My Third Nano novel.

Introductions

Brett scanned the letter for mistakes. He scratched his chin, now itchy with a new beard. He had given up shaving two days into the sea voyage after nearly cutting himself with the razor as the ship lurched and swayed. When they finally reached Onala Bay he took the opportunity to shave off the scraggly beard that had appeared on his face and made him the butt of many jokes between Burc and Corgan. Shaving it off had proved to incite more jokes, not to mention nicks and cuts from medieval razors, so he gave up and let it grow.
Once Eirc found out he could write, he was handed all sorts of tasks that involved writing. With a rueful chuckle, and images of an english essay never completed, Brett was actually quite pleased with the letter. His penmanship truly had gotten better. Especially since they had now been quartered at an inn and would be for several months.
They had been at the Sea Tavern for a week now. Burc and Eirc completed their farewells only this morning and they all stood on the docks and watched the Kayenna set sail out of the bay.
A pounding on the door let Brett know he had finished not a moment too soon. Before he could open the door it burst open with Corgan and Burc striding in as if they meant to take him prisoner. Instead, Corgan hailed him with “Ho laddie have ye finished the missal yet?” and Burc clapping him on the back and making it impossible for him to answer Corgan until he could get his wind back.
He held out the letter. Corgan and Burc looked at it but did not touch it, afraid it would crumple in their hands. “Aye, that's terrific!” exclaimed Burc, It's best we be on our way then!”
Brett looked longingly at the remains of his half eaten breakfast. Enkou, who had been curled up next to the fireplace had also noticed the plate and was clearly waiting for Brett to leave so he could take advantage of the left overs. Sighing Brett placed the plate on the floor and nodded to Enkou. He then grabbed his cloak from the peg by the door and followed Burc and Corgan out and down to the main room of the inn.
It was early in the day and only a few Patrons populated the inn common room. The day was sunny but a chill breeze swirled off the harbor. Brett felt the wind cut through the door of the tavern when it was opened.
Corgan stopped the innkeeper and spoke with him quietly. He saw a few coins go into the innkeepers pocket as he listened solemnly to Corgan. The innkeeper turned and hurried back towards the kitchens as Corgan nodded toward the door. The wind whipped Brett's cloak about like a loose sail. He clutched frantically at it before finally getting it under control and wrapped smartly about himself. He saw that Corgan and Burc were striding up the street. He ran to catch up with them. They were just turning down a side street when he caught up. Brett had not seen much of Onala Bay. It was a largish sea port and seemed to have a warren of streets that all lead in some way or another to the docks. He had wanted to explore, but Corgan and Burc had other ideas, so as he followed he tried to look everywhere at once.
He was completely lost by the time they reached an alley that was barely two paces wide and smelled dubious. They walls looked grimy and he did his best not to touch them as he followed the other two. At the end of the alley they came to a ramshackle wooden door made of splintered slats of wood. Brett could only see the top of the door over Burc and Corgan's heads, but it looked like a door that wouldn't keep much out.
He shivered as the wind howled through the narrow alley. They waited for what seemed twenty minutes, but was actually about two. The cold air made it seem longer. Finally the door opened. Corgan went in followed by Burc. As Brett stepped into the narrow hallway he noticed that the door only appeared to be weak. The other side was made of thick solid wood banded with iron. Even a fire would take time burning through that door. Niches spaced evenly along the wall housed oil lamps which illuminated the long passage. The passage turned and then ended at another door. This one also well made and solid, yet polished so that it gleamed in the lamplight. A small shrunken gnome of a man with a grizzled face closed the door behind Brett. He scowled we he saw Brett watching him. Brett immediately turned away and examined the room.
The walls were draped with tapestries on either side, depicting sea battles with huge fantastical monsters. Tall lamps flickered in the corners of the room and simple rug led from the door they just came through to a door on the opposite wall. The gnome-man indicated that they take seats on the low benches which lined the walls. He offered them mugs of wine while they waited.
Brett took a mug but didn't drink. He found the wine of Midgaard to be bitter at best. Beer or ale was definitely better. Burc and Corgan drank theirs in silence. The small bowed and left through the door they had arrived.
Curiosity was starting to get the better of him, when Corgan leaned over and said quietly, “Mind yer manners here boy. We be in the palace of Onala Bay. The ruler is actually the steward for the King of Surematu Saar.”
Brett frowned. They were on a small island, as far as he understood, that was hundreds of leagues from Surematu Saar. He really never understood the who kings and rulers thing. Growing up he was taught that people voted for Presidents and other officials. As far as he could tell government was all the same whether elected or born to the office. He imagined sitting in this room waiting to see this steward would be pretty much like sitting in a state capitol building and waiting to see the governor. The only difference, he could see was no security guards hanging about and staring at you to make sure you didn't put a foot wrong.
Burc startled him by snoring. He had set his mug on the floor and leaned back against the wall and fallen asleep. He always did say that a man should catch his rest when he could. Brett exchanged amused looks with Corgan. Corgan pointed to Brett's mug “Ye gonna drink that boy?”
Brett shook his head, “Naw, I don't really care for it. You want it?”
“Hand it over, never let a good mug o' wine go ta waste I always say!” Corgan chortled as Brett gratefully handed over the mug.
He leaned back against the wall and examined the tapestry on the far wall. He was amazed by the detail in the tapestry. The waves if you looked at them long enough almost made you feel the spray of the water and smelled the sea. He could imagine the heaving and rolling of the ship as the giant waves crashed around it from the giant squid-like beast that was attacking it. As he stared at it further, he almost thought he could see the men on the ship moving, scurrying about trying to save their vessel from the beast. Soon he was certain he could hear shouts from the men and roars of the beast. Before long Brett felt he was a part of the scene.
Suddenly he woke up and found Burc grinning at him. “See yer took my advice! Smart lad. Well it's time to wake up. We been summoned.”
Brett blinked away his confusion. He glanced at the tapestry and swore he saw water dripping off the bottom. As he stood to follow Burc and Corgan through the door he saw a flash from the corner of his eye. Quickly turning he saw a little balding creature with razor sharp teeth grin wickedly at him and then fade into the tapestry.
He shook his head. This place was getting to him. He hurried after Corgan and Burc.
Again they were lead along a winding passageway. This one shorter and led to a courtyard. Although protected from the brute force of the wind off the bay, it still swirled and eddied among the leaves from the trees in the courtyard. Most had lost their leaves. Winter was approaching. Brett pulled his cloak tight about him, wondering when he had lost his tolerance for cold.
They crossed the courtyard and entered another door that slid open rather than opening on hinges. The servant closed the door behind Brett and then lead them down a wide corridor to a set of ornately carved double doors. Outside the doors were two guards wearing what appeared to be ceremonial armor. Neither wore helmets but both stood staring straight ahead with short spears in each hand. Their armor appeared to be light weight and made of flexible leather which would allow freedom of movement. Both were completely bald and their heads shone as if polished. The soldier on the right had a thick mustache. He realized the one on the left was a woman. She was as tall and muscular as the man. Brett shivered and briefly wondered what made a woman choose to look like that!
Neither guard moved or spoke. The liveried servant asked them to wait and went up to the door and rapped it lightly. The door opened a crack and another servant poked his head out. He looked at the group before the door and nodded briefly. The door closed. The servant smiled nervously at them as he waited. The door opened again and the servant bowed to the other and darted away without another look back. The man at the door wore a different sort of livery. He seemed more composed. Solemnly he waved them inside. The door closed behind Brett with a soft click. In front of them was an archway. Brett almost felt like he had entered a cathedral. Fluted graceful columns circled the audience room. Low marble benches sat at regular intervals facing the dais in the center. A top the dais was an ornate wrought iron throne, with a dark and deeply polished carved wood intricately twisted through out the throne. Brett vaguely wondered where the wood came from. So far all he had seen on this island were pine trees and some scrubby looking stick bushes that could maybe have passed for stunted trees.
Another surprise was that the man sitting on the throne looked to be no older than Brett. Possibly younger. Brett noted with amusement that the man seemed to have the same problem with growing a beard that he was having. For some reason that put him at ease.
Then the man spoke. His voice carried easily across the vast space to them. His voice did not match his age. Brett shivered.
“Please approach the throne” the ageless voice intoned. The man on the throne gazed down at them, eyes glittering like green gems. A small cherub rushed toward them from the foot of the dais. It was so white Brett had thought the cherub was a marble statue. Now that it moved its he could see the shine in it's onyx eyes. It's small little wings fluttered frantically as it moved. Brett was reminded of a bumblebee and nearly chuckled, but for the stony gaze of the steward and the cherub. Both Corgan and Burc looked completely unsurprised. It would seem they walked into the audience chamber of steward everyday!
Imitating the low bows that the other two made to the steward and then surprisingly to the cherub, Brett tried to look around while still keeping his attention focused on the steward. He couldn't help but looking at the cherub. For some reason it fascinated him. It stood no more than three feet high. It looked like a baby but not quite. It felt menacing, but not evil. It saw him looking at him and it grinned. Rows of sharp pointed teeth glittered back at him. Brett snapped his eyes back up to the dais and listened closely to what Corgan was saying.
“High Steward S'joa Rao'amaor, we have returned with our formal request for an audience with High King O'raeddur of the Surematu. We forsake the Osanindi and follow only Yaweh. We bring one with us who is of interest to Yaweh and may be of interest to the Surematu.”
Brett wondered vaguely who Corgan was talking about, when he and Burc stepped aside and he received the full emerald gaze of S'joa Rao'amoar. The gaze held him, pierced him and then abandoned him as it returned to Corgan. Brett thought he might fall over if he were expected to walk at that moment.
“Corgan of Midgaard. Please present us with your letter of request. I will consider the matter and send for you when my decision is reached.”
Corgan held out his hand to Brett for the letter. Brett stared at his hand wondering what he wanted. Corgan shook his hand impatiently, before Brett realized what he wanted. Hastily he retrieved the letter from his pocket and placed it in Corgan's hand. Corgan knelt head bowed and handed the letter to the cherub which impossibly flew up the dais and fluttered in the air next to the steward. Burc also knelt and inclined his head waving at Brett to do the same. As soon as his knee touched the ground the steward boomed. “You may leave now and return when summoned!”
They all stood up to find the dais empty. The servant from the door rushed up to lead them out. This time they left through what Brett assumed was the front door.
No one spoke until they returned to the inn. They claimed a corner table near the fire to take the chill off and to dry out as it started to rain only minutes after they left the palace. Now sipping mugs of ale, they sat heads together and discussed the audience with the steward.
Brett said, “You know, I so far haven't questioned a whole lot of what is going on and what we are doing. I know we are making this journey to get support for Midgaard, but aren't we kind of far away? Also, who did we bring with us that is “of interest to Yaweh and the Surematu?” So far all I can see that we've acquired is a couple of cats, a baby beast and a pelican that likes to fish!”
Instead of chuckling as Brett expected, Corgan and Burc exchanged a look that further mystified Brett. Just as Corgan opened his mouth to speak a loud crash erupted from upstairs that shook the whole inn. All three looked at each other and dashed for the stairs. The innkeeper was right in front of them. A gust of wind shot through the upper floor hallway and the door to Bretts room was hanging askew on its hinges and flapping in the wind. They all stood in the doorway gaping at the hole where the window used to be. Bretts room looked like a tornado had ransacked it.
Brett shoved his way into the room. He stood in the center of the chaos in utter disbelief. Worried, he clucked for the cats. At first they did not appear but then Ticouse black slunk out from under the small writing desk that only had one leg left and that broken in half. Ticouse gray emerged from a pile of bedding. He scooped both cats up and checked them for injury and found them to be fine. Each climbed to his shoulders and sat there as he inspected the rest of the damage. Burc and Corgan were in the hallway trying to mollify the innkeeper who felt personally responsible. Brett wondered where Enkou was.
The innkeeper finally left to inspect the rest of his inn. Corgan and Burc went and looked at the damage to the window and wall. Burc stuck his head out the hole in the wall and looked all around to see what other damage there might be. Brett was frantically calling for Enkou. The cats, recovered from their ordeal, had jumped back up on the bed once it was righted and began licking themselves as if nothing more than a soft breeze had ruffled their fur. Brett looked at them. He knew they were jealous of the little beast so he didn't expect much help from them, but he asked anyway. “Did you two see where Enkou went?”
Ticouse Black blatantly ignored him, but Gray closed her eyes as if to hide from him. He stared at her until she opened her eyes. She meowed and then looked at the ruined window. “Out the window?” he asked. She inclined her head and then without looking at him again she returned to grooming herself.
He sighed and joined Burc and Corgan at the window. Burc said, “This reminds of the day when we had disappearances in Warrior Village, but there is something different. I can't quite put my finger on it.”
Corgan nodded. Brett hadn't even see the rooms of those who had gone missing. All he had heard was that they looked like a cyclone had gone through them. He felt like this room was the same. He couldn't see a difference. But apparently Burc could. He pointed out that the disarray was more like something being chased by something else. The hole in the wall was jagged as if it had been punched though rather than bored through. He pointed to the debris on the opposite side of the room. In the other cases the only debris was from the cyclonic wind. There was picture on the wall of Bretts room that didn't even appear to be disturbed.
Brett and Corgan both examined the points Burc made and both agreed that he was probably correct. Brett said, “Well my guess is that something chased Enkou around. I wonder if he got caught?” Brett felt fear for his little beast.
Burc looked around and said, “I don't think so. He walked back to the hole in the wall and looked down into the stable yard of the inn. “we're only on the second floor. The little beast has wings … maybe he can't use them yet, but they would help with a jump from here.”
Brett shot an accusatory look at the cats who were studiously looking anywhere else than at him. Ticouse Gray meowed in consternation. Finally she got up, looked back at Ticouse Black twitched her tail and then jumped lightly up onto the ruined wall. She looked down into the stable. Her whiskers twitched as she searched the stable yard. Finally she peered intently at a small ramshackle shed next to the stable. What was left of the thatching on the roof had decayed and fallen in and the walls leaned precariously against the stone of the stable.
He looked at Ticouse and said “In there?”
She looked at him, her eyes big and innocent and blinked. She meowed as if to say, “I showed you, now what?”
He smiled at her and said, “Thank you Gray.” He scratched her ears and chin while she purred. Ticouse Black hopped lightly up next to Gray and twitched her tail. She batted at gray and meowed at Brett. He laughed, “Oh you think you deserve a few scratches for your help too?” He relented and she rewarded him with a loud rumbling purr.
He left the cats and told them to wait for him to come back. Burc and Corgan followed him out to the stable yard, past the blustering innkeeper and his frightened help. He went straight to the shed. He crouched by the shed and called softly for Enkou. For a few minutes nothing stirred and he was ready to go back up to the cats, then the wood shifted slightly as if something was hiding in it. He heard Corgan utter a warning and something that sounded like a colorful curse.
He called for Enkou again, coaxing softly. Finally the little beasts snout poked out from under the shed. He called a bit more urgently. Enkou slid out from under the wood and glanced around warily as if his attacker was right there ready to pounce. Then quickly he hopped and ran to Brett. He wimpered with fright. He trembled as Brett checked him over for injury. He did have some tenderness in his left hindquarter and hissed a bit of flame when Brett touched it, nearly scorching Bretts hand. “Hey! Watch it with that hasty breath of yours!” he exclaimed.
Enkou hung his head. Brett patted his head and told him it was ok. His normally silvery skin looked gray and drab as if the sheen had melted off him.
They all gathered back in the ruin of Bretts room to decide what to do next. Bria joined them after hearing the ruckus from two streets over. She reported that a crowd had gathered in front of the inn. The innkeeper was rushing about trying to mollify his guests.
“So what happened here?” Bria said looking at the disaster of Bretts room.
“Well...,” started Brett when Corgan cut in “we're not sure, but it looks like something was chasing our little beast around.”
Enkou squawked and ducked his head in shame. Brett patted his head for comfort and murmured, “it's ok buddy it's not your fault.” that only made Enkou duck his head further. “What happened?” Brett questioned the little creature sternly. Ticouse black meowed at Brett from the floor. Her sharp gaze said she knew what happened. Enkou just squeaked and ran behind Brett to hide from the gaze of the cat.
Corgan said, “Looks like there's a story here between the cats and the little beasty.” Burc and Bria nodded in agreement.
Brett said, “Ok Enkou, out with it or I let Black tell it, and by the look in her eye you won't come out of it too good.”
Hanging his head, Enkou drug himself around to the front of Brett. His little wings drooping like wilted leaves his feet like lead. He drew a deep breath and then started re-enacting the drama. From what Brett understood, Enkou snuck out of the room when Brett left that morning. He wanted to explore the city. He was sorry, he knew Brett had told him to stay in the room and out of trouble. He wasn't gone long before he found an alley with all sorts of treasures. (It took Brett a moment to realize treasure to Enkou meant all the trash in the alley that people threw away.) He was exploring the treasure horde when he found a giant white rock that was perfectly smooth and round.
He was certain he had found a great treasure. He looked around and it seemed like no one wanted it, so he rolled it back to the inn.
Burc stopped him at this point and said, “Little Beasty just how “giant” would ye say this rock was?” Enkou darted looks between Brett and Burc, when Brett nodded for him to answer. He pointed to Bria's head. Stifling a chuckle Burc said “continue”. Bria's flashing eyes dared anyone else to chuckle.
He described how he managed to get the rock up the stairs. He made it seem lighter than it looked. Corgan stopped him and said, “I think I can guess the rest of this story. He looked pointedly at Enkou.”
Enkou gulped audibly and nodded at Corgan.
“Our little beasty here found an egg that belongs to a vitla maok. They are giant eight-legged worms with a nasty venomous bite. They live in rubbish and midden heaps and lay their eggs. They are extremely protective of their young and their eggs.” Corgan scratched his head and looked around the room. “From the looks of this room and the looks of our little beasty, the vitla moak got her egg back.”
Enkou nodded vigorously. Ticouse Black looked disgusted and hissed at Enkou. Burc said, “From the looks of the cat there is more to this story.” Ticouse walked over to the wardrobe and sat by the door. Brett got up and opened the door, inside were three more eggs. All of them turned toward the hole in the wall as if a vitla was going to come crashing in for the rest of the eggs. Brett glared at Enkou and said, “I don't suppose this will give you pause the next time I tell you not to leave the room?” Black sat back and basked in the little beasts discomfort. Brett turned to her and said, “don't look so smug missy, I expect you to be more forthcoming when I question you or their will be no more treats from the market.” Blacks eyes narrowed, she glared at Enkou and stalked off and ignored everyone as if they were beneath her notice.
Burc said, “I suppose we need to return these eggs or be subject to more visits?”
Bria shrieked and they all turned to see what made her scream. Coiled on the ruined wall was a sharp toothed eight-legged Vitla. The top two legs looked more like razor pointed claws. Its head snake like with what Brett thought looked like an umbrella opened behind it's head. Enkou squeaked in terror and shot beneath the broken desk. The vitla didn't move, it just hissed and looked at them and then at the eggs. Bria remained frozen in place.
Corgan hissed at Brett, if we all just back away from the eggs, maybe she will take them and leave without any further damage to the inn or us. They all carefully held their hands out and backed toward the opposite wall. The Vitla watched them all suspiciously as it uncoiled itself and did a strange slither walk to the cabinet. It picked up the eggs and placed them carefully in pouches along the skin of her neck, the result giving her a nobby necked appearance. The vitla was mottled brown in color, Brett assumed it's color allowed it to be camouflaged in the rubbish and middens. It didn't look back as it crawled down the side of the wall. Brett went to the wall as soon as it's tail end slithered over the wall. He looked down and was startled to find that it had vanished.
“They move fast” said Corgan who was also looking over the wall. “Now we just have to explain to the innkeeper what happened and hope he doesn't toss us out on our ears!” that last he delivered to Enkou.
Brett nodded. He also looked at Enkou and said “no more adventures. I can't afford this and I really don't want to spend the winter outside.”
Enkou stood in the center of the room his head hung low. “Awww,” said Bria, “He knows he was wrong, poor little guy. I forgive you,” she said patting him on the head.
Brett rolled his eyes. It wasn't her room that was in a shambles, but he also said, “C'mere buddy. We're cool. I forgive you too. I know you will be more careful from now on.” Enkou brightened and hopped happily about.
Burc said, “let's hope the innkeeper is as forgiving as you two are.”
As it was the innkeeper was more forgiving the more gold they pushed his way. Eventually they were able to give him enough gold, plus Brett was expected to spend time each day mucking stalls and helping the cook in the kitchen until his room was repaired.
It was several weeks before he had a chance to wander the streets himself to check out Onala Bay.

My life is not my own

Onala Bay was an early rising city. For such a small remote island it had a large population. There were people from all over, Midgaardians, Saarian's, and other remote lands that Brett had never heard of. He supposed he could ask Burc who had sailed all over the world, but for the moment he was just happy to have worked off his debt and actually earned some coin. He made Enkou remain in the newly repaired room. His job was to ensure the fire did not go out. Brett intended to have a nice warm night sleeping for a change. The sun was just cresting over the eastern mountains, but the air was still frosty and made his breath frost in his now full bead. Another source of pride. He didn't look like such a boy anymore, even though he had passed his twenty-first birthday and on earth that would be considered a man, actually eighteen was considered an adult and even here you were an adult at fifteen, but a seasoned man held far more respect. However, not even Corgan's warning this morning about watching his step could bother him.
Bria had disappeared into the city every day doing who knows what, but she always came back with enough coin to support herself. Brett decided knowing what she did all day would probably be more detrimental than interesting, so he didn't ask and she didn't volunteer any information.
While Enkou was relegated to their room, Ticouse Black and Ticouse Gray accompanied him like silent little scouts. The animals amazed him. He felt like an animal magnet at this point. He even had a brief visit from the pelican yesterday. He suspected that visit ended his servitude as much as anything. The pelican brought several rare fish that apparently the innkeeper considered delicacies. Since Brett had no other use for the fish and had planned to give them to the cook anyway, he found that the innkeeper was beside himself for the gift. Today he had planned to open the inn for a special feast. He had hired jugglers and minstrels to entertain his guests. A traveling bard who was staying at the inn also offered his services for a free plate of the fish.
Brett chuckled thinking of the things that could get people all worked up and excited. Again he was just grateful to be back in good graces with the innkeeper.
The people of Onala Bay were open and friendly. As he walked the cobbled street he noted how clean it appeared. Villages that he had been through in Midgaard seemed run down and dirty, as if people didn't care that they threw refuse into the same streets where they walked!
He wandered the streets, making note of where he was in relation to the inn so that he could find his way back. He was amazed at the various shops he passed. He did find some places extremely unpleasant smelling, most particularly the tanners alley. The cats walked away from that street affronted. He couldn't blame them.
He was very surprised to find a florist. It did not occur to him that such a shop existed in this world. It seemed so incongruous with everything else. Curious he did go in the shop. It was very warm and misty in the shop, especially with temperature outside being so cold.
The florist was a small pinched face woman with warm brown eyes. She smiled at him and said, “Good day sir, are you here to brighten some fine young lass's day?”
Brett chuckled and replied, “Good day ma'am. I wish I was, but unfortunately not. I was just exploring your city and saw your shop. It reminded me of back home so I thought I would have a look.”
The shopkeepers eyes widened in surprise. “Back home? Where are you from? As far as I knew my shop was quite unique!”
Brett blushed. “Oh my home is on another world where shops like these are quite ordinary, but even so on my world, your shop would be extraordinary.”
The shopkeeper grinned, splitting her well lined face into joy. “I'm from South Carolina young man,” she drawled in a deep south accent. “where do you hail from?”
He grinned, “Well when I found myself here I was currently attending Princeton in New Jersey, but I grew up in Kansas, Wichita to be exact.”
She smiled up and him and said, “Well give us your name! I am Sadie May Dawkins, but here I am just May Daw. Easier for the locals I guess. Come sit I have a pot of tea brewing, we can swap arrival tales!” she lead him to the back of the shop where she had a small indoor garden complete with table and chairs and a small little bubbling fountain. Brett stared at the fountain, curious how it worked.
“Oh, just a minute, do you mind if I let my cats in? I told them I would be just a minute, and they really do hate sitting in the cold!”
“Sure, sure! Let the mites in. I will warm a saucer of milk for them. I do love cats.” she exclaimed.
He went back to the door and clucked his tongue. Two indignant tails strolled through the door glaring up at him as if the cold were his fault. He rolled his eyes at them and said, “be nice to mistress Daw or she won't have any nice warm milk for you!”
The cats followed him back and immediately began rubbing and purring at Mistress Daws ankles. She laughed delightedly. Soon they were all seated and enjoying warm beverages.
“Now young man, what did you say your name was?” she asked over her teacup.
Brett smiled at the kindly woman and said, “My name is Brett Laird. Like I said I grew up in Kansas, my dad left when I was just a kid. My mom raised me, and I guess she did a pretty good job since I managed to get a scholarship to Princeton to play basketball.” He chuckled, “not that basketball does much for me here, but the education is helping.”
She grinned back at him and asked, “so how did you get here?”
He blushed again, “It was really quite dumb actually. I was writing an essay. Ok well I was supposed to be writing an essay,” he amended, “but I was actually procrastinating and grumbling about having to write the essays while my buddies were downstairs watching a pro game on TV.” he took a sip of his tea, “I also used to let my anger get the better of me and well I think it's my anger that sent me here.”
Mistress Daw raised an eyebrow at him. Quickly he said, “I was rocking back in my chair, like they always say you shouldn't, and in anger I threw my pen at the wall toppling myself backwards. There was a piece of furniture behind me and I probably cracked my skull on it. All I know is I woke up in Midgaard out in the middle of a forest. That was going on... hmm maybe three years ago.” he sat staring in his tea for a moment thinking it felt a lifetime ago he had played basketball and wondered if he would even know how anymore.
She set her teacup down and poured more for the both of them. She said, “well I have to say my story isn't much grander.” She laughed softly, “in fact, you could say it was an act of sheer stupidity that I wound up here.” she shook her head, soft white curls bouncing around her head. “I have been here for at least one hundred and seventy-five years.”
Brett goggled at her. “Wow! What year was it when you left earth?” he wondered when florist shops were invented.
Her laugh was as gentle as a brook tumbling through a glen. “Well now that is the odd thing. I left earth in 1972. From what you say it couldn't be many years past that when you left.”
Brett shook his head, “I left in 1994 only twelve years after you.”
Mistress Daws smiled, “truly time between the two worlds is a strange thing. There have been others who arrived from other times on earth, yet for some of them it has been thousands of years ago on earth yet only a few days here. I met a man about fifty years ago, who had arrived only a week before I met him, and he was from the time of Caesar.” she sighed. “I can't keep all that straight. At any rate you are only the fourth that I have met. Have you met any others?”
Brett nodded, “Yes I actually arrived the same time as five others. We all cam from the same time and actually, now that I think about it from the same day. We all came from the US as well. I am traveling with another who has been here for quite some time” he thought a moment and said, “actually I'm not sure how long he has been here, but I do know he came from Ireland and I think he left during world war two. He was a soldier killed in battle or something.”
Mistress Daw nodded thoughtfully. “So far,” she said, “I seem to be the oldest living, but not the earliest to arrive if that makes any sense.”
He said, “It makes sense if I don't think on it too hard.
They both laughed. “How did you come by these absolutely precious cats?” she asked. Ticouse Black had jumped up to her lap and was curled up enjoying the petting from the elder woman.
Brett laughed, “More like they acquired me than the other way around.” he patted Ticouse Gray, who was sitting in his lap eying the small pitcher of cream on the table and licking her lips. “they were all trussed up in a sack ready to be shipped out as mousers on a sea ship. The sack was left unattended and they escaped and found me. We have been mates ever since. They are very good about sniffing out trouble and giving me warning. They also seem to be good at finding rare information.”
Ticouse Black purred contentedly in Mistress Daws lap. Gray on the other hand hopped back down, inspected the empty dish and then went exploring the shop.
“You know Brett, I have a suspicion about you.” Her brown eyes had a pointed gleam to them that seemed to pierce him to the core. He suddenly felt as if questions were going to be answered and some of them he hadn't even known to ask yet, but then she simply took a sip of tea. “Where are you staying so that I can get a message to you?”
He said, trying to keep disappoint out of his voice, “I'm at The Captains Quarters, not far from the docks.”
“I know the place.” she said her voice brisk and business like. The southern drawl all but vanished. She smiled at him again and the warmth had returned putting him at ease. “I have a friend I would like you to meet, but he's a bit recalcitrant when it comes to meeting new folk. I think he may have some stories for you that will mean a lot to you.”
He wanted to ask her about her cryptic hints, but thought out of politeness he should wait.
They finished up their tea with Mistress Daws telling him some history of Onala Bay and places he should see. When he finally left the sun was marching quickly to the western horizon and the temperature dropping with it. He decided to hurry back to the inn for some dinner and enjoy the warmth of his room before night fell.

