"Still..."

"Not the answer you were looking for? Or hoping for, maybe?"

"No."

"Don't worry, you'll like your answer better next time."

The man stepped away from the window at that point, turning towards the rest of the room.

"Now," he said to the group. "You'll want to sleep downstairs. Be polite and stay down there. And try not to be too loud. I don't generally care for guests that much, perhaps you can guess why. But I won't make you start walking back in the rain. Good night."

"So, who are you?" Raleth asked.

"One question, remember?" the man said, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow.

They filed downstairs. Some walked with confidence, some shuffled along unhappily. Matner chose to focus himself on knowing he was going to help people. The man had not said he would be a hero, but he supposed there were a lot of ways to be a hero.

"Who's he think he is, anyhow?" Sameth complained, once they started rolling out bedrolls on the stone floor.

"What's the matter? Didn't git the answer you wanted?" Linden asked.

"No!" Sameth said, unhappily. "He says she's gonna marry somebody else. Won't tell me who or why either." He kicked at the floor irritably.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Sameth," Kelver said. "It's all smoke an' mirrors anyways."

"What makes you think that?" Matner asked, curious.

"Well, his answer to me was pretty vague. Coulda meant anything," Kelver replied.

"Funny though, how ye still put money down on the table Kel," Nelser said. "What'd you ask 'im anyway?"

"I asked him whether or not I was going to look after your sorry neck fer the rest 'o my life!" Kelver joked, slapping his brother on the back.

"What did you ask Kelver?" Raleth asked.

"Don't matter none. It's a bunch 'o nonsense meant to make you believe is all. The guy's a phoney."

"He prob'ly got told he ain't ever gonna get himself a girl!" Nelser laughed.

"Hey - Dir Ketten was holding out on us though," Kelver added, pointing at the man in question. "We could've gotten here quicker if he'd just shown us the way."

"You've been here twice before?" Raleth asked, turning to Dir Ketten. The man merely nodded and shrugged in response, taking a seat on his neatly unrolled blankets, and rifling around in his knapsack. He pulled out the book Matner had seen before, and began writing in it again, seeming to ignore the conversation as it continued around him.

"I can't believe he took the map an' burned it though," Raleth frowned. "I could've gotten a decent price for it."

"Not if you'd sold it to Frank," Trevon said. "He's too stingy with his money, that one."

"Aye," Linden nodded. "I saw him haggle over the price of an ale once even. Poor serving girl didn't know what to make of it."

"I wonder what he's savin' it all for?" Sameth said.

"Dunno, but he ought to have quite a bit o' gold stashed up by now," Trevon replied. "He's been with Fredrickson for quite a while now, and he's the highest paid of us all."

"An' he never spends it," Linden agreed. "Oh the occasional ale or night at an inn now and again, but he mostly just keeps it squirreled away."

Author's Note

"I asked him about that once," Brint said. Matner was not the only one to turn abruptly to look at him.

"'I'm not gonna wander the world forever,' was all he said. At the time it wasn't my place to push him for more."

"Maybe he's been and met this guy a'fore!" Kelver joked.

The wolf came and curled up on the steps up, seeming to serve as a guard to keep anyone from exploring during the night. Matner looked at the gold reflecting in its eyes from their lights as rain started to fall outside.

It started lightly, but had grown to quite a downpour before he fell asleep. One of the last things he noted was that even with no door in the doorway, no rain made it inside the tower. The rain was over when he woke.

Sunshine spilled in through the doorway. The group all seemed to wake more or less at the same time. There were soft groans, yawns both soft and loud, and some popping and cracking of joints as people stretched their way to wakefulness.

None of them said much initially, as they were distracted by pulling boots back on, rolling up bedrolls, and pulling belongings together.

"I don't suppose there's any way we'll get 'im ta put on some breakfast," Kelver finally said. "Or at least some coffee?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," Nelser said.

Dir Ketten shook his head in response.

"This is not an inn," the man's voice came abruptly down the stairs to them.

The wolf stood up, stretched and then stared at them, as if waiting. Kelver took a tenative step towards it, and the wolf's ears folded back against it's head as a low growl came from deep in it's throat. Ketten reached forward and took Kelver's arm, gesturing towards the doorway out of the tower.

"I agree with Ketten," Trevon said. "We ought to be going."

The group grabbed up their gear and moved out of the tower. While nobody specifically seemed to be hurrying, Matner noticed that none of them seemed to be eager to test the man's patience. They were out of there in short order and headed out of the ruins before anyone made any further mention of breakfast. They compared notes and broke out some bits of jerky and a few apples to share as they walked. Dir Ketten took the lead, with a quick but easy stride, cutting bits off an apple and popping them into his mouth. Matner noticed he inspected every one before he ate them, as if looking for something wrong with the apple. Most others seemed to just eat theirs normally, taking bites directly from the fruit.

