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?"

"We had two. My parents still have them, that is."

"You still discuss them like property. You must change your thinking. Change your mind. Listen to your heart and your spirit. Think on this. Find the part of you that has not learned to see her as a person. Find the guilt you harbor. You must tell those two parts of you that they are at most parts of you, and they are not who you are. Do not speak again until you have done so."

It was hard to not say anything in reply, but Matner managed it. Guilt, Dir Ketten had suggested. He wondered what the root of it was. From the moment he had met her he had felt uncomfortable. He had known she would dislike him and distrust him if she learned that he had grown up as a slave owner. Apparently he had been right on that count.

He did not really understand what Dir Ketten had told him to do. He did not see how he could change any of what was happening. Certainly he could not change what had happened.

Several times as they rode he stopped himself short of asking a question. After a time he tried to put it out of his head for a little while and concentrate on the tracking. The trail itself was easy to find. All the rain was making the ground so soft it was impossible for horses to move without leaving clear trails.

He noticed the differences between the tracks their horses had left and the ones his and Dir Ketten's were making. The other horses had left deeper impressions, as if they had struck the ground harder, trying to move faster. He began to notice points where they had slowed, and at one area Dir Ketten stopped and inpected the ground briefly. Based on the hoofprints and an area of grass that looked torn, Matner was able to recognize that they had stopped to let the horses rest and graze a bit. Dir Ketten was sharper, however, and pointed out a small patch of berries that had been partially picked.

Matner reached to pull some for them to eat as well, having not eaten anything at all that day, but Dir Ketten stopped him with a touch of his arm, shaking his head.

"They will make you sick," he said.

"But won't it make them sick too?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"Yes," he nodded. "Though it will not kill them. Come."

Dir Ketten hopped back up onto his horse and continued, following the tracks. Matner found himself wondering just what effect the berries would have. He refrained from asking, however. While Dir Ketten had answered Matner's question, it had been clear from the look on the nomad's face that Matner shouldn't have asked it aloud. Matner frowned as he rode, wishing his friend Leyeb were there. Leyeb had always been the type of friend Matner could talk to when working out a problem. His friend had a way of looking at problems from different angles that sometimes helped Matner find what he was looking for.

By the time it grew dark enough to conceal the trail the rain was beginning to lessen, though it still had not actually stopped yet. Matner had lost track of how long it had been raining. There was no stream or river nearby enough to see how flooded it might be.

They found a place to rig up their tarp and Matner did not complain. The elves had no tarp, so the only shelter they would find would be under trees. Perhaps the rain had lightened up enough that thick enough foliage would provide some cover and relief. There were no trees around him quite thick enough for that. Dir Ketten, for his part, seemed not the least bothered by the rain.

Dir Ketten checked his finger, which he could use if he was easy on it. They spent an hour or so, until it got properly dark, in sword practice. Dir Ketten showed Matner all manner of things he was doing wrong, all without speaking. By practical example the nomad illustrated what worked and what did not.

Academy training had focused on techniques and basics. Moves, once mastered, were combined with each other. Counters and blocks and parries were simple opposing forces to attacks. An overhead swing was stopped by an upstroke. A swing from the right was blocked from the left, and so forth.

Dir Ketten's fighting style centered around two swords, but he demonstrated how it worked just as well with one. Attacks were met with curving motions. They were not stopped or blocked, they were just deflected away. Each defense put the nomad into a position where his sword was inside of the attacker's, and a quick motion could get it--or his other hand--quickly at his enemy.

The training session left him tired and with much to think about. He wondered what his instructors would think of Dir Ketten's way of fighting. He was also beginning to understand what Frank had meant about experience outweighing simple practice. While Matner watched for signs of when an opponent or sparring partner would move one way or another, Dir Ketten just seemed to know. Frank had shown a similar level of comfort with his sword, almost casual in his ability to block an incoming attack, although Matner had to admit that Dir Ketten took it to the next level, making it seem like more of a dance.

