《The Bear - First chronicle of the Children of the Bear》


 1. Bryn the Bear

    No one knows where Bryn Grey-bear came from. Some say he was a bandit who grew tired of his gang, or perhaps he came from the western reaches of Valhym where civilization never quite reached. Others whisper he was raised by animals in the wilderness, or believe him to be a wrathful god born in the form of a man.


    But those who met Bryn and lived to tell about it, know he was no god. He didn''t care enough about the world to be a god. No, Bryn was a man¡ªa large bear of a man riddled with scars, a wild mane of dark blonde hair, and shoulders three feet wide.


    Before he became known as Bryn Grey-bear throughout Valhym, he was just Bryn the thief. Although the word ¡®thief¡¯ didn''t fit what he did. He wasn''t one of the sly pick-pockets found in Taka. Bryn simply took what he wanted.  Wandering through the wilderness, he seemed to show up whenever someone was in trouble. An animal attack, bandits, the occasional angered tree spirit or demon cultist. Bryn would swing his large axe or his greatsword and save the group before demanding payment. The smart ones would give him whatever they had and leave with their lives. The fools would offer him a sum and Bryn would stare down at them with his grey eyes and say, "All of it." If they did not immediately hand it over, Bryn would cut them down as well, and take the treasures from their corpses.


    However, the story of Bryn really begins when he turned his eyes towards his first settlement. He showed up in a small town, a giant of a man, and walked into the local inn. The two men drinking there eyed him suspiciously while the waitress squeaked and slipped into the kitchen. The barkeep tried to keep some composure as Bryn walked up and sat down at the bar.


    "Three ales." He dropped some coins on the counter and, now comfortably back into his business rhythm, the barkeep quickly fetched Bryn''s drinks. The man downed the first two without ceremony and then held the third, staring into it with a thoughtful look on his rough face.


    The two townsmen, feeling very threatened by his presence, decided that together they should drive this ruffian away. They took a last drink and swaggered up to Bryn.


    "We don''t welcome strangers mutch in thesh parts," slurred the more drunk of the two. The more sober and slightly more intelligent one added, "So finish your drink and be on your way."


    There was a low rumble like a growl, and the drunkards looked at each other. Bryn''s huge shoulders, covered in the fur of a bear, shook. He was laughing. Then, faster than anyone expected such a large man to move, Bryn whipped down his greatsword with one large hand and beheaded the two men. As their heads rolled on the floor and their bodies fell, there was a crash as the barkeep dropped the glass he had been cleaning. The waitress peeked out to see what the noise was and, at the sight of the bodies, screamed.


    Bryn sighed and drank the third ale. He eyed the large coin purse on the innkeeper¡¯s belt and shrugged. "Town didn''t have a river anyway."


    He stood up and walked around the bar. The barkeep began babbling for mercy but stopped when his body joined the others. The waitress was next. Then the men who met him outside, then the mayor who attempted to bargain, then the women who pleaded, and then the rest of the inhabitants of the village.


    When the carnage was over, Bryn licked the blood from his knuckle where a man''s dull blade had broken the skin, walked from house to house, examining the contents and picking items and coins from them.


    ¡°More in a village than a caravan¡±, he thought.


    He stepped over the bodies of the servants as he walked through the mayor''s home, pausing at a painting of Valhym''s countryside. On the top of a grey hill, splotched with purple heather, was a stone castle. Bryn wasn''t so uneducated as to think that was the king''s castle. It was a Jarl''s fort.


    ¡°It''d be good to have a roof to stay under. I have grown too strong to stay in the wilderness,¡± he muttered into the empty room.


    Bryn had conquered the dangers of nature. He had heard the stories of politics and the battling of men. Hearing the ways they used threats and words above weapons and fists, made Bryn laugh. Finding himself the strongest in the wild, he decided to test himself in the world of men. To take until he was satisfied.


    So begin Bryn''s days as Bryn the village razer.


    Towns and villages began to hear rumors of a man appearing out of nowhere to slaughter and loot a village. Many scoffed saying it must be a team of bandits or Brimstones. Others were convinced it was merely plague that wiped these small settlements off the map. Nevertheless, many villages packed up and returned to the cities, scared to lose the precious little they had. Others were too well rooted and were not eager to return under the strict rules of the Jarls.


    Two things ended Bryn''s tirade. One, he found a place he was satisfied with, second he found his woman.


    Bryn was by a river, tending his wounds. The last village had hired mercenaries to protect them, bankrupting themselves in an attempt to save their livelihood¡ªan irony that didn''t escape Bryn as he cut them all down. One mercenary had been more skilled than the rest and managed to cut deeply into Bryn''s side before Bryn''s axe cracked open his head like a melon. Bryn''s wound should have been lethal but, as he sat by the river, he reached down and with a glowing hand, healed the wound.


    Not many in these parts used magic, being superstitious. There were a handful of mages in Snaerheim the southern point of Valhym. Bryn''s, albeit small, grasp on the arcane gave him yet another advantage over his enemies. Where he learned the arts was another mystery, although it was generally accepted that it had begun with the wilder magics of nature, secrets torn from sprites and fae. Perhaps he gathered books of spells through his village raids.


    Another theory had more evidence to it, that Bryn may have once been a prisoner to the stray demonic cults that speckled Valhym. Though no one ever dared mention this aloud to Bryn, he did seem to have a particular hatred for the Brimstones. So, when his keen eyes spotted a black robed figure through the pines, they narrowed and his grip on his axe tightened. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Like a stalking wolf, Bryn followed the figure, his grey and brown clothes blending in the surroundings. The Brimstone arrived at a cave, the entrance marked by the skulls of animals and humans alike. Having seen enough, Bryn removed a small axe from his belt and threw it, striking the cultist in the back of the head. He¡ªor she as Bryn discovered¡ªcrumpled to the floor without a sound. Bryn left the body and stalked into the cave.


    The sound of low chanting filled the stone tunnels. The hair on the back of Bryn''s neck rose and he began muttering protective spells, the air around him shimmered as wards raised. Mages were tricky. One on one, it was a matter of magical might, but with a group, the element of surprise was key. Bryn would strike before they could raise their wards and make his strength useless.


    The tunnel ended in a large cavern. There was the dripping sound of water and the air smelled of mold, blood, and smoke. Five robed figures stood in a circle, red candles burning between them. In the center was a large statue of one of the Accursed Ones, Bryn never learned their names, and at its feet an altar with a woman lying on it, a black cloth covering her naked form. Bryn could see her twitching, she was shackled down her mouth gaping in screams silenced by magic.


    Bryn readied an axe in one hand while the other held churning purple energy. He released both. The bolt struck down the chanter farthest away and the axe took mage who seemed to be the leader, his robe having more red embroidery than the others. Instantly, the remaining three pulled up wards. But one started with a ward against magic first, having been too blinded by the purple light to see the axe. Bryn''s next thrown axe took him quickly.


    With a roar, Bryn lept from the top of the stone stair down to the circle. He grunted as a purple bolt struck his side and his ward shimmered fragile from the blow. His axe broke through the next Brimstone¡¯s ward and he followed with another blow before he could conjure another. Bryn heard the crackle as one of the remaining two summoned a form of fire. Bryn simply barreled towards it, kicking the mages legs out from under him in the process. His axe buried itself in the fiery body and flames scorched Bryn¡¯s face and arms, but axe cut through to the fiery beast''s master who lay on the floor watching his death burst flaming towards him.


    The last mage tried to run, turning invisible, but his splashing in the puddles revealed his location. Bryn sent lightning to the rippling water and the man convulsed, becoming visible and twitching on the floor. Bryn stepped over and crushed his neck with his foot.


    There was a small gasp as the spell silencing the woman broke. Bryn began to climb the stairs out.


    "Please help me, I''ll do anything."


    He turned to the woman. A few strands of blonde hair were stuck to her lips from thrashing about. Her bright green eyes sparkled with tears that she held in. That was what caught Bryn''s eye. His heavy steps echoed in the cavern as he moved back towards her. He ripped the black cloth off, her pale beautiful body shivering in the cool cavern air. Her ankles and wrists were shackled to the stone table.


    "What could you offer me that I couldn''t take?" Bryn ripped the shackles from the stone and she quickly sat up, lifting her knees close to her chest and pulled a corner of the black cloth, bringing it up around her shivering shoulders.


    Her piercing green eyes met Bryn''s grey and then fell to the floor. "I could stay with you and be yours."


    Bryn considered this. She was beautiful and could think on her feet as it were. After a pause he said, "Would I want that?"


    The woman dropped the black cloth and lowered her knees. "Let''s find out."


    Her lips were blue with cold and Bryn reached for her, noting that she didn''t flinch. He put one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, lifting her as easily as a child. His fur cloak draped over her shoulder as he carried her silently out of the cavern. By the time they reached the grassy patch by the river where he had left his pack, she had stopped shivering and her lips had returned to a rosy red.


    He knelt on the ground and leaned over, her back coming to a rest on the soft grass. Her hand went from his chest to his face and she pulled him closer, her lips touching his. There on the grass, Bryn made love for the first time with Dyla, his woman. When they had finished, Dyla curled close and whispered in his ear, "My lord, what is your name?"


    Bryn grunted, "Bryn."


    "I am Dyla."


    Bryn gently pushed her away and sat up. He reached for his pack and removed a blue blanket. He tossed it at Dyla, who draped it around herself. She stood awkwardly, uncertain whether to get closer or walk away. Bryn retrieved his weapons from where they had been tossed aside, shouldered his pack, and said, "You''ll need shoes."


    Dyla smiled and stepped closer. Bryn began to walk and Dyla walked behind him.


    As Bryn predicted, her feet were bleeding from the sharp grey stones by the time they reached civilization. Dyla had kept walking despite the pain, guessing rightly that this was a test. She followed Bryn as close as she could, never complaining, but noticed that he never walked faster than it was possible for her to follow. When they finally approached civilization, a large town with a Jarl''s fort rising from one side, Bryn turned. "Stay here." he ordered and then left her.


    He returned with a pair of soft but sturdy boots and a warm woolen green dress. Gratefully, Dyla slipped it on but when she reached for the boots, Bryn stopped her. He reached for her ankle and lifted her foot. While he''d been gone, she''d ripped the blanket and wrapped her feet to stop the bleeding.


    Slowly, Bryn unwound the cloth and she couldn''t help but flinch as it tore away the newly formed scabs . Blood oozed down her heel until he placed a glowing hand against it, replacing the torn skin with smooth and whole. He gestured for the other and Dyla quickly placed it in his hand so he could repeat the process. Finished, he tossed some balled socks to her which she put on and then shoved her feet into the new boots. She stood and tested them, bouncing from one foot to the other. They fit well.


    Bryn looked at her approvingly and nodded. Dyla was about to thank him, but his nod stopped her. She felt the implications of their relationship. These were not gifts to please her, they were bare necessities required by nature, this was Bryn setting his house in order. Because she was his, he took care of her. He had decided and it felt as final as any marriage ceremony.


    So Dyla did not thank him, because a wife did not need to thank her husband for putting clothes on her back. She would stay by his side as she promised. She would follow this large, wild man who had saved her life and soul.


    Dyla reached down for the remains of the blue blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. There was still a chill breeze. Bryn awkwardly reached into his pocket and removed a small metal object. He stepped forward, pulling the blanket from her hands. He rearranged it on her shoulders and maneuvered the object. It was a pin in the shape of a grizzly bear, he used to fasten the blanket into a cloak. Then he backed away and looked her up and down approvingly.


    This was a gift. "Thank you, my lord," she said bowing her head.


    He nodded quickly and turned. "Let''s go. I do not like this one, there is no river."

 2. Dyla

    Dyla learned quickly what kind of man Bryn was. He was strong and thus that made him right. He took what he wanted and cut down anyone who stood in his way. Any judgements Dyla might have had against this were swept away quickly. Her moral compass was spinning freely after having her old life¡ªas she now called it¡ªripped away by a cult and almost having her soul fed to a demon. Now she was Bryn''s and she cast no judgement on his way of life, for it was hers.


    She also learned that he was searching for something. Every time they reached civilization, if it was a Jarl''s fort he would stay, away muttering some deficiency it had. If it was a village he would either raze it or leave it be, again remarking on something it lacked.


    As far as Dyla could tell, Bryn was looking for a home. It was like watching an animal try to find the perfect burrow. Or, she thought watching his wide shoulders ahead of her, a bear trying to find a cave for the winter.


    Finally, as the first snows appeared, Bryn stopped atop a hill and looked down at the Jarl''s fort nestled in the valley. A small river ran sluggishly through the land, chunks of ice starting to form on its surface. He stared down at the town where tiny people could be made out bustling along the streets.


    It wasn''t a large town, at least compared to some Jarl''s forts. There were only maybe thirty households and it didn''t have the stone wall that encircled most forts, a sure sign that it was a fairly newly formed township. Not like many down south which had been around for centuries.


    Dyla stepped up and placed a hand on Bryn''s arm. "Is this the one?" she asked and he smiled.


    They arrived quietly. Entering, ordering a meal, booking a room for the night, and causing no trouble. But Dyla could see Bryn''s eyes watching the people, his ear pricked for the threads of conversation that informed him about the town. He had never razed a fort before. They were usually too large and would have garnered too much attention. Bryn wasn''t stupid, he knew that, despite his strength, the king''s army would hunt him down if the Jarls called for it. A bear didn''t pick fights with a pack of wolves.


    At first she''d feared his desire for the town would make him take it despite the risk, but as she watched him wander through the streets, she could tell a plan was forming in his mind.


    They passed a tailor''s shop, a group of children playing across the street. Bryn stopped and sat on the bench outside the shop. "Go in and buy something for yourself," he said, handing her a pile of coins. His eyes were scanning the houses, but hovered on the children. She took the coins and went inside.


    She browsed the store, feeling cloth and admiring patterns. She made conversation with the tailor, a thin bony woman with distrustful eyes that kept glancing at Bryn through the window. Dyla asked questions about the fabric, tried on a few dresses, and when Bryn stood up and leaned against the doorframe, she bought one and some gloves, thanking the tailor.


    Before she could leave the counter the tailor asked, "Are you and...your husband staying long?"


    Dyla resisted the urge to glance at Bryn for some sort of answer. Instead, she smiled sweetly, "Oh, it depends on the weather. Frost seems to be early this year, doesn''t it?"


    The tailor frowned but nodded and Dyla turned. Bryn was smiling but it wasn''t at her. It was almost predatory and it was directed at the tailor. He nodded, turning it into a greeting but there was no mistaking the hostile air. Dyla took his arm and they left the shop.


    Bryn''s low rumbling laugh made Dyla turn as they left the tailor¡¯s store behind. He pulled her closer and she looked up, following his gaze to a boy with brown hair, probably about eleven, who had just whacked a slightly older boy with a wooden sword. The boy had shot a look of hatred at the first boy but said nothing.


    "Now you''re dead!" The boy with the ¡®sword¡¯ said and begrudgingly the older boy lay down feigning death, his fingers curling into fists.


    A girl with braids and sharp eyes watched from the other side and quickly skipped over. She knelt by the older boy, her brother it would seem, their faces similar in feature, and cried dramatically, "Oh Jorg has been slain by the mighty Harold. I must bring his body back to mother." This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    She took the older boy''s hands, unfurling his fist, and dragged him into their home. Harold laughed.


    Bryn''s low voice whispered in Dyla''s ear, "Harold is the Jarl''s son."


    Dyla frowned at the boy. If he was part of Bryn''s plan, he was going to have a hard time of it. ¡°Though¡±, she thought as she watched Harold kick a cat, ¡°if he doesn''t kill him, it might teach the brat a lesson.¡±


    They stayed for three more days, until their presence wasn''t the subject of every conversation. They bought supplies, endearing them more to the shop owners, until on the third day, Bryn told Dyla he was going to see the Jarl.


    "I will ask for the land by the river."


    Dyla smiled at him. "Will you offer payment, my lord?"


    She was a little surprised when he nodded, pulling out the small chest she had seen in his bag. She knew it was filled to the brim with gold coins, a collection he added to every raid. Now she knew what he had been saving for.


    "If he says no?" Dyla asked. Jarls were infamously unwieldy when it came to selling land. They prefered to rent, in order to leave room for extorting from their tenants.


    "Then I will give him time to think about it." This was said in a growl and Dyla knew that if the Jarl said no, he''d better do so politely or Bryn might not get to his plan, he might just kill the Jarl then and there.


    "Am I coming?"


    "No." He paused and surprised her by asking, "Did you ever have servants?"


    Bryn had never asked about her past before so she stumbled a little over her words. "What? Oh, no I didn''t. My father was a merchant, we were rich in objects not gold and you can''t pay help with wares."


    "Did you ever see a Jarl''s wife interact with servants?"


    "A few times."


    Bryn nodded and Dyla wondered where this was coming from. She didn''t get an explanation, he simply took the chest and left her in their room at the inn to try to piece together his plan.


    When he came back, Dyla felt his anger fill the room. Her heart leapt, praying he hadn''t lost his temper. She froze, waiting for his next move.


    "The bastard wouldn''t sell." Bryn slammed the chest onto the small nightstand and stood looming over it. Dyla slid off the bed where she had been rehemming her cloak. She carefully slipped her arm into his.


    She too stared at the box, afraid to look at his face, afraid she might see the answer she didn''t want.


    "Now what, my lord?" she asked, voice steady. She didn''t want to be on the run. She didn''t want to ever be afraid again.


    Bryn took a deep breath. "Now we leave and wait for the Jarl to change his mind."


    Dyla dared breath again. The Jarl was alive. She closed her eyes with relief and Bryn felt her shift. "Woman, what''s wrong?"


    She smiled up at him. "Nothing. Just tell me what to do."


    He eyed her with some suspicion but when she met his grey eyes and there was not just suspicion, but concern?


    Bryn turned and placed his large hands on her shoulders, half-leading, half-carrying her to the bed, and sat her down. He sat next to her, not releasing her shoulders.


    "Do not lie to me." It was said gently, but Bryn was not the kind of man who could remove all threat from his voice.


    Dyla felt tears welling up but refused to let them fall, the effort made her shoulders shake and she knew Bryn could feel it. His grip tightened the smallest bit. Slowly but steadily, Dyla answered, "I did not lie to you, my lord. Nothing is wrong. I was worried before is all."


    "Worried?" he growled, not understanding. Not liking not understanding. Dyla knew she had to be completely honest. She slowly took one of Bryns hands from her shoulder and held it in her lap, running her thumb over his large knuckles.


    "Yes. I worried you would kill the Jarl. Then the king''s men might come after you and we would have to flee. I do not want to be afraid. I ran for two days when the¡ªthe cult came. I was so afraid."


    Despite her efforts a tear escaped and landed on his hand, running down the side. "Before that, I was afraid of bandits, afraid of wolves, afraid my father wouldn''t sell enough to feed us." She wiped her eyes and gripped his hand tighter. "But since you came, I have not been afraid."


    He pulled his hand away and her heart pounded against her chest. Would he think she was weak? Would he reject her?


    Bryn¡¯s hands cupped her face and tipped it up until his lips met hers. Then he pulled away, holding her face close to his, his steely eyes locked on her and said, "You are my woman."


    He always called her that. My woman. Never by her name, although she had told it to him that night on the grass. She''d thought it was his way of staking claim, never before had she realized that it was his term of affection.


    "I do not run from my enemies. If my strength is too weak I will fight until death claims me and you will be there to share victory or defeat. I do not fear death, do you?"


    She gave a laugh, full of relief and full of love. "No, my lord, I am your woman."

 3. Harold Jarlson

    The next morning, they took the Jarl''s son. Bryn knew when the boy slipped out of the manor to torment his playmates. They ambushed him in the alley, Bryn simply knocking him out with his large fist. Then, with the body hidden under Bryn''s large fur cloak, the couple walked out of the town and into the wilderness.


    They returned to a cave they had stayed in prior to coming to town. It was in the mountains and hard to find. Dyla set up camp, creating a ring of stones for the fire and unpacking the pots and pans they used for cooking. She hung their waterskins near where she rolled out their bedding while Bryn took the large bucket they''d bought in town and returned with it filled along with an armful of wood for the fire. The whole time, Harold, the Jarl''s son, was unconscious, tied up and unceremoniously dumped in a corner.


    Upon returning and seeing the boy still out cold, Bryn turned to Dyla, stopping her from setting up the fire. "No, now you are a Jarl''s wife."


    She looked at him confused, his steely eyes  were fixed on the boy who was beginning to move. Dyla remembered their conversation before and swallowed. Her instinct was to get things done, to take care of herself and Bryn, could she play the part?


    Bryn, seeing her struggle, frowned and leaned down to whisper, "Then do not talk to him."


    She nodded. Let Bryn break the boy. She could do that.


    The boy groaned. Then he tried to move. Then he swore.


    After he struggled for a few moments, Bryn walked over and viciously kicked him over. The boy yelped and could now see Bryn''s huge form looming in the darkening cave.


    "Ow! Hey, let me go! My dad''s the Jarl and he''ll have you beheaded! You''ll¡ª"


    The boys tirade what cut short by Bryn boot. Blood poured from Harold¡¯s nose and his cheek began to swell. His eyes filled with shock.


    "You do not speak unless spoken to."


    Harold was not used to this and he started to threaten again, but Bryn kicked him in the stomach, leaving his gasping.


    "I do not like to repeat myself. If you cannot control your tongue, I will cut it out."


    Harold wheezed and looked up at Bryn, not sure yet if he''d go through with that threat. Dyla knew he would.


    "Do you understand?" Bryn growled.


    The boy didn''t answer and Bryn kneeled, grabbed the boy''s hair, and yanked him off the ground. "I asked you a question."


    "Ah-ah yes!" the boy squealed, wriggling in the ropes. Bryn gave him a shake that made the boy cry out again.


    "''Yes sir'' you mean."


    The boy''s pride couldn''t take this and Dyla was shocked when he spit on Bryn. At the back of the cave where neither could see, she bit her lip. But Bryn just put Harold down, pulled out his knife, and forced the boy''s mouth open. His eyes rolling with fear, Harold bit down on Bryn''s fingers, but the large man didn''t remove them. His knife ran down Harold''s teeth until he froze. When the steel touched his tongue he made a choking sound. "E'' ''ir! ''E ''ir!"


    Bryn sheathed the knife, removed his hand from the boy''s mouth and slapped him with his bleeding fingers.


    Harold stayed on the ground, spitting out blood from his nose and from where he bit his tongue. Bryn muttered and healed his fingers. Before stepping back towards Harold who flinched and whimpered. Bryn cut the ties and the boy immediately curled into a fetal position, cradling his swollen and red cheek.


    "Get up."


    Harold didn''t move until Bryn took another step towards him, then he scrambled to his feet, tears, snot, and blood running down his face.


    "See that wood?"


    The boy nodded and Bryn glared until he yipped, "Yes, sir!"


    ¡°Pick it up.¡±


    Still crying, Harold walked over and carried a few bits of wood to the fire pit. His captives watched him struggle to stack them.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Now light it."


    The flint and steel were by the fire pit where Dyla had placed them earlier. Harold grabbed them awkwardly and tried to light the pathetic pile of wood. It didn''t work. He just sobbed and created sparks.


    Bryn gave Dyla a look and nodded. She steeled herself, threw her hands in the air, and said, "By the Stars, you really are useless."


    Harold looked up startled, noticing her for the first time. Hope glinted in his eyes but she sneered at him. "I''ll show the brat how to do it. But first," she looked at his snotty, slippery hands, "go throw him in the river."


    When Harold returned, clean but wet and shivering, his cuts stinging from the cold water, Dyla knelt down and quickly showed him how to stack the wood, fill it with kindling, light it, and tend it to a roaring flame. Harold inched close to the fire, holding his pale white fingers to the warmth. Bryn kicked him away.


    "What do you say?"


    Harold scrambled back up and glanced at Dyla who had her arms crossed and looked down at him disapproving.


    "Oh, thank you," he sputtered.


    Bryn took a step closer and Harold backed up. Growling again, Bryn said, "Is that how you address the woman of the house?"


    A flash of contempt returned to Harold''s face as he glanced at the cave and Dyla, a small sneer grew uncontrolled to his lips. Bryn walked by him and kicked the back of his knees. Harold collapsed and Bryn¡¯s large boot forced his face into the floor.


    "Well?" he growled.


    "Yes, my lady. I''m sorry, my lady. Please, sir!" Harold began to cry again but Bryn''s boot lifted.


    Dyla, acting as Jarl¡¯s wife-like as she could, showed Harold how to make a basic stew. Once the stew was finished, the boy poured some into his captor''s bowls, slopping a little and earning another growl from Bryn.


    Harold put the ladle back in the pot and waited, eyes shifting nervously from Bryn to Dyla and back. Bryn didn''t look at him as the boy''s eyes bored into his broad back, he just said, "You''re dismissed."


    "B-b-"


    Harold looked yearningly at the stew. Dyla laughed coldly, "After today''s performance? Not likely. And if you can''t do it tomorrow, you''ll have nothing then too. Now go."


    She waved her hand to the corner where he''d been tied up. Harold stood there, jaw hanging open for a moment, before slowly turning and walking away. He paused in front of the cave entrance. It was obvious he was considering running.


    Thwak!


    One of Bryn throwing axes, wedged itself in the dirt at the entrance. Harold spun around but Bryn was already back to his dinner. He walked to his corner, curled up, and cried himself to sleep.


    The next morning, Harold was woken by a swift kick. His dazed eyes looked up.


    "Hey who¡ª" When his eyes focused on Bryn''s form, the boy swallowed his words with a gulp.


    "Go start the fire."


    Harold groaned, his muscles seized in the ball he''d slept in on the hard stone floor. Bryn growled.


    "Y-yes, sir!"


    Slowly and painfully, Harold stood and started the fire. It took a while and it wasn''t as perfect as Dyla''s, but it worked, flaming up to cook their breakfast. After serving Bryn and Dyla, Harold stood again by the fire, waiting. Biting his lip to keep from talking out of turn. One eye had swollen shut in the night but the other was locked on the food.


    Slowly, Dyla and Bryn ate their fried eggs. Then when they were done, they handed the scraps to Harold. With initial repulsion soon overcome by hunger, Harold gobbled up the leftover eggs.


    He''d barely finished before Dyla had him refill the waterskins and wash the dishes before ordering him to follow her to the river. There she taught him how to do laundry, leaving him with a pile.


    "Finish those and wash yourself while you''re at it. And make sure you come back with the bucket filled."


    Harold looked nervously at the laundry, Dyla''s demonstration having been quick. She coughed and he snapped back to her. "Yes, my lady."


    She nodded and walked back, leaving Harold alone and hoping for his sake he was smarter than he seemed.


    He wasn''t.


    After being left alone, Harold drank deeply from the river, cried a little, washing blood off his clothes. He attempted the laundry and was finishing his second shirt when it occurred to him that he was alone. He glanced nervously up and down the river. He knew the river went by the fort. Went to his home. After another nervous glance around, he ran.


    Bryn let him run for an hour. Then he materialized from the trees and grabbed the boy by the neck. Harold screamed and Bryn held him close to his face.


    "Now, now, Jarl''s son. I''d thought you''d be smarter than that." He pulled off his belt and Harold screamed again.


    Dyla shook her head as Harold limped back into the cave, folded laundry in his arms. He winced each step but he placed the clothes carefully on Dyla and Bryn''s bed. Still limping, he left to get the water. Dyla could see the red welts on his back as his wet shirt clung to it.


    She hoped he knew he''d been lucky Bryn had expected him to run. They were three hours by Bryn''s pace from the town and there was no way Harold would have made it anyway. He would have died of exhaustion, fallen off a cliff, or been eaten by wolves before ever getting home.


    Two days passed, Harold getting better at his servant role. His swelling went down and he only earned a few more kicks throughout his time in the cave. He was jumpy and obedient, exactly as Bryn wanted him for his grand reveal. The Jarl''s men had been combing the woods, getting further and further out looking for Harold. It was time to deliver the message.


    On Harold''s fourth night missing, a handaxe thudded onto the town stable where the stablehand found it the next morning with a note tied to it. Quickly it was taken to the Jarl.


    Jarl Soren, meet me at the north turn of the river at noon. Bring guards if you wish for bloodshed.


    The Jarl gripped the paper tight and his wife sobbed behind him.

 4. Jarl Soren

    The Jarl and his steward arrived at the bend of the river to find Bryn standing there alone.


    "Welcome," he greeted the Jarl with a grin, "I''m glad you left your guards a ways back."


    The Jarl coughed uncomfortably, not sure how Bryn had known he''d brought guards at all. "Yes, well. These woods are dangerous. Here I am, now where''s my son."


    Bryn''s grin widened before he gave a sharp whistle. Harold came running out of the trees and stood by Bryn''s side. There were still enough bruises and scabs to make the Jarl suck in his breath and turn red. "Harold, come here."


    Harold didn''t move.


    "Son, come here. I''ve come to take you home."


    Harold hesitated and glanced at Bryn who shook his head sadly. The boy stayed rooted to the spot.


    "Jarl, Harold''s learned a few important lessons during his time with me. He''s learned not to speak until spoken to, to listen to what others say, and," his tone grew darker, "to follow my orders."


    With his dangerous grey eyes never leaving the Jarl''s face, Bryn said, "Harold, get on your knees."


    Harold dropped to his knees.


    "Harold, did you learn those lessons?"


    "Yes, sir!"


    "Do you think your father should learn those lessons?"


    Harold choked but said, "Yes sir!"


    "There you have it, from the mouth of babes."


    The Jarl exploded, his steward desperately trying to hold him back. "Why you son of a¡ª"


    "Harold, lie down."


    Harold whimpered and obeyed. The Jarl froze. Bryn''s huge axe slithered from his back and hovered above Harold who couldn''t see it, his face planted in the dirt.


    "The boy trusts his father, you see. He knows what makes me angry and what I''ll do. So this is him trusting you to make the right choice."


    The Jarl''s eyes followed the axe blade and Bryn held it, lowering it an inch, raising it, lowering, raising...


    "What...do you want?"


    Bryn gave his rumbling laugh. "It''s funny you should ask since I already told you."


    The Jarl started. "The land?"


    Bryn''s tone went dark. "Yes, the land, you bumbling idiot."


    The Jarl threw his hands up. "Fine I''ll sell it to you!"


    Harold squeaked as the blunt top of the axe landed on his back with a thud.


    "Oh no, Jarl Soren. I was willing to buy it but sadly, you said no. And Harold, tell your father about how I feel about repeating myself."


    "Sir doesn''t like it."


    "Right, so what do you think your father should do?"


    "Give it to you, sir?"


    "Good lad. See, maybe Harold here will make a good Jarl after all."


    The steward looked ready to announce the land Bryn''s, but the Jarl stopped him. He stepped forward and Bryn waited.


    "Why? Why do you want that land?" the Jarl asked.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Bryn laughed again. "Why, to build a house on, of course!"


    The Jarl paled.


    "Why the long face, neighbor? I''m looking forward to working with you." Bryn sighed and the Jarl¡¯s silence. "I was hoping to have this conversation separate, but we can do it now."


    He lifted his axe. "Get up Harold."


    Harold rose and Bryn ruffled his hair. "Good lad. Now it looks like your father and I need to chat, so go get lunch ready."


    "Yes, sir." Harold gave his father a quick glance before rushing back into the woods.


    "Now hold on a moment, I came to get my son back and¡ª"


    Bryn held up a hand. "Patience. He''ll be fine, we''re going with him after all. I feel we should have this conversation over food, so why don''t you send that nervous steward of yours to tell your guards you''ll be a while and come join me for lunch so we can talk business."


    "How do I know you won''t kill me there?"


    Bryn shrugged. "I didn''t kill you here."


    The Jarl''s shoulders fell. "Leave me."


    "But, sir!"


    "I said leave me!" the Jarl snapped.


    "I guess I''m not the only one who doesn''t like to repeat myself," Bryn said smugly and the Jarl flinched. The steward slowly retreated and Bryn gestured Jarl Soren to follow.


    When they got to the cave, Harold was adding wood to the fire. He stood when Bryn entered, but the man waved to him to continue. Jarl Soren gave his son a pained look, and started when he saw Dyla standing in the corner.


    She gave the Jarl a smile and said, "Food, Harold."


    Standing up quickly, Harold went to cut bread and meat for Bryn and his father. "Yes, my lady."


    Bryn guided the Jarl to two stones where they sat down. The huge man watched the Jarl shift uncomfortably on the stone. "No chairs here, Jarl. I need a house to have a meeting room, but that''ll come in time. Then we can meet comfortably."


    The idea of them meeting again made the Jarl feel sick. He cleared his throat and gained some composure. "As you pointed out earlier, I too do not like to repeat myself. So tell me, what do you want?"


    Harold handed a plate to Bryn who didn''t glance at him, then to his father, who looked at him, not taking the plate. Bryn remaked, "Come now, Jarl Soren, you know how nervous servants get when there are bad guests."


    The Jarl turned red again but his son just gave him a pleading look and placed the plate on his lap before stepping away.


    "As for what I want, well I want whatever I want. Right now, that''s a home to stay in during bad winters, servants to take care of that home, and a Jarl that does what I say, asks no questions, and tells no tales."


    The Jarl didn''t touch his food as Bryn began to eat. "So, you want political favors."


    Bryn snorted and swallowed. "No, you stupid man, I want to stay out of politics entirely. I don''t want you complaining about your new neighbor to any of the Jarls or other friends."


    Jarl Soren stiffened as he realized Bryn meant the king. A sly smile grew on his face. "Ah, you''re afraid of my friends."


    Bryn gave him a long look and the Jarl stiffened, there was no fear in this man''s eyes. "I''m a practical man, Jarl. If I had to face the king''s army, I would probably lose. Not that I wouldn''t take out half, mind you." He grinned then the grin turned predatory. "And I''d definitely be able to make it to the rooms of a Jarl and ex-servant boy I knew."


    He took another huge bite of meat, chewing slowly as the Jarl digested his words. Finally, Bryn wiped his mouth and stuck out his hand. "A home, some help, and some peace. Not such a terrible request, eh?"


    The Jarl still hesitated and Bryn''s face grew dark. "I''ve been very patient with you, Jarl Soren. Few places I''ve visited have had the chance you have now. Usually," he stabbed his knife into the hunk of bread, tearing it open, "I cut to the chase."


    Blood draining from his face, Jarl Soren said slowly, "You are asking me to house and protect a murderer. To be neighbors with the man who kidnapped and tortured my son."


    Bryn''s voice raised a bit. "I''m asking you to be a Jarl and protect your people."


    The two men stared defiantly at each other. "Harold," Bryn whispered, but it carried in the silence of the cave, "take your shoes off."


