Shifting Allegiance

or

Flickers of Light and Shadow

Rewrote 17.1 and polished 17.2 — 1h27m12s — 2022/07/22

Polished the entire chapter — 1h46m58s — 2022/07/28

Moved 18.1 to 17.7 and polished it. — 16m29s — 2022/08/01

Polished the entire chapter — 2h01m11s — 2022/08/03

Polished 17.7 — 22m07s — 2022/08/10

Naiphan and Bruck refused to carry any of the steel coins, leaving them all for Meriona. She huffed as she humped all five bags down the road, a good thirty or forty pounds of small steel rounds.

The two Jaded Blades were slowly leaving Meriona behind as mile after grueling mile was ground under their boots. They were several hundred paces away when Meriona finally dropped the bags of nearly worthless steel rounds and began shouting at the two men.

“Stop!” She pleaded. “Stop it! Wait for me!”

She called several times before they finally responded. The two men stopped, turned, and stood arms akimbo as they waited for her catch up. Heads cocked, they stared—as Meriona slowly picked the sacks off the ground and stumbled forward once more. She was not quick about it—nor did they wait. She was still a good twenty or thirty yards out when they turned around and continued down the road ahead of her.

The sun dropped as a smattering of clouds brought an on-and-off drizzle that must have lasted a good hour. It was almost perfect in the way it cut the heat, though it didn’t pool enough that she could drink any of it. The lake wasn’t any better. The ground turned to mush long before there was enough water on the surface that she might be able to drink it. Meriona simply went without—instead of getting stuck in the mud.

After the rain, Naiphan and Bruck turned and began to shout at the woman, though Meriona couldn’t make out what they were saying. Were they in danger? Were people coming? She thought she should get off the road and hide, except that Naiphan and Bruck made no move to conceal themselves. Instead, she hurried her steps as the Jaded Blades made impatient gestures. “If you don’t speed up, we’ll never make camp before it gets dark,” Naiphan told her.

“If you’re in such a rush, you could always help with the coin,” Meriona pointed.

“You carry the coin because you’re in charge,” Naiphan told her.

“Well, if I’m in charge, then I demand you carry the coin.”

‘You got me,” Naiphan grinned and shook his head as the senior Jay. “You’re not in charge,” he said, then turned, and continued walking.

Meriona rolled her eyes.

The marsh at the edge of the lake was receding. Soon, the swamp was gone, there was a dry edge to the lake, and Meriona found herself approaching the campsite where the leviathan attacked. “We’re not staying here,” she said, shaking her head, and having no interest in the cursed site.

“The beast is gone,” Naiphan replied. “It’s safe.”

“It wasn’t safe last time,” Meriona noted.

Naiphan smiled again and leered at her with haggard teeth. He turned to Bruck and chuckled.

Bruck also started to laugh. He turned between Naiphan and Meriona, then set his eyes on Naiphan. “What’s so funny?”

“Well,” Naiphan shrugged. “It’s funny because she doesn’t realize it isn’t safe this time either—at least, not for her—” and with that, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“Hey!” Meriona jerked and tried to pull away—but the Jaded Blade had a firm grip. She dropped the coins, all but one bag in her off-hand, which she swung at Naiphan. It caught him in the shoulder and the sheer weight of it knocked him off balance. She also kicked his shin, and twisted her arm. It was enough to break herself free.

Keeping the bag of coin, since it doubled as a weapon, Meriona turned and ran. She screamed as she sprinted down the road.

A bag of coin dropped out of the sky in front of her—then another hit her in the back and knocked her to her knees. She stumbled, got to her feet, and had just started to run again when Bruck tackled her.

“Get off me!” she screamed, turned, and tried to rake his face. A couple sharp nails caught his nose and left cheek—but her right ring finger snagged in his mouth, and he caught the first knuckle between his teeth. Bruck bit down and Meriona could feel the skin breaking.

“Ow, ow, owww!” she cried, and held still, so he might not bite her finger off—but he did it all the same. Then, as she screamed and cradled what was left of her offended finger, Bruck swung one of the bags of coins and smashed the side of her face.

Woozy, Meriona opened her eyes. A fiery pain sang from her hand. With a gasp, she swung her left fist, but it was a clumsy blow, and easily turned aside. Still sitting on her, and with blood all about his mouth, Bruck grinned, chomped her finger, and spit the pieces in her face.

Meriona shrieked.

As she screamed, Bruck pulled back and smashed her in the face again with a bag full of coins. The heavy sack of change broke one of her teeth, and she swallowed it so she wouldn’t choke.

Meriona was out again. Bruck tugged at her clothes, then took her in the road, as gravel scratched and scraped at her back. She thought to fight him, but whenever she did, he simply hit her until she went limp. Finally, finished, Bruck stood and turned to Naiphan. “So do I kill the bitch?”

“Slow down, friend. I know you like ‘em dead. But I prefer ‘em squirming,” Naiphan began.

“That’s why I asked,” Bruck glared.

“Trade me,” Naiphan said and gave the bags of coins to Bruck. He reached for her wrists, then recoiled when he got blood all over his hand. He turned to Bruck and stared.

