ã€ŠBlack Horns, Mountain Shadow [Non-LitRPG High Fantasy]ã€‹


 1.1 Pentarch

    The carriage jolted, and Val swayed easily with the movement. It had been almost half a year since she had last come to the Horned Palace. The approach had always been densely forested, protecting the privacy of the Fourth Pentarch but also in reverence to the ground''s ancient roots. No longer, they had begun thinning the trees on the approach further up the road, forcing the procession to leave their scouts back in cover where they could still be hidden. Branches and cut wood were neatly piled at regular intervals and teams of workers were busy sawing some of the larger logs in the cool summer morning. The nearest escort rider, a wiry man with a bow across his saddle in addition to his spear, drew his stead a little closer to her position at the back of the carriage.

    ¡°Think they¡¯ve been expecting company?¡± he asked light heartedly, but his eyes were wide taking in the changes.

    Val¡¯s gaze lingered on one of the huge stumps by the side of the road as they passed it, the tree had been large enough a man wouldn¡¯t be able to stretch his arms around it.

    ¡°They were so old. It¡¯s a shame,¡± she remarked wistfully.

    The rider gave her a reassuring smile, then turning his gaze back on the guard house pulled his steed back into position. They were close enough now Ivory Guards began to spill from the guard house, beginning to form their welcome.

    They were a procession of a single carriage and a mix of foot and mounted escorts. The carriage was ornate, lacquered the shade of blued steel with gold accents and carved spiraling dragons, each with four horns around the circle of its head. It was pulled by six great fell bulls harnessed in two neat lines, their wide horns almost touching as they marched. Each bull was masked with a single ornate metal helmet. Two riders were mounted on the front bull of each column, acting as the carriage drivers. Both were uniformed in matching blue and gold, with ornate metal accents, decoration rather than armor.

    The escort riders were more seriously equipped, each rode a smaller fell beast, lacking the horns of their male counterparts pulling the carriage. Ten mounted riders in total, positioned around the carriage procession with another twelve men on foot, carrying a mix of polearms and swords. All wore the same blue uniform, but traded gold for the more practical sheen of plate or mail as suited the wearer''s preference. On their shoulders were twin sigils, a four-horned dragon head in gold and deep blue, and a second smaller, more subtle open winged bird design.

    Finally, at the back of the carriage, Val rode, standing on a footboard and steading herself against the rattle of the carriage with a single hand. She was horned like the fell bulls and stood a head taller than the tallest man. She was unarmed, a battle axe was balanced on the roof of the carriage that was impossibly large for human strength.

    Val allowed herself one nervous sigh, then straightened and centered her stance over the carriage, grimly picking up her axe to mount it across her back one handed.

    Her horns and size marked her as definitely not human, or at least not fully. Two horns emerged from the back of her jawline beneath the ear, short and curling down and forward to frame her face, the tips just proud in a way that would likely protect the face and neck from any incoming blows. A second pair emerged from her skull just behind the top of her ears, much larger and curling out then forward, they seemed positioned less for protection and more for threat.

    She, unlike the rest of the guard, was both decorated and armored. Her plate shone gold, and little chains and dragon charms hung from her horns and ears. In comparison, the double-headed battle axe across her back was plain, built for purpose rather than show. As they came upon the Ivory Guard, she set her chin and gazed squarely ahead, letting the escort riders greet them and identify their occupant.

    The Horned Palace was the Fourth Pentarch¡¯s private palace, sheltered behind walls that were older than living memory. The palace and gardens within and without had been redone many times, fashionable hedgerows and a neatly manicured path beckoning past the guard towers. The walls, however, were never altered. They were smooth, no joins or mortar. Solid, aged, dark stone that hinted to an older memory.

    With little ceremony the gates were unbarred, and the carriage ushered through, the bull riders at the front of the carriage team kicking their beast''s sides with heels to urge them onwards and the rest following as they felt their harnesses grow taut in turn. The rider Val had spoken with, along with two others pulled closer, while the rest of the riders peeled off as they entered and began to wheel their mounts towards a stable and barracks, along with all of the foot soldiers.

    In a few minutes of travel through the manicured gardens, passing vine covered arbours and fountains and lawns, the carriage passed below an archway and second guard house before pulling into a great circular drive at the palace''s entry, a black door flanked by four-horned dragon carvings. Servants who had been working as they came into view scattered from the front, some desperately grabbing up garden tools and baskets of cuttings to scamper out of view. The entry yard was conspicuously empty when the carriage finally came to a stop, the mounted drivers calming their beasts with gentle pats.

    Finally, Val stepped down from her post, as the three escort riders dismounted and assembled at her side. She paused to look at one of her fellow guards and raised an eyebrow, then opened the carriage door and out stepped two men. The first was young, with a sharp face and pale hair tousled in a way that imitated the mess of sleep but was too perfect to be the result of anything but careful styling. His skin was warm gold from the sun, and he wore robes in a slate grey, intricately embroidered with gold beads and stylized images of four-horned dragons. Conspicuous amounts of jewelry accented his outfit, gold bangles at his wrists, chains around his neck and ears, several delicate rings on his fingers. While his body was slim and frail, his eyes were petulant and expressive, skimming the court and immediately turning into a scowl. At his right, a second older man emerged. His robes were made of fine materials with simple woven decorations around the cuffs. He carried a staff to steady his step and had a neatly cropped beard, mostly greyed with age, although his short dark head hair was only peppered with silver.

    Val fell into position on the younger man''s left, her accessories now firmly marking her in his presence as an extension of him, decorated to match his wardrobe rather than any preference of her own. Behind them the three riders who had remained assembled, the slim man now carrying his bow, and two older men, one tall and broad with two small axes at his hip, and the third the oldest, nearing too old for this work, with a short sword and dagger at his side.

    The young man from the carriage sighed in exasperation. No one had emerged from the house as the Ivory Guard had done, nor ushered open the black doors. ¡°Bastian, go in and get someone,¡± he snapped, kneading his forehead with long fingers.

    The slim man with the bow gave a quick head nod and a quiet ¡°My Prince,¡± before dutifully trotting off to the left, seeking a side entrance he was obviously familiar with. The Prince turned to his carriage, and sensing his intent, Val opened the door again for him to make his retreat.

    ¡°Really,¡± he grumbled, seating himself and arranging his robes in his lap. Small gold bangles jingled at his wrists as he brushed perceived dust from the fabric. His voice was just too loud to be only for his close company. ¡°You invited me.¡±

    After a wait, the black doors flung open, serving men spilling out all dressed in white and gold uniforms. They quickly hurried about the bulls, taking up reins from riders and lining the entry in an orchestrated rush of action, as if this had all been a terrible misunderstanding, and now they sought to put their best foot forward to rectify it. A woman, in a careful state of partial-dress emerged moments later, maids chasing after her with combs and missing accessories, their distress the most sincere piece of the whole event. Her hair was long and grey with age, but carefully braided for day wear rather than a formal occasion.

    She spread her arms wide and greeted them ¡°Dorius, you must forgive us! We just had guests visiting and the whole place was a mess. We only saw them off this morning and had barely begun the process of turning over the rooms.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Dorius emerged from the carriage again, bristling with indignation.

    ¡°Grandmother,¡± he sniped in return, ¡°Why even invite me just to leave me as a spectacle for the servants to laugh at?¡±

    The woman laughed graciously, allowing a maid to catch her outer layers and begin to adjust them, still leaving her arms spread wide in greeting.

    ¡°Calm yourself,¡± she offered, ¡°It was a mistake, no offense intended.¡±

    Dorius visibly scowled, but still swept forward to take her hand for a short kiss to her knuckles in greeting.

    ¡°Come, your Uncle waits,¡± she announced, starting a turn back inside, ¡°There are barely any rooms appropriate for you to stay, we are truly in such a state. The dining room would be best, it is still prepared for morning meal at least.¡±

    Dorius huffed a moment, took a step to follow and watched an Ivory Guard intercept Val as she moved to match pace with him. ¡°No weapons,¡± the guard announced.

    Val narrowed her eyes, and the guard took a moment to regret his position. She towered over every head around her, and was easily two heads taller than Dorius, a mountain at his side.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t make a fuss of things, I grow tired of this farce anyway,¡± Dorius hissed, again just slightly too loud, and vaguely gestured to Val with a wave of his hand to obey.

    Val, locking eyes with the guard, obediently drew her axe off her back, held it to her side, and with no ceremony dropped it straight to the ground where it bounced from tip to heel twice in a momentous clatter of metal against loose stone. Half the servants flinched and the rest tensed, all eyes watched for a moment.

    Dorius ignored the noise, and continued after his grandmother, older companion in tow. Val pushed the guard aside with her body to follow, turning to keep eye contact with the Ivory Guard as she passed.

    Behind her, Bastian had returned to his place from whatever side entrance he had scampered off to find, and was grinning with amusement as he watched two servants try and fail to lift the huge axe out of the entryway. As the three escorts were left behind they relaxed from their positions and turned to begin helping the serving men with handling the bulls still hitched to the carriage and collecting the battle axe for their companion, a two person job even for the hardened escorts.

    ¡ª

    ¡°My King¡± simpered Dorius as he swept after his grandmother into the dining hall, now gesturing as broadly and dramatically as his grandmother had to the figure sitting at the head of the table, his mannerism shifting from irritation to flattery.

    The Pentarch sat having finished breaking his fast and beginning on the work of the day, a servant at his side was filling his cup and several advisors who had been in discussion trailed silent at the sudden intrusion. Platters of pastries and exotic fruits had been pushed away to make room for scattered papers and a small map. One advisor scrambled to gather up the most sensitive of the documents before someone looked too closely. The Pentarch was dressed regally even if for casual company, in gold with accents of bright white. His hair faded to white from silver, washing his overall appearance out as pale underneath all his finery. On his head was a simple four horned crown. Dorius swept up to him, pulling out a chair close to the food without bidding, and immediately began to pick through the leftovers, mostly throwing bits back without regard for what he touched. His grandmother remained standing, her previous energy more subdued and she pursed her lips at the sight of her grandson''s insubordination. Dorius glanced at her, and seeming to realize he had done something wrong, paused and selected a single glazed pastry instead.

    The Pentarch visibly grimaced, ¡°Dorius -¡±

    Val suddenly crashed down into a seat at Dorius¡¯ side, cutting the Pentarch short. Her gaze did not stray from straight forward and her expression did not change. It took a moment for the jangle of her chains and accessories to ring silent.

    ¡°Dorius!¡± the Pentarch hissed, the air in the room growing tense.

    Dorius waved a hand casually to try and de-escalate, ¡°She¡¯s not quite¡­¡± he started.

    ¡°Do not try me Dorius!¡± boomed the Pentarch, the guards who had previously stood outside the doorway suddenly shifting position to face inwards at their king¡¯s tone.

    Dorius appeared lost for words, pulling back in his seat away from his uncle and slightly towards his bodyguard, his hands clenching back from his earlier casual gesture to betray his nerves. The older man at Dorius¡¯ side spoke up then.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he intoned gently, hoping to diffuse the mood, ¡°Your nephew does not have as much practice in courtly behaviors as your other heirs. I ask your patience for his bad graces, we rode the last stretch of our journey for your summons through the night in proof of our obeisance and the lack of sleep may have left him without his better wits.¡±

    ¡°Elias,¡± the Pentarch groaned, leaning back in his seat, ¡°Your loyalty to my late sister blinds you to her son''s faults. You waste your skills staying with him.¡±

    Elias bowed deeply, and remained facing the ground.

    ¡°I do my best,¡± responded Elias, his tone neutral.

    Dorius sniffed, ¡°My apologies uncle,¡± was all he offered, making no eye contact in seeming shame.

    The Pentarch took a moment to stare at Val, who remained unblinking in her seat. ¡°Get your Fae off my table.¡±

    There was a pause, and Val did not move. Then the two guards came forward, hooking an arm around each of Val¡¯s, and attempted to pull her upwards from the seat. There was a comical moment, where they both strained and she did not give way, before Dorius sighed. She turned her head to her master and threw one of the guards off her when her horn swung into his helmet and sent him crashing to the ground.

    ¡°Up,¡± ordered Dorius.

    Val stood with order given, the second guard stumbling back off her, and centered herself standing over her prince, her facial expression unchanged.

    The guard on the floor rolled about for a moment, making far too much noise for the company but unable to get his feet under himself in the ceremonial armor until two servants helped him steady himself. He bowed to his king and remained in place.

    ¡°Leave,¡± groaned the Pentarch, deeply annoyed at how long this interaction was dragging on.

    The guards took the command to leave, both returning to each side of the dining room¡¯s entryway. Elias had remained bowed through the whole display, facing the floor in his shame.

    ¡°Enough of this,¡± the Patriarch stood, waving away all but one of his advisors, ¡°I called you here for one thing so let us get it done and then you can be gone with your brute.¡±

    He opened his palm and, without looking, the remaining advisor passed him a single folded document which the Pentarch then laid on the table in front of Elias. Elias righted himself just enough to look at it, and as the Pentarch¡¯s hands withdrew he picked it up and unfolded it for study.

    ¡°You will go to Kal¡¯Fall and resolve whatever in the Spine has the locals bristly enough they have cut off diplomacy with us. You are authorized to use the local garrison at your discretion but avoid any messes - I would rather have a peaceful solution. The boundaries of the Pentarchy converge closely there and news of mishaps will reach other ears too quickly.¡±

    Elias read the document quickly, ¡°Your grace, we will be honored to take on this request for the family.¡±

    The Pentarch snorted in mild amusement, ¡°Honored yes. It is beneath any of your other cousins. If not for my love of my passed sister I would send a general instead and leave your branch of our line to rot and dissolve with you back in Southold.¡±

    ¡°Did it have to be somewhere cold?¡± asked Dorius. Elias¡¯ jaw tensed for a moment, his patience with his charge at the end of its ropes.

    ¡°Get over it. And do not take this as an opportunity to disappoint and absolve yourself of responsibility for the rest of your days. I grow sick of supplementing your income and will cut you off unless you contribute to our Pentarchy¡¯s success. You will run out of money to feed that Fae of yours soon enough and once she quits your shadow, I will not stop one of my other nephews or nieces simplifying their succession.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ grandmother looked grim, standing silently on one side of the room. Whatever her opinions of her grandson, it was obvious she did not approve of her son¡¯s threat. Dorius rocked back on his chair and appeared unphased, whether from false confidence or ignorance it was unclear. He stood up, fidgeting with his robes to smooth them again and asked ¡°Is that it?¡±

    ¡°Elias, don¡¯t fail me,¡± said the Pentarch, and Elias finally rose from his bow, ¡°You may leave.¡±

    There were several long minutes of diplomatic goodbyes and exchanges with his grandmother as they made their way from the palace again. As they returned to the carriage Elias surreptitiously passed the documents to his prince who tucked them into a sleeve for later. Val caught his eye as she helped Dorius step up into the carriage, gone was all the impulsive petulance and instead there was a steely glint of resolve.

 1.2 Ashtowne

    It was only after they re-entered the forest that a lone rider on a two-legged talon steed came trotting up to the escort, dressed in plain leathers.

    ¡°We¡¯re clear,¡± she announced, ¡°No one followed after you exited the guard house.¡±

    The older man from earlier with the twin axes at his side, Hart, gave her a wave from near the front of the procession, and the scout swung her crow faced mount around and darted back into the forest. Val sagged at her station, her pent up tension finally releasing, and removed her battle axe placing it on the carriage roof within easy reach. Several of the other riders seemed to relax as well, strapping pole arms back to their saddles or removing more uncomfortable parts of armor.

    There was a brief knock from inside the carriage, and Val obediently responded by sliding a small window open. Prince Dorius was sitting with his back to her in the carriage, but leaned conspiratorially around to catch her with one eye.

    ¡°What did you make of all that?¡± he asked, his mouth slightly quirked.

    Val hummed a moment, ¡°The fanfare aside, I find it suspicious a simple task for the family outcast required an in-person audience. I don¡¯t think the Pentarch takes any joy in just humiliating you for that to be his only objective.¡± She began stripping some of the accessories off her horns absently and passed them through the window. Elias, who was sitting on the opposite bench with his staff propped against the carriage wall, leaned forward to take them and began to neatly pack them into a velvet lined box.

    Dorius nodded, ¡°I agree, it is important enough that it needs to remain within the family, which means the problem is more important politically than my uncle - or more likely yet one of my cousins - will let on.¡±

    ¡°Have we reached the part where they¡¯ve found out about your merchant army and decided to kill you?¡± quipped Bastian as he pulled closer to join the conversation. Val twisted slightly sideways to give him a view into the carriage to his Prince.

    Dorius laughed a moment grimly. Elias shook his head. ¡°Your Prince is not important enough for any subterfuge to be necessary if that were the case. I imagine some of your cousins would take great joy in petitioning the king to cut you off if they had justification, and the Ivory Guard could just cut us down if they decided to deal with it in simpler terms,¡± explained the older man to Bastian.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to see them try,¡± mumbled Val, checking the balance of her axe on the carriage.

    ¡°One of the men reckon¡¯ there was talk of a horse in the stable as well.¡± Bastian added.

    Dorius, curious suddenly, unfolded one of his arms from his lap to lean on the sill for a better look at Bastian.

    ¡°One of my cousins then. I thought the guests'' excuse was part of the game,¡± he considered for a moment, ¡°any chance you heard what color it was?¡±

    Bastian shook his head.

    Hart had pulled back from the front of the procession and rode closer then. ¡°Your orders?¡± he called from his mount.

    ¡°We return home for now via Ashtowne, we¡¯ll stop there for a proper sleep. Organize a spot for us to camp outside of town and meet up with the others,¡± called Dorius out his window to Hart, then turning in his seat to sit more comfortably facing forward again he added more quietly, ¡°Bastian join me.¡±

    Bastian tossed his reins to Hart, and standing in the saddle quickly hopped to the footboard to join Val. He was one of few men whose height approached her chin, but she was far broader and she shifted one foot off to make more room for him. Hart dutifully gathered Bastian¡¯s mount¡¯s reins, gave his prince a quick bow from his saddle and pulled away from the carriage, lifting an arm to signal one of the scouts out of the forest and begin passing along the orders.

    ¡°We are to make ourselves known to the post at Kal¡¯Fall to the north-east, from there we will take command of some spat we¡¯re currently in with the Free Mountain State and re-establish diplomacy. Our duty is to have the position resolved by dark solstice for military reinforcement of the posting,¡± explained Dorius to Bastian who had missed the drama at the Palace. There had obviously been additional details on the documents they were provided to supplement the orders given at the breakfast meeting.

    ¡°To what end?¡± asked Bastian looking at Elias, ¡°Is there a chance of war with the Mountain State?¡±

    Elias shook his head, ¡°The Mountain State¡¯s position as a free settlement is likely not under dispute, anything too antagonistic would be seen as a breaking of the peace between the Pentarchy.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ eyes narrowed, but whatever opinions he had to offer he held close for the moment. Val had known him long enough to guess that he had an idea of what was at play, but not enough evidence yet to give it voice.

    ¡°Our relationship with the Mountain State has been rocky since the establishment of the Pentarchy. Their position as the center of a five spoked wheel puts them in a vulnerable position,¡± continued Elias, ¡°They are protected just as much, if not more, by the equal balance of the peace. If the Spine itself were not so inhospitable and trade or even troop passage could be secured through the passes, it would have collapsed years ago. Instead, they occupy the inevitable position of hissing and spitting like a trapped cat, hoping to remind their captors that they are not yet tamed within their cage.¡±

    ¡°I do not think this the usual bristling of the Mountain State,¡± pondered Dorius, ¡°There is something much bigger at play. The clearing of the Palace Forest strikes me as odd as well. This feels more like desperation to avoid attention from prying eyes at something important by involving someone un-important.¡±

    Elias finished packing Val¡¯s accessories and closed the ornate box, then began moving boxes under his bench to make room for it.

    ¡°This is proof at least then¡­ that they think you loyal?¡± Val asked.

    Dorius laughed shortly, ¡°Oh I doubt it, at best it is a test. My eldest cousins, I think, may see through our impoverished, spoiled princling act. My uncle, however, is relying on Elias to solve this issue, not me,¡± he tilted his head in thought a moment.

    Elias continued to shuffle under the carriage benches looking for something, ¡°Be careful still,¡± he cautioned, ¡°You take the act too far with the Pentarch. He would be within rights to have Valina beheaded for that show.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s taking it too far that sells it,¡± Dorius responded idly, his mind already rushing on to other thoughts, ¡°someone playing a ruse would stop at the edge of common sense.¡±

    ¡°I trust your judgement,¡± added Val, ¡°Anyway, I don''t think they''d find me that easy to behead,¡± she concluded with a hint of nerves. Dorius gave her a small grin.

    Elias sat up, having found what he was looking for, a document box, which he opened and withdrew a pen from. Dorius passed him the document from the meeting from within his sleeve, and Elias noted some additional thoughts to it in the margins, before adding it to the top of the documents contained within. He then sighed, pressing the pile down with both hands.

    ¡°I deeply loved your mother, she was the best of the fourth bloodline. Something about giving her life for a son distilled that legacy to you. An odd quirk perhaps of the line ending, ¡° he wondered. ¡°I offer my counsel sincerely and out of love for you as a warning - your skill has only carried you this far because the Watcher has their eye on you. The risks will only grow as you begin to test the boundaries of your ambition. While we would give our lives for you, we are of no use to you dead.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Elias looked Bastian and Val in the eyes as he finished speaking, his warning just as much for them as his charge.

    Dorius grew grimmer for a moment, but forged on, ¡°There is opportunity here,¡± he said, ¡°And I would seize it if I can, there is just as much risk to you all should I fail, as there is in the path to success.¡±

    ¡ª

    Hart was the first to enter the tavern at Ashtowne, his slate blue uniform traded for practical leathers. The four-horned dragon sigil was gone, instead he only wore the open winged bird design as a badge on his chest. Bastian and the other older man who had formed the palace escort were next, also now dressed in their mercenary leathers, with the same sigil on their shoulders. Dorius and Elias followed. Dorius had shed his robes and finery completely to blend in with his guard, same winged bird sigil on his shoulder and a cap on his head, ear flaps covering the sides of his face. Elias, in comparison, had not changed. Val, who would have had to duck under the doorway even if she did not have horns, was last. She matched the crew, lightly armored in leathers, only her double-headed battle axe was the same. She was the only one in the group who carried a weapon openly, all others had been left with the carriage and their escort outside of town.

    The tavern turned to look at her for only a moment, she was unusual for sure but Fae-touched individuals were far more common among the regular populace. Their carefully constructed appearance made their circumstances obvious - a small group of mercenaries, with one unusual but not unexpected heavy guard, and a single client - and interest from the patrons was quickly lost as they returned to their conversations and meals

    Hart guided them to a corner table, taking care to draw a seat out for Elias while the rest of the crew settled around them, Dorius taking a position opposite and between Bastian and the older man. Val took position in the corner, giving her a view of the whole room. A barman approached to take orders.

    ¡°We have ham from a hog slaughtered yesterday, smoked overnight, as well as bread from the local baker and whatever vegetables the cook bought in the market this morning,¡± he offered, wiping his hands on his apron.

    ¡°Food and beers for the table then,¡± returned Hart.

    ¡°And for your client?¡± asked the barman.

    Elias held up a hand, ¡°I am fine with the same, although I wouldn¡¯t mind if you have some wine instead of beer.¡±

    The barman thought for a moment, ¡°We may have a few young bottles in the cellar, likely from somewhere south.¡±

    ¡°Perfect I¡¯ll have a bottle, bring a spare glass as well.¡±

    The barman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and busied off to collect a few plates before returning behind the bar and passing the order along.

    Bastian then eagerly drew a deck of cards from a pocket and held them out, a few nods, and he started shuffling them, leaving Elias and Val out of the deal.

    ¡°What else did you learn during our stay, other than the horse?¡± asked Dorius, picking up the cards as he was dealt them and arranging them in his hand.

    Hart rubbed his chin for a moment, stubble growing as evidence of their rushed travel the past few days. ¡°The stables were almost full and the mess had barely any room. Set the men up some tables by the muster yard instead. Whichever cousin was in residence, they must have brought most of their retinue with them.¡±

    ¡°Not a social visit then,¡± added Bastian, finishing his deal and picking up his cards. Val bent over his shoulder a moment to look at his hand and he twisted them slightly to give her a better look.

    The barman returned, placing down the wine bottle and a pair of glasses, and waited a moment before Elias gave him a wave to indicate he was satisfied. The bottle had already been opened and Elias poured himself a glass, then motioned to the oldest man, ¡°Davern?¡±

    Davern nodded, and Elias passed him the bottle and second glass to pour his own. The barkeep returned a second time at that point, five mugs of beer in hand, and placed them in the middle. Bastian then started the game, placing down his first card and there was companionable silence as the first few cards were played.

    Val snorted at one of Bastian¡¯s moves and he slapped the table in good hearted annoyance.

    ¡°Don¡¯t give it away,¡± he ribbed, and hid his hand from her.

    Dorius took his turn, grinning slightly, ¡°Val¡¯s given up your game.¡±

    Bastian tossed his hand face down on the table in irritation, and pushed his cards to the center surrendering the round. With a frustrated sigh, he drummed his fingers on the table and gave Val a glare. Val shrugged and returned her gaze to the tavern.

    It was relatively quiet for a lunch crowd, half of the tables were empty and most of the regulars appeared to be seated at the bar, making conversation with the barman. A few of the local guards entered, making eye contact with Val as they did. She gave them a quick nod, and they turned away to find their own table.

    ¡°I passed through the scullery when I was looking for the seneschal, there was a lot of red laundry,¡± offered Bastian after a moment of watching the game progress without him.

    Elias looked into his wine glass, and passed a glance with Davern and Hart.

    ¡°Matthias or Synthias then,¡± mused Dorius, placing down another card. He seemed to start to speak, then held back as he noticed the barman approaching with a platter of their food. Most was piled into one larger tray, but he also carried a separate clean plate. He placed the platter off center, so as not to disturb their cards, then the plate before Elias, adding some cutlery from within his apron.

    Elias served himself first, then the rest drew straight from the platter in the middle, absently eating as they continued their game. Dorius showed no hesitation in joining them, tearing up some of the bread with his hands and dipping it in the juices from roasted vegetables on the platter.

    ¡°I thought the Carmine Guard and Ivory Guard were one and the same these days?¡± asked Hart, finishing his first mug of beer and playing a surprisingly strong move to their card game.

    Dorius shook his head, ¡°They share members and resources in the Capital, but still maintain the separation of uniform and purpose. They¡¯d never fully dissolve, even if Synthias were officially the heir, the red would just pass to the next in line.¡±

    Val, distracted from her guard by the conversation and food, picked up a few of Bastian¡¯s discarded cards and tried to balance them in a pyramid. ¡°I saw the captain of the reds ordering about the whites last Winter Reception, ¡° she added softly, ¡°I think there is very little the Pentarch does anymore that doesn¡¯t have one of them involved.¡±

    Dorius sighed, and also forfeited his hand at that moment. ¡°Uncle, do you have any connections at Kal¡¯Fall or near the Spine?¡±

    Hart paused as he rearranged his cards, taking a moment to think. ¡°It¡¯s too far out of our territory. Even working caravan contracts your network rarely travels that far north.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve a good relationship with the Black Wolf Mercenaries who operate in that region. They¡¯re not the biggest but they are big enough they might be useful,¡± added Davern, his voice a husky drawl.

    Dorius lifted the front of his cap to rearrange his silver-blond hair, then seemed to settle on a thought. ¡°Pick a few men to go now while the journey is shorter, send them north and make contact if they can. See if they can arrange to work with the Black Wolves for a period to learn the lay of the land. If the Wolves are not in regular contact with the Spine, they are free to operate at their discretion. Elias will brief them on their objectives and help you write a letter of introduction.¡±

    Hart nodded, ¡°You won¡¯t come back with us?¡±

    ¡°No, I have some business here then I¡¯ll stay the night with a proper bed, I¡¯ll take Val and Bastian. Elias, can you send a runner with the goods I packed to the Guild House when you get back?¡±

    Elias drew out a purse at that point, and began to count some coins which he handed to Bastian for safe keeping. Bastian gave them a quick count, and hid them within a pouch he wore around his neck and tucked into his leathers.

    ¡°Get the men a hot dinner, we¡¯ll rejoin you tomorrow morning and continue to Southold then,¡± continued Dorius. Hart nodded.

    Dorius then rose and selected a bread roll to pocket, Val was on her feet in response without any bidding. Bastian allowed an expression of longing for the plate of food to hover on his face, and realizing he wasn¡¯t going to slow his Prince down, selected a few slices of ham to stuff in his mouth. ¡°I want my cards back!¡± he demanded to the table, then rushed to join Val and Dorius who were already part way out the door.

 1.3 Merchant Guild

    Val wandered through the town square at Dorius¡¯ side, humming absently to herself as she followed him from shop front to shop front. Bastian led the way, making easy conversation with merchants and passers-bys, happily discussing weather or harvests or what traders and mercenaries had been through town as seemed appropriate in the moment.

    The town was doing well, despite its size, and there was a good variety of merchants and craftsmen, many highly specialized. The laborers union house was almost empty as they passed it, indicating all waiting townsfolk had found employment that morning, the note board with job notices almost overflowing with leaflets, many stamped red indicating immediate need. New laborers, some grimy with the dirt of recent travel, were busy getting inducted by clerks in the shade of the union house, leaflets from the board being sorted by apprentices who handed them out to qualified workers and gave hasty instructions on where to report, how to collect pay, or even where to buy lodgings for the recent arrivals.

    Dorius trailed slightly in Bastian¡¯s shadow, a trained eye assessing the quality of the goods on display and the volume of trade being conducted. Occasionally he would interrupt as Bastian¡¯s conversations moved in a direction that interested him to ask a follow up question, or inquire about the providence of a particular good, but mostly he listened.

    Val was happy to let them do the talking, since childhood they had both always had easy relationships with strangers, whereas she had some very obvious differences between her and other people that usually meant she kept them at arm''s length. She instead enjoyed the brief opportunities to warm herself in the sun as they meandered. Despite it being the height of summer, it was noticeably cooler here than their home climes and she missed it.

    They were standing inside a textile merchant when the sound of an organ playing a chorale prelude began somewhere else in the town. The conversation halted for a moment as the first chords played.

    ¡°You have a Vigil house here?¡± asked Bastian to the merchant he had been previously chatting with. The merchant nodded, and started onto a story about the acolytes recently redecorating the Vigil chamber with his fabrics.

    Val felt her attention fray as the first notes faded, her breath stolen from her mouth to follow the resonating hum instead. More music followed, and unbidden, Val lost track of the conversation and her mind strayed from its lazy guard to focus on the low chords rumbling through the town.

    It slowly stirred something inside of her, like memories or echoes of something that was always just out of her reach. The chords rose and fell and were joined by a plaintive melody that felt organic to her, like the patterns of tree branches as they grew, or water carving through rock. Notes twisted in her mind''s eye as the complexity of the song built, darker, quicker, deeper, catching her breath. It was fire! In her blood, in her lungs! Not flashing, jumping, bright fires, or steady, laboring blacksmith fires, but the fire that was dark and cold mourning lanterns and incense at prayer, lamenting something forgotten. The base notes became the low murmur of glow around coals, deep and comforting, while the melody above gently danced, sparked and dissolved into black night. Her whole mind unwillingly subsumed to the music, and only fire mattered.

    Dorius touched her arm gently to bring her back, slight concern in the corner of his eyes. Val frowned, but the jolt of touch was enough for her to wrestle back control and shut out the music, some part of her gasping in loss and leaving her feeling slightly empty. She turned, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the merchant¡¯s shop where she had to constantly hunch to prevent her horns from scratching the merchant¡¯s ceiling, and looked towards the door.

    ¡°Where is the Guild house?¡± ask Dorius, interrupting Bastian and the merchant''s conversation. The merchant¡¯s eyes flickered to the bird sigil on all three shoulders, and he frowned slightly.

    ¡°You looking for work, we are not familiar with you¡­¡±

    ¡°Phoenix Company,¡± offered Bastian.

    ¡°We are not familiar with the Phoenix Company here. I doubt there would be¡­¡±

    ¡°We represent an interested party from the south,¡± explained Dorius, ¡°We¡¯ve been given a letter of introduction for the Guild Steward.¡±

    The merchant seemed to consider this for a moment, then gestured further up the street in the direction they had been meandering. ¡°Big building at the end, the paper runners like to use the street out front for organizing their deliveries.¡±

    Dorius nodded his thanks and exited the building for the street, Val in tow and glad for open sky. Bastian lingered a moment, to finish his conversation with the merchant.

    Val rubbed her sore neck, following a couple of hooded men with her eyes as they waited for Bastian. Dorius looked up at her, his arms folded.

    ¡°We good?¡± he asked.

    She inclined her head, ¡° I wasn¡¯t expecting it, is all.¡± she replied. The organ still played, but it didn¡¯t creep into her mind like it had when it had started.

    Dorius didn¡¯t seem particularly reassured.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a child anymore,¡± she continued trying to placate him, ¡°I don¡¯t let it get away from me like I used to.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t control it either,¡± added Dorius.

    Val shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure where you expect I would have time to learn. Your father nor the Company weren¡¯t exactly in a position to find out much about it when we were kids, and since then it¡¯s not like I get any break from you.¡± There was a tiny note of bitterness at the last comment.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± muttered Dorius quietly.

    Val was silent.

    ¡°I need you,¡± he continued, his voice low, ¡°Elias constantly chides me for putting you and Bastian, especially you, in so much danger. But I couldn¡¯t¡­¡± he trailed off, unsure of where he seemed to be taking his apology.

    Val sniffed, then gently responded, ¡°Look at me,¡± she said, gesturing to her horns, ¡° If not with you I¡¯d be chopping up bandits somewhere. Fae like me don¡¯t really get much choice in the work we are put towards. I¡¯m just thankful it was the Phoenix Company that picked me up and not something worse. Besides¡­¡± she looked him in the eye, ¡°How often do I have to tell you I trust you?¡±

    Dorius grinned weakly, and patted her arm as it was about the only part of her within comfortable reach. Bastian emerged behind them, looking between them.

    ¡°I miss a moment?¡± he asked, passing Dorius several brochures he¡¯d acquired from the merchant, his eyes carefully watching Dorius¡¯ hand lift from Val¡¯s forearm to take them from him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen what I want to see,¡± said Dorius, browsing the first page of the brochure for a moment. ¡°Let¡¯s head to the Guild house now.¡±

    ¡°You doing okay?¡± asked Bastian to Val as they began walking up the street again, Dorius leading now.

    Val gave Bastian a friendly nudge to his ribs but misjudged her force, the slim man unexpectedly staggering away and gracefully recovering. Bastian laughed easily, his chin was covered with stubble unkempt on the road, growing in bright red compared to his dark chestnut head hair. He playfully reached up to grab one of her chin horns and pulled hard downwards, tilting her head and throwing her off balance for a moment. She growled, a hint of red on her cheeks in embarrassment. The exchange seemed to satisfy Bastian¡¯s question though, and he asked no more questions as they wandered towards the Guild House.

    One of the younger men from the Company was waiting for them outside the Guild House, a talon steed curving its head sideways to watch the paper runners with one large black eye, as they organized deliveries sprawled on the street in front of them. He saluted them as they approached, and handed Dorius a carefully wrapped package. Dorius dismissed him, and continued into the Guild House. An attendant was seated at a large desk behind a comfortable waiting area, busily sorting bills and contracts into folders stacked behind his desk.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°I have a letter of introduction from the Southold Guild Steward,¡± said Dorius clearly, drawing a wax sealed envelope from the package, and placing it for the attendant to see. The attendant picked up a pair of eye lenses and inspected the red seal, then satisfied at its legitimacy pushed it back over the desk to Dorius. He clicked his fingers, waving over one of the apprentices.

    ¡°Go see if the Steward is free,¡± he instructed and looking back at his guests, ¡°you may take a seat.¡±

    Dorius and Bastian sat as bid, Val hovered standing. The attendant continued to busy himself with the huge pile of contracts he was sorting. After a short wait the apprentice returned and beckoned them upstairs.

    The Steward was a large man, seated at an elegant desk half covered with paperwork and ledgers. He wore brightly colored fabrics with some basic embroidery on the collar and cuffs, but his sleeves were stained with ink. On several fingers he wore chunky silver rings, black ink staining the inlays on a few as well. He did not stand when they entered but gestured for them to take seats opposite his desk.

    Dorius took off his cap as he sat, passing it and the wrapped package to Bastian who sat next to him, keeping two envelopes in his lap. He ran his fingers through his silver-blonde hair, trying to fluff it up where it had flattened. Val hovered by the door, and with the Stewards permission shut it.

    ¡°I''ve never heard of the Phoenix Company this far north?¡± began the Steward without ceremony, picking up a pen and signing the document he had been working on before dropping it to the floor in another pile.

    ¡°We don''t operate here, I''m not on Company business,¡± explained Dorius, meaningfully presenting the envelopes in his hand. He placed both down before the Steward on the desk, and then carefully splayed them revealing the wax seals. One was stamped with red wax, the seal a beehive and coins - it had been the letter used to gain them entry. The other was distinctly more opulent, made of paper an elegant creamy hue and the wax a glossy gold, the seal was an intricate four-horned dragon on slate blue ribbon.

    The Steward paused, slowly placed his pen down and pushed the papers he was working on to the side. He took both envelopes, but the dragon headed one was the one he flipped to inspect first.

    ¡°What''s your relationship to the Company?¡± He asked, flipping some papers on his desk till he uncovered his pen knife.

    ¡°My uncle negotiates our contracts,¡± replied Dorius. The Steward looked at him carefully for a moment, then opened the letter with the dragon seal. He read it quickly, then opened the second and did the same. He rang a small bell on his desk as he read, and Val stepped aside to let an apprentice back in.

    ¡°Refreshments for our guests!¡± He quickly ordered, and haphazardly shoved most of the papers to one side of his desk as he finished reading.

    ¡°My apologies, let us start again. I am Bart the Guild Steward in Ashtowne. I represent all Merchant Guild activities as well as the Laborers and Crafts Union. We are not a large town, but proximity to the private Palace keeps us busy¡± he said suddenly warm, standing and extending both hands. Dorius stood and grasped his offered hand eagerly, exchanging a firm shake and a winning smile.

    ¡°I am Dorn, I represent the interests of the Southold Merchant¡¯s Guild for this interaction. I have been authorized to offer you several contracts to consider, as well as samples of goods,¡± replied Dorius. Bastian laid the package on the desk to punctuate the introduction, it clunked with the promising weight of something inside.

    ¡°A moment, we will have tea while we discuss,¡± said the Steward, offering his hands to Bastian for a shake as well and giving Val a nod. ¡°Do you normally negotiate for your client?¡± queried Bart as he reseated himself.

    Dorius shook his head, ¡°I am not here to negotiate, only open the door for the Guild with some initial offers. You may have heard the Prince at Southold has a close relationship with the Phoenix Company, but it also extends to the Guild. My presence represents his wishes for positive negotiations along with his letter of intent.¡±

    The Steward nodded knowingly, and gestured for the returning apprentice to place the fine china teacups at his desk before Dorius and Bastian. Dorius took a cup and allowed himself a moment to smell the herbal tea, before taking a small sip to test the temperature. ¡°Bastian, could you?¡± He asked, sitting back in his seat a bit to enjoy the tea.

    Bastian stood and unwrapped the parcel, from it he carefully laid out several rings inset with polished black stone, some cuffs of various sizes in a milky green stone and a necklace with a large jeweled pendant made of the same green material.

    He selected one of the rings and opened his hand beckoning the Steward.

    ¡°The black stone is called Hematite, it can be cut and polished into any shape but looks best as a seal or broach. Here it has been set in silver,¡± Bastian explained as he took the Stewards hand. He carefully examined the Steward¡¯s current rings, estimating the size of his fingers, ¡°May I?¡± he asked, all smooth and charming elegance.

    The Steward nodded, looking greedily at the rings, and Bastian removed one and placed his selected ring on the Steward¡¯s hand, letting him draw it back to examine the stone.

    ¡°The Free States past the southern desert say they trade for it with a Barbarian clan further south again. It is durable and can be repolished anew, making it an excellent choice for a buyer who cannot afford gems and gold,¡± he explained. ¡°The cuffs they call Jadeite. We bought these to show the variation in the colors but it can be easily carved into delicate shapes and make excellent little baubles, paperweights, and other trinkets.¡±

    ¡°They are not quite as nice as the gems coveted by nobles and royals,¡± added Dorius, ¡° but our client is aware of growing markets among the well-to-do folk. Peace in the time of the Pentarchy has been good, family businesses have grown and craftsmen and merchants have coins to spend. This is the market we seek. Why not provide them with new options that let them show off their elevated status without intruding on the upper ranks?¡±

    The Steward examined the ring closely, brushing its polished surface with his thumb. ¡°It is true, we import furs and fabrics now more for the common man than Palace use. Even the lowest laborer has some coin to spare to buy his beau a gift, or indulge in a nice hat for nights on the town.¡±

    ¡°It is in the Prince¡¯s best interest to encourage this within his own holdings,¡± continued Dorius, ¡°Distant are the memories where the royal lineages held their power through the exclusive control of Fae magic. Gone too are the days where warlords protect their lands, and in doing so prove their worth to the everyman. The Prince would seek a new alliance with the people, bringing wealth and opportunity through his means.¡±

    The Steward raised an eyebrow, the words were almost seditious if they had been spoken by any mouth other than one claiming to represent a member of the Pentarchy, albeit distant, and accompanied with his seal on a letter. But it seemed, they were not without merit, and the Steward turned them about in his mind for a moment, examining the ring.

    ¡°We take great pride in our Pentarch and the prestige it brings our town,¡± he finally offered in response, ¡°But¡­ I agree there is a market here for what you propose.¡±

    ¡°Of course, the dignity of nobility is without question. Hence, we offer the prospect of lesser stones fitting the rank and station of prospective buyers,¡± acquiesced Dorius, ¡° In turn, my understanding is the Southold Guild seeks connections to your trade north for more reliable supplies of timber and metals, as well as crafts of that like. We offer access to these goods secured from Free State trade, as well as salt, wine and wax which are abundant goods in Southold.¡±

    Dorius drew out several string bound contracts from within his shirt, ¡°My client only asks that you consider these contracts as a starting point for negotiation and reach out with a trusted man when you are ready. We could do an equal exchange of goods, or establish networks for buy and sell per your Guild¡¯s preferences.¡±

    ¡°And your company would benefit from increased work?¡± asked Bart.

    Dorius merely smiled, ¡°It would be an added benefit, but not my purpose.¡±

    Bart leaned back in his chair, considering the conversation. Then in a low voice added, ¡°I am aware the Prince at Southold is somewhat of a black sheep among the royal family, while we know of his name none of us ever see him in residence at the palace. We would not wish to attract ire from our most important buyers by affiliation.¡±

    Dorius set down the teacup, ¡°As I said, consideration only,¡± he responded blandly, ¡°Our Company''s relations with our Prince is public knowledge, but his interest in his Guild is only that of a benevolent patron. The Palace need not know where from or how goods come, only that you have sourced new wares for their interest, and we ask no subterfuge on your part if they do ask. The Prince himself is not a party of any contract we have represented to you. I trust your instinct to best guide your Guild¡¯s interests.¡±

    Dorius stood, as if to conclude his business, taking his cap from Bastian. The Steward rose with him, beginning to remove the ring from his finger.

    ¡°No, it is a gift,¡± explained Bastian, also pushing the cuffs and necklace along the table to indicate they were included.

    The Steward eyed the necklace and cuffs for a moment, and turned the ring about his finger. Then decided to leave it in place, and moved to lead his guests out the door. Bastian handled most of the formalities of their farewells as they left more documents with contact details at the front attendant¡¯s desk, Bart keeping a watchful eye on what was exchanged.

    On the street Dorius stretched arms overhead catlike, a satisfied grin on his face, and replaced his cap tucking his hair underneath it. ¡°Let¡¯s find somewhere for the night then,¡± he declared, content with his business concluded.

 1.4 Black Blood

    Val woke with a start, unsure for a moment what had disturbed her, then there was a second muffled thud in the room next to her. She exploded from the bed and crashed through the doorway separating the rooms, throwing the door off its hinges.

    A masked figure had a thin cord around Dorius¡¯ neck and had him pulled up against the head of the bed. The prince was shirtless, clawing at his neck with both hands, and kicking the bed canopy which had been shaking against the wall.

    Val dove at them, breaking through one of the support beams of the bed canopy. The assassin fumbled, loosening his grip on Dorius enough for the Prince to pull away gasping as Val and the canopy came down on them both.

    Val felt the bed curtain tangle around her horns, something tugging it towards the window. She grabbed towards that motion, finding a limb and dragging it back towards her. Hot pain suddenly ran down her forearm but she resolutely did not let go, using her other arm to try and untangle the curtains off her head and horns to make sense of the chaos.

    ¡°Val!¡± gasped someone underneath her, and she felt a body pull close beneath her feet.

    Val finally pulled the heaping fabric off her head and caught a glimpse of the masked figure at the end of her arm, just as tangled as her, a splintered cludgel in hand from a shattered fragment of the canopy. Realizing she had him by the ankle, she righted herself and spun, throwing the man easily against the wall and away from Dorius. The assassin crashed sideways into the wall and crumpled to the ground stunned, followed by half the fabric tangled around them and several shattered smaller wooden pieces from the canopy. Val pulled herself fully free of the mess, shaking her head and bumping her horns against the ceiling, not realizing she was standing on the bed now. Dorius was beneath her, gasping and pale, eyes wide with fear, his fingernails blooded where he had clawed at the cord and bright red welts already forming around his neck.

    Reassured he was alive, Val turned her attention to the figure who was now attempting to scramble to his feet under the mess of splintered wood and fabric. With a few steps she closed the distance, grabbing an arm and pulling him upright. The assassin swung his improvised weapon with his other hand at her face but it caught on a chin horn and bounced out of his hand. She caught sight of his eyes growing wide with fear and confusion, and she growled, lifting him upwards and completely off the ground. He kicked, but the mess of bed canopy hanging from him muted any blows that made contact with her. With her forearm she pinned his torso against the wall, and she smashed her head forward, heavy head horns embedding into the wall and caging the man''s face just before her forehead made contact with his. Shaking with rage, she roared, face locked within inches of his, nostrils flaring like a bull. The figure''s eyes darted around desperately underneath his mask, trying to make sense of the creature that had him pinned, and the chaos seemed to finally quiet for a moment.

    Somewhere behind her, Bastian had come running into the room, and had gone straight to Dorius, helping him to the edge of the bed where he was doubled over still desperately gasping for air. Someone from the inn wasn¡¯t far behind, holding up a lantern to illuminate the aftermath.

    The bed still stood, but the canopy had been torn down and shattered into several pieces, strewn about the room with the tangled mess of the curtains. Val¡¯s black blood was splattered in several places, and smeared glossily all over the assassin, the wound on the arm she was pinning him with still lazily dripping blood.

    ¡°Poison!¡± gasped Dorius between a breath. Val paused, then understanding in a sudden rush, unpinned the man and grabbed his jaw roughly, fingers in his mouth. It was too late, between her fingers he was already gargling up a foaming spittle. He coughed and she dropped him in disgust, tearing her horns free from the wall in a shower of wood. Bastian scampered to the body, propping it up, but the assassin''s eyes were already rolling and his fingers twitching in seizure. Barely a moment passed, and the movement stopped, his eyes beginning to glaze.

    ¡°He¡¯s already dead,¡± announced Bastian. Val seemed to finally shrink then, looked weakly at the mess beneath her and the blood dripping from her forearm, then stumbled back to sit on the bed next to Dorius, head in her hands to steady herself as the rush of adrenaline ebbed into exhaustion.

    ¡°I¡¯ll wake a stable boy, he can get a surgeon!¡± offered the innkeep, and leaving his lantern he slipped from the room.

    Bastian stood, glanced at his two friends, and retrieved the lantern, bringing it close to the assassin¡¯s body and beginning to search through his clothing. Dorius seemed to finally catch his breath and watched the dead man as Bastian turned out his pockets, just to be sure he didn¡¯t spring to life again.

    ¡°Anything?¡± he asked, his voice ragged.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Bastian, letting the body slump to the ground. The mask removed revealed an unremarkable face.

    ¡°He had a garotte,¡± said Val, face still hidden in her hands, ¡°I don¡¯t know where it went.¡±

    Bastian stood, looked at her, and began to search the wood shards and curtains trying to find the weapon. Val took one deep breath, and finally raised her head to properly look around. She stared blankly at the assassin''s body for a moment, then looked at Dorius. He had his legs tucked against his body, one arm wrapped around them and the other tracing the welts on his neck. His eyes were cloudy as if his mind was miles away. Val studied him for a moment, reassuring herself he was mostly unharmed, and gently retrieved the blanket from the bed behind them, wrapping it loosely around his shoulders. She then stood, Bastian was shirtless but had managed to hang a belt with his daggers across his chest in his rush to the room, one which he was using to fish around the mess of curtains and splintered wood for any clues.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Aware she herself was only wearing breast bindings and shorts, she returned to her room a moment to find something to cover herself. As she wandered back in, pulling a shirt on and starting to lace the front, Bastian gave her arm a meaningful look, brows tight. He¡¯d found the cord and was carefully winding it in his hands. Following his look, the cut on her arm was ragged with tendrils of severed flesh hanging, a lucky hit as they flailed in the dark. There was a large splinter from the makeshift weapon still embedded, she¡¯d leave it for someone who knew what they were doing. She picked up a scrap of canopy curtain to pull the wound closed and apply pressure, wincing.

    Bastian abandoned the bundled cord on the bedside table, and began stalking about the room for further evidence. His fingers brushed the window sill, feeling the chipped wood where something had been used to climb the window. Just outside, he fished in the hook and rope cached there. The innkeeper returned then, hovering in the doorway looking at the chaos in confusion.

    ¡°Can you send a man to the southside of town?¡± asked Bastian. ¡°Tell him to call for the Phoenix Company and a scout will spot him. There is a small force camped there, say Bastian sent for them and to get a contingent of men, armed. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll try anything again tonight, but better to be safe.¡±

    The innkeep nodded, ¡°My daughter will go, there is a surgeon coming too, he knows to come straight up. I have to settle the other guests,¡± he then rushed off.

    Bastian busied himself then trying to right the room a little, righting the door against a wall, gathering up the splintered wood and kicking the curtains over the body so no one had to look at it any longer. The rope and hook he deposited with the garotte at the bedside, before finally flopping backwards into the bed besides his prince. Val remained standing hunched against the wall by the doorway and grimly watched her black blood begin to spot through the cloth around her forearm in the lantern light.

    ¡°This is new,¡± said Bastian from the bed, staring at the ceiling.

    Dorius was still distant. ¡°It¡¯s actually not the first,¡± admitted Val, sliding to the floor.

    Bastian sat up in confusion, looking between the two of them, ¡°Watcher!¡± he cursed, ¡°You mean you¡¯ve done this before?¡±

    Dorius seemed to break his spell then, unwrapping his legs to gently place them on the floor. ¡°It¡¯s happened twice before,¡± his voice was strained, ¡°After seeing family.¡±

    Bastian¡¯s mouth was agape, his expression horrified, ¡°And Hart knows?¡± he babbled out.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t get this close before,¡± replied Val, indirectly answering his question.

    The surgeon appeared at the doorway then in a clean white apron, the stable boy at his heels with a lantern. Val gestured him towards Dorius and giving quick instructions to the boy for clean cloth and water, he took the lantern and unfolded Dorius to examine his neck and hands. After a moment the surgeon declared that he would be fine, and Val lifted her arm to show him the growing wet black spots, to which he swore and admonished her for not getting his attention first. He beckoned her to a chair at the desk in the room, and began to unwrap her arm, keeping the pressure on with fresh bandages. Fresh water was brought to the room.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± asked Bastian finally, betrayal and hurt in his voice.

    ¡°Can we not¡­ here¡­¡± groaned Dorius, drawing the blanket around his shoulders and folding inward again. The surgeon began to clean, extracting the single long shard of wood, Val hissing slightly as it emerged and drew Dorius¡¯ eyes up to look around for the first time.

    ¡°You¡¯re hurt,¡± he gasped, finally processing some of the chaos and he followed the trails of her black blood splattered on walls and sheets in growing horror.

    ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it looks,¡± she mumbled back, ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She determinedly chose a spot on the floor to fix her gaze on as the surgeon set to work stitching up the gash.

    Bastian caught Dorius¡¯ eyes as he gazed around and held them, betrayal growing to anger just beneath the surface.

    ¡°We will talk tomorrow,¡± Bastian insisted hotly, his expression dark. Dorius nodded in resignation, remaining quiet. Bastian then rolled to his feet, and moved to hover over Val, although a little uncertain of how close to her he should be. He settled on kneeling by the bed, trying to find her gaze while she avoided looking at the stitches.

    ¡°Can I get you something?¡± he asked, gentler with her than he had been with Dorius.

    Val turned to look at him properly. Some of her long dark hair had come free from her braids that were usually wrapped around the base of her horns. It was almost to her waist and it spilled in front of her eyes when she moved, she tucked some of it behind a horn with her free hand.

    ¡°My jacket¡­ and my axe maybe¡­¡± she responded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I could lift your axe,¡± admitted Bastian, but he dutifully rose to scout through her belongings for her jacket in the other room.

    Val turned to look at Dorius, ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we do something else, check outside maybe?¡± she asked.

    Dorius shook his head, his composure slowly coming back to him. ¡°If there were anyone else they are long gone.¡±

    Dorius finally got to his feet, and carefully untangled some of the bed canopy to look at the assassin. He studied them for a moment, then re-covered the body and came around to stand by Val. The surgeon was finishing up, snipping his thread with small scissors and packing away his needles. Dorius placed a hand on her shoulder, ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Val shrugged, "There¡¯s worse things you¡¯ve asked of me¡­¡±

    Bastian had returned and frowned at the statement. He watched Dorius remove his hand, and protectively placed Val¡¯s jacket over her in its place. ¡°You¡¯ve chipped a tusk,¡± he commented, glaring at Dorius as he pulled away to continued studying the chaos now, seeking to make sense of the encounter.

    Val lifted her free hand and traced a lower horn with her fingers, feeling a sliver of wood that the assassin¡¯s cludgel dislodged when he¡¯d swung at her face.

    ¡°It¡¯ll grow out,¡± she commented absently, picking the splinter free, ¡°it¡¯s horn by the way. Tusks grow from teeth.¡±

 2.1 Secrets

    Val groaned as raised voices roused her from her nap. Groggily, she raised a hand to shade the sun from her eyes and popped her head up to observe the commotion.

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a shit what you think. I think it¡¯s relevant!¡± yelled Bastian.

    Bastian was using the butt of his spear to hold the door of Dorius¡¯ gilded carriage open from his mount, riding next to it. Dorius, on the other hand, leaned out of the carriage in an attempt to pull the door shut, an out-of-season silk scarf wrapped around his neck. He slapped multiple times at the spear trying to dislodge it, but Bastian nimbly repositioned it each time, maintaining his upper hand.

    Val sighed, and tried to maneuver the canvas tent sacks she was using as a bed to better support her head and horns. Based on the position of the sun it was mid-afternoon, she had slept for several hours at least.

    She had been awake the entire previous night, even after they had several men positioned at the inn. In the morning they had met up with the entirety of their entourage, a near full squad of forty seven Phoenix Company men and women camped on the edge of town. In addition to Dorius¡¯ carriage there were another four wagons, each pulled by a pair of fell bulls carrying supplies, clothing, tents and other odds and ends for their multi week journey. Another two dozen fell beasts were acting as mounts or being shepherded along the back of the procession, while a handful of pied talon steeds and scout riders were positioned throughout the line, and likely more travelling ahead of the Company. The mercenaries milled about, casually exchanging conversation and were walking or riding wagons. The fell beast marched no faster than a gentle walk and set a leisurely pace. Blue uniforms were completely discarded, with the exception of the few that were guiding Dorius¡¯ carriage, most members instead wore at least the Company''s leather vest with shoulder sigil, but many were more relaxed and dressed to personal preferences. Dorius returned to his embroidered robes, but had none of the extravagant jewelry he had worn to the meeting with his uncle, with the exception of a few rings. Bastian had found time to shave, and was dressed primarily in the Company¡¯s mercenary leathers with a bright red undershirt.

    Val had the back of one of the wagons to herself, where she had collapsed to nap off the past few days once they had cleared Ashtowne. Three mercenaries sat at the front of her wagon, including Hart, likely keeping guard over her while she rested.

    ¡°This is not the place for this discussion,¡± returned Dorius curtly.

    ¡°When is!?¡± snapped Bastian in response, determined to have his fight, ¡°When you¡¯ve had time to work out a more convenient version of the truth?¡±

    ¡°When there isn¡¯t an audience!¡± hissed Dorius, gesturing around them.

    ¡°Servants beneath your dignity when it suits you then!¡± taunted Bastian.

    Dorius kneaded his forehead with his fingers, ¡°I didn¡¯t say¡­¡±

    ¡°Paid mercs who should know their place!¡±

    ¡°Wha-¡±

    ¡°Little prince who thinks he¡¯s so cunning, keeping his little secrets. You think they don''t know what happened?¡± sneered Bastian.

    Dorius snapped his mouth shut, brow furrowed as he drew sharply back into the carriage, ¡°You want a night in a cell when we get back?¡± he threatened.

    ¡°Coward!¡± came Bastian¡¯s defiant response, but he did withdraw his spear.

    ¡°Fuck off.¡±

    The carriage door shut with a thud.

    The awkward silence took several minutes to dissipate as mercenaries slowly returned to their own conversations.

    Val stared at the sky, watching the clouds for a moment. She idly fingered the chip on her horn lost in thought, then resigned herself to forfeiting her fleeting moment of privacy.

