He thought about the mission he had been given: deliver her safely to Eihrwayh. He realized he did not know how to get there. He turned to Dir Ketten to ask if maybe he knew the way there. He stopped before asking, realizing also that he had no clue as to who Old Fredrickson's contacts there had been, let alone in any of the other towns they might try near there. He found it less likely that the nomad knew any of them.

"I think maybe we should," he suggested

Dir Ketten gave him a concerned look.

"I saw a stream at the edge of the farm," Matner said to Dir Ketten. "Let's go water the horses, and fill our skins for tomorrow. Then we can leave earlier."

"I can do it," Sharnellyn suggested.

"No," Matner countered. "We can do it. You take the quiet moment with Ahriender, maybe get yourselves ready for sleep."

"Reasonable enough," she acquiesced.

Dir Ketten followed him out of the rickety barn.

"I don't know where we're supposed to go," he confessed to the silent nomad. "I don't suppose you know who we're supposed to talk to once we get there, do you?"

Dir Ketten shook his head and shrugged, as if to say, I'm not the social one.

"Without the others, we don't know how to get to Eihrwayh, or who to contact when we get there. It seems to me we have no choice but to try to go back for them. Assuming there's anyone still alive." Matner stopped walking, having found the stream, and encouraged the horses he'd been leading to drink. His shoulders slumped as he knelt down to begin filling the water skins.

"I wish you could talk," he admitted, unhappily. "I could really use some advice right now." He sighed, frustrated, as he capped up one full skin and moved to the next. He heard Dir Ketten sigh as well.

"We must look forward. Not back. Back is danger. I know the way to Eihrwayh. Perhaps we will meet the Dwarf there."

Matner looked up at the man, his mouth gaping open for a moment in astonishment. Ketten's voice was thick with an accent Matner had never heard before, but still clear enough to understand.

"But... I thought you couldn't talk!" he blurted out in surprise.

"I never said that, did I?" he asked, looking amused. "But I'd rather it not get around. Don't expect me to make habit of it." Ketten shrugged again and returned to the skin he had been filling.

"But why?" Matner couldn't help but ask. "Isn't it harder that way?"

"Sometimes the easy path is not the right one," he answered, capping the water skin. "That's all you get from me tonight." He stood up and took the reins of the two horses he'd led to the stream and began heading back towards the barn.

He groaned at the strange nomad's back. He hoped Dir Ketten was right and that the caravan would meet up with them. It was, he supposed, at least a plan.

He capped the waterskin he had been filling, hoping that the caravan had survived. If going back was danger, did that not mean that the caravan was still in danger. He supposed what was dangerous for two men and two unarmed passengers might not be as dangerous for a larger, better-supplied group.

He stood up, looking at the farm across the stream. A cow mooed off in the distance somewhere, a sleepy moaning sound. There was food nearby, he thought. It did not, however, seem right to take it, and he doubted that they had anything valuable to trade.

He walked back to the ratty barn with his two horses. Inside he put them back into stalls, looping their reins around posts. Dir Ketten pointed one finger at himself and then two fingers at Matner. "First watch, second watch, got it," Matner said quietly.

Sharnellyn was singing softly in the beautiful elven language, and he did not want to disturb her. He assumed it was some form of lullabye, or perhaps a sung prayer. He said his own prayers silently in the night, hoping that he was doing the right thing.

It took him a while to fall asleep, and then it seemed like no time at all before Sharnellyn woke him.

"Where's Dir Ketten," he asked quietly, alarmed.

"Sleeping," Sharnellyn said. "I told him it made no sense for the two of you to each only get half a night sleep when three of us could share the burden. Besides, I have better night eyes than both of you, and probably better hearing as well. I'm just as capable of watching for trouble."

"And he let you?" Matner asked. "I wouldn't have expected him to do that."

"He did not argue," she stated.

"No, I don't suppose he would have," Matner admitted, reminded again of the surprise conversation earlier. "But what would you do if we were attacked?"

"Wake the two of you," she replied. "It is possible I might even hear them coming before one of you would, especially if you are too tired from not getting enough sleep."

"It's our job to protect you," he countered, rolling out of his bedroll and pulling on his boots.

"It's your job to protect my son," she said, softly casting a glance over at Ahriender's sleeping form.

"And you," he said, trying to read her expression. "We'll protect both of you."

"Of course," she said, with an odd sigh. "Now that you're awake, I'd better return to sleep myself."

She seemed strangely sad as she moved away to her bedroll. He watched her out of the corner of one eye as he buckled his swordbelt into place, and she knelt down next to her son and brushed hair off of his face before lying down on her blankets next to his.

The small candle had gone out a long while before, and he was surprised at how well his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He stepped outside the barn and made a quick circuit around it, stopping to listen now and again, before stepping back inside. Moon and starlight filtered in through some areas of the roof, helping visibility inside. He found a bale of hay that was still halfway intact and tried sitting on it. It gave enough under his weight to make him reconsider, and the sounds of small squeaking critters scurrying out from inside the hay decided the matter. Instead, he folded his bedroll and sat on that instead of rolling it up.

It was a nice night outside, and it was not long before he found himself pacing over back to the big doors. Sharnellynn shifted in her sleep, but did not wake. She had, of course, fallen asleep almost immediately.

He listened to the sounds of the cool summer night. Night birds called to each other in the distance. He heard the triumphant shriek of an owl catching some wriggly prey, and remarked to himself that the sound was much as it had been described.

There were different owls in farmlands, he knew, than anything he would have ever encountered back home. He had never seen an owl, and wished that he had just been outside to maybe see the bird. Country folk had apparently always thought them good luck. He hoped that applied tonight, as well.

Between the chirping crickets and the random bird sounds everything seemed very normal outside. He wondered if there were pursuers out there still, waiting until the sunlight returned to track them by. Naturally, he also worried that there were dark figures stalking through the night, creeping up to surround them even now. But a crow-like bird call made that seem less likely. A bird in the area would respond to intruders, wouldn't it?

Even still he resisted the urge to go outside of the barn, and he wished that the horses were even quieter in their sleep than they were. Each little snort seemed loud to him, and he desperately hoped that if there were anyone out there that they would ignore the ratty old barn.

The few hours before the sun began to lighten the sky on the horizon seemed to take forever to pass. He found himself missing Sameth's company, as the two of them had been partnered for watches almost the entire time he'd been with the caravan. Then he found himself replaying the battle he'd seen before leaving the caravan behind.

Sameth is surely dead, he told himself, remembering the limpness of his friend's body as it had dragged from where it had snagged on the saddle of his horse. Kelver is dead too. He couldn't have survived that axe wound.

He forced himself to admit that it was likely Nelser was dead too. Although he might have recovered from losing his arm, it was unlikely he survived being trampled. He wondered what had happened after they had left, and if anyone had survived at all. His mind wandered back to Lissa and Tam, both looking determined to fight if the battle got past the front line, and he closed his eyes for a moment, praying that they were alright.

He cast a glance over at Dir Ketten's sleeping form, wondering if the fight wouldn't have gone better if the nomad had remained to finish it with them instead of escorting Matner and the elves away. He had to admit that Ketten fought better than anyone he'd yet seen, and managed to seem both precise and relaxed in a fight. He'd somehow expected the man to fight more in a more brutal, primal manner, and yet the man had made it seem like it was more of a dance than anything else.

Old Fredrickson, on the other hand, fought more like an old sea captain might, with a lot of obvious experience under his belt and a determination that made Matner feel a little more confident in the Old Dwarf's survival. He suspected it would take a lot more to take Fredrickson down, and wondered once again just how old the caravan owner really was.