Dir Ketten showed Matner some leaves and bark that were edible. He also found a few bugs and other wriggling things that he offered, but Matner couldn't bring himself to eat any. The bark tasted awful enough as it was, and the leaves had an odd bitterness that seemed to only make his mouth taste worse. He rinsed his mouth with water repeatedly until it was bearable again. Dir Ketten ate a few of the worms without pause, but smashed most of the bugs in his cup before adding water and stirring them into it. Then he drank it, chewing the larger pieces before swallowing. Matner did his best to not look, in order to keep his own meal safely in his rumbling stomach.

They split the night into two shifts, and by the time the sun was light enough to start traveling again, the rain had slowed considerably. Water still dripped off the trees heavily, but once they made their way out to cross the next area of farmland, the rain finally stopped. The clouds drifted lazily away, taking the storm with them and leaving a bright, blue, sunlit sky. Matner threw back his hood with relief, letting the sun hit his face and begin to dry him off as it slowly rose on the horizon.

They crossed a farm, following tracks through bean fields. The low plants were planted closely enough to partially conceal the hoofprints, but enough plants had been disturbed by the horses to make following easy enough. It must have been even easier for Dir Ketten, for the nomad quickened their pace considerably, and they all but galloped through the field themselves.

There was a line of trees at the edge of the field, a wind break for the farm. The trail cut through it and continued. This next field was fallow, laying wild for the season to give the soil a rest. Matner wondered what would get planted in it next.

The trail led straight across the field. The hoofmarks were easy to see in the soft ground and trampled grasses, and were more spread out. The elves' horses had sped through at a gallop. The trail led towards a low area off ahead in the distance.

There was a pool of water in the low land. There was no way to know if it was normally there or if it was a result of all the rain. The tracks grew closer together approaching it. Dir Ketten pointed out that the elves had stopped and the horses had probably drank from the water. There was no indication that the elves had gotten down for water themselves, but Matner supposed that it had not been hard to collect water recently enough.

They followed the tracks along the edge of the little pool to a loose stand of thin, young looking trees. The horses were both there, grazing on the tall grasses growing in clumps between the bright green foliage. The horses were riderless but still saddled. There were no bags on them.

Dir Ketten swore, getting off his horse and inspecting the ground in a squat. Matner dismounted and grabbed the reins on the horses The two horses had been chosen for the elves due to their tame nature, so he knew that they wouldn't have wandered away or thrown them. The absence of bags suggested that they had let the horses go, sending them off on a false trail.

"We go back. On foot," Dir Ketten said abruptly. "We tie one to each horse."

He took the reins of one of the horses from Matner and secured them to the rope that held the bags on his saddle. Matner followed his example, and then followed Dir Ketten on foot. They watched the ground carefully, retracing their steps back across the fields, searching for any signs of when the elves had separated from the horses.

It was Dir Ketten's sharp eyes that finally found it, nearly all the way back to the woods that the two men had camped in the night before. Partway into the bean fields, the nomad's tedious checking of the areas to either side of the main trail paid off and footprints were found beneath the broad, flat leaves. Dir Ketten also plucked the occasional pod of beans off of the plant and broke it open, eating the beans from inside and then eating the pod itself. Matner followed suit, finding the beans a huge improvement from the bark and leaves of the night before.

By the time they were following the trail of footprints, they had lost a day's worth of travel. At the next copse of trees, they had to stop for the night again, the light having become too dim to continue following the trail. Sharnellynn had obviously tried to conceal their trail some, as it looked like they had used branches or something to wipe the ground clear behind them. They did not get all of the footprints, however, and Matner began to recognize the pattern of their efforts compared to the ground around it. He was pretty sure that the small clearing that Dir Ketten chose to camp in that night was the same one that Sharnellynn had chosen too.

He slept fitfully on his watch. He was worried about a number of things. He worried about the elves getting into trouble. He worried about how they were going to keep the elves from running off again, or if he could convince them not to. And could he keep them from running off? Wouldn't that just be making them prisoners? How could that be any better than making them slaves?

He supposed that two elves running around all alone were likely to be arrested as escapees. No one would believe that they had been set free and were traveling alone. He did not know this area, but suspected--based on the last town, if nothing else--that two lone elves would be unlikely to find warm and welcoming receptions anywhere nearby.