Journey Fits and Starts
Calvin woke with a start. He could hear Ginger thrashing about in her sleep again. Since the harpy attack she had nightmares almost every night. That had been two months ago. They had only been back on the road for two days and had not even left the shelter of Galdur Vor, the witches wood. Ibolya, the former Violet remained with them but would not venture past the River of Leaves. Since her severance ceremony she had new responsibilities. She seemed all at once sad, matured and serene. She hadn't really explained what had happened in her ceremony but she did say that she was now the head of a new clan and would remain in Galdur Vor for the rest of her life. She had hoped to accompany them on their journey, but she said the beast master would take care of them and see them safely on their way.
Tomorrow they would reach the river and then turn North onto the Northern trail. At the end of the trail was a small village called Watchwood. There they would find supplies for their journey into the Ice Plains.
TC Brown was happy to be traveling again. She had traveled probably three times as much as the rest of them, running far ahead and then running back. She did that several times. As it was she slept soundly even through Gingers thrashing nightmares.
Ginger had quieted and was only murmuring in her sleep now, but Calvin was awake. The fire had burnt to glowing embers without much warmth. He got up and pulled his travel cloak tight about him. At least the witches had provided soft warm boots and thick woolen cloaks. He went over to where the beast master sat keeping watch over the camp. He nodded quietly to the man and sat to take his turn at the watch.
“Hullo Calvin, did Miss Ginger's nightmare wake you?” he said with a grimace on his face. He seemed to feel as bad about the nightmares as Ginger did.
Calvin greeted the man, “Hullo Mick,” they finally discovered his name after much urging, mostly from Ginger and Violet questioning him repeatedly. No one could withstand the pressure those two could dole out. Calvin knew he had been on the other side of their desire for information. He said, “ya she seemed pretty upset and I was worried. She's quieted down now. Hopefully she sleeps peaceful the rest of the night.”
Mick nodded. He stood up and said, “before I bed down I will put a soothing herb in the fire that will hopefully help her.”
Calvin nodded and thanked him. TC, his constant companion, looked at him and then watched Mick as he walked back toward the sleeping rolls. He patted her. I know you want to go curl up with Ginger, but maybe you can keep me company for just a little while, after all Mick will look after her. TC curled up next to Calvin and put her head on his outstretched leg. He leaned back against the bole of the tree and thought about what they were doing and where they were headed.
It seemed another lifetime that he had been playing video games in his parents house. He didn't even recognize that kid anymore. He had definitely grown. We he first arrived in Midgaard he was a skinny little kid with no clue about anything other than how to play sonic the hedgehog on his Sega. Now here he was in a world that now felt like home with people he knew better than he remembered knowing his own family. TC was his only link to the other world. He hadn't seen any of the others since they parted in Midgaard, except for George. He had actually seen him quite a bit, because George had gotten a job at the library. George also came to the keep once in awhile to see how he and Ginger were doing, but as their lives became more involved in Midgaardian life the visits were less frequent.
He felt like a lot happened while they rested with Ibolya's people. He learned a lot about the ways of the forests and beasts with in. he learned how to field dress injuries. He learned a lot of herb lore from one of Ibolya's aunts. They told him he needed to learn much to survive the wilderness. He also learned how to not only use a bow and arrow, but how to make one as well. This he learned from Mick.
Mick taught him about tracking, smelling for scents, though he felt that TC was much better equipped at that and he really did have a hard time distinguishing scents unless they were fairly strong. He was told his reflexes were quick and he was quite nimble chasing through the trees. He had to admit he did like running and jumping and climbing the trees, although maybe not quite as much as when he was younger.
He was stilled leery of the one day Ibolya's great mother pulled him into her house and told him things that put his hair on end. She had given him a milky looking drink that tasted faintly of moss and bark and told him to drink it all down. Then she burned something smoky on the fire that made him feel as if he were floating. Then she started telling him the history of Yaweh. He remembered the history the bard Yopa had sung to them when they first arrived in Midgaard. The grandmothers seemed darker and scarier. Her's was filled with a crackling power that flashed in lightenings of pure white and deep blackness.
She said he would come to a place where he would need to choose and that the fate of Rhavidia rested upon his choice. There was no clear indication of what he should choose. Or what the choice was. He had tried to remember clearly, but the grandmother told him it would only be clear when he came to the choice.
Calvin sighed. He stroked the top of TC's head and looked up through the trees. It was a beautiful crisp night. The stars stood out in the deep blackness of the sky like diamond chips on black velvet. He tried to remembber his mother's face and the sound of his father's voice. He could barely remember. He felt sad because he did remember their love and caring for him. He hoped that after all these years they would no longer be sad. He wished he could tell them he was well, and happy. He smiled at himself when he realized that he was happy. Scared out of his mind but happy too.
As he watched the stars he saw one streak across the sky. He smiled again and made a wish to tell his parents that he was ok. Suddenly he heard a twig snap. Quietly he shook TC awake. She was instantly alert and he felt a low rumble in her throat. He peered into the woods in the direction he thought he heard the sound. TC was up and the fur on the back of her neck began to rise. Calvin pulled his belt knife from it's sheath and raised himself to a crouch feeling for the tree with his other hand.
Suddenly standing there before them was a man all in robes. He seemed to be old because of the long white hair and beard, yet the skin of his face was smooth and his eyes bright and knowing.
TC stopped growling and she wagged her tail at the man. Calvin just gaped at him.
The man smiled. His eyes twinkled merrily and he crouched down and reached out to TC who walked up to him wagging her tail and groveling before the man. She licked his face like an old friend and rolled on her back like a puppy wanting its belly scratched. Calvin was dumbfounded. When the man stood up he had changed into a younger man wearing a broad brimmed black hat, a long coat that flared at the waist and tall boots that stopped at his knees. His beard was neatly trimmed and only covered his chin and topped with a mustache that flared as much as his coat.
He bowed to Calvin and said in a deep musical voice, “Hello Calvin, I was sent to greet you and be your guide. I am Beorin of the second tier. Your brothers await you for your training.”
Calvin stammered, “But I, but I can't... what about,” he turned and looked toward the sleeping forms in the camp. “I need to remain with my companions. We are on a mission.” he finished lamely.
“Your companions have their own paths that they need to take. The girl has much to learn before your mission can be completed. She has another road. TC here will take care of her.” the man said soothingly.
Calvin looked down at TC. Tears in his eyes. She was the last connection to his life and his family. He looked at the man, “Can you promise I will see her again?”
The man looked sadly at Calvin, “I can promise nothing, I know you have a hard road a head of you, one that will be made easier if you come with me. You have a choice, but if you choose to remain here, you may never make it to your destiny.”
Calvin dropped to his knees and hugged TC. His hot tears fell in her coat. “Old friend,” he wept in her coat, “I know I must do this. It seems right. Promise me that you will take care of your self and Ginger.”
TC wagged her tail and licked Calvin's face and hands. She woofed softly at him and nudged him with her head. Even she knew what he needed to do.
TC stepped back to the tree and sat down. Calvin looked at her and then back at the camp. He turned to the man, “Can I gather my stuff?”
Beorin nodded. He walked quickly back to the camp, gathered his bedroll and his pack as well as his short sword and bow and quiver. He stood and looked down at the sleeping forms of Ginger, Ibolya and Mick. He wished them well and felt the sadness of saying goodbye. He silently wished Ginger pleasant dreams and then walked back to the man.
He turned to TC and said, “You will need to remain awake and keep watch.” he chuckled to himself, “But then who better to watch than a dog with a super nose like yours and smarts to match.” he sighed, “TC I am going to miss you the most.”
TC whimpered too and hung her head, then bounded up to give him one last lick on the nose. Then she nudged him away. Taking her cue, he turned toward Beorin who had a look of amusement on his face. Beorin turned and before him a door appeared. It was a wooden door with elaborate wrought iron bands. He held a large key in his hand and opened the door. It swung inward revealing a starry sky. A stone path disappeared into the stars. Beorin held the door for Calvin and he stepped gingerly onto the stone path. As the door closed, Calvin caught one last glance at TC and then the door was gone and only the path existed in that starry universe.
Beorin took the lead. He called behind him, “Keep up. If you notice the path disappears shortly after I leave it!” Calvin squeaked as the stairs began to lose opacity. He hurried along behind Beorin.
After a short time he got the courage to ask questions. “So where are we?”
Beorin chuckled, “This is the time between time, the moment between blinking an eye, or the moment just before a breath is drawn. It is the smallest space in time. The moment before dark becomes light.”
Calvin was more confused than ever, so he tried another question, “where are we going?”
“We are here, and then we are there. Each moment we have arrived at the next point, therefore we are ever where we must be.” said Beorin, as if it were perfectly obvious.
Calvin followed along not asking anymore questions he couldn't fathom the answers to.
After what seemed an hour Beorin stopped. Calvin nearly bumped into him. Before Beorin another door appeared. This one was made of some sort of thin papery substance stretched across bamboo. He slid the door aside and stepped out into a moonlit garden. As Calvin stepped out he felt the cold dry air grasp his breath and turn it to mist. His warm cloak was not nearly warm enough to cut the chill he felt. The air itself felt crisp and clear. It smelled of fresh clean snow.
Beorin said, “Welcome to Tinduur this is where your training begins. I will see you settled, but in the morning you will be summoned by your instructor. Our rules are quite strict here, but with good reason, you will learn to wield power and with that comes much discipline. You will learn discipline first and then power.”
Calvin shivered, and not because of the cold. He wanted to ask where they were, but he was afraid of the answer, so he mutely followed Beorin to his room, which was little more than a cubicle. It did have a small potbelly stove which kept the room somewhat warmer than outside. A small table and a stool. Anymore would have crowded the room. A low bench built into the wall doubled as a seat and bed. Calvin set his things on the bench.
Beorin said, “I will only give you this advice once. It is expected that your room remains clean and orderly. There are pegs on the wall for your clothing. Your bedding will be folded each morning and not undone until you are to use it at night. Each day you will be expected to clean your room in addition to your duties. For the first few months you can expect an inspection every day. After that, less frequently, but if anything is found amiss your inspections will increase.” he smiled kindly, “again to wild the power we teach here, we must be certain of your ability to maintain discipline and control. That is taught in everything you do each day. That is advice. You will remember it after you fail an inspection.” with than he said good night and closed the door.
Calvin undressed and lay on his bedroll. Looking through the window he watched the moon and wondered what frying pan he had landed in this time.

A lesson in direction
Ginger woke. Her head was pounding. The remnants of her dream were starting to fade, which was a relief. She remembered dark and twisted things happening either in her dreams or to her in her dreams. In any case she had no desire to remember her dreams. What haunted her as she slept she surely didn't want haunting her awake as well. She sat up slowly rubbing the temples of her head. For a moment the early morning light glinting through the forest stabbed her eyes making the headache worse, and then her eyes adjusted and the pain receded to a dull throbbing rather than sharp stabbing.
TC was right there, sidled up next her. Her sweet brown dog eyes searching hers with care and worry. She smiled at the dog and scratched her ears. “Hey girl,” she said softly. “It's so nice to wake up to your friendly face after those hideous nightmares.” TC gratefully licked her face to say thank you.
Ginger looked around, but didn't see anyone else. She saw Ibolya and Micks gear all bundled and stowed, but a merry blaze in the fire with the teapot sitting next to it and Ginger's mug ready for tea. She smiled thinking how sweet they were to have prepared everything for her. She got up carefully and put the teapot over the fire, then stowed her gear and rolled up her bedroll. She was just sipping her first sip of tea when she realized that Calvin's gear was missing. She assumed he had taken it with him wherever the others were.
TC was still watching her. Concern in those big brown doggy eyes. Ginger smiled at TC and said, “I know they left you here to watch over me while I slept, but if you have business to take care of, by all means I am fine now.” Indeed, her headache was starting to recede. She knew that Ibolya had made the tea with her special herbs. They really did help.
TC wagged her tail in response and then sidled up closer to Ginger. She laid her head on Gingers lap and looked at her with sad eyes. Ginger pet her head and said, “What is it girl? Is there something you are trying to tell me?”
TC woofed softly. She went to the spot where Calvin's bedroll had been and sniffed around. Then she looked at Ginger and woofed again. She turned and looked at the forest and then at Ginger again. She turn back to the forest and started walking that way. Ginger stood up and followed. TC looked back and wagged her tail when she saw that Ginger was following. She led Ginger to the tree where they had set the watch. She sniffed around a bit and then whined at a space in the clearing. Ginger could see foot prints but it was as if they just stopped and disappeared.
“What are you showing me TC?” she asked. No quite sure what it meant.
“It means that our you friend Calvin is no longer with us.” said Mick coming up behind her. She jumped at his voice and spun around, her head no quite recovered from the headache sent a stabbing pain through her head to remind her to move slower.
“OW!” She exclaimed clutching her head and glaring at Mick.
He said, “I'm sorry I dinna mean ta startle ya” he threw a worried glance at Ibolya as she followed him into the clearing.
Ibolya said, “did you drink your tea?”
Ginger panted, “Yes I drank the tea, just shouldn't have moved that fast so soon after the headache.” she straightened and tried to relax, which soothed the pain back to a dull throb again.
She looked at TC and then Mick, “What happened to Calvin?” she asked suspiciously, “and he must not have gone willingly. He never would leave TC.”
Ignoring the accusation in her voice, Mick said, “As I see you have already noticed there are two sets of footprints. One leads into the clearing from behind that tree there. He pointed to the tree across from where they had sat the watch the night before. The footsteps come from that point and they end here. You can see footprints and,” he eyed TC “pawprints from the tree to here. TC knows what happened last night and where Calvin went. I have my suspicions. Let's see if TC can confirm them.” TC wagged her tail at Mick.
Ibolya regarded Mick with cool flashing eyes. She had never really trusted him after the Harpy incident even after helping Ginger heal. Ginger didn't know what to think of him either. Calvin had taken to him like a trusted friend and even TC seemed to like him. Ibolya had called him beast master. He hadn't exactly denied it, but he never really confirmed that he was of the order. However he did have an unusual rapport with animals.
“TC” he asked, “Did someone else besides me speak with Calvin last night?” TC nodded and wagged her tail. “Woman?” TC shook her head. “Man then, what did he look like? Did he have a beard, hairy face?” TC nodded and woofed.” Ibolya and Ginger looked from Mick to TC wondering how Mick knew any of this.
Ibolya said, “Ok so some bearded man shows up and talks to Calvin, how did he get here and how could they leave without footprints and why would Calvin leave without TC?”
Mick said, “Did Calvin ever tell either of you what he was told by the Onemi oracle?”
Ibolya snorted, “Onemi oracle! The Onemi are the cursed ones. What oracle would they have that would be of use to anyone?”
Ginger said, “No he never told me, but then I never told anyone what the oracle showed me either.” she glanced sheepishly at Ibolya who looked stunned at her.
Indignant she said, “You never told me you had met the cursed ones!”
“Honestly I haven't thought about it in a long time. In fact, by the time Calvin and I reached the keep I don't think either of us thought about it much, we had so many other things to figure out.” she looked at Ibolya apologetically.
Ibolya snorted, “The cured ones or Onemi as they call themselves cannot redeem themselves until they restore their good graces with Yaweh by fulfilling their portion of the prophecy.” she looked pointedly at Ginger and then said softly, “hmmm the prophecy. I haven't really paid attention to it. Its something recited to Midgaardian children as a bedtime story. I wonder...” she looked at Ginger again who was beginning to feel like a worm that has attracted a birds attention.
Mick interrupted, “In any case, the lad did reveal his time at the Onemi oracle to me.” he looked at Ginger then Ibolya. “While you were healing and you were involved in your ceremonies, he had a great deal of time to kill, so I spent time with him teaching him how to survive in the wilderness. We had plenty of time to talk, man talk, and he told me of his telling. It seems the lad is to wield lightening. That is just another way of saying he would be a power wielder, wizard, sorcerer what have you. Last night I can guarantee he was taken to Tinduur by one of the monks. They train the power wielders. They take them when they come of age, before the power can come upon them and destroy them before they know how to use it.” he paused to let his words sink in.
Ginger spoke, “So why not take TC?”
TC was the one that answered. She bumped Gingers hand with her nose and leaned up against her. Ginger, with tears stinging her eyes, “You chose to stay because of me?” TC nodded and woofed then she ran around in tight little circles and woofed again. Ginger fell to her knees and hugged the dog tight. Tears streaming from her face. “I owe you both” she said into the ruff of TC's neck. TC just woofed softly and licked the tears from Gingers face.
Ibolya shook her head in wonder. She glared at Mick and said, “If the dog didn't back you up you would be dead you know.”
Mick bowed low to her, “I am at your mercy lady of the forest.” there was no mockery in his voice and his eyes were hard as stones.
Ginger wiped her eyes and stood up. “Well then,” she declared, “This changes everything.” Mick and Ibolya broke off their staring match to lock their eyes on her. She hesitated for only a moment before she said, “I need Calvin to finish my task. We go look forTinduur and retrieve him or find it and wait till he is done. Now, do either of you know where it is?”
Without waiting for a reply she walked back to the campsite and prepared for the next step in her journey, headaches and all. TC bounded after her, ready to be off.
They walked in silence for about an hour, each one lost in their own thoughts. TC scouted as usual, sniffing pretty much anything her nose would reach, then she would come back to Ginger and walked beside her, touching her nose to her hand as if to reassure Ginger that everything would be ok.
Ginger walked with determination. She had no idea where Tinduur was, only that she needed to find it, collect Calvin and be on with the mission of destroying Rhavidia. She also had no idea how she would accomplish that either, but she knew it would happen. That's what the oracle told her.
It was about midday when they broke from the trees and could see they were on a high ridge overlooking the plains to the west. Forest dotted the plains and rising up on a hill far to the west they could see the spires of a castle. They stood gazing at the view for awhile when Ginger said, “Who lives there?”
In a voice that said she was remarking on inconsequential event like washing dishes Ibolya said, “That's where Amanda grew up. My father's house.” She looked at the castle as if it were no more remarkable than the dead leaves at their feet. Ginger knew she shared a father with Amanda, but that he was a Lord of a castle awed her. Ginger wanted to ask questions, but Ibolya had already turned and started walking north along the ridge line path.
Mick shrugged when Ginger looked at him, so she turned to follow. Soon the path began to slope gently downward. A river followed the base of the ridge. As they got closer they could hear the water rushing and tumbling over the rocky riverbed. They ate as they walked, preferring to get as far as they could before nightfall. When Ginger wasn't looking both Ibolya and Mick watched her with concern. Neither wanted her to over do it and kept the pace slow.
The headache had finally dwindled to the inconvenience of a bite-me, but by the late afternoon, even with the gentle pace set by the other two she was beginning to tire. She tried to laugh off a couple of stumbles, but when she stumbled on a flat piece of ground with no rocks or roots to blame, Ibolya called a halt and refused to continue. They moved a ways off the path under the cover of a stand of trees. It was a cozy little glen. The foliage was dense enough that a small fire would remain hidden and they could enjoy mugs of hot tea with their meager fare of hardtack and cheese. Mick produced three apples to the delight of the girls, although Ibolya tried to hide her pleasure behind a cough.
As much as she didn't want to admit it, Ginger was grateful for the stop. She really did feel tired. As tired as she was she insisted on first watch and that she be allowed to do her part. Grudgingly the others agreed, but they insisted that her watch would be the shortest. Mick would relieve her and Ibolya would take last watch. TC barked at that. They all looked at her. It took her a little while before she could make them understand that she too could take a turn at the watch, until Ginger convinced her that she needed TC to remain with her on watch and then she would appreciate TC's company when it was time to sleep. Mollified, TC agreed to that arrangement.
For the next several days they continued their journey in this manner. It was an easy peaceful journey. Ginger remarked that she felt stronger everyday, though Ibolya insisted on maintaining the gentle pace and shortened watches for her. She also insisted that Ginger continue with the healing herbs in her tea.
It was late on the tenth day when they began to see farms. Ibolya began to get nervous and finally after about the third farm she stopped and would go no farther.
Ginger said, “You mean to say that you literally can not move any further in this direction?”
Ibolya looked at her with a mixture of sadness and frustration. She said, “It's as if I am on an invisible tether. I have reached the end of it and I am prevented from leaving the demesne of my realm. My reach is far, but I do feel stretched here, if I continue I will break. I would live for a short while but not long and then I would die. It has to do with the severing. When I was severed I became she who is rooted. The rooted one can only branch out through her saplings.” her face twisted in a mixture of embarrassment for revealing so much of her families intimacies, but also apologetic for her limitation.
Ginger exclaimed, “but we can't just part like this! It's too sudden!” she thought for a minute and looked around, but TC and Mick only looked at her. Finally she said, “Look, it's nearly dark and we can't just leave you here, plus we will have to stop soon. The town must be at least another half a day or more away. We can back track into the woods and have a proper last night together and part in the morning when it will be light and good travel for all of us. I would hate for you to travel the forest at night by yourself!”
Ibolya laughed, “I agree that I prefer a last night together, but as for a night alone on these woods? Hardly, I am ever surrounded by kith and kin. This wood is my home … the whole of it. Have you not wondered why our journey was trouble free? I admit it is still wise to set watches at night, but still this is the safest place you'll find anywhere.”
They walked back about three miles and left the path for a more secluded area to camp. Even so they knew a farm to be only a half a mile down the road from where they camped. They spent much of the night talking and plotting about what Ginger needed to know as she searched for Calvin. Mick sat with his back against a tree stump and only entered minimal comments into the conversation. He did promise Ibolya repeatedly that he would keep both safe. Finally he got up and mumbled something about perimeter checks and whistled for TC to accompany him. Which she did as if it were her duty.
When he was gone, Ibolya looked around to make sure he was out of earshot, and just to be sure she leaned close to Ginger and said quietly, “I know Calvin trusts him and I know you do as well, but if he ever does anything that makes you distrust him use this.” she handed Ginger a fist sized leather pouch. She said, “This is the ash of my Great mother's great mother's tree of sanctuary. When she died the tree self immolated just as my Great mothers will. The fire burns like a pillar of fire for three days. It remains hot ashes for another three days. Then it is collected by the living relatives. It is sacred and holy ash. Just a pinch blown into the wind will do a foretelling. A pinch in someones tea will act as a truth serum. And finally a pinch will heal wounds dealt by poison metal.” Use it sparingly and wisely. Used frivolously and it will have the opposite effect. Make sure your heart is in the right place before using it.”
Ginger stammered, “This is a very generous gift! How can I repay it?”
Ibolya smiled softly at her. “You already have by being the true friend I have always dreamed of. You and Calvin both. You will never know how much your unswerving friendship has meant to me. I will hold you both forever in my heart.”
Not knowing what to say they just hugged each other, tears of happiness and sadness at parting running down their faces.

