Chapter 12: Challenge

On the road once more, the party came across a militia of a dozen men. These varied warriors brandished an emblem of five weapons; white silhouettes of a sword, spear, axe, arrow, and mace against a brown background. At first, it appeared as if this band would pass like so many other. Then, a man among them started down at Saleos and barked a word. Creigal looked to hos captain as both men checked their weapons.

Saleos replied to the man in a respectful and playful manner. Creigal dropped his hand, and Carringten relaxed.

The stranger and Saleos conversed back and forth, as Saleos pulled the wagon to the side of the road.

Far ahead of them, just visible in the distance, Scurra and her brother rode ahead, maybe half a mile, before a bend in the road. Saleos said something that excited several members of the passing militia. Several cheers sounded, then a number of the new company dismounted and tied their horses to a convenient tree or two.

Scurra and Krumpus turned their mounts and slowly began back. Saleos turned the other way and signaled to Andrus and the brothers to return. They pressed their horses into a gallop as they rushed for the wagon at full gallop.

Saleos turned to Creigal. “I apologize for this inconvenience,” he said in perfect Saot. “But this is going to take a minute.”

Creigal frowned, as his own language was unexpected, but did not let his nerves show otherwise. "Is it trouble?" he asked.

"We are still a good day from the border," Saleos shrugged. "I did not think we should see a challenge so soon."

On the other side of the road, several members of the strange militia began stretching, and roughing about.

"I thought you said we were safe!" Wenifas complained.

Saleos shook his head. "I had not expected this until we made it over Maud-o-Laurie's Pass," he began. "If Traust were with us, we should beg their pardon and simply ride on—but the brothers have sworn me to stop at the first challenge.” He turned and glanced at the fast approaching youths. “It is not for me. It is for those three that we stop. If we do not, I shall not hear the end of it," he griped. "Now, I think we shall have to fight for sure," he concluded offhandedly.

"They do not attack us," Creigal said. "Why should they wait for the brothers if they wish to attack us?"

"You will not have to fight if you do not want to,” Saleos noted. “But if we lose, or do not except, we must admit defeat and bow as they pass—but only those that want to must fight," he continued. "There will be little blood and no killing at all, but their will be a great deal of honor.

"We don’t bow unless our champions admit defeat?” Creigal asked. “If that is the case, I should like to see these warriors perform.”

“Good,” Saleos smiled. “Then we should not have to those three bellyaching for the rest of our journey," he pointed to Homoth, Komotz, and Andrus, who were nearly on top of them.

Homoth arrived first and jumped off his horse almost before it stopped. "I shall fight!" he said as he rushed in front of the gathered Five Kind; a dozen strong.

Komotz arrived right on top of him, knocked his older brother aside, stood in his place, and said the same thing. "I shall fight!" he glared at the new militia.

Having been so rudely ousted, Homoth tackled Komotz, instead of fighting any of the challengers. The brothers turned on each other and wrestled in the dirt, as the strangers backed away prudently.

Andrus slid off his horse as the brothers continued to wrestle. He bowed to the strangers. "I shall fight!" He declared several feet away from his wrestling cousins. He removed the weapons from his belt and slipped them unto the pack on his horse.

Elpis poked his head from the back of the wagon with his bad eye toward the strangers. “What is the commotion? he asked as he blinked sleep from his purple and yellow eye that looked a bit wonkish.

Unused to his evolving wound, Wenifas almost laughed at the man, as she found his appearance oddly comical—but instead wore a contrite and pitiful countenance as she answered. “The young brothers and the cousin are going to fight these strangers. The losers have to bow.”

Elpis turned his head to an awkward angle and WEnifas was sure he could see little out of his left eye. “Oh, the Five Kinds,” he said with a nod. "They are not a common lot at all, but Jindleyaks, and a group with a solid reputation in my book.”

“Do you know them?” Wenifas asked.

“Not these boys in particular, i don’t think, though I’ll have to get a better look at them… I fear I shall have to go to the other side of the wagon once they start.”

The five Kind stood in a loose half circle that stretched to the very edge of the road. The first held four wooden rods about two feet in length. He passed a pair to Andrus and bowed. Andrus bowed back and the two began to circle.

Scurra and Krumpus arrived from their lead position. They bowed and greeted the Five Kind, then Scurra turned on Saleos with her brother’s attention wondering.

“We do not have time for this,” Scurra said.