    She sat up and, legs tucked to one side, leaned on the side of the wagon. She still wore her leather jacket and blood stained shirt from the night before, her arm was lightly bandaged to keep the stitches clean.

    Hart turned slightly from his seat to acknowledge she was up, and passed her a flask of water. She gladly took it and drank till she drained it.

    ¡°Hungry?¡± he asked.

    Val shook her head, and let one arm hang over the edge of the wagon, enjoying not being on duty for the first time in days. There was something peaceful being on the road again, with open skies and singing birds. Man-made places never felt quite natural to her, beds were too small, ceilings too low. Open places suited her better.

    ¡°I could use a change of clothes though,¡± she offered after a moment of contemplation. Looking down the line to identify the wagon that had their personal trunks. She stood, balanced herself a moment, and stepped gingerly over the packed tents to reach the end of the wagon and hop down. The bulls were slow marchers, and she easily outpaced them at a light jog. The mercenaries as she passed gave her curt nods of acknowledgement in deference to her rank. She made her way to the wagon she was looking for and vaulted herself up to the back of the wagon without needing it to stop.

    Bastian spotted her and bought his mount up behind the wagon as she shuffled through the boxes. His beast was a familiar cow with a white and pink patch on her nose, an unusual feature on their solid brown-grey hides.

    ¡°You have fun?¡± Val asked, she didn¡¯t look at him as she found her box and restacked things to pull it clear.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± he sniped in return, folding his arms. His spear and bow were both strapped on his mount''s saddle, a quiver hanging in easy reach. He had his lighter bow with him, suited for shooting mounted, although she suspected his preferred heavier war bow was somewhere with their equipment.

    Val turned with her trunk and sat it on her lap off the back of the wagon, legs hanging down, and leaned on the box with her head in her hands. Bastian was flush red with anger, his golden eyes dark beneath furrowed brows.

    ¡°You¡¯re angry,¡± conceded Val.

    ¡°No shit.¡± He then seemed to soften for a moment, ¡°Not at you.¡± His cow ambled unblinking, mindlessly following the wagon without prompting from her rider.

    Val watched him from her hands for a moment longer, then sat up to pop the trunk open and unfold a clean flaxen shirt and fresh socks. Putting the trunk aside, she began to unlace her boots.

    ¡°I kept it secret too,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°You know what I mean. What would happen if you had said something?¡± he challenged.

    Val stripped off her old socks and stretched her toes in the sun, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±

    Bastian raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Not cells at least,¡± she admitted.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He was right though. Her relationship with Dorius was¡­ delicate. It had been easier as children, when there were no titles or responsibilities to one another, but their friendship had changed in the past several years as he began to navigate his birthright.

    When the need for his protection was first broached, Val had been the obvious choice. Her combat experience was extensive, she had been a regular on Company contracts expecting messy work from her young teens when she had already reached the strength and size of a grown man. Her flashy horns and unforgettable appearance was the perfect fit for the image Dorius consciously set out to create. Their friendship was just the final puzzle piece, a strong foundation for the unquestionable trust they had with each other, necessary to navigate the complex knife edge Dorius set out to walk.

    The role he had wanted her to fill - silent, brutish oaf - had come easy as a second skin. It was already what people expected when they saw her, her tentative shyness meant she rarely gave them anything else, and so she wore it the same as armor when she prepared for any other Company work. Only those who knew her before her early teens knew someone different. She had appeared almost like any other child then, a little chunkier, but not a bad thing for the rough and tumble children who grew up in the mercenary band, and the chin horns had only been odd little stumps at the time, passable as any other Fae¡¯s irregularity. It was only as puberty hit in her early teens that the differences had become stark, she¡¯d put on height and muscles faster than any boy and the upper horns grew in from nothing as a brutal crown. Physical differences, a shift in perception from others, teen awkwardness, and unforgiving conditioning on the road and in combat, had tucked away the little girl - and so the skin fit when it was asked as an act, and it had grown comfortable since.

    Through time the balance of power in their friendship had shifted to Dorius inch by inch, she had slowly tucked more and more away, giving herself to his cause unconsciously. She saw all of his failures and miss-steps as often as his successes, there was almost nothing they didn¡¯t share. And the weight of the burden had grown. She had imperceptibly become so entangled in him that by the time she could identify it, it was too late for her to withdraw herself had she wanted to. Dorius would have no one else fill her shoes, and he was self-conscious enough that his small gestures of thanks and concern - genuine reflections of their underlying friendship - wracked her with enough guilt that leaving his side was not an option for her, even had she somewhere to go that would not have put her solely to bloody work.

    Sharing any of their partnership, even with Bastian, would have been a betrayal. And they both knew it.

    At least the burden of this secret could be eased now. Bastian was one of the few people she felt at ease with, and she envied his quick emotions and easy confidence - such a stark contrast to her own hesitancy. It helped that he had been the third member of their trio as kids, knowing her before she had the horns.

    ¡°The first time I¡¯m not even sure it was meant for him,¡± she offered in explanation, unbidden, pulling on the clean socks. The simple pleasure of clean fabric cleansed her of myriad tensions from the previous days, and she swung her feet, childlike, from the wagon. ¡°There had been a last minute rearranging of the apartments in the capital, it honestly could have been for any of the family. A servant was caught adding something to the wine, everyone pointed fingers for a day or so, you know, no one owned up to anything.¡±

    ¡°The Ivory didn¡¯t investigate?¡± asked Bastian.

    Val shrugged, ¡°Oh they did, in their own way. You¡¯ve not seen how that family is. Seemed more like business as usual, on the surface. We didn¡¯t have the means to discreetly investigate any further than what was public, Dorius was so new to it then.¡±

    ¡°The second time was odder still,¡± she continued, ¡°A fight broke out in the commons of some eating house we were at, spilled into the back rooms. I ended up beating half of them into a pulp before the guard showed up. When they started packing them all off to sober up in the cells overnight, one was dead - killed himself like the guy last night with a hollow tooth full of poison.¡±

    She stripped her jacket off as she spoke, inspecting the blood staining on her shirt underneath and making a face when she realized how much she stunk. There were a few dark streaks on the linen, smeared on when she had grabbed it before the surgeon had cleaned her up, but it was still likely ruined. Her blood didn¡¯t wash out easily. ¡°So¡­ it was just complicated, prior to last night I would not have given either event much thought¡± she concluded.

    The corner of Bastian¡¯s mouth twitched, ¡°Don¡¯t defend the bastard.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ or well, it¡¯s my job,¡± she stumbled over her words, ¡°I might have done the same thing, if it were me,¡± was what she settled on, feeling guilty.

    ¡°Did Elias know?¡± he asked.

    Val shook her head, and began to unlace her shirt, ¡°He was there for the first, the second I don¡¯t think Dorius told him. It just seemed odd at the time.¡± She pulled the shirt fully off over her horns, leaving only her breast wrap on, and tossed it to her side. Feeling lighter, she stretched her arms overhead in the sun, shoulder and back muscles rippling. She was lean for her size, every angle of her musculature was prominent and in places oddly proportioned compared to a human. Even if one could match her height, she was typically bulkier, especially her neck and shoulders from the added weight of her horns. She felt closer physically to one of the fell bulls pulling the wagons than humans some days.

    Bastian studied her for only a moment, his expression unreadable to her - despite wearing his emotions on his sleeve, he was also highly adept at hiding his thoughts when he wanted. Likely, he was processing the news more logically now, considering the implications for their safety and maneuvering, especially the grim news of the shared cause of death that spoke to pattern. Then he turned his head to suddenly take interest in something in the forest while she stretched. Val shook out the clean shirt and negotiated threading her horns through it, Bastian turning back to continue the conversation when she was mostly covered again.

    ¡°Dorius has not been as adept as he thought,¡± he finally mused, the mystery beginning to distract him from his tension. Val nodded. ¡°Which of his cousins could he pose such a threat to though? Or who would be well resourced enough to see something the others don¡¯t?¡± he wondered to her.

    Val tilted her head in consideration of all she had observed through the years at Dorius side, then held up three fingers. ¡°Synthias and Matthias are the obvious options. The power they hold would make them the boldest but they are both sophisticated, this seems beneath them. Sylus, I think, would have the strongest motivations. He and Dorius are alike, both relatively distant from the crown, both drawn to schemes. He may view Dorius¡¯ gradual return to the family as some kind of threat. He¡¯s also better at it than Dorius, he¡¯s had more practice at least.¡±

    Bastian¡¯s anger seemed to linger still, but the target he really wanted to fight with had withdrawn itself, so it mostly ebbed away now. His tempers never lasted long, and were usually taken in good humor. People just liked Bastian. The other mercenaries flocked to his side to drink or play cards or sing dirty ballads while they travelled. His smooth charm often had him fill roles for the Company interacting directly with clients, and he had picked up the graces and mannerisms to navigate between social ranks easily.

    Dorius had put him to work, just as much as Val. Not all situations called for raw muscle. Charming smiles, easy conversation, a handsome face, all opened doors or distracted as needed. Again, their childhood friendship had built the foundation for those Dorius pulled into his inner circle, he had needed retainers he could trust more than anything. But, it was still different than with her and Dorius. Val was well aware that while the three of them had been close companions as children, Bastian likely felt it was he who was being left behind now.

    Boots laced again, she dropped off the wagon to walk at Bastian¡¯s side. He smirked and grabbed one of her horns from saddleback, and she let him jostle her about with it one handed. She blushed slightly, and swatted him away. He was the only person who casually touched her horns, in part because he was usually the only person tall enough to reach them.

    When they were children and she only had the two behind her jawline, they had been just as thick as they were now, but much shorter and blunt. They told her they found her on a contract protecting a village from wild Fae raids. Normally, Fae had no language, hunting in wolf-like packs on the edges of civilization. Odd mixes of humanoid and beast, with scales and horns, feathers and fur - said to be remnants of lost magics that had once let users change shape at will.

    She had been left behind by the pack when they cleared them out of their encampment on the edge of the rocky desert plateaus to the far south, a toddler screaming and crying enough human-sounding words that Dorius¡¯ father had refused to let them kill her. Fae-touched, the name given to those with the capability of language, were sometimes born to human parents - just as children were sometimes born with eyes or skin tones unlike their parents, but remnant from a distant great grandparent. It was assumed some of the old magic had lingered just enough to express in these rare children. Often their distinctions were subtle mutations - shortened limbs, scales in a few patches on the elbow and knees, slight webbing to the fingers.

    More rarely, and often as the product of abduction and rape by both human and Fae alike, half breeds with one wild parent were born. They often inherited just enough humanity for socializing young, if fate meant they were raised as such, but significantly more of the wild traits and its odd enhancements - thus was Val assumed to be. The benefits of her exact mix and its usefulness to a band of mercenaries had obviously not been known at the time though. It was Dorius¡¯ uncle on his father¡¯s side, Hart - who seemed to be forever picking up after his brother¡¯s messes - who had filled the role of parent for her and Dorius¡¯ mother who had named her Valina, before her passing.

    Val stretched overhead again, her load considerably lightened now it was shared. There was several weeks march till Southold. To make the most of the day, there would likely be no breaks from dawn till dusk, but they did not expect any interruption or danger. These highways were commonly travelled. In the warm summer nights it was unlikely they would even pitch tents for most of the Company, to facilitate rapid progress each morning.

    In somewhat good fortune for her, it was unlikely that Dorius would leave his brooding, at least for today, she was a good judge of his mood. She would be called to wait upon him once he¡¯d settled again, likely to use her as a shield against Bastian. She didn¡¯t overly mind, staying busy at his side was an easy excuse to keep her distance from the rest of the mercenaries. Till then, she might enjoy some time to herself.

 2.2 Southold

    Southold was perched in the crook of the wide gentle flow of the Artifar River, rolling hills on either bank dotted with homes, farms and grape vines. In the warm summer heat laborers gently tended the ripening grapes, carefully pruning the leaf cover to manage the sunlight on the delicate clusters - wine was one of the backbones of Southold¡¯s burgeoning trade. Apiaries dotted the hillside, buzzing between the small yellow flowers of the cover crops planted between the manicured rows of vines.

    Val rapped once on the window of Dorius¡¯ carriage, letting him know they were in view, having hung from her footboard for the past few hours of the trip. Only the largest fell bulls were up for carrying her weight, so she chose to not burden them and usually hung off the carriage or travelled by foot.

    He knocked back, indicating a command to open the window, which she obediently followed.

    The carriage inside was a mess, documents half scattered on the benches and a trunk spilling open with his dress clothes adding to the mess. Dorius had several maps and a journal in his lap, and she skimmed them just fast enough to notice the content appeared to be focused around the Spine. He sulked for most of their travel home within his carriage, partially avoiding Bastian, but likely also still a little shaken. He still wore a scarf around his neck, so Val could not tell how well the red marks had healed.

    Dorius ran his long fingers through his hair, obviously frustrated with whatever he was turning in his head, ¡°Get Elias to stop by the Vigil house and ask them if they¡¯d be willing to share any records on the Chapel in the Spine. If they tell him no, I¡¯m just as interested in how they say no.¡±

    Val nodded, and passed the message along to a scout on talon steed, Elias was further up the line chatting to Davern on one of the wagons. As they passed into town, the majority of the procession began to separate. The Company was headquartered out of the western edge of the town, a now sprawling complex of staging yards, bunk houses, stables and administrative quarters that served as the hub for the over four hundred active members. Many of this crew would be keen to receive their pay, return to families and begin to organize themselves for their next work. Only a small portion of the Company, including Val and Bastian, were in Dorius¡¯ permanent employ. A permanent retainer was within his means to support these days, but the Company offered him a flexibility he seemed to favor even without the relationship on his father¡¯s side.

    Val watched with idle curiosity as the carriage continued through town, hanging one handed backwards and crouched on her footboard. The town was busy with laborers pulling hand carts of goods on the thoroughfare. Merchants had small shop fronts, but the majority of Southold¡¯s trade was not sold within the town, so few had anything more than samples on display. Instead the town specialized as a trade hub to the Free States to the south beyond the Pentarchies'' borders. Warehouses instead made up a significant portion of the town''s infrastructure, acting as storage and exchange as goods passed in and out of the town, each marked with a letter and number system that allowed systematic coordination by the Merchant Guild and its analysts.

    Speaking of, they passed the Guide House next, on the inner edge of the trade district, with its wide open verandahs and shade cloths. Southold¡¯s warm summers and mild winters lent the town to an open architecture, the outsides used preferentially to the inside. Desks and giant notice boards were arranged in the open verandah, workers shuffling wooden boards on and off pegs to mark the status of goods or rearrange the planned contents of a caravan. The Guild Steward, a tiny woman Val recognized immediately, was vibrantly yelling over the edge of one balcony to someone below, fanning herself absently while a handmaid appeared to chastise her from the side. Her belly was swollen with the late stages of pregnancy, Val was honestly surprised she was still on her feet.

    Soon the carriage was past the commotion into residential districts, and continued on over the larger of the two stone bridges that crossed the Artifar. Dorius¡¯ estate was on the southern edge where the town just extended to the second bank, a slightly more private side of the town.

    The estate buzzed with activity as they arrived, the great front court had teams of men and women, some dressed in blue and some in Company leather, carrying goods to the great house or preparing the stables for the arriving beasts. All made way for the gilded carriage to pull in but quickly flocked close as it came to a halt, beginning to unstrap the tired bulls and replace the duties of those exhausted with travel. Val stepped down from her footboard, and nodded in greeting to two figures who rushed down the steps to meet the carriage. The smaller was a woman, almost identical in all manner except for the belly to the Guild Steward, a tiny darker skinned woman with an impressive headdress of braids. At first glance, it appears she had feathers in her collar to complement the look, but the black glossy feathers in fact sprouted from the skin around her neck. She was dressed in the elegant slate blue of Dorius¡¯ house, with his gold four-horned dragon sigil proudly on her breast. The second was a tall hunched man, dressed in well used robes with sleeves stained with old ink, a Company badge pinned haphazard to one shoulder. Elias came galloping in behind the procession, sharing a saddle behind a scout on talon steed with a single heavy tome under one arm. The scout dutifully brought him straight to the front and several servants rushed forward to help him down, the scout nimbly steading his ruffled stead as people rushed about it. The woman approached Elias and offered to take the tome while he quickly dusted off his robes as best he could, and he fell in line with the welcoming party.

    Val barely had time to put her hand on the carriage door, and Dorius came spilling out all on his own, waving a handful of documents at Elias the moment he caught his eye. Immediately the greeting company swept up behind him as he marched into the house, his thoughts on Vigil houses still buzzing from what she overhead. Val remained at her post for a moment watching them go, sensing rather than seeing Bastian slowly coming to her side. She sighed, retrieved her axe from the carriage roof and joined Bastian to begin the walk around to the side entrances, it was likely Dorius would be too distracted for the next several hours to wonder much about where they got to, giving them the opportunity to change and clean from weeks on the road. They both enjoyed the liberty of their own private rooms in his estate, and Bastian was already complaining aloud to her about how much he was looking forward to a clean pair of boots.

    ¡ª

    The sun was just starting to set when Val let herself into the study. The sliding door screens on one side of the room were completely open to the balcony, letting a gentle breeze blow in from the river side of the estate. A handmaid moved through the room beginning to prepare it for the to evening and laying out candles in anticipation of work into the night.

    Dorius was standing over the center table, maps spread as if he prepared for a military campaign, finger pointed at a spot that marked a landmark or city in mid-discussion. Elias sat at the edge of his seat to one side, staff delicately balanced nearby, and Anette, Dorius¡¯ seneschal and the women from earlier, hovered close at hand, sorting a pile of ledgers and half watching her prince. The thin, hunched man with the Company sigil, Strand, was at the opposite end of the table, consulting notes and placing brightly colored stones on the map as he worked. Bastian had arrived before her, and was sitting on his own in the lounge closer to the window, listening and idly splitting and cleaning a basket of talon steed feathers for arrows. He raised a hand to acknowledge her joining them, and returned to his work. Val found a comfortable position to lean that seemed out of the handmaid''s way and turned an eye towards the map. Her eyes lingered on the familiar mask and bundled garotte at one edge of the table. They were placed on folded fabric which appeared to be the assassin¡¯s clothes.

    ¡°So, we¡¯ve had no goods originating from the east through the warehouses in months, and our onward trade in that direction has slowed,¡± explained Dorius, gesturing in a wide arch to the eastern edge of the fourth Pentarchies borders, south of the Spine, ¡°Despite our slow trade, we know the larger mercenaries out of the Capital have been doing unusually good business and have been actively recruiting from other companies.¡± It was obvious she was walking in on the concluding moments of discussion that had started well before her arrival. He traced a line back towards the capital from the border with his finger. ¡°Thus we assume that they are funneling resources through the capital from the north where the reds hold their power. Movement east would be mostly on the Pentarch¡¯s lands.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°We had previously assumed that the lack of luxury trade each way was a sign of scarcity east, but resource accumulation in anticipation of military action would also impact us similarly,¡± added Elias.

    Strand cleared his throat and moved several of the stones from the capital region to the eastern border, with a gravelly voice he announced ¡°the recruitment from the Capital speaks to larger contracts than just protecting increased convoys, let¡¯s also assume they are anticipating work providing reinforcement to the east as well.¡±

    ¡°What trade we do have still going east is mostly food, dried or preserved,¡± confirmed Anette, who had finally found the ledger to back up their previous speculation, she added the tables of numbers to the map for all to see.

    ¡°So,¡± Dorius¡¯ eyes gleamed as returned his finger to point to the Spine, ¡°the Spine offers no military advantage. But, the mountains are a natural northern edge of any eastern front and the Free Mountain State as a religious state would likely remain neutral. It does offer an interesting position for controlling the shortest passage of information to the First and Fifth Pentarchy. It could be a stalling point for the message of a disturbed peace reaching them, but is just too far out of reach for direct supervision from either the Capital or a potential eastern front.¡±

    ¡°Thus important for delaying a second front opening if they choose to honor the old pacts,¡± added Elias, ¡°but it would be a delay at best. If military inquest into the Second Pentarchy was planned we¡¯d see more change in the trade habits north, preparing for a front there.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Dorius grinned, ¡°there is no northern front anticipated then.¡±

    Elias frowned, not quite following the Prince¡¯s train of thought. ¡°You think the aggression is planned to come outwards from the second then? Then why the secrecy? Invoking the old pacts would be in the Fourth¡¯s interest then, along with expedited arrival from the other Pentarchs.¡±

    Dorius stared intently at the map, but did not have an answer, ¡°That¡¯s our mystery then¡­¡±

    Anette laid down the ledgers she had been reviewing, ¡°You mentioned we predict the Spine to be neutral in any conflict?¡± she asked. Her glossy black feathers lay flat around her collar.

    Dorius looked up from the map for the first time and spotted Val had joined them, ¡°Val, pass the Chapel records, there.¡±

    Val did as bid and picked up the large tome on her side of the table, the book Elias had been instructed to retrieve during their arrival. Dorius opened it to a page he had marked with a scrap of paper, it appeared to list names and dates. He pointed at the final entry, letting Elias inspect it.

    ¡°The Spine is likely the only place in the continent that regularly engages in diplomacy with all five arms of the Pentarchy. As a religious state, it is likely they would never side with any individual Pentarch. If there is something brewing, a withdrawal would be an obvious choice to avoid conflict,¡± responded Elias to Anette as he read the page of the tome.

    ¡°Notice anything?¡± asked Dorius, turning to find a chair and settle into it.

    Elias raised an eyebrow, ¡°This record claims the current Prime Vigilant has served for over four hundred years.¡±

    Dorius nodded, ¡°I grew curious when every document I could find mentioned the same name. You think it¡¯s real?¡±

    Elias rubbed his chin, and turned a few pages back to read some other parts of the text, ¡°The likely explanation is that each successor just takes up the name of the previous and their own records make no differentiation, it gives the Vigil¡¯s capital an appearance of mystique¡­¡± he paused, ¡°and yet, I have heard odd things about the Spine.¡±

    ¡°They say the old magic lingers there Sir,¡± offered Anette, ¡°Merchants return, speaking of an uncommon number of Fae walking the streets. Outsiders are not allowed into the mountains past the city. The Chapel claims the land is sacred, forbidden to all not invited.¡±

    Val grew curious at the mention of Fae and magic, standing a little straighter from her position to the side of the table.

    ¡°They say,¡± said Bastian from the sitting area, drawing a feather out of his mouth to speak clearer as all parties turned to him, ¡°Old Gods still walk the Spine. The bards sing songs about shapeshifters and flying horses.¡±

    ¡°Bards tell stories,¡± chided Elias.

    Bastian put down his pocket knife, ¡°And most bards train at Vigil run colleges.¡± His statement implied he agreed with Elias¡¯ skepticism, but his eyes had a glint of childish glee.

    ¡°The magic bards tell of is likely exaggerated,¡± declared Strand, ¡°What remains, well¡­ I¡¯m sure it is in the Vigilants¡¯ best interests to keep it secret to bolster their own waning relevance.¡± The man did not mince words.

    Val looked at her feet, nervous Bastian or Dorius would look her way and suddenly draw attention at her. Fortunately, Dorius seemed to move the conversation onwards, ¡°It will be another mystery we can investigate, we will likely begin our efforts with the Prime Vigilant regardless. Elias arranged the dispatch of three Company men north while we were still at the Palace, they will likely already be making contact with mercenaries operating in the region to begin learning what they can in anticipation of arrival.¡±

    Val looked up again, and glanced at Bastian. He was busy with his feathers again, carefully turning one in his hands he seemed unsatisfied with the shape of. She looked down again before she might catch his eye.

    The handmaid returned at that moment, bringing a tray with dried figs, dates and imported soft cheeses drizzled with honey, as well as steaming fresh bread. A second servant followed her with a carafe of dark red wine, and several crystal cups. They arranged them to one side of the room while Dorius and Elias struck up a discussion focused on logistics for the next few days, Strand and Anette carefully following and offering their own knowledge as requested or making notes for their own follow up.

    Val took a small plate and selected a couple of dates as well as preparing some bread with cheese and honey spread on it. She offered the first plate to Dorius, leaving it on the edge of his map at his side. She then felt free to serve herself and chose to join Bastian now that the conversation at the table seemed to be mostly tending towards planning. She placed the plate between them and sat, and Bastian moved his basket of feathers to the side to make room for it.

    ¡°Think we¡¯ll get more than a few days'' break?¡± she asked him, picking up one of the dates and carefully tearing it open to remove the pip. Bastian had moved on to cleaning the edges of his feathers with a pocket knife, using his hand to measure the shape as he worked.

    ¡°Ha, no,¡± he responded, ¡°Look at him. Our boy loves a good puzzle, he¡¯ll be on the road as fast as Anette can manage it.¡± He looked down the length of the feather he was working on, deemed it passable, and added it to a growing pile. As he picked up the next one, and seemed to pause in thought for a moment, ¡°Why? You have business?¡± he asked.

    Val shrugged, ¡°Not really.¡±

    ¡°You want to come out to the tavern after this?¡±

    Val hesitated, then gave Dorius a quick glance. Bastian tsk¡¯d and blithely waved his knife in a gesture about the room, ¡°I doubt there is anywhere safer than his own estate, he¡¯ll not miss you for a few hours.¡± Val¡¯s expression did not soften. ¡°Suit yourself then, join us later if you can,¡± he settled on offering.

 2.3 Uncertainty and Bravado

    Later, as the candles grew low, just Val and Dorius remained. Val leaned on the verandah balustrade, enjoying the cool air and watching the town slowly grow dark as lanterns and candles were extinguished. Somewhere a raucous chorus could be heard from a tavern, the voices drifting in the still night. Dorius still worked within, books strewn about his ¡®war map¡¯ and the colored stones from earlier scattered from the careful positions Strand had placed them all in.

    The handmaid let herself in, fresh candles in her hands, preparing to turn the room over for continued study. Dorius held up a hand to indicate there was no need, and dismissed her. With a great sigh he closed the book he was reading and rose to come stand by Val. His golden skin had paled slightly of late, sulking in the carriage for the past weeks, but it seemed as if the warm southern climate and fresh air was already returning his glow to him. With another sigh, he slumped onto the balustrade just as Val pulled herself more upright, stepping back a half step in deference. If he noticed the subtle distinction of their rank it did not bother him, and he leaned on one hand staring into the night. A scarf was still lightly wrapped around his neck, but it hung loose and Val saw no remnants of red marks. Likely the fashion choice was lingering nerves then.

    ¡°I¡¯m still not sure why my Uncle would choose to involve me in this, all signs point to something significant occurring on the eastern border and I get the impression my cousins would never involve me if they had their way,¡± he wondered.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t you he chose, it was Elias,¡± reminded Val. Dorius seemed to chew on the thought a moment. Val, sensing a turn to melancholy after an afternoon of activity, turned to find the carafe that had been bought in with dinner. She gave it a swirl, the wine within had been mixed with fruit juice and water to lighten it for summer drinking. She frowned at the temperature, yet poured him a cup and bought it for him anyway. Dorius turned, leaning backwards against the railing, and accepted it with both hands but did not immediately drink.

    ¡°Elias has served your family his entire life, and I gather was cunning in his youth. If whatever waits to the east is bothering the Pentarch so much, it might be that he was desperate to find anyone loyal to the family for an adjacent task,¡± she reassured.

    Dorius stared into his cup, ¡°It might count as a victory, to be bought into the family circle. If under the guise of Elias, so be it.¡±

    Val frowned, then gave voice to the uncertainty they both shared, ¡°Yet, I agree that it is a flimsy cover at best. I do not think you are as subtle as you think,¡± she offered in warning. ¡°For those looking your actions speak too loudly. They can plainly see you find unusual and capable assistants, fools do not. And while you mask your estate¡¯s wealth, any cousin could spend an afternoon at a Merchant Guild and likely spot the growing influence of Southold''s trade in their ledgers. Other evidence¡­ may indicate that you are not as well hidden as you might think.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ face did not change, but a nervous hand raised to his neck so long fingers could play with the scarf. Finally, Val figured honesty would reach him easiest, and she added, ¡°I am shaken too. I¡¯m not sure I am enough to keep you safe.¡±

    Dorius looked up at her on that comment, his mouth was firm and he took a draught from his cup finally. It seemed he had other thoughts as well, ¡°I am not sure what comes after this.¡±

    Val cocked her head slightly, indicating she was listening to him, but turned to find the carafe to keep his cup full.

    ¡°For years my focus has been regaining what faded when my mother passed with an assumption I would always be an outsider. Having no blood-line women left in our branch guarantees that fate,¡± he mused, more to himself than Val, ¡°If this is a test, I do not know what my goals are after passing. I maintain the Pentarchy is an outdated institution, they are nothing but self-crowned figureheads clinging to a legacy of ¡®old blood lines¡¯ and faint memories of the Monarchy from before the unrest, the Guild¡¯s do the real work of the nation. And yet¡­ I do not know if I would still be able to feel the same if I were within?¡±

    ¡°And what if they were breaking the peace,¡± asked Val, referencing the speculation from earlier.

    Dorius took another drink, Val skillfully filling his cup. ¡°The peace is the only good the Pentarchy does,¡± he declared and drained the rest. Indicating he was done for the night he placed the cup on the railing and folded his hands within his robes. A lighter mood seemed to catch him now, he tilted his head up to Val.

    ¡°You are not joining your fellows, spending your hard earned pay on revelry?¡± he asked, a twitch of mockery in the corner of his mouth.

    Val fixed him with a scathing stare, and gently put the carafe down. ¡°I would rather not spoil the fun.¡± She often felt that more people left than stayed when she joined the mercenaries in social activities, and subtlety was something she was entirely incapable of.

    ¡°Ah, but if I went you¡¯d have to go.¡±

    Val did not like where this was leading.

    ¡ª

    The tavern bustled with bodies, men and women packed within laughing, singing and generally enjoying the night. Two bards had the mood worked high and cheery.

    Val led Dorius to the bar, using her body to clear him a path. The townsfolk knew the implications of her presence instantly, and most cleared willingly, but drink and conversation meant many were slower than she would have preferred. Dorius followed with his cap on, eagerly glancing around the room in search of Bastian.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Val from her higher vantage point spotted him first, gathered in a corner cheering on an arm wrestling competition that had struck up. She pointed for Dorius, but kept him close while she obtained their drinks. Mead was the usual choice in Southold at this style of establishment, the wine typically reserved for export.

    Two dark bottles in hand, she gestured to Dorius she was ready for him to join Bastian and his companions.

    The Company men cleared Dorius some space as they joined, securing him a position against the wall where multiple bodies would be available as shields if anything broke out elsewhere in the bar. Southold was generally peaceful, but it didn¡¯t stop late night fights breaking out as men got deep into their cups. They gave Val a few nods as she positioned herself over Dorius, leaning against the wall, but did little else to welcome her.

    ¡°Who¡¯s winning?¡± asked Dorius, gesturing for a few of the men who had moved to retake their seats. There was a cheer from those who hadn¡¯t noticed his arrival as the latest competitors finished their bout. He waved to grab Bastian¡¯s attention as well. Bastian clapped a hand on the shoulder of the mercenary he was talking with, and appeared to break off to come join them.

    ¡°Sir, Big Yan has a bet going that no one can match him, he¡¯s 12 - 0 so far,¡± excitedly explained one of the younger men as Bastian squeezed close to sit.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t bring me a bottle?¡± Bastian asked as Dorius drank from his. Val offered him hers from her silent stance, but he waved it back.

    ¡°What are the terms of Big Yan¡¯s wager?¡± asked Dorius.

    ¡°There is a pot going for everyone that steps up, first man to beat him gets the lot, otherwise if he lasts the night it¡¯s his to take home,¡± explained the young man again.

    ¡°We¡¯re hoping he¡¯ll cover our drinks from it at least,¡± added Bastian. There had obviously been a few too many drinks going around, Val was slightly uncomfortable at how familiar the young man was, or how close the mercenaries were sitting to Dorius. Dorius however, seemed to enjoy the lowered inhibitions and physically close company, it was rare he got to feel like a peer these days. She folded her arms, bottle hanging from two fingers, and gazed off into the crowd.

    There was another cheer, and the man who must¡¯ve been Big Yan surged to his feet, thumping his chest in victory. He planted one leg on a barrel serving as a chair and bellowed a challenge to the room. Bastian cheered with the crowd, slapping the back of the young man in encouragement for him to give it a go.

    ¡°No, I¡¯ve spent my money for the night,¡± laughed the boy in return, but he gave his arm a flex to try and show off his youthful muscles.

    Dorius grinned, ¡°I¡¯ll pay for your ante, as long as you agree to cover Bastian¡¯s drink from the winnings?¡±

    The boy blanched, ¡°No Sir, Prince. Big Yan¡¯d crush me.¡±

    Bastian rocked on his chair and gave him a final good-natured slap on the back. Several other men joining in on the fun jostled the boy around who blushed at the attention.

    Several patrons bought Big Yan a tankard of mead as he continued his victory lap, cajoling the crowd for more contestants. He downed the tankard, spilling it partially on his front, and belched loudly to laughter from onlookers. Enjoying his spotlight, he made his way to Dorius¡¯ table.

    ¡°You, Prince!¡± he called, fat finger pointed from across the table, ¡°Challenge the Big Yan?!¡±

    Val tensed. Bastian¡¯s laughter ceased, his grin remained but the edges of his jaw were a little tight. Dorius instead gave the man a look up and down, taking in his sweat and mead soaked clothes.

    ¡°Big Yan, I¡¯m too easy a mark for you,¡± returned Dorius cheerily, taking a sip from his bottle, ¡°Find a more worthy opponent.¡±

    Big Yan thumped his chest in bravado again, his biceps were like hams. ¡°None are a worthy opponent for Big Yan,¡± he declared. Then the drink gave him confidence a little too far, ¡°What about your brute?¡± he challenged.

    Val¡¯s eyes flashed, Big Yan lived up to his name but her strength was unnatural. ¡°She¡¯d break your arm,¡± burst out Bastian, his brows rising in incredulity the man would even suggest it.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯d like my arm broken!¡± Big Yan slapped his thigh and laughed with one of his companions. The more sober members of the crowd shifted glances between each other. ¡°Although, I¡¯d admit I¡¯d enjoy it more to be thrown around in the bedroom. Bet men who vanquish that prey make some fun memories!¡±

    Val desperately willed her face to not react. She could not slink into shadow like she so desperately wanted, stuck standing guard over Dorius. Instead she hoped the uneven lighting of the tavern would hide her red face.

    ¡°Bet you don¡¯t get many men bigger than you dal¡¯, let¡¯s see if you match your reputation,¡± egged on Big Yan. He seemed to make a move as if to begin climbing through the crowd to get to her then. Bastian stood, his grin still in place, but began gesturing to a few of the more sober faces in the crowd.

    ¡°Friend, we are more likely to find your next victim from the drunks who haul wagons in the trade district,¡± Bastian soothed, stepping out of the table to coordinate a few fellows to gather around the boisterous giant and his companions. ¡°Let¡¯s get your winnings before you get too sloshed to remember it! Must be more than a day''s pay there Big Yan.¡±

    The gentle stream of compliments from Bastian, and a few of the older men in support, seemed to get Big Yan turned about. Dorius sat mostly amused at the exchange, sipping his bottle. The young man took the opportunity to begin regaling them with descriptions of the earlier bouts, including a particularly exciting one that still ended in Big Yan¡¯s favor despite a member of the crowd stumbling into them and knocking him.

    After a moment Bastian returned, Big Yan had been safely escorted to the back of the tavern, and slumped into a seat next to them again. He spared Val a glance, and she offered him her bottle again. This time he took it. A quick sip seemed to return some strength and his grin, before joining the conversation again to embellish the young man¡¯s tale with some added color. He passed the bottle back to her.

 Interlude 1

    ¡°Val! What are you doing!!¡± screamed Bastian, grabbing a saddle blanket from the nearby rack. Desperately, he beat the smoldering hay to no avail as the smoke grew. The wet dung in the hay pile was the only thing keeping the flames from growing.

    The poignant song of the Vigil house played, carrying through the midday air throughout the town. The chorus of the organ sang with reverential beauty for their detached gods.

    Val was backing up against the stall wall, her eyes wide and tears streaming down her cheeks. Her dress was stained with dirt and mud, her leggings ripped at the knee. She wore a long shawl of muted blue around her shoulders, hiding her oddly shaped shoulders and figure. Her bare, ashen forearms were lean and muscled unnaturally for a teen her age.

    ¡°I can¡¯t put it out,¡± she wailed in reply, one hand brushed at the wrist of her other, fingers clawing at her skin. Her chin horns were short stumps giving her face a width that was homely, and there were two bumps under her hair where some odd deformity was hidden by her braids.

    Bastian beat at the fire, and quickly realizing his futility, discarded the blanket. His pony tail of red curls bobbed as he instead grabbed a pitchfork, and began shoveling the smoking hay and refuse into the nearby water trough. The surface hissed as the embers were extinguished within. He barely came up to Val¡¯s head and shoulders, and had a boys softness to his features still.

    ¡°Why are you here? I thought you were training with the apprentices?¡±

    Val rubbed her eyes, ignorant of the filth she smeared on her face. Following his lead, she ran into the next stall, the fell beast within pulling on her ropes nervous at the smell of smoke.

    ¡°I ran away,¡± was all she meekly replied as she worked.

    Val went to lift the bucket of water, and as she leaned back she stumbled uncoordinated as the weight was lighter than expected, sloshing the water out of the bucket and across the floor of the stall. She gasped with exasperation, her tears starting again in her panic, and went to the next stall.

    There was no bucket in this one, and she instead grabbed the entire barrel of water within on each edge, and lifted it. The water poured down her front as she did so, but there was still enough for her to stumble back with what remained to the smoking hay and tip the contents over with a reassuring hiss.

    They both stood panting for a moment, the smell of smoke and burning dung in the air. The cows in the stalls shifted with panic, and the Vigil chorus still played. Raised voices shook them into movement.

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    ¡°Hide me,¡± begged Val.

    Bastian grabbed her hand, springing into action as he dragged her between the stalls, Val stumbling along behind almost physically twice his size. They rushed out the back entrance straight into the chest of a burly man in Company leathers followed by several others. Bastian was scooped up into arms, kicking and yelling, and Val dragged by one arm apart from him. She tripped and fell into the mud as they were separated.

    ¡°There you are. Think you can escape punishment? You broke his arm!¡± yelled the man, lifting her to her feet again by the arm he held.

    Val¡¯s tears sprung to her eyes again, ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to!¡± she cried.

    The man raised his arm and bought an open palm down across her cheek. The force of the blow would have been excessive for a grown man but Val¡¯s face did not turn as it hit her. Instead, it was the man who yelped in pain as his fingers caught on her chin horn in the slap.

    Shaking out his hand he swore, ¡°Watcher damn you, Fae-cow!¡±

    Val recoiled. Dimly, she was aware of the other men dragging Bastian away, screaming to be let go.

    ¡°You¡¯re no better young Sebastian, running away from your reading lessons!¡± said one of the men, far gentler with him than with Val and chuckling as the boy flailed uselessly against a man¡¯s strength.

    ¡°Foxface! Turnip-Head! Fuck reading! Let me go!¡±

    Val held a hand out desperately after him, and instead was dragged back by someone''s hand around her shawl. The fabric unraveled, revealing her broad shoulders and budding breasts, tight against the fabric of a dress too small and stretched misshapen on her growing form. Val grabbed after the shawl, trying to drag it back to cover herself.

    One of the men laughed at her distress, ¡°Hart got no money to clothe you?¡± he cajoled.

    Sudden calm composed Val. She bundled her fists and punched her tormentor, the man spinning wildly and tumbling to the ground, knocked completely out cold. Bastian barked with laughter at the stunned men.

    ¡°I grow too quick for the tailor,¡± muttered Val, her face steely although she still sniffed holding back her tears. There was a sudden stillness about the group. It seemed three grown men were seriously considering breaking into a physical brawl with this girl that, despite her age, was approaching the same size and weight as many of them.

    ¡°Hart¡¯s coming!¡± yelled Bastian, breaking free of his captor in the sudden stillness. The men suddenly shifted, heads swinging wildly.

    Laughing gleefully at his prank, Bastian grabbed Val¡¯s hands and tugged her after him, running towards the side of the S¡¯Dias estate to lose themselves in the orchards at the back.

 3.1 Gate

    Val grumbled bitterly as she prepared the wagon alone, yet again. Normally she had a lot of patience for Dorius, but a buzzing had begun growing in the back of her head the last few days, and it stretched her nerves thinner than usual. The bulls were both unyoked, grazing to the side where she¡¯d dropped the feedbox for them on the ground with the morning''s allocation of grain for their feed. Bracing the yoke on her shoulders, she shook out the straps to get them straight.

    Bastian and Dorius argued over the remnants of their camp from the previous night, they¡¯d passed from the stretch of the highways that had regular rest stops several days back, and were now on the final stretch north towards the Spine. The mountains were visible on the horizon, which likely put them at about a week out. Their travel north, as well as the passing into late summer, meant the chill from the night air still lingered.

    Bastian was goading Dorius into a dispute about his latest and favorite topic, the decision to travel north ahead of the escort.

    ¡°Speed is of the essence,¡± insisted Dorius, ¡°We¡¯re already losing half a season because we cannot travel by talon steed with so many.¡±

    The two-legged avian steeds were significantly faster than the bulls, easily able to take a rider four or five times the distance in a day that the fell beasts could. But they were unable to take much weight, could not pull any cargo, and Val was fairly certain she would crush them if she tried to ride one. They were better suited for scouts, runners, and planned routes where steeds could be changed at regular intervals. Horses were exceedingly rare, remnant creatures still cultivated by families with old blood. One of Dorius¡¯ cousins had once bragged of their stable containing six such animals, declaring he had a foal that year with feathered fetlocks, a desirable trait apparently indicative of strong blood from the ancestor species. They were all flighty, unreliable steeds in Val¡¯s limited opinion, ridden by nobles for show and often with a handler nearby if the beast spooked. Apparently they were capable of the best of both fell bulls and talon steeds, swift and with a good strong back. More commonly though, they were bred for color and appearance rather than temperament, to match their prestige status, and Val was uncertain if you could even get two of them to coordinate to pull a load.

    ¡°And so travelling alone will make a great difference,¡± moaned Bastian, ¡°At best the hours saved each day will add up to a weeks head start on the rest of the party.¡±

    ¡°I would rather have the opportunity to understand the situation on the ground while we can. Everyone will be on guard once a Prince arrives and our opportunities to discern the truth of matters will be slim,¡± Dorius explained.

    This conversation had already been had several nights in a row, as Bastian¡¯s patience for actual hard work had run out and starting fights with his favorite target could pass as seeming busy. It had left Val with the bulk of the daily labors, and no companions to cycle tasks with. If she were not so annoyed, she might have reflected that this seemed to the lot of women no matter their species.

    ¡°Ha, you wanna bet,¡± chaffed Bastian, ¡°You¡¯ve forgotten what being a nobody is actually like. You¡¯ll be lucky to speak to anyone of importance, let alone get any ¡®truth¡¯ on matters from them. We¡¯ll be stuck in an inn waiting for your robes, and seals, and letters of introduction to arrive to get anything useful done and this will have been a miserable trek with no benefit to anyone.¡±

    Val sighed, and looked at one of the bulls who stared back, chewing his grain with a vacant expression. This one had a few white patches, and handsome dark horns not unlike her own. She did note there was some hair loss on its head where a band was strapped around the horns to allow the bull to pull with its forehead, mimicking their natural inclination. Laying the yoke and straps neatly on the ground, she returned to the wagon to find something to use as padding for the leather strap that rested there.

    ¡°What are you even doing!?¡±

    Bastian¡¯s exasperation pulled her attention back to the fire. Dorius had begun to unpack his trunk then, scattering his belongings haphazard about the camp.

    ¡°Making more work, you¡¯re an outright slob to clean up after.¡± Bastian was on his feet, picking up a growing pile of clothing.

    Dorius ignored him, searching for something he had packed deep. With a grin of victory he pulled a metal token from the trunk. Val was not close enough to tell much except that it appeared to be a rectangular iron casting, not much larger than the palm of a hand.

    ¡°We will make our entrance as pilgrims,¡± he declared, holding it for Bastian. This was a new addition to the argument, Dorius must have felt inspired to share his hidden plans now they were closer. Bastian only stared back at him, shrugging slightly to show his arms were already full with another load. ¡°It¡¯s a welcome token,¡± Dorius explained, drawing it back again, ¡°I think my father hoarded it from a disused Vigil house one time. Hart remembered where it was.¡±

    ¡°Do you even know enough about the Vigilants to pass as an actual pilgrim?¡± accused Bastian, beginning to pile his collected load back into Dorius'' trunk, trying in his own way to keep their departure that morning on schedule.

    ¡°I know enough of things I think,¡± admitted Dorius, ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d work out the rest as we went along. You¡¯re good at that sort of thing.¡±

    Bastian¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°What am I? A mummer,¡± he grumbled. He kicked Dorius¡¯ trunk and gestured to the remaining scattered belongings, ¡°Clean up your own mess, Prince.¡± He then marched over towards Val, to finally help get the morning underway.

    Bastian fished back the feedbox from the bulls and hung it from the wagon again, then gathered up their short leads and began to bring them to Val who hoisted the yoke on her shoulders again in preparation for getting the bulls underneath it.

    Dorius trailed after with the token, having completely ignored the order from Bastian. Instead he seemed to be offering it to Val for a look, ignorant of her mission to get them on the road again.

    She obligingly glanced at it, still taking the weight of the yoke as Bastian got the bulls settled in position. It did appear to be cast in dark iron, but the inlaid pattern struck her as odd. It looked to be the front of a throne-like seat, with many wiggling lines emerging from behind it in an arc to the edges of the piece.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look welcoming,¡± she absently commented, ¡°What¡¯s it for?¡±

    Dorius turned it in his hands, ¡°The symbol is the figure they call the Weaver. I suppose it might be a mark that you were meant to be on your journey or something?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you asked an actual Vigilant that?¡± asked Bastian, skeptical.

    ¡°I read it,¡± he replied, so no. Likely the Company was unsure if having it was taboo, and admitting to scavenging a disused Vigil chamber seemed like risky business.

    With the explanation, Val did recognize the design. The Vigil recognized four gods although she did not know all their names, just the symbols. The Watcher everyone knew. You might wish for luck from the Watcher, or attribute a fortunate series of events to the Watcher¡¯s attention. But the Watcher.. watched, they were not a god who intervened. And the Vigilants who typically remained apart for most affairs were actively hostile to any activity or sentiment from the populace that resembled worship for the Watcher other than the odd curse or passing remark. It was extremely important to them that people did not get the wrong idea about who or what the Watcher was.

    The next was the Weaver, the throne with thousands of snake-like tails. Every action was the Weaver¡¯s doing, the good and the bad. To the Vigilants there was no free will or choice in one¡¯s actions, only destiny and inevitability as the Weaver wove. Loosely they served the Watcher, but Val did not know the nature of their relationship. Their intent was not malevolent, but neither was it benevolent, whatever purpose the Weaver sought was theirs to know alone - observed by the Vigilants and the Watcher.

    The final two gods she knew less of, one was associated with water and life, and the second with death and something about the color purple. They were apparently the reason no Pentarch''s branch held the color.

    While essentially present in some manner in any decently sized settlement, the Vigil was a reclusive sect. They did not evangelize their beliefs, and seemed to actively detest worship of their gods outside the walls of their chambers. They had no real authority, although they apparently did before the unrest. But they documented, kept records of births and deaths, ownership of lands and descriptions of boundaries, odd seeming administrative tasks. The thought that there might be pilgrims, or sacred lands for such a belief system struck Val as odd.

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    Bastian held the straps clear, and helped Val get the bulls in just the right position for the yoke as it was lowered to the back of their heads behind the horns. A system of straps then secured the yoke to the horns and around the bulls foreheads. Each side of the yoke was customized to the shape of that animal¡¯s horns - each bull even had their own side, and the teamsters on Dorius¡¯ estate and at the Company had careful rules about which bulls worked well together and what their respective equipment was. Val appreciated anyone concerned about good horn care, and she carefully ran her fingers along the straps making sure they were snug and comfortable. Bastian also was serious for a moment, giving the leads a gentle tug just to watch how the beasts leaned into the yoke to assess the position.

    Val left him to final preparations and turned towards the fire and Dorius¡¯ discarded belongings. She bent down to gather the last of his things and tossed them in the trunk. Dorius followed her, turning the token in his hands, slightly put off by Bastian¡¯s reaction to the plan. She gestured to him to pass it to her, which he obeyed, and she added it to the top of the trunk and forced the lid closed. Slinging it up on one shoulder, she kicked dirt over the fire to put it out.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it was the worst idea,¡± bemoaned Dorius.

    ¡°Half your ideas are shit,¡± called Bastian who had overheard, and was urging the bulls and wagon onto the road again by their leads.

    Val rolled her eyes, and returned to the wagon to deposit Dorius¡¯ trunk. Summoning what inner strength she had, she reassured, ¡°Bastian is just upset there¡¯s fewer hands to help.¡±

    ¡°As if you are any happier,¡± rebuked Bastian, ¡°Oh, hold!¡±

    Val followed his eyes up the road, a flock of a dozen or more guinea fowl were crossing the clearing. Bastian already had his war bow, single arrow in hand from the narrow quiver strapped to his thigh. Taking a slow breath he planted his feet and drew the string back with practised grace. With a thwock, the arrow flew, and one of the guinea fowl had their head fly clean off.

    ¡ª

    ¡°This is ominous,¡± declared Bastian from the front of the wagon, the bulls slowing the wagon to a stop as his pull on their lead slackened.

    Val strolled forward from her position at the back of the wagon. The slope had been steadily rising for the past few days as they began to gain altitude, the Spine now looming over their every action. The peaks were still capped in snow, despite it being late summer, and several glaciers crawled down the sides carving huge valleys before melting to streams. The buzzing in her ears had only grown more insistent as they had grown closer.

    Bastian¡¯s attention had been caught by the town ahead of them, it was nestled in the crevice of one of the valleys. The town walls were huge, solid granite structures - the perfect, smooth surfaces remnants of their magical origins. Oddly, they circled not only the town, but spread arms across each side of the valley, completely blocking passage to the higher slopes. The size of the town was hard to judge, it was masked by the walls. But, a lone tower - likely the chapel - peaked high enough to be seen. It was a similar dark stone to the walls. Entry was a single gateway, door emblazoned with the Watcher¡¯s eye - and the door was shut.

    Instead a ragtag community of lean-tos, tents, and even rough wooden structures had formed off the road in the shelter of the walls. They were not the first to arrive and find the way barred.

    The community appeared to be divided into two halves. One half was not unlike a military encampment - a small number of neat, square tents and felled logs corralling mounts left to graze. The second was much larger, larger than many villages, and composed of an odd assortment of tarps and makeshift hovels, centered around a bonfire that appeared to form its heart. Small wooden buildings had been constructed in the center, and the scaffolding of new ones implied that the community expected its wait to continue.

    A single horse grazed on the encampment side between all the beasts, tall and black. Several figures sat by it on guard.

    Dorius drew his blanket around his shoulders tighter, perched on the front of the wagon.

    ¡°I guess it¡¯s not just us then,¡± his eyes were narrow and his attention was on the more organized camp. Val similarly scanned it, looking for a flag or sigil that might identify the occupant. They were on independent land here, the odds were just as likely that it was a foreign dignitary as it was to be someone from the Fourth.

    Bastian was already at work, throwing some old tarps over the contents of the wagon and hiding his bow and quiver, opting to instead strap a dagger to his hip. He located Dorius¡¯ trunk and pocketed the token they had argued about several days earlier, then stripped off his leather jacket in exchange for a tattered old vest. He offered Val an old cloak, who unbuttoned her Phoenix sigil from her own jacket to exchange with him, and she obligingly wrapped the cloak¡¯s collar around her neck. Aware they were visible to any lookouts and lingering too long would attract attention, Bastian tossed Dorius his cap, and quickly returned to the front of the wagon, encouraging them to pick up the pace again.

    As they approached the camps, the sound of voices caught their attention. Several hunters had two huge elk strapped to a makeshift sled, and were struggling with the load crossing the meadow.

    One man raised a hand as they drew near with a welcoming ¡°Ho strangers!¡± Two of the hunters broke off and approached their wagon.

    ¡°Friend, can we borrow a bull?¡± asked the older of the two as they drew closer, ¡°The snake won¡¯t lend his teams to the other pilgrims.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ eyes lit up, but it was Bastian who responded, ¡°I¡¯d rather get my wagon in first, Val here can help you,¡± he offered, gesturing back to her. The hunters sized her up, and seemed satisfied with the counter-offer.

    ¡°Who¡¯s the snake?¡± asked Dorius around Bastian.

    The hunter who had spoken gestured to the other camp, ¡°Some lordling and his retinue, been camped here since mid-summer.¡±

    Val began to trudge off the road towards the two hunters. The high meadow was surprisingly boggy, no wonder the sled had gotten stuck.

    ¡°What¡¯s the deal?¡± Bastian asked, jerking his head to the closed gates.

    The man shrugged, ¡°Long story. There¡¯s a big tent by the fire, woman called Clara organizes this little encampment, she can catch you up and help you get settled. You¡¯ll be in for a wait.¡±

    The hunter turned to join Val then and began the slog through the spongy meadow back to the elks where the other hunters were waiting. The ground was uneven beneath the low greenery and if she was not careful where she placed her feet there was a good chance of turning an ankle. Val noted the second hunter was barely a boy, in his young teens, wide eyes staring up at her horns.

    ¡°You one of them Laons? You got horns like one,¡± exclaimed the boy. The older hunter cuffed him across the back of his head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be rude,¡± then to Val, ¡°Your kind are welcome here, ignore the boy.¡±

    Val¡¯s curiosity about the creature the boy had named was almost strong enough for her to ask after it, but she was unsure if it was instead something obscene or an insult she didn¡¯t recognize, so she kept her mouth shut and continued to follow. She stumbled on something with a large flat edge, sticking out of the earth and bent to inspect it. Brushing back the groundcover, the curved, dented, sharp line of something man-made stuck up from the earth at an angle. With a sickening start, she realized it was a shield. The meadow had once been a battlefield.

    The issue with the sled was immediately obvious, it had hit something in the dirt just like she had and snapped a runner. The broken edge had dug into the soft meadow and the sled was already well on its way to being consumed like the rest of the battlefield. Val stood over it with a frown while the hunters looked at her expectantly.

    ¡°Worst case, we were considering butchering them and carrying them piece by piece¡­¡± offered the hunter that had called her over.

    Finding her voice, Val ordered, ¡°Unstrap them, I¡¯ll carry them.¡±

    There were several raised eyebrows. Val unstrapped her battle-axe and laid it on the ground, then drawing a small knife from her hip she began to twist the tip into the back of one elk¡¯s hock. Understanding, the hunters got to work helping. In short order they had each elk bound by the hocks to either end of the haft of the axe, and their heads and tied forelimbs bagged in the tarp they¡¯d rested on on the sled. With Val squatting, the hunters helping her get the axe positioned across her shoulders, her hands locked around the makeshift yoke. She leaned forward, and with a groan stood, the elks hanging down her back. She¡¯d judged their length right, and the bagged heads would keep them clean where they dragged on the ground behind her. Several of the men seemed stunned at the monumental feat of strength, giving her a few congratulatory oohs and ahhs. She shrugged the axe a couple of times to get things balanced, and indicated for them to lead the way.

    The young boy, seeming to take a liking to her, bounced ahead while she slowly marched with the original hunter that had summoned them, pointing out debris on the path ahead of her. The weight on this uneven ground was no easy feat, even for her, and her steps were slow and methodological so she would not lose her footing. The child chattered inanely as they walked to fill the silence. Soon enough, they were in the camp, and the hunters led her to a tent where makeshift scaffolding was prepared for processing the meat. A nearby field kitchen already had a communal pot going, and there were even some boxes packed with hay containing cut bricks of compressed ice from somewhere up the slopes.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a talker eh,¡± remarked the hunter as Val silently hung the elk for them, ¡°Come, let¡¯s find your companions.¡±

 3.2 Bells

    The hunter led her to a tent by the central fire, the boy, who she assumed was his son, ran ahead. They passed hundreds of pilgrims, many children and elderly, hunched in makeshift lean-tos or improvised shelters throughout the community. The few able bodied moved about in an organized, routine manner - distributing food, collecting laundry, helping with repairs. Val felt concern growing for their mission, the relaxed familiarity with the work implied that this community was not new. She was also pleasantly shocked to see numerous Fae-touched moving about. One man had furred ears like a cat, another a wild mane of fur-like hair on her head, neck, shoulders and wrists. Did the Vigil have some relation with Fae she did not know? She¡¯d generally avoided their houses, the music they regularly played within the Vigil chambers during their rites made her uncomfortable. Her ears buzzed at the reminder of music, the feeling was not dissimilar now she thought of it.

    Lifting the flap of the tent for her, a gesture entirely useless as she still had to duck, the hunter beckoned her in. The tent was generously appointed for their situation, a small coffee table, chairs and several desks had been set up. A noticeboard had also been propped up against the leg of a table, names scribbled on it with assignments for the day. It appeared to have drawn its design from a labor union.

    Seeing the boy come running in, a robust blonde haired woman gave the boy a familiar hug, and rose from her position at one of the desks in greeting.

    ¡°More pilgrims,¡± explained the hunter, gesturing for Val to sit, ¡°These ones seem useful though, they¡¯ve got two bulls with them.¡±

    The woman seemed tired, but she busied herself filling a cup with ladles of water from a barrel in the corner of the room.

    ¡°Can you hunt?¡± she asked, ¡°Or if not can you help cook or clean? We¡¯ve plenty of mouths to feed here.¡±

    Val hummed and admitted, ¡°I¡¯d be better lifting heavy things.¡±

    ¡°That she can certainly do,¡± admitted the hunter, scratching the back of his head.

    ¡°I can hunt,¡± it was Bastian, followed by Dorius and another one of the hunters entering the tent. The woman gave Bastian a skeptical look, and handed Val the cup, before returning to make more.