And he could not help but wonder what good he could possibly do for them at this point. He felt certain it was his fault they had run off. He imagined the two of them debating over Matner was helping or hindering their cause. 'But I think he means well, Mother,' he imagined Ahriender saying.

In the morning they picked up the trail again. The elves had abandoned trying to conceal their tracks. They were not hard to follow across the soft farmland. Two sets of shoed tracks, one a little lighter than the other. As they progressed through the day it seemed the farms grew more dense, with farm houses clustered together more and more often. From the tracks it seemed that the elves were having to be more careful to avoid people.

The elves especially stuck to the lines of trees bordering the farms, and following that Matner and Dir Ketten also managed to avoid contact with the locals. He realized with a mix of relief and dread that the denser farms meant they were approaching a larger town or city.

About midday the tracks veered away, heading into a field of taller plants in a straight line across the field. Then there was a point that Dir Ketten stopped, looking around them at the tracks with alarm. Matner could see it too. The elves were no longer alone. The plants hadn't been tall enough to hide them.

Two horses had approached them. The footprints from those who'd dismounted were large, looking like men's boots. There were areas where the ground was scraped, as if something had been dragged across the mud. Plants were torn. It was clear there had been a struggle. Ahriender's smaller footprints had fled a short distance, but stopped. The hoofprints alongside them suggested he'd been grabbed up before he could get far. Dir Ketten pointed out dark splotches on some of the torn plants in the field.

"Blood," he said, frowning.

Dir Ketten was back on his horse in a moment, turning in the direction the horses had gone with the elves. Matner scrambled back into the saddle and followed. The path they had taken hadn't been hidden at all. Dir Ketten pushed them forward as fast as they could make their way through the plants. The horses had taken the shortest route back out, before veering towards a small dirt path between fields. Fortunately, the ground was still soft enough that the horses had left clear imprints to follow. Dir Ketten leaned forward in the saddle, watching between the ground and the road ahead of him as he urged the horse into a near gallop. Matner tried to mimick what the nomad was doing, although at that speed he had a hard time keeping track of the trail. They were able to see the buildings of the large village on the horizon before the trail veered off the path towards a farm.

Dir Ketten stopped, looking off towards the farm thoughtfully. Matner wanted to ask what the man was thinking, but stopped himself short.

He considered what options they had. He tried to envision them walking up and talking their way through it. They could explain that the elves were passengers in their caravan and had gotten separated. Somehow he doubted the farmers would believe him.

He could explain that the two were escaped slaves, and that Matner and Dir Ketten had come to recover them. The first half of that would be technically true, and more likely for the locals to accept. Yet he suspected the locals would be unwilling to hand over their newly claimed prizes. Buying them back from the locals was certainly not a possibility. That left a straightforward rescue.

The sun would be setting soon. Dir Ketten nodded and turned them towards the nearest hedgerow of trees. They dismounted and tied the horses where they would have some forage.

"We should move in under cover of darkness," Dir Ketten said.

It seemed to take forever for the sun to set on the horizon. Matner watched the farm from the cover of the trees. There was a large farmhouse, along with another smaller house off to one side from it. There was also a large barn, a shed, an outhouse, and a silo. Part of an area near to the barn was also fenced off, and a few cows and goats meandered about within it. He could see shorter animals as well, possibly pigs, and thought he saw movement similar to chickens as well though he really couldn't be sure from the distance he was away from them. He saw people moving from building to building occasionally, and what looked like a child running out to the barn at one point and then back to the house only moments later.

A bell rang, and Matner's own stomach rumbled, reminding him of how little food he'd had himself lately. Several people moved into the house from other areas of the farm, as the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon. Matner found himself imagining them all, sitting around a table, enjoying a meal. He wondered if they would think to feed Sharnellynn and Ahriender, although he suspected the two elves were locked away somewhere and not sitting with their captors at mealtime.