“What?” Bruck challenged.

“Nothing,” Naiphan replied. “It’s an improvement—just wasn’t expecting it.” He went to the other end of Meriona and grabbed her by her ankles. She came to as the back of her head bounced and bobbled against the sharp bits of gravel. She screamed and kicked, causing Naiphan to let go of her. She rolled to her stomach and tried to crawl away. She barely got to her knees before Naiphan grabbed her hair and punched her in the side of the head.

Meriona blacked out yet again.

She came to with Naiphan on top of her. This time she only managed a whimper, though she still tried to push him off. He simply jammed one hand into her face, then—getting annoyed—he squeezed the bloody end of her finger.

Meriona sucked air and screamed bloody murder, as Naiphan pushed into her, repeatedly. “You like that, huh?! You like it?!”

“Please,” she spit blood and begged him. “Please stop.”

Naiphan finished, then grabbed her by the throat. “If it weren’t for you always fightin’ and distractin’ us, we woulda had that bounty! Instead, you got two of me brothers dead!” He glared at her. “Now you be nice to Bruck and play dead—or maybe he just make you dead for real. But if you live—if you live and I ever see you’re dumb fuckin’ face again, I’ll murder you. I’ll murder you, whether or not Bruck is there to fuck your corpse!” With that, he squeezed.

Meriona scratched and kicked—to no avail. The lights went out once more.

It was dark when Meriona woke again—and thank Rauthmaug she was alone! Still, her dress was missing—and she had a nasty gash between her breasts. She was sticky with her own blood; on her chest, between her legs, in her hair and eyes. Aside from the various pains left by Naiphan and Bruck, her biggest concern was a rock digging into her back. With a groan and her good hand, Meriona picked the stone and glanced at it. She was surprised to see that it wasn’t nearly as big as it felt. With a huff, she rested her face on a soft patch of grass, and closed her eyes against the aches the Jaded Blades had caused her.

Deep in the night, something licked at the blood on her injured finger, and Meriona came to with a fright. Not even looking, she snagged the rock and swung it at the beast. It gave a yelp and slunk away—perhaps a coyote. After several minutes of staring off into the dark, Meriona put her face in the grass and went back to sleep.

The sun was up the next time she woke. Strong hands were lifting her off the ground. Thinking it was Bruck and Naiphan, returned to finish the job, she kicked and struggled and caused them to drop her.

“Still alive,” a strange voice clucked. “Well, missy. We ain’t here to hurt you. If you let us, we’ll tend your wounds and try to get you feeling better. Or if you’d rather have us leave you, just keep fightin’ and we’ll get the point.”

Meriona turned and tried to see who was there, but the bright sun was blinding, and all she could make out were three shadows. She closed her eyes, and this time when strong hands lifted her gently from the ground, she let them.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 17.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

The sun’s light was fading. Stars were beginning to dot the sky. The Jindleyaks and their Soatren guests stood on a bare hill a couple hundred yards behind the barn, gathered before a large fire. Caught in her feels, Wenifas held her babe, as flames licked through the pyre, with the slight body of Claiten laid on top.

The tiny child, Evereste, was as happy and burbling as ever—in absolute contrast to everyone else that was gathered. Evereste stared at the fire, her hands stretched out to the twisting flames, as she squealed and cooed at the dancing light. Yet the youngest could only distract the priestess, as she wept for her losses.

Claiten wasn’t the only one missing. Saleos was gone, and none had heard word or whisper of Meu since she was swept away by the leviathan, disappearing into the dark clouds while wrapped about that wicked naga. Yet, the boy was the worst of it. Her pride and joy. Her growing child. He was just beginning to show the kind of man he would be; inquisitive, dashing, courageous—almost too eager to defend his mother. She felt she had failed the boy and worried that she would fail her daughter next, as she clung to the babe.

Unlike the pyre that celebrated the lives of Apulton and Traust, this fire was a quiet and somber affair. The duke had no grand speech to give, there was no song and no dance to break the grief. There was only the crackle of the fire, the curl of the rising flames—and inappropriate peals of laughter as Evereste tried to get closer.

If it weren’t for Evereste would Wenifas care to go on? Evereste; the baby with the undying fascination of fire—it was a miracle she’d still never been burned. Yet, Wenifas knew it would happen soon enough. There was no escaping such a basic lesson. Innocence was forever shifting into experience; cold, hard, and sharp. How long would it be? When would her vigilance slip and allow the child the burn she begged for? Might it take a few more years? Might it happen before the week was out?

Wenifas glanced around the pyre and realized the others were captivated by the child’s charms. Through her grief, she smiled at her new-found friends. She was more than happy to have the patient and caring shaman around, and was growing quite fond of his people. They were as kind and generous as she could possibly hope.

And yet, they harbored the men that killed Derris. She didn’t mind the duke, and the native guide seemed harmless enough; but the tea-drinker was a cad, and the dark man was strange and foreboding. She turned away, not interested in these others. Instead, she locked eyes on the fire, and tried not to think what the future might bring.