    Bryn didn''t turn, but the Jarl could see Harold take off his shoes, his toes curling on the cold stone floor.


    "Did you do as I asked?"


    "Yes, sir."


    "Good. Now do exactly as I say. Sit down."


    The Jarl watched Harold sit down.


    "Stand up."


    The Jarl watched.


    "Sit down. Lie down. Roll over. Stand up. Lie down. Stand up."


    Harold scrambled, following each order as fast as he could, his breathing hitching.


    "Lie down. Stand up. Jump. Sit. Stand."


    The Jarl stood up, the plate on his lap clattering to the floor. "Fine! It''s yours! Whatever you want."


    Bryn didn''t smile. Slowly he stood as well, placing his plate carefully on the floor. He stuck out his hand and this time the Jarl took it. "Harold?"


    "Yes, sir."


    "Go with your father."


    Dyla watched the Jarl carry his child home. The boy clung to his shoulder, tears streaming down his face but his eyes stayed fixed on the cave, as if waiting for them to order him back. They disappeared into the trees.


    Bryn sat down on the bed and Dyla joined him, getting behind him and wrapped her arms around his broad chest. She rubbed her finger into his tight shoulders and he reached up to touch her face. His shoulders began to shake and the low rumbling laugh she loved so much came and he fell into her lap. "Now I just need an architect!"

 5. Advice

    Dyla walked down the street of Hjor with her head high. Most shopkeepers gave her dirty looks, the story having circulated through town despite the Jarl¡¯s best efforts. She and Bryn had been given a permanent room at the inn while the Jarl''s architect worked with them to plan their home.


    It would be bigger than the Jarl''s estate and Bryn was using his gold to buy a large force of workers to get the job done quickly. Dyla was shopping for furniture. Furniture for her home.


    She was inside looking at seat covers when she spotted a familiar patch of brown hair out the window. It was Harold. The older boy he''d tormented weeks before was saying something to him. Harold held his ground, but when the boy stepped forward, he flinched. The older boy laughed and said something that made Harold''s ears turn red. After he left, Harold stood there, fists clenched.


    ¡°Oh how the tables have turned¡±, thought Dyla, but she frowned. She wasn''t fond of Harold, but she did feel a bit bad that the son had suffered for the sins of the father.


    She stepped out of the store. "Harold."


    The boy spun and fear filled his face. His eyes glanced from side to side looking for Bryn, frozen to the spot. Dyla could feel the shopkeepers¡¯ eyes on her, ready to strike. She hoped they wouldn''t, it''d be bad for them.


    She sat on the bench by the tailor¡¯s shop and patted next to her. "Come sit down."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Yes m¡ª" he swallowed the words, blushed and walked forward, still glancing about nervously. He sat stiffly, not looking at her.


    "Harold. Why did that boy torment you?"


    "Because I used to hit him."


    "Right. Why did you hit him?"


    Harold struggled and said, "Because I could."


    "Why?"


    "Because my father''s the Jarl."


    "Exactly. How do you expect him to have any respect for you if you use your father to defend yourself?"


    Harold looked at her, but she stayed facing ahead. "Bryn and I were cruel to you, it changed you. But life is full of terrible things. If you want to grow up to be the best you can be, you need to learn and grow from hardship. You can either let what happened knock you down forever or you decide to never let yourself be knocked down again.¡±


    ¡°Now," she added, "that doesn''t mean you have to be the strongest. It works for Bryn but, well, he''s a bit special. You need to find your confidence and use that head of yours. We didn''t win this battle because we were strongest, we won because we watched and listened and then struck."


    She wasn''t sure why she was telling him this, but something about the way he had flinched had stirred bad memories up for her.


    "But¡ª" Harold froze, afraid to speak. She gestured for him to continue. "But what good will hitting him again do?"


    Dyla stood up exasperated. "Stars, and here I thought you had a brain. Guess I was wrong after all. Figure it out, Harold. Unless you always want to be told what to do."


    Panic then anger flushed his face and Dyla nodded, walking off to find some curtains she liked.

 6. Unexpected News

    It would take almost two years to finish the manor. It was large and to be made of stone, with a garden, stable, and large cellar for storing food and other goods. But it only took three months for enough to be built that Dyla and Bryn moved in. They stayed for the rest of winter and then, to the relief of Jarl Soren and much of the town, they left in the spring, promising to return in fall.


    Dyla had not expected Bryn to stay put. As happy as he had been with the progress of his land, the wilds indeed called him back. He didn¡¯t raze anymore villages, but returned to saving people only to take everything they had. Bryn and Dyla went southeast, towards sections of Valhym they had not yet ventured. They followed rivers, climbed mountains, and visited other Jarl forts.


    Occasionally they came too late to rescue and rob, and more than a few new orphans or widows were employed by Bryn and sent back to his manor. Of the the new employees, there was only one unwilling servant: their cook. A baker in Graftin made the mistake of bragging to Bryn what a great chef his wife was. Bryn immediately offered to hire the both of them. The baker had refused, unwilling to leave Graftin and his ailing parents. The next night, the bakery burned down while the baker, his wife, and their baby were visiting the ailing parents.


    After another ''request'' the baker, pale-faced, agreed to move, but stood his ground and gave the condition that his parents would have a place to stay. Bryn had agreed, but confided in Dyla that he doubted the pair would make the trip.


    The days grew short and one morning, Bryn announced they would return home. They were only a few weeks out when Dyla collapsed.


    It had been a rough patch of land, with rocks and rivers, and they had climbed over a ridge to avoid some giants. Dyla had made the climb but having safely reached the bottom, her legs gave way. Her stomach heaved out her breakfast and as she finished, Bryn rolled her on her side, brushing her hair out of her face.


    "What''s wrong?"


    Dyla gripped Bryn''s arm, her strength returning. "I-I''m not sure, my lord. I just felt so dizzy."


    "Are you ill?"


    Her pale eyebrows furrowed and she reached for her waterskin. Cleaning her face and drinking a small bit. "I think I need to see a medicine woman."


    Dyla never made requests to Bryn, but her pale, concerned face told him it was important. And if it was important to Dyla, it had to do with Bryn. He helped her up and kept a close eye on her as they continued to travel. Occasionally she lost her breath or was sick, she would apologize as Bryn stopped and helped her. He stayed quiet.


    Finally they reached a tiny, remote village. As they came, men began to gather, worried about the bear of a man and the threat he brought. But for once, Bryn did not concern himself with them. He found the home of the old woman every small village seemed to have. A woman who knew herbs and remedies, who healed¡ªusually without magic, and who all the village women turned to in times of need.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The hut, for it was more a hut than a home, smelled strongly of dried herbs and Bryn did not fit in the door. He called, "My woman needs to see you."


    A small wrinkled woman, with bits of dried flowers stuck in her wispy hair emerged. She toddled up to Bryn, unaffected by his intimidating size. She took one glance at Dyla, and then gestured her inside. Dyla went in, leaving Bryn to stand like a statue while the eyes of every villager bored into his back.


    When Dyla emerged, her face was stony and she was holding two small brown bags. The old woman followed and stuck out one crinkled hand. Bryn dropped several gold coins into it and then left the village.


    Bryn was surprised by his own patience with Dyla. She said nothing as she made dinner. She said nothing as they ate. It was only after they had washed up that she spoke, the two bags clutched in her hands.


    When she finally spoke, he listened without a word, "My lord, I am pregnant. I do not know if you wish this or not. I asked the woman for two things." She held up the bags,."One is herbs to help the baby grow strong and healthy, the other is to kill it."


    She placed the two bags in his large hands and sat in front of him. "I promised I would stay by your side, I cannot make these wilderness journeys carrying a child. Tell me your wish."


    Bryn looked at what he was holding and then at Dyla. With steady surety, he tipped the bag of poison onto the dirt. "I will accept my child." He handed the other bag back to Dyla who took it and held it close.


    When they arrived back at Hjor, the manor had doubled in size. Servants they had hired bustled about and as the couple approached they were met by Ulris.


    Ulris was Bryn''s steward, an old man whose caravan and family had been slaughtered by bandits. Bryn had saved Ulris from the brink of death and in return for room, board, and a small paycheck, he had agreed to serve the man who''d saved his life. He bowed solemnly, welcoming Bryn back. "As you can see, my lord, the estate is on schedule. The first floor should be completed by the time winter starts."


    "Good. But I need to speak with the architect, there are a few changes in order."


    Ulris nodded and wrote it down in a little book he always had with him.


    "Also, I want to speak to the Jarl." Ulris jotted this down and Bryn looked around the bustling site. "Where is Nelly?"


    His loud voice carried and a young woman, not eighteen years old, rushed over, curtseying. "I''m here, sir."


    "Take my woman to her room."


    "Yes, sir. My lady?"


    Dyla did not like being sent away, but she left with the girl who took her to the couple''s bedroom, now fully fitted with tapestries and a four poster bed to keep out the cold. Dyla sat down and sighed. Nelly stood there awkwardly and asked, "Is everything alright my lady?"


    She smiled at Nelly. They had found her chained up with a few other girls and two men with a group of slavers. Bryn had liked the slaver''s large wallets, Dyla had liked Nelly. "I''m tired and don''t like being away from Bryn."


    Nelly bobbed her head and looked so concerned for Dyla that added, "And I am pregnant."


    The girl covered her mouth as a small gasp escaped. "Congratulations, my lady. Do you need anything? Food? A doctor?"


    "No, no. Just let me lie down." Nelly nodded and folded down the blankets for her. "And Nelly, don''t tell anyone."


    Shaking her head, Nelly mimed locking her mouth. "Call for me if you need anything, my lady." She curtsied and left.


    Dyla laid down. It was going to be strange switching from hard camping to servants waiting on hand and foot. But it was what Bryn wanted, so she was happy. She placed a hand on her stomach and fell asleep.

 7. Unwelcome Neighbor

    Jarl Soren was not happy to see Bryn again. He had hoped someone would have killed the man. Often he fantasized of a giant punting Bryn with a huge foot, sending him splattering into the mountain side. But no luck¡ª Bryn walked through the door with a smile on his face that told the Jarl he knew exactly what he was thinking.


    "Jarl Soren, you seem in good health."


    "You as well."


    "I''ve just spoken to the architect and progress on my estate is moving along nicely. I see the servants I had sent arrived safely."


    The Jarl resisted the urge to comment on his servants. Every week it had seemed some ragged person from Stars knows where had shown up on his doorstep with a scrawled note from Bryn demanding that the Jarl see them outfitted and put to work. The only one the Jarl had been grateful to see was Ulris who had taken that assigning into his own capable hands.


    "Yes, well, you chose a good steward."


    "It seems I did. I wanted to talk to you about my stay."


    "Until spring, correct?" the Jarl said a bit too quickly.


    "That was the plan, but now it looks like I will have to extend it."


    "Oh?" the Jarl asked, too afraid of saying more. Bryn smiled again.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "Yes, about nine months."


    Jarl Soren¡¯s eyebrows shot up. No, it couldn''t be. "May I ask the reason for this change?"


    "I would have thought that was clear. My woman is pregnant."


    The Jarl went pale. The idea of Bryn procreating and unleashing his spawn on the world made him feel sick. And if he had children here, would he be back more often? Would he expect more favors? Would the children upset Bryn and set him on a tirade? A million questions whirled through the Jarl''s brain but to his credit he managed to choke out, "Congratulations."


    With a sign from his steward, the Jarl remembered the reason he had agreed to speak with Bryn. He gave a small cough. "As per our...agreement...I am obliged to tell you that an official from the king visited not a month ago. He saw the construction and asked questions. I told him we had a rich new citizen and he accepted that, though I expect he will want to meet you next time he is in the area."


    Bryn''s face darkened and the Jarl tried not to let his joy show. He didn''t want Bryn to think he''d set him up. The Jarl hadn''t, he couldn''t afford to betray Bryn directly, even if he did pray for his untimely demise.


    "And when will this next visit be?" Bryn growled.


    The Jarl gestured to his steward who bowed to Bryn and said, "Our best estimate would be four or five months."


    "His name?"


    "Pardon?"


    Bryn turned to the steward, his grey eyes locking the poor man in place. "The official''s name."


    "Oh, of course. Tyrik Hurson, a distant relative of the king and one of his army captains."


    Bryn nodded, turned, and left without a word.

 8. The Mage

    It was only a couple of months before Dyla began showing. Her slender frame, lithe with muscle softened as she rested. She was exhausted easily and although it pained her, she often was too sick to move. It wasn''t long before the whole town knew of the baby. Their reactions mirrored the Jarl''s, many fearing this would mean seeing more of Bryn and his dark temper.


    Already, two merchants had almost died denying something to Bryn. Bryn had wanted a shipment of cloth the tailor had promised to an aristocrat in the capital. It was only by the timely arrival of her son that she had avoided being skewered on Bryn''s sword. The son had begged forgiveness and given Bryn the cloth for free, unknowingly fulfilling Bryn''s rules for survival.


    The second was the stablemaster who had objected to Bryn building his own stable. Despite warning from the other townsfolk, he confronted Bryn who broke one of the man''s legs by the time Ulris and the Jarl showed up.


    The Jarl had negotiated for the man''s life, promising he would leave the town. The stablemaster had thanked Jarl by spitting in his face. This was probably what had saved him. Bryn''s temper had left when he saw the ingratitude of the Jarl''s efforts. His rumbling laugh filled the town as the Jarl''s men dragged away the stablemaster and Jarl Soren was forced to apologize to Bryn. The stablemaster left bitterly, cursing Bryn and the Jarl alike.


    Many suspected it was that stablemaster who sent the mage. It was in the spring, Bryn was getting restless and to Dyla''s dismay and the town''s delight, would go out into the wilds for days at a time before returning home. It was during one of these trips that the mage arrived.


    The townsfolk, far from Sn?rheim where the few mages of Valhym met, pooling their knowledge of the arcane, did not recognize him for what he was. He stayed at the inn until Bryn wandered back home.


    Bryn was at the doorstep, Dyla opening the door to greet him when the first bolt struck him between the shoulders. He fell twitching on the floor before quickly rolling to the side, avoiding a spear of ice which shattered like glass on the doorstep. Dyla lunged forward, but Ulris and Nelly pulled her back, shutting the door.


    Bryn got up, wards shimmering into existence. But the mage was fast, already there was a figure of stone rising from the earth, standing between Bryn and his attacker.


    "Ah it''s true!" the man tittered, his high voice nasally and proud. "The beast does know a few cantrips. This may be fun after all."


    Bryn tossed an axe but it bounded off the man''s ward. The mage waggled a finger. "Now, now, none of that."


    Fire billowed from the mage¡¯s other hand and Bryn moved forward, using the huge stone guardian as shelter. It squeezed it''s rocky arms around him but with a roar Bryn broke free, sweat from the now heated stone trickling down his face. He slammed his axe into the stone chest, creating a crack and pressed his hand against it. The summoned roots burst out of the guardian leaving it crumbled in the dirt.


    The mage''s unrelenting flames burnt the plant to a crisp as Bryn moved to the side. He got five steps closer when the mage saw him and turned the flames at his target. Bryn didn''t flinch as the flames hit his ward, curling around him but draining his strength. His small pool of magic nothing to a true mage. Bryn moved closer once more and the mage backed up laughing.


    "So close, yet so far away. This is why I love these bounties, custom made for mages, a mass of murderous muscles boiling to a crisp under the fire in my hands. It''s simply delicious."


    Bryn threw another axe but it went wide, thudding into the dirt behind the mage. Bryn unsheathed his greatsword, still moving forward into the blaze.


    It was a mage''s favorite game, which would fail first, the stream of fire or the victim''s ward? For what seemed like an eternity they danced, Bryn forward, the mage back.


    At last, Bryn had the mage where he wanted him. The mage''s backwards step tripped over Bryn''s previously thrown axe. As he stumbled, the flames went high and Bryn, darting forward, lunged with his sword. It shattered the mage''s ward and as he tried to regain his balance, Bryn grabbed his throat. The man choked and sputtered. Bryn muttered a silence spell, the effort breaking his own ward.


    The man''s face turned blue and his eyes rolled back before Bryn dropped him. Dyla burst from the door, coming to examine Bryn. He brushed her off, his grey eyes glinting with anger. He reached down, grabbing the front of the mages robes and picking him off the ground.


    "Get me a pole, some rope, and a bucket."


    Ulris scurried off to find the items and Dyla stood nearby wringing her hands. She had never seen Bryn fight such a powerful mage. The occasional cultist was usually weak, his powers recently gained and practiced only on the helpless. This was a man from the Sn?rheim guild of mages, trained by masters.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    "Woman, pack my bag."


    Dyla wanted to ask questions, but she just nodded and went inside to do what he said. As she packed, unwelcome tears trickled down her cheek, a feeling of dread welling up inside her.


    When Ulris and some servants arrived with the items, Bryn pounded the pole into the ground and tied the mage to it. He called for a second pole and put it between the man''s legs to tie his hands stretching out forward. Bryn placed a bucket beneath his wrists. Then he sat and waited for the mage to wake up.


    By the time the mage stirred, the Jarl had arrived. "What on earth are you doing, Bryn?"


    Bryn turned and gave him a dangerous look, rage swimming in his eyes. Jarl Soren stopped in his tracks, feeling he had just walked into a bear''s den. Summoning courage, the Jarl tried again, "You can''t keep a man tied up in the middle of town."


    "I can. This swine attacked me at my home. He was sent by a bounty. I have yet to decide if you should share his fate, Jarl, so I suggest you go home."


    The words were quiet and low, chilling the Jarl. He knew Bryn was going to do something awful to this man, but he couldn''t save him. All altruism turned to self-preservation and the Jarl backed off, urging his guards to keep the townspeople inside.


    "Wha...?" The mage stirred.


    Quick as a snake, Bryn''s hand reached forward, grabbing the man''s tongue and slicing it out of his mouth. The Jarl heard the scream as he walked away.


    "Good, you''re awake. I would''ve have waited and asked you who sent you, but you mages are so tricky and I got impatient to see your blood."


    Red poured from the man''s mouth and he gurgled.


    "Hmm that''s a lot of blood. I wouldn''t want you to bleed out. Better wait for the next bit." Bryn took a cloth from his pocket and shoved it past the mage''s teeth, his screams were muffled and the cloth soon turned red.


    Bryn checked that every finger of the mage was tied down so he could not cast anything tricky. As the mage moved his head and his eyes rolled in pain, Bryn sat and waited.


    Night fell and still Bryn waited. His eyes sparkling like a wolf''s in the darkness. Dyla brought him his bag and some food. He set the bag beside him and ate the food, saying no words to her. Dyla too waited until Ulris and Nelly came to get her in bed.


    "Leave me," she ordered, refusing to leave Bryn''s side again.


    They pleaded with her but she remained adamant until Bryn spoke, "Go to bed, woman. I will be here when you wake."


    Without a word, Dyla let Nelly help her up and into bed.


    The sun rose and with it Bryn. He moved forward, crouching by the mage. He ripped the bloodied cloth out and the mage''s eyes shot open, his scream waking the town.


    "Now I''m going to ask you some questions and you will nod. Understand?"


    The mage nodded.


    "Are you from Sn?rheim?" Nod. "Were you sent by the Jarl?" The mage shook his head and made some guttural noises. Bryn held up a hand and he stopped.


    "There is a bounty for me?" Nod. "It is just for mages?" A hesitant nod. "These mage bounties, are they approved by the king?" Shake.


    Bryn gave the mage his predatory smile. "Good man. Now if you survive this next bit, I will take you home."


    The man stiffened and Bryn stood up, took out his great axe, and brought it down on the mage¡¯s wrists. As he screamed, pulling his handless arms to his chest, Bryn reached into his pack and wrote a note. He pulled a sack out and dropped the man''s hands inside. Tying the sack, Bryn marched up the road until he reached a guard who was trying very hard not to run towards the screams.


    Bryn loomed over the man, who tried not to shake in his boots. "You. Take this to the Jarl."


    He handed the man the bag and note. The man looked horrified at the bag, it''s bottom soaked red. Bryn eyed him. "Move." he growled.


    The guard took off and Bryn returned to the mage. Dyla was standing in front of him, her blonde hair tangled from a sleepless night and her pale blue nightgown fluttering in the chill morning breeze.


    Bryn walked up to her and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. She moaned, feeling in her soul what he was about to say. "I am going to Sn?rheim and you are not coming."


    She clung to him. "Please, no, my lord. Take me with you. You promised me I would stay by your side."


    He took her by the arms and gave her a small shake. "No, woman. You cannot travel and this must be addressed. Do as I say."


    She shook her head, tears welling. "No, I¡ª"


    It was the first time Bryn had ever struck her. It was the first time she had ever disobeyed. Her cheek burned and the tears escaped. Her body spasmed with sobs and Bryn picked her up and carried her inside.


    She clung to him but he firmly tore her away and placed her on their bed. She tried to get up but with a look from Bryn, Nelly and Ulris held her back. Her struggles stopped and she froze when he said, "If you are not here, I will not come back."


    Dyla was told that he went outside and untied the mage. That he slung the bleeding man over his shoulder, picked up his bag, and walked into the wilds. Dyla was frozen on her bed as they told her this.


    "Sn?rheim," she muttered, "he''s going to Sn?rheim."


    Nelly gasped, "It''ll take him at least a month to get there on foot!" She covered her mouth and Ulris shoved her out of the room as Dyla collapsed onto the bed.


    "He promised," she moaned, "he promised I wouldn''t be afraid. I am so afraid."


    Ulris stayed by her side until she slept.


    The Jarl received the bag and message shortly after Bryn left. He ordered the hands burned and buried and sat at his throne the note on his lap. A gift, just in case he was yours. He ran a hand through his quickly greying hair and wished for the millionth time that Bryn had never come to Hjor.

 9. Mage鈥檚 Guild

    Nelly did not account for how well Bryn knew the countryside. Even while dragging the crippled mage, Bryn made it to Sn?rheim in three weeks. The mage moaned until Bryn had gagged him and had tried to jump off a cliff twice. But Bryn didn''t let him die.


    As they approached the Guild, the guards of Sn?rheim gathered, warily watching the large man with the dead eyed, handless companion. They approached the sheer cliff that the guild had made into a home, magically shaped balconies and stairs connecting it''s many caves like some sort of hive.


    Bryn took the mage by the front of his now tattered robe and dragged him up the narrow stone steps towards the cliff. A rift, like a moat, fell black and empty below the stairs. The man tried to jump but Bryn held him tight. A thin tall mage with pale blonde hair and thin disapproving eyebrows stood in Bryn''s way.


    "Only guild members beyond this point."


    Bryn''s eyes darkened and he held the crippled mage aloft. "Here is your guild member," he spat. "Do you speak for the Guild?"


    She looked at the ragged man in disgust. "Yes, I do and I can assure you this is not¡ª" The man looked up and the woman''s face changed. "Stars, Torbold! Is that you?"If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Torbold moaned and Bryn threw him down. "Not sure, never caught his name. But he tried to kill me. I don''t know who set the bounty, but if anymore of you snivelling magic weavers come near me, I will do the same to you, but I may do your eyes too and I won''t escort you home like Torbold here."


    "What you¡ª? Oh gods ,his hands! Torbold, is that really you?"


    Torbold looked up and moaned. Bryn gave him a kick and laughed. "Go on Torbold, tell her what you are."


    The mage knelt down and grabbed Torbold''s face. He rolled his eyes trying to deny as she caught a glimpse of his mouth. Her face paled.


    When she stood up, Bryn grabbed her throat. "I will say it again because you mages aren''t very bright. Stay away from me, drop the bounty, and Torbold will be the only one to get my special mage package."


    The girl gurgled and tried to cast a spell, but Bryn batted her hand down. "Don''t," he growled and heaved her over the rail until she was dangling over the thousand foot drop.


    "Do you understand?" He loosened his grip and she grabbed his arm desperately.


    Gasping she answered, "Y...es."


    He dropped her onto the stone bridge and walked away. He heard her scream as Torbold threw himself into the rift.

 10. Advice Returned

    It''d been weeks since Bryn departed for Sn?rheim. Despite the time, the townsfolk avoided the spot the mage had been, even after Ulris took down the poles and the bucket. Meanwhile, Dyla grew bigger and bigger.


    The distraught woman refused to leave the estate grounds. When Ulris and Nelly could convince her, she would walk the newly planted garden, but it held no interest to her. Her sleep was restless, she would cry out at night, screaming for Bryn. She had nightmares of black robed mages mingled with green robes and blue surrounding Bryn. Of him dying under the influence of every element. She would see them turn to her and her running. Of them tying her to a cold slab of stone.


    One evening, she had a surprise visitor. Harold, now twelve, stood by the garden gate as she walked among the morning glories. He stared at her and her huge belly. Silently, he entered the garden and walked with her. They walked without a word for ten minutes before Harold finally spoke, "Father is sending me away."


    Dyla didn''t answer.


    "He wants to send me to the capital with the steward for the prince''s birthday. I don''t know why, the prince is only two, it''s not like he''ll remember me being there."


    Dyla didn''t answer.


    "I know why, he wants to meet the other Jarl''s sons and daughters that will be there. But I don''t want to."


    Dyla sat on a stone bench and Harold sat next to her.


    "I''m scared to leave home. I''m scared to meet the others. What if I make a fool of myself?"


    Finally, Dyla answered. "Fear is not the worst thing. I used to think it was. Not knowing is the worst thing."Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Harold slowly moved his hand gently onto Dyla''s stomach. She let him. After a moment, he quickly removed it and slipped off the bench. "I made up with Lor. I went to his sister and she helped. We''re friends now."


    He climbed over the fence and ran off. Dyla closed her eyes. Not knowing is the worst thing...


    She thought back to the last time she''d sat with Harold. ¡®You can either let what happened knock you down forever, or decide to never let yourself be knocked down again.¡¯


    She gripped the stone bench. She didn''t know and she was afraid, but that was because she depended on Bryn. How could she be by his side if she clung to him and dragged him down? She had told him she didn''t fear death. Then why was she afraid?


    Bryn would return or would have died fighting. She would be here or she would have died fighting. Even if they were apart, that bound them together. No matter what happened, they knew their paths. Dyla walked back to the house and that night slept peacefully for the first time since the mage had arrived.


    Bryn returned not two months after he had left. The townspeople scattered like sheep as he walked through the streets. Ulris greeted him at the door, taking his pack and babbling about the estate. Bryn ignored him and strode to the bedroom. He opened the door and Dyla was sitting on the end of the bed, holding a ragged blue piece of cloth. She did not look up.


    Ulris shut the door, leaving them alone. Bryn took a step forward and Dyla flinched. He made an angry rumble. "What''s wrong, woman?"


    She didn''t look up but answered, "I am ashamed of myself. I let fear get the better of me."


    He stepped closer and she stiffened. "I went to Sn?rheim."


    "I know."


    "I warned the mages to stay away."


    "I know."


    "Then I came back."


    He was right in front of her, she could smell the earthy scent of travel on him. "You were afraid?" he asked.


    Dyla nodded, but said, "I was. But then I realized it didn''t matter. Whether we die together or apart, we would die the same way."


    He tilted her face up until he could see her green eyes. "Then, my woman, nothing is wrong."

 11. Cubs

    Dyla went into labor at the first frost. Immediately, the midwife was called and everyone was ushered out. Nelly stood by the door, shaking with the task the midwife had given her to keep everyone out, including Bryn. Ulris sat calmly, trying to channel that calm into his master, who paced the room like a trapped animal.


    When Dyla''s screaming started, Bryn marched towards the door. Nelly stood in his way, trembling, and he batted her aside like a sapling. He yanked open the door and the midwife gave him a glare that normally would have gotten her killed.


    Bryn stood by Dyla''s side like a stone statue, the only movement was his grey eyes that flicked about, following everything that was happening. The midwife spoke but Bryn missed it as Dyla gave the loudest scream of pain yet and a bloody form emerged. The midwife cut the cord and started to clean the baby off when Dyla screamed again. The midwife nearly dropped the newborn and said, "Stars, there are two!"


    "Get me another person!" the midwife shouted to Bryn, which was the only order he ever followed in his life. Nelly stepped in, only a slight bruise on her elbow where she''d caught herself. Seeing the blood, she promptly fainted and Ulris took her place. Having once been a grandfather, Ulris expertly took the first baby and cradled the wailing infant.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    With Dyla''s third and final scream of pain, the midwife announced the task complete. Ulris and the midwife handed Dyla her children. The babes'' mother smiled at them as their wailing stopped and they curled up, uncertain outside her womb. The midwife grabbed two small blankets and quickly swaddled the babes. Dyla turned exhausted to Bryn. "A boy and a girl, my lord, what are their names?"


    Bryn paused watching the two as they were handed back to the mother. "Fenrin and Lyra."


    Dyla nodded. "Good, good. Fenrin Brynson and Lyra Bryndotter." The midwife left, unnoticed by Bryn or Dyla who stayed staring at their children until finally, Dyla''s eyelids began to droop.


    Ulris, who had also not moved, whispered to Bryn, "Should I fetch the midwife back?"


    Bryn growled and reached for his children. Ulris coughed. "Sir? Have you held a baby before?" Grey eyes gave Ulris a warning glance but he didn''t flinch. "May I?"


    The new father didn''t move and Ulris mimed holding a baby and gently moved Bryn''s huge arms into position. Then the steward lifted Fenrin and placed him into Bryn''s arm.


    Ulris gently spoke about head support and rocking before laying Lyra into the crook of Bryn''s other arm. With him the babies looked unbelievably small. Ulris turned Bryn''s armchair with a grunt and Bryn sat down slowly.

 12. Tyrik Hurson

    Throughout the next month, Bryn stayed by Dyla''s side eyeing anyone when approached the babies with the dangerous eyes of a bear. However, soon the urge to roam grew strong and he left. Dyla, to everyone''s surprise, was okay with his leaving. He returned a week later with a middle aged woman who immediately went to work helping with the children.


    The Bear came and went over the next months until winter had its hold again. It was a terrible winter. Snow blew in for days and nights leaving the inhabitants snowed in. But the manor was warm, it''s central fire burning brightly through their large stores of wood.


    Fenrin and Lyra grew. Fenrin had dark brown hair which Dyla explained was her father''s. Lyra had the same pale blonde as her parents. Her eyes were piercing green and Fenrin''s were grey, flecked with dark brown. When winter finally ended and the last of the snow melted away, the twins were five months old.


    With the last thaw, Bryn told Dyla he was leaving. "You cannot leave the children. But I have to go."


    "I know."


    They kissed long and hard. Bryn left and did not return until fall.


    He arrived two days before the twin''s birthday. They eyed him suspiciously, but he won them over with berries, fruits, and wide river rocks.


    The Bear had been home three weeks when Captain Tyrik Hurson arrived.


    The Jarl, seeing a chance to get back in good graces with Bryn and maybe sweep any lingering false suspicions, sent a messenger to Bryn¡¯s estate.


    Neighbor, my friend''s relative is here. He will probably want you to come to dinner.


    Bryn sent Dyla.


    Captain Tyrik was a handsome, rugged man with thick light brown hair and a trim beard. Jarl Soren, Harold, Dyla, and Tyrik made up the dining party. The Jarl''s wife had excused herself, feigning illness. She never could face Dyla or Bryn without losing control.


    The dinner began with the Jarl inquiring about all the people in the capital he knew, asking about the other Jarls Tyrik had visited, and then a toast to the High King''s health. Gradually, Jarl Soren ran out of questions and Tyrik took the floor.


    "I apologize again for having to delay my visit. That last winter came swift and hard. That in addition to my necessary return to the capitol made me break my promise, something I take quite seriously."


    "Well, not much changes down here, now or months ago, things would be the same. The only big news was the amount of snow which I''m sure you saw plenty of," Jarl Soren said amicably.


    Tyrik''s eyes roamed to Dyla. "I don''t know about that. That new estate is finishing up now, isn''t it? Lady, I''m afraid I did not catch your name."


    Dyla dabbed her lips and gave a nod. "Dyla. And yes, the estate is coming along nicely despite the weather delay, we are set to wrap up by next summer. I''m flattered that you noticed."


    Captain Hurson reached for a goblet and eyed the purple liquid inside. "It is an impressive estate. Larger than the good Jarl¡¯s here I wager." He took a long drink, eyeing Dyla over the rim.


    She merely nodded. "Yes, it was a long time dream of Bryn''s. The Jarl was kind enough to sell us the land."


    Harold flinched and Tyrik''s sharp eyes flicked over to him. "Something wrong young master Harold?"


    Stabbing a piece of meat with his fork, Harold did his best to play it off. "I liked it better when I could swim in the river."Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Ah, the estate took away your playspot. What a shame."


    Harold shrugged. "It''s fine. Their garden is nice." Now the Jarl''s hand slipped and Tyrik''s dark eyes turned to him.


    He coughed. "I was unaware you had been to the gardens, son. Now when would you have had the time? During lessons perhaps?" He raised an eyebrow at Harold who caught on and looked dutifully ashamed.


    Dyla tried not to laugh. Now she knew why Bryn had sent her. This toying of words would have had him hacking the table in two.


    Tyrik turned back to Dyla. "And what is it your husband does, Lady Dyla?"


    "Hunts mainly. He trades a bit too. He inherited quite a collection from my father and having traveled much of Valhym, made a good profit off it. He''s a wanderer at heart."


    "A wanderer who spends his fortune on a home?"


    "Indeed." She sipped her drink letting her offense drift across the table.


    "I apologize, my lady, I meant no offense. It just seems a curious action for a man who made his fortune travelling."


    "I accept your apology, although perhaps you''ll understand better when the Jarl offers his. He has done me a great injustice."


    Tyrik''s eyebrows raised and he turned to the Jarl who sputtered. Dyla calmly continued as she sliced her meat, "Yes, he rudely said not much had changed when Bryn and I have in fact been gifted with two beautiful children during that long winter."


    The captain turned back and the Jarl wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. "Indeed," the captain nodded, "that does explain things quite nicely. Twins, I take it?"


    "A boy and a girl."


    "Quite a lucky winter."


    The conversation died down and the servants brought out their dessert, an ornate fruit tray with creams and small cakes.


    Dyla popped a strawberry slice in her mouth and finishing it, asked, "How long will you be staying in Hjor, Captain?"


    Tyrik spooned cream onto a cake and then the utensil in the air. "Ah, I do not have a set schedule as of yet. Maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks."


    "Do you not have a wife waiting for you?"


    "No lady, I am not, as of yet, married."


    "Well that is a surprise. I''m sorry to say even with your good looks, there are no ladies here in Hjor for you."


    "That is alright, I am not here to find a wife."