Frank, he was unsure about, as the man had not looked good trying to stagger to his feet the last time Matner had seen him. Brint and Trevon seemed to have been fighting well, but Matner couldn't be sure if it had been enough to ensure their survival. The men that had come at them had seemed a lot more experienced than the previous group had been. It made Matner wonder just how high the bounty on them was.

He sent more prayers their way before the edge of the sun was about to break over the top of the horizon. Then he stretched his legs and took the chance to relieve himself again before waking the others. As he made his way back to the barn afterwards, a different sound caught his ear. It was one he hadn't expected, out of the different sounds he'd been preparing himself for throughout the watch. It was the sound of two children, laughing and talking as they headed towards the barn.

A glow was developing on the horizon, but his eyes were still adjusted to the mostly dark. The children were oblivious to the world around them, not having any reason to expect others were around. It was a boy and a girl. They looked to be about the same age, maybe three or so years younger than him.

They were walking along quickly, coming from off to the side. He quickened his pace and got to the barn door the same time they did. They started at seeing him. The girl gave a small shriek. Her face immediately took on a guilty expression. His face looked immediately worried.

"Excuse me," Matner said. "My friends are sleeping in there. I'd appreciate it if you let them be. We're not out for trouble, just passing through. Now, are you two supposed to be out here this early in the morning?"

Neither of them answered right away. The boy's expression turned to one of guilt as well. Matner guessed at what they had come out to the abandoned barn to do, thinking that he would certainly have never been that bold three years ago.

"I'm guessing your parents don't know you're out here, then?" Both stammered a bit trying for a response, but neither really succeeded. He hoped it meant that neither of them would say anything to families about having seen him, since they would have no good way of explaining their own presence at the barn just then. "Why don't you go on home and we'll be gone soon, no harm done."

"We... I mean, I..." the boy stammered, obviously trying to think quickly. "Hey! This is my pa's barn!"

"Mich..." the girl whispered, starting to look frightened and touching his arm as she backed behind him. Her eyes were going back and forth between Matner's and the sword on Matner's belt. Meanwhile, the boy seemed to be trying to look tough.

"Doesn't look to me as if he's using it right now," Matner replied, trying to sound as confident as he hoped he looked. "No animals being kept here, and half the roof's caved in. I hardly think he'd mind if a couple of travelers stopped in it overnight. Looks as if he's already gone and built himself a new one." Matner nodded off in the direction of the house and newer barn, guessing that it was were the boy lived since they had come from that general direction. It appeared he was right, since the boy glanced worriedly back at the house as if he expected his father to show up and catch him.

"Now then," Matner continued, attempting to take hold of the moment while he had it. "As I said, my friends could still get a short bit of rest yet before we need to move further on. We've had some long, hard travel behind us and more to come yet so we all appreciate the chance to bunk down somewhere out of the wind for a bit. I'd rather you didn't wake them. Of course, if you're concerned about your father being upset that we're in his barn, I'm sure I could accompany you back to the house and explain it to him instead..." he let his voice trail off, raising an eyebrow at the boy and waiting for an answer. He could tell by the boy's expression of alarm that he'd won. The boy had no idea that Matner was bluffing, although Matner did entertain the idea that he might have been able to convince the boy's father, depending on what kind of man he was.

"N - No, that's okay Mister," the boy stammered, confidence gone. "Yer right, I'm sure pa wouldn't mind when ya put it like that. Sorry ta disturb ye. C'mon Lizzy, let's go."

The girl looked visibly relieved as the boy ushered her away, back towards the house. Matner waited, watching the two of them until they were well out of sight within the cornfield. He watched for a while more, keeping an eye on where the corn waved in their wake before he was satisfied they were gone. When he moved back into the barn, he found Dir Ketten waiting, just inside, leaning against the door as if he had been listening for a while. Matner wondered just when the man had woken up. Dir Ketten said nothing, merely nodding and moving to his bedroll, where he began rolling it up.

The elves woke up before Matner had finished rolling his bedroll--such as it was--up. They started rolling up their own things without a word being exchanged. They had no more food, so there was no question of arranging breakfast first.

Matner suggested they could try asking at the farm, in case there was something they could trade. Dir Ketted looked skeptical for a moment before slowly shaking his head no.

It took very little time at all before they were up on horses and moving. They decided to skirt around the edge of the farm entirely. A couple of hours into the day Dir Ketten stopped them and led them into the edge of another small wood. This one was not more than a quarter mile across, and likely not much deeper.

Inside and out of sight, Dir Ketten gestured to an area of ground and indicated that they should wait here for a while. The nomad pointed to a run of animal tracks, and pointed in the direction they led.

"Dir Ketten's going to try and see about food," he told the elves. "We should be safe waiting here out of sight."

"Why doesn't he ever say anything?" Ahriender asked after Dir Ketten had been gone a while and they had settled down to wait in the clearing.

"I'm not sure," Matner admitted. "He's from different lands, with different ways I guess."

"But he's like you," the boy pointed out. "Human, I mean."

"Yes, but not all Humans are alike," Sharnellynn tried to explain. "They tend to spread out more, and so they have developed many cultures over their years."

"Not like Elves, then?"

"No, not like us."

"Which am I, Mother?"

Matner looked up from the twig he'd been absentmindedly inspecting to see Sharnellynn looking thoughtful for a moment before responding.

"You're special, Ahriender. You have both Human and Elven blood in your veins."

The boy sighed, looking frustrated by the answer, and Matner realized that Ahriender didn't consider himself to be of either race. He wondered what it might be like to not fit in like that.

"You're sure the other Elves will let me stay right? When we find the free ones?"

"Yes, my son. Don't worry yourself so."

"Of course they will," Matner piped in, trying to help. "You certainly look Elven to me."

He'd meant it to be helpful but regretted it when he saw their faces. Ahriender looked sad and looked down at his hands in his lap, and Sharnellynn seemed to cringe at his words. He knew he'd said something wrong, but had no way of knowing what it was.

"I - I'm sorry," he stammered, unsure what else to say.

"It's alright, Matner, you don't know," Sharnellynn said softly. "Show him, son. It's alright."

Ahriender looked more timid than Matner had seen him as he pulled the hood back from his head. Matner wasn't sure at first what he was looking at, and it took him a few moments to realize that the only difference between Ahriender and any other elf he'd seen was that Ahriender's ears were not the longer, pointed ears of an elf. Once he realized it, they did look a bit odd on the boy, who otherwise looked Elven in all repects.

"It's not a very big difference," he pointed out. "I almost didn't even see what was different."

"It's important to Elves," Sharnellynn replied, and Ahriender quickly yanked the hood back up onto his head again.

"So how are other elves likely to treat him?" he asked. He tried to come up with something similar with humans, and about the closest thing he could think of was if someone had no ears. He had seen plenty of people around the city with one form or another of deformation. They often enough became beggars. He had seen beggars missing an eye, or an arm or a leg. There had been one man whose ear had been bitten off by a dog, but none of that was related to birth.

"I am honestly not entirely certain," she eventually answered. Ahriender shrunk down a little more. "There will be some that will be accepting no matter what. There will be many who will reject him outright. I expect it will be a matter of finding the most tolerant community. It may take a few tries, which will not be easy, but I think we are prepared for it. We will find such a group."

"But I thought matings between elves and humans was supposed to be impossible. Something about not not being compatible."

