveraged himself up off the bed to peer at his sister.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so glum. We can go a lot of places and live high on the hog for a long time with all that. We could even start up our own little stables. Legitimately. Stop stealin¡¯ horses.¡±

    Bryne disregarded the suggestion. ¡°We fouled that job up bad. We made a lot of mistakes we shouldn¡¯t have. That damned stable hand was one step ahead of us the entire time. We need to be smarter next time.¡±

    Slouk closed his eyes and was silent for a time. His racing heartbeat had finally settled in his chest. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he mumbled faintly. ¡°No more doin¡¯ jobs like that one, I say. We should stick to what we¡¯re good at.¡±

    ¡°Even if jobs like that mean more pay like this?¡± Bryne offered, hefting the bag of coins and giving it a shake.

    The door was thrown open so fast, it rebounded on its hinges. Slouk snapped his eyes open and sat bolt upright. Bryne was on her feet in an instant. It took the both of them a few seconds of panic to comprehend that it was Clip silhouetted in the doorway and not a town guard. As fast as she¡¯d shoved the door open, Clip slammed it shut, and for a moment stood with her back to it. There was an odd smile on the woman¡¯s face as she latched the door and then strode by Bryne to peep through the window shutters.

    ¡°Spirits and demons, Clip!¡± swore Bryne.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the breakfast you said you¡¯d bring?¡± said Slouk.

    ¡°I changed my mind. I don¡¯t want you two stayin¡¯ here.¡± She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. ¡°You must¡¯ve pissed off the wrong people.¡± Taking from her sleeve a rolled-up piece of paper, she unrolled it and slapped it flat on the table beside the bag of coins. ¡°See that? That¡¯s a bounty on your heads. And just look at the amount! A king¡¯s ransom, if I ever saw one. Makes this little ¡®payment¡¯ of yours look like a couple coppers in a beggar¡¯s cup. Forget the town guard, you two have everyone in Hold Pasanhal out looking for you trying to collect on that!¡±

    Slouk stood and came to peek over his sister¡¯s shoulder at the bounty notice. Reading wasn¡¯t his strongest skill, but he could recognize numbers. Seeing the amount on his head, and his sister¡¯s, he blanched.

    ¡°You¡¯ll never pay your way out o¡¯ that,¡± Clip went on. ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to leave Pasanhal. Hells, you might have to leave Kaldura! You can start with leavin¡¯ my home. Right now. If anyone gets word I¡¯ve got you two here, it¡¯s my head on the block beside both o¡¯ yours.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not serious!¡± exclaimed Bryne. ¡°It¡¯s broad daylight out there. At least let us stay until nightfall.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t do it, Bryne. And here¡¯s the other thing ...¡± Quick as snapping her fingers, Clip grabbed the bag of coins off the table and backed herself to the door. When Bryne went to snatch it back, Clip produced a wicked little dagger. ¡°Ah ah! Listen here. See that bounty right there?¡± she waved her dagger¡¯s point at the sheet on the table. ¡°I could¡¯ve gone and turned you two in this very morning and collected all of that for myself. Much more money than this little bag holds. But I didn¡¯t. So, this right here?¡± She shook the bag, making the coins rustle. ¡°Consider it payment for me not doing that, and promising not to do it later. I¡¯d rather not have to show my face to any town guards, anyhow, but your coin¡¯ll help me keep that promise when times are lean.¡±

    ¡°You fuckin¡¯ backstabber!¡± Slouk sputtered. ¡°You were our friend. We¡¯ve worked together!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all thieves, Slouk. Word of advice: don¡¯t take such risky jobs. But, here, I¡¯ll throw you two a bone.¡± Clip smirked subtly, looking from Slouk to Bryne and keeping the point of her dagger casually raised. ¡°I heard there¡¯s somethin¡¯ very hush hush bein¡¯ put together. It sounds like a big job, and they¡¯re specifically looking for people who¡¯re good at sneaking around into places they shouldn¡¯t be. Word is the pay is good. Real good. I¡¯m passing that along out of the kindness of my heart. Could be something that gets you two back on your feet again.¡±

    Bryne stared daggers at Clip as she asked, ¡°Who¡¯s putting it together? How much is the pay?¡±

    Clip shook her head. ¡°Soldier-looking folks. But not real soldiers. Not Kaldurans. Don¡¯t know who they are. But word around the back ways is they were dangling the promise of gold, with a chance at other plunder, too. They¡¯re supposed to be camped out in the flatlands out west. Go find ¡®em. Or don¡¯t. It¡¯s all the same to me. But, now, it¡¯s time you two left.¡±

    For a few tense moments, Bryne and Slouk stood stock still. Then, Bryne grabbed up the single coin she had left on the table and pocketed it. ¡°You¡¯ll get yours, Clip.¡±

    Clip wordlessly opened the door and gestured out with her dagger. She kept the bag of coins safe behind her back while Slouk and Bryne filed past her out to the street. The door was thrown shut behind their backs and the latch driven into place.

 Chapter 18: Reunion, part 2

    *

    It was like swimming against a river current. Lily was determined to carry out the spur-of-the-moment plan she had devised, no matter the dread it raised in her. It was foolish, reckless, insane, and her own legs seemed to know it and fought her, so that she had to push herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, push herself to swim against the fear current. But she did. The storage barn where Fae and Revenge were stabled was only a couple streets over from the inn. It felt more like a couple miles. With every step, she conceived of a new reason why she should not do this. To combat that, she repeated for herself over and over the one reason she would: Vetch. She kept striding forward.

    The building came into view. She decided not to waste time by finding and speaking to its owner; she would just take Fae and Revenge. But when she came around to the front of the building, her heart sank. The Lady¡¯s soldiers were here, too! Two men stood watch in front of the barn¡¯s doors. One stood absently twirling a club, and also wore a sword on his belt. The other leaned on a pole axe. If Lily had harbored any remaining doubts about whether or not she and Vetch had been betrayed, this put them to rest. Even their animals were being guarded on the chance that Lily would come here. She hadn¡¯t anticipated this at all. Indecision took hold of her. This was the only way into the building, and the only way Fae and Revenge could be brought out.

    Without realizing it, Lily had frozen in the street in plain view of the two soldiers. The one leaning of the pole axe grunted and pointed her out to his companion. ¡°That her?¡±

    The second soldier stopped twirling his club and looked up. He grinned nastily. ¡°Aye.¡±

    Lily was pinned to the spot. Run, girl. Run. Run. Why couldn¡¯t she run? It was the same way she had felt when she believed Vetch was being attacked by Siegert¡ªfrozen and unable to act. But though she struggled to act, neither did she flee. The same force that had brought her here held her in place, an instinctive conviction that if she did not press forward, she would never see Vetch or Marigold again. Her only option was to use magic. She had meant to save her spellcasting for when she arrived at Black Crux Manor. If she protected herself now with it, she ran the risk of falling into Slumber before she made it there.

    As all these contradictory certainties held her immobile, the two soldiers edged forward. The one dropped his club on the ground and drew his sword, while the other held his pole axe at the ready. They separated in order to come at her from both sides, faces set in grimaces.

    Lily was not a battle mage, she was a Barrier-Caster, and an apprentice one at that. These men wielded weapons of war. Having those blades leveled at her was what finally snapped her to action and, without thinking, she threw her arm up in preparation to enclose them in a Barrier. She hadn¡¯t considered how strange it was that these two battle-hardened killers were displaying a caution in approaching her that bordered on the comical. It only registered when she raised her arm and both men flinched back.

    They were afraid of magic!

    Because of Marigold? Because of their mistress, Iris? It didn¡¯t matter. Lily withheld the spell she had been about to cast, but kept her arm raised out in front of her. Inspiration struck. She mimicked the hand motion she had seen Lady Iris use to nearly kill her back in Moonfane Forge. The fear reaction of the two soldiers was visceral! The man with the sword raised his free hand.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be hasty! No need. No need,¡± he said in a heavy accent. ¡°Come with us, chat with our captain. Just talk.¡±

    Lily could see that they were fearful, but that they wouldn¡¯t run. These men were not like the common brutes she and Vetch had met in the forest clearing scattered with gold coins. These two had an air of cunning about them, and she would not fool them for long without casting something for real. And once she did that, the grains of sand would begin falling toward Slumber.

    She tried to make her expression confident, even as her body quaked with fear. If she was going to conserve her magic for when she really needed it, then she would have to be absolutely certain about what she was about to do.

    Lily took a deep breath and cupped her hands to her mouth. ¡°Fae! Fae! Come here, girl!¡±

    From inside the storage building came the sound of Fae chuffing, the sound she always made to greet Lily. Then, nothing more. Lily called again. The two soldiers shared a look, then one glanced back at the barn doors and seemed to decide nothing in there was his concern.

    Returning his attention to Lily, he said, ¡°Don¡¯t make a scene. Come with us.¡± The two began advancing again. This time, Lily began backing up.

    ¡°Fae!¡± she tried again. ¡°Come on. Fae! Come, girl!¡± Nothing.

    Hearing the urgency in her voice, the soldiers seemed to gain confidence. Weapons leveled, they positioned themselves to either side of her, hemming her in between them. Desperately, Lily raised her arm in a feint at spellcasting again. It didn¡¯t work the second time. The man with the pole axe shook his head and chuckled, then said something in a foreign tongue to his sword-wielding companion, who hardened his expression in response.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The swordsman lunged in first. Uttering a panicked gasp, Lily stumbled backward, throwing her hand up reflexively at the same time. The Barrier she cast was one born of self-preservation, a cylinder that encircled the swordsman partially. His momentum carried him into it, like crashing into a solid wall. His sword clattered to the cobbles as he grabbed at his bloodied nose. The sense of relief Lily felt was short-lived. The man behind her had dropped his pole axe, and the next thing Lily felt was his arms trapping her in a painful bear hug. She screamed, but he kept repeating by her ear, ¡°Let him free! Let him free!¡± Did he not realize that, even if she wanted to, she could not dispel the Barrier with her arms crushed to her sides like this?

    Lily struggled and screamed again. ¡°Help! Help me!¡±

    There were people in the street this time of day, but they ignored Lily¡¯s pleas. It seemed no one in Black Crux was eager to confront Lady Iris¡¯s sellswords. As Lily fought fruitlessly against the man¡¯s unyielding hold, the swordsman trapped by her Barrier had found a break in its shape. It was not a fully enclosed cylinder, but had a thin gap in it where the two ends didn¡¯t quite meet. As she watched in horror, the swordsman worked to squeeze himself through it, cursing and exhorting his cohort to hold Lily tightly until he was free.

    Neither man remarked the sound of splintering wood. Then, a loud crack signaled the two barn doors being shoved roughly off their hinges from inside. With one final push from her horns, Fae burst out of the building, one door sent crashing into the street, while the other was left to hang drunkenly from its one remaining hinge. Fae stood in the breach and gave an ear-splitting roar. Both soldiers were well aware of her now.

    The swordsman, who had nearly extricated himself from the Barrier, now pulled himself back inside. Lily was freed and thrown aside by her attacker. He stooped to pick up his pole axe just as Fae lowered her horns and charged. Few were the people brave or foolhardy enough to face down an angry, fully grown panthegrunn, and to the man¡¯s credit, he didn¡¯t waver. The top spike of his pole axe stabbed into Fae¡¯s shoulder before getting caught up in her shaggy mane. Then, the force of her charge snapped the weapon¡¯s haft in two, a second before her horns gored its wielder. With of toss of her mighty head, Fae lifted the man off his feet into the air. Flailing, he struck the roof eave of the building behind him, bounced, and then crumpled hard to the cobbles below, unmoving.

    Fae wasn¡¯t finished. Immediately, she wheeled around and charged the man in the Barrier. Issuing a yelp of dismay, he cowered back in his shimmering golden cell. Fae¡¯s hooves scraped the cobbles as she came to a sharp halt before the Barrier. She gnashed her horns against it, uttering short snorts of indignation at being denied.

    ¡°Fae,¡± Lily breathed. Her heart was pounding out of her chest like she had been sprinting. If she had not been under such duress and the press of time, she might have reflected on how close she had come to being captured or harmed by Lady Iris¡¯s men and felt more terrified. But there was no time for that.

    With a final snort, Fae came to her and pressed her great head against Lily. Lily held her horns and kissed her nose. ¡°Thank you,¡± she murmured. Fae answered by licking her face.

    There was no time to waste. Whether she¡¯d had a choice in it or not, Lily had used her magic. The sand timer had been turned and now the grains were rapidly falling toward Slumber. She swung herself up onto Fae¡¯s back and turned her up the street toward the castle, nudging her flanks with her heels.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Fae!¡±

    Feeling Fae¡¯s powerful muscles propelling them through the streets, her hair streaming out behind her as the wind whipped past, Lily was bolstered, empowered. Panicked townspeople hastened to get out of her and the charging panthegrunn¡¯s path. So much for any sort of planning or subterfuge. If the castle had not expected Lily¡¯s arrival before, they would soon. Her only hope of heading that off was to get there before any other witnessing soldiers did. Fortunately for her, none of them had an angry charge-beast conducting them there, as she did.

    She turned Fae onto the main market road and the two of them went barreling directly up it, between vegetable stalls and stunned market patrons, racing toward Black Crux Manor and the bridges that led up to its door. Lily prayed she would make it there with enough time to aid Vetch and Marigold before she must Slumber.

    Fae¡¯s hooves churned up the roads until the gate at the first bridge came into view directly ahead. The astonished looks on the faces of the guards there were a fleeting afterthought as Lily drove Fae through them. Wisely, they both jumped out of the way. Lily voiced a whoop that was part terror, part nervous excitement. Fae clattered heavily up the bridge toward the second gate, while the deep gully that acted as a natural moat yawned below them. Wind swirled up from that jagged chasm, causing Lily¡¯s hair to come loose from its tie and whip about her face.

    The guards at the second gate had already witnessed what they were in for and looked no more eager to meet it. One, however, had been smart enough to fetch a bow from the little gatehouse. Fae was upon them before she could fully draw the string back, the arrow flying impotently off into the chasm.

    Then they were through, and Lily could only glance back and wonder how neither guard had been trampled! She was at the door now. The tall, ebony door of Black Crux Manor stood like a golem made of iron-reinforced wood. Swinging off of Fae, Lily looked back. The four guards had recomposed themselves and were running up the bridges toward her. She thought of coaxing Fae to muscle down the door. Instead, she tried its handle and it swung open.

    She found herself in the manor¡¯s majestic entranceway, represented by a narrow, open landing that led forward to a wide, single stair step up to the main hall. Fae shoved her way in past her to stand in the center of the room. She pawed at the floor with her hoof. The big panthegrunn looked so out of place in the stately manor setting, it almost felt to Lily as if she were having a dream. She returned her attention to the open door and the guards running up the bridges. This time, Lily could calm her breathing and focus herself. She did so, then passed her hand over the doorway. It shimmered with a newly cast Barrier. Now, no one could get in who wasn¡¯t already in.

 Chapter 18: Reunion, part 3

    Ignoring the angry bellows of the guards trapped outside by the Barrier, Lily walked forward. Fae grunted and followed her. For as much as Black Crux Manor displayed its origins as an old fortress on the outside, it truly was a manor house on the inside. Thick rugs carpeted the black-stoned floor, while white plaster walls stretched up to decorated ceilings and intricate chandeliers that cast subdued candlelight over old paintings of stern men and women. Aside from these faces of past inhabitants, Lily saw no one.

    To her left was a stairway spiraling up; to her right, a closed door. She chose to continue forward, up the step and into the main hall. Here were long tables for dining, with tableware all set out in place, everything in order and ready for guests. The ceiling was high, composed of thick wooden beams interspersed with ornamental wood carvings. Up near that ceiling, the walls were ringed on three sides with decorative outcroppings. Lily¡¯s gaze was drawn up to where long tendrils sprang from potted plants set upon those outcroppings. They trailed haphazardly down over the dusty tapestries and banners hung beneath. The chandeliers here were even more impressive than those in the entranceway, though the candles in these were not presently lit. Nor were any of the chamber¡¯s fireplaces. The big hall was dim and cold, oddly lifeless. Even the plants appeared to have not been watered for some time.

    As Lily stood gawking, a serving girl entered from a door on the opposite side of the hall. She took one look at Lily, and the panthegrunn flanking her, then turned and fled without a sound.

    Lily wasn¡¯t sure what she had been expecting. More people? Bustling courtiers? A garrison¡¯s worth of armed fighters feasting at the table? The encounter with the serving girl reminded her that, no matter the place¡¯s evil reputation in her eyes, it would be home and workplace for many regular townspeople. It also reminded her that soon someone higher up than a serving girl would be informed of her presence, if they hadn¡¯t already. It was unrealistic to expect zero confrontations, and it was time to move if she wanted to keep those to a minimum.

    Concentrating, she located Marigold by the magic she radiated. Her teacher was somewhere to Lily¡¯s left and up two or three floors. And Lady Iris? Much higher up. Was she in one of the towers? Everything Lily had already endured this day made her fearful, but none of that compared to how she feared to meet that dark mage again. With any luck, she could get to Mari first, then find Vetch and flee quickly with them. Lily took a breath, chose a stairway, and ascended.

    Fae attempted to follow, but the stairs in the old fortress were narrow and spiraled around and around on themselves as they went up. She grunted and tried to shove her way into the too-narrow stairwell behind Lily.

    ¡°Wait here, Fae,¡± Lily soothed her. The panthegrunn fixed her golden eyes on Lily, before sitting down as a cat would and lashing her tufted tail.

    Up and up Lily went, keeping her eyes open for any other people she might run into and her magic attuned to where she sensed Marigold to be. She passed the first landing without a second glance. From somewhere on that floor, she could hear people chattering jovially and guessed them to be servants jesting with one another as they worked.

    The stairs terminated at the third floor. Marigold felt as if she was one more floor above that. Frustratingly, Lily would have to find another stairwell that led there. She stepped out into a wide corridor. She could go left or right. A third option¡ªa side hall that split off perpendicular¡ªappeared cold and dark as far as she could see down it. Lily went right, her shoes tracking dust onto the hallway¡¯s thick carpet.

    She had barely gone three steps when a man¡¯s voice startled her from behind. ¡°Miss? Excuse me, miss. Do you belong here?¡±

    Turning, Lily was confronted by a little old man dressed in immaculate yet dated courtier¡¯s wear. Despite his agedness, he peered up at her with astute eyes.

    ¡°I ... I¡¯m ...¡± Lily faltered.

    ¡°The Lady is not receiving guests this day.¡± As he spoke, Lily could see how he scrutinized her and her dirty and rumpled clothes, the haphazard fall of her wavy hair loosened from its tie, and the dirt she had tracked onto the carpets. What had sounded like minor irritation in the old man¡¯s voice changed to suspicion. ¡°How did you get in here? Bah. Don¡¯t bother answering,¡± he muttered. ¡°Damnable guards. It falls to me, then. Young miss, you do not belong in this castle and shall be escorted out. Now, if you will follow me, please ...¡±

    ¡°Where is Marigold?¡± Lily blurted out, before the man reached the stairs. He stopped in his tracks and fixed Lily with a strange gaze. For a moment, he stood stock-still and silent, chin trembling and brows knit in thought. Something about the way his eyes kept darting around unnerved Lily. She started backing away. Why was she wasting time allowing anyone to detain her? She was already trespassing. It wouldn¡¯t be long before someone more threatening than this old man was alerted to her presence.

    ¡°Miss ...¡± the old courtier cautioned. But he had barely gotten the word out before a loud bell began clanging from somewhere. At almost the same moment, there was a screech from below, followed by loud cursing, and Fae roaring. The old courtier advanced, stiff-legged. ¡°Miss, please ...¡±

    There was too much happening all at once, too much noise, too many doors and corridors to choose from. Lily decided she was done with this old man. Why she had humored his words in the first place, she couldn¡¯t say. What was she doing? Why did she think she must furnish explanations to anyone? Would Marigold have stood stuttering in the presence of some primly-dressed courtier? Of course not.

    Ignoring the old man¡¯s repeated promptings, Lily turned and strode purposefully away from him. The bell, an alarm of some kind she decided, continued its raucous clanging. From the floors below came a sound like heavy furniture being toppled. Servants and folk dressed in finery alike began coming out into the corridor to see what the excitement was about. Lily pushed past those she met and continued on, looking down every new hall and into rooms she passed for a new stairway. She could sense Marigold somewhere directly above her now.

    Heavy boot falls on the carpet alerted her to a guardsman charging up the hall behind her. Lily didn¡¯t wait for his shout to stop. She ran. The guardsman charged after her. He was faster. He would catch her. A Barrier. She needed a Barrier. How many had she already cast? The edges of Slumber plucked at her awareness. It would not be held off forever. Every additional Barrier she cast now would bring that state closer, so each one was a risk that must be weighed against necessity. She decided she needed this one.

    She stopped and turned to face the approaching swordsman. She had to be quick about it, no time to concentrate. Closing her eyes, Lily drew her hand in a thin slicing motion from one side of the corridor to the other, making not a full wall that would block the swordsman off, but a thin strip of a Barrier at knee height. The sudden appearance of the shimmering tripwire meant the man had no opportunity to slow his charge. His legs were taken violently out from underneath him. He let out a sharp bellow of pain as he crashed headlong to the floor, his sword tumbling out of his grasp. Lily did not even pause to assure herself he was down for good, but ran again.

    ¡°Stairs, stairs ...¡± she gasped to herself, as if invoking them would make some appear. She checked every door she passed. One alcove she looked into was nothing more than a privy. But then, across from that, a spiraling stairway leading up!

    Panting, she ran up the steps two at a time, her heart thudding in her chest. The damned alarm bell cloaked all other sounds. Were those more boot falls coming up the stairs behind her? Or were they further away? Fully expecting to stumble into the hands of more waiting guards at the top of the stairs, Lily was surprised to find the corridor she arrived in empty but for one man. A few doors down the hallway, a lone guard stood beside a closed door. Lily didn¡¯t even need to concentrate to know that Marigold was behind it.

    As Lily approached, the guardsman went to draw his blade. She didn¡¯t hesitate, but immediately threw a Barrier around him that effectively shackled his arms and torso to the wall. He struggled momentarily, then as realization dawned on his face, he gawked at Lily in fear and muttered something in a foreign tongue.

    Lily tried the door. It was locked.

    ¡°Keys,¡± she said to the guard. He only smirked. ¡°Keys!¡± she demanded and raised her hand.

    He flinched and grumbled, ¡°Belt.¡±

    Keeping her eyes on him, Lily had to kneel and snake her hand up underneath the Barrier, all the while watching for him to try some trick like seizing her arm. But he didn¡¯t. He stood still while she relieved him of the keys and tried each of them in the lock until she found the correct one. Lily pushed open the door.

    In the center of the room, facing the door as if awaiting Lily¡¯s arrival, stood Marigold. The old woman appeared tired, as if she had aged years rather than weeks since Lily had last seen her. But she also stood confidently, dressed and with boots on. She had been waiting, ready. Shaking her head, the old woman chided, ¡°I felt you. Then I watched that wild charge of yours up the bridges on Fae. What in all of Kaldura were you thinkin¡¯ comin¡¯ here, girl?¡±

    Lily put her hands to her mouth. Almost she feared to believe this reunion was true, that Mari truly was alive and hale and standing here before her after fearing for her so many nights and days. She hadn¡¯t the words to say. In their stead tears of relief slid down her cheeks as she stepped forward and embraced her teacher.

    Marigold hugged her and patted her back, saying softly, ¡°But I¡¯m glad you did come. I am so relieved to see you. I thought she had killed you.¡±

    Lily swallowed. ¡°She tried.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Releasing her, Marigold crossed to the window and peered out of it. ¡°And she¡¯ll try again if we run into her.¡± She came back and offered her hand to Lily. ¡°Come. We need to flee from here as quick as possible. That bell means you stirred up the hornet¡¯s nest, girl. How much casting have you done?¡±

    ¡°More than I¡¯d meant to.¡±

    Marigold chewed her lip, nodded once. ¡°I¡¯ll take it from here. Follow me. We¡¯ll stick to the servant¡¯s corridors.¡±

    Lily was relieved to let her Mage-Matron lead the way. Marigold¡¯s presence had an instant calming influence on her. It had been such a mad race breaking into the castle, followed by the confusion and fear of navigating its interior, and not knowing what she had gotten herself into. Now, she could gather her thoughts and rely on Marigold¡¯s know-how, halving the extreme burden she¡¯d felt since launching a solo attack on an entire castle.

    As they passed the Barrier-shackled guard in the corridor, Marigold commented, ¡°Nice work.¡± She led Lily in a different direction from the one by which she had arrived. They went down a lesser corridor, through a door, and then down a cramped stairway covered in dust and cobwebs, Marigold muttering all the while about the poor state of the place. The words mostly flitted past Lily¡¯s ears, until Marigold said, ¡°Where¡¯s the other guard that was watching my door? She¡¯s the one I¡¯m worried about.¡±

    ¡°Other guard?¡± Lily asked. ¡°I saw only one.¡±

    Marigold grunted. ¡°Never mind, then. One less problem. At the end of the next hall, a door leads out to a little courtyard, then there¡¯s a gate and some stairs down to a garden path that leads back round to the first floor. We¡¯ll have to be careful of any guards on the walls, but if we can avoid bein¡¯ spotted, and not draw Gilliana down on us, between our Barriers and that beastie o¡¯ yours, we might have a chance at breakin¡¯ out of here. She¡¯ll come when you call her?¡±

    ¡°Fae? Of course,¡± Lily responded absently. She had never seen Marigold move as swiftly down stairs as she did now. The old mage¡¯s wrinkled face was set in a pained rictus and Lily knew it cost her much to move like this. The love that she felt for the old woman flourished anew. It was Lily who had been rescuing Marigold, but now it was the other way around. She couldn¡¯t imagine the things her old teacher had suffered during her abduction and captivity, but here she was setting all that aside to lead Lily to safety before Slumber made it impossible.

    How would Lily ever be without her mentor? She did not relish one day having to leave her side to go on her Mage¡¯s Journeying. How would she ever function alone?