“We’ve been in the saddle almost two straight days, it shall only take an hour, Traust and Apulton are in no hurry.”

“They will be once they begin to smell,” Scurra said. “Besides, our guests are not interested.” She waved about the others—though Celesi was the only uninterested party. Wenifas was happy to be quite in the background as she took a rest and let her baby crawl about in a patch of grass just a bit from the wagon. Creigal, Carringten, and Baet were all quite interested, and even Toar seemed intrigued.

“They simply play a game,” Scurra lobbied the foreigners.

"It is a great game at that!" Homoth called, as he sat on Komotz and pushed his little brother’s face into the dirt. "The Oak and Beast has won countless matches!"

“They’ve lost countless matches as well,” Scurra noted—but the battle was already lost as Andrus and the first of the Five Kind began to take swings at each other.

"So each side fields one man,” Saleos explained to the Saots. “Then each man will stand until he has received three touches. Whichever side runs out of fighters first, loses,” he shrugged.

"It is common for the militias to ride about and challenge each other when they are not interested in doing real work." Scurra complained.

"It is fun,” Saleos began, “…when there are not more important things to do."

“There are other things to do,” Scurra agreed. “We shall not play touches with each band that wishes to challenge, or it shall take us the better part of a month to reach Hearthstone.”

"Why do you hate the game?" Komotz huffed from under his brother.

"I do not hate it,” Scurra replied. “We have matters to attend. Traust and Apulton want their eternal rest, and our friends wish to reach Hearthstone eventually. Besides, I should like to get home—and then we can play games among the militias.”

"Saleos has agreed we shall play," Homoth said. “Besides, this is the Five Kind!”

Scurra turned to Saleos and gave a nod admitting that was indeed something to consider.

“It is the Five Kind,” Saleos repeated. “And I agree that we shall play no more than once each day...”

Scurra leaned in on the older man and glared.

“…once ever other day,” Saleos amended.

“Hey!” Homoth began.

“Cram it!” Scurra shot back at him.

Homoth recoiled. “Fine!” he shouted back. “And for the others, we shall claim haste and grovel," he snorted.

"Agreed," Scurra nodded as she slid from her horse. She tied her mount to the wagon, then held her hand out to Wenifas. "Come down, my dear. If we must stop for a time, perhaps we shall also have a late lunch?"

The priestess smiled as she took Scurra's hand and stepped down from the wagon. The women laid out a blanket and settled themselves at the very edge of the circle as Andrus and the stranger continued to test each other.

"I fight next," Komotz yelled, even as his brother sat on him. "Last time you went first, I didn't get to fight at all!" he complained.

"There were only three,” Homoth replied. “And they were not worth the fight," he noted.

"And what if none of these are worth fighting?" Komotz complained. “Shall I never get to play?”

The challenger caught Andrus with his guard to high and slapped Andrus on the thigh with an audible slap. Gritting his teeth, Andrus limped away as the militia of the Five Kinds cheered their challenger—though it was nothing more than a stinger Homoth and Komotz booed and hissed at Andrus. "Try hitting the man!" they taunted.

Andrus glared at his cousins, then turned back to the challenger, and raised his weapons once more. To the delight of his cousins, He scored the next touch, but then lost the next two rather quickly. Andrus cursed his luck as he limped toward his cousins and passed the rods to Homoth. “He is faster than he looks,” Andrus warned.

Homoth stepped off his brother and helped Komotz off the ground. He passed the rods to his little brother. "Do not worry, I shall finish him after you are defeated."

With a snort, Komotz sprang from the dirt. He gathered the rods and squared off against the same challenger.

"They do not field another man," Creigal noted.

"As in a real battle, you stand until you are defeated," Saleos explained. “It is a great honor to stand and defeat multiple opponents.”

Although the challenger managed one strike against the younger brother, Komotz delivered two more ‘touches' to the man and sent him away with jeers and a bit of a limp.

"Notice Komotz only strikes twice? The touch from Andrus carries on, so the Five Kind is one down before it begins," Saleos stated. “Now, as they field the next challenger, Komotz is down one.”

“I see,” Creigal said.

“Would you like to play?” Saleos grinned. “Would you like to go next?”

"I think I shall not go before Homoth,” Creigal answered. “So I shall not have to wrestle him for the privilege."

The next challenger was a massive wall, but moved slow, yet the large man smashed Komotz such a solid blow that it nearly took the air out of the boy.