The next step

The next morning as they packed up to go their separate ways, the weather had changed. The morning was a foggy wet drizzle that seemed to seep into everything. Ibolya and Ginger had light hooded oilskin cloaks that they wore over their regular traveling cloaks. Mick wore a broad brimmed hat that he swore kept the rain off his neck and away from his cloak. Ibolya looked at him dubiously, but he wasn't complaining and only stood patiently while they said their good byes.
Ibolya hugged TC and then Ginger one more time. She said, “May the light of Yaweh light your path.” as she bowed formally at the waist. Ginger returned the formality. She watched as Ibolya slipped soundlessly into the woods and disappeared through the trees of her home. Sadly she followed Mick with TC again scouting ahead and running back to check on them.
The path had become slippery and muddy so they tried to walk through the trees just off to the side of the path. Soon though ,they were back where the farms began to dot the countryside. They could tell the sun was beginning to rise as the foggy gray grew lighter, but the drizzle remained.
By midday they had passed a small village, truly it was a cluster of small homes with thatched roofs and meager gardens. Pens for goats and chickens in the yards. Occasionally a dog would bark at them and once a small little dog actually came out to challenge TC. TC just sat and stared down the dog until it subsided and actually groveled at her feet! Mick had laughed at that and told TC she was becoming a regular beast master herself. TC wagged her tail as if laughing at a joke with him. Ginger, wet and tired just waited until they were done and plodded along.
For some reason she felt that the rain was oppressive and weighed down on her. She began to feel more tired than she had so far on the journey. Each step she just wanted to stop.
It was late afternoon when they saw the rough wooden walls of Ver a Voauri. Ginger just stood swaying on her feet. Relief that they would sleep inside for the night flooded through her. The gates were open and one lone man with a sheathed sword leaned on the gate post. He seemed bored and didn't even glance their way. There seemed to be a fair amount of traffic, mostly farmers leaving with empty carts for the night. Mick strode through the muddy streets. He had been here before. Ginger stumbled along behind him. TC stayed next to her providing her back or head if Ginger needed to steady herself.
Ginger suddenly stumbled into Micks back. He had stopped before an inn. She looked at the inn and clapped her hand over her mouth to cover her surprise. He turned back grinning at her. “I think this is the right place. How about you?”
Despite her exhaustion, Ginger giggled and TC wagged her tail and hopped around. The sign held a picture of a dog. The dog was painted gold, but otherwise it looked a lot like TC. Ginger joked, “It must be your cousin TC, OC Gold!”
Mick said “OC?”
Ginger said, “TC Brown means Three Colors Brown, and the dog on the sign is only One color so OC Gold.”
Mick shook his head. “Well lets go in before the drizzle out here makes us any wetter.”
As they walked into the inn the the good wife came bustling up. Her floors were swept clean and Ginger could see she meant to keep it that way. She negotiated the price of their rooms right at the front door and then asked them to remove their boots. For TC she handed Mick a towel to clean her feet with. Grateful she didn't have to lick them clean she instead licked Micks face in gratitude.
The innkeeper himself ushered them to a table and said their room would be ready soon. In the meantime he helped them out of their wet cloaks and his wife bustled off with them to get them cleaned, dried and properly oiled along with their boots.
The inn was quiet and they actually had the common room to themselves. As they sat and ate the innkeeper pulled up a chair and said, “Hoping you folks don't mind, but this time of the year we get few travelers through here so the news is quite slim. While you eat I will share all that I have heard and hopefully you can trade some news back.” He looked hopeful.
Mick said, “That would be amenable, and perhaps you and I can put our feet up with a bit of a smoke and a pint, but first the lass here just needs a warm meal to chase away the chill and I need to see that she gets her rest as soon as possible.”
“Ah, I see,” said the innkeeper with a warm look at Ginger.
Ginger really hated being trundled off to bed by a man not much older than herself as if she were a sickly child, but she was so tired and the thought of curling up and sleeping almost sounded better than a piping hot meal. She gave the innkeepers wife a grateful look as she place a bowl of delicious smelling stew and a crusty warm roll in front of her. “Thank you, it looks and smells wonderful!” exclaimed Ginger.
The woman smiled back with motherly satisfaction. Her kind eyes surrounded by a plump cheeked face and her graying hair pulled neatly back and covered with a kerchief behind her head. She said, “as soon as you're ready your room is ready for you. I have also laid out a night dress for you. In this weather I was afraid all your things might be wet and need a drying.”
Ginger said, “Oh that was very sweet of you, thank you!”
“Eat now dear, before your stew gets cold.” she bustled away as Ginger filled her mouth with a spoonful of the tasty stew. The innkeeper came back as Ginger was mopping out her bowl with the last bit of her bread. In the meantime Mick had wolfed down two bowls himself and TC even got a bowl to enjoy. She had finished hers and was lying in front of the fireplace to dry her damp fur.
With a full belly, good company and a warm dry place with a merry fire, Ginger felt so content she could have slept in her chair. Indeed, she had dozed off because next she knew, Mick was carrying her up the stairs to bed. She struggled to be put down, but he only chuckled and said, “You are weak and tired. You need your rest. I warned you before that over exerting will cause a relapse. Now let me carry you. You're not heavy and I would rather carry you a few short steps to your bed in an inn than somewhere out in the middle of nowhere to somewhere miles away!” which was exactly what he had done after she was stung by the Harpy. She had remembered walking, but he had carried her too. That had been a really long walk that time.
She said, “Thanks again Mick. I'm not sure I will ever be able to repay your kindnesses to me.”
He said, “Shhh, don't think on it. I consider it an honor.” before she could question him he set her down and let her lean on him. He opened the door to a very nice room. There were two good sized beds that looked very inviting. A large wardrobe, night stand and even dressing screen. A potbelly stove in one corner heated the room. A small window with actual glass in the window was shuttered from the outside from the weather.
TC had followed them up and found a nice soft looking rug in front of the potbelly to continue drying herself off. Ginger knew that once she was warm and dry, the dog would curl up with her for the night.
Mick said, “I'm going to go down and socialize with the innkeeper. Tomorrow once you are rested we will discuss our next steps. For now, get your sleep and rest well. The inn is being watched by some very reliable friends.” He smiled. His friends meant animals. Strangely that comforted Ginger. She thanked him. He dropped their gear in a corner, and said good night. She could hear him stumping back down the stairs.
Before long Ginger was wrapped up in a fresh clean nightgown, and deeply buried in down bedding, sound asleep. Headaches and nightmares didn't even exist.
The next morning Ginger found the shutters to the window wide open and sunlight streaming through. The stove was still warm and next to her bed was a pot of tea. She sat on the side of the bed sipping the tea when the door open and the innkeepers wife bustled in. Behind her two men carrying a copper tub. Two more men followed with big bucket of steaming water.
She greeted Ginger with a “top o the morning, and how did you sleep?”
“Good morning!” replied Ginger warmly “I slept wonderfully and feel so wonderful this morning. Thank you for everything.”
She said, “I believe we missed the introductions last night, but my name is Cara Spring and my husband is Robert.”
Ginger held out her hand and said, “It's very nice to meet you Mistress Spring. I'm Ginger.” she blushed “I know this sounds odd, but I cannot remember my last name.”
“Ginger be an unusual name,” said Mistress Spring, “I'm sure we won't confuse you with someone else.” she winked at Ginger who chuckled.
“Ahh your bath is ready. I've brought you towels and soap and this little vial here contains soap that is good for your hair. Just a little bit goes a long way. I've hung a towel on the door handle to let everyone know you are bathing and not to enter.” she smiled at Ginger and then left the room.
Grateful Ginger slipped out of the nightdress and into the tub of steaming water. The hot water seeped through her skin to her bones. Mistress Spring had sprinkled lavender in the tub which gave off a relaxing aroma. She leaned her head back and tried to remember when she had felt so good. For a short time she let herself drift on the good feeling, not feeling anything, just floating along as if she were on a warm lavender filled sea drifting.
Before she knew it she found that she was no longer in her body and was floating above it. She looked at how peaceful she looked and smiled. She thought momentarily how odd it was that she would be separated like this but, didn't dwell on it. She decided to explore. She moved to the door and found it as insubstantial as herself and passed right through it. She floated down toward the common room and found it busy. From the looks of it the Springs did a brisk business in the morning. She found TC and Mick at a corner table eating breakfast. Mick seemed intent on his food, but Ginger wasn't fooled, she knew he was listening to the buzz of conversation around her. TC saw her and woofed. She wanted to giggle. TC wagged her tail and said “How is it that you are not with your body little one?”
Ginger was so startled she nearly fled back to her body, but caught herself and floated back to the table and sat on the floor next to TC, or rather floated next to TC. “I don't know,” she said, her voice all wispy like a soft breeze. “My body is in a nice relaxing bath and I just drifted from it. How is it that I can understand you?”
TC said, “Dogs have senses that humans don't, or maybe humans have them but they are limited by their bodies and without your body you are able to use you hidden sense?”
Ginger nodded. She said “I am beginning to feel a bit stretched though, as perhaps I am too far or too long away from my body. I will go back now. Save some breakfast for me” with that she found herself back in her body.
It was almost shocking to feel the water and air around her again. She gasped. The water was still warm but not hot like it was before. She quickly washed and then stepped out and dried with the nice thick warm towels.
She found her clothes all neatly cleaned and folded for her on a shelf in the wardrobe. Her boots dried, brushed and re-oiled. She dressed, tied her belt pouch securely about her waist and under her tunic. She felt like a new woman. She went down stairs to find Mick had finished his breakfast and was talking to a couple of grizzled farmer types. TC sat next to him, looking like the faithful farm dog. Ginger found a serving girl and asked for some breakfast and went to where Mick was.
“Good morning!” she said brightly as she approached the table. The men deep in conversation looked up at her startled. All of them stood up and one pulled a chair up for her.
“Good mornin' Miss” they all said politely. Mick added, “Did ya sleep well?” his eyes twinkled.
“I feel absolutely wonderful this morning!” she declared. She smiled at TC and hugged her. TC licked her face. The serving girl brought her a bowl of steaming hot porridge, a hunk of cheese and some dried blueberries for the porridge. She also brought her a mug of hot spiced cider. Ginger had no idea she was so hungry until she felt her mouth water at the smell of the food.
Mick smiled at her and said, “that is a hearty meal, it should stick with you most of the day.” The old farmers nodded their approval. Ginger just dug in and listened to the conversation as Mick and the farmers resumed chatting. It was mostly about weather live stock and soil, but her ears perked up when they started talking about raids on farms that were remote from Ver a Voauri. They said that the forest remained quiet and nothing came from there. They supposed the witches took care of that direction but things seemed to sneak down out of the foothills at night from the north.
So far only livestock had been poached, but people were becoming afraid for their lives and families. Ver a Voauri was starting to beef up it's militia and have regular patrols ride out. One of the patrols was over due. That sent a shiver down Ginger's spine. Mick asked which way that particular patrol had gone. One old man, Rory Colins, she thought he had said his name was, whistled low and said, “why they were to start just a bit south of here and then ride up into the hills due west and follow the low foots as far as north gap.” A small outlying hunting village he had explained. “no one in North Gap ever saw them.”
Mick nodded thoughtfully. Ginger narrowed her eyes and wondered what he was thinking. Absently she handed TC a piece of her cheese and finished her breakfast. She was about to say something, but the look in Mick's eyes told her to wait until they could speak alone. She took a long drink of cider.
They finished up talking to the farmers with small talk about where to get good supplies and wishing the farmers a good year and a bumper crop. They got up and left the inn to go wander about the streets.
The streets had dried up somewhat from the drizzle the day before and the sun was up soaking everything with it's warmth. Although the seasons were changing and the colors of the trees had become brightly colored, the summer tried to hang on somewhat and as the day marched on it was a beautiful warm day.
It also proved to be a very busy day in Ver a Voauri. Farmers were coming from all over with their families to sell their harvests and celebrate. The harvest was in. It had been a great year for everyone. They went to the towns market square. Jugglers and minstrels wandered about the square entertaining anyone for a coin or two. Children ran about on errands for the adults or played games with each other. Smells competed with each other, fresh baked breads melded with roasting meat, animals, dung and midden heaps. People laughing, shouting, calling out to each other clouded the air with minstrels and made for a hectic and raucous atmosphere. Ginger tried to look everywhere at once while still keeping track of Mick and TC.
Mick had stopped at a booth where a woman was selling knives. He haggled expertly with her for awhile and came away with a nice pair of knives which he tucked away inside his cloak. He was pleased with his purchase and though the woman was grumbling about highway robbery her face showed that she was pleased with the sale herself.
Next they stopped at fruit stand. Mick bought a sacks of apples, potatoes, onions and a few cloves of garlic. He looked over the tomatoes but then moved on to a small sack of flour and small sack of oats. He loaded himself and Ginger down with the purchases. She wondered how far she would have to walk when he had her wait with their purchases in a quiet spot to the side of the market. TC stayed with her. Shortly he came back leading a small white pony with wicker panniers draped across it's back. They loaded their supplies on the pony and then made a long winding route back to the inn stopping at few more places to pick up some odds and ends like a flask of oil, a sewing kit, miscellaneous herbs, a couple of spare oil clothes and a specially made oil cloth cloak for TC. That delighted Ginger.
They went back to the inn, it was now late in the day. Mick sent Ginger and TC up o their room with some of the supplies and took the pony to be stabled. A short time later he joined them.
Ginger stood and prepared to say something when Mick held his finger to his lips indicating that others could hear. She closed her mouth and sat down on her bed, arms crossed and watching him intently, waiting to speak.
He bundled his pack together and set it by his bed. Then he sat on the bed next to her and bent close to her ear whispering. “Do you remember what was chasing us when we left Bridgeton?” he continued when she nodded, “Well I would really hate for them to find us here. Now I did learn from some of the locals that a stranger has been looking for a boy and a dog. Now I know a lot of people have dogs, but it would not be a good idea for someone to put two and two together and think maybe they meant a girl instead of a boy.” Ginger's eyes went wide.
She whispered back, “Do you know who wants Calvin and why?”
He shook his head, but then said, “Not exactly, I know why I was sent to find you and I was sent more for you and the dog than for Calvin. The one who sent me knew what Calvin would be doing.”
“Maybe it's time you let me in on the secret,” she whispered back angrily. “I don't like being expected to do something with out being told what I'm doing and why and more importantly without having a choice of whether I want to do it or not.” she huffed and said, “ My childhood is over. I am the maker of my life now. I will decide where I go, what I do and how I do it!” she declared but still in a whisper. Her eyes flashed angrily at him as if he were trying to make her do something distasteful.
He chuckled. She couldn't believe he chuckled at her. Her eyes narrowed and if she could have she would have bored a hole through him.
Containing his obvious mirth he smoothed his features, but she could still see a twinkle in his eyes. It actually made her smile and for that she was even angrier. She opened her mouth to snap something when he said, “I agree! And I do apologize for this morning over breakfast. From now on we will be equals on this journey. Now let me lay out the choices and give you all the information that I have so you can make an informed decision.”
She nodded, mollified.
“Now,” he said “Our main goal is to find Calvin, but do you know where to find Tinduur? I don't. I do have friends,” he eyed TC pointedly, “who may be able to help us out along the way, but even their knowledge is limited. I foresee a long road ahead of us.” he nodded letting this sink in. when she remained listening he continued, “My gold is also limited and if you have any to share then please be forthcoming.” at this she blush and pulled a small bag out of her purse. She had saved a few coins in the last couple of years and even earned a few in Bridgeton. She handed him the purse.
He didn't open it but hefted it and handed it back to her. “it will do. Hold onto that and keep it on you rather than in your pack. You could be separated from your pack and its best to keep gold on you, even as you sleep.” she nodded and tucked the bag into her tunic pocket.
“I believe I have started us out with ample supplies. We will have to forage as we go. I do not hunt.” again she nodded. He pulled a folded piece of leather from a pocket and unfolded it. It was a rough map of Midgaard. She recognized it from the maps she had seen in the library. He pointed out roughly where they were. Then he said, “I have no idea where Tinduur is, but from the descriptions I have heard of the place, my best guess of direction is here.” he pointed to a remote location on the northeast section of the Midgaardian continent in a densely packed mountain range. He moved his finger a bit south and further east to the edge of the mountains almost due east of Ver a Voauri. “This is the stronghold Sterk Halda as it's called by the ranger clans. That is the fall back for all those who live to the east.”
She murmured that she had heard of the ranger clans, forgotten warriors who lived by a code or creed. She couldn't remember all that she had learned, but she had heard of them.
“So...” he said, “this is what I know right now. If it were all up to me I would head up to North gap and hire a guide to get through the mountains. I know as we get closer to the ice mountains there are some indigenous peoples that live in that region. They may be able to direct us further.” he waited patiently for a reply as she mulled it over.
Slowly as if puzzling it all out for herself she said, “Who sent you to find us and why?”
He nodded as if expecting the question. “Red sent me. Originally I was to find the other young man, but he is out of my reach and will actually find one who is more than I. Or the other will find him. I'm not clear on that. Anyhow, I was sent as a guardian to make sure you get where you will receive the training you need. That is as clear as it was made to me.” he chuckled, “I asked why also and was told, 'It is not why for you to know, it is the will of Yaweh that you do as I ask, you have free will and can choose not, I will simply have to find another.' After an answer like that I quit asking questions.” he sighed, “It was made clear to me that I would have to find the way in the dark. Your purpose is unknown to me. Where we must go, it is expected to trust Yaweh to guide us.” he shrugged as if he ran out of things to say.
Ginger said, “Yaweh, I think, likes to stir the pot and see what will happen.” she thought for a moment then said, “Your plan is as good as any. I have no more idea what Yaweh or Red want from me either. I will set my goal … our goal on finding Calvin. I guess we will have to accept what happens in between. I just like to know what we are doing and why. I am just tired of people treating me like a brainless child.” she too ran out of steam.
They sat quietly engrossed in their own thoughts. TC finally broke the silence with a woof. They looked at her and she jumped on the bed and laid down. They both laughed. Ginger hugged her and said, “Good thinking TC, if we are planning a early start perhaps we should plan to get to bed early.”
Mick said, “but first a hot meal? We have not eaten since breakfast and a I for one would like to leave on a full belly.”
Ginger agreed and they all trooped downstairs for a hot dinner. Later as Ginger snuggled under the nice comfortable blankets she looked out the now unshuttered window at a brilliant moon, just past full and beginning it wane. She wondered where she would be by the next full moon.

Gathering of Force
Mark panted and collapsed in the snow bank. The rest of the crew did the same. They had been felling trees for weeks now. He wondered how many damn trees one army could possibly need and what in the world for! But he was a grunt, a soldier. He was to obey orders not question them. They had been at the fortress now for at least three months. He had seen Sierra only a handful of times and mainly from a distance. After that first night when she revealed her incredible tale of how she had arrived and all that she had experienced, he had only spoken to her twice.
He was starting to find his own place here. His skills as a detective certainly were helpful, but he also had cultivated skills as a marine when he was younger. He had been decorated as a special forces service member. Those skills were possibly rusty but definitely not forgotten. When he had separated from the marine corp it was because he had donated a kidney to his twin brother who had been injured in a car accident. The marines thanks him for his service, awarded him with a few medals and dishonorably discharged him. NYPD found him a treasure. He rose quickly and made detective quicker than most.
He remembered the first time he met Sierra. A fresh cop right from the academy. At first he was assigned to coach her. She was very bright and very capable. It didn't take long before he fell in love with her and they began dating. After the corp he felt that he had finally found the second love of his life.
The night and subsequent days following her rejection of his proposal had been a blur. He had been given leave from duty for a month to deal with her loss. When he went back he was harder and more driven to do his job than before. The part that really floored him was when he arrived here, in Midgaard she had told him she had been here for years. For him she had only been gone a year. That time flowed differently was difficult to fathom and did not seem to have a logical rhythm. He had found out that the other officer that was the same rank as her had also come from earth. He had been here for near on twenty-five years. He had been a young man when he arrived, from the early 1900's! It just did not make sense.
He had given up trying to explain earth to most of the men in his detachment. Before they marked him as unbalanced he had decided it was best to keep his origins vague. So for most he basically described his “village” in Midgaardian terms and used his special forces training to blend in. As it was he was beginning to fit in. He had always been a dedicated and hard worker no matter the task, and it seems people anywhere admire and look up to a good work ethic, especially when lives were at stake.
The sargent of his work detail was stalking back to the snow bank where they were taking their rest. Everyone jumped to their feet and stood ready to return to hauling their load back to the fortress.
Mark glanced at the sky. This would be their last trip today. It was imperative that they all be behind walls at night. They were deep into the winter season and workers caught outside the walls without the proper gear would die either from exposure or get lost in a snowstorm. When the wind howled and the snowstorms came the temperature was bearable, but on clear starry nights the temperature plummeted to deadly cold. Very few creatures could withstand the extreme temps. The amazing Boralon was one such creature. Mark marveled at the great beasts. Nothing on earth could be said to resemble them, unless they were the fabled Yeti.
A week after they had arrived at the fortress, the gates had been opened and armored men on huge draft or war horses rode in. They cleared a path through the outer courtyard where the soldiers and servants were quartered. Everyone was ordered to stand back away from the rode. Curious Many lined the rode to see. Mark nearly fell over when the Boralon strode through the gates. They too wore armor and great helms. They were at least nine feet tall and covered from head to foot with shaggy white hair. Marks first thought was albino wookies, but when they removed their helms their faces were grim and bear like with rows of sharp gleaming teeth. Their eyes hard glittering black coals. Their long thick arms ended in great clawed hands. The claws as black and sharp as their eyes. Their feet also had hard black claws.
Formidable creatures. They looked as if they could shred an enemy with tooth and nail. Not to mention being physically strong enough to pull trees out of the ground roots and all. As they marched to the inner fortress the ground trembled beneath them. Mark was glad he didn't have to fight them. They were the only creatures that could survive the frozen wasteland in the open on a starry night.
Later he learned that the troup that had arrived was only a small contingent from various clans sent to talk with Red. Mark met Red once. Mark was not a small man. He was over six foot five, as a marine he had been big and strong. This Red made him look small and weak. He thought if Red was average for a man on Midgaard, then he was going to have some serious readjusting. He was relieved to learn the Red had a giant as one of his parents and he was actually small compared to his mother. He just couldn't imagine.
“Hey Mark, quit daydreaming about Hot spiced wine and lets get this flaming tree back to the fort so we can actually enjoy a mug!” shouted Toc. Toc and Mark had become friends. Toc had lost his entire family and village to the hordes of monsters Mark had found himself confronting in his first moments in Midgaard. In fact, Toc was the one that had helped him up to Sterk Halda, the ranger stronghold. Toc had been a wealth of information and Mark did what he could to help the poor guy deal with the loss of everyone he knew.
Mark grinned and shouted back, “You were moving so slow I had time to rest a bit! C'mon it looks like Bert's crew is gonna beat us back … you know what that means!”
Toc shouted with glee, “Oh no they won't it's our night for extra rations!” and with that he clutched the rope over his shoulder and dug in. Mark matched him stride for stride. Soon they had come abreast of Bert and his crew. Grinning Mark and Toc pulled ahead. They heard grunts as the other two redoubled their efforts. Mark and Toc already had a reputation for being the strongest and fastest. They set the standard for all the other crews.
For the fifth day in a row, Mark and Toc finished first. They had placed their log for the woodcutters and were headed for the mess hall when Bert and crew came plunging through the gate. Bert was a good natured guy but Olso his crew mate had a sour look on his face as he watched Mark and Toc head for the mess hall.
Mark and Toc did not see the look on Olso's face, nor did they hear the comments muttered by the man, but goodhearted Bert did. Bert watched the pair as they joked and laughed on their way to the mess hall. He knew he would have to keep an eye on Olso.


The Far Road

Sierra paced while Cecil reclined in the chair watching her. This had become a daily habit for them. They rose early everyday to inspect the troops, then they joined the swelling ranks of officers that had flooded the fortress at Red's command. The spent a few hours in the practice yards honing their skills and then the rest of the day was spent learning the ways of the other officers. This part Sierra had found most exhilarating. They were all so different. The Boralon probably the most different of all. Their fierce countenances were intimidating at first, but when she finally met the officer with similar rank to hers she was surprised to find how easily approachable the Boralon were.
Cecil was her constant companion. It had been like that ever since she met him. They just got along so easily. So when she declared that she was going to meet the Boralon he naturally went with her. He knew nothing of the Boralon other than they were fierce fighters and great to have on your side. He also had known that they inhabited the ice plains and were rarely seen anywhere else.
They had gone to Red asking how best to approach the Boralon. He had approved their desire to get to know the other officers and arranged a meeting. They met with Ennapa af Svalur a junior office to the Boralon Commander. She was also eager to meet with the humans.
The meeting had gone well, Cecil and Sierra had been asked just about as many questions about humans as they asked about Boralon. Every day since, the three met and talked. They also practiced sparring. The Boralon rarely used any other weapon beside tooth and nail. They were well trained in a hook like staff that they called the “extended claw,” but that was only used when an enemy remained out of reach of their usual methods.
Watching the Boralon spar was exhilarating. They clashed with tremendous ferocity. Sierra always expected someone to wind up dead or seriously injured. Not that there weren't injuries, but none debilitating or fatal. Sierra felt so tame next to the Boralon warriors. However when she and cecil took out their bow and arrows to do target practice they acquired quite the audience from the Boralon.
With giant paw-like hands ending in razor sharp claws wielding a bow was nearly impossible for them, so they enjoyed watching the humans and dwarves with their smaller more nimble hands. After watching for a few weeks they called for a competition. On a daily basis they had informal competitions for target practice. Then one day Red and the Boralon commander happened to be watching. The Boralon love competition. He and Red decided they would have a garrison wide competition. The events were posted a few days later and the competition would be held in a week.
An excited buzz ran through the fortress. Everyone was allowed to compete, officer down to kitchen help could enter. That was the reason Sierra was pacing. She and Cecil had both entered. Cecil entered for some of the races and a staff sparring competition. Sierra entered all of the marksmanship events. Then she found out that Mark had entered the same ones.
She didn't think he did it for any other reason than he was an expert marksman. She wondered how he would do without a service revolver or a sniper rifle. It frustrated her that she worried about losing to him, and what would happen if she did beat him. The competition had truly become a competition for Sierra.
Cecil and his patience calmed her though. She stopped pacing and looked at him lounged in the chair. He reminded her of a cat, he could make the most uncomfortable spot look ideal for lounging. Also like a cat he had that deadly readiness to spring into action, from abject rest to instant death machine in less than seconds.
Now he sat and watched her. His face an unreadable mask, but he still couldn't hide the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. She glared at him and said, “I know you are laughing behind that mask of stoicism you attempt to show, but your eyes can't hide from me!”
“Aww Sierra,” he purred, “it is not laughter, but delight that shines from my soul through my eyes. That spark is fueled by you and you alone!” he stood up. He was taller than her, but not by much so she could still look him in the eye. He continued, “we can sit here all day while you fret about this guy Mark beating you at a game, or we can go, practice our skill and ensure that he doesn't beat us. Come you have more worries than this competition.” his eyes flashed serious and then returned to their normal open gaze. Commander Dane has called a meeting. It seems there is a group of Boralon who refuses to join us. This has caused rift with the Boralon here. Apparently a delegation of Boralon and Midgaardians will be sent to talk with them. Red will remain here, but it appears that Dane is to head the delegation in conjunction with a Boralon commander. We of course will go as Dane's aide-de-camp.” he snorted, “unless of course we miss the meeting then we could find ourselves in the kitchens scrubbing pots and peeling tubers!”
Sierra laughed and followed him out the door. By the end of the day they had their orders. They ate a hurried dinner at the officers mess and then parted ways to prepare for the journey the next day.