    ¡°I am Clara,¡± introduced the woman, ¡°My father ran a union back in Greyhold, I have the reluctant honor of running our little settlement.¡±

    ¡°Bastian, Dorn, Val,¡± returned Bastian, gesturing to each member as he listed names, ¡°We were not expecting to find the gate barred, what is happening?¡±

    Clara handed them each a cup to drink, and took a seat, Bastian and Dorius following suit. Val hesitated, used to protectively keeping close to Dorius, but chose a table to lean against instead.

    ¡°We¡¯d all like to know. Gate to High Haven has been shut since it should have opened in the early spring. Merchants and traders have given up waiting, and taken their wares elsewhere. Us pilgrims have been waiting since then as well, slowly growing our community in hope the gates will open. We¡¯ll be in trouble if we are still out here for much longer and cold starts coming,¡± she explained.

    ¡°The Vigilants declared an intruder broke the seal of the sacred valleys and disturbed a god, the gates were barred to outsiders,¡± added the hunter, ¡°I am Gail, normally the Mayor of High Haven, but I¡¯ve been coming daily to do my best for the pilgrims in the meantime.¡±

    ¡°You can come and go?¡± asked Bastian.

    Gail nodded, ¡°They open the gate at dawn and dusk to let caravans from within come and go with goods from Kal¡¯Fall. The Vigilants have refused any outsider though, even the sick, weak and elderly, so we have been doing what we can during the day. Usually we¡¯d welcome pilgrims seeking to speak with the Prime Vigilant.¡±

    ¡°Is that what pilgrims usually come for?¡± asked Dorius, Bastian looked uncomfortable.

    Clara narrowed her eyes, ¡°That is usually the purpose of most pilgrims, yes. You had a question that your local Vigilants had no records of or could not answer? They deemed the question important enough to send you with a token to ask the Prime?¡±

    Bastian flashed the token from his pocket, ¡°Yes, of course.¡± He gave Dorius a subtle look that insisted he do the speaking. Clara seemed to relax on seeing the dark token.

    ¡°Have you tried to reason with the Vigilants, we¡¯d very much like to speak with the Prime?¡± continued Bastian.

    Gail shook his head sadly, ¡°It has been useless. Nothing we have said, not pleas or bribes or bargains, will get through to them. We ask what can be done to fix things? If they are angry or if there is some sort of retribution needed? And get no answers except silence. I don¡¯t think even they know what they are waiting for, some sign maybe?¡±

    ¡°You can try to plead your case to the Vigilants when they open the gate tonight, I doubt it will get you very far. You¡¯ll see what I mean when the caravan returns,¡± added Clara, ¡°In the meantime you are welcome to join us. If you can hunt we need to bring food in daily for the community to eat. Some muscle around to help with construction would also be welcome. We hold a morning meeting where work is assigned.¡±

    ¡°We will help where we can,¡± offered Bastian, ¡°I assume we are free to pitch our tents and graze our bulls?¡±

    The hunter that had guided Dorius and Bastian to the tent nodded, ¡°The spot I showed you is flat, further down the slopes of the meadow has too much debris.¡±

    ¡°Stay clear of the other camp,¡± Clara added, ¡°The guards struck a girl that got too close to the herds. They¡¯ve also started fights almost daily with the Vigilants and caravans as well. We¡¯ve had a rough time trying to keep things peaceful. Pilgrims are tired and angry, they want something to blame but they would all die if it came to a fight with trained soldiers, even with the advantage of numbers.¡±

    ¡°You called him the snake earlier?¡± asked Bastian.

    Gail nodded, ¡°The Citrine Snake Prince and a small retinue. His older brother, the Carmine Prince, was here just before the gates were closed.¡±

    The snake, in actuality a giant sea serpent, was the sigil of the Second Pentarchy.

    ¡ª

    Val sensed the change in the encampments'' air well before she realized what was happening. A tension had begun to build, as if the air pressure was dropping before a storm. The low buzzing that had plagued her thoughts grew in anticipation, now on the verge of giving her a headache.

    There was a slow stream of people, making their way towards the center of the two encampments where the road bisected them. Not just workers, but also the despondent pilgrims who huddled in their shelters. The sick and injured rolled from their cots, and with or without the help of peers, joined the growing mass.

    Val lowered the firewood she was carrying, hauled from the forest on a brace across her back, and followed the direction of the bodies with her eyes as they assembled. Their attention faced down the slope along the road. From the forest had emerged a convoy of wagons and carts, pulled by fell bulls. These must be the returning natives of High Haven from the day¡¯s round trip to Kal¡¯Fall. The convoy was mostly unremarkable to her eyes, except for two Fae-touched walking near the rear, with horns not unlike her own.

    Val wiped the sweat from her brow. She hesitated, considering going to grab her axe, then discarded her brace and rose to follow the next pilgrim who walked by.

    The crowd was gathering at the road, blocking the way to the gate for the wagon convoy. Guards further down the road at the convoy were assembling at the fore, arming themselves with shields and simple clubs. Val stood at the back and watched over the crowd, nervously scanning the back of heads for Dorius¡¯ familiar cap or white-blonde hair.

    There seemed to be an organized resistance within the front of the pilgrims on the road, led by the hunters from earlier in the day. They jostled with the crowd, waving arms, pointing. Urging them back, that this assembling was futile. This continued for several minutes as the convoy behind began to prepare for the push to the gate.

    ¡°Ho, stand down!¡± came the single authoritative cry, seeming to echo unnaturally in the valley. Val winced as the buzzing shrieked high pitch for a moment in accompaniment. The crowd as one turned to the source. Then the convoy guard began a march, shoulder to shoulder across the road, shields raised. The wagons had pulled in tight behind them.

    The tension in the pilgrims mounted. Pleas and cries began as the guards drew close, men and women fell to their knees on the road grasping at shields only to be dragged to their feet again by the hunters and urged on. The crowd pushed forward as one, growing denser.

    A scream split the tension as the guards made contact with the mass and began to push them back. Voices raised, pleas turned to fury, fists in the air. Val felt a panic rise in her chest, and began to plow her way through the bodies, desperately grabbing shoulders and wheeling her head about now in the search for Dorius or Bastian. Bodies pressed against her as she beelined for the center of the chaos.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    A groan foreshadowed the great gate beginning to open. From the town, a bell tower tolled. As the sound of the lonely peal faded into the mountains, Val felt the buzzing in the back of her mind threaten to burst.

    The crowd shifted again, pulling back towards the gate in anticipation. A second scream of pain came, muffled by the growing cacophony of voices. Val passed a child, and instinctively pulled their body behind her, careful hands keeping them on their feet, and she continued forward into the bodies still. Her chest was tight. Panic only built between the tension of the buzzing and the cacophony of anger and fear around her.

    ¡°Clear the way!¡± another voice this time from the gateway, with a similar quality to the first. It echoed unnaturally in the air - cutting clean through the cacophony of pleas from the mass. A similar shield wall was being mounted from inside the gate. As it opened and the guards pushed outwards clearing the path, Val spied a single bald figure supervising - dressed in heavy robes of purple so deep they could have been black.

    The bell tolled a second time, and others joined the song now.

    As Val neared the center of the crowd, she got the first clear view of the front. The convoy guards continued their shield wall¡¯s progress. Arms locked with each other, they slowly pressed forward, clearing a path for the wagons and bulls behind them. The hunters, led by Gail and Clara, were intervening in the slim gap between the shield wall and pilgrim mass. They pulled desperate crying men and women back from the wall to clear the path, or swooped to quickly right bodies who stumbled before they were crushed underfoot. Desperately, through it all, they pleaded for peace and were only met with angry fists. Val spied Bastian among them, gesturing to the hunters as he hoisted a limp body away from the shield wall and passed them back into the crowd. Dorius was still nowhere to be seen. The gap they occupied was slim and only growing tighter.

    A second commotion began at that point, the encampment on the other side of the road had formed a wedge of shields on their own, and was pushing through the pilgrims towards the gate. Without the hunters managing the new front, bodies who went down did not get to their feet again.

    Val burst through then to join the hunters, taking her cue from Bastian supporting them she lowered her shoulders, spread her arms, and pushed back the crowd from the shield wall in an effort to create more space. The melody of the bells swelled, the buzzing yielding to the new song.

    The wall of bodies yielded to her, and with slow careful steps she eased the convoy through as anger continued to build. Hands flailed against her head and horns, raining her with blows. She tucked her shoulders tighter in response, and listened to the bells. Instinctively hunters gathered behind her, helping gather pilgrims to their feet that fell beneath her steady march and the returning press of the masses, passing them sideways away from the danger of the crush. Bastian drew close, helping fish yet another body to their feet underneath her and passing them along to a hunter.

    ¡°Where is Dorn?¡± she asked him, turning her head to shield her face from pleading hands.

    ¡°Safe,¡± was the only reply he had time for.

    They were drawing close to the gate now, a circular shield wall formed there to keep pilgrims from pressing through the gate. Sensing their loss, the pilgrims were beginning to pull back - easing the press of bodies at the fronts. Both shield walls then met and opened, separating to the sides to clear a pathway for the convoy to pass through. Val stepped back, contained within the pathway created by the shields. The robed figure watched her catch her breath, bells ringing.

    The hunters seemed to gather up to join the convoy then, Gail patted Clara on the back and she withdrew to watch them pass, her face dirtied and downcast with disappointment. They seamlessly blended into the convoy and passed through the gates. The robed figure watched every face that entered. In short moments, the group was almost through.

    The two horned Fae had the back of the convoy, pushing pilgrims back roughly from the tail. Val intently watched, Fae-touched were all a little different, she had never seen anything so like herself. They were just as tall as her, but slightly slimmer in the body. They each had only two black horns, like her head ones, but lacked the pair on each side of her jawline. One, the older of the pair, had his right horn broken, snapped several inches from the tip with layers of keratin peeling from the edge. He wore a waistband made of wolf¡¯s pelt. Both had the sides of their heads shaved, a mohawk of dark hair between the horns, and had painted their faces with black dirt or ashes.

    The younger one noticed Val as they passed, his mouth falling open in shock. He tapped his broken horned companion¡¯s arm, who looked around then stopped eyes on Val. His brows instead drew tight in concern, cutting short Val¡¯s hesitant motion to raise her hand in greeting. He rushed his companion around, throwing her another glance over his shoulder as they turned. Then the convoy was through and they slipped past the gates with it.

    ¡°Priest!¡± yelled a demanding voice over the scattering pilgrims. The robed figure paused for a moment, as the gates continued to shut behind them. The ringing of the bells ceased, but the metallic notes reverberated through the mountain valley still.

    ¡°You will let us pass!¡± The source of the voice was a dark skinned man, dressed in black, standing at the center of the encampment guard that had successfully pierced through the crowd. He pushed aside the shoulder of one of his men, then suddenly had his curved sword drawn and was stalking up to the robed figure. On his chest was an ornate broach in yellow crystal, a figure of a coiling snake.

    The robed figure seemed unimpressed and folded their arms, standing back to the gate in confrontation. ¡°There will be no passage to the town nor the Vigil Chapel,¡± the voice was distinctly feminine, with a dark, husky tone.

    ¡°You cannot deny me,¡± the Citrine Prince raised his blade. Several of his retinue were behind him, trying to pull him back bodily by the shoulder. He shook them off, and pressed his sword menacingly at the Vigilant¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Friend, no bloodshed please.¡± It was Bastian, he took a tentative step towards the two figures. The Prince snapped his head around, scowl growing. He turned his blade towards Bastian¡­ and Val surged.

    In the silence between heartbeats, the bells still tolled for her, great clappers crashing against bronze. Each peal rang concordant and true. Like strikes of iron in the forge fire. Bright sparks swelled within her and flames leapt, barely contained.

    Within a few steps she was next to Bastian, one handed she reached out and grasped the back of the blade. With a twist of her wrist she wrenched the sword from the Prince¡¯s grip.

    His retinue drew their swords as one. Val turned on them. Legs planted wide she lowered her shoulders, throwing the Prince¡¯s blade to the ground in warning, and bellowed like a bull. Fire swelled within her, threatening to burst forth, almost as if her bellow would belch it free to consume her foes. Bastian tried to go around her, but she held out one arm and kept him firmly back. The Vigilant watched her with curious eyes.

    ¡°You would threaten me!¡± snarled the Prince. His guard were on the edge of breaking from formation, waiting for the slightest movement from Val to surge forward.

    ¡°Val!¡± insisted Bastian, pushing her arm aside, and with it her growing irrationality. Hands out, fingers wide, he gestured a surrender, ¡°No threats.¡±

    ¡°You have touched a Prince of the Serpent, I should have that Fae slaughtered!¡±

    ¡°And you threatened a Vigilant and injured a small village of innocents on your march here!¡± Bastian returned righteously. He gestured to the crowd of pilgrims drawing away from them now, many limping or nursing wounds from the riot. ¡°This is no way for a Prince to act in Free State land.¡±

    The Prince narrowed his eyes and turned on the Vigilant, ¡°I am not at fault! You deny these people not me! You have barred this gate for months, I demand no longer!¡±

    The Vigilant shrugged their shoulders, ¡°Our sacred duties trump your inconvenience. Entry is denied to all.¡±

    ¡°What must we do?¡± begged Bastian, turning to confront the Vigilant too, ¡°This is madness!? Have you seen how many lay injured today?¡±

    ¡°Injured due to your indifference!¡± accused the Prince.

    Bastian wheeled his head back round and held a finger in accusation, ¡°Injured due to your negligence too!¡± Val punctuated his rebuke with a snort. The Prince¡¯s guards shifted nervously.

    The Vigilant held their hands wide in a gesture of innocence, but their face softened, ¡°We regret the plight of the pilgrims, and the necessity of our actions. The townsfolk within are innocents too. Until the Prime orders it, no outsider will pass,¡± and with that they turned to slip through the gate.

    ¡°No!¡± yelped Bastian, fingers grasping after the Vigilant¡¯s sleeve and just missing. The gate was shut. He growled and punched the wall in frustration, shaking his hand as he hissed at the pain from the futile gesture. With a great sigh he turned, ¡°What a fucking mess.¡±

    ¡°It has been like this for months, only growing more desperate and chaotic each day,¡± added the Citrine Prince, approaching Bastian. Val snarled, interposing herself between them. Bastian grabbed her by the shoulder and she let him pull her back. Ducking slightly, he retrieved the Prince¡¯s curved blade and offered it to him hilt first in truce.

    The Prince narrowed his eyes, glancing at Val, then grasped the hilt.

    After a moment, as if to say he was in control of this situation, Bastian let go of the blade then raised his hands again in surrender, ¡°My companion is protective. Let¡¯s end this and try conversation instead of accusation,¡± he offered.

    Tension seemed to unwind as moments passed. The Prince looked at his guard and the dissipating pilgrims, then sheathed his sword and rubbed tired eyes. His guard relaxed, and several retainers approached. Val sniffed, brows still furrowed, the flame within her had no outlet and simmered in her chest, but at least her head was clear of buzzing for the first time in days.

    Bastian, hands on hips, scanned the pilgrims. Despite the screams and chaos earlier, there did not seem to be significant injuries. Many would be nursing bruises or strains, but no lives were lost. Clara hovered on the edge of the encampment, shepherding the masses back, ordering beds and recovery.

    The Prince looked the pair of them up and down in study. ¡°You speak rather casually to a Prince,¡± he commented.

    Bastian shrugged. ¡°I am not unused to handling nobility,¡± he hinted. He rubbed his chin a moment, then considered the Prince. ¡°I think we could be of benefit to each other here, would you be willing to meet with us?¡±

    The Prince laughed at the offer, ¡°Us? And what benefit exactly would peasants offer me?¡±

    ¡°Meet with me and see for yourself,¡± Bastian clapped Val on the shoulder, bidding her to relax and follow him, ¡°I will come to you.¡±

    Val growled in warning one last time, and followed Bastian back into the pilgrim camp, leaving the Citrine Prince to his retinue. The feeling of fire in her chest smoldered.

 3.3 Binding

    Dorius was waiting for them at the wagon, his relief palpable when they both returned unharmed. Their tent had been pitched nearby during the day while Val worked, the bulls grazing on leads nearby.

    ¡°Watcher, this happens every day?¡± he asked.

    Bastian shook his head, and sat off the back of the wagon joining Dorius.

    ¡°The caravans only leave every few days, when the pilgrims see them emerge at dawn they know the return will be slow that evening and choose that moment to press their pleas. I gather it has grown exponentially worse since mid-summer, many fear the coming winter,¡± explained Bastian. After setting their camp he had spent the day with the hunters to stay close to the mayor and gather what intelligence he could. ¡°Normally, the folk from High Haven can slip in and out without much fuss. Plus, I think the pilgrims have no issue with them, it¡¯s the Vigilant who appears to chaperone the caravan that attracts the most attention.¡±

    Dorius drew his blanket tighter around his shoulders, deep in thought, ¡°And they go to Kal¡¯Fall? You think we could send a message with them next?¡±

    Bastian nodded, ¡°I think we could ask the mayor to pass along a note. I¡¯d be cautious about drawing attention to yourself though. In particular, we do not know the snake¡¯s goals.¡± He looked up at Val, ¡°I¡¯d feign a strain or something, keep close to camp and your axe on you.¡±

    She nodded, and set about checking the tie downs on the tent.

    Bastian seemed exhausted, ¡°It¡¯d be helpful if you shared what you know,¡± he asked Dorius.

    ¡°About the Vigilants or the Second?¡± asked Dorius.

    ¡°Both,¡± was Bastian¡¯s curt reply.

    Dorius considered for a moment. He turned a Phoenix Company badge in his hand as he began to speak.

    ¡°Let us consider the Vigilants first. They claim a god resting in the valley has been disturbed, but I suspect that is not what has caused the barring of the gate. Instead I propose it is the precipitating act - the breaking of the seal to their sacred valley. They are fanatics for their rules and ways of doing things. Maybe they have not caught the guilty party and have sealed the gate while they search. Hence, the Vigilant supervising the townsfolk who come and go, it is their compromise between ensuring the capture of their target and completely abandoning the pilgrims trapped outside.¡±

    Bastian pondered this explanation, ¡°They¡¯ve not had much luck then, it has been months apparently.¡±

    ¡°I would guess the suspect has help on the inside then,¡± offered Dorius, although he tilted his head as another thought caught him, ¡°Or maybe they escaped before the Vigilants could seal the gate.¡±

    Bastian looked downcast, ¡°Then this is wild-goose chase, they may never open the gate.¡±

    ¡°Not unless the transgressor is found, or they are convinced they never will be,¡± concluded Dorius, ¡°they owe the pilgrims nothing, we will be at an impasse otherwise.¡±

    ¡°And the Prince?¡± asked Bastian.

    Dorius tapped the Company sigil against the side of the wagon, ¡°The Second¡¯s presence here supports my previous speculation. Our working theory was that the Fourth and Second were preparing for some kind of confrontation, and the Mountain State was preemptively withdrawing. While the Mountain State¡¯s actions may be unrelated, this certainly still supports happenings within the Second. A Prince seeking an audience with the Prime Vigilant implies a very important question. Citrine is high in the succession hierarchy, and we heard the Carmine was here before them. They must be desperate¡­¡± he trailed off, staring at the Phoenix icon as he pondered.

    ¡°There were Fae-touched, horned like me,¡± commented Val suddenly.

    Dorius stirred from his thoughts to look at her, ¡°Horns are not uncommon?¡± he asked.

    Bastian shook his head, ¡°No, she¡¯s right. They matched almost like members of a species. Similar shape and height, although Val had more muscle on them.¡±

    Dorius frowned, ¡°Fae-touched usually do not exhibit patterns in their mutations, even when of similar parentage.¡±

    ¡°Is there some connection between Fae and the Vigil?¡± asked Val. She tightened a rope she was unsatisfied with on the tent, using the motion to hide her nerves.

    Bastian tilted his head and narrowed golden eyes, studying her body language. Dorius blandly replied, ¡°I am sure as supposed keepers of any old magic knowledge Fae-touched are drawn to the Vigil. The pilgrims and folk of High Haven seem unusually used to their presence at least.¡±

    Val remained crouched.

    ¡°Val?¡± prompted Bastian, slight concern on the edge of his voice.

    She sighed, and buried her head in her hands leaning on her knees.

    ¡°There is a buzzing in the air,¡± she finally admitted. Dorius grew tense, suddenly paying attention to her. ¡°It sung in the back of my head, constantly. Like the sound of struck crystal, but after you can no longer hear the note and instead the memory of it lingers in your ear. Sometimes it is high pitched, and hurts. Other times it pushes me on, as if asking me to do things.¡±

    Bastian rose to his feet, and crouched with her, ¡°The bells?¡± he asked.

    She nodded, ¡°It was pleased when I helped clear the way for the caravans. And it grew strong when the Citrine Prince approached. I can still feel it.¡±

    ¡°Are you a danger to us?¡± asked Dorius, his tone commanding.

    ¡°Dorius!?¡± exclaimed Bastian.

    ¡°Val?¡± Dorius was firm, demanding an answer.

    Val felt the fire within her still. It burned resolute where she faltered, sung true when she would hesitate. Locked deep, tucked away with fear and confusion and hazy memories of unexplained fires from her childhood. The leaders of the Company knew she had some remnant abilities, but only Dorius and Bastian had directly seen the music of the Vigil house¡¯ organs, or the voice of young bards, call it uncontrolled from her.

    Yet, so much of what she wished she could be was sheltered in that flame. It seemed to stand in defiance of everything she was always giving up and putting aside and whispered for her to serve herself alone. The buzzing that had been discordant and foreign had attuned to her now in resonating clarity. Pure chords, humming with gentle patience at her command. She could close her hand around them, still their reverberation with her touch. Or will them high and melodic if she wished.

    She opened her palm, and ushered it gently, nervous at how it might swell in reaction to her. The fire within warmed to her, responding to her gentle touch with eager obedience. Within the cup of her palm, a tiny flame flickered - barely a spark - glowing a pure yellow. Just as easily, she gentled the music again, and closed her hand to extinguish the flame.

    Bastian¡¯s eyes were alight with joy, his mouth open and hands wide as if he was just barely restraining himself from drawing her into a hug. Dorius observed with a darker expression, tinted with hesitation and fear.

    ¡°I am in control,¡± Val asserted, opening her palm again to reveal the flame did not return. ¡°I¡¯d like to learn of other horned Fae-touched¡­ if it¡¯s alright.¡±

    Bastian beamed and grasped her shoulder. Dorius frowned.

    ¡ª

    Bastian woke in the pre-dawn half-light and sat up in his cot silently. Dorius was asleep nearby, bundled in blankets as if the winter had already come, curled into the fetal position.

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    He turned his head and spied Val, lying with her axe on the floor across the doorway of the tent, a cloak half draped on her as a blanket. She had bundled her actual blanket instead as a makeshift pillow to help support the weight of her horns. Her back was to them. Bastian studied her for a moment. Her skin had an ashen tone compared to humans, and numerous scars traced its surface in a pale white. Only the back of her shoulders and waist were uncovered, but there was no patch of her skin unmarked. The ashen tone complemented her black horns, they were matte naturally, but Bastian had seen her polishing them to a subtle gleam. The chip on her lower chin horn from weeks back now had almost grown out, the very tip marred from its shape still. Her hair was similarly black, he never saw her wear it out, instead it was always braided into thick platts and wrapped around her horns close to her head.

    Bastian lowered his feet from his cot, and the movement was enough to disturb her. She rotated slightly, catching him with one grey eye. Bastian held a finger to his lips, and looked at Dorius meaningfully, then bent to put his boots on. Val caught his meaning, but remained watching him halfway from her guard at the door.

    Boots on, and a cloak wrapped around his shoulders, he rose and stepped over her to exit. He held one palm flat towards her, then a two fingered gesture towards the door of the tent. Wait here. I¡¯m going scouting. She gave him the barest of nods, her facial expression neutral. Val was exceptionally hard to read, even for him as long as he had known her. But Bastian had learnt during the years. The trick was to watch her horns, they telegraphed the slightest movements of her head that usually gave the clearest signals. This morning she appeared as if on a lazy guard to most onlookers, but the tells for her anxiety were there. Her hand was wrapped about the hilt of her axe, the muscles in her shoulders tense, and her eyes were distracted.

    After a thought, he paused while straddled over her, and bent to retrieve some hard jerky from a pack tucked under the cots. She watched him, facial expression unchanging. He gave her a cheeky wink, and was rewarded with the slightest of exhaled breaths. Then he exited the shared tent.

    Bastian stopped by the wagon first and uncovered his war bow. He frowned as he looked at it, the bow was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. That, coupled with his quiver of arrows fletched with talon stead feathers would give him away as no mere commoner. The pilgrims and inhabitants of High Haven did not seem the types to ask questions even if they saw something unusual. It was likely that many came with secrets, and those secrets were respected, so he deemed it safe enough. Working with the hunting parties seemed to be the best route to insider information, so he strapped on his harness so it could be worn on his back, and belted his quiver to his upper thigh with only a handful of arrows.

    He trotted to the edge of the community first, and crouched against the wall to watch the guard at the Citrine Prince¡¯s encampment. He counted the fell beasts grazing with the lone horse, and the soldiers he could see, and guessed the retinue only number twenty five, a half squad then. Next he watched the guard change with the dawn while chewing his jerky, and determined they operated similarly to the various colors of the Pentarch guards within the Fourth. He gazed up and down the wall and rubbed his chin in thought for a few minutes before moving on.

    He went to the communal eating areas next. Several pilgrims were already awake, and were serving a porridge of wheat berries and dried fruits. Bastian took a bowl and joined some of the early risers, sitting at the end of a table to listen in on the discussion. The talk was mostly gossip, but what struck him as odd was how little discussion about resolving their situation he heard. The previous day had seen an overflowing of resentment and fear within the pilgrim community, but it seemed resigned now, almost forgotten. Instead, it was the typical gossip one might expect - complaints about a peer who slacked on their work, discussion of a handsome face and speculation on whether a move should be made.

    A thought had been bothering him since they arrived, some members of this community had been camped here now for months. He understood why many did not leave - either they had exhausted their resources in the journey and had no other options but forward, or their cause was important enough to justify the wait. But why did the community not try harder to talk to the Vigilants or negotiate their situation? The outburst at the convoy had been like a child¡¯s temper tantrum, but when the gates were fully open they had pulled back in defeat at the moment they should have pushed forward all the stronger.

    He deposited his bowl with a tub of dirty dishes, and moved on to the morning labor meeting.

    The hunters from High Haven were there again, lined up in Clara¡¯s tent while Clara and Gail chatted and cleaned the board of names for a new day. Bastian waved to a hunter he recognized and came to join them to wait for the meeting to start.

    ¡°Your companion not here? Dorn?¡± asked one hunter as he came to stand with them.

    Bastian rubbed his nose and effortlessly fabricated, ¡°My brother, no. He¡¯s having a hard time with the cold, I left him to sleep in.¡±

    The hunter raised an eyebrow, and Bastian pre-empted his question, ¡°Different fathers,¡± he explained, ¡°I know we look nothing alike.¡±

    There was a teen boy with them as well, likely someone¡¯s son. He had a lightweight bow with him and had a keen spark in his eye to be helping with the adult work.

    ¡°You were with the Laon yesterday!¡± said the boy, ¡°Is she coming?¡±

    The hunters also seemed curious. Bastian had not yet thought of how to handle this. The horned Fae they had seen yesterday were uncanny in their resemblance to Val, too much so for coincidence. He had always considered the possibility she was not a half-breed. The Fae-touched born to human parents typically had singular mutations about them, Val was unique among all Fae-touched he had ever seen. In comparison, wild Fae seemed more beast than human, their minds broken and raving, their appearance more like an animal with a touch of humanoid. Val was sane, and while quiet around almost anyone except Bastian and Dorius, she was very much thinking and feeling. And so a half-breed had been the best explanation.

    Yet, Fae was also a catch all term for anything not human. Before the unrest there had been a wide variety of creatures that had shared the continent with humans - whether they had gone extinct, or retreated, or faded to shadows of their former selves with the old magics - it was unknown how many yet lingered. What if in the sacred valley of the Spine, where old magic and gods supposedly dwelled, a few of the ancient species remained?

    Bastian decided to answer the question with a question of his own, it was a gamble but he wanted to see what reaction he got. ¡°I saw two yesterday. Where did they come from?¡± he asked one of the older hunters.

    The question did not seem to trigger any alarm bells and the hunter answered it without hesitation, ¡°They have some agreement with the Vigilants. The soldier caste come down to guard the Chapel. Occasionally, they order them to help around the town as well. Yours is not from the Spine Clan?¡± he asked.

    Bastian shook his head, ¡°I do not think so. We met on the road, she travelled the same direction and joined my brother and I several weeks back. I thought she was just Fae-touched¡­¡± The story was crude but got no suspicious reaction.

    The hunter seemed to be trying to remember something for a moment, ¡°She had four horns, right? Not sure what caste that makes her. Might explain why she was on her own. She¡¯s definitely a Laon, no doubt, looks just like the rest of them. Never seen a Fae-touched even close to that. Did you make some sort of agreement with her or another of her kind?¡±

    Bastian¡¯s mind raced, but he answered quickly before his hesitation could reveal too much, ¡°Not that I am aware of. Why?¡±

    The hunter shrugged and explained now it was apparent Bastian knew very little of the species, ¡°The soldier and worker caste have two horns, they follow orders from higher up the clan or can be bonded in contract to serve others like the Vigilant¡¯s have. If she¡¯s on her own she must be of some other caste then, still odd to be alone, they¡¯re a bit like ants - you never see them far from their colonies.¡±

    Bastian nodded in understanding. The morning meeting started then, preventing further conversation, giving him a moment to gather his thoughts with these revelations.

    His first thoughts were dark and desperate fear for his friend. What if Val had been bonded to them? What if they had inadvertently done something when the Company had picked her up as a child that had bound her against her will? Had they literally committed kidnapping from her own species rather than rescue a half-breed child like they thought?

    Bastian had only been a toddler when Hart had bought her home. His parents and Hart had been close, so he regularly had the opportunity to play with her as kids. Some of his earliest memories had been splashing with her in the mud or mock battle with the other children. Other than the odd unexplained fire that started around her and was sushed up once the source was found, nothing had seemed that unusual about any of it. Dorius was only a little younger than them both, by the age of ten he remembered them as inseparable companions. Nothing seemed amiss about their childhood.

    He raced through his memories for anything that might have seemed like a bonding or contract - and he found the obvious. Val had started taking Company contracts younger than he. They had all learnt to fight, they were company children, but by their mid-teens it was obvious something about Val was going to be very different from a normal Fae-touched. It felt like overnight she had grown tall and muscular, a second pair of horns now adorning her head. Through sheer strength alone, she was as valuable as several men. Had that first contract been a binding for her?

    An anxiety grew in Bastian¡¯s chest - was that the nature of her relationship with Dorius now? Rather than service through freewill or choice, was some aspect of her unable to say no if she wanted to? He could never say it aloud or ask her, but he had concerns about the relationship she and Dorius shared. It was easy to dismiss it as jealousy, but something struck him as deeply unfair in how she so dutifully served, and how blind Dorius was to the toll it took on her.

    Dorius was partially self-aware of how the demands of service strained them both, but not always, he had that born and bred arrogance of nobility after all. Bastian felt no shame in needling him back, calling him out when he was at his worst. But Val was by nature silent and stoic, and her service often extended to emotional guarding as well as physical. As a close onlooker it made Bastian uncomfortable how blurred the lines between master and friend seemed. He had even allowed himself to darkly speculate that there may be an aspect of lovers to their relationship, it was not a thought his rational mind gave much credence, but it was a thought he hated himself for being unable to shake. But, now he re-examined it with a fear that she may have even less agency that he thought she had, which deeply unsettled him.

    Bastian almost missed his name being called as he wandered through his thoughts. He gestured in agreement that he would join the hunting party. For now, he stored this information to reflect on later and to determine what he would share with Dorius. This problem of the closed gate was primarily his. Dorius¡¯ safety could not be risked this deep undercover, not with someone like the Citrine Prince in close proximity, highly limiting his movements. Dorius was also unable to blend with anything lower than the middle merchant classes, there was a hint of his imperious nature that could not be hidden. Val had her uses, and subtlety was not it. After the riot last night she was better staying close to Dorius even if the pilgrims could use her strength around the camp. They were not his priority. So Bastian would do one of the things he did best, and scout for now.

 3.4 Vigilant

    Bastian was unable to join the mayor¡¯s hunting party, but the morning spent with the natives of High Haven did not reveal much new information. They had forewarned him the day before to expect chaos with a returning caravan, but not so today when none had set off in the morning. Instead they chatted about a recent engagement and other idle gossip, similar to the pilgrims. Just as he had considered at dawn, the details did not match up. Shouldn¡¯t the inhabitants be growing sick and tired of their enforced isolation, seeking to break free of the Vigilant control from within? Bastian gathered that a constant stream of pilgrims provided the town with most of its business, keeping inns full and pay well earned. Here they seemed to be volunteering their services instead to the shanty town at their gate, and inside their families were almost idle waiting for the self-enforced siege to cease. There was frustration, but not the anger there should have been this many months in.

    As they returned unsuccessfully to the fire pit, where a downcast pilgrim greeted them and thanked them for their efforts anyway, Bastian finally grew curious enough to outright ask one of the hunters as they trotted back to Clara¡¯s tent to check in.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, you do this every day for what?¡±

    The hunter looked at him, brows furrowed, ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Bastian gestured around them, ¡°The pilgrims have used all their coins, they are not paying you. Why help them?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be suggesting we just leave them to die?¡±

    Bastian shook his head, ¡°No, but you must have family too right? Back behind the walls? Shouldn¡¯t you care for your own first?¡±

    There was a tension in the man¡¯s brows that lingered a little too long, a quirk in the corner of his mouth, the question seemed to unleash a trickle of anxiety, ¡°My sister has three children, two growing boys. The rations from the caravans are not enough and the boys cry themselves to sleep hungry each evening¡­ I have said twice now to Gail that we would be better spent bring the meat back within the walls, especially on a day like yesterday where the hunt went well¡­ and yet,¡± there was a shift in his face again, the building frustration of his words seemed to falter and trickle away and his face became downcast instead, ¡°and yet, we can¡¯t leave them out here either. So we must wait for the Vigilants to open the gate again.¡±

    Bastian glanced at his peers, none of them seemed to register the strange progression of emotions as odd. ¡°And when will that be?¡±

    ¡°They give no answers,¡± said another of the men.

    ¡°And so you do this day in and out with no end? You¡¯ll watch your nephews go hungry?¡± needled Bastian.

    The downcast eyes did not shift, true emotion did not rise like it had before when the cover had slipped, ¡°If that is how it must be.¡±

    Bastian let them be, his confusion growing.

    ¡ª

    After midday, Bastian slipped from the hunting parties to the shadow of the wall again to watch for the encampment guards changing watch. They moved exactly as he guessed they would from observing the morning change, and he crept close via the gate to slip between the tents from their blind spots where they kept their backs to the wall.

    He knew which tent he was after and moved within the encampment with ease. Their guard was performatory at best, they had grown relaxed and complacent with the pilgrims as their only company. He found the Prince¡¯s tent and an ear pressed to the side confirmed it empty, so he moved on through the camp in search of his target. A few voices drew him to the edge where the makeshift pasture had been assembled using felled logs. He spotted the Prince chatting with an advisor, sitting at the edge watching the black horse graze.

    The Citrine Prince wore black like the day before, his serpent broach clearly displayed upon his chest. He seemed tired by whatever his retainer wanted to discuss, and quickly gestured the woman away with an exasperated expression. He then leant on one knee against the cut log, and brooded over the meadow below.

    Bastian snuck forward, and announced himself with a clearing of his throat.

    The Prince swung, his facial expression changing from one ready to dismiss an unwelcome retainer to eyes wide with panic in moments. Before he could open his mouth, Bastian raised his hands palm open in surrender, his daggers hooked with two fingers in his left hand for the Prince to see.

    ¡°I just want to talk,¡± he insisted, and with calm, exaggerated gestures tossed his daggers to the Prince¡¯s feet.

    ¡°You¡¯re from last night,¡± he hissed as he regained his composure, he did not call his guard.

    Bastian nodded, ¡°May I sit?¡±

    The Prince looked down his nose at him, then sniffed and gestured permission to join him, ¡°You are awfully familiar,¡± he commented.

    Bastian did not give an answer, and instead sat and made a show of disarming his bow and propping on the log next to him.

    ¡°I seek the same goals you do, you¡¯ve obviously been here a while. Your guard is lax,¡± returned Bastian.

    The Prince tsk¡¯d disapprovingly, ¡°I see that. What are you?¡±

    Bastian held up a single finger in gentle rebuke, ¡°I¡¯ll not ask your secrets, you don¡¯t ask mine. But I would learn at least why a Prince of the Second has struggled like any commoner to gain access to the Chapel.¡±

    The Prince folded his arms, ¡°Careful of your words. I could call my guard.¡±

    ¡°But you won¡¯t,¡± replied Bastian blandly, calling his bluff. He had more to gain by hearing Bastian out.

    The Prince held his steely stance for a moment longer, then just like the night before, seemed to soften as time passed. Surprisingly he sat with Bastian, albeit at an arm¡¯s length, and folded his arms as he watched his horse.

    ¡°There is something foul in the air here,¡± he said finally, ¡°The Vigilants are working some spell that turns men''s minds from the gate. My retainers and guards have one by one become slack and unresponsive to my commands if I urge them too close. I even feel it myself, why else would I sit here and tell you this as if I too am resigned?¡±

    He kicked a meadow weed in frustration, attracting his horse¡¯s attention. It raised its head and put its ears flat.

    ¡°You have proof of this?¡± asked Bastian.

    ¡°I have seen it, I do not need proof!¡± snapped the Prince, ¡°Why else would my own guard hesitate when I tell them to take axes to the gate? Why am I still here waiting like a common peasant if I am not bewitched too?¡±

    Bastian refrained from giving a response. Some Fae magic spun about would explain his own observations, but it was certainly a noble''s arrogance that could give an answer like that. Val had something of her own magic, even if she did not fully understand or control it, and she had spoken of a buzzing in the air. The question then was how long would they go unaffected?

    ¡°How long did it take to start?¡± asked Bastian.

    The Prince caught his meaning and gestured broadly with his hands, ¡°I suspect within a day, upon reflection. Nothing is right here, and likely you will already be warped by it too. They toy with our minds, as if they think themselves equal to the gods they worship.¡± He spat these final words with fierce derision. Something powerful must have motivated the Second Pentarchy to come to them then, and motivated the Citrine Prince yet to stay, despite his obvious hatred for the Vigilants.

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    ¡°I make no promises then,¡± said Bastian calmly, picking up his bow again, ¡°But thank you for the information.¡±

    The Prince wrinkled his nose as if disgusted by a bad smell, ¡°I¡¯ll have you killed if you are caught sneaking in again,¡± he declared.

    Bastian nodded briefly, picking up his daggers, ¡°I¡¯ll see myself out. Let your guard captain know to tighten his watch.¡±

    As Bastian passed by the gate on his return, he curiously placed one flat hand to the symbol of the eye emblazoned across it. He searched his feelings for a compulsion to turn away, and felt none. He even thought very hard about breaking down the door, how it might be achieved with a team of pilgrims and the right tree trunk hoisted from a makeshift scaffold as a battering ram, but no thought in his head seemed to slip from his purpose. His resolve felt clear. He rubbed his chin, decided he was overdue a shave, and continued back to Val and Dorius.

    ¡ª

    Val watched Bastian slip through the tent into the morning. She had barely slept, her mind had been preoccupied with the faces of the horned Fae from the night before, and the revelation of the buzzing that now had eased into the back of her head as quiet, harmonic whispers. The fire within her had simmered out with the passage of time, barely a memory of what had awoken the previous day. She was not sure it had the strength for her to even focus on it let alone will it into flame like she had tried the night before. For some reason it did not seem urgent to her, so her mind passed on from it.

    Instead she played the image of the horned Fae¡¯s expression again and again in her mind. The first had been clearly shock, they had recognized her and been surprised. That didn¡¯t seem too unusual, she was shocked to see another so alike to her. It would be natural for someone else to have the same reaction. The concern of the second was what worried her. The way they had whisked their companion away, looked back as if to check she really was what he saw. She sensed consternation, even panic. She was terrified of creating hope that there were people like her, only to expose herself anew to the pain of rejection. It was a slow, sad wound that did not close, that she picked at in the quiet moments when she dwelled too long in her own head. You did not need words or fists leveled at you to know rejection, her kind was the type that cut with what was unsaid. The type that welcomed Bastian to a tavern, made a seat for even Dorius, but left her standing at the wall only barely acknowledged because of her company.

    But despite herself, that hope had already formed when she had seen them at the back of the convoy.

    Val allowed herself a sigh and rose from her guard. Dorius was still huddled in his cot, looking miserably cold in his sleep. She unfolded the blanket she was using as a pillow and lay it over him for extra coverage. She considered adding Bastian¡¯s discarded blankets as well, but as she picked it up and thoughtlessly noted that it still carried some of his lingering warmth, she opted to fold it neatly to one end of the cot instead. She would not join the morning meeting as originally planned, instead protecting Dorius had become a higher priority, so she was not free to roam. He would wake soon, outside the tent seemed a safe distance, so she rose to waken their fire.

    The coals from the previous night had a spark of life still, and with tinder, gentle coaxing and a little patience, she was able to bring it back to gentle flame. She retrieved a storage trunk from the wagon and placed it by the fire as a bench. She then sat, chin in her hands, and waited for Dorius.

    Pilgrims steadily wakened as the sky grew brighter, most sat despondently in their shelters, nursing strains or bruises from the night before, or otherwise occupied with their own thoughts. A group began to shuffle through the community with a large pot of porridge between them and a collection of bowls. As they approached Val gestured she would take two, and was served a mixture of wheat berries, stewed in fell beast milk and water, sweetened with cut dried fruits.

    Dorius finally emerged rubbing tired eyes and carrying a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He stared blankly at her when she offered him porridge, then took the offered bowl with both hands and sat with her on the trunk. He tasted it, pouted, but continued to eat in silence.

    Val rose and left him a moment to straighten the tent, somehow in the few moments it took him to rise from his cot and dress for the day he had scattered half their belongings across the floor and cots. When she emerged, he was hunched over the fire, his bowl of porridge discarded half eaten, and appeared to be despondently warming his hands.

    They were camped well back from the main roads used through the encampment, so Val noted immediately when a figure dressed like a hunter turned from the road to approach them. She retrieved her axe and leaned on it in an effort to appear casual, assuming it was a hunter coming from the morning meeting when her absence was noted to find her and beg for assistance on the day¡¯s work. When they drew back their hood, their head was bald.

    Val¡¯s grip on her axe tightened, as the Vigilant welcomed themself unbidden to the fire and sat cross legged across from Dorius. It was the same one as the evening before, their body was slim yet had a more masculine shape to it than not. Their bald face was androgynous, with a sharp jaw and prominent chin. The voice Val remembered had been feminine, and a dark seductive one at that. They looked Val up and down for a moment, tilting their head from shoulder to shoulder as if stretching their neck, then turned their attention to Dorius.

    ¡°Cinereal Dragon Prince, welcome.¡± Their voice was like thick honey this morning.

    Dorius immediately discarded lethargy, eyes wide awake and staring at this new guest. Despite himself he drew up a little straighter, shoulders squaring and eyed the Vigilant.

    ¡°I go by Dorn here,¡± he instructed.

    ¡°I will be sure to use the name, but thought it fitting to greet you by title,¡± explained the Vigilant.

    Val scanned around them, searching for any pilgrims that might be close enough to overhear. The Vigilant tracked her gaze and offered, ¡°Do not worry, none will hear what I do not want them to.¡±

    Dorius narrowed his eyes, but could not help himself with the question, ¡°How?¡±

    The Vigilant turned back to him, then without pretense outright claimed, ¡°Our spell is about the valley. None may defy us here in our seat of power.¡±

    Val shifted, drawing closer to Dorius.

    ¡°You¡¯re controlling these people?¡± accused Dorius, a hint of disdain in his voice.

    ¡°Not controlling, they have free will. More so a compulsion, a slip of the mind, away from thoughts we¡¯d rather they not have. It is imperfect, sometimes what is underneath still bubbles to the surface.¡±

    ¡°And what thoughts would you rather they not have?¡± asked Dorius.

    The Vigilant gave a sickly sweet smile, then moved on, ¡°I have come at the bidding of the Prime. You have been granted an audience.¡±

    Dorius narrowed his eyes, but his hands came together and he leaned forward in his seat.

    ¡°Now?¡±

    ¡°Tonight, you will slip through the gates when the residents return at dusk and leave again tomorrow.¡±

    Dorius chewed on this information for a moment, then fixed the Vigilant with a determined stare, ¡°Does your Prime know why I come?¡±

    The Vigilant sighed, almost as if they were tired, and a mask seemed to slip away. Their voice, normally a sultry drawl, grew a little shorter and more business-like. They asked a question in return, ¡°What do you know of us?¡±

    Val searched the Vigilant¡¯s face for a sign of deception or a trap and found none. They just seemed as tired as the pilgrims around them.

    ¡°I know you worship the Watcher. I know you keep detailed histories of families and events. I know you track the weather and the seasons and the stars. I assume¡­ that you are the major powers of the Free Mountain State, and that High Haven and its people are little more than the logistical necessity of your Chapel here,¡± answered Dorius.

    ¡°Some true, some not. Your assumptions are right. This Chapel is our oldest, older than you can possibly comprehend. Erected before many of the gods were born and it will stand here till the last fade away. Through the years High Haven grew from the pilgrims that laid roots here, and has evolved its own system of administration and organization since then. But we are the reason and power here.¡±

    ¡°Who conducts diplomacy with the Pentarchs on behalf of the Mountain State?¡± asked Dorius.

    ¡°The mayor. Until our intervention is needed¡­¡±

    ¡°Like now?¡± suggested Dorius.

    The Vigilant smiled sweetly, ¡°And so we move to what you got wrong. We do not worship the Watcher. We serve the Watcher. Our vigil is in observance of the weaving, and to pass the time we document it. Occasionally, She calls us to service, when the pattern of the weft no longer threads neatly, and a creator¡¯s hand is required to correct the tension in the warp.¡±

    Dorius drew his eyebrows together, confusion visible, ¡°The Watcher speaks to you?¡±

    The Vigilant tilted their hand back and forth, ¡°It is not so straightforward, but in a manner yes. The listening has a price. It changes us close to it, sometimes so that we may serve better, and sometimes because mortals are not built to hear divine words spoken.¡±

    The Vigilant rose, dusting off the back of their legs from sitting. ¡°Thus,¡± they continued, ¡°We come to now. Yes, we know you have come at the bidding of your Uncle, but that is merely the weaving driving you here. I have shared what I can, but know what we do here we have done with purpose despite the pain we know it causes. The Prime will share more when you meet with her.¡±

    Dorius rose with the Vigilant to see them from the fire, they held a palm outwards and gestured for him to sit again. Their movement had an effortless grace. ¡°Meet me at the gate when the bells toll, we will guide you to the Chapel,¡± was the final instruction.

 3.5 Bells (Part 2)

    ¡°I¡¯ve had an interesting day,¡± announced Bastian as he returned to the tent in the early afternoon, bow slung across his shoulders.

    ¡°As have we,¡± replied Val, who was sitting on the trunk poking the fire with a stick.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Dorn?¡± Bastian returned his bow to the wagon and took a canvas tarp which he shook out to place on the ground. Val nodded her head in the direction of the tent in answer to his question. He plopped himself down on the tarp and stretched his legs in front of him, ¡°Ahh, I¡¯m tired.¡±

    Val passed him a flask, which Bastian took and gave a sniff, ¡°Anything fun?¡±

    Val rolled her eyes, ¡°It¡¯s water.¡±

    ¡°Hmph,¡± but he still took a long drink, ¡°Well you go first. I¡¯m dying to know what excitement came of waiting at the tent.¡±

    Val snatched the flask back off him, which earned a grin. She gave him a stern look in return.

    ¡°Seems the Vigilants may have been manipulating the pilgrims,¡± she offered.

    Bastian¡¯s mouth fell open, but not in shock at the revelation. ¡°Watcher! I spend the day on my feet and you get to my juicy little discovery all on your own!¡±

    Val tilted her head slightly, ¡°How¡¯d you find out?¡±

    Bastian drew his legs in to begin undoing his boots, ¡°Seem¡¯d a bit odd this whole thing. Like everyone was just missing the point of what they were trying to achieve. Had a chat with the snake that pretty much confirmed it.¡±

    ¡°You snuck into his camp?¡±

    ¡°Relax, he already knew there was something suspicious about us after last night, and he hasn¡¯t seen Dorn.¡± Bastian paused for a moment, discarding one of his boots to the side, ¡°Val¡­ can we talk?¡±

    Val raised her head to look at him properly, his golden eyes were more serious than usual. As she opened her mouth to respond, Dorius emerged from the tent with the novel he was reading in hand.

    ¡°You¡¯re back. We need to prepare for tonight,¡± Dorius announced, snapping the book shut.

    Bastian looked over his shoulder at Dorius, his comment to Val seemingly forgotten, ¡°Prepare for what? What happened here?¡±

    Dorius lowered his voice, ¡°A Vigilant stopped by, we¡¯ve been invited for an audience. We will enter the gate at the bells. You will need to get us close and then wait here with the wagon.¡±

    Bastian scrambled to his feet, one foot naked, ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    ¡°Val and I will go to meet with the Prime.¡±

    ¡°No, no... I¡¯ll come back to the other thing. But first, Val should wait here, not me,¡± Bastian threw a hand in her general direction, ¡°We can¡¯t possibly sneak her in. You and I would blend with the hunters.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± added Val mildly.

    Dorius shook his head, ¡°It will be Val.¡±

    Bastian seemed unusually put off by this order, ¡°Someone will notice, you¡¯ll start a brawl once the other pilgrims realize. Let me come instead,¡± his tone edged on pleading.

    Bastian looked at Val for back up, but she shrugged her shoulders now the order had been given. ¡°I trust you,¡± she muttered to Dorius, and returned to poking about the fire.

    ¡°Dori-... Dorn, I insist.¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Dorius finished the argument in a low voice, ¡°I will not have Val left alone here.¡±

    Bastian frowned, but he knew this was not the time for further prodding on the matter. He sat back down, huffed a huge sigh and rubbed his forehead with the palms of both hands.

    ¡°And you said a Vigilant came here?¡± he asked after a moment to collect himself.

    Dorius and Bastian traded stories of the day, voices low. Val listened idly, none of the details catching her interest. When Dorius felt sufficiently updated, he rose to return to his tent and finished with, ¡°I will expect your arrangements then.¡±

    Bastian looked defeated sitting on the tarp. He sat cross legged and barefoot, hands together in a fist pressed to his mouth, and seemed to think for several minutes. Val watched him curiously, uncertain if he would broach the topic he had started before Dorius had interrupted them earlier. Whatever it had been, it seemed lost now in the whirlwind of thought as he considered his new orders.

    After a long wait he rose to his feet, and approached the wagon, rummaging through the supplies.

    ¡°Val, come help me with this?¡± he called.

    Val got to her feet and came to his side, he passed a polished bronze mirror to her, ¡°Hold this for me.¡±

    She held the mirror up, and looking in it he grabbed her wrist to adjust the angle to his liking. Wetting his hand then face, he scrubbed his chin with a bar of soap and drew a razor to shave the stubble. Only once he had started the first stroke of the blade, did he speak again.

    ¡°Are you happy here?¡±

    Val started at the odd question, pulling back. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist again, and he steadied the mirror where his gaze remained as he continued to shave.

    ¡°What sort of question is that?¡± she muttered, her voice low so Dorius would not overhear.

    ¡°An honest one.¡±

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    His hand remained strong on her wrist. She could have easily broken free of him, but did not. Bastian flicked his other hand to dislodge soap from the blade and continued his work.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think happy or not matters. Where else would I go?¡±

    This wasn¡¯t an answer Bastian wanted to hear, and he looked up at her for the first time since he had trapped her. ¡°Could you go? If you wanted?¡±

    Val frowned, uncertain under his gaze, ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you are asking. I could join another mercenary company, I suppose, or get new work as a bodyguard.¡±

    ¡°And nothing keeps you here?¡±

    ¡°Nothing? You and Dorius keep me here.¡± She felt safe to say his name in their hushed conversation.

    Bastian released her wrist finally, and she pulled back now she was free.

    ¡°I just¡­¡± he started, jaw half shaven, ¡°I heard some odd things.¡±

    ¡°Heard what?¡± she demanded, ¡°about the horned Fae?¡± she inferred.

    Bastian drew close, grabbing a chin horn to draw her head down to his level.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather you learn this from a friend.¡±

    Val waited. With a ragged breath he spoke in a rush, ¡°I think you and the horned Fae are of a similar species, and you might not be a half-breed like we thought. But the hunters told some odd stories, that they make contracts in service to others and are bound by them. I don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m worried about you.¡±

    Val did not move, and slowly exhaled. The tip of Bastian¡¯s finger on her horn brushed her chin and he paused, then withdrew his hand. She pulled away from him, and turned her head so she wouldn¡¯t have to see whatever expression his eyes made at her.

    ¡°They serve the Vigilants, you may learn it yourself tonight,¡± he finished. His hand made a movement to reach for her again, but he thought better.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t want me to go,¡± she accused, drawing the connection.

    Bastian sighed, and opened his free hand to ask for the mirror back. ¡°No, but¡­ not because of this. You are very hard to hide.¡±

    Val handed him the mirror, and he turned sideways to finish shaving.

    ¡°I am not bound if that is what you imply,¡± she reassured, then with more firmness, ¡°And despite what Dorn might think, I¡¯m not in danger of setting this camp on fire.¡±

    ¡°Dorn is a cad, you should ignore him.¡± Bastian turned the mirror about his head to inspect his shave.

    Val snorted at the remark, just as Bastian tossed the mirror back into the wagon.

    ¡°Look,¡± he seemed uncertain of his words, ¡°Be careful, they might not be what you think they are.¡±

    Val tensed, her voice was neutral still but her brows had tightened, ¡°Not what I think? What do you know of what I think?¡±

    Bastian flinched, realizing he had chosen his words poorly, as he opened his mouth to backtrack she continued in a hiss. ¡°I think I know how to take care of myself. I think that I would know more than you about the risks of getting my own feelings hurt. Don¡¯t assume you know more than you do.¡±

    "Don''t assume? I''m not assuming anything. I''m looking out for you here," he sniped in a hushed voice, his manner instantly shifting to frustration.

    "Well don''t."

    "Don''t be bull-headed about this!"

    "Ha!" croaked Val and tossed her hands in the air. She had no more interest in whatever conversation Bastian was trying to trap her in, and spun to leave.

    ¡ª

    Val spotted the Vigilant first, waiting among the pilgrims on the edge of the community, and gestured to Bastian and Dorius. The Vigilant rose from their seat as they joined them, and looked towards the gate in anticipation.

    ¡°The bells will begin soon,¡± they announced meaningfully. Their voice was like spun silk, the sweet honey had returned to it.

    Bastian fussed with Dorius¡¯ hood, his concern almost motherly. They had dressed him in Bastian¡¯s mercenary leathers - Dorius had not bought his own. With sigils removed it was a close approximation of the practical garb of the hunters and would help to blend him.

    ¡°You will go first, go right to the front of the waiting hunters, be the first one through if you can,¡± Bastian instructed, ¡°Val is your decoy. When she enters, eyes will be on her. If we play it right, we might convince everyone that this is an exception made for Fae only.¡±

    Dorius looked at the Vigilant meaningfully, ¡°And if I am spotted?¡±

    The Vigilant shrugged, ¡°The bells anew the compulsion, there is no better time to try than this.¡±

    As if on command, the first bell tolled. Val¡¯s back straightened as its pure tone faded and the buzzing returned to her mind. It hovered on the trailing edge of the notes, as if it was using the sound as its vehicle throughout the valley. The gate groaned.

    ¡°Go, go!¡± hissed Bastian, pushing Dorius forward with the Vigilant. The pair joined the front of the hunters, blending with their leathers. If the hunters noticed them, they gave no indication, most were weary from a day''s work and eager to return to families and bed.

    As with the night before, more bells joined in a complex melody. Too complex for a simple bell-ringer. The pilgrims barely watched today, with no caravan coming the gate would crack just enough to let the High Haven natives through, and no more. There was none of the energy of the previous day.

    Bastian held Val back, watching Clara and Gail on the road as they exchanged their farewells. Val breathed deep and let the music of the bells steady her. With each breath, she relaxed her hands then shoulders, and steeled her nerves. Had she been preparing to stand at Dorius'' side, the ritual of decorating her horns with the little trinkets he had made for her was where she usually found these moments. It was one of the few times she found so much strength in her differences, when she could decorate them and look in a mirror and see herself proud, dangerous, maybe even beautiful. There was normally a touch of sadness, when she would normally have to pair the act with some oafish-ness to maintain their deception of spoiled prince and brute Fae guard. But not today. Today, she could stand tall and powerful and all would look on and see only she would walk through the gate.

    She¡¯d found a scrap of leather strapping, like those used for the bulls, and wrapped it around one head horn in her best approximation of her ritual. Like a player¡¯s costume, like precious jewels and gleaming metal, like armor. In the demands of duty, there was strength and resolution. She shrugged to rebalance the weight of the axe on her back, and stood tall, horns towering over everyone around her.

    Bastian picked a moment when Clara was turning her back to give Val a small nudge.

    ¡°Be safe,¡± he said. There was a twinge of steeliness in his voice still, an edge from their earlier conversation that remained.

    Val hummed in acknowledgement. Then stepped into the road.

    Bells rang. The air buzzed.

    A guard at the encampment saw her first. He shoved a fellow, pointed at her, and his companion bolted back within the tents.