    ¡°Okay, girl, be ready,¡± Marigold said, drawing Lily out of her reverie. They had come to the bottom of the stairs and thence to a door at the end of a long hall where Marigold halted. ¡°This leads outside. Above us will be walkways where guards patrol. We¡¯re gonna have to move fast. Well, fast as this old woman can move. Ready?¡± Without waiting for Lily to answer, she turned the doorknob.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Lily gasped, prompting Marigold to stop with the door ajar a crack. ¡°Vetch. Vetch is somewhere inside the manor. We came here together. He may have been captured. We must find him.¡± Lily felt ashamed at the desperation in her voice, and for how Marigold¡¯s aged face fell in response to this new complication in their path to escape.

    But after a second, the old woman steeled her features, asking, ¡°Where is he?¡±

    Lily could only shake her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Marigold was silent, working things out in her head. The old mage visibly calmed herself, as though to sense the magic in their vicinity, doubtlessly determining where Lady Iris was within the castle. Lily watched as Marigold took in a breath and then let it out.

    ¡°Twice damned we are, then,¡± the old woman whispered heavily. Her hand still on the doorknob, she silently closed the door and turned away from it. ¡°Okay then, Lily. Let¡¯s go find your man.¡±

    She went purposefully back up the hallway with Lily following. They did not go back up the stairs. Instead, Marigold took them through a series of dark, empty rooms in a seemingly deserted wing of the great manor. As they treaded past and through knitting rooms and storage alcoves and hosting parlors, Marigold tsked to herself at the disused spaces. Lily wondered at the state of the palatial castle, how some rooms she had seen were well-kempt and richly adorned, while others appeared not to have been utilized in years, or were stripped bare, leaving their original purposes a mystery. Was this how all the lords and ladies of Kaldura¡¯s noble houses lived? Where were all the people Lily imagined should be inhabiting these rooms?

    The peal of the bell, and sounds of disorder, grew louder as they arrived in a corridor that Lily recognized as another part of the one in which she had met the old courtier.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± she asked above the din.

    Marigold started down a new set of spiraling stairs. ¡°I¡¯ve a feelin¡¯ I know where your man will be if he¡¯s been captured. There¡¯s an old dungeon under the manor. It used to be walled up back when I was here. But knowing Gilliana, it ain¡¯t walled up anymore.¡± She added this last as a bitter mutter, more to herself than to Lily. ¡°Pray to all spirits he¡¯s there, and we can get him out before this damn bell brings all those barbarians down on us.¡±

    ¡°I cast a Barrier so no one can get into the castle from the bridges,¡± Lily informed her. ¡°None of the sellswords in town will be able to answer the call.¡±

    Marigold grunted. ¡°Smart thinkin¡¯, girl. There¡¯ll still be some o¡¯ the bastards on the grounds, though. We¡¯ll have to be wary. Let me do the casting. How¡¯re you feeling?¡±

    Lily thought of lying and saying she was fine. ¡°Lightheaded,¡± she answered truthfully. Slumber was poking and prodding at her. Had she ever gone this long trying to fend it off before? It felt unnatural. She was trailing her hand on the wall beside her to keep herself steady as they went.

    Marigold¡¯s silence was profound. Finally, she repeated, ¡°Let me do the casting.¡±

    They reached the second floor and, again, Marigold charged ahead down one of the many indistinguishable corridors. They began running into people now. Serving folk and courtiers alike peeped out of doors, or milled in hallways, questioning one another about the alarm and the chaos in the dining hall.

    ¡°Shoo! Out of an old woman¡¯s way!¡± Marigold commanded as she strode through them, splitting the groups of people as a falcon splits a flock of starlings. Without slowing her pace, Marigold began casting Barriers, identifying certain side hallways, doors, and stairways, and neatly throwing Barriers across them as she went.

    Seeing this, the occupants of Black Crux Manor gawked, some in fear, others in wonder. Some older folks¡¯s eyes popped with recognition at the sight of the old master mage. Marigold ignored them all. Lily quickly caught on to what her teacher was doing. She was using Barriers to cut off avenues from which more soldiers might come, making for them a labyrinth that would buy she and Lily additional time by which to search for Vetch.

    ¡°Let me help,¡± Lily piped up. ¡°Tell me which doors.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Marigold stated flatly, the word made sharp by her intense focus. ¡°I can see ya staggering, girl. Do I look like I can carry your limp form out o¡¯ here if ya drop? No. No casting.¡±

    She was right and Lily knew it. With every step, Lily felt as if her feet were trying to leave the ground. Dark edges wavered around her vision. She didn¡¯t know how long she could hold Slumber off and keep moving, no matter how she desired to. As if sensing this, Marigold added, ¡°Stay awake until we find Vetch. We¡¯ll worry about the next step then.¡±

    With that, she turned down another narrow stairway. Lily staggered down the steps behind her.

    *

    -The night of the livestock raid outside Moonfane Forge-

    Off in the distance, Moonfane Forge lay sleeping beneath its inauspicious mountain. Lady Iris marked the few lights she could see still glowing throughout the town from her vantage point beneath the tangled eaves of Bannerman¡¯s Wood. Torches burned at the one town gate she could see from here. It was a cold night, and a strange mesh of subtle magic always brushed against her senses in this odd forest, but she had left the comfort of her tent deeper in the woods in order to send for Murzagis, the commander of her army, and because she wished to witness this first step in her reclaiming of Mage Marigold with her own eyes. Years of planning and gathering her forces had culminated in this night. It began now. In a few days, her magic instructor would be back in her service once again, where she belonged.

    Murzagis approached on his horse, casting wary glances across the night-blackened pastures. His people were amassed on three sides of the town, hidden and ready. The little farmsteads that dotted the surrounding lands slept even more soundly than their guardian town.

    ¡°Why have you not started yet?¡± Iris asked of Murzagis, before he had even fully dismounted his horse.

    ¡°The man we sent in to count their numbers hasn¡¯t returned yet, as he should have,¡± he replied smoothly. The experienced mercenary always had an answer ready. He was one of the very few who never wavered in Iris¡¯s presence.

    ¡°And?¡± Iris countered. She was weary of all the military tactics. While the meticulousness would ensure that their plan bore fruit, she was anxious to begin the harvest.

    ¡°Knowing their garrison¡¯s numbers will allow me to route them with fewer losses.¡±

    Iris sighed. ¡°Then what do you suggest? It was your idea to send a spy into town.¡±

    ¡°Put off releasing the yaks until tomorrow night. That will give him one more day to return. He has good reason to do as we bid him.¡±

    A gust of wind stole through the forest, causing the silhouetted treetops to lumber and sway. Iris stroked the palm of her hand with her thumb, considering the distant town walled with magic.

    ¡°The farms around here, they have warning bells, do they not?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lady. Why?¡±

    Iris ran her tongue over her painted lips. ¡°Let the animals out first. Then have your people ring the warning bells while they destroy the fences.¡±

    It was a very rare thing for Murzagis to appear hesitant. No indication showed on his pocked face except for the slightest twitch of his moustache. It was a small satisfaction to Iris that she could catch a man of even his prowess off guard once in a while. But she didn¡¯t do it to amuse herself. She was confident he would adapt to this adjustment to his orders.

    ¡°That will bring their soldiers out faster,¡± he conceded. ¡°They¡¯ll see us and pursue us. We¡¯ll have less time to do as you¡¯ve asked of us.¡± After a short pause, he said, ¡°May I ask why you want to raise the alarm for them?¡±

    ¡°So you can count their defenders when they swarm out. Is that not what you wanted?¡± Murzagis was silent. Lady Iris yawned. She was tired of waiting. It was time to put the plan into action. ¡°It was your man¡¯s failure that necessitates this now. I, too, would like to know the strength of their numbers. This solves the problem for both of us. If your people are as capable as you have always assured me they are, then they will have no issue gauging whatever it is they need to about the enemy¡¯s forces, while still avoiding being caught.¡±

    Murzagis¡¯s features creased in thought. Perhaps he considered the prospect of refusing her command and angering her. He chose a more profitable tack, as she had expected he would.

    ¡°Calling them down on us on purpose will add considerably to the risk my people are taking on. We won¡¯t have nearly as much time to break all the fences and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And, yet, you will still break all the fences. If they don¡¯t have need to drive all their valuable animals into town in order to safeguard them, then they won¡¯t have need to take down the Barrier. Make it happen.¡±

    ¡°It will cost more.¡±

    ¡°When does it ever not?¡± Iris asked with a blas¨¦ flip of her hand. ¡°Make it happen. Give the order to your forces now. Show me their work is worth the coin and you may name your price when I have the old woman.¡±

    Murzagis smoothed one of the long tendrils of his moustache between thumb and forefinger. He nodded darkly, mounted his horse, and rode off in silence.

    Iris stared off at the distant lights of Moonfane Forge, a golden treasure box filled with silver and wisdom.

 Chapter 18: Reunion, part 4

    *

    The sharp peal of a distant alarm bell struck Vetch like lightning ...

    Vetch sat bolt upright in his cell. Immediately, he had to cringe back into a fetal position on the stinking straw that lined the stone floor upon which he lay. His body was aflame, the sword wounds he bore so painful as to make his stomach twist in knots. They hadn¡¯t beat him. Not truly. But to his injured and infected body, even a couple punches had been sufficient to double him over and make him meek.

    It had happened so fast. Practically the moment he¡¯d stepped through the servant¡¯s door into the castle, he had been hemmed in by four of Lady Iris¡¯s sellswords. They had been waiting. There was no fighting back, nor concocting a story to excuse his presence there. They had seized him and unceremoniously relieved him of his weapons. Then, with hardly a word, and only enough physicality to make sure he got the message, they had forced him down a set of narrow stone steps into a dim chamber carved directly out of the foundation¡¯s rock. It could have been a wine or cheese cellar, except for the four heavy wooden doors set into the walls, each with a tiny slat of a viewing window crossed with iron bars. A dungeon. Vetch had been offloaded into one of the dirty cells and the door locked behind him.

    There he had lain, sick and fevered and destitute. He hardly cared to spare a thought for how they had been alerted to his coming. One of Siegert¡¯s people had sold him out, or Siegert himself. It could even have been some uninvested townsperson, someone who had overheard something and gone to the castle to sell that information. It hardly mattered and there was no use conjecturing. The only certainty was that, once again, Vetch had made the wrong call. Entrusted with picking a plan and leading the charge, he had chosen wrong. Just as it had been in the forest. Given the lead, he¡¯d led his people into disaster and now lay dying himself.

    The worst of it was having to wonder if they had also been alerted to Lily¡¯s presence. Were they even now down in town searching for her, or even had already captured her? How long had he been unconscious? Time passed strangely here. It was impossible to discern night from day. Maybe Lily was at this moment imprisoned elsewhere in the manor. Maybe not. Maybe she was back in their inn room, unwittingly believing he would soon return any moment. Either way, knowing he had failed her was a cold knife plunged into his guts. He expected he would die here. Lily would never know what had become of him, nor why he had failed to free Marigold.

    Vetch rolled onto his other side and then clenched his eyes hard against the fever pain it woke throughout his battered body. He desired sleep more than anything, no matter that it brought with it strange fever dreams. The one he had just woken from had been strangest of all. He had dreamed he was back home in Moonfane Forge, roused from his bed in the barracks by the sound of alarm bells signaling the livestock raid on their town. Against his thrumming ear drums, he could still hear the confused voices of his fellow garrison soldiers asking one another what was happening.

    ¡°¡ªkeeps on and on, don¡¯t it? What do you think it is?¡±

    ¡°Dunno. Guard! Hey! Guard! Has he left?¡±

    Those weren¡¯t any voices Vetch recognized. Strange. He wasn¡¯t asleep anymore, yet he still heard them. The bell, too, continued its incessant clanging. He opened his eyes. No mistaking it. He was awake, not dreaming. The alarm bell was real and coming from somewhere up in the castle. The muffled sounds of shouts and running boots accompanied it.

    Painfully, he pushed himself to his feet and pushed his face to the bars of his cell door¡¯s window. There was little to see. The dungeon was a roughly circular room hewn directly out of the bedrock, with individual cells set intermittently in its walls. Vetch had counted four of them when they¡¯d brought him down here. Only the one directly across from his own cell was visible from his window. Through that door, he could see the woman who had been amongst Siegert¡¯s group. Hers was one of the voices he had heard. The replies to her words came from the cell to Vetch¡¯s left. No sound arrived from the cell to his right. Siegert¡¯s group was imprisoned here with him. So, they had not been his betrayers? Had it just been poor luck, then, a chance spotting by a sentry on the wall when they had crossed Lily¡¯s Barrier bridge?

    ¡°He wakes,¡± said the woman in the cell across from his, upon seeing him peering out. There was no emotion behind her words.

    Vetch swallowed. His throat was terribly sore and dry. ¡°They caught you, too?¡± he croaked.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t any challenge, with the way Siegert was hollering for ¡®em to come get us.¡± This from the cell on Vetch¡¯s left. Though he couldn¡¯t see into it from his vantage point, he discerned there were at least two men inside it, as a second voice called, ¡°Ain¡¯t that right, Siegert? Bastard.¡±

    ¡°No response to that, old friend?¡± goaded the woman. ¡°We know you can hear us.¡±

    There came a shuffling sound from the cell to Vetch¡¯s right, then a muffled thump, as if a large man leaned heavily against the door. ¡°Didn¡¯t betray you. We got caught was all.¡± Siegert¡¯s voice. After a pause, he added, ¡°You think I¡¯d be in here with you, roughed up like I am, if it were otherwise? You were too noisy and too greedy. That¡¯s what got us caught.¡±

    ¡°He lies,¡± came a voice from the cell to the left. ¡°He didn¡¯t hesitate to sell you out once the guards had us.¡± This last was ostensibly directed at Vetch, but he had little interest in wading into this squabble between thieves. It was Siegert who rose to the comment.

    ¡°And you should be thanking me that I did! If it weren¡¯t for my giving him up, they would¡¯ve killed us instead of simply locking us in here. I¡¯ll smooth it out. Lady Iris knows me.¡±

    The women in the cell across from Vetch made a sound of disgust and turned away from her window.

    ¡°Tell me you didn¡¯t give Lily up to them, as well,¡± Vetch grated. ¡°Siegert? Answer me.¡±

    Siegert¡¯s only response was to break into a violent fit of coughing. Was it legitimate, or did he seek to avoid answering? Before Vetch could press him, the door at the top of the dungeon stairs opened. The flame of the torch there wavered, making its light dance along the stone walls. The door shut and then Vetch heard someone coming down the steps.

    ¡°Guard, what¡¯s happening up there?¡± one of the men in the cell to Vetch¡¯s left asked. ¡°Hey, can you bring us more water?¡±

    A tall woman dressed in light armor, plainly one of Lady Iris¡¯s sellswords, passed Vetch¡¯s cell to peer in at the two men held to his left. She made a dismissive sound, then turned to look in on the woman across the way.

    ¡°Hm ... not in that mood,¡± she said to herself in an accented, singsong voice. ¡°Not today.¡± Turning away from that cell, she went to Siegert¡¯s door. Vetch could not see the guard directly from this angle, but sensed she stood long before it.

    Siegert¡¯s coughing fit abated. He cleared his throat. ¡°Guard, I wish to speak with Lady Iris,¡± he demanded. ¡°This is a misunderstanding. I caught the man who was trying to free her captive, the old mage. She¡¯s here, isn¡¯t she? Mage Marigold? The man in the cell next to mine meant to sneak in and free her. I stopped him! That was me! Please, let me speak with your mistress and this can all be straightened out. Tell her my name is Siegert. I was once a sentry in this castle. She will know me.¡±

    Vetch ground his teeth together. Was that how it was? Had Siegert steered him into being captured in order to curry favor with Lady Iris? Had that been his plan from the start, from when he had first overheard his and Lily¡¯s plotting in the inn¡¯s common room? Maybe it was simply a convenient backup plan, a way for him to save his own neck after being caught thieving.

    The sellsword made a strange sound, something between a slow exhalation and a moan. ¡°You, hm. Perhaps another time for you,¡± she said slowly, ignoring Siegert¡¯s appeal. ¡°When I don¡¯t have to rush while your guard is away answering the alarm. When I can make it last.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Something in the way she spoke put Vetch on the alert. Even Siegert grew quiet at this woman¡¯s disquieting manner. She left him and finally came to stand before Vetch¡¯s cell door. Staring at him through the barred window with dark, avid eyes, she raised her brows.

    ¡°What have we here? You look fevered. Are you ill? Injured?¡± An odd smile grew on her face as Vetch stared back at her. Her gaze unnerved him, but at the same time, he felt it would be a mistake to take his eyes off this particular sellsword, even with the stout door between them. ¡°You look as if you are in pain. Poor child,¡± she simpered. ¡°Would you like mother to do something about it?¡±

    ¡°Spirits and hells ...¡± muttered one of the men in the cell to the left. He was quickly shushed by his companion.

    As Vetch watched, the woman unbuckled her sword belt and leaned the sheathed blade against the wall. She produced a set of keys and let herself into his cell, unconcernedly leaving the door wide open behind her. Vetch stepped back and prepared himself to have to fight her. It would not be easy. The woman was taller than Lily, taller than himself even, and powerfully built, with well-muscled arms.

    ¡°Look how defensive, how you hunch your shoulders to protect your body ...¡± she commented. ¡°You have something ailing you, yes you do.¡±

    Vetch didn¡¯t know what to think of this guard. Then, her punch landed without warning and all his considerations were cast aside. The blow struck him square across his jaw and stars burst before his vision. True to the other sellswords he had tangled with, this one was a seasoned fighter. She had correctly deduced that he was guarding his torso, but rather than hit him where he was weakest, she had directed her fist where he was least expecting and hadn¡¯t thought to guard. It left him staggered. Blackness contracted in around the edges of his vision and only the back wall of his cell kept him propped upright.

    Before he could fight off his dizziness, she was upon him, hands roughly prodding his body until she found the wound under his clothes. They had taken his armor and chain mail along with his weapons. There was nothing but fabric between her press and his burning wound. She gouged her thumb in and Vetch screamed.

    Her face erupted into an expression of joy at his outburst. ¡°There it is!¡± she cooed. ¡°It must hurt so badly. Lie down, lie down. I will take care of you. I will make it hurt so much more.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t fight back as he wanted to. The searing pain that exploded from his wound when she pressed on it made his legs buckle and he slid down to the floor on his back. She followed him down, neatly pinning him with her knee, the weight digging painfully into his hip bone. He struggled and grabbed up a handful of the straw lining the floor, intending to mash it into her eyes. But too quickly, she again pushed her knuckles into his wound. He grunted and felt a hot gush of liquid burst from the wound, creating a wet patch in his shirt. He threw his head back, teeth clenched in agony while he tried to wriggle out from under her. But her strength was too much and the little fight he had remaining in him was rapidly draining.

    The sellsword shook her head. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid to scream more. They¡¯re all too busy to hear it and come down here.¡± It was true. Up above in the castle, the alarm bell continued to ring, lending a chaotic absurdity to Vetch¡¯s predicament. No help would arrive, even in the form of other sellswords. ¡°Done fighting back already?¡± she taunted him, her face hanging over his like that of a concerned mother. ¡°Or do you like the pain?¡± she whispered. ¡°You like it, don¡¯t you? Oh, it must be excruciating. There¡¯s so much more coming. Lie back and let me show you.¡±

    Not a word of protest came from the prisoners in the other cells. Vetch couldn¡¯t blame them. They knew they could be next. Still, knowing that their reticence was wise didn¡¯t prevent him from hating them for it.

    ¡°So weak, so helpless,¡± the sellsword uttered, as if pleasured by it all. ¡°Unable to raise a finger. We¡¯ll watch together as you bleed.¡±

    She produced a wicked little knife and waved it before Vetch¡¯s nose. Seeing the blade and imagining what his assailant would do to him was terrifying, but Vetch counseled himself to composure. He was no fool. This sellsword was entirely caught up in her brutalizing of him, and he could use that against her. He had to. The knowledge that Lily had also most likely been betrayed by Siegert¡ªmight even now be hunted through the streets by more of these bloodthirsty killers¡ªawakened in Vetch a new reserve of strength he hadn¡¯t known he possessed.

    He didn¡¯t show it. Not yet. He held that strength back, hid it from his attacker. He would have only one chance. A single misstep and she could simply slit his throat. The woman held her blade right there at his flesh, its razor edge dragging along his whiskers. Using his attacker¡¯s own words as inspiration, Vetch put fear into his eyes and made himself out to be completely weak and vulnerable, even pretending to struggle feebly, playing into the sadistic fantasy this sellsword was indulging in. He saw the glee it lit in her eyes. Her breath quickened. Vetch pleaded for his life and was ashamed at the sound of his own blubbering, even as it drew her face nearer to his, as he wanted.

    ¡°Please?¡± she mimicked him, coming close enough he could smell the spiced liquor on her breath. ¡°Please cut you? Okay.¡±

    No matter how ready he made himself, when the blade first bit into his skin, he flinched and cried out. She sliced him in a slow, long line following his jaw to his chin, and he felt his own warm blood dripping in rivulets down his neck like legs in a wine glass.

    When she saw that blood flowing, she licked her lips and voiced to an exclamation of delight that made Vetch want to recoil. But in her expressing her pleasure at his pain, there was a momentary slacking of her muscles. Her press down on him eased slightly, leaving him just enough leverage to make his move.

    Summoning all his strength, he thrust his head upward, suddenly and mercilessly smashing his forehead into her nose. At the impact, more stars flashed before his eyes. Blood gushed freely from the sellsword¡¯s nose. She cried out, more in shock than in pain, and dropped the little knife to the floor. Vetch didn¡¯t hesitate. He grabbed the knife and directed a stab into her exposed throat. He pulled the blade back and plunged it in again, then a third time. There was nothing precise or skillful about it, just rough, ugly stabs anywhere he could land them, as she flailed and skirmished with him for the knife. Blood poured from her throat and drenched Vetch¡¯s hands, causing the blade to slip from his fingers.

    He saw it skitter across the floor out of reach, but by now the sellsword was too occupied with frantically clutching her fingers over her gushing wounds to care about the knife or Vetch. He clawed at her eyes, punched her, kneed her, whatever it took to fight his way out from under her. Mostly it served as a distraction, until her panicked heartbeats pumped enough blood out of her that she weakened and slumped over. It didn¡¯t take long. A few moments more and she was still.

    Vetch pushed her body off of himself and then stood up in the middle of the grotesque crimson pool spreading across the cell floor and soaking into the dirty straw. There, he stooped for a time, with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. When he felt he could move again without becoming faint, he checked himself over for any new injuries sustained in the fight and was relieved to discover nothing more than the cut on his chin and a bump raised on his forehead.

    Staggering out the open cell door, he took stock of his situation. The alarm bell was still clanging up in the castle. There was no other guard on the outer door at the top of the stairs, but it was probably locked. He returned to the sellsword¡¯s body to collect her keys. He also took her sword from where it leaned against the wall. In a daze, Vetch trudged toward the stairs.

    ¡°Wait, partner, let me out.¡±

    Vetch stopped and looked in at Siegert in his cell in disbelief. ¡°Do you expect me to act like I didn¡¯t hear everything you told the guard only moments ago?¡±

    Behind the barred window, the hopeful smile faded from Siegert¡¯s mouth. ¡°I said what might get me out of here. As if you wouldn¡¯t do the same.¡± When Vetch only shook his head and made to leave, Siegert pressed his face against the bars, speaking quickly. ¡°Look around you, man. You cannot fight Lady Iris. She¡¯s a powerful mage with a small army surrounding her. The best hope a common man has is to be let into her circle. Those who protect her live well. They don¡¯t break their backs in the wheat fields. They aren¡¯t taxed into starvation. Once she hears it was I who foiled an attack on her home, she¡¯ll bring me back into her garrison, where I belong. Let me out and I¡¯ll put in a good word for you, too. We both could live high on the hog here, like it was back under Lord Marcus.¡±

    To Vetch, Siegert¡¯s denialism of his situation was plain on his face and in his desperate words. Did he even understand that he was asking Vetch to disregard the betrayal and turn his back on Lily? And for what, a position amongst those who had killed his people and burned his town? It was beyond ludicrous.

    ¡°Where would they be holding Marigold?¡± Vetch asked him bluntly. He needed to find her, free her, and then get to Lily before the other sellswords did.

    Siegert¡¯s brow knit in confusion. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I had expected her to be down here. Lady Iris hated her after she left.¡±

    Again, Vetch turned away, against Siegert¡¯s pleas and the calls of his companions in the other two locked cells. Vetch looked back at them once and was met with a string of appeals to be let free, how they had not been in on Siegert¡¯s plot to get him captured, how they could aid Vetch in his quest. He let all those words filter past his ears. Looking at those people pleading with him from behind bars, he recalled a time when he stood outside a cell door and looked into the pleading eyes of a skinny horse thief in Moonfane Forge. That man, he had taken pity on and chosen to release. He could never forget the havoc that poor decision had unleashed upon his fellow soldiers on the path in Bannerman¡¯s Wood.

    Without a word, Vetch left them to their fate and went up the stairs. He let himself out through the dungeon door and then locked it again behind him. He drew his hard-won sword, hardened himself against fever and pain, and then headed up into the manor, toward the sounds of calamity.

 Chapter 19: Blade and Barrier, part 1

    The road had not been unkind to Ennric and his party. Since departing Moonfane Forge for the King¡¯s Capital City, the weather had held mostly fair. There had been little rain, and they had not once been accosted by bandits of any kind. It was a wonder, for their numbers had dwindled significantly since the upheaval in the previous town. Many had chosen to splinter off and go their own ways. They no longer benefitted from having a large enough traveling party that highwaymen would think twice about trying their luck. In truth, it would be hard to call them a traveling party at all now. They were less than a dozen, and a scraggly looking bunch at that. They went along not as a unified group, but spread out down the road in pairs or as individuals.

    It all added up to make Ennric nervous. His people looked like easy prey. If they chanced upon robbers who recognized that some of the livestock they led were not common cattle, but valuable Moonfane yaks, there could be trouble. Some men would kill to take possession of even one of those beasts.