"I'm fine..." Komotz wheezed as he hunched over for several long seconds. He walked a bit, then did some light stretching, until he felt he could continue.

“Okay,” he finally wheezed, just about ready to play his last point. After a bit of a shaky start, he played well and managed the next three touches to send the big man away. After he did so, he cheered, and strutted, and flexed while the Five Kind booed and jeered.

Next came an older man full of sinister tricks. Komotz almost got a touch, but took a blow and was out. He passed the sticks to Homoth.

Homoth took the tricky old man, though he suffered a hit himself. The next challenger also managed a touch before Homoth sent him away in defeat. The fifth challenger took two hits from Homoth before he finally managed to strike a third blow against the older brother. Still, Homoth was upset with his performance. Furious, he threw the rods in the dirt and stomped away.

“You do not give them enough credit,” Saleos chided Homoth as he took up the rods and bowed to the challenger. After a long exchange, he managed a strike and sent the fifth man away.

The next fight was slow with sudden bursts of fury as Saleos and the Fifth Kind were well matched and could not overcome each other’s defenses. They circled and circled—then struck at each other furiously—but were always rebuffed and forced to reset; only to begin circling once more.

“It is not so bad when the boys play. The points are quick. But when the old men face off, the matches drag,” Scurra said to the other ladies gathered on the blanket.

“It is their game to play,” Komotz replied. “Let them slow dance.”

The first and second point went to the stranger, though Saleos managed the next two. Like the four points before it, the fifth point dragged on and on. Then, suddenly, the stranger struck, and a boisterous cheer rose over the Five Kinds while a collective moan rose from the Oak and Beast. Chagrined, Saleos held the rods out to whomever might take them—but nobody stepped forward.

"It is a Jindleyak game," Scurra finally noted as she stood from her blanket and accepted the rods, "I suppose all the Jindleyak that can play should play. It is too bad Aim and Duboha are not still with us, or we might have taken the bunch," she said as she tested the rods and faced off against the challenger. The militia of Five Kinds hooted and whistled to see a woman take up the rods. The challenger tipped his hat, a gesture that Scurra knew meant that he would let her strike first. She smiled for the courtesy, then went after him immediately. His smile crinkled and his features took a serious tone as Scurra pushed him back.

The challenger pressed back and forced Scurra to retreat—but he could not overcome her defenses. Back and forth, the two waged their war—thrust and counter thrust—then the challenger caught an opening and poked Scurra in the chest. She cursed as she turned to reset for the next point.

Despite her disappointment, Scurra scored the next two touches—but the challenger got the fourth and fifth to finally send her away. A fine mix of compliments carried from the Five Kinds, with several proposals among them. Scurra gave a little wave though she did not encourage the strangers any further.

"It is always this way when a lady takes up the rods," Saleos noted. "There’s always interest in a woman that plays well at touches."

Scurra tried to pass the rods to her brother. Although he was known to play at touches, Krumpus held up his delicate hands and shook his head. He was not interested in putting them up to such a trial just yet. They still bothered him from time to time, though they were feeling a good deal better. He hoped in another month or so his hands might be fully healed, or enough to take part in such rough-housing, but he was not there yet.

Instead, Scurra turned to the Saots and held out the rods. "It is a great honor to play," she noted and wondered if one of them might give it a go.

Baet made their choice for them. With a wink, he slid off his horse, and took the rods from her. "I've always liked a good dance," he said as he swung the wooden weapons experimentally. “What are the rules?"

"There is only one rule: no striking either head," Saleos answered as Scurra settled on her blanket.

"And what happens if I break the rule?" he asked with a troublesome grin.

"His friends beat you bloody while we stand and watch," Scurra stated.

"Sometimes an apology is enough,” Saleos noted. “But I suggest you do not break the rule. At best, you'll have to do some fast talking. At worst, they will have your blood."

"You'd let them beat me?" Baet asked.

"If you deserve it, we most certainly will," Scurra replied. "And if they do not beat you enough, we will gladly add our own blows. It is a great dishonor to seriously injure a man, or his progeny, when playing at touches. Remember, this is not combat, this is a game. and trust that they will remember that too, and they will enforce it in such a way."

"It is best you do not violate the one rule," Saleos nodded.

"I consider myself warned," Baet noted with wide eyes.

Komotz yelled at Baet.

"What does he say?" Baet frowned.

