ã€ŠBlackhandã€‹


 Auric - A Friend in Need

    Auric woke in the cold half-light of early morning, flecks of dried blood under his fingernails, his forehead and eyelids lined with fresh scratches. He had dreamt of fire-peeled skin and the bubbling, sour stench of human fat rendered on still-living bones. He had dreamt of burning alive. Just as he had the night before, and every night before that for as long as he could remember.

    He pulled himself upright. His little cabin lurched like a boat in a storm. He swallowed the urge to vomit and reached for the bottle beside the bed, thumbed open the stopper with practiced precision, relishing that satisfying *pop,* and threw back the day''s first swig. Burning, acidic, all too similar to fire, and yet it was a pleasant burn, one that seemed to right the world again, made the ground more stable and hushed the agonised screams of melting children, still echoing in his mind.

    He put the bottle back down, not bothering to recap it, and reached out for Mouse. There, at the foot of the bed, the grey dog had startled awake. His floppy ears fell flat against his long neck. He gave Auric those concerned eyes of his, shining wet even in the waxing light of dawn.

    Auric scratched Mouse at the back of his skull with one scarred hand. ''It''s alright, boy. Just a dream. Best get to work, eh?''

    By the time he had dressed, given himself a bite to eat¡ªchased down with more swallows of the acrid liquor¡ªand fed Mouse proper, the sun had crested the densely wooded hill to the east and was filtering through the trees in long golden rays. Auric grabbed his axe, slipped the bottle of booze into his shirt pocket and headed out of his cabin with Mouse padding closely behind.

    The forest smelled sweet, scented with decaying pine needles and orange maple leaves, still wet from the morning dew. He grabbed his barrow from the little woodshed beside the cabin, threw his axe into it and pushed it off into the woods, that damn squeaky wheel screeching over the roots and bumps of the forest floor. It was time he gave it some attention, gave it some love. Nobody else was getting any in these forsaken woods, that was for sure.

    It wasn''t far to the big oak. It had fallen the day before. Auric had heard it come down when he was out resetting game traps. It was a good thing, too, with autumn stepping aside for winter. When Auric navigated the barrow up to it and stopped to gather his breath his thin shirt was drenched through with sweat, the white linen turned to grey, soon to be yellow, no doubt. And that had been the easy part.

    He bent, picked up a twig the length of his forearm and held it out for Mouse to sniff. The dog''s ears quivered. His nose twitched.

    ''You want this, don''t ya, boy?''

    Mouse rocked onto his front legs in that fake pounce that he did, his jaw wiggling with excitement. The dog stared at Auric for a moment, then yapped.

    ''Then go get it.''

    Auric tossed the stick and Mouse scrambled off, scattering pine needles and bits of dirt. The twig whistled through the air, bounced off a tree and landed with a clatter, somewhere in the underbrush. Auric gave the barest hint of a smile as he watched the mutt bound off. Not for the first time, he realised he was jealous of the animal, jealous of the simple joys, jealous of a life well-lived. It was something, anyway, just a little thing, but it was perhaps the best thing he had ever done, caring for that mutt.

    Auric wiped sweat from his brow and picked up his axe. He had only swung it a few times before Mouse returned and dropped himself down at the base of a nearby tree to gnaw away at his prize for the day.

    Wood chips flew and the steady *thwack* of the axe head against the tree trunk reverberated through the forest as Auric fell into a rhythm. He worked until his shoulders and forearms ached, until the calluses at the bases of his fingers had torn, until his stomach groaned with hunger. It took him hours, but the dead tree slowly changed from one fallen log to manageable pieces for the fire, piled high in his barrow.

    He set his axe on top of the pile of firewood and regained his breath once more. ''Mouse. Where''s that stick?''

    Mouse looked back at him, tilted his head in confusion.

    Auric clapped at his thighs. ''Bring it here. Bring it here, boy.''

    Mouse grabbed the now-heavily-chewed stick in his jaws and ran over to Auric. Auric reached down, but the mutt growled at him.

    ''Hey. None of that now. Drop it.''

    If it were possible for a dog to show reluctance, Auric thought he saw it then on Mouse''s face. Nonetheless, Mouse opened his mouth and the stick fell with a *plop* onto the ground, slathered in the dog''s wet drool. Auric threw it again, and once more the dog disappeared behind trees and brush.

    He had earned himself another pull from the bottle of dark booze, and now, with the work done and nothing to distract his mind, Auric was starting to think that he needed it. He seethed as a good mouthful burned its way down his throat, landing heavy and fuming in his stomach.

    Somewhere Mouse barked. Not the excited bark of play. No, it was a bark of warning, dripping with fear. It was followed by several more, rising in intensity.

    ''Mouse?'' Auric called out, tucking the bottle safely back into its pocket.

    He grabbed his axe and ran towards the sound, leaping over the rutted ground and undergrowth, near turning his ankle as he came down on a hard root. He twisted around trees, dashed over the fallen leaves and, in a moment, had come upon the dog. Mouse had his haunches up, his teeth bared. Saliva flew from the animal''s muzzle as he barked and growled at something Auric couldn''t see behind a stand of thick pines and gnarled brush.

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    He skidded to a halt beside Mouse, turning to face the same direction as the dog, and his heart almost stopped. The source of Mouse''s fear stood some eight feet tall on its short, powerful hind legs. Black claws jutted from the bear''s front paws as it opened its own muzzle and roared back, great globs of spittle spraying into the air, some even flying the few strides between them to land on Auric''s cheek.

    Auric knelt down slowly, ever so slowly, put a hand on Mouse''s shoulder in an attempt to soothe him and hold him back at the same time. He held up his other hand, axe still in it¡ªhe wasn''t about to let that go any time soon¡ªin an attempt to show the bear he meant it no harm.

    The bear swiped at the air between them, testing these intruders, showing them it was a force to be reckoned with. Auric knew alright. There was no doubt there.

    ''Mouse, hush,'' Auric said. He pulled at Mouse''s collar, inching back the way he had come from, his heart beating like a hammer in his chest. It was an awkward motion, Auric down in a half-squat, Mouse trying to pull away.

    Something behind them fell out of a tree. It may have simply been an acorn, Auric wasn''t sure, but it was enough to spook the creature standing in front of him. The bear wobbled forward and raised a paw big as an anvil, ready to slice a chunk out of Auric with its claws. Mouse lunged forward, slipping out of Auric''s grip, leaving only a smattering of dog hair between his fingers.

    ''Mouse, no,'' Auric shouted, but it was too late.

    The dog bounded for the bear''s hind legs and clamped its teeth around an ankle with a growl. The bear roared again, this time with pain, dropped its front paws to the ground and tried to spin around, tried to bite at the thing that had bitten it. Mouse held on, spinning in circles while the bear twisted its head, snapping its teeth together.

    It felt like only a heartbeat, felt like Auric was watching it all happen through foggy glass, distant and slow. In the instant where the bear had its back to him, he saw that it had already been injured. Three lines, deep, jagged wounds ran down the animal''s wide back, the brown fur matted and stained with dried blood.

    ''Mouse,'' Auric called once more, his voice quickly breaking with panic. ''Leave it. Come here.''

    But Mouse had a task in mind, and Auric doubted whether the dog could even hear his commands.

    The bear shook Mouse free of his ankle. He flew through the air a few feet, then skidded to a halt in a great flurry of orange leaves.

    ''Mouse,'' Auric tried once more. ''Go home.''

    This time it was the bear that pounced. It leapt towards Mouse, bringing its meaty paw around in a wide swipe. The paw hit Mouse in his flank. The dog let out a choked whimper as it was lifted off the ground and flung through the air. Mouse collided with the trunk of a tree and fell to the ground, motionless, as already the bear was rushing towards him, its jaws wide, teeth gleaming.

    Auric gripped the axe in both hands, ran forward and swung, letting out his own roar. The steel bit deep into the bear''s hip, slid off bone with a *thud* not too dissimilar to the sound the tree had made, only moments ago. The bear stumbled, rolled over in the dirt and the leaves. It righted itself and turned back to Auric. It came at him, now clumsy, its leg wobbling, almost collapsing under its own weight.

    The bear lunged, swiping once again with its forepaws, and Auric leapt back, narrowly escaping the blow. Black claws sliced through the air, close enough he could see the sun shining off them. He raised his axe overhead and stepped forward, bringing it down into the bear''s shoulder. His timing was off, and the blade only grazed the big animal, but it carved off a slice of hair and skin, leaving another gaping patch, oozing with dark blood.

    The bear let out a scream this time, at least the closest thing to a scream it could make, as it finished its swing. Its body followed the momentum of the arc, and it retreated away before turning once more to face Auric, a few paces distance between them again. Auric glanced over to where Mouse had fallen. The dog was still breathing, but apart from that, he was still.

    The bear stood on its four feet. Its great shoulders heaved with its panting breath. Auric stared back at it, his face screwed up in a wild grimace. Adrenaline coursed through him. Sweat stung his eyes. His lungs burned in his chest, but he barely felt any of that. He lifted the axe high with one hand and beat at his chest with the other.

    ''Come on,'' he screamed. ''I''m ready. Come and get me.'' He was mad, for sure. It had finally happened. He had finally lost the last shreds of his waning sanity.

    Again the bear roared, its dark eyes full of hate. Another sound came from behind Auric, from somewhere deep in the forest, an animalistic screech that echoed through the trees and sent birds scattering to the air. It was unlike anything Auric had heard before. He shivered despite the heat radiating from his skin. The bear''s head lifted, turned towards the origin of the sound. It gave a weak growl, chomped its teeth, then turned and stumbled away, moving in the opposite direction from where the sound had come.

    Auric lowered his axe, wiped the sweat out of his eyes, then ran over to Mouse. He threw the axe to the forest floor, knelt down beside his companion and put a hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall slowly. Mouse flinched at the touch, let out a weak whimper.

    ''You bloody, stubborn fool.'' Auric''s throat felt dry. He found himself blinking hard. ''Why did you do that?''

    Auric took his hand away, now sticky with blood. The bear''s claws had ripped lines through Mouse''s flank, from his ribs up to his spine. Blood seeped out, but the cuts didn''t seem too deep, didn''t seem as if they''d penetrated into Mouse''s organs. Lucky that. Still, Auric suspected some of his ribs might''ve been broken, and the blow could have ruptured something inside the dog. Auric had seen it happen to soldiers before. They looked fine on the outside, perhaps a bad bruise, but inside they were bleeding, filling up with the stuff until it came pouring out the only holes it could find. Auric blinked hard again at the thought, gave Mouse a quick scratch. Mouse looked up at him, his brows low, eyes wet with pain. The damned thing wasn''t making it any easier.

    ''It''s gonna have to hurt some more, boy. I''m sorry.''

    Auric slipped an arm under Mouse and heaved to his feet. But the dog didn''t cry out, just licked Auric on the cheek with that worried look still all over his face.

    Auric made his way back to the fallen oak where he had left the barrow. He put Mouse down, tipped out the firewood then picked the dog up again, as gentle as he could, and settled him back down into the barrow. All the while, Mouse licked at Auric''s hands, licked at his face, at any piece of skin he could reach, really.

    ''We''re gonna get you some help, boy. Just hold on. It''s gonna be a while before we get to town.''

    The sun was high as Auric turned the barrow. Sweat trickled down his brow and into his eyes, down his spine and into that annoying spot just above his ass crack.

    He set off, trying to find some middle ground between haste and safety. With the sun beating down on him, he was soon panting heavy, his tongue and mouth dry as a desert. He reached to his pocket for the bottle, feeling like he was owed a drink, needing a drink more than he had needed one in a long time. But there was nothing there. The bottle was gone. It must''ve fallen out some time during the fight with the bear. He had not felt anything, had not heard the shattering of glass. Perhaps it was still there, sitting on the ground somewhere.

    He looked down at Mouse. The dog whimpered once more.

    ''Fuck it,'' he shouted, and picked up the pace.

 Liandra - A Little Kindness

    The gates of Brunholm were closed and barred tight for the night when the group of travellers finally made their way out of the mountains. From behind Mother¡¯s coat, Liandra watched the captain squelch through the mud, the hood of his raincoat low on his face, and beat a fist against the great, wooden door. The rain drummed in her ears as it fell against her own hood. She didn''t mind the rain, but Mother had insisted, of course, and never in her twelve years had any objection to Mother¡¯s way been heeded. The cold, though, that was another story. It leeched its way into her bones, drained her of all energy and made her so damned tired, so irritable. What she wouldn''t give to be out of it, in front of a fire or slipping into a hot bath.

    ''In the name of Emperor Vallendred the first, I demand you open this gate.'' The captain shouted the words then turned his head up expectantly, though in truth he can¡¯t have even known if there was anyone on the other side to hear him.

    They waited, all seven of the road-weary bunch, and what a motley bunch they were. The other two soldiers, the captain¡¯s men, looked barely old enough to be called men. The simple fact that they were soldiers was apparently enough to snuff out the last of their childhoods. They looked about, not sure what to do, as they held the chains of their prisoner-cargo. Stroud, Liandra had overheard the soldiers call him, a great brute of a man, all muscle, long hair and short temper. The kind of man you had to wonder if shackles even worked on, as if at any moment he would burst free of them like a bull breaking through a rotten fence. So far, however, he had not managed any such superhuman feats. Father Fairwell, muttered a quiet prayer, electing not to speak to the others unless first spoken too, as usual. His thin robes whipped about him in the stormy winds. Liandra wasn¡¯t sure how he managed not to freeze. Perhaps his faith kept him warm. And that just left her and mother.

    The captain beat against the gate once again, harder this time. Liandra had to think his hand must be getting awfully tender. ''For mercy''s sake, open this gate.''

    As Liandra stood shivering from the night-cold and the wetness, there came a clattering from behind the gate. Metal scraped against metal and a small panel slid open. An old man''s face, deeply wrinkled and dusted with white stubble, appeared on the other side, illuminated by candlelight.

    ''What be all this, then?'' the old man said.

    ''I am a captain in the Emperor''s fifth divisional army. I am delivering this prisoner,'' he gestured towards Stroud, ''to your capital, so that he may face judgement for his crimes. I demand you open this gate and give us shelter, at once.¡¯ A note of exasperation had crept into the captain''s voice.

    ''Wh¡­what ya¡­would you slow down with all that? And speak up. I''m hard of hearing, don''t you know? Who you say you were?''

    The captain ground his teeth and took a slow breath. ''I am Captain Arlon Caldwell, and this man,'' he thrust a finger at Stroud, the big man''s long, black hair now hanging in wet ribbons, ''is wanted for crimes against the empire. We are soldiers, Emperor''s men, operating under his authority. Now, open this gate immediately.''

    The old man held up a torch to the slot, peering into the captain''s face, then looking about the rest of the group. ''What about the woman, the girl and that one in the priest robes? They Emperor''s men too?''

    ''They are subjects of the Emperor, travelling with my men and I, and they are under my protection. You do not need to know more than that.''

    Liandra could hear the frustration bubbling under the captain''s forced calm, could feel the man''s tension, bubbling just under the surface. She would not have called the captain an angry man, not from what she had seen of him in the last few weeks anyway, but she knew he could be forceful when the situation called for it. Come to think of it, she had never known a soldier not to employ force once all other options had run dry. It was what they were trained for, after all.

    ''You¡¯ll be carrying the Emperor¡¯s mark, then?¡¯ the old man said, after a pause.

    The captain sighed, reached under his coat and pulled out a silver medallion on a chain. It glistened for a moment in the candlelight, raindrops splashing off it. The image of a skull with bleeding eye sockets had been stamped into the metal. The old man looked at the Emperor''s mark for a moment, his jaw working back and forth. Without another word, the panel slid shut and the old man disappeared. The captain tucked the medallion back under his cloak and turned to the others, shrugged. They looked around, frowning, each one equally lost as the others. There came a clank from behind the gate, then the clattering of gears. A heavy bar lifted, and the whole thing split at the middle and swung inward with a drawn-out, reverberating creak.

    ''Fucking back-woods towns,'' the captain said, before ushering the rest of them through the gates.

    Mother reached down, grabbed Liandra¡¯s hand, squeezed it tight, then stepped forward. She was worried. She was thinking of Liandra''s father.

    ¡¯Right,¡¯ the captain said. ¡®Let¡¯s get you lot to the inn. Follow me.¡¯

    The old man stood on the other side of the gate a torch held high, though it hissed and spat with the rain, and probably would go out at any moment. He had his bottom lip pulled up high over the other, almost like a child caught in the act of some guilty mischief, but he nodded towards Mother and Liandra as they entered the town.

    ''It''s a gruesome thing, don''t you think,'' the old man piped up, turning his attention to the captain.

    The captain regarded him for a second, perhaps considering whether to ignore the remark. ''What is?''

    The old man tapped at his chest, just below the neck. ''Your emperor''s mark. Skulls and blood and that. A bit much, isn¡¯t it? Seems unnecessarily¡­vulgar.''

    Without warning, the captain''s hand snapped out, grabbed the old man by the collar, held him up on tiptoes. ''Many men, many of my friends, died under that mark.''

    Even in the dim light and the rain, Liandra saw the old man''s face go white, smelled the telltale tang of urine as the old man wet himself. Mother pulled Liandra in to her arms, until she was almost inside the woman''s coat, wrapped her up like armour.

    The captain pulled the old man close. Their noses almost touched. ''I hear you question the Emperor''s authority again, and you''ll find yourself walking in front of Stroud over there. Catch my meaning? I don''t care how old you are.''

    The old man''s lip quivered. Liandra thought he might have been about to cry.

    ''I¡­I¡­would never question the Emperor¡¯s authority. My deepest apologies, sir. I am a loyalist, I assure you.'' the old man stammered. ''I¡­meant no offence.''