    So it was that Ennric saw this trying excursion as something of a disaster already, regardless of how kind the road itself had been. He had failed to keep his people together, and those few that remained were¡ªin his pragmatic judgement¡ªnot the best that Moonfane Forge had to offer. Making it safely to the capital now paled in comparison to the challenge that would be gaining the ear of the king. What would King Caiside think of Ennric and his paltry group of riffraff, a broken-down old soldier leading a handful of refugees come to beg at his feet? It would be a miracle if even a minor administrator agreed to hear them.

    As he frequently had the last few days, Ennric thought of his friend, Vetch. Why had Vetch chosen him for this task? He''d put his faith in Ennric, but Ennric feared the outcome of that faith would only be disappointment when he returned home empty-handed. The thought was accompanied by a pang of worry for his friend. He hoped Vetch and his people were safe and faring better than his own.

    Ennric scratched his cheek and yawned. He looked to his right where Purcell rode alongside his cart. The shadow she cast shaded his face and good eye from the harshness of the setting sun, for which he was thankful. She rode more confidently now than she''d had in their early days on the road, sitting in the saddle with a proper rider''s posture. She wore Ennric¡¯s sword on her belt, too. The few lessons in swordplay he''d given her had not produced promising results, but for the time being she looked the part¡ªalmost like a soldier. That was a start.

    Ahead up the road, a worker was busy with what looked like repairs to an old signpost. As his cart clattered past, Ennric tried to read the words on the battered sign that lay cast aside on the ground near the new post hole the worker was engaged in digging. Even Ennric¡¯s good eye had difficulty finding the edges of the sign¡¯s faded letters to read it. He tugged the reins to stop his cart by the worker. The other people in his party halted at his signal.

    ¡°Good man, can you tell me how far we are from the capital? Can we make it there before nightfall?¡±

    The worker stopped digging. He leaned on his spade and wiped perspiration from his bald pate, peering up at Ennric with eyes squinted against the setting sun. ¡°Eh? The King¡¯s City? Nay, friend. You¡¯ve another day¡¯s ride or more to reach the outskirts.¡± He returned to his task.

    Ennric grunted his disappointment. He found his waterskin, had a sip from it, then used his mending arm to return it back to its place behind his seat. Using that arm for simple tasks as much as possible would aid in building back its strength and range of motion. He could go most of the day without the sling now, though it still felt tenuous. He wondered if that arm would ever be the same again.

    Leaning forward in her saddle, Purcell asked him, "Should I let the others know we''ll make camp here?"

    The worker went on with his digging, saying before Ennric could respond, "If you mean to camp hereabouts, you need to ask the permission of my master, Lord Arnoald. You''re in the territory of Boar''s Helm, Lord Widald''s holding."

    "Lord Widald?" queried Ennric. Inwardly, he sighed. There would be so many different lords and ladies to learn and navigate through before they could come anywhere near the king. Now it begins, he thought to himself.

    "That''s right. Lord Widald and Lady Kordula own all the land and livestock you see around you. You''ll need to present yourself up at their manor house and ask permission to camp. It¡¯s not far,¡± he added, pausing in his digging to point up the road. "Lord Widald and Lady Kordula themselves live in the city, where Widald advises the king. You''ll want to ask his son, Lord Arnoald. Or Arnoald''s sister, Lady Ulrika. They oversee Boar''s Helm for their parents these days."Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Purcell made a sound of annoyance and muttered something under her breath. Ennric glanced at her with a look that let her know to rein in her opinions. He asked the worker, "You say your lord and lady advise the king himself?"

    "Aye, Lord Widald does. But I work for Arnoald and Ulrika nowadays. I see to the grounds of Boar''s Helm. Mendall is my name. Because I mend all what needs to be mended. Get it?"

    Ennric stopped himself from muttering the same sound of annoyance. "I get it. Mendall, then. This may be a fortunate meeting for us. My name is Ennric. I''m a soldier from the garrison at Moonfane Forge. There was an attack on our town. Many people were killed, soldiers and townsfolk alike. My group is on our way to petition the king for aid. Maybe your masters could help present us to King Caiside. His Majesty will want to hear our story."

    "Moonfane Forge? An attack? Truly?" The worker speared his spade into the dirt and came closer to Ennric''s cart, shading his eyes. "And you''re a soldier, you say? You don''t look one, if you don''t mind me saying. I know a soldier there. Lord Widald''s youngest is a soldier at Moonfane Forge. He departed for his assignment to their garrison some while ago. Perhaps you''d know him. Wenzl is his name."

    Ennric felt a cold chill run down his spine. The same uncomfortable tingling that had overwhelmed him for days following his failure to prevent Wenzl¡¯s death in the battle blanketed his body now.

    Haltingly, he replied, ¡°Yes ... I met the lad.¡±

    The worker¡¯s eyes were hopeful, searching. ¡°Is the boy alright? He¡¯s a good lad, much beloved by his parents and siblings. What news of him?¡±

    Internally, Ennric cautioned himself. This, perhaps, wasn''t the time nor person to reveal such sorrowful news to. He chose his words carefully. ¡°Many people were scattered during the attack. There were injuries, as you¡¯d expect. Not everyone had yet been accounted for when our party set out.¡±

    There. It was not a lie, and perhaps it would be enough for this man for now. The last thing he wanted was for the wrong words to sour relations before they¡¯d even had a chance to present themselves before the local nobility. At any rate, it would be better to deliver the tragic news about Wenzl directly to his family. Ennric did not relish that responsibility, and, yet, it was his. Truly, what did he expect? Wenzl wasn¡¯t the only soldier lost in the battle who had ties to the capital. Captain Tarese herself had family in the area. Who else was there but he to bring word of these losses?

    Without meaning to, Ennric voiced a sigh.

    The worker cleared his throat. ¡°Yes. Yes, I expect it would be so. That''s ill news, sir, ill news. Well ...¡± Again, he wiped sweat from his head and put on a tight smile. ¡°I expect master Wenzl came through alright. He¡¯s a skilled a swordsman.¡± Nodding to himself, he gestured at the hole he¡¯d been digging. ¡°This can wait. If you don¡¯t mind lettin¡¯ me ride with you to the manor, I¡¯ll be glad to introduce you to Lord Arnoald and Lady Ulrika. We¡¯re not far from the house. Over the next rise and we''ll be in sight of it.¡±

    At Ennric¡¯s nod, the man retrieved his spade and stowed it in the back of the cart. He climbed up in the seat beside Ennric. Ennric gave the reins a shake and got his horse moving again. The cart clattered up the road, with Purcell riding alongside, and their little party of refugees following wearily.

    Shadows grew across the landscape as they mounted the next hill and followed the road down toward an expansive countryside estate partially hidden by tall, old trees¡ªBoar''s Helm Manor. Evening lamps were being lit along the gravel drive leading up to the main house as Ennric¡¯s cart horse trundled up it. Ennric looked to his left and right at the two serving folk going from lamp post to lamp post with their flames. His eye was then drawn up to the tall, stately house at the end of the drive. Before he¡¯d even brought his cart to a complete stop in front of it, Mendall hopped down from the seat.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be nearing suppertime,¡± he declared, collecting his spade. ¡°Ah, here¡¯s someone coming to take your animals to the stables. If you want to follow me, we¡¯ll go find Lady Ulrika or Lord Arnoald. One or the other is certain to be about.¡±

    Ennric climbed slowly down from the cart and grimaced at how his back ached. The familiar pain punctuated the end of each day on the road. As he took a moment to compose himself, a stable hand appeared at his side. With a smile, she took his horse and cart. Purcell dismounted and allowed her horse to be taken, as well. The rest of their party stood in the drive gawking around them.

    There was an efficiency to the serving folk who emerged to take care of the guests arriving at their estate. No one had even needed to call them to their tasks. Having visitors was clearly a common occurrence here, and the quality of service told Ennric that those visitors were more often than not of the high born variety. It was strange watching his ragged party receive such hospitality.

    When a young boy approached to lead the Moonfane yaks to the stables, the herdsman who¡¯d gamely guided the prized animals all the way from Moonfane Forge was reluctant to turn them over.

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer to go with ¡®em,¡± he said, upon catching Ennric¡¯s eye.

    ¡°Then go with ¡®em,¡± Ennric agreed. ¡°The rest of you, wait here until we can negotiate staying the night. Purcell, come with me.¡±

    She fell in beside him and together they followed Mendall. He led them directly through tall double doors into the impressive manor house. So, this is where Wenzl came from, Ennric thought to himself. When he paused before the threshold, reluctant to track the day''s dust onto the pristine floor of the entryway, Mendall gave a flippant wave of his hand.

    "Pay that no mind, man. Neither of my masters are strangers to hard work outside. Most days it''s Lord Arnoald himself tracking the dirt in. Someone''ll see to it."

    "If you say so," Ennric mumbled and followed him.

 Chapter 19: Blade and Barrier, part 2

    The entryway gave way to a large open landing where two curving staircases converged. Ennric had never seen the room''s like. Palatial in scale, the house''s decor reminded him of a hunting lodge. There were heads of trophy bucks and boars on the walls, and a chandelier composed of deer antlers hanging from a ceiling painted with both forest and pasture scenes. The subdued glow of its many candle flames glimmered off the polished dark woods of the stairs and the golden boar''s heads that capped the ends of the banisters.

    There were old shields and life-sized portraits decorating the paneled walls, symbols of nobility and heredity, each a treasure in its own right. But the one that truly caught his attention was the coat of arms hanging on the center wall between the two staircases: a shield split down the diagonal, one half green, the other blue, with a black, running boar prominent in the center, and above the boar, a soldier''s helm cast in silver.

    Ennric stared at the device of heraldry, knowing he was soon to be in the presence of nobility, and felt a wave of nervousness. Here he was, one old soldier acting as the representative for all of Moonfane Forge''s interests. All of the protocol he''d tried to memorize about how to act and speak around the high born fled him on the spot. He''d not even shaved that morning, and he probably stank from sweating under the sun on his cart seat all day.

    "Mendall, who are these people? Are they with the group milling about in the drive?"

    "Ah! Lord Arnoald, sir. These people''ve arrived from Hold Moonfane. They say there''s been an attack. They''re on their way into the city to see the king, and they''re needing permission to camp on the lands tonight."

    The man now descending the stairs was not someone Ennric could imagine working outdoors or tracking dirt into a house. He was a lord in all ways. Tall and well-built, his face bore features that could be called both distinctive and handsome. His light brown eyes were large and stern. A wide jaw and cheekbones framed a prominent nose that was like a hawk''s beak. His hair was feathery and blonde, just long enough to be slicked back and tied in a short tail. The man wore gleaming leather riding boots and fine black trousers. Hints of white lace peeked out at the collar and cuffs of his blue jacket, its buttons burnished gold. His posture spoke of habitual authority. At his hip was a rapier.

    Yet, there were signs that perhaps this man was not just an idling noble, evidenced by his sun-darkened skin and the muscle that pressed out the sleeves of his jacket. He would at least know how to use the blade he wore, Ennric surmised. As he observed him, Ennric also recalled to himself who this was. Not only a noble, but Wenzl''s older brother. Not all brothers looked alike, and the resemblance wasn''t strong, but it was there¡ªin the eyes, the ears, the hairline. Again, Ennric experienced a chill.

    "Is that all?" said Lord Arnoald with a turning down of the corners of his thin lips. "Surely, you didn''t need to troop them in here to take care of that?"

    "Sir?" queried Mendall uncertainly.

    "For spirits''s sake, man. Next time just tell them to camp where they would, and come let me or Ulrika know." With a flick of his eyes in the direction of Ennric and Purcell, Arnoald added, "My apologies."

    Ennric found he was bobbing his head in a nod, though he certainly couldn''t see any reason why a high born man such as this had any need to apologize to him.

    Mendall drew himself up, his tanned brow knit. "My lord, if you don''t mind me saying, that''s not how your father would do things."

    Pausing on the bottommost step, which only served to accentuate his height, Lord Arnoald voiced an exaggerated sigh. "Mendall, go find something to busy yourself with."

    Mendall shrugged, bowed, and said, "Sir." He then turned back for the entryway.

    "Now," Arnoald continued, stepping off the last stair and approaching Ennric and Purcell, his riding boots clicking across the floor. "As long as you''re here, I might as well hear what news you''ve brought from the north. And introductions are in order. Let''s start with that. Who are you and what brings you here on your way to see the king?"

    "I already mentioned, my lord, they''ve come from Hold Moonfane," Mendall broke back in, turning around and walking back over. "There''ve news of an attack, sir."

    "Mendall," Arnoald spoke, putting a note of finality in his tone. Looking down his sharp nose at his servingman, he repeated, "I said go find something to busy yourself with."

    Surrendering, Mendal bobbed a nod and issued a quiet, "Sir," before taking himself out of the room.

    Lord Arnoald kept his silence until the man was out the double doors and had closed them behind himself. Ennric waited with apprehension for him to speak again. Or was he himself supposed to speak now?

    The manor lord broke the tension by cracking a smile and quietly laughing. "Don''t mind him. He''s worked here since before I was born. Thinks he runs the entire property. So ..." He slapped Ennric heartily on the back, setting up a little cloud of dust. "I can see you''ve come a long way," he observed, clapping dust off his hands. "I''d be pleased to hear about what brings you to King''s Hold. Follow me. We might as well be comfortable as we talk." He gestured with his hand at a door off the side of the grand entryway and then led the way through it.

    Ennric allowed Purcell to go first and then followed. They found themselves in a lavish little hosting room. It looked to Ennric like the kind of room in which high born ladies would chat and have afternoon tea, with plastered walls bearing more paintings, and a cozy little fire hearth, presently swept out for the warm months. There were a number of high-backed, cushioned chairs and some little tables where refreshments might be placed. On a sideboard was a bottle of brandy and a set of crystal snifters. The lit candles on the mantle were hardly sufficient to light the room, though the painting above them was illuminated eerily by their glow.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Lord Arnoald''s boot steps were dampened by the room''s thick rugs as he went to a chair and threw himself down in it with one leg over the armrest. "Have a seat," he said with a gesture at the other chairs. "As I''m sure you''ve gathered, I am Arnoald. I oversee Boar''s Helm in my father''s stead while he''s in the city. Oh, and if it wasn''t clear before, yes, you have my permission to pass the night on his property. Just be sure to tell your people that they may not hunt any of the game on these grounds. If you wish to purchase meat, you can see my butcher.

    "Now that that''s out of the way, tell me of your travels. And your names. It''s been so long since we have had visitors from outside King''s Hold, and news from the north has been few and far between. Mendall mentioned you arrived from Hold Moonfane, and that there had been an attack of some sort? Was this along the border? Would that not be something to take up with the heads of Moonfane Forge, rather than with our king?" On this last question, a hint of amusement crept into the manor lord''s voice.

    The deluge of information and questions gave Ennric pause. He wasn''t even certain he was sitting in a polite enough fashion, let alone where to begin answering. He had not expected to be thrust into the presence of the nobility directly off the road. He felt completely unprepared and more than a little unworthy.

    "Uh ... m-my lord," Ennric cleared his throat, trying to gather his thoughts. "I''m ... my name is Ennric. I am, uh, was a soldier in the Moonfane Forge garrison." Ennric paused and faltered. His throat felt so dry. How was one supposed to speak to a man like this? Soldiers were not meant to address nobles. Where did one even start? Say the wrong thing and their mission for aid would be over before it began. How was he to convey the gravity of what had happened to their town, that it was not some petty bandit raid along the border?

    He wished he could pour himself a glass of the brandy to wet his throat and calm his nerves. Since entering the room, he had been unable to take his eyes off the painting above the mantle.

    "It''s not like that, sir," Purcell interjected. "That''s where we came from, Moonfane Forge. The heads of town are¡ª"

    "Arnoald?" A woman''s voice came from the entryway. In a moment, what Ennric took to be a serving lass poked her head into the room. Was she here to offer them refreshments? If not the brandy, he hoped at least for a glass of wine. Anything to help him confront this situation.

    "Brother," the young woman said, striding into the room. "Did you know that there are Moonfane yaks in our stables?"

    A look of perturbation passed over Lord Arnoald''s face. "Moonfane yaks? Really?"

    Hands on hips, the woman nodded. Ennric stared. If he''d not known better, by the way the woman was dressed, he''d have sworn she''d just come in from milking cows. She wore a dark kirtle fringed with dust, and a plain blouse. Her black hair was tied haphazardly back, revealing a subtle sheen of sweat before her ears. Yet, she had called the lord of the manor brother. Ennric''s eyes went back to the painting above the mantle. No mistaking it, she was in the painting, along with the rest of her family. Then, this was Lady Ulrika. Wenzl''s sister.

    "Moonfane yaks. ..." Arnoald spoke measuredly now, his eyes settling on Purcell. "You say you''re from Moonfane Forge itself?"

    "Yes, sir. Our town was attacked," Purcell said breathlessly, taking the initiative and stepping in for Ennric in his paralyzed state. "An entire army came down on us and burned half the town to the foundations. Most of the guard and garrison were killed or injured. The heads of town, too. We''ve come to petition the king for help."

    Lord Arnoald''s countenance became grave. Likewise, his sister''s face went pale.

    "How?" Lady Ulrika asked. "Moonfane Forge is protected by magic. It''s one of the safest cities in the kingdom."

    Ennric felt Purcell''s eyes on him. When he could not bring himself to speak, she went on. "It''s hard to explain, ma''am, but before the attack, they concocted a ploy to get our mage to dispel the town Barrier. We were taken by surprise. The town is in ruin. We need coin, workers, reinforcements from the royal garrison, if they can be spared."

    The room felt much too warm to Ennric. He looked at the painting above the mantle¡ªa family portrait. Father and mother, and four children. Three boys and a girl. The youngest boy in the painting, probably no older than thirteen when it was painted, still looked much the same as he had the final time Ennric had seen him. Wenzl. Wenzl, posing in his noble clothes with his siblings in the painting. Wenzl, cold and dead in Ennric''s arms, the flames of the fires reflecting in the pool of his blood on the cobbles.

    As that painful vision reared its ugly head once more in Ennric''s thoughts, Lady Ulrika spoke his name. "Wenzl." Worry, distress, inquiry, all in that single word.

    Lord Arnoald sat forward in his chair, a kind of desperation in his eyes. "Our brother, Wenzl, is assigned to the Moonfane Forge garrison. Do either of you know of him? Is he alive? Is he amongst your party? No. How could he be? He would have been in here to greet us by now."

    "I don''t know of him," Purcell said hesitantly. "I was a guardswoman. Ennric here was in the garrison."

    All eyes turned to Ennric. He swallowed, but his throat was ash and dust. "I ..." Get it over with and tell them, old man. It''s your duty, after all. They need to know. They need to hear it. He took a breath. "I ... I don''t know." The words came tumbling out of their own accord and Ennric discovered he was powerless to stop the flow of cowardice. "It was chaotic in the aftermath, sir, determining who survived and ... and who didn''t. There were soldiers who made it, albeit injured. But ... I don''t know the numbers, or who exactly had not yet been accounted for. I ... I don''t know."

    Why had he said that? Why could he not just tell them? Did he fear it would jeopardize their goodwill? Surely, the lord and lady of the manor could see right through him. He sat with his fingers clasped between his knees, eyes on the floor, waiting for them to divine the truth. Above the mantle, the faces in the painting cast their judgement down on him.

    Arnoald said, "Then I pray to all spirits he''s amongst the survivors. We need to send help there right away," he declared to his sister. Nodding her agreement, she swept from the room. Arnoald stood up. "Take comfort, friends, you''ve arrived at the right place to receive the aid you need. While I cannot guarantee an audience with the king, I can get you a meeting with my father, Lord Widald. He is an advisor and close confidant of King Caiside and can certainly pull some strings. I''ll send out a rider this very night with a note to my father telling him to expect us. Tomorrow morning, you two shall accompany Ulrika and I to the city to see him.

    "In the meantime, my sister will muster what of Boar''s Helm''s resources we can send up north. Take heart. Moonfane Forge has Boar''s Helm''s support. And if I can do anything to influence it, it will have the king''s support, as well. As for tonight, you and your people will have rooms here. Anything you need. Rest, recuperate, and be ready to leave for the city at first light."

    Ennric stood, saying woodenly, "That''s most gracious of you, my lord. We, Moonfane Forge, are in your debt." But what he felt was not a sense of relief at his quest being on the cusp of success, but a deep foreboding, the cause of which he could not put his finger on.

    He didn''t perceive Lord Arnoald opening the bottle of brandy and pouring three glasses, until one of them was pressed into Ennric''s hand. Numbly, he held up the snifter of amber liquor, and caught the look of determination in Lord Arnoald''s eyes as he clinked his glass against Ennric''s. The crystal chimed like a bell.

 Chapter 19: Blade and Barrier, part 3

    *

    Lily and Marigold arrived on the ground floor of Black Crux Manor. The stairs had brought them directly back down to the entranceway that Lily had been in before. The now translucent Barrier she had cast across the castle¡¯s door still shielded them from the soldiers who had come across the bridge from town thinking to heed the call of the alarm bell. On the floor inside the doorway was a short battering ram, and still stranded behind the invisible wall was a press of confounded soldiers. They had evidently discovered that not only would a battering ram not bring down a Barrier, but, being a non-living thing, would in fact pass straight through it. The defeated soldiers stood impotently glaring at Lily and Marigold, unable to do anything but curse them. With hardly a thought, Marigold slammed the tall door shut in their faces. She and Lily then both turned their attention to the tumult before them.

    Up in the great dining hall, a charged standoff was taking place. The hall looked liked a battlefield. The tables that had been in the center of the long room now lay toppled against the walls. Chairs were scattered all around, some smashed to pieces. All the dishes and tableware that had earlier been so neatly laid out in preparation for the next meal had been reduced to shards of glass and fine china that littered the floor.

    Standing in the center of this circle of chaos, a torn tablecloth dangling from one of her horns, was Fae. No less than six of Lady Iris¡¯s soldiers ringed her, weapons at the ready, while the big panthegrunn turned continually in place, trying to dissuade any one of them from darting in behind her. Three more soldiers lay motionless in the wreckage of the hall, victims of the panthegrunn¡¯s wrath. So, this was where the guards who''d already been within the castle had converged upon hearing the alarm. Lily got the sense that this fight had been raging the entire time she had been trailing Marigold through the manor¡¯s upper halls.

    Fae gave a great roar and stomped her hoof down on a fallen chair, rendering it to splinters. She feinted a charge at one soldier, and when that one stumbled back out of her way, she shifted the aim of her attack faster than an animal her size had any right to. Tossing her head at a different soldier who''d chanced to move too near, she caught the man a blow with her horn that sent him reeling back clutching his ribs through dented armor.

    She was holding her own, but this was too much opposition for any one animal to endure for long. Lily could see how exhausted she was. The panthegrunn¡¯s breaths came ragged and labored. She had blood coursing down one of her flanks, and more splashed over her shoulders and down one foreleg. How much was hers and how much had come from the soldiers was impossible to say. Lily¡¯s heart lurched with worry for her. Tough as Fae was, her strength and energy were dwindling, and Lily wasn¡¯t the only one who could see it.

    ¡°Looks like your beastie has been busy,¡± Marigold declared humorlessly. ¡°Let¡¯s help ¡®er out with these brutes.¡± Fearlessly, Marigold strode past Lily into the great hall. A strange sight it was, the tiny and stooped old woman walking directly into this strange stalemate. If any of the soldiers noticed the old mage wading into the fray, they gave no indication. They were all much too preoccupied with the enormous charge-beast.

    Lily felt magic building within the room, originating from her Mage-Matron. Marigold placed herself directly beside Fae. She patted the panthegrunn on the shoulder and said something that Lily could not catch. The soldiers were certainly aware of Marigold now, but it was too late for them to do anything about it. With a brashness that defied them to attack her, Marigold swept her gnarled hand across the soldiers in a line. For each one that her focus passed over, she performed a short hand motion. Each of those hand motions was accompanied by a Casting. One by one, Marigold enclosed the soldiers in beautifully shimmering domes each barely taller than themselves. The Castings were fast and precise, allowing none of the soldiers time to understand what was happening until they were already trapped. Lily was awestruck by the masterful simplicity of the spells. Just like that, Marigold showed how a single, elderly master mage could put an end a battle.

    The trapped soldiers¡¯s reactions ranged from anger to surprise to resignation. One sat down in her magical cage and simply glowered at Marigold, as if some unspoken rule of combat had been broken.

    With the threat taken care of, Lily surged over to Fae. She took her panthegrunn¡¯s snout in her hands and kissed her nose. ¡°Oh, Fae, you poor thing,¡± she fussed, checking over the severity of the charge-beast¡¯s injuries. ¡°But where else could I have left you?¡± She untangled the tablecloth from Fae¡¯s horn and used it to sop up blood from her shoulders. Unsteady on her hooves, Fae nuzzled at her and issued a low, lion-like rumble.

    ¡°Come on, girl, come on, we have to hurry,¡± Marigold said. ¡°Through this door. It¡¯s been a long time, but I think I can recall where to find the stairs down to the old dungeon beneath the castle. Hopefully, we¡¯ll find your man there. Leave Fae. She¡¯ll be fine. These climbing rats aren¡¯t goin¡¯ nowhere.¡±

    Lily brushed Fae''s shaggy hair out of her eyes and kissed her nose. ¡°Wait here, girl. We¡¯re going to go find Vetch.¡±

    ¡°Lily. Now. Let¡¯s move,¡± Marigold prodded.

    Broken glass and china crunched under their shoes as they crossed the dining hall to the door Marigold had indicated. But, before Marigold passed through it, she stopped so abruptly that Lily bumped into her back. She heard her teacher sigh and then curse under her breath.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Lily asked.

    Marigold turned back to the expansive hall and stared hard past Lily. Lily turned as well, following Marigold¡¯s gaze. With the exception of the alarm bell, the chamber was quiet. The soldiers stood entrapped in their Barrier cages, while Fae was occupied with licking her wounds. Marigold scanned the chamber with her steel gray eyes.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Lily asked again.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Marigold grumbled, mere seconds before all the Barriers enclosing the soldiers were dispelled at once.

    The soldiers were as shocked as Lily was. A couple scrambled quickly to pick up their weapons from where they had dropped them. The heat of magic that Lily felt in the vicinity¡ªwhat she had attributed to Marigold alone¡ªblazed up around the room, like someone had thrown a fresh log onto a fire. From a door on the opposite side of the long dining chamber, Lady Iris strode into the hall.