"It is supposed to be extremely unlikely. Nothing is impossible," she stated flatly. She said it with a finality that left him with nothing else to say, and thus the conversation ended. He found himself returning to the twig he had been fidgeting with.

He was peeling the twig into smaller and smaller pieces when Dir Ketten returned with a pig over his shoulder. He dropped it down with a triumphant thud, although there was no look of triumph on his face.

Matner had no idea how to butcher the animal, but Dir Ketten didn't hesitate in getting started. Without a word, the nomad began skinning the pig and cutting strips of meat off of it in large pieces. Meanwhile, Matner had Sharnellynn and Ahriender gather nearby wood and make a small fire for them to cook over. Dir Ketten showed Matner how to wrap some of the meat in leaves while some was also cooked over thin, flat stones that were heated on the fire. The rest was boiled in Dir Ketten's small pot, along with some leaves and berries that Sharnellynn had gathered while finding wood for the fire. Matner was sure he wasn't the only one who's stomach rumbled at the smell of the cooking meat, and it seemed to take forever before some of it was ready to be eaten.

They still ate sparingly, and salted much of the rest to preserve it. Once they were done, Dir Ketten took care of spreading the fire out and dousing it well before covering it with loose dirt and stone to conceal it. He sent them on ahead again, remaining behind on foot to conceal their tracks once more. By mid-afternoon, the nomad had caught up to them again and they made some faster progress on the other side of the woods. That night they made camp in another, slightly larger wooded area, at the edge of a small river. Dir Ketten indicated that they would have to follow it until there was a place to cross.

"Ahriender and I need to bathe," Sharnellynn said after they had eaten. "That stream is clean and clear, and we cannot be certain when we will have the opportunity again."

"That's probably true," Matner agreed.

"It means you will not be able to watch over us," she pointed out.

"But if something happens..."

"Is it likely that someone will sneak up on us here?" she questioned.

For his part, Dir Ketten looked up thoughtfully from the little pan he was cleaning. He shrugged a little but looked rather doubtful.

"It seems like a risky chance to take. We need to at least be close by, I'd think."

"Then Dir Ketten should sit not far away at the bank with his back turned. Will that satisfy you?" she asked.

Dir Ketten shook his head adamantly, with almost a look of alarm on his face.

"Do your people have specific rules about bathing?" Sharnellynn asked. Dir Ketten nodded. "And, of course, you aren't going to tell us about them," she added. His breath chuckled through his nose in reply, and he shook his head.

"Very well," she said with a small sigh. "Then Matner shall be the one at the bank."

Dir Ketten seemed relieved and suddenly preoccupied himself with cleaning up after their dinner. Matner stood up, wondering what the nomad's bathing rules were.

"I will alert you if there should be any trouble," Sharnellynn told him as they walked to the edge of the river. "Otherwise, you may sit here and please keep your back to us." She pointed at a spot a few feet away from the water.

"Of course," he nodded at her before taking a seat where she had indicated.

The riverbank was littered with small stones and he picked one up, idly inspecting it. Behind him, he could hear Sharnellynn and Ahriender taking off their clothes and stepping into the water. The river flowed slowly here, but made gentle burbling and lapping noises as it passed over rocks along it's edge. One large tree nearby hung particularly low, leaning in so it's branches dangled into the water. It creaked with the strain of the slight pull of the water and the breeze in the air and small insects buzzed and plopped betweeen the leaves and the surface. He also noticed he could hear the occasional birds and honking of geese here as well the rustling of leaves around him. There was more breeze here, by the river, than there had been even by their small campfire. The evening was warm enough, however, that it made the breeze feel welcome across his face. He loosened the buckles on a couple areas of his armor so that more air could pass under it, thinking that he could possibly use some bathing himself.

He could hear them moving in the water. There were the little splashes and the sounds of water being dropped back into the stream. Sharnellynn warned Ahriender not to lose the soap, it was the only piece they had. "I know, Mother," the boy responded. Matner could tell from the tone that they had traded those particular comments regularly.

He supposed there had been a number of things, like soap, that Matner had probably taken for granted that slaves just did not have easy access to. Did Father's slaves have to buy soap, or did Father provide it for them, he wondered. His own life had been very different from those of these two elves. He felt sure they would become at least a little bit bitter towards him if they realized the extent. Technically, Matner had come from a wealthy family. He wondered to himself if perhaps he had been a bit spoiled by that.

Suddenly he did not hear the elves moving in the water. He waited for an anxious moment, hoping it would pass. It did not. He had to turn and check, but if nothing was wrong? Another long moment. If they were in trouble, and he did not turn, that would be worse than checking if nothing was wrong, right? It was not like he was peeking on them... He turned.

"Matner!" Sharnellynn yelled. Matner immediately turned back. The water was about waist high on Sharnellynn, who was standing. It was higher than that for Ahriender, but he had lowered himself into the slow-moving water to his chin. Elven breasts seemed no different than human ones, he noticed--at least not from what he had seen in paintings.

"I didn't hear anything, I had to make sure you were alright," he tried to explain.

"You could have asked," she angrily pointed out.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said quickly, his face reddening with embarrassment.

There was no response from the elven woman and he distracted himself, making a small pile of the river stones while he waited. He listened intently, however, trying to focus on the area around the river, in case any footsteps or the sound of hooves became apparent. After a while, it sounded as if the elves were done and making their way through the water, back towards the beach.

"I love the water, Mother," Ahriender said, sounding happy. "Watch this!"

Matner heard splashing, and a lilting laugh from Sharnellynn.

"We shall have to find a place to live where there is plenty of water then," she told him. "Come now, we should dry off and get dressed."

"Yes, Mother," the boy replied. "Are there many -"

Ahriender's voice cut short with a splashing sound, causing Matner to sit up straight, worried.

"Ahriender?" Sharnellynn's voice sounded concerned as well, and Matner stopped caring whether or not he upset her by turning around. He spun to a half-crouch, and began looking for Ahriender in the water.

Suddenly the boy's head and arms came up from the water, as he gasped for air and flailed his arms before disappearing again.

"Ahriender!" Sharnellynn screamed and Matner was running into the water, diving forward as quickly as he could.

It seemed to take him forever to get to where he'd last seen the boy, and the water felt thicker to him than he'd ever remembered when he'd been swimming in the past. He could see ripples and disturbances in the water near where Ahriender had been, and they seemed to be traveling away from him, downriver. From what he could tell, something had hold of the boy and was pulling him to the bottom and away. Matner drew his sword and dove down into the water trying to see. Despite the clarity of the water itself, dirt was being kicked up from the bottom and clouding visibility. He could barely see the boy, still struggling agains some sort of dark beast with a long tail and snout. It seemed as if the thing had him in it's teeth. That was the most Matner could be sure of before he had to come up for air again.

"You'll stab him!" Sharnellynn cried as he took another huge lungful of air. "You can't use your sword!"

She was making her way towards him, as if trying to reach to stop him. He ignored her and dove forward into the water again, pushing as hard as he could with his feet to propel him towards Ahriender and the creature.

Author's Note

Author's Note

Will they live? Or will the beast eat them all?? :-)

The creature was long, maybe half again as long as Ahriender was tall. It was spinning around, churning with water with the struggling boy, which it held gripped in a long snout.

At first he tried once at banging on the beast with the pommel of the sword, hoping the beast was let go. It did not. He could not get leverage to swing the sword under water. He was forced to go up for air before he could try stabbing at it. The water had not been deep where they had started, but the creature had moved the boy to water too deep for Matner to stand in.