"Why does he do that?" Matner asked Nelser quietly. "With the apple, I mean."

"Dunno," Nelser replied between bites. "Trevon says he's watching for bugs. Maybe they have a problem with fruit where he comes from."

"Hmm."

"Yeah, lots of little things like that he does that're different. Just from livin' in a different culture I guess." Nelser shrugged.

They tromped through wet, and sometimes muddy, grasses. They passed stands of trees still dripping from last night's rain. When they came to the occasional small streams they paused to clean mud off of boots.

The soft ground made for slow and tiring progress. They pushed on, slogging along, knowing that it was taking longer than they thought and that they did not want to be late getting back. They eventually stopped for the night, exhausted.

There was tired grumbling about whether they really needed watches or not. Dir Ketten pointed out pairs in order, putting himself in the first watch. Matner was in the last watch. That seemed to put an end to the discussion.

They were able to find dry wood for a fire without too much searching. As soon as some dried meat was warmed up with some quick soup extra logs got tossed on the fire to make a pleasant blaze. They set their boots and wet clothes out to dry out good. Dir Ketten took small branches and wove them together into a rack that they all set their boots on.

Matner had no trouble falling asleep, and dreamed of the odd man in his tower. When he was woken for his watch he could not remember the details of the dream. He spent the first half of his uneventful watch staring at the fire, and the end of it watching the sun come up. He took the initiative to wake people up before the sun was completely up. They had agreed before that they would need to get an early start.

That day was easier going than the previous one had been. While there was still some areas where their boots sank and stuck in the mud, they were able to avoid the worst of it. It wasn't until after lunch that they saw the first farm.

After that, however, they were able to start taking the roads and paths that led between farms and crops, making the pace much quicker. Spirits raised again, and at one point Brint taught them all a couple of the marching songs he'd learned from the mercenaries he'd worked with. Both were crude, but funny, and it did make the time pass faster. Matner noticed that even Dir Ketten fell into the pattern of the song when marching, and seemed a bit amused by the songs themselves.

The sun dipped low on the horizon by the time they reached the river again. There was one, lonely, ferryman sitting in a wooden shack on their side of the river. They found themselves having to pay the man twice what they had paid to get across in the first place.

"Or ye could swim if ye like," the man told them with a grin that showed he was missing most of his teeth, much like his gray hair. "Take yer pick."

They grudgingly handed over the money and boarded the somewhat rickety boat. It seemed to bow under their weight a bit, and Matner was not the only one who worried that it might not hold all of them and still make it across. A couple of them even put voice to those concerns.

"She'll hold," the man assured them. "She ain't failed me yet."

He put the pole into the water and pushed them away from the bank with surprising strength. Despite the fact that it did not take long for him to steer them across the river, the sun had already dropped down below the city when they arrived. Matner watched as they approached, and soon the city was bathed in a warm glow from the many lanterns and fires that were lit.

Once they reached the camp again, they stowed their gear and then gathered around the fire to share the story of their journey. None of them told what they had asked the man, however. It seemed as if there was some unspoken agreement that had formed, that they weren't going to share that part.

They were surprised to find that Frank wasn't in the camp. Old Fredrickson said that he'd send Frank ahead with an errand and that he'd meet them on the road. The plan was to leave early the next morning, and that the passenger would join them as they left town. The dwarf suggested that they get as much sleep as they could. It didn't take long before everyone was heading to the tents and unrolling their bedrolls.

Chapter 06 - The Elf

He wiped the bacon grease off his fingers before helping to get the last items stowed. There were harnesses to buckle, boxes and barrels to strap down, and bags to secure onto saddles. His own gear was loaded with the rest.

As they were ready to move, two figures approached on horseback. One was a well-dressed lady. Her hair was done up under a white hat. Her dress was mostly pale blue with white stripes bordered with embroidered vines dotted with yellow flowers. The other was an elven woman in a simple white house dress. Both sat sideways on their saddle. There were no large bags on the lady's horse. The luggage was all piled high on the other horse, barely leaving the elven slave room to sit upon it.

"This is Lady Emarelle," Old Fredrickson said, introducing her. "She's a paying passenger, and as such you'll treat her accordingly." He introduced them to her as well.

"You don't have a horse?" Emarelle asked Matner, pointing out that he was the only one walking.

"The lad knows how ta march," Fredrickson replied. "He'll not slow us down." The dwarf turned and hobbled his way to his wagon. He climbed on up and they set off.

Without Frank, Trevon seemed to be the ranking guard, and he suggested that Emarelle ride between the first and second wagons, and the slave was told to ride further back, between the last two. Each took their spot and matched pace with the caravan as it worked its way down the southern road, away from the city.

The road itself seemed to wind back and forth between the farmland and the east bank of the river. It was well-traveled, and they saw many people going both directions over the well-packed dirt. The recent rain had reduced the amount of dust kicked up by the horses, but there were a few areas they had to make their way around carefully to avoid rolling a wagon through patches of mud.