Snow lessons

Hiram woke to a clanging noise. The tip of his nose, the only thing sticking out of the blankets, was cold. It was still dark in his room, except for the fireplace where the coals were still glowing embers. He lay there for a few minutes, not wanting to feel the chill of the morning. The blankets were warm and the bed comfortable. Then the rest of the world came crashing in as a loud pounding threatened to break down his door.
He hollered for the the person on the other side to wait. Grumbling he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His stocking feet immediately found a pair of slippers by the side of the bed. Grumping, he stood up and shuffled to the door where the pounding had resumed. He unlatched the door prepared to scold the servant who dared wake him. Opening the door he was shocked to see a large burly soldier dressed in a mail tunic, and armed for combat raising his fist to bang on the door.
Hiram squeaked. The soldier looked at him impassively and said, “you are being summoned to council librarian. I will wait while you dress and escort you there. They said you are required immediately. Do not tarry.”
Hiram stared at the man. The soldier looked back, his rough face not countenancing any questions. Hiram slammed the door shut and leaned back against it. He had only been at the fortress a few days. He had been properly welcomed by Red and made comfortable, along with George and Tiarna. After that they had been left to their own devices. Hiram had found a wonderful library and had hoped to escape notice there. He chided himself. Red forgot nothing. This was it. His official summons.
On weak wobbly knees he rushed about his little room. He looked ruefully at the fire place wishing for a nice soothing cup of tea before he had to go. Quickly he dressed. He glanced at the sword propped in the corner of the room. He wanted to leave it there. He was tempted to, but he also remembered the approving look from Red when he appeared at the fortress with the sword slung over his back. Sighing he strapped the sword on. He could feel the enchantments reach out to him, he ignored them.
He looked about the room to make sure he didn't forget anything, picked up his satchel with his writing instruments and books. Trying to sling the satchel over his shoulder entangled it with the sword. He sighed. To him it was obvious that his sword and his pen were as opposite as he and a Boralon were.
He opened the door and the soldier grunted in satisfaction. He had to trot to keep up with the long legged fellow. After a few passageways, hallways and flights of stairs, they finally came to a set of large double doors. Simply carved with the crest of Yaweh, they looked solid and formidable, just like the rest of the fortress. Hiram admire the workmanship. However simple the carving, the great skill was evident.
Hiram yelped as George said beside him, “Fabulous work is it not? I'm sorry Hiram, I thought you heard me coming!” George smiled at him and extended his hand.
Hiram snorted and shook Georges hand. He was glad to see the man and looked around for Tiarna. The soldier ushered them both through the door and indicated that they should sit on the benches along the wall. Hiram was delighted to see that it was the benches near the large fireplace. There were a few minor soldiers and milling about the large room.
There were ten high backed chairs behind a long curved table set at the head of the room. The table set up on a dais that stretched the width of the room and had three steps up to it. The walls were of solid granite as was the floor of the room room. The dais itself was made of the same polished granite. Torches lined the walls flanking the table on the dais and lining the chairs on either side were tall oil lamps giving off a faint smell of mint scented oil. The lamps were also simply carved pieces and highly polished.
Rows of backless chairs sat before the table. The chairs were blocks of polished wood as were the benches that Hiram and George sat upon. The room was not exactly cozy warm as Hiram would have liked it, but he did admit the chill would keep him awake.
He whispered to George, “I wonder why we had to be rushed here without even a crust of bread for breakfast?”
George chuckled, “I had breakfast in the mess hall an hour ago. I wondered why you weren't there!”
Hiram grumbled, “I was asleep!”
George pulled a linen napkin from his pocket and unfolded it. He had three hard boiled eggs, a crusty roll and a hunk of cheese. “good thing I thought that might be the case, here I brought you something.”
Hiram looked abashed. “That was very kind of you! Thank you.”
George looked apologetic and said, “unfortunately I couldn't get my hands on a pot of tea so this will have to do and he produced a water skin.
Hiram just grateful for the food, smiled at George and said water would be wonderful. “he took a sip of the water and looked incredulously at George. “where did you get this?” he exclaimed.
George smiled and said, “You will have to ask Ti. Apparently, she is well known to the fairies here.”
Hiram muttered, “I will, apparently Ti has a few secret up her sleeve!” he looked around, “where is she anyways?”
George said, “she left at first light with the delegation going to talk with the rogue Boralon.”
“What!” exclaimed Hiram, “what is she doing going off like that. She isn't even supposed to be here. Neither of you are. As a matter of fact, why are you here at this meeting?” Hiram eyed George suspiciously.
“Apparently,” said George levelly, “Ti and I are supposed to be here. After we visited the oracle Red decided that the path the oracle set Ti and I on coincided with the gathering of forces here.” he shrugged his shoulders, “I really don't understand myself but really, does it matter? We all have a part to play against Rhavidia. I am simply here to do my part.”
Hiram sighed, “I know. I guess I just worry about Tiarna getting herself killed.” he looked bleak, “she is the last of my family. Neither of us ever married or had children and our oldest brother Roald died shortly before our father, and our other brother Avery was lost. We don't even know what happened to him. I was very small when all of that happened. Ti was only a babe. Our mother didn't live long after our father. When they all died, Tiarna and I were raised in the Keep. We weren't treated as normal orphans since we had inherited our families lands and estates, but those have dwindled over the years. Tiarna was not interested in becoming a Lady and I,” he looked at George with a mixture of guilt and sheepishness, “I never wanted to be a hero.”
George clapped him on the back. “A lover, not a fighter. Hiram you would have been a hero to the sixties peace movement. Move over Timothy Leary!”
Hiram looked at George, puzzled, “What ever are you talking about? 1160? that was probably the bloodiest era in Midgaard History with civil wars, Hells minions overrunning the world and a general lack of civility!”
George laughed, “No Hiram, I speak of recent earth history and my own youth.” he shook his head and said, “maybe someday we can swap childhood histories.” a look of thoughtfulness came over Georges face.
Suspicious Hiram said, “What?”
“Oh I was just wondering if the library had any earthen books in its inventory.” he shrugged. “It will have to wait I guess.”
Hiram shook his head, “The things you wonder about George...”
With that the room began to buzz. More people had arrived and the chairs were filling up with ranking officers a few nobles and a sorcerer in the robes of his sect. A liveried herald entered the room and blew three short blasts on his trumpet, calling attention to the doors.
In a booming voice that belied his skinny frame he announced the arrival of the commanding officers of the Boralon, Midgaardian and outland armies. They processed to the table and stood at their chairs. Finally the herald announced the entrance of Retta Efta Gao. George was startled to see Red stride through the door and up the carpeted walkway to the table. He was dressed in deeply crimson robes, embroidered with the crest of Yaweh. Atop his head was a circlet of gold with an angel, wings outstretched its hands folded in prayer at the front of the circlet.
As Red faced the crowd all dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. He raised everyone with his hands and they shouted, “All Hail the Hand of Yaweh!” three times. With that he walked to his seat and sat. Everyone followed his example.
George looked at Hiram and whispered, “What did they call him?”
Hiram whispered back, “Retta Efta Gao, the hand of Yaweh. It's his official title. He rarely uses it. Something important is happening.” Hiram looked around, “I'll tell you more later.”
George nodded.
Red opened the meeting with a prayer to Yaweh. Then he called them all to silence while they each reflected on their purpose for being called to the ice fortress. Then he spoke, “This delegation has been formed to amass an army to hold back the forces of Rhavidia. We will defeat her with the grace of Yaweh on our side. But even though it is Yaweh we fight for we also fight for our world. For our very existance. There are those Yaweh has sent to aid us and defeat Rhavidia. They are spoken of in prophecy and that prophecy has been initiated. Our purpose is o ensure they remain safe so that they may reach their appointment with Rhavidia.”
At this a murmur went through the crowd. George heard people speculating on who these heroes were. He felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt that Red referred to him and the others. He felt a weight of responsibility descend upon him. He didn't even know what he was supposed to do or where he was to go.
Red continued to discuss strategy, itinerary and where the army was headed and the other groups they would collect along the way, but George only heard bits and pieces. He knew Sierra had been in the fortress when he first arrived. They had waved to each other in the mess hall, but they hadn't spoken. He knew the kids were safe in The Keep, he had no idea what had become of Brett and he had heard that Margo was studying to be a sorceress, at least she had been. He had not inquired about her from Ti. Suddenly he felt he needed to reconnect with all of them.
He studied Hiram as he watched the proceedings. Hiram had a mixture of excitement and fear etched on his face, in fact if George didn't know better he thought Hiram looked eager to be a part of the battles red was talking about fighting.
So far the man had a way to go before he could wield anything other than a wooden practice sword. Though George had to credit him with trying. He wondered how many bruises Hiram had. George had quite a few bruises of his own.
His mind wandered back to what it was he would be expected to do. He listened half heartedly to the rest of the planning. He thought about his kids. What were they doing. He had been in Midgaard for several years now. He had learned a lot of the history of Midgaard and particularly of Yaweh, especially those weeks he, Hiram and Ti had been pouring over the books looking for answers. He did have to admit that remembering what he had read and learned seemed to stick with him easier than it did when he was on earth. In fact, as he thought about the books they had read through, George could actually remember the words he had read.
Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts when Hiram hissed at him, “Hey are you going to answer him or not?”
George looked around, all eyes were on him. He looked at Hiram who urged him to stand up. “what do I say? What was the question?” he hissed back. George slowly stood up as Hiram said, “He asked where you came from.”
Startled George looked about the room, his mind racing. Finally his mouth opened and he felt as if he was watching some stranger speak. “Where I came from?” he shook his head, “I'm not sure many of you would be able to fathom where I came from and I do not mean that as an insult, I myself have resigned myself to the fact that I will never understand exactly the how or why. I have learned to accept what 'is' as Yaweh's desire.” he paused and drew a deep breath. “as near as I can tell I come from not only another planet, but another reality.” he glanced at Red hoping for some sign, but Red stared impassively back, neither acknowledging nor denying what he said. George continued. He felt like a man walking through a marsh and trying to evade quicksand pits. “My life, experience has been so vastly different from anything I experienced here. I have seen things, done things and been places that would make absolutely no sense here.” he chuckled “I even used to go camping with my children for fun.” at that people actually gasped as if he were mad.
George walked around a bit to get his thoughts in order. He stopped pacing and swept his eyes over the room, “It appears Yaweh has pulled me and others here for the purpose of defeating Rhavidia.” he held up his hands “why me? Why them? I ask. What is there about us that sets us apart from the rest of Midgaard? There are others here, not many, maybe a lot of you, who have also arrived from other worlds, other realities, other times, so again I question, why us?” he looked at Red again. A slight shake of his head let George know he was not privy to that information from Yaweh either, Hand of Yaweh or not.
George nodded almost to himself and then said,”All I know is that I have been given a second life. My first life was fulfilling and I look back on it and I feel I truly lived. I raised three children, married the love of my life, so to have another opportunity to live another full life? I feel blessed. Therefore what do I have to lose if I am asked to defeat an evil that threatens this world.” George felt spent, for a third time he looked at Red.
Red said, “Well said, George, truly Yaweh's blessing is upon us all through you. He turned to the rest of the room and said, “We have heard from a man who has had no reason to rise up and put his life on the line with us except that he recognizes Yaweh's will upon him. How can any of us do less?” the room room was silent, as if everyone were made of stone, and not daring to breath. “As Retta Efta Gao, I impress upon you the need to search your hearts and pledge to not only Yaweh, but your own need to preserve Midgaard and our world for the good of our peoples. Then I ask you to consider that beyond our own lives here we fight for those other worlds, that until today many of you did not even know existed. The fate of the universe that is Yaweh, rests upon us. For truly we are the center of the universe, we are the beginning, the world of Yaweh's imagination. It is here that the fallen ones exist fully. It is here that the mysteries of Yaweh exist in true for. Our world is the source.”
At this murmurs sprang up. George looked at Hiram. Hiram looked as if Red had just leaked the secret of the century. Red spoke again, “therefore, those of you who have been born and raised here are only at the beginning of your existence. Those such as George and his companions began here so long ago that even so deeply their souls don't even remember that far back, but they are here because they have fought this fight before and have been victorious. Yaweh brings them back, to fight again. They are the original champions of Yaweh and will be yet again.”
Dumbfounded, George just stared at Red. A great clamor rose among those in the hall. Hiram's accusatory gaze at Red switched to a gaze of pure wonder at George.
George felt like he was suffocating. He backed toward the door. Why did he have to hear this alone. Why were the others not here to receive this information. He ducked through the door. A glance back, and his eyes locked with Red's eyes. Those eyes pierced his soul. Then George fled. His mind was a mass of tangled thoughts and emotions. He was so overwhelmed he couldn't sort them out. He wandered the corridors of the fortress, not paying any attention to where he was going. He felt emotions of fear, anger, sadness, wonder, incredulity and disbelief coursed through him. When he finally felt himself spent he slumped up against a thick stone wall in a dimly lit corridor. At the end of the tapestry draped corridor was a stout wooden door. Undecorated like many other doors in the fortress this one had a purely utilitarian look about it, down to a simple leather strap to pull the door open.
In the wake of maddening emotion he numbly, with a budding curiosity, went to the door and pulled it open. A frosty breeze set the torches in the corridor flickering. George peered through the doorway, but only a dark passage stared back. He closed the door, intending to find his way back when a sharp gust of wind flung the door back open and a he heard his name murmured on the tail of the wind that continued to buffet the corridor.
The skin on his arms rose to bumps and not for the cold alone. The voice sounded hauntingly familiar. Another gust, stronger than the last swept through dousing the already sputtering torches. For a moment the frosty cold was all george could feel in the ensuing darkness. Fear tried to crawl up his spine and wrap around his heart and lungs. He closed his eyes and reopened them hoping the darkness would abate somewhat. The darkness enveloped him completely. He reached out one hand and groped for the wall.
Again that familiar voice wafted on a frosty breeze to him, this time he knew the voice. Fear and longing clutched at him. He placed one step in the direction of the breeze. The voice called his name. He threw off fear, with one hand on the wall he lurched through the darkness toward the voice. He felt the door as he reached the doorway and then he was past the doorway, the corridor ended in stone stairs he discovered when he barked his shins on the first step. Carefully he climbed the stairs that twisted upwards through the darkness. As he climbed he became aware that the darkness was lessening and that through randomly placed narrow windows he could see the stars shining. He assumed he was climbing up one of the towers of the fortress.
Soon the stairs stopped in a circular room with murder holes placed about the room. Frosty wind whipped through the room. In the center was a wooden ladder leading upwards. Her voice rode upon the wind calling him upwards. “I'm coming!” he called placing his foot on the ladder.
He hadn't realized how cold he had gotten. His hands slipped on the frosted wood, he clutched on with stiff fingers as the wind buffeted him. Finally he pushed open the trap door and emerged at the top of the tower. The glorious canopy of glittering stars seemed to surround him on this small platform encircled by a low wall. The moon, just rising over the horizon looked huge and bathed the wintery landscape in its enchanting glow. He felt he had never seen such a beautifully frozen sight in his whole life. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he would not survive long up here.
The voice had stopped. He felt a sadness and wondered if his distraught imagination had led him to this dangerous place. Then a prickling at the back of his neck made him turn slowly around. There in the glow of the moon stood his wife. As beautiful as the day they married, but somehow more. She smiled at him and held her hands out to him. His heart caught in his throat.
“Ethel?” he whispered, his voice trembling.
She nodded and in that unearthly whisper she said, “George, my love, I have been given this gift to visit you and give you a message from Yaweh.” she glided toward him on the moonlight. Her face perfect, the blemishes of life erased, the care, the wasting from the cancer all gone. He drank in the sight of her. He fell to his knees overwhelmed. She came to him, took her hands in his, kissed his face with her perfect lips. Breathed on him with the scent of wildflowers. He felt the warmth of heaven emit from her. He stopped shivering and noticed that he was no longer on top of the icy tower, but lay with his head in her lap atop a grassy knoll in a field of endless flowers. Sun shined warmly on them. Her eyes sparkled with the joy and peace of heaven.
George wanted to remain forever with her. She shook her head and laughed, “My darling, you have a task before you. If you stay here you will never complete the task and all this will be gone.” sadness etched those perfect green eyes and large tears dropped on his face.
George sighed, “what is it Yaweh asks of me?”
“The key you seek is here,” she handed him a small scroll of parchment, “and the place of return is here.” She handed him a dagger a with a small carved cherub perched on the hilt. She then said, “we have a few moments more, but then I must return you.” he opened his mouth to speak, “this gift I leave with you,” from a pocket she pulled a small little box. She flipped the latch and the box unfolded to form a disc the size of her palm. Hovering above the disk were their three kids. A miniature hologram showing what each was doing at that moment.
He looked at her in amazement. She laughed delightedly. “I made it myself,” she said. She pulled it's twin from her other pocket. “it keeps me close to all four of you.” she replaced hers back in her pocket. “Now my love, I have kept you too long. It would seem that we are in a warm sunny field, but truly your body remains atop that cold turret. You must get back so that you do not freeze to death!”
“Wait!” he cried, but the meadow began to recede as the ice cold of the ice plains reclaimed their hold on him. He was still on his knees reaching for the moon, when he realized she was gone. Icy wind whipped around him, his tears frozen tracks on his face. He opened his hand to reveal the small box she had given him, his outstretched hand clutching the dagger and parchment. He stuffed the box and dagger into a tunic pocket and the dagger in his belt. He crawled to the trap door and nearly fell down the treacherous ladder.
He rested huddling at the bottom trying to reclaim some of his heat when he heard boots pounding up the stairs. Torchlight bobbed up the stairway ahead of the booted feet. Several of the fortress guards spilled into the tower room, Hiram piled in on their wake. “Thank Yaweh we found you!” he helped George up. “Red is looking for you! You had us all worried!”
George glanced up the ladder, he thought he smelled wildflowers, but the only light came from the acrid smelling torches. He sighed and let one of the guards help him down the stairs, Hiram scolding him all the way down.