The shadows deepened and the moon rose. The half-circle of light spread out across the sky, making everything seem crisp and clean despite the darkness. Matner saw people leaving the house to go to the smaller house, one stopping off at the outhouse on the way. Lights lit and glowed within the small house, while they moved and shifted within the larger one. He imagined each of them carrying a candle or lantern as they made their way to wherever they slept for the night, unaware of Dir Ketten and Matner waiting in the trees. He hoped they would sleep soundly. He really didn't know what he'd do if they were discovered. He knew he didn't intend to kill any unsuspecting farmers, and was feeling a little unsure of his ability to handle himself in a fistfight recently. He flexed his hand, testing how his finger was healing, reminding himself to lead with the other if he needed to throw a punch.

They pulled their hoods up and crept in slowly, staying so low to the ground they might as well have been crawling. It seemed to take forever to cover the distance.

Someone did come out of the farmhouse when they were about halfway to it. He was pulling draws on a long pipe. It glowed red with each deep inhale. He sat on a step at what Matner supposed was probably a kitchen door.

"Now what?" Matner asked.

"We keep advancing, slow and low and silent. He is not looking our way, and is probably not paying attention anyway. He will only notice movement that draws his eye."

The man at the door kept smoking his pipe, although as Matner oh so slowly drew closer it seemed the man was not taking much pleasure in the pipe. It did not seem to be relaxing him, and he seemed to be working at it, as if wanting it over with. The man frowned and frequently looked over to a cellar door on the other side of him.

Eventually the man stood up. Matner froze, of course, certain the man would see them. He must not have, however, for he showed no sign of alarm and went back inside the house.

A branch was stuck through the handles of the cellar like an improvised lock. It would not, of course, keep anyone out of the cellar, but it could keep someone from getting out. "The cellar," he whispered, not able to think of any other reason to bar it in that fashion.

Dir Ketten nodded in agreement, eyeing the clearing of dirt between them and the cellar doors. The ground was still somewhat muddy, despite how packed the dirt had become from being trod on by men, animals and the heavy farming equipment being pulled through it. The space wasn't necessarily big, but still looked daunting to Matner. Anyone looking out a window would be able to see them somewhat clearly in the moonlight if they crossed it directly. He pointed to the fencing near the barn.

"Could we cross near there, use the fence to mask our approach?" he asked.

"No," Dir Ketten shook his head. "If the animals catch our scent, they might give us away. Better to just move quickly across."

They waited a few moments more, before darting across to the doors. Dir Ketten was a step ahead of Matner, and began carefully sliding the branch out from the handles. The noise it made was minimal, but to Matner it felt as if the branch all but scraped against the painted wood. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to watch everywhere at once, to see if they'd been noticed. They seemed to go undetected as they slowly opened the doors, and Matner was relieved to find that the hinges were well-oiled and didn't creak. He moved down the steps slowly, trying to let his eyes adjust to the blackness. The only light was the moonlight shafting down the stairs. He could barely make out the two forms he found bound and gagged on the floor below.

Sharnellynn was unconscious, but alive. It was hard to tell how badly she was hurt, but he immediately knew she'd been beaten. He untied Ahriender's binds first, seeing the boy's bright eyes recognize him.

"I knew you'd come!" Ahriender whispered as soon as he'd pulled his gag off. "They hurt mother."

"We need to get her to safety first," Matner nodded. "Then we'll help her."

He hoped they'd be able to as he untied the binds around the elven woman so he could lift her up. He could tell her clothes were torn and wet, but in the darkness he couldn't be sure if it was from blood or not.

"Ahriender, grab those bags," Dir Ketten instructed. "Matner, carry Sharnellynn."

As the nomad grabbed up a couple of burlap bags from the cellar, Ahriender looked at him in astonishment.

"You can talk!" he said, nearly forgetting to whisper.

"Later," was all Ketten said in reply. "The bags." He pointed to the ones he wanted the boy to carry.

Ahriender grabbed up the bags and the group of them began to head up the stairs, Dir Ketten taking the lead. Matner came to the top of the stairs and blinked in the moonlight, adjusting his eyes again. Then he saw the large dog come loping out of the barn. The dog stopped, turning in their direction and looking at them before beginning to run towards them, barking loudly.