The next day, Wenifas wondered off on her own. She sat among a meadow of flowers and bawled over her losses—as Evereste explored the late summer blooms of the field. The priestess wondered that still hadn’t cried herself out and felt as if her heart would break. Eventually, the tears subsided. A comforting numbness settled upon her as she watched the bees dance about the field, unconcerned with the lady that watered their flowers.

The pastoral sublimity did not last. Someone approached. Realizing she was no longer alone, Wenifas looked up to see Baet standing a short way off. She glared, frustrated that he always seemed to present himself when she least wanted to see him—that is to say, she never wanted to see him! So why must he always bother her?!

The Saot raised his hands in hopes of quelling her obvious anger. “He was a special boy,” he said as he pulled the naga blade from his belt and held it gently before him. “I found this on the beach. He loved it and claimed he took it from the naga in Beletrain.”

“I know the blade,” the priestess confirmed.

“I was teaching him to use it—though I guess I didn’t teach him fast enough,” Baet stammered. “Anyway, I don’t know if you want it, but I thought you should have it.”

Wenifas took the offered blade and turned it in her hand. Since Beletrain, her son was never without it. She smiled to think of her son trying to gut the guard and cursing the man, simply for dancing with her.

But that’s not how it went. Wenifas tried to gut him first—and almost managed it. Then, when she was blocked, the child jumped at the man and attempted to finish her work. She smiled to think of it. He was such a loyal boy.

Wenifas pointed the dagger at the guard—though she didn’t advance. “I don’t know why he liked you, I don’t know what you said to him; but I do know that he went from trying to kill you, to sneaking off so he could train with you. Is it possible that you were a better friend than I was a mother?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Baet replied.

Wenifas held up a hand. “Whatever it was that you said, whatever it was that you did, thank you.”

“He only snuck around because he thought you’d be mad,” Baet defended.

“Oh I was,” Wenifas nodded. “Still, you were his friend when there were few friends for a boy to find. I want to thank you for that. Friends were always a big part of Claiten’s life.”

Baet gave a nod. “He was a good kid. Given a couple more years, he might have been the right kind of terror.”

“Given a couple more years…” Weinfas wiped her eyes.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Baet replied, “losses,” he corrected weakly—then, having said his peace, he turned to leave.

"How’s Toar?" Wenifas asked. Now that he had bothered her, she was not yet ready to be alone again.

Baet turned and smiled. “He’s up and about. He says he sees the world through a shake of pepper—but at least he sees the world.”

“It is a start,” Wenifas replied.

"Don’t feel sorry for the lad,” Baet said. “Between his face and butt, he has plenty of scars to impress the ladies.”

“Not everyone’s first concern is impressing the ladies,” Wenifas noted. “What of Komotz?”

“He’s better one day and worse the next,” Baet shrugged. “The others want to go on to Hearthstone and bring him with us. All except Scurra. I’m beginning to think she never agrees.”

Wenifas eyed the guard. “She was right the last time.”

“Nobody’s right all the time,” Baet shrugged.

For a long second, the two simply stared at each other, then Wenifas reached into her robes and pulled out Cloud Breaker. She held the weapon in her lap. “That morning, as I crested that hill, I looked down at the others, I saw that one-eyed naga had Meu wrapped up. It seemed to me that he had her in a bad way. My boy saw it too. He charged in and swiped at the bastard.”

“He was no chicken,” Baet noted.

Wenifas shook her head. “His problem was the opposite. He was impetuous. The great beast dodged him easy enough—though he had to let go of Meu to do it.” Tears came to her eyes, and for a moment, Wenifas choked up.

Baet listened, rapt to hear the particulars, since he had not seen much of the fight.

“I saw the blow coming,” Wenifas continued. “I saw it, and there was something I could do about it,” she said as she lifted the pistol. “I pulled the musket, aimed, and fired—but I missed,” Wenifas stared Baet in the eyes. “Does it shoot straight? Am I just a poor aim? Either way, the ball carried to the right. I know it carried right, because I saw it hit the naga that sat astride Andrus.”

Baet nodded. “Ain’t he the lucky one.”

“I don’t mind that I saved the man—but it was not my intention. If I could do it again, I would let the Jindleyak die. I’d let him die a thousand times if it would save my boy—but there’s no taking it back. Still, there was one more thing I could do. I thought to throw the gun at him—but I didn’t. I balked. I didn’t want to throw it because I thought you might pick it up.” She turned the weapon over in her hand. “I hate you so much, I failed to do the one last thing that might have saved my child,” she said as she stared up at the man. “I realized my mistake, cocked my arm back—and it was already to late. That evil beast grinned as he slashed my boy from hip to chin. I watched him fall at the edge of the water. I saw the light leave his eyes—dead before he hit the sand.”

Baet gaped, unsure what to say to this. He wished to comfort her—but he knew not to get too close.

Wenifas lifted the gun. “Here,” she offered it to Baet as she wiped her leaky face with her other hand. “Take it.”

For a long second he simply stared at her.

“It poisons me to have it,” Wenifas said and waved the weapon with contempt. “It didn’t help me when I wanted to kill the naga. It didn’t help me when I wanted to kill you. As far as I can tell, it’s worthless.”