    Seeing her caused the hairs on the back of Lily¡¯s neck to stand on end. The woman presented the very same vision she had the last time Lily had seen her, right before she''d sent Lily crashing through the roof of her own bedroom with Barrier-Casting unimaginable. Lady Iris was adorned in a fine bodice, blouse, and skirts of purples, lavenders, and creams. The raven-haired mage practically floated across the floor in delicate slippers, heedless of broken glass and scattered cutlery. She came forward with purpose, skirts and hair immaculate and flowing like drawn theater curtains. She spared not a glance for Fae or Lily, who might as well have not been there, but her dark eyes bored into Marigold with undisguised hatred. When she stopped in the middle of the great hall, her soldiers formed up around her. Her voiced reverberated in the large space when she spoke.

    ¡°Were you surprised to witness that, Mage-Matron? I can dispel your Barriers now." The smug apparition of a smile that flitted across her lips lasted for but a second. Then, the corners of her mouth turned down as she appeared to perceive her surroundings for the first time. "What are you doing?" she demanded of Marigold, her eyes sweeping the chamber. "What have you done to my home? Why is there an animal in here?" She turned her ire upon her soldiers. "Kill it! Or drive it outside. Where is Murzagis and the rest of my guard? Someone find them. And tell whomever is ringing the bell to cease it at once." One of the soldiers hasted to do that. The others closed their ranks around their mistress.

    Lily stood with fear chilling her skin like cold rain as the raven-haired mage approached. The mix of anger and hurt in the woman''s eyes, all directed toward Marigold, was hard for Lily to comprehend. What truly had gone on between these two, years before Lily had even met her Mage-Matron?

    She felt Marigold''s gnarled fingers encircle her wrist, their grip almost painfully tight. The old master mage prepared something; Lily could sense the magic coalescing. But it was the protective gesture itself that drew Lady Iris''s attention, at last, to Lily. Her gaze fixed upon Lily and a sudden recognition flared up. Lady Iris''s eyes widened, and when Lily looked into them, the pupils were like little burning coals of fury.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    A shrill howl of anger erupted from Lady Iris''s lungs as, without warning, she flashed her arm out in a violent casting motion. Lily had no time to react as a moving Barrier slammed into her, wrenching her bodily off her feet and across the chamber. Her wrist was torn from Marigold''s grasp, leaving bloody scratches across her skin. The Barrier flew across the room, carrying Lily at speed with it, directly at the far wall. She heard Marigold scream "No!" and at the same time felt another flash of magic. Iris''s moving Barrier was dispelled, but too late to prevent Lily from crashing to the floor and sliding through broken tableware and detritus until she hit the wall head first.

    White light burst in front of her vision and a ringing filled her ears. Everything became blurry and inarticulate¡ªeverything except for Lady Iris''s enraged voice cutting through the shock.

    "Powerless little girl! You should be dead. You don''t deserve to be Marigold''s apprentice. I do! Me! She is my Mage-Matron!"

    Lifting her head, Lily peered through doubled vision in time to see Lady Iris raise her hand again. She tried to gather her wits, but there was too much magic swirling around, buffeting her. Everything felt either too fast or too slow. Blood trickled from a gash near her hairline, tickling the corner of her eye on its way down her face.

    Marigold, too, lifted her hand in preparation to cast a spell, but not as quickly as Iris. The raven-haired mage was going to use a Barrier to squeeze the life out of Lily, as she''d almost succeeded in doing back in Moonfane Forge.

    Suddenly, Fae gave a roar so loud it pummeled Lily''s eardrums and rattled the chandeliers overhead. The panthegrunn leapt forward and charged Lady Iris. The woman uttered a short yelp of fear and quickly shifted the aim of her magic to cage Fae behind a circular Barrier. Fae slammed into it with a jolt. Thwarted, she clashed her horns against the shimmering golden wall, snorting her frustration.

    Siezing upon the distraction, Marigold gathered magic unto herself and twisted her wrist like she was turning a doorknob. A little barrel shaped Barrier snapped into existence around Iris''s legs, hobbling her. At the same time, Marigold used her other hand to cast a second Barrier around Iris''s torso, entrapping her arms.

    Or, she would have, were it not for Lady Iris''s quick reaction. Only a mage with extraordinary ability could have dispelled both Barriers as Iris did then. She waved the Barrier meant to immobilize her arms out of existence before it could even form. Then, she dispelled the Barrier around her legs as though she were shooing away a fly.

    "Do you see, Mage-Matron? Do you see how capable I am?" she crowed. "I am your only worthy apprentice. You will teach me. You must!" With a glance at her statuesque soldiers, she commanded, "Bind her and return her to her room."

    Confident now that their mistress could neutralize the old master mage''s magic, the soldiers stepped forward, one unraveling a length of cord from his belt. Marigold, appearing unconcerned about the advancing threat, drew in a measured breath. As the man with the cord neared, Marigold raised one arthritic finger, almost like she was tut-tutting a small child. With it she whipped an intricate gesture through the air, fast as a striking snake. The soldier flinched, and upon trying to move away from Marigold, found his wrist bound to the air with a golden Barrier shaped like manacle. He dropped the length of cord and grasped at his wrist, trying to tug his arm free, but he was solidly fastened in place by the magic.

    Lady Iris heaved an exaggerated sigh. When she raised her hand to dispel the ethereal manacle and free the man, Marigold struck. With an upward sweep of her arm, she cast a thin, curved Barrier like a fine golden ribbon. The timing of the spell had to be perfect, placed in the air directly in the path of Lady Iris''s arm, so that when she attempted the dispelling motion, her arm struck Marigold''s Barrier and her spell came out to nothing.

    Unperturbed, Iris rubbed her arm, growling in exasperation, "Stop this at once, Mage-Matron. It''s pointless. What do you hope to accomplish other than exhausting yourself?" She stepped away from the magical ribbon and again went to dispel the Barrier that chained her soldier in place.

    The second she made to step away from the Barrier ribbon, Marigold cast another little golden manacle, this time around Iris''s ankle. She stumbled, forced to fall awkwardly in order to avoid snapping her ankle. Mage Marigold was not finished. Ignoring Iris''s cry of pain, she shifted her focus back to the soldiers. With efficient motions, her hands looking as if they were conducting two separate orchestras, she again trapped each one of them in place, this time with matching Barrier manacles around all their wrists and ankles. Even then, her masterful casting was still not concluded. Before Lady Iris could free herself of her magical bondage, Marigold passed her hand across Fae''s vicinity and released her.

    Finding herself freed, the enraged panthegrunn bellowed a challenge. With her hooves pounding over splintered chairs and broken plates, she charged directly for Iris. Seeing the great charge-beast bearing down on her, Lady Iris shrieked. With a desperate flail of her hand, she quickly threw another wild Barrier around Fae. The panthegrunn crashed solidly into it only a body''s length away from Iris. Grunting, Fae gave her head a shake, and again clashed her horns fruitlessly against the impediment.

    Lily witnessed all this as through a haze. It was more than just the cobwebs still clearing from her jolted head. The thick miasma of magic in the air assailed her. She had never before felt so many strong spells thrown back and forth all at once like this. The press of them upon her mind made her feel like a brawler sustaining blow after blow. Marigold''s spells were academic, neutral. Iris''s, however, carried with them a procession of powerful emotions¡ªanger, jealousy, resentment. Those sentiments seeped into Lily''s awareness unbidden.

    Despite the weight of these turbulent emotions, Lily was fascinated by the difference in magical styles. These were the thoughts Iris used to direct her Barrier-Casting toward such terrifying ends? Lily had always known that Barrier-Casting was an emotionally resonant magic, but this flew in the face of everything Marigold had taught her. She had always been told to calm her emotions when casting, to let placid focus dictate her spells. How could two such strikingly different mages as Iris and Marigold ever have been apprentice and Mage-Matron?

    Marigold''s wizened voice cut through the confusion. "Lily, are you okay? Hurry now, girl! Go and find Vetch! The door behind me, down the stairway beyond the kitchens. You''ll find the cells down there. Go!"

    Lily staggered upright, willing her head to clear, torn between her desire to help Marigold and her need to find Vetch. Using the wall to support herself, she began making her way back to Marigold and the door she had indicated. All the while, she kept a wary eye on the Barrier-manacled soldiers, who clutched their weapons in anticipation of their mistress releasing them. Lily needed to find Vetch and free him quickly. Then, they could come back here and help Marigold.

    Lady Iris dispelled the Barrier around her ankle and got to her feet. "Where do you think you''re going?" she taunted Lily. Casually, she whipped a Barrier around Lily''s body, making it squeeze tight. Lily felt the air go out of her lungs, her ribs beginning to bend inward.

    "No!" Marigold''s voice went high with fear. A flick of her hand dispelled this Barrier just in time, and Lily fell to her knees gasping. "Lily?" Marigold queried.

    "Don''t speak to her! Speak to me!" shouted Iris, with all the aplomb of a spoiled child.

    In response to this, Marigold cast yet another Barrier meant to trap Iris. At the same time, she released Fae. But they were weak Castings, and this time Lady Iris was prepared for them. She easily dispelled the Barrier targeting herself and simultaneously entrapped Fae for a third time. The frustrated panthegrunn had not even been able to take a step.

    "Why do you still defy me?" Iris wailed. "Your place is here! You have no right to run away from your obligations."

    "Lily? Get up. The door. Vetch." Marigold''s voice quavered on each word. With fear? With exhaustion? Lily could sense that her spells were becoming less corporeal. Clearly, Marigold had held back so far, in order to be able to cast this much magic. But even she could not keep it up forever.

    "Answer me!" Iris demanded.

    Lily shot to her feet and made a mad dash for the door. Marigold put herself in between Lady Iris and Lily, raising her arms in preparation. Lily sensed the magic welling around her.

    Almost to the door. Find the stairs. Find the dungeon. Find Vetch.

    The surge of magic she felt was not Marigold''s. Lady Iris lifted one hand and then drew it quickly downward in an intricate weaving motion, instantly encasing Marigold in a Barrier that followed the form of her body, shoulders to feet, like a shimmering, magical sarcophagus.

    Marigold let out a whimper of fear. She hadn''t even enough space between herself and the Barrier to struggle. Lily halted, unable to fathom what she witnessed. A Journeyer Mage would be pushed to their limits creating such an intricately shaped Barrier. It shouldn''t have been possible at all for an apprentice, as Lady Iris had referred to herself. How was the woman not instantly dropping into Slumber?

    Lady Iris kept her hand held palm upward, fingers curled into claws, as if she clutched a great jeweled egg. Then, astonishingly, she lifted her hand, and Marigold was lifted off the ground with the moving Barrier and conducted over to Iris''s soldiers.

    A step from the doorway, Lily stood in disbelief, unable to tear her eyes away. She felt rooted to the spot, her heart lurching in fear for her teacher. She was completely unprepared for the second snap of magic that hit her. Lady Iris performed a horizontal slashing motion with her free arm, causing a windowpane-shaped Barrier to smash into Lily at speed and hurl her like a ragdoll across the chamber. Lily slammed back first against the Barrier that caged Fae and slumped to the floor, her vision blackening. Fae voiced a great moaning chuff and pawed her hooves desperately at her enclosure.

    Iris''s laugh was a perverted melody rippling about the great dining hall as she casually flung her hand at her soldiers, neatly dispelling all the enchanted manacles that had restrained their wrists and ankles. "Hurry up and bind the Mage-Matron before that wears off," she commanded. "Kill the girl and the animal."

 Chapter 19: Blade and Barrier, part 4

    Lily hurt all over. She could only listen as Lady Iris''s remaining soldiers recovered themselves and went to their tasks. The sound of boots crunching over broken glass weaved itself through Lily''s fractured awareness. Her fading consciousness was indistinguishable from Slumber closing in. Perhaps it was Slumber, finally come to collect its toll for the Barriers she had cast to get this far. She had been so close to saving Marigold and Vetch, but not close enough. She tried to ward off the Slumber sensation. It felt strange.

    Looking up through tunneled vision, she saw a swordsman approaching her. Two others were moving to flank Fae. The one who had wielded the length of cord retrieved it from the ground. Lady Iris stepped directly before Marigold and cradled the old mage''s creased chin in her fingers.

    "You see how this ends when you go against me," she chided. "But I will forgive all of this¡ªall of it, Mage-Matron¡ªif you simply resume your duties and teach me. Teach me how to cast Barriers with Intent, so I can become a master."

    Lily watched as Marigold lifted her eyes and peered through her hanging silver hair at her former apprentice. She appeared to chew her lip in consideration, making the wrinkles in her face more prominent. Then, she thrust her jaw forward and spat directly in Lady Iris''s face. "No and never."

    Uttering a sound that was equal parts surprise and disgust, Iris swept herself back from Marigold. She pawed spittle from her eyes, then looked at her hands as if to be certain of how thoroughly she had been rebuffed. Staring down at her splayed fingers, her face became a picture of rage so all-consuming that tears formed in her eyes and slid down her flushed cheeks.

    Along with that rage, magic blossomed. Not the kind of magic Lily had known and felt drawn to since she was a child, but a corrupted corpse flower of sorcery so powerful that it oppressed her like a physical weight. Even Marigold appeared to cringe back from her once-student, though she could not move away.

    When it seemed this magic would blaze out of control and engulf everything, Iris became very still and, visibly, she calmed herself, her bosom rising and falling with rapid breaths that gradually slowed. Without even looking at Marigold, she said in a voice devoid of emotion, "Have it your way then, Mage-Matron. If you will not teach me, there are others who will ... and I will find them."

    A look of horror passed over Marigold''s face at those words, and Lily felt they must carry some significance she was not privy to. But she hadn''t time to dwell on it as, suddenly, she felt Lady Iris gather her magic into a fine point and twist her wrist in a telltale gesture. The Barrier sarcophagus encasing Marigold began to slowly constrict. As the air was squeezed out of her, she grunted in alarm, unable to take a breath in.

    Lily''s throat went dry, knowing she witnessed the imminent death of her beloved teacher, the woman who had guided her and doted on her as a loving grandparent would for all the years they had known each other. She was the only one who could prevent this. But there was a more pressing threat she had to survive first.

    The soldier tasked with finishing her off flicked his sword nonchalantly in his hand as he came to stand before her. "A shame," he muttered to himself, pulling back his blade to ready his killing stab.

    There was no time to think about whether she could do it or not. Either she succeeded or she would die. Instinctively, Lily flashed her hand out before her, sweeping her index finger in a tight circle before the man, just as she had seen Marigold do before. To her vast surprise and relief, the compact ring of the manacle-like Barrier she had envisaged appeared around the swordsman''s wrist. It wasn''t perfect, but it arrested his sword thrust instantly with the blade''s tip hovering only inches from her breast.

    That threat neutralized, Lily scrambled quickly to her feet and away from the man. The motion made her lightheaded. Shaking the sensation off, she summoned all the remaining strength she had. The next spell she planned would be much more difficult. She would have to get it exactly right. Even as she saw her Mage-Matron suffocating, and felt rising panic at the sight, Lily forced herself to take a slow breath and become calm, focused. Lady Iris was engrossed in her own spell, admiring it, making the constriction happen slowly. Lily closed her eyes and let her sensitivity to magic tell her where the sarcophagus Barrier was. She pinpointed its power, its placement. Then, opening her eyes again half-lidded, she sent all the magical strength she could muster down through her arm and passed her hand across Marigold and the Barrier crushing her.

    The Barrier disappeared as if never there. Mage Marigold dropped to the floor, gasping in precious breaths. The negating of such a powerful spell staggered Lily but, at the same time, uplifted her confidence. Dispelling such a grotesque perversion of magic felt like correcting a wrong. She seized on that feeling and passed her hand over the Barrier caging Fae. It, too, disappeared. The panthegrunn sprung forward at Lady Iris as a great lioness springs to the kill. In the wake of her mad charge, Lily swayed on her feet and dropped to all fours.

    "No more Barriers, Lily," Marigold choked out. "Enough." The old master mage struggled up onto one knee, her face carrying all the pain borne through her aged body. "Get to Vetch."

    Upon seeing her masterful Barrier sarcophagus dispelled, Lady Iris turned to confront Lily, only to find herself once again faced with a raging panthegrunn bearing down on her. It was all she could do to cast the simplest Barrier possible in front of her, a shield between herself and Fae.

    Shakily, Marigold waved Iris''s shield out of existence. Fae''s hooves pounded the littered floor. Time seemed to slow for Lily as she watched the fear of the inevitable seep into Lady Iris''s eyes. The raven-haired mage cast another shimmering golden shield in front of herself, and just as quickly Marigold dispelled it. Fae lowered her horns. An inarticulate cry of horror burbled up from Iris''s mouth. She raised her arm once more.

    With not a moment to spare, one of Iris''s soldiers grabbed her and threw her bodily out of the panthegrunn''s path. Iris crumpled to the floor in a heap. But the man who had saved his mistress from such a grim fate instead suffered it in her place. A sound like a maul striking raw meat cracked through the chamber as Fae''s head slammed into him and one horn gored him through his torso as if his armor wasn''t there. For one grotesque moment, the man''s lifeless body dangled from Fae''s horn like a puppet, then she tossed her head and he was flung over her broad, pantherine back to the floor, broken.

    Fae whipped around, searching for the target she had been denied, forcing the remaining soldiers to scatter out of her way. Her shoulders and back soaked with fresh blood, the panthegrunn stomped one of her great hooves down on the floor and let loose with a thunderous roar that caused bits of plaster to fall from the walls.

    Though their faces betrayed their fear, the soldiers had not forgotten their orders, nor did they take the death of their comrade lightly. Two of them regained their composure enough to again converge on Fae. Despite the ferocity she put on display, it was evident how exhausted she was. She panted heavily, her tongue hanging slack from her open maw. Her ability to retaliate against the circling soldiers was quickly dwindling. Anticipating an opening, the soldiers moved like jackals, waiting for their prey''s weariness to overcome her instinct to survive.

    As those two moved in on Fae, another saw her chance to eliminate Marigold. With dagger in hand, she made a move to strike the old mage from behind. Through wavering vision, Lily pushed herself to gather her magic within her mind. A simple Barrier was all she needed, just something to stop the knife-wielder, but it felt like she fought against an avalanche to prepare even the simplest of Castings. She raised her hand, but Marigold was a step ahead. The old mage sensed her attacker''s approach and, with two quick hand motions, bound the soldier''s knife arm and legs in ethereal golden bands.

    Marigold grunted and rose to her feet. "No more, Lily!" she called.

    Even as she spoke, the knife-wielding soldier was freed. Lady Iris had retreated to a corner of the hall, from there dispelling the restricting bands. Her voice rose over the chamber, compelling her soldier. "Kill her now! All of you, do your jobs! Do not fear them. Their Barriers cannot cause harm. Just strike!"

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Lily saw the truth of Iris''s words. She and Marigold could defend themselves¡ªeven confound the soldiers¡ªbut they could not use their magic to attack in the way Lady Iris could. Putting that into practice, the raven-haired mage lashed out with her magic, casting spells meant to constrict Marigold and bind her in place for the marauding soldier''s blade. Marigold dispelled these before they could form, then cast new Barriers of her own to delay the knife-wielder, only for Lady Iris to dispel those in turn and attack anew.

    It became like a magical tug-of-war. Spell after spell, Casting after Casting, back and forth. Marigold was driven backward, the aged mage tiring visibly, yet somehow still holding her own, fending off both rival mage and stalking soldier. But Marigold''s inability to go on the offensive with her spells left her at a disadvantage. Unable to match her once-apprentice''s ability to make Barriers move and reshape themselves, she could only delay the inevitable. The soldier inched closer every time her mistress set her free, edging step by step toward Marigold. When she was close enough, she surged at the old mage, aiming to plunge her knife home before Marigold could prevent it.

    "Mari!" Lily screamed, and desperately flung a Barrier that stayed the soldier''s arm.

    That magic had hardly solidified when Lily felt a stabbing, squeezing sensation within her chest. She gasped and convulsed in pain. Looking past Marigold, she witnessed Lady Iris slowly drawing her fingers closed in a spell that Lily could feel inside of her, like a parasite slowly killing off her life force. But, that wasn''t possible. What was this disturbing new magic?

    "No!" Marigold yelled.

    And then the pain was gone, and Lily looked up to see her Mage-Matron staggering to one side on wobbly legs following whatever she had done to dispel the killing magic.

    Marigold''s voice was unexpectedly strong as she shouted at Lily, "Damn you, girl! No more spells! Don''t you fall into Slumber. One of us must survive this. Find your man now and flee! Leave this to me!"

    And turning her back on Lily, Mage Marigold lifted her arms high. The air became dense with magic. The master mage held back no longer. If she could not use her magic to attack as a battle mage could, the next spell she wrapped around the knife-wielding soldier was still powerful enough to resonate like a physical blast from one. The swordswoman recoiled as new, more solid Barriers joined Lily''s and immobilized her entirely. Marigold then turned and cast identical spells upon the men taking stabs at Fae, so they, too, were incapacitated.

    Forceful, countering magic burst through Marigold''s, as Lady Iris responded with Dispellings. At least, they felt like Dispellings, yet nothing resulted. To Iris''s apparent surprise, Marigold''s Barriers held. The confident look in Iris''s eyes wavered. The raven-haired mage drew in a breath and tried again. Nothing. Fear, anger, and confusion bled into the room''s atmosphere from her as she tried a third time and, finally, succeeded in dispelling Marigold''s stronger magic. But it was clear to see how it had cost her.

    The brush with failure seemed to fuel the powerful emotions escaping from Iris''s mind along with her spells. Anger was foremost amongst them. It built and built, as a forge fire blazes up before the encouragement of the bellows. Using that anger, Iris finished freeing her remaining soldiers and then drew a tight Barrier around Fae. She set her aim next upon Marigold. But, before she could do anything more, Marigold deftly re-caged all of the soldiers at once and then painted a series of curving golden swathes through the air that hindered the motion of Iris''s arms, causing her attack to falter.

    Iris responded by repositioning herself, dispelling Marigold''s further attempts to bind her, and casting countering spells of her own. The two powerful mages faced off, casting, countering, and casting again. It was a duel of magic the likes of which Lily had thought only existed in storybooks. These were not warriors clashing steel, but it was a fight with stakes no less significant. With keen perception, Iris and Marigold both anticipated each other''s intents by sensing the budding magic in their opponent''s thoughts, their spells coming as fast as they could think them up and move their hands to cast them. The two mages wove magic around themselves like two axels encircled by great wheels of invisible energy.

    Through it all, Lady Iris split her attention between casting harm at Marigold and aiding her soldiers, forcing Marigold to juggle responses to multiple threats. The raven-haired mage began to laugh wildly at the power she unleashed, careless of the consequences of the spells she flung. In contrast, Marigold''s aged face was the picture of concentration, the stooped old woman radiating power that she brandished with strategic exactitude. It was a fine line she walked, between spells powerful enough to protect herself, yet not so powerful as to invite Slumber on too soon.

    Both women wearied. Both visibly fended off Slumber. Yet, it was Marigold whose limbs began to shake with fatigue. Seeing this, Iris held her chin high and attacked ferociously and without restraint.

    Lily felt like it took her a lifetime to rise to her feet once more, and push herself toward the door beyond which she hoped to find Vetch. Slumber ate away at her. She desired only to fall over and rest. Reaching the doorway, she glanced back at Marigold. She could not be sure whether it was sweat streaming down the old mage''s cheeks ... or tears. Turning her back on her Mage-Matron was the hardest thing she could think of doing.

    Before she could slip through the door, a firm hand grabbed her around the upper arm and wrenched her backward. Lily turned to look up into the face of the soldier who had been tasked with killing her, freed now by his mistress to finish the job. Sword poised in hand, he actually grinned at her. Lily clenched her eyes shut, preparing herself for the impending plunge of steel.

    Another hand grasped her by the shoulder¡ªstrong, comforting¡ªand then a familiar body pressed flush against her back. There was a sound of pinging steel, followed by a pained cry. Lily opened her eyes and witnessed her attacker''s grin become a grimace lined with blood.

    Vetch yanked his sword back out of the dead man''s breast and kicked him aside, drawing Lily in safe against him.

    "Are you okay?" he asked her.

    Dumbstruck with relief, Lily burst into tears and buried her face against him, nodding into his shoulder. His embrace was firm and sheltering, but his skin was hot, and his hair was plastered to his pale forehead with sweat and blood.

    So much blood. He was soaked in it. His? Or someone else''s? No matter which, Lily wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms, to comfort him, and be comforted by him. But he eased her away, telling her, "Stay here."

    Then, with sword readied, he ran for the two soldiers still trying to stab at Fae through the Barrier holding her in place. The panthegrunn had taken additional wounds, and the two men appeared poised to finish the job. The nearer of the two did not remark Vetch''s advancing footfalls quickly enough to turn around. Vetch came in with a low, two-handed swing that hamstrung the back of the man''s legs. As he fell to his knees with a scream, Vetch slew him with a returning slash to the neck.

    The second man squared himself to meet Vetch''s charge, but Vetch surprised him by avoiding him altogether. It took Lily but a moment to discern Vetch''s true aim. He charged directly for Lady Iris. At the sight of this maddened, blood-soaked swordsman rushing toward her, Iris''s eyes grew wide. Quickly, she passed her hand before herself, only to sway strangely on her feet and have to catch herself on the wall. No Barrier appeared. Lily felt a surge of hope. Was the Lady of Black Crux finally too fatigued to cast any more magic?

    "Kill him," Iris sputtered. Then, more forcefully, "Don''t allow him near me!"

    With that burst of fear, she seemed to gather her wits about her. Lily''s heart sank upon feeling the woman''s magic flare up stronger. Recklessly, Lady Iris drew a solid curtain of a Barrier all around her, isolating herself in a corner of the great chamber.

    Vetch reached her too late. Walled off from the raven-haired mage, all he could do was test his sword through the Barrier. It passed clean through, but the golden, translucent curtain stopped his hand, leaving the point of his blade short of its target. Iris cast a mocking, simpering pout at him, and he could only stare his hatred back at her.

    "Vetch!" Lily shouted.