He realized, as he marched alongside the wagon he'd been assigned to, that he hadn't said goodbye to Larissa. He felt a pang of guilt, but had a feeling that the young woman was used to such comings and goings by people in caravans. He did find himself wondering, however, if she'd come by to see him again. He spent some time trying to think of a clever way to ask one of the workers if she had, but couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't result in potential teasing from the others. He eventually gave up, and let his mind wander on to other things, mostly based on the scenery between the river and farmland.

Occasionally there were signs letting people know that farms had produce or goods available for purchase. Other signs directed people to small houses here and there along the river, where a few people made their living ferrying people across further out from the city. They stopped at one of the farms around lunchtime and Old Fredrickson did some trade with the farmer and his family while everyone ate. It wasn't until well into the evening, as Matner was beginning to wonder why they hadn't stopped yet, that they saw Frank ride up from the road ahead of them. He wasted no time in riding directly up to the Dwarf and they talked in hushed tones before Frank rode back the way he had come. Matner wasn't the only one who seemed to be wondering what was going on.

As they crested the next hill, Matner saw a small campfire off to one side of the road, and Frank waiting near it. Old Fredrickson began directing the drivers and they pulled the wagons off the road for the night. Matner was directed to help unhitch the horses from the wagons and then to get the tents set up. Once that was taken care of, he had a moment to look around. He noticed that there were two extra figures in the camp. Both wore hooded cloaks, so he could not see much about them except that one was smaller, and probably a child. They stood talking with Lady Emarelle, Old Fredrickson, Frank, and the elven slave girl. He watched as the elf knelt down and hugged the child to her. The other figure turned towards the campfire, and the light was just enough to see into the depths of the cloak's hood for a moment. He stopped short when he realized it was Larissa.

Her hood fell, and she looked badly bruised. Half of her face was dark with bruises. She turned and looked up at him, and the firelight lit her face more directly. With less shadows her face did not look as bad. It was still bruised, but he realized that the worst of what he had at first seen had just been shadows. Even having realized that, he blurted out "What happened?" before catching himself.

Evara came over quickly and took Larissa gently by the jaw, looking it over critically.

"Could have been much worse, it could have," she pronounced. "Looks like Frank's put something on it. Last night?"

"Yes," Frank said. "The usual stuff."

"It almost was much worse," Larissa said softly. "But as usual Frank's timing was...Well, I couldn't ask for a whole lot more."

Matner wondered for a moment if he should have been in town. If maybe he could have helped her if he hadn't been away when she had needed help. He would help some, and fail some others, the man had said. Maybe it was already starting to come true, he thought.

"I've got some ointment you should put on it," Evara said, gesturing for Larissa to follow her.

"It looks worse than it feels, really," Larissa protested, putting up a hand.

"Nonsense, young lady. The stuff Frank put on you will help with the pain and some of the swelling, yes. But what I want to put on you will make it heal faster as well as do more for the pain. We'll not be able to pass you off as one of us looking like that for long. Talk will travel back to the city."

"She's right, Larissa," Lady Emarelle agreed. "I've got some powder and colors in my bags. We'll see if we can't disguise them as well. But get some of that ointment first."

Larissa nodded, seeming to give in with a meekness that surprised Matner. She moved to follow Evara, and he thought she looked as if she was about to cry. He stood there, unsure of what to do. A part of him wanted to see if he could help her feel better in some way, the other part of him wanted to know what had happened. He looked back over at Lady Emarelle and the others, and found that Frank and Old Fredrickson were both looking at him, speaking in hushed voices. Frank nodded and headed over to Matner.

"Matner, a moment of your time please," he gestured off to one side of the camp, away from the others. Matner nodded and followed him.

Frank led him off to one side a little, away from the others and over by one of the wagons. He leaned casually against one of the big wagon wheels.

"You remember that story I mentioned back in camp about if there was a half-elf kid?"

"Yes," Matner said, already piecing it together but not understanding. "But it's supposed to be impossible."

"Well, t wasn't just a story. Very unlikely; not impossible. Now, there's a town that Old Fredrickson knows that we go to a couple times a year. We plan our route so we go through it twice. Before we get there, we take on a 'passenger.' Each of these passengers takes an elf with as their 'slave.' Those elves get left at that town where they disappear from human lands and start their own lives."

"So," Matner asked, "you buy slaves and transport them just to set them free?"

"They're often not bought. Every now and then the owner is wanting to let them go, but most of the ones we help out are ones being treated badly. We help them escape."

"Some would call that stealing," Matner pointed out.

"Yes, some would. But that only counts if you consider the ownership of another person legal. Is stealing something back from a thief really stealing? As just an example."

"Well, I'm sure the owners think of it as stealing."