“It is not an easy thing to aim a musket in the rain while so many are fighting all around you,” Baet clucked. Still, he took the weapon, tucked in its holster, and reverently placed the belt around his waist. “Nor is it good to throw such a delicate instrument.”

Wenifas stared at the man. “Would you have missed?”

“I wasn’t even there,” Baet shrugged. “Duty kept me with the prisoners,” he hanged his head and stared at the ground for several seconds. “I like to think if I was, I might have been able to do something.”

Wenifas shrugged. “You did your duty. Is that not the thing to do?”

Baet looked up at the priestess and wondered if she knew that was a question he often asked himself. For a long second, he stared at the fine features of the exotic woman and wondered how he might make her most happy—then decided it was best if he left her alone. “Thank you,” he finished, then turned and walked away.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 17.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Paye found the letter on her dresser as she prepared for bed. She unfolded it and read it, somewhat perplexed that Homoth wanted her to send the ornament that hanged over the mantle back to Hearthstone with the others.

Over the years, dinge and tarnish had collected on the massive, decorative crest. Homoth said the sight of it in such a state had made his heart heavy. He wanted to polish it, and since their grandfather had not seen it in such a long time, he wanted to present it to him, clean and beautiful, before returning it to Excergie. Indeed, it was a strange request, but Paye was eagger to make her brother happy, so she stood in the main room and stared at the heavy decoration, made with precious metals and pricey gems. She thought perhaps she should deny his request. After all, it didn’t belong to him, and it most certainly didn’t belong to her. It belonged to the family, and it belonged at their house in Excergie. There was little use for it back in Hearthstone, where they had all manner of decoration. Still, her brother had left her quite a nice note, and she had not seen him in such a long time, so she climbed up over the mantle and pried the large ornament off the wall.

The large metal crest was much heavier than Paye anticipated. It came off the hook with a pop, and promptly pulled her off balance. She would have fallen and dropped the piece to boot, if not for the helpful hands of Baetolamew.

“Easy there,” he smiled, as he steadied her, then helped her off the mantle. “Ma’am,” the Saot said, then turned and made his way out of the room.

Paye watched him go. There seemed to be more swagger than usual as he walked away. She noted the musket on his hip and wondered that she had not seen the weapon before. He turned and glanced back as he got to the hall. A sly grin crept along his lips, and he gave her a wink. Paye blushed and looked away, as she realized he was handsome devil indeed, then took the large metal crest and packed it among her clothes. It was time to go home. She only hoped her family would be happy to see her.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 17.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

The next morning, as they all prepared to leave for Hearthstone, a true miracle occurred—though it made Aim jump. A serpent with wings like an eagle swooped out of the trees and wrapped around the priestess before anyone could do anything about it.

Aim watched as the massive beast caught Wenifas off guard and almost tumbled her to the earth. Wailing and sobbing, the priestess struggled to right herself as the serpent twisted about her.

Cursing and sputtering, Aim pulled a blade and rushed to intervene—but Andrus grabbed his arm and stopped him. With a wry smile, Andrus gaped at the beast. “She returns,” he said as he held Aim back.

“Who?” Aim asked. “What?”

“The skin-walker,” Andrus replied. “The one you told me to watch,” he ribbed the big man. “Don’t you know that’s Meu?”

Aim frowned. “That’s not Meu,” he replied. “That’s… that’s… what is that?!”

“It’s Meu!” Andrus insisted. “Didn’t you see her when we fought the naga?!”

Aim shook his head. “I didn’t see anything like that!”

“How’d you not see that?” Andrus frowned.

“What?! You mean with the everyone screaming and fighting!? With naga, dragons, and a leviathan?!” Aim huffed. “I almost got skewered by a fish fork! If that beast was at the fight, it wasn’t fighting near me!”

Andrus shrugged. “So much for situational awareness.”

Aim pressed a finger against the sling that held his cousin’s bashed up arm. “You ended the fight on your back and had to ride in the wagon! I made it through without a scratch!” he said as he turned back to the winged serpent that wrapped around a giddy Wenifas. “That thing fought the naga?”

“You’re the one that told me to keep an eye on her,” Andrus noted. “You never noticed anything strange?”

“Just that she was strange,” Aim shrugged. The big man frowned. “Meu’s a skin-walker?!” he repeated, barely believing it. Yet, he could tell that the priestess was in no danger—as she hopped about, stroking the curious beast, laughing so hard that she started crying again.

With a chuckle, Andrus turned to the house and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Aim asked his retreating cousin.

“To borrow one of Paye’s dresses, so Meu has something to wear,” Andrus said as he pointed back at the serpent.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 17.5 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Everyone was excited by Meu’s return. Indeed, it was the big event of an uneventful day. After that, the company packed up their belongings, put Komotz and a tied up Maligno in the back of the wagon, then proceeded west without much to-do.

The Jindleyak decided it was best to take them to the Trandhill mansion at the edge of Hearthstone, considering the esteemed status of their guest. Still, they had another day’s travel before they made it that far. Evening came. Camp was set.