His armor was making it harder and harder to move about in the water, and it became a struggle for air. A quick gulp of it and he was back down in water growing darker and murkier the more churned up it became.

He stabbed at the creature, but the point skipped off the creature's tough, scaly hide. Starting to panic he stabbed again, and again got the same result. Ahriender's movements were weak, and Matner knew it was now or never to save him. He stabbed one last time with everything he had. This time the point found a weaker place, and pierced through. He kept pushing until it was hilt deep in the beast.

Red blood stained the already murky water. The beast stopped its spinning and let go of Ahriender. It jerked away, threatening to take Matner's sword with it. He gave it a yank and it slid free. The creature, no longer bound in place, darted away with a powerful wriggle of a long tail that seemed half the creature's length.

His lungs screamed for more air, but Ahriender had stoped moving and was still being pulled away from Matner, caught in the undercurrent. Matner pushed himself forward, with the current, until he was able to snag the boy's foot with his free hand. He then struggled to move upwards his sword flailing against the water in one hand and Ahriender's body pulling him back in the other. The dimly lit sky seemed more like a reflection at the surface of the water above him, mocking him from what seemed like so far away.

His head pounded almost as hard as his heart beat in his chest by the time he broke with the surface of the water and was able to gasp air into his lungs. He got a mouthful of water with it too, however, as he bobbed back down, pulled by the weight of his armor and Ahriender. He sputtered when he rose to the surface next, and managed to clear his mouth of water and stay up long enough to get a decent amount of air. Then he struggled to put his sword in it's scabbard again so he could use both hands to pull Ahriender up. He nearly gave up and dropped the sword, knowing he didn't have much time to mess around, but suddenly it slid into place and he was able to let go of the hilt and pull Ahriender towards him.

He grabbed the boy under both arms, as his friend Leyeb had taught him when they'd gone swimming once. He pushed the boy upwards in front of him, getting both their heads above water. He felt Ahriender's chest, however and it didn't seem as if he was trying to breathe. His mind raced through the other things his friend had shown him, on what to do if someone was drowning.

I need to get him to shore first, he realized. Suddenly the rocky bank seemed to be impossibly far, especially with the weight of his armor pulling him down. But he knew he didn't have time to try and get free of the armor either. His muscles protested as he grit his teeth and started swimming towards the shore and the two people waiting. Sharnellynn was still in the water, swimming towards them, while Dir Ketten waited at the bank, having only waded in to about waist-high. He held a coil of rope in his hand, hefting it. Matner wondered how far he'd have to swim before Dir Ketten's rope would be long enough to reach. The thought gave him hope, however, and he found it in himself to kick even harder.

Sharnellynn was moving towards him as well, wading into the deeper water. He ignored her seemingly otherwise forgotten nakedness and focused on the boy he was trying to keep above water. He was still warm but not breathing. He tried to remember what he was supposed to do to get him breathing again. The first priority, he remembered, was getting the water out of his lungs. He could not do that until he got to the bank.

Sharnellyn got to him about the same time that Dir Ketten got his rope within reach. The rope pulled Matner while Sharnellynn pulled on Ahriender, taking some of his weight and making it easier to hold him up enough. The boy just did not float as well as he should have.

They got him to land, where he flopped to the ground like a bag of wet laundry. Matner kept his head from hitting the ground. Matner took in details in the strange detatchment that came over him as he turned the boy the spill out the water. Ahriender's proportions had the over-lean elven shape, and his hair was quite a bit finer than the human norm.

The beast had snagged him around the waist with teeth that had sunk into soft stomach flesh and rent it with a score of little gashes. None of them seemed very large, although he could not tell how deep they were. All were oozing blood, however. More blood came from what Matner realized was a stab wound in Ahriender's thigh. He realized his sword had gone through the creature on the final stab, and had found a second target all on its own.

"You've stabbed him!" Sharnellynn exploded, moving in and pushing Matner aside. "I told you that would happen!"

"Would you rather I had let the thing take him away?" Matner demanded. "Now I've got to get him breathing again or none of it matters anyway. Get out of my way, I know what to do." He was surprised when she did back away. Dir Ketten turned away from her nakedness, but Matner forced his attention back on reviving Ahriender.

He finished getting the water out, and set him on his back again. Leyeb had practically drilled Matner on the procedure, and he found it coming naturally. He pushed on the boy's chest, making sure air could flow in and out. He leaned close and forced what he could of his own breath into Ahriender, and the little chest rose with the air. Suddenly the boy was coughing and awake and trying feebly to sit up. It had worked.

Matner sat back, relief flooding through him. He was exhausted and drenched, and he just watched as Sharnellynn swooped down on her son, a flurry of concern. Dir Ketten handed out blankets to both of them, and seemed to be going out of his way to not look at the elf as he handed her one. The Nomad almost seemed more relieved when she covered herself with it than he had over Ahriender's breathing. Then Dir Ketten pulled out his bundle of bandages and began helping her clean and dress the wounds.

Ahriender seemed tired out by his experience, but the boy was in surprisingly good spirits despite what had happened. His eyes almost sparkled that he'd had an adventure, rather than worry over what had happened. Sharnellynn, on the other hand, seemed overwrought about the details. After the third time she brought up the sword wound in the boy's thigh, Matner just got up and walked away. He didn't understand why she couldn't just be grateful that her son was alive, instead of browbeating him over his methods of rescuing him.

He went to his bedroll and bag and changed out of his armor and into fresh, dry clothes. he dried his armor off as much as he could with a towel before setting it near the fire to help hasten the drying of the leather straps. He emptied out his boots and set them by the fire as well, changing into his shoes for the moment. Then he spent some time cleaning his sword and scabbard and oiling the blade. He spent some time thinking as he worked, realizing he felt very alone in his current company. He missed the conversations around the fire with the caravan. He suddenly felt as if he had no one to talk to.

Dir Ketten carried Ahriender over and tenderly set him near the fire to better warm him. Sharnellynn came back from the piled up bags with another blanket she wrapped around her son.

"Will it come back?" Sharnellynn worried. She looked at Dir Ketten as if expecting an answer, and he shrugged.

"I don't think so," Matner suggested, not feeling any less alone. She glared at him, still angy.

"What?" he started to ask, then stopped himself.

"Thank you, Matner," Ahriender said. "You saved my life."

"I'm sorry about your leg, Ahriender. Obviously I didn't mean for that to happen."

"I think it was gonna eat me," Ahriender said. They boy looked sore. "I think it was just waiting for the water to kill me first. My whole body hurts--a cut leg I can live with, I think. You were trying to save me, Matner, just like you promised you would. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Ahriender. Try to get some rest, though, alright?" Matner said, impressed with the boy's attitude. He could not help but think of his younger brother, wondering how he would react to such an event. Not as calmly and lucidly, he supposed.

"You need to rest, my son," Sharnellynn told him, tucking the edges of the blanket in tight around him.

"I'll be fine, mother," the boy assured him, all but rolling his eyes. "I think we should -"

"Hush now, Ahriender," she said, putting a finger to his lips. "You need your rest. We'll need to keep moving tomorrow."

"Yes, mother," he sighed.

She smiled at him before returning to her bags again. Matner kept track of her movements from the corner of his eye as she put her clothes back on and then brought their bags back to the fire. Ahriender wasn't asleep yet when she returned, so she unrolled the small carpet she had and sat next to him on it. Then she began singing, softly at first, in the strange Elven language. Her eyes watched Ahriender as she sang and he slowly seemed to drift off to sleep. Matner found himself growing tired as well, and finished up his work cleaning his sword before unrolling his own bedroll.