"He says you will lose," Toar shrugged. "But that is obvious. It is unlikely you can take the rest of them. There are still six to go."

"I'll give as good as I get!" Baet snorted. "I'd put a lune on that!"

Toar interpreted. Komotz and Homoth both took up the bet.

"He fights with muskets. What can he hope to do?" Celesi whispered to Wenifas. The priestess snorted.

Baet proved to be rather practiced, and his style initially confused the militiaman—especially since the Saot had time to study his opponent—and after a short series of exchanges, Baet found an opening and ‘touched’ the opponent with a solid slap on the arm. The second opponent was equally perplexed by the Saot’s strange style and Baet managed the first strike rather quickly. The next blow eventually came for Baet after the Five Kind scored two of his own; the first rather slowly, and the scond much more quickly.

Back and forth the two went, and the longer the match went on, the more it became apparent that the Saot was out of tricks and the Five Kind would eventually win. Then, suddenly, Baet found an opening and tapped his opponent under the arm. He turned away from the challenger before the next point could proceed and yelled at the brothers. "You got my money?!"

Homoth and Komotz turned from the man as they grumbled and spit. Both dug in their purses and threw a lune in the dirt.

“Get on with it!” Andrus jeered.

Smiling, Baet collected the coins, pocketed them, then turned back to the Five Kind. The next point went to the challenger as he struck Baet's hand. With a curse, he jammed his thumb in his mouth and retreated from the circle. "Such an honor," he muttered as he sucked his finger. “It’s your turn, Toar!” He called as he grinned at the youth and held the rods out to him.

"Must I?" Toar asked.

"It’s good practice," Baet admonished him. "Remember what I taught you. There are only five to defeat! Then, you win us great honor!" he said with mock severity and a jovial smile.

"...always finding a way to crawl under people's skin," Toar shook his head as he stepped forward with the rods in hand.

Celesi was excited to see him fight. She hoped he'd beat them all!

Despite her faith in the man, Toar was a good deal worse than any of the rest of them. He attacked the man as best he could and was quickly turned aside. The second point was nearly as fast, and the third point made Toar feel as if the man was toying with him—though the challenger was kind and gave Toar a bow after his quick defeat. Still, the young Bouge was demoralized. "I'm not much of a fighter," Toar noted as he returned to the others.

"You're young," Baet stated. "You've only started your training, and despite your lack of skill, none will question your courage," he said in a proud manner.

"How long have you been training?" Toar said to Saleos.

"Long before you were born," Saleos shrugged. "Some thirty years."

"And you?" He turned to Komotz. "How long have you been fighting?" He asked in Trohl.

“He fought the cord that fed him as he came out of his mother!” Homoth snorted.

Scurra shook her head. "It’s no joke. You will see when you meet his family. They are raised like wolves. Why do you think they take the beast for their sigil?"

"We shall meet their family?" Toar asked.

"Of course you will!" Komotz frowned. "Where do you think we go?"

"To his place," Toar pointed at the shaman.

Scurra shook his head. "He lives in Melmorahn. We make for my mother's estate, which borders on the Trandhills. They live not half a mile from us."

"How big are your families?"

"Aunts, uncles, cousins..." Scurra began. "The Yockupps are a few thousand, and the Trandhills are more or less the same?" She guessed as she looked to Homoth. “Maybe ten thousand altogether?”

Homoth shrugged. "Leave it to a Yockupp to bother with a count,” he said.

Toar seemed astounded by the number, though Creigal thought it sounded like his own family. The dukke looked down surprised to shee his Trohl guide offered him the rods. It was rare indeed to have men challenge the duke, even in sport. From the corner of his eye, Creigal saw Carringten frown and shake his head. With a smile, Creigal hopped off his horse, took the rods, and passed his reigns to Carringten.

"Are you sure?" Carringten asked.

"I will not always be in Trohl lands,” Creigal answered. “I shall have limited chances to engage in their customs. Besides, I have done nothing but ride and run for over a month. It's about time I engaged in a bit of sport.” He turned to the half circle of his escort and caught Meu's eye. He gave the lady a wink. She smiled in reply—but her eyes were a mystery.

Creigal trained long and hard in his younger years, but it'd been a long time since he fought anyone in a straight-up fight, even just for fun. He swung the rods to test their weight and realized it was similar to fighting with twin short swords. It was as if he had two of his lost falchion. He turned to his opponent.