    The captain regarded the old man for a moment longer, then released him with a shove. He fell backward, dropping the torch and landing awkwardly on his wrists. The torch sputtered out as it fell in the mud, and the old man¡¯s coat and face were splashed with the dirty stuff. This time he did cry, whimpering like a babe. He tried to wipe the mud off his face, only succeeded in spreading more around.

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    The captain turned away with the barest of grunts and stomped off farther into town.

    Mother pulled at Liandra''s arm. ''Come on, dear. It''s time to go.''

    Liandra stared towards the old man. She felt her chest clench as she watched his eyes turn red with tears. She twisted out of her Mother''s grasp and darted towards the old gateman.

    ''Hold still,'' she said. ¡®Let me help you.¡¯

    The old man''s arms fell into his lap. His shoulders quivered a little, with the effort of his weeping. Liandra grabbed the bottom of her travelling shirt, leaned forwards and stretched it out to wipe the man''s eyes and brow.

    ''You didn''t deserve that. I apologise for what he did to you. Not all the Emperor''s people are so vile.''

    The old man looked up at her wordlessly. She knew he was conflicted. On the one hand, she was being nice to him, on the other she was just another one of the invaders, imperial scum playing their games of stewardship over a land they never belonged in. Not such a loyalist, after all. He couldn''t wait for them all to move on. He might not have said it, but he was thinking it.

    Liandra reached into the purse tied to her hip, grasped a coin and placed a silver talon into the man''s hand. He looked up at her with shining eyes and mouthed a reluctant, Thank you.

    Liandra ran back to her mother, who took her hand and pulled her close, jerking her arm in a way Liandra was not expecting, it almost hurt.

    ''What are you doing?¡¯ Mother said out loud. ¡®That was very unwise.''

    ''I''m sorry, Mother. I¡­pitied him,'' Liandra said, feeling small.

    ''This country is full of pitiable men. If we were to shed a tear for every one we came across, we would find ourselves waist-deep in brine. You''re going to have to learn which one''s you can help and which ones you can''t.''

    Liandra frowned, not fully grasping Mother''s point. ''But I can help him. I did help him.''

    Mother looked down her short nose at Liandra. Her lip curled in that teacherly way of hers. ''What happens when you run out of coins, hmm? That little purse of yours is not a bottomless well. Perhaps in a few weeks time you will see someone else you feel sorry for, another man or a child, maybe, and you will have no more coins to give. Will you be wishing you had saved today''s coin for them?'' Mother nodded towards the old gatekeeper, who had now climbed out of the mud and was hobbling back towards the gatehouse. He had the silver coin pinched between two of his remaining teeth so that it jutted out like a biscuit.

    ''You''re saying I have to judge people, weigh the value of one person against another?''

    ''I''m saying you have to be more careful, especially with how close you get to strangers. But yes. Eventually, you will have to judge them all.''

    ''Alessa,'' the captain''s voice called from ahead.

    The rest of the group had made their way farther up the muddy street, the rain still falling heavily about them.

    ''Don''t dawdle,'' the captain continued. ''Have you not had enough of rain for one night? I know I have.''

    Liandra and Mother squelched their way towards the men, contending with the rivulets of dark water streaming down mud channels in the road. Their boots sank into the sticky stuff and rose out with a sucking sound. They had to fight to pull their feet up with each slow step, as if the ground itself were grasping onto their feet with earthly fingers.

    ''You know,'' Stroud was saying, when they finally caught up, ''there would be far fewer calling you lot invaders if you didn''t treat them the way you just did, eh? A little kindness goes a long way. Perhaps then they would think more fondly of your so-called "great unifier."''

    The captain did not turn to face the captive, only continued trekking onward into the town, then after a moment said, ''Shut it, Stroud, or I will shut it for you. I have not the patience tonight.''

    Stroud held up his hands in peace, a gesture that lost some of its weight due to the chains clanking at his wrists. They all knew he was right, of course. The captain hadn''t done the Emperor''s image any favours tonight. But what was an image in the face of overwhelming strength, anyway? Far simpler to just bully the people into doing what you wanted. That was the way Liandra had seen it go, anyway, more often than not. If she were in charge, she would have done things differently.

    They continued on, through the pouring rain and the mud, until they came to the town inn. The captain awoke the innkeeper with more banging and shouting. There was scuffling and grumbling from inside the two-storey building, and a portly man threw the front door open, frowning out at them all. He had come down in a dressing gown and a comical little cap, something that Liandra had only heard about in stories and didn''t think people actually wore. His face was red. He was near blowing with exhaustion. Must''ve been a long walk from his bed.

    ''What the bloody hell do you think you''re doing? You''ll wake everyone up long past the devil''s hour.''

    The captain simply held up his medallion. Realisation crept across the innkeepers face, and he took several measured breaths, deflated like a windbag with a hole in it.

    ''You can come in,'' he said. ''But keep your voices down, flog ya. We''ve got a full house, and I''ve got an early morning tomorrow.''

    ''We''d like somewhere to sleep,'' the captain said.

    The innkeeper looked over the lot of them, his gaze lingering on Stroud, then he turned to the captain with red-rimmed eyes. ''Did you not hear what I just said? I''ve got no rooms. Now, I''m happy to pay my respects to the Emperor, I got no problems there. I pay my taxes, and I pay them on time. But I''m not about to kick paying customers out of their beds in the middle of the night, especially not with this rain.''

    ''Never said it had to be a bed,'' the captain responded. ''We can sleep on the floor.''

    The innkeeper sighed. He looked at Liandra and Mother, and Liandra saw compassion in his eyes. She wanted desperately to put a hand on his arm.

    ''You''re better off in the stables,'' the innkeeper said, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. It''ll be just as warm, and there won''t be people trampling all over you in a few hours.''

    The captain didn''t even check with the others. He just clapped his hands together and said, ''We''ll take it.'' It was the best offer of lodging they had had in weeks, and the only one in six days.

    The innkeeper led them back out the front door, through the rain once more and around the side of the inn, to the stables at the back. It was dry enough, and warm, despite the lack of proper walls. Horses were sleeping in most of the stalls, and Liandra could feel the body heat steaming off them. There was hay as well, plenty enough to make beds for the lot of them. The only downside was the smell. It was hard to escape the raw stench of manure, and Liandra was sure it would find its way into her dreams.

    ''Well, it''s not much, but you''re welcome to it,'' the innkeeper said. ''I hope you''ve already had your evening meals, as I''m afraid the kitchen''s closed, though I can bring you bread in the morning.''

    Mother stepped forward and took the innkeeper''s hands in hers. ''I thank you, most kindly, good sir. We owe you our deepest debt of gratitude.''

    The innkeeper looked taken aback. ''No, no. It is nothing, really.'' He gave a peculiar smile. ''As long as I am back in my bed in the next five minutes, I''ll consider the debt repaid.''

    Mother released the man''s hands, and he turned to go, but stopped as if he had just remembered some forgotten detail. He approached the captain, leaned in close. Though he lowered his voice, Liandra heard him say, ''Those posts go deep into the ground. Very solid.''

    The captain nodded, and the innkeeper scurried away. The soldiers took Stroud over to a post, looped his chains around it and secured it all with bolt and shackle. Stroud endured this with little more than an occasional wince. It was routine by this point. The soldiers always chained their prize to something he could not carry away or pull apart. The chain gave the man enough room to lie down, but little else, and he would still have to sleep with his wrists together. It can''t have been very comfortable, but Liandra had never heard the man complain. Probably, he knew there was no point.

    The others made their beds in the hay. Mother used a rake to bunch up a pile of the scratchy stuff for her and Liandra. With everyone else busy, Liandra reached out to touch one of the horses which had awoken during their entrance. Mother was upon her in a second, pulling her hand away from the wooden slats of the stall.

    ''Don''t. Let it be,'' she said. ''There is too much at stake for you to be playing with these creatures.''

    Liandra reluctantly moved away from the animal and let her mother guide her to bed. The horse gave a little shake of its head. It seemed a magnificent animal, with kind, deep eyes. But Liandra let herself be led to the pile of hay.

    Despite her exhaustion, Liandra lay awake for a long while. When she was sure the others were asleep, and the stable had filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, Liandra eased herself up, crept across the stable and back to the stall with the horse in it. The horse lay down, dreaming, Liandra knew, so she climbed over the railings, careful not to make a sound, and dropped beside the big animal. She crouched down and put her hands on the horse''s head. Its eyes opened, went wide in shock, then slowly relaxed. Liandra sat down and let the horse''s head fall into her lap.

    What is your name? she said, inside of her mind.

    The horse''s big eyes met with hers. Agrafell, it replied. Would you like to hear my tale?

    Liandra looked about the stable once more, checking the others were still asleep. She could just make out Mother''s chest slowly rising and falling.

    Yes, she said.

 Auric - The Way Back

    He ran through the night, through the cold and the biting rain, water in his eyes, under and through his clothes, until he felt like an old piece of sailcloth, dangling in a storm. At some point in the night, he had run the barrow into a particularly deep patch of mud and the handle had jabbed him in the gut, near knocking the wind out of him. In his younger years as a soldier, he was able to run all day, swing a heavy war axe like it was a hatchet. Gods, but he was getting old.

    He wished he had grabbed something more to cover Mouse with, even just a coat. The poor dog had lain in the bottom of the barrow, shivering and whimpering for hours, until he eventually fell into a fitful sleep. Auric hadn''t been thinking straight, he supposed. The lack of booze hadn''t helped, nor the lack of food.

    Thankfully, the rain had eased, sometime in the early morning hours, and the sun had spilled over the road to Brunholm, shining through a clear, blue sky. Most of the wet had evaporated off him by the time he jogged into town, navigating the barrow through the brown puddles at the gate.

    ''Doctor,'' Auric shouted, slowly clawing his breath back. ''Is anyone a doctor?'' A few people in the street turned to see what the commotion was, but no one did anything to help.

    Auric scooped Mouse out of the barrow. Still breathing. Mouse was still breathing, but his body flopped about, loose as a sack of flour. Auric stroked his muzzle, hoping he would wake, lick his hand. He had always been a nervous dog, annoyingly so, at times, but Auric would give anything to have Mouse turn those concerned eyes on him now.

    ''Doctor,'' Auric tried again. ''He needs a surgeon. Somebody help him.''

    A handful of people had stopped in the street. They looked to one another, perhaps waiting for some guidance.

    Auric stepped up to an older man with a crook in his back and a sack of vegetables on his shoulder. The man blinked hard as Auric approached. ''Sir, is there a surgeon in town? Is there someone I could show him to? He''s lost a lot of blood.''

    The man''s mouth opened, then slowly closed again. He looked at Mouse, drew in his brows. ''I''m sorry,'' he said and hitched up his sack. ''I can''t help you.'' And he walked on.

    Auric scowled at the man, ran to the next person, a woman in ragged clothes holding the hand of a young girl. ''Can you help him? Do you know where he could get help?''

    The woman pulled her child closer. She shook her head slowly, took a step back. ''I¡­''

    ''Maybe Jayna could help him.''

    The voice had come from behind him. Auric whipped around, leaving the woman and the girl. A boy, just shy of his teens, with dirty, black hair looked towards him and Mouse. He stood in the street, his bare feet covered in mud.

    ''What did you say?'' Auric said, approaching the boy.

    ''Jayna, my sister. Maybe she could help him. She''s been learning stitching from my aunty. She might be able to close him up. That''s what people do with bad wounds, ain''t it?'' The boy reached out, stroked Mouse gently, gave a sad smile.

    ''Are there no surgeons in town? A doctor at least?''

    The boy shook his head. ''You new around here? Most doctors got called to Whitehall. Conscripted my da'' said. Emperor Vallendred needs ''em for his armies overseas. There was a surgeon here a few years ago, but he died, and we haven''t got a new one yet.''

    ''Fuck,'' Auric shouted, drawing more glances from people on the street.

    The boy frowned up at him.

    ''I''m sorry,'' Auric said. ''I¡ª''

    ''Don''t bother me. Nothin'' I ain''t heard before.''

    Auric looked about. A few faces had appeared at windows to see what the commotion was, but most simply ignored him. ''Why doesn''t he just put it down?'' he heard someone mutter from inside a building.

    ''Your sister,'' he said, turning back to the boy, ''is she any good with needle and thread?''

    ''She made all my clothes, and they ain''t half bad.''

    Indeed, the boy''s clothes were nothing fancy, but they seemed sturdy enough, and the stitching lines were neat.

    Auric sighed, gave Mouse''s head another stroke. ''Take me to your sister. Quickly, mind.''

    ''She''s at home. Follow me.''

    The boy took off up the street and Auric followed, abandoning his barrow, Mouse still a lead weight in his arms. If someone wanted the barrow, they could have it. He could always replace it, but he could never replace Mouse.

    They turned down dirty streets and mud-splattered alleys. Brunholm was a tangle of crooked roads, skinny walkways and overhanging roofs, all thrown together and on top of one another like bones from a soothsayers bag. A handful of old men, smoke wafting from the tips of their pipes, turned their heads as Auric and the boy passed. A woman selling fruit yelled at them not to run in the street.

    The boy must have known the town well. He darted about, twisting and turning without warning, until a couple minutes later when he skidded to a stop in front of a tenement flat. Auric''s chest burned. Sweat ran down the back of his neck. It had taken all he had left to keep up with the lad.

    The boy went up to the door and jerked it open. ''Jayna,'' he shouted, his head half through the doorway, ''you''ve gotta come quick and help someone.''

    The smells and sounds of cooking leaked out of the flat. There was a clatter from inside as someone threw something down.

    ''Don''t be comin'' in here with your dirty feet again, Flynn. I''m sick of cleaning up after you.''

    ''I''m not comin'' in, I''m callin'' you out. You gotta come help someone.''

    ''Enough of your mischief, Flynn.''

    Footsteps came stamping up to the door. Flynn stepped aside, and a young woman appeared, an apron tied about her waist, her blond hair in a tight bun. When she saw Auric, her face went blank.

    ''Who are you?'' She reached out to her brother, pulled him closer to her. That was the second time in ten minutes someone had done that in front of Auric.

    ''My name''s Auric. I live in the woods a few miles outside town.''

    Jayna poked her head out of the doorway and looked up and down the street. ''What''s that?'' she said, pointing at Mouse.

    ''It''s what I''ve been saying,'' Flynn cut in. ''This man''s dog is hurt. I thought you might sew him back up, on account of you learning from aunty Helena.''

    Jayna flicked Flynn''s ear, her face scrunching up in anger.

    ''Oww,'' the boy said, rubbing at his ear.

    ''I''ve told you time and again not to go talking to strangers.''

    ''I didn''t. He was calling out in the street for a doctor.''

    ''And you answered him, didn''t you? Besides, I''m no doctor. I''ve barely sown anything but sackcloth and linen.''

    Auric stepped forward, showed her Mouse''s wounds. She recoiled back into the doorway, her hand still on her younger brother.

    ''Please, Auric said. ''Mouse never hurt anyone. If you could do anything, anything at all, I''ll find a way to repay you. He''ll die if you don''t help.''

    Jayna''s eyes darted up and down the street once more. Her face pulled tight in a look of resignation. ''Bring him in, then, but I can''t promise you anything.''

    ''Thank you,'' Auric said, stepping up to the stoop.

    They moved inside the flat¡ªlittle more than a single room with wooden floors and an open fireplace, crackling gently against one wall.

    ''I''ve seen wounds sewn up before,'' Auric said. ''On people, anyway, but never done it myself. Don''t think I''d have steady enough hands for it, these days.'' Auric thought how long it had been since he''d had a drink. ''We''ll need hot water, rags, and something to bandage with, if you''ve got it.''

    Jayna nodded. ''You can put him down on the floor. Flynn, get the kettle on.''

    Auric lay Mouse down in the centre of the room. He was still breathing, but slower than before. He wheezed with each breath, bloody spit frothing around his lips and teeth. ''Just hang on, boy. We found some help. We found you some help.''

    Flynn and Jayna rushed about the flat. Flynn poured water into a kettle, set it hanging over the fire. Jayna grabbed a cloth, threw it over her shoulder, then pulled down a tin from a high shelf. The tin rattled like it was full of coins. All the while, Auric stroked Mouse''s head, scratched behind his ears.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The young woman came over to Mouse, knelt down, set the tin beside him and examined the claw marks across his side. ''What did this?''

    ''We were attacked by a bear.''

    ''A bear?'' she said, looking up, frowning. ''I''ve never heard of bears coming this far south before.''

    ''First time I''ve seen one, myself.''

    ''Hmm.'' She looked back at mouse, lay gentle hands on him.

    ''We''ll have to clean the dry blood away first,'' Auric said. ''So we can see what we''re dealing with. That water''s probably hot enough, son. Bring it over, and a bowl too.''

    Flynn brought the items over, his tongue clamped between his lips in concentration. He set them down and Auric poured water into the bowl, took the cloth from Jayna and started cleaning the wounds. The skin around the gashes had turned a deep purple. Blood didn''t pour from the cuts, but it seeped up steadily.

    Jayna opened the tin, took out a thick, curved needle. ''I guess a stronger thread will be better.'' She pulled at the end of a black thread, licked it and deftly passed it through the eye of the needle.

    ''What do you want me to do?'' Flynn asked.

    ''Not get in the way,'' Jayna said.

    Auric set the cloth into the now-bloody water, wiped his hands on his clothes, and reached down to Mouse. ''I''ll hold him together. You just do your best stitching.''

    Jayna took a deep breath, sucked air through her teeth. ''I''ll do what I can.''