    He turned to her warning just in time to deflect a blow from the first soldier to reach him. On the heels of that, the woman who''d been menacing Marigold¡ªhaving collected a proper blade from one of her fallen comrades¡ªdirected a vicious stab at Vetch''s stomach. This, he side-stepped. However, the Barrier that had prevented him from reaching Lady Iris was now a wall at his back. The two remaining Black Crux soldiers used it to hem him in, coordinating their attacks, and he was able to do little more than fend them off with desperate parries.

    Vetch''s grim expression showed the focus he maintained in order to keep himself alive. There was no room for error, evident when the first soldier caught him a blow to the face with his sword''s cross guard. Vetch winced and grunted in pain, but kept his composure enough to kick the man hard in the knee. That bought him only enough time to get his blade up to block the overhead swing that followed from the swordswoman.

    In panic, Lily looked to Marigold for help, but her Mage-Matron had sunk to her hands and knees, head bowed in exhaustion. The remaining magic that Lily could feel from her was as small and fleeting as a guttering candle flame. Returning her gaze to Vetch, she could tell he would not last much longer under the uneven assault. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness filled her. Vetch fought hard, and with skill, but it wouldn''t matter in the end. The two soldiers had only to wear him down, and that wouldn''t take much longer. Vetch had already been so weary and feverish before they''d left their inn room the prior day. She could not imagine what he''d further endured since entering the castle.

    The swordsman landed a grazing slash across Vetch''s midsection that trickled blood through his sliced shirt. As the wound doubled him over, the other soldier lifted her sword high. Lily recognized the fatal blow about to come.

 Chapter 19: Blade and Barrier, part 5

    Upon seeing that deadly blade beginning its descent toward Vetch''s neck, Lily felt an uncanny sensation burst forth within her mind and body, like a seedpod popping and scattering its contents throughout. Anger. Anger at the sight of her man''s blood spilled. Anger that they would hurt him, that they meant to kill him, that they would dare destroy his life and take him away from her forever, as they had already taken her family. She wouldn''t let them. They couldn''t have him! She would not allow it!

    Her body almost didn''t obey her as she shakily raised her arm. Drawing on the last magical reserves left to her mind, she gathered that anger into a refined needle of strength, and put that strength behind her magic. Through confident fingers, she directed her hope and fear and rage into the form of a Barrier that she cast at the attacking swordswoman.

    An ethereal golden cuff clapped around the woman''s wrist so fast that her own arrested sword swing wrenched her elbow painfully, causing her blade to fly from her fingers and clatter across the floor.

    "No, Lily ... wait ..." Marigold murmured.

    Lily''s ears were deaf to her Mage-Matron''s warnings. Unsteadily pushing herself back to her feet, she lurched forward, eyes still set on Vetch. She got only as far as to where Fae was still Barrier-trapped, before slumping to the floor exhausted.

    Down to only one opponent now, Vetch bobbed out of the swordsman''s reach. After a beat, he pressed a sword thrust back in at the man. The Black Crux soldier parried it, but refrained from counter-attacking. A smirk curled his stubbled lip as he and Vetch regarded one another. The soldier exuded confidence. He knew he would win, for Vetch struggled just to hold his blade ready, curled forward as he was over his wounds and breathing raggedly. The swordsman prodded for his opening, forcing Vetch to further tire himself defending trivial jabs.

    Lily prepared to act. Again, she concentrated on pulling together what little residual magic she had left. But everything felt wrong. Throughout her years of training, she''d had it impressed upon her to tally her Barrier spells meticulously, so that she might predict their cost in Slumber. She''d had no chance to adhere to those teachings since entering the castle. She''d lost track too many Barriers ago. She was in unfamiliar territory and casting well beyond her limits. As she groped around blindly within herself for her magic, her thoughts were muddled, refusing to coalesce. Focusing what paltry magic she could unearth into a proper spell felt like packing a snowball by catching individual snowflakes out of the air one at a time.

    She began to experience the feeling of rising up off the ground¡ªSlumber. It was a demon chasing her, trying to impose its will on her. She resisted it, but it was taking all her strength do so. She could feel it closing in, and she knew that avoiding it would only make the consequences worse when it finally captured her. ''Do not deny a natural state,'' Marigold had always instructed. ''It will only hurt you in the end.'' Lily couldn''t think about that right now. She didn''t care. There was no amount of harm she wouldn''t endure in order to prevent harm from coming to Vetch.

    Only the pitched ping of steel on steel in her ears alerted Lily to the fact that her eyes had been closed. She forced them open. Vetch parried another of the swordsman''s attacks and stood waiting for the next. The swordsman moved in for another strike. Lily drew her hand in a tight circle around the swordsman''s arm, casting a Barrier meant to bind him in place.

    No Barrier appeared. Instead, Lily was struck by a sensation like having all the air driven out of her lungs. She swooned and fell to her knees, gasping. She could cast no more.

    Still fighting for his life, Vetch barely dodged the next sword swing. He slipped in blood, caught himself, and resumed a defensive stance. As if from a far distance, Lily listened to the mortal dance steps of the two men''s boots on the floor and felt helpless. By the sound alone, she knew that Vetch was flagging more with every step, with every wearying swing of his sword.

    Lady Iris''s lilting laughter joined the sounds of struggle. "Are we wearied, young lady?" she ridiculed Lily from her place of safety. "And you, as well, Mage-Matron? Shall I have rooms prepared for the both of you to Slumber in?" She made a derisive sound in her throat. With a wave of her hand, she dispelled the Barrier holding the swordswoman''s wrist. "Hurry up and conclude this. I am tired."

    The swordswoman hastened to pick up her weapon and re-join her fellow against Vetch. Two against one, with neither Lily nor Marigold able to give aid, it was only a matter of time until Vetch fell. Lily knew she and Marigold¡ªand even Fae¡ªwould then be next. Lady Iris would see to that. She wondered if she should keep resisting Slumber and bear witness to her love''s final moments, or allow oblivion to claim her, knowing she would never wake. Would she and Vetch be together in the afterlife? Or would they be condemned to forever wander the realm of spirits, searching for each other for all of eternity?

    "Fae." Marigold''s voice creaked on the word. "Lily, use Fae. Are you listening, girl?"

    A weak thrust of magic passed before Lily''s senses. She raised her eyes to see Marigold dispel the Barrier surrounding Fae, then collapse to her side. The old mage''s face sagged. Her flesh appeared gray.

    Fogged and confused, Lily protested, "She''s hurt ... and exhausted."

    "How many times''ve ... I told you, girl?" Marigold muttered weakly. "Magic ... ain''t physical. Use ''er magic. ''S''why I got ''er for you."

    Lily looked upon her beloved charge-beast. Fae appeared done in. The panthegrunn lay on the floor with her eyes lidded, panting heavy breaths. Lily dragged herself close to her, stretched her fingers out to caress the pale fur of her foreleg. Immediately, she felt an infusion of energy come into her. Not in the physical sense, but as a rejuvenation of thought and awareness. It was the same as she''d felt back in the forest, when Fae had aided her in defeating the Emotion-Caster who had ensorcelled Vetch. Digging her fingers into Fae''s shaggy mane, she pulled herself upright. She rested her hand between Fae''s horns, felt her warmth, her life and energy ... her magic.

    As a withered sponge is restored by touching water, Lily felt restored. The panthegrunn''s inherent magic filled and recharged her, bolstered her, reawakened her intellect. With sudden clarity, Lily could pierce through all the other magical distractions in the room¡ªLady Iris''s fervent, malevolent Barriers; Marigold''s waning protective spells. She could ''see'' every Casting, both the faded and those still glimmering. Slumber receded like an outgoing tide, and taking its place was Lily''s magical will.

    The swordswoman, with her weapon back in hand, charged Vetch from the side. He saw her, but was occupied with the unrelenting soldier before him. The woman aimed a stab at Vetch''s ribs. Lily drew on her reinvigorated focus and passed her hand through the air. A solid, curved Barrier swept into place around the woman''s shoulders, stopping her dead in her tracks. Without questioning why the stab had not come, Vetch slipped between his two attackers, even as the fast action caused him to hiss in pain from his wounds and drop his guard. The swordsman aimed a heavy swing of his blade at Vetch. Lily was prepared for this. She cast a Barrier that seized the man''s arm, as a mother might seize a child''s arm before he could strike his brother.

    Vetch discerned Lily''s help now, and altered his tactics. Despite his exhaustion, he found an opening and pressed forward with an attack, lunging in with an overhead swing of his own. But it was not to be so simple as that. Before Vetch''s blade could connect, Lady Iris dispelled Lily''s two Barriers and wrapped one of her own around her swordsman, using her ability to make it move to pull the man out of the way. Vetch''s sword bit into the floor, and suddenly he found both of his foes freed again.

    The two came at Vetch from both sides. Drawing from Fae, Lily halted them with two quick motions of her hand. This time, Vetch anticipated her Castings, re-readying himself and scoring with a slash that raked the thighs of the swordsman, causing him to bellow in pain. Before he could follow up with a killing swing, Iris dispelled Lily''s efforts. However, she not only freed her soldiers, but chased the Dispellings with a horrific new Barrier spell of her own.

    It was by Lily''s physical contact with her charge-beast that she comprehended with expanded clarity what was happening this time. She saw Lady Iris performing the hand motion, and felt the Barrier magic crystalizing. When she sensed where the Barrier was forming, she experienced a flash of purest terror and revulsion. Lady Iris was casting something inside of Vetch''s body. Lily forced herself to tamp her feelings down. She couldn''t allow them to overcome her, lest she squander even a single second.

    Without consideration for how much it cost herself or Fae, she found the Barrier forming within Vetch''s chest and dispelled it before it could become solid. There was no indication that Vetch had felt anything, but Lily knew how close Iris had come to ending him. The effort it took to prevent that caused a torrent of lightheadedness to slam into Lily. She put all her strength into resisting the sensation, and made herself refocus. As her awareness cleared, she locked eyes with the raven-haired mage across the chamber. There was a flicker of confusion in Lady Iris''s gaze at how Lily had countered her. Then, her features hardened into a mask of venomous concentration.

    It became a duel of attrition between Lily and Lady Iris, with Vetch and the Black Crux soldiers battling within the push and pull of their magics. Lily dug her fingers into Fae''s shaggy fur and worked to hinder Vetch''s opponents with Barriers that stilled them or confounded their thrusts. She lost track of individual Castings, simply flowing from one spell to the next. Any pause for thought could be the delay that spelled disaster.

    Lady Iris lashed out with spells that sought to counter Lily''s magic and help her soldiers press their numbers advantage. The soldiers and Vetch fought knowing that their sword swings might be hampered by a Barrier at any moment, and that their legs could become magically bound on any ensuing step. As fast as Lily could protect Vetch from such pitfalls, Iris cast new ones, and vice versa. So, it went, back and forth.

    It took all of Lily''s concentration to harden herself against what she saw while she focused on the magic. A sword battle was not how she''d heard them described in bard tales. It was not a few clashes of blades followed by a clean killing blow. The fighting that raged before her was ugly and horrific. The combatants were bloody and battered. They lashed out with blows from their pommels, grappled with arms and blades, kicked and punched and inflicted innumerous small wounds that bled freely. Lily had to put all her reservations aside and accept Vetch''s craft for what it was if she was to help him. He was not only outnumbered, but his armor was missing, and his tattered shirt was a pitiful shield against sharp steel. Lily''s Barriers had to be serve as his armor.

    Then, suddenly, Vetch was facing not two enemy soldiers, but three. At some point, the alarm bell had finally ceased its ringing. The man who''d been sent to halt it now returned and joined the fray. If this were a normal battle dictated only by the physical, Vetch would have stood no chance. But as he and Lily worked together, swordsman and mage, they found the rhythm of one another¡ªjust as they''d done the night underneath the trees on the hillside¡ªhe anticipating her Barriers, and she his sword cuts. Vetch wove around and between the Barriers Lily cast for him, his sword whirling and striking at his enemies, trusting Lily to safeguard him from Iris''s spells and the blade thrusts he could not defend.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Along with that rhythm came an expanding confidence for the both of them. She spent magic without trepidation, while witnessing his demeanor change from one of self-preservation to one of initiative. He fought as though rejuvenated, surprising his foes by taking his attacks straight to them. Lily and Vetch worked as a harmonious pair, something that Iris and her soldiers could not match.

    When Lily was able, at length, to break through one of Iris''s Dispellings and bind one of her soldiers fully, Vetch was already in position to run his sword across the man''s throat. Blood spewed from the ragged slice. Iris''s eyes went wide as, too late, she released her soldier from the Barrier, only to watch his lifeless body collapse to the floor. It was a hideous thing, but Vetch''s attention was already on the remaining two. Clearly, he felt no compunction about slaying these enemies while they were rendered defenseless.

    And a small, wrathful part of Lily thought, Good. These were the raiders who had laid waste to Moonfane Forge. Had any of them showed mercy or fairness when they had burned her family''s dairy to the ground with her parents and little brother inside? No. So, let them receive neither back from she and Vetch.

    Spirits, she thought, as she cast her spells one after another, after another, let Vetch and I slay as many as we are able, and the evil mage with them.

    As if that thought itself had drawn Iris''s ire, the Lady of Black Crux turned her attention upon Lily and performed a precise jabbing motion with her fingers. Lily was unprepared for the vitriolic force of the magic that hit her. Panic and terror rose up in her as she felt a sharp pain between her ribs, a Barrier forming inside her. The Barrier wrenched through her painfully, doubling her over. It existed for less than a second before Lily was able to find the magic invading her body and will her hand through the motion to dispel it. But it had felt like a lifetime, and she could not know how much damage it had done to her.

    The Dispelling itself was one born out of pure desperation, one she''d have thought beyond her skill. Perhaps, if she''d had time to think about it, she''d not have been able to do it. Again, the lightheadedness hit her, and much worse than before. Even with her panthegrunn''s magic feeding her, Lily felt Slumber crashing against her mind like waves crashing against a crumbling sea wall.

    But Lady Iris, also, had been left staggered. Through wavering vision, Lily saw the woman standing hunched over and bow-legged, swaying in place like a drunk sailor trying to keep her footing on a ship''s tossing deck.

    Recovering from her moment of fear and pain¡ªand staring across the hall at the terrible mage who had inflicted it¡ªone thought flashed through Lily''s mind, that no mage should ever use magic in that way.

    And, yet, no sooner had Iris recovered herself than she again raised her hand in Lily''s direction, fingers aligning themselves in the same killing gesture. Lily felt the magic growing and coalescing throughout the hall like a rising storm, the strength of it incredible. The woman was mad! She would risk falling into Slumber forever just to take Lily with her. The taint of vindictiveness and hatred that rode with that swelling magic ignored all sense of self preservation. Lily knew that a mage willing to throw aside all precautions like this could do things unimaginable. She also knew she didn''t have the strength to fend off a spell of such magnitude.

    The only course of action was not to try. Lily had tried matching Lady Iris''s reckless casting in their first encounter and had nearly died as a result. It wouldn''t save her this time, either. Marigold had always counseled her toward restraint, to use no more magic than was necessary to get the job done. With this in mind, Lily settled upon her strategy.

    Taking a measured breath¡ªand choking down her worry about drawing too much¡ªshe drew deeply from Fae''s inherent magic. She felt the panthegrunn''s energy infuse her, amplifying her own focus and strength. The spells she had in mind, she would keep as small as possible, using only enough magic for each and no more. They would be two simple Barriers. No Permissions, no complexity. But their shaping would have to be nothing less than perfect.

    Lily waited until she sensed Iris''s magic contracting into a fine point, the moment of no return. Then, she made her move, sweeping her arm in a fast downward gesture. Like a glove of luminous glass, her first Barrier flowed into place from Iris''s raised fingertips to her shoulder. Her entire arm became frozen in place, mid-Casting. A look of disbelief came over the raven-hair mage''s face. Quickly, she raised her other arm, but Lily was already casting her second spell. Another glove of shimmering gold manifested like a second skin over Iris''s other arm.

    Pinned like a butterfly in a frame, Lady Iris tried to wrench herself free, only to find her arms completely immobilized. Unable to even twitch a finger toward casting a spell, she was powerless to release herself from her magical bonds. Recognizing the gravity of her situation, she screamed.

    "You bitch! Release me! Release me at once!"

    A weak, throaty chuckle issued from Mage Marigold. "Handsomely done, girl."

    Never had Lily shaped any Barrier so perfectly. She was done. She could cast no more. Leaning heavily on Fae, she allowed Slumber to begin its inevitable seeping in.

    No! Wait. Vetch! Just a little more, Lily. Toughen up, girl. Toughen up!

    Against every natural force compelling her, she snapped her eyes open. Left without help to even the odds, Vetch still clung precariously to his defenses, as the two remaining Black Crux soldiers took turns trading attacks to wear him down. One sweep of Lily''s arm arrested the swordswoman''s ensuing lunge with a simple Barrier. Before she could react and step around it, Vetch stabbed his blade through the Barrier and into the swordswoman.

    Thinking to take advantage of his companion''s fall, the other soldier aimed a chopping swing of his blade down at Vetch''s skull. A second sweep of Lily''s arm formed a little Barrier between his feet, causing him to stumble. Vetch hadn''t even bothered to protect his back. Anticipating Lily''s help, he yanked his blade out of the swordswoman''s gut, pivoted, and scored an upward slash across the stumbling soldier''s chest. Neatly sidestepping, Vetch then followed that with a decisive blow across the back of the man''s neck. The final Black Crux soldier fell at his feet, a pool of blood spreading around him.

    Iris screamed, "No! No! You have no idea what you are bringing down on yourselves! I am Lady Iris of Black Crux! I have the ear of the king himself! There is nowhere in the kingdom you can go that my people will not find you and end you. Let me free at once!"

    Dropping his sword with a clatter, Vetch sat down hard. Lily saw the look of pure exhaustion on his pale face ... right before she collapsed overtop Fae''s back, her body feeling light as gossamer.

    But before Slumber claimed her, she felt the tiniest shift of magic and her heart lurched. The Barrier she had set on the castle door had faded! Heavy boot falls sounded in the entryway and into the dining hall. It took all of Lily''s strength to make her eyes open to a slit. The rest of her body refused to respond. She lay helpless and still, while a triumphant lilt broke through in Lady Iris''s voice.

    "Murzagis!" She laughed wildly. "Listen to me. Kill these people. Kill all of them. Then ... find ... the rest of my soldiers ... rest of ..."

    Lady Iris''s head slumped forward over her chest as she dropped into Slumber. She was a threat no more, but it mattered not. There was a new danger, in the form of three more Black Crux soldiers arriving in the hall. The sight of the one who led the way put a chill through Lily''s heart. It was the man she and Vetch had seen in the markets, the one with the weathered face and long moustache, who Vetch had identified as the commander of the raiders. He strode into the center of the hall, gazing dispassionately around him at all his fallen kinsman, then at the Slumbering Lady Iris ... then at Vetch.

    He stopped a few paces away from Vetch and, without uttering a word, drew his blade. The two men who accompanied him did the same and then spread out in a wide formation.

    The scrape of metal on stone accompanied Vetch rising wearily to his feet with his sword in hand. In his state, he could barely stand, let alone stand toe to toe against these fresh soldiers. And Lily could not move! She could do nothing to aid him! No matter how she fought her state, even in contact with her charge-beast, she could not make her body move. Gradually, even her eyelids stopped obeying her. They fell closed and stranded her in a world of darkness, where she was unable to do anything but listen.

    The sound of Vetch''s withering steps scraped closer to her, then she felt the warmth of his hand on her waist, helping to seat her more securely over Fae''s back.

    "Marigold, are you still awake?" He spoke quietly, his voice ragged with fatigue. "Do you have one more Barrier left in you?"

    There was a long pause and Lily feared that Mari had succumbed to Slumber. But then, she heard her old mentor grunt and stand. "One. Perhaps. Not enough to stop all three of ''em. Not enough to get us out o'' this." Another pause, and Lily could imagine the way Marigold chewed her lip in thought before saying, "Like or not, I''ll fall into Slumber soon, too."

    In a quiet voice pitched for Marigold''s ears alone, Vetch said, "The natural fissures behind the castle, there''s a narrow place ..."

    "I know of it," Marigold said.

    "Good. Take Lily on Fae and use a Barrier to bridge across. Escape down the hill. I''ll delay these three and keep them from following long enough to give you a head start."

    There was defiance in Marigold''s voice as she answered. "Don''t be stupid, boy. You''ll have a better chance of escapin'' with ''er than me. I''m an old woman. I''ll stay and¡ª"

    "I''m dying, Marigold." As if to punctuate this blunt assertion, Vetch erupted into a short fit of rattling coughs. He cleared his throat and spat, and there was a smell of infection. "Take Lily and get out of here. Dispel the bridge once you''re across. Get her to safety however you can."

    Silence. Silence that made Lily feel lost in a void. What was he saying? Why wasn''t Marigold arguing?

    Then, Marigold''s gnarled hand alighted on Lily''s back and the old mage whispered, "Fae. C''mon now, you great beast, get up. There''s a good panthegrunn. This way, this way ..."

    With a rolling lurch, Fae shifted her great bulk and stood up. Draped over her back, Lily found herself jostled rhythmically, as Fae''s heavy hoof beats shadowed the lighter patter of Marigold''s shoes. There was no sound to indicate Vetch following them.

    No! Please, no! Make him come with us, Mari! Make him come with us!

    She felt that she screamed the words, but realized her lips were not moving. Her desperate pleas were only within her mind. A surge of helplessness and despair overcame her, just as the wave of Slumber broke through her thoughts to drown her in oblivion. Lily felt the unwelcome sensation of her body drifting up into the air. ...

    *

    Vetch watched Marigold''s wrinkled features harden as she considered what he had proposed. Same as it had for him, it took her only a few seconds to determine it wasn''t just the best course of action, but the only one. To Vetch''s vast relief, the old woman heeded him and went to coax Fae up onto her hooves. As she passed him, she offered him a tight-lipped nod.

    It was settled then. He''d be giving Lily the best chance to survive. Now, he only needed to perform his part. He put himself between the panthegrunn and the newly arrived sellswords, ready for whatever would come. They''d drawn their blades, but made no move to attack yet. As a soldier, Vetch knew it was because their commander hadn''t given the order. Also as a soldier, he wasn''t about to waste a single thought on why.

    It felt like a lifetime before the old master mage had gotten Fae up and walking. With Lily draped precariously over her back, Fae lumbered tiredly after Marigold as she led the way to a corridor at the rear of the dining hall. The panthegrunn barely fit in the doorway, but she shouldered her way through. Vetch trusted that Marigold knew her way about the castle well enough to find them an exit.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Vetch watched the big charge-beast lumber away down the hall and around a corner. Before she disappeared entirely, he risked taking his eyes off his foes to glance back. The last sight of his beloved Lily that he was graced with was of her limp, and pale, and in Slumber. Then, Fae''s lion-like tail swept around the corner and they were gone. He longed to chase after them. But he couldn''t. Not if he was to give Lily a chance at living. He would die defending that corridor, knowing he would never again look into her lively hazel eyes, never again hear her laughter, never again taste her lips.

    Nor she his. She''d had no choice in this. He could only pray she would not be angry with him for too long.

    When Vetch returned his attention to the waiting swordsmen, he was almost surprised to find that they still hadn''t moved. Had they been wary of the mage? Of the panthegrunn? It didn''t matter. They were alone now. Vetch dismissed the two flanking sellswords from his thoughts and set his eyes on the man with the long moustache. He had his name now: Murzagis. No matter what he was called, he was the one who had led an army over Moonfane Forge, and he was the one who had set the ambush that killed the remaining garrison soldiers who''d accompanied Vetch after Marigold.

    That meeting was still fresh in Vetch''s mind. He''d been outclassed before by this hardened battler, even when he''d been healthy. He knew there would be no surviving this encounter with him, not exhausted and wounded and rotting inside as he was.

    But he would make them pay dearly for access to the corridor behind him. He would give Marigold and Lily as much of a head start as he possibly could before he fell. And, then? ... He hoped they''d trip over his body on the way through.

    It was not due to his fever, but his searing desire to exact some portion of revenge upon this moustachioed whoreson that turned his eyes into flaring cinders as he stared down his adversary.

    Vetch raised his sword defiantly before him. "Well? Come on!"

 Chapter 20: Revenge, part 1

    No blade had ever felt so heavy in Vetch¡¯s hands. It was more than mere fatigue. Fever burned throughout his body, weighing down his limbs with unyielding pain. Even to keep his head from lolling on his neck required an effort that near doubled his vision. Staring down the wrecked dining hall at the sellsword commander and his two cronies, Vetch tightened his fingers around his sword¡¯s grip, willing himself to keep the blade level. He couldn''t afford to show weakness. He couldn''t gift his opponents any obvious targets to exploit. In truth, there was little strength left in his tortured muscles.

    With nothing preventing the three from swarming him, Vetch couldn''t help but wonder why his enemies remained motionless, declining to attack. The threat of Marigold''s magic was gone, as was that of Fae''s wild brutality. Vetch stood his ground in the doorway through which they had fled. He was the only thing standing in the way of these raiders following them. But they displayed no urgency to get past him. Perhaps it would be different if their mistress were awake to spur them on, rather than Slumbering behind her protective Barrier in the corner.

    When at last it seemed as if they would all stand there regarding each other for eternity, the sellsword commander made a motion with his hand that drew the other two men to him. He spoke some words to them. One man sheathed his sword. The other said something back. The commander¡ªMurzagis¡ªturned a silent look upon that one. Cowed, the man nodded and also sheathed his sword. Then, the two retreated from the room, back in the direction of the manor¡¯s front entry, leaving their commander alone in the hall with Vetch.

    Murzagis also sheathed his blade. With a gesture of his hand, he indicated the bodies of his fallen companions littering the hall.

    "You did this? To recapture the old woman?" Vetch chose not to answer. Murzagis''s face betrayed nothing as he said, "A man like you could make a lot of coin where I come from."

    Was he offering a truce? Inviting Vetch to join his ranks? Or merely making an observation? Again, Vetch didn''t answer. Let him talk. Let him offer whatever he chose. It gave Marigold more time by which she could flee with Lily to safety.