The first touch came quick and hard as it struck his right side and stung like the dickens. He wondered at what point a person was considered injured if they were allowed to land such blows that they might crack a rib. But as he stumbled, he doubled over, he found himself wrapped up and supported by the stranger as the stranger repeated what sounded like an apology over and over.

“He is asking if you are okay,” Toar said as he put a hand on the duke’s shoulder. “He says he is sorry. It was a hard strike, and he did not mean it. He is saying something else that I don’t understand…”

“He is giving you the point,” Scurra filled in. “he says he is sorry. He understands if you do not want to continue.

Creigal caught a glimpse of his captain and noted the dark look in his eyes. “Is it common to reverse points under such circumstances?” the duke asked Scurra.

“Among the more respectful, yes,” Scurra nodded. “These men are talented and kind.”

Creigal cracked a weak smile and stood mostly straight. “Well, if he promises not to hit me that hard again, I think I’m game for another point.”

The challenger was very defensive to start. As Creigal tried to work past his defenses, he remembered more and more of his training—especially the work he did most recently with Vearing. Suddenly, he found himself with an opening, and could have hit the stranger as hard as he was hit—but did not. The next two points went to the challenger, and Creigal was happy to note that neither strike would sting for long—though his rib was likely to bother him for a day or two. With a shrug, Creigal returned to the others as they cheered his efforts.

"Well done," Saleos grinned.

"Thank you," Creigal said as he held the rods out to Carringten.

With a blank and dangerous expression, Carringten gave a nod, and swung the rods with a practiced hand. He faced his opponent. gave a nod, and took up a defensive posture.

"Your friend will fare no better than you," Komotz said to Baet.

Toar interpreted.

"Would you like to put a wager on that?" Baet grinned. "In fact, I'll give you two to one odds he gets five strikes!"

Carringten managed the first strike before Toar could finish interpreting. He had plenty of time to study his opponent before he ever dismounted his horse, and he’d seen several habits that lef the man open.

Seeing how quick the first strike came, Komotz turned away from Baet. The Saot snorted at the younger brother, then Homoth agreed before the next touch could start. Baet pulled two lunes from his pocket and gave them to Toar. “Two to one; five strikes,” Baet signaled and nodded as the next point began.

Carringten was careful with the next challenger and let the man come to him. The challenger was turned back and pushed away almost immediately each time he engaged. This continued for a minute or so. Then, without warning, the captain went on the offensive. He took several quick and vicious swipes at the man, then struck in the waist, just above the hip bone, with a gentle poke. The second strike came much quicker as Carringten went on the offensive immediately, and third strike was almost as quick as the second.

Stunned by his most immediate defeat, the challenger stood in the circle, and simply stared at the dark stranger. Finally, he turned toward his gathered friends and held the rods for the next man as he shook his head in astonishment.

The jovial air among the challengers shifted. They were sure this mixed band was out of fighting men after Toar's poor showing. They expected Carringten was just as green as the two men before him, and only meant to take his share of honor for being brave. Now, it looked as if they had a squirrelly veteran before them; a quick and dangerous man of unknown talent.

The next challenger could not get a touch either. Nor the next—though he dragged out the fight as long as he could. This third man shook his head, astonished at what he suffered. He offered a word of caution to his friend as he passed the rods.

The Five Kinds no longer made any noise. Indeed, neither did the others. Creigal looked about those gathered and smiled to see them looking up his dark captain in a new and respectful light.

Finally, after taking two touches of his own, the fourth man to face Carringten managed a touch of his own against the dark captain. An eruption of cheers went up from both sides of the fight.

Carringten turned on his friends with a question on his face. "You celebrate my loss?"

Andrus gave the dark man a bow. "We were beginning to think none might get a touch against you.”

“Indeed,” Saleos agreed. “We are shocked to have such a master among us, and to have no idea that you are so good."

"I bled with you in Ebertin," Carrringten noted.

"We were too busy fighting to study your prowess," Saleos noted. "Besides, we fought mediocre Degorouth and average Minstrians. Now, you fight Jindleyak militia with a passion for their art."

"It was a good touch," Carringten agreed, "I hope I can avoid the next one," he said as he turned back to the contest.

It took Carringten a minute to get the third touch, as his opponent took a defensive stance and was quick to disengage. But Carringten eventually found a hole and managed to exploit it. With a shrug the fourth man stepped from the circle.