    The first stitch was the hardest. Jayna worked the needle tentatively, pressed it against Mouse''s skin like he would jump up and bark at her any moment. Auric''s fingers kept slipping, and it was quite the effort to keep the wound closed. Jayna flinched as the needle pierced the edge of the wound, but once she saw the thread pull tight, and the wound start to pull closed, she relaxed a little.

    ''It''s working,'' she said. ''It''s actually working.''

    ''I knew you could do it,'' Flynn said, patting his sister on the back. ''Skin is just the body''s natural clothes, anyway.''

    It took over an hour with all three of them crouched on the hard floor. Auric''s fingers cramped with the effort of pulling Mouse''s torn skin together. He ground his teeth in concentration, had to trade places with Flynn and give his hands a rest.

    Halfway through, Mouse''s legs started jerking, twitching like he did sometimes in his sleep, and Auric bent down to whisper in his ear and stroke his head. Still, Jayna had to wait a few minutes for the dog to become still again.

    When the last stitch was done, Auric washed the wounds once more. The skin was still puffy, and that awful purple colour, but what was once an ugly tear was now a neat line, dotted with little loops of black thread. Most importantly, it was holding the blood in.

    Jayna snipped the end of the thread, tied it in a knot, took a few deep breaths. They wrapped Mouse''s middle with strips of cloth, torn from an old sack. They quickly dirtied with pus and other fluids, but they were better than nothing.

    ''Not bad for your first time,'' Auric said. ''Thank you.''

    ''Can''t exactly say I was glad to help, but you''re welcome.'' Jayna put the rest of her tools back in the tin, pressed the lid on tight. ''Phew, I think my nerves''ll take a month to recover,'' she said, standing and stretching out her back with a groan.

    Flynn looked confused. ''That''s it? But he''s not better yet. What do we do next?''

    ''We wait,'' Auric said with a sigh. ''We wait and see if he wakes up.''

    *

    ''You said you''d seen it done before,'' Jayna said, handing Auric a bowl of soup.

    He had propped himself up against the wall, Mouse asleep in his lap. Jayna had offered him some food, after Auric had told her the full account of what had happened, but had said he wouldn''t be able to stay for too much longer. Their father would be back soon for his lunch, and they''d be in enough trouble if he found out they had talked to a stranger, let alone let one into the flat. Flynn had fallen asleep on a cot in the corner of the room, and spent the rest of the morning snoring loudly.

    ''What''s that?'' Auric asked.

    ''The stitching. You said you''d seen it done on people.''

    Auric took the bowl, slurped at the rim. Suddenly, his hunger hit him, and he realised it had been longer than a full day since he last ate. He poured some into Mouse''s mouth, then tilted his head, working his throat from the outside until the dog swallowed.

    ''Aye. Saw it back in the war, before Vallendred overran us and took all that was rightly ours, put his empire''s name over it all.''

    Jayna sat down beside him, reached out to stroke Mouse. ''You fought then? Fought for the resistance?''

    ''Aye. I fought. I was young and stupid. Thought maybe I could do some good. But no good comes of war. All I ended up doing was watch a lot of good men die for naught.''

    ''Do you really believe that? That it was all for nothing?''

    ''We lost, didn''t we? So, it doesn''t really matter much now.''

    ''But we couldn''t just let Vallendred take all of Nothstrum without a fight.''

    ''Why not? Would''ve had the same result, only there''d be less corpses lying unmarked in the fields out there.''

    ''Maybe, but we still have our freedoms, for the most part anyway. Vallendred could''ve made us all slaves, but he didn''t, cause he knew how strong we were, knew we wouldn''t take that lying down. That''s because of men who fought, men like you.''

    Auric scowled. ''Our freedoms, eh? You are too young. We did terrible things, truly terrible things, in the name of our freedoms. Those types of things leave a wound, one that can''t be stitched closed. Those wounds leave ugly scars'' Auric looked down at his hands. The shakes again. He rubbed them together, tried to hide the quivering. ''What is freedom worth when you throw away your soul, when you throw away all goodness?''

    ''I don''t think you''ve done that. You''re good to him.'' Jayna nodded at Mouse.

    A hot feeling rose at the back of Auric''s throat. He blinked hard, his eyes stinging. ''Might be the only good thing I''ve done.'' He took a big swallow of the soup. It burned the back of his throat, somehow felt right. It occurred to Auric then that he knew very little about these people who had let him into their home. ''You said your father would be back soon. What about your mother? Where is she?''

    Jayna looked down at her hands. ''Gone. Dead. I don''t know. Our da works the fields outside of town all day. Most of the time it''s just me and Flynn.''

    ''And you do all the cooking? All the cleaning?''

    Jayna shrugged. ''Someone has to. Flynn helps a bit, where he can.''

    ''You have your aunty, though? Flynn said that''s where you learned your sowing.''

    ''Well, sort of. We see her now and then. She showed me a few things, but I mostly figured it out by myself. That''s the way it usually goes around here.''

    A silence fell between them. Auric finished his soup, handed Jayna the bowl. ''Thank you again for what you did. That was¡­very brave.''

    ''Well, my da always says, "you got a thing needs doing, you do it. You can always worry about the what-fors later."''

    ''Hmm. Sounds like someone I could agree with.'' Auric pushed himself to his feet, hauling Mouse up with him. The dog''s breathing had steadied, but there was still no sign of consciousness. ''I''d better leave you and your brother be. Pass my thanks along to him as well.''

    Auric walked to the door and Jayna held it open for him. ''Will you go home? Do you have somewhere to stay?''

    Auric chewed at his lip for a moment. ''I have some coin on me,'' he lied. ''I''ll find something.''

    A concerned smile passed over Jayna. ''There''s a decent inn back near the gates. I worked in the kitchens for a while. Tell Halford I sent you. Big man, round face. He''s kind.''

    ''I will. Good luck to you.''

    ''And you both.''

    Auric walked away, and the door closed behind him. The sun shone hot, and the mud in the street had mostly dried to a cracked top. Auric wandered south, not knowing where he was going, but knowing he would eventually make it back to the gate. He felt a lump form in his throat as he walked through the quiet streets. His vision blurred behind watery eyes.

    ''Cmon, boy. Wake up. I just need you to wake up,'' he said, dripping snot from his nose. But no licks came, no concerned eyes. Mouse just flopped about, drooped like rags.

    Auric didn''t know how long he wandered, but he found himself outside the inn near the town gates. He looked up at the sign. It showed a mug of ale dripping with condensation, frothy head overflowing. Auric stood there for a moment, then shoved the door open with his shoulder.

    It was quiet inside, other than the tinkle of the bell above the door. The only people were the large man behind the bar who must''ve been Halford, a woman, a young girl and a soldier dressed in the dark colours of Vallendred''s imperial army¡ªa captain, by the stripes on his shoulder. They sat at a table, eating bread and stew, and turned to look when he entered. The girl dropped her spoon, put a hand to her forehead like she was in pain. Auric narrowed his eyes at the captain, then walked up to the bar.

    ''I''ve had a shitty day, I''ve got no money and my dog might die. I don''t suppose I could work off a drink or two. I''m handy with an axe and I don''t mind cleanin''.''

    The barman took it all in with timid apprehension. He looked down at Mouse, saw the wounds, the skin stretched tight across his flank. ''Look, I¡ª''

    Auric cut him off. ''Jayna said you were kind.''

    Halford ran a hand over his bald head, sighed. ''Alright. One drink. But you''d better put him down. It''s bad enough having animals inside, let alone at the bar.''

    ''Thank you,'' Auric said.

    He carried Mouse over to one of the tables, set him down underneath it, gave him a pat. ''I won''t be long. You just sit tight.''

    He went back to the bar. Halford had his back turned, stood at a barrel, filling a mug with ale. ''Don''t think I know you, friend. But Jayna''s got a good head on her shoulders. If she vouches for you, then I guess I do too.'' He turned and set the mug down in front of Auric.

    Auric took it, pressed the rim to his mouth, felt the cool, bubbly liquid slide down his throat, felt his hands settle. ''Auric. I live a few miles out of town. Keep to myself mostly.''

    ''Nothin'' wrong with that. I presume you know me as Halford.''

    Auric swallowed. Let out a satisfied sound. ''Aye. Jayna said as much. Do you know if she''s okay? Does her father treat her and her brother well?''

    Halford puffed out his cheeks. ''Can''t say as I know much about that. Haven''t spoken to her in months. Seems you''d know more than me.''

    A chair scraped behind Auric. Boots stepped across the inn, up to the bar. Auric took another swallow of ale, set his mug down carefully. A hand clasped around his forearm. Auric turned slowly, looked down at the hand, looked up into the dark eyes of the captain as he frowned back at him.

    ''Did you say your name was Auric?''

    He could''ve lied, could''ve finished his drink and walked away, no trouble. But at this stage, he didn''t think he even cared to, and with the drink in him, the notion of a little trouble was starting to sound appealing.

    ''That''s right.''

    ''As in, "The Blackhand?"''

    He nodded. ''I''ve been called that before.''

    The captain stared for a moment. His jaw trembled. ''I should gut you where you sit, cut your head off and deliver it to the Emperor.''

    Auric smiled. ''You should take your hand off me, is what you should do.''

    There was another scraping sound from behind him, and the woman shouted, ''Liandra, no.''

    Auric turned to see the young girl dart across the inn. She crouched under that table where he had lain Mouse and put her hands on him. Auric shook the captain''s hand off his arm and rose from his stool. ''What are you doing? Leave him alone.''

    The woman, too, was running across the inn. She grasped the girl by the shoulders and pulled her away from Mouse. ''I told you to leave it. Why won''t you listen to me, child?'' she berated the girl.

    ''What''d you do?'' Auric shouted. He rushed to the table, bent down, reached out for Mouse. Wetness, warm and slimy on his hand, Mouse''s tongue licking him. Auric stuck his head under the table. Mouse''s big, dark eyes looked up at him, shining with a look somewhere between joyful and exhausted.

    The tears flowed then. Auric grabbed Mouse around the shoulders, pulled him into his arms, squeezed him tight. ''I thought you were gone, boy. I thought I''d lost you.''

    He sat there, on the floor of the inn, blubbing away, probably looking a right madman. But he didn''t care. Mouse was awake. The dog licked his face, gave a yap, and he put him down. Mouse stood on his own, weakly, but he managed.

    Auric wiped his face, gave a little chuckle and turned around. The girl stood there, shrouded in her mother''s arms. The captain still frowned from the bar. ''What did you do?'' Auric said, his voice small, catching in his throat.

    The girl stared at him. Her lip quivered a little. She blinked hard, wiped her own tears. ''Mouse just needed some help finding his way back, is all.''

 Liandra - Leavetaking

    Mouse had given Liandra his tale. It was one full of pain, confusion and fear, but there was love too, and kindness; love for the man who now knelt on the floor in front of her. After receiving his injuries, Mouse had retreated to a dark corner of his mind, a place free of hurt and malice. He had been afraid to leave that place, but Liandra had managed to talk him back. It had felt like hours, the time she spent inside Mouse''s mind, but it can''t have been more than a few seconds to those watching it happen.

    ''How did you know his name?'' the man on the floor said. His long hair, half black, half grey, fell about the deep lines in his face. He may have been ageing, but he was thick across the chest, and looked strong enough to properly hurt someone if he wanted to. Auric, Mouse had said his name was Auric.

    Liandra opened her mouth, but Mother cut her off with a finger waggled in her face.

    ''Liandra.'' Mother''s voice was stern as an axe. ''Do not talk to this man.'' She turned, and the finger pointed at Auric. ''You leave my daughter alone. I don''t know what kind of madness ails you, but it has nothing to do with her. She has a love for animals, that''s all, and the bad sense not to listen to her mother. Captain, it''s time to go.''

    The captain strode over from the bar, his boots resounding against the hard floor. ''As you wish. But first there is something I must do.''

    There was a ringing sound, the scraping of steel against leather, and the captain stood there with his sword gleaming in the midday light. ''Auric the Blackhand, in the name of Corrim Vallendred, High Emperor and steward of Nothstrum, I take you into custody for war crimes against the Empire, pending summary judgement.'' The captain pointed the tip of his sword at Auric. ''Will you come willingly? Please say no.''

    ''What are you doing?'' Liandra shouted. ''You can''t do this.''

    Mother jerked at Liandra''s arm again. Why won''t you keep quiet?'' Mother''s voice rang in her mind.

    ''Stay out of this, girl. This man is responsible for the deaths of hundreds, perhaps even thousands of people, some of them as young as yourself.''

    Auric sighed, down on the floor. He gave Mouse another teary-eyed pet, put his mouth near the dog''s ear and whispered something. Liandra could feel the turmoil pouring off the old man.

    ''I suppose I''ve had more time than I really deserved,'' Auric said sadly. ''Halford, will you take Mouse to Jayna and Flynn, ask them if they will look after him?''

    The barman''s jaw had hung open for the last several minutes, but he seemed to remember now how to use it. ''Uh, I¡­I can do that, I suppose.'' Halford walked over from behind the bar and came over to grab Mouse''s collar.

    Auric scratched the dog once more. ''I''m sorry, boy. I can''t stay with you. But at least you''re alive. You go with this nice man now.'' Auric let Mouse go and Halford led him away through a door at the back of the inn.

    Auric rose, stared at the captain. He spread his arms wide. ''I come willingly and without resistance.''

    ''Do you have any weapons?''

    ''None of manmade design.''

    The captain narrowed his eyes. ''Turn around. Put your hands together.''

    Auric turned, slowly, stretching the moment out. Liandra supposed he was in no rush. There was no fear coming off him either. He put his hands together, and the captain sheathed his sword, grabbed a leather cord out of a pocket and approached Auric. He moved with caution, looking for any signs of movement or resistance from the older man. Liandra knew there would be none.

    The captain grabbed Auric''s wrists, pulled him backwards, off balance, and threw him to the ground. Auric hit the ground face first. There was a hollow clonk as his skull collided with the wooden planks.

    ''God''s tits, you bastard. I said I was coming willingly,'' Auric shouted.

    The captain stood over him, whipped the leather cord around his wrists and lashed it tight. Auric seethed as the leather dug into his skin. ''Can''t be too careful. A man like you is hard to take at his word.''

    ''The war was ten years ago, prick. I haven''t hurt a human soul since.''

    ''Tell it to the dead.'' The captain jerked Auric to his feet. A purple mark had formed on the old man''s forehead. ''Alessa, take Liandra and return to the stable. Tell the others we have an additional prisoner, then collect your things and meet me back here. As soon as you return, we leave this place.''

    ''Good,'' Mother said. ''We''ve spent too long here already.''

    Liandra opened her mouth once more. ''But¡ª''

    ''No more, girl.'' Mother raised her voice, brought her face down to Liandra''s until their noses almost touched. Mother wasn''t angry, though it would have been easy for her to be. She wasn''t concerned, exactly. She was afraid, Liandra realised, anxious to be on the road. ''You''ve caused enough trouble already. The time comes when you have to learn to do as you''re told.''

    Liandra swallowed a guilty lump at the back of her throat. She knew she could be reckless. She knew she caused Mother trouble. But how could anyone possibly understand, without feeling the things she felt, knowing the things she knew? She would have burst if she had to sit there a moment longer and ignore Mouse''s pain. It was the only way to stop it. If Mother had felt it, she would have done the same thing. Liandra liked to think anyone would, but then, she really had no way of knowing.

    ''As you say, Mother. You are right, as usual.''

    Mother smiled sadly, kissed Liandra on the forehead.

    They left the captain alone with Auric in the inn and walked back around to the stable. Mother hurried their pace, dragging Liandra behind. The other two soldiers lounged in the hay, sharing a heel of bread. Stroud was still tied to the pole where he had spent the night. McJames, the one with the funny haircut that made his hair look like an upside-down bowl, teased him by throwing crumbs just outside his reach. Beecham encouraged McJames with hearty laughter, a spot of drool running down his cleft chin. Stroud, for his part, mostly ignored their antics. There was a sense of quiet contemplation coming from the big prisoner. It seemed he was biding his time.

    ''Ahem,'' Mother said, as her and Liandra walked under the shelter of the stable roof. ''Would you two comport yourself with the decorum befitting soldiers of The Empire? Cruelty to this prisoner is not warranted.''

    The soldiers turned lazy eyes towards Mother. ''Huh?'' McJames said. ''Vallendred''s cruelty is what got us here in the first place, is what won his stewardship over this poxy land.''

    Poxy? thought Liandra. She had actually found what she had seen of Nothstrum over the last few months to be quite charming.

    Mother sighed. ''I doubt he would see it that way.''

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ''What would you know, woman?'' Beecham piped up. ''You ain''t ever set foot on a battlefield.''

    Liandra felt Mother''s anger grow. It radiated off her like a fever. She put fists against her hips. ''Have either of you, fresh little buttercups? I know a lot more than either of you could imagine. Vallendred would have you¡ª''

    ''The captain arrested someone,'' Liandra cut Mother off before she said something she would regret. ''Said he''s to come with us, and we''re to meet him at the inn. We''re leaving town.''

    The soldiers sat up at that, frowned at each other. ''Arrested someone? Why the fuck would he do that?''

    ''Watch your mouth in front of my daughter,'' Mother snapped, clapping her hands over Liandra''s ears.

    Beecham rolled his eyes. ''Sorry, little one,'' he said, with a glare at Liandra.

    Mother removed her hands from Liandra''s ears. ''He knew him,'' Mother said, exasperated. ''Said he was guilty of war crimes. His name was Auric Black something.''

    ''Auric The Blackhand,'' Liandra said.

    Now the soldiers stood up. Their faces dropped. ''Are you telling me Auric The fucking¡ªsorry¡ªThe fricking Blackhand is here, in bum-frick Brunholm, and the captain''s taken him into custody?'' McJames said.