He listened, silently, as she sang a second song. Both seemed filled with emotion, and he found himself wondering what the songs were about. He wasn't interested in dealing with more of her displeasure, so he didn't ask. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep as she finished singing and climbed into her own bedroll next to Ahriender. Dir Ketten remained on the first watch, silently writing in his little book.

Chapter 08 - Journeying

He got up and stirred at the fire a bit with a stick. Eventually he left the stick in the center of it and it started burning away. The night was quiet and dark away from the fire. It seemed as though the light had a hard time penetrating the thick blackness of the surrounding wood. It illuminated the sides of close by trees before giving up.

He knew there was clearing overhead, but there were no easily visible signs of it. No moon or stars shone above. He assumed it would have to be fairly heavy clouds to make it that dark. He expected rain tomorrow.

The night only grew darker as it went on. Eventually there was a gradual lightening on the horizon, and clouds overhead developed at first just enough of a slight glow to make out their rolling shapes.

Dawn came reluctantly, and he woke the others to a day that warned early it would not hold a bright, open sky. Clouds hung low over them ominously like a pall of smoke. They ate a meager breakfast of salted meat and loaded up. They moved through the shaded trees, beginning to hear the first raindrops hitting the canopy of leaves overhead.

By the time they reached the edge of the trees, where another long stretch of farmland lay ahead of them, the rain was coming down hard enough that it fell in splatters from the leaves of the trees above them. The woods themselves had gone quiet, as if all the birds and animals had found a dry place to wait for the rain to stop. Dir Ketten had stopped worrying about their tracks as much. The wetter the ground beneath them got, the softer it became. Hiding their tracks was going to be nearly impossible for now. It was more important to move quickly.

He'd put his cloak on before they'd left camp, but he hadn't needed to pull up the hood until they moved out into the farmland. Before long, drops fell from the edge of it, some dripping onto his cheeks and nose before he hunched forward on the horse enough for it to stay off his face. They took a direct enough path, through the tallest of the crops, hoping that their footprints would be lost among the plants and the footsteps of the farmers who tended the fields. It seemed as if the further they went, the harder the rain fell. To one side of them, the river flowed along. In some areas, the farmers had dug trenches away from it, leading the water to certain crops. This only made the ground seem wetter and muddier as the horses plodded through. Despite Matner's efforts in leading the horse, it's hooves trampled plants down into the mud. He wondered what the farmer would think when he saw it next, or if the sun would help the plants rise up again the next time it came out.

They only stopped briefly for some lunch. More of the salted meat, along with some peas Dir Ketten had grabbed up when they passed through one of the farmer's fields. The pods were cool and crisp in his mouth, a contrast to the tough, salty meat. There was no talking while they ate, even from Ahriender. The boy hardly seemed affected by his wound, Matner noticed, and seemed fascinated by the rain itself. It had been warm enough recently that the cool rain would have seemed welcomed by most, if they hadn't been traveling. To Matner, however, it felt as if it was weighing them down, much like the silence.

As the day progessed the rain grew steadily heavier and became less and less comforting, and more a hindrance. The ground grew ever softer, until their horses hooves were making occasional sucking and slurping noises coming out of mud. The day was warm enough that they were not chilled by it, but it seemed to weigh them down.

They passed through one farm, and saw a man and woman out tending to a scarecrow propped up near a fence. What Matner could see of their expressions did not look welcoming, but between rain and distance it was impossible to be sure. To be safe they continued trying to avoid actually encountering anyone. Neither of the elves let down their hoods.

Dir Ketten did not seemed bothered by the rain. It seemed to Matner that nothing bothered the nomad, with the apparent exception of nakedness. He found himself wondering what other strange and different customs his people might have. Somewhere a long the line, he told himself, he would have to get a map and have Dir Ketten point out where he was from.

Ahriender also did not seem to mind the rain at all, but rather seemed to be enjoying it. Sharnellynn huddled up more in her cloak, acting chilled--as if her cool manner was more than exterior. But Ahriender watched with open fascination the water running down the horse's neck, or dripping off his own fingers, and he played with it as they went. He acted quite older than a human boy the same age, and yet was definitely still a child.

When the sky started darkening, he saw a glow ahead of them, on the horizon, and realized that the farmhouses had been getting more frequent. He stopped them, turning to Dir Ketten, and pointing out the light.

"That looks like a village ahead," he said loudly, over the heavy sound of the rain. "Maybe we could risk stopping at an inn for the night to get out of the rain?"

The Nomad shook his head side to side and pointed at the river.

"If we're not going into the village, shouldn't we go away from the river instead? Skirt around the village? Although one of us could go in and see if we could get some supplies with whatever money we can pool together."

With that thought, he realized that staying at an inn was probably too costly anyway. He found himself frowning at the realization that he had never gotten paid by the caravan for the time he'd been with them. He supposed it wouldn't have amounted to much anyway, since they'd also been providing him with food. He had no idea what basic foodstuffs even cost.

Dir Ketten shook his head again, pointing towards the river, and then jumping his other hand over the first. It took a moment before Matner could guess what the man was hinting at.

"Oh, you want to cross the river here?"

The nomad nodded and started up his horse again, as if that ended the conversation. With a sigh, Matner followed, noting that Sharnellynn didn't even question it, but immediately followed Ketten. He had to wonder if she would follow so easily if it had been him who'd made the suggestion.

Once they were near enough to the village that Matner could make out the shapes of individual buildings at the edges, Dir Ketten signalled for a stop and indicated that they should wait for him there. He left his horse behind, moving forward on foot, towards the river. It didn't seem to take long before he came back for them, indicating that they should dismount and move quickly.

The ferry wasn't much more than a large, flat, wooden raft, and there was a man laying in a heap in the center of it. On the shore near it, was a ragtag wooden shack that was only enough for a man to sit in, out of the rain. Dir Ketten led them aboard the ferry, and grabbed up the long wooden pole off the shore, before untying the line and leaping back aboard. Matner found himself checking the ferryman, and was relieved to find the man had just been knocked unconscious.

It seemed a little unnecessary at first, knocking out the poor ferryman. But he supposed at least this way no one was aware of their crossing.

Irregular currents pushed the little ferry--not much more than an overgrow raft to Matner's thinking--both down river and randomly side to side as rain pelted the water. It was slow work pushing towards the far side, even though it was not a great distance. Dir Ketten frowned as he pushed and often as not just spun the ferry around. Matner supposed it was not as easy as the ferryman might have made it look.

The current carried them closer and closer to the little village until they could hear music and muffled singing. They were nearly across at that point, and Matner found himself holding his breath looking across the water at shuttered windows. It would only take someone peeking out to see that something was not right.

He exhaled slowly, as if such a little noise might matter. He realized that between the sound of the merriment within and the noise of the rain without that the villagers were unlikely to much at all.

They finally reached the far side and Dir Ketten leaped to the bank to secure and hold the ferry while the others clambered off. The bank was steep and muddy. While the horses had no trouble with it, Matner was unable to jump as far as Dir Ketten while wearing heavy armor. He found himself partly having to climb as he slipped in the mud. The elves had a better time of it, but still accepted a hand up from Dir Ketten in turn.

They continued to follow the river for a while more before Dir Ketten seemed satisfied with their distance away from the town and ferry behind them. He led them to a dense cluster of trees where he took a tarp and tied it across a clearing. It wasn't a very large area, but it was enough to keep the rain mostly off of the ones sleeping. There was not enough dry wood to make a fire, so they ate a little more of the salted meat before going straight to sleep.