    Val walked quick, as fast as her long legs would take her without it being a jog. As she bumped a hunter, they looked at her with wide eyes, and she passed onwards towards the gate.

    She did not risk a glance back, she heard a voice call out but pressed on.

    Dorius and the Vigilant were already through. Bells sung clear and metallic. She reached the gate, and with one shoulder, pushed it slightly wider to let herself through.

 Interlude 2

    ¡°These ones too!¡±

    Val lifted her chin to let Dorius tuck another two volumes under her stumpy chin horns, she had to duck slightly to let him reach. Her braids were tied into a black bun at the nap of her neck, the lines weaving around the two short horns on her head that had grown too large to hide any longer. She wore scraps of a grown-man''s leather armor where they had been modified to fit her, and simple, slightly threadbare clothes that were neatly tailored. The pile of books was so tall her arms were fully stretched trying to balance them. The younger silver-haired boy moved through his family''s library with a practiced familiarity, fingers running along the spines of books as he worked. He picked up another one and opened it to page through the chapters.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you rather books with more pictures?¡± she asked him gently, her eyes glazing over as she looked over his shoulder at the volume he was flicking through. There were far too many words for her to even know where to start.

    ¡°There is nothing useful in books with pictures, Val, except maps. Maps are useful pictures. Oh and those ones with drawings of flowers.¡±

    Val hummed, and glanced sideways out the window to assess the time. ¡°What are you reading about?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to find books of the Free States to the south. Elias said if I wanted to encourage the Guild to try something new I should assemble my ideas in an essay so I can organize them for others,¡± Dorius stopped on a page that caught his interest, running his finger along the words as he silently read, then put the book back. His robes were made from fine fabrics, but the colors of the dyes had faded with age and a few of the seams betrayed they had been modified from other clothing. The belt was a simple sash tied in a thick knot.

    ¡°Sounds dull,¡± commented Val.

    ¡°Elias says my Mother used to love to write. That she would read a book a day and keep her thoughts written down while they were fresh, so she could read them again later and remember all the details. Elias says my Mother had a memory like a steel trap,¡± Dorius moved to the next bookcase continuing his search.

    Val glanced out the window again. Dorius picked up another volume. There was a moment of silence.

    ¡°How long till I will see you again?¡± he asked.

    Val shrugged the pile of books. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she replied.

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    ¡°Are you scared?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not scared of bandits? Or wild Fae?¡±

    ¡°Not as scared as I am of the men when Hart has no work for them,¡± admitted Val.

    Dorius fidgeted with a ring on his right hand, twisting it loosely around his right index finger. ¡°I wish you didn¡¯t have to work. Elias says the Pentarch stopped paying my allowance when Father died. He says he writes to ask like Father did, but my Uncle won¡¯t listen. If I had money, I¡¯d pay you. Then you wouldn¡¯t have to go, and you could stay here and learn to read too!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to read, Bastian says it¡¯s boring. What would you pay me to do?¡±

    ¡°You could be my bodyguard. And Bastian too. If I had money, I¡¯d employ everyone. I¡¯d have ten, no¡­ twenty servants. And a horse, and a big carriage covered in gold dragons. And I¡¯d buy fancy uniforms for the whole Company, make Father proud,¡± Dorius counted his ideas against his fingers as he spoke, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm, and began to walk out of the library back to the study.

    ¡°Sounds like a lot of money,¡± said Val skeptically as she followed.

    Obediently Val deposited the book pile on the study desk for Dorius, it was scattered with papers and hand written notes. The only toy was a hand carved wooden horse figurine which stood proudly on one corner as a treasured decoration.

    ¡°Val? You in here?¡± Both Val and Dorius raised their heads to the doorway, Hart pausing with his hand on the frame when he saw Dorius as well, ¡°Young Sir, Valina will need to leave you now.¡±

    Val lingered a moment, restacking the book pile for better balance.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± asked Dorius with the confidence of a much older boy, taking a seat at his desk.

    Hart dipped his head respectfully, ¡°South west, along the Artifar to Kimlet. We¡¯re escorting a merchant convoy there.¡±

    ¡°Can Val stay?¡±

    Val didn¡¯t dare look up at the younger boy, but felt her heart jump with hope for a moment.

    ¡°The Company needs her strength and the extra body she adds. We¡¯re barely bringing in enough to keep everyone paid, let alone having anything left to keep the estate cared for,¡± replied Hart grimly, ¡°I know you¡¯d prefer if she could stay young Sir. Sebastian will be about soon, once he¡¯s released from his archery practice.¡±

    Dorius opened one of his books, but looked grimly at the page instead of reading.

    ¡°You¡¯re dismissed then. Good luck.¡±

    Val let her hand slip off the book pile, and solemnly turned to follow her guardian from the room. Hart patted her on the shoulder as he let her pass, she was already taller than him if you counted her horns.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be back soon enough,¡± reassured Hart, and shut the door behind him.

 4.1 High Haven

    ¡°What do you think you are doing!?¡±

    Gail planted the flat of his hand on her chest. If she were human he would have pushed her backwards. Instead Val pushed back against him as a flex of her own strength, snorting a warning.

    ¡°Calm, she is with us,¡± instructed the Vigilant, voice like silk.

    Gail turned, confusion on his face. The bells continued to toll still, and the gate behind them closed. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± he demanded, ¡°I thought your instructions were that none would pass?¡±

    Val glanced about, the Vigilant had already hidden Dorius out of view. In response to Gail¡¯s confusion, they now slipped their arm into Val¡¯s, hand gently placed on her elbow, and made to lead her away.

    ¡°Listen to the bells Mayor and do not concern yourself. The orders still remain that none shall pass, except those we invite.¡± Bells rung clearly within the city walls and Val felt the buzzing swarm. To her it was like having brushed your skin against a stinging plant, a prickling, itching feeling inside her head. The instinct to pull away was almost overwhelming.

    ¡°You invite another pet Laon!?¡± spat Gail, ¡°And not one of your own? For months we have suffered your orders!¡±

    Val grabbed his hand from her chest, and drew it back and above his head, contorting his position so he was off balance. She watched him struggle, futile against her strength. For a moment, she thought he or the other hunters might break into violence and was glad the Vigilant was so close, but the bells worked their compulsion. His eyes that were wide, and hands ready for blows seemed to fade under her, the red from his cheeks dissipating. Instead, the corner of his lip turned into a snarl of disgust as if she were refuse he now wished to be rid of.

    ¡°Yes, your kind are welcome here. Dog!¡± he hissed, she let him snatch his hand from her grasp.

    Val felt only pity as he turned with his men and marched into the town.

    The Vigilant led her to Dorius, waiting between houses off the main road, he looked curious at seeing the compulsion so closely.

    ¡°That is a cheap trick,¡± he commented to the Vigilant, although his tone very much implied he was not above using similar if he had access to it.

    The Vigilant shrugged and released Val¡¯s arm, ¡°We don¡¯t choose the tools given to us, nor the orders.¡± To that sentiment at least, Val could feel some sympathy. ¡°This is likely the limit though,¡± they added, ¡°Which is well enough, our carillonists have almost no magic left to tap.¡±

    The Vigilant lead them via the back alleys through the town, walking in parallel to the main thoroughfare but never on it. The buildings were exceptionally strange, every one had been carved in giant, solid pieces from the ground, only the framing of doors, windows and shutters was fresh wood. The roads were smooth and perfect, the corners square and neat. Seams and uneven edges that would have been the evidence of craftsmen were completely missing. The entire town had once been carved from pure magic - just like the fortress at the capital or the outer walls of the Horned Palace.

    As they approached the chapel, Dorius let out a gasp of shock. There was glass, great vaulting windows of perfect, colored glass!

    Like every other building, the chapel itself was smooth and faultless. The main building that towered overhead was understated, letting its perfect lines and edges speak to the perfection of the magic that had carved it instead of reveling in ostentatious decoration. The glass was glorious, a striking remnant of the old magic. The detailed panels were colored yellows and reds, showing designs primarily of the great Watcher¡¯s eye set against rays of color and texture. At the back was the bell tower, glimpses of the ringing bells visible within the open chamber at the top. Unlike the previous night, when the bells had ceased after the gate was closed, tonight they still ominously rang. Val wondered what Bastian had been left to deal with beyond the wall.

    At the door, two horned Fae stood on a relaxed guard, halberds propped on the wall behind them. Their eyes turned to watch Val as she passed, their faces gave no hint of expression unlike the previous ones she had met. Maybe word of her had reached them now?

    Several annexes divided off from the main chapel building, which was where the Vigilant led them next. ¡°You will not enter the Chapel with dirt and sweat upon you,¡± they explained, ¡°Bath first.¡±

    The Vigilant led them within the annex down a corridor of simple bedrooms - all empty. The largest room at the end had two other Vigilants, dressed in their dark, heavy robes, waiting. Within, Val spied a tub with steaming water. Dorius let out a sigh of anticipation, and let himself be guided inside with the Vigilants who shut the door behind them. Val turned, assuming she was to take her usual position guarding his door, but their Vigilant companion laid a gentle hand on her arm again.

    ¡°You too,¡± they said, and gestured to a smaller room back up the corridor. From the doorway, two horned Fae appeared.

    The first had a broken horn she clearly remembered. He was easily her height but slimmer in his build. He was dressed simply, in a loin cloth of wolf pelt and a leather gorget-and-pauldron-like ornamental piece across his shoulders. He wore an ornament on his unbroken horn like Val did, a beaded piece made of matte, pitted, black stone beads. The sides of his head were shaved with a mohawk of hair down the center, brushed backwards into an elegant sweep. His face had the tension of someone who did not want to be there.

    The second was by comparison petit, slightly shorter than the average human. She was dressed in simple undyed robes and instead had only chin horns. Her hair was cropped short, except for a few long, finger-thin braids hanging down either side to complement her horns, each finished with a single black bead.

    Val¡¯s usually unassailable drive to remain near Dorius faltered, she looked between the door and the Vigilant and the waiting Fae for a moment. He wouldn¡¯t know, surely? This was a safe place, surely?

    The Vigilant gave her a silky smile, lingering their hand on her arm and drawing her in a gentle gesture away from Dorius¡¯ door. The smaller Fae gestured within, and Val complied.

    The broken-horned Fae addressed her as she entered, ¡°This one is Lee¡¯to,¡± he said, gesturing to the smaller Fae, ¡°She will serve you as handmaid.¡±

    Val watched the Vigilant leave, and turned to him squarely now she had a moment of privacy. Curiosity overwhelmed her hesitation, she may never have another chance.

    ¡°I have questions,¡± she announced.

    The Fae shook his head and seemed a little frustrated, beaded charm fluttering with the movement. ¡°I have no orders to answer questions, only serve,¡± he said simply, he then opened his hands and waited, ¡°I will take your axe.¡±

    Val hesitated, then unstrapped it from her back. He took it one-handed, and gently carried it with him as he shut the door.

    Val was left with the smaller Fae, who held wash rags and grabbed Val by a hand to lead her to a tub. The water steamed invitingly, scented herbs had been added to the water creating an earthy, appealing perfume.

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    ¡°Lee¡¯to,¡± tested Val, unfamiliar with the accented name that differed from the common sounds of human ones. The Fae nodded, and made a gesture with her hand, drawing down a chin horn with her smallest finger and ending in a flick.

    ¡°Are you able to answer questions?¡± Val probed hesitantly. She was unsurprised when the Fae shook her head. Lee¡¯to made several gestures with her hands, then sensing Val¡¯s confusion, slowed and repeated a few, ending with an open handed gesture against her throat, which she repeated several times.

    ¡°You cannot speak?¡± finally interpreted Val.

    Her face lit up in obvious joy, she made the throat gesture again with a nod, then gestured Val to the bath. Val stripped, the maid helping her with her clothes with the same deference Val had seen the handmaids at Southold care for Dorius. She then stepped into the tub, and could not help herself a sigh as she sunk into the warm water.

    Whoever had filled it had estimated her size well, and it did not overflow instead filling just to the brim. The maid came forward, as if to help Val clean herself, but Val blushed and took the wash rag from her. There were lines she was not comfortable with.

    The maid took no offense, and instead moved to the back of her head and began to unbraid her hair for washing. Val worked diligently cleaning herself, the water quickly turning a milky grey from soap and grime. The maid huffed slightly with concern, and instead prepared a bucket of fresh water and stool to finish washing her hair, bidding Val with gentle hands to tip her head backwards to ease her work. Once she was done with her hair, she finally worked with an easy familiarity on her horns, gently untying the strapping Val had decorated herself with and rubbing them down with water then drying and buffing in a scented wax from a small stone pot, while Val luxuriated in the water. She idly noted the bells had finished ringing, the sound had drifted into the background while she bathed and she was not sure exactly when they had stopped.

    As the heat from the water faded, the maid bought out a towel and offered it, busying herself with clothing for Val as she rose and dried herself. Val was given not her old clothing to wear, but instead fresh robes. They were simple in their design and undyed, but made of sumptuous fabrics that nobles would wear. The patterns woven into the cuffs were unfamiliar to her and the ties and design of the folds seemed unlike anything she had seen Dorius or his family wear. Val hesitated, but the maid was diligent and responsive to her movements as before. She gently came close to help with the order of the layers and ties, and the complicated wrapping and folding of the waist belt that Val had never had to do before. Again, they had judged her size with a perfect familiarity, where human robes were likely too short or not broad enough for her shoulders and neck, these were an elegant fit. Oddly, the robes were asymmetrical, leaving one arm and shoulder uncovered.

    Despite the warm layers, Val felt naked without some sort of armor, and almost as if she sensed her thought the maid next had a decorative leather shoulder piece like the taller horned Fae had worn, to complement the asymmetrical design of the robes. She gestured for Val to sit on the stool she had used to wash her hair, then strapped the decorative armor into place, gentle, experienced hands lifting and turning Val¡¯s arm as she needed. The final flourish to the outfit was a section of wolf pelt, draped over her other shoulder. The fur was fine and dark, and Val patted it curiously.

    Lee¡¯to dried her hair next with a fresh towel, and while there was no time to re-braid it she neatly wrapped and pinned it close to her head with long wooden hairpins. Finally, she added the strapping Val had worn on her horns, carefully wrapping it neatly to the same horn Val had originally chosen to wear it on.

    Lee¡¯to seemed satisfied with her work, and gestured something to Val with her hands.

    ¡°I am sorry, I do not understand,¡± muttered Val. Lee¡¯to gave a gentle smile, then picked up her hand with a soft familiarity and held it in both of her own hands. She then beckoned her to a standing mirror of polished bronze and gestured for her to look.

    Val¡¯s breath caught. She had never once considered herself attractive, if anything her own view of her body was as a sexless weapon - at best its beauty was in the fit of its form for the tasks it undertook. Otherwise, it was all¡­ just not a thing she allowed herself much time for, less she wallow darkly in her own hurt feelings on the matter. The accents human women made for themselves were not made for her, too small or ill-shaped. They often aimed to create the illusion of a ripe figure that would be impossible for her with her lean, rippling muscle. She was aware some men and women found her differences interesting, but dismissed most of it as curiosity after she had learnt better. Instead, she had not really considered that there might be other forms of beauty that could be a better fit for her, she¡¯d had no prior examples.

    But the creature that looked back was proud and daunting. Her size and horns were terrible accents to the outfit, reminders of her overwhelming physical presence. The finely tailored clothes were designed for someone with her body - sharp clean lines and crisp folds accentuating the brutal, martial power of her figure. Her horns were buffed to a rich shine, giving her an animalistic ferocity. She knew how to use her body to get her way, even before this sight. But here she saw herself enhanced with an aura of supreme force she had never felt before, that was let down by her gaping expression. She ran her hands through the wolf pelt, petting it gently in awe, and wondered what Bastian would quip if he saw her like this.

    The maid beckoned her to the door again, where the taller Fae had waited, her axe still in hand. Lee¡¯to still held her hand with both of hers and gave her a last reassuring smile, then released her and spoke again with her hand gestures. The tall one watched for a moment, then commented, ¡°She says it was a pleasure to serve an Alate, and she wishes you safety on your travels.¡±

    Val cocked her head, ¡°Alate?¡± it was not a word she had ever heard before.

    The broken-horned Fae nodded and returned her axe to her, but did not answer the question, ¡°I am your escort. If you would come.¡±

    Dorius was not yet ready, so the Fae led her to a vestibule outside the main Vigil Chamber to wait. Val remained standing, concerned she would crease her nice robes, and busied herself studying the colored glass windows. Occasionally, a Vigilant would pass through, carrying candles or other preparations for the night, none acknowledging her presence.

    Finally, Dorius approached with their Vigilant companion from earlier who had changed into their dark, heavy robes. They had found Dorius a set of rich, elegant robes fitting his station in a deep pewter that was close to the blued-steel hue of his branches'' colors. Dorius had a natural elegance for fine clothing, a birth-given arrogance in how he moved and stood. But he gave Val a cheeky half smile as he spotted her, and tucked his hands into his sleeves.

    ¡°Interesting look,¡± he complimented as he looked her up and down, ¡°We should get a set for my tailor to copy.¡±

    Dorius was the type who wanted his retainers on display as an extension of his own presence, he enjoyed having Val at his side as ostentatiously decorated as himself - often even more so than himself. But the look they had erred to was gaudy, part of their disguise in his family''s company and was a match to many of their own fashion tastes. Instead, there was a competent, martial understatement to the clothing the Vigilants had prepared for them, and Val could see it giving him thoughts.

    The Vigilant looked amused, and gestured now to the doorway of the Vigil Chamber.

    The Chamber, like the Chapel itself, had an minimalist aesthetic, with the exception of the brightly colored glass panels on the walls and ceiling. In daylight, the Chamber was likely awash with color, dancing on every surface. At night, lit by candles from within, it was a solemn affair.

    At the center was a wide circular dish, filled with water so still its surface reflected the walls like a mirror. Beyond, a dais with an empty stone throne and above the eye of the Watcher on prominent display over the entire room. Behind the throne, dark curtains obscured the back walls on either side of the eye. They were black in the candlelight, but Val was certain in the daylight she would have seen they were actually a deep purple.

    The Prime sat on a smaller seat to the side of the throne, they leaned on one hand and had a leg hooked over one arm rest in an almost childish, reclined pose. At their feet, a horned Fae was sprawled on the floor, leaning against the leg of the chair. This one was male, but with the slimmer human proportions that Lee¡¯to had. His horns were unlike any Val had ever seen, two long thin sickles from his forehead that twisted in an elegant wave and arched over the back of his head. He was dressed in the wolf skin loincloth she saw many of the males wear, but his torso was smeared with black mud that had dried and cracked revealing his hairless, ashen skin beneath.

    The Prime lifted her free hand in greeting, and Dorius nodded his head as he approached, a gesture indicating he considered them an equal to his own status. Val fell into step behind at his left, striking the centered grim stance she felt most comfortable in at his side. She leant on her axe, both hands resting on the eye between the blades.

    The Prime was dressed in the same robes as the other Vigilants, dyed a purple so dark it appeared black. She had long silver hair, unbound, although her face appeared middle aged at most. The mark of her station, the only difference from every other Vigilants'' garb, was a heavy amulet around her neck, the now familiar shape of the Watcher¡¯s eye.

    ¡°I have come at your bidding for an audience,¡± began Dorius, ¡°Tell me why you have shut this valley to pilgrims and refused my family''s diplomats?¡±

    The Prime remained lazily reclined in her seat, ¡°Welcome, Cinereal Dragon Prince. We have the whole evening, we need not rush to business.¡±

 4.2 Dragon God

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I desire that we get to business first. This is most unusual and I demand an explanation.¡±

    The Prime smiled. The Vigilant from earlier had come to her side and took a stance to her left much like Val did for Dorius.

    ¡°Very well. A pilgrim, unsatisfied with the resolution of their pilgrimage this past winter, defied our mandate, broke our seals, and entered the sacred valley of the Mountain God. From there they travelled to the upper slopes and woke the Dragoness from her slumber. We believe she slaughtered most of their party as she woke, and we chose to seal our home until we could treat with her for the safety of everyone.¡±

    Dorius frowned, there was a lot of new information to work through.

    ¡°The Dragoness I have a passing familiarity with, the Mountain God I do not know. Please explain further,¡± he requested politely.

    The Prime was not insulted by the request, and even seemed slightly happy to teach. She gestured to the Vigilant, who opened some of the curtains at the back wall. An intricate mosaic of a great black dragon was revealed. The dragon was rampant, great clawed hands splayed and wings wide. Her eyes, claws and spines were bright gold, and on her head were four bronze-gold horns in a crown about her temple - just like the sigil of the Fourth Pentarchy. In the glow of the candle light, Val noted the black tiles caught the light and shone an iridescent purple.

    The honey-voiced Vigilant spoke, ¡°The Dragoness is better known as the Dragon God of Death. But that is a simplification of her aspect, she is the god of fading and entropy, of the cruel flow of time and everything that diminishes with its passing. She is the youngest god, and still bitter and angry with her fate.¡±

    ¡°And the Mountain God?¡±

    The Prime answered this one, ¡°The Mountain God is not a member of our pantheon. The Vigil serves the Watcher and the Dragon Gods, but there are other gods that are for the creatures of the earth and the passing of the seasons. The Mountain God was born with this continent before living creatures walked and stands still beneath your very feet.¡±

    ¡°You mean that figuratively?¡± asked Dorius.

    The Prime gave a sly grin, and spoke with a surprising plainness, ¡°No, literally. The Spine is the Mountain God. We rest on its bones and shelter at its breast.¡±

    Dorius seemed skeptical, but moved on to the rest of the Prime''s pronouncement, ¡°And you say this Dragoness has awoken, that you have closed your gates for our protection?¡±

    The Prime grew darker, her voice concerned, ¡°Yes, in part. In another, the breaking of our seal was a great betrayal, and the pilgrims will feel the punishment for doing so. But, the Dragoness has been sleeping for a very long time, and she is a creature of bitter violence. We do not know what she intends now she has awoken, it seemed better to keep things quiet till we knew more. We trusted the weaving woke her for reasons beyond our knowledge, and we trusted the weaving to bring us a solution to parley with her.¡±

    ¡°What solution?¡± asked Dorius, but Val felt she already knew their answer and likely he did as well.

    ¡°You.¡±

    Dorius frowned, and folded his arms in his robes. He looked about for a moment and chose a bench by the great dish of water to sit, where he crossed his legs and looked at the Prime sceptically.

    ¡°You want me to talk to your god?¡± he asked, ¡°Why do you think I would be the best option for this and what am I to get from this arrangement?¡±

    ¡°Solving our problem here will re-open our gates for the pilgrims and re-establish diplomacy with your family. That is the task you set here with?¡±

    Dorius nodded.

    The Prime continued. ¡°We knew it was likely a member of the Fourth Pentarchy that we would be waiting for. But none had come to our gate¡­ except you. Even now your cousins wait in Kal¡¯Fall, hoping to have others do their work for them. But the weaving did not carry them here. The weaving guides all, and the weaving chooses you.¡±

    Dorius raised an eyebrow, ¡°Which cousins?¡±

    The Prime smiled and did not answer.

    Dorius tried another question, ¡°And why a member of the Fourth then?¡±

    Val looked at the dragon mosaic, crown of gold horns just like the Fourth¡¯s sigil. ¡°Because you are her blood,¡± said the Prime.

    Dorius unfolded his arms, ¡°I am related to a god?¡±

    ¡°She was not a god when she mothered her offspring. Gods are not born with all their powers, most are mortal initially, and rise above the weaving. That is what makes them a god, when their thread twists so powerfully that the Watcher bids the Weaver cast their line free to make their own path. The Dragoness fled to the Mountain God and fell to sleep as she watched her mortal life collapse around her while ascending to her immortal role, she experienced great loss and sadness. We hope that seeing that part of her mortal self still continued may soothe her enough to settle her waking,¡± explained the Prime, ¡°The gods are troublesome for the Weaver, the pattern must be improvised after the gods choose where their threads travel. Hence, so much manual intervention in this wakening.¡±

    Dorius continued, ¡°I do not understand. I am human, as was my mother and hers before that, is the Dragoness a dragon?¡±

    The Prime sat up straight, and waved her hand with annoyance, ¡°A great many things have been lost with time as the magic faded. What you cannot comprehend now was once a matter of fact. It does not matter how, it only matters that you are her bloodline.¡±

    Val realised now as the Prime sat straight, that one shoulder and arm of her robe was loose as if empty, and that it was not a quirk of her relaxed position on her throne, but instead that she was missing an entire arm.

    Dorius frowned and pressed on, ¡°Who broke your seal and woke her then?¡±

    The Prime looked sideways at this question, Val expected her to not answer, but it seemed they thought an explanation due for their non-answer this time, ¡°The answer to that strays a little too close to politics that are not our place to interfere with. They are already gone, and the punishment for their transgression began before they even knew they would come here.¡±

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    Dorius fell silent, and chewed away at the torrent of information the Prime had felt willing to share. Val stood quietly at his side, and watched the horned Fae at the feet of the Prime play idly with a tie on his loincloth.

    ¡°I will do as you bid and speak with this god, but I have conditions,¡± declared Dorius after a time.

    The Prime smiled, ¡°Very well, I will hear them.¡±

    Dorius took a deep breath, ¡°When I have done this task, you will negotiate with the Fourth Pentarchy only through myself or my agents.¡±

    The Prime nodded, ¡°We can agree to that term.¡±

    ¡°In addition, if it ever comes up my family will only know that I have done you a favor, and not the specifics of our deal nor our relationship to this god.¡±

    ¡°Also agreed.¡±

    ¡°The Vigilants I have met before do not have your powers or authority, is that true?¡± asked Dorius.

    The Prime thought for a moment about their answer, ¡°Yes and no. All Vigilants stand in Vigil of the weaving, we observe and document no matter our station. If the Watcher spoke, all would listen and follow her command without hesitation. But, it is the nature of our highest Chapel in the Mountain God¡¯s embrace that we remain closer to the old magic than anywhere else in the Pentarchy¡¯s lands. The listening is easier and the old magic saturates us, changing us whether we like it or not.¡±

    ¡°I would have a Vigilant like yourselves then, saturated with whatever changes you and gives you powers, stationed at Southold and working in partnership with my household there,¡± requested Dorius.

    The Prime frowned slightly, ¡°That is harder to accommodate, being far from the Mountain also fades those who are changed.¡±

    ¡°You can rotate,¡± offered Dorius, unwilling to compromise on his ask.

    ¡°We will commit to making something work,¡± offered the Prime.

    ¡°A commitment to do your best to ensure a Vigilant like yourselves is always present in Southold then.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    Dorius smiled, pleased with his terms so far, ¡°I have one more ask then. I have a loyal retainer, Val, who is Fae like yours. She knows not of her kind and has an uncontrolled magic, I would have you order them to help her learn what she can of herself.¡±

    Val turned, mouth open at this request. Dorius did not look at her, his hands folded in his robes he remained fixed watching the Prime.

    The Prime broke into a satisfied smile, ¡°That is not a request we can accommodate. Their service to us is an exchange, I cannot order them beyond its terms. Ja¡¯kel?¡±

    The Fae at her feet inclined his head in response to his name being called, as if he had been ignorant of all conversation up to that moment, and turned his gaze towards Val. He looked perturbed at being disturbed from his rest at the Prime¡¯s feet, and stared at Val and Dorius as if they were insects that slightly disgusted him. ¡°I have no desire to teach this Alate how to walk and speak. Child rearing is for the Maiden Caste,¡± he spat venomously.

    Dorius bristled and rose to his feet, ¡°You will not speak to my guard in that manner.¡±

    ¡°Ha, what pity, it hides behind a Hume,¡± taunted the Fae. Val flinched, her face turning red.

    Dorius opened his mouth to snap a retort, but Val lightly touched his shoulder, ¡°Don¡¯t make this worse,¡± she whispered.

    Dorius turned to her, and she saw a flood of emotions in his crystal blue eyes. Concern, fear, hope. He was her Prince, but he was also her closest friend. She felt the tug of his conflicted emotions about her magic, the desire for power she could bring him as a weapon but also a fear for the harm it might do uncontrolled, or the freedom it might finally buy her from his service. Despite this, she knew him as clearly as if he were a book open for her to read. He would defy his better judgement and risk it all for her - in response to her quiet wish the day before to know of her own kind. She knew in turn, the loyalty he gave her she would pay back in full and follow him to her end. The fire within her warmed a little, giving her strength.

    Val stamped the heel of her axe once against the stone of the Chapel floor. The commanding beat demanded only silence. ¡°I do not know what you are, nor what you call me,¡± she declared, ¡°But I do not hide behind my Prince. Who are you to speak to me this way while you lounge at the feet of another like an indolent?¡±

    Dorius folded his hands within his robes and shot the Fae a piercing look, challenging him to speak again.

    The Fae laughed, tossing his head backwards in a manner that bordered on violent when accented with his sickle horns. ¡°Indeed,¡± he responded after a moment to regain his composure. He forced a smile, ¡°It is a pity then, we have no Alate who could teach even if I deigned to lend them to you.¡±

    A spark of something instinctive danced at the back of Val¡¯s mind, spurned by the fire in her chest. ¡°It is my command that you teach me,¡± she instructed. She was not unused to authority, in battle the mercenaries would sometimes turn to her and she kept a cool head, made easier by being so much larger than most foes. The tone in her voice she had never heard from her own mouth before, it carried the bark of birthright command. Even Dorius started a little beneath her.

    The Fae blanched, his manner instantly shifting. He sat straight and brought his hands together, showing her a deference now that imitated a bow. ¡°Alate, your command. I spoke true. We have no Alate of our own, the last born has wandered for several years now without word to us. You must do as most Alate do and learn unaided by the colony.¡±

    Val cocked her head, copying his phrasing and hoping she interpreted the meanings correctly, ¡°It is not just magic, I had no colony. I know not of my myself or what I am as Alate. I am as a child like you say,¡± she admitted, ¡°If not you, is there a Maiden?¡±

    Ja¡¯Kel inclined his head, although there was a twist to his lip at the mention she had no colony. Holding a fist to his chest, ¡°The Maiden¡¯s may not leave the colony. But we may send a worker or soldier caste to travel with you. I will find suitable candidates to serve you.¡±

    Dorius shook his head, ¡°Not good enough. Val must learn to control her magic,¡± he demanded.

    The Prime, who had watched the exchange with great amusement, spoke then, ¡°I do not know if the technique will be the same, but we have several Vigilants who have become attuned to the magic in their changing. We could offer the chance to speak with them?¡±

    Val felt her heart lift. Dorius frowned, as if he considered asking for more. Val placed a hand on his shoulder again, and gave a slight squeeze. This was enough, she begged silently, this was more than enough. Dorius raised a hand and placed it over hers in a familiar reassuring exchange, then lifted his chin and addressed the Prime.

    ¡°The terms of this exchange are to my satisfaction. How am I to contact this Dragoness and what are the terms of the agreement you wish to broker with her?¡±

    To Val, this was suddenly feeling somewhat like a Company contract. There was a reassuring familiarity to that thought.

    The Prime relaxed in her chair, crossing her legs and leaning on her good hand again.

    ¡°We will call down an acquaintance from the northern slopes who will guide you to her. He is also familiar with the Dragoness and may be helpful in negotiating with her. It will likely take a week for him to arrive, you may wait with the pilgrim¡¯s or visit your cousins in Kal¡¯Fall in the interim. In terms of what we wish to know, we simply wish to settle her rage. If she does not kill you, we¡¯d like you to bring her to us so we can ease her from her sleep.¡±

    Dorius raised an eyebrow at this request, but did not speak. The dragons in ballads and stories were towering creatures, bigger than buildings. Where or how they would transport an angry one was likely to be an interesting challenge.

    ¡°Our contract is complete then,¡± spoke Dorius, ¡°How would you have us leave?¡±

 4.3 Gatekeeper

    Dorius collapsed on a chaise in his guest room, stretching his legs down the length of if and resting his hands under his head.

    Val stalked about the room, taking in the furnishings and checking for anything out of the ordinary, then gave the jug of water the Vigilants had left a quick sniff. The bathing tub she had seen through the door earlier had been removed, and their original clothing had been neatly piled on the dresser by the bed for them to collect.

    She glanced over at Dorius, who was staring intently at the ceiling lost in his own thoughts, and concluded her formal work for the evening had completed. There was a spartan desk to one end of the room that seemed a suitable spot for her to sit.

    ¡°You think dragons are real?¡± asked Dorius idly, not looking at her.

    Val hummed, and leaned on one hand on the desk, ¡°It seems we are to find out.¡±

    Dorius gave a dissatisfied grunt, ¡±You usually have more thoughts than that?¡±

    Val sighed, and began to untie the strapping around her horn. ¡°I¡­¡± she paused, unsure how to start the thoughts in her head. There was silence, Dorius did not prompt her further.

    Eventually, ¡°You did not have to do that,¡± said Val.

    Dorius did not move from his contemplation of the ceiling, ¡°Do what?¡± he asked innocently.

    Val scratched the base of a horn, ¡°Barter for me like that. Embarrass me in front of my own kind?¡±

    Dorius sat up, ¡°Your own kind? Is that what it is now? That Fae didn¡¯t seem to think much of you.¡±

    Val sniffed, but did not rise to the challenge, ¡°What do you want from me?¡±

    Dorius looked at her, his shoulders slumped in exasperation, ¡°I would ask the same, I did what you asked for. You said you wanted to learn more about the Fae, you¡¯ve expressed a desire to learn more of your magic. I have done my best to make this happen!¡± Despite himself, his voice rose in frustration.

    Val glanced at him sideways, letting a bitter note enter her reply, ¡°I should be thankful I guess.¡±

    Dorius frowned, and rose to his feet now to approach her.

    ¡°You hope for too much,¡± he declared, reading her like a book, ¡°You think they would welcome you with open arms? You think that I wouldn¡¯t cut you free of my service to learn on your own if I could? We must make the best of the circumstances we have, even if we wish we could do things other ways.¡±

    Val hated how close his aim had been to her thoughts, ¡°As if you would ever cut me free?!¡± she accused instead.

    Dorius narrowed his eyes and hissed his reply, ¡°No, I wouldn¡¯t. Don¡¯t be naive.¡±

    Val turned, and childishly refused to look at him. Dorius sighed and surprisingly came to the desk, sitting on it next to her. They were at eye level with her sitting.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said gently.

    Val groaned, and slumped over the desk, face buried into her arms with a sigh.

    ¡°I am sorry too. My interactions with the Laons,¡± she tested the word, saying it for herself the first time, ¡°have been odd. Some have been so kind to me, some almost seem scared, others still scornful. I seem to be something unusual to them, but I cannot tell if it is welcome or a threat. I¡¯m not great at the best of times, talking with strangers, and I don¡¯t know what to say or do when they provide no opening.¡±

    Dorius laid a hand on her shoulder, ¡°They called you alate, is that correct?¡±

    Val nodded, not emerging from her sanctuary in her own arms.

    ¡°It is a term applied to insects,¡± he offered, ¡°Like bees, many insects live in colonies and differentiate their roles physically - worker, drone, queen. Species of other insects also have soldiers or other more specialised roles. Alate is a term given to the winged members of some flightless species.¡±

    Val emerged to look at him, Dorius had an odd thoughtful expression on his face. ¡°We can probably assume Laon culture functions something like a bee hive then, with physical differences helping to differentiate the role each member occupies,¡± he continued, ¡°but, I would be cautious to assume too much. You are obviously not¡­ bees. And I doubt you¡¯ve been hiding a set of wings.¡±

    Val leaned on her arms, finding it oddly interesting to look up at him for once. ¡°It is unclear to me what their relationship with the Vigilants is,¡± she mumbled.

    Dorius removed his hand from her shoulder and instead fidgeted with the fold of his robes in his lap, ¡°Yes, the Prime called it an exchange. But you seem to have some command of them?¡± he raised an eyebrow as he finished the question.

    Val hummed, ¡°Apparently. Call it instinct. I don¡¯t think, phrased the right way, they can deny a direct order.¡±

    ¡°I suspect it matters from whom the order comes,¡± said Dorius. He continued to fidget with his robe.

    Val huffed, ¡°Bastian thought something of the same.¡±

    Dorius seemed mildly perturbed at that comment, ¡°He mentioned nothing to me.¡±

    ¡°He thought I might have a similar trait, that I could not disobey or that I was somehow bound to you in service.¡±

    Dorius gave a startled chuckle of amusement, ¡°Get me a drink then.¡±

    Val stared at him with amused skepticism, but felt no compulsion to obey the order.

    ¡°See,¡± he continued, ¡°You can disobey just fine.¡± Val watched him for a moment, studying his expression as he continued to play with the fold of his robes. ¡°Bastian might worry a little too much,¡± he concluded, his blue eyes remaining fixed on his hands as they adjusted and reset the fold in the fabric on his lap.

    ¡°That is his job,¡± Val admitted. Then she pouted, an unusually expressive gesture for her, ¡°I don¡¯t mind being worried about. I dislike when he presumes to know what is best for me.¡±

    Dorius inclined his head thoughtfully at that, it seemed their conversation had circled back to where it started. Dorius splayed his hands flat, smoothing the fold one last time. Val cocked her head slightly, waiting for him to collect his thoughts, as he had done for her.

    ¡°This magic¡­¡± he began slowly, ¡°I want you to cultivate it.¡± His voice had a hesitant tone she rarely heard publicly.

    ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain I¡¯ve moved beyond burning half the stables down,¡± commented Val with a grunt.

    ¡°Do not joke,¡± bristled Dorius. Val leveled him an impassioned stare. She remembered clearly the moment of their exchange in the Vigil Chamber, the mix of fear and longing and guilt that Dorius had shared in a single glance.

    ¡°But, it would be useful to you, if I had better control of it,¡± she said.

    Dorius let out a deep sigh, ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± he whispered, ¡°Don¡¯t make it like that.¡±

    Val lectured him back with his own words, ¡°We must make the best of the circumstances we have, even if we wish we could do things other ways.¡±

    Dorius frowned, but did not respond.

    She sat up, and looked him clearly in the eyes, then continued, ¡°It aligns with my own wishes. It does not have to be an order. I will do my best.¡±

    ¡°You are like a sister to me, my mother named us both,¡± replied Dorius, ¡°I would have things different if I could, Val. But, I need you, as my shield and my sword.¡±

    From above them, the tolling of the bells began, an immediate cascade of sound unlike other times when it had built to melody. Val shot alert the moment the first peal came, head turning towards the bell tower.

    ¡°It seems too late for bells,¡± she said quietly.

    The drone of the magic with the notes was strong, stronger than Val had previously felt. Her skin down her arms prickled. She was on her feet, and rushed to her axe. There would be no time to change and she had no armor with her anyway, so she used the strapping from her horn to tie up the hanging sleeves of the one long arm of her robe.

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    ¡°There is something wrong?¡± asked Dorius, watching her move about the room.

    Val nodded, ¡°The magic they are working is strong.¡± She dug through her clothing on the dresser for her harness and tugged it on with some difficulty over the decorative armor piece and wolf pelt, then hung her axe across her back.

    ¡°How can you tell?¡±

    Val came to the door, leaning against it and straining the listen for any noise. The bells ringing overhead drowned out any chance of detecting movement outside.

    ¡°There is something of a feeling or a sound to it,¡± she explained, ¡°It is like all my senses are trying to pick up something that they are not trained for.¡±

    Dorius came close, as if to lean against the door and listen as well, but she held a hand out and kept him back.

    ¡°Can you tell what they do?¡± he asked.

    Val shook her head, ¡°No. I am unsure if I do not know enough, or if even with knowledge it would be impossible. It feels the same as previous times, just stronger.¡±

    Val listened for a moment longer at the door, then gave Dorius a stern look, ¡°Stay here.¡±

    Dorius nodded, and watched her exit.

    Val passed down the guest wing of the annex, checking the room she had been in earlier and finding no one. She moved on. As she found her way out onto the street again she spied the Laons who guarded the entrance of the Chapel.

    ¡°Soldier, to me,¡± she called. There was no hesitation in their response, both soldiers grabbed their halberds leaning on the wall behind them, and drew close in march with her. Val stalked to the edge of the main road and looked down towards the gate, there was the flicker of torches and dark bodies moving in the night. ¡°What is happening?¡±

    One of the soldiers inclined his head, this one''s head horns were thicker than hers. It gave them an appearance more like the fell bulls than hers. ¡°It seems a disturbance at the gate.¡±

    Val growled low in her throat, ¡°And the Vigilants?¡±

    ¡°We do not know what they do, but they are playing the bells.¡±

    Val hummed, and started down the road, soldiers in tow. She gestured one of them back, ¡°Get torches, and more men.¡±

    A curt nod was all he gave before dispatching with his orders.

    As she jogged down the main road she saw the townsfolk of High Haven dragging furniture from their houses to stack as barricades in the street about the gate, dimly lit by held torches and lanterns sprawled about the entryway. Gail stood within them all, torch held high, ordering the men back and forth. Beyond, something shook the gate on its hinges.

    Horned heads drew prompt attention, and Gail turned, lip curled in rage, his eyes identifying Val immediately.

    ¡°You have done this!¡± he yelled, ¡°You have riled them up.¡±

    Val felt no uncertainty about what to do, this was no different to panicked merchant convoys on the road. She ignored the accusations and marched into the center of the commotion, eyes pinned on the gate. Whether it was her dress, still in the elegant martial robes the Vigilants had given her, or the general manner of her appearance and Laon in tow, men cleared her path without hesitation. Bells continued to toll uselessly, the buzzing that had started strong was fading as she listened, as if exhausting itself.

    ¡°What are they doing?¡± she demanded.

    ¡°You have broken the Vigilant¡¯s orders and now they will turn on us all!¡± continued Gail in wild accusation.

    Val turned on him, lifting him bodily off the ground with one fist wrapped in his tunic and snarled at the man, ¡°Control yourself. Who is ¡®they¡¯?!¡±

    Gail twisted at the end of her arm, beating her hands and wrists, ¡°Put me down,¡± he screamed, ¡°Someone stop this!¡±

    The Laon soldier at her side leveled his halberd, sweeping it around himself in a broad gesture that demonstrated his reach and challenging any of the folk to come closer.

    The townsfolk looked torn, many glancing at the glowing reflection of torches off their weapons and horns in the dark. They were many, but the two who stood against them were twice their size and deadly armed. On cue, more torches approached up the road from the Chapel, casting shadows of black horns and hulking soldiers against the stone roadway.

    ¡°The Prince has his guard stirred up,¡± called one of the folk finally over the sounds of Gail¡¯s protests, ¡°They¡¯re trying to cut down the gate with axes.¡±

    Val turned to inspect the gate, they¡¯d be at it for hours in the dark, there was no risk of them breaking through anytime soon. It would be easiest to get a sense of what was happening from the gates wall, but oddly this ancient wall had no walkway nor structures to reach the top that she could identify in the dark. Whoever had built may not have had a need to prioritize placing men at the top. Then a terrible thought came to her, Bastian was out there¡­ and the Prince knew the two of them were acquainted.

    Gail continued his flailing and accusations, beating her still. She dropped him roughly, and he could not place his feet beneath him in time and fell to his behind, staring up at her.

    ¡°Form up on me,¡± she ordered to the horned soldiers, ¡°Stay back,¡± she added to the townsfolk.

    ¡°You did this!¡± continued Gail, his peers coming forward to help him to his feet.

    Val snarled down at him, the Laon soldiers now totaling six, including the broken horned one, drawing to her side, ¡°And I will end it.¡±

    Gail¡¯s mouth hung gaping as his peers dragged him away.

    Val drew her axe, gesturing the Laon into positions on each side of her with the head of the axe one-handed as she sized up the gate. She leveled the end of her axe at one of the men, ¡°Open it, we will go out to settle this.¡±

    As the humans rushed about her feet, she barked short orders of her expectations to the Laon soldiers. After her experience with the smaller male in the Chapel, no part of her doubted they would not follow her orders to the letter. Something felt reassuring about standing with warriors of her own height and capability, she need not try and factor into the situation her estimate of human abilities. With a planned approach, and the gate as a choke point, she was certain she alone could have handled the Prince¡¯s entire retinue if needed, at least based on Bastian¡¯s estimates from scouting and assuming she need not restrain herself from bloodshed. If the pilgrims turned on her as well, it was likely exhaustion she would be battling instead of any particular foe her equal. With the Laons at her flanks, she was also certain they could hold an opening like the shield walls did with the caravan and then she would work out where Bastian was once she had a sense of what was happening beyond the gate.

    The gate gave a groan as it began to move, two Laons pressed close to the gap that appeared, their halberds at the ready.

    ¡°Make way!¡± boomed Val, letting her experience and that instinctual authority she used with sickle-horned Laon permeate her voice. She wished she knew the trick that could throw her voice like the Vigilants had demonstrated the day before.

    One Laon grabbed a helmet in the opening gap and tossed the owner backwards. As the gap opened enough they pivoted to using the length of their halberds to push back the Citrine Prince¡¯s retinue. Another grabbed an axe and pulled it from its owner¡¯s grasp tossing it back at knee height into the square. The human guards beyond quickly realized they were against something far stronger than themselves and withdrew before they were all disarmed or tossed aside.

    ¡°Lights, Torches!¡± order Val, motioning a few of the townsfolk forward, ¡°Hold them up, high as you can!¡±

    Several brave men followed her orders, her calm tone of voice lending them the confidence that she had the situation under control.

    It was not long till she heard the familiar voice of the Citrine Prince yelling through the growing gap in the door, between the continued ringing of the bells. Val judged the gap to be about the size that three Laons could control, and snapped an order to hold the gate in place.

    The three Laons holding the gate marched forward, the other three joining them and creating a ring of control large enough for Val to step through the gap of the gate and inspect what they were working against.

    The Citrine Prince was at the fore, riding his black horse that danced skittishly beneath him as she inspected the pilgrims over the shoulders of the Laons. He seemed barely in control of the beast, wrestling one handed with the reins as he kept a sword levelled at her. Most of his retinue had pulled back, wood axes and swords loosely in hand. Beyond them, a crowd of pilgrims had been watching. In the flickering lights of torches she was unable to make out specific faces, or identify Bastian¡¯s red hair anywhere. Val took a risk, and shouldered through the wall of Laons to stand clear and address the Prince herself.

    ¡°What is this insanity?¡± she accused, nose bunched in a sneer, he was barely taller than her on his steed. She leaned on her axe, deceptively relaxed.

    The Prince almost lost his composure at being addressed first, and held his sword higher.

    ¡°I demand I am let through too Fae brute!¡± he cried, self-importance twisting his voice from authority to the petulant cry of a child.

    ¡°That is not my decision to make,¡± she replied mildly, then raised her head to look out at the pilgrims, ¡°Off you go! Nothing to see here!¡±

    The crowd shifted, faces watching curiously to see what the Prince would do next.

    His face contorted into rage, and he kicked his heels into his steed with both feet voice rising into a yell as if he intended to charge and cut her down. Val gripped her axe with both hands, raised it over her head and bellowed a warning. The horse screamed and balked, whites showing in the corner of its eyes. As it spun, the Prince lost balance and fell clear, the horse belting off along the wall where there was a gap in the crowd.

    Several guards came at her, one too eager. They completely underestimated her reach, well before the eager guard closed in on her she bought her axe down in a great swing.

    The droning magic carried on the bells notes, just moments before barely a whisper, gasped to life as if starved for breath. She felt each clapper¡¯s strike in her core, clear and authoritative. The fire at her heart was poised, coiled, smoldering with anticipation for her command. She felt control.

    Val slammed the axe down from overhead into the first guard. The axe-head bit into their shoulder, grinding to a halt against a collarbone as the man began to scream. The second surged forward then, assuming her axe was trapped in their companion''s shoulder. They misjudged her strength. Val braced, and aided with her second hand twisted and swung. The first guard''s arm severed from their body, blood sprayed, and they clutched at their shoulder spinning free. The axe continued its momentum sideways into the second guard''s chest, plate collapsing with the gristly wet squelch of flesh, and the body was sent flying - dark, gleaming blood flashing in the lantern light. The body crashed to the ground in front of the assembled guards and rolled limply once. All eyes turned to watch as it gave one death rattle from the grass, and fell silent. Val cracked her neck, and dared the Prince to try again with her eyes.

 4.4 Mountain Shadow

    The Citrine Prince gapped up at her from the ground. ¡°Kill her! I demand one of you kill her¡± His guards were paralyzed in place, straining between his orders, the sudden escalation, and the lingering hold of the Vigilant¡¯s compulsion. Even those that had rushed forward only a moment before warily watched Val, and did not approach within range of her axe.

    Val hefted her axe across her shoulders, striking a deceptively casual stance again. Her mind raced beneath the surface. The Prince was driven to a desperate frenzy, this would turn to a bloodbath if he could not be intimidated or placated. The pilgrims did not scatter as she had earlier ordered, watching from the dark with a morbid fascination.

    The Prince scrambled to his feet, his sword held in front of him still in an attempt at menace. Val was fairly certain from what she had seen he had no idea how to use it. ¡°The scout! Bring out the scout!¡±

    There was a shuffling in the guards, and Bastian was dragged forward bound at the hands and gagged. The Prince snatched the rope around his wrists and jerked him forward, Bastian stumbling weakly after. With a shove he pushed Bastian, who tumbled shoulder first into the ground unable to catch himself. He tilted his head up and made eye contact with Val, golden eyes wide and the slightest shake of his head pleading with her to not do anything rash. There was mud on his face, but also the gleam of blood and the telltale swelling and fresh bruising from a beating.

    ¡°Enough!¡± The Prince kicked him once in the gut, Bastian doubled on the ground and groaned into his gag. ¡°You will let me through the gate or I will kill you. And if I cannot kill you, then your master!¡±

    Val took a step, her speed and strength was constantly underestimated by humans. The Prince was mid-movement, lowering his blade to threaten Bastian who was curled in agony beneath him, face turning to her to gloat his upper hand. A second and a third step were all that was needed to close the distance. Val reached out to seize the Prince¡¯s wrist, and drew his hand up and above his head. His retinue surged forward again, desperate to protect their charge and more confident now she had one hand busy.

    Val tugged the Prince off balance with her off-hand and tossed her axe like a spear one handed at the nearest guard. The axe head crashed into his chest eye first, knocking the man into two others and all of them to their behinds as the weight of the weapon toppled them.

    Unarmed, the Prince writhing under her grasp yelling words she did not care to hear, she raised her free hand to the dark sky. She needed to warn them all back, to strike fear or they would come at her unrelenting and she would have the weight of more lives lost on her conscious. She very much doubted killing a foreign Prince was an outcome the Pentarch was thinking when he sent his least favorite nephew on this quest. All she could think of was a display of overwhelming force, to drive them back and shatter the Prince¡¯s wild madness and desperation. The buzzing and droning of the mountains and bells had been calling to her, waking feelings she had pushed down within her for years, and it was the feelings she turned to now. Like she had done for Bastian and Dorius in quiet, plaintive thought, she drew on the feeling of the fire. There was no hesitation, no caution this time, only a desperate plea for it to respond, and it gleefully uncoiled.

    A flare spluttered to life in her hand, at first it flickered and spat and threatened to die. As she felt the flow of resonance build hot in her chest she understood better how the channel to her hand felt and she solidified it. Bracing herself, she pivoted her palm directly above herself and opened to the flame. A second burst of will, mustered in the gap between her heart¡¯s beats, sent the flame shooting skyward from her palm. The beacon was bright white-yellow and stood straight without flickering or wavering.

    The fire coursed through her, it was warm in her veins but did not burn her. It came from a core she felt somewhere in the depth of her chest and energized a path up to her shoulder then onwards through her arm. The simmering had completely uncoiled into a torrent, with a feeling like a great pressure behind the source and an unseen raging inferno pressing against the tiny conduit that was open.

    She felt fear at the pressure, she had no idea how to hold it back now it was unleashed, and it channeled through her breast and up her arm with only the size of the opening holding back the full conflagration. This was not the confident, collected fire she sought mental strength from. This was a monster beyond her understanding, with thoughtless power devoid of feeling. At the point of ignition centered over her palm, it seared skyward forming an elongated teardrop barely wider than her outstretched hand but towering into a column of blazing heat taller than a man. It burned a blinding white now, edged with blue. Somewhere, her mind noted the feeling of the fire magic, while similar to the droning of the bells and mountain air, had a had a different feeling to its resonance quality. While related, these were different species of magic.

    The beacon-light illuminated the entire camp and well beyond, bathing the clearing as far as the distant trees beyond the meadow brighter than daylight and casting stark black shadows. The pilgrim crowd turned their faces, blinded in the darkness by the beacon and their voices rose in fear and terror. Val was dimly aware of the heat radiating from her palm, but the shift in the air pressure around her told her that her own awareness at exactly how hot it burned was flawed. Air rushed in and followed the beacon skyward, whipping up her robes and tearing at her hair. The roar of the fire and wind was louder than any blacksmith''s forge. The Citrine Guard fell back, hands shielding their faces from the light and blazing heat. The Prince in her grasp screamed and pulled, his free hand shielding his face. Bastian curled beneath her feet.

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    The magic had her desired effect, the Pilgrim crowd scattered now, screaming and clawing at eyes blinded by the beacon. The guard retinue was cowed, and were equally fleeing or sprawled to the ground covering their faces from the flame beacon. Val let go of the Prince¡¯s hand and he fell to ground and scrambled away, babbling and blinded, a smell of seared fabric and scorched flesh in the air. Bastian remained curled underneath her, the edges of his travelers rags curling in the heat and singed black. Now, she realized she did not know how to shut it off. Fear rose in the back of her throat, and her stomach rolled.

    The broken horned Laon tugged at her robe, he was on his knees, his head tucked low to protect his eyes from the light.

    ¡°Alate!¡± he cried, ¡°You must control it!¡±

    Val choked back a cry of desperation. The pressure was too great, the energies of the resonance too violent for her to still with her mind like she had the day before. She closed her fist, and instead of dying the beacon¡¯s flame spilled free between the gaps in her fingers splitting into six lances of fire that spun in the sky as she twisted her wrist. Scared of losing control, she opened her hand again so it resumed its singular pillar and she kneeled beneath it, bracing her wrist with her other hand, as if it would do anything to help her control the inferno from her palm. Bastian was curled in a ball, his bound hands twisted to do their best to protect his face and his knees drawn underneath his torso. Her previous confidence was in tatters, and she felt tears at the edges of her eyes. She could feel her energy depleting now as the beacon roared. If she did not shut it off, it would draw everything from her through its searing path. She would be spilled into the night sky as light and heat and only a husk of flesh left behind.

    The bells still rang, and as if the player sensed her, they shifted melody to try and show her how the magic could be tapered. She felt the droning of the notes drawn tight, as if a string was stretched and its vibrations were growing shorter and faster as each end was pulled until it was so taut it could vibrate no further. With a final bell, the Vigilant¡¯s music ceased. Val tried the same, stretching the point of ignition at the point of her palm outwards from herself with her mind, trying to stretch tight the pathway that surged from her chest up her arm. The beacon grew longer and thinner, turning bluer, and she roared with exertion. It stretched so thin, it seemed it pierced the heavens, then spurted two flares of yellow that climbed to the stars and ceased.

    Val fell to her knees, curled over Bastian beneath her. Sweat dripped down her face and arms as if she had run many miles and she felt equally exhausted. On her flesh, it mingled with soot and ash that had gathered on her skin, dripping like ink. There was a moment of silence, the blackness of the night just as blinding as the light had been. All she heard was her own breaths and Bastian¡¯s ragged breathing beneath her, he did not uncurl.

    Then a creature deep beyond the peaks of the Spine bugled. The noise was so great the earth trembled, the very air itself quavered. It was the most terrible cry Val had ever heard.

    Terror, unlike anything Val had ever felt before, turned her blood to ice and threatened her bowels. Her fear only moments earlier that had felt like all she could handle, was nothing to the wave of alarm that overwhelmed her. Everything held still, all listeners paralyzed. Barely a sob was heard when previously there had been screams and terror, till just enough time passed that there was a hope the sound would not come again.

    And then a second cry.

    It rolled down the valleys, a tremor traveling with it through the air and ground. It carried a feeling of immense grief and gut-wrenching distress. If not for the animal instinct to run Val would have remained paralyzed. She would have cried tears of pain with the creature, pulled her own hair from her head, torn the clothing from her back. So great was the aching and suffering she felt at the voice. Instead she wailed as terror unfurled from her, and felt hot tears run down her face. She was completely undone between the effort of creating the inferno, the fear that she could not contain it, and now this overwhelming anguish carried on the air. She gathered Bastian beneath her, drawing him to his feet where he stumbled against her weakly. She wrapped him tight in her robes, gaining some strength from his slim form against her and stumbled back to the gate. The broken horned Laon supported her with a shoulder under one arm, urging her in stumbling steps forward while she could barely see between the tears that scattered torchlight into blurs and pinpricks in the darkness. She grasped Bastian close to her, vaguely aware of how concerning his weakness was as she partially pushed him, partially lifted him, back towards the gate. She tried to control her sobbing while they walked, her composure completely scattered. Behind her, she was only dimly aware of the screams and scattering of the pilgrims, and completely unaware of where the Citrine Prince had disappeared to.

    As she returned to the fold of the Laons, a third bugle shook the walls. The anguish was joined with bloodlust and unbridled savagery. The call carried twice as long as the previous ones, the walls shaking as they passed beneath the gate, raining dust on Val¡¯s horns. Val looked up to the night sky in the direction high above them that the cry originated, and swore she saw a dark shape moving between the stars.

    The mayor and his men had scattered, leaving their barricades and torches strewn about the solid stone road. The Laons urged her back up to the Chapel, some breaking into a jog and running ahead, many desperately clutching at the wolf pelt that all wore somewhere on their person. There was nothing not afraid of this voice in the dark. It was sadness and savagery above any other. All were but flesh and bone and dust beneath it, and they would tremble. But if the dark figure had truly been in the sky above them, it did not descend to unleash its wrath. And no fourth call was heard.