    "Of course, you are here to..?"


    "Inspect and protect, Lady Dyla, that is my function."


    "Ah." She stabbed another strawberry and spun it, admiring the red fruit. "But are not our roads in more need of protecting than our towns?" She placed her fork and strawberry onto the plate. "I apologize, Captain, that was not my place. The bitterness of a caravaneer''s daughter, I suppose. Now if you''ll excuse me, I miss my children."


    They stood and bowed as she left. Not seeing her sly smile.


    Back at the estate, Dyla related the tale to Bryn who gave his deep laugh.


    "Well played, my woman. My habits, my estate, and even my dislike of the government all neatly explained in a normal boring tale."


    Dyla smiled satisfied. She leaned over and caught Lyra as she lost her balance walking along the edge of the bed. She heaved the little girl up and began combing her hair. Fenrin was playing on the floor, stacking river rocks.


    "He will visit you," Dyla said and Bryn nodded.


    And he did. Four days later there was a sharp rap on the estate door and Ulris answered. He led Captain Tyrik to Bryn''s study and announced him.


    "Captain Tyrik Hurson, sir."


    Bryn turned and saw the surprised look on the Captain''s face before he could hide it. There were few who could look at Bryn without a reaction. He stood, towering over Tyrik and shook his hand, "Ah yes, Captain. Welcome to my home."


    "Thank you. I felt I should come introduce myself before my departure tomorrow."


    "Leaving before the snow starts, smart man."


    "Yes, I also wanted to congratulate you on¡ª"


    As if on cue, Fenrin came crawling into the office and Bryn leaned down scooping him up. "Little pup won''t stay put. Just like his father. Yes, thank you Captain I can guess what your well wishes were for." He winked and watched as Fenrin played with the fur on his collar.


    The air grew awkward as the captain imposed on the man with his son. He coughed. "Indeed. Well a pleasure to meet you."


    "Likewise." Bryn reached out and shook the captain''s hand, the military glove practically disappearing in his large fist. With that, Tyrik turned and marched out.


    Bryn raised Fenrin the air who giggled. "Smooth as your mother, you are."

 13. Torn Heart

    Winter passed as it always did. But now, Dyla''s usual spot curled against Bryn was taken by Lyra and Fenrin. She tried to hint to Bryn that they should begin to sleep in their own rooms but he would not have it.


    By the time the frost melted away, the twins were toddling around the estate. Dyla watched them digging into the soft garden soil, piling the leaves, rocks, and occasional worm into a pile. Bryn came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, she reached up and held it. They watched silently for another moment until Bryn rumbled, "It is almost time to go."


    Her grip tightened slightly but she said nothing. Bryn continued, "I want you with me."


    Dyla stiffened. She did not want to choose between Bryn and the twins, but he surprised her again. "Fenrin as well."


    "And Lyra?"


    "She will stay here with Ulris. She is not as strong as the boy."


    Dyla frowned. It was true that Lyra was a bit smaller. She had caught the fever during the winter and although it had broken quickly, her appetite had been affected. She ate less and was quickly outpaced by her twin. Dyla watched as Lyra carefully shifted the thorny rose branches and reached into the bush, removing a snail shell to her brother''s delight. The girl was clever.


    But cleverness came second in the wilds.


    "When will we return, my lord?" Dyla asked, trying to mask her anxiety.


    "Midsummer."


    Dyla breathed a sigh of relief. A four month trip was much more preferable over the usual eight. "When do we leave?"


    "Tomorrow."


    Heart tight, that night Dyla did not mind the children as they snuggled between their parents. When she woke early and packed their bags, she cried silently at her children, their little arms entwined. But when Bryn and the children awoke, her eyes were cleared and the bags were ready.


    Carefully, Dyla tucked Fenrin''s feet into his shoes and double checked his jacket ties. Fenrin looked at her quizzically and then back at his sister, still in her nightdress.


    "Going?"


    "Yes, Fen. You''re coming to the woods with Bryn and I."


    "Ly?"


    "No, not Lyra. She''s staying here with Ulris."


    His little brows furrowed but he stood obediently when she stepped away. Then she turned to Lyra who had toddled over and grabbed her shoes. Bryn swept her up, gently taking the shoes and dropping them to the floor. Her bright eyes flicked at her father angrily.


    "Shoe."


    "Lyra, you stay with Ulris."


    "Shoe!"


    Bryn handed Lyra to the steward who held her tight as she tried to wriggle free. "Shoe! Shoe!"


    Dyla couldn''t help herself, she stepped forward and placed a hand on her face. "Be good, Lyra. We''ll be back."


    Lyra knocked her mother''s hand away now fully screaming. Dyla turned to Ulris. "Take care of her." The man gave her a solemn nod.


    Quickly, Dyla took Fenrin''s hand and shuffled him out, Bryn following behind. Her hand was shaking and Fenrin kept looking back at the house, his round face concerned. "Ly no shoe?"


    Bryn answered, "No, son, but look at the trees."


    Fenrin was quickly distracted by the wonders of the forest he had never entered. He babbled and pointed from atop Bryn''s shoulder. Dyla walked behind silently.


    They travelled west. As Bryn sensed opportunity, he would tuck Fenrin into his fur cloak and hand him to Dyla. They would wait until Bryn returned with his ill-gotten gold and goods. Fenrin would giggle as he played with the shiny coins. But for the first few weeks, at night Fenrin would cry. He would call out for Lyra until Bryn''s stern growl silenced him. Slowly, Fenrin got used to having one less body to snuggle up against and begin to sleep peacefully once more.


    By the time summer had arrived, Fenrin was walking confidently. Scrambling over rocks and twigs, only occasionally falling. He seemed to always have some cut or bruise but also a grin on his face. He helped where he could, carrying small sticks next to Bryn''s logs, stacking the coins as Bryn counted and added them to his chest, or washing himself in the occasional stream. Bryn watched him proudly and Dyla smiled but half her heart was back in Hjor.


    When Bryn announced it was time to head back, Dyla squeezed Fenrin''s hand and he looked up. "Back?"


    "Back to Lyra."


    Fenrin looked down at his feet. "Give Ly shoes?"


    Dyla didn''t answer.


    As they grew closer to the estate, the hot summer sun tiring Fenrin and making him more often on Bryn''s shoulder than his feet, Dyla walked faster. She didn''t see Bryn studying her, she didn''t notice the way he took longer to get the firewood, or when he began walking behind her instead of at her side.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    When they arrived at Hjor, Fenrin wriggled down from Bryn''s shoulder, recognizing the road. He ran down it and Dyla followed. Bryn waited a moment, watching before following. Dyla grabbed Fenrin''s hand and pulled him to the estate gates. They spotted Ulris in the garden, checking over his book. He looked up and rose with a smile on his face.


    "Welcome home, master Fenrin. Welcome home, my lady." Bryn rounded the corner and Ulris bowed. "Welcome back, sir."


    Suddenly cautious, Dyla opened the gate and looked around. Lyra was watering a plant with a small tin can. When she saw Dyla she ran over. "Momma!"


    Dyla swept her up and held her tight. She was wearing a simple yellow dress and her hair had grown long enough to be put in a small braid.


    Fenrin tugged on Dyla and she hefted him up as well. The twins begin talking to each other and quickly, Lyra wriggled down to show Fenrin how to water the plants.


    Ulris walked up beside Dyla and whispered, "She is fine. She slept poorly after you left but became accustomed to her bed. She missed you."


    Dyla nodded, not taking her eyes off the twins. Ulris noticed the dark look on Bryn''s face and stepped away from Dyla, watching the man carefully.


    Bryn''s grey eyes travelled from the twins back to Dyla and then to Ulris, who he gestured to follow him. The master and his steward went to Bryn''s office where Bryn lowered himself into the large red chair and Ulris stood respectfully in front of the large oak desk.


    "How is the estate?"


    Ulris opened his book, though more for appearances. He had this speech well planned. "Construction continues on schedule. With the final addition to be finished by the month''s end."


    "Good."


    There was a long pause and Bryn''s fingers rubbed his jaw. Ulris sighed internally, it would be a long summer if Bryn was frustrated or unhappy. He snapped the book shut. "How was your travels, sir? Would you like an early dinner?"


    Bryn scowled and he stood up. "No. I''m going out."


    Ulris bowed, hoping he hadn''t stirred up trouble. Bryn stalked past and exited out the north entrance, avoiding the garden. Dyla''s gentle laugh trickled from the entryway and Ulris went to help with the family''s resettling.


    At dinner, Dyla waited for Bryn. The staff served the meal and Fenrin and Lyra tucked in eagerly. Dyla did not touch her food. Her smile slowly fading as Bryn failed to appear. When the servants took away the twins¡¯ plates and hovered by Dyla, she nodded stiffly for them to take it.


    Without any cues from parents, the twin were soon playing around the table, ducking under and knocking each other over. Dyla stayed still until finally Ulris stepped into the room. He saw the rambunctious twins and the pale Dyla. "My lady, would you like me to have Nelly put the children to bed?"


    "Yes," Dyla breathed, and Nelly, awaiting the cue herded the children out. Ulris moved forward to stand by Dyla''s side. They waited in silence for another hour until Dyla whispered, "Where is he, Ulris?"


    "I do not know, my lady. But I urge you to get some rest."


    Dyla shook her head slowly. Then she stood and walked carefully out of the room. Ulris followed as a respectable distance and waited in the hall when she entered her and Bryn''s bedroom. He was just hoping she had decided to rest when she emerged wearing a blue cloak and a small pack. "I''m going out, Ulris. Watch the children."


    Ulris swallowed his objections and watched as she strode down the hall and out of the estate.


    Dyla''s sharp green eyes flicked around the house calculating. She set out behind the estate, exiting the town the long way, around the Jarl''s manor. She walked into the darkness, following the river. She walked knowing if Bryn did not wish to be found she would not find him. She walked praying she would see his large form in the darkness. She walked knowing she was the cause of his leaving.


    She found him perched on the top of a grassy hill overlooking the river, appearing like a boulder in the darkness. She stopped at the bottom of the hill, waiting anxiously. Finally he spoke, "Woman, why are you here?"


    "Because you are not happy, my lord."


    There was a soft grumble and she couldn''t tell if it was a chuckle or a groan. After a moment of hesitation, she climbed the hill and stood beside him.


    "I cannot stay here," he said, his voice low and steady.


    She sat down beside him. "I know."


    "And you cannot leave."


    She tried to deny it but the words caught in her throat. At her silence he sighed. Suddenly, he turned to her, his sharp grey eyes glistening in the starlight, like an owl. His hand rose and he placed in on her chest, where the silver bear was holding the cloak together. "I want you."


    "I am here." She leaned into him but his hand held her back.


    "No, you are not." She stiffened. He groaned and removed his hand. "I want to go south. The wilds here are too tame, I am too strong for them."


    It was an invitation and she grabbed his hand, clutching it to her. "Please, my lord, do not do this. Do not make me choose." Her voice caught in a sob and angrily he tore his hand away. He stood, his eyes flashing in the dark and locking her in place.


    "Then do not choose," he spat and walked into the darkness. She dared not follow, but watched him go, clutching the bear pendant.


    Ulris''s search parties found her in the morning, wrapped tightly in her blue cloak, alone on the grass.


    When Dyla awoke, she refused food. She lay on her bed, clutching the blue cloak close to her. She sent away Ulris, Nelly, and even the twins. At noon her wailing sobs could be heard across the manor. They died down throughout the day and at last she emerged as the nanny was putting the twins to bed.


    Without a word, she took them both from the woman and brought them to her room. That night she held them close and whispered to them the story of Bryn and Dyla. Long after they were asleep she told them about their journey through the wilds, the mountains they climbed, the wonders they saw together, and the long journey to find a place Bryn could call home.


    Tension filled the estate the next few days as the servants gossiped about what had happened, wondering if Bryn would return. Some feared Dyla would do harm to herself and the children but she simply went about the day mechanically. Eating her meals and watching the children play, only smiling when the twins showed her their latest treasure.


    On the third day after Bryn left, Nelly entered the bedroom to clean and found Dyla wearing the blue cloak and a well worn green dress. She stammered an apology and without thinking asked, "Are you going after the master, my lady?"


    Dyla sighed and removed the cloak, folding it slowly. She placed it in a drawer and reverently put the silver bear atop it.


    "No," she answered, "I cannot leave. If I leave he will never come back."


    Nelly didn''t understand this logic, wondering how Bryn would ever even know if his wife had stayed or not and if it even mattered, but she bit her tongue. Dyla looked determined and when she left the room, she walked with purpose and not dazed as she had been the days before.


    Walking into the gardens, Dyla turned to look at the estate. She clenched her fists. This was Bryn''s home, he had chosen it and built it of his own wish. He would not stay away forever and when he returned she would be here for him. If she could not be by his side, she would guard and watch over his home.

 14. The New Jarl

    Years passed without any word from Bryn. The twins grew and Dyla spent her days teaching them. They learned their letters and about different plants in the garden. They learned their manners when among people, but whenever left to their own devices, returned to their wild ways, always preferring the river and trees to the walls and company of the townspeople.


    The town itself began to change. Two of the southern Jarls had banded together and had attacked Stadrhym, seeking to dethrone the High King and take control. The civil war raged across the south sending refugees north where some came and settled in Hjor. Despite the heavy taxes demanded by the High King from the northern Jarls, Jarl Soren grew wealthy from the war, selling the food from the untouched north farmlands to the starving armies and cities of the southern regions.


    The Jarl seemed to grow younger with Bryn''s absence. He began construction of a wall around the town, optimistically planning it to leave room for another neighborhood in its borders. The new families that did settle in Hjor of course heard of Bryn and his wild ways, but many scoffed and considered the stories exaggeration by bored townsfolk. After all, Dyla seemed like such a gentle woman, aloof but not the cruel wife of a blood-thirsty barbarian. Besides, they were determined they had left their troubles behind them in the south.


    The war raged on and on the fourth year of Bryn''s absence from Hjor, the High King succeeded, banishing the surviving traitorous Jarls and enstating new loyal Jarls. One of the new Jarls was Tyrik Hurson. And it was through him, as he visited the other Jarl''s to renew trade contracts and political alliances, that news of Bryn finally came.


    Jarl Hurson walked besides Jarl Soren as he enthusiastically showed him where the walls would run. As they passed Bryn''s estate, Tyrik stopped.


    "You know, I heard a curious story from General Firir."


    Jarl Soren turned, wondering why Tyrik was bringing up the leader of the king''s army now. "Oh?"


    "Yes, he said that his spies had received word of where the enemy''s army had made camp. They could easily ambush them and secure a victory in that region, however, a pair of giants had settled in the area they would need to cross.


    "Of course the general couldn''t afford to lose men defeating the giants and was planning how to get the army through the mountains when there was a commotion. The general went to investigate and found his men had left their posts and were all watching the giant''s camp where a single enormous man was fighting both giants."


    The Jarl''s face paled and Jarl Hurson continued, not taking his eyes off the estate.


    "He said the man fought like the gods'' wrath incarnate. He defeated both giants. General Firir, eager to meet the man who had inadvertently solved his problems, sent soldiers down to get him. The man came, still bleeding from the battle, despite apparently using a few arcane attacks in his onslaught. The general thanked him and offered him a place of command in the army. The man laughed in his face and told him that if he had indeed done them a service that they should pay him all the gold they had.


    "Of course the general was greatly offended by this and demanded the man join the High King''s forces, officially conscripting him and ordering him captured."


    Hurson turned to the Jarl, his dark eyes studying his reactions. "He told me the man killed six soldiers before getting away."


    The Jarl tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. "Ah¡ªwell that is quite the story."


    "Indeed. Now I do wonder if Lord Bryn has been at his estate, it is, of course, treason to desert the High King''s army."


    Before the Jarl could respond, Tyrik spotted Dyla in the garden. "Ah, Lady Dyla, it has been too long."


    Startled, Dyla turned, her green eyes widening at the sight of Tyrik in Jarl robes instead of captain''s armor.


    "Oh Captain Hurson, I was unaware you were in town."


    Hurson gave a slight bow. "It''s Jarl Hurson now, actually. Benefits of being on the winning side of the war."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    "I apologize for mistitling you, Jarl." Dyla curtseyed. "I''m afraid I have not been attentive to the political changes of the south."


    Before Jarl Soren could signal Dyla that something was wrong, Tyrik marched to the gate and asked, "Tell me, lady, does your husband attend the southern politics."


    Dyla''s smile faltered for a moment. "No, sir, he abhors politics."


    "And is he home?"


    The green eyes narrowed. "No, sir, he is on one of his wanders I''m afraid."


    "A shame. How long has he been away?" The new Jarl gave a sly smile and Dyla immediately sensed danger, glancing at the Jarl Soren whose pale and jittery behavior confirmed her fears.


    "A long time. Trade is hard in wartime."


    "Of course."


    Before Dyla could try to steer the conversation another direction, Jarl Hurson bowed a farewell and marched confidently back to Jarl Soren''s manor. He left the next morning and that day, Jarl Soren sent for Dyla.


    She was shown into his office. The Jarl was pacing the floor, his face red and his hair, speckled with greys, was messy from running his hands through it. Dyla sat down and he whirled.


    "Damn it woman, how does Bryn cause me so much trouble when he isn''t even here!? Jarl Hurson practically demanded my tax records. If he sees those records he will realize I''ve not been accounting your estate. Your sizable estate. That is a lot of gold the crown did not receive during the war. With the political climate, I could be removed. And then on top of that Bryn had to go and insult the general! He killed six of the general''s personal soldiers!"


    Dyla let the man rant until finally he sank into a chair and was silent for a moment. With a groan he waved at his paper lidden desk.


    "I bought us a month. A month and I need to personally deliver our records to the capital." He covered his face, sighed heavily, and stood up. His hands fell away, revealing a colder more determined expression.


    "He''s been gone for four years. By all accounts he never said he''d come back. I don''t have a choice. I don''t know how you''ve even kept the estate up this long but I have to demand you pay the overdue taxes or I will have the king''s army seize your estate."


    He walked to the desk, plucked a paper off it, and extended it to Dyla. She could see the huge sum written on it but her lips curled and she stared at it in disgust. She too had wondered how they would afford the estate without Bryn returning each winter with his chest of gold. That was until Ulris revealed to her the secret room Bryn had ordered to be built in the cellar. Since the start of construction, Bryn''s day wanders had taken him through Valhym where he had stashes of loot from throughout his raiding days.


    Dyla had underestimated his wealth, having only known him a short while before they''d settled in Hjor. Stacks of coins and barrels of goods filled the safe when Ulris had shown her. Of course, now even that was nearly gone. But despite their dwindling stores and Bryn''s continued absence, Dyla refused to give up any part of the estate. She stood, not taking the paper.


    "He is gone, not dead, Jarl Soren. I am not the owner of the estate and cannot bargain. You have an agreement with Bryn and I can only advise you to keep it."


    She turned to leave and the Jarl shouted after her, "I won''t protect you anymore, I swear it. I''m not going to be ruined by a man whose wife hasn''t even seen him in years. You hear me? You have one month!"


    She stalked back to the estate calling Ulris into the office and quickly relaying the information. Ulris stood and took it in, nodding occasionally. When she''d finished he asked permission to speak his opinion and she granted it.


    "From a business perspective, I would advise we sell the estate to the Jarl, buy his manor and use the difference to pay the taxes if he will agree to those terms. But as Bryn''s steward, having sworn to serve the man who saved my life and not his bank accounts, I suggest we wait. If the estate is seized and the lord does return, then I imagine he will seize it back when he wants it."


    Dyla smiled, she had thought the same thing. They would wait.


    Two weeks later, a messenger ran into Hjor, his breath ragged. The Jarl was immediately called and the messenger handed him a letter, gasping, "Jarl Soren, sir, Kolsvik has fallen. The Duskar have invaded!"


    The Jarl ripped the letter opening, quickly scanning its contents as townsfolk gathered around. He signaled the messenger to be taken care of and then strode back to his manor, whispering anxiously to his steward. When he returned to the square an hour later, every resident of Hjor, including Dyla, had gathered there.


    Jarl Soren stepped up on a platform that had been set up and cleared his throat to silence the crowd. "Citizens of Hjor, it is true that the Duskars of the Archipelago have declared war. They have taken Kolsvik and Vosfell is under siege. Because they are limited to attacks on our coasts, the High King calls upon us and our neighboring Jarldoms to provide food and supplies. Gather all that you can spare and we need thirty able bodies to leave at dawn to transport the goods to Vosfell."


    There was a roar of voices and a mess of arguing and volunteerings, bickering here and debating together there, the mess slowly being sorted out to the Jarl''s satisfaction. He was the only one who saw Dyla slip away smiling.


    Although the idea of not being able to get rid of her and Bryn made the Jarl shudder, he did have to admit it was more satisfying this way. Vosfell was Tyrik''s new Jarldom and he had little room to threaten and throw his new weight around when his survival depended on them. Yes, the Jarl felt like grinning a bit himself but knew it was hardly appropriate, they were at war after all.

 15. Bryn鈥檚 Return

    Life got harder in Hjor. With so many supplies once more being sent south and more being called for each week, the people had little left for themselves.


    Yet at Bryn''s estate, life continued unchanged. A month after the war had begun, a man had arrived with a cart of goods and gold. He was a rough fellow, covered in scars and with a wooden leg and hand. He had spoken with Ulris briefly and left the cart and a letter with him before mounting his horse and riding off.


    The letter was from Bryn. It was addressed to Ulris and as much as she wished to, Dyla did not ask to see it. Ulris summed it up for her nonetheless. Bryn had begun a new venture in his words. Between the lines Ulris guessed piracy, making money off raiding both sides of the war. He calculated the estate would be running short of supplies and arranged a schedule of deliveries from his new ''business''.


    The ongoing wealth of the estate did not endear it to the belt-tightened townsfolk. This too was predicted by Bryn and with the third shipment came two hardened men who stayed in the estate, guarding it and their master''s¡ªor captain as they called him¡ªtreasures. They stayed clear of Dyla, awkwardly nodding at her in respect when passing but generally staying away from her.


    This if anything, cheered her, for if his men stayed away that meant she was still his. Each day she awaited his return, determined it would come. But the war raged on and Bryn stayed away.


    Three long years passed. The Duskar were driven back and the captured Jarldoms retaken. To Jarl Soren and Dyla''s disappointment, Jarl Hurson survived. However, he and the High King were no longer on pleasant terms.


    Most of the coastal Jarldoms were in bad shape, they demanded help from the capital in rebuilding and refortifying but the capital had not had the chance to replenish its riches from the civil war and could not help. The High King tried to appeal to the landlocked Jarldoms but only succeeded in earning their ire as well as they demanded in turn restitution for the aid they had given already.


    It seemed for a while that the kingdom would fall into another civil war, but Jarl Hurson and Jarl Maelif of Taka drafted an agreement that the king was half-forced to sign. Instead of gold and resources, the king gave the Jarls rights and power. The Jarls had the right to draft their own laws and hold their own private forces. Facing another potential civil war and doubtful he would survive it, the High King reluctantly signed.


    This played right into Bryn''s hand. More of his men arrived at the estate along with orders to add a blacksmith and an armory.


    The twins had just turned nine when Bryn at last returned.


    He arrived alone, slipping into Hjor during one of winter''s long nights. He entered the estate, the guards eyeing him warily before giving salutes and grins as they recognized their leader. Quietly, he entered the bedroom.


    For a moment, he watched her sleep in the darkness, her pale blonde hair, like a halo around her face, almost glowed in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. He sat on the bed, his weight rolling her onto her back. She stirred and he placed his large hand on her cheek. Her eyelashes flickered and he saw her shoulders tense.


    "My woman, I am back."


    She sucked in a breath and slowly raised her hand until her fingers intertwined with his. She didn''t open her eyes. After a moment, she whispered, "Am I dreaming, my lord?"


    At his rumbling laugh, her eyes opened and she sat up turning to take him in. Her eyes glistened but she let no tear escape. She brought his hand to her lips, kissing it gently. He pulled her in, his strong arms pressing her into his chest. Their lips met and for the first time in nearly seven years, they made love.


    When Dyla awoke she could still hardly believe it was real. The sun was just rising and as the room lightened she slowly made out Bryn''s features. His beard was a bit longer and wound into more braids. A few hairs at his temples were grey and she realized she didn''t know his age. Gently, she ran her fingers over new scars, her heart aching to think that she did not know their stories.


    He also had a tattoo, a bear on its hind legs, its mouth open in a roar showing its large teeth bared threateningly from the left side of chest. It was surrounded by swirling sharp designs that carried on up and over his shoulder. She jumped slightly but smiled when she realized his grey eyes were now open and watching her.


    "It suits you, my lord."


    Bryn reached and pulled her towards him, their lips met just as there was a knock on the door. Dyla pulled away slightly. "It''s just Nelly," she breathed before wrapping her fingers in his long hair and returning to the kiss.


    The knock returned harder, more frantic, and Dyla sighed as Bryn pulled away, sitting up and reaching for his shirt. Dyla got out of bed and slipped her nightdress back on. Walking up to the door, she opened it halfway.


    "Tell the cooks to prepare breakfast in the hall, Nelly, and¡ªStars!"


    Nelly was pale-faced and twisting the fabric of her skirt, her eyes nervously shifting to both sides of the door where two of the burly men sent by Bryn were standing and leering at her. Dyla, realizing the men must have been guarding the door through the night, composed herself and gave Nelly a stern look. "Go on. And have Ulris come here right away."


    She stayed at the door until Nelly had rounded the corner and one of the men muttered something and chuckled. Dyla started to close the door but it was caught by Bryn''s huge hand and flung open. He had put his clothes back on, minus his fur cape and as he emerged the man straightened and lowered their eyes.


    "Sir," they said simultaneously and Bryn stared at each with his steely eyes until they squirmed.


    Finally he barked, "Gyrl go tell the others I''m here and that I will coming to inspect them by afternoon. Tor go and find me a skin tracer."


    Both men shot off to their respective tasks and Bryn returned to the room, sitting at his desk as if he had never been away. Dyla closed the door and dressed herself, finishing as the unmistakable rap of Ulris''s knuckles sounded  from the hall.


    "Come in," Bryn rumbled and Ulris stepped in, bowing. Any surprise at seeing Bryn well hidden.


    "Welcome home, sir. Will you be speaking with the Jarl today? Or examining the estate perhaps?"


    "Neither. Though I do have some additions I need added." Bryn walked to where his pack was discarded at the foot of the bed and pulled out a leather tube. Removing the top he slid some papers out and smoothed them over his desk.


    At Bryn''s invitation, Ulris walked over to inspect them. After a few moments, he straightened. "It will of course be done, but there may be a small problem." Bryn''s eyebrow raised and Ulris continued, "The land between the back of the estate and the river is part of the Jarl''s plan for his wall."


    Bryn laughed. "I guess I''ll be talking to old Soren after all. Send word to him that I''ll be over this evening." He snorted. "A wall, seems the Jarl''s been doing well for himself."


    He waved Ulris away who bowed and left. Dyla slipped her arm in Bryn¡¯s and they walked out to breakfast.


    At the sight of Bryn, the children stopped eating and stared. Bryn chuckled and barreled over, scooping them both into his large arms. They glanced at their mother. Fenrin looked confused and Lyra was down right suspicious. Dyla slipped her arm into Bryn''s again and leaned against him as he examined his children. "Your father is back."


    Fenrin''s eyes widened and he pushed against Bryn''s chest in order to get a better look at him. Lyra was quiet, watching her father with her intelligent green eyes. Bryn asked the twins questions, what they''d been up to, how they had grown so much, and soon Fenrin was chatting away with his father. After breakfast they ran off to show him their favorites places and Bryn told him he''d be there in a moment.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    As they left the room, he turned to Dyla. "I am glad they are doing well."


    Dyla nodded, although there was a cold lump of uncertainty in her stomach after watching Bryn with the twins. The feelings and worries that had caused Bryn to leave were tied in a complicated knot with the children at the center and Dyla desperately wanted to know what Bryn had planned. She bit her lip. Before the twins, she had never questioned Bryn. I hadn''t mattered what he would do because she would follow no matter what. But now...


    "Fenrin is still the stronger, but that girl is sharp." Bryn nodded approvingly at the door the twins had disappeared to.


    "Sir." Ulris spoke up Bryn and Dyla turned to him. "I''m told you requested this man."


    He stepped aside and a thin, lithe man with dark skin and tattoos covering almost every inch of his body entered the room. Dyla had seen him before, among the dozen men that lived in the east part of the estate. Bryn''s small army.


    Bryn nodded. "Yes I did."


    He waved his hand and Ulris left and the man came forward, placing two fingers on a small tattoo on his shoulder. It was like a salute and as he removed his fingers Dyla saw the small image of a bear there, the same bear that graced Bryn''s chest, albeit smaller and simpler.


    Bryn, seeing her examine it spoke, "It''s my mark. All my people have it."


    Dyla sensed where this was going and although it was unexpected, she accepted it. Bryn explained to the tattoo artist what he wanted and the man led Dyla away, leaving Bryn to go find his children and keep his promise.


    The process took hours, the last painful touches being made as the sun dipped towards the horizon. The design was identical to Bryn''s but stretched across Dyla''s back, swirls curling along her shoulder blades and knotting designs dipping down to her tailbone. The man covered her back in a thick salve and tied bandages around her. Nelly was brought in and given strict instruction on how to care for her newly adorned mistress.


    Dressed only in a light flowing robe, Dyla painfully made her way to dinner. Ulris and Diren, the leader of Bryn''s estate men, dined with them so Bryn could discuss his plans. They were going to expand the blacksmith and small armory behind the estate, as well as fully dedicate the eastern portion of the manor to a barracks of sorts.


    Bryn spoke easily and with a leaderly tone that Dyla had never seen before. Whatever paths he had followed these past five years, it had been with other men as their commander.


    Dyla sat quietly, anxiously trying to find out from Bryn''s words whether he planned to stay, but he never mentioned himself in the plans, only the estate. Finally, he stood and announced he was going to see the Jarl. Normally, Dyla would have stood and gone with him but she could feel the cracking scabs on her back. She was grateful when Bryn left alone and she could return to her room where Nelly removed the bandages to treat the reddened skin with more oils and salves.


    Bryn marched up the road openly, enjoying but not acknowledging the shocked faces of townsfolk as they realized he had returned. At the Jarl''s door, he reached for the handle, stopped by two crossed spears of two young guards.


    "Halt. What business do you have with the Jarl?" One of them said, a tremble in his voice as he stared up at the large bear of a man. Luckily, Bryn was in a good mood and he simply laughed, grabbed a spear in each hand, and pulled them out of the mens'' grasps before breaking them over his knee. Then he pulled the door open as the men fell on their rears and stared.


    His loud voice bellowed through the manor, "Soren, you dullard, come welcome your neighbor!"


    Servants scattered like a flock of sparrows and Bryn walked farther into the manor, enjoying the chaotic upset. He glanced at the empty throne and rightly guessed that the Jarl was in the dining hall which he burst into just in time to see the Jarl throw a goblet at his steward who was babbling about Bryn''s return. As the Jarl''s eyes met Bryn''s he paled and the room grew deathly silent.


    Bryn surveyed the scene. Serving staff, quickly slipping away into the kitchens, the steward frozen, wine pooling at his feet and soaking his boots. The Jarl''s wife, her fork still suspended an inch off her plate, paler even than the Jarl. And then a third man, young with a handsome face, who was as still as the steward.


    The Jarl''s face twitched and his wife fainted, making the steward move and help the woman out of the room. Bryn chuckled, but his face grew deadly serious. The Jarl, to his credit, straightened and composed himself.


    "Bryn."


    "Jarl."


    The Jarl reached for his goblet to drink but it was, of course, gone and he swallowed dryly. "I was unaware you had returned."


    "Clearly. And I suspect you didn''t think I would at all. I''ve heard some disturbing things from my steward about you. I heard tell you threatened my estate?"


    The Jarl pressed his lips together. "Well, the war was a desperate time for us all. The king''s men were suspecting..." His voice died for a moment as Bryn stalked towards him, his grey eyes predatory.


    "T-they suspected I was not taxing your estate and I..."


    Bryn lunged, grabbing the Jarl and pulling him clear out of his chair. His huge fist flew and smashed into the Jarl''s face, sending him sprawling on the floor, blood dribbling from his cheek and lips. The sound of a chair screeching across the floor made Bryn turn and he saw the young man now standing, looking at the Jarl with concern. When he glanced at Bryn though, he froze again and recognition lit Bryn''s grey eyes.


    "Ah, Harold! It''s been a long time, lad."


    Harold gulped and nodded but when Bryn tilted his head expectantly, he clenched his fist and hissed, "Yes, sir, it has."


    Bryn turned away from him and walked over to where the Jarl was clutching his face. He kicked his arm away and placed a boot on the older man''s throat, pressing enough to make the man gasp and his fingers grasped the boot, trying to lift it in vain.


    "Ah, Jarl Soren, you threatened my estate, my woman, and tried to build on my land. I''d thought we had an understanding, you and I."


    The Jarl''s eyes bulged and there was the sound of armored boots as five guards burst in the room. They took in the Jarl''s writhing form and the huge man and, to their credit, they charged. Bryn moved his foot from the Jarl''s neck to his chest and drew his axe. The first two men who approached were quickly cut down. An arrow pierced Bryn''s shoulder but he paid it no mind.


    Another man tried to get at Bryn but the huge axe cut deeply into his stomach and he fell, trying to hold his organs in. Another arrow whistled by but flew too high. The last melee man hesitated, clearly seeing his death ahead and reevaluating his loyalties. His hesitation allowed Bryn to sheathe his great axe and smaller axe whistling into the forehead of the archer. At his short death cry, the last swordsman dropped his sword and ran.


    Slowly, Harold moved. He took a sword from one of the corpses on the floor and, with a dazed look, walked towards Bryn. His eyes flicked once down at his father and then back at Bryn. As he met those steely eyes he froze again. Then with a deep groan he took another step.


    Bryn watched him until he was close enough to swing his sword before he moved, his foot lifting from the Jarl and swinging up to collide with Harold''s sword hand. The blade clattered to the ground and Bryn''s fist met his jaw. Harold landed on the floor but rolled forward. Adrenaline pumping through him, he collected his sword and lunged for Bryn who stepped aside and kicked Harold''s back. After he fell, Bryn stepped on his hand, a crack sounding as Harold screamed and released the weapon.


    Harold rolled over, clutching his hand to his chest, one finger stuck at an unnatural angle. Bryn returned to the Jarl who had gotten to his hands and knees and was crawling for one of the spears. He flew onto his back as Bryn kicked him.


    "On your knees, Soren."