    ''It seems that way, doesn''t it?'' Mother''s anger had quelled for the moment, but her tone was full of ice.

    The soldiers slowly turned to one another. ''We''re bloody rich,'' they said, in unison. They embraced each other, danced about the stable, kicking up hay and dust, whooping and hollering with delight.

    Mother raised her voice. ''The captain said to be ready, to bring his things. We leave immediately.''

    The two quit their celebrating and stood in the stable looking like idiots, smiles slowly drooping off their faces. ''Right.'' They released each other, and brushed themselves off sheepishly.

    ''And where is Father Fairwell?'' Mother said, with a look of sudden realisation.

    Beecham shrugged. ''Went off to pray somewhere. Said he''d be back in a minute.''

    ''Well, I hope he is.'' Mother turned her attention away from the soldiers. ''Liandra, collect your things. Make sure you are ready to depart.''

    Liandra nodded, and walked to the other side of the stable. She passed Agrafell on the way, and the horse looked up at her. She felt his calm, but his boredom as well, his longing to run, to have the wind rippling through his mane. His tale had been one of contentment, running across the middle lands of Nothstrum. His master was kind enough, fed him well, looked after his feet. But recently, Agrafell and other horses he had met in the area had been full of fear. Many of them didn''t want to run at night, often feeling like there was something dark lurking in the shadows. Liandra pushed the fear out of her mind, gave Agrafell a parting smile, and gathered her things.

    Father Fairwell returned as Liandra was shrugging her bulky pack onto her shoulders. The man seemed to wander around as if he knew where he was going, but at the same time had nowhere to be. Mostly, she sensed a kind of blankness from him, a purity almost, but not a comforting one. Perhaps he was just an idiot, blank of mind, absent, the kind of person you could talk to for five minutes, but they wouldn''t hear a single thing you said.

    Mother relayed the news to the priest, who skittered about, gathered his meagre possessions, and once they were all ready, they left the stable behind. As soon as they were back within sight of the inn, the captain barrelled out the front with his new prisoner held out at arm''s length. Auric stumbled as the captain pushed him.

    ''Bring me proper shackles,'' the captain said. ''We''re going to have to watch this one like a hawk.''

    The captain really was fearful of this man, who must have been fifteen years his senior. Liandra wasn''t sure why. All she could feel from Auric was regret and the type of calm someone had when they accepted their fate was out of their hands.

    ''Is that really him?'' Beecham piped up. ''Is that really The Blackhand?''

    ''Claims he is,'' the captain said. ''He matches the description. He''s the right age. And from what I''ve been able to ascertain in the last ten minutes, seems he really was one of King Yulian''s generals.''

    ''Holy shit,'' McJames said, stepping up to face Auric in the middle of the street, apparently forgetting Mother''s request to clean up his tongue. ''It really is him, isn''t it?''

    Auric glowered back at McJames.

    ''Never thought I''d be standing in the face of the fucker who burned Rothwich to the ground. It''s a pity you''re worth more walking than in the ground. Vallendred''ll see your skin hung from his walls.''

    So, that was it. That was why the soldiers were so afraid of this man, and why he was worth so much. Liandra knew much of Nothstrum''s war for independence, of course, had grown up hearing about it, though she struggled to remember the dates and the names. Rothwich, however, was one that most people remembered. The city had been long held by Vallendred''s army, until it was burnt to the ground in the night, that is, when Yulian''s rebels snuck in, doused the place in oil and set the whole place alight. Thousands of people¡ªsoldiers mostly, but men and children too¡ªhad burned alive as they slept, or as they tried to escape their barred houses.

    McJames spat in Auric''s face. The old man ground his jaw, scowled back, wiped his face as best he could on his shoulder, then headbutt the soldier square in the nose. There was a crunch as McJames'' head whipped back. His hands shot up to his face, blood pouring through his fingers.

    ''Oh dear,'' Father Fairwell said.

    ''Enough,'' the captain shouted. He kicked Auric in the back of the knee, and he went down into the dirt road. ''Beecham, secure this prisoner and chain him where he belongs.''

    ''Yes, sir.'' Beecham ran over to Auric, a set of shackles clanking in his hands.

    ''Fuck. Is it broken?'' the young soldier said, blood dribbling into his mouth.

    The captain walked over, peered into McJames'' face. ''It bloody well better be, the amount of blood coming out of it.''

    ''Ass-licker broke my fucking nose.''

    ''Well, that''ll teach you for puttin'' your nose where it can get broken, won''t it? Like a hawk, I fucking said.'' The captain pulled out a kerchief and held it to McJames'' face. ''Hold that against your nostrils ''til the blood stops. Gods, is it too much to ask for a pair of competent men?'' The captain''s words trailed off in a murmur.

    Beecham shackled Auric''s hands and dragged him over to Stroud. He linked the two prisoners together, then brought them both over to the captain.

    The captain ran a hand over his bald head, took the end of the chain. ''What a marvellous idea this is turning out to be,'' he said under his breath. ''Well, no use in standing around. Let''s get some miles under our feet.''

    ''What about my nose?'' McJames said. Dark bruises had started to form under his eyes.

    ''It''ll heal,'' the captain spat. ''And if it heals crooked, it''ll serve you right.''

    ''You''ll pay for that, twat,'' McJames muttered.

    The captain led the way, as he always did, stomping towards the gate, his prisoners trailing behind him on their clinking chains. Liandra and Mother followed, with Father Fairwell bringing up the rear, his head flittered back and forth like an owl. The old gateman who had let them in last night regarded them as they passed, threw a scornful salute at the captain, a venerable nod to Liandra.

    They passed through the gates and back onto the cold roads of Nothstrum. It would be a few days before they reached Whitehall. Liandra had thought about what would happen upon their arrival every day for the last few months. She thought about what Mother would have to do, once they got there. But she knew Mother didn''t think of it, just saw it as a task that needed doing, as she saw most things. Still, Liandra almost felt as if she would miss this time on the road, this simple time.

    ''Wait, wait,'' came a shout from behind. Halford, the owner of the inn, jogged down the street, his great belly bouncing in front of him.

    They all turned, and he came up to them, stopped, rested a hand on his knees while he caught his breath, waved the other one, begging patience.

    ''What is it, man? Spit it out,'' the captain said.

    Halford turned to Auric. ''He''s with them. Mouse, I mean. He''s with Jayna and Flynn. I thought you should know while you still had the chance.''

    ''Good,'' Auric said in his rough voice. ''You have my gratitude, but maybe you could do one more thing for me.''

    Halford winced. ''You''ve got a lot of cheek asking me these things. I believe it was you said you would do some work for me.''

    Auric''s jaw clenched. ''I did. And I meant it. But it seems I may not get the chance.'' By way of exclamation, Auric held up his shackles, gave them a little jiggle.

    ''Fair enough,'' Halford said. The redness in his face had started to fade. ''As long as it doesn''t involve running, I''ll try my best.''

    ''See that the boy gets some shoes.''

    Halford nodded. ''I will.''

    ''Time to go,'' the captain said, tugging at the chain.

    As they left the town behind and wound their way into the southern hills, Liandra felt the vague, murky emotions of several hundred lives dissipate. While she had grown used to feeling what others felt, she sometimes cursed her strange ability. She had learned to block out the noise, the background haze of other people''s minds, somewhat, at least. But occasionally she was afraid she would lose herself amongst the ocean of experience, the never-ending tide of emotion, pouring down on top of her all at once. And she would become like Mouse had, trapped in a walled-off corner of her mind.

    She turned her eyes to the sun, closed them, let the heat warm her skin. For now, the air was clear, the countryside was still.

    They came to a high place that looked down on the little town. It seemed almost like a painting then, with its thatched roofs and little curls of smoke twining into the air. A waft of autumn leaves spiralled lazily on the breeze.

    Goodbye, Agrafell, she thought. May the wind forever be at your back.

 Auric - One for Thinking

    Chains. So, it was chains again. It had been over two decades since he was last in chains, since before the war, if he remembered rightly. When he was young, before Yulian had seen the potential in him, had taken him out of the labour camps, conscripted him into the royal army. But here he was again, where he belonged, he supposed.

    They had trekked south out of Brunholm, always south, over the windswept hills and expansive plains of the middle lands, towards Whitehall, where Auric and the other prisoner would presumably receive their judgement.

    He found he didn''t think on it much, being judged. He had judged himself long ago, after all, and there was no question of his guilt. It was freeing, ironically, having his freedom taken away. Now he didn''t have to worry about what the next day would bring, what new regrets, what new nightmares would pop up in the dead of night. Mostly, what he couldn''t take his mind off was the way the girl, Liandra, had touched Mouse, and how he had just gotten better afterwards. The girl''s mother had been quick to change the subject, to deflect attention away, but it was clear there was more to the girl than met the eye. There was something unnatural about her.

    By sundown, Auric''s stomach was grinding like a bag of rocks. He tried to ignore it the best he could, focused on the clear smell of the air, the gentle breeze washing over the long grass. They made camp in a little wood, a few hundred strides off the road, where they set a fire and put on a pot of water for stew. Auric ate heartily. No sense in letting food go to waste, guilt be damned.

    After dinner, the captain lashed the prisoners around a thick oak, left them to sleep with their backs against either side of the trunk. Once the captain had left earshot, the other prisoner spoke up.

    ''My name''s Stroud, by the way,'' he said. He had the thick accent of a northerner. Auric couldn''t help but think it suited his bullish physique perfectly.

    ''I don''t care what your name is. Don''t rightly care what you have to say, either.''

    Stroud scoffed. ''Well, that''s fine. But that won''t stop me from saying it, and it won''t stop your ears from hearin'' it. You can call me fuckhead if it makes you feel any better. I wouldn''t give a damn. But what I do give a damn about is getting out of these chains.'' Stroud gave the chains a little tug. They tightened about Auric''s chest.

    Auric ignored him, tilted his head up, watched the speckling of leaves move back and forth in front of the stars.

    ''Did you hear me?'' Stroud said, leaning around the base of the tree as best he could.

    ''Aye, I heard ya. But I''m not helping you escape.''

    ''In case you haven''t noticed,'' Stroud said, his voice rising ever so slightly, ''we''re in this together. If one of us escapes, both of us escape.''

    ''No,'' Auric said, his voice flat. ''If I escape, I''m leaving you behind. Not that I plan on escaping, anyway.''

    ''Eh? You just gonna let them march you to a hangin''? Or you think they''ll just let you go? Didn''t I hear them say you were responsible for the deaths of thousands?''

    Auric took a long breath, listened to the sound of the woods, the rustling leaves, birds twittering in their nests. ''I suppose so. I deserve death for what I''ve done.''

    ''That''s grand for you, but I don''t''

    ''Why not? What did you do?''

    Stroud sighed from the other side of the tree. ''It doesn''t matter what I did.''

    ''It does if I''m deciding whether you''re worthy of living or not.''

    Stroud was silent for a breath. ''If I tell you what I did, you won''t help me escape.''

    Auric grinned in the dark. ''That bad, huh?''

    ''It''s¡­complicated.''

    ''Try me.''

    ''I killed some people, okay.''

    ''That''s not complicated. You deserve to die.''

    Stroud''s voice took on a note of exasperation. ''What''s it like, living in a faerie world of black and white morality? Cause for us adults, things aren''t so simple. Sometimes, good people kill bad people. Isn''t that the whole point of an execution?''

    ''Is that what you did, is it? Kill bad people?''

    ''As a matter of fact, yes. The people I killed were bad people, very bad, the kind of people who hurt children for their own pleasure. Only, my rotten luck was that the people I killed happened to be distant relatives of the imperial family. I didn''t find that part out until it was too late. Hence, the price on my head.''

    Auric ran his tongue over his teeth, sucked at them, contemplating. ''The real question is, would you still have done it if you''d known?''

    There was a long pause, then a sigh. ''Probably.''

    ''Hmm. Well, if I believed your story, and I''m not saying I do, it would change things.''

    ''So you''ll help me?''

    Auric took his own pause. ''Maybe. Not sure how I''d manage that, anyway. It''s not like I''ve got a spare key.''

    Stroud leaned around the tree farther, lowered his voice. ''The way I look at it, with the two of us, if we pick our moment right, we should be able to overwhelm those two young idiots. I thought about trying it myself a few times, but now that it''s you and me, I think we might be able to do something. Sounds like you can handle yourself in a fight.''

    Auric considered that. ''Once upon a time, maybe.''

    ''I''d wager you still got the fire in ya. You don''t have the look of a man who puts down the sword and just forgets how to use it. Ever have days when it just feels like your hand''s missing something?''

    Indeed, Auric had many days like that, though recently, it was more often the lack of a bottle that made his hand feel empty, rather than a sword grip. He worked his tongue around the inside of his mouth. He was quiet for a good while.

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    ''You still with me, old man?'' Stroud mumbled.

    Auric pressed his head against the trunk of the tree, wiggled his back, tried to get himself somewhat comfortable. ''You make your decisions. Maybe I''ll help you, maybe I won''t. Can''t say I know which way it''ll go myself.''

    ''Well, that''s hardly reassuring,'' Stroud scoffed.

    Auric shrugged, despite the darkness. ''You''re a prisoner. I would''ve thought you''d take what you can get.''

    *

    The next day, Auric woke with a bend in his spine and a crick in his neck. It took nearly an hour of walking before he managed to work the stiffness out. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Stroud, then, but not enough to believe his story. He had seen men face down their demise before, in the war, and before when he was a boy trying to survive on the street. In his experience, most would say anything they could, would tell you the sky was green, if they thought it would save them. Perhaps Stroud was the true exception, but in life, you had to play the odds. Sad to think they fell on the side of the liars.

    The day wore on, grey and imposing, until the road took a turn to the west, and wound into spiny hills scattered with mossy boulders. They trekked upwards, the pebbled road crunching underfoot. Most of the travellers spoke little. The woman¡ªLiandra''s mother, Alessa¡ªseemed suspicious of Auric and the others, perhaps not the bumbling priest so much, and she seemed to have some connection with the captain. Of course, she had to be suspicious. Times were, it was hard travelling with children before the war. Now that there was such unrest, people constantly on the move looking to make an easy profit, soldiers everywhere, Auric had to imagine travelling with a young girl was a test of anyone''s nerve.

    Near midday, they came into a steep ravine. High, crumbling walls of jagged, brown rock rose on either side of them, and stretched ahead for hundreds of paces. As they walked, the priest hummed a repetitive tune, a hymn, presumably. Auric hadn''t been able to make much of the man, with his balding head and his beady, darting, yet unseeing eyes. He suspected there wasn''t much to make in the first place.

    ''Would you kindly shut the fuck up?'' Stroud said, after perhaps an hour of Fairwell''s obnoxious humming.

    ''Cut that out,'' the captain said. He turned and shoved Stroud in the shoulder.

    Everyone stopped, turned to the commotion, Fairwell last of all, with a look like he had just awoken from the deepest sleep of his life.

    He raised his eyebrows, put a finger to his chest. ''I''m sorry. Do you mean me?'' the priest said in his mousy, little voice.

    ''Of course, I mean you. If you don''t stop humming, I''m gonna find a way to hang myself with these chains.'' Stroud rattled the length of chain between him and the captain.

    ''Like hell, you will,'' the captain said. ''I mean to see you judged first. And you''re worth more to us alive.''

    ''Does it not drive you mad?'' Stroud shook his head at the captain, looked to the others. ''Does it not drive all of you mad, his incessant noises, his head flapping about like a bird?''

    Fairwell''s brow creased, and he looked about at the others, frowning. Indeed, his head did move like a bird''s. Why that would bother anyone, Auric had no clue. But then again, he wasn''t sure it did exactly bother Stroud.

    ''No one cares,'' the captain continued. ''Now shut your hole before I have to shove a sock in it. Again.''

    ''What, this sock?'' And Stroud hooked the heel of his boot against the toe of the other and pulled his foot out, waved around a well-worn, thinly stretched sock.

    Now, Auric was sure Stroud didn''t give a damn about the priest''s humming.

    The captain shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. ''There''s something wrong with you. I should make you walk on that sock, if it wouldn''t slow us down so much. Beecham, help him get his boot back on.''

    The soldier with the cleft chin ambled up to Stroud, bent down and grabbed the big man''s boot.

    Auric shot Stroud a look, shook his head, near imperceptible. Stroud looked back, stretched his neck out, one way then the other, gave the barest hint of a grin. He let Beecham put his foot back in the boot and tighten the laces. Soon as he did, Stroud tugged on the chain, twisted his body, pulling with all the weight the big man had behind him. The captain lifted off his feet, shot down towards the ground, lost his grip on the chain. Auric was nearly thrown down himself, but he adjusted his footing, moved with Stroud, as best he could.

    Beecham barely had enough time to blink before the chain was around his neck and Stroud had him on his feet, had him locked in his big arms like a shield. Stroud stepped away from the others, and Auric had no choice but to follow.

    Slow realisation dawned on the others. Their faces turned to shock. McJames drew his sword, had the tip pointed towards Beecham and Stroud, that bloody rag still jammed up his nose.

    ''Get me the fucking key now, or this boy gets strangled,'' Stroud said through gritted teeth.

    The captain got up from the ground, brushed dirt off his uniform, held his hands out for calm from the others. Liandra and her mother backed away to the other side of the ravine. The girl''s mouth hung open, quivering. Her eyes brimmed with tears. The priest seemed more interested in the top of the ravine than what was going on in the bottom of it.

    The captain stared at Stroud for half a dozen heartbeats, his jaw set. ''Then what?'' he said.

    ''Fuck you,'' spat Stroud. ''I don''t deserve to die. Get me that fucking key.''