When Sharnellynn woke him for his watch, it seemed as if the rain had grown worse. The tarp was barely holding against it, and Matner noticed that Dir Ketten had secured it at an angle. At one corner of it, water poured off and splashed in a muddy puddle before running down a small trench it had slowly eroded, heading downhill into a dense cluster of bushes and shrubs. Matner used some of the rainwater as it fell, to refill his canteen and wash his face before pulling his hood up and crawling out from under the protection of the tarp. He leaned back under and rolled his bedroll, to get it out of the way as Sharnellynn unrolled hers again. There wasn't enough room for them all to have their bedrolls beneath the tarp without one of them getting even wetter than they already were. Matner tried to squeeze as much water out of his as he could before tying the bundle up again.

Over the course of his watch it seemed as if the lighter the sky grew, the more rain managed to fall from it. He watched puddles forming, growing bigger, and running off to join the one from the tarp, somewhere in the undergrowth. He found himself wondering how much further his boots were sinking into the mud by the time he woke the others from where it had been when he'd begun his watch. The horses were clearly unhappy, despite the fact that the small area of trees shielded the worst of the rain from hitting them directly. In some instances, however, it gathered on the leaves above and then fell in a large splatter when the water grew too heavy for a leaf to bear. Matner wasn't sure he would have heard anyone if they had crept up during his watch.

By day the rain had not lessened. They ate a cold breakfast and packed wet gear into wet containers. The only dry thing Matner found he possessed was the book wrapped in oiled and treated cloth. He left it closed up and tucked it back into his bag.

The little forest gave way to more muddy fields of crops planted in soft ground. They did not see the sun at all that day, and took their rests standing rather than sit in the mud.

Matner was not comfortable, but he knew it could be worse, and so he said nothing. Sharnellynn was pulling her cloak tight around her, and Matner had even seen her shiver at one point. Even though it was a warm enough day, the wet drew out and stole the warmth. He wondered if her body was less resilient to cold and wet. If so, Ahriender showed no signs of being troubled. He just seemed quiet. Dir Ketten was as hard to read as ever.

They had no difficulty avoiding people--they did not see any. By the time it was beginning to grow dark there was another little village ahead. None of them had spoken since breakfast. They had just plodded on in silence. Matner decided something had to change.

"I think we need to stop, Dir Ketten. We can't keep just avoiding people the whole trip. There must be something we can trade, or something we can do."

Dir Ketten shook his head, clearly not approving of the idea, but Matner persisted.

"We're soaked, tired, and low on supplies. That meat isn't going to last much longer, even the way we've been rationing it. We can't even build a proper fire to make soup with the scraps. It's possible we could at least trade for something. I've got a book. When I bought it the shopkeeper said it would still be worth trading later on."

"A book?" Ahriender asked, perking up. "What book?"

"Hush Ahriender," Sharnellynn said to him quietly.

"Some book on heroes or something. I haven't even really looked at it since I bought it. There hasn't been time. I don't need it right now, so maybe it can do us some good in trade. We need food more!"

Dir Ketten threw up his hands in disgust, shaking his head. He made a sweeping gesture towards the village, indicating that Matner should take the lead.

"Right then. This way." Matner left no time for the nomad to reconsider, moving his horse towards the village quickly.

"I'm not sure this is a wise choice, Matner," Sharnellynn said, riding alongside him.

"Perhaps you'd like to stay out here and drown in the rain with an empty stomach?" he snapped back, starting to get somewhat irritated.

Her icy glare and silence was enough to make him want to shake her.

"Just follow my lead," was all he said instead. He picked up the pace of the horse, not wanting her to see how frustrated he was getting.

Most of the town seemed quiet enough. There wasn't a gate or wall around it of any kind, mostly houses just got closer together as they neared the center of it. He spotted the most likely candidate to be an inn or tavern and headed towards that first. Most of the rest of the houses seemed to have their shutters closed and were quiet. This place, however, had light pouring out of one side, where front porch kept the rain from getting to them. There was a light strain of music, coming from a stringed instrument, and a lot of cheering coming from inside the building. The fact that it was two stories tall gave Matner hope that the place might also be an inn.

The cheering sound was irregular, but sounded happy. There was a rail at the front porch, and they tied their horses there. There was almost enough overhang of roof over the little porch to adequately shelter the horses. The elves pulled their hoods a little more closely about themselves.

Only parts of the scene inside were what he expected. He had been right about the building being an inn, but he was distracted from taking any pride in being right. There were two large fireplaces, one at either end, although only one was lit. Still the room was warm, and was brightly lit by many oil lamps hanging from the ceiling.

The crowd was all gathered tight together in a ring, cheering whatever was going on in the center. Fleshy smacking noises were followed by the cheers. He pushed his way forward genly into the crowd while the elves hung back. Mostly the crowd let him in, partly he carefully stepped in the spaces between people.

"Hey, careful, kid," one older man complained when Matner dripped on him. He could not get all the way forward at first, but he got close enough to see two men fighting in the center.

"What's this?" he politely asked a man dressed in farmer's clothes.

"Boxing," the man answered. "Winner gets the pot."

He watched through the shoulders of a couple of people still between him and the boxers. Two men stood in the ring of people, both having removed their shirts and boots. It appeared that they had both removed their socks as well, since their feet slapped bare on the wooden floor. They circled one another, each focusing on watching the other one before making his move. One man threw a punch, which the other didn't quite dodge, taking a hit to the shoulder. He threw a hit of his own immediately after, however, catching the one who'd hit him in the arm. It went back and forth, sometimes one getting a hit in, sometimes not. Eventually, the bigger of the two men landed a hard hit to the stomach, which knocked the other down to the ground. Together, the crowd began counting.

"One! Two!..."

The man pulled himself up, grimacing, but as soon as he was on his feet, the other man was on him, pummelling with fists and throwing in the occasional kick. The man fell again and the count started anew. This time the count reached three and someone by the bar rang a bell. The standing man threw his arms up victoriously, and the crowd cheered. The fallen man struggled to his feet, and was helped away by a couple of the onlookers. A different man stepped into the center of the ring, calling for the next challenger.

"How much do you have to put in?" Matner asked the man who'd spoken to him.

"Couple silver," the man replied. "Ye thinkin' of tryin?"

A few people laughed nearby and he heard some remarks that suggested they assumed the odds would be against him. Determination rose up in him and he stuck his hand in his pocket, checking to see how many coins he might actually have left. He knew it wasn't much but it felt like it might be just enough. Once he pulled it out, he could see that it was exactly what he had left. He knew he might be able to buy a loaf of bread with it, at best, but if he were able to win the pot he'd be able to buy much more. Maybe it would even be enough. He had to try.

"Sure, why not?" he said, clenching his money in his fist. "Who do I talk to?"

"Iffen yer serious, talk to Joe, over there," the man told him, pointing to a man standing near the bar.

"Thanks," Matner replied, starting to head in that direction. Several of the men laughed as he passed, a couple slapped him on the back. Most called him "kid" which only made him feel more determined.

He dropped his money in the pot--literally a small sauce pot--and found himself stripping off his armor. A few people in the crowd commented on his armor. Mostly they leeringly suggested he was too young for a warrior's garb. His sword went in the same pile along with his boots.

Then he took a moment to regard his opponent, the so-far champion for tonight. The man was bigger than he was, and stronger looking. Matner was in good shape, and had the arms and upper body strength that came from rigorous sword training, but this man worked harder, and his body showed it.