"But trust me, the slaves never see it that way. We talk to them first, and make sure they want to go, but we rarely have one want to stay where they're at. They should have all been let free by now, Matner. They've repaid their debts. Some of them weren't even born yet at the end of the war, and they're still being sold around. And think about it, Matner. Do the slave owners really want it to ever change?"

Matner thought about that for a moment before replying. His father had always been proud of the fact that the family had two elven slaves. Only the wealthier families had them, and Raelwyn and Dynedren had been with the Tibrum household since well before Matner had been born. While he'd never seen anyone treat them badly in any way, he'd heard tales from other classmates about how some other slaves were treated. He'd never approved of that, but he had to admit that he'd never really thought of them as people before. He'd been raised to see them as being a step below the hired help. For the first time in his life, he looked over at the two elves in the camp and tried to imagine himself in their lives. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

"No, I don't suppose they do," he admitted. He knew his father thought owning two slaves was a badge of honor, a symbol of his placement in society. If others thought similarly, it was unlikely they were going to want to give up that show of wealth freely.

"The King's father, Gregor I, he made a deal with the elves, during the war. That much is public knowledge. Everyone knows how he swept in at the last minute and sent troops to turn back the giants. What most people don't know, however, is that the arrangement where the Elves gave us their lands and came to live under our rule was not meant to be as slaves. More as indentured servants, earning back their lands and freedom after a period of time. That period of time ended years ago, or at least that's what I've been told by folk like Old Fredrickson who were around during the war. They still remember what the rest of the world seems to have forgot. The Elves are a people too. And it's high time they be allowed to rebuild their lives as free men and women."

Matner was surprised at how emphatic Frank became as he spoke. He wondered what had made this a cause that Frank believed in so emphatically. Frank paused for a moment, as if realizing he'd gotten more emotional about it than he'd intended.

"Now you know what it is we've been keeping from you. The others know, and they've made their choice. It's time you make yours. If you agree with what we're doing, then we don't have a problem here. If you don't, then no one is going to stop you from going on your way, but we'd like to know. You're not so far from the city that you can't go back there and tell 'em what we're up to. But, in doing so, you might want to think about how many death warrants would be signed because of it. Stealing isn't an offense worthy of death, but helping slaves escape is. Somewhere along the lines the lawbooks were slowly changed to help keep the elves right where they are. So if you run back there and tell the Magistrate what we're doing, they'll send troops out after us. They'll likely kill every one of us in the end, if they can. It's your choice."

"No," Matner said. "I'm with you."

"Good. That does make things easier." With that said, Frank went back to the group and went right to helping with the last bits of camp setup. Matner followed suit.

There was sword practice that night after a quick dinner. Matner's shoulder felt up to it fully. While on one hand he wanted to spend the evening talking with Larissa, he felt the need to train and practice more so than he had before. He felt as though he had someone more specific to protect. He tried not to let them distract him, focusing instead on the practice. He did fairly well, and was spurred on by the cheers when he did well. All of them got cheered for a good move, and he complimented others as well.

He saw little of Larissa the next day, as she rode in a different part of the caravan than his walking post. It was that next night that she came down and sat next to him with dinner.

"I do find it interesting how you happened to run into me like you did," she said. "Of the different caravans, which one did I happen to bring someone home to dinner from? You know, I didn't even know the Old Dwarf was back in town yet when we met."

"We had only just arrived that afternoon," he mentioned.

"Yes, I know," she sighed. "My timing hasn't been so wonderful lately I guess."

She touched her arm, where Matner had seen more bruises. The ones on her face were either gone or invisible under the makeup Emarelle had applied, but he wasn't sure if the rest of them had healed yet. He'd seen Evara's face after she'd applied the ointment that night, and suspected that it was worse than Larissa had been letting on.

"I don't know what happened to you, exactly," he told her, "but I'm sorry I wasn't there to help." He felt silly saying it, but really didn't know what else to tell her. He did wish he'd been there to try and stop whomever had hurt her.

"I was found out, and by the wrong sort of people too," she said. "Thieves' guild. They threatened to turn me in if I didn't do what they wanted. I managed to dodge them for a while, but they set up an ambush for my outside of Tira's."

"Is Tira okay?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"Oh, they wouldn't dare touch her," she said, nodding. "Her father was Captain of the city guard for most of her life. Half the men patrolling the streets helped raise her after her mother died. She could tell any of them that she was being harassed and they'd take care of it. That was part of why it was so easy for her to let me stay there. As far as the guard is concerned, she's above reproach."

"Couldn't she have helped you then?" he wondered aloud.

"I didn't ask. I wouldn't put her in that kind of position after she did so much for me already."

"I see," Matner nodded. "So this ambush, what happened? How did you get away?"

"I have Frank to thank for that. Fortunately, his timing is better than mine. They had cornered me and were trying to 'convince' me that it was in my best interest to do what they wanted in exchange for their silence. Basically, they wanted Sharnellynn and Ahriender to steal things when they left the house they were escaping. They even had a list of the type of items to steal. But this was done under the guise of purchasing the elves, so there was no way that such a ploy wouldn't have ruined our cover. Since they didn't know which elves we were helping, they couldn't make their plan work without my cooperation. When I kept saying no, they decided to try and beat their names out of me."