The fifth opponent put up a decent fight, but also fell without scoring a touch. He was the last man standing for the Five Kinds, and so his defeat signaled their surrender. They all bowed and gushed compliments as they pressed around Carringten, patted his shoulders, and shook his offered hand.

“They want a lesson from you,” Toar explained their words. “They keep saying you are a master and begging a lesson from you.”

Carrringten gave a nod. “Sure,” he said and smiled to the complimentary strangers.

"No!" Scurra snapped at the throng of armed men. "The sun dips low, and we have delayed ourselves long enough!” She turned on the Five Kinds militia and bowed. “We have won, and so we shall set the terms. We have been away from home, and there is some haste in our journey. If you will have your lesson, you must follow us. Once we set our camp, then you can have your lesson!"

The Five Kind turned to each other and discussed her words for a short minute, then turned to Scurra, nodding and smiling. They would accompany their fellow countryman.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 12.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Elpis sets a trap for Meriona and her throat cutters. Start with the throat cutters.

“They’re moving,” Toddles said.

“About time,” Meriona complained to the cutthroat. “What were they doing anyway?”

“Fighting—sort of,” Toddles shrugged. “Problem is, it isn’t just the lot of them anymore. The new guys, the ones they were fighting, turned around and started marching with them.”

Meriona stopped in the road. “Wait, how many more are with them?”

Looks like a good dozen,” Toddles told her. “It don’t matter. All we gotto do is catch the duke with one or two of the others and cut their throats.”

“That won’t get us the priestess and her gold,” Meriona complained.

“Ain’t our business,” Toddles shrugged. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll catch the priestess and the duke together…”

“Unlikely,” Meriona replied.

They continue for a time—then they find themselves surrounded by the Five Kinds, several members of the Oak and Beast—and also Baet and Toar, who recognize Meriona.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 12.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Camping in the Valley of Carnage

The sun was settling below the west mountains when they stopped near a large placid lake with several massive peaks visible to the east.

"I do not like it," Scurra said as they spread about to set up camp. "Let's press on."

Komotz scoffed. "We've camped here often. It is a perfect spot."

Saleos nodded. "We can fish for dinner. There isn't a better place for leagues."

"It is only a few hours to the base of the mountains," Scurra suggested. "We know the area well. It will be easy enough to set up camp in the dark."

The others argued against her, especially when she would not say why she did not want to stop. She did not want to tell them it was because of a bad dream, because of so many crows. She wanted to say that sometimes the dreams were prophetic – but then she'd have to admit that sometimes the dreams were just dreams, and sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. "Why stop at all?" She argued. "We are not far from Jindleyak lands. If we press on, we can reach the border about midnight."

"We have prisoners and dead among us," Saleos argued. "What if we are stopped in the dark and have to explain both bodies and bondage to another militia, to a Pulbouge militia? Are we not more suspect? In the wee hours, as dawn approaches, we will be groggy, and more likely to misstep. What if a horse should stumble and throw one of us? We do not need more injured."

"If you wish to ride for the border, you are welcome to it," Homoth noted. "But some of us want to rest and take sup – and our friends most certainly want their lesson."

Scurra finally conceded once the tents were up and most everyone else was down at the lake to do a bit of fishing or practice under the tutelage of Carringten. She told herself it was only a dream, and that fear is the ultimate enemy. After all, it was only birds – and a storm of such utter cold that it could not be real.

"We are near the border?" Wenifas asked.

"That's it," Scurra pointed to the mountains. "Strawberry Pass is the low point between those peaks. The other side of that ridge is Jindleyak lands."

"And how far until Hearthstone?"

"Three days, and you shall see the great mountain," Scurra gave her a wan smile.

Andrus, Hesperus, and Baet saw to the prisoners as they were placed in a tent and given blankets. "Do not come out in the night," Saleos told them. "If you should come out, we may think you are up to no good, and we will kill you."

"And what if I need to piss?" Meriona asked.

Andrus whistled at Scurra.

She turned and he waved her over.

"Will you escort the Jay to a discrete bit of bush so she might relieve herself?"

Scurra nodded. She pulled the bow from her back and waved Meriona out of the tent, "Come on."

As the Jay passed, Andrus said, “We’ll take you out one at a time to do your business – and if you need to tinkle in the night, I suggest you all settle on a convenient corner of the tent."