Dir Ketten held up his hand, signalling them to hold their positions.

As the dog grew closer Matner could see it more clearly in the half moon light that bleached colors. It was a sleek dog with a wiry whip of a tail. He guessed a hunting dog of some sort. It ran up to them, not in a threatening aggressive way, but in a friendly, bounding way.

Before the dog reached them Ketten led them to a corner of the farm house. Matner could hear angry grumbling noises inside. They ducked back around the corner, and the dog followed. Dir Ketten went down to one knee and petted the dog, who wagged his tail happily. The dog also stopped barking.

"Rako!" he heard someone call from the direction of the kitchen door. "Rako!" The dog turned and trotted away towards the voice.

"What's wit'a noise, boy?"

Suddenly Matner realized they had not closed the cellar doors.

"Th'elves're loose!" the man called out. "Bobba, Ricka, gito'er'ere!"

Matner could hear footsteps coming closer to them, threatening to expose their location. He pulled Ahriender behind him with his free hand, shifting Sharnellynn's weight a little on his shoulder. While the elf was not a difficult burden, she was still an encumberance that would prevent him from fighting well.

He saw Dir Ketten put one of the bags he was carrying down, and change his grip on the other. Matner watched as the pointed end of a pitchfork preceded the man looking for them. He suddenly realized that the hilt of his sword would be difficult to reach while he was carrying the elven woman. The man would outreach him easily with the pitchfork.

He didn't know that they were just around the corner, however, so Dir Ketten caught the man off guard when he swung the bag. He swung low, under the reach of the pitchfork, and the man fell to the ground as the bag hit him square in the stomach. Dir Ketten dropped the other end of the bag and moved in on the man immediately, hitting him twice in the same sharp, precise manner he'd used in the fight at the inn. The man was unconscious, but now the dog was barking and growling, obviously angry at the attack on his master.

Potatoes had fallen from the bag, rolling on the ground next to the fallen farmer, and Dir Ketten grabbed one of them up next, hefting it in his hand. He threw it at the dog, and Matner heard the impact of it hitting the dog's head. The dog didn't fall to the ground, but squealed unhappily and darted off into the barn. Matner could hear voices as others began coming to investigate.

"Quickly," Dir Ketten said, grabbing up the two bags again and heading directly away from the houses.

This time, Matner made sure Ahriender went ahead of him, trying to keep himself between the boy and the men behind them. They ran into the long grasses behind the barn and made their way towards the nearest bit of trees. Matner put everything he could into keeping up, having a difficult time while still carrying Sharnellynn. By the time they were in the cover of the trees, he was breathing heavily and starting to get a cramp in his side. The sound of pursuit was still clear behind him, although he thought it sounded like the men were still trying to decide which direction they had fled.

Dir Ketten led them along the trees, circling around towards where their horses waited. At one point Matner saw what looked like the light of torches. He pushed to keep up with the others. They had to reach their horses quickly before they lost any headstart they might have.

Sharnellynn stirred but did not wake. None of them spoke. Matner could tell he was holding them up, but pushed as hard as he could to keep up, despite the growing cramp ache in his side. Dir Ketten never made any attempt to take Sharnellynn from him.

When they finally did reach the horses he could see a scattering of torchlit men spreading out in a widening arc to search. They were on foot. Matner felt a little safer standing next to the horses.

"She will have to ride with you until she is ready to ride on her own," Dir Ketten explained. "Help her keep from falling." The strong nomad hoisted her up into the saddle, and Matner climbed up after. He leaned her back into him so that he could hold her with one arm without worrying about her flopping forward.

Dir Ketten led them off, the unused horse secured to his. They passed through the little line of trees, putting it behind them and pursuit. The half moon lit their escape through the next field with silvery light. Sharnellynn's hair had a smell to it both earthy and flowery. It also smelled a little bit of hay. He adjusted her torn clothes, managing to cover her up a bit more.

They kept going, despite the darkness. Matner's eyes grew heavy, but he kept himself awake, constantly reminding himself of Sharnellynn. He switched which arm held her in place every now and again. He was worried that she hadn't woken up yet. Even with the moonlight, he couldn't be sure just how badly hurt she really was.