    The Jarl gave Bryn a look of pure hatred, but Bryn didn''t acknowledge the glance. After a few seconds when the Jarl didn''t move, Bryn reached down and grabbed his greying hair and pulled him up, the Jarl''s knees brushing the floor, but he scrambled to get his feet underneath him, refusing to kneel.


    Bryn pulled him up more, grabbing his neck with his other hand and tossing him on the table. Plates and food skittered around, clattering to the floor. Beryl, took out his great axe again, spinning it so the blunt hammerlike edge fell down on the Jarl''s right knee. The crackling sound of bone shards was drowned out by the Jarl''s screams. Harold yelled and charged Bryn again, the sword held awkwardly in his left hand. Bryn raised the axe again over the Jarl and paused, his eyes meeting Harold''s.


    "Kneel."


    Harold slowed, his brain firing back to his childhood. He had spent the last seven years trying to regain his dignity, trying to forget his time enslaved by Bryn. But now it came back, the last logical thoughts pleading for survival, reminding him that he would only die if he got closer to this man.


    As Bryn''s axe stayed in the air above his father¡¯s neck, an invitation for Harold''s obedience, he dropped the sword and fell to his knees, head hanging.


    Bryn''s axe lowered slowly and he placed it on the table, pulling the Jarl into a sitting position. Tears were streaming down Jarl Soren¡¯s face and his eyes rolled in wild pain.


    "Look Soren. Again you can learn from your son. I''m tempted to just make him Jarl, but perhaps I could be persuaded."


    Harold, hot tears of shame stinging his eyes, dropped forward onto his hands and knees. He wasn''t ready to be Jarl. Hjor needed his father, he needed his father. "Please, sir. I beg you."


    Bryn stood there, watching Harold beg for a moment. Then he threw the Jarl''s broken body on the floor in front of his son. The man screamed again as his shattered leg hit the floor.


    "Take him. Thank the gods. I give second chances to very few and third to none."


    Bryn took his axe and left the manor, dozens of faces watching him go, full of anger, fear, and horror. But no one stopped him.

 16. The Promise

    When Bryn returned to the bedroom, Dyla was waiting. She wore a light nightdress that Nelly had altered the back off. It now cut low, leaving her still-reddened tattoo uncovered. Dyla twisted so Bryn could see the work. She twitched a bit when his callous fingers brushed the tender skin.


    "It suits you," he murmured and she smiled. She liked the tattoo, it was beautifully intricate and everything about it spoke of Bryn. She felt as if part of him would always be there now, there on her skin, as close as they had ever been.


    As Bryn undressed, she frowned a bit. Another thought had crossed her mind as she''d sat still, Nelly gently treating her sore back. When the men had returned to guard the door, they caught a glimpse of Dyla''s tattoo. When they saw the mark, they had grown pale, their eyes quickly shifting to the floor respectfully. It proved her as Bryn''s and she suspected one reason she had the tattoo was to protect her from his new army.


    And she would only need that protection if they were apart.


    As they lied down together in the dark, her back joyfully exposed to the cool night air, Dyla finally whispered, "Will you stay, my lord?" She bit her lip, unsure whether the question would anger him.


    He touched her face, his fingers sliding down her neck and collarbone. "No, woman. I will leave before the day is out tomorrow."


    She took his hand and squeezed it. Asking the question without words. He sighed.


    "I came for my son, not for you."


    She couldn''t contain her shocked gasp. Slowly, she released his hand, but he took hers. "You are not ready to come with me. Stay here so I will return."


    Dyla left her hand in his but did not respond, her heart aching. He made a frustrated grumble. "Woman." His tone warning.


    Quietly she whispered, "I will wait. I will always wait for you, my lord. But how long will you torture me?"


    His strong arms encircled her, pulling her close, carefully avoiding her back. She could feel his breath in the dark as he answered, "Not long. I will be back each winter until you are ready."If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    She sighed with relief and guided his face to hers in the blackness. Winter, she could wait for winter.


    True to his word, Bryn prepared to leave the next evening. As the family saw him off, Dyla discovered that while she had been with the tattoo artist, Bryn had been giving her children lessons. Both now had small knives on their belts and Fenrin eagerly showed his mother the forms his father had taught him. She smiled and kept him close, despite his objections.


    "Fenrin," Bryn said in his rumbling voice.


    The boy squirmed free of his mother and bounded over to Bryn eagerly, hoping for more gifts. "Yes, father?"


    "Go get your coat and boots."


    Fenrin ran off, excited to be going outside again after the long winter. Lyra turned to slip out too, but Bryn''s grey eyes pinned her down. "Not you, Lyra. Stay with your mother."


    The girl''s lips pressed together and she looked like she was about to go anyway but spotted Dyla gesturing her over. She marched over to her mother who took her hand. Lyra glanced up, feeling her mother''s well hidden trembling.


    "What''s wrong, momma?" she asked, but Dyla just shook her head. They waited hand in hand as Bryn and Fenrin prepared to leave.


    When Fenrin returned, he found his father similarly dressed, his huge fur cape slung over his shoulder along with a large pack. He was also joined by three men who had arrived this morning. One with the dark skin of a Duskar. Fenrin slowed, suspicious, but Bryn stepped forward and grabbed his arm, slipping it into the straps of a small pack.


    "Where are we going?" Fenrin asked.


    "First to the ocean and then into the wilds."


    Fenrin glanced over to his mother and sister. Seeing Lyra in her dress, her feet bare on the stone, warmed by the fire, something stirred in his memory. He pulled away from his father. "I don''t want to go!"


    Bryn just forced his other arm in. Dyla flinched but said calmly, "Go on Fenrin. It will be an adventure for you. You''ll be back next winter, so be a good boy and listen to your father."


    Fenrin''s eyes teared up and he pulled away again. "No! I don''t want to go!"


    For a moment, Dyla feared Bryn would strike him but he just picked him up easily and tucked him under his arm. He nodded to Dyla and the group turned and left, Fenrin screaming and crying under Bryn''s arm. Lyra tried to move forward, but her mother kept a firm grip on her hand until the group was out of sight.


    "Jylee," Dyla called for the twin''s nursemaid who appeared from the hall, "make sure Lyra goes to bed and stays there."


    Jylee nodded and sternly took Lyra''s hand. The girl''s green eyes flashed, but when she saw her mother''s pale face, she obeyed.


    Dyla stayed by the hearth until the fire died down, then, with a shiver, she wrapped her arms around herself and went to bed.

 17. Fenrin

    Fenrin wasn''t happy.


    He wasn''t happy leaving his mother and sister. He wasn''t happy when Bryn carried him roughly. And he certainly wasn''t happy when Bryn made him walk, the heavy bag cutting into his shoulders and making him pant with effort.


    He would complain, but his voice was hoarse and he was too out of breath. The two other men had laughed at him once but his father had given them a look and they had shut up and stopped paying Fenrin any mind.


    When Bryn finally ordered the group to stop, Fenrin collapsed, earning a mirthful look from the men that he was too tired to care about. He groaned as Bryn nudged him with his foot. "Come Fenrin, let''s go get wood for the fire."


    Fenrin wanted to refuse, but he had seen enough of his father in the last two days to guess it wouldn''t do much good. Besides, he liked being out in the woods and he wanted to walk without his heavy bag.


    So, he followed the large form of Bryn, who carried a torch and a hatchet. Without a word, his father chopped down a small tree effortlessly. Fenrin couldn''t help but be impressed by Bryn''s strength and he took the small logs Bryn handed him without complaint.


    They returned to camp. Fenrin held the wood awkwardly until the dark man, Jaired, Bryn called him, took them and began stacking them into a fire. Dyla had taught Fenrin and Lyra how to make a camp, but still he watched, fascinated by the man''s quick efficiency.


    Bryn called Fenrin over and showed him his pack. The small hatchet, the flint and steel, rope, a bedroll, his waterskin, packages of food, and a small box of bandages and dried herbs. Bryn nodded approvingly as Fenrin recognized most of the tools and Fenrin flushed with pride. Bryn showed him how to lay out his bed and Fenrin wriggled into the bedroll, it''s treated leather protecting the fur inside from the cold damp ground. He quickly fell asleep.


    He woke sore and confused. The sun was barely rising, casting an eerie pale blue light through the still bare trees. Panic rose in Fenrin¡¯s throat and a whimper escaped. His stomach felt empty and twisted. He wanted to be home, cracking open walnuts with Lyra, watching the shells pop when they tossed them into the fire. He wanted to be in the garden with his mother, picking vegetables and clearing weeds from the little paradise. Not here in the cold morning with a father he barely knew.


    Fenrin began to cry.


    The other man, Tor, turned over and muttered a curse. Fenrin hid his face and cried into the soft fur, wiping his nose with his shirt. After an hour that felt to Fenrin like a miserable eternity, the men stirred, getting up and reviving the fire. They attended to their business and began breakfast. Fenrin stayed curled in his bed until Bryn''s form loomed over him. "Get up, lad."


    Fenrin didn''t move. Bryn reached down and pulled him out. The boy shivered in the cold air. Without a word, Bryn straightened his son¡¯s legs and stuffed Fenrin''s feet into his boots. Bryn dragged him, still shivering in the chill morning air, to where Bryn''s bedroll was. His father showed him how to roll and tie it, securely attaching it to the pack.


    Fenrin walked back to his and tried it half heartedly. It was loose and lopsided, and the ties wouldn''t reach around. He heard a soft growl as Bryn watched and Fenrin jumped. "Do it right, boy, or we will leave it here and you''ll sleep in the cold."


    Fenrin''s ears turned red and he rerolled the leather. It wasn''t perfect, but it tied and stayed on the pack. Fenrin turned nervously to Bryn, but his father had moved on, talking to Tor and Jaired.


    Eyeing his big pack distastefully, Fenirn hesitated. He didn''t want to put it on. Jaired walked over and shouldered his own pack, glancing at Fenrin. He gave a grin and one of his teeth glimmered golden. His accent was almost musical.


    "Be happy it''s large now. Smaller means less food." Jaired winked and the men began to walk away. Fenrin quickly pulled the pack on, wincing as it landed in just the wrong spot on his sore muscles, and scampered after them.


    As the days passed, Fenrin grew used to the routine. His muscles stopped aching and he helped out more with the camp. Some mornings he still woke up crying, but he tried to put home out of his mind.


    He still wasn''t quite sure what to make of his father. It was clear he was in charge. Tor and Jaired obeyed him without question and Fenrin learned to do the same. Bryn scared him a little. He pushed Fenrin hard but never passed what he could do. He didn''t, however, take failure lightly. He would growl and rumble like a thunderstorm about to release lightning when Fenrin didn''t perform satisfactorily. He got the sense that Bryn was holding back something terrible and it made Fenrin twitchy.


    It came out in their third week. Fenrin had woken in the middle of the night, nature calling. Tor was on watch, prodding the fire with a stick and scanning the darkness. Fenrin yawned and stepped outside the circle of bedrolls to do his business. He was cleaning up when his father''s voice came low and dangerous.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Fenrin, drop to the ground."


    Fenrin looked up from his pants and saw a pair of yellow eyes staring back at him. He could just make out the wolf''s large form in the firelight.


    He froze. His father''s words echoed in his brain but he felt if he moved the wolf would gobble him up. As he stayed still, the wolf padded closer.


    With a roar, Bryn charged, batting Fenrin aside. He had one of his small throwing axes and plunged it into the wolf''s face, his hand gripping its right ear. The wolf''s fangs bared as the axe cut into it. It tried to pull away, but Bryn released the axe and grabbed the wolf''s neck, roaring again as he flipped it over. It scrambled, it''s teeth flashing and catching Bryn''s arm.


    Two more wolves appeared, but Tor kept one back with his spear and Jaired took another down with an unusual thick sword, slicing into the beast''s neck. Fenrin lay on his back and watched his father wrestle with the animal. Pinning it with his large form before hacking the little axe into its neck, slaying it.


    Bryn got up and held a hand on his dripping arm. It glowed and the bleeding stopped. Fenrin stood up, backing toward the fire as Bryn approached, his father''s grey eyes flashing. His arm swung and his hand hit the side of Fenrin''s head sending him rolling in the dirt.


    Fenrin looked up, his eyes glistening with tears and his ear ringing. Bryn clenched and unclenched his fists and growled, "When I tell you to do something, you do it."


    The Bear turned away and joined Jaired and Tor in skinning the two downed wolves, the third having run off into the night.


    Things were awkward for a while for Fenrin, but slowly the memory of the incident passed, although Fenrin never forgot Bryn''s words. After another week of traveling, Bryn began showing Fenrin more ways to use his little knife. Fenrin learned how to stab and parry and also how to skin and butcher animals, occasionally helping with feeding the group.


    One month after Fenrin had left home, they reached the ocean. Fenrin couldn''t tear his eyes away. He never realized things could be so vast. The dark waters rolled into eternity and the sound of the waves drifted up to the top of the cliff they stood on. Seagulls cried in the clear salty air.


    "Get your rope," Bryn ordered and Fenrin dropped his pack, reached inside, and removed the coil. He looked up and Bryn had his own rope. "Watch."


    Slowly, Bryn showed Fenrin how to tie the rope around himself securely. After two attempts Fenrin got it and Bryn pulled the knot, checking to make sure it was secure.


    Tor went first, Bryn and Jaired slowly lowering him down the cliffside. After him was Fenrin, who hesitated at the top, scared by the height, Tor now a small figure at the bottom. Bryn walked up and spun him around so he was facing away from the edge. He had Fenrin''s rope twisted around his wrist, the end held by Jaired. Taking Fenrin''s small hands in his big one, Bryn said in a steady voice, "Bend your knees and lean back."


    A month of snap obedience paid off and Fenrin felt his knees bend. He leaned back, breathing quickly and digging his nails into his father''s callouses. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to think of the empty space he was leaning over.


    "Open your eyes."


    Fenrin''s grey eyes, speckled with green and brown met his father''s silver ones. "Jump back and keep your feet facing the wall." Fenrin stiffened wondering if he could jump, but his father pushed his stiffened arms and sent him off the cliff edge.


    He yelped, hands tearing free and quickly clutching the rope. He fell for only a moment before swinging towards the cliff face. Keeping his feet out, he touched lightly on the edge, bouncing like Tor had done before slowly beginning to descend.


    His fear gave him hiccups and he wasn''t over them when he landed, jelly legged at the bottom. Tor gave him a grin and slapped his arm approvingly. Fenrin hiccuped and gave a small smile, still in shock.


    Tor untied Fenrin and used the rope still dangling from above as Bryn easily pulled him back up. He and Jaired had to work together to support Bryn''s great weight.


    As his father landed heavily beside him, Fenrin realized Tor had come first just so Fenrin wouldn''t have to. That stopped his hiccups. When Tor returned to the bottom, Fenrin wondered how Jaired would make it down.


    The Duskar climbed freehand. When he reached the bottom safely, Tor laughed. "I didn''t believe you at first when you said you could climb it."


    "I know. You owe me three hundred."


    Tor pretended to scowl but reached for his bag, passing his wallet to Jaired without argument. Bryn helped Fenrin to his feet and then kneeled pointing down the edge of the cliff. "My ship is hidden in a cave over there. Watch your footing."


    Fenrin nodded and they began walking once more.


    The ship was huge. Long with a huge rearing mast the shape of a bear. Seeing Fenrin staring at it, Jaired said, "It was a dragon, but Bryn had it whittled into himself."


    Fenrin didn''t get it until he turned and watched his father''s large lumbering form greet his crew and looked back at the mast. He thought of the large bear on Bryn''s chest and giggled as he finally got the resemblance.


    About twenty men poured from the ship, cheering as they greeted their leader. A thin lithe man slid down the mast, leaping expertly from the side and landed lightly in front on Fenrin. "Oi, this the cub?"


    Fenrin''s ears reddened as he heard his father''s rumbling laugh. "Yes, that''s my son, Fenrin."


    Soon the boy was surrounded by men, poking at him and laughing merrily with each other. It was a bit overwhelming and Fenrin''s shoulders hunched up trying to hide himself. Bryn moved over and the crowd cleared. He lifted Fenrin and swung him onto his shoulder, where even at nine, he easily fit. His father had a huge grin on his face and roared, "We set out in three hours!"


    The men scrambled to their places and Bryn walked about the ship, inspecting everything and explaining it to Fenrin who desperately tried to fit it all in his head.

 18. Home Again

    They spend the season pirating, attacking war ships crippled from battle or supply boats laden with goods. Fenrin sat the first few battles out, locked in the storeroom, but before long he was up top, guarded by Jaired.


    During the first battle on deck, Fenrin was sick and didn''t sleep for two nights, but he accepted it as a part of life with Bryn over time. He kept his knife close but the few souls who made it onto the ship and near Fenrin, were easily cut down by Jaired''s scimitar¡ªas Fenrin discovered the weapon was called.


    Fenrin continued to learn. He learned sailor''s knots, parts of the ship, how to row¡ªthough he was much too small to hope to move the huge oak oars¡ªhow to climb the rigging, and even how to treat battle wounds. Often he would boil water or clean linens used to treat the crew''s injuries. One man died in battle and so Fenrin learned how men were put to rest at sea.


    As the seasons passed and Bryn declared he must go, Fenrin learned how your legs betray you when returning to land, falling on his face not three steps off the ship. To his embarrassment, Bryn had to carry him to the cliff face where Jaired easily scrambled up, lowering the rope to raise Fenrin.


    Determined to make up for his fall, Fenrin ''helped'' Jaired lift Tor, though his little arms didn''t do much. Finally, the men huffed and heaved Bryn''s mass up.


    After a break, they set off, Fenrin thinking of home for the first time in many months. The first snow came at night, landing on Fenrin''s face and waking him. He shivered and turned to see Tor had tucked his head into his bedroll like a turtle. Fenrin did the same, hoping the snow would not turn into the many blizzards he had seen in his childhood.


    The snow let up by morning, but stayed on the forest floor, adding a soft crunch to each step. It snowed three more times on their journey to Hjor, but Fenrin thanked the gods that it was never more than a dusting. Although his muscles had grown and his pack was no longer unbearable, he didn''t want to have to wade through snow. Fenrin helped gather snow for water, the springs frozen solid on the last leg of the journey.


    It was high noon when Fenrin recognized where he was. He stopped for a moment, head spinning from side to side as he took in the familiar landscape.


    "What is it, cub?" asked Tor, using the nickname that had stuck on the ship.


    "I know where we are."


    There was a rumbling chuckle and Bryn said, "I would hope so, we are only a few hours away from Hjor."


    Fenrin forced his feet to keep moving but his mind spun. It seemed forever since he was home. He wondered what had changed, he thought of his mother and his sister. He grinned at all the things he would show Lyra. She would be so jealous! Lyra was always the one discovering new things. Fenrin couldn''t wait to be the smarter one for once.


    He had it all planned out but when they arrived and Ulris let them in, Dyla appeared and Fenrin''s plan melted away. He dropped his pack and, eyes filling with tears, ran to his mother.


    She fell to her knees, taking him into her arms. "Welcome home, Fenrin," she whispered, stroking his dark hair. He sniffled, wishing he wasn''t crying, but didn''t let go of Dyla.


    Bryn walked off with Ulris and Fenrin felt his mother shift, but he kept his arms around her and she sighed, picking him up. He was really too big for this, but she hefted him nevertheless, walking over to a chair and sitting with him on her lap. She hummed and slowly pulled him away, checking him over. He caught a concerned look on her face.


    "I''m fine, momma." He wondered how much his mother knew about Bryn''s battles and decided not to mention it.


    Dyla, of course, was very familiar with Bryn''s ways and was relieved to see Fenrin unharmed, though she scolded herself for doubting Bryn. She gave a light laugh and slid Fenrin off her lap. "You stink. Go find Jylee and take a bath."


    He groaned but she pinched his arm and pushed him along until he ran off. Dyla went to find Bryn.


    Fenrin ran to his old room and found it changed. His bed was the only one there. Lyra''s things were gone and he frowned. He went to the bathroom, calling out for Jylee until finally she appeared.


    The nursemaid''s stern mouth pressed tightly together when she saw him, her nose wrinkling. Without a word, she shooed him into the bathroom, stripping him down and dumping him unceremoniously into a tub of lukewarm water.


    "Ow!" he complained as she scrubbed him down merciliessly. He shivered, his wet body getting cold. He squinted through the soap, Jylee was working through his thick hair when he spotted green eyes at the door.


    "Lyra!"


    "You''re back," she said stiffly and Fenrin frowned.


    "Yeah, just now. Momma made me come straight here. Father''s back too, he says we''ll be here all winter! Guess what Lyra?" He didn''t wait for a response. "I saw the ocean! And I was on Bryn''s big ship and when we were in the woods I almost got eaten by a wolf!"


    Her eyes widened, but she bit her lip to resist asking questions. Fenrin tried to climb out of the tub but Jylee forced him down and he swallowed water, coughing. Lyra couldn''t keep the grin away and she laughed. "Good thing you didn''t fall off the boat," she teased and Fenrin scowled at her before laughing as well.


    Jylee pushed Fenrin out of the tub. He stood naked and shivering while she dumped the sullied water down a grate where it would drain to the garden, probably to freeze into a dark lump until spring. "Alright, you''re done. But you''re not putting those back on until I''ve washed them."


    She tossed a towel to Fenrin and took his clothes out. Fenrin wrapped himself up, still shivering as Lyra walked over.


    They were the same height, but he was heavier, his muscles toned from the journey. Lyra was thin, her pale blonde hair tied in a braid that fell down her back. She studied his face with those intense green eyes before asking, "What is he like, Fen?"This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Bryn?"


    "No, the wolf," she said sarcastically, flicking his nose. He stuck his tongue out but didn''t flick back, too busy holding the towel.


    "He''s really strong. And he..." Fenrin paused trying to find the words. "He always wins. You have to do exactly like he says because he''s the boss, but he also takes care of you. He wrestled the wolf down with his hands!"


    Lyra took that in and nodded. She sighed dramatically. "Alright, Fen, tell me about the boat before you piss yourself with excitement."


    Fenrin grimaced, he''d forgotten how bossy she could be.


    "Maybe I won''t." He stuck his chin out defiantly.


    She gave a sly grin and twisted her braid around her fingers. "Then I won''t tell you about the secret I found."


    ¡°Dammit,¡± Fenrin thought, swearing yet another thing he''d learned on his trip. "Fine. It was huge! With sixteen giant oars and a mast in the shape of a bear head. That''s what they call Bryn by the way. Bryn the Bear, that''s why he and the men all have those bear tattoos."


    "And momma," Lyra whispered but Fenrin didn''t catch it.


    "We sailed around and found boats heading to or from the war. We would chase them down and board them. We got so much stuff! Gold, food, and even these fancy clothes called tapestries."


    Lyra''s eyes widened again. "Didn''t they fight you?"


    "Oh yeah," Fenrin lost grip on the towel as he gestured wildly and quickly picked it back up. "They''d fight and we''d fight. We always won though. Though, there were still wounded..." He trailed off for a moment, Lyra saw his eyes darken and she flinched.


    Fenrin remembered the screams and the blood before shaking it away. "There were storms too. Giant storms, like a blizzard but with rain and lightning. On the sea, the whole world rocks when it storms."


    Lyra shifted her weight to another foot, suddenly wishing she hadn''t asked. She could feel a gap growing between her and her brother. She didn''t know how to describe it, but now there were some experiences that were part of him she could never touch. She blurted out, "I made a secret tunnel!"


    She covered her mouth, not meaning to be so loud, and Fenrin grinned. "Really?" he whispered, "Where?"


    She grinned back and stepped closer, holding her hand up conspiratorially. "To the office and Ulris'' office." ¡®The office¡¯ of course meant Bryn''s office, which Dyla also used when he was away. It was a forbidden space to the twins.


    "No way!"


    Lyra nodded slyly.


    "Alright, here you are Master Fenrin. Clean and hopefully still fitting." The twins jumped as Jylee entered the room. She eyed them suspiciously, but handed Fenrin his clothes.


    Lyra rocked forward and back before darting out, saying, "Meet me in your room!"


    Fenrin dressed quickly and ran out, feeling Jylee''s eyes followed him, concerned. She''d forgotten the trouble the twins were together.


    When he got to his room, Lyra was on the bed, her feet swinging freely. "Momma moved me out after you left. It''s down the hall." She jumped off taking his hand and pulling him to her room.


    It was lighter than his, the window facing west rather than south. She shut the door with a click and he took in her furnishings. A small desk, covered with books and papers¡ªhe recognized Jylee favorite primer and smiled knowing he had escaped writing and numberwork. There was also another table, covered in plants and bottles. Books about herbs and sketches of leaves and berries were scattered and pinned to the wall.


    Lyra took his hand again pulling him to her closet. She glanced at the door, grinned, and opened the armoire. Two rods, hanging the extent of Lyra''s wardrobe, were inside and she pushed the dresses and coats away revealing the wooden back.


    Carefully she removed the little dagger on her side, identical to the one Fenrin wore before Jylee had taken it with his dirty clothes. She stabbed the back of the armoire, prying the section loose. Behind it the wall panel was gone, revealing small dark space.


    "This wall is one of the only wood ones," Lyra whispered, "I checked. Everything was supposed to be stone, but they must have run out."


    She squeezed into the hole and Fenrin followed. It was a tight fit, but once inside it was easy to stand sideways, sidling to move down through the wall. It was pitch black and Lyra reached for his hand, pulling him along.


    After a few moments she whispered, "Okay, be very quiet and we can hear what they''re saying."


    They waited and sure enough, Fenrin''s ears attuned to the muffled voices.


    "Good. His wall will be good for us as long as he sticks to my plan." That was Bryn.


    "Indeed, sir. Jarl Soren has followed your orders to the letter. I sent word of your return and he sent this letter for you." Ulris.


    There was a pause and Bryn laughed. "So the old dog finally learned to listen. He says he is expected at the capital next summer and wants to know what he should say. How is the man?"


    "Limping, sir."


    Another laugh. "Alright, Ulris, that''ll be all."


    There was a pause and the sound of the door shutting. Then a lighter voice. Dyla. "How was your trip, my lord?"


    "Prosperous. The wilds may be more to my liking but the sea is wild too."


    There was another pause before, "And Fenrin?"


    "The lad was fine. I think I''ll take him south this year unless the war continues."


    "The Jarl seems to think it will continue."


    "Hmm. Well, leave politics to the spineless. Come, women, it is late."


    It grew quiet and Lyra pushed Fenrin, urging him to begin the shuffle back. They emerged back in the armoire, a bit dusty from the trip.


    Lyra had a strange look on her face and Fenrin watched, concerned, as she carefully shut the passageway. She climbed up on her bed and Fenrin joined her. They sat side by side and Fenrin took her hand. "What''s wrong, Ly?"


    "Didn''t you miss me?" Her voice cracked and she scowled. He bit his lip.


    "I did. I cried a lot before we got to the sea. But..." He hesitated, but Lyra never liked people sugarcoating things. "But I had to put home out of my mind. Because I couldn''t be here so I had to be there. You know?"


    "No, I don''t," she spat and Fenrin flinched. She gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I know you didn''t ask to go. He just came and took you away from me. I hate him."


    Fenrin flinched. "Bryn?"


    She nodded and hot tears welled up, trickling over her pale cheeks. "And he''s going to take you away again."


    Knowing she wanted him to say he wouldn''t go, Fenrin hesitated. He wanted to go but he didn''t want to leave Lyra. So instead he said, "Maybe you''ll come this time!"


    She sniffed and looked at him, her green eyes hopeful. "Did he say so?"


    "No...but he doesn''t say much about what he wants to do to anyone." It was true but Fenrin felt like he was lying. Now he thought about it, Bryn had never mentioned Lyra once the entire trip.


    Lyra bit her lip and Fenrin guessed she felt the same fragility in that hope. He laid down on her pillow. "Mind if I stay here tonight. I''m not used to sleeping alone in that room."


    She didn''t answer, just pulled back the blanket and tucked her feet in. She laid with her back to him, but her arm was extended and held his.

 19. Shattered

    Fenrin woke up on the floor and after that he got used to his own room. Although free of Lyra''s kicking, he had trouble sleeping without the warmth of a campfire or another body nearby.


    The twins'' days became routine. They had lessons with Jylee, Fenrin frustrated he now was behind Lyra, and Bryn taught them more about fighting. He had given Lyra an approving look when she proved she remembered every move he''d taught her during the brief time he''d been there last year.


    She had flushed with pleasure before returning to the stony face she always tried to wear around Bryn.


    On their birthday, he gave them small bows and they began training with those, a small target range set up at the edge of the garden where stray arrows would land harmlessly on the shore of the river or its icy surface.


    Soon it was too cold to practice and the twins unspent energy had them literally climbing the walls. Fenrin showed Lyra the climbing tricks he''d used in the riggings and now no tapestry or column was safe until the twins had reached the top.


    Fenrin slipped right back into his relationship with his mother, but Lyra''s interaction with her father was tense. On one hand, she wanted to please him, to convince him to take her with him. On the other, she bitterly hated him for shattering her life last year.


    Each day that passed, pushing them closer and closer to spring, filled Lyra with anxiety. As the days grew warmer, she grew colder. She took to shutting herself in her room, reading her books or slipping into the wall to spy on Ulris and her parents.


    One day as she sat in the wall, she heard her father and mother enter the study.


    "Four days. I''ll leave in four days, the ice should be clear by then."


    "Back to the ocean, my lord?"


    Bryn sighed. "Yes, the war bounty is too good to leave."


    It grew quiet and Lyra wondered if they''d left when Bryn''s voice returned. It had a quieter tone, one she had never heard before.


    "Woman, come with me."


    Lyra didn''t hear an answer, but she knew what it would be. Rage filled her even as tears spilled hot, leaving trails in the dust on her cheeks. She shuffled out of range of the office going as far as the passage would let her into a corner surrounded by stone. There she sat and cried.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Fenrin was the first to notice she was gone. He had found a snake curled in the cellar, just a simple garter snake but one long and fattened by eating the cellar mice. When he didn''t find her in her room or in the kitchen, he searched the whole estate, disturbing a few servants with his prize.


    Finally, he put the snake in a box by his window and returned to Lyra''s room. With the customary check for adults, he opened the armoire and pried it open.


    "Lyra?" he called. Fenrin thought he heard a sniffle but there was no answer. He crawled into the space, realizing he''d never been in alone. He shuffled to where he knew the offices were but his reaching hands did not find his sister.


    Lyra, not wanting to be found, slipped out while he was searching. She hid in the cellar until dinner, where she showed up as if nothing was wrong. Fenrin, at seeing her, started, almost blurting out his worries. But with a better look at his sister, he swallowed the concern.


    Lyra had her stony face, she ignored him and ate her food quietly. Fenrin glanced at his parents hoping they would notice, but they didn''t.


    Fenrin tried to get Lyra to talk to him over the next few days, but she only gave him short, cold answers. Finally he cornered her, pulling her into his room and shutting the door.


    "What is going on, Ly?"


    Her eyes flashed dangerously, but when she saw his concerned look, searching for answers, she sighed. "He''s leaving tomorrow."


    Fenrin shuffled. "Oh." There was an awkward pause. "Maybe he''ll¡ª"


    "He won''t and you know it!" she snapped, cutting him off. Her heart pounded and ached. They both knew Bryn had no intention of taking his daughter.


    Lyra stepped forward and took Fenrin''s hands. She stared at him intensely. "If I asked you to stay and you had a choice. Would you?"


    Fenrin didn''t answer. The lie forming on his tongue but melting under her hard look. He felt something fragile about to break. When she released his hands, it shattered.


    "Just go then."


    "Ly..."


    "Just go!" she screamed, flinging his door open and slamming it shut behind her, leaving Fenrin alone and drowning in selfish desire and regret.


    The next day, Fenrin learned Lyra was right. His father told him to get his boots and coat and he obeyed. He shouldered his pack mechanically, not looking at his sister. He awaited the order to leave when he heard his mother''s voice.


    "I''m ready."


    He looked up, shocked. His mother wore a warm dress, a blue cape on her shoulders. She had a small pack and her eyes sparkled. His shock betrayed him and he met his sister''s gaze.


    She''d known. His surprise was not echoed in her face. She didn''t cry or beg. She just watched, her eyes partly narrowed and her hands clenched. Before Fenrin could process it, the moment passed. The moment Bryn could have called for his daughter. Instead...


    "Let''s go."


    They turned to leave, Dyla going last, kissing her daughter''s forehead, who flinched under her grasp. Fenrin couldn''t hear the words she whispered, but it didn''t change Lyra''s blank expression.


    His mother shuffled him along, leaving Lyra alone.

 20. Lyra

    That night, Lyra ran away. She had watched carefully from the corner as Bryn''s men packed their bags. She had noted every item and located them through the house, duplicating their efforts. She slipped into the kitchen and took food, stuffing it into a bag she''d snatched.


    Now prepared, she opened the window and slipped out. Her brain told her to go back to the warm safe room but her heart, filled with rage and betrayal, pushed her into the darkness. She walked along the stones laid out to mark the future wall, right up to the river''s edge.


    She didn''t have much of a plan. She knew she couldn''t catch up to her family¡ªand didn''t want to. She just wanted to be out, to maybe taste what it was that her family chose over her.


    It was cold.


    When Hjor was far out of sight, Lyra gathered twigs and branches, feeling around in the dark to light a fire. A few bats flew around as the flames sparked to life and Lyra jumped but determinedly laid out her bedroll and slipped inside. It was too big for her and overly heavy, but it was warm and she fell asleep quickly.


    She awoke to shouting. Sitting up, she instantly regretted leaving the huddled ball of warmth. Her hair stuck to her face and her tongue was dried to the roof of her mouth. She reached for her waterskin and was drinking when she heard the shouts again. Quietly she listened.


    "Lyra! Lyra!"


    Scrambling out of bed, she threw dirt on the smouldering sticks. She turned to roll the unwieldy bedroll but it was too hard. The voices grew closer. Lyra picked up her pack and ran.


    She ran until she was wheezing, sucking in the cold air and wishing she had eaten more last night. Her vision swam and she stopped, resting on a rock and pulled out her waterskin, drinking deeply and stuffing a roll and dried fruit from her pack into her mouth. She was just feeling satisfied when the voices rang out again, "Lyyyyraaaa..."


    She ran.


    It continued all day and by afternoon, she realized she''d lost her bearings. She had no idea where she was, had just run opposite of the calling voices. She abandoned the rope and the hatchet in an attempt to lighten her pack. The sun dipped lower in the sky and she stumbled exhausted through the woods.