    Auric simply went with the tide, not that he had much choice in the matter, helping neither side, impartial. It felt good to be impartial for once. No choices, no responsibility.

    ''Move out the way, Beecham,'' said McJames, the tip of his dull-grey sword wavering about. ''I''ll stick him.''

    ''Put that thing down, before you hurt yourself,'' the captain said.

    ''I can get him.''

    The captain reached out, slapped the sword from McJames''s hand. It fell to the ground, steel ringing.

    ''You''re not doing nothing,'' the captain shouted, pointing a finger at McJames, ''and you,'' he moved the finger to Stroud, ''are going to Whitehall, where you''ll be tried for your crimes, I''ll get paid, and you''ll get executed.''

    Stroud grimaced. His teeth ground together. This didn''t seem to be going the way he had hoped. He jerked the chains around Beecham''s neck. The young soldier let out a strangled yelp. ''I''m not fucking kidding. I''ll strangle this lad.''

    The captain took a step forward, spoke slowly. ''And then what? You and the war criminal gonna run off, all chained together like? Doubt you could outrun me and McJames. Doubt your friend there even wants to run.'' The captain nodded towards Auric, took another step forward. ''You''re a big man, Stroud, strong man, no one denies that. But you''re not one for thinking, are ya?'' The captain tapped rapidly at his head. ''C''mon, let the boy go before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.''

    Now Stroud was positively seething. The captain wasn''t wrong, and the big prisoner was starting to realise it. If he strangled Beecham, he would lose the only leverage he had. If he didn''t strangle Beecham, well then he wasn''t going anywhere except straight to the noose.

    ''Fuck,'' Stroud shouted, his voice echoing through the ravine. But he didn''t let Beecham go.

    The captain looked towards the sky for a moment. ''Strangle him or not, I really don''t care. But make a choice. We''re losing light.''

    Stroud stood there, frozen in indecision. He shot a glance at Auric. ''We''re in this together.''

    Auric shrugged. ''There''s nothing I can do.''

    A cloud passed in front of the sun, and the light at the bottom of the ravine dimmed. A chill wind passed through. Auric shivered, looked down at his hands. The shakes again.

    ''There''s something up there,'' Fairwell muttered.

    ''Keep him quiet, Alessa,'' the Captain muttered over his shoulder.

    ''But something moved up there.'' The father still had his eyes turned to the top of the ravine.

    Liandra let out a piercing scream as the darkness deepened, now deeper than any darkness from a passing cloud, darker than it should have been for the time of day. Auric looked up to the lip of the ravine. Something akin to a shadow flickered across his vision, little more than a blur. It sent a chill down his spine. He looked down at McJames''s sword, still on the ground.

    ''What are you doing?'' Stroud said, turning his eye to Liandra. ''Shut that witch up, right now.''

    Auric didn''t think Liandra was doing anything. Alessa had her in her arms, was trying to quiet her.

    ''No,'' Alessa murmured. She looked up at the captain, her eyes watery. ''He wouldn''t.''

    The captain flicked his gaze over to the woman, then back to Stroud. It was becoming hard to see in the deepening gloom. ''What''s happening Alessa? Tell me what this is.''

    Liandra''s scream settled to a whimper. Alessa cradled her head in her arms. ''He wouldn''t,'' she said again, defeat in her voice.

    ''Who? Who wouldn''t?''

    Alessa looked at the captain. Tears spilled down her cheeks. ''Vallendred. He found us.''

 Liandra - Shadows

    Pain. Pain lanced through her head like fire. It was all around her, emanating from the top of the ravine. She fell to her knees, squeezed her head in her hands, couldn''t stop herself from letting out a scream. Mother grabbed her, wrapped her in her arms.

    ''Don''t let it in,'' Mother whispered in her ear. Her eyes and cheeks were wet with tears. ''You can keep it out. Close yourself. Keep yourself here. This is your anchor.'' Mother put her hand on Liandra''s chest, held it there for a moment, calming.

    Liandra slowed her breathing, felt the pain ease. Her scream faded away, left her murmuring in her mother''s lap.

    She had never felt anything like it before. Whatever was at the top of the ravine, whatever Liandra was feeding off, it lived in pure, all-encompassing pain.

    ''Get it away,'' Liandra spluttered. ''Please, Mother, make it go.''

    ''Oh, darling,'' was all Mother could say.

    ''What do you mean Vallendred?'' the captain asked. Liandra could just comprehend his words through the throbbing in her head.

    ''It doesn''t matter now,'' Mother said. She sniffed, wiped at her eyes. ''We need to run. We heed to get away from here.''

    Mother took Liandra in her arms. Liandra pressed her head into her shoulder. She could feel mothers fear. It stung like needles jammed into her skull.

    ''What are those things?'' Auric growled. He didn''t seem to be asking anyone in particular.

    ''We have to go, Arlon,'' Mother said. She looked at Stroud. ''We have to go. None of this will matter if those things get to us.''

    The captain drew his sword, pointed it at Stroud. ''Situation has changed. Let him go and I won''t run you through right now.''

    Stroud looked up at the blurry shapes at the top of the ravine. He sneered like a cornered wolf.

    In Liandra''s mind, they felt like shadows, dark blemishes of malice and slaughter. They lived to kill, hungered for it. That much was clear.

    ''Fine,'' Stroud said. ''But I''m holding on to this.'' He reached down to Beecham''s scabbard, pulled the sword out, unwound the chain from his neck and kicked the soldier away. Beecham fell to his knees, clutched at his throat, gasping. McJames picked his own sword from the ground and helped Beecham to his feet.

    ''Just make sure you use it on them,'' the captain said, gesturing up to the lip of the ravine.

    ''Unlock us and I might be able to.''

    The captain considered, looked to Mother.

    ''Do it,'' Mother said. She turned to Stroud. ''We must work together. If you cannot escape them, it will not matter if you escape your crimes.''

    The captain pulled out the key, unlocked the prisoners. ''I hope you listen to her,'' he said, as the shackles fell to the ground.

    The shadows were moving now, climbing down the side of the ravine. Liandra could feel their pain drawing closer, could feel their murderous excitement grow. The throbbing in her head intensified. If she focused on the now, really centred herself, she could limit the amount of feeling coming in. Still, it was worse than anything she had ever experienced.

    ''Let''s go. Behind me,'' the captain said.

    They jogged off, all of them, deeper into the ravine, through the unnatural darkness falling on them like mist, not knowing where they were going or what they were running from. The captain led the way, and the prisoners ran at the back. Father Fairwell''s muttering had progressed into prayers that begged for mercy, for divine deliverance from evil.

    Liandra jolted against Mother''s shoulder as she carried her. The ground grew rockier, tilted upwards as the top of the ravine came down. They came to the edge where the ravine narrowed into a slope leading to the top.

    The pain flared again, and they all came to a juddering halt. Liandra ground her teeth to keep from screaming once more.

    ''What is it? Why have we stopped?'' Mother said.

    ''One of those things,'' the captain said, ''it''s up ahead. I can barely see it, but it''s there, blocking the way.''

    Liandra didn''t need to see it. She could feel it. She managed to block most of the pain, but she still sensed its origin; a squat form, spread out on many legs like a bug, but the size of two or three men.

    ''I think it''s coming at us,'' the captain said. He waved his sword in front of his body, slicing at the air. ''Stay back, or get cut.''

    Stroud pushed his way through the group to stand beside the captain. ''What the fuck is that? It moves, even when it''s still. It''s like staring into the sun, but¡­the opposite, dark.''

    Mother looked back over her shoulder, back the way they had come. ''No,'' Liandra said quietly. ''I can feel them back there too. They''re coming closer.''

    ''You have to kill it,'' Mother said, turning once more to the captain. ''It''s the only way to get out of here.''

    ''How?'' the captain said.

    ''They still bleed, like anything else.''

    ''Alright.'' There was a waver to the captain''s voice. ''Everyone behind me. Boys, I need you to watch my back. If it gets me, just make sure you get it.''

    The two young soldiers nodded nervously. They were afraid, unconfident. The only calm she sensed came from the old man, Auric. She focused on it, drew from it, and looked at him. He stood there, staring towards the slope, a look of concentration on his face.

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    ''You''re not afraid,'' she said with realisation.

    ''No,'' Auric said in his low gruff voice. ''I can see it.''

    Confused, Liandra turned. And there it was, creeping down the slope towards the captain, its six, spiny legs spread wide. Its oddly human torso curved up from its insect body. Two limbs stuck out from a spidery face, shorter than each of its legs. They ended in razor sharp claws, hooked and serrated, long as Liandra''s arms. She wasn''t sure why she could see it all of a sudden, but she knew by the way the others glanced around they still couldn''t.

    ''It''s there.'' Liandra pointed to the creature on the ramp. ''It''s coming.''

    The captain stepped forward, lifted his sword high, brought it down in a wide arc. And hit nothing. The creature didn''t even move, didn''t have to. It simply lashed out with its two claws, quick as a moth''s wing. Cloth tore, skin ripped. The captain let out a surprised sound, spun where he stood. His uniform had ripped at the stomach, blood gushed down his waist and legs. Then, with a wet sound, a mass of red tubes fell to the dirt, still connected to the captain''s insides. He spat blood as he fell to his knees. The creature''s face limbs lashed out again, and the captain''s head rolled off his shoulders, fell to the ground next to his guts.

    The others gasped. Liandra''s throat nearly closed up. It was the smell, the coppery smell of blood mixed with the foulness of the captain''s spilled bowels. She dry-heaved, turned her head away from Mother.

    ''What the fuck?'' McJames shrieked. To him, it must have simply looked like a blur, and the captain was in pieces. ''What the fuck? What the fuck?''

    Beecham let out an odd little groan, turned back the way they had come and ran.

    ''Don''t,'' Liandra called after him. ''There''s more back there.''

    The young soldier paid her little mind, not stopping to look behind as he dashed back into the ravine, leaving nothing but a terrified wail.

    ''The captain''s dead. What do we do? The captain''s dead. What do we do?'' McJames repeated. He had his hands up by his head, sword-grip pressed against his temple. Liandra wasn''t sure he knew his friend had even run off.

    ''Keep your sword in front of you, man,'' Stroud said. ''A''fore you stab me.''

    Liandra looked about herself. Panic had set in. Fairwell was on his knees in the dirt, palms pressed together and eyes closed in prayer. Even Mother was projecting dismay and sadness. She thought they were all going to die, Liandra knew. None of them had any hope.

    She tapped into Auric''s calm, once more. The old man wasn''t sickened by the captain''s corpse either, had probably seen much worse, so she fed off of that too. With her emotions centred, she wriggled from Mother''s arms, and dashed for the captain''s sword.

    ''Liandra, no,'' Mother called out, reaching to grab her by the hem of her travel clothes. ''Don''t,'' she said, but Liandra was already moving.

    ''I can see it. I can do something.'' She wasn''t sure what, but anything was better than watching that thing slice through them all.

    ''You can''t,'' Mother said.

    Liandra ignored her. So often she had followed Mother''s every order, her every rule, and she had been right to. Mother did know what was best, most of the time. But not now. Now it was fight or die.

    She ran over to the captain''s sword, tried to ignore the bleeding mass on the ground. She picked it up, the grip at least. The tip wouldn''t come away from the ground. She added her other hand and heaved the blade up. It wobbled in her hands, like when a street performer balanced a broom on their forehead.

    ''Don''t be stupid, girl,'' Stroud said. ''You''re going to get yourself killed.'' He didn''t try and stop her, though, just watched as he had before, flicking his head around, squinting at the thing in front of them.

    Liandra didn''t answer, just took a deep breath, stepped forward, tried to aim the point of the sword at the creature''s chest. She stepped forward, ready to thrust. Something stopped her, pulled at her shoulder. It was a hand. Auric''s hand. He pushed Liandra back towards the others, and she saw that he had a sword of his own in his hand, and McJames no longer did.

    Auric didn''t look back, just stepped towards the creature, the sword held out straight at his side. Again the creature''s face limbs lashed out, but Auric tilted back, nimble for an older man. The razor claws must have missed his face by a hair''s breadth. He brought the sword across his front, then slashed it past the creature''s head. It''s face limbs fell away, the stumps squirting green blood, and the thing let out a hideous shriek, like steel scraping against steel. Liandra covered her ears, as did the others, but the sound wormed its way inside her mind.

    Auric brought the sword back to his hip, then rammed it forward into the creature''s odd, curved chest. He buried the blade near up to the hilt, and a moment later, the shrieking stopped. The thing collapsed into a pile on the ground. Auric put his boot on it, and wrenched the sword back out. It was covered in the same green blood that had come out of its face-limbs.

    ''Is it dead?'' Stroud said. ''Did you fuckin'' kill it?''

    Auric wiped the blade against the thing''s body. ''It bleeds, just like anything else.''

    ''Let''s get the fuck out of here,'' McJames said, wiping tears from his face and stepping towards the exit to the ravine.

    Auric put a hand on his chest, stopped him in his tracks. ''What about your friend?''

    McJames slapped his hand away. ''Fuck him. I''m not going back there if there''s more of those things. He made his choice.''

    Auric grunted, but let the young soldier pass.

    ''Get the captain''s medallion,'' Mother said. ''We might need it still.''

    ''Right.''

    McJames reached down to the captain''s lifeless torso, reached under his shirt with a grimace. ''Sorry sir.'' He stood back up, Vallendred''s medallion hanging from his fist. ''I don''t know about you lot, but I''m not sticking around to wait for another of those things to come around the corner.''

    ''He''s right,'' Mother said. ''We should go.''

    ''You don''t need to convince me,'' Stroud said, climbing up to the edge of the ravine.

    Auric turned to him as he passed. ''Keep them safe.''

    ''Why? What are you doing?''

    ''Someone has to go back for the other lad.''

    Stroud frowned. ''No, they don''t. They really don''t. Especially not you. He''s probably already dead, as you will be if you go back there.''

    Auric sniffed. ''Maybe. Still feel like I have to try.''

    Auric walked over to Liandra, took the sword still dangling in her hands, then gave McJames his own back. ''Get them somewhere safe. I guess you''re ranking officer now.''

    ''You''re not serious. How am I supposed to fight those things? I can barely see them.''

    Auric was already walking back into the ravine. ''If you go now, hopefully you won''t have to.''

    Liandra reached out, grabbed Auric as he passed. ''Listen for me, if you can''t find us. I''ll be calling.''

    Auric nodded. ''I won''t be far behind.'' And he stomped off.

    Mother had her hand again, was pulling her up out of the ravine. They followed Stroud, McJames and Fairwell onto the grasslands once again. It was then that she noticed how remarkably calm the priest was. Throughout the terror, he had simply prayed. She supposed his faith really was powerful.

    They ran, Liandra keeping up as best she could. The path to Whitehall wound up and down, over the plains and through little woods. After a little while, the unnatural darkness faded away, and the sun shone through patchy skies. They stopped in the woods near a stream that ran over the path, and caught their breath.

    ''Does that mean we''ve outrun ''em?'' McJames said, panting with hands on knees, looking up towards skies returned to normal.

    ''I wouldn''t count on it,'' Stroud said. ''But maybe. Ask her.'' Stroud tilted his head at Mother. ''She knows something about them. Back in that gully, you said it were Vallendred, said he had found you. What was that all about?''

    ''Not now. I''ll tell you what I know, but we need to get somewhere safe first.''

    ''Excuse me,'' Fairwell said.

    They all turned towards the priest.

    ''Is that a house down there?'' He pointed down the stream to where it widened. A couple hundred metres from where they stood it looked as if someone had built a cabin on the water bank.

    ''As good a place as any,'' Stroud said, beckoning the others to follow. ''Let''s go see if anyone''s home.''

 Auric - Supposed to Hate

    He found Beecham crawling on his back, another one of the creatures looming over the lad. Its facial limbs stretched out, jointed in three different places, like a mantis, ready to stab into his gut. They moved slowly, precisely, didn''t seem to fear anything. Auric supposed they were used to being invisible, relied on it too much. He stepped up to the thing, sliced off one of its claws, then the other. It screamed, just like the first one had killed. Then, it reared up, green blood spurting from the severed ends of its arms. Auric brought the blade across its abdomen, sliced out its guts. Blood splashed onto Beecham''s cheeks. He screamed. Auric looked down. The boy''s skin melted off his face, steaming as it lifted from the skin underneath, bubbled like a pot of milk on a stove.

    ''It burns. Get it off. Get it off.'' He tried to wipe the blood from his face with his hands, only succeeded in spreading it round. Then he was staring at his hands as the skin on his palms sizzled too.

    ''Wipe it on the ground, man,'' Auric said. ''Don''t get on your skin.''

    The boy rolled over in the dirt, pressed his face into it, moved his hands about, grabbing big fistfuls of dirt and stones, moaning like a dying animal.

    Auric looked at the blade in his hand with a frown. Green blood dripped from the tip, but the metal was unblemished. He tore a piece of cloth from his shirt, and wiped the blade down, careful not to let any of the stuff touch his skin. Same as the steel, the cloth didn''t melt away.

    Auric stepped over to the boy, leaned down with the cloth in hand. The boy still thrashed about in the dirt. ''Hold still.'' The boy didn''t listen. ''Hold bloody still, so I can get it off.''

    Beecham rolled onto his back. His teeth ground together in pain. Auric wiped the blood from Beecham''s face and hands best he could, taking the time to scrape the green stuff onto the ground.

    ''It still burns,'' Beecham said, his face screwed up in pain. The boy''s skin had swollen to a lumpy, pink-and-red mass, streaked with blood and yellow pus. His bloodshot eyes sank into a mound of puffy flesh.

    ''Aye, that it will.'' Auric reached for Beecham''s canteen, popped the top and tipped water over the boy''s blistered skin. ''This''ll help ease the pain.''