    Bastian had fallen limp and Val joined the Laons in a jog, carrying his body now over her shoulder.

 4.5 Mountain Shadow (Part 2)

    She shouldered open the door to Dorius¡¯ guest room without a knock or warning call, the broken-horned Laon close behind.

    ¡°Val!?¡± cried Dorius, his eyes tight with tension and his face shifting in dawning horror at the sight of her and Bastian¡¯s form slung on her shoulder. He was underneath her before she could even get all the way within the door, tangling her up.

    ¡°Get back!¡± she ordered, her voice shaking. She rushed to Dorius¡¯ bed and laid Bastian down, brushing his red locks back from his forehead, guilt gripping her heart at the singed ends that fractured brittly in her fingers. His skin was already scattered with blooming bruises from his time with the Citrine Prince. A split lip was crusty with blood and mud, and the arch of his nose had a peculiar angle that was likely a break, blood staining his chin below. Dorius climbed into the bed next to him, his golden skin a clammy pale color with stress, and he busied himself unbinding Bastian¡¯s hands.

    Val drew the gag from Bastian¡¯s mouth and cupped his face with her hand. He groaned and his eyes rolled with pain at something that ached with her touch. She raised her head and looked at the broken-horned Laon. ¡°Do your kind have surgeons or bone setters?¡± she asked him.

    The Laon shook his head, charm on one horn rattling, and gave no immediate reply. Val didn¡¯t have time to understand what they did or did not have, no more cryptic riddles. ¡°Get something! Someone! I command it!¡± she cried, almost frenzied with emotion. The Laon ducked out and she turned back to Bastian.

    ¡°Val what happened?¡± asked Dorius quietly. He had Bastian¡¯s hands in his own, rubbing his wrists to help return the circulation now he was unbound. Patches of Bastian¡¯s usually pale skin was bright red on his hands and arms, as well as places on his back and side where his peasant rags had crumpled up and been exposed to radiance from her beacon. His clothing was singed and twisted in places, and the hair from the back of his head was seared off, especially around one patch of skin at the base on his neck that glowed angry red.

    Val stared in horror, and collapsed to the floor at the base of the bed, hiding her face in her arms. ¡°This is my fault,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°What happened?¡± repeated Dorius, ¡°I saw the night sky light up and heard that creature? What happened Val?¡±

    Val drew a shaking breath, she didn¡¯t have the strength to leave the cage she made with her arms and horns over her head.

    ¡°The Citrine Prince went mad with jealousy or desperation or something,¡± muttered Bastian, his eyes were squeezed shut and he moved with visceral trepidation. He got a hand underneath him and groaned as he rolled slightly to reposition himself, ¡°Couldn¡¯t stand the sight of a Fae entering the gate when he could not. Fucking maniac¡­¡±

    Dorius drew back to give him space, and Bastian inched his sore body up the bed to prop himself upright on the headboard.

    ¡°His guard found me quick enough, dragged me over for a jolly questioning,¡± continued Bastian, his sarcasm uncowed by the beating. He raised a hand and touched his nose, wincing as he prodded the bridge, ¡°Not sure what he thought he¡¯d learn, I just told him rules might be different for Fae and he was wasting his time. Seem¡¯d to think Val served me, or I¡¯d given her some trick that I owed him.¡±

    ¡°Did he learn of me?¡± Dorius¡¯ voice was low.

    Bastian raised an eyebrow and croaked a laugh, ¡°Hah, I¡¯m not that weak willed that I¡¯d turn you over in only a few hours.¡±

    ¡°What happened next?¡±

    ¡°Give me a moment will you,¡± muttered Bastian, ¡°I think my nose is fucking broken.¡±

    Val heard Dorius climb from the bed, and drag over the chair she had sat in mere hours earlier. There was a sharp rap on the door, Dorius called an affirmation to enter before Val could even react. She spun halfheartedly on the ground in an attempt at alertness, suddenly realizing she no longer had her axe.

    It was only the broken-horned Laon, and behind him, Lee¡¯to. She gasped quietly, hands coming to her mouth, and rushed in. Desperately she gestured to Val with her hands, drawing Dorius¡¯ eyes to watch the exchange in curiosity despite the circumstances.

    Val was too exhausted for this, ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Lee¡¯to gestured to the broken-horned Laon, who looked between her and Val, hesitant. He seemed deeply uncomfortable with the situation, but apparently was unable or unwilling to speak his mind.

    ¡°You must command them, Val,¡± suggested Dorius, studying the two new Laons.

    ¡°Command them to do what? You command them,¡± she replied, seeking solitude in her arms again. The maid immediately turned to Dorius, expectant hope in her eyes.

    ¡°You consider that close enough to a transfer of command?¡± asked Dorius, watching Lee¡¯to thoughtfully. She nodded eagerly, the broken-horned Laon seemed much less certain.

    ¡°Do what you can to aid my friend. You have discretion in your action, do as best you think will help,¡± tried Dorius, the maid gestured to the soldier as well, and following her indication Dorius added, ¡°You too.¡±

    The taller soldier Laon seemed deeply conflicted at the order, but after some communication by the handmaid Laon with her gestures again, he gave a curt head nod and disappeared from the room.

    Lee¡¯to then came to the bed, and examined Bastian¡¯s injuries with a gentle hand, eliciting a hiss of pain as she tucked the pillows underneath him to help support him. She then gave Dorius a nod and exited the room presumably to gather some supplies.

    ¡°What in the Watcher¡¯s name happened to Val?¡± asked Dorius to Bastian as if she weren¡¯t at the end of the bed. Bastian¡¯s face turned pensive, all he could see was the hunch of her shoulders and tangle of her horns and arms at the end of his bed. Her hair had fallen free of the hairpins in places, and was spilling out in rivulets of black. Black ash streaked down her face and arms, trails carved in it from sweat or tears or both leaving ink black marks.

    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure,¡± he managed after a moment.

    ¡°And so the Prince beat the snot out of you, what then?¡± urged Dorius, keen to get the rest of the story from Bastian.

    Bastian grimaced at the framing, but continued. ¡°They left me tied to a tent pole for a bit while they ran around trying to break the gate in, stupidly went for axes instead of trying to make a battering ram from all the cut logs. There was a moment where they seemed to start a fight with the pilgrims, but the yelling settled down. Next thing I know the bells were ringing again and a soldier came and fetched me.¡± He finished his story looking across to Val then, ¡°I uh¡­ I think it¡¯d be better if Val told what happened next.¡±

    Dorius caught his meaning

    ¡°Val,¡± ordered Dorius. Val did not react, but her horns gave the slightest twitch giving away that she had heard.

    Lee¡¯to returned to the room then, a tidy bundle of clean bandages, ointments, and scissors in her hands. She gave Dorius and Val a quick bow of acknowledgement, then hurried to Bastian¡¯s side. The broken-horned Laon was not far behind, with a tub of clean water, which he brought to the bedside for Lee¡¯to to use.

    ¡°Wait here,¡± Dorius was quick to add as the soldier seemed to want to slink from the room, which caused an odd start from the tall Laon, and he took a position in the corner awkwardly.

    Lee¡¯to cut Bastian¡¯s clothing from him with the scissors, revealing swelling and blossoming bruises on his torso. She gave him a few educated prods, Bastian hissing in pain to most and flinching away from her at one in particular with a yelp. It seemed she was not a doctor, but caring for wounds was not outside of her capabilities. She then indicated clearly that she wanted to turn him, and with some effort and groans from Bastian, they got him on his side steadied with pillows and she began the process of laying moistened bandages on his burns to cool them. There was a gap in the work long enough then for Dorius to turn his attention back to Val.

    ¡°Val, speak now,¡± he commanded, frustrated with this version of her. Most of his panic from when they had first returned had subsided, now it was obvious Bastian was weak but little permanent harm was done.

    Bastian passed him a sharp glance that warned him to be gentle with her, ¡°Let her gather herself.¡±

    Val did not move. So Bastian hesitantly continued. ¡°I was dragged out to a confrontation between Val and the Snake. Her axe was covered in blood and there was a dead guard on the ground and another wailing. The Prince was rabid with fury, and threatened me when none of his guards would approach her. I¡¯m not sure what she did, but a moment later the sky was lit with white fire,¡± his eyes grew wide and awed, ¡°it drove them all back and brought us escape through the wall.¡±

    Dorius was silent.

    ¡°I could barely control it,¡± added Val from within her arms.

    ¡°You saved their lives,¡± insisted Bastian, ¡°The Prince was never going to back down until you plowed through his guard and maybe him as well.¡±

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    ¡°And you are hurt!¡± Val lifted her head to look at him along the bed, hands holding her horns.

    Bastian shrugged, ¡°I was already hurt.¡± He flinched as the handmaid Laon parted his hair to begin work on the burns on the back of his head and neck.

    Val grew silent again. Dorius studied her face with a frown of concern. ¡°That explains the ash. Val, this would normally not be enough to shake you like this? What did you do?¡±

    Val turned from them both. The night had exhausted everything from her, and she was too tired to show her usual patience.

    ¡°I called it, I just called it out of my palm. I didn¡¯t know it would be so big and fierce,¡± she said. Dorius opened his mouth as if to say something but she continued without noticing. ¡°It drew me out with it, into the sky. I thought it would take all of me when I could not still it.¡±

    ¡°And the cries in the night? Was that related¡± asked Dorius.

    Val blanched, finally looking over at him, the fear and agony still lingering, ¡°No. That was something else.¡±

    Dorius and Bastian looked at her shocked, her expression or tone of voice must have surprised them. ¡°You couldn¡¯t hear the pain?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I heard a beast roar, a terrible sound, but that of a creature,¡± explained Dorius.

    Val shuddered despite herself, ¡°You couldn¡¯t hear it then. I have never felt such sadness or fear until I heard that cry,¡± and she grew silent staring at the ground.

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®take all of you¡¯?¡± asked Bastian, lost in her earlier comment. Val didn¡¯t have the energy to explain, and just made a gesture with her hand spreading her fingers to mimic a poof of smoke.

    Dorius and Bastian exchanged a glance. It had been many years since they had seen something shake her this much, as teens she had returned from a contract unusually quiet and surly. Questioning Hart, they had been told that the crew had returned one quarter the size it had left, the caravan had run into a particularly wild band of Fae on the trip south beyond the Pentarchy¡¯s borders. It was clear Val had been instrumental in saving the lives of those who lived, for they treated her with a new-found quiet respect when most would keep clear, or take amusement from jeering at her till the novelty of a target that did not react was lost. Bastian had caught one of the survivors one night after drinking and coaxed the story from him, who told of a bloody battle and Val left standing, a shattered jaw bone hanging from one chin horn, and a severed head pierced through the eye on a head horn, blood covering her heaving ashen form, the smell of burning flesh in the air and a wall of flame keeping the survivors safe with the caravan.

    They had been children like her, unsure how to comfort or speak of the matter with her directly. With time, and without their intervention, she had learned to harden her heart to it, and her unshakable demeanor continued to win a grudging, respectful disregard from the mercenaries. It was not that bloodshed did not shake her, like any she often needed a moment to collect herself after, but in the heat of the moment very little disturbed her cool. This shaken inability to regulate her own emotions was entirely out of character.

    Dorius seemed to draw some conclusion, ¡°You are relieved of your duties for tonight Val. Laon,¡± he looked at the broken-horned one in the corner, ¡°Guard the door.¡±

    Val only sunk deeper into herself in reaction to the dismissal, but did not protest.

    The handmaid gestured some communication to the soldier Laon before he exited, who frowned and for the first time spoke, ¡°She says she will need to shave your head to treat the burns.¡±

    Bastian grunted, and pulled on one loose curl that was fraying black and twisted at the ends, ¡°Eh, shave the whole lot.¡±

    It seemed she did not need the instruction translated back to her, and the soldier Laon exited the room while Lee¡¯to arranged some scraps of cloth to catch his hair and began to trim Bastian¡¯s head with the same scissors she had used on his clothing.

    ¡°So,¡± began Bastian, ¡°As much as I enjoy being the center of attention, what happened here?¡±

    Dorius recounted the meeting with the Vigilant, telling most of the details but leaving off his supposed blood relation to the Dragoness and the exact nature of the quarry, instead just leaving the explanation for why and what help was sought as cryptic Vigilant behavior which did not seem to arouse any suspicion on Bastian¡¯s part. Bastian nodded thoughtfully along, and they discussed some ideas for making their exit the next day and returning to Kal¡¯Fall to meet up with their retainer, especially Elias and Anette, and investigate news of his cousins, while waiting for this guide from the mountains. Val at some point in the discussion moved to a corner where she sat, arms braced on her knees and head hanging with the weight of her horns. Lee¡¯to came and went with supplies as she needed them, her only disturbance of their discussion being to bundle some bandages and mimic shoving it up her own nose to indicate she was ready to treat Bastian¡¯s broken nose. He scrunched his face in apprehension, winced when the movement was obviously painful, and let her do her work with a squawk of pain as she reset his nose and left one nostril stuffed with padding to keep the shape. Eventually, they were left to sleep, Bastian taking the bed, Dorius slumped at the end from his chair, and Val across the threshold of the door.

    ---

    As the first rays of dawn streamed through the guest room window, Val woke first. The night of fitful sleep had been sufficient to return her depleted emotional reserves, and she was shamed and regretful, remembering her attitude from the night before and Dorius¡¯ dismissal.

    She sat up from her rest on the floor. Sleeping on the floor wasn¡¯t the worst part of her sleep, human beds were usually too small for her and the floor was usually where she ended up, but typically she made at least some support for her neck and horns from a pillow. She was still dressed in the robes from the night before, but there were splatters of rusty blood and black soot all over them now, and the gorgeous wolf pelt had been seared nearly bald. Her hands and forearms were similar, with the occasional streak of dried sweat winding between the ash. Unlike Bastian, she had no burns despite being so much closer to the beacon. It seemed her own flames could not burn her.

    Spotting the tub of water Lee¡¯to had left, she rose and washed her hands, staining the water black. Bastian and Dorius were both exhausted, and did not stir at the sound of her gentle splashes. She wet some of the spare rags, and scrubbed her face and horns. Dismayed at how messy her hair felt, she removed the hairpins Lee¡¯to had so carefully placed the day before, and sat on the chaise by the window to untangle her hair. Freed from any bindings, it fell to her hips. She ran her fingers through it to loosen any snags, smelling the fire still from the soot that had settled there, then began to plait while gazing out the window on a silent watch.

    ¡°You should wear your hair out more often.¡±

    Val started and looked over at the bed. Bastian was watching her with intense gold eyes. Lee¡¯to had shaved his chestnut locks to the skin, and his face was deformed from swelling. Most of his bruises were beginning to turn color as well, he¡¯d be an ugly purple and blue shortly. His nose was still stuffed with padding in one nostril and other bandages covered his burns on his arms, and around his torso. Similar vibrant bruising covered his gut and sides.

    Val snorted, but did not stop her plaiting, her hands working with ease.

    ¡°Feeling better?¡± he asked tentatively.

    ¡°I could ask the same of you.¡± Val was quiet so as not to disturb Dorius.

    Bastian tested his nose, seeming for a moment as if he wanted to remove the padding, but thought better of it after touching the bridge with one hand and wincing.

    ¡°I certainly won¡¯t forget the Snake''s hospitality any time soon,¡± he replied with a grimace, and sat a little taller, careful not to tug on the blanket too sharply where Dorius rested.

    Val turned to look out the window again.

    ¡°Did the Vigilants give you that robe?¡± he asked.

    Val looked down at herself, the neat folds have all been crushed and creased from her exertion and the wolf pelt was nothing more than a scrap of fire-tinged leather, but the shoulder piece still gleamed from fresh polish. ¡°I think the Laons had a hand in making it.¡±

    Bastian sniffed but did not immediately respond. There was a pregnant silence for a moment, as each waited for the other to speak first. Val had greater patience, and Bastian broke it.

    ¡°What did you mean when you said you couldn¡¯t control the magic?¡± asked Bastian, looking at his hands.

    Val hummed, hands repeating the same motion over and over again as she worked her way down the braid.

    ¡°Sometimes it feels like a vibrating string, or the surface of a child¡¯s drum. I can just give a beat when I want to call it, then place my hand on it and silence,¡± she mimed the motion with one hand, curling the end of her plait around the fingers of the other. ¡°Sometimes, it slips through, like music playing and you just sort of tap your foot along without even realizing it. Last night, it was something else, a great torrent of power that spilled out of me once I created the opening, and I was not sure I could stop it once it started.¡±

    She clenched her fist, and remembered with visceral clarity the feeling of it bursting forth between her fingers when she had shut her hand. How in that moment, she had realized vividly that she could not turn it off. Her voice grew low, so low she noticed Bastian sit forward a little to listen. ¡°I could feel it draining me as it traveled through me, like a river eating at the edges of its bank as it flows. I think I would have died if it continued uncontained.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d you stop it?¡± It was Dorius, he had not moved from his repose at the end of the bed, but his eyes were open and he was listening with great curiosity.

    Val tilted her head, looking out the window. It was not possible to see the bell tower from their view, it was so close to almost being above them from the guest wing¡¯s position relative to the Chapel.

    ¡°The bell players I think have a sense of what occurs around them, and they play their magic accordingly. I think they heard me, and they showed me the way with their bells.¡±

    ¡°Carillonists,¡± corrected Dorius idly, he leaned on his elbow, long fingers to his lips. ¡°What did you make of the Snake Prince?¡±

    Val sighed, done with one long plait, and began to wrap it around the base of her horn and pin it in place. ¡°Bastian¡¯s right. He¡¯d gone quite mad. I threatened him with six Laons and killed two of his guard, and he would have sacrificed the rest if he could. I feared it would have been worse if I didn¡¯t try something grand to intimidate them.¡±

    ¡°And the creature?¡± Dorius tapped his lip thoughtfully staring into space.

    Val hesitated, trying to remember what he and Bastian had discussed the night before, whether he had gone into detail of their mission from the Vigilant¡¯s or not. It was not her place to determine what information he chose to share with Bastian or when. Bastian caught her hesitancy, and his brows knitted.

    ¡°There is something in the mountains that I disturbed with the magic,¡± she finally settled on, ¡°It was sad and terrible and cast a black shadow on the stars overhead.¡±

    Dorius was silent in thought, then sat up, ¡°I am eager to meet up with Elias and get his opinion on things.¡±

    Bastian cast Val a dark look that implied he had more to say, but was uncomfortable with Dorius listening now. Val refused to react, and turned her head to continue working on her next plait.

 5.1 Tension

    Val leaned on her axe and inspected the scavenged remains of their wagon. Around her, she was aware of the glaring eyes of pilgrims but none dare approach her after the events of the past few days.

    They had emerged with the trade caravan set for Kal¡¯Fall. The Vigilants had snuck Dorius and Bastian into the final caravan that the Laons usually guarded after a day of rest, and they rattled down the road without her followed by the rising sun. Val walked freely through the gate again, much to Gail¡¯s continued belligerence. Her axe had still been lying in the road where she¡¯d thrown it in the dark.

    The rest of their wagon was not so lucky. The bulls were missing; food, clothing, and valuables had been looted from their trunks; their tent had been disassembled and made off with. Val felt some sympathy for the pilgrims and their circumstances, and may not have minded if it had just been their food or charcoal supplies. But it turned quickly to anger when personal belongings were missing as well. Bastian¡¯s elegant war bow was gone, Val¡¯s trunk had been looted of her few changes of clothes in her size, and what scraps remained of Dorius¡¯ books indicated they had been torn apart for fuel. She threw a filthy look around her, hoping to catch a pilgrim¡¯s eye and finding none available. They had made themselves scarce. In a fit of frustrated rage, she bought her axe down and shattered the wagon''s wheels so they would get no use from it.

    There was not much point in gathering what remained of their belongings, so she made her way grimly through the pilgrims tents and down to the road to catch up with the caravan. She passed Clara¡¯s large tent in her exit, and noted the job board lay on the ground and no pilgrims assembled for the days work. As she neared the road and the Snake¡¯s encampment, she took a path slightly back from it between the hovels and shelters, nervous of any confrontation. There was a quiet tension in the air still, and Val was loath to disturb it.

    The broken horned Laon marched with the covered wagon the Vigilants had loaned them, Lee¡¯to enthusiastically leading the two bulls at the fore. His name, Val had finally learned, was Til¡¯wane.

    The sickle horned Laon had brusquely bashed on their door during their rest the previous day and called her out, lip curled in a snarl of disgust as he followed through on her orders to him. ¡°This one and that one will follow you in service, they remain part of our colony and may return here when you free them,¡± he had declared - gesturing to Lee¡¯to and Til¡¯wane. Lee¡¯to had seemed pleased with the order, and Til¡¯wane had become significantly more comfortable since as well. Lee¡¯to had found her new clothing again as well, wide legged pants tied at the waist with a broad band and fresh breast-bindings, and she had changed out of the bloodied robes, although Dorius had ordered Lee¡¯to to pack them with his things. The sickle horned Laon had given her one final gift, although it pained him, a full wolf pelt and broach set with pitted, black stone to pin it. When Val had asked why he only spat in a cryptic response, ¡°The wolf marks his kind.¡± Val wore the pelt pinned around her shoulders.

    The genderless Vigilant had visited during their day of rest as well, and Dorius spoke at length with them while Val was busy arranging what she could for their travel to Kal¡¯Fall. Normally, this was work that would have fallen to Bastian, who had slept the day in Dorius¡¯ guest quarters. The soldier Laons seemed unable to deny Val any request though, and so it was easy work for her to get what supplies they needed.

    She gave Til¡¯wane a nod as she returned to the caravan. He still wore his charm on his one whole horn, and it bobbed in jaunty juxtaposition to his stiff demeanor. Dorius pulled back the cover of the wagon to peak out at her, his eyes hopeful, ¡°The wagon?¡± he asked.

    Val shook her head, and placed her axe in with him and Bastian.

    ¡°Looted, by the pilgrims.¡±

    ¡°What of my books?¡±

    ¡°I suspect used as fuel.¡± Dorius looked horrified, and sunk back into the shadow of the wagon. Val added to Bastian, ¡°Your bow was gone too.¡±

    Bastian scowled, his bruising had turned a mottling of yellows and olives, but at least most of the swelling was down. Paired with the bandaging on his nose, and his pink shaved head, he looked far removed from his usual rakish charm.

    ¡°We will need to make contact with the Phoenix Company,¡± muttered Dorius, ¡°I cannot be greeting any of my cousins as I am now. Elias and Hart should not be far away and we sent three company men ahead to scout, we will need to make contact.¡±

    ¡°It is only a few hours to Kal¡¯Fall, what are your orders?¡± asked Til¡¯wane eyes on Val, he said the name of Kal¡¯Fall with an odd accent. Til¡¯wane had been less hesitant to speak first since officially ordered into Val¡¯s service, and while he was still awkward much of his uncertainty seemed alleviated. When Val had her first moment with the two Laon, she had impressed upon them that Dorius and Bastian were extensions of herself, and their orders to be considered as equal to hers. Lee¡¯to seemed to have no issues with the order, but Til¡¯wane had shuffled silently.

    Val looked round the side of the wagon, Lee¡¯to was leaning to hear their words without bidding.

    ¡°Separate us from the caravan once we have some distance, we will wait a while so we do not come into town with the caravan and we can consider how to venture into Kal¡¯Fall once we see the city,¡± ordered Bastian from within, his scowl only deepened and he drummed his hands against the floor of the wagon. ¡°I am not looking forward to any of this,¡± he muttered, ¡°Three fucking Fae now, and who knows what stories the High Haveners will share before we arrive.¡±

    Dorius settled into the wagon, bracing himself against its rattle. ¡°If we can reconnect with Elias and the Company, at least we can drop our subterfuge and you can properly rest,¡± he offered. It did little to break Bastian¡¯s foul mood.

    Val walked with Til¡¯wane at the front of the wagon with the bulls and Lee¡¯to. For the first time, Val had some quiet to discuss with them, and she asked a few tentative questions about their colony. Dorius listened with great curiosity, leaning at the front of the wagon with his head peaking out of the covers. Bastian sulked within, an uncommonly dark mood about him.

    Lee¡¯to explained with her gestures and Til¡¯wane translated, if he added his own embellishment none of them would have known enough of Lee¡¯to¡¯s language to tell. She confirmed what they had already guessed, that Laon society was divided into many castes, and they lived in a great colony within the cavern systems of the Spine, ruled by a Matriarch. The most prevalent were the worker caste, born slightly smaller than a hume - apparently their word for human - and with a horn on each side of their jaw beneath the ears just like Lee¡¯to. They conducted most of the service work of the colony, exempt from hard labor, and many were apprenticed into specialized trade roles as their interests and aptitudes suited them. They were all mute but not deaf, speaking instead a language with their hands that Dorius was keen to learn.

    The next most prevalent were the soldier caste, like Til¡¯wane. Lee¡¯to explained matter of factly that the soldier caste were the labor class, typically a a little obtuse, but they followed orders well from the higher castes. Til¡¯wane translated her words with a blank expression on his face and no reaction. They were marked by their size and were born without horns, growing them as they reached maturity. All had Val¡¯s unnatural strength, and Lee¡¯to explained slyly that while most were as tall as she, it was rare they were as so strongly muscled.

    There were two other castes Lee¡¯to explained next, the maiden and the drone caste. The sickle horned Laon at the Chapel was a drone caste, they were the breeding castes and also filled a role like lower nobility, typically carrying the orders of the Matriarch to the other members of the colony and supervising their execution. The maiden caste were the female equivalents, who rarely left the colony, they served the Matriarch directly. Both were born without horns as children, but typically their personalities and intelligence marked them as apart from soldiers, and their horns would grow spiraling and elegant as proof when they grew.

    Finally, the Matriarch ruled the colony with her daughters. The Matriarchs birthed only daughters, some would be born maidens or workers but a few would develop to be six-horned like she was, marking those who were fit to follow in her footsteps, and they ruled the colony through birth right and force of character. Lee¡¯to explained the mountain colonies¡¯ Matriarch was now very old, and she left her rule to her eldest daughter who had recently begun development of her third pair of horns marking her as a matriarch.

    Which left Alates.

    ¡°The Alates are born once in a generation or so, even rarer than the Matriarch who usually has a few heirs to spare among her daughters. They are born both boy and girl, and grow to be four-horned. Alates are our cultural heritage, they travel between the colonies and learn of our own kind and the world beyond and bring that knowledge back to the colonies. They are gifted with the strength of the soldier, and the diligence of the worker, and the nobility of the breeders, and many still remember the way of the gods,¡± translated Til¡¯wane as Lee¡¯to spoke with her hands.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°What do you mean they know the way of the gods?¡± asked Dorius, keenly listening.

    Lee¡¯to did not gesture, but Til¡¯wane spoke, ¡°They hear the silent symphony. They speak with fire and earth.¡±

    Val was silent, and Dorius asked another question, ¡°Who are your gods? Do you know of the Watcher?¡±

    Lee¡¯to made a gesture in front of her chest that was without a doubt the Watcher¡¯s eye, then spoke for a moment with Til¡¯wane translating, ¡°All know the Watcher, but we do not follow the Hume gods. Our colony acknowledges the Wolf God, who cares for the elk and stag and beasts of the mountain, as well as the Mountain God who forms our home. The Wolf God visits with us occasionally, and we hold great feasts and celebrations.¡±

    Dorius seemed to have already normalized the idea that gods walked among them since his conversation with the Vigilants, but the idea they would eat with their followers seemed strange to him still, ¡°The Wolf God visits with you?¡±

    Lee¡¯to spoke excitedly with her hands, and Til¡¯wane seemed slightly put-off as he translated her words, ¡°He is young and handsome and the wolves who travel with him play with the children and run races through the caverns. Sometimes the winged horses are with him, and we watch them graze in the mountain meadows.¡±

    ¡°Does he relate to the exchange you have with the Vigilants?¡± asked Val, cocking her head as she made the connection.

    ¡°Yes, he asked us to help serve the chapel during the time of the unrest, to keep the Vigilants safe. We have abided by that request for many generations now. In turn, the Vigilants pass some of their supplies up to the colony.¡±

    It was soon midmorning, and Lee¡¯to pulled the bulls off the road to rest as Bastian had instructed, and she set them up a light lunch from the meagre supplies. Dorius was already greatly pleased with her service, and Val and Bastian hovered back letting her handle most of the little labors of tending to him. Dorius seemed eager to learn her hand language and they both sat on a scrap of canvas while she attempted to begin teaching him, her behaviors perfectly deferential and enthusiastic. Val sat on the back of the wagon, Til¡¯wane keeping a silent vigil standing at her side watching up and down the road. Bastian stretched gingerly on the edge of the road, the bumpy wagon ride must have been rough on his healing sides and gut. The burns were still covered, but he scratched at the edges of his bandages restlessly.

    Bastian righted himself from his stretches, and watched Dorius for a moment, then caught Val¡¯s eye and stalked over to join her. Val stiffened, but did not leave as he joined her on the back of the wagon. The sides of the wagon were only so wide, and they were almost touching where he chose to sit.

    ¡°You should prioritize your guard on Dorius,¡± muttered Bastian darkly to Til¡¯wane, ¡°Val can care for herself.¡±

    Til¡¯wane inclined his head slightly, beads on his charm clattering together, and grabbed his halberd to stand closer to Dorius, leaving them alone.

    Val sighed, ¡°You don¡¯t need to be unnecessarily rude,¡± she chastised gently.

    Bastian snorted, ¡°It¡¯s not rude, the other one said he was a little dim.¡±

    Val turned in her seat to regard Bastian with one eye, ¡°You have a problem?¡±

    ¡°Ha, do I have a problem? Not more than usual,¡± he growled.

    Val was silent, she knew well enough he had plenty of reasons to be bitter given the last few days and it seemed Bastian had little interest in rehashing old arguments so she would let him sulk until he worked it from his system. Instead she offered, ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your bow.¡±

    Bastian leaned on one side of the wagon, fingers rubbing his shaved head. ¡°Not your fault,¡± yet the edge of his voice implied he was blaming her.

    Val watched Dorius a moment, he was attempting to copy a movement Lee¡¯to was teaching him and she was adjusting his fingers to get the motion just right. Til¡¯wane stood nearby, eyes watching up the road, every inch of him the trained soldier.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to remember he¡¯s younger than us some days,¡± she commented idly.

    Bastian grunted. Val sat a little taller, slightly annoyed at him now, if he had no desire to talk with her why had he sent Til¡¯wane away? She leaned forward as if to leave, when he finally voiced his thought, ¡°What didn¡¯t Dorius tell me?¡±

    Val bit back a rebuke. She relaxed a little to manage her nerves, settling into her side of the wagon, and raised a knee to turn and look at him better.

    ¡°It¡¯s not my place,¡± she replied after a moment to control herself.

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°And you ask it anyway?¡±

    Bastian huffed. ¡°The creature in the mountain is related to the Vigilants request for help?¡±

    Val did not respond, but knew her silence gave him the answer he was looking for.

    ¡°Have I not done this just as long as you?¡± hissed Bastian, ¡°Why keep me out?¡±

    Val bristled, ¡°It¡¯s not my place. You know this?¡± she cast a glance at Dorius hoping he couldn¡¯t overhear. The motion seemed to stoak Bastian¡¯s mood further and he scoffed resentfully. She frowned, but her patience was running out. ¡°What would you have me do?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let Dorius make stupid decisions, I told him not to take you. You agreed that it was a bad idea!¡±

    Val sighed, ¡°I can¡¯t change the past. I¡¯m sorry it ended out the way it did, I¡¯m sorry¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to hurt you.¡±

    ¡°But you are not sorry that you took his side?¡± accused Bastian.

    Val shot him a sharp glance, a warning that he was beginning to take this too far. With great control she lowered her voice, ¡°No.¡±

    Surprisingly Bastian barked a harsh laugh, he rose, standing on the step up at the back of the wagon and balancing himself on the side so that he was taller than her. ¡°I guess you got what you wanted, some Fae friends.¡±

    Val rose now too, rising to stand over him, ¡°What of it?! I don¡¯t deserve to know what I am? I thought you supported this?¡±

    Dorius turned his head to watch them. Their fight had picked up too much steam for either to realize the attention they drew.

    Bastian threw his hands in frustration, and stepped down from the wagon turning away from her, ¡°Great! Don¡¯t need me then!¡±

    Val followed, grabbing one shoulder to stop him, but he threw her hand off with a shrug. ¡°Bastian!¡± she called after him.

    He marched away, hand on one side of his torso and a hitch in his step where the hurried movement pulled on a strain. Val spun, groaning with frustration and collapsed back into her seat at the back of the wagon.

    Dorius watched them both for a moment, head swinging back and forth, his excitement at learning something new forgotten. Lee¡¯to wrung her hands nervously while Til¡¯wane seemed to solve all his problems by passively pretending he wasn¡¯t there.

    Dorius rose, and wandered to Val¡¯s side.

    ¡°What¡¯s he upset about?¡± he asked.

    Val exhaled sharply through her nose and hummed a moment considering her answer. ¡°Secrets,¡± was her only reply. Dorius silently considered her, and his eyes darted in thought as if he were putting together pieces of their behavior the past few days that had slipped his attention.

    ¡°We will need to get moving again, I¡¯ll go get him. You''ve both been acting like children,¡± he added.

    Val scoffed, "That''s rich from you."

    He wandered after Bastian, Til¡¯wane and Lee¡¯to returning to her. She gave them both a side glance, and found herself frustrated with their behavior suddenly. Why this constant need for orders? It was like a hunting dog constantly turning to its master, she had asked for no such responsibility. She felt stifled by them, used so long to companions that gave her space. Her feelings at meeting her own kind fluctuated from curiosity and hope still to frustration at her inability to know what questions to ask, or resentment at this odd reverence and hesitation she felt from them. This unspoken weight of expectations and disappointment, especially from the sickle horned one. She wondered if Lee¡¯to and Til¡¯wane were just as disappointed as he was, although better at masking it due to her apparent rank in the castes relative to them.

    Raised voices came from the treeline, where Bastian continued to take his bitter mood out on Dorius. Val only caught fragments of the conversation. She heard her name once or twice and allowed herself a scowl.

    ¡°Get the wagon ready to leave,¡± she barked to the Laons, and went to the front to gather the bulls'' leads. After a few moments Bastian stalked back to the wagon, he shot Val a black glance full of feelings she had never seen from him before before climbing back into the back to ride. Dorius was not far behind him, his face flush red with own anger about whatever they had argued about. He chose to ride at the front so he didn¡¯t have to share with Bastian, and the party began to move again with a cloud of unspoken tension remaining.

 5.2 Family

    Val opened the door to the tavern and guided Bastian through the door. His nose was still bandaged, and the ghost of his bruises remained, but much of his soreness had dissipated as evidenced by his smoother movement. His surly mood had remained, and their stay the past two days in the inn at the edge of Kal¡¯Fall had been an unusually difficult time. Dorius had sulked after fighting with Bastian, and without books to distract him created only work for those around him. Bastian had not needled after Val again, but instead focused his frustration on Dorius who pulled rank to avoid the confrontation. Bastian had therefore kept mostly to his rooms, and Val unable to avoid constant contact with Dorius rotated guard with Til¡¯wane as often as she was comfortable.

    Kal¡¯Fall was more fortress than town, the ancient keep was perched at the base of a steep sided valley as the edges of the Spine spilled into the Fourth Pentarchy¡¯s borders. The town at its base had grown through the years as evidenced by the motley collection of architectural styles, but was austere and minimal, serving the needs for the Ivory Guard stationed there and the few travelers, as well as a minor trade. The battlements above flew a gold four-horned dragon on white.

    Bastian had scouted them an inn on the edge of town, and after a night in the open they made their arrival in the early morning to avoid as many onlookers as possible. A party of three Fae was unlikely to go unnoticed. From there they had made contact with the keeper of the local tavern and passed on the message, some coin, and a Company sigil to make contact with any scouts travelling ahead of Dorius¡¯ retinue. A day later, if their message had made it they expected to make contact during the lunch hours, a usual maneuver for the Company.

    Val hadn¡¯t needed to go, in fact it was likely better if she didn¡¯t. But the suffocation of the past days weighed on her. Til¡¯wane and Lee¡¯to were constantly in her periphery, and her resentment at their presence had only built. With a hint of guilt, they had made useful distractions for Dorius sulking childishly, and Lee¡¯to had continued teaching him the hand language. Val even picked up a few gestures and the basics of the grammar structure, although she had no interest in it academically like Dorius, a silent means of secret communication was only likely to be useful. The Laon¡¯s obliging faces and deferential gestures wore on her though, and she worried at their real thoughts of her. She¡¯d choose Bastian¡¯s company, surly as he¡¯d been, in preference to that. At least Bastian¡¯s resentment at secrets she understood, even if this time he was not letting go of it as easily. This she dismissed as bitterness from being left to the Snake Prince¡¯s hospitality, and so she felt only forgiveness and sympathy in her heart.

    Val skimmed the faces of the tavern as they made their way to a seat at the back, she spied no bird symbols, they were hopefully just early. Bastian chatted with the tavern keeper at the bar, far too busy with the crowd to come to their tables for orders, then passed a few coins and came to sit with Val, eyes like hers skimming the room. Work did a lot to distract them both and neither had attempted to address their fight on the road, unusual for their friendship to let a cloud hover whereas Dorius and Bastian could go days.

    ¡°No one?¡± he asked as he sat.

    Val shook her head, and purposefully ignored a few curious eyes that glanced her way by fidgeting with her axe harness to reposition it so she could sit sideways on the chair.

    Bastian seemed tired, and leaned on his hand with a halfhearted frown on his face.

    ¡°Hopefully they are just late,¡± offered Val, in an attempt to smooth the rift between them.

    Bastian raised an eyebrow to look at her for a moment, considering if he wanted to take her bait. Despite herself she felt her breath release and a tension in her back unwind when he looked away and snarked, ¡°Or they found easier work on the way and quit.¡±

    Val tilted her head with the hint of a smile, ¡°Hart doesn¡¯t drop a contract.¡±

    ¡°Ho? Bad habit of the Company then. Problem clients should be dropped, or at least charged a fee for the effort of dealing with them,¡± he shifted position to make room for a barmaid bringing mugs of watery beer and bread broken and slathered with melting butter. The moment the mug was free Bastian tipped it back and gave a sigh like the world weighed on him. Leaning back, mug in hand, he looked across at Val and seemed to study her, his eyes landing on the broach gifted to her by the Laons. She had not worn the wolf pelt, aware the look was a little too conspicuous, not that she was not already. Val blandly met his eyes, then she helped herself to the bread and returned her gaze to the tavern to keep watch.

    ¡°Learning anything interesting from the Fae?¡± he asked finally. There was an iciness in the question, but it seemed as sincere a peace offering as she would get from him.

    Val couldn¡¯t help herself a snort, ¡°I imagine it is how a mother feels, her children constantly under her feet. I get no peace from them.¡±

    Bastian gave her a sly grin at the comment, ¡°What¡¯s this? I thought they were your own kind?¡±

    ¡°I almost need to give them instructions to breathe. I do not know if Til¡¯wane has no thoughts in his head except discomfort when one order contradicts another, or if he has the best poker face I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    Bastian gave a genuine laugh, ¡°The little one is useful at least.¡±

    Val let herself a low growl in her throat, ¡°I know less of what to make of her.¡±

    ¡°Dorius can have her, save us the trouble.¡±

    Val watched two Ivory Guard enter the tavern for their own lunch, plumed helmets marking them as officers. She sunk her head low, hoping the crowd would hide her. Bastian followed her eyes to watch them as well, a careful mask of disinterest on his face.

    ¡°You see anything to know which cousin is here?¡± he asked her.

    Val gave the barest of head shakes, ¡°Everything so far is the Ivory¡¯s whites.¡±

    ¡°We may have to get a little closer to the keep,¡± Bastian sipped from his mug thoughtfully. He had not done his usual scouting, a man with a bandaged face was too easy to remember.

    The tavern door opened again and Hart walked in with Davern and a younger man, looking about the room, company sigil proud on his breast. Val caught herself before she reacted, letting him scan the room and spot them on his own. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of them, but he shuffled to the bar first to speak with the keeper and exchanged further coin, before dispatching the younger man on some task. He then meandered through the tables towards them, Bastian dragging some unused chairs from a table nearby for them to join.

    Hart gave Val a fatherly pat on the shoulder, but his eyes stayed on Bastian¡¯s miserable face taking in the injuries and shaved head.

    ¡°How¡¯s it Val. Boy, what happened to you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been practicing my boxing with Val,¡± retorted Bastian with a cheeky grin, his eyes and a quick gesture of his hand communicating this was not the place for details.

    Hart nodded knowingly and sat, ¡°Aye, she¡¯ll knock your wits out before you know it.¡±

    ¡°The Company?¡± asked Bastian.

    ¡°About a day out still, we rode ahead on talon steeds. You got our client?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s waiting at the Leaping Hare,¡± replied Bastian, naming the inn they were staying in, ¡°We¡¯ll have our hands full moving them, we¡¯ve picked up two new companions who are not¡­ discreet.¡±

    Hart rubbed his chin thoughtfully, ¡°We can bring the carriage into town? Pick him up and make a scene of dropping off some of the men who won¡¯t be needed in residence. The Ivory will spot our sigils soon enough and know he¡¯s here.¡±

    Bastian nodded in assent to the plan, ¡°Bring our things with you, we¡¯ll need a change before presenting ourselves to the fort. Word is, there is family in residence.¡±

    Hart furrowed his brow, that would require a more significant arrival party than he had been previously planning.

    ¡°We picked up the scouting party just yest¡¯rday, made contact on the way through Barth at the Black Wolf quarters there,¡± added Davern gruffly, ¡°They said nothin¡¯ about that?¡±

    ¡°Our information seemed reliable, but we¡¯ve seen no colors to know who,¡± admitted Bastian, ¡°You got my light bow with the Company? I¡¯ve lost my war bow.¡±

    ¡°Your Pop¡¯s one?¡± asked Davern, and when Bastian nodded added, ¡°Tch, ¡®tis a shame, what¡¯d you do that for?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it on purpose!¡± snipped Bastian in return.

    ¡°Your trunks are with everything else,¡± replied Hart, but his disappointment to hear of the bow''s loss was obvious on his face. He had been good friends with Bastian¡¯s father. ¡°What of you Val? Faring better than Bastian?¡±

    Before Val could reply Bastian slipped in, ¡°You¡¯re a grand-da now Hart,¡± his golden eyes catching Val¡¯s with a glint of playful mockery.

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    Val blushed and sniffed in disdain, ¡°Don¡¯t say it that way.¡±

    Hart looked curious between them both, eyebrows raised. ¡°You called them your children first,¡± taunted Bastian, before clarifying, ¡°The new bodies we picked up, you¡¯ll understand when you see them.¡±

    Val scoffed, ¡°I didn¡¯t call them my children.¡±

    Hart gave her a knowing pat on the shoulder, and joining the fun added with an austere voice, ¡°Carry on the family tradition Valina, it''s a noble cause to take in a foundling foisted upon you.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not foundlings!¡±

    Bastian laughed freely and spared her a soft smile, before moving the conversation on to discuss the remaining logistics of their reunion with Company.

    ¡ª

    Val watched from the open shutters of the inn as the familiar lacquered carriage came into sight, a cavalcade of Phoenix Company men and women mounted on fell beasts clearing the streets for its passage. The majority wore company leathers, but a smaller band that surrounded the carriage were dressed in Dorius¡¯ ashen blues. Hart shuffled his mount back and forth, riding a pied talon steed to facilitate his movement up and down the line as he managed their entrance.

    A body double stepped from the carriage, cap worn over their head to hide the fact they lacked Dorius'' distinct silver blonde hair, and manservants followed inside with several crates of goods between them. Hart began a grand display of barking for several men to begin unloading goods and negotiating rates with the innkeep that emerged to greet them. Two further figures emerged from the carriage, Elias, with a hood over his head and staff in hand to steady his step on the mud of the streets, and Anette, dressed in magnificent robes almost as fine as Dorius wore and a high collar of black feathers around her neck.

    Bastian hovered close to Val, his brow tightening as he watched the Ivory Guard pass on the street below, and he pulled the shutters closed, then went to the next window to do the same. Dorius paced within, he had been restless for the past day once Bastian and Val had returned with news of their plans to move him to the keep.

    A sharp rap on the door, and Elias and Anette entered followed by two manservants with a crate between them.

    ¡°Elias!¡± called Dorius, coming to hug the advisor, genuine pleasure on his face. Anette bustled past, snapping quick orders to the men, then back out the room to begin organizing the servants settling into the other rooms. They had taken over the entire upper story of the inn for the purpose of facilitating their trade in privacy. Val ducked her head through the doorway and watched the incoming crates, pressing herself against the wall to make room for them in the tight corridor.

    ¡°Til¡¯wane,¡± she called, ¡°Come watch the stairs, no one comes up except those in blue or wearing the Phoenix,¡± she ordered, tapping on the shoulder of one of the servants as they passed to show him the company sigil. Anette eyes wide, watched him pass as she came back into Dorius room and Val caught her arm, ¡°We have some of my spare blues to dress him?¡±

    Anette nodded her head, ¡°I was not expecting¡­¡± she trailed off as she watched the tall Laon squeeze past them in the hallway to follow the command without hesitation.

    ¡°Dorius will have two bodyguards now, especially if there are family here,¡± explained Val, then as an afterthought added, ¡°He¡¯s not Company, he serves me directly. And her,¡± gesturing across the room to Lee¡¯to.

    Anette was subtle enough to not show further shock at the new arrivals. ¡°We will have everything arranged in a few moments, you can change when we are ready,¡± she replied. Val shot Lee¡¯to a glance, ¡°Stay here, learn how we do it here. Anette is seneschal and manages Dorius¡¯ house, you will do as she says,¡± then she leaned through the door to grab Bastian¡¯s attention, ¡°I¡¯m stopping on the street a moment, I¡¯ll let the Ivory see me.¡±

    A servant had already bought her leather Company jacket, Phoenix sigil pinned on the shoulder. She pulled it over her travel wear, she was only going outside in a performatory display of her presence for any watchers. Every member of Dorius¡¯ family, and any scout working for them, would recognize her and she wanted them aware she was around given the outcome of his last visit with family. She bounced down the stairs, the fading sound of Anette organizing the rooms and Elias'' questions on Bastian¡¯s changed appearance behind her.

    The street had turned to mush outside, the sudden arrival of so many mounts churning up the mud. Val planted herself conspicuously at the entrance of the inn, following the path of two Ivory Guard that weaved through the Company men with her eyes. Hart spied her, and bought his pied steed close.

    ¡°We have men stopping at most of the inns and hiring rooms,¡± he informed her, ¡°Dorius¡¯ll lack the influence to displace any cousins'' retinue, better just make it obvious we already know they are there.¡±

    Val only gave the shortest of grunts in the back of her throat to let him know she had heard.

    ¡°That your foundling?¡± asked Hart, bending low on his mount to look through the doorway to watch Til¡¯wane supervising the stream of movement up and down the stairs. ¡°You¡¯re not a half-breed?¡± the realization made his voice breathy.

    ¡°There¡¯s another,¡± replied Val curtly.

    ¡°I have a lot to catch up on,¡± Hart mumbled to himself, and left her to her guard.

    Val waited long enough to be sure anyone spying on their arrival had seen her, then selected a particularly heavy looking crate to help the servants carry inside. The bustle of movement after so many days as a small party had her energized, and she felt both anticipation and anxiety at the prospect of their arrival to the keep.

    Anette waved her into one of the rooms on her return, and pushed Lee¡¯to after her. Servants had already arranged her gaudy armor she wore in Dorius'' formal company, and she showed Lee¡¯to how it was worn as she dressed. She had rightly guessed that the strange robes that Lee¡¯to had dressed her in for the Vigilants was a hybrid of human and Laon styles, and she would need introducing to the clothing styles of humans to properly serve as a handmaid. When she was done, she gave her instruction to get Til¡¯wane and dress him in her spare set.

    He was obediently in the room within moments, and Lee¡¯to helping him change. They, like her, did not seem uncomfortable with skin, and she did not leave the room as he stripped while she carefully arranged the chains and charms on her horns that finished her outfit. Til¡¯wane was silent at the foreign dress, his only complaint an odd look as Lee¡¯to took the wolf skin from him. Val chose one of her chains, and passed it to Lee¡¯to, gesturing to her own horn to indicate what she wanted done with it and Til¡¯wane kneeled to let her swap his own beaded charm for the chain.

    Val had thought hard for many hours over her decision to place Til¡¯wane as another bodyguard to Dorius. His natural ease at most guarding duties he had been assigned in their short travel together had reassured her this was work he was already familiar with, and while she had not seen him in combat, he carried his halbard with a familiarity that convinced her he knew how to use it. If nothing else, his Fae strength made him more valuable and dangerous than any human guard would be, so she had raised the idea to Dorius and he had accepted the idea after reassurance she would still be his primary guard. It seemed a more natural explanation of their presence, rather than hiding them. His family knew he had previously found some odd Fae to serve him once, why not the idea that he could have many more at his service? It seemed a suitable escalation of his public image now that he had work directly from the Pentarch.

    As she hooked the dragon charm from a head horn, she ran her fingers along the chin horn that had chipped many weeks back now when she had last worn this armor. No trace of it remained, it had grown out since, and the horn was smooth and polished black. An odd thought passed her mind to ask Lee¡¯to and Til¡¯wane later about his broken horn and if it would heal as well.

    She took a meditative breath, steeling herself and slipping into the persona she wore most closely around Dorius¡¯ family. It was an act, a play for those to watch. The fire within her chest came to mind and she soothed her thoughts, both anxious and excited. She turned to adjust Til¡¯wane¡¯s dress, Lee¡¯to observing. Val pulled at Til¡¯wane¡¯s sleeves where his shoulders and arms were too slim compared to hers and did not fit neatly, Lee¡¯to catching her frustration and helping to adjust the gambeson beneath and the strapping of the lacquered and gilded plate.

    ¡°Do your drones and maidens have infighting? Or between the Matriarch¡¯s daughters?¡± she asked as she worked, ¡°Disputes for influence or status between each other?¡± Til¡¯wane nodded briefly and Val continued her explanation hoping she had learnt enough from them for her to emphasize the importance of the roles she needed them now to play, ¡°The Pentarch is our Matriarch, and Dorius is his youngest sister¡¯s son. We go now to meet with one or more of his cousins and follow him into an inheritance dispute.¡±

    Lee¡¯to and Til¡¯wane made an expression which seemed they suddenly had found their odd task following an alate beyond their colony significantly more important than whatever they thought they were doing before. She found herself sympathetic towards them for the first time, and wondered if they were both finding it difficult to adjust to this new world they found themselves in. She wondered if they had volunteered, or even consented to this new role. Or had the drone that oversaw the Laons that served the Vigilants selected them without them knowing, and thrust them both into the unknown.

    ¡°The Pentarch is male, his older sister supported his claim when he took the throne from his mother. He has four sisters total, and the children from his older sister are the heirs apparent but have not been officially named as such. In total, Dorius has eight cousins, with Dorius the second youngest,¡± she continued. ¡°Humans are not born into castes to let them know who they are to become, all they have is their mother¡¯s bloodline. When Dorius¡¯ mother passed away with no daughters, that branch of his family was ended with her. He has no claim to the throne without a female cousin to support him, as he has no way of passing on the bloodline himself. Thus, his influence is lacking and his position tenuous.¡±

    ¡°Why support him?¡± asked Til¡¯wane. The question shocked her for a moment, as she had never considered anything else. She had given the background only as a warning for how important his role would be.

    She hummed, and stepped back to study her work adjusting her armor on him. It was not perfect, but it would pass until a tailor could adjust her spares. If nothing, the sight of a second horned guard was likely enough to impress that the small details of their dress would be forgotten.

    ¡°He is like a brother to me. His father saved me, I was found far from any colony on my own as a child. His father¡¯s brother raised me, and his mother named me. He is family,¡± she admitted truthfully, too shy to meet their eyes to see what reaction confessing she had no colony to them would yield, then she steeled herself and added, ¡°They are a family born to a position none of them earned. They play at leadership, but do not know how the world changes around them. Dorius¡¯ mother saw them for what they were, and left the family abandoning her own claims to the throne. But, they cannot be left to blindly hold back a people organizing and bettering themselves¡­¡±

    She was surprised at how much Dorius and Elias¡¯ discussions had planted their seeds in her own thoughts, but she had none of their elegance to explain it, and she doubted the Laons had seen enough of their world to care or know. Their faces certainly gave no indication that family meant anything to them as she spoke, and she wondered if the soldiers and workers had any relationships with their breeding caste parents. Hopefully hearing Dorius was something of an equivalent to a Matriarch was sufficient for them. So she bit her tongue from explaining further, and just finished, ¡°He is the best of them. I would support his claim to be Pentarch if he wanted it.¡±

    Realizing she had strayed far from her original purpose of schooling Til¡¯wane in her expectations of him, and a little shocked at how comfortable she already was in speaking to them after such a short time, she marshalled her scattered thoughts. ¡°It does not matter. You will be silent even if asked a question, you will not react even if insulted. The only orders you will follow are my own or Dorius¡¯. Every person is a threat and you are to guard Dorius, and only Dorius, with your life. His life comes before even my own. You will stay behind Dorius to his right, I will take the left. Follow my lead if you are unsure.¡±

    Til¡¯wane¡¯s face was impassive, and she was as satisfied as she could be with such short notice to prepare him.

 5.3 Viridian

    Val returned to Dorius, two manservants helping him with the layers of his robes and tying of the decorative belt around his middle as he stood in the middle of his room updating Elias on the situation in High Haven, who sat and listened gravely from a bench.

    ¡°We must send some men to encourage the pilgrims to relocate here,¡± insisted Dorius, ¡°We cannot help them beyond our borders, but if they can be moved we can bring in food and medicine and provide better lodging assuming the gates will remain shut yet.¡±

    ¡°You anticipate that this request from the Vigilant¡¯s will take some time to complete?¡± asked Elias.

    Dorius picked up his rings one by one from the lined box one servant offered him, slipping each onto long fingers, ¡°I do not know. I do not even know if we will be successful,¡± he cast a quick look at Val, ¡°But easing the desperation there will only win us allies within High Haven.¡±

    ¡°Gail is the mayor, he is a practical man, and for all official purposes the contact we need to make to meet the Pentarch¡¯s request,¡± added Bastian, sitting with one leg crossed to the side where he wouldn¡¯t get in the way.

    ¡°We can arrange it, but it would be best to wait till you meet with this cousin and hear what their interests are here.¡± added Elias.

    ¡°I do not care,¡± replied Dorius, derision entering his voice, ¡°According to the Vigiliants they have been here some time and whatever help they have offered was not visible.¡±

    ¡°You say a representative of the Second was there?¡± asked Elias, and continued when Dorius nodded, ¡°May be that this cousin knows more of the situation on the border and has stayed their hand accordingly?¡±

    Dorius was not deterred, ¡°I had considered that, and once again I do not care. I am not part of my family''s inner circle and if that leads me to act against their wishes that is their problem. The conditions there are inhumane and I will not allow them.¡±

    ¡°I can brief Hart on your wishes, my Lord?¡± asked Anette, hovering over the servants who were now repacking the crates of clothing.

    Dorius, not waiting any further for Elias¡¯ advice, nodded. He ran fingers through his hair, and began to turn from the room casting an eye to Val, ¡°We ready?¡± He did not wait for a reply, sweeping out of the room and down the stairs, Elias hobbling as fast as he could behind with his staff in hand.

    Val looked over at Bastian, who gave her an odd look and a gesture somewhere between a wave and salute in farewell, then she followed after Dorius. He would remain out of sight until his nose healed enough the bandages could be removed.

    When Val reached the bottom of the stairs to collect Til¡¯wane, Dorius was already in his carriage, the formation of riders in blue uniforms drawing close into two tight columns ahead and behind the six bulls strapped to the front of the vehicle. Val grunted once to Til¡¯wane to order him close to her, and gestured him up to the footboard at the back, which was her usual position. She then came round to the door on the side of the carriage Dorius exited and entered from and stepped up to the running board, grabbing the railings at the top of the carriage to settle herself one handed. With a moment of eye contact with Hart, he called the order to move out, and the riders at the front of the columns of bulls kicked their steeds forward.

    The ride to the keep was short, the outriders kept the streets clear for their passing and the Ivory was already well aware of their arrival, having raised the portcullis. As they entered the bailey, Val caught her first sight of soldiers in verdant green and gold passing between the barracks and the keep. She drew a shaky breath, it was Sylus then.

    The carriage passed through to the inner bailey, where a walkway emerged from the rock that led up to the keep. The keep itself bloomed outwards from the cliff face, perched on odd outcroppings that were too square to be natural, a hint of its magical origin.

    Val waited a moment as servants lay a runner for Dorius to walk on over the moist dirt that was the court of the inner bailey, then opened the door for him when preparations seemed complete.

    As he stepped down she caught his eye and hissed, ¡°Viridian.¡± He passed her without reaction, a servant in white and gold meeting him to guide him within. Elias followed, and she felt a moment of satisfaction when Til¡¯wane followed obediently without order next to Val as she marched behind them, and they cast horned shadows in their wake.

    They were led up past the bustle and movement of the lower keep levels through a central staircase. The majority of the workers wore whites, but she caught an occasional glimpse of deep green, and to her surprise, one in a paler seafoam color she had never seen before. At the upper levels, they were bought to a well lit sitting room, with a large harp and gilded furnishings. The party within remained sitting as they entered, distributed between the opulent lounges arranged within. Between them all, a table with sweets and tea was arranged, the food lightly picked through. It seems they had interrupted an afternoon of light conversation.

    Sylus sat at the center of the room, he was slim like Dorius but his skin lacked the rich golden hue Dorius¡¯ got from the sun. His silver-blonde hair was tied into a neat bun at the back of his head, and a thin moustache gave him a cavalier appearance. He was dressed in a deep green, with accents in gold but his fingers and body were bare of jewelry. His mouth drew into a sardonic grin over the edge of his chalice as he watched them enter, and he leaned back in his seat.