As the others slept, Meu slipped from the the priestess’ tent. She crept about, dodged the watch, and lingered near the duke’s tent. She could hear the man tossing and turning. She scratched at the door.

Shortly, the duke pulled open its buttons and glared into the night. When he saw it was the sin-walker, his face relaxed—brightened even—as he looked at her with increasingly appreciative eyes. Meu entered and sat. Soon she was telling him of the last time they saw each other—during their battle with the naga. She filled in the details of her fight with Golifett. She explained how Claiten saved her life. She spoke of getting grabbed by the mighty leviathan—of being pulled through the clouds while entangled with the naga. The cloud kraken had them wrapped tight as it dragged them through the air. Meu bit at the tentacle as Golifett slashed it with his sword. Aggrieved, the kraken let them slip—and that was that.

Meu flew as Golifett fell. A tendril lashed out from the leviathan, but failed to regain either morsel. If they’d been the beast’s only focus, they likely would have perished—but the mighty leviathan was after dragons, and rushed away.

Meu followed the naga down until he smashed into a small grove. She found his tangled form in the low branches of an oak, with lifeless eyes, bent and broken. After that, the search for her friends began. She climbed into the cloudless sky, quite blue and clear after the morning’s storm. She realized she’d been carried generally east of their camp, which she eventually found—though it was already abandoned. She followed the road to Excergie, which she didn’t reach until the next morning. then continued east until she reached Hearthstone a good day later. She figured there was no way the party had come so far so fast, and decided they must have stopped, so she turned back and retraced the road. When she reached Excergie she began to search the town, mostly at dawn and dusk, when the light was bad, and she was less likely to be spotted.

It took a couple days—but then she heard Wenifas scolding her child about the dangers of fire—and that’s how she found them.

Creigal smiled at the tale.

Enough of the naga and the kraken, Meu said as she stared at the duke. Come south with me. What are the chances you’ll find this thief anyway?

“I will find the thief, I am sure of it,” Creigal confided.

How can you be so sure?

“My daughter comes to me in my dreams. She begs me to continue.”

Dreams could mean anything, Meu replied.

Creigal shook his head. “I considered going home, especially when I was prisoner to the Ministrians. But the dreams—so vivid. So clear. She begs me not to let her go so easily—even though she is dead and I shall never see her in this waking world. So you see, I am assured that I will find the thief’s trail.”

Suppose the dreams are just dreams, Meu said. Say that you cannot find this trail? How long shall you search?

“Until it is hopeless,” he admitted, with a wan smile.

You say yourself that war comes to your home. Do you not want to be there to defend it?

“I was never going to be the one to defeat the King,” Creigal admitted. “That would take the entire people. They will be strong enough, with my nephew to lead them.”

If you come south, you can be with me, Meu noted.

“And that is the best reason to go,” Creigal smiled. “I suppose one never knows. Perhaps the thief came north only to turn around and go back home. Perhaps I will find myself returned to Gaurring while still chasing the thief.”

Meu frowned. You don’t believe that. You’re convinced this Humbert continues further afield.

Creigal nodded. “I cannot see Humbert settling down among a kind and caring people like these Jindleyak. Why must you go south?” Creigal replied. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Meu grinned. Ahh, but we all have daughters, she began. One of mine is about to hatch her first clutch. I wish to be there for her, in the first days, when it is most difficult.

“I remember your song,” Creigal nodded. “What if I promise to come south after I deal with this Humbert?”

Meu smiled. I shall have my daughter and grandchildren to distract me. I believe the time shall pass quickly.

In such a manner they continued to talk, until the duke had to take the watch. He relieved Baet, then sat among a jumble of boulders at the edge of camp. He was alone for just a few minutes before Meu joined him. They sat under the faint light of the Tears of the Broken Moon with Tristmegist high above, and gazed off into the trees. Oblarra was below the horizon, which suited Meu just fine, as she never cared for its creeping red light.

For a time they talked, until Meu ran out of things to say. Then she leaned on the duke and rested her eyes. Before long, Creigal noticed she’d fallen asleep. He smiled and smoothed her hair. She woke to find herself being carried into camp. “My watch is just about done,” he said as he placed her in his tent. “I will join you shortly.”

She smiled and nodded, then closed her eyes once more as he pulled his blanket over her.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 17.6 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

The next day, as the party continued east, a rider bearing the colors and insignia of the Oak and Beast approached upon the road. Duboha rode out to meet the sour old man. They exchanged a few words, then waited for Creigal to join them, and also Carringten, who was never far off. Having nothing else to do, Baet crept at the edge of the conference.

Duboha introduced the grim old man to the Saots. “This is our cousin, Roustich…”

Baet leaned close to Carringten and whispered, “they have more cousins than the duke.”

Carringten shooed at his commentary as Duboha continued. “…he has unsettling news out of the south.”

“There is blood,” Roustich said, getting straight to the point. “Bouge marauders have sacked the town of Solveny.”

“Solveny?” Creigal replied, curious to hear trouble for the town. “That is Dunkel lands, the county of High Plains. What trouble has fallen upon them?”
“We are told it is Trohl marauders out of Rynth Falls, allied to one of the Saot duchies,” Roustich answered.