Shortly after the sun broke with the horizon, they found a stream, partly concealed by another copse of trees. Dir Ketten led them upstream for most of the morning before stopping them. He dismounted and rearranged some of the bags, putting most of the food bags onto Sharnellynn's horse for now and seeming to lighten the load on his own.

"Continue that way the rest of the day," he told Matner. "The stream will throw off their dog. I'll also conceal our tracks leaving the stream, as well as fall back and leave a false trail for them to follow. Hopefully we've gone far enough already that they won't continue looking for us, but we need to be sure. Find a good place to make camp for tonight and I will track you to it. It may take a day or so before I reach you."

The nomad reached into one of the bags and pulled out a few apples, tucking them into his pockets.

"Make sure you all eat something, now that we have food," he looked at Sharnellynn, inspecting her wounds.

"See what you can do to wake her up, but gently. She may have a concussion. The wound on her forehead is the worst. The rest is minor enough that you should be able to handle it."

Matner nodded, hoping he was right. Dir Ketten didn't say anything further, but leapt up onto his horse and rode off, back downstream. It didn't take long before the nomad was out of sight, and Matner was alone with Ahriender and the unconscious Elf.

"We shouldn't waste time," he said, trying to sound authoritative. "Let's get moving."

"When did he start talking?" Ahriender asked, moving his horse in alongside Matner's and matching pace.

"He's always been able to talk. I guess he usually chooses not to," Matner replied. "I think he's talking now as a necessity. I don't think he likes it."

"Oh," the boy replied. He was quiet for a while, as if thinking hard about it.

"I knew you'd come for us," he finally said.

"Why did you leave?" Matner hoped he wasn't crossing a line by asking the boy, but he had the nagging feeling it was his own fault the Elves had left.

"Mother thinks we can't trust humans."

"All humans?" Matner asked. "Or just me?"

"Most humans," the boy replied. "She trusted Benjamin, but that was different."

"Benjamin?"

"Benjamin was the man who kept me hidden," Ahriender answered. "He owned a book shop and lived above it. He let me read anything I wanted from the shop."

Matner was reminded of the bookstore he had visited, and the strange man who'd somehow convinced him to buy the book he had in his pack.

"Blue Ben's Books?" he mused aloud, wondering if it was coincidence or not. He didn't imagine there were that many 'Benjamins' who owned bookstores in Tikor, however.

"That's the one!" Ahriender replied excitedly. "You know it!"

"I went there once," Matner admitted. "That's where I bought the book I have."

"Then you've met Benjamin!"

"Briefly, yes."

"He was...strange," Matner added. He leaned over and reached into the apple bag, fishing one out for each of them.

"Yeah, Benjamin knows lots of things," Ahriender said between bites. "And not all just from reading books. He didn't always used to be a bookseller, but he never would tell me what he did before that. Just that he traveled a lot."

"Yes, he did seem to know a lot," Matner agreed around a mouthful of apple. "He seemed rather insightful, like he understands people." He found himself thinking about the book in his bag. He had yet to actually read any of it.

There had always been something going on with the carava to watch, or a conversation going on. It was all stuff that seemed more interesting than stories of people who had probably never existed. Now it seemed he would not get any chance to read until they had found some safe haven for the elves. Just then that did not seem likely to happen any time soon.

He wondered again why he had bought it, wishing now he had the money instead. He did admit to himself that if he had not bought the book, he would probably have just spent the money on something else. He sighed.

"What?" Ahriender asked.

"Oh, nothing."

"So, why do I get the feeling you don't mind Humans as much as your mother?" He asked.

"Well, I'm half Human," he replied with a shrug. "Mother forgets sometimes. But I don't. Benjamin says I'm special. He said I should try to be the best of both races." Ahriender said it as if it was an instruction he took to heart, and Matner couldn't help but smile at the boy's resolve.

"That's a good way to look at it," he nodded.