Back Trek
Their group had gotten larger as they pushed on towards Midgaard village. Signs of Rhavidia's influence was evident in raids to outlying farms and small villages. Margo, Melebry, Reyla and Marie felt as if they were forcing their way through a mire pit of Rhavidia's depredations. Everyday they were helping people who had lost family members, their farms or even their health. The ratag bunch that had come together in the bowls of a volcano had grown to quite the exodus of refugees, orphans and wounded.
They brothers had taken the older boys and girls in hand and were teaching them how to make bows and arrows and short spears, then teaching them how to use them. Some of their charges were woman who's men had been conscripted by Rhavidia's army. These woman lost not only husbands but some of them their children and other close family members. They took solace in each others company and had banded together to take care of the orphans they collected as they went towards Midgaard Village.
Margo had recovered from her battle with Amanda, at least physically. She also had acquired a sense of confidence that she could handle the power available to her through Yaweh. However, her dreams continued to haunt her. She also had a hard time with her ability to separate from her body and scout ahead. When she spoke to Reyla about it she said it felt like when she tried it was as if she had already been out of body and worn out from it.
Reyla suggested that her dreams were not dreams but instead of leaving her body to scout ahead, she was actually straddling worlds in her dreams.
Margo thought that could account for how tired she felt. Maybe she wasn't getting enough sleep. Not for the first time did Reyla urge her to speak to Melebry about it. For some reason Margo felt awkward discussing it with anyone else. Deep down she suspected she didn't want to think her mother sat by her bedside in a hospital.
As it was it was Melebry that forced it out of her. They had just arrived at a village and were considering whether they should inquire about places to sleep or just buy supplies and camp in the woods just beyond the village when a young boy came running into the town center and started ringing the alarm bell. The village people went into action. They pulled their wooden gates too, the adults secured the perimeter just inside the walls. Women and teens manned the well with a ready at the moment bucket brigade. Young kids remained by the men at the walls ready to refill quivers and light arrows.
Quickly Marie jumped into action, organizing their own people to help the villagers fortify the walls. Melebry, Reyla and Margo each stationed themselves where they could throw fireballs at whatever hordes Rhavidia decided to send.
Klikmols began bombarding the walls immediately followed by the undead warriors. The fight lasted a very short time. Masters Tiloc and Kumu said that the band of enemy were probably a group that had become separated from the main horde. They hoped that the main horde was going in a different direction, but the looks on their faces said they weren't hopeful. As it was they decided it would be a good idea to supplement the villages sentries with patrol sentries to sweep the area and see which way the main horde was headed. They sent out three scouting parties. It was decided among the village mayor and head woman that they would remain in the village until the scout parties came back with good information.
Margo hurried to the Almunnur, or what she thought of as the community center. The village council was meeting. They wanted Masters Tiloc, Kumu and the sorceresses to attend. As she approached the door she saw Marie also hurrying to the almunnur. She waited by the door for the woman. She liked Marie. She found her to be a smart no nonsense person with good common sense. Marie usually shrugged off Margo's compliments by saying she had run an Inn for enough years to have learned something. Margo got the feeling the woman looked at her as a wet behind the ears kid.
She sighed as Marie entered the almunnur with a slight acknowledgement that she was there. Margo had no idea what she was doing wrong. She followed Marie. The interior was dimly lit with large candles. Tall lamps remained unlit as the village had not received any oil for the lamps in weeks. Trade had all but vanished with the arrival of Rhavidia's horde.
The one room building, although the largest building in the village, was filled to capacity. Margo wended her way through the towns folk to reach Melebry's side. She had lost Marie in the crowd. The mayor stood on a crate so everyone could see him. His bushy head of white hair brushed the rafters above him. He held a candle in one hand. Margo assumed to make him easier to see.
He looked about the room and when he was satisfied everyone was there he began. “Friends, Family and guests,” he began, “things look bleak for us. One of the scouting parties returned early this morning.” he cleared his throat, “One of the parties is over due and the other has been taken by the horde.”
Everyone began talking at once, someone shouted that they need to form a rescue mission. The mayor was shouting for quiet and holding up his free hand. Finally everyone quieted as he said, “Sorry Bill I know your boy Luka was with the party that was taken. We are all sorry about that,” murmurs of sympathy traveled through the room, “but the reality is,” the mayor pushed on,” the horde is just too massive. They have overrun every village from the southern coast to here. Some of those villages were bigger and better fortified than ours.” he let the reality of his words sink in before continuing.
“What are you saying then?” shouted someone from the crowd.
A dreadful look passed across the mayors face, “We have choices my friends, they are not ideal or even good choices, but we have choices.” everyone seemed to hold their breath. Margo was impressed at the mans ability to capture everyone's attention, like a stage actor. “Folks, we can stay here, risk capture or die defending our homes and village, or we can try to outrun this horde and flee to Midgaard Village.”
This time he let folks carry on with their talking and discussing, before holding up his hands. “According to the scouting party that returned the horde is about five days south. The raiding party that attacked was just an advance to see what was ahead of them. If we leave now, we will have a few days on them. A horde that huge doesn't move fast, however, they will have smaller and faster and very deadly raiding parties in advance.” he took a deep breath, “we have enough provisions to maybe hold us here for a month. I honestly don't think we have a month, a few days at best before we are overrun by the horde.” He stood silent for a moment, his face grim as he looked at all those around him. “Whatever we choose, our lives as we know them are over. Go speak with your families. We will meet back here when the sun sets low in the west. At that time we will decide the course of our village.”
People rapidly dispersed, hurrying back to their homes to confer with their families. Melebry, Margo, Tiloc and Kumu stood quietly. They would be leaving at first light despite what the villagers decided. The scout party that had returned was theirs. Margo saw Marie talking to the village head woman. The woman was nodding at Marie. She then turned and hurried from the almunnur. Marie walked over to Margo's group. She said, “Madame Merche will provide us with the supplies we need to continue our trek to Midgaard Village.”
Melebry nodded and thanked her. She turned to Margo and said, “Come with me we have things to do before we go.” Margo followed Melebry out of the almunnur as she heard Marie say to the masters, “Have we heard from the missing scout party yet?” Margo was already out the door before they could reply.
Melebry strode quickly and Margo had to trot to keep up. She was muttering the whole time about fools and idiots. Margo had no idea what she was talking about. They climbed the steps to the Inn and breezed through the common room to the kitchen. And then out to the stables. When they entered the stable a hideous smell nearly gagged Margo. Melebry only wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant smell. Covering her nose with her hand, Margo tried to see in the dim light.
She followed Melebry to the farthest stall and peered in. Lying on the floor of the stall was a twisted torn up piece of flesh. The brothers were hovering over a small mewling creature covered in straw. Despite the desire to retch at the smell and the mutilated body, curiosity won over, “What is it? “she mumbled through her hand.
The brothers looked up at Melebry sheepishly and then beamed at Margo, “we caught a baby griffin” exclaimed Piotr. Jan the quieter of the two just grinned from ear to ear.
Pointing to the corpse she said, “whats that?”
“Oh well now, that's a dead troll. We caught the we one feeding on it. We brought it along with us until we could get it better meals.” said Jan.
Margo winced, “does it always require such foul smelling meals?”
Melebry grunted and snapped, “ you two need to clean this up and prepare to march. We leave early. Master Tiloc wants to leave at first light, you can guarantee I will persuade him to leave sooner!” she glared at the twins and then the griffin, “If that creature so much as steps one claw out of line I will blast it!” she warned.
The twins fell over each other promising her they would look after it and keep a close watch on it. Melebry strode out of the stable. Margo hand, pressed tightly to her nose and mouth stared at the little creature, no bigger than the size of a ten week old Labrador puppy and watched as it tore at the carcass with it beak and talons. Happy squawks and growls issuing from it. The twins watched it like adoring parents. She was about to ask them a question when Melebry popped her head back in the door, “Are you coming or are you going to waste your time with that beast?”
One last look at the creature and she hurried out the door in Melebry's wake.
Melebry growled, “those two are going to get us captured for sure!”
“Why did you let them keep it then?” she asked.
More grumping and growling and then she said, “Griffin's are rare creatures. It's actually a good omen for us and,” testily she added, “It may actually save our bacon.”
Margo's eyes widened. “How!” she exclaimed.
Melebry sighed and slowed to a stop. She paced for a minute then rounded on Margo, “look I'm not exactly sure with out consulting my books or the library, but Griffin's have special abilities that once they are full grown may aide in our struggle with Rhavidia.” with a look of exasperation she said, “What I would truly like to know is where it came from and where the main eyrie is.” she waved her arms, “there are no lofty spires here. Ok maybe an adult would be found at this low elevation, but not a hatchling! So how did it get here? Where are it's parents and if it had been capture by the horde, are they looking for it.” This last caused her to have a dour look on her face.
Margo just stared at her. She still had so much to learn about Midgaard!
By the time the sun was low in the west and the village council was gathering, Margo and Melebry had rounded up their small group. They stood waiting for the decision of the council.
As they waited for the council to reconvene, the overdue scout party came straggling in. Their leader was limping and two others were carrying a third. People rushed to help them while the leader went to the mayor to make his report.
The village head woman brought him a mug of ale to slake his thirst before he spoke. The villagers crowded around and the council had spilled out of the almunnur to hear what he had to say.
The young man looked as if he had been drug through a mill, but when he spoke his eyes were clear and his voice strong. He looked at Sola and Amar, two of the warriors from Margo's group, as he spoke as if daring them to dispute what he saw. The two warriors stood like cats totally relaxed, but able to move in a heartbeat if they needed to, their faces impassive and hard.
The young man said, “We parted ways with the other two scouting parties at the river.” he indicated the south with his hand, “Before we had gone a league we began to find unusual tracks. Tracks of beasts that we could not identify other than klikmol, troll and undead tracks. There we paw prints of three toed beasts and hoof marks cloven twice, there were even what appeared to be hand prints. We tried not to imagine what could possibly make those kinds of tracks.” he looked around and saw fear in the eyes of the villagers, Margo felt her heart thudding in her throat at his descriptions. She tried to remind herself that they were here an intact and that whatever befell them they were able to escape.
He continued, as if reciting a bards tale without emotion, “We followed the tracks for about two leagues when they parted into two parties. At that point we were unsure if we should continue, split up or just follow one set. We decided to follow the smaller set of tracks.” He glanced at one of the other scouts with him. The other scout nodded at him, encouraging him to continue. “Anyhow, we made a lucky choice. Apparently our quarry had figured out we were following them and one group had parted off and were coming back around behind us. The main party seemed to have a mission and kept going. They ambushed us when we realized we were covering ground we had previously been over.” he took a long drink of the ale. His hand was shaking. Margo found that she was clutching her hands to her breast in fear. She forced herself to relax and put her hands down at her sides. She was relieved to see she wasn't the only one.
He related the ambushing and they were able to kill the ambushers but it was obvious with a severely injured member of their party they couldn't continue. They had to keep stopping and resting and a couple of times they had to hide from other raiding parties. He finished his mug and stared into it as if wishing he could drown the memories in it. The crowd murmured about what they heard. Margo looked at Melebry, Tiloc and Kumu. They all wore hard expressions on their faces. Melebry almost had a smug 'I told you so' look.
Margo glanced at her companions. Professor Minnis and the other librarian Saru had their heads together. Margo disregarded them, they both relatively stand offish and didn't really talk to anyone except Melebry and ht Margo suspected that was because of Melebry's status on Yaweh's council.
The mayor had a crate brought out so that he could be seen above the crowd. He held up his hands and asked for silence. He folded his hands together and placed them in front of his lips, looking at each member of the crowd personally. Spreading his hands, he said, “We have heard from the scout party of our guests,” he swung one hand in the general direction of Margo and her group, “and we have heard from one of our own scouting parties,” He placed a hand on the shoulder of the young man who had spoken. “with the information presented to us we need to decide as a village what we will do.” he paused and drew a great breath, “Our guests have invited us to join their group and head toward Midgaard Village, our other choice is to remain here and defend our homes. I have asked you to confer with your families and come back to voice your opinions. Now to add one thing further. The majority rules, however, in this case whatever the group decides if you and your family want to stay or leave, no one will object. Just remember safety lie in numbers.”
The mayor bent down to listen to an elderly man that had approached his crate and whispered in his ear. A look of sadness came over the mayors face as he straightened up. Again he held his hands aloft asking for silence and attention, “Folks it seems young Arin Marsh has just succumbed to his wounds and passed on to Yaweh's realm. A groan issued from the crowd. The mayor looked toward the west and said, “it is getting late, our guests intend to be on their way this evening,” all heads swiveled in the direction of Margo and her little band, “They will wait until first light if we decide to join them.”
With that the mayor stepped down off his crate. The crowd milled about talking amongst themselves finally one of the village council members climbed up onto the crate with the help of some of the other villagers. He was very elderly and someone had to remain next to the crate keeping him steady so he wouldn't topple off. His voice was as weak and wobbly as he was. Only the people up close could hear him, but when the information trickled back, Margo was astonished to hear that most everyone voted to stay and protect their village. She looked at Melebry in surprise. What surprised her more was that Melebry had expected the vote.
Loudly Melebry's voice rose, “I can't say that I don't understand why you would choose to stay, for all your lives and the lives of your parents and their parents you have lived in this village, raised your families, and taught your children. Many of you feel the ties to your homes tightly bonding you, others think that maybe Rhavidia and her hordes will pass you by, you reason that your so small what could they possibly want with you? But consider this, Rhavidia consumes power, her power lies in numbers. So what if most of her numbers are slaves, slaves are a cheap expendable source of labor. Slaves will provide arms for her armies, feed for some of her horde and conscripts to fight Midgaard.” She glared around at the crowd, “You may reckon yourselves inconsequential to her hordes, but to Rhavidia each an everyone of you has potential to further her cause.”
Melebry shook her head as they all stared at her as if she spoke blasphemy. “One last thing, We,” and she indicated the group of them, “welcome any and all who would go to Midgaard, not only to safety but to provide assistance to a cause that will ensure the return of your lands and village once Rhavidia is defeated.” No one made a sound. Melebry nodded as if she expected nothing less. “Very well then,” her voice the epitome of resignation, she turned to her little band, “We leave within the hour.” Masters Kumu and Tiloc nodded in agreement. She turned to the innkeeper and said, “Mistress Abel I would still like to purchase that pack horse from you and whatever supplies you can part with.” with that she strode back to the Inn, Margo and the other two sorceresses followed in her wake.

School again

Brett and the cats had gone to visit May Daw everyday. He enjoyed her company, the stories of Midgaard and Onala Bay, and he enjoyed learning about the plants and herbs she cultivated in her nursery and greenhouse. He hoped everyday that she would have some word from her friend, but after the first time she scolded him for impatience, he didn't ask her again. It hung there between them. He had stayed away for a couple of days when she told him that she had other business to attend to. May Daw was full of information, but Brett learned the hard way that she only parted with what she knew on her her own terms.
May was a flamboyant lady. He swore that every time he saw her she introduced him to a new hue of purple or red or yellow. Those eye jarring colors seemed to be her favorite. So when he walked into the flower shop one day he was shocked to see her dressed in somber black. She was dressed like a high lady going to court. Indeed she informed him that she had been summoned by no other than the clerk of S'joa Rao'amaor himself. She wore a long tailored dress with a slit that ran up the side to just above her knee. He had never noticed the shapeliness of her legs before, especially with the high heels on her feet. The bodice of her gown fit snugly over her full bosom, something else he had failed to notice in her typically brightly colored garb. Her graying hair normally falling out of it's makeshift bun, was swept up and pinned beneath a wide brimmed hat. The hat pulled low coquetishly hid her features. A long black plume swept up and back from the hat giving her a distinctly elegant look.
He almost didn't recognize her at first. She smiled at him and then said, “Oh quit gawking I'm old enough to be your grandmother on earth and your great great grandmother here”!Then she laughed delightedly pulling on elbow length gloves. “Do I really look that good?” she asked?
He nodded, not having anything decent to say. He thought she looked amazing, even with the off putting comment about being old enough to be a grandmother.
“Well then my young friend, be a dear and help me on with my cloak.” he helped her with the heavy fur lined silk cloak. He fastened it at the neck with the mother of pearl broach she handed him. He noticed that it had purples and greens swirling through it. That made him smile, May Daw wouldn't change completely for anyone, not even the High Steward of Onala Bay.
She walked gingerly to the door and selected an ebony walking stick out of the walking stick vase. Then she turned to him, “Well are you coming or not? I really can't totter there all by my self, I'm liable to break a leg or my neck traipsing about in these stilts!”
He hurried to hold out his arm for her. He felt like he was escorting a queen.
They strolled slowly toward the palace. It was a beautiful day, with only a few gusty breezes. The sun was bright in the sky although it's warmth did not seem to affect Onala Bay. Their breath still plumed before them as they made their way along the cobbled streets. They remained on the main streets as they had been cleared of snow and ice, while many of the narrower back roads and alleys had snow or mud.
At one point Brett forgot himself and asked May why she had been summoned to the palace. One look and he did not broach the subject again. She did chatter along the way about some rare seeds she had just received from Midgaard. She asked him how the beasty was and the cats. She even inquired about Bria and asked why he never brought he along. The funny thing was she kept talking even when he tried to answer her. He decided that for what ever reason she had been summoned, she must be nervous.
He smiled and murmured replies, hoping to soothe her nerves. When he caught her eye he could see a feverish glint of worry and a tightness about her mouth, but she kept her voice smooth and untroubled.
They climbed the steps to the palace, but instead of walking straight up to the brass bound ornately carved double doors that stood at least fifteen feet high, they walked down the colonnaded corridor to a much smaller man sized door. It too was carved, but it looked quite plain after the giant ceremonial doors. May explained that those doors only opened for royal procession once a year.
She had him open the door, he had planned to knock, but she said it was ok to just open it. They entered a small foyer that led to a larger set of double doors. These were manned by two servants. One said, “Please state your business.”
May answered, “I'm May Daw and this is my escort. I have an appointment with the clerk to S'joa Rao'amaor. The other servant opened the door and indicated that they should sit on the chairs lining the long corridor of polished marble. The other servant had already disappeared down the corridor.
May sat in one of the cushioned chairs. She sat stiffly her back straight, and on the edge of the chair. Brett remained standing. All along the high vaulted corridor were small niches with various pieces of art work. Tall torch lamps lined the corridor and provided a flickering light. Three giant chandeliers hung at evenly spaced intervals and also lit the corridor. The floor was also made of polished marble. Again he was struck by the opulence of the palace.
May hissed at him nervously, “Come sit down like you were told. I don't want to start my appointment with my escort getting in trouble!”
He hurried back over to her and sat down. He said, “I'm sorry but there is so much to look at. This place is absolutely beautiful.”
She nodded curtly, but said, “Yes it is but they don't like anyone just wandering about. It's best not to look too much.”
The first servant came back, but he didn't say anything to them, just slipped back through the door. Brett fidgeted as he sat, twirling his thumbs and tapping his foot. May continued to sit in her rigid pose on the edge of her chair. Finally when Brett thought he could sit no longer another servant dressed in different livery strode down the hall. She stopped in front of them. She looked down her very long narrow nose and in a stuffy voice said, “May Daw and escort” she wrinkled her nose at the last as if just acknowledging Brett smelled bad.
Nervously May tottered up in those heels she wasn't used to and clutched at his arm.
“Follow me,” intoned the servant, “and keep up I can't have you getting lost in here and the Clerk is a busy man.” she looked dubiously at May in her heels.
Clearly the woman was starting to wear on May, for a moment he was sure she was about to deliver a tongue lashing. But he saw her swallow whatever she had been about to say and smooth the irritated features from her face. She did however clutch his arm and whispered a dire warning to him, “Let me fall and I will give you what I intended for her!”
Brett wanted to chuckle, but he stifled it and concentrated on keeping May from twisting an ankle in those shoes.
Fortunately they didn't have to go far and despite the threatening looks, the servant actually set a reasonable pace. By the time they reached the office of the clerk, May was only lightly holding on to his arm and starting to walk as if she had always worn heels.
The haughty servant opened the door and ushered them in to a small waiting room. She brushed passed them and rapped on the inner door to the clerks office. They heard a man say enter so she opened the door and let them in. Brett looked back and saw her take a seat on a high backed chair next to the door. She promptly ignored him as if he no longer existed.
The office of the clerk was simple compared to the surrounding opulence of the palace. There were bookcases lining the walls and jammed with books. To windows sat high near the ceiling opposite of the door they walked through. In the center of the room was a modest sized desk cluttered with scrolls, books and other miscellaneous objects. A tall dour looking man in dark blue robes sat in the high backed chair behind the desk. His balding gray haired head bent over a document he was reading gleamed in the flickering lamplight.
He looked up when they entered. He stood and smiled broadly at May. His smile washed the dour pasty look off his face and made him look friendly. Brett noticed he had the same straight long nose as the servant outside the door. He wondered if they were related.
“May Daw! It is a pleasure to see you again.” he cried, “Please come have a seat and lets talk.” he directed her over near a cheerful fireplace with two comfortable looking chairs and a small table. On the table was a simple tray with a teapot and tiny porcelain teacups.” The man even smiled at Brett and drew up a stool for him to sit on. Once they were settled and teacup in hand, Brett fearful he would drop the cup, the clerk said, “So May, introduce your young friend here.”
May grinned her roguish grin at him. “Alfred this is the young man I wrote to you about, he comes from my world. His name is Brett.”
Brett shook the mans hand and noticed that the clerk had a grip of iron. He said, “Pleased to meet you sir.”
Alfred clutched his hand for a long moment and stared into his eyes, then he released his hand and turned to May, “So you think he is the one our friend has been waiting for all these years?”
May nodded her head vigorously, “I do Al, he passes all the tests, and just like the prophecy said, he would be accompanied everywhere by felines.”
“So where are the felines?” asked Alfred looking around.
Brett spoke up, “I left them at the inn today. May told me to dress up. She said we were going somewhere special today and I wasn't sure if cats would be allowed, so I asked them to remain at the inn. They seemed pretty happy to do so. They really enjoy curling up in front of the fire.” he smiled.
Alfred nodded slowly as if Brett had just answered a test question. He wasn't entirely certain he hadn't from the pleased look on May's face.
“May I ask a question?” said Brett looking quickly to May and then back at Alfred.
“What would you ask young Brett?” said Alfred in the professorish voice.
“Why exactly am I here and who is waiting for me?”
Alfred chuckled, but didn't answer the question. He turned instead to May. Did you see Sylvie? She has grown to quite a woman has she not?”
May's eyes widened, she pointed to the door, “That was little Sylvie? Why she has grown to a beautiful lady!” said May politely.
Alfred beamed as only a proud father could, “She is my aide for now, but she is destined for better. She does chaff a bit at having to run errands for her father, but she will complete her studies in a few months and then she will travel to the Surematu Saar and begin her apprenticeship.”
Brett sat irritated that he was being ignored, but after spending time with May he knew better than to voice his impatience. Instead he looked around the room, bored with the conversation regarding the haughty daughter of Alfred. “He seems so immature May, are you sure?” murmured Alfred. Brett turned to glare at Alfred only to find both Alfred and May looking at him like a lost puppy in the pound. He gave May a look of longing, longing to be away from the palace, the imperial attitude of the clerks daughter and the sinking feeling that May was getting him into something he knew nothing about.
Alfred shrugged his shoulders and stood up. “Very well May, your judgment has always been good in my opinion and on this you are the expert. I will send for the both of you in a few days once I have made the preparations. I will have to gather things together and get my affairs in order.” He looked pointedly at Brett, “Is there anyone you need to notify?”
Brett was dumbfounded, “Notify about what?” He asked suspiciously. May and Alfred exchanged long suffering looks. “If you are going to study with the Beast Master we have to go to her, it's not like she just traipses into town for just anyone. Even the High Steward goes to her,” he said with disdain.
Brett looked at May for help. She just smiled happily at him. Suddenly Brett felt completely on his own. He drew himself up, swallowed his anger and folded his arms across his chest. He realized that if he stood up straight he was actually taller than the clerk. For once he wanted the upper hand. He was tired of everyone pushing him this way and pulling him that way.
“Apparently you both have seen fit to take control of my life, without so much as a 'Hey Brett what do you feel about learning from a beast master?' Do you suppose someone could have included me in these decisions?” His eyes flashed from one to the other. He was happy to see some guilt and some shame. He just hoped it would last.
“You're right,” said May with a voice full of remorse. “I should have let you in on what was going on, but then,” her tone changed to business-like “How could I really be sure you are who you are without doing as I have done?” she held her hands out with an innocent look in her eye.
Brett had come to know that look. He also knew he couldn't win against that look. Deflated he said, “Very well, just keep me informed from here on out. He glared at Alfred, “Truly I am not alone. I am traveling with others and they do need to know what I am doing, so before we leave here today I will require enough information to let my traveling party know whats going on. I mean, how long will I be gone? Where am I going? Why? Why me for that matter?”
Alfred clasp his hands together and said, “Very well we can accommodate your wishes except for the location of where you will be. That is the only information I am not at liberty to give” he held up his hand and inclined his head when Brett began to protest, “Ah ah ahh, It Is not my place to divulge the location of the beast master the Dyr Kennari. She does not give that information either. She simply arranges a meeting place and she interviews you.” here his face turned worried and he glanced at May before continuing, “If she finds we are wasting her time she will punish us.” his tone almost became pleading, “You will try your best I trust?”
Brett looked at him as if he were an odd bug that started to bark. “Sure,” he said, “I give my word.”
Relief washed across Alfred's features. Brett rolled his eyes. No for the last time did he wonder what he was getting into now.
As he escorted May Daw back to her shop, she chatted cheerfully about meeting the Dyr Kennari, traveling in the winter time, wondering what she should pack.
He barely heard her. He kept patting the letter Alfred had given him to show Corgan and Burc. That letter told everything about what he was to learn and become. Even though he was still a bit upset with how manipulated he felt by May and Alfred, he also felt that there were answers for him from this Dyr Kennari. He was assured Enkou and the cats could go and would be welcomed. Brett found that of all his traveling companions, the cat and the little beasty were the most trusted.
May asked him in for tea when they reached her flower shop, but he declined. He said he had a lot to do and think about, plus it was getting late and he needed to make sure Enkou hadn't started something with the cats either.
Before he could walk away, she put a hand on his arm. She looked up at him from underneath that giant hat, her eyes shining as she said, “I know you don't understand why I didn't tell you what was happening and I apologize for that, but I can't be sorry or even say I would do things differently. You have to understand,” she insisted, “The Dyr Kennari is so important to this world and she is old, very old. Even though the Dyr Kennari lives a long time they are still mortal. She knows that she will not see this battle with Rhavidia and awaits her successor. We, me and Alfred, believe you are the one.” Her eyes were big with awe as she realized what she had said, as if she had thought about it many times but had never spoken the words.
He didn't know what to think. To him it sounded like more of the same with this crazy world. He sighed. “I forgive you May,” he said and patted her hand. “I'm not sure I buy everything you are telling me, but I will go along.”
She pulled back and smiled at him. “Well thank you for that. I won't keep you any longer.” she waved and said “see you soon!” as he turned away down the street. He waved absently and immediately got lost in his thoughts again.
It was somewhat disturbing about this Dyr Kennari or beast master. He figured there was something to it with the way he seemed to have animals following him about. He sighed. He supposed this would provide some answers as to why he was here in the first place. He thought about the essay he had been fretting over when he next found himself in Midgaard. He couldn't even remember what the stupid this was supposed to be about, but he did remember that it was only to be one page long. How much simpler that life seemed. Was that really his past or was it some wild dream he had one night after too much ale.
He shook his head and forced the thoughts swirling around to the back. He decided to find something to eat before he went back.