"I managed to get away for a short time, but I needed to keep to the alleys myself to avoid questions. Fortunately, Frank had been coming to look for me, to make arrangements for the transport. I literally ran right into him as I turned a corner."

Author's Note

"So what happened?" he asked.

"Oh, you know Frank. He's got a way with words..."

Just then Frank came over and sat next to them. He had a mug of something, and he took a sip of it before toeing one of the logs on the fire.

"You need to remember," Frank explained, "whenever anyone even might be watching, to keep treating the elves as if they are slaves of a passenger. How did your father treat his elves?"

"Mostly pretty well, I think," Matner answered. "They have rooms with the rest of the staff, although maybe not furnished as well. They're never beaten or anything, but I think mostly they just never gave us a need to. What I saw of them they're decent, loyal, and good workers."

"I think you'll see the same in Sharnellynn, and even young Ahriender."

"You should try to get the know them a little, Matner," Larissa said.

"I try to get to know most of our elven passengers," Frank said. "More so than most of the human passengers. We sometimes transport regular paid passengers, but we're helping the elves we get involved with. And, honestly, there's some risk involved. I like to get to know the people I'm taking risks for. So far it's usually been worth it."

He looked over to where the two elves were helping clean up the dinner dishes. Sharnellynn washed each dish and then handed it over to Ahriender, who carefully dried it and placed it in a stack on a crate beside him. He noticed that both of them seemed to be very precise in how they did their tasks. They worked silently, neither looking up from what they were doing, as if the world around them almost didn't exist.

The boy hadn't removed the hooded cloak in the time that Matner had seen him. While his mother had taken hers off during the day when the sun was beating down on them, he had both kept his on and the hood raised over his head. When they had traveled the road, he had been inside one of the wagons, hidden from view. From what little Matner had been able to glimpse of him, his face seemed to look mostly elven, although did not resemble his mother much in appearance. Since Matner didn't know how old he was, he wasn't able to judge if Ahriender was tall for his age or not. He also wasn't sure how tall Elven boys would be as they grew. It occurred to him that he really didn't know much about elves at all. They had been part of the scenery in his household, not something for discussion.

"I'm not sure I know what to say to them," he admitted.

"Well, what would you say to any other person you'd just met?" Larissa asked, with a smile. "You didn't have any trouble talking to me."

"True, but you helped the conversation along considerably," he replied. "You asked me questions."

"You'll find that Ahriender has plenty of questions," Frank interjected with a chuckle. "He's read a lot, but hasn't been out in the world itself at all until now."

"How old is he?" Matner asked.

"Well, that's different for Elves," Larissa said. "In maturity, he's equivallent to a human age of about nine years old. Elves mature slower than we do though, so he's actually been alive for thirteen of our years."

"Oh, I see," he said. He thought about little Endrew back home. He tried to imagine what Endrew would be like traveling like this. Except Frank said this boy had not been out before. So he supposed for Ahriender everything was new. He wondered how much of it might be scary for the boy.

He watched the two as they finished the dishes and the rest of cleanup. They worked together without saying anything. He did not think he had ever seen Endrew go that long without talking.

"So who is the father? And I guess she had to keep the child a secret, right? I mean, people really would have talked about that, right?"

"Yes," Frank said, "they would have. She had made a friend with a shopkeeper. That shopkeeper is one of our contacts there--although not back then. We've only been involved like this for a few years now. But he was supportive and helped her keep the secret."

"She managed to keep the entire pregnancy from her 'owner,'" Larissa said. "He still doesn't know. But it has meant them being apart a lot. It's no way to live, and she just wasn't willing to do it any more."

"Eventually that shopkeeper told Old Fredrickson about her, and now here we are," Frank finished.

"So where is safe for them to go?"

"Eihrwayh is one of the cities that mark the edge of what used to be the Elven lands," Frank told him. "Those cities generally have people who are contacts for the Elven rebels. If we don't find one of Old Fredrickson's contacts there, we'd move north next, to the next one. Once we can contact one of them we will arrange a meeting outside the city limits, somewhere remote. A small party of rebels will meet with us and Sharnellynn and her son will go with them."

"Assuming they accept Ahriender," Larissa said. "There could be a problem there. Sharnellynn has admitted to me that she's not sure how the free Elves will react to a half-human child. It's rare enough that she'd never thought it was possible until she was pregnant. She's made inquiries with the older Elves enslaved in Tikor. Some told her stories about 'half-breed' babies that were killed at birth, or shunned once they became adults. Ahriender seems elven in most ways, but his ears and hair look more human. There's no telling how they will treat him."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Frank assured her. "For now, we concentrate on getting them safely away from here. Even if the rebels shun him, we can go farther west and find some farmer who will take them in. There's always someone. The further west we get, the more often we see communities where Elves and Humans live and work side by side instead of anyone trying to own anyone else. I suspect that Ahriender is not the only one of his kind at this point. You know the Old Dwarf will go the extra length if needed."