    A woman sat at his side, dressed in matching green. Her hair was similarly silver-blonde, and arranged in a pile of curls on her head. Her back was stiff, and her posture alert in comparison to Sylus, Val recognized her as Sylus¡¯ older sister - Virconas. A man stood behind them both at their attention, he was a smaller, thickly built man, with a quickness to his manner and a head of fizzled dark curls tied back into a pillowy tail. Val did not recognize him, and although he wore no servant uniform, instead a jerkin and belted pants in black, he wore a veridian dragon design on his sleeves.

    A smaller lady sat on her own at another lounge, she was so young Val wondered at her being with their company. Her hands lay delicately folded in her lap, and her eyes were lowered demurely to the floor. Her hair had the family''s signature silver, although hers tended to a strawberry blonde. Her dress was the seafoam color Val had spotted in the movement of the keep.

    Seated with them was a number of women, nobly dressed but none wearing the royal gold, each with a faintly condescending look on their faces as they examined the arrivals to their afternoon¡¯s entertainment. Sylus¡¯ advisors hovered to one edge of the room, as well as a variety of servants and handmaids waiting for instruction.

    ¡°Cousin,¡± called Sylus in greeting, his eyes looking Dorius up and down, ¡°It has been too long. Why is it you are never at the family gatherings?¡± he covered his mouth in the palest imitation of shock, ¡°Ah, I forget, you are rarely invited.¡±

    Dorius stood a moment, assessing the room with a tight mouth, ¡°Sylus. You¡¯ve fallen from our Uncle¡¯s esteem if you are this far from civilization?¡±

    Sylus smirked a grin in response, ¡°And you are any different?¡±

    Val stamped the butt of her axe on the ground behind the couch opposite Sylus, startling the three women sitting there from their repose. One had the courage to meet her eyes, and she gave a low growl in her throat and flared her nostrils in response. They gathered their skirts and rose.

    Dorius swept into the couch as if it had been unoccupied the whole time, folding his hands within his robes and returned Sylus¡¯ smirk, ¡°I am under no illusions about what Uncle thinks of me. The question is what he thinks of you to have sent us both to this backwater.¡±

    Val planted her axe between her feet and stood at attention behind Dorius. Til¡¯wane entered the room then behind Elias, taking a position by the doorway and drawing eyes.

    ¡°Oh you found another one!¡± commented Virconas stiffly, hiding her lower face with the edge of her sleeve, ¡°You know I spoke with a fascinating young academic who speculated your brute was a species of rock Fae at the last Winter Reception.¡±

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    Dorius gave her a thin smile, shifting to a more obliging tone of voice, ¡°Indeed? I have received no such introduction?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he would appreciate the chance to study it. They have old papers documenting the species of Fae, classified by all manner of physical descriptions, it would be fascinating to know certain lineages are not yet extinct-¡±

    ¡°Since when has Fae biology interested you?¡± asked Sylus mockingly to his sister.

    The corners of Virconas¡¯ eyes tightened behind her sleeve, but she was silent at her brother¡¯s rebuke. Dorius was not watching them, instead his eyes were skimming the platter of small finger snacks between them all.

    Elias cleared his throat from the wall beside Til¡¯wane, and Dorius looked over his shoulder in confusion, ¡°What?¡±

    Elias cleared his throat again, tipping his staff in the direction of the young lady in seafoam.

    ¡°Oh yes, who¡¯s this then?¡±

    Sylus visibly scowled at the casual address, and lowered his chalice to the center table.

    ¡°You have the pleasure of meeting my youngest sister, Alanis. Uncle recently bestowed her the title of Celadon on her fourteenth birthday.¡± Sylus turned his eye on Dorius, a twist of derision coming to his upper lip that was accentuated by his moustache, ¡°My family is blessed with many women, a strong foundation for continuing the family line.¡±

    The flock of ladies sitting with them gave a twitter of amusement, many hiding their faces with the edges of their fans so it was unclear who had and had not laughed.

    Dorius cast a glance in the girl''s direction, she was stiff backed like her sister, and kept her face towards the ground. He then settled back into his chair, withdrawing one hand from his sleeves and placing it to his lips, ¡°Yes, well done, we all know where I stand,¡± he muttered, his tone tired as if this game no longer amused him. He then softened his tone slightly, ¡°Welcome cousin.¡±

    The girl looked up momentarily, doe eyes large and watery and gave him a nod in return. She then strayed to stare openly at Val, mouth trembling slightly. Val fixed her gaze on the far wall and pretended to be oblivious to the discussion in the room.

    ¡°I am also excited,¡± continued Sylus, a grin coming to his face as he gestured to the man dressed in black, ¡°To introduce my new brother-in-law.¡±

    Dorius raised an eyebrow, ¡°I did not hear?¡±

    ¡°We wed just after the Winter Reception,¡± said Virconas before her brother could add another sideways remark, ¡°He has joined his strength to the Viridian¡¯s claim.¡±

    ¡°And what trade do you bring to the family?¡± asked Dorius half-heartedly.

    ¡°My guild is wealthy and well connected, my Lord,¡± replied the man obediently, his face neutral.

    ¡°Gustave here is in the Assassins guild,¡± added Sylus, his eyes fixed on Dorius.

    Val barely controlled her face, and hoped the breath she suddenly drew did not give her away. Dorius was successful in keeping his face still, but a cold sweat sprung to his brow making him look uncomfortable beneath his robes. He hid his hand within his robe and replied with a hitch to his breath, ¡°A fortunate alliance then for you Cousin.¡±

    ¡°I am done bragging about my family''s many fortunes,¡± sighed Sylus with a casual shrug, his eyes firmly fixed on Dorius, ¡°What news do you bring? What cause for your visit?¡±

    Dorius¡¯s confidence when he had entered was shaken, and he did not meet his cousin¡¯s gaze as he stared at the sweets arranged between them. Val could not tell if he was actually shaken by the admission of Gustave¡¯s addition to Sylus¡¯ side, or if it were an act to goad his cousin into thinking he had the upper hand.

    ¡°Uncle sent me to negotiate with the Mountain State, it apparently they have been turning away our messengers,¡± he responded, surprisingly forthright.

    Sylus smoothed the edges of his moustache as he thought, ¡°Ah yes. An important task indeed. And what will you do first?¡±

    ¡°I sent some Company men to scout ahead and report back soon.¡±

    Sylus sighed again, ¡°I see, is that it? You will have to discuss with us your findings when they return, we may be able to help one another.¡±

    Dorius turned an eye to look at his cousin for the first time, ¡°Help one another?¡±

    ¡°Oh I did not mean much by it, other than as an offer of support. We are scouting out some lands for Alanis. She insists on not joining the Veridian so I¡¯m diligently ensuring that we recommend the best lands for her appanage. We have been touring the eastern borders in search of something suitable.¡±

    ¡°You have not been in contact with the Mountain State?¡± asked Dorius cautiously.

    Sylus twisted the tip of his moustache, ¡°No more than the gossip their trade caravan brings. They told a very interesting tale this past visit, almost like a minstrel¡¯s ballad. Something about fire and barbaric horned Fae.¡±

    Val was careful to keep her eyes on the wall, but she felt his crystal blue gaze pass her way probing her for a reaction as he did with Dorius.

    Dorius returned his gaze to the table between them, purposely avoiding the accusation in Sylus¡¯ words, ¡°I will be sure to let you know the truth of it once the Company returns then.¡±

    Elias cleared his throat again, drawing eyes from the room. ¡°Forgive me my Princes, Princesses. I am an old man and can only stand so long. I beg, can we retire, and you can catch up with your cousins at dinner?¡±

    Sylus rose to his feet, the flock of ladies fanning their faces slyly, ¡°Of course. Shame me. Dorius you should have said as much. We will have the Whites show you to a spare wing of rooms, I am afraid there may not be much room for your retinue in the stables and barracks however, do you have the coin to pay for their stay in town? I can lend you some?¡±

    Dorius allowed himself a scowl at that gibe, ¡°I am not a pauper,¡± he declared.

    Sylus nodded his head knowingly, ¡°Of course. Get settled, I look forward to your company for dinner.¡±

    ¡°Let us know if you are missing anything, I¡¯m sure our staff can help if you do not have the men,¡± added Virconas, her tone sincere.

    Dorius glanced at her, and the corners of his eyes softened, ¡°I will see you soon Cousin. And you Alanis,¡± he added to the girl who raised her head to look at him again, stiff backed like her older sister.

    Dorius turned to the door, calling a sharp ¡°Guard,¡± after him that spurred Val and Til¡¯wane close behind him. The door was not even shut before a trickle of laughter followed them. Anette was already waiting for them, her face impassive as she led them to the wing of the keep they had been assigned. Dorius had a dark expression, but did not allow himself to speak until they were tucked deeply within his own rooms and Val and Til¡¯wane had swept the servants and hallways to scout the layout and confirm they were alone. When she finally gave him the all clear, he slumped into a chaise with an exhausted sigh.

    ¡°Outplayed at every turn,¡± he remarked as Elias took a seat nearby and began to draw out the document cases servants had stacked.

    Elias nodded grimly, ¡°At least he is confident enough that he has shown his hand. We must show that it was a mistake to do so.¡±

    Dorius kneaded his forehead, ¡°Bragging to his garden of flowers is always his highest priority.¡±

    ¡°It was an error to let slip his Brother-In-Laws trade,¡± added Val, leaning against the wall by the door so she could keep one ear listening to the halls. She had stationed Til¡¯wane in the halls at the singular entrance to their wing.

    Dorius was silent a moment, turning a thought in his head, ¡°I think he gave away more than he intended. The point was to shake me, which likely means that the threat was never serious. It was a joke he was done with and got his laugh from, and now it remains only a threat of what could have been.¡±

    ¡°Cruel joke to lose two men to,¡± commented Elias.

    Dorius shrugged, ¡°Let him throw away his goodwill with his new connections on a jest. They learnt of Val¡¯s strength and should take us seriously.¡±

    Val hummed, ¡°I am not sure that is a good thing. If a contract is ever placed with the guild in earnest, they already know what they are up against.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully they will price the contract accordingly, and it will be too high except for the most eager buyers,¡± Dorius allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction at the thought.

    ¡°Are we in danger here, then?¡± asked Val thoughtfully.

    Dorius seemed to consider this, then shook his head, ¡°Sylus is subtle enough to know it would be a bad look if anything happened to me here. So no, I think it will be safe enough for a few days.¡± Dorius kept his hands within his sleeves, his head tilted in thought. Seeming to make a decision, he raised his eyes to Elias, ¡°I have some matters to update you on then¡­¡±

 5.4 Impromptu Tournament

    Val snorted with frustration. ¡°I¡¯m sick of this!¡± she declared, looking down at Lee¡¯to and Dorius.

    Her study of the Laon hand language was not progressing well. Val struggled with how sentences were formed in a different order, finding it difficult to plan ahead what she wanted to say. She felt childish, and worse still thuggish, like her hands were too fat and large. It was one thing to feel brutish when it was her intention, it was another feeling entirely when she was trying her hardest. The smaller movements felt impossible, her fingers unused to the delicate shapes certain signs demanded of her. Yet she could not blame her large clumsy hands, for Til¡¯wane spoke the language with ease.

    Every chance Lee¡¯to took to tutor her, Dorius was always present, hiding in his room to avoid his cousins as much as was polite the past day, and a constant reminder at how much slower she was to pick up what was apparently her own language. He was learning the hand language with relative ease, he was a natural student. She was forced to dwell on memories of their teen years, as she practiced her skills in the sparring yards, he had been inside with tutors and books. It didn¡¯t matter that he was more adept at this style of learning than her, side by side with him she only felt how lacking she must appear to Lee¡¯to and Til¡¯wane.

    Lee''to had not known the history of their language when Dorius had asked her, explaining only that she knew it came before oral language. Dorius had found history books in the keep¡¯s libraries to share the human understanding of the history of language, a remnant of one of the oldest works of magic apparently. Knowledge of specifics were sparse, it was apparently so ancient it pre-dated even the Monarchy. Regardless of what the great spell had been though, the verbal language it created was universal across all life that it had touched. Written languages were exempt from its working, and multiple methods of transcribing the spoken words to paper, slate and carving existed - most developed after its inception, but a few in existence and adapted to spoken language after - and so it apparently was for the hand language the Laons used.

    At some point in their history the speaking members of their species affected by the spell had adapted their native language to the spoken word where it lacked - most commonly names. Laon names consisted of a pair of signs from a set that were reserved for naming. For creatures that were assigned their role at birth from unknown forces that shaped and balanced the caste system, their name signs lacked semantics and were strangely equalizing to Val when compared to the old blood members of the humans, so clearly marking their bloodlines with their naming preferences.

    Thus Laon names were first sign, then given spoken sound as an afterthought, and translation from sound first back to a signed name was not a task commonly undertaken. Instead another subset of signs had been added to the language by speaking members that phonetically adapted spoken words missing from their native language, just as the written language Val had only passable mastery of did, and could be used to refer to places and people without existing signed names. Lee¡¯to seemed unsettled referring to Val with the singular phonetic sign her short nickname called for in this system, and continuing to call her by her caste also sat oddly with the Laon. So she had suggested through Til¡¯wane to attempt to give her a name with the proper name signs. Once Dorius had heard, he had been curious to have the same done with his name and Val had felt too tired to push back on the idea much.

    Val and Dorius were practicing their new names. Valina became a touch to the throat with a slightly cupped, relaxed hand then a second shape made with the fingers posed over her heart. Til¡¯wane had translated it back as Val¡¯nah. It was the second sign that Val struggled with, she didn¡¯t have the effortless precision in striking her fingers to the correct pose, and Lee¡¯to had been trying to correct her gently when Dorius had interrupted to try his own interpretation of it. Watching him make the sign with his own hand so quickly, and it looking so perfect to Val¡¯s eye, caused her stomach to roll with a black frustration that left her wanting to go hit things with her axe very hard.

    ¡°It is not that hard,¡± said Dorius, and he moved his hand as if to touch her and try like Lee¡¯to did to adjust her fingers. Val flinched from him, then masked the movement by shaking her hand out.

    ¡°Just use the first, as we do with my name already,¡± she suggested, ¡°I will not get this one.¡± Lee¡¯to let her disappointment show, and Val felt sick with shame. Growling she rose, and tossed her horns.

    The close stone walls felt tight around her. It had not helped that the rooms assigned to her and Til¡¯wane had been barely wide enough for a bed, all other amenities provided in shared spaces. A human bed was not long enough for either Laon to sleep, and a room so small did not leave enough space to fully stretch on the ground even. They had been forced to both sleep on the floor of Dorius¡¯ quarters the night before, and so Val had no break from him even in her rest hours. Val had silently wondered if the choice of their quarters had been a silent war on her by the Viridians. Sylus was petty enough, and likely to find the idea of her curled up in a cage-like room greatly amusing.

    Even looking out the window provided her no comfort, the room they had been given only had grey views of the cliff the keep was built against, the window little more than a portal for light to enter the room in daylight hours.

    Dorius dropped his hands, and gently placed them in his lap looking up at her from the floor.

    ¡°I could use with some air?¡± he offered gently. Val nodded meekly.

    And so Anette was called, and a party arranged to take lunch at the sides of the sparring yards. For the sake of formality, invite letters were sent to each of his cousins and the General overseeing the Ivory. Val dressed gladly in her Company leathers leaving Til¡¯wane in his formal dress to stay at Dorius side with only the slightest hint of pity.

    As they emerged from the keep there was already a variety of men and women in the yards practising, dressed in a mix of Phoenix leathers, Ivory white, Viridian green and a small cohort in seafoam that mingled with the Viridians. Arranged to one side, on a platform constructed out of boxes was a table and chairs set for a small gathering, the General of the Ivory already sitting and chatting with the servants who were bringing an array of imported foods from the kitchen elsewhere within the inner bailey.

    ¡°My Prince,¡± announced the General, sweeping his white feathered cap off as he rose when Dorius came to join.

    ¡°General,¡± Dorius chose a chair with a good view of the sparring yards and joined the man, gesturing for him to sit again.

    ¡°An excellent idea for a lunch,¡± responded the General, sitting slowly and refraining from taking any food, ¡°May I ask why it struck your fancy?¡±

    Dorius shrugged, leaning over the table to grab a few of the dates that had come north with the Company, ¡°My Fae needs some exercise, I thought it might be diverting to watch.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± responded the General, leaning in his chair to give Val and Til¡¯wane a knowing appraisal. The General was himself in his middle years, but he had the hard frame of a man who was not unfamiliar with combat. It was unusual for the colored guard to see much real combat, they were more regularly law enforcement for the peace of the Pentarchy, and only mercenary crews regularly engaged in any skirmishes with bandits, wild Fae, or barbarian tribes. ¡°I would be curious to see how my own men fair against your retinue, and your Fae, if you would allow it?¡±

    ¡°The Company is independent, I maintain no official retinue,¡± corrected Dorius as he picked the seed from one of the dates, ¡°but I¡¯ll allow it. We can have a little tournament, let the men enjoy some bets and sport.¡± He leaned in his chair to spy a servant in his own blues and waved them over, ¡°Are Bastian or Hart about? Go find one and see if they can gather some men and get a little tourney going for some exercise.¡±

    The General kept his eyes on Val, studying her size with academic interest, ¡°I had never seen your fabled bodyguard, only heard the occasional gossip about it from transfers west. Are they intelligent?¡±

    ¡°They are not wild Fae, if that is what you are asking,¡± responded Dorius somewhat cautiously.

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    ¡°Clearly. I ask more from interest in how they compare to the species in High Haven. Were you aware the Vigilants have a few that guard the Chapel there?"

    Dorius relaxed, ¡°Ah, you were the contact before the gate shut. I¡¯d be eager to hear your assessment of things.¡±

    Val idly watched the soldiers spar as Dorius and the General discussed, her hands tucked behind the small of her back. Before long, Hart and Bastian had both been found in the barracks of the outer bailey and arrived to begin organizing a crew of eager Phoenix Company and a growing crowd of Viridian and Ivory alike. A spare table was found, and wooden boards and chalk distributed to write names and arrange brackets, while Bastian and one of the company men good with numbers got a betting ring organized to one side.

    Bastian approached the table in the later stages of organization. His bandages were mostly removed, his now peeling neck burns just visible beneath his bright red shirt and Company vest. His nose was the only bandage remaining, holding the splint to keep its shape.

    ¡°My Prince,¡± he gave a sweeping bow leading with a flourished hand, his fingers so low they almost brushed the ground, ¡°The men would like to know if your bodyguard will participate. We¡¯ll seed her towards the final rounds to make things fair?¡±

    Dorius grinned slyly, and put a hand within his robes to draw out a small purse. ¡°Let us have them both added as the final of each bracket. I¡¯ll pay a prize to the finalists on each side and we can have an exhibition match at the end!¡± he suggested.

    ¡°You assume they will win?¡± asked the General, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

    Dorius counted his coin out with a smug grin, ¡°I am less sure about the male, but the female is undefeatable by a human one on one.¡±

    Til¡¯wane impassively stared into the crowd, but the change of his grip on his halberd caught Val¡¯s eye and she wondered if he too had been waiting for an opportunity to test her.

    Bastian remained to chat with them about the contestants, providing a lively commentary, and as they spoke Virconas, her husband and Alanis all arrived from the keep, dressed elegantly and attended by servants in verdant green and gold. Chairs were arranged, and more drinks and plates of food brought forth and the little party was soon discussing the upcoming fights with Dorius, Virconas and the General passing the majority of the conversation between them and Bastian offering compliments to the women and helpful suggestions as they speculated on their favorites among the fighters. Val watched the conversation from the side, her attention most often on Gustave when he offered only a sparing remark in a low, husky voice. The man had the build of a squat fighter, the type that moved with a speed you did not expect, and she wondered if his role within the assassins guild was management or if the man himself had a past.

    Soon the first rounds were underway, there had been so much interest from the soldiers at the prospect of testing themselves against Val and Til¡¯wane, the early competitors were forced to spar simultaneously in the court using wooden practice weapons and padded protection. Apprentices sat on the sidelines wiping down armor between fighters with water and cleaning alcohol, and excitedly watching the fights dreaming of the day they too might be participating. Any servant that could be spared of their duties joined a growing crowd standing in the shade of the keep, and soon merchants from the town had even found their way into the bailey carrying bags of toasted nuts and popped grains dusted with salt to vend as snacks for the crowd.

    Sylus¡¯ seneschal arrived late into the first rounds, and announced his intention to join them with his garden of companions in tow. This required an expansion of the informal sitting area Anette had arranged, so Virconas suggested with a stiff clap they should visit the stables and see the horses she had brought from their holdings to keep themselves occupied while the fighting paused. Dorius expressed an appropriate amount of interest, and the party rose with Bastian continuing to facilitate the conversation and Val and Til¡¯wane behind them.

    On the sight of the stable master in green leading out a pale grey mare, Virconas¡¯ stiffness disappeared, and she rushed forward to pat the beast on its velvet nose while her stable master kept a close eye on them. It was long legged and had a graceful swoop along its back from withers to croup. Unlike the Snake Prince¡¯s black stallion, this one had downy grey feathers growing from its fetlocks, intermixed with hair. Virconas spoke at length of their breeding program, her excitement melting away any formality she had been showing previously. It seemed she had a great interest in animals, and was even speculating about adding hounds and hawks to her efforts.

    Dorius nodded along politely, letting Bastian ask the majority of the questions now he had blended himself with their company.

    ¡°The trick,¡± announced Virconas, her eyes bright, ¡°Is finding good stock to start. There are many traits to consider, but I should also like them to be tractable and pleasing to the eye. It would be quite exciting to have a hound one could pet and pamper by your chair or at your feet.¡±

    Dorius scratched his chin at the thought, ¡°If you think it is possible and not unhygienic. I have no experience myself with hounds, it was not a habit of my parents.¡±

    ¡°The late Azure Princess introduced beekeeping to Southold,¡± added Bastian amicably, hoping the topic might be of interest to the Viridian Princess, ¡°She sought an expert out to help her start the trade, and paid for them to attract the original population.¡±

    Virconas covered her mouth with her sleeve, ¡°It is not quite the same. Bees can be found anywhere, a good dog not so. Is that what you intend to do with your Fae now you have sourced a male? It might make an interesting hobby and there are others who would have interest in having one in their service?¡±

    Val would have buried her head in her hands if she could, through sheer force of will she kept her gaze forward and her hands clasped behind her back. She trusted Til¡¯wane to have kept an equally bland reaction, but could not help herself a glance at Bastian who had a twitch to the edge of his smile and a dark glint to his eye that had not been there before.

    Dorius started at the question, and stammered an initial response, ¡°I, uh.. had not much thought of it¡­¡±

    ¡°I imagine the female would be not much use while brooding, and the whelping process would be an unknown,¡± considered Virconas, ¡°I shall make an introduction to that academic for you, he may be able to identify their exact species and provide some information to you.¡±

    Dorius seemed a little overwhelmed, ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡­¡±

    ¡°I do not think it would be quite the same as a bull or hound,¡± interrupted Bastian, ¡°We do not treat Fae-touched like animals as you suggest, why Fae?¡±

    ¡°But the Fae-touched speak and think and act as us, and are born from our blood - they are obviously a common species. The difference is quite pronounced. I have never seen your beast act as such, although you would know her best. They seem to need no handler so must have some intelligence,¡± replied Virconas mildly. ¡°Although, if she is a half-breed that might be a little more distasteful.¡±

    ¡°Distasteful?¡± scoffed Bastian, his veneer slipping.

    ¡°They¡­¡± started Dorius, speaking over Bastian before he could do harm, ¡°She¡­ is intelligent enough. The species has many mute members, do not ask me to share more cousin on how I know. My influence is fleeting enough, don¡¯t take from me one of my few mysteries?¡± His tone evened from his initial shock at the conversation topic as he spoke, ending in a slight plea to her better nature.

    Virconas seemed unphased, returning her gaze to the mare¡¯s face as she gently patted the beast between her eyes, ¡°Hmm, very well? I guess it is true they seem to understand more complex orders than a hunting hound. I sometimes think my horses are smarter than they let on too. It was not so long ago we bred our own family line to try and maintain the old magics, it is not so different really.¡±

    ¡°Shall we return?¡± suggested Dorius, his hands in his robes, ¡°I am sure the wait for Sylus will not be much longer.¡±

    Virconas let go of the horse with a longing look in her eyes, then turned to them again and covered her mouth with her sleeve, ¡°You know, maybe the Fae-touched should consider it as the old blood did. It is surprising what changes good breeding can bring about in only a few generations.¡±

    Bastian forced an obliging tone and wry smile, ¡°Old blood is not a privilege of the common. I would offer not to encourage them to adopt the habits of nobles, they may get ideas above their station.¡±

    ¡°Indeed!¡± replied Virconas thoughtfully, ¡°Let us return then. Although I am not eager for my brother¡¯s company¡­¡± she seemed to draw protectively a little closer to Alanis, and urged her forward with a gentle hand on her back.

    ¡°Nor I,¡± admitted Dorius, and the group began the short walk back to the inner bailey.

 5.5 Unraveling

    The sitting area had been greatly expanded on their return, rugs had been laid out on the dirt court, and couches and chaise from the sitting rooms bought for the ladies. Small tables were already being filled with cheeses and dried fruit, and another table was arranged with an assortment of wines from the cellar. Anette and Sylus¡¯ seneschal gestured for them to return to their original seats, the table they were using expanded to accommodate more seats with a clear view to the sparring yard that was being used for the tournament.

    Bastian trotted over to Hart to get an update on the status of the competition while they seated themselves, and returned to continue offering his commentary. As he was explaining the single matches that were about to occur, including an exciting account of the betting trends on an underdog favorite, Viridian Guards disrupted the event to announce Sylus¡¯ arrival.

    Sylus had his silver hair plaited, and wore robes fitting a ballroom instead of their distant keep and improvised afternoon diversion. At his arms and behind him was his entourage of female companions, who he led to the sitting area and served drinks with a mocking smile before seating himself and his favored companions with his cousins.

    ¡°What a funny idea!¡± he commented as a servant bought him a drink, ¡°I heard your Fae were to fight and knew I had to see the outcome for myself!¡±

    ¡°I shall take great pleasure in watching the Phoenix company beat the best of your retinue into the dust,¡± Dorius sneered in reply.

    Sylus shrugged, ¡°Of course they would, the Guard are peacekeepers and ceremonial. Most of us would consider it too coarse to use mercenaries even if it were the most we could afford.¡±

    Dorius set his cup down with a clink of china, ¡°Have you no men who might offer any challenge?¡± he goaded.

    Sylus chuckled, ¡°There is nothing of value to win here cousin. Do not make out an evening of practice for the soldiers as anything more meaningful than it is.¡±

    The first few rounds passed to great amusement of the watching servants, cheers and boos alike going up based on the betting trends or favorites within the crowd. As Val and Til¡¯wane neared their participation, Dorius dismissed them to warm up, Hart and another younger Company man replacing their guard.

    Val watched the rounds as she stretched in the shade of the keep, true to predictions the Phoenix Company made up the majority of the finalists, with only one or two Viridian or Ivory Guard making the later rounds. Til¡¯wane prepared in his own way, sitting crossed legged and meditatively watching the form of the rounds. They had both stripped down to more comfortable layers, Val in her breast bindings and a mix of Company leather, Til¡¯wane choosing to go shirtless, his ashen skin and hairless chest an impressive sight.

    ¡°What are the rules?¡± he asked suddenly, and Val turned her head a little shocked for a moment before realizing he had likely been thrown into something he had no experience of.

    ¡°It is simple enough, close combat against one competitor. Win is several methods, push them from the marked ring, disarm or surrender. Goal is not to hurt them, so go gentle with the humans,¡± and as an afterthought added, ¡°They are smaller than us, so sometimes they get beneath you in a way that is odd to guard against. I don¡¯t recommend pushing them from the ring right from the start, they get disappointed. Wait till you get bored of fighting them. And don¡¯t use your horns with them, they don¡¯t have any.¡±

    ¡°How gentle? I have never sparred with a hume in practice.¡±

    Val considered what comparison to make, ¡°Are you like I was, only coming into your strength as your horns grew in?¡±

    Til¡¯wane nodded.

    ¡°Then as with a child before their horns.¡±

    Til¡¯wane seemed slightly shocked, ¡°And with you? I have not crossed with an alate?¡±

    Val grinned with a touch of excitement, ¡°We shall see. The allowed weapons are over there if you would like to look.¡±

    Til¡¯wane nodded, and continued keenly watching the combat to learn what he could of the human styles. Val felt herself overcome with curiosity and asked, ¡°Is this something you do as well?¡±

    ¡°It is essential practice for all soldier caste that are recruited into military roles. I was selected young, it is a better calling than labor. We learn before our strength comes in against practice dummies and later in drills or with each other. We aim not to kill or maim, but some level of injury is acceptable.¡±

    Val nodded thoughtfully, ¡°You heal from breaks and bruises quick?¡± and when Til¡¯wane stared at her blankly, added, ¡°I heal quickly compared to humans, and had not considered it was a species trait. I guess you do not have a comparison though.¡±

    ¡°The humes seem weaker than I had ever imagined them. Why do they look down on us as beasts? Do they not know what you are or that you hear the secret voices they are deaf to?¡±

    Val rocked out of her stretch, and had to think for a good moment to give an adequate answer, ¡°It is to our advantage that they think that way. What they do not expect is more dangerous to them than any weapon in the open. The only ones who matter are those that do know differently, but,¡± she admitted, ¡°It has been very lonely.¡±

    Til¡¯wane was silent. If he felt similar feelings since leaving his own colony he did not share them with her, so instead Val asked, ¡°What need does your colony have for a military?¡±

    ¡°We serve both an internal and external protective role. Sometimes law and order must be enforced, as we are the ones to do so, but it is rare. The caste system gives all a role and purpose. Mostly we protect the colony, there are creatures in the dark earth that rise on occasion, creatures not within the Wolf god¡¯s children. There are wild hume¡¯s as well, they sometimes get into the upper valleys of the Mountain.¡±

    ¡°Wild humes? Bandits?¡± asked Val curious.

    ¡°Sometimes, sometimes the humes twisted by the silent songs.¡±

    Val thought for a moment, and concluded he might mean the wild Fae. It seemed fitting that to humans, everything that was not them was Fae, and maybe to his species, everything that was not Laon was Hume. There was so little curiosity to understand.

    Bastian trotted over to join them as a bout was finishing to cheers from the crowd.

    ¡°Val you¡¯ll be against an Ivory that made it to the final round. Don¡¯t beat him too quick, poor guy,¡± he announced, ¡°Til, you¡¯ve got a Phoenix Company vet, he¡¯s fought with Val before so might know some tricks.¡±

    Til¡¯wane blinked at the shortening of his name.

    ¡°Is it Hugh?¡± asked Val, remembering the faces of the previous bouts she¡¯d been watching. Bastian nodded, turning to look over the sparring ring with them.

    ¡°He¡¯s an easier start for your first match against a human,¡± commented Val to Til¡¯wane casually, ¡°Bit bigger, and too proud to get underneath you. Just aim for his weapon, and when you are done hit it hard enough to break it from his grip.¡±

    Bastian turned an eye to her, ¡°Are we really so weak compared to you?¡±

    ¡°You snap no differently from twigs,¡± replied Val, leaning on her hand and sitting cross legged like Til¡¯wane. Bastian swallowed and turned back to the match with an odd look in his eye.

    Feeling in a curious mood Val asked, ¡°Having fun with Sylus?¡±

    Bastian allowed himself a look of disgust, they were far enough for the dias where the royal family were watching, and said sarcastically, ¡°He inspires so much faith in the royal family. I can¡¯t believe Dorius lets them speak to you like that.¡±

    Val hummed, ¡°What¡¯s he gonna do?¡±

    Bastian scowled, his golden eyes gleaming, ¡°To speak as if you were a bitch in heat¡­¡±

    Val rolled her chin in her hand to look up at him between her horns, ¡°Pay it no mind. I¡¯ve heard worse. I find it more insulting that the rooms they gave us are little more than closets. I had to sleep in Dorius¡¯ room.¡±

    ¡°Alone?¡± there was a hitch to Bastian¡¯s voice as he asked the question.

    ¡°Til¡¯wane too.¡±

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    ¡°Hmm. Good luck to your fight then, Til will go, then you. We can probably entertain them with a break if you need a rest,¡± Bastian kicked at the dirt and put his hands in his pockets.

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±

    Bastian gave her a look with a raised eyebrow, ¡°I best not leave Dorius too long with only Sylus for company then.¡± He then added with a grin, ¡°Don¡¯t set anything on fire.¡±

    Val grunted and watched him return.

    Til¡¯wane¡¯s bout was quick. With the wooden practice swords they exchanged a few blows, and Val could see Til¡¯wane¡¯s shock at how light the first hit was. He moved as she did, keeping a longer distance that shorter humans struggled to close and would be near impossible without a polearm. He parried a few more blows, stepping back confidently, and tested a few light blows of his own, each growing in strength until his competitor stepped back shaking out his wrist from the jarring force of his strikes. She had never used her full strength when sparring with the mercenaries, and it was likely shocking to the fellow if Til¡¯wane was testing his limits.

    Val noted with a thought that his technique was better than her own, likely from fighting his own kind whereas she was always able to fall back on brute force when situations got complicated. It might be interesting to learn from him, she thought. The crowd was not taking much interest in such a one sided match, so as Val had instructed Til¡¯wane rained a series of blows at the opponent''s wooden sword, not even bothering to aim for the man himself, and his wrist gave way with a yelp, sword dropped to the ground. Hand raised, his opponent gave a surrender, and Til¡¯wane left the ring impassive.

    Val was next, and she stretched herself across the sparring ring from her opponent, who was already looking pale having watched the previous bout. She bounced the small sparring sword in her hand, and sniffed as she looked down at the man, covered in padded armor while she chose to wear so little. He steeled himself, and as the start was called gave a confident yell and unleashed a flurry of blows. Val did as Til¡¯wane did, steeping back to maintain her distance. His strategy was sound, try speed hoping such a large creature was slow, and get between her and her sword where she¡¯d be at a disadvantage. Unfortunately for him, she was just as fast, so she let him show his swordsmanship off while she parried and backed up to the edge of the ring. As she drew close, she gave him a small grin, startling the man, and pushed back. The effort of blocking her blows was wearing on him, and she lowered herself and leaned forward, sliding her blade down his and meeting the guard. A twist of her wrist, even with poor leverage, was enough with her strength and he was disarmed.

    There was little disappointment from the crowd, it was the outcome they expected and nothing more than a distraction from the main event. Excitement buzzed in the air for Val and Til¡¯wane, and they were asked to wait a moment while final bets were placed. Val watched the exchange of odds with mild curiosity, and was interested to see the odds slightly favored Til¡¯wane. She cast a glance over to Dorius and the other royals, and saw the General and Viridians were in discussion while Dorius and Bastian looked back at her, Dorius with a gleam of expectation and Bastian a touch pale.

    Sylus rose in his chair, arms wide and sleeves hanging to the floor, ¡°No holds barred beasts! Let us see what you can do,¡± he commanded. A cheer went up from the crowd.

    Val caught Dorius¡¯ eye, and he gave her the slightest of nods in return, so she leaned to Til¡¯wane and whispered, ¡°Let us try not to injure each other, but otherwise I am curious to test myself.¡±

    The Laon grunted, and she saw the closest to a smile she had ever seen from him, then they both walked into the ring with their wooden swords. Unlike with their human opponents, they each held their weapon at the ready, wary of one another, and waited at a paces distance for the call to start.

    At the shout to begin, neither surged into action, instead they cautiously traded a few blows, assessing the distance, reach and relative strength of the other. Val felt a rush of excitement after the first few exchanges, each strike growing in force as they both tested their strength. With similar timing, they both shifted from exploration to actual aggression, now trading blows that aimed for flesh and parrying in actual defense. To Val¡¯s shock, Til¡¯wane landed the first hit and the blunt wooden blade bounced off her bicep instead of the deep cut or possible loss of her arm she would have received in real combat, she was so startled she did not return her own blow in the opening it created, and stepped back.

    She looked upon him with a new appreciation, and he had a glint of satisfaction in his own eye. With a roar, she threw her full strength into the next swing, and as he met her their wooden swords exploded into splinters. There was barely a moment of recognition or pause, and both surged into the other again. Val lowered her shoulders as Til¡¯wane did the same, tossing the shattered swords free and they met head first, horns entangled. Their first crash they locked for a moment, torsos and shoulders straining as they tested their relative strengths. Til¡¯wane pulled back first, Val¡¯s foot slipping in the sand as she chased him, and they locked horns again with a deafening crash as he adjusted his position relative to her. Somewhere, she heard the crowd roar with excitement at this turn of events.

    She felt him gather his strength beneath himself, eager to push her upwards and off balance. She instead bore down, pulling back for a moment and hammering downwards again, her neck and shoulders shuddering with the force of the impact as their horns locked. He had one hand on the ground to brace himself, halting her assault. Instinctually, they both took a position with their bodies far apart, keeping vulnerable legs and torso well clear of the other. Val reached out with her arms, and they exchanged grapples and shoves off one another''s shoulders and upper arms, testing the flow of weight and balance as their horns remained locked.

    Sweat beaded down her arms and back and they both strained, and Val felt she had the advantage of strength if she could get into a position to use it. Then each retreated, low to the ground and balancing their weight with a hand and the other outstretched towards their opponent, more like three limbed bulls in combat rather than men.

    Val took stock of their first exchange between heavy breaths. It was tempting to come from above and use her weight along with her strength to overcome her opponent. But the advantage of being underneath was the ground acted as a brace to push against, and based on Til¡¯wane¡¯s adjustments under her she was certain he was seeking a position of leverage. If the opponent could be pushed sideways, or a quick retreat made in the right moment, an opening would be created as they fell forwards or lost balance. The trick would be not falling for the same move first.

    A shift in Til¡¯wane¡¯s foot alerted her to his intention and hand outstretched he came at her again. She slapped his arm with one hand, and came up to push against his shoulder with her other, aiming for a position beneath his weight this time. Her whole body shuddered as their horns crashed again, and she twisted her head this time to lock them both together. She felt one hand on her chin horn, pushing her face to try and untangle their horns. Snarling she stepped forward and rose, and they both came together as she tilted him upwards. The center of gravity shifted and their torsos met. She bought both arms together, wrapped around his torso to lock him against her. His hands were at her shoulders, trying to weaken her hold, when suddenly with a twist his horns broke free, the broken horn slipping against hers. Val lost control of her weight when he was suddenly not there to push back, and braced against his torso to balance a fall forward.

    He pulled back, seeking to let her collapse forward under her own weight and momentum, and he took a step backwards. She instead slipped her foot forward through the sand again, and took the break in contact to lower herself again seeking the leverage to lift him. She chased after him, getting her shoulder hooked beneath his and lowered both arms to grasp his waist belt and lift him bodily into the air.

    As his feet left the ground she felt his panic, one hand still grasping her chin horn, trying to turn her head from him and shake her balance and another holding onto the edge of her leathers. She twisted and tossed his weight to her side, sending him tumbling to the sand, the broken tip of his horn catching her beneath her breast and tearing open a shallow wound. He crashed to the earth with a thud, the shock of the fall taking his breath with a groan. She drew back, panting, hand to the wound and black inky blood already seeping between her finger tips, and waited for Til¡¯wane to collect himself.

    The Laon got both hands under his body and lifted himself into a crouch, breathing heavily, seeming for a moment as if he intended to surge after her again and continue their grappling. Then spying her blood, and a quick hand to his broken horn, he held open both palms as he had seen the humans do in surrender.

    The crowd burst into a roar of disappointment, but Val was panting heavily and ready to be done. Til¡¯wane appeared just as spent, sweat dripping down his naked torso smeared with dirt, and they exchanged a glance that, despite his surrender, indicated they both considered this outcome a tie. Val felt a newfound respect for the Laon, jealous of the advantage he had had his whole life training with his own kind. In turn, there was a tilt to his head that indicated he looked at her in a new light, although she hadn''t the faintest clue what his thoughts could have been.

    Sylus was on his feet again, roaring along with the crowd for them to continue their combat despite the surrender. He stepped down from the dias approaching the ring, ¡°Fight Fae, do not stop for mere blood!¡±

    Val looked at her fingers, the cut was shallow enough but had a ragged edge from the uneven peeling edges of Til¡¯wane¡¯s horn, and wiped the blood on the leg of her pants. She then offered a hand down to Til¡¯wane who took it to help him stand, his face was calm, but his hard breathing indicated he was still catching his breath after having the wind knocked from him in the throw.

    ¡°Why will you not fight beasts, I order you!¡± commanded Sylus with the exasperation of someone unused to being ignored. He stepped within the ring to approach them.

    Val turned to face him squarely, lowering her shoulders and exhaling through her nose in warning. She met his eyes, and saw a spark of fear as Sylus realized he stood alone with them. The sudden power she felt raced through her blood like fire.

    ¡°Val.¡±

    Dorius¡¯ voice cut through the noise of the crowd, the single word clear with command. Even Sylus turned to look at his cousin in shock, then back to Val who had obediently turned her eyes towards Dorius, every inch of her demeanor the taut weapon at his command. Sylus gaped at her, his face warping to cold rage, and she met his eyes again in icy warning.

    I could kill you. And I would if commanded.

    Dorius, with a deceptive calm, came down from the dias towards his cousin, ¡°It was a tie the moment their weapons shattered and they were disarmed,¡± a disappointed roar came from those who had bet on the outcome and Dorius raised a hand to the crowd and announced, ¡°Everyone who placed a bet will get their coin back, and an extra from myself for a drink tonight. Let us not spoil a good day of entertainment.¡±

    He came close to Sylus then, deliberately placing himself between his cousin and his two guards, his voice quieter, ¡°The fight is over. I will not have them injure themselves further.¡±

    Sylus only stared open mouthed at his cousin, his composure and control lost, and his efforts to straighten his robes and hair seemed foolish as the horned Laons, covered in sweat and dirt from battle watched him. Dorius calmly waited, hands within his sleeves.

    ¡°Get out,¡± he hissed, then louder, ¡°Get out of my keep!¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Sylus almost spasmed with fury at the cold retort, ¡°Get Out!¡± he repeated again, his wits gone in his rage.

    ¡°The Pentarch has ordered me here. It is his keep. I will leave at my own leisure,¡± replied Dorius calmly. And with a gesture Val recognized as the Laon word to come, he turned to return to the keep with Val and Til¡¯wane obeying silently.

    As they reached the door, and Dorius'' servants rushing ahead to anticipate their Prince, Dorius placed a hand on Val¡¯s forearm in the shelter of the doorway where they would not be seen.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be in danger now,¡± he admitted, and his eyes were distant.

 Interlude 4

    ¡°I am going to the Citadel for the Winter Reception,¡± said Dorius plainly.

    Hart started at the unexpected admission, but kept his stance square and his hands behind his back. Val kept her eyes lowered, leaning on her axe near the doorway.

    They had just returned from the road, both covered still with sweat and dust. Val stood a head and half over Hart, hunching slightly in Dorius¡¯ study to fit her horns. She was heavily armored in plain padded gambeson and brigandine armor.

    ¡°You will be hired,¡± continued Dorius, beginning to slide contracts across his desk, ¡°to accompany me. The estate will be paying for armor and clothing for the Company to act as my retinue, and enough bulls. I¡¯ve also purchased some talon steeds from a stable at the Citadel. There is another contract there for some men to meet their escorts and bring the mounts to us.¡±

    Hart gently picked up the contracts, beginning to sort them, ¡°Strand knows?¡± he asked, naming his second.

    Dorius nodded, and rose from his seat. A carpenter passed through the study with a quick bow, a fabric screen masked the construction beyond.

    ¡°Strand is aware and already has some of the logistics worked out. There is one more thing though¡­¡± Dorius tucked his hands within his robes, made of elegant pewter grey brocade with raised golden designs. His eyes were on his sleeves as he spoke, ¡°I will be purchasing Val¡¯s full time employment from you. There is a contract there with the terms.¡±

    Val raised her head, just as Dorius did the same, and there was a barely contained grin of self-satisfaction on his face when their eyes met.

    ¡°As a full-time retainer?¡± clarified Hart.

    ¡°As my bodyguard. If I am to confront my family, I will need all the tools I can get my hands on if I am to make an impression. ¡°

    Hart frowned sternly, ¡°You know we charge triple the price for her. Some of our clients will be disappointed to learn she¡¯s no longer available.¡±

    ¡°Cash flow is not the concern it used to be. You will get plenty of new work if we can strengthen our connections inland to the rest of the Fourth Pentarchy,¡± dismissed Dorius.

    Hart shuffled, unable to object to the point, so he asked instead, ¡°Val?¡±

    Val blinked at the question, and muttered, ¡°If it¡¯s what Dorius wants, it¡¯s fine.¡±

    Hart pulled on his harness, resettling his twin axes, ¡°Well then, I¡¯ll go review these and get them back to you tonight. Val, you¡¯re dismissed, drop by the staging yards when you are free then?¡±

    Val nodded as he collected the documents and passed out of the study, and then looked at Dorius who was grinning at her with the biggest shit-eating grin she¡¯d ever seen on his face. She couldn¡¯t help herself, and gave him her own smile, which seemed to break any chance he had of containing his own joy, and he sat and put his feet up on his desk.

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    She came to sit on the edge, shrugging off her axe and leaning it against the side of the desk. There was the sound of hammering beyond the fabric sheets, but the noise of construction had become a familiar backdrop at the estates in recent months.

    ¡°How long have you been planning this?¡± she asked.

    His grin would not budge, ¡°Oh you know. There¡¯s a room here for you included, and a personal stipend. All of your equipment will come from the estate now - the very best I can afford, given you¡¯ll be at my side.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve only done personal guarding contracts a few times?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. Half of the job is just you standing there and looking like you do, I do have a special request though¡­¡± Val studied Dorius as his grin slipped, ¡°I¡¯m not sure what we will walk into, it will be the first time I am to meet most of my family. I think it would be best if we don¡¯t give too much away¡­¡±

    Val hesitated, ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not asking much from you, just be silent, and act a little like old Jake, like you¡¯ve taken too many blows to the head. I want them to underestimate us¡­¡±

    Val grunted in the back of her throat, ¡°Oh,¡± she replied a little bitterly.

    Dorius continued undeterred, ¡°Based on what Elias has told me, it will be to our advantage to cultivate their assumptions and prejudices.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Val took a breath and pushed away from the desk, ¡°When will we leave?¡±

    Dorius, returning to business, shuffled the documents on his desk nervously, ¡°I¡¯ve given Strand my requests. He should be back with the details by tomorrow at the latest. I¡¯ve got a few other contracts to finalize as well¡­¡±

    ¡°Guild Steward says yes,¡± Bastian burst into the study without a knock, ¡°Oh Val you¡¯re back! Did you tell her?¡± he paused as they both looked at him, and seeing Val¡¯s face immediately asked, ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Dorius shot a glance at Val, who turned from them both and began to undo the buckles of her harness, ¡°I assume you mean my employment with Dorius? Yes, I¡¯ve been told.¡±

    Bastian turned on Dorius, his brows knitted and mouthed an accusation at him silently. Dorius did not meet his gaze, his hands were busy at his desk.

    ¡°And you¡¯re accepting? I¡¯ve signed a similar contract, we¡¯ll be working together again.¡± Bastian kept his voice light, and his eyes on Dorius in reprimand.

    Val turned back to them, curious, ¡°As a bodyguard?¡±

    Bastian laughed, ¡°Watcher, could you imagine? No. Same thing I do for the Company really, a bit of everything. I figure we¡¯ll work it out as we go along.¡±

    ¡°Are you accepting?¡± asked Dorius, hands propped on his desk, spinning one of his rings around one knuckle.

    Val folded her harness in her hands, her silence dragging on just long enough to be uncomfortable, then raised a hand to scratch the base of one horn at her chin. ¡°Of course,¡± she replied, her voice mild and gentle.

    Dorius visibly relaxed as she spoke.

 6.1 The Pattern of the Weave

    ¡°Watcher no. Not you again!¡± Gail¡¯s exasperated cry drew Val¡¯s eyes to him as he entered the room.

    Val gave him no reaction, but Bastian, who was at his side, clapped the man warmly on the shoulder and said, ¡°Come now, we were obviously no simple pilgrims. But a reintroduction is in order.¡± Clara followed the pair, her expression slightly overwhelmed at the change in circumstances.

    Dorius sat, dressed in his slate and gold robes, with Val and Til¡¯wane at each shoulder - battle axe and halberd relaxed. They had purchased most of the inn rooms in the town and were even offering pay to locals who had spaces where beds could be setup. Groups of Phoenix Company soldiers had already branched off in missions to neighboring towns within the Fourth Pentarchy to source traders to bring in extra food, supplies, surgeons, and laborers who would be willing to take temporary board and pay in anticipation of moving the majority of the Pilgrims to Kal¡¯Fall. Work was hastened by the local knowledge the scouts who were sent ahead provided. As usual, Hart, Anette and Elias had made rapid work of Dorius¡¯ requests.

    This time, Gail and Clara were guests to Dorius¡¯ domain. Bastian and a few riders had been sent for them and returned on talon steed to negotiate their cooperation for managing the pilgrim community. The Leaping Hare had been repurposed to a base of operations for the Company outside the Keep and Val and Til¡¯wane had supervised the movement of Dorius, Elias and Anette in the early hours of the morning via carriage. They had no illusions that the Veridian were not watching their moves, but that did not mean they could be clumsy either.

    The inn keep served alongside Dorius¡¯ servants, bringing hot tea and wet towels to refresh their guests after the ride, Clara looking particularly shaken. Dorius gestured for them to sit, and Gail took the towel, wiping his hands and face with it and tossing it to the side of the table between them.

    Bastian returned to Dorius'' side of the room, taking a seat underneath Val, while Anette announced, ¡°I present the Cinereal Dragon Prince, Dorius S¡¯Dias,¡± and added for Clara¡¯s benefit, ¡°You may refer to him as Prince.¡±

    ¡°I apologize for our earlier deception, I think you can hazard some guesses as to why,¡± started Dorius, taking a tea for himself as a gesture that they should likewise feel free to drink in his company.

    Bastian added, wiping his hands as well on a towel, ¡°Snake camp was still in place this morning.¡±

    Gail got straight to the point, ¡°You think showing your power and influence might change things? Somehow get us to force the Vigilants to open the gate? I¡¯ve met with many diplomats who thought the same these past few weeks and it has made no difference.¡±

    Dorius smiled graciously, ¡°I have already negotiated with the Vigilants terms to open the gate again. I¡¯m seeking your cooperation to relieve the burden on High Haven until those terms can be completed.¡±

    Gail was dumbstruck, and Clara¡¯s eyes were suddenly wet with gratitude, her hands coming together.

    Bastian continued, ¡°We¡¯ll need to move those who will accept our help here, starting with the most vulnerable. We can provide men and bulls, but you know the community best.¡±

    ¡°That will take a great deal of effort, Sir¡­ Prince, I am not sure¡­¡± stumbled Clara.

    Dorius cut her off looking at Gail, ¡°No, it must be done if I am to help. I am a Prince of the Fourth Pentarchy and out of respect to your independence I will not interfere beyond our borders,¡± he softened his tone, ¡°The nights are growing longer, we can offer better shelter than those hovels, and likely bring enough food in for three solid meals a day.¡±

    Clara lowered her eyes, the exhaustion now her burden was to be lifted palpable, ¡°We will accept your help then, I will do what I can to organize the community.¡±

    Dorius nodded, and gestured to Anette, ¡°This is Anette, my seneschal. She will help introduce you to the captains of the Phoenix Company in my service. They will let you know what they need. And I have a favor to ask?¡±

    Clara rose and gave an awkward curtsey, ¡°Anything, Prince.¡±

    ¡°Bastian had his bow looted from our belongings during¡­ his stay. A heavy war bow, and his quiver. I¡¯d like it returned, no questions asked. Just pass it along to the Company if you can find it.¡±

    Bastian blinked and had no quick witted comment to make.

    Gail watched suspiciously as Clara was escorted from the room, his eyes returning to Val and Til¡¯wane just as often as he glanced between Dorius and Bastian. Dorius ignored his discomfort and pressed onwards, ¡°I spoke with the General of the Ivory a little about our relationship but I would hear it from you, if you are willing?¡±

    ¡°Who do you represent?¡± asked Gail cautiously.

    ¡°The Fourth Pentarch. I was asked directly to resolve the closed diplomacy between us and your State¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll speak plainer,¡± Gail interjected, ¡°I am used to seeing the periphery of the political games the Pentarchy¡¯s families all play. The constantly jostling of power and influence. The Free Mountain State doesn¡¯t have time for it, we are not some puppet piece in your maneuvering. Unless I am speaking directly to those in White, I would be clear who I¡¯m interacting with. So I¡¯ll ask again who do you represent?¡±

    Dorius raised an eyebrow, and took a sip from his tea thoughtfully. ¡°You are aware what my title of Cinereal implies?¡¯ he asked finally.

    ¡°I am aware the Pentarchs make a habit of designating the branches of their families by color, preferring reds and yellows for those closer to the line of succession. I have never met a branch designated as grey,¡± replied Gail, watching Dorius just as carefully.

    ¡°I am cut from the line of succession. My mother is passed and I have no sisters,¡± announced Dorius plainly, ¡°It is of no benefit to me to play games, even within my own family. There is nothing to gain.¡±

    Gail harrumphed, ¡°They all have some story like that.¡±

    Dorius tucked his hands into his robe, ¡°I am sure. Then I¡¯ll be frank. None of the other Pentarchs or their representatives have helped you before this. I have. None of the other Pentarchs have negotiated an end to the siege the Vigilants have imposed upon your people. I have. You¡¯ll do me the favor then of assuming I come with goodwill.¡±

    ¡°I have no proof of this deal you made with the Vigilants,¡± replied Gail sharply.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡± asked Dorius, gesturing up at his Laon guard.

    Gail narrowed his eyes, then heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes, ¡°Forgive me, it has been an exhausting couple of months. I will share my opinion as you wish¡­¡±

    Gail was aware the Mountain State, and by extension he, had little influence politically. But their position central to the five families of the Pentarchy and housing the High Chapel of the Vigilants meant that their only service of value was their location as neutral territory and proximity to the Prime Vigilant. Service as host to diplomats and visitors was key to how they forged their survival as a Free State. The town and its people served as a place for meeting, discussion and news between the Pentarchs, and normally they had some representative of each Pentarch in residence at the Chapel or the quarters of the town reserved for diplomats. Where he could, Gail squeezed concessions in addition to pay - trade, resources, favors - it seemed a constant battle. As Gail spoke, Val felt a growing tension in her chest.

    ¡°It all came to a halt when the Carmine Snake broke into the Sacred Valley. I have never seen the Vigilants as angry as they were. They ousted all the diplomats and pilgrims alike, set a guard to the valley¡¯s gate and played the bells for a full day and night as they shut everything down,¡± explained Gail, his face set grimly as he recounted the events.

    Dorius¡¯ eyes flashed with excitement, ¡°The Carmine Prince was the one who broke the seal?¡±

    Gail shrugged, more talkative now he had been warmed up and was finding a sympathetic ear for his towns trials, ¡°He wasn¡¯t even here as a diplomat, he entered with a pilgrim¡¯s token like you. I suppose he did not like the conclusion of his pilgrimage and thought he might get better answers from the gods directly.¡±

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    Dorius looked across to Elias, ¡°The Second Pentarchy¡¯s Citrine is the younger brother of the Carmine?¡±

    Elias nodded, Dorius withdrew his hands from his robe and sat forward, ¡°Do you know why the Citrine Snake was camped with you for so long then?¡±

    Gail seemed cautious again, ¡°I had assumed to beg forgiveness from the Vigilants for his brother¡¯s crime. Is it not related to the deal you struck with them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is related,¡± replied Dorius, but his mind was distracted, ¡°Or at least, the Carmine''s actions are related¡­¡±

    ¡°How have the other Pentarchs reacted to the closing of the gate?¡± asked Bastian, covering for Dorius.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen a constant stream of diplomats and representatives, I tell them to take it up with the Vigilants and most leave after a day or so of trying. You and the Citrine Snake are the only ones that have come in person.¡±

    ¡°Was it the Ivory from the Fourth?¡± prompted Bastian.

    ¡°Yes, at first, the Ivory General from the Fourth visited several times when the gate first closed. Since, we¡¯ve had some pushy representatives from the Viridian Dragon too.¡±

    Dorius'' attention was snapped back to the conversation, ¡°Since when?¡±

    Aware now Gail was stepping too close to the reasons he originally did not want to talk to them, he hesitated, then merely finished, ¡°Since shortly after the closure.¡±

    Dorius stood, drawing a start from Gail. He drew away from the table and began to pace to one side of the room, his fingers massaging his forehead in thought.

    Bastian followed Dorius with his eyes for a moment, then turned a smile on Gail, ¡°You¡¯ve been very helpful to us, we hope to repay you shortly by getting the Pilgrims¡¯ moved. The Phoenix Company can take any message you¡¯d like to send along.¡±

    ¡°Wait a minute, when will the gate open? When is this deal you¡¯ve made to come about?¡± asked Gail, suddenly agitated at what was the beginning of a dismissal.

    Dorius did not stop his pacing as he replied, ¡°The terms of the deal will take some time for us to fulfill. I do not have a guaranteed timeline.¡±

    Gail rose to his feet then, ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    Val cleared her throat, drawing Gail¡¯s eyes to her and she met his back in warning. Bastian shot her a glance, a warning not to make things worse, and he soothed as best he could, ¡°We guarantee we are working as fast as we can. The Phoenix Company are in the Prince¡¯s direct employ, let me introduce you to some men who are trying to organize additional trade through Barth, you can let us know your most urgent needs¡­¡±

    ¡°That is not what you told me!¡± continued Gail, moving as if to confront Dorius. Both Val and Til¡¯wane shifted, hands changing positions on their weapons. He paused, looking at them both apprehensively.