But the man had won with strength, not with skill. The teachers at the academy had regularly taught--and demonstrated--that skill could beat out strength and size. Just don't let him hit you, Matner told himself while stretching out his shoulders and arms. The other man just stood there looking confident.

"Ready, Kid?" the man coordinating it all asked.

"Yes," Matner said determinedly. "What are the rules?"

"Rules?" the man said laughing. "Ya put yer money inna th'pot. If nobody can take ya down, it's yers. We ain' got rules." The man's drawl stretched the last word into nearly three sylables.

"Right," Matner said, trying to look as confident as the other man did.

"So start fightin'!" one of the onlookers called out, followed by a chorus of people cheering for the fighting to begin. Matner took a breath and stepped forward. His opponent had turned and taken a long swig off of a mug of ale before handing it back. He turned towards Matner and belched, long and loud.

"C'mon kid," he said, with a laugh.

"Take him down Mern!" the man holding the beer now yelled.

The large man, apparently Mern, moved forward and took the first swing. Matner ducked neatly out of the way and moved around to one side. He brought one of his own fists up, squarely in the man's side where it felt as if he was slamming his hand into a wall. The man didn't even flinch, but brought an arm around as Matner was pulling back, and slammed a fist against Matner's back, sending him flying to the floor, and pushing all the wind out of him for a moment.

He rolled back to his feet as quickly as he could, while catching his breath. Fortunately the man was busy playing up to the cheering crowd and not coming in to take advantage of Matner's position. Matner began to realize he was going to need to make his punches count if he was going to win. His hand stung a little from hitting the man, and he was sure there would be a bruise on his back where the man had hit him.

Get him in the face, c'mon you can do this, he told himself as he watched Mern sizing him up. He dodged around the next swing and the next, waiting for a chance to get his own swing in and make it count. When it came, he brought his fist up as hard as he could and slammed it into the man's jaw. This time, the man noticed the punch, his head turning with the impact and spit flying out of his mouth. But when he turned back to look at Matner, it really only looked as if Matner had managed to make him mad.

Mern seemed to be doing a little less dodging and weaving, and was more stomping around as he threw punches. Matner ducked and dodged, and found himself on the defensive and the man all but pursued him through the little space.

He was telling himself he needed to find another opening when the Mern caught him in the shoulder. The blow hit with enough force to send Matner spinning to the floor. He reeled with it a moment, reorienting himself to where he was. He heard counting and the crowd cheering. He realized it was not for him they were cheering. He stood up, no less determined than before.

Mern wasted no time coming back to him, and it was only a few more swings until Matner was knocked from his feet again. This time it was a blow to the stomach that took the wind out of his lungs, and he found himself on hands and knees trying to cough. He was starting to get some air again when he heard the counting again. I can't lose like this, he told himself. He made himself stand up, even though he knew he was not ready. He knew he was not going to win.

Mern had been waiting for him, and the next one caught Matner before he had his feet entirely under him. Pain exploded from his cheek and before Matner knew it he was on his back looking up at the lamps hanging from the ceiling. The candles flickered, twinkling starts in a night sky of timber.

The cheering of the crowd had changed, he noticed. Now more and more they were laughing. He was being beaten, and they were laughing. It was not supposed to be like this. The counting started again. He would never prove himself by giving up. He would never earn anyone's respect by giving up. He stood up again. Mern was waiting.

He barely had a chance to get to his feet before Mern's large fist found him again. This time his head rang with the impact, but he managed to keep his footing. He staggered backwards, however, small flashes of light glimmering in his eyes like sparks flying off a night fire. He blinked a few times before diving to one side to avoid the fist coming through the stars towards his face. He managed to get away from it, but nearly lost his balance again, lurching forwards before he regained his stance.

He knew he looked like a drunken fool at this point, but it no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered was the laughing. He had to stay on his feet long enough to make them stop laughing. He couldn't bear their laughter ringing in his ears. He shook his head to clear it, and then tried to throw a punch of his own. It seemed to bounce harmlessly off of one of Mern's biceps, not getting anywhere near the intended target of Mern's face. Mern, however, had better luck with his punch. Matner felt something break when the fist hit him across the face, glancing off the side of his nose in the process.

The next punch Matner received was almost immediate, and Matner tried to throw up his arms to fend off the repetitive blows as they came. Back and forth Mern's fists came, going between Matner's torso and face seemingly at random. Matner staggered backwards, hearing the roar of the crowd, cheering and laughing around him as he felt bones in his ribs snap and a tooth knocked loose in his mouth. His head rang almost loud enough to drown out the crowd and the pain in one side was blindingly sharp. Then Mern swept a leg around and took Matner's feet out from beneath him, and Matner fell heavily to the floor. Mern came down to one knee and slammed the whole of his forearm across Matner's stomach. Matner coughed from the impact, and his own blood splattered back across his face at him as a result.

He heard the crowd reach the count of three before he'd even really realized they were counting. It was all he could do to pull himself to his feet. Blood was running out of his nose, and he wiped it away with his hand before spitting out the tooth that was loose in his mouth. As he staggered out of the ring of people, just wanting to find a place to hide from the laughter of the crowd, he felt a hand on his shoulder in passing. Dir Ketten gave him a look, as if to make sure Matner hadn't suffered any life-threatening injuries, before pushing past him, into the ring. Matner turned to see that the nomad had removed his own shirt and armor, and was stepping in to be the next in the ring. Matner remained in place, to see how the fight played out.

The crowd laughed a bit again, apparently expecting this fight to go about the same way. Mern was taller and bulkier than Dir Ketten, who was the leaner and sleeker of the two. Dir Ketten, Matner noticed, had several bands of black tattooed around his biceps.

Mern swayed back and forth, moving his hands about in readiness. Dir Ketten stood completely still, and reminded Matner of a painting he had seen of some strange foreign giant cat about to pounce.

Dir Ketten waited, and eventually Mern threw the first punch. Dir Ketten grabbed the bigger man's arm and twisted it a little, throwing a punch like a snike's strike into Mern's muscled ribs under the arm. A look of surprise crossed Mern's face, and Matner wondered what had just happened.

Dir Ketten retained his grip on Mern's wrist, now twisting it the other way. Mern's body turned with it. Dir Ketten struck out with another punch just under Mern's sternum, visibly winding the bigger man. The third strike came just as quickly up under the jaw and Mern fell. Dir Ketten used his hold on Mern's wrist to slow his fall and lower him gently to the floor. Mern breathed, but was unconscious.

The man in charge stepped forward. "Um, well'n. I guess does anyone else wanna step for'd?" There was a simple knowing look on Dir Ketten's face, not a look of pride or victory.

The room had gone quiet. Someone shuffled their feet. Another man coughed, obviously trying to muffle it with their hand. It was quiet enough, that Matner could hear a man across the ring from him, scratching the stubble on his chin ever so lightly. Most looked surprised. Some looked suspicious. Nobody was laughing or cheering now.

"Right then, 'ere ye go. Pot's yers, Mister...?" the man held out the "pot" which Dir Ketten took in both hands, giving a slight bow as he did.