    She walked until she collapsed. She felt tears rolling down her cheek but was too tired to care. Pulling herself to her feet, she glanced around for a place to rest. A large tree''s roots cut through the earth, creating an opening. Using the dying light and a tree branch to check if it was uninhabited, she climbed in, fluffing dead leaves around to hide her entry. She wrapped her coat around herself tightly, feeling the close space warm and drifted off.


    "Lyra!"


    She jolted up but the voice was far off, it was hoarse and echoed by several other voices sounding in different directions and distances. Lyra sat huddled in the marginally warm hole. A few lights flickered in the blackness, torches cutting in and out between the trees. It was a long night.


    When Lyra emerged the next morning, she was exhausted and cold but also alive and alone. She glanced around nervously and began walking. Slowly, the sun rose and warmed her chilled fingers, and her spirits rose with it. She had done it! She had gotten away. She had survived two nights in the wild.


    She snacked on more dried fruit as she walked, hearing the river and soon finding it. Breaking the thinning ice with a rock, she filled her waterskin before glancing at the sun and to get her bearings again. Assuming she hadn''t passed Hjor in the night, if she followed the river north, she would be distancing herself from her home and going farther into the wilds.


    Lyra marched on.


    She was just starting to hum a tune as she walked around the bend of the river when she saw a man. His pants were splattered with dirt and mud and his hair was disheveled. He was leaning against a tree by the riverbend when her humming reached him and he opened his eyes. She froze and he registered her presence.


    "Gods, I found you."


    She turned and ran, but his long legs quickly caught up to her, tackling her and her flailing fists. She managed to hit him in the nose, making him grunt, but soon he had his arms wrapped around her pinning her to his chest. She tried to smack his chin with her head, but he leaned back, avoiding it.


    "Woah, calm down. I''m not going to hurt you, Lyra Bryndotter. I''m here to take you home."


    She snarled and wriggled some more, biting his arm.


    "Ow! Alright, that''s it." He pinned her to the ground and wrestled her coat off her, wrapping it around and tying the sleeves so she couldn''t move. She lay there panting, staring up at her captor. Slowly recognition dawned on her.


    "You''re the Jarl''s son."


    He bowed and then inexplicably began to laugh. It was a loud, full laugh, making his eyes water and he clutched his side. She watched side-eyed, not getting the joke.


    "Oh, I''m sorry. It''s just the irony that I find you¡ª and here of all places."


    She didn''t get what was so special about this particular river bend but she was too tired to ask. She slumped defeated and he picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Alright, up you go. Got to get you back home safe. My father nearly had a heart attack when Ulris told us you''d run off. If you''d been eaten by a wolf he would have had our heads on a platter, missy." She frowned and Harold kept talking, "Especially since he warned us. ''She''s a sly one that daughter of mine. Keep a close eye on her while we are away.'' he said. He didn''t mention the teeth."


    He laughed again, his shaking shoulders jostling Lyra. "I should''ve expected it though."


    Harold was quiet for a moment. "You know, once it was your father, carrying my trussed up sorry self up this river."


    Lyra didn''t care, but the Jarl''s son continued, "Yes, he carried me away from my family and gave me the beating of my life. Kept me locked up like their little slave boy for days. Wish my father''s search party had been as effective then as they were today." His laugh turned dark.


    "I would suggest you think very hard before running off again. Next time, we might not be so lucky. Might find you without an arm or a leg. Or maybe I should just take you up to the cave and see how Bryn''s spawn handles his own treatment." His grip on her tightened and cold fingers of fear tickled her stomach. The Jarl''s son had always been polite and quiet the few times she''d seen him, going to the Jarl''s manor for dinner with her mother.


    "Or perhaps we should see how he feels about having his family beaten and tormented in front of him." Harold''s voice was getting louder, more agitated.


    That story she knew. After Bryn had taken Fenrin, the town shook with the news of the Jarl''s beating. His leg had shattered and he couldn''t use it now, so he limped along with a cane. She was beginning to understand what kind of man Bryn was.


    "I hate him," she muttered, not really intending to be heard. But Harold stopped.


    "What did you say?" His words were slow and deliberate, his breathing haggard. She didn''t know why she answered him, why she prodded this dangerous man on the edge.


    "I hate him. He does what he wants. He came and took my brother away and now he''s taken my mother too."


    She felt herself convulse and her sobs begin. She hadn''t cried over Bryn since the day in the wall and now, under stress, it all came out. Harold began to walk again.


    "It hurts, doesn''t it. Having someone take what they want just because they are stronger. Trust me, Lyra Bryndotter, your father staying out of your life is the best thing that could ever happen to you."


    They didn''t speak for the rest of the walk back, but Lyra thought. She thought long and hard about herself, Fenrin, her mother, Harold, and Bryn. It did hurt and the way Lyra saw it, avoiding Bryn and hoping not to meet someone stronger hadn''t worked for the Jarl or Harold. ¡°You have to be stronger¡±, Lyra thought.


    She wanted so many things. She wanted her brother at her side, she wanted her mother''s happiness, and she wanted the adventure Bryn brought.


    Next year, next year Lyra would tell Bryn what she wanted. She would find out how to have the strength to get it and Bryn was the one who would know.


    When they returned, Ulris thanked the Jarl''s son and Harold quickly returned home, wanting as little interaction with Bryn''s estate as possible.


    Ulris gave Lyra the worst lecture of her life. She hadn''t known he could be angry, but his was a fire that burned cold. He took her knife, boarded her window, and assigned staff to follow her until, as he put it, ''he could trust her with her own well being.'' Lyra took the punishment quietly, the experience only reinforcing her new ideas about power.


    By summer she had ''earned'' her life back. She was free to walk alone and she began to realize the power she had as Bryn''s daughter and explored it. She learned the servants would do as she asked. She learned that Ulris had to listen to her requests. She asked for books and she got them. She realized the estate now ran around her schedule alone and enjoyed the feeling.


    The only place she felt her power diminish was in the north estate where Bryn''s men were. Ulris had forbidden her from going over there and she had mostly complied.


    The men eyed her like wolves and she could feel their power. She studied them from afar trying to learn their secret. They were fighters, they had killed people, the ultimate power over others. She began to read about wars. She read about the many, many power struggles throughout history.


    As she read she learned one very important thing: it wasn''t always the biggest or strongest that took the victory. Many an empire had been toppled from the inside, a coup, or assassination, sometimes people took through marriage and political maneuvering, others it was the right strike at the right time, toppling a giant with a small, well-placed stone.


    When her family returned in the winter, Lyra was not the same. She greeted her brother, his grey eyes sad and soft as he tried to repair what was broken. She acknowledged her father, waiting for his departure to deal with him, and let her mother embrace her, holding her daughter close and pretending she hadn''t betrayed her.


    The winter carried on, lessons with Jylee and sparring with Bryn. Lyra didn''t speak much to Fenrin and she followed Bryn''s orders without question. She listened in the wall each night for Bryn''s departure date until finally it came.


    "Four days."


    "And Lyra, my lord?"


    "She stays."


    On the day of their departure, Lyra waited. She watched them eat together, and when Bryn called for Dyla and Fenrin to get their coats she stood.


    "I want to come."


    The hall grew quiet and Bryn''s steely eyes met Lyra''s emerald ones. She felt like a boulder was about to crush her but she held her ground, holding his gaze.


    "You cannot," he growled, warning her.


    "I want to come," she repeated. He walked up to her, dwarfing her with his size. She didn''t flinch. She''d been steeling herself for this moment for many months.


    "I said no."


    "I''m coming," she hissed and the back of his hand struck her and she fell over. She hit the floor but her head whipped back up, staring at Bryn defiantly.


    "Ly..." Fenrin said softly but Bryn held up a hand, silencing his son.


    Bryn stood and stared at his daughter, his eyes more calculating than angry. He tilted his head, thinking, then he reached and shouldered his pack.


    "Daughter," Lyra blinked at the acknowledgment, "if you become strong enough to beat your brother, you can take his place."


    Fenrin flinched and met his sister''s eyes. They were predatory, like the eyes of a snake rearing over its prey. The sharp truth that his sister had changed hit him. With his place threatened, his pride welled and his heart hardened. There was no way he''d ever let Lyra beat him.


    "Fenrin, get your bag, we''re leaving."


    Lyra watched them leave, ready to slide into the crack she''d made. She had another year. Another year to wait, but this time she knew what would happen at the end. She was going to beat her brother and take what she wanted.

 21. A Hard Year

    It was a hard year for Fenrin. The last year he had grown softer, his mother inadvertently taking the attention from himself along with responsibilities. He had spent more time daydreaming and playing around than working, he told himself that was why Bryn had set the competition. Part of him scoffed and was certain Lyra would never beat him. He had always been the stronger twin, picking up and mastering things quickly, but the determination in Lyra''s eyes made his stomach twist and told him this would not be easy.


    It was a hard year for Dyla. She didn''t like how Bryn had set her children on each other, but she saw how it made Fenrin work harder and she suspected it was keeping Lyra out of trouble as well. She mostly hated it because she knew she had contributed to Lyra''s change. She had left her, there was no way around this fact.


    It was a hard year for Bryn. Not because of his family''s conflict, but because the war was letting up, both sides exhausting and running out of resources. That meant less treasure and less reason to be on the sea. Bryn became bored with the sea.


    As fall came, the High King of Valhym and the Duskar Council declared a ceasefire. It wasn''t a treaty, but everyone knew this war was over. Tensions remained high, but each nation''s sea forces limped back to harbors for repairs, leaving little for Bryn to feed on.


    So, Bryn ordered the ship docked in the secret cove and spent the rest of fall arranging for a new captain, making alliances and agreements in trade for his ship and the more sea-bound crew. His personal pirating days were over.


    Returning to the estate, Fenrin grew nervous, although he was careful not to let it show. He realized no rules had been set for the engagement and he became more and more convinced Lyra would strike as soon as possible.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    His twin''s plan had indeed been that, until she''d read a fascinating treatise on mental warfare. When they arrived, she greeted them without incident, but spent the winter showing up suddenly or brushing too close to her anxious brother. She had grown taller than he was. Fenrin slept poorly the whole winter. It never occurred to him that he could strike first. Lyra suspected as much, sleeping soundly in her room.


    Finally, Bryn declared it almost time to leave, this time openly as the family dined and that was when Lyra struck. She leapt over the table at her brother, whose sword¡ªa recent upgrade¡ªquickly rose to meet her knife. She jumped back, kicking at bowls and plates to make room for her feet on the table. Fenrin rolled back watching his sister carefully.


    Dyla gripped her chair watching her twelve year old children fight. Bryn shouted, "No death,  no maiming. First blood wins."


    The twins stalked each other, Fenrin circling the table, Lyra refusing to give up her high ground. He lunged but she danced out of his reach, kicking a candlestick at him. He knocked it aside with his sword and she jumped. She grabbed his hilt and raised her knife. In turn, he grabbed her knife hand and they stayed there locked together until, slowly her hand was pushed back, the very tip of the blade tracing a thin red line on her cheek.


    Lyra closed her eyes and dropped the knife. Fenrin backed away panting.


    "Fenrin," Bryn said as a matter of calling the victor.


    Lyra spun and strode away and Fenrin watched her go, looking for a moment as if he would follow, an ache in his heart where the broken tie to his sister lay dusty. Then the dagger on the ground caught his eye and he remembered the sight of Lyra bearing down on him, her knife poised to strike. She had wanted to hurt him. He threw away the broken thing''s pieces.


    Bryn, Dyla, and Fenrin left that night. Lyra stayed in her room and didn''t watch them go.

 22. First Kill

    Fenrin had been surprised by how well his mother handled the carnage at sea and now in the wilds, seeing how comfortable she was with Bryn, he realized she knew his ways better than anyone. She seemed more at home here in the wilds at Bryn''s side than she had ever seemed at the estate and Fenrin understood why she''d left. He almost wished Lyra had been here to see the truth.


    Bryn in his wanderings discovered first hand what the rumors circulating through Valhym claimed. The Jarls were upset. They were once again demanding restitution for the war and the capital, no longer the central wealth it had once been, could not comply. Jarl''s men, dressed as raiders attacked capital caravans and Bryn fit right in.


    Sometimes he worked as a mercenary, protecting a caravan. Sometimes he did as promised, other times when the attack happened he turned on both parties taking the goods for himself.


    Fenrin learned the majesty of Valhym''s mountains and the intensity of its southlands. He grew more, needing new clothes twice throughout the year. He became skilled with his blade, finally using it in battle.


    They had been stalking a caravan for a while and when they struck, a band of ''bandits'' attacked as well. The caravan''s owners were quickly slaughtered and it became a battle over the kill. Fenrin stood as he usually did, with his mother, on the edge of the combat but in the confusion, they ended up in the thick of it.


    A man, face covered in warpaint, lunged at Fenrin and instinct kicked in. He parried and slid the blade into the man''s stomach. The man''s eyes widened, the white standing out from his dark warpaint and he''d slumped over, the blade pulling from the wound as he fell.


    Fenrin barely had time to process his first kill when a second threat appeared, a woman, similarly painted. Her spear grazed his arm and he hissed. Dyla grabbed the spear''s pole and Fenrin lunged forward, cutting the woman down.


    From then on, Fenrin fought with his father''s men, who stopped calling him ''cub''.


    He and Lyra fought again on their thirteenth birthday. Lyra wearing her brother''s old pants and wielding her dagger, Fenrin with his sword. Fenrin won, tripping his sister with the flat of his blade and nicking her shoulder with his sword tip.


    That year they travelled northwest, exploring the warmer areas, where swamps appeared and Fenrin saw his first giants.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    On the twin''s fourteenth birthday, they fought once more. Lyra used two daggers this time, crossing the blades to catch Fenrin''s sword. She was closing in, but he kicked her in the chest and slashed her thigh. She cried out, clutching the wound, but Fenrin walked away unconcerned. He''d seen enough battles to know she would recover.


    Before they left, Ulris whispered in Bryn''s ear. Lyra had been slipping away again. Disappearing into the woods for days before returning home. Bryn smiled and told Ulris to ''let the girl train''.


    They went east, reaching the far coast but staying in the wilds, occasionally taking caravans loaded with exotic goods from the shipyards.


    Lyra studied and trained. She paid one of Bryn''s men to spar with her. He was a lithe man she had seen beat men twice his size. With him, she improved. She also began a darker study. She¡¯d got a book on poisons and her vast knowledge of plants and herbs, already complete when it came to knowledge of healing, found a new outlet.


    She tested her knowledge on animals she caught in the woods. A squirrel died eating poisoned fruit, an unruly badger cut itself on her poisoned blade and fell asleep. When it woke, she prodded it with another and it slept forever. She told herself she would never use poison on her brother, ignoring her own doubt at that determination.


    No, the poison was for survival. She heard about the battles Bryn and Fenrin fought in. Even if she beat her brother, she had to be able to survive her reward. Fenrin had trained with Bryn and his men, had seen actual bloodshed, studying it before joining. Lyra, if¡ªno when¡ªshe won would be thrown in and she was determined to be prepared.


    On their fifteenth birthday, Lyra circled her brother who crouched, his sword held ready. She had not poisoned her blades after all. She surged forward and when his sword fell to meet her, she leapt to the side and back, forcing him to switch positions in quick succession.


    She moved closer as she spun around him, his sword changing position in a constant motion. He felt a dagger cut through his loose shirt and his eyebrows furrowed. He lunged for her, but she danced away.


    It continued for twenty minutes, her circling, him watching every movement. Finally, he made a mistake, an elbow left too high as he changed stances, she nicked it and blood dribbled to the floor. Her laugh filled the hall and she whirled, curtseying mockingly to her father before leaving with her head high. Fenrin watched in shock as the blood drip, dripped to the floor.


    Fenrin watched as his parents and Lyra prepared to leave. He leaned against the wall, trying not to look like the kicked dog he felt like. As his father shouldered his pack he said, "Fenrin, same condition."


    When they left, Fenrin slammed his fist into the wall.


    He felt trapped in the estate, pacing the halls like a caged animal unable to believe he had been left behind. A small voice reminded him this was what Lyra felt, but he pushed it away angrily. Ulris insisted he study while home but Fenrin often slipped away to spar with the men. He was determined never to be left behind again.

 23. Things That Are Broken

    Lyra was on top of the world.


    Her mother took it upon herself to fill the gaps in Lyra''s education when it came to survival, but while Lyra learned everything quickly while parrying any attempts by Dyla to repair their relationship. The first battle, Bryn ordered Lyra to stay by her mother¡¯s side. While Lyra wanted to object, she knew she had a long way to go before she could defy her father.


    Though she''d never admit it, she was grateful to be left aside. The battle was quick and dirty. She had never seen anything more violent than the occasional brawls that broke out among Bryn''s men. All her reading couldn''t prepare her for the real thing. She threw up, grateful that only her mother saw. Dyla held her hair and helped her clean herself up. Lyra didn''t thank her.


    On her fourth battle, Lyra was ready. She had poisoned her blades and watched the fray, waiting for an opening. There! A man with a spear, coming at one of Bryn''s men from behind. With swift but silent steps, Lyra approached the spearman. Dyla reached for her daughter but Lyra had already stalked out of reach.


    Lyra''s heart beat loudly and she was sure the man could hear it. She willed her trembling to stop and thrust forward, her blade penetrated the man''s back.


    "What the¡ª" He whirled and Lyra barely dodged the swinging spear. "Why you little¡ª¡ª"


    The man''s face went from red to blue as his lungs stopped working. He collapsed gasping on the ground, writhing and twitching. She felt sick again and had to turn away. When she did, she met Bryn''s eye. He glanced from her to the dying man and his brows furrowed, but then his sword disemboweled a man and his attention moved on.


    Lyra got to see the mountains, she lived in the wilds, she saw how her mother enjoyed it but she didn''t care. She had moved on from her family''s love. This is what she had wanted and she had it. She had won it with her own strength and nothing could take that high away.


    Despite not accepting her mother''s unspoken apologies, Lyra found her respecting the woman again. Watching her in the wild with her father, it was clear this was what her mother lived for. It was almost impossible to imagine them apart as they traveled through the forest and mountains. She didn''t forgive Dyla, but against her will Lyra came to understand her.


    When they returned to Hjor, Fenrin was waiting. He greeted his father respectfully and embraced his mother. He ignored Lyra, but she wouldn''t have it.


    She slipped into his room that night, having long learned the trick to opening a lock during her time trapped at home. She sat in his chair, purposefully shifting it so the sound made Fenrin dart up in bed.


    "Evening, brother dear."


    His eyes, silver like her father''s but flecked with color glowed in the moonlight. "What do you want Lyra?" he growled, sounding for a moment so similar to their father she started.


    "Just to share tales of my first adventures as you did for me."


    He watched her warily and she saw him reach for his sword, propped against the wall by his bed. She laughed. "I didn''t come to fight. We have to keep up the birthday tradition after all. No, I want to talk."


    He snorted, grabbing his sword anyway, but she just continued, "Yes we traveled south for a while until I saw the snow capped mountains and touched their base. Then we went west and I saw my first giant. We caught many caravans."


    She paused. "You were right about our father. He is a monster in battle. I killed a few myself of course." She saw him flinch and smiled. "It was as exciting as you said and I enjoyed it very much. Did you enjoy your year in my place?" she asked in a sing-song voice but Fenrin could hear the bitterness in it.


    "I felt like a caged animal," he admitted and his honesty made Lyra flinch.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    She stood quickly and hissed, "Now you know. Now you know what you and mother and father did to me. You caged me but I found a way out, I will always get what I want."


    Fenrin chuckled and stood, he was much taller than her now. He stepped closer and her dagger flashed in the moonlight, but his sword remained sheathed. He moved until he was only inches away. Although she didn''t show it, fear trickled down Lyra''s spine as she saw the wildness in her brother¡¯s eyes.


    "No, sister, you were born in captivity. I was free and you shut me back in. Imagine that." He tilted his head. "Ah wait, don''t bother imagining. You will experience it yourself. I''m glad to hear you enjoyed your time, because it''s over."


    He took a step back and drew his sword. "Now get out, unless you want to settle this without father''s rules."


    She put her weapons away and turned to leave. "Maybe one day," she murmured loud enough for him to hear before she left the room.


    On their birthday, they fought. Lyra began circling, but Fenrin didn''t let her, he charged with a roar, startling her. She stumbled and his blade stopped inches from her throat. He slowly drew it back, cutting her lightly. She dropped to her knees in disbelief and he stepped over, knelt, and whispered in her ear, "How easily it slips away..."


    Bryn watched with a frown but said nothing. Dyla looked pale.


    Throughout the winter, Lyra disappeared. She would reappear after a few days without a word to anyone and then vanish again. No one mentioned it, it was commonplace to the servants by this point. Fenrin was grateful, he never slept easy with his sister around and he¡¯d had enough of her.


    Dyla began to follow her. To her surprise, she found Lyra disappeared to the cave she and Bryn had stayed in when they first arrived at Hjor. It was the cave where they had kept Harold.


    One time, Dyla slipped inside the cavern while Lyra was away and found it full of boxes. A quick examination revealed most to be full of books or plants. A table in the corner had a carefully organized set of vials and beakers along with other tools of poison making.


    There was also a map on the cave wall, held by nails jammed into cracks in the rocky surface. Dark lines were traced across it and Dyla recognized a rough record of their journey the last season. She imagined Lyra, carefully sketching the lines, knowing she would not be returning this year. She imagined her reading of far away places she had never seen, slipping away from the house she was born in to dream.


    Dyla made up her mind.


    When winter came to an end and Bryn began to prepare for the journey, his children were both surprised when Dyla emerged, not dressed or packed for traveling. Fenrin moved forward. "Mother, we''re leaving soon. Where is your coat?"


    She smiled and gently touched his face before leaning in and kissing his cheek. "I''m staying here this year, Fenrin."


    Fenrin turned to his father, seeking objection, but Bryn just shouldered his pack. Fenrin, grabbed his own looking confused. His mother lived for those days out with his father. He didn''t understand, but he knew if he didn''t leave now, Bryn would leave without him. So he let his mother leave his mind and followed his father.


    Lyra stood with her fists clenched. Dyla turned and her soft green eyes met Lyra''s blazing ones. She stepped towards her daughter, but Lyra stepped back. Her face contorted with emotion until it finally settled with anger, the easiest. "Are you mocking me?"


    "No, Lyra..."


    "Is this pity?! Do you think this will change anything?"


    Lyra whirled around and stalked off, slamming the door as she left. Dyla sighed, it would be a long year.


    For Fenrin, it was if he''d never left. None of the men mentioned Lyra and greeted him warmly. The only change was in Bryn, who seemed less happy. Fenrin suspected it was because his mother was missing and he wondered that Bryn had let her stay. Dyla would never do anything without Bryn''s blessing and Bryn very rarely did anything that would make him unhappy.


    Despite this discrepancy, Fenrin flourished. He trained hard and fought well. Everything was going wonderfully until the caravans stopped. It was as if someone had created a dam. The problem was enough for Bryn to send Fenrin into the nearest Jarl¡¯s fort to ask around. Bristling with pride at being given his first mission, Fenrin eagerly entered the town.


    It didn''t take long to find the answer, it was all anyone was talking about. The Jarls had all left for the capital. The High King had agreed to their terms and was signing another treaty giving yet more of his rapidly dwindling power to the Jarls. Everyone was waiting to see how things played out.


    Many thought it was a trap for the Jarls while others scoffed that the king didn''t have any strength left to fight and was truly giving in like a beaten dog. Some thought the Jarls would kill the king anyway and replace him with one of their own, but the wiser pointed out that that would only sow dissension and lead to more fighting.


    Fenrin reported all he''d heard and Bryn''s face darkened at the news. "We must return to Hjor, I need to speak with the Jarl when he returns."


    His son frowned, he didn''t want to return home, his hard earned year wasn''t over. But he knew not to question Bryn and followed obediently as they headed back north.

 24. Lines Crossed

    Dyla guessed her daughter''s habits well and when Lyra came stalking up to her cave, her mother was there. At seeing her, Lyra started, a rare look of pure surprise on her face. Then she was furious. "How dare you, how dare you come here!"


    Dyla waited. Lyra walked forward threateningly. "Get out! Go away and leave me alone!"


    She picked up a book from a crate and threw it. It struck her mother, the sharp corner drawing blood. Dyla staggered and when she straightened a thin stream of red trickled down from her temple, gathering at her chin before dripping to the floor.


    A horrified look crossed Lyra''s face before she recovered and her anger returned. Slowly, Dyla wiped the blood from her face, holding her sleeve on the cut. "I see you inherited your father''s temper," she said dryly before walking over and sitting on a crate. "We need to talk."


    Lyra stayed where she was. "We have nothing to talk about."


    Wincing as she patted the cut, Dyla gave a small laugh. "If that were true, you wouldn''t be throwing books at me."


    After a moment, Lyra did walk over and sit opposite her mother. "Don''t try to apologize. I won''t forgive you," she spat.


    "I know. I don''t think I quite deserve forgiveness anyway."


    Lyra was surprised by Dyla''s bluntness but showed nothing and Dyla continued, "There''s a moment in everyone''s life that changes them. Perhaps more than one. Yours was when your father came and we left you behind. Mine was almost having my soul and heart cut out and fed to a demon."


    Not remembering the time her mother told this story to her sleeping children, Lyra¡¯s eyes widened as Dyla calmly recounted it. "In a way that moment was yours too. When your father saved me, I gave him my heart and soul freely. He is everything to me and although you and Fenrin are part of my heart, I could not stay away from him. I chose Bryn over you and that changed you."


    "I noticed," Lyra said, her patience wearing out and she had to resist the urge to lash out again.


    Dyla smiled. "Yes, and maybe that change was necessary, who can say? But you didn''t just inherit your father''s temper, or his philosophy," her face grew dark, "you also inherited his enemies."


    "There''s a reason your father settled so far north. A reason he keeps such a close eye on the Jarl. And a reason he has formed his army. Alone in the wild, one man can be strong enough to be at the top, but step outside the trees and there are new rules. People make alliances, they band together and no matter how large the bear, sometimes enough wolves can take it down."


    Lyra thought of the Jarl, a beaten wolf, unable to call for it''s pack. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, startled by her own question.


    "Because you''ve become like your father was when we met. Fighting alone and trying to take everything in sight. I''m afraid that if you and your brother keep spending your energy on each other, that lesser creatures will take you when you are weakened."


    Lyra laughed a cruel laugh. "And who was it that made us fight, Mother? Oh, our loving parents, of course. Defeat your brother Lyra, draw his blood, break him and break free."


    She saw the hurt in her mother''s eyes and pushed forward. "You tore us apart and now you expect me to just forget that! You left me, you walked out of my life and you are not coming back. Stay out of my way and stay away from my brother."


    Dyla sucked in a breath and then released it slowly. She nodded at her daughter and left. She may not have made her point or repaired what she had meant to, but she had caught a glimmer of hope.


    ''Stay away from my brother.''


    Dyla allowed herself a grim smile as she returned to Hjor. Perhaps things weren''t quite as broken as she had thought.


    Ulris'' usually controlled face filled with worry as Dyla walked in, her own face still bloodied. He moved forward, grasping her shoulders and looking around for other injuries.


    "Calm down, Ulris, it¡¯s just a small cut. A little disagreement with Lyra. Now promise me you won''t tell Bryn, I walked right into it and Lyra shouldn''t be blamed and you know how he is."


    Ulris pursed his lips but agreed. He had no desire to see more warfare in the family. Still, both he and Dyla were grateful that the cut had completely vanished when Bryn returned early.


    The master of the house burst in, surprising the servants and bellowing, "Ulris! Ulris where are you!"


    The steward appeared in a moment, out of breath from running across the estate. "Here, sir."


    "Has the Jarl left yet?"


    "Yes, sir. Quite suddenly last week." Ulris jumped as Bryn pounded his fist against the wall, leaving a dent.


    Dyla came quickly, her hair still wet from the bath she''d been in. "My lord, what''s the matter?"


    "The Jarls are gathering. They are demanding rights and favors from the crown."


    As the implication hit her, Dyla''s face paled. Ulris signaled a servant and whispered them an order and they ran off.


    Fenrin squeezed past his father and into the house. He saw his mother''s pale face and wondered what was going on. Bryn had driven them silently at breakneck pace back to Hjor, not explaining why. Clearly something was wrong and he felt stupid for not getting it. ¡°Lyra would know¡±, his traitorous brain thought but he angrily brushed it aside.


    After a few moments, the servant scurried back, passing Ulris a paper. He opened it, checking it was what he wanted and then coughed. "Sir, here is the letter we received announcing the Jarl''s departure."


    Bryn snatched up the letter and scanned it''s contents.


    Neighbor,


    I''ve been called by the winds of change to the capital. I do not doubt this will be a historic occasion and have heavy implications on this nation. I cannot neglect my duty and lose this opportunity to better my people''s condition.


    However, if you are in need of anything, my son is at your service.


    -Jarl Soren


    The Bear¡¯s frustration faded to pleasure. As he relaxed, so did Dyla and the rest of the household. He handed the letter back to Ulris. "It looks like the Jarl remembers his promises. But just to make sure, invite Harold down to stay in the guest quarters."


    Lyra returned home late that night and was startled to find the servants still stirring about and it wasn''t long before she learned of her father''s return. She tried to find Ulris to question him on what had happened, but he wasn''t in his study. She was just headed to the kitchen to search when she rounded the corner, nearly knocking into her brother.


    "Ah, there you are, sister. I was wondering where you''d slinked off to."


    She backed up so their height difference wasn''t so prominent. "Why are you and Father back, Fenrin?"


    "The Jarl''s left for the capital," he said haughtily like it was a big secret. It was a tone she knew from when he tried to bluff his way through his lessons.


    "And?" she asked slyly, knowing he didn''t know the answer. He stumbled over his words and she rolled her eyes. "Oh forget it, just tell me everything."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    They went to Fenrin''s room and he recounted the rumors, Bryn''s quick return home, their mother and father''s reactions to the Jarl''s departure, the letter, and at last Ulris fetching the Jarl''s son.


    Lyra paced. "Obviously they were afraid the Jarl would use his new leverage to get enough forces together to boot us out of Hjor."


    Fenrin flinched. He had never imagined Bryn being afraid of anything. But Lyra, especially after Dyla''s words, saw it clearly. "However, when they heard that the Jarl left his son here, it was his way of letting Bryn know he was still in control."


    Seeing her brother¡¯s eyebrows furrow Lyra sighed. "Harold was the way Bryn gained control in the first place. He kidnapped him and held him captive until his father agreed to Bryn''s demands."


    "I-I didn''t know that."


    Lyra paused her pacing and awkwardly added, "Well, some of us learned some things while stuck here."


    It was amazing how familiar it felt. Lyra explaining things while Fenrin listened wide eyed. That''s how it had been before. Fenrin would find things and Lyra would have the answer. Whether it was where the eggs at breakfast came from or why their mother got so angry when they''d played with her silver brooch.


    Lyra broke the awkward silence. "You know who we should talk to?" Fenrin waited for her to tell him, which she did with hardly any hesitation, "Harold."


    The locks around the ''guest quarters'' were hardly a deterrent for Lyra. She''d been in here many times, if only because it was locked. It was a nice room but had no windows and its door was locked from the outside and not the inside.


    The twins crept in, the click of the door lock startling the man lying on the bed. The room was pitch black, but the little light that entered with the twins let them see him jump up, pressing his back to the wall, and holding his hands in front of him protectively.


    "Calm down, Harold Jarlson, it''s just me. We aren''t here to hurt you." Lyra pulled out a candle, handing it to Fenrin who held it as she struck a light. The spark turned to flame and illuminated the room. Harold blinked and jumped again as Fenrin appeared from the shadows.


    "Oh, Gods. For a moment..." He trailed off, embarrassed to say that he''d thought the sixteen year old boy had been his father. Those silver eyes flickering in the candlelight.


    "Fenrin, you remember Harold."


    "Vaguely."


    For a moment, Harold looked offended but then his features melted back into relief and despair as he collapsed onto the bed. "Tell me, Bryndotter, does your father intend to kill me?"


    She was half tempted to tease him, but she responded, "Not from what I know." Seeing his relief she couldn''t resist adding, "But I just got here."


    Harold''s face fell into his hands. Fenrin rolled his eyes. "When did you get so mean, Ly. No, I''ve been with him all day and he''s mentioned nothing of hurting you. He seemed quite pleased you were here."


    Lyra flinched at her old nickname, but Fenrin didn''t seem to have noticed. She bit back a retort about when she''d ¡®become so mean¡¯. Harold looked up and seeing Fenrin''s earnest face, sighed. "Good. That was the intention."


    Fenrin moved closer excitedly. "So your father really did leave you as hostage."


    A strangled laugh escaped Harold. "I''ve been a hostage since your father first arrived in Hjor."


    Lyra elbowed her brother back. "I told you." She turned back to Harold. "Tell me what you know about the Jarl meeting."


    "Your father already questioned me."


    Lyra snorted. "Yes, and I''m just going to ask Bryn." A ghost of a smile flashed across Harold''s face.


    "I suppose not." He took a breath. "The Jarl''s mandate, as they are calling it, is being spearheaded by Jarl Hurson and Jarl Maelif of Taka. Essentially, it''s the Jarl''s demanding compensation for the wars through rights and power instead of gold and resources. They did it once before on a smaller scale, but this time they plan to strip the king of most of his power. The idea is that in order to avoid another civil war that he probably wouldn''t survive, the High King will agree to the Jarl''s demands."


    "What kind of demands?"


    "Mainly the power to further draft their own laws and collectively dethrone a king, which isn''t as bad as it sounds since the Jarls hardly ever agree on anything. Although the word is Jarl Hurson wants some exclusive trading rights and Jarl Maelif wants to reinstate the slave trade market in Taka."


    "Hmm. And what does your father want?"


    "As little to do with it as possible. He might push for protection from future conflicts, the ability to say no to the capital''s demands. Anything that would allow us to stay out of any of the south''s wars."


    Fenrin processed it all slowly, getting why his father hated politics so much. Lyra on the other hand, drank it in, her mind spinning with all the implications. "Thanks, Harold. Let''s go Fen." Again Lyra started, her own voice betraying her. But she shook it off and made her way to the door.


    "Bryndotter."


    She turned and Harold asked weakly, "I don''t suppose you could leave me the candle."


    She racked her brain for anything he could do with a candle and sucked her lip, finally saying, "Best not. Don''t want anyone knowing we''ve been in. But I''ll make sure the cooks don''t forget about you." She blew out the candle so Harold saw her grin before the room returned to darkness.


    Easily, Lyra reopened the door and pushed her brother out before locking it behind her.


    "Well, that was enlightening," she said as they walked down the hall.