"Mother wasn't treated very well," Ahriender told him. "She doesn't think I know, but I do. I know a lot more than she thinks."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Benjamin says it's because she had to be apart from me so much, but she still treats me like I'm younger than I am. She thinks I'm growing like an Elf, but I'm not. I'm not growing as fast as a Human either. At least that's what Benjamin said. I really didn't know any Human children. Or any children at all, actually."

Matner thought of his little brother, Endrew. Despite how much Endrew loved to read, he couldn't imagine him staying cooped up all the time. Endrew always wanted to be outside when he could, often acting out the adventures he read about in his books. He somehow imagined that Endrew and Ahriender would have gotten along quite well, even though Ahriender had some years on Endrew, both physically and intellectually.

The conversation was interrupted, however, the remainder of the apple in Matner's hand going flying as he grabbed to keep Sharnellynn from falling. She had obviously woken up, but now she was struggling to get away from him.

"It's alright! It's Matner! Sharnellynn, it's alright!"

She shoved hard and he clutched at her, trying to keep her in the saddle. Then, suddenly, he lost his balance and the both of them were tumbling to the ground. He pulled her away as the horse bucked next to them, threatening to trample them with it's hooves.

Sharnellynn backed away, crouched low and looking like a frightened and angry wounded animal.

"It's alright," Matner said, "you're safe now."

"They came for us Mother," Ahriender added.

"Of course they did," Sharnellynn all but spat, sounding resentful.

"I think I'm not the bad guy here, Sharnellynn," Matner said, his frustration with it all catching up to him.

"Now we're not in a good part of the land here," he pointed out. "You see where running off on your own got you. Now, it seems like since we got separated from the caravan you haven't exactly been at all friendly. Maybe I'm not your first choice in escorts, but right now I'm all you've got. In fact, until Dir Ketten catches up to us I think I'm all that's standing between you and those farmfolk back there. If it weren't for us you'd still be there."

"Now," he concluded, "you can be good and I can share some food you probably want and give you some medical help you probably need. You got your head hit pretty good, and falling off a horse just now probably didn't help. Or you can just keep acting like you have been and I'll make my own camp and say good riddance. But this is just what happens isn't it. The arrogant elf won't accept help from us lowly humans until it's too late."

"How dare you!" she all but screamed at him, standing upright.

Her jaw was set in anger and her blue eyes threatened to burn holes through his skull with the fierceness of her gaze. She stood, defiant and proud, her chin high and shoulders thrown back. For a moment, despite the torn clothes, mud, and dark purple bruise on her forehead, he saw who she'd been before his kind had taken her into slavery.

"You are so typical of your kind. Do you know that?" she yelled, her voice full of loathing. "Giving ultimatums as if you were our savior. Your kind go storming in, trying to solve everything with violence. Which is exactly what happened back in that town, isn't it? You can't figure a way around something, so you beat on someone like an animal until you feel better about yourself because you've reduced someone else to a position below you. If you don't understand something, like art or literature, you burn it so you don't have to risk feeling inferior. And if a woman refuses you, you will beat her into submission and then you will rape her to make sure your conquest is complete! Don't you dare tell me about Elven arrogance you fithy Human brute!"

She did spit at him when she finished, but the effect was lost by her losing her balance. She moaned, clutching her head with one hand and grabbing the nearest tree with the other. Matner stopped himself from stepping forward to be ready to catch her, his anger keeping him in check.

"Mother?" Ahriender's voice shook, the boy obviously worried. Matner couldn't be sure if it was his mother's condition or her words that concerned him, however.

"Not now, Ahriender," Sharnellynn gasped, trying to maintain her composure.

"Why did I go back for you, then?" he asked aloud, not specifically directing the question to her. He looked at her more directly and continued. "I'm not getting paid for any of this. I went back for you because it was the right thing to do, because whether you like it or not you need me, and because I promised to do everything in my power to keep you safe and get you to a safe place for you and Ahriender to live freely."

"The way I see it you have a couple of choices. You can stick with Dir Ketten and me and we can get you to Old Fredrickson's friends and we can find a place for you to raise your son in peace. Or you can run off again. Do that and I can pretty much guarantee you aren't going to find safety on your own. You'll get caught, you'll probably get split up, and you'll either be sold around or killed."