The dark road

The pony wickered nervously in the dark. Wolves howled in the distance and Ginger could hear TC's low growl. Mick had hold of the ponies lead Ginger followed behind with TC. Daylight was fading rapidly and they still hadn't found the village of North Gap yet. Mick said the it wasn't far. He wasn't worried about the howling wolves, but there were other creatures out at night that were far more deadly. Ginger shivered, with the sun starting to set it was starting to get very cold. Her breath was puffing out in clouds of mist. She moved up closer to the pony and soothing put her hand on its flank. It flinched and turned it's head, eyes rolling on fright. Once it knew it was her it calmed down a bit. Ginger stayed close to the pony to feel it's warmth. She felt like they were all peering carefully into the deepening gloom looking for any sign that the town was near.
They had begun climbing into the foothills just two days ago. The trees had given away to scrubby bushes which in the last few hours had dwindled to sparse dead grasses and a lot of rocks. Mick stopped and turned back to her. His dark eyes glittered in the dying light. His face wrapped in a woolen scarf made his eyes seem like polished gems. He pulled the scarf down revealing his bearded face and gentle mouth. Ginger definitely thought he looked less menacing with the scarf down.
At the moment however he looked concerned. He said, “the trouble with getting directions from squirrels is that you can find yourself on a very scattered and winding path. And truly I think these squirrels forgot where I wanted to go halfway through the directions and just made something up!” He sighed, exasperated. “I'm sorry Ginger, I realize I am consider a master of beasts, but truly I am the lowest level of my order. Half the time I have to guess what the animals are telling me.”
Ginger looked at him, “Just what are you trying to say?” her eyes narrowed.
He gave her a hopelessly apologetic look. “All right I did train as a beast master, I trained with a Dyr Kennari. He was good, but he died before my training was complete so I pretty much has to feel my way along.” he held up his hands, and looked to TC for help. “TC understands me and I understand her. Of course it helps that she is smarter than the average dog.” TC woofed in agreement, “but for the most part I have the greatest success with dogs, goats, wolves, badgers, wolverines and oddly enough owls. Rodents I find talk to fast and gesture way too much.” he stopped talking when he saw the look of concern on her face.
“Ok” she said, “So you are basically telling me you are pretty much an average guy with an unusual talent for communicating with animals. Some you can understand better than others. Great. But what does that have to do with finding North Gap? Ok so some squirrels gave us bad directions. We will avoid that error again. Now what do you want to do?” she looked around. As far as she was concerned they were on the moon and there was no place for shelter.
He nodded. “Well, in my opinion I don't think we will find North Gap before the sun sets.”
She said, “I was beginning to think that as well, but I'm not real keen on camping out in the open like this.”
“Neither am I, but it is getting dark and I would hate for one of us to get injured misstepping on this rocky ground. He patted the pony for emphasis. The pony nuzzled him.
“So … do you have any ideas?” she asked.
“Well actually I do. I was thinking a fire would be nice but gave up on the idea. North Gap scouts might find us, but then other unsavories might as well. If you look toward the east a bit, it's kind of hard to see, but do you see that dark patch? I think it might be at least an outcrop that could provide at least some protection.”
Ginger leaned the way he was pointing and squinted her eyes. “ I do see a dark patch. I think that may be our best bet, and really its not that far away. It will probably be dark by the time we get there but better than out here.” she waved her arm.
They headed in the direction of the dark patch. As they drew nearer the dark deepened. By the time they were close enough to tell what it was the sun had dipped below the horizon. In the failing light they were delighted to find what was left of an old watch tower. The roof was open to the sky, and a hole gaped where they assumed a door used to be. A low scrubby tree had actually grown up next to it. Mick said it was an ideal place for the tree because the wind would be blocked much of the time.
In the dark they set up their little camp. Mick felt that the protection of the tower would allow them a small fire and some hot broth with their bread and cheese meal. They tethered the pony in the entrance near the tree which Mick said the animal felt calmer with the protection of the walls.
They sat quietly for a long time, just enjoying the comfort of the fire and the warmth of a hot meal. Ginger sighed and said, “This is almost as good as a hot shower at the end of a hard day.”
Mick looked at her quizzically, “A shower?”
She laughed, “I have no idea why I thought of a shower. I haven't had one in years. I don't think they exist here.”
“What is a shower, I mean aside from the obvious rain shower, but I don't think that's what you are talking about.”
She shook her head and smiled wistfully into the darkness, her mind turned toward fading memories of her life before Midgaard. She said, “When I was small my parents bathed me, but as I got older I took showers. Basically it is a closet with a drain and faucet that hangs off the wall over your head and you stand under the water to wash. It really is much cleaner than taking a bath.” she giggled at the look of wonder on his face. “don't get me wrong a soak in a hot bath goes a long way to soothing aching muscles and making you feel better when you are sick, but a nice hot shower just feels wonderful!”
He said, “are there many wonders like that in your world?”
“Wow!” she said, “I'm not even sure how to answer that. There are so many wonders in this world! I mean fairies, and sprites, harpy's” she said with a grimace, “witches and sorceresses, a giant amazing library. I could go on and I think I have only scratched the surface.” she shook her head, “Earth has its technological wonders, but people are so distant from themselves and Earth itself. Here people seem closer, more community oriented and more in tune with the land.” she shrugged.
Mick smiled, “well I think a shower needs to be invented here. You make it sound wonderful!”
Ginger laughed, “I know absolutely nothing about plumbing or even how the shower works.”
Mick looked thoughtful, “Well maybe I will figure it out someday and I will invent one” he winked at her and she laughed.
The fire had burned low and the night began to encroach on them. Mick said, “Which watch would you like?”
Ginger said, “I feel wide awake at the moment, would you mind if I took first watch?”
He grinned, “I was hoping you would I could really use some sleep.” he yawned as if to punctuate his comment. He curled up on his bedroll and was soon making sleep noises. Ginger banked the fire and sat staring into the embers. She was waiting for TC to return. TC had decided to scout about a bit. Ginger assumed she was having a dog moment. Ginger gave a start when she heard the howling wolves. It seemed they were calling messages to each other as the howls seemed to travel from one direction to another. No long after the howling stopped TC trotted into the camp. She was panting and looked tired.
Ginger gave her some water and food. While TC ate Ginger stroked the fur along her back. When she was done she sat and faced Ginger. She put a paw on her knee. It was her way of saying that she wanted to talk.
Ginger said, “Ok, shall I ask you questions?” TC nodded. “Did you make the wolves howl? TC shook her head but put her paw up to let Ginger know she was on the right track. “Did you talk to the wolves?” TC nodded. “Were you able to get directions to North Gap?” TC nodded. “Are we far?” TC covered her nose with her paw to let Ginger know she didn't have an answer to that question.
Ginger hugged the dog reveling in the fresh outdoor smell of her coat. “You've done a wonderful job TC. Why don't you lay down and sleep now. Mick can wake you for last watch. TC curled up on the blanket that Ginger carried for her and was soon fast asleep. Ginger leaned back against the wall and looked up into the star studded sky. She didn't recognize one constellation. She wondered if any of the stars was the sun. She somehow knew that where she was was not in the galaxy or solar system where she had been born.
She thought briefly on her family, but realized the memories were becoming distant and unclear. It made her sad on one hand but on the other hand it made her feel more at home where she was now. She watched the stars and listened to the chill breeze rustle the limbs of the scrubby little tree. She felt the warmth of TC as she leaned up against Ginger for more warmth, and even the soft snoring from Mick made the place seem peaceful. She wondered what Calvin was doing and whether he was sleeping or awake. She hoped he was ok. She felt that he probably was but she had been with him constantly since they arrived in Midgaard. She was so glad TC stayed with her, but she missed him. He thoughts spun from one thing to the next as if she were drifting in thoughts. Finally, she felt herself nodding off and she decided to wake Mick. He woke instantly. It always amazed her how cheerful he was when he woke. She knew she didn't feel cheerful upon waking.
With the directions TC garnered from the wolves, they made good time the next day and by mid afternoon they were cresting a rise and looking up to the walls of North Gap stronghold. To Ginger it was a formidable if dreary looking place. It truly did span a gap in the mountains. The also saw a road that went right up to the giant gates.
Ginger said, “Why would they need gates that big?”
Mick grinned, “You will see. I know it doesn't look like much, but from the stories I have heard it is an amazing place.”
They walked carefully down the slope to the road. It was a wide road and paved with stone. Mick said that six horsemen could walk the road and not jostle each other. As they approached the wall it seemed to rise up and loom over them. Ginger felt like she was shrinking. The road snaked up the steep slope toward the gates. Along the way they passed way huts for shelter. Mick said even though they could see the stronghold, chances are that if they didn't reach the gates by sundown they would need to camp again. She wasn't looking forward to another night out in the cold but she was glad to be close to the stronghold.
As it was they weren't even close by the time night fell. They could still see North Gap as the tower beacons were lit. there were even giant torches in front of the huge doors. At least Ginger thought they must be huge since they could clearly see them from where they were. They decided to keep walking and try to get as close as they could before they needed to sleep.
When they finally decided to occupy one of the huts for the night they found that it was already occupied. A short way up the road they found an empty one.
They slept only for a short while and then started up the road again. They finally made it to the doors just before first light. The guards still kept the smaller gate doors closed so they sat nearby and ate a cold breakfast and waited.
Ginger was amazed at the amount of other people that began arriving. They milled about waiting for the gates to open. Miners from the mountains with their ores, farmers from who knows where in this scrubby terrain, peddlers, merchants, soldiers, riders with unknown purposes. Ginger imagined they were carrying secret messages. And then just people who looked like refugees, travelers, riff raff, privateers, smugglers and on and on. After awhile she couldn't come up with unique names for all of them.
One person did catch her attention. He wore very little in the way of clothing, but he did not seem cold or uncomfortable in the cold. He had long hair bound back by a leather cord. She pointed him out to Mick, but aside from making a comment about being under dressed, he didn't really think the man too out of the ordinary.
The man sat apart from everyone else, in fact, he didn't really sit. He seemed crouched like a lion ready to spring. He too sat watching everything and when he turned his gaze on her she quickly averted her eyes and pretended to look elsewhere. After that every time she looked his way she would find him staring at her.
Finally as the sun crested the giant wall the doors opened and people hurried to it causing a traffic jam. In the press of people, Ginger forgot all about the strange man. In fact, she was more concerned with TC getting trampled than anything else. As they reached the gates, they passed through an arched passageway that gave way to a warren of roads all paved in stone and buildings that appeared to be carved right out of the mountain. There was a lot of traffic, but the mood was as somber as the gray of the stone walls that surrounded them. After the wide stone road, the narrow roads of the fortress seemed almost claustrophobic.
Mick immediately took the first side street they came to so they could get away from the crush of people. He said, “Let's look for an Inn and then we can explore this place and find provisions and maybe some information.”
Ginger looked around. Everything seemed to be made of stone. Cold, hard stone. It had a menacing feel to it, although she thought it was supposed to being a stronghold. The looked up the narrow road they had ducked into and it seemed to narrow further so they went back the way they came. The crowd had thinned out so they crossed over the passage way to the road on the other side.
Mick said, “I heard that North Gap was built all in squares. I guess we'll see if my information is correct.”
They walked a short way when the road came to an intersection. To Ginger all the buildings looked the same. Mick pointed out road names that were marked on the buildings. At the next intersection the road opened up to a broad avenue the same size as the road outside the gates. As they looked west toward the gates they could see the giant gates gleaming dully in the morning light. Mick said, “Those gates are made of bronze. They were forged by the mountain trolls that live in these mountains. The soldiers of North Gap and the mountain trolls have had a long standing alliance.”
Ginger was awed by the massive gates. She had only seen small pieces of bronze and usually artwork or even a shield or two, but to see a piece of bronze on that scale was jaw dropping. “No wonder the walls are so thick! They would have to be to support so much metal!”
Mick nodded solemnly. They turned to walk east up the broad avenue. Here the avenue was actually manicured. There were evergreen hedges lining the sides of the avenue with a man sized walk way between the buildings and the hedges. There were a lot of people out and about, but even the large numbers seemed dwarfed by the avenue and the formidable stone buildings. At the end of the avenue was The Garrison. The Garrison was the home of the Commander General of North Gap. Mick explained that most of the residents in North Gap were soldiers. Others that lived here provided services. Anyone caught breaking the law faced swift and sure justice under the martial law imposed.
Ginger shivered. She thought it must be necessary living in such a harsh area. But she knew she wouldn't like it. She did notice one benefit however, no beggars and no one throwing refuse from the windows.
The buildings all were marked with signs and eventually they located an inn. If there hadn't been a sign it would have looked like the rest of the buildings to Ginger.
They were pleasantly surprised when they walked in. The floor was stone but the walls were paneled in polished wood. A cheerful fire blazed in the hearth and the common room was full and noisy. Mick went to talk with the innkeeper while Ginger and TC found a table near the fireplace.
Ginger didn't realize how tired and cold she was until she sat down. The next thing she knew was Mick was shaking her gently. She opened one eye and said, “Already?”
Mick chuckled, “Good thing you have TC to watch over you! This may be a military town, where the laws are upheld very strictly and we may be in a very nice inn, but falling asleep in the common room just invites trouble.” he said half serious.
Ginger blushed and said, “I had no idea I was so tired! The fire, the warmth, it all sucked me in, I'm sorry.”
Mick patted her shoulder,”Its ok we could all do with a bit of rest, but since there is a strict curfew in this place I suggest we lock our stuff in the room and get out and explore the town a bit. We need information and supplies.”
She nodded at his wise suggestion, picked up her pack and followed him up the broad stairs at the back of the common room. Half way up the stairs she stopped suddenly and exclaimed, “Oh no the pony!” she was about to go back down the stairs. Mick put his hand on her arm to stop her.
“The pony is stabled and is already into a nose bag!” he smiled, you had quite the nap.
She looked sheepishly up at him, “I'm so sorry I should have been helping!”
He turned and hurried up the stairs. Down at the end of the corridor was a room in the corner, across from the back stairs down to the kitchens. Mick opened the door. Ginger was surprised to see real beds with feather mattresses instead of straw and soft down blankets. She couldn't wait till bed time it just looked so comfortable. There was also a potbelly stove with a stack of wood next to it. Not only would they sleep comfortably, they would sleep warm. There were also two foot lockers in which they stored all their gear.
Mick looked at her with concern, “How do you feel? I am worried about you having a relapse from the Harpy Venom.”
Ginger smiled at his concern, “I feel fine. Just travel weary and glad to know we have such a wonderful place to sleep tonight.” TC nuzzled her nose into Gingers hand to let her know she was thinking the same things. Ginger laughed, “I couldn't have any better companions than my two nurse maids, now could I?” she knelt down and gave TC a big hug and received several face licks back.
Mick said, “Alright, but if you start looking like your stumbling over your feet I will drag you back here over my shoulder and put you straight to be myself” he gave her a searching look, “don't think I won't!”
Ginger held up her hands, “I promise to let you know if I am too tired to continue.”
With that they stumped down the back steps across from their room and out to the stable yard to check on the pony. Mick at the stable hand for directions to the market and the best place to buy knives.
They walked around to the front of the inn and emerged back out onto the main avenue. Mick had found out that it was called Commanders Boulevard. The wide paved avenue ran from the bronze gates straight up to the garrison gates. They followed the avenue as it sloped up towards the garrison. As they continued they began to see more signs for inns and shops. Mick decided to stop in one with a picture of a bouquet of lavender on the sign. Ginger gaped at the dim shop crowded with shelves containing ceramic jars of various labeled ointments, tinctures and oils. There was a row of bins that had an assortment of things like dried mushrooms, yew twigs and other things she had no idea. From the ceiling there hung a forest of dried herbs.
Smells whirled and collided in the little shop. TC sneezed several times, her sensitive dog nose whirling with all the scents. Ginger patted her on the head and was grateful her nose wasn't as keen. She sneezed a couple of times as well.
Mick went straight to the counter and started discussing herbs with the herbalist. Ginger just browsed the various shelves amazed at all the odd things she saw. She even found an obscure box of rocks. They all seemed to be polished. Intrigued she dug through the box. She found an oval stone of nearly clear, but with a bluish, greenish tint to it. Amid the box of rocks it appeared to glow.
Intrigued she took the rock up to the counter where Mick and the herbalist were concluding their business. They both looked at her and she said, “how much for the rock?”
The herbalist laughed, “A missy I'm an herbalist with an eye for pretty rocks. Yer friend here has paid me well, as you seem to share my eye for pretties, I will let you have the rock for free.”
Ginger's jaw dropped, and Mick chuckled, “It's true Master Fenway is a hard and skilled bargainer.”
Ginger said, “It is truly a marvelous gift. She inclined her head, “Thank you.” she smiled. “How long did it take to polish it and make it smooth?”
Again Master Fenway chuckled, “That Missy you will have to ask Yaweh himself! You see all them rocks in that box I found in or around a river or stream. I usually stumble on them when I am out collecting herbs.” he waved his arms about to indicate the herbs hanging from the ceiling. “I usually come back with other things than bunches of herbs. As for the stones, they tumble around in creeks and rivers and eventually become smooth and round.” he laughed, “If ye like I also have a box of driftwood I've collected over the years as well. In fact, he padded around the front of the counter, he reminded her of a floppy eared dog in fact his breath smelled as if he had been chewing on a pair of slippers. Ginger wrinkled her nose but watched intently as he rummaged through a wooden box. He pulled out a twisted piece of smooth wood that seemed to have a flat top and three legs. He handed the piece to her and said, “this should make a fine stand for that piece of moonstone you have there. Set it where it will catch the light and you will have a very nice pretty.”
She grinned happily and thanked Master Fenway for his generosity. His eyes twinkled as he gruffly said, “Aye but don't let it get out that I have a soft spot or me business will be ruined!”
Ginger laughed happily and swore, “I promise Master Fenway, your secret is safe with me!” she stowed her new treasures carefully in her small pack and grinned happily as they left the shop.
Mick was shaking his head. He said, “You have such a way of disarming people people. With me he was like a pitbull completely unwilling to part with even a scrap and then you traipse up to the counter and he nearly gives the store away!” Mick laughed shaking his head and wonder.
Ginger looked at him surprised. He just continued to shake his head as they continued up the road.
The imposing walls of the Garrison rose in front of them. It looked forbidding just in size and fortitude. The dark gray stone made it look somber. Ginger stopped to look up at it, leaning backwards just to see the top of its square towers. The crenelations on the towers looked like teeth. She shivered and not because of the cold. The whole place just looked dark and dreary. She wondered, of those who live in the garrison, what they were like. She couldn't imagine any one being happy in there. Looking back down the avenue she hurried to catch up with Mick. He stopped at the intersection and looking to the left they could see down a narrow street that seemed to disappear at a curve. If they continued up the avenue they would come to the main gates of the garrison.
Mick said, “according to the directions from the stable hand we should turn down this street and it will take us to the market square. It seems that this avenue remains virtually free from traffic in the event the Commander needs to quickly send out troops.”
Ginger nodded, grateful not to go any closer to the Garrison, however she did give it one more glance as they turned down the narrow street. They walked briskly down the cobbled street with it's tall narrow buildings. The wind seemed to gust fitfully down the narrow road finding all the open spots between her cloak and her.
A few other narrow streets opened off the main street they were walking, when abruptly they emerged into a bustling market square. There were rows upon rows of stalls, some mere tents others wooden. It was the most festive thing Ginger had seen since arriving in North Gap. It seemed so normal after the rest of the forbidding structures.
Mick turned to her with a grin on his face, “I think we'll find what we need here, plus we can get something to eat.” as if on cue Gingers stomach did rumble. She grinned back at him.
They wandered through the various stalls. After the countryside they had been traveling through she wondered where the abundant produce had come from. There were fruit stands, vegetables, grains and even stalls selling fish! Ginger shook her head. It was so amazing. Mick bought a loaf of bread and a bag of hard rolls for traveling. He bought a few rounds of cheese, some winter apples, dried meat, dried fruit and a couple of bags of grain, dried peas and dried beans. He had all of those delivered to the inn. Then they stopped at a brewers stall and bought to steaming mugs of spiced wine. He broke off pieces of the bread and produced some hunks of cheese wrapped in a cheesecloth. They sat on a bench in the middle of the market watching people hurry by on their errands and pigeons strutting about looking for scraps.
Once a scrawny cat scattered the pigeons. TC had an agonized look on her face like the dog in her was wanting to chase the cat or even the pigeons, but she restrained and continued to chew on the meaty bone that Mick had bought for her although Ginger did hear her growl at the bone a couple of times.
Ginger had finished her meal and was watching people over the rim of her mug when she saw the strange long haired, loin clothed man darting between stalls. She nudged Mick who was looking around at the various stalls.
Under her breath she said, “Don't look too closely but sweep your eyes to the left like you are looking around, over at the cheese stall is that man you said was under dressed at the gate this morning. What do you suppose he is up to?”
Mick did as she asked and said, “Maybe he is looking to get more clothes?” He joked.
Ginger gave him an exasperated look, “This morning at the gate I felt him staring at us. You don't suppose he is following us do you?”
Mick narrowed his eyes, “Why would he follow us? Besides I would think if you are following someone, you wouldn't allow yourself to be seen. But I will keep my eye on him.” he reached down and surreptitiously checked the knives he kept hidden in his boots.
Ginger nodded and said, “Did we get everything we need? I think I am getting tired enough to want to be back in the inn. A nice bath and a nap would be delicious.” she said.
Mick smiled. “I will take you back to the inn so you can do that, but I do want to see if I can locate some maps of this area and definitely of the directions where we want to go.”
Ginger nodded. After the warm spiced wine she was feeling sleepy again. She definitely needed rest.
They walked quickly back to the Inn. He went back up to the room with her after requesting a bath be brought up. While they waited for the her bath water to be heated and filled Mick added their purchases to the foot locker. He said, “I know the other world you come from that as a child you are taught to read and write. Well reading can be helpful, I myself only have a rudimentary skill, but perhaps you can get some useful information from these.” He pulled three small books from his pack.
She looked at him in wonder, “where did you get those?” she eagerly accepted the books and looked through them. Two of the books were old wood bound books with thick parchment pages. The writing in the books were small and fine as to keep the books as small as possible. The third books was made of supple leather and the pages made of something smoother and more fine. She guessed either papyrus or rice paper. The handwriting was also fine and small, but the book was more elaborate with detailed drawings throughout. The two wooden books were histories of Midgaard. The third book was a book concerning Yaweh. She said, “You made good choices and I will be happy to read them and see what I can learn.” she felt her thirst for knowledge trying to edge out her desire for sleep. She decided she would start reading one of them after her bath while she was snuggled in her comfy looking bed.
Mick grinned, satisfied with her delight. He said, “While I am out I will see if I can locate some writing materials as well. If you should want to make notes or something.”
She said, “That would be wonderful!” impulsively she hugged Mick for his kindness.
Shocked he hesitated slightly before hugging her back. Quickly he let her go and said, “ahh it appears your bath is ready. I will leave you now. If you are asleep when I return do you wish to be woken.”
She nodded, her cheeks hot with blushing. She said, “I don't want to sleep to long, I would like to sleep during the night too.”
He nodded and then ducked out of the room. Ginger asked TC to remain by the door while she bathed she didn't want anyone to come in by accident. TC acquiesced but Ginger thought if a dog could roll her eyes at a silly request TC did.
Ginger sat in the bath enjoying the hot water as it leached the pain from sore muscles and the cold of the day from her. Then she quickly washed and rinsed. She jumped out of the tub, dried off and dressed quickly near the warm little stove that Mick had lit before he left. Then she crawled into the nice warm feather bed. TC jumped up on the bed and curled up next to her. Ginger felt luxurious. She looked at each book carefully. She really wanted to read the leather bound book as the delicate pictures inside were alluring, but she decided that knowing some Midgaard history would probably be more useful. Of the two books the larger one appeared to be the first book and the other the remainder of the history.
She set the other two books on the night stand next to her and opened the wooden cover. Unlike the published books of her world, this one simply started on the first page. It began with story of Yaweh. It was a bit different than the way the Onemi told it, and not nearly as intriguing but it was basically the same. Before long she found herself drifting off to sleep.


I Know Nothing!