    Fenrin slowed, "Ly..."


    She froze and sucked in her breath. "Don''t."


    "But¡ª"


    "Don''t pretend like we weren''t ready to tear each other apart. To fight for blood on our birthday. Just...don''t." She moved forward, practically running, without looking back at her brother.


    Fenrin and Bryn stayed until the Jarl returned. Then Bryn took Harold and met with his father. He returned with a concerned look but not shouting for blood which was a good sign. The concerns he shared with Dyla were the same Lyra had pieced together already.


    The Jarls having their own completely independent forces, meant more enemies Bryn would have to avoid. Before, he had been protected by the crown''s hesitation to deploy soldiers, but Jarls were more hotblooded and protective and would no doubt be eager to try out their new armies. This was coupled by the concerning rise of Jarl Hurson in the political world. Bryn and Dyla didn''t doubt he hadn''t forgotten them.


    For now, Bryn decided to avoid the southwest, steering clear of Hurson''s Jarldom. He and Fenrin left again, more on a mission of feeling out the pecking order than to secure goods. They stalked many travelers in the east but attacked few.


    When they returned in the winter, Bryn was not pleased by what they''d found on their journey. The Jarls were flexing their new muscles, sending patrols to guard the roads. Bryn knew it wasn''t sustainable and the Jarls would soon grow as lazy as their king had been, but he didn''t like to wait.


    Dyla reported that it had been agreed that no Jarl could attack another''s territory without the crown''s consent, a check on the Jarl''s power to help prevent coups and petty wars. Jarl Soren had been pleased with this development, knowing it kept prying soldiers away from the festering criminal activity that was Bryn, which he''d been protecting for years.


    As the twins'' birthday arrived, the tension in the estate grew. Dyla knew her wishes wouldn''t stop the battle and Bryn''s pride wouldn''t allow him to take back his words.


    The family feasted in celebration and then it started. The twins stood up, stepping into the open area by the fire. Lyra''s face was grim and lacked its usual intense energy. Fenrin slid into his stance but Lyra didn''t move. There was a pause and then Fenrin''s leg gave way, and he collapsed to one knee.


    "What the¡ª" In another moment his eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor. Bryn stood and Lyra calmly walked over nicking her brother''s cheek before she turned to face her father, the intensity back in her eyes.


    "What did you do?" he growled.


    "I poisoned his drink. He''ll wake up in a few hours."


    Bryn''s fists clenched and Dyla hand fluttered lightly onto his arm. Not to deter him, but to make him pause.


    Lyra knew she was pushing her luck but she suddenly felt anger well up inside her. "Isn''t this what you wanted, Father?" she goaded and Dyla sighed, lowering her hand. Lyra continued, unable to stop the words pouring from her tongue. "For us to fight with everything we had for the honor of traveling with you?"


    Slowly, Bryn walked over. He towered over his daughter who found herself trembling in his shadow. "This was not for me."


    His voice was low and dangerous. His hand shot forward, taking Lyra''s hair and forced her around to look at her brother still on the ground. "Is this what you wanted?" he roared and her legs gave way and she collapsed as he released her.


    "Is this your victory?" Her father''s voice echoed in the hall and roared through her head.


    She stared at Fenrin''s still body and her rage grew cold. This was not what she wanted. This was not a victory against Fenrin, but one against Bryn. She knew he wouldn''t like it and that''s why she''d done it. In that moment, she realized how much a hold Bryn had over her and her brother. They wouldn''t even leave their home without his permission, they fought tooth and claw at his word, they betrayed their own hearts just to goad him and get his attention.


    "Yes," she hissed, "does it not please you, Father?"


    Bryn''s temper raged loose and Lyra skidded back on the floor as Bryn backhanded her, like he had years ago. Her vision went red and she pulled out her daggers and bolted forward, screaming. Bryn''s knee caught her in the stomach and she collapsed, vomiting and wheezing on the floor.


    "Ulris." Bryn was breathing heavily, holding back his rage. Ulris quietly entered and Bryn spoke slowly and deliberately, "Lock her in her room until I decide what to do with her."


    The steward gave a small cough. "The young miss has a way with locks and¡ª"


    "Then tie her to the damned bed!"


    Ulris bowed and signaled. Two of the kitchen boys scurried out, keeping their eyes lowered and away from Bryn. They picked up Lyra and she tried to squirm but collapsed again clutching her stomach. They dragged her away.


    Slowly, Bryn''s breathing calmed and when Ulris judged it safe he asked, "And the young master?"


    Bryn didn''t glance at his son. "Just leave him. I''m going to bed."

 25. Dylas Son

    When Fenrin woke up, his mother was stroking his hair. His head was on her lap. "M-mother?"


    "Shhhhh. How do you feel?"


    He tried to think how he felt, but his brain was like molasses. "Not sure," he slurred and closed his eyes. When he woke up again, his mother handed him a glass of water and, drinking it, his mind cleared. He remembered the battle.


    "They already left, didn''t they?" he asked sullenly. He was surprised when Dyla pursed her lips and shook her head.


    "Your sister and father had a disagreement."


    Fenrin''s eyes widened. "What happened?"


    Dyla sighed. "Your father wasn''t happy with your sister''s...methods and she pressed him. I''m glad you didn''t see it."


    Suddenly, Fenrin was worried for his sister. "Lyra?"


    "A bit worse for wear but she''ll recover, she''s locked in her room."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "Locked?"


    "Tied. Tied up in her room."


    Fenrin couldn''t help but chuckle and his stomach lurched and he threw up on the floor. "The hell did she give me?"


    "I don''t know. She said you''d be fine though. I just..." Dyla choked and her hand covered her mouth and she began to sob. Fenrin held her awkwardly, his brain still swimming and not quite understanding what was going on.


    Finally, Dyla recovered herself. "I''m sorry. I should be with your father."


    She tried to stand but Fenrin held her down. His concerned grey eyes so much like Bryn''s. "What really happened, Mother?"


    "Honestly, I''m not sure of everything. I know Bryn is mad, maybe at himself and Lyra. Lyra challenged him and he lost his temper. I''m not entirely sure why she did it, but I think she realized she wasn''t fighting you."


    "What do you mean?"


    Dyla brushed some hair out of her son''s eyes. "Your sister and your father are too alike. Both want what they want, damned be the consequences. In Lyra''s case, that was to rattle her father, the man who controlled her life. And she succeeded."


    Fenrin mulled that over. "Why doesn''t he just take both of us?"


    "Maybe he could have once. But the damage is already done."


    "Why didn''t he?"


    Fenrin watched his mother, a trembling fragility there that she kept well hidden. "I don''t know. Maybe he thought being alone would make you grow stronger, more independent. Or maybe he was afraid."


    "So what now?"


    "I don''t know, Fenrin. I honestly don''t know."

 26. Consequences

    Lyra raged in her bonds. She cursed Bryn to every hell she ever read about. She felt welts form on her wrists where she''d pulled against the ropes tying her to the bedpost. She''d pulled less against her feet, also tied down, so she couldn''t move enough to use her teeth on the rope. Eventually she fell asleep, her body sore and her stomach aching.


    She woke up to voices outside her door.


    "Where?"


    "On the right shoulder. This big."


    "She will have to be still."


    The door opened and the tattooed man from the barracks stepped inside with a small box. He stood by Lyra''s bed and began rolling her sleeve up. She tried to bite him.


    "This will not work," he said in his musical accent. Two of Bryn''s men came in. One sawed her hands free and she tried raking his face with her nails. He just pushed her face down onto the pillow holding her there while the other pinned her right arm on her side.


    The tattoo man wiped her shoulder and then sharp pricks of pain followed. She cursed into the pillow but was glad it absorbed the tears that sprang to her eyes at the pain in her shoulder. It didn''t help that the men had her twisted so her aching stomach was stretched.


    After about two or three hours the man declared he was done and covered her shoulder with a bandage. The two men sat her up and she tried to headbutt one. He grunted as her head grazed his chin. Quickly he tied her hands behind her and to the bedpost, leaving her legs free thrash about.


    When they left, she reached over to her shoulder and tore the bandage away with her teeth. Underneath, red and swollen, was the image of a rearing bear. She shrieked, "He marked me, the bastard marked me!"


    Poor Nelly was sent in to feed Lyra breakfast. She was kicked viciously by Lyra and that would have been the end of Lyra''s chance at food except Fenrin walked by, offering to take the tray from the bruised Nelly.


    Lyra coiled like a snake when the door opened, ready to inflict some of her pain on someone else. When Fenrin walked in, she started. She watched him as he slowly came over and sat on her bed beside her. "Hello, Lyra."


    He caught a glance at her shoulder. "Gods is that¡ª?" Lyra growled warningly, she''d run out of words for the thing. Fenrin coughed. "Want some breakfast?"


    Lyra laughed. "Oh sure, let me just take that from you." She exaggerated tugging her bonds. Fenrin picked up a piece of bacon and held it up for Lyra to bite.


    She gave him a look. "You''re kidding right?"


    "Look, I''m not untying you. In all fairness, you did poison me last night so my trust levels are pretty much gone. But," he ate the piece of bacon, "this bacon is delicious."


    She rolled her eyes but accepted his next offering. Fenrin watched her, trying to avoid looking at the bear. He spotted the fallen bandage. "Do you want me to..."


    "Gods, please."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Fenrin picked up the bandage and gently put it back over the bear. He took the empty plate and stood up.


    "Fen...I''m sorry."


    "I know. Me too."


    He left and Lyra let herself feel completely miserable. Her mother was the next person to come in but was shouted out by a wild string of obscenity. Ulris replaced her and although she again shouted, her insults were less personal and he brushed them aside. "Are you quite finished, mistress Lyra?"


    She bit back another insult and Ulris continued, "Now, we are moving you to the guest quarters, you can either walk with me or be carried."


    Something about Ulris'' matter-of-fact tone, the same he used to announce visitors or the twin''s latest adventure to their mother when they were children, calmed Lyra.


    "I''ll walk."


    He nodded and one of the burly men cut her hands from the post, they stayed tied behind her back. She struggled to resist the urge to try and bite him. Instead she focused on standing with as much dignity as she could muster and walking out with Ulris.


    They walked side by side with the two guards behind them. Next to Ulris, old and familiar, she suddenly felt very young. "What''s going to happen, Ulris?" she whispered.


    He shook his head. "I''m not sure. But in my experience the answer is usually whatever Bryn wants."


    She scowled, all kind recollections of the old man squashed. When they reached the door, nervous Nelly was there, rubbing her side where Lyra had kicked her.


    "You can either let Nelly search you or Tor." Ulris motioned to one of the burly men behind him. Again Lyra''s impulse was to rebel and choose the harsher road, but she swallowed her pride and let Nelly pat her down, retrieving her lockpick kit from her pants. She also undid Lyra''s braid, the pale waves cascading freely down her back and another lockpick clicking to the floor.


    Lyra blew hair out of her face and scowled. Ulris pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, bowing and gesturing for Lyra to enter. She did, head held high.


    The room was as she remembered it. A single bed and a chamber pot. The walls richly decorated, but with paint instead of tapestry. And no windows.


    There was a box on her bed. Ulris glanced at it. "Salve for your...tattoo. Twice a day is what I was told. I suggest you use it. If you don''t the wound will become infected and you might have to lose your arm." With that he bowed again, signaling Tor to cut her hands free. She tried to punch him, but he pushed her back and slammed the door.


    Over the next two days, Bryn lashed out at three servants and a messenger from the Jarl. The entire household walked on eggshells avoiding the master as much as possible. Fenrin too avoided his father, but waited anxiously to find out his sister''s fate.


    Finally Bryn sent for Lyra. She was brought to him, hair wild and tangled but eyes still bright and proud. Dyla held her breath.


    Bryn stood above his daughter, arms crossed. "One year," he said, "I''m banishing you for one year."


    As Dyla suspected she would, Lyra laughed. "That is my punishment? I''ve wanted nothing more than to leave this place since I was twelve."


    Bryn ignored her and continued, "In one year you will return here or I will send someone to fetch you. My mark will protect you from somethings and put you in danger of others. As much as you may deny it, you are Lyra Bryndotter and you must learn to live with that fact." A pack was tossed at her side and she stared around grinning with wild disbelief.


    "Stay west and never south, go far and learn much, but know that until the year is up, I will not claim you should you fall into peril."


    She was about to spit a retort but caught Fenrin''s pleading glance and swallowed it. She let her father''s men lead her to the main road. A few townspeople gathered for the sight of Bryndotter''s banishment. The Jarl was there as was his son.


    At last, she was cut free, the pack placed on her shoulders. She gave a wild cry and made her way down the road.


    She, of course, stopped at her cave first, gathering some key tools and bundles of herbs, just rich with potential. Lyra also took her map, deciding she would go to Taka. She always wanted to see the city of thieves. So many stories came from that place. Also it was in the east, the opposite direction her father had suggested. Yes, Lyra the banished daughter would go to Taka. With a last check of supplies, she set out.

 27. Taka

    Lyra tucked her map away, satisfied, she was about halfway to Taka by her calculations and making good time. She travelled along the road but camped off in the trees, taking her chances with wolves rather than men. She hadn''t passed anyone, but she knew the road to Taka was a dangerous place for a seventeen year old girl travelling alone.


    She froze when she heard the sound of hooves, pulled her hood up, and looked down, hoping the traveler would just pass her without a word. The sound grew closer and she glanced up through her lashes at the brown horse passing by, the boot hanging at its side metal. A soldier.


    "Woah." A man''s voice, the horse slowed and Lyra tensed. The horse passed and the man circled it back around. "Traveling alone?"


    Lyra knew a lie would do no good. The road was straight behind her and it was clear there was no one around.


    "Yes, sir. Good day, sir." She began to walk more quickly, her hand touching her dagger hilt under her cloak.


    She heard the man kick his horse and, for a moment, she thought he was moving on but he circled back in front of her, his mount blocking her path. He landed onto the road with a thud and she glanced up.


    He was leering at her, his teeth showing. She recognized the Taka emblem on his jerkin and hesitated before her hand slid from her first dagger to her second.


    The man didn''t notice the movement. He stepped forward, leaning over to see under her hood. "A pretty thing like you shouldn''t be traveling alone. It''s dangerous out here and the nights are still cold. We could keep each other warm." He took another step forward.


    She lunged and he jerked back, her knife grazing his cheek. He grabbed her arm and stepped to the side, throwing her to the floor. "You little¡ª" he gagged.


    Lyra stood up, dusting herself off, trying to ignore the dying gurgles of the soldier as the poison finished its course. Carefully, she slid her dagger back into its sheath.


    The man''s horse shifted nervously as Lyra quietly approached it. She made soothing noises until finally she was able to grip the saddle and swing herself up. She nudged the horse around and carried on down the road.


    ''Taka 1 mile''


    At the wooden sign, Lyra dismounted, rummaging through the horse''s saddle bag for valuables before sending it into the trees. As much as she''d love to keep or sell the horse, she was afraid it would be recognized. So, she took the last mile of road by foot.


    The smell of the air changed, she couldn''t quite recognize what the scent was. It was sour, but not unpleasant, and was palpable enough to nearly leave a taste on her tongue. As she reached the top of a hill and saw the first black tipped wings of seagulls she realized what it was. The ocean.


    It was vast, everything Fenrin had said and more. Dozens of ships were docked at Taka''s sprawling ports. The buildings were mostly wood¡ªunusual for Valhym¡ªwith the exception, of course, of the Jarl''s fort and a few larger estates. Lyra straightened her cloak on her shoulders, readjusted her pack, and walked down.


    The guards let her in without a glance and she began to meander through the cobblestone streets. They were narrow and winding, alleys branched off everywhere and many of the roads were not entirely flat. She tripped on a stone right as two children ran by her, pushing and shoving at each other.


    One fell backwards into her, swerving to avoid collision and brushing her off balance. She stumbled and the two boys ran off. With a shot of realization, she reached for her belt. Her daggers were gone. Her poisoned daggers were gone.


    "Hey, wait!" She started to run after them but they ducked into an alley. She glanced around frantic.


    A woman walked up behind her. "Hope whatever they took wasn''t sentimental. It''s just the Taka welcome."


    She whirled, the woman was tall and wore a leather shirt with no sleeves, showing off her impressive biceps and some ornate steel armbands that gleamed against her dark skin. Half her head was shaved and the other half dangled with short braids. The woman had a little half smile that made Lyra suspect she knew the kids.


    Without thinking she blurted, "They took my daggers, but they''re poisoned. If they touch the blade..."


    The woman''s eyes sized Lyra up quickly, her thin eyebrows, pierced by two rings, lowered into a stern line. She grabbed Lyra¡¯s arm and pulled her into a tight alley. The woman''s grip was iron and she shouted through a hole in a stone garden wall, "Urt, Rory, get out here." Her voice was sharp and authoritative. Clearly, she was used to being listened to.


    Lyra bit her lip, cursing herself for getting attention like this. She just didn''t want the kids to kill themselves and it get tracked back to her. They waited and Lyra wondered if the woman would report her. Poisoned weapons were against Valhym law.


    After a few minutes, one of the boy''s heads popped up over the wall. "Whadja want?"


    "You took this lass''s daggers?"If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "What of it? We saw ''er first."


    The woman reached the hand that wasn''t cutting the circulation from Lyra''s arm and pulled out a few gold coins. "Trust me, you don''t want those. They''re dirty."


    The kid eyed the gold. Faster than Lyra could follow, his arm shot down and snatched the coins. A few moments later, her daggers were chucked over the wall and landed in the dirt at Lyra''s feet. She exhaled and tried to reach for the weapons, but the woman beat her to it.


    Lyra yelped as the woman swung her into the wall, pinning her with an elbow. She pulled one of the daggers free and held it an inch from Lyra''s face.


    "Now, let''s see whether you were telling the truth."


    Lyra froze, her eyes bulged as she tried to see the dagger edge by her cheekbone. "I was! Be careful!"


    The woman watched Lyra¡¯s eyes glint with terror and her own dark eyes narrowed. "Alright, so what''s a young lass like you doing on the streets of Taka with an assassin''s blade?"


    Lyra bit her lip, not sure what to say and the woman held the dagger higher, the silver edge entering her vision. "It was for protection! I''m traveling alone and it seemed the best way to protect myself."


    "Ah, but why are you here and how do you know how to get one of these in the first place? Are you with the Blades of Kor?"


    "The what? No, I''m not with anyone! I made the poison myself, call it a strange hobby. I came to Taka because I wanted to see what it was like."


    The woman gave her a grim smile. "Well, what do you think?"


    Lyra met her eyes. They were dark brown but the edges of her iris bordered on hazel. She swallowed. "I think I should have brought more daggers."


    The woman laughed. "You''re definitely an odd one." She stepped back, releasing Lyra, and sheathing the deadly blade. But she gave Lyra a look that told her she wasn''t finished with her yet. "So why are you alone?"


    "Got kicked out."


    "Because of your hobby?"


    "Sort of."


    "You got a place to stay?"


    "Not really."


    "Money?"


    "Some."


    The woman held out an open palm and Lyra sighed. From what she''d seen of her father''s robbings, she decided not to try to trick this woman. She handed over every coin she had.


    "Follow me."


    Lyra started, but the woman didn''t give her time to argue, she just walked off and Lyra, not having many options, followed.


    She was led down towards the dock, but her guide dropped into an alley and wove through them until Lyra was quite lost. At las, they reached a door and the woman knocked.


    "Here for a pickup?" A voice called out.


    "I''ve come to complain about your dirty wares."


    The door opened revealing a small man with long thin black hair, tied back at the base of his neck. He had a roguish grin on his face.


    "What''s this then? I thought you were bringing us goods. Unless you''ve changed your mind and she''s it."


    The woman scowled and the man shrank back, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm. She reached and took Lyra''s wrist again and barreled into the door. Lyra''s eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim room.


    It seemed to be a tavern of sorts. There was a small, lopsided bar against the wall with a grey haired woman angrily scrubbing it. A young girl, no older than fourteen, was carrying a tray of drinks to a table where three men were leaned over conspiratorially. Another man who was warming his hands by the fire looked up, his face brightening, and he jumped to his feet striding over.


    "Zari, delight of my life! I was wondering where you''d disappeared off to. I thought you might have been avoiding me."


    The woman, Zari, rolled her eyes. "I''m always avoiding you, Geryl, it''s just damned difficult when you hang around where I need to go."


    He winked. "That''s the idea." Then he looked at Lyra. "Now what''s this little kitten you''ve brought to this fine establishment.¡±


    "This kitten is none of your business. Where''s Raldo?"


    Geryl looked at Lyra even more curiously. "Hmmm, oh the old badger''s in his den. I''ll warn you he''s in a foul mood. Morganna was over again."


    Zari scowled but pulled Lyra passed the man, whose pale blue eyes Lyra could feel following her. They went behind the bar and through a door, down some stairs, and then a hall until they reached a sort of hearth room. An older but well muscled man was leaning over a table littered with parchment, muttering to himself.


    "Raldo, I''ve got someone you should meet."


    He looked up and Lyra flinched. His left eye was milky white, a pink scar running jagged over it. The other was a soft hazel. His beard was wispy, a few frayed braids dangling in it.


    "Oh? And who might you be?"


    Lyra''s arm was released and she was shoved forward. "My name''s Lyra."


    "And why are you here?"


    Lyra shrugged. "I was robbed twice and then dragged here, so hells if I know."


    His eyebrow raised and with a frustrated grunt, Zari filled in, "She was carrying a poisoned dagger. Claimed she made the coat herself. Doesn''t seem like a Brimstone to me and she says she''s got nowhere to go. Sounded like we might have a place for her."


    Raldo clucked. "So naturally you brought her straight to the lair."


    "Please, she had poisoned weapons. She''s no plant or lawman and if she was a Korite, the boys who took her daggers would have been dead and I would have had a harder time getting her here."


    He nodded, consenting, and Lyra began to put the pieces together. This was some sort of...gang? Obviously disreputable, although these Korites seemed to frighten them. Some sort of guild of assassins perhaps? The name Blades of Kor sounded vaguely familiar now she had time to think about it. Whoever they were, Lyra wasn''t with them and neither were Raldo and Zari.


    She toyed with the idea. A gang of thieves or bandits, it might be the best place for her, it was what she''d trained for after all.


    Her thoughts were interrupted as Raldo asked, "So you''ve got nowhere to go?"


    Slowly a smile crept to Lyra''s lips. "I have everywhere to go, just not back from where I came from. But for now, I think I like it right here."


    The sly confidence that Lyra now showed surprised Zari and Raldo and they exchanged glances. The older man coughed. "Well, let me introduce myself. I''m Raldo Stoneshield and this is Zari. We are members of Taka''s thieves guild. If you''d like you can join our merry band of ner-do-wells. If not we can come to...another arrangement."


    Lyra shrugged. "Sounds like fun. I''m in."

 28. The Guild Heist

    The next months were some of the best of Lyra''s life. She learned much from Zari and the other guild members and quickly was cutting purses as if she''d been doing it her whole life.


    She learned there was a hierarchy in the guild and it didn''t take long for her to start to move up it. She quickly graduated from the level of the errand boys and pickpockets, mostly younger kids, and soon was one of the hounds. The hounds were the footsoldiers of the thieves guild, providing blackout and manpower to bigger heists, or being assigned smaller individual ones.


    Most heists were planned and organized by Raldo, but some were commissioned by outside parties. Not all were in Taka and Lyra visited a few of the neighboring Jarldoms on guild missions. She also learned about Morganna, the matriarch of the largest trade family in Taka.


    Morganna was a high nosed aristocrat who looked at the guild with contempt, but also was their most frequent patron and the buffer between them and the law. As lenient as Taka law was, the Jarl did have to at least commit to some efforts in eradicating the guild. Morganna ensured that those efforts never stuck. She was a necessary evil for the guild but that didn''t stop them, including Lyra, from wanting to stick a dagger in her eye.


    Everything was going wonderfully until Morganna contracted the guild to rob a ship.


    The owner was a well known, but never convicted, pirate who had recently taken to robbing Morganna¡¯s smuggling vessels. Unable to report the thefts, she was determined to see the hand of the law land on her enemy.


    So, she paid Raldo to steal the vessel''s shipping records and slip them into the dock commissioner''s office. It seemed an easy job and he assigned Geryl, Zari, and Lyra to it. If there was anything smugglers weren''t cheap about, it was locks, so as much as Zari hated it, Geryl ''Quickfingers'' was leader of the job. Zari was the emergency muscle and Lyra and her little handy bottles were to take care of the guards.


    It was a nearly moonless night, the silver sliver in the sky doing little to hinder the team''s movements. Carefully, they made their way to the dock where the ship was, currently set to unload legitimate goods. As they¡¯d accounted for, there was a guard seated at the bottom of the ramp and one pacing the long deck.


    Lyra snuck up, tipping her bottle onto a rag. She got behind the chair, quiet as a mouse and quickly slipped the cloth over the man''s mouth and nose. He flinched but after a moment slumped over. Geryl let out a muffled sneeze, to account for the man''s movement in case the other guard was watching.


    With bated breath, they watched the pacing of the second guard, timing their ascent onto the boat. This one Zari took care of, slipping behind him and using the old fashioned sap. She placed the still form down and took his helmet off, placing on her own head then took over his pacing while Geryl and Lyra padded over to the cabin door. The captain''s room was where the ship records should be.


    The guild''s eyes and ears reported both the captain and first mate were out drinking the night away, leaving the room empty. Raldo had suspected they''d leave another guard in the cabin, so Lyra readied another rag prepared to hand it to Geryl who was larger and would be able to charge the guard and administer the drug more effectively.


    Geryl''s hands fiddled at the lock for only a few moments before the quiet click sounded. Lyra saw the flash of white teeth as Geryl grinned and she passed him the rag. Smoothly, he flung open the door, charging in with Lyra behind him.


    She hit the floor hard. She glanced up to see Geryl, rag in hand, wrestling with two men. A third was on the floor, knocked down from Geryl''s initial charge. A heavy foot landed on Lyra''s back.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "Well, well, well. Looks like our information was right. Go get the one outside."


    The man sitting on the floor jumped up and ran out. There was a shout and the sound of a splash. Lyra guessed Zari had bailed, jumping off the boat. Geryl and her were on their own.


    The two men successfully wrestled Geryl down and tied his wrists. One pulled out a sword and held it at Geryl''s neck as the other came over to Lyra. The foot raised up and the man quickly tied Lyra''s wrists as well. She turned her head to see her captor.


    He was a grinning Duskar, a gold tooth showing. His loose white shirt hung open in the front, showing off a myriad of tattoos. His hair was a mess of braids with colorful beads. How he convinced anyone he wasn''t a pirate was beyond Lyra.


    Walking over to Geryl, the pirate pulled a long dagger out and used it to lift his chin. "Now tell me, did Morganna send you?"


    Geryl smiled, "No, sir. Just got lost we did. Thought this was a floating brothel¡ª"


    The captain punched him. Geryl looked back, his face bleeding but his smile still there, his eyes glinting dangerously.


    "Don''t make me ask again. Did Morganna send you?"


    "See now, there you did just ask again." Lyra heard the crack and Geryl''s nose bent, blood pouring from it.


    "Yeah, she did." Lyra spoke up. If they got locked in the brig, she wanted Geryl conscious to get them out. The captain turned to her, standing and nodded at the man above her, who yanked her to her feet.


    "Ah, the little girl who puts men to sleep. So the bitch did send you. What was her plan exactly?"


    He leaned forward grinning. Lyra tried to think of the best thing to say, when something caught her eye. The man''s shirt had fallen open more as he leaned and she saw a familiar bear nestled in the myriad of tattoos. Gods.


    The captain noticed her distraction and grabbed her hair, yanking her face up. "See something you, like my pretty? Perhaps later you''ll see them all."


    If he was one of Bryn''s men, Lyra knew that even if she told him everything, there was a good chance they''d kill her and Geryl anyway. But if she didn''t...she hesitated, she had gone so long cutting ties with her father it made her feel like she''d failed to think of using his name now.


    The captain slapped her. "I''m not a patient man."


    Lyra spat some blood from her lip to the floor, mind made up. "Sorry, I was admiring that bear tattoo."


    The man straightened as if struck. His eyes narrowed as he looked over her again with more interest. Lyra noticed Geryl behind her glancing at the exchange, confused.


    Lyra, hating herself for doing it, said, "You''ll find a similar one on my right shoulder. He does like to mark what''s his."


    The captain, eyes blazing, stepped over and used his knife to rip open Lyra''s sleeve. The bear, carefully hidden for so long, shimmered in the lantern light.


    "It''s fake," the captain hissed and Lyra let out a dry laugh.


    "I wish. You think working with him is bad, try being his daughter."


    The captain''s face turned red with rage but he waved his hand. "Let her go."


    The man behind Lyra untied her and she rubbed her wrists. "My companion too."


    The captain gave her a wicked grin. "I see no mark on him."


    Lyra nodded, consenting to this fact. "True, a trade then. Give me until morning to come back with an offer for him. Unharmed."


    The captain glanced at Geryl. "We can get any information we want from him for free."


    "Not much. He''s here for his hands not his brains. The person you''d want for interrogation jumped ship. I know where to find her." She shrugged. "You can still try, but you won''t get much and damaged goods are worth less."


    Geryl gave her a disbelieving look but she ignored it. The captain rubbed his chin for a moment before finally agreeing. "You have until dawn. Now get off my ship."


    Lyra nodded and walked out unhindered, feeling the cold sea breeze on her exposed arm. As much as she tried to block it out she heard Bryn''s voice. ¡®It''ll protect you, but also expose you to enemies.¡¯

 29. Bryns Daughter

    When Lyra returned to the rendezvous spot, Zari scowled. "Someone tipped them off."


    "Most likely."


    She glanced around and she sighed sadly. "The fool didn''t make it."


    "He''s still alive. Until dawn at least. We got caught."


    Zari slowly stood , eyeing Lyra with suspicion, her hand crept to her short sword. Lyra remained in her unconcerned stance. "I bought us time, but we need to find the snitch and come up with a plan if we want him back. I also arranged for him not to be tortured...probably.''"


    Slowly, Zari''s sword slithered into the night air. "What''s going on, Lyra? Men like that don''t just let thieves walk out."


    Lyra met her eyes. "I''ll explain everything to Raldo,  we should hurry. For now let''s just say those men and my family have a history."


    Scanning Lyra and not seeing any immediate dangers, Zari strode up and patted her down, removing the bottles and knives on her person. "Fine. But you better have a real explanation for Raldo."


    When they got back to the guild and Lyra told her tale, Raldo''s brows furrowed and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I''ve heard of the Bear, but he didn''t deal much in these parts."


    "Yeah, he prefers the south and west."


    "I thought he was a pirate."


    "Only during the war. The boat we were on tonight was his."


    "Alright, what do you propose?"


    Lyra had been racking her brain for ideas since leaving the ship, but she''d hoped Raldo would have had one of his strokes of brilliance.


    "Well, my idea was we could use this as leverage against Morganna. She''s been being too tight on us lately and a little double playing might even things out," she said, hoping the idea would spark something in Raldo.


    "Morganna has been straight with the guild for years, more so than expected for someone working with our profession, why would we risk that relationship?"


    Lyra started, it seemed obvious to her. Morganna was always dictating what they could or couldn''t steal. Many ripe opportunities had slipped away because of the snooty aristocrat''s disapproval.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "She''s not one of us, why should she control what we do?"


    Raldo lowered his gaze to Lyra. "Ah, but are you one of us? The daughter of a famous retired pirate. Why would you slip into our little band, hmm? You could be a nice little ransom opportunity yourself."


    Lyra snorted. "You wouldn''t get anything for me. My father and I didn''t part on friendly terms. He told me in no unclear words that he wouldn''t bail me out if I left. Which suits me just fine. I have no intentions of ever going back."


    "Yet it sounds like he did save you tonight."


    Lyra pointed to her arm where the bear stood out boldly on her pale skin. "This saved me tonight, all his people have it. Mine just happens to be specially done as a parting gift from my father."


    "That mark was enough to scare the whole crew?"


    "He''s not retired."


    "Hmm?"


    "Bryn, the Bear, he''s not retired. If you piss him off, he''ll track you down and strangle you with your own entrails. His reputation is well earned and still alive. You''re lucky he doesn''t care too much about Taka. I came here to get away from him and I would''ve liked nothing more than to never see him or his men ever again. But since they''re here, I felt obliged to tell you what you''re up against."


    "And you say the captain''s problem is with Morganna?"


    "That''s what he said. He wanted proof that Morganna was setting him up. He doesn''t like her rules. I thought we didn''t like them much either so it seemed like it''d be best for us to work together." She paused and added as afterthought, "Oh and Geryl will only get out alive if we help."


    Zari snorted. "If he doesn''t get himself killed by annoying them too much first."


    "Morganna and the captain want each other gone. We can''t afford to lose all good graces with Morganna, but we don''t want to create a war with Bryn''s gang," Raldo mused.


    "I doubt he''d come to the captain''s aid, but I can''t say for sure."


    Raldo pulled his beard again. "What if Morganna hired the pirate?"


    Lyra shook her head. "No chance. He may have abandoned his pirate trade, but Bryn would not approve of his ship being under someone else¡¯s rule." She threw herself into a chair, frustrated by Raldo. "Look if you don''t have the balls to stand up to Morganna, I guess the pirates got the better of you."


    Raldo didn''t react but Zari hissed and stepped threateningly towards Lyra. The guildmaster held up a hand to stop her. "It''s true we''ve been tame of late. But our guild has dwindled and Morganna¡¯s protection was necessary for our survival. Perhap, however, times have changed once more."


    There was a new light in Raldo''s old eye. It was a mischievous twinkle that brought a grin to both Zari and Lyra''s face. Raldo reached under his desk and, after a bit of rifling, pulled out a scroll of paper. He laid it out and they gathered around it.


    "This is a blueprint of Morganna¡¯s estate. The pirate''s want proof, so we will need to get into her records. We are also going to need our own blackmail to cover our involvement." Raldo began to talk faster, "And then eventually it will all go to the Jarl so we need to make sure we are the lesser evil in the court''s eyes. And also..."


    It took three hours and almost every able bodied member of the thieves guild, but finally, Raldo''s spider web of a plan began.

 30. The Tigress

    As the sun was just rising, Lyra walked up the ramp she had snuck onto the night before. She pressed the portfolio of papers tightly under her arm and kept a carefree expression on her face. The pirates grinned at her, bowing mockingly as they opened the door to their captain''s cabin.


    The captain was lounging on his chair, a goblet of wine in one hand. "Ah, Bryndotter, you have returned to us!"