"I know," she nodded. "It's just that I promised her we'd find a place for them to live safely. She wants him to be able to run and play, not hide in corners anymore. I plan to stay with them until that promise is fullfilled."

"Then you'd better earn yer keep, girl!" Old Fredrickson announced in a loud voice, startling them all. He followed that with a rough laugh and grinned around the stem of the pipe he was smoking.

Author's Note

Thanks!

The next thing he knew Tam had started singing an old song. His voice sounded older than normal when he sang. It was not a song Matner knew, but obviously others did. It was not long before about half the group was singing along.

Sameth started another song after that one. It was one that Matner did know--a hunter's song. He found himself singing along with that one without even meaning to. He tapped a foot as Ennick tapped a pair of wooden spoons together quietly to the tune. A couple others whistled along, and about half the group had joined in towards the end.

Most of them laughed when it was over.

"Careful," Frank said, "if someone hands Old Fredrickson too much ale he'll be dancing. Now there's something you'd ne'er forget..."

As the sounds of happy conversation floated around the camp a new sound started. It was a soft and airy sound. Sharnellynn had a wooden flute and with it was producing the slow, sad, haunting tune. It carried over the other sounds of the camp, easily heard without drowning out any other sound. The camp grew quiet around it. It was absolutely the mopst beautiful thing he had ever heard.

He looked over at her and her son, sitting off away from everyone, on a blanket at the edge of camp. Ahriender was lying on the ground with his head in Sharnellynn's lap. It seemed odd to him, since it was never something he could remember he or his brothers doing with his mother. When the song finished, she set the flute to one side and looked down at her son, brushing his cheek gently with one hand and smiling at him.

"Best be gettin' ta bed," Old Fredrickson declared, breaking the silence. "We got ourselves an' early mornin' ahead."

The Dwarf hefted himself up off the log he'd been sitting on, leaning on his cane for leverage with a practiced motion. People shuffled around him, getting up and heading off to their tents. Matner went to stand up and then remembered that he and Sameth had the first shift that night. Instead, he grabbed another log off the stack and hefted it into the center of the fire. Tiny sparks flew up into the air around it as the wood cracked and protested under the weight of the fresh log. Then he brushed his hands off on his pants and started walking around the outskirts of camp, checking to see that all was in order.

As he was coming around to finishing the circle where he'd began it, he heard a rustle in the tall corn that stood in rows at one side of the camp. He couldn't be sure it was anything, with the breeze blowing the tall tops of the cornstalks back and forth, but he decided to investigate, to be sure. It sounded small enough that he didn't think he needed to alert Sameth. It's probably just a rabbit or something similar, he told himself. Nonetheless, he kept one hand loosely on the hilt of his sword as he stepped into the row of corn.

He stopped still for a moment. He did not want to risk drowning out some quiet movement with rustling noises of his own. He heard the corn swaying in the night breeze, and he heard crickets. Other than that there was nothing.

Then suddenly there was a noise. It stopped as abruptly as it started. It was a noise and then it was gone. But something had definitely disturbed the corn. He stood frozen, waiting in the dim night light.

The noise happened again, and a shape darted out from between stalks. It stopped, and glowing eyes looked up at him.

He looked down at it and chuckled, finding himself staring down a gopher. It twitched its nose at him and turned away before strutting off back through the corn.

He turned back towards the camp and pushed his way back between the stalks of corn. Sameth stood waiting with his sword drawn.

"Oh, just you," he said. "What are you doing?"

"I heard something," Matner explained. "Just a gopher."

"Ah. I heard something too. But never mind. I guess I know now. Just you." Sameth turned and walked back to camp, slamming his sword away in it's sheath.

"Well you're in a mood," Matner commented as he followed Sameth back to the fire. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothin'," Sameth replied, kicking at one of the logs to shove it further into the flames.

"Well, something must be getting at you. You seem to be itching for a fight."

"Assumin' I'm good enough fer that, anyway," Sameth said glumly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's that damn old man," Sameth blurted out unhappily. "He said I'm not gonna git ta marry Ella!"

"Oh," Matner said. "Did he tell you why?"

"No! He wouldn't tell me nothin' that were useful. Just answered my question's all. I said 'will I git ta marry Ella one day?' an' he just said 'no' plain as day. No reason why, nothin'. When I tried ta ask 'im why, he just tells me that I only git one question! Argh!" Sameth picked up a small bit of rock off the ground near his feet and flung it off at the corn before sitting down on a log next to the fire.

"Maybe you'll meet someone else," Matner offered, hoping to cheer him up. "Someone you'll want to marry even more."