Not suprisingly to Matner, Dir Ketten said nothing in response to the questioning tone the man had left lingering. Instead, he emptied the contents of the pot into a coinpurse from his pocket before handing back the pot itself and snagging up his armor. Matner realized he hadn't grabbed his own, and quietly made his way over, trying not to attract any attention to himself as he painfully donned his shirt and armor again. Dir Ketten was already making his way out of the crowd by the time Matner was belting his sword into place. Matner hurried to catch up, trying to ignore his injuries. The stabbing pain in his ribcage was the worst, although much of his face was swelling painfully, and he was having trouble seeing out of one of his eyes as a result. He also knew that there was blood caked across his face and some still oozing out of his nose. The pain in his jaw was also throbbing, and the taste of blood in his mouth reminded him of the tooth he'd lost.

Dir Ketten was heading back towards the doorway, where Sharnellynn and Ahriender were waiting. Matner tried to follow, pushing his way through the crowd. Some stepped aside to let him pass, but as he did he could hear some of them muttering things under their breath in suspicious tones. He suddenly didn't think it would be a good idea to stay there for much longer. Then there was a shout near the door.

"Hey! Lookit this. They brought slaves in here."

The silence broke as the man threw back Sharnellynn's hood. The elf had a mixed look of determined anger and fear as she clutched Ahriender to her and backed up against the wall. Dir Ketten moved in quickly to her side and shoved the man roughly away from her, his eyes blazing. Matner suddenly felt foolish, wishing it was him coming to her defense.

"We do got rules about some things around 'ere," the man who'd been running the "pot" said loudly. "An' one 'o 'em is that we don't allow animals in this here 'stablishment. Somebody git them filth outta here. An' the ones who brought 'em in as well!"

There was a surge as the crowd moved all at once. Matner heard Sharnellynn scream and could tell there was fighting going on by Dir Ketten. He found himself unable to do anything about it, however, as he was picked up by several of the people near him before he could even get his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. He tried to fight them as they roughly dragged him towards the door, but they began punching him, several hitting him in areas he'd already been injured. He was blinded by the pain as he was dragged out into the rain. As he hit the ground, he tried to catch himself and one of his fingers caught wrong and snapped. The rest of his hand slammed down and slid in the mud and pain jarred through his wrist too.

"Git on yer horses and git out o' here. Be thankful we don't keep yer horses fer our trouble," he heard the man say.

"Trouble?!" he said, incredulously, turning his head back towards the crowd. "What trouble did we cause you?"

His answer was a boot in the face, and pain blinded him again for a moment. There was blood in his eyes, mixed with the rain, and for a moment he feared they would beat him to death right then and there when another kick struck him in the side. A part of him almost wished they would just finish him off.

"I said git, boy. Iffen ye value yer life that is."

He turned to Dir Ketten, assuming the warrior would do something. Ketten was helping Ahriender up onto his horse. Both elves had pulled their hoods back up again. Dir Ketten shook his head at Matner and pointed to Matner's horse. He climbed up, painfully aware that he was hurt in several places.

They rode off a little hard, putting some distance between them and the town, before stopping to tend to Matner.

"I'm fine, Mother," Ahriender said when Sharnellynn fussed over the boy. Dir Ketten started first with cleaning up Matner's face. His nose was particularly tender, and looked crooked. Dir Ketten held up a hand in front of Matner's face. He touched Matner's nose then made a gesture that meant to hold and wait.

He grabbed Matner's nose and all he knew was that it hurt. When it stopped, his nose seemed straight again. He touched it gingerly. It hurt a lot, but did seem to have the right shape. His finger turned out not to be broken, but it did hurt a lot. Finally, Dir Ketten wound bandages tightly around his ribs.

Sharnellynn looked over at Matner and shook her head disappointedly, as if judging Matner as a stupid child. Matner looked away in shame, wanting to cry but not willing to give her the satisfaction.

They made camp in another small wooded area that night, using Dir Ketten's tarp to keep the rain from falling directly onto them again. By morning, the rain had still not let up. It was hard to tell if it was falling any harder or not, since they were all drenched pretty well through.

The next day no one spoke much at all. Occasionally Ahriender would ask a question, but even Matner didn't have it in him to give the boy more than a short, basic answer. Matner's injuries throbbed with the horse's movement, and by lunchtime his head was throbbing from the inside as well. The rumbling of his stomach wasn't helping either, and he noticed the rations Dir Ketten handed out of the meat was smaller than the meager serving they usually had. No one complained, however, and it wasn't long before they were moving again.

Dinner was almost as lean as lunch, and Matner noticed they used a little more than half of what was left of the meat. There seemed to be a small argument between Ahriender and his mother over something just after dinner, but it was in hushed tones and Matner couldn't hear what they were saying. Dir Ketten checked over the bandages and inspected Matner's swollen face and nose before he slept. He was exhausted and hurting, and sleep came quickly as soon as he had the chance to lay down his head.

He was awoken by Dir Ketten, who looked alarmed. Matner sat up quickly and looked to where the nomad was pointing. Sharnellynn and Ahriender weren't in the camp. Their bedrolls and horses were gone as well. He looked around wildly, searching for signs of attackers or a struggle, but could find none.

"They left on their own. Come," Ketten said simply.

The nomad turned and rolled his own bedroll quickly before starting to untie the tarp. Matner realized that they must have left during the shift the elven woman generally stayed awake for. While the men had been asleep, she had taken her son and left. Matner scrambled to roll his bedroll, blaming himself and feeling shocked at her departure at the same time.

The sun was just starting to come up. While it was not yet a lot of light, it was still enough for the experienced tracker to pick the trail. They moved as quickly as they could, Dir Ketten obviously not worrying just then about leaving a trail behind them.

"So," Matner tried once it was lighter and he figured the tracking would be easier, "how come you don't talk?"

"You can't listen while you are talking," the nomad replied without looking back.

"Listen to what?"

"Everything is alive, Matner. Land, sky, trees, rocks, water, everything. The spirits of the land will give you all the answers you need, but not if you do not learn to hear them. They often speak in the tiniest of voices, and it is only if you can be quiet both inside and out that you can hear them."

"And you hear these voices when you are mute?"

"There is so much for you to learn. I will teach you what there is time for, if you are able. For one, you should learn how to fight, how to use that sword."

"I was trained in how to use the sword--"

"No," the nomad interrupted, looking back at Matner at last. "Shown perhaps, but you did not learn. You wield it with your arm and your hand, not with your will."

"I was considered the best in my class," Matner declared, defensively. "At one of the most prestigious academies in the kingdom, nonetheless."

"Then I am sorry for your King," Dir Ketten replied flatly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Matner asked, feeling a bit angry.

Dir Ketten stopped his horse and turned to face him again. Matner couldn't read the emotion on the man's face, but it looked stern. He thought the nomad might be angry too.

"Where I am from, Matner, if a thing is worth doing it is worth doing well. There are no half measures or second chances. The land is hard and the weak do not survive it. If you are the best that this Kingdom trains to wage their wars then I fear for your people if mine were to ever decide to breach your borders."

Ketten continued talking as he turned his horse and urged it forward again. Matner kept pace, silently fuming while he listened.

"The elves understand about doing a thing well. They have always been perfectionists. However they were also tripped up by their own egos. Sharnellynn is no different. She sees herself as better than the humans around her. It troubles her that her son has human blood. She feels guilt for that. She tries to hide it by pretending he is entirely elven."

"You, on the other hand, harbor some guilt of your own, that taints your ability to relate to her. Perhaps because you still see her as a slave."

"I don't -" Matner began to protest.

"You do," Dir Ketten interrupted again. "You may not think you do, but I especially see it when you look at her. You've been raised to see her as a slave. You treat her more like valued property than as a person. I expect there were elves kept enslaved in your household, am I right?"