    Lyra stepped up and slapped the papers on his desk. She shot him a cheeky grin. "There you are. Plenty of proof of Morganna¡¯s plans to frame you, courtesy of the Thieves Guild."


    The captain looked slightly taken aback and leaned over to flip through the papers. As he read the contents, his grin widened and absently, his hand tipped and a few drops of wine splattered on his desk. "My, my I admit I doubted you land rats would deliver."


    "We do know our business."


    The man leaned back into his chair, examining Lyra, his eyes occasionally flitting back to the papers. "So that man was worth this much to the guild."


    At the greedy glint in his eyes, Lyra rolled hers. "Hardly," she said dryly, "however, Morganna has been pushing her luck with us as well. You just gave us a reason to strike."


    As an afterthought she added, "Oh, but we would like Geryl back, all hands needed on deck and all that."


    The captain laughed and stood up. He placed his hand on Lyra''s back and steered her onto the deck. With a signal, two sailor''s lugged Geryl up from below. Besides a few new bruises, including a quite dramatic black eyes, he was fine. They cut his bonds and he walked over to Lyra, rubbing his wrists.


    She turned to the captain and nodded. "Pleasure doing business with you."


    The captain tipped his large brimmed hat. "Well I couldn''t very well refuse a bear cub."


    Lyra couldn''t repress her scowl and the captain smirked before turning on his heel and leaving his men to roughly guide the thieves off the ship.


    As soon as they disembarked, the plank was removed. Geryl leaned down and whispered, "So...what just happened?"


    Lyra snorted. "I saved your useless ass and we''re now fighting with Morganna. I hope you can feel your hands because you''ve got a job to do."


    Geryl seemed surprised by Lyra roughness. Usually she quietly observed, her sharp tongue coming out only when it needed to. But she had been up all night and being reminded of her father left a bad taste in her mouth. Geryl raised an eyebrow but just winked painfully through his black eye.


    "Well, I owe you one."


    "Damn right. Now hurry, there''s a safe lock with your name on it."


    Despite being exhausted, Lyra enjoyed watching events unfold as Raldo had predicted. It was now clear to her why he was the leader.


    The pirates brought the papers to the guards, the guards were bribed by Morganna, but they didn''t give in as usual thanks to a few choice threats from the guild. So the case went through to the Jarl, expedited by his steward who was also on the guild''s side. Geryl had done good work at cracking the Jarl¡¯s safe and taking his seal, entrusted to his steward. They had promised to return the seal, only if it would be used to rule the case in the captain''s favor.


    Morganna was livid. She managed to avoid being jailed, but she faced a huge fine that the Jarl was happy to receive. The pirates swaggered out of Taka and soon Raldo was visited by the angry aristocrat.


    They met privately, but her screaming could be heard through most of the hideout. However, Raldo had another file. One documenting many other questionable dealings of Morganna, especially ones that robbed the Jarl of due taxes. Threats were tossed and as much as Raldo hated using blackmail¡ªconsidering it a dangerously thin leash¡ªhe counted on it being the basis for a more healthy professional relationship with Morganna.


    Lyra was satisfied. She didn''t care about Morganna, but she was relieved the pirates were gone. Her rank in the guild had increased and she''d even been approached by the guild weaponmaster.


    Broden was a quiet and reclusive man, but a master with almost every weapon. He had an on and off relationship with the guild, running his own mercenary trade on the side. As things settled and the trickles of ''well dones'' from other guild members petered out, Lyra was ready for her success with the pirates to fade into old news. Then Broden approached her.


    "Heard how things went down from Geryl. You''re not much good in a fight without your poisons. That brain of your is going to be splatted on a wall if you don''t shape up."


    Lyra gauged her chances and looked up at him cockily. "Well Broden, what do I need to do to meet your standards."


    With that, her training began. She went out on fewer missions¡ª becoming the private project of Broden was a twenty-four hour job. Most nights she slept on the training floor, unable to move from where she''d last fallen. Broden was a good teacher, he quickly gauged her strengths and weaknesses.


    ¡°You''re quick, use that to get close. You''re clever, use concealed weapons. You have intuition, strike the right places and all you''ll need are your daggers.¡±


    Lyra found she enjoyed training even more than thieving. As she became good enough to start winning against other guild members, she felt the thrill of power. To be able to push someone to the brink, to get them on the floor, their life in your hands...it was intoxicating. She had not felt the rush since she had fought Fenrin. She began seeing his face in her opponents, her eyes growing wild. Soon she had a new nickname.


    "The tigress stalks her prey," Geryl narrated from the sidelines as Lyra circled her opponent, Tyr, a senior guild member wielding a sap and shield. Lyra tuned Geryl out, focusing on her opponent. She moved closer and the man moved, lunging with his sap, but she dodged and it cracked against the floor. She tried to move in, but her dagger was pushed back by the shield.


    "Ah, the tigress cannot bite through tortoise shell." If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    A few chuckles came from the onlookers. Lyra shot Geryl an irritated look and then cursed as Tyr dove forward, covering his exact movement with his shield. Lyra jumped back, but he swung his shield and it caught her on the arm, the force behind it knocking her off balance. She barely dodged the sap once more and danced back.


    She looked at her opponent, vision going red. She could see Fenrin there, his grin telling her she would never win. Never could beat her older, stronger brother. She flipped her daggers around in her hand and let out a battle cry, charging Tyr who merely lowered his shield to deflect her.


    At the last minute, she swerved, going around him. She stabbed her dagger into the wood floor and used it to pivot her momentum and then released it, jumping onto Tyr''s back. He tried to get his shield around, but couldn''t turn fast enough. Lyra dug her nails into his shoulder and flicked the dagger over his neck. He froze and she stayed on him, breathing heavily.


    There was a moment of quiet and Geryl laughed. "The tigress pounced, sinking her claws into her prey."


    A few cheers and condolences to Tyr, who turned to tell Lyra it was luck but stopped when he saw her eyes, still distant and burning with rage. He grunted something about next time and quickly left.


    Geryl walked up and leaned against Lyra who tensed. Geryl didn''t react and the fire faded. Lyra suddenly noticed that they were almost the same height. She had grown¡ªin more ways than one. Geryl wrapped an arm around her shoulder.


    "Let me buy you a drink, Lyra the Tigress. That was quite the match to watch."


    "And narrate apparently."


    Geryl grinned and Lyra let him lead her out of the sparring ring. In truth, Lyra didn''t mind the new nickname, she felt it fit better than snake, which is what her poisons had named her. She never wanted to use poison again in battle. It didn''t have the same satisfaction.


    Tigress was a strong name, a fierce one, and for giving it to her, Lyra let Geryl take her out.


    They went to one of the many bars in Taka. It was seedy, but most were, but at least it wasn''t a sailor''s pub. Geryl ordered the drinks and Lyra let herself get drunk. She let Geryl''s wandering hands find their way onto her thigh.


    Geryl was a well-known and open womanizer, his classically roguish nature attracted many towards him. He claimed to have slept with every woman in Taka and although few trusted that claim, enough conquests were verified to make him the envy of his peers. Lyra examined him as he regalled her with a humorous tale about robbing a man blind by convincing him that his wealth was preventing him from winning the woman of his dreams.


    Her mind was fuzzy from the alcohol and noted that he was handsome. His crooked smile and many times broken nose were endearing on his otherwise symmetrical face. As the story came to an end, Lyra laughed and let her head lean on him, him somehow having gotten close enough.


    His arm went over her shoulder but only tarried for a moment before continuing so his hand could feel her rump appreciatively where it had started to slide off the stool. He leaned over and whispered, "You''re a pretty girl, Lyra."


    "You''re not half bad yourself." Her words only slurred slightly but when Geryl stood quickly, yanking her up and into his chest, her vision took a second to keep up.


    "Let''s go somewhere."


    Lyra didn''t answer, but let herself be dragged up the inn steps. Geryl was behind her, his hands slipping under the front of her shirt and his lips caressing her neck. She tingled all over and a new kind of fire lit in her.


    She had never been with a man. Suddenly a hunger roared to life and she turned, her lips finding his. She kissed him desperately and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She felt her back bump into a doorway painfully as Geryl steered her into a room, but she hardly noticed.


    His shirt was almost off and Geryl pulled away for a moment to remove it completely. As soon as it was gone, Lyra leaned back a bit, panting as they kissed. Somehow he got hers off without stopping and she felt her breasts press against his warm chest. His hands fondled them roughly, but she didn''t care.


    She ached and gasped as he pulled off her pants and undergarments, pulling her thighs up. He pressed her against the wall, massaging her legs as she continued to lock her fingers in his hair, pressing his face onto hers.


    He lowered her down and thrust into her. She gasped in pain but it was swallowed by his kisses. He kept going and her fingernails bit onto his back. In a single movement he turned, tossing her onto the bed. Her hands clutched at the bed sheets.


    "Ahhh..first time little tigress? Enjoy it." She barely had time to process his words before he began once more. He leaned over, his lips tracing her shoulder and biting down. She moaned, her body shaking. She moved underneath him overwhelmed by the sensations rippling through her.


    Her hands flew to his head again and she felt him shudder. He withdrew and she felt a sticky warmth on her leg. His weight came down on her more and he turned to the side to pulled her in front of him, arcing their bodies together and one hand rubbed her neck as the other lingered on her thigh.


    Lyra was exhausted. It wasn''t long before both fell asleep.


    "Hey Tigress, you up for round two?"


    Lyra''s eyes opened and she flinched to see Geryl propped up on his elbow lying beside her. His eyes roamed shamelessly down her body and she flushed. Memories of the night before came rushing back and she licked her dry lips. She gave a fierce nod and he grabbed her shoulders pulling her into him. His kisses began soft but became more feverish.


    Lyra explored his body with her hands, feeling his abs and the corded muscles of his back. He guided her into different positions and she followed, enjoying the new experience. When they had finished, she opened her eyes and looked up. He was putting his pants on.


    She watched silently as he got dressed. He opened the door a crack. "I have a job to do, Tigress, but the room¡¯s yours until noon." He gave her a wink and slipped out.


    Lyra lay back down and dozed off.


    She slept with Geryl a few more times, but both soon became bored and looked for new partners. Lyra''s awakened sexuality was good news for many men she found had noticed her as well. However, after Geryl, she realized the power of sex, how it changed how you were viewed and how people treated you. She didn''t let herself get carried away, using her allure to get what she wanted while never letting anyone think they could use her.


    Lyra had risen in the guild yet more, but she grew nervous as her year of banishment grew to a close. She knew Bryn would come looking for her as he had promised, and she intended to keep her own of never going back to him.


    Finally it was her birthday. Her eighteenth birthday. She walked into Raldo''s office where she had asked to meet with him and Zari, the first guild members she had met.


    "I have to leave for a while. My father ordered me back after one year."


    Raldo nodded. "Ah, then you must return."


    She spat and Raldo raised an eyebrow. "Not likely. I''ve told you, I don''t intend to remain tied to him. No, I''m going into hiding, he''ll send people after me. They''ll no doubt track me here."


    Zari''s mouth was a straight stern line. "We won''t tell them anything."


    Lyra looked them both in the eyes. "No, I want you to tell them everything."


    Raldo''s eyebrow raised and Lyra sighed, explaining, "The Thieves Guild has been good to me. I have no desire for my father to tear it apart, which he will if you lie to him. Tell them everything they ask, be completely blunt and honest. Leave the avoiding to me. I''m going west, so tell them that."


    "And they''ll believe it?" Zari asked with a snort, Lyra shrugged.


    "Maybe, but tell them that''s all you know. I¡¯m not sure if I''ll be back so I want..." She paused, words of gratitude unnatural on her tongue. "I wanted to thank you for taking me in and teaching me."


    Zari smiled, seeing how difficult it was for Lyra. She stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "You drive me nuts, Lyra, but I''m glad you came and the Thieves Guild has been better for it."


    For a small moment, Lyra let herself be held, her heart softening. Maybe she shouldn''t leave...


    She pulled away and nodded at Raldo who waved his hand, dismissing her with a smile. Lyra exited the office, grabbed her packed bag, and left Taka.

 31. Deadline

    Dyla stayed stone faced as Bryn roared at his men. A week had passed since Lyra was due back and Bryn''s patrols had turned up nothing. Bryn suspected his daughter had gone to Taka, but he couldn''t expect his scout back from there for at least another day.


    It had been a strained year for Dyla''s family. Fenrin seemed to be distancing himself from his father, turning more towards the friends he had made among his Bryn¡¯s men. Bryn had become even more stern and ill tempered. Dyla knew it was because he was experiencing something he had never before. Doubt. Doubt that he had made the right call with Lyra.


    It also didn''t help that Bryn''s men had become so numerous, they were becoming hard to handle. It seemed every month, Bryn was chopping a subordinate in half for disobeying rules or acting without orders. Dyla and Bryn traveled the ever increasing border of Bryn''s influence and despite the wealth and manpower he gained, Bryn seemed less happy than before.


    As Bryn finished tossing his unfruitful scouts out, he lumbered over and Dyla took his arm as he grumbled, "Useless, the lot of them."


    Dyla waited a moment and when she was sure his tirade was truly over, she said, "They don''t know her and what she''s capable of." Bryn grunted and Dyla continued, "Perhaps, my lord, you should send Fenrin after her."


    A low growl escaped the Bear but Dyla could tell he was thinking about it. She knew that he was afraid Fenrin would leave too, although he''d never admit it. But Dyla and Bryn both knew that, besides Bryn himself, the person with the best chance of tracking down Lyra was her twin brother.


    Not only did Fenrin know his sister''s abilities and temperament, but he was especially talented at finding people. He also was a natural leader, his abilities quickly earning other¡¯s respect. Fenrin the Wolf was the name he''d earned among the men and Dyla was sure he''d be able to sniff out his sister no matter where she¡¯d hidden herself.


    So, Dyla watched the thoughts race through Bryn''s eyes and helped him walk through them. "What do you plan to do with Lyra when you bring her back?"


    She knew Bryn would give a different answer depending on who was in the room, so she had waited until they were alone. Bryn muttered and finally said, "See what she''s learned."


    "And then?"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Put her to work. She wanted to work, well, if she''s learned enough then she''ll do it."


    Dyla nodded but her mouth frowned. They both knew it was unlikely Lyra would willingly accept a place under Bryn. Not without an apology and that was as likely as the sun falling from the sky.


    "If your men cannot retrieve her, perhaps at least carry a message?"


    Bryn tore away. "She has no choice. She will come back."


    "My lord, I believe you are the only one who can make her do anything. But send Fenrin with a warning first. At the very least, he''ll create the path to her."


    "If they can''t find her in Taka, then maybe."


    Dyla nodded and took her victory.


    The next day, Fenrin listened as the scout from Taka gave the Bear his report.


    "They told us everything they knew. Said, she''d told them to. Jod and Frin went west on that lead and Benno is keeping an eye on the city, but there''s still no trace of your daughter."


    Fenrin had to respect the fact that the man gave this disappointing report without showing any fear. Even from his place, leaning against a back doorway, Fenrin could tell Bryn was working up into a rage. To everyone''s surprise, Bryn spoke steadily, if not calmly, "Very well. You are dismissed." The man bowed hastily and left.


    "Ulris."


    The steward appeared. "Yes, sir."


    "You and Fenrin meet me in my office."


    Ulris bowed and Fenrin slipped away, beating his father there and waiting by the doorway.


    With a nod from Bryn, Fenrin opened the door and they both went inside. He watched his father, his grey eyes noting every movement and expression. He was filled with curiosity but he tried to dispel it.


    He didn''t want to think about Lyra, but somehow he couldn''t stop himself from going to hear every report. He couldn''t untangle the mess of emotions tied to his sister so he tried to ignore it. That mess sat in his stomach as he watched his father and his father watched him.


    Finally Bryn spoke, his voice a low growl, "Go find you sister. Give her a message."


    Fenrin didn''t react but every sense was heightened and he waited for each new word with an anticipation he didn''t fully understand.


    "Tell her she must return. That if she has learned and grown, she will have a place here at your side." Bryn''s fists clenched and his eyes grew dangerous. "But if she does not come back, I will drag her back myself!"


    Face grim, Fenrin nodded to his father, repeating the message faithfully and assuring him it''d be done. Half of him didn''t want this assignment, didn''t want to see his sister again...or did he just not want her to come back?


    He went and packed his bag but he couldn''t shake one thought.


    Fenrin the Wolf. More like Fenrin the Dog. Go fetch, Fenrin. Go fetch the sister who left when you couldn''t.

 32. The Wolf

    Fenrin went to Taka first. If that''s where Lyra had spent most of her time, there had to be someone who suspected where she''d gone.


    The city was dirty and the briny sea air didn''t help the smell. Fenrin preferred the wilds or the sea to cities, but he wasn''t unfamiliar with them. When a pair of kids bumped into him while playing tag, he grabbed one''s wrists and lifted him into the air.


    "Hey! Owww! Let go of me!"


    Fenrin''s grey eyes narrowed and he flipped the kid over and shook him. Fenrin''s belt pouch and a few other trinkets clattered to the cobblestone. Slinging the kid over his shoulder with one arm, Fenrin reached down and picked up his bag. He stuck it in his shirt where it was usually kept and held the kid in front of him again, upside down.


    "So, I''m guessing you can tell me where to find the thieves guild?"


    The kid stuck his tongue out and Fenrin caught it, pinching between two fingers. "Not gonna talk huh? Then I guess you don''t need that tongue."


    The kid''s eyes grew wide and Fenrin let go, wiping his hand on his pants.


    "Mister, I really don''t know where they are I¡ª" Fenrin growled and the boy bit his lip. "I-I know someone who does though. I can bring you..."


    Quickly, Fenrin flipped the kid back upright and dropped him. The urchin glanced back, looking ready to run. However, one look at Fenrin''s face and the predatory grin on it stopped him. He gathered up his fallen trinkets and said, "Follow me."


    The kid was smarter than he looked, Fenrin had to admit. He did his best to lose Fenrin in the intricate maze of alleys, but Fenrin the Wolf never lost his prey and eventually the kid gave in and they came to an alley where a woman with her head half shaved and a tall lanky man were chatting. At the sight of the kid, the woman raised a pierced eyebrow.


    "Someone wanted to see ya," the boy said before running off, slipping through a hole in a fence. Fenrin let him go, stepping from the shadows. The woman was instantly on her guard.


    "Who are you?" she asked gruffly.


    Fenrin sauntered up closer. "Name''s Fenrin. I''m looking for someone."


    The woman didn''t back down as he stepped forward again, but the man''s blue eyes darted back and forth between them.


    "Oh?" the woman asked.


    "Girl, my age, blonde hair and green eyes. Tattoo of a bear on her shoulder."


    Recognition crossed the man''s face but the woman didn''t react. Fenrin sized the two up quickly and he bolted forward, slamming the man into the wall behind him, his sword at his throat in an instant. The woman pulled out a dagger but she stopped, carefully eying the situation.


    "Hey, hey buddy. No need to get rough." The man raised his hands, a crooked smile on his face. "We know Lyra, Zari here just doesn''t like nosy people."


    Fenrin let the man go and he brushed himself off, Zari looked at him annoyed. "My name''s Geryl. Lyra left about a month ago, said she was headed west. You''re not the first to come asking, just so you know."


    Sheathed his sword, Fenrin said, "I know. So tell me, how long was she with the guild?"


    Zari held up a hand and Geryl shut his mouth. She eyed Fenrin closely. "You with her father?"


    "You could say that."


    "Then we already told your people everything we know."


    "Yes, I heard the report. But you and I both know that if Lyra said she was going west, she didn''t go west."


    Zari shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Your guess is as good as mine."


    The wolfish grin returned to Fenrin''s face. "Ah, see that''s where we disagree. I have a feeling your guess is much better than mine."


    "Not likely. She didn''t tell us she was leaving until the day she left. That''s all we know. This conversation is over."


    Zari signalled Geryl and started to move, Fenrin drew his sword again. "I wouldn''t turn your backs to me."


    The woman held her dagger higher and in the dim light, Fenrin noticed it''s unusual design. It had two prongs curving up from the handle, making an almost trident-like blade.


    "Is that a threat?" Zari hissed.


    "A warning. You don''t leave until I''m satisfied with your answer."


    "You realize you''re outnumbered right?" Geryl had a short sword in his hand now.


    Fenrin''s response was to move forward, easily knocking the short sword out of Geryl''s hand and pivot, smashing his elbow into Geryl''s nose. He yelped and fell down on the street.


    Turning in time to see Zari charge, Fenrin blocked her first swing but the prongs on her dagger caught his blade, throwing him off balance. She swiped at him with her other fist and Fenrin leaned back, just catching a glance at the sharp metal secretly protruding between her fingers.


    Fenrin released his sword suddenly and kicked upwards, catching Zari in the stomach and knocking her back. He scooped up his sword again and moved towards Zari who recovered almost instantly and expertly moved to catch his blade once more. This time, Fenrin just turned his blade and put his hand on the flat end, pushing and crushing Zari''s arm and her knife back towards her.


    She kicked him in the stomach, but he just grunted and kept pressing down. She tried to disengage her dagger from his sword but he twisted it, locking them together.


    Seconds from being knocked over, Zari let go of her dagger. She swiped at his sword arm, grazing it with her sharp fist. A few drops of blood splattered the floor, but Fenrin caught her arm with his left and, dropping his sword once more, pulled Zari into a grapple.


    He got behind her, twisting his grip into a headlock. She scraped his arm, the metal between her fingers gouging his bracer. Geryl stood up, his eyes a bit crossed. As he focused he saw Zari''s face turning pale and her eyes roll up as she passed out.


    "If I let go now, she''ll live. Start talking."


    Fenrin saw flashes of emotion across Geryl''s face. Concern for Zari, fear for his own life, and lastly the hatred of a man who¡¯s been beaten by stronger men many, many times. Fenrin grinned his predatory grin, relishing that look.


    "Alright, alright. Let her go."The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Fenrin let Zari''s unconscious body thud to the ground, picked up his sword, and slammed its blade a hairsbreadth from Zari''s face. Geryl flinched. "The little Tigress wasn''t kidding about you guys."


    "Tigress?"


    Geryl sat back, nursing his once again broken nose. He had regained his composure, hiding his fear behind roguish charm. "Lyra. Listen, it''s like Zari said. She up and told us she was leaving one day. Said someone would come asking and to tell you she was heading west. She didn''t talk much about her past and in our business it''s polite not to ask."


    "How long was she with you?"


    The man gave a sly grin. "Well Lyra spent many nights with me, as for days-"


    Fenrin didn''t even remember kicking the man. But before he knew it the man''s smile and its implications were under his boot. Geryl let out a bloodied laugh and groaned through gritted teeth. "Don''t...ask questions...you don''t want answers to."


    Fighting to stop himself from crushing the man''s neck, Fenrin scolded himself for letting the wretch get to him. He stepped back and grabbed Geryl by the throat, punching him again. Geryl spat up blood on the cobblestones and wheezed. Fenrin kicked his side and felt a rib crack.


    Pulling, himself against the wall, Geryl glared at Fenrin through a swollen eye. "Now this feels personal. I know for a fact you''re not her lover, so then who..."


    Fenrin wrenched him up by his hair, pounding his head against the wall. "I''m her brother, you bastard."


    Geryl grinned, blood dribbling from his split gum. "Ah, she never mentioned a brother, but I know she hated her family. Damned them whenever she could. We had a real nice thing going here until your little time limit sent her off."


    Fenrin''s rage simmered and his mind started racing. He was good at tracking people and when trying to find the start of the trail, the first thing you needed to know was what the prey wanted. Fenrin knew his sister, she was blunt and generally made her wants known. If she really had found a place here, he doubted she''d abandon it completely. Not with the craving for attachment he knew she felt.


    He dropped the man who sucked in his breath painfully as he hugged his ribs.


    Lyra always wanted to know what was going on. Years of hiding in the walls of the estate kept her privy to Bryn''s plans. Maybe she wanted to do the same here. Maybe she never left. Maybe she stayed hidden from friend and foe, awaiting to see how Bryn''s messengers handled the news.


    If that was the case then she''d know he was in town, that he was on her trail.


    "Dammit." If she knew he came, she''d be leaving as quickly as she could without a trace. He needed bait, something to slow her down. He glanced at Geryl. The man could work but he''d be a pain to travel with in his condition. But the woman, Zari, she was tough and dangerous.


    "Give me your belt."


    Geryl gurgled a laugh. "Sorry laddy, ladies only."


    Fenrin kicked him over and pulled Geryl''s belt from his pants loops. Using it to lash Geryl''s arms behind his back.


    "Stand up."


    "Not bloody likely."


    "I can carry you, but I''m in a hurry. You can stand up and walk or I can start taking fingers."


    Geryl''s hands twitched and Fenrin saw his threat take.


    He stood up, wincing as he uncurled his body. Fenrin turned him around and pushed him into the dead end''s corner so Fenrin was between him and escape. Bending over, Fenrin started tying Zari up, using her belt and dagger to hook her arms behind her and to the iron fence that made up the end of the alleyway.


    After double checking his handiwork, Fenrin retrieved his sword and plunged it into Zari''s leg. Her eyes shot open and she screamed, but it was cut short by Fenrin shoving a piece of cloth in her mouth. Geryl lunged forward, barreling into Fenrin but he easily dodged, spinning the man around by his tied hands and frog marching him out the alley.


    "That should slow her down following us. I can actually kill her if want to make a fuss."


    "You''re a dead man. The guild will track you down and when you die I''ll piss on ¡ª"


    Fenrin cleanly sliced Geryl''s right pinky off, covering the man''s shout of pain with his hand. Geryl tried to bite him and Fernin moved his hands back to Geryl''s tied ones, forcing him out of the alley.


    "Every word until we''re out of the city is another finger."


    Geryl hissed but said nothing as Fenrin marched him to the gates. The guards raised eyebrows at the bloodied man, but one glance at Fenrin''s face and they let them pass. One guard even chuckled, "Looks like Geryl finally pissed off the wrong guy. Good riddance."


    Fenrin retrieved his horse and from the saddlebag took a bandage to stem the bleeding from Geryl''s severed finger. He also added a rope to his bonds to form a sort of leash before mounting and heading out from the city, Geryl, pale from blood loss, stumbling along behind.


    The man began to spit curses at Fenrin, who merely sped up the horse until Geryl was too winded to speak. He tripped a few times and was dragged along until he found his footing.


    When Taka was well out of view, Fenrin stopped, dismounted, and turned to Geryl. To his credit, the man was standing, dirty and bloodied, but standing. His legs were shaking and his breath rattled.


    "Alright, now that we''re alone, let''s chat." Fenrin yanked the rope and Geryl got spun around and fell onto his back.


    Fenrin untied and rope and unceremoniously, dragged Geryl off the road and into the trees. Tossing the wounded man by a large rock, he knelt down. "Where''s my sister?"


    "Even if I knew, I wouldn''t tell you, you son of a bitch." Geryl struggled to sit up, leaning against the rock.


    "I''m surprised you''re willing to die for someone you''ve only known a year. Was the sex that good, or did she threaten you with something?"


    Geryl opened his mouth then closed it. Fenrin obviously wouldn''t be goaded with innuendo now. Geryl wiped some blood from his face with his shoulder. "Thieves don''t rat each other out."


    "I''m surprised Lyra got along with a group with such loyalty. She''s quite the opposite, I have a feeling you don''t actually know her very well."


    "I know enough. She saved my life."


    "Intentionally?"


    Geryl took too long to answer and Fenrin grinned. "Ha! You''re dumber than I thought." Geryl growled but Fenrin leaned in closer. "Let me tell you about my sister. Last time I saw her was our birthday when she poisoned my drink. Now ask yourself if someone who poisoned their own twin brother is someone you''re willing to die for."


    Geryl spat a bloody gob in Fernin''s face. "Everyone''s got a past. Having met you myself, I wish the poison she¡¯d used was lethal."


    Fenrin wiped his face calmly. "Your loyalty is admirable. Stupid, but admirable. So I''m going to give you a fighting chance to get out of this."


    He pushed Geryl onto his stomach, planted a knee on his back, and cut the belt. He took Geryl¡¯s left hand and held it to the ground, slicing off the ring finger. Geryl tried to bite back his scream. When Fenrin released him and stood up, Geryl curled into a ball, pressing his bleeding hand into his already copper stained shirt.


    Fenrin picked up the finger and put it in a bag. "Here''s what I think, Geryl. I think my sister also admired the guild''s loyalty. I think she didn''t want to leave and so she actually stuck around, spying on the men who came looking for her. After my father''s men left, she waited to see if Bryn would come, ready to flee at the slightest chance. I think when she saw me, she followed the same plan.


    "Now whether she went south or west is the question. So I propose you go south and I go west. All you have to do is find her, give her a simple message and you''re free to return to Taka only two fingers short. Now if I find her and give the message, I''ll come back and finish you off. I''d say that gives you a pretty good shot."


    Geryl stared up at Fenrin. "How do I know you won''t just follow me, or kill me anyway?"


    "I won''t follow you because I can''t risk her getting away to the west. If you find her and deliver the message, I won''t kill you because I don''t care whether you live or die."


    Geryl considered this and Fenrin knelt down and patted that man on his shoulder. "Look I''ll even let you take the horse."


    "And the message?"


    "Ah, yes." Fenrin took out a paper and piece of charcoal out of his saddlebag and scribbled a note, tucked it in an envelope, and dropped it by Geryl''s face.


    "There. I don''t care if you read it. You have one week. If you find her then your fate''s in her hands. If you don''t, then I suggest you make the most of your short life. Now, I''ve given you enough handicaps, I can''t afford to give you a headstart so I suggest you get moving."


    He turned and left, heading due west. Geryl slowly and painfully reached out and took the letter, pulling it out of the envelope.


    Lyra,


    Father wants you back. If you return there will be no punishment, just a position at his side. We''re not children anymore, there''s no need to compete. Let''s work together.


    If you don''t come, Bryn will come to you. I was kind to the people who sheltered you, but you know if he comes, Taka will burn.


    I will be at The Spotted Mare in seven days. I will wait there for three. If you do not show up, I will return to the estate with your refusal and join father in finding you and finish what I started.


    As for this messenger. I''m curious how you''ll repay his loyalty. His life is in your hands.


    Fenrin

 33. The Hunt

    Lyra cursed herself as she pushed her horse to gallop faster away from Taka. What had she been thinking, staying nearby? After the first of Bryn''s men asked for her and she was sure Zari and Raldo gave the correct answer and so weren''t in immediate danger, she should have fled.


    At least it wasn''t Bryn who''d come. But Fenrin was almost more dangerous. Her brother knew her in ways her father never bothered to. Save Ulris, he probably knew her better than anyone. She could picture him putting the pieces together. She may have always been the smarter one, but Fenrin wasn''t stupid. She doubted he''d have to snoop around long to realize how perfect the guild had been for her. Then he''d know she hadn''t left.


    She should have.


    Lyra bit her cheek in frustration. She was such a coward. She should have put the guild behind her and moved on, but the thought of starting over after finding someplace she belonged was painful. The guild had been a place where she was valued and she had clawed her way to the top by her own terms. Against her better judgement, she had hoped that somehow she''d be able to stay.


    Stupid.


    There was no going back. Back meant Bryn, forward meant freedom. She wouldn''t let him control her again.


    Lyra flinched and the horse slowed. What was she doing? She wanted to stay in Taka, it was Bryn who was forcing her away. Fear of Bryn.


    "Woah!" She signaled the horse to a stop, stroking it''s hot neck as she thought. She''d promised herself she wouldn''t let anyone stop her from getting what she wanted. So why was she leaving?


    She pulled the horse around, back towards Taka.


    But if she went back to Taka, Fenrin would find her. He would bring her back to Bryn, or worse bring Bryn to her. As much as she hated the thought, she knew she couldn''t beat her father. Not yet anyway.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Frustration filled Lyra and to her own surprise, hot tears squeezed out of her eyes. Why did he have to ruin this? Why couldn''t he just let her leave? She unconsciously clawed at the sleeve that hid the bear tattoo.


    She rubbed her eyes, clearing the tears. What did she want?


    When she''d left home, she had wanted to prove herself. Not to Bryn but to the world, and most importantly to herself. When she''d met the guild, she''d wanted to be respected and wanted. She had achieved that, but she could feel there was more, something just out of her grasp.


    The guild knew her, but she wanted Taka to know her. To treat her name the way Hjor did of Bryn, with awe and fear. To have people who would obey her without question, to have the power to choose how the world around her was shaped.


    Those lonely years of her childhood taught her that power came from being able to control your surroundings and not have them control you. It was when she took control of pieces that she grew stronger. If she was going to reach that point, she couldn''t keep running. She had some influence in Taka, perhaps that was the place to make a stand.


    Her horse shuffled impatiently beneath her and Lyra sighed. Her last rebellion against the Bear had yielded mixed results. The hard truth was that she couldn''t beat Bryn as she was. Not alone anyway.


    Fenrin.


    Lyra''s lips curled. She had no idea how the last year had treated her brother, but he''d carried himself with confidence when he''d entered Taka. She knew all too well how strong he was. Had his place by Bryn''s side been solidified by her leaving? Did he have at least some of the same ambitions she had?


    She knew he had passion, she''d seen it in his defeats and victories. Could a man like that really be satisfied taking orders?


    Lyra chuckled to herself. Even if he was happy, she could plant doubt in his mind. He''d always been easy to convince. Maybe together they could defeat their father and win their freedom.


    No doubt, he was searching for her now. The question was, did he go south like she had, or west? She shrugged, it didn''t matter, if she wasn''t hiding he''d find her. It was just a matter of time.

 34. Coinflip

    Geryl spat another dried glob of blood from his mouth. Almost immediately he regretted it. His mouth was dry as ash and he''d given up precious moisture. The horse stepped into a small dip in the road and jostled its rider and Geryl groaned. He was sure that bastard had broken at least three ribs.


    Honestly, Geryl was impressed with himself for still being conscious. Even if the horse tended to blur into two occasionally.


    He glanced down at the letter, tucked securely in the saddle bag. He still hadn''t decided whether to go south after Lyra or return to Taka and consult the guild. Not to mention check up on Zari and her leg. He grimaced at the memory of the sword piercing her fine leg.


    It had been a clean cut though. It was possible if Zari was careful there wouldn''t be any permanent damage. And Zari was always careful. Unlike Geryl.


    He always knew his mouth would be the death of him, but he couldn''t help it. Words flew out before he could stop them and usually they were wiley enough to be more help than harm. But not today, gods, not today.


    Still, he didn''t regret defying Fenrin. Men like that had always pissed him off. Walking in and demanding respect they hadn''t earned. Assuming they could just take what they wanted.