He moved to back to the horses, which had stopped not far away. He untied her horse while Ahriender hopped down and ran over to hug his mother. He could not hear what they were saying to each other and he decided he did not care. He transfered the stolen food bags to his own horse and climbed up onto his saddle, still hurting from the beating back in town.

"I'm going until it's time to make camp. I've got some food, and I've got the shelter supplies. Come with if you like. Just choose your son's fate now. Run in fear until you're caught and beaten or worse, or put up with me for a few more weeks. I'm done arguing about it."

"Mother, we've got to go with him," he heard Ahriender say quietly. "You're hurt. And you need to eat."

He gave them a moment, waiting to see what she decided. She glared at him, her icy blue eyes full of hate. With a sigh, he started to turn his horse away. The pang of sympathy he felt for the boy was the only thing keeping him moving the horse slowly.

"We're coming," Ahriender said loudly. "Mother please. I'm hungry."

The last parts were said more quietly, to her, but Matner was still close enough to hear. He suddenly had an understanding of what Ahriender meant when he said he was more mature than she realized. He heard her telling him to get on his horse as he continued moving away from them. He waited until he was sure they were following before he picked up the pace again. A part of him wondered if she was even really well enough to be riding yet, but he knew that she wouldn't have let him help her even if she wasn't. Another part of him really didn't care anymore.

They rode in silence until it began getting dark. He made his way into another, slightly larger area of trees, and veered back and forth until he spotted a decent clearing for a camp site. There was a small stream nearby and he chose a spot close enough that the horses could be tied near enough to drink when they wanted. He hopped off his horse, surveying which trees to secure the tarp to.

"We'll camp here and wait for Dir Ketten," he announced, pulling some of the bags off his horse. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sharnellynn slip lightly off the horse next to Ahriender. She took two steps forward before collapsing to the ground.

"Matner!" Ahriender cried out in alarm. "Help! Please!" The boy was immediately down on his knees next to her. It was the fear in Ahriender's voice that compelled Matner to move quickly. A moment later he was kneeling next to her, confirming she was alive but unconscious again.

He felt her neck, and found her pulse. It was there but seemed weak. Her breathing was slow and shallow.

"Grab the skins and get water," he told Ahriender. He laid her down gently and ran to his horse for blankets. He put one under her head as a pillow and covered her with another one. Ahriender came back with the skins full and dripping. He was soaked to the knees and elbows.

Matner took the one of the skins and started cleaning her forehead first. The skin had split when her head had hit something hard. He thought maybe it would heal better with some stitches, but Dir Ketten had those supplies and Matner would not know how to do it regardless. It was not still bleeding, at least.

"See if you can get a fire going. I think it'll help if we can keep her warm," he suggested to Ahriender. Once Ahriender was busily occupied, Matner moved the blanket to checkt the rest of her for injuries. Her clothes were ripped and torn enough to be next to useless. He moved the blanket away from areas he checked, leaving the rest of her covered. He could not afford the distraction just then.

He pushed on her gently, testing for injuries. She moaned some when her ribs were touched, and he felt along, confirming that one did not feel right beneath her skin. He would need Dir Ketten's help making sure it healed right.

He watched for a moment, feeling helpless, as Ahriender worked the fire. He already had it started, and was blowing on it to help it grow. Matner berated himself for having so many things he had to rely on others for. He realized just how badly he needed Dir Ketten.

Matner could not track anything, or conceal their own tracks. He had no skill at hunting to provide their food. He did not know where they were going, or even where they were, let alone who to ask for or how to determine who would help them and who would just turn them in. He could not even protect them adequately, and they did not even want his help. He focused himself on dribbling a little water into Sharnellynn's mouth hoping she would swallow it rather than choke on it, when all he really wanted to do was cry.

"Is she going to be alright?" Ahriender's voice sounded small and scared next to him.

"I... I think so," Matner said, trying to sound more optimistic than he felt. "She's pretty hurt though. Dir Ketten will know better how to help her when he gets here."

"Matner?"

"Mmm hmm?" Matner tried a little more water, rubbing h