    The moustachioed man''s upper lip twitched dismissively at the lack of a response from Vetch. His eyes hardly blinked as he appeared to size Vetch up, doubtlessly tallying the visible wounds and noting the lack of armor. He began unbuckling and removing his own armor. He stripped his upper body down to his shirt, dropping his boiled leather breastplate at his feet.

    "For fairness," he declared.

    So, it was owing to some odd sense of honor. That was why he had held his men back from attacking the spent mages, and why he sent them away now. Honor, Vetch thought. What did this heap of yak shit know about honor? After what he had done to Moonfane Forge and its people?

    "Fuck you," Vetch said.

    The words appeared to make no impression on Murzagis. Coolly, the sellsword commander went to the body nearest him and used his boot to turn it face up. If the identity of his dead compatriot meant anything to him, Vetch could not read it on his pocked face.

    In the years Vetch had spent in the garrison training in sword combat, he had learned to gauge the body language of his opponents. This man was calm. The muscles of Murzagis¡¯s neck and shoulders were relaxed. He was neither nervous nor cautious. He ignored Vetch as, like a man on his way to some negligible chore in his barn, he crunched over the broken glass on the floor to look at another body. Vetch watched from his place guarding the corridor and felt rage bubbling inside him. Did he truly think so little of Vetch as to turn his back on him? Did he even remember him from their duel on the forest path?

    Leaving his post at the doorway wasn¡¯t a conscious decision. It happened without thought. Enraged by this dismissal, Vetch charged across the dining hall, bellowing a guttural roar and raising his sword high, aiming for a killing blow at Murzagis¡¯s skull. He ignored the pain shooting through his battered body as he put all his strength into bringing his blade down.

    Murzagis turned at the sound of Vetch¡¯s reckless charge. Faster than Vetch could account for, the sellsword, in one smooth motion, drew his blade and deflected Vetch¡¯s downswing. The clash tingled up Vetch¡¯s arms as his momentum carried him past the other man. As he went by, the follow-through of Murzagis¡¯s sword nicked him on the chin. The cut it left was small, but the jolt of steel against his jaw caused his teeth to clack together painfully and make his ears ring.

    Left vulnerable, Vetch turned just in time to stumble back from a powerful horizontal cut that Murzagis leveled at him. He gritted his teeth and raised his blade defensively. He¡¯d not had the strength to attempt a parry. His entire body fought him, injury and fever racking his limbs and insides with burning pain. Murzagis calmly reset his stance, holding his sword one-handed. The man was taller than Vetch, and wiry with the sinewy musculature of a lifelong battler. They locked eyes; Vetch stared fire into cold shadow.

    ¡°Do you remember me?¡± Vetch asked raggedly.

    The raider¡¯s eyes narrowed, as if thinking back. Then, in place of an answer, he displayed only a look of pity. Angered, Vetch surged forward again, stabbing for the man¡¯s unprotected stomach, only to shift his aim higher the moment Murzagis reacted.

    Again, the raider was faster. Their blades sheared across each other as Murzagis sidestepped Vetch¡¯s stab. At the same time, he brought his fist down in a heavy blow across Vetch¡¯s arms, clubbing them out of the way so he could ram his shoulder into Vetch¡¯s chest. Vetch grunted as he was knocked on his back. He rolled to one side to avoid a downward stab and rose to his feet, finding himself behind a floating pane of golden-hued magic, one of the Barrier spells still hanging in the air following Lily and Marigold¡¯s magic duel with Lady Iris.

    Murzagis wasted no motion in quickly stepping around the Barrier and forcing Vetch to counter an overhand slash. This time, Vetch came back around with a cut of his own, though the attack was more wild and desperate than he had intended. The raider moved back to avoid it. Vetch pressed forward with another slash, forcing Murzagis to parry. Steel scraped against steel as the two men came together in a grapple. Vetch could smell spiced sausage on his foe¡¯s breath as their heads clashed. He tried to elbow him in the face, but Murzagis grabbed his wrist. Growling, Vetch wrenched himself back to create space, only for Murzagis to suddenly let go and kick him backward. The kick took Vetch by surprise and he was unable to raise his blade in time to stop the sword cut that came directly on its heels. The point of Murzagis¡¯s blade tore a glancing slice across Vetch¡¯s ribs, from which hot blood seeped.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Vetch lashed out with a defensive swing of his blade to keep the other man away, but Murzagis avoided it and stood back out of reach. With a shake of his head, the sellsword commander chuckled humorlessly.

    In the brief moment of reprieve, the sound brought Vetch back to the battle on the forest path and how, even when healthy, he had lost to this man. His thoughts then flashed back further still. In this raider¡¯s casual dismissal of him was his garrison¡¯s defeat at Moonfane Forge. Vetch recalled the sight of his captain and garrison companions lying dead in the street. He recalled the fire and smoke billowing around him as he¡¯d tried to defend his town. On this bastard¡¯s face now was the same impassive look that had been there when his raiders were stepping over the bodies of innocents to loot burning homes and shops.

    There were no words Vetch could summon that would convey his hatred for this man. Roaring his rage, he rushed back in and attacked with abandon. There was no rationale or strategy behind his frenzied swings. Heedless of what additional wounds he might suffer, Vetch let the heat of his anger drive his attacks.

    For some men, the adrenaline of battle brought mad laughter to their lips, or unchecked tears to their eyes. It deadened pain and fatigue. That sensation had already come and gone for Vetch, used up in keeping himself alive long enough to help Lily and Marigold escape. He could no longer rely on that burst of battle frenzy. His hands quaked no matter how tightly he clutched his sword, and his legs felt like jelly. With every blade thrust that he directed at his enemy, he felt every wound of his own¡ªevery bruise, every cut, the pain of infection eating its way through him.

    Yet, he didn¡¯t care. Though he felt anger and fever and pain¡ªthough he worried beyond all reason for Lily¡¯s safety, and anguished for the life together they would never have¡ªthere was one thing he didn¡¯t feel: fear. He already knew he would die this day. Whether it was by the infection or by his enemy¡¯s sword didn¡¯t matter. He was going to die. And because he knew he was going to die, he could fight without caution or self-preservation.

    He threw himself at Murzagis with a flurry of blade thrusts and was satisfied to witness the surprise that flashed across the man¡¯s face at Vetch having any fight left in him. Vetch slashed and stabbed, backing Murzagis up, forcing him to defend. He knew he couldn¡¯t sustain this for long, but before he was cut down, perhaps he could land a blow that would take this whoreson with him. That would be sweet enough revenge. For himself. For Moonfane Forge.

    However, Murzagis was more than capable as a swordsman. Vetch had already learned this back in Bannerman¡¯s Wood, and he saw it still now. The man defended Vetch¡¯s wrathful swings with impeccable technique. He gave ground, but wouldn¡¯t allow himself to be boxed in, defying Vetch to land any decent blows. Every swing of the blade cost Vetch more, his sword becoming heavier with every tortured thrust. Sweat got in his eyes and caused his tattered shirt to cling to his skin. Every pain imaginable assailed him. He pushed through it all, driving himself to score with one good stab, one cut, just so he could die knowing he had avenged his garrison in some small way.

    But it seemed every attack fell just short of landing. No matter how he pursued Murzagis across the dining hall, the man dodged and parried everything. And when Vetch least expected it, he would surprise him with a quick counterattack¡ªnot one meant to land, but only to ward Vetch back. He would then return to defending having exhausted Vetch further. The third time this happened, Vetch was so fixated on his own attacks that he failed to see the change in his opponent¡¯s posture, allowing Murzagis to slip past his defenses and run a searing slash across his outer thigh.

    Vetch staggered to one side, gritting his teeth against the pain. He was only barely able to deflect the stab that Murzagis followed up with. Shuffling backward to put distance between the two of them, he nearly stumbled over one of the dead sellswords.

    As he regained his footing, and felt the blood soaking through his pant leg, it finally dawned on Vetch what was happening. He had forgotten everything he¡¯d ever been taught in the Moonfane Forge garrison. He had allowed his anger and desire for vengeance to cause him to rush in and squander his energy uselessly. Worse than that, he saw now how Murzagis had anticipated this and goaded him into it, luring Vetch to exhaust himself while he hung back and scored riskless blows at his leisure.

    It was the same trap Vetch had fallen into back on the forest path, the very same mistake that had left him with the grievous wounds now destroying him. He could imagine how disappointed Ennric would be with him now; how Captain Tarese would be shaking her head at him, were she alive and able to witness this. Shame flooded Vetch hotter than the blood streaming from his fresh wounds. That he had been named captain of his remaining garrison now felt like a joke. He was acting like a greenhorn fresh off the farm, not a captain. Had he learned nothing from his other fight with this man?

    Vetch stood trying to catch his breath. Something in the set of his face must have tipped his foe off to his revelations, for a little sneer of amusement appeared on Murzagis¡¯s lips, as if to mock Vetch for taking this long to deduce his strategy. And Vetch recognized that even this was designed to make him lose his temper and attack again recklessly.

    This time, he chose not to take the bait. He planted his feet and raised his sword in a short guard, willing himself to remember his training. Fighting with anger and misplaced passion had never been the key. He had to temper his anger, and focus.

    The commander of the sellswords gifted Vetch no such time to gather his thoughts. With a confident growl, Murzagis went in for the kill, bringing his blade down in an arcing chop that cut through the air. Vetch sidestepped and blocked the brunt of the blow with his sword¡¯s cross guard. He grunted and aimed a punch at Murzagis¡¯s jaw that missed. Murzagis rejoined with a backhand swing that Vetch narrowly avoided. The sellsword commander wasn¡¯t playing games anymore. He wasn¡¯t seeking to wear Vetch down, he was seeking to end things.

    As Vetch dodged and defended, his mind raced. He couldn¡¯t just defend, for that would wear him down all the same. So, as his opponent had been doing, Vetch began looking for little openings, picking his spots and trying for calculated counterattacks when the risk was small. As he fought smarter, he broke through a few times¡ªa superficial stab to Murzagis¡¯s chest, a cut down his bicep that streamed blood.

    For the first time, the fight became a proper one between two swordsmen, skill against skill, not the reckless wasting of energy and angry fervor Vetch had fallen prey to before. The two men dueled their way all across the dining hall in this fashion¡ªattacking, feinting, bluffing, countering. The chamber echoed with the pings of steel, the grunts and exhalations of combat.

 Chapter 20: Revenge, part 2

    Vetch had to rely on every trick and tactic his instructors in the garrison had ever taught him. He had never fought anyone else as dangerous as this before. And it wasn¡¯t only Murzagis he battled, but their surroundings. As they fought, they had to step around the bodies of the dead sellswords, and avoid the translucent golden Barriers still hanging in the air all around the chamber¡ªbold slashes of golden ribbons, windows, and cages, eerie remnants of the magic battle that presaged this test of steel.

    Every move required Vetch¡¯s utmost concentration, no matter how his pain and exhaustion worked like demons to break it. He knew the moment he gave in and lost his focus would be the moment he lost the fight, the moment Murzagis would cut him down, robbing him and his town of their due justice.

    Through the back-and-forth battle, he realized how little he had understood about true combat, in all of its hideous immediacy, until this moment. Not only had it been foolish to fight with an excess of emotion, as he had been, but neither would he succeed by personifying cold-blooded detachment. Once, he had assumed this was how the raiders who attacked Moonfane Forge had fought so effectively, that coldness was what gave them their edge. He had thought that learning to become similarly cold was the only way to match them and be a worthy protector for Lily.

    But he had been mistaken, not only about the raiders, but about their commander. It wasn¡¯t disinterest this man had displayed, but the kind of concentration Vetch himself now needed to embody. He needed to fight in the middle ground, between fiery emotion and cold dispassion. The more he understood this, the easier he found it to anticipate Murzagis¡¯s moves, until he felt almost on equal ground again.

    The tide began to turn. Vetch saw through his adversary¡¯s feints and tricks, and wouldn¡¯t allow himself to be goaded into mistakes. He was bolstered when Murzagis elected at last to grip his sword two-handed in order to fend off Vetch¡¯s push. When Vetch managed to beat the raider¡¯s blade aside and score a biting wound to his shoulder, he witnessed the first inkling of doubt appear on the man¡¯s face. Seeing it, Vetch laughed the mad laughter of a warrior who recognizes victory at hand. Not complete victory¡ªnot a victory that would see him walk away from the battlefield the sole survivor, able to return home and recover¡ªbut the victory of ensuring his enemy¡¯s death, before succumbing to it himself.

    He pushed for that vision, began to believe for the first time that he had what it took to defeat this man.

    Almost.

    For when Vetch earned himself another opening and went to attack, his arms suddenly refused to follow through. The best he could manage was a weak thrust that Murzagis turned aside without effort. Confusion mingled with dismay. Vetch looked at his foe through a fevered haze and saw a man who, despite some injuries, was still fresh and at ease. Vetch, however, was slowing. More than slowing, his limbs were betraying him. His ensuing, sluggish attacks served only to expose his encroaching weakness.

    Had he forgotten how infection-ruined his body was, how close to death¡¯s door? A few trifling scores with his blade and he had thought he could overcome everything? No matter how skillfully he fought, his body could take no more. He had forced it to give him its last and now even that paltry remainder of strength was spent. Each new attack he attempted was slower and more pitiful than the last. His head drooped, and his arms and legs shook with fatigue.

    And he knew Murzagis could see it. If he could not find a way to end this soon, Murzagis would kill him. He would kill him and go on living, to hunt down Marigold and Lily and kill them, too, as his mistress had commanded.

    Murzagis recognized Vetch faltering and seized on it. He reclaimed his command of the battle, pummeling Vetch with heavy attacks that crashed against his defenses. For Vetch, it became a struggle simply to survive, his hope for revenge receding before his eyes. It struck him as almost laughable that his spirit would still cry out for survival when survival had never been a possibility, not since he had chosen to enter the black-stoned castle.

    Battered and harried, his fingers turning numb from all the heavy blows smashing against his blade and carving down his defenses, he thought back to the fight on the forest path. Had he observed anything about this man in that first battle that could help him? Murzagis was skilled and strong, certainly, but was there a weakness Vetch could exploit before he simply could fight no longer?

    No answer came to him. Murzagis¡¯s face was a picture of grim confidence behind his sword thrusts as he advanced on Vetch with the same promise of death he had invited upon Moonfane Forge. With a powerful sweep of his sword, he cast Vetch¡¯s blade out of the way and viciously stabbed his thigh. The sword point bit deep. Vetch cried out and hobbled backward. His opponent allowed him no window for recovery, advancing with the quickness of a ferret. Vetch gritted his teeth against the additional pain and willed himself to raise his sword, aiming for a defiant return strike. Bluff or not, perhaps he could catch Murzagis by surprise.

    But he could put no force behind the downswing. Rather than bring his blade down upon his enemy with purpose, Vetch¡¯s arms fell forward of their own accord. Too late, he realized he¡¯d given Murzagis the clear opening he had been waiting for. Murzagis evaded the attempt, and Vetch¡¯s blade struck only the floor. The raider stepped in and around it, committing wholly to driving his sword point upward toward Vetch¡¯s throat.

    Vetch had seen this gambit before, in their first duel in the forest. It had been a feint, inviting Vetch to jump forward with an attack that left him defenseless. It had been his downfall then. This time, instinctively, he stepped backward out of the way, refusing to fall for the same ploy. But the commander of the raiders surprised him yet again. Rather than bait Vetch in with a feint as before, this time Murzagis carried through with his momentum. Vetch¡¯s dodge was enough to cause the blade to narrowly miss his throat, but he was unprepared for when Murzagis crashed into him, punching him solidly across the jaw with his sword¡¯s pommel. Stars burst before Vetch¡¯s eyes as he was knocked down to the glass-littered floor.

    Self-preservation made him push himself painfully back to his feet. He lashed out with a wild swing of his sword, which Murzagis stepped back from. Vetch stood sucking in ragged breaths. He clawed his lank hair out of his eyes. Against his screaming muscles, he lifted his blade once more. Murzagis tsked.

    ¡°Enough,¡± he said. ¡°Accept this like a man.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you,¡± Vetch panted. ¡°For my garrison. For me.¡±

    Murzagis scoffed and shook his head. ¡°Defeated soldiers are disgraceful. You should have given up the blade the day your garrison lost. Then, you would not be here this day.¡±

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    He advanced on Vetch, sword held low, casually. Vetch backed away, keeping his distance. A glance behind him told him that he was nearing the far wall of the dining hall, where he¡¯d be at the raider¡¯s mercy. That was what he was counting on. As he shuffled backwards, he held one hand up defensively, while the point of his sword dragged and scraped along the stone floor. Murzagis followed, his manner that of a man who went to put down an injured animal.

    Vetch had survived so much deeper into the fight than even he had expected to, despite his wounds ensuring it had never been a fair one. But he had been a soldier long enough to know that ¡®fair¡¯ had no place in a battle to the death. After all, how many of Lady Iris¡¯s soldiers had been set upon he and Lily? It was only through fighting together they had survived that. And it would only be through fighting together that Vetch had a chance to survive this.

    As he backed up, he racked his brain over the details of that battle, going over everything he had seen from the time he had entered the hall and joined the fray. He remembered where he had seen Lily cast some of her earliest Barriers during the fight. Many of the remaining Barriers in the hall were even now fading from visibility. They were still there, but their golden hue had worn away, leaving them invisible to the eye. Vetch made for the place where he recalled a Barrier Lily had cast early on. There was nothing to be seen, and he had no magic with which to sense whether the Barrier was still there or not, but he had to trust that it was.

    He reached the spot and stopped. Wearily, he watched Murzagis come. If Vetch¡¯s memory was correct, that one of Lily¡¯s invisible Barriers persisted there and, like the bridge, its magic would not apply to him, then he would now be standing behind it. Murzagis had no way to know. The worst part for Vetch was that neither would he know whether it was there or not until it would be too late to defend himself.

    Not that he had to feign being too exhausted to fight on. Still, it took all of his willpower to leave his sword arm hanging limp, rather than ready it against the killing blow to come. He had to allow it to happen. As Murzagis came within a couple paces, again Vetch held his free hand before him for mercy. Panting, he waited, willing himself not to flinch, not to give it away.

    Murzagis said not a word, and showed no emotion on his weathered face as he drew his arm back and then plunged it straight forward. The blade would pass through. Vetch knew that. But the hand wielding it would not. He clenched his jaw tight. But nothing stilled Murzagis¡¯s hand. The steel sword point punched through Vetch¡¯s shirt and stabbed him directly in his infected wound. He screamed. Fiery pain radiated from the wound as Murzagis yanked his sword back, and fresh pus and blood burst hot from it.

    Gasping in agony, Vetch staggered, his sword slipping from his fingers. He could only look on in disbelief as the sellsword commander flicked blood off his blade. Had Vetch remembered wrong? Had he misjudged where the Barrier had been? Or had it been there, only for its magic to have completely faded before it could save him?

    Not a party to these thoughts of dismay, Murzagis raised his sword once more. Vetch saw his end coming. Frantically searching his memory, he reassessed where he was in relation to where he thought the Barrier should be. With no way to tell if he stepped into salvation or catastrophe, he forced his tortured body to obey him just one more time, shifting a pace to the side. Murzagis threw all his strength behind an arcing, horizontal slash, one that would cleave Vetch¡¯s head clean off his neck. Vetch stood still and defenseless, allowing the coup de grace to come. If the Barrier was not there¡ªif it had already faded¡ªthen so, too, would he be gone in a second¡¯s time. He turned his thoughts to Lily, his love.

    The hum of steel slicing the air marked the passage of Murzagis¡¯s blade toward Vetch¡¯s neck. Inches from hitting its mark, Murzagis¡¯s fist smashed into seemingly nothing, crumpling into Lily¡¯s Barrier. It was as if the man had punched a solid stone wall with all his might. Vetch could hear the finger bones break. The raider dropped his sword with a cry of shock and pain.

    Seizing his moment, Vetch jumped forward, catching up the falling sword by its grip before it could hit the floor. With the last of his strength, he thrust his arm freely through the invisible Barrier and drove the blade¡¯s point deep into Murzagis¡¯s throat. It penetrated straight through the raider¡¯s neck and out the other side. Just as quickly, Vetch wrenched the blade back out. A grim gout of dark blood poured from Murzagis¡¯s throat like a fountain.

    Vetch stood away as the man desperately clutched at his neck in a vain attempt to hold his life essence in. Surprise warred with panic on his face at the realization that he had been bested and killed, his lips trying to mouth words from a voiceless throat as he went down on one knee. In seconds, his hands fell away and he slumped forward face first into the expanding pool of his own blood, dead.

    An odd calm settled over the large dining chamber then, the calm that follows in the wake of a terrible battle. Vetch stood over his fallen foe a moment, regaining his breath.

    ¡°For Moonfane Forge,¡± he said, at last.

    He was too weary to reflect on his victory, let alone revel in it. Besides, he still had one more task before him. Leaving his defeated adversary where he lay, Vetch stumbled unsteadily across the hall to where Lady Iris still Slumbered behind the curtain-like Barrier she had cast to shield herself. The golden hue of the magic was fading in patches, like puddles evaporating in the sun. The Barriers that Lily had cast over her arms also remained, though they had faded to complete translucence, causing the woman to appear like a marionette hung from a doorknob.

    Vetch leaned his hand on the protective Barrier and stared in at The Lady of Black Crux. He hadn¡¯t the faculty to comprehend how this single mage had brought so much death and destruction down on his town for what he could only surmise was some old grudge against her former teacher.

    Bringing the raider¡¯s sword to bear, he tested its blade through the Barrier as he¡¯d done before, hoping that Iris was close enough to reach this time. Sadly, its point fell short. Vetch withdrew the blade and adjusted his grip, holding the sword by its pommel to give it just a little more reach. Again, he thrust the blade through the Barrier until his fingers were stopped by it, aiming for Lady Iris¡¯s unprotected throat. If he could get even the tip of the blade close enough to inflict a precise cut to a vein, it would be enough to exact the remaining vengeance that Moonfane Forge was surely owed.

    He gave no consideration as to whether this was honorable or not. This wasn¡¯t for him. It was for everyone who had died¡ªNeschi and Iannitz, Captain Tarese, Trimm, Wenzl, Lily¡¯s parents and brother, shopkeepers and herdsmen and tavern patrons, mothers, fathers, children.

    The blade¡¯s razor tip hung precariously close to the woman¡¯s throat. Vetch¡¯s hand trembled with the effort it took to support the entire sword by only its pommel. It was so close. He pushed his fingers against the Barrier until they hurt, straining to inch the blade forward in his grip just a little bit more. But the sweat and blood on his hand caused the pommel to slip from his grasp. The sword fell clattering to the floor behind the Barrier, while Vetch fell to his knees before it, puffing with exertion. He looked at the lost blade.

    ¡°Well ... no getting that back.¡±

    Turning, he sat with his back to the Barrier and looked out at the great chamber. He could collect any of the other swords littering the hall and try again, but now that he was sitting, he found he didn¡¯t have the strength to rise again.

    So, this is it, he thought.

    He coughed and was racked with agony, as his wound oozed more hot foulness through his blood-soaked shirt. It hurt. But it wouldn¡¯t hurt for much longer. Soon, he would black out and that would be that. No more pain. No more awareness of his failures and missteps. No more living with the stain of not being good enough to be by Lily¡¯s side.

    As his head drooped forward and the edges of his vision closed in, he tried to make his last thoughts focus on memories of his days with Lily. Too few, they had been. He recalled watching her riding Fae across Moonfane Forge¡¯s pastures, her hair streaming free in the wind. He thought of the impulsive passion they had shared beneath the trees on the hill, their final night together. And he thought of the wedding they had attended by accident in Pasanhal town, the happiness in her eyes as they had held hands during the vows, and he smiled.

 Chapter 20: Revenge, part 3

    The next time he opened his eyes, there was a servingwoman dressed in a long gray robe standing over him. From out of her hood, she looked down at him with fair, hazy eyes. Such strange eyes. Was he in fact dead, and this a spirit come to lead him forth into the afterlife?

    The robed woman nudged his boot with her own. ¡°You Vetch?¡± she asked. When he only looked up at her in confusion, she nodded to herself and muttered, ¡°Yeah.¡± Bending down, she unceremoniously peeled his shirt up, exposing the festering wound in his chest. At the sight of it, she wrinkled her nose. ¡°That¡¯s bad. Prob¡¯ly a lost cause. Well, come on now, get up. We don¡¯t have much time.¡±

    Putting herself at Vetch¡¯s side, the woman pulled his arm over her shoulder and helped him rise. As he came to his feet, he cried out at the burst of pain that exploded from his many wounds. The sound reverberated around the large hall.

    ¡°Try not to do that again,¡± the woman warned. ¡°There¡¯s people running all around this place wondering what the hells has happened.¡±

    Vetch could feel how wiry the woman was underneath her billowy robe, yet she exhibited surprising strength as she helped him across the chamber. What was happening, he wondered. For the second time in his life, he had somehow awoken after having been certain he was closing his eyes for the last time. His body was even more stubborn than old Ennric.

    Glancing back, Vetch saw that Lady Iris was now sprawled on her back on the floor. In the time he¡¯d been unconscious, Lily¡¯s Barriers had expired and dropped the woman. Regrettably, Iris¡¯s shielding Barrier was still in place. While invisible now, Vetch had felt it still against his back upon waking. Slumbering on the floor, The Lady of Black Crux was even further out of reach now, protected still by her own persisting magic. Would this good Samaritan be cross with him if he asked to wait around until it faded?

    ¡°Stop draggin¡¯ your heels, time¡¯s wasting,¡± she grumbled, answering his unspoken question.

    Vetch let go of his chance at completing his town¡¯s revenge and allowed himself to be guided by his benefactor. Stepping around the scattered bodies of dead soldiers, they made for the same corridor that Marigold had chosen as an escape route for herself and Lily. Through a short maze of hallways and rooms, the robed woman took them. As they went, she kept her free hand out to the side, trailing her fingers along the walls. Each time they passed a door, she counted it under her breath. When they went through a door, or chose a new hallway to follow, she would begin counting anew. From that, he surmised she was unfamiliar with the manor. So, not a servingwoman. Who, then?