    The boy winced as Auric poured the water over his wounds. Beecham sputtered, then hyperventilated. Slowly, his breathing eased as the burning blood washed away, as the water cooled his skin. He sat up, pressed his back against the wall of the ravine, quivered and winced as he worked through the pain.

    Auric knelt down in front of him, took a brief look about for more of the monsters. The unnatural darkness still hung over the ravine, but there was no movement around them. ''You shouldn''t have run off like that,'' Auric said.

    ''I know that now.'' The boy spluttered. Water dribbled from his mouth. Thin blood dripped from his skin. ''Didn''t think you''d be able to fight them, did I? How was I supposed to know?''

    Auric shrugged. ''You weren''t. I didn''t know myself. Still would have been safer as a group.''

    ''I''ll keep that in mind for the next time a shadow slices my commanding officer in half.''

    ''Can you walk? We have to move before another of those things comes down on top of us.''

    ''I think so.''

    ''Then to your feet soldier.'' Auric reached out, took Beecham by the arms.

    He dragged Beecham to his feet, and they shuffled back to the end of the ravine, one of Beecham''s arms lifted over Auric''s shoulder. Auric had no scabbard, so he walked with the sword drawn, held out to his side, eyes searching above. Suited him fine. He might have need for it again before the day was out.

    They came to the end of the ravine. The captain''s body lay on the slope. His head had rolled to the bottom, eye''s mercifully downward. Where his torso lay, blood had soaked the dirt, turning it to stinking, dark red mud.

    ''We should bury him,'' Beecham said, as they shuffled past.

    ''No time.''

    ''We can''t just leave him there.''

    ''No choice.''

    ''Wouldn''t you want to be buried, if it were you?''

    Auric stopped, looked Beecham in the eye. ''Leave him. Those things are going to come back. If it were me, I''d be dead, and I wouldn''t care.''

    Beecham looked down, winced again. ''You''re right.''

    They climbed the slope, and back onto the road to Whitehall. They made slow time, following the path over gentle, green hills, and eventually, into a small wood. The strange darkness lifted, revealing a blazing orange sunset, dotted with the evening''s first stars.

    They stopped to catch their breath. Auric set Beecham down at the base of a gnarled tree, and shivered as a blast of autumn air cut through the woods. He set down the captain''s sword, and rubbed at his wrists. It had only been a couple days in the shackles, but it didn''t take long for them to chafe. Felt good to be able to itch the skin again.

    ''I should thank you, I suppose,'' Beecham said. The fading light hid most of the damage to his face, but Auric could tell his jaw was clenched. He sounded like how someone spoke when they had a tooth needed coming out. ''You didn''t have to come back for me.''

    ''No, I didn''t.''

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    ''Why did you, then? You were out of your chains. Could''ve just run off. I wouldn''t''ve thought that you liked me all that much.''

    ''Can''t say that I do, lad. But then again, I don''t know you very well. You''re young, and I ain''t really got anywhere to run off to.''

    ''Is that it, then? You saved me ''cause I''m young?''

    ''The young deserve the chance to make their mistakes, to learn from them. Perhaps if you do, you can make a better go of it than I did, can help us climb our way out of this God''s-forsaken shit fest, where all we care about is fighting and killing one another.''

    ''I got more that I care about ''n just that. In fact, can''t say I care all that much for fighting, for hurting people.''

    ''Then why are you a soldier?''

    Beecham shrugged. ''I got no other skills. Nobody ever taught me nothing. And Vallendred pays a fair wage. Didn''t see many other choices, did it? Besides, I got people, people I care about, who are depending on me to bring ''em home a wage.''

    Auric sat down in the grass across from Beecham, shrugged his collar up around his neck. He could see the lad liked to talk, and it was taking his mind off the pain.

    ''Back home, you mean?''

    ''That''s right.'' A touch of pride entered Beecham''s voice. ''Got me a wife and daughter back home. Might even get to see them again, thanks to you.''

    Indeed, it was a surprise. It was hard to see the young man, who had been an accomplice in McJames'' torment of Stroud, as a family man. But then, it wouldn''t be the first time he had seen good men do cruel things, either at the encouragement of others or simply in the face of the horrors of war. Sometimes, men just went a bit funny when you strapped a sword to their hip. He knew from experience.

    ''Seem a bit young to be a father, to me.''

    ''Oh, I ain''t arguing that. But like I said, nobody ever taught me nothin''. Hard to believe, maybe, but that includes what happens when you put your thing in a woman''s thing. Don''t regret it, though. My daughter''s the best thing that''s ever happened to me. Don''t like to think about what I''d do to someone who hurt her.''

    ''What''s her name?''

    ''Ezer. Named her after my grandmother. She had more of a hand in raising me than my parents ever did.''

    ''That''s a nice name. I hope you get to see your family again.''

    ''They''re what I''m doin'' it for, why I''m all the way up here in Nothstrum.'' Beecham''s eyes went up. He sniffed. Auric suspected it wasn''t simply from the cold. ''Why I took the captain up on his bloody offer in the first place. It was supposed to be an easy delivery, and a hefty bonus. Escort a wanted man, a woman, a girl, and a priest. Now that I say it like that, I should have known it was gonna be trouble. We''ll be lucky if we even make it to Whitehall now.''

    Auric didn''t have much to say to that, didn''t feel much like lying either. So, he simply left the awful truth unsaid.

    ''They call you the Blackhand, don''t they?'' Beecham said.

    Auric sighed. It was always only a matter of time before someone asked. ''They do.''

    ''Captain said you were a war criminal, said Vallendred would pay for your head.''

    When Beecham didn''t continue, Auric said, ''You got a question in there?''

    ''I suppose I just wonder what it all means. Must take quite a lot for Vallendred to know who you are. And you don''t look like a criminal to me.''

    Auric plucked at the grass, threw a handful of it away. ''War makes criminals of us all, boy. Makes us lawless savages.''

    ''Is that what you are, a savage?''

    ''I''ve done savage things. Burned a whole city of innocent people. Thought I was doing the right thing at the time. Didn''t want to do it. But they were my orders.'' Auric looked down at his hands, was surprised to see them still, realised he hadn''t thought about the drink in a few days. ''Made myself watch as the people burned alive, as their skin turned to ash. Their deaths, their pain, that''s on my hands, along with a lot else.''

    ''Black hands,'' Beecham said, after a pause.

    ''Black hands,'' Auric agreed.

    Around them, the sounds of the night came alive. Bugs chirped, birds screeched and the black winds howled. Above, the stars twinkled through moonlit leaves. Wisps of grey cloud spattered the darkened sky. Despite the night''s beauty, it was starting to get cold, and there was little shelter to be had. The sooner they found the others, the better.

    ''I think there''s more to it, if I can be honest with ya.''

    Auric hadn''t really been listening. He turned his attention back to Beecham. ''More to what?''

    ''To what you said about coming back for me. I don''t think you''d do that for the sake of it alone. Not after the way the captain and us treated you.''

    Auric ripped up some more grass, threw it into the darkness. ''Take no offence when I say I don''t care what you think.''

    Beecham let out an ironic chuckle, a strange sight given the state of him. ''Do ya? You don''t care what anyone thinks, that I don''t doubt. Maybe you did come back for me, and of course I''m glad you did, but I think, maybe, you also came back cause you knew there''d be more of those things. Maybe you came back more for them than you did for me.''

    Auric didn''t like the taste of that. Had too much of the bitter truth to it. God''s knew it had been reckless, going back into that ravine, knew he''d been reckless. It had been a long time since he''d looked after himself properly, had been a long time since he had felt he deserved it. Was it true? Had he wanted the violence, or worse, the danger?

    ''I know who I am, son. If you want to thank me for saving you back there, spare me the analysis.''

    ''Fair enough. Can you do me one more thing, though, a simple thing?''

    Auric sighed. ''Sure.''

    ''Can you tell me how bad it is? Honestly?'' Beecham held up his burnt hands, waved them at his face. It looked like he was wearing thick gloves now.

    Auric cocked his head, frowned. The boy''s face would never be the same. Probably he''d have a hideous lump of weeping scars where his cheeks used to be. ''It''s pretty bad.''

    ''Oh.''

    They rested in silence for a while. The night settled into a gentleness, unbroken but for the sighing of the trees, and the occasional hooting of an owl. Auric turned his ear to a different sort of sound, one he knew wasn''t really a sound at all. Somewhere, Liandra was calling out to him, with that mysterious power of hers. He felt foolish, despite all the madness he had seen in the last few days, like a farmer bowing to the moon in the hopes of a bountiful crop. But something was there in his mind, more a feeling than anything else, a beckoning. Something pulling him to the northwest, like an iron bar drawn to a lodestone. He didn''t quite understand it, but he knew it was Liandra''s doing.

    ''We should keep moving. I know where the others are.''

    Beecham gave him a puzzled look. ''The girl?''

    Auric nodded. ''The girl.''

    Auric helped Beecham back to his feet, lifted the lad''s arm back over his shoulder. ''How''s the pain?''

    ''Better. It''s better.''

    They shuffled off towards the pulling feeling, picking their way through the trees, the deadfall, the autumn leaves rotting on the ground. It was a peaceful night, clear and beautiful. It was a night for more deserving men.

    ''There really is something about her, isn''t there?'' Beecham said as they walked. ''I always knew she was odd. But the way she gets in people''s minds, that''s proper scary stuff, proper magic, that is.''

    ''Maybe. Can''t say as I ever believed in magic, don''t understand it. Yet I don''t have to understand a thing to know its effects, know it has a use in the world. She saved my dog, brought him back from the brink of oblivion, when she could have done nothing, probably should have done nothing. That''s worth something, even if it did land me in this God''s-awful mess.''

    ''You know, I''m supposed to hate you people. You''re the enemy, the ones who fought against my people for years. But she doesn''t, and I don''t think I do either? I think we might just be from different places.''

    ''My advice, try not to think about it too much.''

    Beecham scoffed. ''I suppose that won''t be too hard. No one''s accused me of thinking too much before.''

 Liandra - Only the Truth

    She felt them approach from a long way off. The energies, the feelings she knew were Beecham and Auric''s, drew slowly closer, through the imposing night.

    Liandra lay on the floor in the corner of the cabin, her head in mother''s lap. The room glowed in the gentle light of an oil lantern Fairwell had lit. Evidently, the building had been abandoned, long ago. Its current occupants had spun webs throughout the roofing, scattered dirt and muck about, and left the place with a musty smell. There was little in the way of furniture but a rotten dresser and a pair of uneven stools. Still, it was a roof and four walls, and served them well enough to keep the weather off their heads.

    Liandra sat up with a start. She could feel Auric and Beecham near. "They''re close," she said.

    Fairwell and McJames looked up from the stools. Stroud shot her a worried look. For the last few hours he had paced around the cabin, the sword he had taken from Beecham dangling from his hand.

    "Sorry," she said. "Auric and Beecham. They are close."

    Tension fell away from the others, and they returned to their quiet fatigue.

    "So Auric found him, then?" Stroud said.

    McJames looked like he was about to say something, but instead he simply puffed out his cheeks, blew out a slow breath. Seemed he might throw up at any moment. He''d been pallid since the captain had died.

    Liandra had surprised herself with her resilience, if that was the right way to think about it. It had been horrible watching the captain die. He was not a bad person, did not deserve what had happened to him. But she found she was able to push the vision of his death out of her mind, almost forget it. At least, she could when Auric was near. She found a lot she could borrow from the man, his stoicism, his fearlessness, but it came with a price. When she took from him, she also found self-hatred creeping in. She quickly realised the old man wasn''t necessarily free of fear because he was brave, rather he didn''t care what happened to himself, which brought with it its own kind of danger.

    There was a banging at the door. Stroud looked at her, his heavy brow drawn. She nodded, and he opened the door. Auric and Beecham stumbled in, the soldier leaning heavily on the older man. Stroud caught them, and together they laid Beecham on the floor. It was difficult to see in the dim light, but it looked as if Beecham''s face had been burned into a bubbled mess.

    "What happened to him?" Stroud said.

    "The blood that comes out of those creatures," Auric said, "don''t get it on you."

    "Glad we found that out." Stroud leaned over Beecham. "No offence, but better you than me."

    "Yeah, I know," Beecham said weakly.

    "Is he okay?" McJames said, then pressed the back of his hand against his mouth.

    "He''ll live, if that''s what you mean," Auric said.

    "Hmm. What a shame," Stroud paused a moment, then added, "No offence."

    Beecham only gave a dismissive groan.

    Auric turned to Fairwell. "Some damp cloths would ease his pain, Father."

    Fairwell stared blank for a moment, then climbed to his feet, looked around the cabin. "Right. I can take care of that."

    The priest fumbled about, reached into his pack, rummaged and pulled out a spare gown. He produced a little knife Liandra hadn''t known he had, and cut the gown into strips. He wet them with water from his canteen, and lay them across Beecham''s face. The young soldier winced, sucked air through his teeth, then slowly relaxed.

    "We need to decide what we do next," Stroud said, pulling attention away from Beecham''s plight, "how we''re gonna get away from those things."

    "We can''t do anything until the morning. It''s too dangerous to go out in the dark," Auric said.

    "Agreed. I can barely make out those things in the day. At night, I could be standing right in front of one and not know it. And what''s the meaning of that darkness they put out?"

    "We should be asking her," McJames said, pointing a finger at Mother.

    Heads turned. All the men except Beecham looked towards Liandra and Mother. There was suspicion in the air, suspicion, and fear. Even without Liandra''s gift, that was plain to see.

    "You do know something about those things, don''t you?" Auric said.

    Mother sighed, pushed herself straighter against the wall.

    "Yes."

    "No need to stand on ceremony. Out with it," Stroud said. He waved his sword around like a baton.

    "I think you can put that away." Auric gestured to the sword.

    "Fuck off," he scoffed. "I''m not putting this away until we''re far from those black fuckers."

    "There aren''t any around."

    "And how could you possibly know that?"

    "Because she isn''t screaming." He pointed across the cabin at Liandra.

    Stroud looked at her, then down to the sword. "You make a good point." He set the weapon against the wall. "But she better start talking." He cocked his head towards Mother.

    Mother sighed. "I will tell you what I know. We may not be alive without the aid of all of you, so I suppose I owe you that much. But there is one thing I would ask of you, prisoner."

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    Stroud scoffed once more, folded his arms. "And what is that?"

    "Please stop using that language in front of my daughter." She looked at Stroud, her eyes stern, her jaw set.

    "Fine," he said with a joyless smile. "Pretend you didn''t hear that, girl."

    Liandra said nothing, just stared at Stroud for a moment. The language didn''t bother her. She had heard it all by this point. But it mattered to Mother, and she wanted her to feel in control, sensed, right now, she needed to feel in control. Liandra met eyes with Mother, and gave her a quick smile.

    Mother smiled sadly back, then turned her gaze to the others. "I''m not sure where to start."

    "When those creatures ambushed us, you said Vallendred had found you," Auric said. "Why would Vallendred be looking for you?"

    "It''s¡­a long story."

    "We have time," Stroud said.

    Mother took a slow breath. "My daughter and I are more than just travellers. Three weeks ago, we fled the Imperial palace at Ossilia. We fled to save our lives. Vallendred asked something of me that I could not, would not, do, and I feared he would have us imprisoned. So, we fled, eventually found the captain, and paid him to escort us. He knew we had come from the palace, but did not know the circumstances in which we had left. I let him think we were still in Vallendred''s good graces."

    The others looked about the room. Liandra sensed surprise, though not a great deal. She and Mother obviously did not belong. They had been raised differently to the soldiers, the farmers, the peasants. Perhaps the others had guessed Liandra and Mother were of imperial royalty already, but they probably would not have guessed just how royal they were.

    "Why here?" Auric said. "Why come to Nothstrum?"

    "Whitehall. Baroun, the lord of the keep, is my half-brother. He will shelter us there. He will protect us. And we share a border. Nothstrum was perhaps the path of least resistance."

    Stroud eyed them both, chewed at his lip with an odd little grimace. "None of that tells us anything about those things that are after us. What the hell are they?"

    "They''re people," Mother said simply. "At least they were, once, before Vallendred''s scholars turned them into what you saw, turned them into monsters, weapons of war and murder for his ever-broadening crusades."

    "How does someone turn a man into one of them freaks?" McJames asked, suppressing more nausea.

    "I don''t know how it works. There are potions, there are rituals, there is¡­magic."

    "There is no such thing as magic," Father Fairwell said. "There is only faith."

    "And how do you explain what that girl can do, holy man?" Stroud said.

    "The vessel may take any form, but it still fills from the same source."

    "You think her a miracle?"

    Mother waved a hand. "It matters by what means they come to be. Those creatures are real, and they are after us. I suspect they have been searching since we left Ossilia. We have to get to Whitehall. We''ll be safe there."

    "Or, those things will follow us, and slaughter us there."

    "I understand your reticence, Stroud. You are still a prisoner. But if you help us with this, I will be able to vouch for you. I will speak to my brother, and advocate for your freedom."

    "I think I''ll worry about that if we actually get there."

    There was a break in the conversation. Liandra listened to the wind sighing through the trees outside. A light rain had begun, and it pattered dull against the cabin''s wood roof.

    "What about him?" Auric said, gesturing to the young soldier on the floor. Fairwell took the rags from his face, wrung them, and wet them fresh. "He needs medicine. His wounds may not be deep, but if infection sets in, he will surely perish before we reach Whitehall."

    As if to punctuate Auric''s words, Beecham groaned as Fairwell lay another strip of cloth across his face.

    "I do not know what we can do for him, other than to cross as much ground as fast as we can," Mother said.