    Dorius swung mid pace to look at the mayor, his face sympathetic, ¡°I said I had negotiated terms only. I am sorry I can not do more for now.¡± He gestured towards the door making it clear the man was now dismissed.

    With a glance at them all in turn, Gail left as bid, Bastian seeing him to the door and waving over an escort to see him from the inn.

    The moment Dorius had privacy he continued his pacing. ¡°Sylus has been here for months,¡± he speculated aloud, his voice breathy.

    Bastian dropped into the chair where Gail had been sitting, arms stretched along the back, ¡°You may have to catch me up on some details I¡¯m missing?¡±

    Dorius remained on his feet, tapping his forehead as he paced. Decision made he looked at Til¡¯wane, ¡°Guard the door for a moment. No one enters.¡±

    With a conspiratorial look around the room, Dorius came to sit again while the Laon exited. Anette had not returned having gone with Clara so the only bodies that remained were Bastian, Dorius, Elias and Val. Dorius tented his hands, and drew a breath. ¡°There is something catastrophic happening to the Second Pentarchy. My cousins know what it is and are keeping it a secret from the Pentarch,¡± he declared.

    Elias frowned, and laid his staff across the table in front of them, ¡°That is quite a conclusion.¡± Bastian was silent, but he crossed one of his legs to listen.

    ¡°Gail''s story aligns with the Vigilants''. They told me that a pilgrim had come to them and found no satisfactory answer in their meeting with the Prime. In response, they broke the seal of the Sacred Valley. This is not what angered the Vigilants. What angered them, and forced them to shut the town in fear, is that this pilgrim went on to wake a god who slaughtered them in its waking.¡±

    Bastian and Elias were both quick, their faces showing they reached the same conclusions.

    ¡°You think the Carmine Snake Prince is dead?¡± asked Elias.

    ¡°And his task so desperate he defied the Vigilants, woke a god that has slept for centuries a paid a terrible price for it. A task his brother has taken up now as well. What can it be other than something terrible?¡± added Dorius.

    ¡°And your cousins?¡±

    Dorius rocked back in his seat, ¡°This I am less certain on, but there is something strange in these events. When we were called to the Horned Palace, we knew the Carmine were in residence. What is more, there was an attempt on my life after my Uncle sent me on my way here. The method would suggest a similar origin to at least one previous, which suggests the operation of a unified guild. But Sylus was not at that meeting and likely did not dispatch that order. Even more significant, he has been here for months, likely before my Uncle even tasked me with this.¡± Dorius cocked his head, his mind working even as he spoke, ¡°They may not have known of the previous, its clumsy how obvious it was.¡±

    ¡°Sylus is working with Synthias?¡± asked Bastian.

    ¡°And Sylus¡¯ domain is the eastern territory including the border of the Second. If anyone knows what may be happening there it would be him. I suspect he has learnt whatever is occurring within the Second, and made a deal to draw some advantage from it with Synthias.¡±

    Elias was grim, ¡°What makes you think the Pentarch does not know?¡±

    Dorius spread one hand, counting his points against his fingers as he spoke, ¡°The timeline places Sylus here within weeks of the gate closing which indicates he has been monitoring at least the Second¡¯s movements. While Uncle was aware the Mountain State had closed their gates, he was unaware Sylus was working on it, and what''s more considered it meaningless enough to task to me. And we can assume my red cousins knew I was sent here and knew Sylus was already here. My involvement was likely against their wishes but they had way to dissuade the Pentarch that would not reveal they were keeping secrets. Desperate to avoid my interference before they lost me on the road, they may have dispatched an assassin in their service, granted through their new alliance with Sylus. Synthias likely did not know there had been a previous attempt to create a pattern, and I think it very likely now Sylus did not know they tried a second time. Otherwise it was a significant miss-step to so willingly reveal his alliance with it being such a recent and obvious connection.¡±

    ¡°Are you suggesting high treason on the part of your cousins?¡± asked Elias darkly.

    Dorius covered his jaw with his hands, ¡°I am not sure. At the moment I just speculate they are keeping secret something they hope to spin to their advantage. The movement of mercenaries and resources to the east has to be obvious enough that he would know¡­¡± Dorius trailed off, second guessing the thought even as he had it

    ¡°And the nature of this deal with the Vigilants?¡± asked Bastian, his golden eyes carefully watching Dorius.

    Dorius sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, ¡°I am to go and negotiate with this god¡­ I am waiting on a guide of some form they will call down for us. We will need to return in only a few days.¡±

    ¡°The creature in the night?¡± asked Bastian looking at Val.

    Val nodded, and explained for Elias, ¡°I disturbed something in the night when we had an audience with the Vigilants. It had such¡­ emotion, it could only be the terrible and sad god the Vigilants spoke of.¡±

    ¡°Disturbed?¡± clarified Elias.

    ¡°Val set things on fire,¡± quipped Bastian, dragging his collar open with one finger to meaningfully reveal his peeling skin. Val glowered at Bastian in response, and he gave her a wink.

    Dorius kneaded his forehead, a melancholy mood coming on him, ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have antagonized Sylus yesterday¡­¡±

    Bastian raised an eyebrow, ¡°Yeah, no shit.¡±

    ¡°It is done,¡± commented Elias, ¡°Fortunate that you must return to High Haven, the sooner we can make an excuse of it the better. We are in graver danger here than expected.¡±

    There was a knock on the door. When Dorius did not respond, staring into space in front of him as his mind raced, so Val left her post to crack the door.

    Til¡¯wane inclined his head as he peaked in at her, ¡°The seneschal has returned, she bought this,¡± and he handed her a wax sealed envelope through the door. Val turned it in her hands to look at the seal, four-horned dragon in gold wax, set with a verdant green ribbon. She nodded a thanks, and shut the door again, then tossed the envelope into the table between them for all to see.

    Dorius stared at it a moment, then stretched a hesitant hand and broke the seal to read the message within.

    ¡°I''ve been invited to a formal dinner tonight,¡± was all he said.

 6.2 Haze

    Dorius traced his hands over the folds of his waist wrap, tucking an edge that stood out to his roaming fingers behind another. The motion inadvertently loosened the wrapping, and the crisp shape was lost as layers began to spill. He tried to save it while Cote, his primary body servant, had his back still turned, but it was useless and the folds of his outer robe followed. He wanted to stamp his foot, shake his fists like a child, and instead he drew a shuddering breath that instead of calming him only served to his own ear to betray every nerve he felt.

    The unwinding fabric seemed an apt metaphor for his mind, and his fumbling hands his desperate bid for control over it. Every time he finally turned his thoughts from the conspiracy the last few days had begun to unearth, a new thread came to mind unbidden, and his thoughts spiraled again as he ran through memories of maps and tables, words and actions, connected and disparate in relation alike, over and over again in his mind.

    Cote turned, and he did not fully stifle the twitch of a frown at the sight of his master undoing his hard work. He handed the boxes of jewelry he was preparing to Lee¡¯to, and shook the wrappings free to restart the outer layers.

    ¡°It was coming loose,¡± explained Dorius meekly, but the servant gave no reply as he worked. Firm hands refolded and shaped the fabric around Dorius¡¯ torso. The flat of his hand, placed firmly to Dorius¡¯ gut, held things in place, while Lee¡¯to wrapped the waist belt again.

    In some ways, he was thankful for the stiff, thick fabric and layers, they served to hold him steady when he was certain his knees would be shaking without them. He raised a hand unconsciously, tempted to run them through his hair in a bid to do something, anything with them, then restrained himself.

    ¡°My rings,¡± he instructed. Lee¡¯to held the carved wooden box Cote had prepared with his favorites.

    He quickly found the first, his mother¡¯s signet ring, and placed it on the smallest finger on his right hand. A noise outside the door drew his attention before he could work through the rest, and he unconsciously began to turn the ring on his knuckle as he looked over his shoulder at the door.

    ¡°...I¡¯m just suggesting a few men, in roles they can¡¯t fuck up, carrying plates or something. Just to get some men close,¡± came Bastian¡¯s voice as he opened the door, then stepped out of the way to let Val in after him. She dipped her horns through the doorway, and remained slightly hunched even within the room.

    The serving tray seemed absurdly tiny against her bulk, yet she brought it to Dorius¡¯ side and placed within his reach the cup of tea it held. With a mildness that contrasted so extraordinarily with her size and disposition around anyone except their present company, she responded gently to Bastian, ¡°How will you hide their weapons?¡±

    ¡°They can wear a dagger under their clothes, probably not much else we can do,¡± replied Bastian, sitting without any hesitation on Dorius¡¯ bed behind him.

    Val gave a noncommittal hum in response, and leaned against a wall across from Bastian and out of the way, slipping down it to sit on the floor and cracked her neck from side to side.

    Dorius spun his signet ring on his finger, staring at the cup of tea, then asked, ¡°You are hoping to place some Company men among the servants?¡±

    Bastian threw up his hands, ¡°If you are going to insist on Val and Til not being there, what else can we do?¡±

    ¡°Sylus would perceive it as a continued threat. I should seem weak, un-threatening, incompetent,¡± he replied. The justification was sound in his head, yet logic was of little comfort when his heart beat so loudly in his chest and his stomach twisted in fear.

    He was terrified of being alone with Sylus, with the exhausting effort of meeting his quips and snarks, with the contemptuous eyes of his women hiding their true intentions behind sleeves and fans.

    ¡°Watcher damn what Sylus thinks! You are weak, on your own,¡± retorted Bastian.

    ¡°I agree,¡± added Val, and in a burst of openness which usually meant she was truly worried about something, ¡°Perception is a luxury we may not be able to afford here.¡±

    Their concern was almost enough to shake his resolve. But he knew this strategy was the correct one.

    Dorius had learnt years ago that he was quicker than everyone else. He instinctively knew, partially by natural gift, partially with Elias¡¯ tutoring, to separate fact and assumption clearly, weigh risk and reward impartially. He knew when he did not have enough information to act, and he knew clearly when he did and a decision was to be made. And, as Elias had noted was the most crucial ingredient, he knew when gut and instinct could be trusted and when rationality was required. He could see the path forward, like a silver thread in a forest of haze. And, he had learnt that others could not.

    Bastian, and Val, were emotional creatures. Bastian was quick to abandon reason when a temper flared, and to blindness where his soft spots were. Val was decisive only when driven by animal instinct and clear purpose, and hesitant in every other moment. It was not to say that either of them were dim-witted, both were sharp and capable retainers, although Val lacked the education Bastian had gotten in his teens. Partially, it was he who handicapped their ability to anticipate him. He knew he sat on information he was not sure was useful yet, or that he felt was too sensitive to share. What he saw clearly, they were missing the clues to reveal rather than any actual shortcoming in abilities.

    He did not necessarily feel there was anything wrong with this. Val carried the weapons, she did not look down on him for not knowing how to use them. Bastian understood people, places, risks, he did not bemoan that they did not contribute to the scouting. Dorius, in turn, collected information and made decisions.

    Still, it did not prevent him hoping they would give him the confidence in his decisions, especially when he was barely able to muster it for himself. If he had time to explain, he knew they would see the same, but the thread of facts and observations, the history of previous interactions with Sylus that informed his assessment of risk and gut instinct, was too many to fully give voice to. And so he reached out for his second ring, his own signet, and placed it on his right index finger.

    ¡°I have made up my mind.¡± If only the words could steady his treasonous fear. It was infinitely easier when Bastian imperceptibly smoothed out any hardships, or Val just through her presence changed the way he was treated in a room.

    ¡°I trust you,¡± replied Val. He knew she meant the words as support but they felt like the shackles of responsibility. Like his robes, in some ways he was thankful for it, it forced him to hold together when he may not have been able to on his own. He turned back to the rings one by one and placed the rest on his fingers, always the same order. Cote was done with adjusting his robes, and had moved onto preparing his earrings and bracelets.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°How¡¯s that cut from Til?¡± asked Bastian to Val behind him.

    ¡°Fine,¡± came Val¡¯s curt response.

    Undeterred Bastian continued, ¡°Never seen anyone actually match you before. Must¡¯ve been pretty odd?¡±

    There was silence for a few moments, then quietly, ¡°I have become aware of how much my own strength is a crutch.¡±

    ¡°You still outmatched him?¡±

    ¡°I would not have in real combat. It was only when it became a contest of muscle that I forced a tie, even then who knows if we had continued.¡±

    ¡°Ho?¡±

    Dorius adjusted the final bangle at his wrist while Cote finished his work on his collar. ¡°Let us get this over with,¡± he announced, ¡°Val you will escort me at least.¡±

    The short moments that passed as Val steadily rose and crossed the room to get her axe felt like an age, Dorius was nervous he would break into a sweat before even facing his cousins. With the barest of gestures, Val gestured for him to lead the way.

    ¡ª

    The smallest of the three formal dining rooms was empty of his immediate family when Dorius arrived. Instead the serving staff in white and gold were patiently waiting, appetizers and drinks arranged for the upcoming company. The sight of viridian green among the colors was enough to force Dorius to gulp back a mouthful of anxiety. It was suitable he was first and would force no one to greet him or listen to his name being announced by the servers. The goal was not to outplay Sylus, his position was too weak to force a direct confrontation. He would weather the insults, give just enough snark to maintain a facade of ineptitude, and continue to play the game he had started only years ago with his family.

    A servant passed him a goblet of red wine, and when he sipped it it was mixed with fruit juice. Bastian or Hart had succeeded in getting Company men or his own servants somewhere within the Ivory then. The flush of strength it gave him was unexpected and very welcome.

    He rose as the first guests entered, a selection of the women from Sylus¡¯ companions. The women were all noble family lines, they wore no gold in deference to the Pentarchy but Dorius¡¯ spied sigils on broaches, rings and necklaces. No Fae creatures like his own dragon, as had become the sole right of the Pentarchy, but instead organic and geometric shapes alike that romanticised a past when the noble blood had truly meant breeding pure enough to grant its descendants old magic. Most were geometric patterns, the shapes evoking the bloodlines'' old mastery of earth, fire, air or water. One had a striking zig-zag pattern, indicating the storm bloodlines that could control both air and water, and with mastery of both, summon lightning from the air. Politics must have been a significantly more frightful time when single individuals with exceptionally pure blood were the equivalent of congealed tempests. The status of the nobles would have made sense then, these days they did little but ride the coat-tails of their predecessors.

    The women sat about the head of the table, leaving a seat where Sylus would later sit. And after the politest of greetings with Dorius, resumed gossip amongst themselves. As he observed them, he saw the hints of their power dynamics in who was spoken over, laughed at, or dismissed by the pair that seemed to lead the group.

    Sylus¡¯ arrangement with these women was likely built on the sham impression one would eventually marry him. Bloodlines passed through the maternal line, men when married were absorbed into the women¡¯s family, their dowry, the trades or connections they bought with them. While these women of status likely flocked to him, in the hope one would win his affections enough to absorb him into their families, his own ambition meant he would never marry while his older sister still supported his cause. It was likely he cultivated a belief among them that he could be swayed by true love from this path, or some other equal nonsense.

    Women had an unusual freedom of choice in noble families, as the only way of continuing bloodlines there was a natural power there but it came with the grave burden of bearing children, an interest not all women had. Depending on their own ambition, they might seek power themselves, like Synthias did leading the Carmine branch. Others chose to place their support with a brother or male cousin, opening the door to the only pathway sons had to power within their family as Virconas did with Sylus, and the Pentarch before had done with the support of his older sister. Both of these pathways required breeding heirs - for their own inheritance or their supported male family member¡¯s benefit. Some yet, would eschew these systems - a choice easier made when one had many sisters - and break for their independence like Dorius¡¯ own mother had. He knew he and his father had not been a part of her plans, and yet they had happened, and she had died bringing him into the world, leaving them in the precarious position they held in her absence. Dorius was yet technically the blood of a Pentarch, but any children he fathered would be their mother¡¯s. As such, he offered the Pentarchy no clear pathway for dynasty, and he was unable to directly make any claim for the throne himself.

    It did not mean that men had no love for their children or their own families, many found great satisfaction in supporting their families, or forging alliances with nobler bloodlines to ensure their own children had clear and strong inheritances. For others, the pressure of finding an alliance to a promising family and to develop themselves to make a suitable match was a crushing burden. Some were too way-ward for even that, and so for noble families who had the means such that children only brought opportunity, the father at least had no contest or rights to any child they left behind without subsuming their own identity to the child¡¯s family in return.

    For Dorius, it offered a freedom in his own choices of partner that was unparalleled. His family would not care where he went, and if anything would be relieved of the burden of his relation to them.

    Not that dynasty building was a high priority for him, the only reason he was even thinking over the topic was as an exploration of the women and Sylus'' motivations for their relations. His focus had been solely on reclaiming what his mother was due, and had been neglected in her passing and beyond the means for his father to access without her. As he had re-entered his mother¡¯s world though, he had found only petty political squabbles fueled by the greed of those born lucky to the right mother and still thinking they deserved more. The petty desire to tear them down from the inside had started as a childish reaction to his disgust at what he found, but he definitely spent longer than he should turning the idea about in his head to examine it.

    He had been raised one foot in the Company, one foot in the Merchant Guild his mother had forged at Southold, and only Elias to hold his hand to teach him what her world had looked like at first. Pay is his world had been earnt in labor, fairly distributed by the accountants at Trade Unions who understood the market forces of skill, demand, risk and reward and regulated accordingly. In the peace since the unrest, the common man had organized and bettered himself to earn a lifestyle rich in prosperity and abundance unheard of since the stability of the Monarchy.

    It was the noble class that lived in the past. They desperately held onto the remnants of a prestige and wealth their powerful ancestors had rightfully earned, and likely labored for with great acts of magic, thinking they too had rights to it. They married and conducted themselves with the rules of old bloodlines that were no longer relevant when the magic, despite their careful maintenance of maternal lines, had dried to a husk. It was particularly bitter for Dorius, who was looked down upon and disregarded by his own mother¡¯s family for lacking the ability to pass on blood which granted nothing but the ashes and faint memories of the past.

    And yet, he had still not quite decided what to make of the news his family''s bloodlines traced back to the Dragoness when she had once been mortal. Of all the things he had learnt in the past few days, this secret he would hold tight until he knew how to use it. His trust in Val to guard him and his affairs was absolute, she knew she kept them even from Bastian, and he felt no small amount of guilt in his role in the rift it caused his friends.

    Deep in his thought, Dorius had lost track of the gossip of the women, swirling his wine in his goblet as he stared at the arrangements of appetizers in front of him. He didn¡¯t even notice the servants changing places in a manner that signaled his cousin''s arrival. He started when the announcement finally came, and as Sylus entered the room raised his eyes hesitantly, hands tucked within his robes to hide the constant spinning of his mother¡¯s signet ring on his knuckle.

    ¡°Cousin,¡± was all he gave in greeting.

 6.3 Clouded Eyes

    Sylus was wearing a little too much white for Dorius¡¯ comfort. His chosen robes were composed of a heavy off-white as the base layer, with laborious embroidered patterns in viridian green and gold forming the shapes of intwined dragons and vines to cover almost the entire surface. Yes, the white only peaked through the designs, but the fact remained it was there.

    As if sensing his own thoughts, Sylus greeted him with, ¡°Your interpretation of cinder leans a little blue do you not think? One might think you shun the Pentarch¡¯s will?¡±

    The challenge begged a retort that drew notice to his own choice of wear. Sylus in turn might feign innocence, chide Dorius for overthinking it, set a double standard in expectations that gave him the higher ground. From anyone else it might have come across as a surprisingly simplistic power play, but in the backdrop of their confrontation at the tournament it was a dangerous start.

    Dorius did not fall for the trap the opening likely was, ¡°I spend so little time in formal company, I did not bring much expecting to have to dress¡­¡±

    Sylus laughed, ¡°My is that so? Take my advice, cousin, always prepare to dress well. Ladies, you each look stunning¡­¡±

    As Sylus turned his attention to his flowers for a moment, Dorius nodded his head to Virconas, Gustave and Alanis who trailed behind. Virconas looked as stiff as usual, her silver curls covered tonight with a jewel coif that had tassels falling down her shoulders to her waist. Gustave was austere in his dress, black and neatly tailored with only the single Viridian dragon on his sleeve to mark his allegiance.

    Politely Dorius inclined, ¡°Cousins,¡± and consciously kept his place and his hands within his sleeves when custom might have required him to pull their seats before the staff did.

    Virconas sniffed. The staff instead hesitated, unsure if they should approach, and as Sylus settled into his own seat he tsk¡¯d, ¡°I should have invited Elias to keep your manners. Stop being a backcountry peasant and at least offer my Sister a seat!¡±

    Dorius turned to the seat next to his own, and attempted to draw it out from the table. The act could not have been more perfect if he had planned it, the chair was heavy and his leverage poor from the side compared to if he had properly stepped out from his place to greet them. The legs dragged on the floor, squealing comically until a servant in white approached to help and silence the noise. Dorius gave his best impression of an awkward young man trying his best, and gestured to his youngest cousin for her to sit. His own satisfaction at the ploy helped chase his growing anxiety down again.

    Alanis kept her eyes lowered as she joined him, dressed surprisingly plain in seafoam green compared to her older siblings. Dorius felt a pang of regret she had to be here. Gustave drew a chair for Virconas, who turned slightly to arrange her own robes as she sat.

    Sylus was already amusing himself in conversation with the ladies, poking fun at the furnishings that were out of date with current trends and quality of the Ivory''s service. The ladies eagerly joined his game, covering their mouths with their hanging sleeves. Dorius watched him and only felt his own anxiety tight around his heart. As the conversation remained innocent and on any topic other than himself his nerves grew, he felt sick at the thought of having to force himself to eat.

    ¡°How comes your diplomacy with the Free State?¡± asked Virconas across the table over a course of wild fowl, several plates into the meal.

    Dorius glanced at Sylus, who was flirting shamelessly with one of his women. He lowered his fork and replied, ¡°I uh¡­ that is the Company has had conversation with the Mayor. I¡¯ve been told the Vigilants are the cause of the shut gate.¡±

    ¡°They have that power?¡± asked Virconas, covering her mouth to mask her surprise.

    ¡°High Haven is the apex of their sect, the Chapel there the oldest. I suppose they wield some significant influence.¡±

    ¡°How odd? I am surprised they find apprentices interested in their trade. Seems a dull life to spend forever documenting peasant births and deaths in endless tomes.¡±

    Dorius tipped his head slightly, ¡°I don¡¯t think it any different from the academics you patron. Human history is just as important as the natural world, and I might guess the peasant class find comfort in the details of their lives being given such credence and care.¡±

    ¡°What an absurd idea, that some all powerful being bothers itself with the details of all their lives,¡¯ replied Virconas, her tone bemused.

    Dorius cleared his throat, and before he could determine a diplomatic reply, Gustave surprisingly spoke up, ¡°It would be a mistake to discount their beliefs so easily.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think so?¡± asked Dorius, suddenly curious, the gravel voiced man had spoken so rarely in their brief interactions.

    Gustave lowered the napkin he was using to pat his mouth, ¡°The concept of a Weave is an interesting philosophical challenge for someone in our trade,¡± he began. ¡°Think on it. If it works as they truly say and the Weaver casts each of us as thread on some great loom - all action is predetermined, all choice merely an illusion - what need would there be for my Guild¡¯s services?¡±

    Dorius blinked, confronted with the interesting thought problem, ¡°Yet you believe in the Weave? Is not your trade proof instead the Weave cannot be all encompassing?¡±

    Gustave opened his hands palms up over the table, ¡°I suspect us closer to kin of the Vigil than not. Tools to be picked up for the enacting of the Watcher¡¯s will.¡±

    Dorius felt an odd tightness in his chest, and entirely forgot his situation, ¡°It releases you from culpability of your actions then?¡±

    Virconas seemed slightly overwhelmed by the conversation, ¡°You are debating over a peasant folklore, surely it need not be so serious?¡±

    Dorius settled back in his chair slightly, ¡°It was once taken seriously by the Monarchy,¡± he instructed watching Gustave as he spoke, ¡°Histories speak that the Prime Vigilant was once a respected member of the Monarch¡¯s court, and a Vigil Chamber for their use part of the structures of the Forgotten Palace at the Citadel. It may be that this is something the peasants have remembered and we have forgotten¡­¡±

    ¡°I have been to the Forgotten Palace, it is a crumbling ruin. If the Monarchy was so great, why is their dynasty dead and their magic forgotten?¡± interjected Sylus.

    Dorius started, unaware that he had been listening in on their conversation. The histories during and precipitating the Unrest that followed the collapse of the Monarchy were patchy at best. The only true clue they left was that the Monarchy had ended when no ¡®true¡¯ heir could be found, and civil war had erupted in the chaos that followed till the five family alliance that formed the Pentarchy created the Peace. What constituted a true heir was a mystery lost with time, the books spoke of a ¡®birthright crown¡¯ that only true royalty wore, and was commonly interpreted as some artifact only the royal family could wear. This Dorius did not believe, documentation of the normality of Fae magic and the acts it was capable of were common in history books - so normal it was not strange to find statements that implied people flew from town to town. Non-living objects infused with or capable of magic existed no where else Dorius had read. An odd thought distracted him, it was likely the Vigilants may have their own histories that could shed light. Either way, the ''birthright crown'' was either lost, or none who could wear it were found, and the Monarchy had collapsed.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°It is an interesting philosophy only, I meant nothing by the discussion,¡± deferred Gustave, removing his hands from the table as a servant cleared his plate. As the servants moved about the room, one in Viridian bought Sylus a folded note. It was read and dismissed with the other plates.

    Sylus waved one finger, his attention fully on them now as the rest of the table was cleared, ¡°No, Brother. I think it worth debating,¡± his crystal blue gaze turned to Dorius with a smug quirk to the corner of his mouth. Dorius could not meet his eyes, a black dread was suddenly growing in his chest. ¡°What was my brother saying? All action is predetermined? I¡¯m curious, my well-read cousin, to learn more of this Weave?¡± there was the drip of poison in his words.

    Dorius gulped his wine before speaking, his mouth was so dry, ¡°The Vigil believes the Weaver casts all our lives as thread in a great pattern of their design. Every life lived, every outcome, good and bad, are out of our control.¡±

    ¡°And what if one were to strive to be something they were not determined to be?¡± asked Sylus, placing down his own goblet with an ominous thud. His manner was dark and serious, and the women who had been his comfortable companions merely moments before cast glances between each other.

    ¡°I¡­ I assume belief would follow then that it is futile. Perhaps the striving was part of the plan? Their actions taken necessary for some other pattern¡­¡± Dorius didn¡¯t have the courage to continue, his body was screaming for him to flee and his stomach threatened to hurl his dinner.

    ¡°Exactly cousin.¡±

    The door behind him swung open, two soldiers in Viridian crashed through. Several of the Ivory servants started forward, hands raised and when they noted the swords and armor suddenly drew back. One soldier raised a gloved hand, sticky with thick black liquid and tossed a grey, horned head into the middle of the table. Cutlery scattered from its path as it rolled, a goblet spilled red wine in a violent bloom of crimson. Viscous, black blood oozed from the neck. The head stopped midway down the table, the weight and shape of the horns turning it face down, small gold charms hung from the horns.

    Alanis screamed, petrified in place. Several of the women drew back, giving gasps of shock or fearful shrieks of their own. Chairs toppled to the ground as most of the diners drew up in fear away from the head in a sudden explosion of chaos. Dorius averted his eyes, his heart stopping, and wretched once as the metallic smell of blood reached him. He pushed his chair back and threw up onto the ground, bile dripping from his lip. He then hung there for a moment, shaking and emptying his stomach, with his hands on the table and his head between his knees. His mind grasped for a thought to hold onto as it reeled and found one with a pang of guilty relief - in the short glimpse he had, one horn had been broken.

    ¡°Get him up¡± cut the sharp order of Sylus over the wails and moans of terror in the room, and Dorius felt himself dragged upwards by rough hands. One grasped his chin and turned his head to look across the table again.

    Sylus stood, one hand extended to turn the head to face him by a horn. Dorius retched again as he looked into the clouded eyes of Til¡¯wane, his face smeared with a mix of sanguine red blood, and his own black blood in sticky, clotted, globs was dotting the table and dripping from one nostril. Only the rough, firm hands that held him prevented him from collapsing into a shaking mess. His hands were held behind his back, his torso upright, and the another kept his face turned to Sylus. The women had all fled the table, huddled in one corner with the servants all as pale and shaken as Dorius, some retching like him. Alanis still screamed, until Gustave collected her and averted her eyes, his hand clamped firmly around her mouth and her body pulled into his waist. Virconas sat stiff in her place still, her skin pale and her eyes distant, her mouth set firmly. She did not look at the head nor her cousins, and stared resolutely ahead, her lip trembling.

    ¡°Look cousin!¡± Sylus demanded, rocking the head by the horn, ¡°This is what you have bought upon you by fighting the Weave! Are you looking?!¡± His voice, while raised, was controlled.

    Dorius shut his eyes, and felt himself shaken by his handlers. The smell of blood was overwhelming.

    ¡°ARE YOU LOOKING!?¡±

    Dorius opened them again, and looked his cousin in the eye. Sylus watched him back, a satisfied grin on his face.

    ¡°You are a dead end!¡± he declared, ¡°You are a worthless branch of this family! I will not have you humiliate me to my own men, to my own women, to my sisters!¡±

    He let go of the head, Til¡¯wane¡¯s face tipping forward as the weight of the horns rolled his head again. Dorius watched his clouded eyes disappear from view. Sylus picked up a napkin to wipe his hand as he continued.

    ¡°This game you think you are playing, it is not a game you are welcome in. It is your fate to be nothing, else you would not have been born as you are! I am teaching you this lesson now, before someone else less compassionate teaches a harsher one, be thankful. Are you thankful?¡±

    Dorius hung limply in the hands of those who held him, his mind oddly distant from his body. The sight and sounds of the women disappeared into the background, his vision seemed to narrow to only the gristly details of the grey head. Sylus¡¯ words were barely audible. Instead the only sound was only the rush of his own blood in his ear. He stared at the black horned head, so surreal without a body.

    ¡°Are you thankful?¡± asked Sylus again, raising his voice higher.

    Dorius felt himself shaken, his chin turned again to focus his gaze on Sylus. His mouth burned from his own bile and he didn¡¯t have the strength to compose any reply, his eyes travelling back to Til''wane.

    ¡°The idiot is too shocked to respond,¡± muttered Sylus, turning from the table, ¡°Get that ghastly head out of here. Disgusting creature.¡± He was still wiping his hands on the napkin, though there was no more dirt to clean.

    Dorius was dropped by the hands that held him, and he collapsed to the ground kneeling in his own vomit. His hands and knees were shaking, and he remained on all fours unable to do anything for several moments. Around him, the room began to clear as the Viridian soldiers escorted out the women. Dorius raised his head, and the sight of a familiar black mask hanging from one of the soldier¡¯s hips suddenly shot adrenaline through his system. Enough for him to crouch against a chair and survey what he could of the chaos.

    Sylus was in one corner, hand on Gustave¡¯s shoulder hissing a reprimand, ¡°It is the wrong one! Your men got the wrong one!¡±

    Gustave opened his palms defensively, but his manner was bland, ¡°You ordered the horned guard in his room. This was the one that was found there.¡±

    ¡°I wanted the female one, where was it?¡±

    Gustave shrugged. Dorius ducked his head below the chair, terrified one of them might have seen him looking. He leant his back against the legs of the chair hoping they might continue their conversation, but they both walked out together as they spoke, Sylus calling back to the room, "Clean yourself up Cousin. Then make your arrangements to leave. I expect you gone by the morning..."

    Dorius sat on the ground, back against the chair for a moment, and tried to wipe the vomit caught in his rings with the corner of his robe while he collected his mind. He didn¡¯t dare stand up to see if Til¡¯wane¡¯s head was still in the room.

    He felt too shaken to stand, so instead crawled under the table to the other side. As he emerged between the toppled chairs, a hand touching his shoulder startled him.

    ¡°Sir, I¡¯m Company,¡± said a quiet voice dressed in Ivory. Dorius grasped for the hand, looking up at the face, and her hands helped pull him to his feet. The woman was dressed as the Ivory maids were, but she was strong and steady and got a shoulder under his to help him get to his feet.

    ¡°We need to flee,¡± he croaked, his voice raspy, ¡°We have to find Bastian and Val."

    Vaguely he was aware she spoke back, but none of the words sunk past the rushing sound of his own blood in his ears. Like his head was wrapped in layers of fabric.

    As they reached the doorway, he wrestled with his own fear. He did not know why, but he felt a responsibility on him to look, and only fear and trepidation at what his might see. With a shaking breath he exerted control and turned.

    Half the chairs were fallen to the ground, serving platters from the buffet tables to the sides were tipped and drink was dripping down the furniture. The table had been cleared of plates, but cutlery and drinking goblets were scattered, an ominous path cleared where the head had rolled.

    But, there was no head. The table was splattered with clotted globules of black blood mixed with red wine.

 6.4 Not Human, Not Fae

    Val hesitated as she watched the door to the formal dining room shut, and Dorius¡¯ back disappear behind it. She knew this was his wish, but it felt wrong to leave him so alone.

    Sylus was a proud man, she reflected. His pride had likely been wounded publicly at the tournament, and proud men were unlikely to let that type of thing pass without retribution. But he was not a mad man, or at least she did not think he was. Dorius had deemed that looking vulnerable was the play now, to quietly and subserviently reassure Sylus that he was in control. And to a degree, she agreed that seeing her face was only likely to remind him of that silent threat she had made. Yet¡­ it seemed overly optimistic to her to hope that this all might blow away with the wind and be forgotten.

    Aware the servants passing were giving her odd looks as she hovered in the hallway, she turned and returned to their wing of the keep.

    On returning to Dorius¡¯ room Bastian was gone and Til¡¯wane was leaning on one wall dressed in formal slate blues like her, conversing with his hands to Lee¡¯to, who was cleaning the room and speaking back between handfuls of Dorius¡¯ belongings. Val paused in the doorway, hesitant to interrupt. Til¡¯wane spotted her though, his eyeline turning to her was enough to alert Lee¡¯to and her hands trailed to stillness as she stood to attention. Val looked between them, conscious they had stopped their conversation in her presence even if she could not follow their movements enough to understand any word they signed.

    ¡°Where did Bastian go?¡± she asked.

    ¡°To the mess,¡± replied Til¡¯wane simply.

    Val frowned. Bastian - unlike her, Til¡¯wane and Dorius¡¯ closest servants - had already been sleeping down in the barracks in the few beds that were spared for Dorius¡¯ close retinue. He¡¯d been taking every meal in the communal mess used by the serving class since he had arrived. Val, in comparison, had grown used to the luxury of having her meals bought by virtue of being physically close to Dorius. Without Dorius here to attract a servant''s attention, she was unlikely to get a meal unless she also braved the communal areas.

    She looked about the room while she considered it. She felt awkward having disturbed Til¡¯wane and Lee¡¯to, but felt no desire to mope trapped in the tiny bedroom that had been allocated to her. Without Dorius to preoccupy her, she really had nothing to do with herself and felt oddly anxious. Normally a break from her duties was welcome, but not here, not now.

    ¡°I¡¯m just dropping this off,¡± she finally settled on, untangling the gold jewelry and chains she wore on her horns to place on the counter, ¡°If Dorius returns, come get me. I guess I¡¯ll be in the mess too.¡± She leaned her axe on one wall and left them to their conversation.

    ¡ª

    Val glanced irritably around the mess, seeing faces in white and green interspersed with slate blue and the plain leathers of the Company. The buzz of conversation assaulted her ears, and she felt the weight of the cramped and overfilled space that would have been a tight fit for her even with less bodies.

    She followed the lead of the other men, grabbing a bowl and letting herself be served while ignoring the strange looks of the servers as she did so. She glanced about, hoping for a quiet table on her own, and spied Bastian at the center of the crowd. His face was finally free of bandages and his nasal splint. His hair had regrown to a deep chestnut peach fuzz, not yet long enough for his characteristic curl to return. What remained of his peeling burns could be hidden beneath clothing including an upturned collar that appeared a roguish fashion choice. Freed of his injuries, he was making a quick return to his raffish charms.

    She hesitated as she approached, noting he had a group of mixed younger men in Ivory and Company leathers, cards and dice between them in a game. A pair of women sat with them, one in an Ivory officer''s lap and another hanging from Bastian¡¯s shoulder, Val recognized their faces as two of the lesser nobles from Sylus¡¯ garden of ladies. So lowly it seemed they were not invited to dinner.

    Both were dressed far above the necessity of a mess hall with soldiers, wearing their delicately embroidered robes and jeweled rings on their fingers. But they laughed and cheered the dice game with the men, their faces free for once of the haughty stiff looks the women wore in Sylus¡¯ company. It was likely they were just seeking innocent fun and attentive company.

    The thought of sitting near the women, almost as if she were a peer, made Val deeply uncomfortable. They had such slim shoulders and fine necks, and waists belted tight to complement their figures and raise their breasts into shapely busts. The lady on the lap of the officer was hanging one handed around his neck, he with both hands at her hips keeping her balanced and steady as she blew for luck on the dice of another man preparing his roll. The one at Bastian¡¯s side had her face close to his neck, her hands touching his arm and shoulder as she leaned into him, lips close to his ear to be heard over the conversation of the mess. Bastian weaved an arm around her waist in turn, turning his own head close to hers to reply, his attention fully on the game before him and his company.

    Val felt a hard turn in her gut. She didn¡¯t have the emotional energy for whatever Bastian had going on here. And they would likely not welcome her anyway. She knew from experience how conversations faltered when she joined, how games had a way of coming to an end and everyone had an excuse to retire. It was not hostile, but it felt cold, and she¡¯d rather just avoid it. Besides, Bastian was either at work coaxing information from the women, or in his off-hours enjoying their company. He didn''t need her disturbing. As Bastian laughed at some comment from his companion, Val turned her gaze and continued down the periphery of the mess hall to one of the few half filled benches at the back.

    As she settled on an empty end, purposefully avoiding any eye contact, she felt the others at the other end of the table draw closer to their side without comment. Grimly and mechanically she ate in silence, eager to return to the keep. Then with a sigh, she thought of Til¡¯wane and Lee¡¯to and realized she didn''t have any place to go there either, and couldn''t help rubbing her eyes as her black mood grew. She wanted to slump into her own arms and cry, a feeling of overwhelming loneliness suddenly washing through her. It was not helped by the knot in her stomach as she thought of Dorius on his own, or her imagination playing Bastian''s easy laugh in the noise of the crowd. Instead she leaned on her fist, and found her appetite weaker with every passing moment.

    Without warning she was knocked from her shoulder from behind, her fist slipping on her forehead. She barely caught herself from knocking her bowl, but her spoon slipped free, spattering a mouthful that did not quite make the journey on the table.

    ¡°You shouldn''t be here,¡± said a voice firmly behind her.

    Val turned over her shoulder slowly, cautious of the width of her horns in these cramped quarters, and looked up to the face of a Viridian captain.

    The man repeated himself, ¡°You shouldn''t be here, bodyguard.¡±

    Val met his eyes, then skimmed the faces of his three companions around him. She took note of their uniforms, the fabric crisp and clean like new recruits, the captain¡¯s feather still plush. Finding them no physical threat, she dropped her eyes and turned to resume her meal.

    The captain caught her shoulder as she turned with an open palm and made to push her. Val tensed, and he bounced slightly when she did not give way like he expected. She sighed, of all the days to be dealing with a green captain who thought he might elevate his rank or respect by pushing her around.

    Her sigh only served to aggrevate the man, who planted his hands on his hips and demanded again, ¡°Go back to the keep Fae. Leave the men here to their meals.¡±

    Val turned to look at him again, and his gaze was not what she expected. Instead of haughty eyes and a look down his nose, she saw his eyes were wide with a hint of worry or even panic. Before she could react further, he grabbed a horn one handed.

    Val surged to her feet, knocking his arm off her with her own. The bench she sat on toppled backwards, knocking over three men further down with it who almost dragged down the row of seats behind them as well. Raised voices began and cut short as quickly as faces turned to see her standing over the Viridian captain, nostrils flaring as she looked down at him in sharp anger. The crowd in the hall silenced, and Val felt her emotional control slip. Not even waiting for the man to threaten her again, she tossed her spoon into her bowl and it bounced violently, sending the bowl tipping and what remained of her stew slopping over the table.

    She shrugged herself free of the man and his companions, and made the long walk down the edge of the mess to the front door again, conscious of the stark silence and turning heads that followed her. In one final fit of anger, she slammed the door behind her and stormed across the inner bailey.

    In the cold air of the night and darkness, she allowed herself a choked sigh, just barely holding back her tears, and contemplated where she could go.

    Childishly, she wanted to flee to the stable or some dark corner on the edge of the keep. She could sit in the darkness, her head in her hands, and wait out her feelings till she found the strength to return again. But, she was painfully aware Til¡¯wane or Lee¡¯to or some other servant may come looking for her after Dorius was done with his formal meal. He would be stressed and tired, and likely wanting to talk through the evening to a trusted ear. She needed to be somewhere she could be promptly found.

    The thought of returning to the mess was too much, so she decided the tiny room assigned to her in Dorius¡¯ wing was the best compromise between solitude and somewhere she could be located. She sighed again, and stared at the dark sky for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fists, then made her way back inside the keep.

    ---

    In the solitary cell walls of her bedroom, Val sat, head in her hands on her too-small bed in the darkness. The overwhelming loneliness she felt was not new, it was a familiar feeling she had worked through many times before. She was tempted to pick at it, to wallow in her self-loathing, but was desperately aware she may be called for at any moment and had no desire to be found like this. Tonight though, it resisted being packed away for another time. There was a fresh wound that had begun to fester since meeting the Laons, making the pain hard to ignore. Despite supposedly finding her own kind¡­ she had never felt so alone, so brutish, so inadequate. As she reflected on the past few days, she only found herself lacking at every turn - not even her strength and competence to console her after realizing how skilled Til¡¯wane had been. The only solid thread she had to grasp onto was Dorius'' reliance on her, and he was not here, and she desperately tried to piece herself together to be ready for him.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    She heard the gentle creak of her door, and the barest knock as it was cracked just wide enough for a single beam of light to break on the wall.

    Val drew a shuddering breath, and gulped down her instinct to tell the intruder to leave. She rubbed her eyes and barked a curt, ¡°What?¡± She wasn¡¯t ready to face the Laons or Dorius.

    ¡°It''s me¡­¡± replied a familiar voice, quiet with concern.

    Bastian cracked the door a little further and paused, letting the light from outside intrude on her misery. She covered her face to hide any evidence about her emotional state the light would reveal.

    ¡°Go away,¡± was all she weakly managed. She did not want to discuss this.

    Instead, Bastian entered and closed the door behind him, returning her to merciful darkness. ¡°Can I sit?¡± he asked.

    Val stiffened her shoulders but did not say anything, she felt too weak to tell him no now he was here. She knew he¡¯d find some soft words to chip at her resolve, and of all people, she didn¡¯t want it to be Bastian that this flood of feeling in her came out to.

    He hovered, and instead took her silence as a yes, and came to sit at her side on the bed, his thigh just brushing hers. ¡°This is a pretty small room,¡± he began gently, a try at humor. When she gave him no reaction he continued, ¡°Can I ask, why you are upset? Did those guards say something?¡± There was genuine sincerity and concern to his voice.

    She felt her shoulders shake, before regaining her control. She rubbed her face with her hands, miserable with herself that she felt this way. Bastian waited, in the dark and silence, hands gently folded in his lap and staring at the floor.

    Finally, giving in to him, she pulled her legs up onto the bed, wrapping her arms around them and rocked back to lean against the wall. ¡°I want a thing I will never have,¡± she offered and then reassured, ¡°They didn¡¯t do anything, not really. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Bastian stiffened slightly, but did not move, his fingers in his lap fidgeted as a sign of his hesitation. Somewhere, she found herself surprised that he seemed anxious at all.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked, but his voice was rough and the question seemed like a struggle.

    Val barely knew how to answer, all the words she tested sounded so incredibly stupid in her head. Like things a child would say, not a grown woman. How to voice years of being an outsider looking in? Jealousy of human women and men alike with their elegant hair, pretty clothing, thin necks. And the easy way they all just¡­ invited each other in without saying, the shared companionship of their same-ness.

    She had attended grand affairs at the palace and stood at the sidelines watching women dance in fine silks and glittering jewels, skipping from the hand of one partner to the next. In the swirling music that caused her mind to buzz and reel, they danced and spun carelessly. She had watched scullery maids put flowers in their hair when the weather was fair, and boys chased with little favors and stolen glances. In the low roofs and close walls of human spaces where she could not comfortably fit, they found quiet moments of closeness and companionship. She had heard the mercenaries bring partners to their tents, and tried to block the sounds of tenderness or passion from her mind. In the still nights of the road and the comfortable warmth of a fire where she existed on periphery, they found vivid life.

    Even the most formidable female soldiers of the Company who rode with the men as equals, the closest she could compare herself to, had a place - maybe not that dance floor or simpering in a man¡¯s lap, but a place. None of it was for her, she was completely caged in the one role this world would accept her in - monstrous bodyguard.

    She was apart. Too large, too horned, too everything. At least when she was Fae-touched, there was a part of her that still might still be human, some half-bred creature she might have been that grounded her in some connection to humans. Now she felt disconnected to even that, and there was a new word to add to the list of things that othered her - Alate. Not human, not Fae, and not anything.

    ¡°It¡¯d be nice¡­¡± he voice tripped, betraying her, ¡°to be pretty maybe¡­¡±

    Bastian¡¯s hands stopped moving. Val buried her face into her knees, she wished she could just dissolve, take back her traitorous voice. Of all the thoughts in her head, what a stupid one to give words, what could Bastian possibly think of her?

    ¡°Is it because you want someone to see you as pretty?¡± he eventually stumbled out, his usually smooth voice strained, ¡°Dorius maybe?¡±

    Val suddenly sat bolt upright, and turned to face him incredulous. ¡°Dorius, why?¡±

    Bastian looked just as shocked back, ¡°I thought maybe¡­¡±

    ¡°No, why? Cause I''m around him all the time?¡± Despite her mood she laughed brusquely, ¡°No, I¡¯d be horrified if he knew I felt this way.¡±

    Bastian seemed to be processing a million thoughts, ¡°What way then¡­?¡±

    Val sighed, and untangled herself a bit, the jolt of where this discussion had suddenly gone giving her some brief control. ¡°It¡¯s not actually being pretty, it¡¯s just like¡­ the idea of it. It¡¯s just to everyone, I¡¯m the wrong species or something, humans just see horns and muscles, not¡­ another human. Laon see this expectation, Alate, and I don¡¯t know what they want from me. And I¡¯m just tired and lonely¡­¡± she trailed off.

    Bastian remained looking at the floor. ¡°You saw me with Sylus¡¯ retinue?¡±

    Val watched him in the dark for a moment. Assessing the side of his face and posture for mockery or insincerity, unsure of exactly how vulnerable she already was before him and what his comment implied his own thoughts to be.

    She buried her face into her knees, and breathed. ¡°No, well yes. But it''s not that¡­ It''s not about being pretty. It was a stupid way to start.¡± She was silent then, she wanted this to go away again.

    Bastian waited in the dark, she wasn¡¯t sure if it was for her sake, or if he was wrestling with his own thoughts. But time passed, and she began to feel his presence easing her again. He didn¡¯t get up and leave, something was important enough about this that he stayed.

    ¡°I look at other people, and see everything they have with each other. And I know it will never be that for me. That¡¯s the thing I¡¯ll never have,¡± she finally offered.

    More silence. Gentle, quiet silence.

    ¡°I just¡­¡± she felt a sob, just at the back of her throat, threatening now, ¡°I get seen as¡­ just what I am. And I don¡¯t know how to be anything different.¡± The tears came finally, slow with misery that was a regular companion. She had felt this too many times, and was so exhausted by it. She had no dramatic sobs or cathartic release, just quiet, gentle tears for what could not be.

    Bastian reached out, then hesitated, fingers stretched in the dark. She glanced at him between the strands of her own hair coming loose, and only caught the slightest glint of his golden eyes catching the light that came under the door. He looked pained. It could have been guilt or pity?

    He tentatively laid a hand on her knee, and she tried to pull away, she wanted no pity. Touch threatened to break her. This was a wound she had picked at too many times to count, she knew how to pack it away again, leave it unhealed for another day. Somehow knowing he pitied her made it worse, threatening to leave her to bleed like she hadn¡¯t in a very long time. At her movement he seemed to grow more resolute, and wrapped his hand around both knees, his other arm coming round her shoulders and pulled her sideways into him.

    She couldn¡¯t help herself, and she unfolded, grasping for him. She tucked her forehead against his shoulder, just enough room for her chin horns to fit against his chest and buried herself, desperately hoping he wouldn¡¯t pull away. And he didn¡¯t, he welcomed her in and shifted a little against the wall to keep himself steady and take her weight. She heard him soothing her between her sobs, one arm cradled the back of her head, the other around her torso patting her back. She felt his chin resting on her forehead, nestled between her horns. She realized how much she could smell him - leather and sweat and the stink of bulls. She sort of liked the sweat, it was a little sweet and a little musky, and added to the close comfort she found in human touch.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he eventually said into her forehead, hand gently stroking her back. He paused for a very long time, weighing explanations or questions or sympathy, she was not sure. Then eventually, he just added gently ¡°I hope I¡¯ve not made you feel that way.¡±

    She was quiet, enjoying feeling small against him for once in her life. ¡°Not you,¡± she said into his chest, ¡°Or, I know you¡¯d never intended it that way.¡±

    ¡°I can try and be better,¡± he said, ¡°Or do something different?¡± he asked, still soothing.

    She shook her head, gentle, aware of how close her horns were to his face. ¡°No, be the same,¡± she asked.

    He hesitated, his patting stopped. The hand on the back of her head gently lifted and began to lightly touch a horn, tracing the lines of her braids against the base of it. She had no feeling directly in the horn, but the movement could be felt on her scalp and head, a gentle pressure from touch.

    ¡°Can I be different?¡± he asked quietly. It was her turn to hesitate, unsure what he was asking. She raised her head and drew back from him slightly, and he let his hands drop away from her as she retreated.

    Her mind suddenly came to a complete halt. He took the silence as confusion and continued, trying to clarify himself, almost hopeful, ¡°That is¡­ I was never certain where your interests were. I didn¡¯t want to be somewhere¡­ do something¡­ that wasn¡¯t welcome. I see maybe, that I might have been waiting for a sign you were never going to give¡­ considering¡± he sighed, and scratched the back of his neck.

    Val steadied herself, pulling back fully to relieve him of any of her weight. She felt significantly more in control now she¡¯d had the chance to let some of her emotions out.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be unwelcome¡­¡± she tried. Bastian''s eyes caught hers, burning golden in the dark. She felt herself shrink beneath the expectation she saw there, and tucked her head between her hands again. It would be unfair to him and the hope she saw there, for her to go on as she was and he the only one in pursuit. It would be unfair to Dorius, for her to shirk her duty instead of striving for more as he did. It would be unfair to herself, to not fully grasp the opportunity the Laons could offer her.

    ¡°But¡­ I cannot be the same, I have to change too¡­¡± Her voice gave life to the resolution she¡¯d been searching for. The drone she¡¯d been unable to hear for days after her exhaustion summoning the beacon in the mountains flickered to life, and she felt a flame in her chest steeling her.

    ¡°Please,¡± she continued, more sure of herself, ¡°Give me time to change.¡±

    Bastian did not respond, and raised a hand to cup her chin, fingers and thumb wrapped either side of her chin horn, accommodating it in the gesture so gracefully. He coaxed her head to face him, and Val raised her eyes to meet him. Bastian slowly grinned, his usual confidence coming back to him, ¡°I look forward to seeing it. Don¡¯t change too much.¡±

 6.5 Flight

    Val poked him slyly in the gut in reprimand, Bastian recoiling with a good-natured grimace. She opened her mouth to chastise him for the joke, feeling prickly she had been so vulnerable and he still took advantage of her, and was interrupted by loud, desperate bashing on her door.

    They scattered to each side of the bed like startled rabbits. Bastian tugged his leather jacket straight and looked between her and the door indicating she should be the one to respond. Val rubbed her eyes and rose, the desperate pounding giving her haste.

    She had only intended to crack the door but Lee¡¯to spilled within, sobbing and throwing herself into Val. Her mouth was open with voiceless wails, her breaths shaken and frantic. Her hands signed a desperate garble of words Val could not follow and were ominously stained black. Val wrapped her in her arms as her first reaction, then her heart froze. With barely a thought she passed her to Bastian, who was already on his feet processing the sight of the crying girl as fast as she, and frantically thundered up the hall then the wing¡¯s stairs to Dorius¡¯ room, slamming the door open without knocking.

    The chaos that greeted her brought her to a halt. Red and black blood alike was splattered on the walls and ceiling. An armoire had been tipped, Til¡¯wane¡¯s halberd stabbed through the back of the man with his legs trapped beneath it. A second man was half sitting against the wall, a gaping hole in his throat dripping red gore. Both were dressed in black. Til¡¯wane¡¯s body was collapsed in the center of it all, two stab wounds in the back of his shoulder though his padded gambeson between the gaps of his plate, a great pool of black blood clotted thick on the ragged edges of his neck, and nothing where his head had been. Lee¡¯to dived under Val¡¯s arms, collapsing hunched over Til¡¯wane¡¯s body without regard for the blood.

    Val stepped over them, and swept the bedsheets up, bowing to check under the bed. As she wildly inspected the room, Bastian was already behind her, leaning out a window. He held two fingers to his mouth, and gave an ear-splitting whistle into the black night.

    ¡°He¡¯s not here,¡± gasped Bastian as he passed, stopping at the doorway and repeating the whistle down the halls.

    ¡°Then where is he?!¡± replied Val, her eyes wide, collecting her axe where it had toppled in the chaos of Til¡¯wane¡¯s fight.

    A whistle repeated back through the window, faint. Doors halfway down the hall opened and Company men undercover in servant blues were already emerging, some desperately pulling on clothes or swords as they responded to Bastian¡¯s summons. Others repeated the whistle, calling the alarm throughout the wing or out the windows again. All subtlety and pretense was discarded as the Company responded.

    Bastian barked orders at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking as he called for every room to be searched. Val surged out the hallway again, and men desperately tucked against the walls as she charged between them to the main staircase of the keep, seeking the dining room where she had dropped Dorius off only hours earlier. She vaulted the staircase and fell to the landing below, then repeated her rapid descent. As she thudded to the landing of the level with the dining room, her sudden appearance drawing a scream for a maid in Ivory, a whistle drew her ear. She bounced off a wall and galloped towards it, a voice calling to her as she rounded the corner of the hall.

    ¡°Fae-touched, I have him!¡±

    She vaguely recognized the face of the woman in ivory, but her attention was immediately on the drooping figure in slate and gold she was helping up the hall. As Val fell upon them, scooping Dorius up in her arms, the woman matched her step jogging behind. ¡°He¡¯s not hurt, only shaken¡± she reassured, chasing after Val as a slim shadow.

    Val was somewhat aware of Dorius moving in her arms, wrapping his arms around her neck as she ran, muttering her name into her throat. It was only on her return that she took note of hallways suspiciously empty of servants in green, even with the racket the Company alarm calls were making through the stone keep. She took the stairs in steps of four or five at a time, leaving the soldier who ran with her breathless to keep up. As they returned to Dorius floor, the soldier gave a breathy whistle of her own, and the men ducked into doorways to let Val pass.

    She chose not to return Dorius to his own quarters, and ducked into the side room used by his body servants to prepare his things. Men formed up behind her, beginning to lock down the wing of the keep they had occupied for only days.

    Finally coming to a stop, Val deposited Dorius in a chair that was partly serving as a cloth rack for his robes. She crouched, keeping him steady, and desperately searched his face and body for signs of injury. Dorius¡¯ eyes were distant, and his hands shook.

    ¡°I want to see the body,¡± he said.

    Val shook her head as she worked, wrapping Dorius¡¯ shoulders in a spare robe. He grasped her hand firmly, and his clouded eyes cleared, ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°You found him?¡± asked Bastian, leaning in the doorway, ¡°What happened? What are we doing?¡±

    Dorius raised his head and repeated his command, ¡°I want to see the body.¡±

    Val turned to Bastian, watching his face twist as he considered the order. ¡°I don¡¯t know if that is a good idea¡­¡±

    Dorius¡¯ voice shook as he spoke, ¡°It is my fault and my responsibility. I need to see him.¡±

    Val gripped his hand back, feeling his fingers shake in her own. ¡°I will take you,¡± she said, ¡°But we need to know what happened, how to protect you.¡±

    Dorius withdrew his hand, holding his right within his left to feel the rings on his knuckles. ¡°We need to flee. Sylus has taken his revenge. I¡¯ve underestimated him.¡±

    Bastian gave a hard frown, and swallowed once as he watched the pair. Then he was off again to work.

    Dorius rose to his feet on his own, and taking a nervous breath walked on his own to the side door that was the second entrance to his quarters. Val remained crouched, watching him, then rose to follow as he paused in the doorway. With a slow hand, she opened the door from over his head to reveal his quarters.

    She had not had much time herself to process the death, her instincts had had only one target. But given a moment to catch her breath, she grimly surveyed the room. Til¡¯wane had gone down fighting, tooth and nail and horn, based on the torn out throat. They must have poisoned him, or otherwise surprised him, Val could not believe he had been an easy target. She gathered, given Dorius already knew, that he had seen the missing head.

    Lee¡¯to was still bunched over his torso, tears running down her face as she openly wept. Val felt only bitter regret that this had been his fate in her care. But, death was not an unfamiliar visitor before she had been Dorius¡¯ bodyguard full time.