~!@#$%^*()_+ 12.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Creigal courts Meu.

A short distance from the camp, Creigal sat on a large rock and fished a calm creek that fed into the lake. As he dangled a bit of bait into a deep pool that gathered at the base of the stone, Meu approached.

"Oh, hello," the duke half jumped from his perch. "And how are you this fine evening?" he smiled at the quiet lady as his heart thumped in his chest.

Meu continued to smile as she climbed the rock and sat next to the duke. She set a gentle hand on his arm and stared into his eyes.

"Fishing," Creigal leaned in close and whispered the answer to her unspoken question. "Can you see them down there, close to the water's surface? It ripples with their passing."

Meu leaned over the water and watched the fish visible just under the surface. She took Creigal's free hand and held it in her own. As Creigal stared at the rippling stream, Meu licked venom on her lips. She leaned in on the duke. Out of instinct, Creigal turned toward the beautiful skin-walker. A trout took his bait as Meu kissed him. He pulled the fish from the waters as foreign thoughts crept into his consciousness. He held the fish up for Meu's appraisal. Well done, she said in his mind – a thing that quite surprised and fascinated the duke.

With a blush, Creigal set more bait on the line and dropped it into the river. To an unsuspecting observer, it might appear as if the two sat quietly on the rock, hand in hand, as he fished for their dinner – but there was a rush of conversation between them, occasionally interrupted by a trout on the end of the line.

It was not long before Creigal had half a dozen fish. The sun hovered on the horizon, and the duke thought he should return before he could arouse the suspicion of Carringten.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 12.5 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Golifett and Maligno Discuss the Coming Storm

"Ahh..." Golifett smiled as he scanned the calm night skies overhead. "The stars are in perfect position... Olbarra, lord of strife, is exalted, and there is much tension – a conflict among the others. I think we shall have us a grand storm in the mourn!"

"Cousin, there isn't a cloud in the sky, nor have we seen one in almost a week," Maligno complained. "I do not think tomorrow shall favor us."

Golifett scoffed. Maligno was an idiot, but his men made him well worth convincing. "Because there are no clouds, do you think it impossible for them to appear? And when it rains, shall it rain forever more? Does the weather only change when you are not watching?"

Maligno slid away to give himself more space. "I simply think it is unlikely. Besides, our quarry's escort has doubled."

"That is all the more reason to summon the storm – and a storm we shall have – a storm like none before!" Golifett answered.

"Perhaps," Maligno frowned. "Perhaps – and perhaps you expect us to bring too much of this storm..."

"Oh, with you it is always too little or too much!" Golifett snorted. “You just complained that it was only a child I seek!”

"Last time we lost six of our cousins. I only wish to go home," Maligno admitted.

"Home!" Golifett mocked. "Spoken like a true coward! Do you not realize this land was ours all the way to the mountains for a thousand years before the Yak stole it from us! You may forget it, but do not think our ancestors forget! They will not forsake us as we strike against our enemies!" Golifett sneered at his cousin. “We lost six…? We killed twelve and took eighteen slaves! But no – you’ve grown fat and lazy! A little adversity shakes your faith! You have too much and lack the imagination to spend it!”

"You mean to steal a child," Maligno noted. "It is not as if we steal their queen’s jewels or vanquish an invading army..."

"But we do!" Golifett's eyes were alight. "The boy alone had seven ounces of gold – and nearly as much silver! I know nothing of what these others carry, but if the boy is the only one among them with any coin, I shall be shocked!”

“I don’t like that you always make it a religious matter,” Maligno began.

“Ah, but it is!” Golifett tried to explain once again. “One at a time, I steal their future! And the adults – the ones I do not kill – I break their spirits! With such straws, we will break their backs!"

"Since when are children hard to come by?" Maligno replied. "All creatures love to make them."

"Life is a game of inches," Golifett countered. "A child here and a child there is a family in twenty years, and a clan in a hundred! We feast on the flesh of their children. This strengthens our own nation as it weakens theirs!"

"I don’t care about all that. The world is not as you think – but you do make me good money, when you aren’t costin’ me better men...” Maligno retorted. “Now I sat silent through your whole little ritual, and the chicken was deliciouos, but you promised a storm – and I’d like a storm.”

Polish, polish, polish… Finished my second or third polish of 12.1. Either way, it’s been several days since I started working on 12… and there’s still a good amount of work to be done here — 2020/03/25