"But I promised Ella," he insisted. "I told her I'd be back fer her once I made myself inta somethin' she'd be proud ta marry. Maybe I just won't be good enough fer her when I get back. Maybe she just won't want me. Or her father'll say she can't be mine. I promised her, Matner. An' I know she loves me, so's she's not gonna go off marryin' someone else. An I'm not gonna go breakin' my promises."

"Well, the stuff he told me was pretty vague. More like basic advice than any kind of real prophesy," Matner said, trying to make it sound even more like what he thought Sameth wanted to hear. "Maybe he was just making it up. Or," he thought suddenly, "maybe he knows you will, but that you'll have to do something great to impress her. Maybe he's just trying to trick you into proving him wrong."

"That's gotta be it," Sameh said. "And just you see, Matner. I'll prove to everyone that I can be worthy. I'll come home a hero and she'll see!"

Matner wished he believed it, but he supposed that for now if it cheered Sameth up then it would do for now. And he did suppose it was possible, even if he thought it actually pretty unlikely.

The rest of the watch went quietly. They did not talk more. Sameth worked through sword moves quietly by himself. Matner partly watched him and partly watched the night.

Mostly he listened. The world felt alive around him, in a reassuring way completely different from how a city sounded at night. He heard night birds he could not identify, along with the lonely and unanswered hoot of an owl. There were crickets and some other chirping and clicking night bugs, and of course the sounds of the fire. Eventually it was time for the next shift, and Matner fell asleep, confident that it did not sound like there was anything hostile creeping about in the night.

He wasn't sure what woke him from sleep that night, but when he did he sat straight upright in the tent, his heart pounding in his chest. He wished it would beat a little quieter, since it felt like it was too loud to hear anything beyond his heart and his own breathing.

It's too quiet, he realized as he tried to listen. There was no cricket song. No owls or other local wildlife. There was just the rustling of the wind in the nearby cornfield.

His hand felt for the scabbard of his sword as he held his breath to help him hear. He thought he still heard the fire going at the center of the camp, a slight crackling in the remains of the hot, burnt logs and ash. There was also the soft sound of one of the horses, snorting in it's sleep.

Footsteps!

He could hear boots. They sounded hurried. There was another sound, softer, heavier. And then one that sounded as if someone was trying to say something, but couldn't. He gave Sameth a shove to wake him, as he pulled his sword free and pushed his way out of the tent.

It was still dark outside. The moon was just a dull glow off to one side in the sky, mostly hidden behind clouds and not good for lighting. The fire had been allowed to die down some, mostly being maintained for use with breakfast, so everything cast long shadows in the flickering glow of it. There were eight people standing in camp, just next to the fire. One of them turned towards him as he stood up outside the tent. As he turned, Matner could see just beyond him, where Linden lay on the ground by the fire, a large bloody gash open across his throat. His eyes were open, but lifeless.

For a moment, Matner just stared at Linden in horror, his heart caught in his throat. Everything seemed to stop except for the blood that leaked onto the ground around the man's head. Then the world around him seemed to explode into action and noise, as he found his voice and yelled for the others.

Almost immediately there were two men coming at him with swords. One of them was a step ahead of the other, and he parried that man's swing first while trying to sidestep slightly away from the other. The camp was filled with chaos in no time.

"We're under attack!" he heard one of the others yell.

He could, from moment to moment and between their swings at him, see enough to know that fighting was going on throughout the camp. From the quick glances he got, he could readily identify the two sides. One group wore armor and dark clothes while the other was mostly dressed in white or light-colored sleeping clothes.

He was so far able to hold his own against the two, but was having no success hitting either one yet. He was fully awake now, and he could tell that these two had not had formal training. He noticed that they had let him get out from between them and his tent. Left there they could potentially have forced him between tents where he would risk tripping over hard to see tent ropes.

One of the two lunged too hard towards him, and he ducked down avoiding the man's swing. He took the opportunity to swing at a leg of the other. The swing did not have enough force to get through the man's chain mail armor. It did buckle the man's knee, which sent him falling backwards. For just a moment he had one off-balance foe and one on the ground. Now was his chance.

He repositioned his grip on the hilt as he brought the tip of it up hard under the off-balanced opponent. At first, he felt a measure of victory and exhilaration course through him as the blade suddenly pushed past the chain armor and moved up into the man's chest. The man screamed and lost balance completely, falling to the ground. The weight of him, however, tore the sword out of Matner's hands completely. For a brief second, he stood there, looking at the man writhing and dying at his feet, the tip of Matner's sword sticking out of his back. Then he flew into action again, as the remaining foe had stood up again and was coming forward to attack once more.

He dodged and spun, trying to look about him for something else he could use as a weapon. His eye caught first on the dwindling pile of firewood, and he grabbed up one of the mid-sized logs, bringing it up under the man's sword with both hands to block the blade. Despite a hope that the sword would lodge into the log and get stuck, it merely glanced off and jarred the log hard in Matner's hands, causing him to drop it. He cursed, looking for something else as he whirled out of reach of the man's next swing.