“Rynth Falls,” Creigal shook his head. “I know little of the place, other than it is a Trohl outpost on the border of the Noeth.”

“Well, I am not surprised to be hearing of it,” Duboha stated. “There was speculation that Kezodel was forming an army there—though nobody could figure to what end. He certainly wasn’t going to use it to protect the west lands,” he shrugged. “Perhaps they simply lashed out at the nearest Saot city.”

“If Kezodel was involved, than we can assume the Ministrians are involved,” Creigal stated. “Which means King Gred duReb is likely involved, along with Count Drefford. And since it was Solveny that was attacked, even the Dunkels might be in on it…” he speculated. “Yet, you say there were Saots with them. How were they dressed?”

Roustich nodded. “They wore red and black with a raptor as their emblem.”

Creigal glanced down at his ring to see what one might call a bird, a kite, or a raptor.

“Gaurs?!” Baet shook his head. “We barely trade with Trohls, much less the Bouge. Land’s End could cut us off whenever they like—and if I’m reading the winds correctly, they’d do that almost immediately! Who’d believe we’re making secret military alliances with a people we don’t even know?!”

“In times of war, sense goes right out the window,” Carringten noted. “How else could these Trohls could be convinced to strike south at Solveny, instead of going after Wibbeley, where their troubles truly originate.”

“So a bunch of Trohls and Ministrians sack a Noethrin town under false colors—but to what end?” Duboha wondered.

“Minist wants war between the Noeth and Gaurring,” Creigal smiled. “Minist always wants war—wherever she can get it—and Solveny is a perfect target. It is subject and very loyal to Yurand, Count of the High Plains.”

“But you say your King and the Duke of Land’s End wish to strike against High Plains,” Duboha noted. “Isn’t Yurand a bannerman to the Dunkels?”

“Oh, Yurand is sworn to Land’s End,” Creigal agreed. “But they do not like each other. The animosity between these two families is well known, and the current generations care nothing for each other,” he continued. “Still, one finds himself with the alliances he has, and not always the alliances he wants—so although the Dunkels may not like High Plains, they won’t do anything about it themselves. Indeed, quite the opposite. In the name of Solveny, they’ll mount an army, drive it south to Gaurring, and raise a ruckus.”

“Now I see the sense of it,” Duboha nodded. “Have the Ministrians do the bulk of the lifting, then blame it on an imagined alliance between the Trohls and the Gaurs.”

“Politics,” Carringten spit.

“Always politics,” Creigal agreed. “Solveny is the major town of that people, while High Plains is less than half the size. If Solveny is sacked, Yurand might be upset, but he’ll be unable to do much about it. He resides in High Plains because it is a more defendable position. Solveny has most of his people. Yet, it is not large. It is not half the size of Wibbeley.”

“Not even a quarter,” Baet jibed. “Wibbeley got big.”

“How big is Wibbeley?” Roustich asked. “Compare it to Ebertin.”

Creigal and Carringten both turned to Baet, since he was the only one that actually went into Wibbeley. “Well, certainly not that big,” Baet shrugged. “What would you say, is Ebertin as big as Rottershelm?”

“Rottershelm?” Roustich shook his head.

“Quite possibly the largest city in the world. I cannot say how large it is compared to Ebertin, since I saw so little of the city above ground,” Creigal shrugged. “The only city I’ve ever seen near as big as Rottershlem is Grukkmah in Hof Hebrin—and I should never again wish to visit there either. By comparison—and even with the naga—Ebertin didn’t seem near as bad.”

“And you tell me not to pick on the Pags,” Baet murmured.

“We have gone rather far afield,” Carringten noted. “We are supposed to be talking about the size of Solveny.”

“What would you say compared to Excergie? Twice, maybe three times the size?” Baet looked between Creigal and Carringten.

“Closer to three,” Creigal nodded.

“So a mix of Ministrians and Trohls moved against a town more than twice the size of Solveny as a pretense for attacking Gaur,” Duboha recapped. “Do you think they’re simply taking advantage of your absence?”

“Perhaps our enemies think too much of me,” Creigal replied. “Or perhaps they think their Jaded Blades will be successful. Or perhaps they think I will not hear the news.”

“But you have,” Carringten smiled. “And now their troubles begin.”

“You and I might have little to do with it,” Creigal noted.

Baet studied his master. “Then you still hope to find Humbert’s trail?”

“I do,” Cregial nodded.

“But war,” Carringten interjected.

Creigal shrugged. “We’ve been at war with the kingdom for years.”

“Now it is an open war,” Duboha stated. “Can you hope to stand against other duchies of the Kingdom and the Empire?”

“The Empire has interests in Hof Hebrin, Borzia, and the Trohl Freelands,” Creigal replied. “On top of that, what makes you think they have enough men to capture Gaurring?”

Duboha shrugged, “There certainly seem to be enough of them mucking about.”