    They soon came to a large, open door that let them out into daylight. Vetch recognized the stretch of land behind Black Crux Manor whereupon he had arrived the night before. The robed woman impatiently goaded him forward across the open ground to the edge of the natural fissure that sliced through the earth behind the manor. It was somewhere around here that he¡¯d been carried by Siegert across Lily¡¯s bridge. There was no sign of any such Barrier bridge now, though Vetch was heartened to see large hoofprints in the dirt, leading directly off the edge.

    The robed woman let go of him and he was surprised at how much effort it required to remain standing without her support.

    Seeing him wobbling, she asked, ¡°Can you walk by yourself?¡±

    He stared at her dumbly. ¡°Are you a Barrier-Caster?¡±

    She made a derisive sound in her throat. ¡°Here. It¡¯s right here.¡± She tapped her foot on the open expanse, showing where a new, invisible bridge existed. ¡°And here,¡± she added, with another tap of her foot about a pace away. ¡°Two of ¡®em. Nothin¡¯ in between. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°Walk, you oaf!¡±

    Vetch stepped up to the edge of the fissure and cast about with his boot until his toes met resistance. He then swept his foot sideways and found the other translucent track. Delicately, he placed one foot down on what appeared to be thin air. Then, satisfied that the magic would support him, he balanced shakily on that foot until he could find the second strip of Barrier with the other. He felt like a baby taking its first steps as he inched forward on weak legs, hesitant to lift his feet in normal steps, lest he lose track of where to place them down again.

    ¡°Hurry up,¡± the robed woman cajoled him. ¡°Mari said they¡¯ll disappear soon.¡±

    Vetch sensed the anxiety radiating off of his abrasive savior, and now he understood why. His heart pounded in his throat as he willed his aching legs to move faster, step by cautious step. The prospect of traversing a Barrier that was still visible had been daunting enough the night before. Walking on Barriers whose golden luster had disappeared was near paralyzing. Each thin strip of magic was only about as wide as the sole of his boot. Looking down into the dizzying chasm below, he imagined Fae¡¯s massive hooves treading these same tracks, with Lily draped over her back, and was thankful for the panthegrunn¡¯s cat-like poise.

    Only when he reached the other side, and had stepped onto solid ground, did the robed woman follow. As soon as she was across, she took his arm again and together they navigated the hillside path, following the panthegrunn tracks down the slope. Vetch felt relief when they had gone far enough to be out of sight of the castle¡¯s walls and windows. He sensed that the robed woman felt the same, for she mercifully slowed their pace, albeit not enough for him to catch his breath. She did not allow him to stop until they finally reached the bottom of the hill.

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    Leaving Vetch doubled over and puffing for breath beside the trail, the woman retrieved a small pack from behind an uprooted tree stump.

    ¡°Here,¡± she said, pressing a water canteen into Vetch¡¯s hands.

    He drank greedily and then poured some of the water over his head. The cool drops that fell from his chin to patter in the dirt were pinkish from the dried blood that caked his face. It did little to soothe his fever in the late afternoon sun.

    She allowed him a second sip and then took the canteen away. From her pack, she pulled a bundle of clothing that she shook out and offered to Vetch. It was a long, loose robe of the same gray material as her own.

    ¡°Put this on.¡±

    ¡°This is a woman¡¯s robe,¡± Vetch said.

    ¡°Sharp one, ain¡¯t ya? Put it on.¡±

    Too fatigued to see the sense of it¡ªbut not caring at this point¡ªhe followed instructions and pulled the robe on. It was soft and billowy and reached down to his boots. She helped him pull the hood down low over his face. After a second of appraisal, she nodded.

    ¡°Good enough. Come on.¡±

    Again they walked, the woman helping to support Vetch while he staggered along. A reddish sunset was peeking between buildings as they reached the streets of Black Crux. The woman scanned their surroundings alertly as they navigated through town, but nobody seemed to pay them any mind.

    ¡°I¡¯m Vetch,¡± he said, after a time of walking in silence.

    ¡°I already knew that,¡± the woman said brusquely.

    ¡°Will you give me your name?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Did Marigold send you? Are she and Lily safe?¡±

    ¡°Quit talking.¡±

    The woman¡¯s manner was vexing, but Vetch was too preoccupied with the pain of his infection to challenge her. She was helping; that was good enough for the time being. Besides, it was taking all of his strength and focus simply to keep moving. A couple times, they had to pause to allow for coughing fits that gripped him with indescribable pain. Each time, the woman barely waited for them to subside before relentlessly prodding him on again. The route the woman chose was disorienting, and Vetch quickly lost track of where they were in the unfamiliar city. He suspected that they doubled back more than once, but he was so delirious, he could not be certain.

    Daylight had faded by the time she turned him down a long alleyway. Halfway along it, the woman stopped to open a little gate leading into a fragrant herb garden. She urged him through it and then stood looking both ways up and down the alley before following. Grabbing his arm, she hurried him through the garden to the back door of a nondescript dwelling and directed him inside.

    Vetch found himself in a small, well-appointed home. The room was dim, the only light a low fire burning in the grate. The windows all had their shutters drawn closed. In his addled state, Vetch stared around him, seeking for Lily or Marigold. All he saw were the accoutrements of a comfortable but unoccupied sitting room. A narrow staircase led up to a second floor. The home smelled of aromatic herbs that were unfamiliar to him.

    ¡°Lie down,¡± the woman said, as if she were commanding a dog. Vetch stared at her uncomprehendingly. She pointed to a low couch near the hearth and repeated herself.

    ¡°Why have you brought me here?¡± he asked. He was thirsty again. His entire body felt like it was on fire. The last thing he wanted to do was lie down next to a warm hearth.

    The woman voiced a sound of impatience. Without so much as a ¡®by your leave¡¯, she began pulling the robe off of him, like she was undressing an obstinate child for the bath. Discarding the garment, she pointed again to the couch. ¡°And your shirt. Unless you need me to do that for you, too.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Vetch said, and coughed. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    He peeled his shredded shirt off. The fabric clung to his skin and chest hair in places where blood had dried, so that he had to tear it free. When he sat down on the low couch, a wave of nausea assaulted him. He sat with his head bowed forward and waited for it to pass, before leaning to untie his boots.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about those,¡± the woman said, going up the stairs and leaving him alone in the room.

    Vetch levered his legs, boots and all, up onto the couch, and lay back. In a short time, the woman returned back down the stairs. She had shed the loose robe and now wore a dark dress and white apron. Without the heavy hood obscuring her features, Vetch could finally observe his terse savior. She looked to be in her middle years, about of an age with his mother. Subtle lines creased her face in the firelight, like traces of fissures in stone. Her fair eyes were a striking contrast to her olive skin. From under her head kerchief, a few stray strands of graying hair escaped.

    She dragged a short table close to the couch and set upon it some little jars and a tall bottle that she¡¯d had bundled in her apron. Kneeling before Vetch, she placed a hand on his festering, open chest wound and pressed down. Vetch gasped and hissed through his teeth as blood and foul-smelling liquid oozed from the inflamed sword puncture.

    ¡°Spirits and demons,¡± the woman uttered. ¡°Another half a day and this would¡¯ve done you in. Mari said only that you¡¯d been roughed up. This is much more than roughed up. Y¡¯look like you fought an army. Humph. I guess you did.¡±

    ¡°Marigold,¡± Vetch sputtered. ¡°Where is she? Where is Lily?¡±

    ¡°Slumbering, of course. Upstairs.¡± The woman uncorked the tall bottle and offered it to him. ¡°Drink until you pass out. Y¡¯won¡¯t want to be awake for this.¡±

    ¡°For what? Can I see Lily?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Frustration upon frustration. There were too many other questions he needed to ask, not the least of which was whether they were safe here. Before he could form the words, the woman tipped the bottle to his lips.

    ¡°Drink. You¡¯ll regret it if you don¡¯t.¡±

    Vetch relented and swigged from the bottle. It was the kind of throat-scouring rot-gut some of his garrison mates had liked to drink while playing dice. He took a second swig before he could regret the first and soon felt the powerful liquor going to his head. Before long, the room was spinning around him.

    The woman placed both her hands upon his wound and closed her eyes. He felt a sensation like something was squirming inside of him. It began as discomfort, then became pain, pain that grew exponentially. Vetch suddenly understood why she¡¯d furnished him the bottle. He tipped it up and gulped down the rest of its contents. Then, he lay back and clenched his eyes hard shut, gritting his teeth against the agony.

    Mercifully, he passed out before he was forced to scream.

 Chapter 20: Revenge, part 4

    ¡°Told ya he was a tough one. How¡¯re you feelin¡¯, boy?¡±

    Vetch opened his eyes and looked up into the wrinkled face of Mage Marigold. The old woman looked haggard, but there was the whisp of a smile in her eyes.

    ¡°Pigheaded, you mean to say,¡± commented the unknown woman from across the room. ¡°The other day, he rose and tried to stumble his way upstairs while I was busy in the garden. Made it only two steps up before he collapsed and reopened his wound. Had to bandage it all over again.¡±

    Marigold waved her hand flippantly. ¡°Bah. That¡¯s just young men for ya.¡±

    Vetch licked his dry lips. ¡°Lily?¡¯ he asked.

    The woman across the room scoffed.

    Marigold chuckled. ¡°Still Slumbering. As I¡¯ve told you all the other times you¡¯ve asked me. You don¡¯t remember, do ya? Too feverish. But you¡¯re looking a might better now.¡± Her gnarled fingers were cool as she touched his forehead. ¡°Much better,¡± she said, nodding to herself. Then, speaking to the other woman, ¡°No more fever, far as I can tell.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s as well,¡± she responded. She retrieved a pinch of tea herbs from a jar and dropped them into a kettle that she placed down near the fire to heat.

    The sounds and aromas produced by someone doing something so simple as making tea was comforting to Vetch. After the woman had fiddled with the kettle to ensure it was neither too close nor too far from the flames, she came over to feel Vetch¡¯s forehead for herself. Evidently satisfied with his temperature, she then palpated all around his chest wound, carefully skirting the new bandaging there. Vetch was surprised to see that the bandaging was clean, and not spotted with blood and puss. The area still felt sore, but not in the way it had before.

    When the woman had finished prodding him, she said, ¡°I¡¯m going out to check on the animals and buy some things for our supper in the markets. Make sure he doesn¡¯t move off that couch.¡±

    When she had departed, Vetch asked Marigold, ¡°Who is she?¡±

    ¡°An old friend,¡± Marigold said. Vetch gave her a quizzical look and, after a moment, she relented and offered up more. Scratching her cheek, she said, ¡°She¡¯s a healer¡ªof the sort you wouldn¡¯t be concerned with. A traditional one, mostly, but she does have some talent in health magic she can utilize in dire situations. Lucky for you, she judged yours sufficiently dire. She was able to purge the infection from your body with magic. But make no mistake, boy, that wound is still a severe one. It¡¯s gonna need ample time to heal up.¡±

    Vetch ran his fingers over the bandaged wound. The improvement was astounding. No more was the surrounding flesh angry and red. No more was there a stench of rot. He felt better than he had in many a day.

    Observing this, Marigold added, ¡°She¡¯s no master mage. It cost her a lot to draw you back from death¡¯s door. You can show your gratitude by doin¡¯ everything she says, and not moving about in her home anymore when you¡¯re supposed to be resting. She may be an old friend, but she¡¯s taking a lot of weight on ¡®er shoulders sheltering us here. Try not to give her a reason to withdraw her hospitality.¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t seem to want to bring me here at all,¡± Vetch said. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t even give me her name.¡±

    ¡°Which is why I haven¡¯t, either,¡± said Marigold, and chortled. ¡°Don¡¯t take it personal, boy. It¡¯s just her way. I always got the impression she never much liked sword-swingin¡¯ types. But I promise you, she can be trusted.¡±

    ¡°So, we¡¯re safe here?¡±

    ¡°Safe as we can be in Black Crux. The city¡¯s crawlin¡¯ with Gilliana¡¯s soldiers, all lookin¡¯ for us. They won¡¯t look here, though.¡±

    ¡°Gilliana?¡± Vetch asked.

    ¡°Lady Iris.¡±

    ¡°Ah. And how can you be sure her soldiers won¡¯t look here?¡±

    ¡°Because I am, boy.¡± Marigold raised her brows in a challenging fashion.

    Vetch bit back a response. The soldier in him wasn¡¯t keen on taking intuition as a basis for an assurance of safety.

    Marigold read the skepticism on his face. ¡°Ah. Lily¡¯s like that, too, sometimes. Can¡¯t just trust an old woman without a full explanation?¡± She voiced an amused little cackle, displaying the missing teeth in her grin. ¡°Trust me, boy. Not only do the soldiers have no reason to search here, but people in this quarter know how to keep secrets. Why d¡¯ya think I chose it? And as long as Gilliana is still Slumbering, she can¡¯t sense my presence here and tell her foreign attack dogs where to look.¡±

    ¡°How long do we have until she wakes and does just that?¡± Vetch asked.

    The amusement in Marigold¡¯s gray eyes faded. Looking aside, she said pensively, ¡°After the kind of Barrier-Casting Gilliana was doing? She may never wake.¡± She took in a slow breath and let it out, before adding, ¡°So, we¡¯re in no rush. Lily has time to finish her Slumbering, and you have time enough to heal. Once we¡¯re all able to travel, we¡¯ll sneak out of town. I long to be back home.¡±

    Vetch pushed himself up on his elbows, grimacing at the shock of pain the motion caused.

    ¡°Disobeying your caretaker¡¯s orders already?¡± Marigold chided.

    ¡°I wish to see Lily.¡±

    ¡°See her do what? Sleep? She¡¯s fine, young man. I won¡¯t lecture you again about doin¡¯ what you¡¯re told. Stay on that couch or I¡¯ll cast a Barrier to keep you there.¡±

    Vetch sensed she wasn¡¯t jesting. He sighed and settled back on the cushions.

    ¡°Patience, boy,¡± Marigold said, more kindly. ¡°We¡¯ve got nothin¡¯ but time. There¡¯s some books upstairs. I¡¯ll fetch you one.¡±

    ¡°Thank you all the same, Mage Marigold, but I think I¡¯ll just sleep some more.¡±

    ¡°Wise,¡± Marigold agreed, and settled herself with a grunt in a chair by the fire.

    *

    Lily¡¯s eyelids fluttered, then she snapped them open. She sensed her Mage-Matron in the room before she saw her.

    ¡°How long was I out? Where is Vetch? Is he? ...¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± Marigold said quietly. ¡°And lower your voice, girl. It¡¯s early and people are still asleep.¡±

    Lily allowed the ethereal sensation of Slumber to dissipate from her before she sat up. She was in a strange nightgown, in a strange bed, in a pitch black room. Marigold, wearing a loose gray robe, was a lighter silhouette situated in a chair beside the lone window. Outside, the dim gray haze of pre-dawn was a backdrop interrupted by the dark roofs and chimneys of neighboring dwellings. Lily could tell she was on the second floor of wherever this was.

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    ¡°Where are we?¡± she whispered. Daintily, she swung her legs out of bed and put her bare feet down on the floor. The room they were in was cool, but not uncomfortably so. Upon standing, she felt sore and stiff. She was also positively famished.

    Marigold stood up and stretched her back with a grunt. ¡°Still in Black Crux.¡± She spoke through a quiet yawn. Had she been sitting up all night watching over her? ¡°It¡¯s been almost three weeks. But I¡¯d call that a miraculously short period of Slumber for the Castings you did. You can thank Fae for that. We are in the home of an old friend of mine. We are safe here.¡±

    ¡°And Vetch?¡±

    A small smirk defined Marigold¡¯s mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to ask about food first? You usually ask about food upon waking.¡± At Lily¡¯s beseeching look, Marigold chuckled softly and said, ¡°Downstairs, probably still asleep. That sword wound he took was a nasty one. But it¡¯s healing well now.¡±

    ¡°So ... we made it? We made it out of that terrible place? And the three of us can return home now?¡±

    Marigold¡¯s little smile and nod lifted a weight from Lily that she hadn¡¯t known she¡¯d been carrying. She sat back down on the bed and took stock of things. Marigold was safe. They had succeeded in rescuing her. And Vetch was alive and okay and in this very house. They were all safe. They could go home. Lily closed her eyes and tears of happiness welled and slid down her face. She pushed the heel of her hand over her cheeks and sniffed.

    ¡°I will bring you some breakfast and tea,¡± said Marigold.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come with you,¡± said Lily.

    They went silently down a narrow hall past various doors. Through one open door, Lily spied a young woman asleep with a very new baby cradled on her breast.

    ¡°That one arrived only yesterday morning,¡± Marigold whispered, as they went down old, creaking stairs. ¡°The woman sheltering us here is a healer and midwife. This is a place for women whose pregnancies are ... inconvenient ones. Ones they might not wish others to know about, if ya catch my meaning. When I was Mage-Matron at Black Crux Manor, I knew many a young serving lass who found her way here, after her belly had begun to swell following a dalliance with some visiting noble or other. I knew my old friend could be discreet about our presence here, even if she¡¯s none too happy about it. It¡¯s the safest place I could think of.¡± She breathed a little sound through her nostrils. ¡°I do not miss the thorny intrigues of court life.¡±

    Lily took this in, comprehending how Marigold had secured their safe concealment, even as they remained in Black Crux. At the landing of the stairs, Marigold turned toward the kitchen. Lily, however, spotted Vetch asleep on a little couch by the fire in the sitting room, alive and well. Her breath caught in her throat. Without a thought, she went to him.

    Ignoring Marigold¡¯s admonishment to not wake him, Lily kneeled before the couch. She took Vetch¡¯s face in her hands and kissed him. He woke with a start, but when he saw her, and looked into her eyes, he uttered a sound of elation and encircled her in his arms, pulling her to him and kissing her greedily. They didn¡¯t say anything, just shared a series of sweet kisses. And in those kisses were their shared relief and happiness, at the other being safe, and at being in each other¡¯s arms again. Lily cried more tears of joy. They fell on her man¡¯s face and mingled with their lips.

    She forgot Marigold was still in the room until the old mage said, ¡°Breakfast for three it is, then. Alright, girl, that¡¯s plenty. Pry yourself off him and come help me stoke up the oven. Vetch, long as you¡¯re awake, you can go draw some water and gather the eggs from the chickens.¡±

    They sat down and broke their fast, as their benefactor woke and went about the tasks of her household. The woman spoke hardly a word to them except to exchange pleasantries with Marigold and offer a civil greeting to Lily. Lily felt very much a stranger in this house, though both Vetch and Marigold appeared at ease. She was eager to question them both about all that had gone on since she had fallen into Slumber. As soon as Vetch had eaten his fill, however, he announced he would sleep more and returned to his couch.

    So, Lily interrogated her teacher over their tea, and learned of how Vetch had stayed behind to guard their backs while Marigold took them out of the castle. Keeping as out of sight as one could with a panthegrunn in tow, she had coaxed the weary Fae along seldomly frequented byways until she had reached her friend¡¯s dwelling and begged shelter.

    Lily expected there to be more to the story, but no sooner had Marigold laid out the bare bones of their escape than the old mage said, ¡°Now, your turn. Your man told me Moonfane Forge was attacked by these sellswords Gilliana now commands ...¡±

    The question was left hanging in the air between them. Lily cradled her teacup in her hands, allowing the hot tea¡¯s wafting steam to warm her face. She was tired of thinking about that terrible day when Marigold had been taken. That was the day her life had been shattered¡ªher home destroyed, her family killed. Wasn¡¯t it enough that she and Vetch had succeeded against all odds and saved Marigold? She wanted only to return with them to what was left of Moonfane Forge and begin picking up the pieces, not remember. Not now.

    But, no, Mari had Slumbered through all of it¡ªshe knew nothing of the full extent of her town¡¯s destruction. As Lily looked into her teacher¡¯s storm cloud eyes, she could read therein the need to know.

    Marigold prompted, ¡°I woke from Slumber somewhere in Bannerman¡¯s Wood, tied up in the back of a carriage.¡±

    Lily swallowed. ¡°They came into our home,¡± she began slowly, ¡°Lady Iris and some of her soldiers ... while many others were busy plundering the town.¡±

    ¡°Not Iris,¡± Marigold stated flatly. ¡°Lady Gilliana. Widow of Lord Marcus, the once ruler at Black Crux. Iris was the mage name she chose for herself, but she doesn¡¯t deserve to be called a mage. Not anymore.¡± The contempt in Marigold¡¯s voice was undisguised. She frowned briefly and took a moment to compose herself. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Go on.¡±

    Lily wrung her fingers on the warm ceramic of her teacup. ¡°She was your apprentice ... once.¡±

    Marigold¡¯s eyes flicked down to the table. ¡°Yes,¡± she confirmed. ¡°A mistake I wish I could take back.¡± Upstairs, the baby cried and then calmed. Marigold chewed her lip. She appeared pensive to Lily. Distracted. ¡°The livestock rustlers,¡± Marigold said. All those fences they broke were so I¡¯d have to dispel the town Barrier. Gilliana¡¯s doing?¡±

    Lily nodded. ¡°Yes. Or so Vetch and his garrison companions surmised.¡±

    Marigold sighed, tapping her chin in thought. ¡°All to get to me ...¡± She pinched her eyes shut. ¡°What else?¡±

    ¡°They ... in all the chaos ...¡± Lily faltered, gripped by the distressing emotions that accompanied her memories of that day. ¡°I couldn¡¯t protect you. I couldn¡¯t prevent them from taking you ...¡±

    Marigold opened her eyes and Lily felt as if her teacher could see into her soul. A pained sympathy deepened the cracks in Marigold¡¯s aged features.

    ¡°Gilliana was ever devious and calculating,¡± she said. ¡°Unable to let a grudge go. I was a fool to believe I could simply ignore her for the rest of my life, that she would eventually give up.¡± Marigold turned to look out the window. Outside, the dark was giving way to a sunrise partially shrouded by shreds of silver clouds. ¡°And what of Moonfane Forge?¡± she asked. ¡°Gilliana attacked Hold Moonfane¡¯s seat of power, part of her own kingdom. So, why is no one else here, no other forces? I¡¯ll bet hard coin on the dinner table King Caiside won¡¯t stand for this when he learns of it. How bad was it for Moonfane Forge? I¡¯ll need to get the Barrier back up, first thing. People will be clamoring for that, make no mistake.¡±

    Lily set her teacup down and pressed her fingers to her lips. She was not prepared for this, to be asked to think back. Now that she did, she recalled the stench in the streets, the overwhelming and pervading sense of sadness. ...

    ¡°How bad was it, girl?¡± Marigold pressed.

    Bad? Horrific? Catastrophic? Lily could seize on no single word that was sufficient to describe it. How could she reveal to Mari that her house no longer existed? That some of her neighbors had been killed in the fires? That all throughout Moonfane Forge, other families had experienced the same or worse. The faces of Lily¡¯s parents and brother came into her mind, the wreckage of their charred home. A tear slid down Lily¡¯s cheek and her chin began to quiver.

    ¡°Never mind, girl, never mind,¡± Marigold said quickly, softening her voice. She reached across the table and placed her hand gently on Lily¡¯s. ¡°I am genuinely sorry all this happened. I should never have agreed to teach that woman.¡±

    ¡°What happens now?¡± Lily asked.

    ¡°Now?¡± Marigold jutted her chin at Vetch¡¯s sleeping form. ¡°We wait for your handsome soldier to have strength enough to travel and then we go home.¡± A chuckle escaped her. ¡°The boy nearly killed himself getting the both of you here, didn¡¯t he? Well. Now that it¡¯s only him sleeping the days away instead of you and him, we should make use of our time.¡± With a groan, Marigold stood up and ambled in her stooped fashion for the back door. ¡°There¡¯s clothes for you upstairs. Go put something on and meet me outside.¡±

    ¡°Why? Where are we going?¡±

    ¡°Only as far as the back garden.¡± She opened the door to a cool dawn breeze. ¡°Time we returned to your casting lessons.¡±

    ¡°Lessons?¡± Lily asked in confusion. ¡°Now? But ... you¡¯ve never had me do any casting the day after waking from Slumber.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s things you need to learn,¡± Marigold said, and the tone of her voice was grave. ¡°And I don¡¯t think they should wait even a day longer. Go get dressed, girl.¡±

    She went out the door, shutting it behind her.

 Chapter 21: Maidenéˆ¥æªš Rest, part 1

    Stepping outside to early morning daylight, Lily took stock of her surroundings. They were in a little herb garden squeezed between an alleyway and the windowless wall of another house. Disorganized rows of herbs and blooming flowers overhung little dirt pathways. At the back of the garden sat a raised chicken coop. A few fat chickens were out in the garden, clucking and scratching in the dirt. Lily¡¯s long robe brushed the thriving plants she passed, kicking up their spring aromas.

    ¡°Where is Fae?¡± she asked, as she came to stand beside Marigold. She had expected to find her panthegrunn housed somewhere near, but she saw now that there was no room anywhere for such a large animal.

    ¡°The great beastie¡¯s staked in the woods outside town,¡± Marigold replied. ¡°Cantankerous and demanding of fodder as ever.¡±

    ¡°How near?¡± asked Lily. ¡°Let us go and see her.¡±

    ¡°Later,¡± said Marigold. ¡°When it¡¯s dark and there are less people about. For now, let us concentrate on some practical lessons.¡±

    ¡°Please, Mari. She has never gone this long without me seeing to her. She¡¯ll have been lonely.¡±

    Marigold turned a kind smile on her. ¡°Pah! She has not been lonely, dear girl. I and my friend take turns visiting her nightly with food and fresh water. And she has Vetch¡¯s horse to keep her company. A strange pair those two, but they get on well enough.¡±

    ¡°Vetch¡¯s horse ...¡± Lily knit her brow. She¡¯d had to leave the horse behind in the building he¡¯d been stabled in with Fae. There¡¯d been no choice at the time. In her desperate rush to break into the castle and seek her teacher and Vetch, she¡¯d completely forgotten about Revenge. ¡°How?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Ah. Well, once Vetch had finally been convinced you were okay, he moved on to fretting about his damned horse.¡± Marigold chuckled under her breath. ¡°Raised such a stink about it that my friend finally went to the building he described just to get ¡®im to stop asking. The horse was still there, surprisingly. I don¡¯t know how she concocted to take possession of it, but she did. Vetch was much placated to see the beast.¡±

    Lily¡¯s regard for Vetch swelled at that gesture. The horse had also come from Moonfane Forge, after all. It was just like him to refuse to leave even a single member of their party unaccounted for.