One of the tent stakes had been left lying next to the crate they were normally kept in, and he lunged for it, rolling back up to his feet again next to the crate. He hefted it in his hand, judging it's weight and balance as the man began to close the short distance Matner had managed to put between them. Matner pulled his arm back and yelled as he threw the stake, sending it flying forward like an overly-heavy knife. The weight of it was wrong, and it didn't hit the man point-forward as he had hoped. It hit in the face, however, and stopped the man in his tracks as he howled and clutched at his eyes with one hand. Matner spun and landed the heel of his foot squarely in the man's chest, sending him flying backwards. The sword fell out of his opponent's hands as he fell, and Matner was on it in an instant, grabbing it up and plunging it's blade deep into the man's abdomen. The man screamed in pain and Matner pulled the blade out, stepping back a moment, to survey the situation in camp.

Author's Note

Author's Note

Rayndragon

Author's Note - Sickness Update

All of the men he saw had swords. He estimated that about half of his group had made it out of tents so far and had joined in the fight. The attackers had them slightly outnumbered.

Another man came running towards him just as Sameth was coming out of the tent. The man brought his sword up to come crashing down on Sameth. Matner blocked it with an upswing of his own, but the jarring weight on the sword was too much of a shock for him to be able to immediately swing at the man.

Sameth dove out of the way. Matner turned to swing at the man, who had regained his balance and stance with enough time to parry Matner's first strike. The man tried to counter, but was mostly coming at him with fierceness, swinging too hard and relying on strength. Matner let training and speed work with him, and moved around so that the man was between himself and Sameth.

Sameth yelped, and Matner, having just repositioned, could see why. The man Matner had run through in the stomach was still moving on the ground, and had grabbed Sameth's arm.

"Let go of me!" Sameth squealed, rolling and bringing his sword down on the man. The sword hit the man in the face, ripping open his cheek and, from the looks of it, breaking the man's jaw. A gurgling scream came out of the man, who promptly let go of Sameth and stopped moving.

Matner focused on the one in still between them as the man came at him again, this time swinging low. He held the sword at an angle that suggested he was going to cut upwards at the last minute, so Matner stepped backwards and brought the sword in his own hands across in front of him to deflect the blade. The metal clashed together loudly, and his opponent grunted and changed his stance. Matner tried to estimate what the man's next move would be, and adjusted his own accordingly.

The man swung again, in a simple swing that kids used when first learning with sticks. Matner was almost amused by it, and brought his sword up to meet it easily, focusing on the counterattack he could make that would both disarm and injure him in the process. He deflected the blade and then twisted his wrist around, swinging the blade down and sharply around towards the man again.

His opponent seemed to know it was coming, however. The man stepped easily out of the way and brought his blade in just as quickly as Matner had, cutting across the side of Matner's leg at an angle. It happened so quickly he almost thought the man had missed, until the sharpness of pain coursed through his leg.

He quickly shifted as much of his weight as he could afford to onto the other leg, and brought his sword back to the ready. Another man had been coming towards him as well, but Sameth had gotten to his feet again and moved to meet him. Matner focused on his own opponent first, parrying the man's attacks as they came. Most of the time the man seemed to be trying to wear Matner down, putting his strength behind the blade when it hit. Matner changed his tactic, and ducked out from under the next attack. The man staggered forward, his sword not hitting anything, and Matner brought his blade around and stabbed it into the man's side with both hands on the hilt, putting all of his strength into the blow. The man cried out and fell heavily to the ground. Matner turned next to the one Sameth was trying to hold off.

Sameth seemed panicked, and was mostly just swinging at the other man's sword like a boy just starting to play at swords. He painfully stepped closer to intervene, just as Frank appeared. Frank wore just a pair of pants, and there was blood on him. It did not look to be his.

Frank brought his sword down suddenly and hard. It smashed through the man's arm, severing it mid-forearm with a crunching sound of the bone breaking. The man's sword and half his arm fell to the ground separately. The man absolutely shrieked in terrified pain. For a moment he just screamed, staring at the ugly stump of an arm, with blood leaking freely out, before he passed out and fell to the ground.

"Tie something tight around that arm to stop the bleeding," Frank commanded. "I think he was the last one. You two stay together--one of you stay on the lookout in case there's still any we haven't accounted for. I'm going to gather the rest and see what kind of shape we're in."

Frank strode off, calling out loudly for everyone to gather around the fire. Matner took the time to look down at his leg. "Can you see what you can do about that guy's arm?" He asked Sameth, shifting as much weight as he could to his good leg. He was bleeding but he could not tell how badly. He pressed his hand against it to try to stop it if he could, and that just made it hurt worse.

Author's Note:

RaynDragon