    Dorius stared, braced on the doorway, ignorant of the commotion in the hallways around him. ¡°They were after you,¡± he finally said.

    Val felt her stomach twist, felt the indifference she treated death with slip in one sudden whirl of guilt. Had this night gone any differently, she might have been here to help him fend them off.

    ¡°The Company will have your carriage soon,¡± said Val bleakly, in an attempt to set Dorius¡¯ attention on the work that needed to be done now.

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    ¡°I got the story from the undercover operative,¡± came Bastian¡¯s voice from behind them. When he had returned Val hadn¡¯t noticed. She turned to him and in a pragmatic, business-like manner he gave an overview of the dinner, it seemed the maid had been present for the whole thing. In the background as they spoke, the alarm whistles had ceased, and enough of the Company roused that the regular chain of command was in place freeing Bastian to remain with them.

    ¡°My feeling is that Sylus has made his point, we can get Dorius and the most vulnerable members of his team out of here tonight, and take tomorrow to pack the rest. It will let someone clean up things in the meantime,¡± concluded Bastian, peering through the doorway past Dorius. Dorius had been silent while Bastian spoke, frozen in place.

    ¡°Can we take his body?¡± asked Dorius suddenly, his voice rough.

    Before Bastian could even open his mouth to respond, Dorius stepped within the room to comfort Lee¡¯to and continued, ¡°I will not be someone who has others die for my mistakes.¡±

    ¡°This was not your mistake,¡± cut in Val, ¡°I was not here¡­¡±

    ¡°We can play this game later,¡± interjected Bastian sharply, ¡°Dorius, you need to focus. We might be able to collect the body tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Can you get his head back?¡± asked Dorius, his hands on Lee¡¯to¡¯s shaking shoulders.

    Bastian frowned, and softened his tone, ¡°I will leave orders to try. We can do as we do with Company, bring a memento back for his¡­¡± Bastian trailed suddenly unsure, ¡°Family, I guess?¡±

    ¡°The wolf pelt and beaded charm,¡± instructed Val. She realized how little she had known Til¡¯wane, but those items had seemed significant to him. ¡°Anette will know where they ended up.¡±

    Lee¡¯to sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her face was puffy and red, and her clothes and skin smeared with black and rust blood alike. The girl hung her hands limply, seeming confused how to begin now she had no translator, but there was an earnest resolution in her face. After a moment, without regard for appearances, she dipped a hand into Til¡¯wane¡¯s black blood and began to draw lines on an unstained surface of the floor, working with each finger in turn as she ran out of blood to use as ink.

    Shocked at the unorthodox action, the three of them watched her without movement, unsure if this was some ritual of her species they shouldn¡¯t disturb. It was Dorius who finally gasped sharply, the revelation shocking him from his stupor, ¡°It¡¯s a map of the keep!¡±

    Bastian entered the room fully, and crouched at Lee¡¯to¡¯s shoulder to survey the drawing from her perspective, his head tilted as he studied it. ¡°Is this a tunnel? How would she know?¡±

    ¡°Kal¡¯fall is a Laon name!¡± Dorius was suddenly energized enough to actively participate in his escape, stepping back into the side room as he pulled his waist belt undone and shrugged off his outer robes.

    ¡°You want to use the tunnel?¡± asked Bastian from his crouch, hand to his chin.

    ¡°A small team. You, me, Val, Elias, Lee¡¯to to lead. Have the body double take my place for the rest. Feign returning to Barth. Sylus cannot know I return to the Spine.¡±

    ¡°Elias is slow, are you sure?¡±

    ¡°I need his advice. Val can carry him if the going is rough.¡±

    Bastian¡¯s eyes gleamed, he wasn¡¯t against the plan. ¡°Is this the larder? Where does it lead out?¡± he asked, nudging Lee¡¯to to continue her diagram.

    Val followed after Dorius, taking his clothing, half listening to the questions Bastian peppered Lee¡¯to with to understand the plan in more detail. She stripped her plate between handfuls of heavy robes, trading it for her leather armor that was thankfully piled in one corner. Dorius¡¯ body servants had done a good job of keeping all his closest needs nearby. She spied her wolf pelt, gifted by the drone, on top of one of the crates and pulled it around her shoulders, pinned in place by the broach. If they were to take a Laon tunnel, they might be meeting them along the way.

    Bastian passed by them, holding one hand out to grab their attention but not even facing them as he spoke, ¡°Dorius, Company leathers,¡± he instructed. Then he was off again, waving down a captain he could pass orders through.

    Dorius did as bid, discarding propriety and digging through the crates and trunks for the change he was instructed to wear. Val found him boots and a cloak in another crate, helping him sit and dress as fast as she could. While he fumbled with the ties of the boots, she gathered a pair of cloaks over her shoulder. She returned to Lee¡¯to who sat on the floor, seeming drained and empty before her sketch, now marked with extra lines or circles she had drawn as Bastian had questioned her. Her hands were sticky with blood, hanging limp at her side, and her face hollow.

    Val gathered the bedsheets she had disturbed, and knelt to wipe her face and hands clean with firm hands. ¡°You¡¯ve done well,¡± she said quietly, ¡°Keep going.¡± Val wrapped one of the cloaks over her shoulder around the Laon as her eyes focused on her own. She drew Lee¡¯to to her feet and pushed her through to join Dorius, then draped the bed sheet over Til¡¯wane with gentle reverence.

    Bastian had returned, and Hart and Elias with him. Hart was shirtless, having pulled on only some pants and his waist harness with axes in the rush up from the barracks. His mouth was set firm, and his hands planted on his hips. Elias seemed alert but was dressed in his night gown, hunched against his staff. Val deposited the second cloak she had over his shoulders, the older man pulling it tight with one hand and a nod of thanks.

    Bastian was in the process of pulling on his own leathers and belting a quiver to his upper leg, finalizing his plans with Hart. ¡°We¡¯ll make a show of clearing the kitchens and larder of Ivory, pretend we are raiding for provisions while we get the carriage into position. We need to get Dorius down to the back of the larder unseen and find this tunnel. Then put on a grand show making a break for Barth. You can clean up and work out what to do with remainder of the Company here managing the pilgrims in the morning.¡±

    ¡°Sylus cannot know we are returning to High Haven,¡± instructed Dorius firmly.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be careful sending scouts to make contact with you there,¡± replied Hart reassuringly, ¡°May take a little longer if they keep off the road.¡± He clapped hands with Bastian, then gave Val a grim nod. ¡°Careful now.¡±

    True to Bastian¡¯s plan, the hallways were cleared as they moved deeper into the keep into the servant areas. Sylus had no interest in stopping them, likely explaining that no one had challenged them, but they had to be cautious of what he observed of their exit. Bastian led their crew, and Val trailed behind.

    The back of the keep contained an old larder, built into the cliff itself, the front half had barrels of food and wine in storage, but as they made their way into the depths of the room there was growing layers of dust and spiderwebs. Dorius coughed as they moved, covering his mouth. In the dark, they were all navigating blindly.

    ¡°Lee¡¯to,¡± called Bastian as he reached the back wall, ¡°Where is it?¡± Val couldn¡¯t even see where he was in the dark.

    The Laon slipped forward between them, and Val could hear a series of muffled sounds in the dark.

    ¡°Val, we need a hand,¡± hissed Bastian back a second time.

    Val held Dorius¡¯ shoulders as she moved up the line, they were pressed between a series of ancient casks.

    As she drew close, Lee¡¯to was trying to reach behind one of the casks. ¡°Can you help?¡± asked Bastian in a hushed voice.

    Val crouched, and gave the cask a try. It was heavy, but not the weight it would have been if it was filled with liquid. Whatever it had held was long dried out. With a groan, she lifted to allow Lee¡¯to to climb beneath. There was a click, and in the dark a seam opened on the smooth stone wall, a strange blue light creeping through. The party moved through, and Val carefully lowered the cask again as she followed. On the other side, Lee¡¯to pressed a mechanism recessed into the stone again, and the door sealed shut, the seam it left behind invisible to the eye and only barely felt by a finger as Val touched it curiously.

    The cave they had entered was tall, tall enough for Val to stand easily. In places the edges were organic with white stalactites dripping from the ceiling. In other places sharp, smooth lines had been carved from the stone to widen the passage. The surfaces of the cave were moist, and a film of fluorescent blue cast a still, dim light. Enough to not stumble blind, but not enough to see very far down the path.

    Val felt for her fire, and gathering her courage, bid to life the harmony that dwelt in her core. To her relief, it did not unfurl in a torrent of fire but was obedient and keen, and she was able to open her hand and hold high a tall, bright flame.

 7.1 Land Womb

    The first hours marching in the dark of the Laon tunnels stretched quietly. The silence was an oppressive weight that numbed the adrenaline that had fueled their escape, and exhaustion quickly set in despite the alien surroundings. Their party cast strange twisting shadows in the blue and yellow light.

    Val led, Elias riding on her back once the old man had quickly grown tired. One hand was under his buttocks and her other held high to cast their light. Her axe hung sideways across her butt, bumping against the back of her legs as she walked, her harness strapped in an improvised manner around her hips to carry it. Bastian shepherded Dorius and Lee¡¯to along behind her, both too shaken for any conversation, and Bastian respectful enough to not disturb them while they were still processing Til¡¯wane¡¯s death. Val was aware they were climbing, based on the growing burn in the back of her calves.

    The dank moisture that supported the strange bio-film of glowing blue dried out as they marched deeper, and the air began to grow hot and dry. Bastian passed around flasks of water at one point, but only let them all have a few mouthfuls to preserve the resource. They had taken almost nothing with them, trusting Lee¡¯to¡¯s drawing that this tunnel emerged somewhere in the Sacred Valley beyond High Haven. Above ground the walk would have been half a day, and so they hoped underground would not be much longer. Indeed, the tunnel mostly traveled straight, with only the odd bend around the natural formations which seemed to form the backbone of the passage. If it had a gentle curve, Val would not have been able to notice, her sense of direction was lost underground.

    ¡°I cannot go on,¡± finally begged Dorius without warning behind her.

    Val turned, and spotted Dorius batting Bastian¡¯s insistent pushes off him, ¡°I cannot, can we rest?¡± he repeated. Bastian frowned, and released the prince, and Dorius sat against the side of the tunnel breathing heavy with exhaustion and massaging the back of his calves. Val glanced at Bastian, who scratched his neck resigned.

    ¡°We will take a short break,¡± said Bastian warmly, and he then came behind her to help Elias slide off her back. The old man was drifting to sleep as she walked, and Bastian helped him sit not far from Dorius. Lee¡¯to, who had been carrying his staff, leant against it for strength. Her hands had been still as they walked, and her face downcast.

    Bastian approached Val, distancing himself with her from their charges and stripped his jacket, fluttering the front of his shirt one handed. ¡°Where is this heat coming from?¡± he asked, looking up the tunnel and rubbing the film of sweat that was gathering on his brow.

    Val followed his gaze, the light from her flare in her hand only carried so far and without the blue-glow the depths of the tunnel quickly faded to black. She could feel the fire slowly draining her, it burned with no discernable fuel other than her own energy streaming from her core. But the energy it needed to feed from her was nothing like the beacon had been, it exerted her less than the effort it took to carry Elias on her back.

    ¡°You handling that okay?¡± asked Bastian quietly, a nod of his chin in the direction of the flame.

    Val nodded absentmindedly, ¡°It is not like the other day.¡±

    But she looked back at Dorius worried. This was the closest he had come to death, unlike the two of them, and the shock of how someone would react could be unpredictable. Bastian frowned, his thoughts likely in similar places to her.

    ¡°This would not have happened if I had stayed with Til¡¯wane,¡± muttered Val guilty.

    Bastian held a firm finger, his brows tight, ¡°No,¡± he instructed, ¡°It¡¯ll get you nowhere.¡±

    She sighed, knowing his advice to be true. But this weighed on her more than she liked. She felt a responsibility for the Laon that had been willed into her service, the unfamiliar responsibility of a trusted leader. She would not be surprised if Lee¡¯to wanted nothing to do with her after this, and good thing they were returning to the Spine where she could hopefully be released from her service too.

    It had been a grisly death too. Wrapped in the layers of Dorius¡¯ complicated relationship with his cousins and caused by nothing more than being present when they had accidentally and too publicly slighted Sylus. Val had no doubt in her mind the exact nature of his revenge was an explicit reference to the one strength Dorius publically flaunted in front of his cousin. Til¡¯wane was an innocent in this feud.

    Finally, with considerable self consciousness, she was well aware the reason she had not been there to intervene in the death was because she had been childishly neglecting her duties to mope, and causing trouble for Bastian as well. A part of her mind tried to warn her that had she been there it would have made no difference. They had come prepared to handle Laon strength and overcome Til¡¯wane, and the outcome may have been her death instead, like Sylus had apparently planned¡­ A far worse outcome for Dorius. But the thought was little comfort.

    Unconsciously, her mind wandered to the words of the Prime Vigilant, who spoke of the weaving carrying Dorius here. Perhaps it was true, and this was her path alongside his within the weave. With a little shyness, she remembered her words to Bastian, and her promise to try and change.

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    Did the Watcher find them lacking for the tasks it envisioned for them? Was the Weaver bid to carve them this path of challenges to strengthen them? Surely that belief was absurd, for why would they be singled out to grow stronger and live on when others were sacrificed to their cause? It was a frustrating train of thought Val quickly stopped herself from following.

    Her thoughts and gaze drifted back to Dorius. This was certainly one of the most significant setbacks she had been present for. He had gathered the fortitude to push through their escape, and while she had seen him show great emotional resilience facing his own family - greater than she thought she was capable of - this was new.

    As she watched him, his gaze remained fixed to the ground and his attention distant instead of his ever-present curiosity that would have marked their discovery of the Laon tunnel and a lost history of Kal¡¯fall.

    It was Elias who broke the silence of their group, ¡°Let us keep moving, I will fall asleep where I sit otherwise¡± he suggested ruefully.

    Bastian bent to help the older man to his feet, ¡°Easy enough for you, when you don¡¯t have to walk.¡± There was no malice to his words.

    Dorius ran his hands through his hair, and raised his head from his stupor to look down the tunnel, ¡°How long has it been growing hotter?¡±

    Bastian offered him a hand to help him rise next, ¡°Hard to say, I can¡¯t tell how far we¡¯ve come.¡±

    Onwards they pressed into the dark. It seemed only moments later that a change to the lighting at the edge of Val¡¯s vision caught her eye. With a grunt of concentration, she gentled the harmonics of her magic, lowering the flame in her hand. As her own light retreated, she noted a low red glow that remained, and she held her other arm out to stop the party behind her.

    They were obediently silent as she completely extinguished the flame, leaving them in almost dark - excepting the new glow ahead of them. It had an odd wavering unevenness to it, as if its source moved. Lee¡¯to gave a gasp and suddenly rushed ahead of them, Val grunting with frustration went sprinting after her.

    The glow grew, the heat of the air was dry like an oven. Val felt sweat pouring down her arms and back as she jogged after Lee¡¯to who nimbly ran ahead. And then a twist in the tunnel and the floor fell away to a gigantic cavern with a great canyon. At its depths, a river of something molten flowed as slow as honey. The surface was black, its texture indecipherable in the dark. As it flowed, cracks split revealing a glowing core before cooling to darkness again, twisting and closing as the liquid fire churned beneath the surface. It flowed from somewhere else in the mountain''s belly, and meandered through the strange valley below them. Where it went was lost in the crags and twists of the subterranean canyon.

    Lee¡¯to fell to her knees, prostrating herself on the edge, Val jogging to a stop at her side and staring around the cavern. Strange shadows danced as the surface moved, and she was aware of a melody she had never heard before as she stared hypnotized by the ever-changing shape of the magma below her. It was low, like the rumble of distant thunder, heard in the gut rather than with ears. Unlike the buzzing drone of the Spine above ground, or the almost conscious awareness the magic of the bells had of her, this magic was unconcerned with her listening ears.

    It sang a melody so slow she could barely hear the rise and fall of the notes. A slow, pondering and alien song unlike anything she had heard before. Her core shook, not with fear, but almost as if the sound of the magic was so deep it vibrated her insides. The harmonics of her own fire magic flirted with the mountain song, but its tune was overwhelmed and lost within its rumble. The surface of the magma churned slowly and flowed from the mountain. The heat haze above danced. Val breathed the hot air, and listened to the Mountain¡¯s song.

    ¡°I guess we know now why they said the Spine is the Mountain God,¡± commented Dorius, watching into the canyon with her. Elias, and Bastian helping, were not far behind, eyes wide and mouths open in awe.

    ¡°We¡¯d best keep moving,¡± urged Bastian nervously, ¡°We¡¯ll cook here.¡±

    Val nodded, and knelt to give Elias a ride. The path of the tunnel meandered up the side of the canyon, the chamber narrowing at the far end and continuing onwards away from the origin of the magma.

    Lee¡¯to raised her head, tears streaming down her face, and signed something into the uncaring void above the magma that they could not understand, before following them again.

    It seemed many hours that they wandered onwards past the magma chamber. The quality of the air turned again, cooling and coming now with a growing freshness that quickened their pace and reinvigorated tired bodies.

    The artificial smooth edges of the tunnel gave way to uneven flooring and misshapen walls, the roof dropping so low at one point they had to crouch through an opening to continue - Val crawling on her belly, shuffling her axe ahead of her, while Bastian knelt at the other side and guided her horns under the protrusions of the low roof. Then they were through to a disused chamber with sconces and woven banners hanging here and there, all covered with dust or tattered with age. When Bastian stretched fingers to touch one, the fabric dissolved in his hands and left him sneezing. Val extinguished her flame, and it was clear there was light coming from ahead now.

    They emerged into the yellow dawn, peering down into the Sacred Valley from the other side of High Haven¡¯s wall. The bright green and white of the valley was a welcome sight after so much darkness, and the singing of birds seemed to welcome them back into the world.

    Below them, on an overgrown mountain trail, there was a line of riders - many horned - on strange white steeds climbing to their cave.

    Val watched them, shading her eyes with one hand against the bright dawn sun, Bastian at her side with his mouth set firm. They had nowhere to run or hide, and the party of riders moved towards them with the steady intention of a greeting party. Exhausted from walking through the night, they sat to wait.

 7.2 Alate

    ¡°Did the Mountain God treat you well?¡± called a familiar silken voice as the welcome party rode clear of the trees.

    Four large goat-like creatures trotted steadily, each tall and long limbed with shaggy white coats that fell to their knees. All had curved horns, arching back from their foreheads and ribbed down their lengths. They picked each step intentionally and carefully, their cloven hooves spreading on the ground with a delicacy reminiscent of deer. The saddles were odd, double seated things with beaded charms and ribbons tied on them, a Laon soldier at the front seat of each guiding their mounts with lightly held reins, and two with a second rider in the back.

    The voice had been the honey-voiced Vigilant that had guided them through the gate - riding behind one soldier and bundled against the chill of the morning with gloves and a great cloak pulled over their robes. The second goat with two riders had a sickle horned Laon drone in the back, not the one they had met in the Vigil Chamber. This one had a bright, haughty expression and toothy grin on his face, his body and face smeared with dark ash and a cloak of wolf-skin around his shoulders.

    Val waved a greeting to the Vigilant, Bastian relaxing at her familiarity. Dorius was too drained to respond or even notice, hunched now in the morning chill on a rock and his head nodding with exhaustion. Elias and Lee¡¯to were not faring much better, the old man especially seeming brittle.

    ¡°The carillonists sensed you coming,¡± explained the Vigilant, letting a soldier Laon lift them down from the goat, ¡°We asked the Laons for their help to ride up and welcome you.¡±

    ¡°Alate,¡± called the drone Laon from goat-back, his impish grin broad and horns gleaming in the dawn light with a vain shine, ¡°My my, Ja¡¯kel said you were built like a bull elk.¡±

    Val grumbled back, ¡°You know the drone at the chapel?¡±

    ¡°Indeed! A relation of sorts. He is one of twenty one brothers by my father, and of eight by my mother.¡±

    Val sniffed, nervous what the reaction would be from the Laons to learn of Til¡¯wane¡¯s death. The drone dismounted with a flourish of his wolf pelts, and approached them ahead of the Vigilant. The soldier Laons stood at attention as he passed, and the manner of his long confident steps spoke to his unconscious command over them despite only coming up to their shoulders. His hair was long and unbound, unlike every Laon Val had previously seen, hanging sleek and dark over his shoulders.

    ¡°I was informed though, that you left with two of our kin bound to your service?¡± asked the drone. As he spoke, his hands rapidly signed. Lee¡¯to ducked her head and signed back.

    ¡°We have unfortunate news then,¡± responded Val bleakly, she had hoped the breaking of the news could be less direct than this but she might as well shoulder responsibility for it. ¡°Til¡¯wane was killed in my place. He was on guard at my order.¡± The drone continued his conversation with Lee¡¯to even as she spoke.

    ¡°Hmm. It is a heavy death, but such as it is. Alates and drones alike may speak, and the lower castes obey,¡± he said matter-of-factly, his lack of concern unnerving to Val. The soldier Laons seemed less stoic, having watched the hand conversation and their faces growing grim.

    Val lowered her head resigned, somehow the lack of reaction just made the weight feel heavier.

    The drone approached, lifting her chin with one finger, and looking at her more directly than any Laon had done previously. His gaze lingered looking up at her, studying her eyes and scars and the curve of her horns knowingly. He had dark grey eyes, the whites almost yellow in contrast. Val watched back, willing herself to give away nothing as he searched her. He cocked his head, his eyes flicking to the wolf pelt around her shoulders, and released her to sign wordless orders to the soldiers.

    Finally, he announced, ¡°I am Za¡¯kel, First for our Young Matriarch, Queen of the Mountain Colony. Let your humes ride with our soldiers. We will guide you back to High Haven.¡±

    ¡°I will walk,¡± announced Bastian, who had come close to them while Val had been distracted looking into the drone¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°You may walk,¡± replied Za¡¯kel with a snort of disdain, ¡°but your companions have reached the limits of their hume strength.¡±

    Before Bastian could open his mouth Val bristled and shot back an irritable, ¡°Lee¡¯to is Laon and just as tired.¡±

    Za¡¯kel waved his hand dismissively, ¡°The fact they are allowed here at all is only as a favor to you, Alate. I care not to argue.¡±

    ¡°Shall I order you show them more respect?¡± spat Val. She was not certain where the strength in her came from, but something instinctively put her on edge with this drone just as it had the one in the Vigil Chamber. The disrespect irked her in a way human disrespect never had.

    The reaction in Za¡¯kel¡¯s face was immediate, his jaw clenched, and a spark of fury mixed with something else flashed in his eyes. Val looked down at him and waited.

    ¡°I offer you a lesson, Alate. While it is your right to exert your rank and blood over me, I am no ordinary drone, and you would be best served by respecting me in front of my own. I have been told you claim to have no colony, and certainly you keep company and conduct yourself as hume rather than Alate. So, I will forgive this as the misunderstanding that it is, rather than the insult and ill intent I could take it as if I were less generous,¡± the drone¡¯s voice was calm, but the sharp edge of his warning cut true.

    Val was suitably cowed, and shot a glance at Bastian who had his attention on the Laon, brows knit and the ghost of a frown on his lips. ¡°We are tired¡± he said diplomatically, ¡°And our flight here through the night was not how we intended to return.¡±

    Za¡¯kel turned his shoulder, apparently uninterested in the details, ¡°Hmm, I am sure. I should like my breakfast soon. If you would oblige me then, and get your companions mounted, I would like to be off and we can discuss further on the road.¡±

    He raised an arm to attract the attention of the Vigilant, who was respectfully hovering at a distance with the goat steeds. ¡°You deal with these humes, I am apparently too irritating to our guests.¡±

    Val tossed her horns backwards, drawing an exhausted breath and stared at the bright blue of the sky to gather her strength again. The Vigilant patted her on the arm as they passed, and began to help Elias and Dorius to their feet.

    In short order, Dorius was bundled onto the back of one goat steed, Elias and Lee¡¯to each another, and the Vigilant on the final one. Za¡¯kel seemed content to walk with Val and Bastian as they set off down the winding mountain path. The goats occasionally bleated to each other as they walked, but obediently obeyed their riders.

    ¡°Tell me, Alate,¡± began Za¡¯kel, his head held high in front of her as they walked in single file down the narrow mountain path, ¡°What is your circumstance? Why do you serve this hume prince?¡±

    ¡°My name is Val,¡± corrected Val, still irritable, then added, ¡°I am a foundling. A human mercenary company found me as a child with wild Fae. We thought I was a half breed.¡±

    Za¡¯kel gave a haughty chuckle, ¡°You mean the misshapen humes?¡±

    ¡°We call them Fae, or more often wild-Fae, to differentiate from Fae like yourselves and the Fae-touched of our own species - those with feathers and scales and the like,¡± added Bastian from behind, his tone respectful. His control of his manner despite being just as exhausted as Val impressed her, he had a strong grip on his surly, quick anger when he needed it, despite how it came off in their private company some times.

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    Val could not see Za¡¯kel¡¯s expression as they walked, only his back covered with his plush wolf pelt, but his voice still contained amusement, ¡°Indeed. An incorrect understanding of the phylogeny, but go on.¡±

    ¡°Dorius¡¯ family took me in,¡± replied Val simply, ¡°I have lived with humans for the life I remember.¡±

    ¡°Where were you found? If it is true that you were found.¡±

    Val ignored his accusation, ¡°South, across the border of the Pentarchy, in the wastelands before the sand deserts.¡±

    ¡°You are Sand Colony,¡± concluded Za¡¯kel, ¡°They live in the red rocks where the Wind God sings. You hear the silent symphony?¡±

    Val felt her exhaustion vanish in a rush of curiosity, ¡°Yes, if you mean my magic?¡±

    ¡°Do you sing back as fire or earth?¡± he asked, back still to her, his horns bobbing as he watched the path in front of his feet.

    ¡°Fire.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± he sniffed, ¡°I know who you are then. We heard word of it over twenty years ago, we lost two Alates when you went missing - yourself and the escort who was taking you to another colony. You sang fire as a babe, and they wanted to move you to a home that bred the same. Our own Alate sings earth, and the Sand Colony is most often the same.¡±

    ¡°The other drone said you had no Alate?¡± asked Val.

    ¡°Our Alate wanders, as your kind often do. We have not seen him in many years, he will return when he is ready,¡± replied Za¡¯kel blandly.

    ¡°What do you know of the sand colony?¡± asked Bastian from the back, ¡°How numerous are your species?¡±

    Za¡¯kel paused and looked over his shoulder, bringing them to a halt and letting the train of goats wander ahead of them, ¡°What business is it of yours hume?¡±

    ¡°He is with me,¡± said Val steadily, she caught Za¡¯kel¡¯s eye and felt the tension of their castes again. The drone watched her back, and Val shrugged her shoulders, jostling the axe mounted in her harness.

    Za¡¯kel turned finally, and began to follow the goats, ¡°We are aware of six colonies of our kind. We have diminished, like all creatures through time. Much was lost in the Unrest, we likely number in the few thousands today.¡±

    Val felt her heart sink, so few, barely more than a few large towns.

    ¡°You call it the Unrest too, but the fall of the Monarchy was a human event? Did the warring spill over to you as well?¡± asked Bastian.

    ¡°Is that what your species thinks of it these days?¡± taunted Za¡¯kel, ¡°Ask the Vigilants to inform you of your actual history. The Dragon Throne was much more than a hume figurehead or political seat, they were chosen by the Watcher herself, and their fall accelerated the diminishing of a great many things. It is the great tragedy of the weaving, that all of us are fated to grow lesser through time as the energy of creation fades.¡±

    Undaunted Bastian continued, ¡°What is the nature of how your castes function? Can only higher castes order those lower? Are they able to disobey an order?¡±

    Za¡¯kel paused again, swinging on his feet to face them fully, cloak swaying behind him, and shot Bastian a disgusted look around Val. He spat sharply, ¡°Why do you care?¡±

    Bastian had an odd look on his face, as if he was considering his words. Instead Val offered, ¡°I am curious. To know what Til¡¯wane choose or consented to when he died with us. And Lee¡¯to, if she does stay.¡±

    Za¡¯kel turned and continued his walk, picking up his pace so they would not fall behind the soldiers. His tone was irritated when he finally said, ¡°Our societies are small and tightly knit, order is important. The compulsion to obey is like an itch, the body yearns to follow but the mind may do otherwise if it wishes. Nevertheless, it is deeply uncomfortable and persists as long as the order is disobeyed. The lower castes would go insane if they were to fight it all day with the number of explicit and implicit orders they may be given, submission is easier. Only the Alate and Matriarch are immune.¡±

    Val caught his use of the word compulsion clearly, and felt his words summon her own experiences of the Vigilant bells. Za¡¯kel continued, ¡°We may pass the order to obey to another, but the compulsion to follow stems from the original higher caste speaker who may phrase the passing as a contract of sorts - bound by time or conditions of their choosing. The worker is doubly bound, passed to you by my Brother to be freed at your choosing, and compelled by your word alone without that passing.¡±

    ¡°Val is free of this compulsion?¡± asked Bastian.

    ¡°That is what I said.¡±

    Val looked over her shoulders, not breaking her step as they walked. Bastian had a thoughtful expression on his face and did not notice her looking, watching the ground as he placed his steps down the rocky mountain path.

    ¡°How many Alate are there?¡± she asked, turning back forward.

    ¡°We know of another three. Our male, another male who visits on occasion, and a female that we have only heard speak of by the other two. You would be the fourth, a colony is lucky to birth one a generation.¡± Za¡¯kel signed, and his tone became melancholy instead of haughty, ¡°It is a pity you are as you are. The Alates fill a precious role of communication, learning and cultural history - otherwise the colonies would be cut off from one another and eventually die alone.¡±

    Val felt her gut wrench at his sincerely spoken words, and then the sharp blade of anxiety at what might happen if they requested her to stay, or worse, request of Dorius for her to stay. Her feelings were a jumbled mix of misgivings, longings and her own diffidence that she did not know how to sort. Every word from the drone added a new thought to the pile, it was too overwhelming for her to process on her feet, and as tired as she was. Uneasy, she asked, ¡°You said you knew who I was then? How I went missing? I¡¯d like to hear if you¡¯d tell me.¡±

    Za¡¯kel walked silently just long enough she wasn¡¯t sure he was going to answer, then in the same sincere and reticent voice replied, ¡°The sand colony''s Alate was the one who chose to move you. You were a miracle, and a gift to be shared. For your own advantage it would have been best to grow with a colony with better histories of fire, and so the colony in the north-eastern peat bogs who had no Alate seemed the best home. The Alates all travelled purposefully for months before your move to coordinate it. And when you were due to stop by our home on the way and never came, our own Alate marched out and never found you. We had assumed you killed by humes and have no knowledge of what happened, too much time had passed to leave any evidence for clues.¡±

    ¡°We did not kill the missing sand Alate,¡± muttered Bastian defensively, ¡°She was found with wild Fae. They likely killed them.¡±

    ¡°As I said then,¡± hissed Za¡¯kel.

    The conversation seemed to leave Za¡¯kel without further words - and Val felt pained by the weight of what he left unsaid. So they walked in silence, broken only by the calls of song birds in the early morning and the occasional bleat from the goats.

    As they reached the base of the valley they crossed the clearing towards the rear of High Haven. A great gate, like the one on the other side, was waiting opened, three great wooden beams that would have barred it shut propped on the wall where two Laon soldiers waited. A greeting party of Vigilants, including the Prime, who had the sleeve of her missing arm hemmed short today, waited for them. With care, Dorius, Elias, their Vigilant guide, and Lee¡¯to were passed down from the goats and Za¡¯kel remounted.

    ¡°I pass you to the Vigil¡¯s care,¡± he said, looking down at Val. ¡°Till next.¡± He signed a farewell with his hands, and although fast they were ones Val recognized

    Without bidding or ceremony, the soldiers turned their goats away from the gate, and began to continue up the meadow towards the central valley instead of the side where they had emerged. Val half heartedly raised a hand to attempt her own farewell sign, but none looked back to see it, and she grabbed her elbow feeling awkward about the gesture.

    ¡°We have arranged beds for you,¡± Val started at the sudden voice, and looked down to see the Prime standing by her, eyes up the valley too. ¡°The carillonists have agreed to meet with you, and your guide has been summoned and waits for you, so we have fulfilled our terms of the bargain. It will not be an easy journey, so you are free to rest and prepare till you are ready to depart. There is some urgency, the Dragoness has grown more active and we hear her hunting almost every night since you stirred her.¡±

    The Prime did not look at Val as she spoke, her eyes watching something in the distance. Val followed and saw several figures at the far treeline across the meadow watching them back, the sitting forms of wolves.

    They were guided inside and the gates barred behind them, painted carefully by the Vigilants with a fresh coat of a thick waxy red substance to show any tampering with the seal. Val felt a wave of exhaustion at the promise of somewhere to sleep and food, and let her mind drift away from the unpleasant thoughts that plagued her.

 7.3 Silent Symphony

    Val stirred in the privacy of her own room for the first time since they had set out from Southold. She rolled and adjusted the pillow beneath her head around her horns, and stared at the ceiling.

    She had pulled the simple mattress off the bed frame in the room, and rearranged the blankets and pillow on the floor with it. Her feet hung off the end, but the padded mattress was thin enough that it didn¡¯t bother her, and the soft surface had been so inviting after hard floors or the earth. After a night on her feet, she barely remembered stripping her armor or if she had even eaten, it felt as if she had slept the moment the Vigilants led her to her quarters. Judging by the light in the window, it was mid-afternoon already. The worst of her fatigue had subsided, and she knew she would sleep no longer while it was light, so she sat up and studied her surroundings.

    The room was smaller than the grand room she had used on her first visit to the Vigil Chapel, composed of a bed, desk and a singular window. Her armor and clothes were haphazardly piled in the corner and on the desk where she had left them, having slept in her underclothes. Reluctantly she rose, and sniffed her shirt. It was clammy with sweat from their trek through the hot mountain heart and her exertions before that. She grabbed up her wolf pelt and wrapped it around her torso, and peaked her head out the door to study where she was.

    As she opened it quietly, the door bumped against something on the floor in the hall, and she bent to find a folded pile of fresh clothing. Quickly she pulled them within before anyone saw her and changed. They were in the Laon style - pleated wide legged pants tied at the middle, a waist belt and hanging loin cloth layered over that, and a sleeveless top that was open at the back with long ties she drew around her back and secured again at the front. Embroidered geometric designs she did not recognize decorated the hems. She secured the wolf pelt across her shoulders to protect against the chill of stone chapel buildings. Missing the bath she had gotten last time, she was satisfied just to be wearing something clean, and she carefully opened the door again in case it would squeak.

    The central hall of the guest wing was empty. The doors down its length were shut, although two had piles of clean clothing out the front like her own had, letting her guess where Bastian and Elias had ended up. The room down the end, that Dorius had used before, was shut, with no pile there. She scratched the back of her neck, feeling for how neat her plaits were still and satisfied she couldn¡¯t feel too many stray hairs, wandered out and up the hall barefoot to Dorius¡¯ likely door.

    She hesitated as she stood before the solemn wood door, worried she might have the wrong one or that he would be sleeping still. The gentle hum of the mountain air hung at the edge of her hearing, the feeling of the magic was throughout her body now she¡¯d spent days becoming more adjusted to it. When she did not focus on it, it easily blended into the periphery of her senses now, easy to ignore. But when she concentrated on it, she had become aware of how the tune it sang modulated, shifted, vibrated. At first, it had seemed random, influenced by the whims of the world like the coming and going of a breeze. But with time, she had begun to notice a feel to it, just like the wind, every shift had an origin and a cause that could be understood if she knew how to interpret what she felt in the currents. All living things contributed to the play of the music, even plants beneath her feet, while inorganic objects were no different from the void of spaces. Something about the feeling now as she stood by the door, an intuitive sense for the interplaying web of harmonics around her, told her that there was a person beyond this door, and they were not in a place where she remembered the bed being at the far end.

    She gave a tentative knock, and then let herself in without waiting for a reply.

    Dorius was at the desk, an absurd pile of books around him, some half open, some stacked, and even several scattered on the floor. His head was in his hands, hunched over the tome he was reading. He had changed to clean clothes, but the front of his robes hung open and were loosely belted, revealing his undergarments and sparse silver chest hairs.

    Val resisted a sniff of disapproval, his expression too distracted for her to want to joke with him, and quietly began to pick up the books that had ended up on the floor, carefully closing them after feeling how fragile some of their spines were.

    ¡°Did you sleep?¡± she asked.

    Dorius jumped in his seat. Blinking foggy eyes he looked up at her, and gasped in a panic when he saw her moving the books. ¡°No, leave them where I had them. Which did you close already?¡±

    Val surrendered the volumes she had already touched back to him, and he desperately leafed through the pages searching for the sections he had left them open in. ¡°They feel old, be careful,¡± she warned.

    ¡°The Vigil makes copies. They let me use these ones,¡± he explained, checking the title of one book and then flipping it open to the section he had been working in again. Val raised her hands in surrender and backed off from his desperate sorting.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been up then?¡± she surmised, sitting on his bed behind him. The covers had been moved, but it looked barely used.

    ¡°I could not sleep.¡±

    ¡°Where did you get the books from then?¡±

    ¡°I had a Vigilant take me to their libraries. The acolytes are all scribes primarily, they led me down to their cellars - huge halls unlike anything I have ever seen. Some of it is their own documentation, hand written over and over again to preserve it. Others are copies of books they collect and preserve. It all makes its way to the Vigil Chapel from across the Pentarchy eventually.¡± The admiration in his voice was clear, Val wondered just how extensive the library had been.

    ¡°What are you reading?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Histories of the Dragoness, before and after she was divine, or what I can find.¡±

    Val was silent, waiting for him to offer his thoughts at his own pace as he reorganized the work she had disturbed.

    Finally, ¡°We need to make haste, and go into the valley to find her. Just you and I.¡±

    Val leaned forward, elbows on her knees, at the sudden announcement, watching him carefully, ¡°Are you sure?¡± A million thoughts raced in her mind, but her loyalty came first.

    Dorius seemed to visibly relax when she did not question him, and he met her own eyes with his. They were red and wet. ¡°I can¡¯t risk anyone else. I don¡¯t want to be that kind of person.¡±

    ¡°That might not be a choice you will always be able to make?¡± she cautioned.

    He turned, and said quietly, ¡°I know. But I¡¯d like to make it when I can.¡± He looked exhausted, how he was still awake she would never know. She had only admiration and respect for this slim man¡¯s iron will and its fragile hold over his body.

    Val rose, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders bringing him into a hug, not as a friend or prince, but as her brother. He buried his face into her robes, grasping her with surprisingly desperate hands.

    ¡°You¡¯re too soft. Elias and your father raising you away from your family was a mistake,¡± she commented softly.

    ¡°I will never be like them,¡± he spat into her belly resolutely, face hidden still.

    ¡°I know.¡±

    She comforted him for a moment longer, till he drew back and she let him go, sitting again to wait. He rubbed tired eyes one handed, seeming so much younger than their three year age gap, and looked despondently at his books.

    With a breath shakier than she expected she admitted, ¡°Bastian will not be happy.¡±

    Dorius twisted the ring on his smallest finger on his right hand, spinning the thick band of the signet over his knuckle, ¡°I know.¡± Something about his mood and manner seemed to strengthen, and he added, ¡°We¡¯d best sneak out and not let him know.¡±

    Val signed, and rubbed her own face in her hands, ¡°He¡¯ll figure it out. Neither of us can hide much from him. Why so soon?¡±

    ¡°I am fearful Sylus already knows we are here. He knew so much about us when we arrived. Whatever his plans, he is four steps ahead and we are desperately catching up. Something is happening here, far more significant than what the Pentarch sent us for, and I will know it. But¡­¡± he gestured to the books he had been studying, ¡°There is so much here the Vigilants have hoarded while we forgot. In hours I have learnt more of our histories than I could learn spending weeks in the libraries of academics. So much was apparently lost during the Unrest, and for some reason the Vigilants kept it all and never shared it again after.¡±

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    ¡°Maybe no one ever asked? They shared it with you,¡± offered Val.

    ¡°I am beginning to believe their insistence on the Weave. Did you know they mentioned the Pilgrim¡¯s token when I asked to see their libraries? Said I was due answers to my questions like all pilgrims. I bought it on a whim, in the off chance it would be useful. It was picked up by my father before I was even born and stashed away like a squirrel''s hoard. And here I am, I don¡¯t even know where it went¡­ and they knew. It''s just like,¡± he gestured incredulously with his hands, ¡°puzzle pieces falling into place.¡±

    Val looked sideways uncomfortable, ¡°I¡¯ve been trying not to think too hard about it,¡± she admitted.

    Dorius slumped back on his chair, ¡°I would give my whole estate for these books.¡± He stared at the ceiling.

    ¡°I am sure we can come back,¡± reassured Val, rising again and beginning to look about his room, ¡°Did they leave you an over-robe?¡±

    Dorius turned back to read, gesturing one handed at the piles of fabric scattered on the far side of the bed and floor, ¡°There might have been something¡­¡±

    Val cleared her throat with a disappointed grunt as she sifted through the pile, he had mixed the clean clothes with his own filthy ones. There was a thicker over robe in the mix, and she pulled it free and shook it back into shape, before returning to deposit it around Dorius¡¯ shoulders, patting his shoulders warmly as she said, ¡°Don¡¯t get cold.¡±

    Without turning to look at her, he raised one hand over his shoulder and placed it on hers, and muttered softly, ¡°I am glad¡­ it was not you. I will regret for the rest of my life the way I felt when I saw one horn was broken.¡±

    Val hummed, and withdrew her hand, ¡°I hope not.¡±

    ¡°Where were you anyway?¡±

    Val froze, and was glad he was not looking at her when she was so suddenly aware of her face turning beet red. Her silence must have piqued his curiosity, and Dorius turned, his eyebrows raising as he saw her staring stiffly back at him and failing to hide her discomfort. Like a rabbit blinded by torch light she blinked, and as the corner of Dorius¡¯ mouth twitched into a sly grin the spell on her was broken and she rushed for the door.

    ¡°I am going to find some lunch,¡± she announced, ducking her head to hide her eyes.

    ¡°Who was it?¡± called Dorius after her, his amused tone only deepening her blush. She shut the door and hoped she could pretend she had not heard him.

    She leaned against the door, taking a deep breath to wrestle back some composure. Everything about that night was so far from anything she ever wanted to have to explain to Dorius, she could only desperately hope he would never bring it up again. Down the hall, one door no longer had a pile of clothes in front of it anymore. She drew another breath, and pushed away from the door to find a Laon guard to press into leading her to food and the Vigilants.

    ¡ª

    Her Laon guide gestured up the ladder with a nod of his horns. Val skeptically looked at the opening at the top of the ladder, unsure if she would fit.

    ¡°Can they come down instead?¡± she asked.

    The Laon shook his head, and began to climbed first. He did realize she was bigger than him?

    Val huffed, and climbed after. As she reached the access hole, she felt hands reach down to help guide her horns through the opening. Working one arm at a time the widest part of her shoulders just squeezed through, and then she hauled her legs and torso through with her arms.

    ¡°My apologies, we¡¯d come down if we could,¡± came a small voice.

    Val looked around the tower room. There were two beds assembled, a small table, and a wood feed stove with fuel. Otherwise the space was austere, with one exception. At one end of the room a great device of wooden pegs and pedals sat, with an ornate bench for its controller. The device and bench were gilded and decorated with rich fabrics, but the mechanisms behind - an intricate network of wires that rose up the tower out of sight - were open for easy access and maintenance.

    There were two Vigilants. One was propped up in their bed who had spoken, and the other hunched over the table working on a small device in the candle light who seemed intent on busily ignoring their visitors.

    The Laon offered Val a hand to help her stand, but she ignored it and remained sitting over the ladder access.

    The Vigilant in the bed appeared sickly, their skin was pale and had a thin sheen of sweat. As he adjusted his position, Val spied his hands were twisted at the wrist, and fingers only partially mobile. The disability did not appear to affect his movement, and he grasped his blanket dexterously with the control he did have, drawing it down his lap a little to sit straighter.

    ¡°Bryer let us know we would have a curious guest,¡± said the sickly Vigilant. Bryer, Val had learnt, was the gender-less Vigilant who had approached them outside the wall and seemed to act as a second to the Prime, ¡°They said you wished to hear how the bells work our magic?¡±

    The Vigilant at the table gave a quick disapproving huff, and shot Val a glance before continuing to work at their task. The sickly Vigilant gave a weak smile, and did not seem to mind their companions antisocial behavior.

    Val hummed slightly, unsure how to begin explaining herself or ask her questions. The Laon guard was already silently standing to one side, a familiar blank expression on his face, so she doubted he would make much introduction for her. ¡°I was told you might be able to teach me a little? So I might learn to control my own magic.¡±

    ¡°Learn from your own, Horn-Fae,¡± snapped the Vigilant at the table, not looking up from his work.

    ¡°I am told they have none who can teach me,¡± she replied matter-of-factly.

    The Vigilant at the table slapped down one of his tools, ¡°Tough luck.¡±

    ¡°What my friend means to say is that we may not be of much help to you, but I can explain what I know,¡± explained the sickly Vigilant, ¡°Will you help me to the keyboard?¡±

    Val stood, her head hunched, and hovered for a moment over the sickly Vigilant, ¡°How?¡±

    The Vigilant held out his arms, ¡°You have my permission to lift me, it will be quickest.¡±

    Val kneeled, and gathered his torso in her arms. In turn he wrapped his arms around the back of her neck. He was waifish in her arms, and she could hear his breath rattle wet in his lungs so close to her. She stood gently, bringing his blanket with him and set him on the bench in front of the device with the many wooden pegs.

    He settled his balance, and adjusted his position on the bench. ¡°What do you already know?¡±

    ¡°Almost nothing, except what I have picked up on instinct. I can hear it around me almost constantly, these sounds and melodies, and sometimes a feeling in my skin or body. And I can feel it inside of me, waiting for my call. I¡¯ve been able to channel fire from my palm, but I¡¯ve also been able to start it away from my body as a child.¡±

    ¡°Can you control a fire you did not start? Can you give it complex shape, or can you just start and sustain the flame?¡±

    Val blinked, and crouched next to the frail Vigilant so she wouldn¡¯t have to hunch, ¡°I¡¯ve never tried?¡±

    ¡°What is called magic, is no more than the pure energy of existence. It is intrinsic to all things living, and nonliving, although it has a distinct nature for each. What you hear around you is the chorus of the living. Being deaf to it does not exempt you from this network, all life is a part of it. It is the more common skill to hear and manipulate the living energies, and the one I developed as I was changed. Once, when we were greater, mastery of this energy was as natural as breathing and every one of us understood it - hearing the symphony of life around us was as natural as hearing the call of birds and rustle of leaves. We used it to modulate the energies within our own bodies to shift our shape at will - to grow wings and fly, or claws and hooves and run the plains with the bodies of wolves or deer. Others still had mastery over it in other bodies - quickening healing, or accelerating rot - although those powers were rare even by the time of the Unrest.¡±

    Val was aware the Vigilant working with tools had stilled, and was listening from the desk.

    ¡°The ability to hear and manipulate the non-living was rarer, and this was the precious skill our nobles bred themselves so fastidiously for, once. We are living, so we are a part of the previous energy, and understanding it is natural to us. The non-living is a foreign energy, and the spectrum you are born with cannot be changed, nor access to others taught. Only mastery of the intrinsic gifts can be attained, and then greatly limited by what you are born able to do. The non-living encompasses stone, air, fire and water, and places where their spectrums transition or can be combined if the user has more than one gift.¡±

    The Vigilant reached out and picked up a small bell from on top of the keyboard, pinning the handle between their fingers where their mobility allowed it.

    ¡°And while I will try to explain what I can, this is why I can only help you a little. I can only hear and manipulate the living wavelengths, and even then I must use music to help me channel what I intend. I have only book knowledge to help you with your more advanced gifts.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you can teach is still more than I know now,¡± said Val meekly and slightly overwhelmed.

 7.4 Silent Symphony (Part 2)

    ¡°Skill with magic was once taught in apprenticeship to another. These days, finding another that can listen, let alone manipulate the energies, is so rare that most are forced to learn their craft alone,¡± he gave a single shake of the bell and a tiny metallic note rung.

    For a moment, Val thought the sound would unremarkably fade to silence, but there was a drone that carried a little longer at the end of the note. The slightest of feelings that almost itched in her nose. The Vigilant watched her twitch in reaction and held out the bell for her to take and inspect with her own hands.

    ¡°The first skill is listening. We don¡¯t have a specific sense for magic, if we did it has faded from disuse as the magic around us also did, so our other senses pick it up where they can. Most commonly hearing - sound and magic self-propagate through similar mechanisms so they are like siblings. Next is usually touch. Sound and touch are also alike, they are phenomena of pressure after all. Both can be trained to sense magic more keenly and accurately, just as an artist trains his sense of color and shape, or a chef trains their tongue for taste, or¡­¡± the Vigilant looked Val up and down, ¡°how a warrior trains his sense for his own body. An understanding of how and when it moves, how to feel each muscle and coordinate them in unified action.¡±

    Val found nothing unique about the bell, turning the small metal body in her fingers and watching the little clapper roll about inside. She passed the bell back to the Vigilant, and settled to sit by the bench cross legged on the ground.

    ¡°I am not as good as Jed,¡± the Vigilant gestured to his prickly companion, who immediately turned and continued tinkering with his project as if ashamed to be caught listening, ¡°but I can crudely listen in my own way.¡±

    The Vigilant rang the little bell again, the note struck cleaner, sharper, and carried the drone with it this time rather than on the trailing edge of the sound. It had the conscious, feeling awareness she had sometimes felt within the music of the bells, and Val felt the way the pulse reverberated through the room, sending the natural web of energy thrumming with its passing.

    ¡°As you move on from just listening, you can supplement your knowledge with careful manipulation designed to reveal more information about the shape and feel of the world unseen. Although be aware that those who listen can tell you probe,¡± said the Vigilant carefully.

    ¡°How does the compulsion work?¡± asked Val, ¡°is it the same as the Laons?¡±

    The Vigilant raised an eyebrow in shock, then gave a gentle smile, ¡°The compulsion is my skill, I learnt it from observing them. The diminishing affects all things a little differently, for us humans - we became hume - numerous and vigorous as a species, but deaf to and disconnected from our original grandeur. Other species often kept some part of their connection, but instead have suffered in other ways - fading into the dark and quiet parts of the world or disappearing entirely. The living energies are a part of all life, it can be used to manipulate the self and others in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. The Laons use compulsion, better described as a transformation of thoughts, on instinct - but I suspect their culture and biology contribute as well. I think it likely that any compulsion you speak, or any from their species better connected to the energies and consciously aware of the magic they work, carries a far more powerful and uncomfortable weight.¡±

    Val frowned, and reflected on the reactions many Laons had when she spoke or ordered them, discomfort or anger. What could be gentle guiding hands, and nudges within their own species, may have been a clumsy and violent urge wielded without skill by herself. A dark thought entered her mind, and she wondered if it could be used on humans.

    As if sensing her, the Vigilant spoke in a hushed voice, ¡°I am not proud of it. But I cannot choose the path the Weave bought me on, I was given tools for a purpose to protect our Chapel. I would encourage you to avoid honing the compulsion as a skill¡­¡±

    ¡°What else can it do then, with this living energy?¡± asked Val, she leaned back on her hands to make herself a little more comfortable.

    The Vigilant shrugged, ¡°Transformation of the self was the greatest skill, although that has long since been lost. I can lend you books to read more?¡±

    Val slumped her shoulders, and shyly looked away, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bother.¡±

    ¡°You will learn faster if you do so, I can recommend some.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t really read well,¡± admitted Val hesitantly.

    ¡°Ah,¡± the Vigilant seemed equally awkward at this admission, and he turned his attention to the keyboard of strange wooden pegs and pedals now instead.

    ¡°You say you can listen, and you have the natural advantage of species for learning to manipulate the living energies. Show me what you can do with the non-living?¡±

    Val lifted her hand, and just as she had done in the tunnel willed out the flame from her core to her palm. As easy as exhaling a breath, the fire unfurled and sparked gently, lighting up the bell tower with its yellow glow. The Vigilant at her side exhaled an excited breath, and even had some color return to his sickly pallor. The Laon soldier in the corner watched on with stiff awe.

    The Vigilant who tinkered put down their tools and came close, cupping her hand with his own to study the flame.

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    ¡°You use your body too much,¡± he commented, tipping her palm about to watch how the flame adjusted.

    ¡°We cannot exactly claim the higher ground, we both must use music to help our own manipulations,¡± chastised the Vigilant who sat on the bench, but was equally curious. ¡°I suspect as a warrior first, your understanding of your body makes a better conduit to focus your will. Have you tried to summon flame without moving?¡±

    Val shook her head, and closed her fingers to extinguish the fire, ¡°It feels like it flows through me, from a center in my chest. I don¡¯t know how I would even try to imagine it? But I do know I have when I have not consciously controlled it.¡±

    The Vigilant nodded knowingly, ¡°Having something to give you focus for your will is common. Something more easily understood by our mind we can use as a metaphor of sorts.¡±

    Val lowered her head, unsure how much she should reveal but knew she had to take advantage of their knowledge if she could, ¡°It feels like a sleeping beast within me. Waiting for my call. There is a great force of it somewhere, and when I open to it too freely it sears away at me and takes me with its passing. I fear overuse could kill me.¡±

    The Vigilant was grim, ¡°You are likely not wrong. The living and non-living energies are like sound and light, there are similarities in their mechanisms that give them shared traits, but otherwise they are independent of each other and the rules of one do not apply to the other. I can offer you no guidance. You should seek out others who can use it, and be careful in your own experimentation. We know from books that there was considerable variation in the purity of the spectrum users had access to¡­¡±

    ¡°Spectrum?¡± asked Val, uncertain what the word meant in this context.

    The sickly Vigilant turned their head to the other, struggling to find words to explain, ¡°Can you imagine a string vibrating such that it makes sound?¡±

    Val nodded, and he continued, ¡°The qualities of the sound a string makes change with the physical properties of the vibration. Faster, slower, longer, shorter, they change the sound accordingly. These all form a spectrum of different sounds. Energies are the same, there is a spectrum of manifestations blending from one to another but with places where they are most pure and others where they are weakened by the transition, and two ends that grow more and more dissimilar from each other rather than circling back to the other.¡±

    Val¡¯s expression must have betrayed that this concept was too complicated for her, and the Vigilant tried again. ¡°The nonliving spectrum starts with earth, and then transitions to water, air and finally fire. At one end there are dense, heaving things, slow and inert, and along the way it becomes quicker, more volatile. But there are states in between, like ice as a manifestation between earth and water.¡±

    Val thought on this, ¡°Or water can be boiled to become air?¡±

    ¡°Yes, they transition from one to the other, a spectrum,¡± explained the Vigilant, happy she was catching on, ¡°Users of non-living magic have only some aspect of the spectrum they can access granted by their bloodline, and unrelated to their strength and practice. Breeding was so important because as the spectrum slipped to less useful regions, it became less useful to the practitioners. I suspect you have a very pure spectrum of fire - untainted by the edges where it manifests as something lesser, and not only that but a deep well of innate strength to draw from. You should be careful.¡±

    ¡°How can I learn more, if it is so dangerous on my own?¡± asked Val, her eyes lowered. She needed to do this, for Dorius, for herself, but it seemed there was so little help.

    The Vigilant looked sad, and suggested, ¡°I would try listening. You can hear the living spectrum in its fullest - you are yourself alive and a part of it. But the non-living you can only hear in the spectrum that matches your talents - you may learn more by listening to fire and understanding what you hear. Otherwise, there is a lot that can be learnt by just observing a little more carefully.¡±

    The Vigilant turned on his bench, and bought a single fist, his odd fingers clenched, down on a wooden peg. The mechanism behind shifted, and with a subtle delay, above a bell gave one great and lonely toll. He shut his eyes, and with fists on the pegs and feet on the pedals, began to play.

    Bells cascaded into one another, a torrent of sound that crashed and echoed and surged again with the magnitude of an ocean. The whole tower shook with the sound, the stone trembling and vibrating with the force of the resonance. In counterpoint to the music, Val felt the energies surge with it, elated and joyous in perfect opposition to the somber, minor overtones of the bells. Outwards on the music it rode, like leaves in the current of a stream. Val felt herself diminish, a silent observer to the symphony.

    Close to the keyboard, Val could hear the click and rattle of the mechanisms and wires. Rather than undermining the experience, she found herself transfixed in awe that someone could build such a mechanism to control so much sound. The other Vigilant carefully watched with the precise eye of an artisan, coming to one side of the keyboard to observe the wires from the back. But as the music swelled they shut their eyes too and let themselves drift like Val did.

    Finally, exhausted and drained by his casting, the Vigilant ceased playing, but the song hung in the air, lingering still. Val could almost feel the cold bells above her vibrating yet, passing beyond the spectrums of sound she could hear. He slumped in his seat, completely drained and panting, pale with sweat and weakly flexing his hands and wrists within the range of what limited movement he had. His companion caught him, and said sternly, ¡°You have tired him out. We have done as asked, and spoken with you, now be on your way.¡±

    Val flinched, and still feeling a little shaken by the bell¡¯s song, climbed to her feet and beckoned her Laon guide.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said meekly, ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to play.¡±

    ¡°You can see he is unwell, yet you stay so long!¡±

    ¡°Jed, I am fine. You are welcome to visit again, but I must rest,¡± his companion helped him stand, and he half hopped and dragged his feet towards the bed again, each movement slow and deliberate, ¡°It has been long weeks, playing the compulsion daily. I am told your Prince arranged our current relief, but I am still drained. Come back one day.¡±

    ¡°Come back never,¡± hissed the other.

    Val climbed to her feet, casting them a hesitant eye, and returned to the access hole and ladder to climb back down the tower, casting only a quiet ¡°Thank you,¡± behind her.