Calvin trudged up the steep stone steps with two full buckets of water hanging on a pole across his shoulders. He concentrated on keeping the buckets from swaying and dropping even a drop of water. This would be his eighth trip up the steps. After the first two trips he figured out that anything short of concentrating on his steps resulted in disaster. The first time up he tried to hurry. On that trip his aching muscles caused his foot to catch on a step. He fell forward and spilled most of the water in addition to barking his shins and scraping his cheek. The worst part was that he had to continue all the way to the top and receive a birching with a hazel switch, that he had to cut and prepare himself.
He was struck twice for each bucket. The first couple of times were not too bad, but after seven birchings he was ready to get to the top with all drops of water in tact. There were exactly two hundred and thirty four steps. He had counted them on his fifth attempt and wished he hadn't. That trip ended not only with the birching but also a split lip from falling on his face from not noticing the pebble his foot slipped on. He swore that pebble had not been there on the previous trips up.
This trip his calves ached, his shoulders ached, his back and rear stung from the stripes he had received and the sweat rolling across them. His hair, which had grown long hung about his face and tickled his cheeks and nose. His hands occupied with holding the bar across his back steady were useless as far as brushing the hair from his face. On this trip he just tried to ignore it. On the sixth trip he had tried to blow it from his face and that small slip in concentration caused him to stumbled, buckets swaying he lost water.
He examined each step before placing his foot and carefully moved up each one. In his mind he said over and over 'one step at a time' he kept the buckets in his peripheral vision, but did not concentrate on them. He just watched to make sure they didn't sway. The seventh trip he nearly made it to the top. He had been careful all the way, but when he knew he was near the end, he let himself be relieved to soon and as he hit the last step one of the buckets swayed and he lost water. That was the most devastating loss of all.
Now he kept his focus. 'one step, one step, one step' his mind chanted. Before he knew it he was standing before Master Zima. He stood absolutely still, a statue of a young man with buckets. Finally Master Zima acknowledged him. He examined the buckets and grunted with approval. He clapped his hands and two older namsa raced up and took the buckets. They were obviously practiced as they smoothly lifted the buckets not spilling a drop.
Master Zima indicated that he kneel. The stave holding the buckets still across his shoulders Calvin knelt. His calves on fire protested, but he learned to ignore that. He could still see the switch laying next to the Master's cushion. He knew he was far from through with his task this day.
They master walked behind him. Calvin kept his head up and his eyes straight on the statue that sat behind the Masters cushion. Beyond the statue was the impossible blue sky with a few fluffy white clouds floating by.
They were at the top of the conical temple of Yaweh. It reminded Calvin of the pictures he had seen as a kid in school of the Mayan temples in Mexico. Unlike those this temple was far from in ruin. It was an old temple, but kept in perfect repair by the monks and their students. If a step was worn or cracked it was replaced. The monks were completely self sufficient. Anything that needed doing they did from masonry to fishing to farming. Calvin had only been at Tinduur for a month, but he had been exposed to nearly every aspect of the monks lives. Not all of the monks could wield the power of Yaweh and were here because life lead them here. The taught self-sufficiency, abasement, meditation as well as how to cook, build, grow, fabricate and clean. Any who left Tinduur when their training was complete could go anywhere and survive.
Calvins training, at the moment seemed to focus on menial tasks that seemed to have no practical use. He quickly learned that questioning a task was not a good idea. Discipline was strict and punishment swift. It also behooved the student to listen carefully when spoken to and know exactly what was being requested when asked a question. Calvin felt he was a slow learner. He did seem to have acquired great skill for switch making, at least he was very practiced at it and even he felt a strange sense of pride when one of the monks remarked favorably about the quality of the switch just before birching him.
Now however, he sat quietly. He had even learned not to wonder what would happen next. He was surprised when the monk began to apply ointment to his birch stripes. That had never happened before. Finally the monk sat back on his cushion. Legs folded underneath him. Hands pressed together before him as if he were going to pray, although Calvin learned that was the prelude to teaching.
The monk looked at him and said, “You have completed your basic training culminating in the arts of perseverance and focus. You must remember these lessons and build on the skills you began acquiring today.” the monk paused, “the next time you are asked to bring water to Yaweh's temple it is expected that your lessons of today will hold true. Remember how you succeeded, not how you failed. Apply the the success to the training that you will now face.”
Calvin knew to remain absolutely still at this point. The monks liked to birch for any possible breach in etiquette. As an acolyte you remained completely still until commanded to do something other than remain completely still. His first week in Tinduur taught him that.
“Now,” said the monk, “Every morning after you rise, your first task of the day is to provide the temple with eight buckets of water. You will begin with the east stairs, followed by the west, then the north and finish with the south. Once you have completed this morning task you will continue with your daily lessons as they are scheduled for you.”
The monk clapped his hands twice placed his fingertips to his lips and then placed his hands on his thighs. That meant his instruction was over but no questions were to be asked. Calvin his hands still on the water stave bowed until his forehead toughed the stone in front of him. The monk clapped his hands again signaling that he rise. He moved back to a kneeling position and then rose from their. It took all of his concentration to do so as the muscles in his calves were on fire and his thighs felt like rubber. He was relieved that his did not stumble. He backed away from the monk three paces and then turned to the right to leave down the eastern steps. He had no idea what to do with the water stave. So he left it across his shoulders and continued away from the temple and went toward the dining hall. It was breakfast time after all and the sun had barely risen above the eastern peaks.
Calvin had been woken in the middle of the night for this task. He was glad it was over.
As he strode across the frozen ground, he was aware of the smells around him. He could smell the delicious cooking smells from the dining hall, he could smell the crisp morning smell of the giant pine trees that surrounded the monks little village, he could unfortunately smell even though it was faint, the smell from the latrines, and he could smell the farm smell of the animals in the monks farm buildings. Mixed together it smelled of contentment. In the distance he could hear the clacking of staffs as some of the students were practicing staff fighting. After breakfast he would be sent to the library to copy books for a few hours, then Master Pau would collect him for magic training.
He looked forward to that. He had wanted to start staff training, but received only cold looks when he had asked if he could learn staffs. That look meant he would learn when they decided he was ready to learn.
He entered the dining hall and was surrounded by the warmth from the baking ovens and fireplaces. The smells of fresh bread and roasting meat mingled deliciously making his mouth water. He had eaten well since arriving at Tinduur. Meal times were another of his favorite times of the day. As it was, since he had been here he had to have the hems on his robes lengthened twice and they had given him a new set of sandals because he outgrew the first set before breaking them in. he had also gained new muscles and was not as skinny as he used to be. He gathered that work in the masonry quarry had something to do with that.
He joined a line of students queued up in front of the counter, and waited his turn for a plate heaped with this mornings fare. He took the platter proffered to him and a mug of fresh milk and looked about the room. He spotted to other students, about his age that had arrived around the same time he did. Juggling his plate, mug and stave, he threaded his way through the room to the other two boys.
Jur and Sebben made room for him, grinning at him through mouthfuls of food. He leaned the stave against the wall behind him and pulled up a chair.
Jur clapped him on the back, “Congrats on the water test my friend!” Sebben just grinned. In fact, Sebben spent a lot of time grinning. It was an infectious smile so everyone around him felt like grinning as well.
“Thanks,” Calvin said happily. “It was rough.”
Jur nodded solemnly, “I look forward to getting past it myself. I hear I make my try tomorrow.” they both looked at Sebben, Jur said, “How about you? Have they told you when you would do the water test?”
Sebben shook his head ruefully, “ I think I still need to increase my skill at copying letters.” He held up meaty farmers hands and sadly said, “these hands perform better at shearing sheep than at crafting letters with a tiny writing instrument!”
Jur and Calvin nodded in sympathy. Sebben was big. He stood at least a foot taller than he or Jur, with the shoulders and arms of a blacksmith. Calvin suspected the water test would be a breeze for Sebben.
After breakfast the three headed to the monks library to begin their time copying manuscripts and books. Since the monks wanted absolute silence and concentration, they were each sent to three separate cubicles. Calvin had the easiest time of copying since he had begun writing as a child. Sebben had grown up on a farm in Midgaard and was the youngest son. He was sent to Tinduur like many of the monks were, not as a power wielder but so that at least one of the sons would have a good shot in life to be other than a farmer. Jur came from a small village south of Midgaard village. His family had fled the village for Midgaard when Rhavidia's forces over ran the countryside. Jur had power wielder potential and was brought to Tinduur like Calvin was. He arrived two days after Calvin, Sebben had been there for at least a week before.
Calvin lost track of the times as he copied. He payed careful attention what he was doing. Making mistakes were costly. Punishment ranged from birchings to loss of a meal or sleep. Once when he messed up a page he had to spend an entire night digging new latrines.
He finished the page he was working on and leaned back in his chair.
“That's a find job namsa! I think that is your best work yet!” exclaimed the monk who had padded up silently behind him. Namsa was what the monks called the beginning students. The next level was Veninsa or advanced learner. Calvin didn't jump, he had finally gotten used to the monks sneaking up behind.
Calvin simply said, “Thank you Minkuur.”
The monk collected his finished pages and said, “You may go. I believe Master Beorin is waiting for you at staff practice.”
Calvin's eyes widened in surprised but instead of saying anything he bowed to the monk and started to leave. A solemn “Namsa!” brought him up short. He turned and the monk stood there holding Calvin's water stave out. Calvin blushed, he dropped to his knees and bowed low to the monk. The monk said, “You may rise Namsa. It's not wise to leave your weapon unattended.” the expression on the monks face remained stoic, but Calvin thought he saw amusement in the monks eyes.
Calvin took the proffered stave and left the library as quickly as he could, his mind whirling. He hurried toward the practice yard, fingering the stave in his hand. He had been sleepy this morning when the summons for the water test came. The veninsa that had lead him had told him to choose his stave carefully. He had remembered looking all the staves over and chosen this one for it's strength, smooth feel and it's size. Now as he hefted it in his hand he hoped he had chosen well. He might not receive another chance to choose another. At least that’s how things worked around here.
Another thought occurred to him and he saw how the water test had flowed toward him achieving the level to learn the quarterstaff. He wasn't sure how other aspects fit and since he had arrived at the practice yard he didn't have the opportunity to consider further.
Beorin was in the practice yard watching two veninsan spar, other veninsa and namsa knelt on the edges of the practice ground with their staffs on the ground next to them waiting their turns. As the two sparred Beorin called out instructions, encouragement and criticisms.
Both Veninsa were sweating and concentrating very hard on both Beorins commands and their opponent. As they were veninsa they had pretty good control of their skill. At least as far as Calvin could tell. He had done some staff training at the Keep, but nothing as intense as the training here. Another monk was watching the practice when Calvin arrived. He signaled for Calvin to wait next to him. As they watched the match the monk muttered under his breath. Calvin only heard snippets of what he said. After one of the veninsa whirled and disarmed the other, the monk next to Calvin said, “Well done! Well Done!” and clapped his hands.
With that the match was over. Beorin gestured for the two to sit done. And turned to Calvin, he said, “All please welcome our new namsa to staff training.” he indicated that Calvin should sit on the far end. Calvin hurried over and knelt at the end of the line next to another namsa. Just like the others he layed his staff on the ground and put his hands on his thighs, back straight. That way of sitting was the first thing you learned coming to Tinduur. He was comfortable sitting that way now, but at first his legs and feet would go numb and then he could barely get up let alone walk. He learned quickly, birchings followed slow learners.
They watched two more sets of combatants, then Beorin called them to line up. The namsa sitting next to him whispered, “we line up by rank. I was the lowest until you. As long as you always remain behind me you will be in the right place.” Calvin nodded and smiled gratefully at the young man. He was at least a year or two older than Calvin.
They lined up in three rows. The first row had five veninsa, the second row had two veninsa and the rest namsa and the third row all namsa. The only way to tell the difference between veninsa and namsa was the bori they wore on their arm. It was a black band, on the left for veninsa and on the right for namsa. Calvin did his bast to follow along with the exercises. By the time they were done he was breathing hard and sweating. A couple of times he even cracked his head or his shin with the staff. They ended with Beorin closing the class by kneeling and bowing. Then Beorin dismissed them. As Calvin walked off the practice field Beorin called him over.
Even though Beorin was the one who collected him from the forest which seemed a life time ago, Calvin learned the hard way that there could be no familiarity. He bowed to Beorin and called him Mintuur like any other Master.
Beornin nodded gruffly and then said, “Tomorrow after you complete your water of the temple you will come straight here and practice with the beginner namsa. As you could see by the end of class you need to learn the forms.
As he wondered when he would get breakfast Calvin bowed again and said, “Yes Mintuur” Beorin dismissed him. It was late afternoon. Calvin hurried over to Master Valds study. This was probably his most exciting yet most frustrating training of all. Every other day he spent time with Master Vald, learning how to feel and tap the source of power he held within him. He had come to a point where he could feel the power like a little bitty pilot light inside himself, but it was as if it were a long way off across an endless abyss and no way to reach it.
The other thing he like about Master Vald was that all the formality could be forgotten for a few hours in lieu of concentrating on harnessing power. At the door to Master Valds hut, he could see that another student was inside as the students shoes sat outside the door. As he was early he was expected to wait. There was a bench outside, but he had learned that the bench was not for namsa or veninsa. He knelt on the ground in front of the hut and lay his staff next to him. While he sat he ran through the practice exercises, which he would have to repeat once he went inside, but the more he practiced the better the training went.
Finally the student emerged. It was Jur. They acknowledge each other with a nod. Jur hurried off to his next training while Calvin removed his shoes and entered Master Valds study. Like all of the monks the room was spare with furnishings. A simple bed was pushed up against one wall, a table with a wash basin on top and a small shelf for the monks toiletries sat above it. His sandals were neatly placed near the door and another low table pushed up against the opposite wall provided a place for the master to eat. Unlike the plain stone floor in Calvins small cell Master Vald had a carpet that covered his floor. He kneeled on the carpet in front of the master and bent in formal bow. Even though most of the formalities were lifted in Master Valds training, bowing was still strictly followed as a proper greeting between student and master.
Master Vald commanded, “Begin!”
Calvin slowly went through the exercises, beginning with breathing and slowing his heart rate to relaxing his muscles. When he could hear his heart beat slowly and his vision turned inward he went to the place in his mind where we would locate that time flame of power. To him he found the abyss within himself and soon he saw the flame. Today he altered slightly how he approached the flame. Instead of trying to go to the flame he waited for it to come to him. As he watched he was astonished to see the flame grow larger and the abyss begin to shrink. For a moment his surprise nearly made the flam waiver and vanish but he regained control of his concentration and continued with the exercise.
Through the exercise he heard the soothing voice of Master Vald as he directed Calvin to the next step. Once the flame filled the abyss Master Valda told him to form it into a ball of light. The flame resisted and stayed a flame. He thought its edges did round a little but not nearly enough to even say it was approaching a ball form.
Soon he heard the master tell him to slowly release the flame. As he did he say the flame recede to the abyss and then wink out as if he had gone too far away from it to see it, but he could still feel there with in him. In fact, he thought he could feel it more strongly than ever before.
Master Valda was smiling, “Excellant progress today namsa. Something about that temple water test always helps the namsa with control of the power. Perhaps that's why we continue with the daily water of the temple.”
“Yes Mintuur,” was all Calvin dared to say.
“Very well namsa, you must be hungry. Go, enjoy your dinner.” Calvin bowed to the ground when Master Valda put his hands together and touched his finger tips to his lips. With any other master, bowing that slowly would earn you a birching or worse yet a skipped dinner.
Master Valda clapped his hands twice. By the time Calvin had his sandals back on and staff in hand the sun was touching the tips of the western mountains. In the dining hall he got his dinner, but didn't see either Sebben or Jur. He ate his dinner in silence and dwelled on his day. He had to admit that today was by far the best day in Tinduur he had yet. He felt he had reached a new level. After he ate he gathered his staff and headed for his cell. The sun had set and darkness had settled over the monastic village. Stars glittered in the night sky like gems. The air was chilly but fresh and clear. Calvin felt a sense of peace and for the first time in his life a purpose that made sense to him.
He placed his shoes neatly next to the door, and put his staff in the corner. He hung his rode on the one peg allowed a namsa and proceeded to clean his teeth and wash his face. He placed the basin next to the door so he could empty it in the morning and refill it again before he left. In his small clothes he slipped on to his cot and pulled his one blanket over him. Before he knew it he was fast asleep.


Frosty Beginnings
Sierra shivered, even though she was bundled from head to foot in robes and furs. They were near the Boralon encampment where they would negotiate with the rogue band. The commander had called for a halt and had tents erected for the delegation and for the horses. The hostlers had to keep the heat going in the horse tents as they could not withstand the deeply cold temperatures of the ice plains. She peeked out of the scarves wrapped about her head and gazed at the stark beauty of the night sky. The coldly glittering stars as they decorated the velvet blackness of the sky. She scanned what she could see of the ice plains but saw nothing other than puffs of snow when the wind gusted.
As far as she was concerned standing sentry duty was a waste of time. She was so cold that if she had to move quickly it would be as quick as running under water. She did hold her spear in one hand, she looked at it, yes it was still there. She couldn't feel it through the layers. 'Oh yes,' she thought, 'let the ice wolves come for me! I wont be able to do more than lay there and hope they break a tooth trying to get through all my layers!' she chuckled at herself. The dumb thoughts that float through your head on pointless sentry duty!
Cecil was out here on duty somewhere too. He was so stoic with duty. He just did it. Cold, hot, rain whatever, Cecil just did what needed to be done. She shook her head. That was unfair. Cecil had been so good to her. He had stood by her side from the moment the rangers took her in. She hadn't admitted before but she was falling for him. She still didn't think she would admit to anyone else. She couldn't have what happened with Mark happen again. Being so dependent on someone was more than she could bear. No it was just better that they remained friends and worked together. Why mess that up. She loved his eyes. When he looked at her they gave her his full intense attention. They never mocked her, patronized her or doubted her. She wondered if he was real. If any of this were real. A chill breeze wrapped around her in answer as if to say, 'sister this is real!'
She shivered again and scanned the limited vista in front of her. There was a cloud forming in the distance. It was starting to blot out the stars in the distance. She heard the other sentries give alarm as she also raised hers.
As quickly as she could she hurried back to the encampment. The others were already rushing from their tents. The horses were being readied but would not be brought out until the last moment.
Amazingly Cecil found her as she was pulling on her quiver and stringing her bow. He had his sword buckled on, and bow at the ready. She wondered how he did that so quickly. They quickly joined the line of archers and waited near the fires. The fire reduced their ability to see but they needed the fires for the pitch tipped arrows.
Another figure joined the archer line. Sierra recognized the sorceress who had joined the delegation party late. She couldn't remember her name, but she hoped that she had something more to bring than a soft wool cloak and a pretty face.
They cloud drew nearer. Lightening crackled inside the unnatural cloud. Sierra whispered, “How in the world do we fight that?”
Cecil pointed at the sorceress, “we don't she does.” He pointed at the ground, “our quarry is there!”
At the bottom of the cloud raced ice wolves, only they didn't look like natural ice wolves. Gleaming red eyes, pierced the darkness. Driving the wolves on were the undead cavalry. Skeletal horses ridden by living dead men. Their faces an ashen gray eyes sightless and their mouths open emitting a keening wail to make hearts tremble and ears ring. Sierra quailed at the fear that spread before the horde. She wasn't alone. The sorceress in a commanding voice held them there. Her voice rose above the horde, gave them strength and will to fight and then the battle joined. The archers loosed their arrows of fire. The sorceress took those arrows and added magic to their fires. Each arrow erupted into the rushing horde and caused great gaps. They loosed another volley. But the horde filled in the holes and kept coming. They loosed a last volley and then pulled out their sword and spears and joined the fight.
If Sierra thought fighting would be impossible with all she wore, she forgot about it and drove her spear into wolves and undead, there were imps and orcs and men with the lust of evil on them. She slaughtered each one that came at her. The once pristine snow turned red with blood and gore.
Horses screamed, people screamed. Undead wailed. Explosions erupted all around. The cloud continued to draw nearer. She didn't see what happened to Cecil or the sorceress. All she saw was enemy after enemy. Occasionally a Boralon would wade through the melee cutting a swath through the horde. Once or twice she saw Dane fighting like a berserker, he even saved her from a spear that she didn't even know was coming at her.
Her spear broke at some point and she used it like a club until she found a sword and started swinging away with that.
Then suddenly the fury was over. The cloud was gone. The dead and dying lay all about her. She looked around and found that she was about a mile from where the camp had been. She was bleeding in several places and was having a hard time seeing out of her left eye. Her head hurt and her side was on fire. She staggered back to camp feeling like she had aged by a hundred years.
The camp was a disaster. Wounded were everywhere. Those that could were trying to organize. She was exhausted, but she knew she had to help. They weren't out of danger yet. The cold would destroy them all if they did not quickly get the shelters back up.
She saw the sorceress directing traffic and getting things back in order. She looked as bloodied and disheveled as the rest of them. She also had a sword buckled to her waste. If she hadn't been so spent Sierra might have been surprised. She looked around for Cecil. When she didn't find him right away she was afraid of the worst. She helped erect the horse tent and pulled two dead man off to the side. Fortunately neither were Cecil.
She stumbled about the camp helping where she could, but finally her injuries took their toll. She felt numb and tired and all she could think about was crawling into bed and sleeping. She stopped by a fire and was mesmerized by it. She stared and stared. The next she knew Cecil was catching her and saying, “Whoa there! You about fell right into the fire!”
She looked at him as if she were seeing him from a distance and moving farther away.
Sierra woke up and blinked her eyes. She felt like she had been run over by the entire boralon army. She closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping to clear the fuzz out of them, that's when she realized she was laying on a fluffy fur. She lifted her head and saw Cecil on the other side of the tent snoring softly. The injuries she had acquired last night began to introduce themselves to her all in one clamor. She wondered if anything on her didn't hurt. She was contemplating that when Cecil rolled over and woke up. He smiled when he saw she was awake.
He sat up and looked at her, “How do you feel?” he looked concerned.
Not willing to be outdone, she clenched her teeth and rose to a sitting position. “I feel like a fresh new woman” she grimaced. “Now I'd like the old one back!” she took a deep breath and began to ignore the minor pains.
Cecil nodded thoughtfully, “you look like a new woman.” he chuckled, not unkindly.
Sierra groaned and rolled her eyes. She flexed her left arm which seemed to hurt worse than anything. She examined her injuries. She found she was more bruised than anything, although she had a cut on her forehead and the gash in her arm was probably what bled so much and caused her to pass out.
“I think I'll live she said.”
Cecil nodded. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I am, I'm famished!” she said.
Cecil got up, “I'll go get us some breakfast.”
“Wait, I want to go too. I can't just lay around here. I need to see how bad we fared last night.”
He waited while she got up and dressed, then they walked out into the camp. The activity was fairly subdued and people spoke softly amongst themselves. She looked around, none of the Boralon they arrived with could be seen. She remarked on that to Cecil. He shrugged. He said, “Last night when you collapsed I took you to a tent and dressed your wounds,” he didn't seem to notice the flush on her cheeks as he continued, “after that I fell asleep, I felt pretty beat up myself.”
“Well maybe we can get some news with our meal,” she said. They wound their way around the camp until they came upon the main cook tents. There to their relief they found Dane. He acknowledged them but he was in deep conversation with the commander of the delegation. They went over to the mess line and got bowls of porridge and a crust of bread. They went and sat on one of the sledges that was used for transporting the supplies. They had hoped to hear some news but not many people were out and about. They hadn't been there long when the Sorceress came up and asked if she could join them.
She looked better than she had the night before but she did have a puffy eye and she moved as if she had a few bruises. Sierra was amazed that the woman continued to wear her robes. Even though the sun was up it was still frosty cold.
Sierra watched her over her bowl of porridge. The sorceress said, “Let me introduce myself I am Sorceress Tiarna dar Laybran. I prefer to be called Ti.” she smiled warmly.
Sierra couldn't help herself she chuckled. Immediately she blushed and said, “I am so sorry. I know I must look a mess and be pretty bruised up myself, but that black eye just ruins the seriousness of your name!”
To her surprise Ti laughed merrily, “Oh finally!” she exclaimed, “someone who is not stuffy! I feel like I have been wandering around her with a rod up my back being all formal this and that! It's a pleasure to meet real people!”
Sierra grinned, she decided the sorceress was worth meeting, she said, “Oh forgive me, let me introduce us, This is my comrade in arms, best friend and,” she looked at him wryly, “my constant rescuer, (Cecil's rank here) Cecil Nox and I am (Sierra's rank here) Sierra Washington. Informally we prefer Cecil and Sierra,” she grinned.
Cecil bowed formally to Ti and said, “Sorceress.”
She said, “So you like this big puffy eye I acquired last night?” she touched it gingerly, “I have to admit it does alter my looks somewhat, but I definitely think its an improvement.” she snickered.
Sierra said, “Oh and I am so looking forward to the scar this gash on my forehead is planning to leave!”
Cecil just shook his head and continued to eat his porridge.
Through mouthfuls of porridge and bread they exchanged news. Ti said that the talks had been suspended for two full days until the delegation could recover from the attack, however, the Boralon from the delegation were requested to attend a Boralon death ceremony for the dead from the attack. That would also take two days.
Sierra worried that they may be attacked again.
Ti expressed her concerns as well.
Cecil said, “I don't think we will, I think that was a random unplanned attack. I think that was a troop movement that didn't expect to find anything out here. I believe we surprised them.”
Ti and Sierra both nodded. “Well at any rate,” said Ti, “We are all being summoned to a general council when the bells sound. We should have some answers there.”
For awhile they continued to eat in silence mulling over their own thoughts. The sounds of camp coming to life behind them.
Quietly Sierra said, “We are a small delegation to begin with, do either of you know how many we lost last night?”
Cecil shook his head as Ti answered, “Actually we only lost one. With the surprise and ferocity of the task it's quite amazing!” she exclaimed, “There are two who are seriously injured. But their injuries are more mysterious than visible, the healers are mystified.”
“Who did we lose?” asked Cecil quietly, Sierra got the sense he was ready to add the name to a list.
“That's also quite mysterious,” she said, “Now that I think about it. The dead man wore our livery, but truly I don't remember ever seeing him before. Not that I have been long with the delegation, but I think I have been long enough to at least recognize everyone.” she looked confused.
Cecil and Sierra exchanged worried glances. Maybe this attack had been a betrayal of sorts, but by who?
Cecil asked, “How many Boralon died?”
Tiarna thought for a moment then said, “I believe only one and from the village, not the delegation. There is definitely something odd here.”
Before she could say more, the camp bell began clanging calling them all to meet. They all looked at each other, Sierra said, “Shall we find some answers?” they got up and walked to the main tent. Ti joined the Commander and Sierra and Cecil went in search of Dane. A sense of foreboding had settled in her bones, like the awful calm before a really bad storm. She glanced at Cecil and saw the same echoed in his face.