    "He''s only going to slow us down," Stroud added. "Best we leave him here."

    "We''re not going to leave him behind," McJames said. "He''s my friend."

    "What are you going to do about it, kid?"

    McJames stood up from his stool. He stomped over to Stroud, threw a swing at him. Stroud caught him by the wrist, twisted it, and dragged him to the ground. Fairwell gasped. Liandra made to stand up, but mother put a hand on her shoulder, pulled her gently back to the floor.

    "You really think that was going to work?" Stroud spat, leaning over McJames.

    "Let him go," Auric said. Liandra sensed nothing but calm from the old soldier.

    "We''re not leaving him behind," McJames said, groaning as Stroud twisted his wrist.

    "I said, let him go." This time Auric stepped up to Stroud, put a hand on his chest, and pushed hard enough to shove the man across the room. Stroud stumbled, ended up with his back against the wall, frowning at Auric. He was surprised, Liandra realised, at just how strong Auric was.

    McJames scrambled to his feet, massaged his wrist with his other hand. "Everyone seems to be forgetting, this is a military escort, and I am now the ranking officer. I am the one who will make the decisions."

    Stroud laughed at that, one short exclamation. "You think you can make the decisions? You can barely make water without getting piss on your pants."

    "Well, maybe we''ll just decide to move your sentence up, and we can be rid of you now."

    "And might be I take you outside and string you up to a tree. Does that sound good to you?"

    "None of this is getting us anywhere," Auric said. "We all need to calm down." He raised his hands between Stroud and McJames. "We''re not leaving anyone behind, and we''re not executing anyone. I can see those abominations. Whatever it is they are, they don''t seem very intelligent. They move slow. I can keep everyone safe. We can make it to Whitehall."

    "How is it that you can see those things, anyway?" Stroud asked.

    Auric shrugged. "I don''t know."

    "I do." Liandra surprised herself with the words.

    The others turned to her, confusion in their eyes. Even Mother seemed to listen eagerly.

    ¡°Fear,¡± she explained. ¡°It¡¯s fear that gives those things their power. When we were first attacked, Auric was the only one of us who wasn¡¯t afraid.¡±

    Stroud looked as if he were about to protest, but held his tongue, remembering exactly who was accusing him of being afraid.

    ¡°We were all afraid, deathly afraid. I know. I was too. But not you.¡± Liandra looked at Auric. He looked back, his face placid. She waited for him to add something, to perhaps explain why he had stared into languid horror and felt nothing, but the grey-haired man only looked back. Perhaps he had not yet admitted it to himself. ¡°I borrowed from your strength, and I stared down my fear, pushed it back into the darkness. Only then did the beasts become clear to me.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s a theory,¡± Stroud said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t make much sense to me.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a better one?¡± Auric said.

    Stroud shrugged.

    ¡°I will do the best I can to help everyone overcome their fear, but I worry it will take a lot from me. There is only so much I can do without physical connection, and it will be difficult. You must help me, all of you, to put panic away, to banish terror from your minds, and face the darkness with a tranquil heart.¡±

    ¡°Easier said than done,¡± McJames said, standing and pacing over to a window. He stared into the night, unmoving.

    Silence passed through the cabin. Everyone took a moment to process what had been said. It was Auric who eventually posed the question Liandra had been dreading.

    ¡°Why would Vallendred send those things after you two? Why not simply let you go? There must be some reason he is so desperate to stop you.¡±

    Mothers sighed. ¡°You are right. There is more to it. Vallendred has lost himself. He has become consumed with his lust for conquest. He sets his mind to it, day and night. I fear he has lost all love he ever had. I thought he would still have room in his heart to let us live, to let Liandra live, at least. She is, or perhaps was, precious to him. Alas, I was mistaken.¡±

    The others did not look enlightened. They eyed Mother and Liandra, and Liandra sensed distrust. Only the whole truth would mean anything now. Liandra knew complete honesty was the only thing that would ease their discontent.

    ¡°Why you?¡± Stroud finally said. "Why would Vallendred care about you?¡±

    Mother looked to Liandra, her eyes brimming with tears. She opened her mouth, found no words, and closed it again.

    "Because," Liandra said for her, turning stern eyes towards the others, "I am his daughter, and heir to the Ossilian empire."

 Auric - Oil Eyes

    They set out in the morning, before sunrise, weary and road-sore. None of them had gotten much sleep. None of them felt particularly rested. They had taken watch in turns, though Liandra had said she would know if any of the creatures were near, said she was always at watch in her mind. Auric didn''t doubt it. The more he learned about the young girl, the less he envied her existence.

    But nothing had come. For Auric, the only nightmares were the regular ones, the ones of fire and blood. The shakes, too, returned in the night. A drink would settle them, he knew, but the chances of coming across any booze were about the same as Auric waking to find himself in his bed. It would seem, even in the face of new horrors, he could not escape the old.

    Beecham''s pain had eased in the night. He was now able to walk on his own, but he moved with a languid gait, and he complained about a blurriness in his left eye. Stroud shot him dirty looks whenever they happened to glance each others'' way.

    Liandra and her mother had said little after the conversation of the night before, electing to travel behind everyone else. No one talked about it, but Auric knew it was on everyones'' minds. The heir to the entire empire, to Nostrum, daughter of a warlord conqueror, travelled amongst them. Not only that, but she possessed unheard of powers. He suspected the knowledge put them in more danger than they would admit.

    The sky turned cold and grey. A gently rain came down in sheets from the dull-green hills, and made rivulets through the mud and stones beneath their feet. Auric and Stroud now wore the two scabbards that remained. They had all agreed they would be more effective with the weapons than Beecham and McJames would. Though McJames had been reluctant to arm the prisoners, apparently, desperate times called for desperate measures.

    The road led the group through a dense forest, and, eventually, onto a winding path that rose into rocky jagged mountains. By midday, the road had narrowed into a perilous ledge, carved into the mountainside itself, where they had no choice but to travel single file. The rain turned the stones slippery as ice, and slowed their progress to a crawl.

    They stopped to eat in an alcove¡ªseemingly cut from the black stone of the mountain, some unknowable time in the past¡ªthat looked down on an expansive, sweeping valley. As they hid from the rain and shrugged off their packs, Auric thought of the countless travellers who had sheltered there, over countless years. Some had chiseled their names in the hard rock at the back of the alcove, forming a wall of names and history.

    "How far is it to Whitehall, anyway?" Stroud said, as they munched on hard bread and dry cheese.

    When no one deigned to answer, eyes turned to McJames. "Well I don''t bloody-well know."

    "I thought you were ranking officer now? Shouldn''t you know where we''re going?" Stroud said.

    "I know where we''re going, but it was the captain knew the route. I''m just following the road, same as you. It''s not as if we can get lost now."

    Stroud shook his head, leered at McJames. "Famous last words, if ever I heard ''em."

    "At our current pace we should be at Whitehall in three days," Fairwell surprised the others by saying. "Barring any unforeseen delays, that is."

    The priest''s final words hung in the air. He spoke as if he was expecting to be held up by an upturned carriage, or a spell of bad weather, rather than deadly terrors. But then, Auric wasn''t sure if the priest had fully comprehended the danger they were in. He hadn''t shown any real fear, had only prayed to his god. Indeed, his faith seemed to be blind. Auric envied that, even. It was better not to see what was hunting them.

    "Three days," Stroud said. "That''s not so bad."

    Auric finished eating and rose to tend to his uncomfortably full bladder.

    "Where are you going?" McJames said.

    Auric gave him a frown. "Don''t worry, I''m not running away. I''m going to take a leak. You want me to show you how to hold it?"

    McJames spat on the ground, looked away, didn''t answer.

    "I''ll come with you," Stroud said, stepping forward out of the alcove.

    "Fine," Auric said.

    "Are we just gonna let the two prisoners go off and collude like that?" McJames asked the rest of the group. "Am I the only one concerned?"

    Auric heard no response, as he and Stroud stepped back into the drizzle, and moved a ways down the slippery path. Stroud stood nearby as Auric took care of his business, urinating off the edge of the cliff.

    "I assume you didn''t come just to watch me piss. Can''t say as I like the advantage you have over me."

    Stroud moved a little closer, checked over his shoulder, lowered his voice. "We need to talk about what we''re going to do."

    Auric sighed. "There''s nothing to talk about. We''re going to Whitehall."

    "You really think that''s the best thing to do? Those things out there are after the girl and her mother. Why are we still with them? We have the swords. You and I can take that weasel kid if we have to. The other one isn''t going to give us any trouble, not with his face all fucked up."

    "Why?" Auric said, as he put himself back in his trousers, and turned to Stroud. "You still thinking about escaping? What would be the point?"

    "Living, would be the point. Not getting disembowelled or decapitated by a fucking shadow would be the point. Not to mention, that girl has the leader of the whole fucking Ossilian empire after her. If he finds out we helped her, what do you think he''ll do?"

    Above, a white-headed bird with deep brown wings cawed, as it flapped southward through the falling rain. "And what will you do then? If you run, you can consider your pardon void. Are you willing to stay a fugitive your entire life? I doubt you''ll be lucky enough to get another opportunity like this one."

    That seemed to give Stroud genuine pause. He scratched at the back of his neck. "Unless there''s another way."

    Auric simply stared, folded his arms, and waited for Stroud to continue.

    "The man I killed, he was some cousin or other of the Ossilian royalty. It''s them that put out a warrant on my name. It''s the emperor I need to make amends with."

    "And you think you can buy your freedom from him, that you have something he wants?"

    Stroud raised his eyebrows, gave Auric a long look. "Not yet, but with your help I could."

    "If you think I''m going to help you kidnap that girl, and deliver her to someone who wants her dead, her own father no less, you can forget it. I don''t blame you for wanting to save your own skin, but I did not think you stoop to such levels. Did you not say the man you killed was the type of man who hurt children? Now you want to do the same?"

    Stroud sighed. He looked down into the valley for a moment, and linked his fingers together behind his head. Finally, Stroud turned back to Auric. "No, I do not think I do. It would be rather unforgivable wouldn''t it?"

    Auric stared back for a moment, then, stepping back towards the others, said, "That''s for you to decide."

    <hr>

    The rain grew as they climbed the side of the mountain, strengthening to a blustering squall. They pulled their hoods about their faces. The sky darkened to a purple-black, and biting wind roared along the side of the mountain. Yet still, they climbed, up into the splintered, glassy rock at the precipice.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    McJames and Beecham had walked together, perhaps finding some camaraderie in their shared history. Beecham''s wounds had begun to heal into a leathery, wrinkled, oozing scab that covered much of his face, and swelled one of his eyes shut. Stroud walked alone, electing not to engage with the others, and mother and daughter resumed their quiet focus on the path ahead. Fairwell, ever the enigma, trudged along with characteristic aloofness.

    Auric stopped at the top of the mountain, stepping out onto a rocky outcrop that looked down into the south-east of Nothstrum, setting his feet against the wind and the rain. A wall of grey clouded the land a few kilometres distant.

    Fairwell came up beside him, his arm across his brow, shielding his eyes. He raised his voice so that all could hear him. "If not for the haze, we could see Whitehall there, to the south-east." He pointed down the mountain. Auric could just make out the edge of a forest, far below.

    "Does it remain three days distant?" Alessa shouted.

    "Depends on this weather, I''d say," Auric shouted back. "If it clears, then yes. If not¡­" He left the rest of the notion unsaid, and gave a simple shrug.

    They continued on, down the southern side of the mountain. The path turned steep, widened and simply became the side of the mountain. Auric was glad to no longer be walking so close to a perilous drop, but a fine gravel covered the ground, threatening to throw the travellers off balance if they didn''t step carefully. The gravel bed deepened as they descended, turning to an almost coarse, grey sand. Auric found the best method was to walk near sideways, digging his boots into the soft stuff for purchase. At one point, Alessa fell and slid a way, before coming to a halt. Liandra rushed to her, helped her to her feet. The girl''s mother came up with dust and rock through her hair, her face sandy.

    Eventually, the slope levelled somewhat, and near-barren trees, aged in their resiliency, dotted the hillside. The rain and wind eased to a gentle shower, and they followed the path into a rocky pass, great walls of stone rising into the sky. A stone gate, thrice as tall as any man, made of polished stone cut into right-angled slabs, stood resolute at the entrance.

    Auric stopped, and the others came to a halt behind him. Beneath the gate stood a man, clad in ornate armour, not of steel, but of what looked like wood. Some type of plate skirt hung at his waist, and a pair of antlers jutted up from a helmet wrought into the visage of a demon-mask. The armoured man held a slim sword, with a slight curve in it, across his front, and looked down at it as if inspecting the edge. In all his years of warring, Auric had seen nothing like the figure before them.

    "He doesn''t look like the welcoming sort," Stroud said, stepping beside Auric, his hand on his sword hilt.

    Auric reached down, and loosened his own sword in its sheath. "No, he does not."

    The man looked up and towards Auric and the others with a casual air. With a flourish, he moved his sword down to his side, and held it there, his arm and wrist tense.

    Auric turned to McJames. "Take the others. Go back the way we came. Find another way down the mountain. If you sense any more of those creatures, run, run as fast as you can to Whitehall. "Auric drew his sword, scanned the faces of the others. Fairwell''s face was blank, but he could see the panic start to bloom in the expressions of the rest.

    "What are you going to do?" Alessa asked.

    "What do you think? Something tells me, he''s not just gonna let you walk away. At the least, we can slow him down."

    "We?" Stroud said. "Who exactly is we?"

    "We is you and me. You agreed to protect the others, didn''t ya? Earn your freedom? I hope you don''t think that sword is for decoration."

    Stroud looked over to the man, chewed at his lip for a moment. "Alright then," he said with a shrug. "Why not?"

    Auric gave the others a few seconds, then said, "Why are you still here? Better head off now."

    They turned away slowly. Liandra met Auric''s eyes for a second. She gave him a sad smile.

    "Look after your mother," Auric said.

    "Look after yourself."

    Auric sniffed. "Never been very good at that."

    "Sounds like you could use the practice, then."

    Auric shook his head. "Think I ran out of any capacity to learn new tricks a while ago. Us old dogs, we get set in our ways."

    She looked back at him for a moment, then winced. "I don''t think you really believe that." And she turned away, walked back up the path.

    Auric regarded her for a moment, then turned back to the gate, moved up to stand next to Stroud. The man in the strange armour hadn''t moved a muscle. He stood there, looking as if he were waiting for them.

    "Well, at least he''s good at standing his ground. Would''ve been awfully rude if he''d rushed us before we were ready," Stroud said.

    "Let''s hope that''s all he''s good at."

    "Doubt it," Stroud scoffed. "I don''t know about you, but in my experience, a man doesn''t get to wear armour that pretty unless he knows how to keep it that way."

    "Hmm."

    Auric stepped towards the gate, and Stroud followed. The armoured man lifted his off-hand to his mouth, his first two fingers up in a heavy gauntlet, murmured something¡ªa prayer by the looks of it¡ªthen advanced through the gate.

    "Do you want his weapon side or his off side?" Stroud asked as they closed the gap.

    "Which do you think is more dangerous?"

    "I''d have to assume his weapon side."

    "Then that''s what I''ll take."

    Stroud scoffed once more. "Suits me."

    They drew within a few paces of one another. The man dropped low, lunged forward. In a heartbeat, he was on Auric and Stroud, slashing from overhead. Auric dodged left, Stroud right, and the man''s thin sword split the air where they had stood. Auric brought his own sword up, ready to strike, but the man had already moved, had dived and rolled away, skidding in the gravel, his body low.

    Auric charged, lifted his sword high, brought it down right between the antlers on that gaudy helmet. The man''s sword came up, and they clashed, blades ringing, locked together for an instant. Auric looked into the man''s eyes, visible through slits in his demon mask. They were the darkest he had ever seen, not brown, but black, like oil, and they swirled, gave off a rainbow sheen.

    Stroud was there, running in to swing his sword at the man''s side. Something smacked Auric in the face, a gauntleted fist, he realised, and he stumbled backwards. There was a ringing clang, as Auric blinked away the shock of the blow he had received. He gave his jaw a wiggle, feeling it grow hot with pain.

    Their attacker had brought his sword up to block Stroud''s strike, but already the big man was bringing his sword back around for another cut from the other direction. For someone of his size, Stroud moved like a lithe animal, ferocious and quick. He drove the other man back with blow after blow. Their assailant was barely able to deflect them in time, and Auric had the faint thought that, if it ever came to it, he wasn''t sure if he''d be able to put the big man down.

    But Stroud pushed too hard, wild and spitting, and the smaller man spun around him, jabbed him in the back with the pommel of his sword as he went. Stroud let out a burst of air, and stumbled into one of the rock walls to the side of the gate. The oil-eyed man pulled his sword back, ready to skewer Stroud through the spine, would''ve managed it too if Auric hadn''t leapt forward, charging into him shoulder forward. They both went flying. Auric twisted through the air, tumbled onto his back on the wet, gritty ground, near lost the breath from his lungs. Auric didn''t know where their attacker went, but the next thing he knew, a hand had reached down, grasped him by his coat, and hauled him to his feet.

    "Where did he go?" Auric asked Stroud, looking about himself.

    "I don''t know. I turned around, and you were on the ground, he was gone."

    "Keep your guard up. He''s here somewhere."

    Auric and Stroud stood back to back, turned in a slow circle below the gate. A blast of wind rushed down the side of the mountain. Rain splashed Auric''s face. The man certainly was quick, but Auric had never heard of someone disappearing like he had.