Creigal shook his head. “I do not see how the Empire can manage all its current conquests and still bring any bulk of men to bare against my home,” he shrugged. “But perhaps they think they will not have to. Land’s End has several armies, and if they attack us from the north, Gred duReb can pinch us from the south and west with his own forces. With all that, perhaps it is enough to have only a legion or two of Ministrian shock troopers to bolster their numbers.”

“His majesty shall have us on three sides,” Carringten nodded. “With our backs to the Breck,” he smiled.

“By now the King must know that we do not war with the Breck. Indeed, he might know that fight was nothing but pretense,” Creigal replied. “What are the chances he hasn’t sniffed out some of our deceptions?”

Carringten shrugged. “He must know something.”

“Whatever he knows, he thinks he can win such a war, and so he has acted against us,” Creigal noted.

“So let me see if I have this straight,” Duboha began. “Your King burns out a Noethrin town, blames it on the Trohls, and suggests you were the one that got the Trohls into the town in the first place—and he does all this just so he can attack you?” He shook his head. “Seems like a lot of trouble just to war with one of his own duchies.”

“But it isn’t just to go to war with me,” Creigal replied. “It is also a convenient way to turn your enemies into allies, as the Kezodel and the Ministrians are doing with the native Bouge in the west lands. He sacks Solveny, cuts into Yurand’s power, and and points the blame at Gaurring. I imagine he does this for the sake of the other duchies: Pagladoria, Ewile, Kelm. My enemies paint me in a bad light, so although my peers may not support the king, they will not support us either.”

“These duchies will not join the King?“ Duboha asked.

“I could see Pagladoria and Kelm sending troops and aid, but Ewile is likely to sit aside,” Creigal noted. “They are our friends and neighbors, and I believe they chafe under Danya’s rule. If forced to take a side, they could follow suit and declare themselves independent of the throne—especially if we are doing well in the conflict—and we do not aim to lose.” Creigal nodded. “As far as the Kingdom is concerned, it looks to be Gaur and the Breck against Danya, the Noeth, Kelm, and Pagladoria—while Ewile sits it out, at least at the start.”

“Only we have black powder,” Baet grinned.

Duboha didn’t consider that to be any sort of an advantage. He turned back to the duke. “Do you think your king engages because you have left the duchy?”

“Perhaps,” Creigal shrugged. “He may not fear me, but I’m told he suffers a healthy respect. It makes sense that he would act while I am far from home. Yet war is slow. It is just as likely a coincidence that I have left the duchy just as the King’s plans have started to unfold.”

Carringten turned to Roustich. “Did you say these Trohls were burning and killing their way south, toward Gaurring, with Gaur officers among their number?”

“That is the word,” Roustich nodded.

“Do you think Banifourd and Garfindel might be among the marauders?” Carringten asked.

“I had not considered it,” Creigal said.

“They seem the type to relish such dirty work,” Baet spit. “Especially Garf.”

Creigal shook his head. “How did I ever trust such men?”

“One does not always like the alliances he has,” Carringten shrugged. “Banifourd was sworn to you. Despite open disagreements, he served you often and well. He was also at hand and known to have connections in the Noeth,” the captain stated. “There was every indication that he was the right man to bring.”

“Yet, he turned on me,” Creigal noted. “When I needed him most, he turned on me.”

“That’s how a good spy operates,” Baet stated.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 17.7 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

The next day, the party arrived at the estate of Azra Trandhill. They turned off the main road and made into a small valley. They passed under a large iron gate with a most unconventional fence. The fence was made of trees thick with undergrowth and vines. Much of it was fruiting, and as it was just turning fall, the harvest looked to be bountiful. Among these nicer plants were a thorny and scraggly variety: juniper mingled with raspberries, honey locust, and roses all in a tangle; that stretched on and on in both directions.

Beyond the verdant fence was a land lush and ripe. there were open fields and forest all intermixed, as the wide valley slowly closed in. A small stream drifted back and forth across the valley, often pooled, and was crossed by a meandering road with sturdy bridges. There were long, elaborate beds of greens and spices at the edge of the creek, which was also crowded with cottonwoods, sycamores, and willows. Among the open fields were cedars and maples among more productive specimens—apple, cherry, pear, peach, walnut, pecan, chestnut—and many others that the duke and his guards could not identify. There grapes among a small mixed grove, growing directly into the branches of the trees. There were blackberries ten feet up, cropped over the side of a small cottage, also among the pillars of a gazebo, and climbing the legs of a watchtower. There were other small outbuildings; cottages, sheds, and barns, mostly overgrown with thick fruiting vines. There were open spaces and fields of grain: wheat, corn, and hemp—and among these fields were an array of animals, both wild and domestic, including a small herd of auroch; giant and stately beasts.

A gaggle of geese gathered close to the road. They took only a cautious glance at the duke and his company before turning back to the grass, in hopes of catching centipedes or snails that crept among the undergrowth. Creigal smiled to hear the casual conversation of the birds and considered it a very good sign.

There were people aplenty. Field hands paused in their duties to stare at the new arrivals. There were dozens and dozens—even hundreds of them, lurking among the vegetation, gathering the harvest, and peaking out from under the protective shade. At first they seemed timid, and only the barking dogs dared approach. Then came armed men, formidable and taciturn—until they saw Paye and Scurra. The cousins waved and called a few by name. As soon as they were recognized, hands came out of the field, along with an army of children.