Seriously?
Brett was out of breath. He bent over wheezing, his muscles all felt like jelly. He had been running for what seemed an hour. According to Kevenna dyr Kennari it was only fifteen minutes. He groaned. She clapped her hands and snapped, “Keep going! You're not even close to done!”
Brett snarled. The small bony little woman was as tough as boiled leather. In fact she looked like boiled leather as far as Brett was concerned. He wished he could go back to Professor Pence's English class and beg forgiveness for every ill thought he had ever had about the woman.
It had been a month since he had said his farewells to Corgan, Burc and Bria at the mouth of the pass where Kevenna met them. May had been there as well and was beside herself with joy at having located Kevennas new apprentice. Brett felt betrayed by May, somehow, like she used him to help herself. And indeed she had. Whatever bond she had been bound to Kevenna for, had been lifted. May was ready to depart as soon as she could, as if she was afraid Kevenna would change her mind.
Part of him could understand the desire to be away from the wicked dried up bag of bones. She was nothing but a mouthful of sharp words and punishment. His only solace and small it was, was that Enkou and the Ticouses were with him. Indeed they sat and watched as she put him through his paces. Today it was running up a hill and rolling a large rock down, then it was pushing that big rock back up. The exercises in his mind were pointless. He could not see how it related to animals at all.
Finally she clapped her hands and told him to stop. He stood, dripping with sweat even though the temperature was chill. He panted, and his muscles felt like jelly. He laughed ruefully to himself, he felt weak like a noodle, but he knew at least he was building up muscle. She was walking back towards her small little hut and he had hopes of getting a meal, but she walked on past the hut, down a little path and out onto a outcrop that hung over the wide mountain lake. Because winter had set in, the lake was frozen. She looked down at the lake and said, “there are some really tasty fish in that lake. I would like you to bring back two of them, and mind you they should be at least this size.” she held up her hands to indicate the size. Bretts eyes nearly popped, she wanted fish larger than his size fifteen foot!
He knew better than to question her. The first time he had asked for tools on any task she had only offered a flat stare and said, “if you were an animal how would you do it?”
Without another word he just started down the side of the hill. She called after him, “Mind I do not see your face again unless those fish are in your hands. Two only, no more, no less. We only take what we need.”
He turned to look up but the sun was behind her so he couldn't see the look on her face as she peered down at him. He turned back and continued to make his way down to the frozen lake.
He heard a commotion at the top as Enkou tried to follow him, but a sharp word from her and the little beast sat at the top crying for him. It wrenched his heart to hear that sound. He turned and called back up. “It's ok Enkou, I'll be back soon enough!” he said encouragingly. By the time he made it down to the lake side the outcrop was empty. He sighed. He felt alone as he looked over the vast expanse of frozen whiteness.
He remembered being a kid and going ice fishing with his grandpa. They had a nice set up. Grandpa had all the tools needed for a comfortable fishing experience. A warming hut, a lantern, plenty of snacks, not to mention an ice auger, fishing poles and bait. He had nothing now. Not even a decent coat. He thought, 'this is why bears hibernate in the winter!'
He walked along the edge of the lake, looking for anything that might help him. He tested the ice at the edge of the water and found it to be solid. In fact in many places it was hard to tell where snow covered ground ended and snow covered lake began.
He stopped at looked around. It was about midday. He hadn't had anything to eat since early that morning before the sun rose, and at that it was cold broth and a stale crust of bread. Kevenna had announced this morning that from now on he would provide all of their meals. He just didn't realize that she meant he was to do it with out the use of tools. It began to don on him that she wanted him to do things like an animal would.
Brett looked around where he stood. He needed something to catch the fish with. He needed some sort of bait, and most of all he needed a way to get through the ice. He saw nothing in the immediate vicinity that would help him, so he continued to walk around the lake.
Snow for the last snowstorm blanketed the area in white. It was hard and crunchy snow, having fallen several days ago and being subjected sun, wind and freezing night temperatures. As he looked more carefully he could see animal tracks in the otherwise pristine snow. Animals would be attracted to the lake because of the water. Brett wondered if there was a place the animals went to get to water that wasn't under ice. He saw some tracks of a small dog like animal. He assume it was either a fox or stoat. He had no idea which animals actually hibernated during the winter other than bears and squirrels.
The tracks lead a merry chase around the edge of the lake, sometimes disappearing into brush and bushes along side the lake and reappearing on the other side. He assumed whatever made the tracks was also hunting for its winter meal. Eventually the tracks were joined by another animal of the same kind. Steadily the tracks lead around the lake. The bank began to rise somewhat, taking him up and away from the ice, but still hugging the edge of the lake. The pine trees began to encroach on this area as well, making the snow less dense, it also had the added bonus of cutting down the wind. He could smell the pine trees. It was a fresh and inviting smell. As he continued he began to hear the sound of rushing water. He picked up his pace, encouraged by the noise.
The ground stopped rising and leveled out somewhat, but the trees were thick and muffled the sound of the water. When he finally broke out of the trees, the sun had dropped to late afternoon and seemed to be falling rapidly. He chose to ignore that for the moment as he gaped at the sight before him. He had arrived at the eastern side of the lake. One of the three mountains surrounding Kevannas lofty little hide away, rose up to the east. It was the tallest mountain on the island. Even from Kevannas which was up to ten thousand feet from the sea the eastern peak rose at least another four thousand feet high. Normally at this time of the year the top was shrouded in clouds, but today as the sun setting from the west dropped toward the horizon the snow capped peak blazed with a golden light. From the outcrop Brett could see the deep blue green of the ocean against the setting sun between the south and north peaks of Kevannas lake.
Rolling down the side of the east peak was a giant waterfall. Water spilled out of a hole in the peak about a thousand feet over his head, and splashed into a wide frothing pool about a hundred feet below the outcrop on which he perched. It apparently hadn't gotten cold enough to freeze that much rushing water. The water from he pool tumbled down a short natural causeway that emptied into the lake. Brett assumed that this was the source of Onala Bay's water.
He looked for a way down to the edge of the pool. Backtracking just a bit he found a rocky path that led down. As he got closer he could feel mist swirling in the air from the churned up water. It smelled fresh and clear. He wondered if pixies lived in this waterfall. Looking at the remnants of the sun and still empty handed as far as two fish were concerned, he figured he would find out as he would be spending the night out here. To that end he went back up the little trail and started hunting about in the failing light for a suitable shelter. He was rewarded with an outcropping stone with a lot of bushes around it. It had no other occupants and was relatively dry.
He went to reach for his boot knife to cut some branches for a bed, when he remembered that he had to leave everything with Burc and Corgan. Kevanna wouldn't let him bring anything other than the clothes he was wearing. He cast about the stones on the ground until he found one with something close to an edge on it. He hacked down a couple of leafy boughs before deciding the rock was nearly useless as a cutting tool. He dropped the rock and as it fell it hit another rock and splintered off a piece. Dumbfounded by dumb luck he picked up the discarded rock which now had a somewhat sharper edge. He examined the rock which was a nondescript grayish in color, but where the piece had chipped off it was smooth.
Reaching back in his memory and reading out indians and arrow heads he wondered if this was one of those stones they used to make their weapons. He also wondered if the stone would create sparks so he could start a fire to keep warm with. He went about gathering tinder and brush and then found a log or two that would be nice for burning. At the mouth of his little shelter he created a little fire pit. The sun had gone down and with the failing light the temperature was also rapidly falling. He struck the rock with another rock and was dismayed when it broke in half. Now he had two palm size pieces of the gray brown rock and no fire. He struck the two together and was delighted to produce sparks. He did it again closer to the tinder he had gathered.
In the end it took him a very long time but he finally got a small fire started. By that time he was cold and his hands numb. It took some time before he had a merry blaze going. Finally he started to feel the little shelter start to warm up. He watched the fire for a long while and when it final burned down to embers he banked it to keep it going so he would have warmth the rest of the night and the ability to make a fire the next day.
While he waited for sleep to catch him, he turned his thoughts to how he would finish his task. He rolled the two fire stones around in his hands wondering how he could use them to help him. A fishing pole would be ideal, but he didn't have that. He thought about his trek around the lake a remembered that just before he started climbing into the trees there had been some bushes, bare of foliage, but still supple and whip like. Thorny also he remembered. But he thought that maybe he could fashion them into a net of sorts and maybe scoop fish from the lake? He fell asleep dreaming about eating fish roasted over a fire.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Brett discovered that the tough bramble vines dulled his rock blade rather quickly, but he found if he carefully used another rock he could chip away small pieces that would give it a sharp edge again. He had cut about twenty of the brambles. It was hard sweaty work, and his empty stomach was complaining, but it also spurred him to continue. His hands were scratched and bleeding from the thorny brambles, not to mention a sore thumb when he missed the rock and hit his hand. He could see a bruise forming under his thumb nail. To numb it he stuck it in a pile of snow for awhile. Something he learn from having a sprained ankle while playing basketball. 'Finally', he thought to himself, 'basketball played some use in his life here!'
He gathered his stack of ropy brambles and went back to his little camp. On the way he searched for anything he could eat. He found some pine cones and took those back hoping for some nuts inside.
The pine cones held a few shriveled nuts which he ate greedily. He put another log on his fire and warmed up. His hands started to throb once they warmed up, which he guessed was a good sign that he still had feeling in them. He then went back out and searched the waters edge for tall grasses that he could weave together to tie the bramble net together. By digging through the snow, he was able to located a few clumps of long dead grasses. He also wonderingly enough found a stash of nuts and seeds from some small animal. He considered taking the whole stash, but then thought of the little animal that painstakingly hid it there. He left the little stash and covered it back up. His stomach growling angrily.
Brett decided he needed to learn more about edible plants and leaves. He spent the rest of the morning braiding the grasses in to two foot long ropes. It was delicate and painstaking work as the grasses were dry and brittle from being dead. He had to go out and search for more twice, before he had ten ropes. He then began to weave the brambles together, cursing every time he pricked his fingers on the thorns. He hoped the thorns would be helpful when it came time to actually catch the fish.
The sun was again low in the horizon when he had a crude basket like structure. He doubted its durability, but hoped it would last long enough to net two fish. He went down to the water and wet the basket, then he took it up to his little shelter and set it near the fire where he hoped it would dry overnight and harden somewhat.
He was proud of his creation, but a bit fearful it would not work and that he would die trying to get two fish. He thought about when he was a kid and they used to watch wild kingdom on tv. He remembered the guy on there explaining how desperate a wild animals life was, and how he justified lions and tigers killing wild deer, antelope and gazelles. The guy used to say that if the lion couldn't catch his dinner her would go hungry, so he had to be an expert at hunting.
Other things stood out from that show as well, such as animals only eating what they needed to survive. Wild animals didn't horde their food like humans. They ate their fill and moved on.
Brett was starting to empathize with the wild animals. If he couldn't find away to feed himself he wouldn't survive. He was certain that was Kevennas message. He even thought he understood why she simply didn't tell him. Experience was a better teacher. He laughed ruefully. Either hunger was making him hallucinate or he really was beginning to understand the point of the training. She wasn't purposely being mean or difficult, but to truly understand what it means to live as an animal in the wild, you had to live from their perspective. The only difference between him and an animal was that he had a better ability to craft tools, and make fire.
He also knew if his basket didn't work then he would make a spear from a stick. The sun was just dipping below the horizon on his second day. He knew he hadn't tried nearly hard enough. Brett went back out with his sharp rock in hand. He hunted about in the deepening gloom for a suitable stick that he could shape into a spear. It was almost completely dark when he literally tripped over the best stick he could find.
Tired and dazed he made his way back to his little shelter only to find a small white bushy tailed fox nestled in the branches. The fox lept up and barked a few yips at him. Brett chuckled and said, “Well you startled me too!” he climbed slowly into the shelter speaking to the fox all the while, “look I don't mind sharing the shelter with you it should be quite cozy for both of us.”
The fox watched him warily but seemed to understand. Brett laid his spear stick next to the basket and held out his hand so the fox could sniff him. He figured whatever worked for a dog should work for a fox as well. The fox had backed up into the corner and was growling low in its throat when he held out his hand. He watched it and sat patiently. Eventually it crept up to sniff his hand, the it sat back in the corner and watched him.
Brett just talked as he began to peel the bark off his stick. The fox watched him intently, ears twitching. “I have been sent out here to learn to survive. Something you already know how to do,” he told the fox. He concentrated on the stick as he spoke. “So far if I continue at my present rate I will starve. I have not managed to catch any food what so ever.” he chuckled at himself. Here he was talking to a fox. He must be mentally weak with hunger now. As he pulled the bark off he explained what he was doing and why. At one point the fox got up. It yipped at him and then left.
Brett muttered, “Sorry I didn't mean to bore you!” he had stripped off all the bark and was scrapping the two end prongs of the sticks into points when the fox came back. It was carrying a pheasant in it's mouth. Brett gaped at the fox.
Softly he said, “see I said you were already proficient at survival!” the fox walked up and dropped the bird in his lap and yipped as if to say, I appreciate the shelter.
He picked up the dead bird in his lap and looked at the fox, “Thank you for your kindness.” the fox yipped again.
Brett said, “tell you what, I don't eat my meat raw so I hope you don't mind if I cook this bird. If you want you can have the innards after I remove the feathers and the guts.” the fox hopped and turned about, somewhat like a happy dog. Brett took that to mean it agreed. He cast about his little campsite for an old log to make a torch with and then when down to the waters edge, sharp rock, and bird in hand. The little fox followed him like a silent ghost.
He found a nice level spot with water nearby to so that he could dress the bird. As he worked he noticed that the light seemed to be getting brighter. He looked up from his work and sat in awe. The pixies had arrived. He couldn't believe that even in the frigid cold they would be out playing in the waterfall. The fox watched the pixies as if this were a normal sight for him.
Curious the pixies began to come flittering around him and watching what he was doing. Their little reedy voices singing songs and calling to each other. He was delighted to see them. One pixie came close and Brett could see he was like Masu the pixie king at Fripan Falls in Midgaard.
The pixie said, “Kennari why do you camp out here? Why you not stay with Kevenna Kennari?”
Brett said, “I am Brett, and in a way I am staying with Kevenna Kennari. I am her student. She sent me out to retrieve two fish.” he held up his hands showing the size like Kevenna had.
“ahhh” said the pixie. “And your friend here, what is his name?” the pixie flew over the little foxes head and back to Brett.
Brett said, “Oh umm, good question. We've just met. I haven't found out his name yet” he looked at the fox and shrugged.
The fox yipped at Brett and the pixie. The pixie laughed, “He says he has spoken his name to you, but perhaps you are not far enough in your studies to understand his language yet?”
Brett shook his head sadly, “I'm afraid I am just at the beginning of my lessons.”
The pixie looked confused, “hmm it has been a very long time since Kevenna has had a student, but from what I remember she only sent her most advanced students on a survival training. She wouldn't have sent you if she didn't think you would come back.” the pixie shrugged and said, “well anyhow, he says his name is Hvitur. My name is Be-Su.”
"Well met Be-Su and Hvitur" Brett bowed low.
Hvitur yipped happily and Be-Su bowed back mid-air.
Be-Su gave his leave saying that he needed to get back to supervising the work of water purification. Brett thanked him for the information and just before the pixie turned to go Brett said, "By the way, the fish she wants me to catch," he held out his hands like Kevenna did and said,"are about this long. She wants me to catch two."
Be-Su nodded solemnly, "aye I know the fish. At one time the Surematu thought them mythical, but here they are abundant. The are called silver kings. They rule the water in this lake. In the fall they breed and in the winter they leave their eggs in this very pool. But early in the morning is best to catch them napping. They like to rise with the sun.” Brett thanked him and watched as he flitted away and joined the other pixies as they dashed and dived about the waterfall and the pool.
Dressed pheasant in hand Brett and the little fox went back up to the shelter. The coals in the little fire pit were glowing and hot. Brett fashioned a spit to roast the bird on. While the bird roasted he continued work on the spear. One the bark was off he began to gently shape the two prongs at the one end of the spear. He had decided that a forked spear might be easier to stab a fish with than a single pointed spear. The little fox curled up near him for warmth. Brett guessed that he was no longer wary. He figured the pixies probably told him he was ok. Of course the gift of the pheasant was also a pretty good indication that the fox was comfortable with him.
Pheasant roasted slowly. Before long the smell made him hungrier and hungrier. In order to not just rip the pheasant apart and eat it like a starving animal, Brett felt he needed to remind himself that even though Kevenna wanted him to learn what it meant to be an animal, he still didn't have to become one. When he got back up Hvitur cocked his head expectantly at him.
Brett said, “You can come if you want or stay by the fire, but as a human I need things to eat with, so I am going in search of a plate and some utensils.”
if a fox could shrug like you were being ridiculous, the look Hvitur gave him was just that. He even snorted and repositioned himself to be more comfortable as if to say, “Go ahead with your foolish notions. I will enjoy warm and dry!”
Brett chuckled. He hadn't expected the fox to understand or really care, but what was funny was that he felt he needed to tell the fox what he was doing. He wondered if that was the beginnings of communicating. Brett thought about what Be-Su said about being an advanced student. He felt so pathetically lost during most of her training. If this little side trip was meant as recognition, he wondered how awful her other students had been! Maybe he was older than her regular students. In a lot of things here he felt pretty old, but then guessing age had been really difficult.
His thoughts were beginning to jumble as he cast about for a somewhat flat rock that he could use as a plate or platter. Finally he found one. It looked like a rock that had tumbled off the side of the mountain and into the churning pool and made smooth and then spit out to the bank. He went back up to the shelter. The pheasant looked golden and deliciously cooked. Parts of it were blackened, but he didn't care. Carefully he slid the bird off the spit and onto his platter.
The fox had sat up and was watching him intently as he prepared the food. Brett really wanted to grab a piece of the bird, but it was so hot he had to wait until it cooled some what. So in the mean time he stoked up the fire a bit and prepared it for the night. He leaned up against the wall of the shelter and began to tears strips of meat off the roasted fowl.
Despite the fact that he had no spices to season the bird with, Brett reckoned that this was the best meal he had ever eaten. He ate slowly since he had been without food for a couple of days and did not want to make himself sick.
He shared bits and pieces with Hvitur. The little fox bit pieces off the other side of the fox from the side Brett was eating off. Once they were done and pretty much only bones remained on the carcass, Brett set his plate stone and bird aside just outside the shelter. In the morning he would bury it.
Stomach satisfied for the first time in days, Brett was able to fall right to sleep. Hvitur curled up next to him. Even the cold hard ground couldn't keep him awake this time.
The next morning, thanks to Hviturs help, Brett woke before the dawn. At first all he wanted to do was roll over and get more sleep until he realized that he needed to get up and attempt to catch his two fish. He took his spear and his little basket down to the water's edge.
The sun had not yet risen, but the eastern sky was getting light. Brett sat so that the sun would rise before him, keeping his shadow off the water. Hvitur sat next to him watching as Brett held his spear at the ready to stab a silver king fish or to. Some time later, after not even seeing one glimmer of a fish Brett was beginning to get discouraged. Hvitur looked just as eager as he did when the first arrived. Brett wondered if the fox always looked that perky.
He looked at Hvitur who was staring into the water. “Do you see something?” he asked.
Hvitur looked up at him and nodded expectantly.
Brett peered into the water again. Sure enough there were muted flashes down deep in the rocky pool. As he peered into the pool he realized that it was almost a trap its self. He peered at it from all angles wondering how he could trap the fish and then spear them and pull them out with his net. There seemed to be only one way into the rocky pool. He watched the flashes of silver as they swam lazily about. They seemed to be completely unconcerned with the human and fox watching them. Brett stepped out onto a rocky stepping stone that sat atop the little wall inside the pool that made it a trap. Slowly he stuck his two pronged stick spear down into the water to see what the fish would do.
He was amazed, they seemed unaware of anything happening around them, or maybe they just didn't startle at things unusual happening around them. Hvitur seemed to be pacing along the side of the pool as if he were trying to figure out how to nab the fish as well.
Brett watched Hvitur as he paced. Trying to figure out what the fox was doing, then he watched the fish. As the fox paced, the fish seemed to keep pace with him. “Interesting,” Brett muttered, wondering how to use that information.
The eastern sky was starting to get lighter, Brett felt pressed by time, wondering what exactly would happen when the silver kings woke up with the dawn. He figured they would probably slip away and be impossible to catch. Not wanting to spend another day in the shelter, Brett decided he need to make a move and try to stab and capture the fish.
“Hvitur,” he said, “I am going to try to stab one of these fish. If it disturbs the other one then try to distract it until I can get the first one out of the pool.” the little fox nodded and yipped.
Brett, edged the makeshift bramble basket close to the waters edge so it would be handy when he needed it. Slowly he lowered the spear into the pool and lightly touched the fish with it. It seemed to push back at it like it was an impediment that needed to be pushed away. It felt like a really big fish. Brett wondered how hard it would be to carry back to Kevennas. Hvitur yipped as if to say, “Quit fooling around and get on with it!”
Brett watched the fish he had touched. It swam languidly about the pool. Slow and easy. He pulled the spear up a bit and waited until the fish was near the far wall, that way he could trap it against the wall and make spearing it easier. The fish swam near the wall and as fast as he could and with as much force as he could, he drove the spear at the fish. The force of his blow push the fish up against the wall. He continued to push until he felt he had the fish speared securely. The fish began to writhe and thrash. Brett pushed harder to hold the fish against the wall. Of course he wondered how he was going to get the fish in the basket. Once he pulled it away from the wall it would be able to pull itself off the spear.
He was excited to have some what caught the fish, but also fearful of losing it and not getting another opportunity. Slowly he began to work the fish up the wall with the spear. The big fish continued to fight, but he could feel it weakening from blood loss.
Soon he was able to work the trashing fish up to where the top of the wall was. He entertained the idea of flinging the fish up and over him onto the bank, but he envisioned the fish flinging further into the waterfall pool never to be retrieved. He decided that he would let patience win out this time and he would work the fish around to the side of the pool where he stood and then flip it onto the back, where it could flop and thrash all it wanted, but not escape.
Perseverance and patience seemed to be winning as Brett worked the fish around and then eased it up onto the bank. He was startled at how massive the fish was. He couldn't believe Kevenna wanted him to bring back two of them. He groaned now he was going to have to make a a type of sledge to bring the fish with him.
He studied the flapping and thrashing fish. It truly was about a foot long but it was also about one foot wide as well. It had the usual fishy eyes, but its massive body was covered in silvery disk like scales. The scales were easily as big as his thumbs.
He pushed the flopping fish further from the water. He didn't want it to accidentally flop back in. Once he was satisfied the fish would flounder on dry land only he returned to the pool. Hvitur was staring down at the pool. Brett looked over his little fox ears and saw that the other fish had breached the water and was looking at Hvitur. Brett had an image suddenly of the fish opening its mouth wide and ready to devour the fox. Hvitur yipped at it.
While the fox kept the fish occupied Brett came around and drove the spear into it. It felt so brutal, but then having to be out camping in a remote barely sheltered area gave him the strength to pull the the fish in.
The second fish was bigger than the first! Brett was astounded at the fish. He looked at his puny little bramble basket and wondered what he had been thinking? Of course he mollified himself, how could he know how big the fish was going to be until he actually saw one for the first time. He really hoped Kevenna wouldn't get made and tell him he had gotten the wrong things. He knew how ugly her temper could be. Truly he was free to walk away from her, but he actually believed in the beast master stuff. He wanted to be a dyr Kennari. It was funny all his life, all he wanted to do was be a basketball player, now suddenly he is in another world, his life just beginning. He stopped thinking the random thought that were interfering with moving these fish.
Happily he noticed that the sun was just beginning to come up over the mountain. He had achieved his goal of capturing the fishes before the sun came up. He saw that Hvitur had one by the tail and was dragging it towards the shelter. Brett tried to pick the other fish and fond that he too was going to have to drag the fish by it's tail.
Even though the little shelter was only a few steps away from the water fall it still took the two of them at least ten minutes ti get them to the shelter, where Brett collapsed, panting onto the bed of pine bows he had created for himself.
Hvitur flopped down next to him, his small tufted ear quivering. For awhile they laugh there silently, then Brett rose and tried to decide how he was going to get the fish back. He thought of the little basket he had made. It really was going to be too small for that load. He decided he needed to make a litter and strap the fish to it. He remembered from grade school a lesson on the Indians and how they used travois to pull some of their belongings that way. He decided that pulling the fish that way would be far easier.
He cast around the forest for about an hour before he had two pole like branches that would work nice for pulling the fish. He took the poles back. He had left Hvitur to watch over the fish in the event that some other predator or scavenger might try to snag an easy meal.
He unwound the basket he had so carefully made, feeling sad that his work hadn't even been used, but happy to have the materials ready made. He lashed the bramble ropes to the poles. By midday he had a travois that he could haul the fish on back to Kevennas.
He rolled the fish onto the contraption and tied them on. Unlike the Indians where they let the two poles drag along behind them, he placed the tip of the travois on the ground and held to the two poles in his hands. He found it much easier to drag this way.
“Come on Hvitur,” he said after dousing his fire and destroying evidence of his stay, leaving the shelter area pristine for the next poor animal or human who needed a safe warm place.
Hvitur yipped and bounded about as they started back around the lake the way Brett had come. He couldn't wait to get back. A yummy roasted fish and a comfortable bed awaited him. He hoped. Knowing Kevenna it could be that he would be the one cooking the fish while she had a wonderful conversation with Hvitur.
It was well after dark when Brett and Hvitur finally saw the Kevennas cabin sitting up on the ridge above the lake in the moonlight. Both of them were exhausted but the sight of that cabin gave Brett the extra bit he needed to climb the ridge. Dusty, dirty, tired, hungry and smelling of the fish he had wrestled with, he knocked on her cabin door.
The small gnarled little woman came to the door with a lit candle in her hand and looked up at him with a sour face as if she had never seen him before. “What do you want?” she demanded.
“I have brought your fish dinner dyr Kennari,” he said respectfully with a bow. She peered around him in the dark, her eyes glowing in the candle light. When she saw the travois, she pushed passed him to inspect the fish.
When she turned back to him she said, Kennari sa, you have done well. Hvitur yipped. She turned back around and stared at the fox, kneeling in front of the fox she said, “and what do we have here?”
She and Hvitur exchanged yips and barks. Finally she turned back to him and said, “I am aware I have pushed your training hard Kennari sa, but I had to.” Sadness shone in her eyes. “I don't have much more time before Yaweh rescues me from life.” she called it a rescue but Brett didn't believe her. He got the feeling that she wanted to be dyr kennari forever. “I see that you need to learn the language of the wild. This is something that can be taught so that it comes to you quicker.” she frowned, “I myself had to figure it out and many years were wasted. You and I … we don't have many years. Tomorrow, we will begin that training.”
she walked back to the hut, without turning she said, “Dress these fish and when you are done come in. I will have a bath ready for you. You stink!”
he chuckled. She really did have a soft heart. As exhausted as he was he thought the promise of a bath and the taste of the fish would be worth the cleaning and the gutting, but first he wanted the animals to meet. He clicked his tongue. He turned to Hvitur, “There are some others I would like you to meet. Two cats, ticouse gray and ticouse black, and a small little beasty dragon name Enkou.” as if saying their names brought them to life all three materialized from the dark shadows of the yard. They came from three different directions. He had no illusions that the cats were watching for him but he knew Enkou had been.
The cats sauntered into the small yard, but Enkou, who seemed to have grown, leapt in and tackled him. Brett was on the ground before he knew it, desperately trying to regain the wind the little beast had jolted out of him.
The ticouses sat primly licking themselves as if there was nothing better to do, although he did see them eye the giant fish greedily. Hvitur yipped. The cats heads swiveled in the direction of the fox. Immediately they arched their backs, puffed their tails and hissed at him. Hvitur wasn't even phased by the cats. Enkou on the other hand went straight to the fox, curious about the new comer.
Brett said, “Guys this is our newest friend. Without him it could have been days more before I returned. Everyone, say hello to Hvitur the snow fox” Brett wasn't sure how he knew that was Hviturs full name, somehow it just came to him, kind of like the Ticouses names.
The cats stopped hissing and displaying, but as Hvitur was of the canine type, they continued to watch him with caution and suspicion. Brett rolled his eyes. Cats were just so fussy. Enkou the curious little beast that he was had already greeted the fox and they were already chirping and yipping and barking together. Brett wondered if they were telling rude cat jokes, the way the ticouses turned up their tails and began to stalk off.
“Hey Ticouses,” called Brett, “I am about to gut and clean these fish, if you want any I suggest you stay close!”
They wouldn't dare act like he told them anything they wanted to hear, so they acted deaf, yet sat close enough to get their share of the spoils.
Brett found Kevennas fishing knives and set to with a vegence. The bath and maybe a little food an attractive force to be reckoned with.
Soon he was done and Kevenna was exclaiming over the fine fish he had caught. She asked him to describe all he had seen and done. He told her about the pixies, and their news. He reported his own revelations about her teaching and his own ideas. He told her he was looking forward to learning the language of the wild. He asked how the pixies knew this already and why humans had to learn everything. Animals had everything by instinct.
She laughed warmly, “did you not recognize your instinct out there? You knew instinctively that in order to survive you needed shelter, warmth, and food. You managed to find or create those things with the sharpest tool in your arsenal, your mind. Animals have extreme limitations when it comes to creating or imagining. That is why only certain animals have actually developed tools. This is why humans survive and enjoy luxuries that animals never ever even dream of.”
Brett shook his head in wonder. “I guess I never really thought of humans having instinct. I just felt that if my belly didn't get the attention it was demanding the rest of my body would revolt and die.” he grinned wryly, “Perhaps for a man instinct begins in the belly!”
Kevanna laughed, he had not expected her to have such a warm and delightful laugh, much less a sense of humor. He decided then and there she was much more than a crabby dried up teacher. As if sensing his thoughts she glared at him and said, “Don't think I will ease up on you from now on, just because I can have a laugh or two. Your training will still be tougher than anything you can imagine.” her tone went from scolding to pure lecture, “I have had many students over the years. I train them as their ability allows. Some only have a whisper of ability with animals and choose to be trained because they want to. Others like yourself are born with the affinity, however, you yourself have something more. You have been singled out by Yaweh for a purpose. You are here because you will serve Yaweh. How?” she shrugged, “that is for Yaweh to decide. I serve Yaweh by tending his creatures and training those like you. You will surpass me, but not without the tools you need. I will provide those tools.”
She stopped talking and sat on her stool before the fire. Brett had so many questions he wanted to ask, but suddenly she seemed so deep into thought he knew he could not disturb her if he could. She peered into the fire for long moments and then without looking at him she softly sang,

“On the wings of birds he comes
Yaweh beckons and he runs,
his feet as sure as the mountain goat,
Yaweh points and like the hound
he finds enemies and brings them down.
In battle fierce as a bear and steadfast as a boar,
he defends Yawehs throne.
To his call they come, at his side they stand
Yaweh's furred, feathered, and scaled army
lead by the master of them all!”

Brett listened to her odd little song. In was nearly tuneless and sounded almost more of a chant. The hair on his arms prickled at the meaning of that song. He knew it was about him. The bit about the battle made him queasy. He had fought against Rhavidia's horde packs several times in the last few years, but the song hinted at a bloodbath that every those who survived might not feel so lucky.
Kevanna stood, her age showing as her joints creaked. The look she gave him was of grim sadness. Her face worn and haggard. She simply said, “Have some porridge boy. Tomorrow we'll feast on fish, but for now an old woman needs her bed. Without looking back at him she hobbled over to her low pallet and curled up under her blankets.
Brett looked around. The cats, the beast and the little fox all looked up at him expectantly.
He sighed, found food for them all and sat before the fire, long after he had scraped the last of the porridge from his bowl, and contimplated the meaning of her little song.


Purposeful Thoughts

A moment comes, that time between time. Peace reigns but tenuously. Some call it the calm before the storm. In that moment entire lifetimes can be evaluated, and lives can shift. The moment is a point of serenity, where lucid thoughts shine like brilliant gems caught in the light, and the meanings of ones life becomes crystal clear.
Each of those who have found themselves ripped from their world and in the strange and wonderful new world of Midgaard, have come face to face with a purpose greater and more meaningful than themselves. As they move towards a battle with Rhavidia each has learned they are more than just an anonymous soul living and dying. They are souls molded by Yaweh and honed for a purpose.