    Of course, often when it came to Geryl they could. It was one of the reasons he joined the guild. He was always picking fights¡ªsometimes unintentionally¡ªwith stronger opponents and having a shady organization have his back helped.


    Of course honor among thieves only went so far. If it was a choice between Geryl and the guild, Raldo¡ªand probably Zari¡ªwould always pick the guild. Geryl had to respect them for it, even if he could never do it himself. Hells, it was a hard call Garyl could never make. He was too damn soft hearted.


    If it was just him, Geryl would probably just disappear, screw the letter and Fenrin. But it was clear from his...time with Fenrin and from Lyra''s warnings that every member of the Thieves Guild was in jeopardy. It was just a letter.


    If he brought it back to Raldo, the old man would probably come up with a plan but even Geryl could put together that there would be no avoiding bloodshed. Many of the thieves would probably push to just deliver the letter anyway. Someone else would do it if he didn''t and Geryl needed to be the one to give it to Lyra. He had quite a few questions to ask that girl.


    But if he returned to Taka, he would sleep and get some of that wonderful salve Zari always kept on her. Mmmmm....Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Geryl jerked up, barely avoiding falling off the horse. As he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, a color caught his eyes. A scarlet cloth, tied to a high branch. Geryl grinned, it was a thief''s message. Painfully he dismounted and limped to the tree.


    Sure enough there were some marks gouged into the trunk. A code used by the guild. ¡°Not safe to return. Await back up.¡±


    Geryl sighed, too tired to erase the message, especially since he didn''t have a dagger with him. Instead he just tied the horse to the tree and slid down it, tucking the letter into his shirt, his swollen eyes closing.


    "Geez, you look terrible."


    Geryl squinted up at the squeaky voice. It was Vic, the fifteen year old new recruit. The boy was one of the street rats of Taka, old enough to be more than bribed runners. He was all lanky limbs and bony elbows. Usually the high voice coming from such a tall boy made Geryl chuckle, but now it just made his aching head hurt more.


    "Vic, I need a drink. Now."


    The boy snorted. "Alright, but you owe me. I''ll get you some bandages too. And maybe a bag for your face."


    Vic ran off and Geryl tried to give a smart retort but found he lacked the energy. His whole body was stiff as a board and he could hardly budge. When Vic returned, he''d managed to get his arms moving and was slowly and painfully stretching his legs.


    Swiping the offered bottle, Geryl gratefully guzzled the alcohol. It stung his cut lip but slowly he felt the pain deaden. Vic helped him up and bandaged his wounds.


    "Yup, definitely broken ribs. Listen, the guards are playing up your ''arrest'' tonight, but it should be old news by tomorrow and we''ll slip you back in the city."


    "Can''t go back yet."


    Vic nearly dropped Geryl as he leaned on the boy''s bony shoulder. "What? You have someplace to be? Unless it''s hell, I don''t think you''re going anyplace, Geryl."


    "How''s Zari?"


    Whistling, Vic readjusted Geryl''s weight as he struggled to stand upright. "Ready to kill someone. The leg''ll heal but only if she stays off it. And she''s too rearing for blood for that."


    ¡°That decides it¡±, Geryl thought. If he went back, Zari would follow. "Get me on my horse."


    "Your horse? Hells know how you managed to steal such a beast in your condition."


    "A kindly fairy took pity on me and brought me a unicorn, but I settled for this nag," Geryl said dryly. "It doesn''t matter where it came from, just get me on it."


    With many a grunt and painful wheeze, Geryl mounted the horse. Vic scratched his head and looked at Geryl like he was ready to try and catch him when he inevitably fell off.


    "Alright, tell Raldo I''m taking care of it. Tell him that if I''m not back in two weeks that I''m dead and the guild needs to disappear because the tiger''s a snake. You got that?"


    Vic rolled his eyes. "I ain''t a messenger anymore, Geryl, but yeah, I got it. Don''t die, alright?"


    Geryl nodded and gave the reigns a snap. South. He had five days at the absolute most to find Lyra and give her the message. He said a quick prayer to Lady Luck reasoning that it was about time for his luck to turn.

 35. Message Received

    Lyra stopped her horse and pulled out her bow, nocking an arrow. She could hear the other horse coming. When it rounded the corner, she dropped her arrow in shock at the sight of the filthy man on the fine horse. "Geryl?!"


    She rode up next to him. He didn''t respond, slumped over on the saddle. She looked around cautiously, half expecting an ambush or some other trick. The horse stopped as she cut it off and Geryl stirred. "Lyra?"


    "Yes, it''s me, what are you doing here?"


    She dismounted and grabbed the reins from his limp, bandaged hands. Geryl let out a rattled chuckle and tried to dismount. He essentially fell, his fall slightly broken by Lyra''s attempt to catch the bigger man.


    He sat on the road and she knelt down. With a burst of energy, he reached out and snatched her wrist, locking around it like a vice. His eyes met hers and concern turned to wariness when she saw the crazed look in his eyes.


    "I''ve got a message for you...and a few words of my own."


    Casually she tried to pull herself free, but he tightened his grip. She turned to his hand to remove it forcefully and saw there were only three fingers and a thumb around her wrist...and two stumps. A cold feeling filled her stomach and her survival instincts kicked in. She turned back to Geryl and he shoved a paper in her face.


    "Read it. That bastard brother of yours gave it to me."


    Her curiosity was enough to make her take the letter with her free hand and delay any more extreme attempts to get away from Geryl.


    Lyra,


    Father wants you back. If you return there will be no punishment, just a position at his side. We''re not children anymore, there''s no need to compete. Let''s work together.


    If you don''t come, Bryn will come to you. I was kind to the people who sheltered you, but you know if he comes, Taka will burn.


    I will be at The Spotted Mate in seven days. I will wait there for three. If you do not show up, I will return to the estate with your refusal. I will join father in finding you and finish what I started.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    As for this messenger. I''m curious how you''ll repay his loyalty. His life is in your hands.


    Fenrin


    "How long ago?" she asked, her gears turning. This was perfect. A chance to talk to Fenrin one on one and an idea of Bryn''s plans.


    "Three days ago. Maybe four. I kept blacking out." Geryl was scanning her face, trying to see what she was thinking.


    She thought he was an idiot. She''d deliberately told him not to pick a fight or deny anyone from her father anything. Fenrin could be cold hearted and rough, but he wasn''t one to pick a fight for no reason. Knowing Geryl, the man probably ran his mouth.


    "Why''d you piss him off, Geryl? I told you to leave it alone."


    Geryl smiled, though it was more of a grimace. "You know me too well. You should know I''d never betray a guild member."


    She sighed and pocketed the letter, placing her hand on his maimed one. "You lost your clever fingers for nothing, Geryl. I thought you were smarter than that. Don''t worry though, I''ll go meet with him."


    She moved to get up but he didn''t let go, looking at her with hurt and disbelief on his face.


    "You really are like him." Lyra flinched at Geryl¡¯s accusation. "You''re not going to save the guild. You were going anyway, that''s why you were riding this way. You don''t give a rat''s ass about the guild, about me, Raldo, or Zari!"


    She twisted his wrist, finally forcing him to let go and stood up. "Yes I planned on going anyway. I''m done running from my past. I do care about the guild, but I don''t plan on dying for it or anyone else. I don''t think Zari or Raldo would either, only you''re stupid enough for that."


    Geryl laughed. "I always knew you were a cold hearted bitch but I thought you got it. The guild isn''t a means to an end, Lyra. It is the end, it''s my home and my family. I thought you were one of us, but I was wrong. You''d torture me just like he did if I''d been in your way."


    Slowly he stood up, staring down at Lyra. He spat in her face. "Do us all a favor and don''t come back, you and your brother deserve each other."


    She punched him and he fell back to the floor. He couldn''t see her face, eyes wide at what she''d done without thinking before they narrowed and she knelt down and grabbed his shirt. "I never claimed to be loyal to anything but myself, so don''t go applying your philosophies to me. And you¡¯re right, if you ever do get in my way, I will kill you. But I think you''ve already been beaten enough and paid for your mistake. I''ll leave you some food and water, go back to Taka, Geryl. I''ll be back though and don''t try to stop me."


    She turned back to her horse, tossed a waterskin and bag of food down at Geryl, and without looking back at him, rode off for The Spotted Mare.

 36. Reunion

    It was no good. If there had ever been a trail, it was long gone. Fenrin had chosen the wrong direction. He cursed and headed to the inn, all he could do now was wait and see if Geryl had delivered his message.


    The Spotted Mare was a quiet inn but a prosperous one, situated at a four way crossroad between Jarldoms. Fenrin secured a room and waited, spending the days scowling in the corner and giving men who dared glance at him a look that made them pay quickly and leave.


    His scowl turned to his wolfish grin, however, as Lyra entered. She immediately spotted him and waltzed up the stairs. The barkeep tried to stop her but a wave from Fenrin made him just shrug and let her continue.


    Fenrin followed her up. "Last door on the right," he said.


    Without looking at him, she entered the room. When he came in she was sitting on the window sill, her face dark. "Hello, brother."


    "Sister. How''s Geryl?"


    She snorted. "Alive and still stupid. I ran into him on my way back to Taka."


    Fenrin cocked his head curiously. "You were coming back? Didn''t realize that guild was worth dying for."


    She scowled. "It''s not, but I''m done running away."


    He smiled and pulled a chair over, sitting on it backwards and leaning his arms on the back. "Good. I''m assuming you read my letter then. Come home and talk to father so we can finally move on."


    "No."


    Fenrin growled, "Ly, you''re being stupid. I know it''s been a year but you haven''t forgotten what the Bear is like have you? You can''t win this fight and you don''t have a choice in the matter. Except about how hard you make it for yourself."


    Lyra sneered. "I haven''t forgotten. I''m just not as much of a dog as you."


    Fenrin stood up, throwing the chair to the side and it broke into a pile of wood. "Dammit, Lyra. I will kill you if you fight me here."


    Brief surprise crossed her face at his ferocity, but she just purred, "You''ll try. But I didn''t come here for a fight. I came here to talk to you."


    Fenrin paused, a bit of nervousness at the pit of his stomach. She had that look, the one that as children had preceded Fenrin getting in trouble for one of her mischievous plans.


    His pause satisfied her and she continued, "You''re not a total idiot, Fen. I''m sure you can''t be happy following orders from Father either. You¡¯re right that I can''t win this fight...not alone anyway."Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Her implications dawned on Fenrin and he ran his fingers through his long hair. "It won''t work, Lyra."


    "Coward."


    He stepped closer to her, towering over her. She stiffened but didn''t flinch. "Don''t you think I''ve thought of that? Even if by some miracle we could defeat Bryn, we couldn''t defeat his army. And then what? You run off and join the thieves guild, leaving me to clean up the mess. I don''t think so. Sure the man''s a bastard, but he''s our father and his world is our world, turning traitor is a fool''s gamble."


    Fenrin shifted, a bit surprised at himself for admitting the few occasional times he had thought about turning on Bryn. He didn''t have the rebelliousness of Lyra but still he chafed under Bryn''s controlling nature.


    However, he didn''t completely hate being Bryn''s son. The Bear brought adventure, glory, and wealth to his family. Fenrin carefully put his hands on Lyra¡¯s shoulders.


    He could feel her move to break his arms, but he spoke gently, "Ly, it''s not a bad life. He wouldn''t ever admit it, not even to Mother, but Bryn misses you and respects you. He sent his people out because he wants your skills. Valhym is getting more and more dangerous for us and we need to stand together to make sure the High King and Jarls stay out of our way. Our enemies are growing, don''t you think it''s time to stop fighting ourselves? We aren''t children anymore, we don''t have to fight to be a part of the family. There''s a place for you there, Lyra. Come home."


    Her eyes scanned his face, searching for a lie but she didn''t find one. She shrugged off his hands and he let them fall to his side.


    "I don''t need a place with him."


    "But you could choose it. If he weren''t our father, wouldn''t you choose our life over others?"


    That made Lyra pause. Fenrin could feel her thinking about it and he pushed further. "Think about it, when you left you went to the Thieves Guild, straight to the closest thing to the estate. You''re made for this life, it''s time to stop fighting."


    Lyra''s face grew dark and for a minute Fenrin thought he''d blown it but she spoke. "You''re right." Fenrin breathed a sigh of relief as she continued, "I enjoy the same things our father does. But that''s exactly why I can''t work with him. He wants me to bend, to cater to his whim instead of my own. I''m done following orders."


    "You followed orders in Taka didn''t you?" Fenrin snapped and she frowned.


    "My place there was earned."


    "So is your place at home." Fenrin was getting irritated. "Lyra make up your damn mind. Do you want a place with the strongest or do you want to run and die fighting us?"


    "I''ll come back."


    Fenrin paused, unsure she was serious. She held up a finger. "Under one condition."


    He rolled his eyes but his face grew serious at her next words, spoken with venom, "You promise me that we''ll kill him. Not now, maybe not for years, but you''ll help me kill him when the time is right."


    Her brother recoiled a bit at the bloodlust in her voice. In truth, he hadn''t much thought about how his father would die. Although he''d never admit it, the thought of going up against the Bear made his legs turn to jelly. He wasn''t ready, they weren''t ready. But maybe in the future...


    "Fine. But we wait until I agree it''s time."


    Lyra narrowed her eyes and Fenrin snorted. "I''m not about to throw my life away because you lose your temper and strike too early. I''m done taking the fall for you."


    Fenrin reached out a hand and after a moment Lyra took it.


    She pulled her hand back and Fenrin gave her his wide grin. "Let''s go home."

 37. Bear Den

    Lyra couldn''t help being nervous, although she kept the look of disdain on her face as her and her brother rode through Hjor. The town hadn''t changed too much, although the stone wall had reached the river and was carefully being built over it. There were also more men about, rough fighter types with bear tattoos creeping out from their shirts or roaring from their arms.


    Ulris was at the door with their mother. Lyra dismounted, a servant taking her horse. She''d missed having servants.


    Fenrin greeted their mother, letting her touch his cheek fondly. Lyra looked at her coldly but the beautiful woman, age barely showing on her pale face smiled warmly. "Welcome home, Lyra."


    Lyra stiffened and Fenrin walked through the door before things got heated. His sister followed but only became more tense in the familiar halls that had been her prison for so many years.


    Ulris followed as well, "May I suggest a brief respite to recover from your travels before dinner?"


    To let heads cool. Lyra nodded stiffly and Ulris led her upstairs to her old room, giving a bow before leaving. She stood at the familiar doorway. Her room was the same.


    "You''re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?" Fenrin asked casually, leaning on the wall opposite the entrance.


    Lyra shot him a scornful glance and he held his hands up peaceably. "Just asking, you look like a horse about to bust out of the stable stall."


    "I''m not going anywhere."


    Fenrin nodded and left, heading to his own quarters. Lyra went into the room.


    The bed had been made and when she stepped into the adjacent bathroom, she found a hot bath ready. Habitually glancing around for any enemies, Lyra shut the door before undressing and slipping into the bath. The warm water helped relax her coiled muscles and the steam cleared her head. As much as she hated to admit it, Fenrin was right, every fiber of her wanted to leave this place.


    The door opened and Lyra instinctively reached for her dagger, tossing it at the person who entered. The knife plunged into the shoulder of the maid, who dropped the towels she was bringing and opened her mouth soundlessly. Her eyes turned to the blood oozing out of her shoulder and she screamed.


    One of Bryn''s men burst into the room, sword drawn. The maid turned around and fainted and Lyra, standing in the tub, her shaking body dripping wet screamed, "GET OUT!"


    The man scooped up the maid and fled the room. Lyra slowly sank back into the water, her body still trembling.


    She was a cornered animal, ready to sink her claws into anything as she clawed her way out of this cage. She covered her face with her hands frustrated by the effect the manor was having on her. This was stupid. She was over it. She had to get over it.


    After a few minutes, there was a rap on the door. "May I come in?" It was Ulris.


    "Yes." Lyra managed to keep her voice steady. The older man opened the door.


    Lyra''s was hunched over, wet hair hiding her face. He sighed and retrieved the dropped towel, walking over and placed it, neatly folded, on a stool near the tub.


    "Now then, mistress Lyra, even you should see that was uncalled for." She wanted to snap at him, but his voice wasn''t incredulous, just stern and matter-of-fact.


    Unapologetically she responded, "It was an accident. She should have knocked."You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    She looked up at the man who she''d spent more time with than any of her actual family. He nodded. "True, but surely you haven''t gone so feral as to be unable to control yourself."


    She hissed as he fished for an apology. "It won''t happen again, but tell the staff to be more careful."


    Ulris nodded satisfied. "Understood, but you may find yourself a bit short staffed for a while. If you need anything, you know where to find me." The man got up to leave and Lyra nodded.


    "Oh, and I''ll be sending master Fenrin in to announce dinner ready."


    Lyra made a face but nodded again as Ulris left.


    As the door shut, she grabbed the towel and dried herself off. She put her old outfit on, leather breeches and a black shirt, loose enough to hide the belt of daggers at the small of her back. Last a leather shirt, with a myriad of small pockets, a signature creation of the guild.


    She left the bathroom and paced her bedroom. She opened the door opposite and entered her small study. Her hand drawn notes and pictures of herbs were still pinned to the wall, the bookshelves packed with books ranging from political histories, to cookbooks, to fairy stories.


    "Lyra!" Fenrin called, smartly staying at her bedroom door. As she walked out, he gestured with his head. "Let''s go."


    She followed him down to the dining hall. A magnificent meal was laid out on the table and servants bustled about, a few giving her nervous looks and most clearing the room quickly at the twins¡¯ arrival.


    Bryn sat at the head of the table, his huge form taking up the entire end and his silver eyes examining his daughter. Dyla sat on his right, her hand gently placed on his arm while Fenrin and the last plate were also set on his left.


    She sat down. Opposite of her Ulris was seated by Dyla, as he sometimes was when the matters of the house were to be discussed over dinner.


    Her plate was filled with her favorite foods, roast boar and steamed potatoes with carrots. She didn''t touch the plate, instead matched Bryn''s gaze.


    The tension was palpable and Ulris coughed. "My lord, we recieved news today that a group of mercenaries have been hired by Jarl Elris and are on their way from Greystone."


    Lyra absorbed this. Elris'' was the Jarldom bordering Hjor. Greystone was the Jarldom on the other side. That meant the mercenaries would be passing through Bryn''s territory.


    Bryn reached for his drink and downed in on one gulp before turning his eyes to his children. "Fenrin and Lyra will handle them."


    Lyra bristled at hearing her name in Bryn''s voice, but Fenrin nodded, waving a fork. He''d already eaten half his plate. "We sending any particular message?"


    Bryn shook his head. Lyra narrowed her eyes and said, "I''ll do it alone."


    A rumbling growl seemed to fill the room, Bryn''s voice was low and dangerous. "You will not."


    Dyla''s face grew worried and her hand slid down to rest on top of Bryn''s.


    Lyra opened her mouth to respond but Fenrin spoke first, "Come now, you can''t expect anyone to trust you to handle a whole team of mercs. They''re harder to fight than a frightened maid, you know."


    Lyra colored at his snipe but realized what was going on. Fenrin was coming to see how she could handle herself. She nodded and began to eat and the tension dissipated. When she''d finished she stood up, "I''ll be leaving at dawn. Ulris, have someone prepare my horse and send the scout to my study."


    Ulris glanced at Bryn for an objection and seeing none, nodded. "It will be done."


    Lyra walked proudly out of the hall and back to her room. As she shut the door, her suppressed anger flared white hot through her and she screamed, throwing open her study door. Her destructive rage needing an outlet, she tore at the papers on the desk, tearing them to shreds and turning wild eyed to the bookshelf. She stuck her fingers behind it and pulled it down. It came crashing, cracking the thick wooden desk and sending books flying.


    She stood panting, the destroyed study satisfying her. She straightened and left the room, clicking the door shut. She was leaning against it still, breathing slowly, when a man appeared at the door. He was dirty and tired.


    "I was told you wanted to see me?"


    Lyra nodded at the scout. "Tell me exactly what you know."


    The scout recounted his information. The mercenaries were hired to join Elris'' army. Now that Jarls could have private forces, this was not uncommon. However, Bryn liked to keep the size of his neighbor''s forces to minimum. This mercenary group had a dozen members and was well known. They''d been offered places by other Jarls but had always refused. Elris must have paid a lot to get them to agree.


    Lyra sent the scout away, a plan forming in her mind. She stayed up late scheming as well as avoiding her bed. When she finally laid down to rest, the nightmare she predicted came. She awoke screaming, her hands clenched and her arms flailing.


    No one came to check on her, for which she was grateful. She opened and closed her hands slowly, trying to forget the memory of being tied to this bed, helpless and trapped.

 38. The Family

    Lyra spent the early morning hours sitting at the foot of her bed, sharpening her daggers. The door opened and Fenrin came in with a tray. "Good morning, I brought breakfast."


    She narrowed her eyes as he let himself in and sat next to her on the bed.


    "We should make a plan of attack," he said, stretching back on her sheets, kicking his feet up, and munching on an iced roll stuffed with dried fruits and nuts.


    She examined her knife''s razor sharp edge critically. "I have a plan."


    Fenrin crossed his legs, his boot pushing her arm. "Do tell."


    She prodded his boot with the tip of her knife and pushed it away. "You and I will ambush them at the lake. They have a dozen men, I want to leave four alive."


    Fenrin finished her roll and bit loudly into an apple, tossing another one at her back. She spun around but he examined the top of her canopy innocently. "Pretty sure we need to kill them all. Might want to take a few troops."


    She took the thrown apple and sliced into it. "If you''re not up for the job..."


    He growled at her. "Do you really want to start this now?"


    She ate the apple, her eyes lit with amusement. "I''m just saying, I think we can do this on our own. You''re the one who wanted help."


    Scowling, he asked, "Why leave four alive?"


    "I need a team."


    Fenrin sat up. "Really Lyra? Can''t you just follow one order before picking a fight?"


    She sniffed. "He wanted them taken care of, they will be. I''m sure you have a group of men you command." Fenrin frowned but didn''t deny it. She reached and stabbed a piece of ham from the tray by his side, "So it''s only natural I get one too."


    "Still going to tick him off," Fenrin grumbled. She gave him a grin in response. He dropped his core back on the tray. "Alright, I''m sure you have more details on how you want this to go down."


    She did and she told him what she wanted to do. He laughed at her audacity. "I like it. Let''s go."


    Their horses were ready at the stable along with a few men who nodded respectfully at Fenrin who gave them a grin. "Sorry boys, I''m taking this one alone with my sister. Whoever''s got the most balls go tell the Bear we''re heading out."


    The men laughed and the twins rode out. They tied their horse a mile from the lake and walked there, finding a good spot to ambush. Fenrin expertly predicted where the mercenaries would pass, his confidence in the woods impressing Lyra¡ªalthough she''d never admit it.


    The mercenaries arrived as predicted and Fenrin''s and Lyra''s bows took two down as they dismounted to rest at the lake. The other men drew their weapons, a few raising bows of their own and forming a circle, looking for the enemy.


    Lyra''s next arrow grazed a horse, which panicked and galloped into the circle of bowmen. Fenrin leaped from behind some rocks and charged in. His sword cut down two men as they scrambled to regain their footing. Lyra ran forward, firing at the bowman aiming at her brother and then tossing the bow aside.


    She surged into the fray, dodging the arrow that came whistling towards her. She threw a dagger which the bowman dodged, but it grazed his arm. He gave her a look of contempt but she smiled as it changed to pain and he collapsed. Now in range, she didn''t need poison as she danced laughing into the battle.


    Her brother grunted as he pushed one of the larger mercenaries off him. The leader, a man wielding two axes, approached Fenrin. His skill was clear as he managed to push Fenrin back, his sword barely parrying the man''s whirling axes. In a one on one fight, Fenrin would have won but the mercenary¡¯s remaining men approached from behind, forcing Fenrin to steer until his back was to the lake.


    Meanwhile, Lyra was weaving between the men, her daggers gutting them before they could get close to catching her. One she kept a particularly close eyes on, using a separate dagger to cut his leg. His movements slowed and as he collapsed, the remaining two hesitated.


    It cost them their lives. Lyra spun and deftly hit one of the men who was helping his leader drive Fenrin into the shallows.


    Fenrin managed to cut the neck of the other, leaving him fighting just the leader who, to the twins'' surprise, spun and tossed an axe at Lyra, who didn''t quite manage to dodge. The blade cut a gash in her thigh and she yelped.


    Her brother moved forward and drove his hilt into the man''s jaw and knocked the remaining axe out of his hand. Lyra grit her teeth and lurched forward, pulling a cloth from one of her pockets.


    Fenrin knocked the man on his back and Lyra shoved the cloth over his face until his eyes rolled up.


    Her blood reddening the shallow waters, she let Fenrin drag the mercenary leader onto the shore. He tutted distastefully. "Still with the poisons."


    She grunted and tied a bandage around her leg after inspecting the wounds. "Only when I need to. I haven''t fought with poisoned weapons in quite a while, but they have their moments."


    She pulled the cloak off one of the dead men and lit it on fire, using the flames to heat a needle. Fenrin gathered the corpses into a pile and lit it ablaze as well. Four bodies, unconscious but breathing were tied together by Fenrin as Lyra stitched up her leg.


    Once she was finished, she limped over to the unconscious men. Fenrin nudged one with his foot. "How long do we have to wait?"


    Lyra reached down and gagged three of the men and then put one knee on the leader''s chest and slowly pressed a dagger point into his hand. As blood oozed up, his eyes shot open. She twirled the knife up to his neck leering over him.


    "Hello Brandt, how are you feeling? Clear headed enough to talk?"


    The man was cross eyed, but slowly he seemed to come to his senses, struggling beneath Lyra and unable to escape Fenrin''s expert knots. Finally he spat at her, "Bitch."


    She dodged the saliva and tutted. "Now, now. I just want to talk, I could have killed you."


    The man''s eyes narrowed and he glanced around. "My men?"


    She looked at the fire absently. "Oh there''s still three of them. Their fates are in your hands right now." She turned back to Brandt whose face was twisted in rage. She tapped the dagger on his chest. "Alright, first question. What did Elris offer you for your conscription?"


    "We''re mercenaries, she paid us."


    Lyra frowned. "Now I didn''t take you for a liar, Brandt. By reputation, you''re a rather honorable man for a mercenary so I wouldn''t start lying now. Plenty of Jarls have offered you money, my question is why Elris?" Her tone turned icy cold. ¡°Choose your next words carefully, if I don''t like the answer, my brother will kill one of your men."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Brandt turned his head and Fenrin lowered his sword nonchalantly on one of the men''s necks. Brandt turned back to Lyra. "She did pay us, handsomely, but she offered land as well."


    "And...?" There was more, she could smell it. She nodded and Fenrin raised his sword.


    "And protection," Bradt sputtered quickly.


    Lyra laughed. "Protection? A band of mercenaries selling themselves to a Jarl''s army for protection? Tell me Brandt, in what world does that make sense?"


    Brandt clammed up and Lyra saw a new flicker of fear in his eyes, she leaned down. "Hmmm not for you then? You have a wife, Brandt? Children?"


    The horror on his face confirmed her suspicions. She laughed again. "I get it now, tell me though, what exactly did you think Elris could protect them from?"


    "My line of work generates many enemies," Brandt growled.


    "I''m sure. But tell me, did it ever cross your thick skull that Elris was hiring because she had bigger enemies than you could imagine? That those enemies would become yours the minute you entered an agreement with her?"


    Understanding crossed Brandt''s face and Lyra patted his cheek. "Silly man, you made a bad call. Lucky for you, you get a second shot. We''re what Elris is so afraid of. She can no more protect your family than she can herself. But," Lyra held up a finger, "I''m offering you a chance to join our side. Then your little family can grow up happy and safe...as long as their daddy follows orders."


    Brandt looked pained then seemed to form some resolve. "I''d rather die."


    She shook her head. "That''s not how this works. If you really want to turn down my generous offer then fine. I''ll put you back to sleep, eventually you''ll find your way home, maybe before they''ve cleared the bodies, maybe after, who knows? Then you''ll get really angry and full of righteous wrath and you''ll come back to me. I''ll toy with you a bit more and then finally you''ll rather be dead."


    He struggled against his bonds again, his face red as he cursed her to every level of hell.


    "Or," she continued, "you could accept my offer and their safety will be entirely in your capable hands rather than some selfish Jarl. Now then, I need your answer."


    Brandt panted, his eyes searching about for some solution, some way out. Finally he deflated. "I accept your offer."


    Lyra stood up and cut his bonds. "Fabulous, welcome to the service of Lyra Bryndotter."


    Fenrin was surprised she called herself Bryndotter but it seemed to have the desired effect of making the man balk once more. He looked at them both with hate, but did nothing save rub his raw wrists.


    "Your first order is to convince these three to take the same deal."


    As Brandt sat, head hanging low, waiting for his men to wake up, Fenrin stepped aside with Lyra. "You''re something else, you know that? You could have just picked one of the men we already have."


    She snorted. "Yeah one of Father''s men. Sure. No, I like Brandt, he''s predictable and a bit stupid."


    Fenrin scratched his neck. "Seems like a lot of work for a handful of men. Not to mention he''s bound to try to kill you."


    "That''s what makes him so predictable. Say, Fenrin, have you ever tortured anyone?"


    He frowned. "A few times. Why?"


    "Hmm, one of these men will refuse to work for me. I want you to get Brandt''s family''s location out of him before killing him. I''ve never done it before, I usually have the information before I blackmail."


    Fenrin growled, "I don''t take orders from you."


    Lyra gave him a withering look. "Obviously. I was about to ask what you would ask for in exchange for doing me the favor."


    Fenrin grinned and thought about it. He was getting annoyed with Lyra''s attitude during this whole mission. How could he get back at her...


    "Alright, you have to explain all of this to Bryn, spend the day we get back without riling him at all, and you have to obey his next order without any resistance."


    Lyra turned at him with venom in her eyes. "Didn''t realize you were that much his dog."


    Fenrin didn''t rise to the bait, instead he laughed. "Oh it''s not for him. It''ll make my life easier plus be damned funny to watch."


    She growled but, to his surprise, said, "Fine."


    His grin widened and Lyra turned back to the men. Brandt laid out their options, ordering them to follow Lyra. One of them refused.


    With a nod from Lyra, Fenrin dragged the man into the woods. His screams drifted back, but to his credit it was nearly an hour before Fenrin got the information and killed the man.


    He returned, wiping a bloodied knife off on one of the remaining bound men''s back. "Small farm between Rivertown and Stonemeadow."


    Brandt paled and Lyra smirked. "All that moaning about us killing your friend. Turns out he wasn''t much of a friend after all. Alright, let''s move."


    She cut their bonds and the two men turned to their leader. Brandt slowly stood up straight. He had a pained look in his eyes, but he nodded to Lyra and followed her back towards the Bear¡¯s estate.


    Lyra ordered the men to the barracks and updated Ulris on them. The old man looked disapproving but didn''t comment. Lyra turned to go to her room, but her brother sidled beside her to block her path. "Uh-uh. Aren''t you forgetting something?"


    His sister rolled her eyes and turned to go the opposite way, towards Bryn''s study. She paused outside the door, her fists curling and uncurling. She was in control. This was all part of her plan for her future. She opened the door.


    Bryn was sitting at his huge mahogany desk. Even with its massive size, it was odd to see the battleworn man sifting through papers. He looked up, those grey eyes watching her calculatingly. "Is it done?"


    "The mercenaries will never reach the Jarl. I did alter the plan a bit, however."


    Bryn growled but Lyra continued calmly, "I chose three of the men to recruit. I need my own team and they seemed adequate. I have them tamed."


    Her father''s eyes narrowed but her lack of jabs seemed to ease his displeasure. He waved a large hand. "Fine. Go get your brother, I have another task for you two."


    Lyra bit her tongue and merely nodded before turning to go. She could feel that steely gaze on her back, the unexpected obedience making him instantly suspicious. She felt a smile cross her lips as she walked away. It was almost satisfying to surprise him like that. Almost.


    A slow clap at the top of the stairs drew her attention. It was Fenrin. "Nicely done, Ly. Maybe you''re not totally unhinged after all."


    She rolled her eyes. "He wants to see us both for another ¡®task.¡¯" Her voice dripped with scorn.


    "Well then, let''s see what task you''ve already agreed to."


    Gods. I hate this family.


    Lyra breathed slowly and turned around walking stiffly back into the office. Fenrin skipped in front of her, knocking on the door once before pushing it open.


    If Bryn was surprised at their promptness, he didn''t show it. He gestured them over and shifted at his desk, unfurling a map on its surface. Sitting across the desk reminded Lyra of all the times she''d sat across from Ulris and been lectured. The comparison made her brittle and she had a hard time concentrating on Bryn''s words.


    "...movement between Jarl Hurson''s army and the Giant''s Valley. Fenrin, you will take a dozen men and create a blockade here to delay any caravans. Pick off a few and some troops who investigate, but leave no trace. We want to redirect suspicion, not confirm it. Lyra."


    She looked up, the temptation to yawn almost irresistible, instead she said through gritted teeth, "Yes?"


    "You will go to Stonemeadow. One of our top men was captured and is being held there. Find out where he is, what he''s said, and then kill him."


    Stonemeadow. She could visit Brandt''s family on the way. Plus there was a pretty prominent arm of the guild there. She could send a message to Raldo and smooth things over...


    "And Lyra, I want him dead, is that clear?"


    She glared at Bryn sharply, but a kick from Fenrin made her curl her fingers, nails biting the skin. "Of course," she said, managing to keep her voice steady.


    Bryn watched her for a moment and nodded, dismissing them both. Fenrin bounced up and Lyra stood more slowly. She wanted so badly to lash out, she felt suffocated just being the same room as him, old resentments rising like bile. She suddenly moved faster, leaving the room and shutting the door quickly.


    Fenrin patted her shoulder. "That wasn''t so bad now, was it?" She didn''t bother to glare at him, denying him the satisfaction. "Although, it was a bit less amusing than I''d hoped. Ah, well. Catch you later!"


    He strode off, his long legs carrying him quickly down the hall. Lyra went and repacked. She could do this. She just had to follow the occasional order and bide her time. She would rekindle her connection with the Thieves Guild. Combined with Bryn influence, she could create a network of spies, much more effective than Bryn''s sparse array of messengers.


    She''d seen his map, his focus was on territory and men, the map barely even divided into Jarldoms. He didn''t place any value in political borders or influence, but Lyra did. She''d played that game in Taka and now she could stretch to a grander stage, no longer looking over her shoulder for her father''s men. And eventually...no soon...it would be Bryn who was looking over his shoulder.