The little ones rushed forward with the enthusiasm expected of the very young. They had all sorts of questions to ask, and no amount of sweet accomplishments and sour failures to share with their cousins. Several showed off objects they had made or decorated. One had just caught a snake of a benign and casual manner that did not mind being caught, or being passed around the men, all of whom were quite appreciative to see the captured beast and treated it with a gentle respect. A few of the militia that rode with Creigal made hints about the snake they had managed to catch, though they coyly denied any further investigation.

The adults had questions of their own for the visitors, though all were asked in a friendly manner. Some of them asked after the visitors, and found themselves genially introduced, while others ignored the strangers and raised more local concerns. A good number were shocked to see Krumpus visibly scarred. Many were keen to hide their surprise, and a few acted as if nothing had changed, though others addressed it directly. The shaman poked back at some of the interrogators, asking after their own injuries and scars. There many smiles, nods, and laugher among the banter; especially since the shaman seemed little worse for the wear.

Trailing a mob of locals, the party arrived at a collection of buildings, maybe a mile above the gated entrance. It was practically a village. At the center was the main house, built of stone and sporting a spire five stories high. A steward stepped from the mansion with a dozen or so helpers. He hugged his cousins, turned to Paye specifically, and said, “Your grandfather will be delighted you have seen fit to return. He has been quite pained with your absence.”

Paye blushed to hear it.

The steward turned to the foreigners and smiled. “Welcome to the home of Azra Trandhill. He is most anxious to meet you and hopes you will join him on the back patio. The kitchen has prepared some light refreshments for now. We will dine properly as the sun sets.”

“Thank you,” Creigal smiled and dismounted. He accompanied the steward, followed by the others—all escpet Baet—who was asked to see to their luggage, which he was fine to do. He carried the duke’s own bag, while several smaller cousins carried his and his captain’s bags. He was shown to the duke’s apartment, then joined his highness outside.

In the backyard, there was food and drink aplenty. The company was introduced to Azra Trandhill, a massive old man as thick as a tree. Despite his stature, the old bear grimaced and hobbled as he approached his granddaughter, so he might wrap her in a hug. He held her hand for a time, and was happy to include all the rest, though he talked mostly to the foreigners. He was boisterous, generous, and prodding. Indeed, he was quite curious to hear of his company’s adventures.

A number of children circulated among the adults with pointed observations and questions all their own. These interrogations were slowed by an assortment of cookies, cakes, fruits, punches, and such. The children laughed, poked each other, and played to the far reaches of the lawn—only to return and ask another round of superficial questions to the newcomers—before pilfering another handful of sweets and disappearing to the far corners of the lawn. They were all introduced, though they were impossible to tell one from another, as they scurried about the lawn. Carringten was a favorite of the children, with his dark and foreboding countenance. Having grown used to being stared at, the captain was kind and attentive.

For a long time, Azra talked to Creigal of his home and his quest. The Saot and the Trohl both spoke affably, though they did so in Ministrian, which intrigued Toar to no end. To think these two congenial gentlemen found peace while speaking the language of a common enemy was quite fascinating to the native guide. A consummate host, Azra pledged his house and plenty to the duke and his men. In return, Creigal assured that he would not stay long, and promised restitution. Quite satisfied with each other, Azra left the duke to his leisure, so he might attend other responsibilities.

Slowly, the gathering broke up. Roustich took his horse and rode for the city proper with a description of Humbert. Krumpus took Meu to meet his wife, since she only lived another mile or so further up the valley. Scurra and Wenifas went with them. Toar went to explore, as Celesi stalked after him. Creigal retired to his room so he might write a few letters. Carringten joined Duboha and Aim for a workout, while Paye went to talk to her brother, all of which left Baet to his own devices. For a while, he simply sat and enjoyed the crowd. Once he had his fill of the noise, he went in search of a bath and was taken to a deep pool in the river, where the locals often swam. There, he talked to several young men that were taking a break from their responsibilities. “So this is Hearthstone,” he said of the estate. “While I must admit it is something else to see, it is fair deal smaller than I had expected.”

The men looked at each other and snickered. “This is the very edge of Hearthstone. Indeed, we are almost in the country.”

“How far is it to the city center?” Baet asked.

The men looked to each other, then left the pool, and waved for Baet to follow. They made their way through rich fields to the base of a ridge, then followed a path that switched back and forth as it climbed. The trail was easy enough, though Baet was winded by the time they reached the top of the ridge. Still, the view was well worth the effort. Several miles to the east and just a touch south was a tall flat mountain covered with houses and towers built into its side. On top of the long flat mountain was a fort with a series of watch towers, capped with flags of every color, that waved and snapped in the wind. Between here and there were a number of estates similar to the one he was visiting. Baet was astounded to see it and realized it would take an unimaginable army to assail such a city.

“That’s Hearthstone,” the natives pointed, then grinned and beamed at each other, quite pleased with the foreigner’s reaction.

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