    The air changed. He felt movement above, sensed it in the way the rain fell. Auric twisted, pushed Stroud back as their attacker came down on them from above, sword point aimed at them like a spear-tip. Auric swung his sword around, stepped to the side. He meant to bring it into the man''s flank, cut at his armour, cut at his flesh, but he got the timing wrong, rushed his blow, and his sword came down on the man''s wrist, bit into his gauntlet, sent the skinny sword flying from his hand. It clattered onto the stony path a few feet away.

    Stroud came at their attacker once again, with a great arching slash. This time, the man with the black eyes leapt away, twisted in the air like a circus dancer, and landed a few feet away, a hand at the small of his back. The hand whipped out, and Auric felt something bite into his thigh. He looked down at a triangular bit of polished steel with a skinny handle, jutting from his leg. Beside him, Stroud grunted, and Auric looked over to see him holding a hand over a cut in his upper-arm.

    Auric grasped the knife in his leg, yanked it out, threw it to the ground. A trickle of blood leaked from the wound. The wound stung, but did not seem too deep. In his distraction, their attacker rushed for his sword, had turned his back on them. Auric charged, stabbed his sword forward as the man rolled over his own. He came up with it in his grasp, deflected Auric''s sword to the side. Auric kept running, crashed into the man once more, got an arm around his waist, and lifted him off his feet. He drove the man hard into the rock wall with a crunch. The man''s head snapped back. His helmet cracked against the stone, and his thin sword fell to the ground again.

    Auric held him there as Stroud dashed forward, sword held over his shoulder, ready to cut. "Hold him," he shouted.

    The man''s dark eyes looked down at Auric, and he saw panic there. "Auric, stop," the man gasped. His accent was strong, stumbling awkwardly over the words. "You don''t know what you''re doing. The girl will kill us all."

    Auric recoiled. It took a heartbeat for the words to sink in, and Auric loosed his grip on the man just long enough for him to break free. He leapt to the side as Stroud swung. The big man''s sword hit nothing but stone, clanging and leaving a white chip in the dark rock. Their attacker scrambled up and over the stone walls, disappeared down the other side, and was gone.

    Stroud and Auric stood panting for a moment, staring after their mysterious assailant.

    "Why the fuck''d you let him go?" Stroud said, his face and hair wet with rain and perspiration, his coat torn and turning red with the blood oozing from his arm.

    Auric looked down at the strange sword, of no design he had ever seen before. He picked it up, inspected it. It was more ornate than any sword he had seen before, with a beautiful wavy pattern worked into the length of the blade. Despite its lack of width, it seemed as strong as the best broadswords he had held.

    "He knew me," Auric said, and threw the weapon to the ground.

 Liandra - Infinite Gratitude

    Stroud and Auric rejoined the others several hours later. Liandra and the rest had followed a divergence around the stony cliffs, until the mountain side had smoothed out, and the stones had made way for sparsely dotted trees once more. At the edge of the trees, just off the path, they waited, and it wasn¡¯t long before the two men came tramping down the side of the mountain, bruised and cut. They hid their pain well, but Liandra knew it had been a difficult fight. It heartened her to see them again at all, Auric anyway, who walked with a touch of a limp.

    Stroud was indecisive, and it was not a difficult guess as to why. Perhaps he was planning something already, a scheme to hand her over to her father. She had considered touching him, reading his thoughts, but did not think that she had reached that level of desperation. Either way, she would have to keep her eye on him.

    Mother rushed to Auric and Stroud, kicking gray dust off the stony ground. After a moment, Father Fairwell followed her. They investigated the two men''s wounds quickly, offered them shoulders to lean against. Both men shrugged off the help, and rejoined the others on their own.

    Beecham and McJames sat on the ground. McJames put a piece of bread in Beecham¡¯s hand, helped him lift his arm up to his mouth. Liandra worried for the young soldier. His gait had slowed in the last little while, their overall slowing with it. It was clear his wounds were starting to take their toll, and with his vision getting worse, he had to be helped along the path, lest he bump into a tree or trip on a stone.

    ¡°Who was that man? Did you¡­take care of him?¡± Mother asked, once Auric and Stroud had sat down next to the others, and taken a moment to catch their breath.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t kill him, no, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. Auric let him go,¡± Stroud said, his voice dripping with disdain.

    ¡°I was sure he would try to kill you,¡± Mother said.

    ¡°Oh, he tried,¡± Stroud said, with a joyless grunt of a laugh.

    Mother turned to Auric, her brow knitted. ¡°He tried to kill you, and you let him go? Why would you do that?¡±

    Auric grunted, dismissed the question. ¡°He won¡¯t be after us again any time soon.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Auric¡¯s voice held a sharp tone, one that surprised Liandra. He looked up, shot Mother a fiery glare. ¡°He¡¯s wounded enough. He knows we¡¯ll best him if he tries again.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain? You¡¯re both wounded, too.¡±

    Liandra looked at the cut on Stroud¡¯s upper arm. She saw a similar one on Auric¡¯s leg. She wondered how close of a thing it had been, them both surviving. Whoever that man was, in the strange armour, he would have killed either one of Auric or Stroud if they had fought alone.

    Auric rubbed at his temple, looked down at the ground. ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±

    He was confident, at least, Liandra knew.

    ¡°Perhaps next time he won¡¯t wait for you to defend yourselves. Perhaps next time he¡¯ll ambush us in our sleep, slit your throats like cattle.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Auric kept his eyes on the ground. ¡°If he was going to do that, he would have the first time. We will not see him again, not before we reach Whitehall.¡±

    Mother¡¯s lip trembled, but she said no more. She was afraid, afraid for the life of her daughter, but she could not argue with the old man. On some level, she knew that he was right. He had been right about everything so far. Still, there was something Auric wasn¡¯t telling them. Something had happened during that fight that had changed something for him, had changed the way he felt towards Liandra. She did not feel anything threatening buried in the complex whirl of his feelings, but still, it made Liandra apprehensive. The sooner they got to Whitehall, the better.

    ¡°Regardless,¡± Auric said, pushing himself back to his feet, ¡°our course remains the same. Priest.¡±

    Fairwell looked up, towards Auric. His eyes were vacant, as if he had woken from a dream. ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°Lead the way.¡± Auric gestured down the side of the mountain, towards the faint path winding through the trees.

    Fairwell rose, somewhat lazily, and trudged off down the path. The others got to their feet¡ªBeecham with a sympathetic whimper¡ªand followed the priest.

    The going was slow. The longer they walked, the worse Auric¡¯s limp became. He made no complaint, but it was clear to all that he was in pain. He winced with each step. Blood oozed through his trousers at the outside of his right thigh. Beecham, too, slowed. His face had turned a scaly, yellow-pink mass of dried pus and old blood. He walked now with his arm over McJames¡¯ shoulder, his stride reduced to little more than a ground-scraping shuffle. Liandra had to put him out of her mind, had to force his feelings out. There was too much pain, too much fear. If she let it in, she worried it would consume her.

    Overhead, purple-gray clouds closed in, blurring the shadows of the trees, and chilling the air. Lightning flashed to the east, turning the sky a pale white. A few heartbeats later, a great gust of wind swept dust and leaves into Liandra¡¯s face, and thunder ripped through the air like the hoof-beat of a thousand horses, causing Liandra to near jump out of her travelling clothes. She blinked grit from her eyes, as she felt the morale of all drop.

    They pressed on, ever downward. Slowly but surely the ground flattened out. The first drops of rain fell in the late afternoon, as they came down a particularly stony slope, hard and jagged beneath their feet. The rain fell in dark drops against the stone, spattering them like a careless painter. They were soaked through in seconds. Even under the hood of her traveling cloak, Liandra¡¯s hair stuck to her cheeks.

    ¡°Damn this rain,¡± McJames called out, over the roar of the falling water. ¡°We must stop, find somewhere to shelter. Beecham is near ready to keel over.¡±

    ¡°I think it not the worst idea,¡± Fairwell added, turning to look up from a few paces below. His priestly robes were a sodden, dead weight falling from his shoulders.

    ¡°We will be lucky to find shelter on the side of the mountain,¡± Auric shouted. He pointed down to the end of the slope, where a pocket of dense trees sprouted up. ¡°If you want to be dry, best we carry on.¡±

    ¡°We *are *still over a day from Whitehall,¡± Fairwell said. ¡°The trees will do little to quell this deluge.¡±

    ¡°What do you suggest we do, then?¡± Stroud said, throwing out his arms.

    ¡°I shall pray for the rain to end. I invite you all to join me.¡±

    Stroud narrowed his eyes, shook his head. ¡°Fuck me, man. Is that all you have to offer? Remind me again why you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°He knows the way,¡± Auric shouted.

    ¡°I think we all know the way from here. That blind kid could probably get us there.¡± Stroud gestured towards Beecham. ¡°If he wasn¡¯t kicking at death¡¯s door.¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± Mother said, drawing out the word in desperation. ¡°We must not fight amongst ourselves. Need I remind you that what pursues us does not fear the rain, is not slowed by pain or injury?¡±

    Liandra looked about. Their faces dropped. She could feel their will to survive battling with their exhaustion. She felt the fear rise in them all, all except Auric. From him came only thirst and calm self-loathing. She felt then that if they carried on as they were, they would not make it. They could not outrun their pursuers, and with Auric injured, there was the very real chance they could not outfight them either.

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    She looked around the group once more. Only Stroud stood tall, his eyes searching the path ahead. He put a hand across his brow, shielding his eyes, and stared off in the direction of Whitehall. He was eager to continue. He was still strong, and perhaps he was their only hope. A plan came to Liandra then, buoyed by the righteous zeal of inspiration.

    ¡°Stroud should go,¡± Liandra said, shocking the others, who turned to face her. ¡°Ahead, I mean. He can travel faster than the rest of us. And when he gets there, he can send help back for us.¡±

    There was no immediate response. She could see each of them weighing the costs, weighing the benefits. Stroud himself was excited by the notion. It *was *a good idea, Liandra knew, but she didn¡¯t expect it to be accepted without argument.

    ¡°C¡¯mon girl,¡± McJames said. He almost sounded disappointed. ¡°If he goes off on his own, we¡¯ll never see ¡®im again. Trust me, the man thinks only about ¡®is own skin.¡±

    Liandra gave McJames her most royal look. ¡°Exactly. He is driven by an overwhelming desire for self-preservation. Which is why he will make sure help comes for us.¡± Liandra turned towards Mother, made her voice stern. ¡°Mother, does the offer of a royal pardon still stand?¡±

    Mother looked to Liandra, caution in her eyes. Part of her was upset by the girl¡¯s forwardness. Another part was impressed by her thinking, and her shrewdness. ¡°If the man keeps to his word, then yes. I, as Queen, will pardon him of his crimes. I *will *give you your freedom.¡±

    Stroud glared at Liandra. Rain water ran off his face. Perhaps he had guessed what she was about to say.

    ¡°Good,¡± Liandra said. She looked back at Stroud, her face a mask of dispassion. ¡°Now rescind the offer unless he does what I have suggested.¡±

    Shock from the others. Stroud, however, nearly laughed. The corner of his mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. ¡°You little bitch.¡±

    ¡°You dare speak to my daughter so?¡± Mother said, stepping forward. Liandra put a hand against out to stop her. ¡°No, Mother. He is right. What I have done is cruel. To dangle hope before him, then threaten to snatch it away. It *is *cruel, but it *is *necessary.¡±

    Stroud¡¯s lip twitched. His jaw trembled. ¡°And why would I simply not leave you to die?¡±

    Liandra gave him a sad smile. ¡°Because if you do, you will spend the rest of your short life hunted. You will be caught, and you will be hanged.¡±

    Stroud sneered, clenched his jaw. He looked away, down the mountain, his chest rising and falling heavily. ¡°Fine,¡± he said through gritted teeth. ¡°You win, little girl.¡±

    ¡°He will need a token,¡± Liandra said, looking up to Mother.

    Mother stared down for a moment. Disbelief blocked her senses.

    ¡°Mother,¡± Liandra said once more.

    Mother shook herself, stepped towards Stroud. She grasped at a finger with her other hand, and tugged a ring there loose. She approached Stroud, held it out to him. ¡°When you get there, you must speak to Baroun. Show him this. He will know it comes from me. Demand to see him, of anyone who will listen.¡±

    Stroud took the ring, tried it on his pinky, then, seeing it was too big, pushed it deep into a trouser pocket. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t say it has been a pleasure. Perhaps I will see some of you again, under better circumstances.¡± He shot Liandra a dirty look.

    ¡°No,¡± Mother said. ¡°We may need you in the night. You will go first thing in the morning.¡±

    Stroud opened his mouth to protest, but Auric spoke before he could. ¡°The girl is right. It is already getting dark. There is little sense in running through the night, lest you collapse before you get there. Rest, then go in the morning.¡±

    Stroud sucked at his teeth. He looked at Liandra. She sensed he wanted her to know what he felt. He did not want to spend a minute longer around the strange girl than he could get away with. ¡°So be it,¡± he said. ¡°Tomorrow I will fetch your salvation.¡±

    They continued on another hour, in tense silence. The rain did not stop, and darkness came premature, the sun a milky smudge fading out in the west. The trees thickened somewhat as they came to the foothills, providing a little more cover from the rain.

    It was well past sunset before the rain trickled away and stopped, leaving wet earth and a black sky devoid of stars. They stumbled through the dark, eventually coming to a rock wall slick with the rain. They nestled in a corner. McJames set Beecham against the wall, where he slumped over and shivered. Auric tore open his trouser leg, though he could not have seen his wound well in the dark of the night.

    It was miserable. They lay in their wet clothes, huddled together, unable to warm themselves. Beecham groaned in his despair, and the others tried to ignore him, tried to find sleep.

    Some time later, she did not know how long, Liandra sensed thoughts, a cluster of animals, somewhere out in the woods. She quested out to them, drawing their feelings into herself. They smelled humans, and they were frightened. She sent them as much comfort as she could muster. She wanted them to know they were friends. They would not cause harm.

    When she sensed the thoughts calm, she rose to her feet.

    ¡°Where are ya off to?¡± Auric¡¯s gruff voice startled her.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting us help. Just don¡¯t be alarmed when I get back. I won¡¯t be long.¡±

    She stepped out into the woods, picking her way towards the origin of the thoughts. The animals had a great understanding of the surrounding land, and she borrowed a half-sight from them, stepping over fallen logs and around ditches. After a few minutes, she came to the animals. A pair of deer¡ªa buck and doe, mated to one another¡ªwere just visible in the dark. Their eyes glinted with pale light. They lifted their heads as she approached, but were not afraid.

    She walked towards them, her hands outstretched, knelt down, and touched the doe. I am Liandra, she sent, a friend. You need not fear me or my companions. I promise you are safe.

    I am Zafella, the doe sent back. This is my mate, Ullamna. Would you hear our story?

    I wish that I could, but first must ask your assistance. Would you lie with my herd so that we may share of your warmth this cold night?

    Zafella leaned her head forward. She licked Liandra¡¯s cheek with her strong tongue. Certainly. Lead the way.

    With her senses bonded with Zafella, Liandra easily found her way back to the rock wall. The others gave off such a smell¡ªin Beecham¡¯s case, she had to fight revulsion, fight the urge to turn and flee¡ªthat she only had to follow her nose. The two deer followed close behind. Excitement filled Zafella. She was eager to meet her new friends. Ullamna was more cautious, but still happy. When they returned, Auric shot to a sitting position.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Liandra said. ¡°I have spoken with them. They are here to help us.¡±

    Liandra could not see the expression on Auric¡¯s face, but she felt his apprehension. Then, when Ullamna lay down next to him, she felt his relief.

    ¡°Press yourself against the animals,¡± she told the others, their waking minds slowly coming back to them. There was confusion, but it quickly fell away as they found the comforting warm of the deer, and slipped back into dream.

    Liandra pressed her hand against Ullamna¡¯s neck, scratched behind his ears. Thank you, she sent. We are infinitely grateful.

    Of course, young one. Now rest against my belly, and I will lull you with the tale of my mate and me.

    Liandra nestled against Ullamna, at the thin skin of his chest and stomach. She shivered as she felt his warmth seep into her.

    We came to the mountain, searching for a land fit for our fawn. Zafella is with child. We will have many children, and they will graze on the tussock that spreads unbidden across the face of the mountain.

    As much as she fought, as much as she longed to hear Ullamna¡¯s tale, Liandra was asleep before he had finished the first utterance of it.

    She dreamt of pain and cold. She was choking, choking on her blood. Her lungs filled with it. She gasped at the morning sky. Her hoofs scraped against the dew-covered earth as she convulsed, spasmed, then was still.

    Liandra shot awake, and knew immediately that Zafella and Ullamna were dead. She shot to her feet and ran at Stroud, who stood over Zafella¡¯s head. Blood dripped from the edge of his sword. Mother¡¯s arms were around her, lifting her off the ground, cradling her, before she had a chance to make him pay.

    ¡°How could you?¡± she shouted, her eyes filling with tears.

    Stroud looked at her, and she saw his own eyes rimmed in red. ¡°We have to eat,¡± was all he said. A ghost of a joyless smile fluttered at the corner of his mouth, then, slowly, he looked back down at the animal he had killed, stared into the creature¡¯s dead eyes.

    Liandra lost herself in a sea of blind rage and fear. Part of her was still with the buck, still slipping into an endless, black void. She had to focus her mind, wilfully pull herself back into her body, before she went with him eternally.

    Her own senses were a jumble, a scattering of light and sound. She was with Mother. In her arms. Eventually, mother¡¯s love enveloped her, brought her mind back, calmed her.

    By the time she had regained her composure, Stroud had already left, and Auric had set to cleaning the bodies. ¡°I told them they were safe,¡± Liandra said, looking up into Mother¡¯s eyes through tears.

    ¡°I know,¡± Mother said. ¡°I know you did.¡±