    ¡°So, you see,¡± Marigold continued, ¡°Fae is fine. Now, if we can concentrate on¡ª¡±

    ¡°Please, Mage-Matron. All the same, I want to see her. Please, can we go? Afterwards, I will practice whatever lessons you wish. Please?¡±

    Marigold threw her hands up. To anyone else, the old mage would have appeared annoyed. Lily, however, recognized the hint of amusement in her voice as she said, ¡°Oh, have it your way, girl. You¡¯re as bad as Vetch! Terrible influence, that boy. Terrible.¡± This was accompanied by a throaty chuckle.

    Lily drew herself up triumphantly.

    ¡°Yes, yes, gloat all you want, but we¡¯re not skipping lessons,¡± said Marigold. ¡°We¡¯ll have class as we walk. Pull your hood up and follow me.¡±

    The old mage drew her hood over her head and opened the little gate leading out to the alley. Lily gathered her hair back into a rough tail and pulled up her robe¡¯s hood. She followed her Mage-Matron out of the garden and up the long alleyway, between many similar looking houses with similar gardens. At the end, they came to a narrow street of cobblestone.

    Lily glanced sideways out of her hood at the people going about. She saw hawkers and tradespeople, farmers and shopkeepers. It was a normal morning. She could have been in any town. If anyone was still concerned with, or even knew about, what had happened up in their lady¡¯s castle, she could see no evidence of it. She reminded herself she had been in Slumber for weeks following that day. Perhaps things had blown over.

    ¡°Are we safe out here?¡± she asked quietly, when there were no people within earshot. ¡°Are there still soldiers looking for us?¡±

    Marigold grunted. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it you who couldn¡¯t wait until nightfall to go and visit Fae?¡± To this, Lily could come up with no response. Marigold patted her arm and said reassuringly, ¡°It¡¯s safe enough.¡±

    ¡°You are certain?¡±

    ¡°We are dressed as the women who come and go from that house, walking to a place where herbs that are used there are gathered. No locals will even remark us. ¡®Sides, anyone still lookin¡¯ for us likely believes we fled town weeks ago. Don¡¯t worry yourself.¡±

    At the end of the street, Marigold cut between two buildings and led them away from town. They followed a winding dirt path that took them up a gentle slope, then down into a copse of trees. Away from the houses and shops that obstructed the view, Lily could catch sight of Black Crux Manor off to their right through the trees. The nearness of the looming castle unnerved her. The house they sheltered in was not that far from it at all. They were hiding directly under Lady Iris¡¯s nose. She shuddered involuntarily.

    ¡°I don¡¯t sense her,¡± Lily said. ¡°Ir ... Gilliana. Did Vetch? ...¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Marigold answered, and glanced once over her shoulder at the castle. ¡°She lives. If you can call it life. Concentrate more and you¡¯ll find ¡®er. She Slumbers long. That she does is why we¡¯re still alive. You saw the kind of spellcasting she was doing. Unfettered. Dangerous. Sealed ¡®er own fate, I suspect. If she ever wakes, it won¡¯t be as the same person. More ¡®n likely, she never does.¡±

    There was a strange pang of regret in Marigold¡¯s trailing voice. After a moment, she made a small sound in her throat, as if she closed the book on the topic. She waggled a gnarled finger up at Lily. ¡°You, however, showed wisdom and restraint with your Castings up there. I was concerned, of course, but you handled yourself very well, Lily. Tell me, how¡¯d it come about you could cast Barriers in such quick succession like that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Mage-Matron,¡± Lily answered haltingly. ¡°There was a time in Bannerman¡¯s Wood when I feared for my life and I had no choice but to come up with a Barrier. It was like that up in the castle. I feared for you and for Vetch, and I just ... did it.¡±

    ¡°It was magnificent, girl,¡± Marigold said, and her smile was a proud one. ¡°The reason you were able to do that is what leads us to today¡¯s lesson. Tell me, why do you think you were able to cast Barriers like that in that moment, when normally you must prepare yourself and concentrate first? What were you putting behind that magic rather than concentration? What did you feel at the time?¡±

    Lily considered the question. ¡°I was afraid,¡± she stated, after a moment. ¡°For you and for Vetch. And ... I was angry, that that woman had brought such ruin to our home, that she would hurt the people I cared about. Her magic felt wrong. I wanted to stop her from using it.¡±

    ¡°Anger and fear,¡± Marigold mused. ¡°Strong emotions, those, eh? Emotions that could influence your spellcasting in unpredictable ways. And why is that, huh?¡± She prodded Lily in the ribs with her knobby elbow. ¡°Huh? You know the answer, girl. Because Barrier-Casting is ...¡±

    ¡°An emotionally resonant magic,¡± Lily recited dutifully.

    ¡°Exactly that,¡± Marigold said, her voice tempered. ¡°You were putting strong emotions behind those Barriers, in place of considerate thought. Much the same as Gilliana was doing.¡± Before Lily could protest, Marigold held up a finger. ¡°But, she was casting without restraint, burning through all of her magic, all of herself, without a thought for the consequences.

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    ¡°And you could¡¯ve burned up, too. But, unlike her, you remembered your lessons. In the middle of dangerous and emotional casting, you still used no more magic than was absolutely necessary. I felt that. I might even say that you did a dumb thing wisely.¡± Marigold chortled. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, Lily. That right there is why I¡¯ve always pounded it into your head, time and again, to calm yourself and do away with the physical and the emotional before casting. So, you not only get the spell right, but you use no more energy than is exactly required. That¡¯s how we mages minimize Slumber. You know that already, but¡ª¡±

    Lily opened her mouth to speak. Again, Marigold held up a finger.

    ¡°I¡¯m not done talkin¡¯ yet, girl. Patience.¡± she cleared her throat. ¡°But, there are times in Barrier-Casting when you need to imbue your spells with emotions. Not just your own, but those of others.¡±

    Lily was perplexed by this. ¡°How do you put the emotions of others into your own spells?¡± she asked.

    Before she could receive her answer, they arrived in a glade sheltered on one side by a small hill and on the other by a thicket of brambles. Here, Fae and Revenge were staked. Seeing Lily, Fae heaved herself up from where she¡¯d been resting. The long rope she was tethered by creaked in protest as she pulled against it to meet her. Lily laughed and grasped her horns, pushing her back so she would not break the rope.

    ¡°Aww, have you missed me, Fae?¡± Lily cooed. She kissed the panthegrunn on the nose and ruffled her shaggy fur. Near at hand, Vetch¡¯s horse knickered his recognition of her. She went to him and rubbed his snout the way she had seen Vetch do many a time during their travels.

    ¡°There, you see? They¡¯re fine,¡± Marigold said. ¡°Plenty of food and water, and Fae has been much less prone to yanking her stake out of the ground since Revenge was brought to keep ¡®er company. Such a name your man gave his mount.¡± Marigold pressed her hands to her back and stretched. ¡°Now that you know where they are, you can take over my turns fillin¡¯ their water buckets and bringing ¡®em fodder.¡±

    ¡°Gladly,¡± said Lily. She returned to Fae and appraised her. ¡°You and Revenge could both use some brushing, couldn¡¯t you? I suppose your brush is gone, along with everything else Vetch and I left at the inn.¡±

    ¡°Things can be replaced,¡± said Marigold. ¡°A brush, very easily. Now, let¡¯s return before we¡¯re missed. Lessons in the garden.¡±

    Stroking Fae¡¯s shaggy face, Lily turned to her teacher. ¡°You were going to tell me about imbuing spells with the emotions of others.¡±

    Marigold chewed her lip for a beat. Clasping her hands behind her back, she walked closer to Lily and Fae. With a smile, she reached her gnarled hand out to stroke the panthegrunn¡¯s fur. ¡°Wonderous beast. If walkin¡¯ down to the stables wasn¡¯t such an ordeal, I¡¯d visit ¡®er more often. Tell me, apprentice, why can¡¯t you ever cast a Permission that¡¯d allow Fae through a Barrier?¡±

    ¡°Children¡¯s lessons now, Mage-Matron?¡± Lily teased.

    ¡°Humor me, girl,¡± said Marigold with a lift of her brows.

    Lily recited, ¡°We cannot guess at the thoughts of animals with the same familiarity as we can other humans. It¡¯s our ability to discern the minds of other people that allows us to create Permissions for them. So ...¡± Here, she took Fae by the horns and gave her head a playful shake. ¡°You, unfortunately, cannot be permitted through a Barrier.¡±

    ¡°So ...¡± Marigold said, mimicking Lily. ¡°As to your question about how one can imbue their spells with the emotions of others: if we can discern how another human might think or feel, then we could infer from that what they might do or want to do, yes?¡±

    Intrigued, Lily nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Marigold smiled the familiar smile of a Mage-Matron gradually unraveling her lesson for her pupil. ¡°Then,¡± she began, a spark showing in her steely eyes, ¡°if you could reasonably guess what someone else wants to do, you could imbue your Barriers with Conditions of your own based upon the emotions of another. You could design a Barrier that reacted to another¡¯s intentions.¡±

    ¡°Intent!¡± Lily breathed.

    ¡°Just so. What do you recall from your readings about Intent?¡±

    ¡°Only that it is a very advanced technique,¡± Lily answered. She felt a stab of sadness recalling that all of the books she had learned from were now gone, burned up with Marigold¡¯s home. Had Vetch told her about that? It didn¡¯t seem to Lily that Marigold yet knew.

    Her Mage-Matron forged on in her lesson. ¡°It¡¯s very difficult to get down. Sharp-minded Journeyers begin learnin¡¯ about Intent, but rarely does anyone get the trick of it until they¡¯ve been a master mage for some years. It¡¯s somethin¡¯ you begin to learn after you¡¯ve grasped leaving your emotions out of you casting,¡± Marigold explained. ¡°Once you¡¯ve mastered that, you can begin introducing emotions into your spells in a controlled fashion. You¡¯ve experienced now how that can be used to augment the speed of your Castings. Eventually, far down the road, it will allow you to learn casting with Intent.

    ¡°For now, understand that mastering your magic is about being fully aware of who you are and what you want.¡± A wry smile came to Marigold¡¯s lips. ¡°In Barrier-Casting specifically, it¡¯s also about your empathy for the wants of others. That¡¯s why I think it¡¯s something you¡¯ll excel at one day, Lily. To this old mage¡¯s eyes, the bridge between now and that day is a clear one.¡±

    Remembering something, Lily turned an inquisitive look upon her teacher. ¡°If I had been throwing my emotions into my Castings ...¡± she began. ¡°The night Vetch snuck into the castle, we¡¯d made a bargain with some farmers who also had reason to get inside. I cast a Barrier over a gap in the earth behind the castle wall, so they could all walk across. It worked for the farmers, but not for Vetch. He went straight through my Barrier and almost plunged into the fissure. No matter how I tried, I could not cast a Barrier that would affect him. He had to be carried across in the end. I don¡¯t know what happened. They were simple Barriers, as I¡¯ve cast many times. At least, so I felt ...¡±

    Marigold knit her brow. ¡°That is a curious thing, girl,¡± she agreed. ¡°Nothing complex about it? No Conditions, no attempts at a Permission or a Restriction, perhaps?¡±

    Lily shook her head. ¡°None. It was the most basic of Barriers I could cast. It should¡¯ve applied to everyone, without exception.¡± She frowned, thinking back. ¡°It felt no different than any other time. I mean, if we ... if I had somehow not kept my emotions in check ...¡±

    ¡°Any other of your Barriers work on ¡®im?¡±

    This gave Lily pause. ¡°Now that I think of it, that was the first time he¡¯d ever come into contact with one of my spells.¡±

    ¡°Hmm ...¡± Marigold breathed, chewing the side of her cheek in thought. After a moment, a different light came into her eyes. She looked up at Lily with a growing grin. ¡°Did ya roll ¡®im that night?¡±

    Lily blanched, then blushed.

    ¡°You did!¡± Marigold cackled, wagging her finger under Lily¡¯s nose in mirth. ¡°There is your answer, and a right obvious one! Nicely done, girl,¡± she added, heaping upon Lily¡¯s embarrassment. ¡°It¡¯s good havin¡¯ an apprentice who heeds my advice.¡±

    Flustered and wanting to steer the conversation someplace else, yet still needing to know, Lily pressed herself to ask, ¡°Then you are saying ... it really does diminish magic? That it was because we¡¯d? ...¡±

    ¡°Been screwin¡¯ like teenagers?¡±

    ¡°Mari!¡±

    Again, Marigold cackled. At the sound, Fae grunted and Revenge pawed the earth with his hoof, as if the animals joined in on the merry torment.

    Marigold dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. ¡°Bah! Of course not. It doesn¡¯t diminish magic at all. That¡¯s only old wives¡¯s tales. No. I think I see what happened.¡± Her voice settled into its teaching cadence. ¡°It¡¯s about Vetch and Intent. Without even knowing it, you were adding Imbuements to your Barriers that will always permit him through. Because your intention is to always permit him through.¡±

    Despite Lily¡¯s embarrassment, she listened with avid curiosity as Marigold went on explaining. ¡°Barrier magic holds people back emotionally, girl, not physically. And you¡¯d never want to hold that boy back from you, would ya? Especially not that night, I gather. That¡¯s why no Barrier you cast was goin¡¯ to work on ¡®im. Because, deep down, you¡¯d never want it to. See how powerful Intent can be?¡± She chuckled.

    ¡°It¡¯s not funny,¡± said Lily meekly.

    ¡°Ah, I don¡¯t mean to needle ya, girl,¡± said Marigold. ¡°I¡¯m happy for you. I am, truly. Though, do make certain to remember that about your own magic, should you two ever find yourselves in a situation like that again. Your feelings for Vetch may cause your spells to apply differently to him than to others. Don¡¯t forget that.¡±

    Lily nodded quickly. She could feel how she was still blushing. At least Vetch wasn¡¯t present to hear all this. Then again, she could imagine his unshy laughter if he were. A little smile came to her face.

    ¡°I will remember, Mage-Matron,¡± she said, in order to disguise it.

    ¡°I know you will,¡± Marigold said decidedly. ¡°Because you are the type of student a master mage can feel proud to have taught. I mean that, Lily. I am proud to be your instructor in magic. Teaching you Barrier-Casting has been the most rewarding work of my life. I believe you have what it takes to become a master mage one day.¡±

    Lily was taken aback by the suddenness of the heartfelt words. Flattered, she could only utter a humble ¡°Thank you, Mage-Matron.¡±

    Marigold tapped her wrinkled lips, observing Lily, her eyes creasing in thought. Suddenly, she nodded to herself. ¡°I knew this time would be coming about soon,¡± she said. ¡°After what I saw of your spellcasting in tandem with your man¡¯s fighting, well ... I¡¯m quite sure of it, now. You know I¡¯m not one for pomp and ceremony. So, I will simply declare this: Mage Lily, as your Mage-Matron, I deem you ready to advance. You have graduated from your apprenticeship. You are a Journeyer-Mage now.¡±

 Chapter 21: Maidenéˆ¥æªš Rest, part 2

    Lily¡¯s eyes went wide with surprise. She went to speak, but no words came out, only an elated laugh. A second time she searched for what to say, yet still came up speechless. She put a hand to her mouth and then went to her Mage-Matron and hugged her fiercely.

    ¡°No words needed, girl. No words needed,¡± Marigold said kindly, embracing her and patting her back. ¡°But enough sentimentality, Journeyer-Mage Lily. We still have some lessons to get to, don¡¯t we? Don¡¯t think I forgot. There¡¯ll be no idling the day away cuddling with your beau on the couch. Not while I have anything to say about it!¡±

    Lily snorted a laugh and acted as if she were pushing her way out of the embrace. ¡°Such a harsh task-master of a teacher I have.¡±

    Chuckling, Marigold rejoined with, ¡°If you thought I was harsh when you were an apprentice, then you¡¯ll be in for a real surprise soon. Hm, now what sort of challenging lesson would be appropriate for the new Journeyer? ...¡± She snapped her fingers. ¡°I know. Since we already went over the theory of it, would you like to have a go at casting a Barrier with Intent?¡±

    ¡°Could I?¡± Lily asked in excitement.

    Marigold shrugged her stooped shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not. We¡¯ve got nothin¡¯ but time.¡± She lowered her hood and her silvery hair was blown across her craggy face by a mild spring breeze. ¡°As always, when we try a new technique, we¡¯ll start very small. I¡¯ll demonstrate first, so you can get a feel for how it happens. Then, you¡¯ll have a try.¡±

    The old mage¡¯s eyes settled upon a little patch of blue-violet wildflowers. ¡°Those will do nicely. Now, concentrate on what you feel as I cast this spell,¡± she instructed. ¡°I will be choosing an action I think you would take¡ªthat¡¯s the Intent part¡ªat the same time as I am casting a Barrier imbued with my own emotion based on that action. If done correctly, the spell will function like a lock and key. If you try to perform the intended action, the Barrier will permit you through. Any other intention, and you¡¯ll be locked out. Now, concentrate and observe.¡±

    Marigold placed her hand on Fae¡¯s flank and Lily felt how she drew magical strength from the great charge-beast. When Marigold cast the Barrier, it was small¡ªa little shimmering oval of gold no bigger than Lily¡¯s fist¡ªbut the sense of magic Lily felt from it was far more complex than from any other Barrier she¡¯d felt before.

    Marigold lowered her hand and took a measured breath. ¡°There you have it. How that Barrier applies to you now depends on what you intend to do with those flowers. Go on. Think about just touching one, then try it.¡±

    Lily stepped to the patch of little flowers and crouched to touch one. She was not surprised when her fingers were stopped by the Barrier.

    ¡°Now, think about picking one of the flowers for yourself,¡± Marigold said. ¡°Intend to perform that action specifically, then try it.¡±

    As instructed, Lily thought about picking one of the flowers. She went to reach through the little Barrier to do so. Yet again, her fingers couldn¡¯t pass through. She pushed her hood back and looked up at Marigold with her brow knit. ¡°Was I supposed to be able to pick the flower?¡±

    ¡°Did you make sure to intend to pick it for yourself?¡±

    Lily nodded. Her teacher showed her a wry grin.

    ¡°Then, this time,¡± began Marigold, with a knowing quirk of her brow. ¡°Try to pick the flower with the intention of giving it to me.¡±

    Lily giggled to herself at the cleverness. But could it actually work that way, she wondered. Could a Barrier be made to apply to such a specific circumstance? She reached again for a flower, this time intending to pluck it to give to Marigold. Her fingers passed through the Barrier. It was just as her teacher had described, like a key opening a lock. Lily neatly plucked the little bluish flower and stood. She twirled it in her long fingers as she carried it to Marigold and presented it to her.

    Grinning, Marigold accepted the flower and tucked it behind her ear. ¡°There you have it. Intent.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never felt a Barrier as amazing as this,¡± said Lily. ¡°I don¡¯t think even the town Barrier compares.¡±

    Marigold chuckled. ¡°Thank you, girl. It¡¯s certainly more complex by far. Took me many, many years to be able to do that. But every mage has to start somewhere. So, now, it¡¯s your turn.¡± With a wave of her hand, Marigold dispelled the little ovoid Barrier. ¡°Draw strength from Fae, same as I did, because we don¡¯t want you Slumbering the entire week away. Make your Barrier smaller, too. No bigger than a coin. As for the Intent ... allow me to pass through the Barrier only if I intend to touch a flower with my pinky finger. Remember what you felt from my Casting, then focus yourself, and give it a try.¡±

    Lily took a breath and touched Fae¡¯s pantherine back. Now that she¡¯d done it once before on purpose, it was easy to find her charge-beast¡¯s well of magical strength and utilize it. She felt her ability to focus and direct her magic growing from the contact. As she cultivated that pool of strength, she set her shoulders, slackened her muscles, lidded her eyes. When she felt entirely relaxed and focused, she lifted her hand. With a finger, she defined a little golden circle in the air before the flowers, a Barrier resembling one of the gold coins she and Vetch had found in the forest. While giving shape to it, she intertwined her thoughts and emotions with the magic. It came into being, shimmering and solid, a thing both physical and not.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The Barrier cast, Lily opened her eyes fully and staggered a step. She discovered she was breathing hard. She felt light and unsteady on her feet. Marigold¡¯s creaking voice startled her.

    ¡°Intent is challenging, no mistake. Keep your hand on Fae while I test how you did.¡± While Lily watched, Marigold bent down before the little Barrier and rapped the knuckle of her index finger on it. It was solid. She pressed on it with her thumb, murmuring, ¡°Good, good ...¡± Next, she tried her pinky finger. The Barrier stopped it from passing through. ¡°The other one, maybe?¡± she said, and tried to touch a flower with her other pinky. But, again, the Barrier rebuffed her.

    Lily frowned in disappointment. She knew better than to expect a brand new spell to work as planned on the first attempt, but there was always the little bit of hope it would. Even as she recovered herself, she considered how she might approach trying it again.

    Marigold straightened back up with a grunt and said, ¡°Not quite, not quite. But I sensed your effort in that. You¡¯re on the right track, Lily. We¡¯ll return to this another time. Let¡¯s head back now.¡±

    ¡°One more try,¡± Lily suggested.

    Her teacher gave her an appraising look. ¡°Are you sure? You¡¯re already looking at a couple days in Slumber ...¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure. Just one more try. I felt very close to getting it.¡± This was one of the most exciting spells Lily had ever attempted to cast. She¡¯d already decided that learning a little bit more about it right now, rather than having to wait, was worth the extra time in Slumber.

    ¡°One more try,¡± Marigold said, holding up a single crooked finger to emphasize. ¡°Then we head back. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mage-Matron.¡±

    Marigold dispelled Lily¡¯s first attempt and said, ¡°Alright. Same spell as before. Remember how that felt, but make sure to emphasize what you want your Barrier to do based on your own feelings about the action you expect I will perform. Got it? Now, cast the spell, girl.¡±

    Lily allowed Fae¡¯s strength to suffuse her once more. The physical contact with her charge-beast helped her to realign her focus and prepare herself for another attempt. Though she looked at the flowers, she didn¡¯t see them. All her inward attention was focused on the complex things she needed to consider for the difficult spell. It required multiple techniques to be fused into one Casting. Along with that, there was the puzzle of balancing concentration with foresight, and interweaving both of those with her own emotions, and¡ª

    ¡°Gonna try the spell or did ya change your mind?¡± Marigold asked abruptly.

    The prompt startled Lily. She realized she had been standing there preparing herself for much longer than usual. She exhaled, took another breath, and made the precise motion with her hand. Again, a little coin-shaped Barrier manifested before the flowers. In appearance, it was identical to the first, but Lily could tell right away that this spell was even less correct than the first. This Barrier felt jumbled, like her thoughts had been. It was no surprise that the magic she sensed from it was weak and inaccurate.

    ¡°Too much spice in the soup,¡± commented Marigold, summing up Lily¡¯s feelings before she could say anything. Marigold bent and tapped her pinky finger against the Barrier. She shook her head as she straightened. ¡°It¡¯s a tough technique to get a feel for. When you get there, it¡¯ll seem almost effortless, even compared to some easier Barriers.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m grasping it,¡± said Lily, leaning unsteadily against Fae.

    ¡°We¡¯ll work on it,¡± said Marigold kindly. ¡°But another day. Come on now, let¡¯s head back before I have to go get Vetch to carry you back.¡± A small wave of her hand dispelled the second little Barrier.

    Lily was grateful to take Marigold¡¯s arm when it was offered her. Together they set off back along the wooded path. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how it¡¯s supposed to feel,¡± she commented.

    Marigold chuckled under her breath. ¡°What d¡¯ya expect? It¡¯s only day one of your bein¡¯ a Journeyer-Mage. You¡¯ve a long road ahead of you. But, while you were concentratin¡¯ so hard on one of the most advanced spells us Barrier-Casters are capable of, did you notice you shaped the Barriers into circles without even a second thought? Rounded shapes had been a challenge for you only recently. Not anymore, evidently.¡±

    Having this pointed out caused Lily¡¯s consternation to dissolve. Marigold did have a certain way of bringing to her attention little milestones she had failed to mark herself. It was pleasing to realize she was actively improving. On top of that, she was a Journeyer-Mage, now. Soon, she would be learning aspects of her magic that had once seemed far out of reach.

    They ducked underneath a low branch, treading a narrow game trail back to town. Again, Lily spied Black Crux Manor through the trees, imposing upon its hill. Curious, she concentrated and attempted to sense Lady Iris¡ªGilliana¡ªbehind those thick walls. It was as Marigold had said. The woman was there, but Slumbering deeply. Her magic was nearly imperceptible now ... almost dormant. That was a great relief. At the same time, the idea that a mage would cast magic so recklessly as to condemn herself to such a fate was deeply disturbing. Lily recalled that the woman had referred to herself as an apprentice¡ªthat she had been Marigold¡¯s apprentice. That was hard to imagine, considering the way the two mages had spoken to one another as Iris was trying to destroy them¡ªand in the process had destroyed herself.

    ¡°Why did she do all those things?¡± Lily asked. ¡°What happened between you and her?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡± Marigold looked at Lily, then to where she was looking. ¡°Ah. I don¡¯t want to talk about Gilliana,¡± the old mage stated. Then, in a softer voice, she said, ¡°But I will, for your sake. In time.¡± She left it at that.

    Lily considered pressing the subject now, then thought better of it. Marigold would tell her more when she chose to. As curious as Lily was about this new aspect of her teacher¡¯s past, it could wait. Slumber was calling her name. It had been only hours since she had last woken from the magical state and now it required her again.

    Such was the price mages paid. But, for what she had learned this day, she paid it gladly. When next she woke, she would get to learn more, and Vetch would be a few days healthier. The town of Black Crux would perhaps have completely forgotten about them. They could slip safely away and return home. Yes, there were still difficulties to face. Soon, she and Vetch would have to reveal to Marigold the full extent of how bad the attack on Moonfane Forge had been. Then, there would be the work of rebuilding their lives. But they would manage it all. It felt possible now.

    Lily imagined riding into Moonfane Forge with Vetch and Marigold, and a kind of peace settled over her. A Slumber or two more and they would be on their way.