Chapter Three, Scene One

Armana led the group to her house and into her kitchen. “Move that,” she said, pointing to her heavy worktable.

After Shaog dragged it aside easily, she grabbed a long hook from beside the fireplace and inserted it into a small hole in the ground. A quick twist and the floor lifted up silently, revealing a narrow staircase leading into darkness. Armana whispered and several lights appeared in the darkness. “Bring him down here and set him on the table in the center of the room,” she instructed as she led the way down.

The room was large, easily as large as the whole house above. In the center of the room was a large stone table that sat mere inches off the ground. It was engraved with several designs and carvings which Shoag assumed were magical in nature. The walls were covered with shelves holding books, scrolls, jars and bows filled with roots and dried leaves. He felt it odd that the room had a crisp, clean scent. Most cellars he had been in were damp and musty. Smells that offended a minotaur’s sensitive nose.

Armana had gone to the only other piece of furniture in the room, a large desk, and was gathering several items into a large, unwieldy bundle as she muttered to herself. Finally satisfied, she joined them beside the wounded minotaur. She placed several candles in small holes in the table. He placed one at the head and at each hand and foot. She then ground dried herbs, leaves and roots in a large mortar.

“Senji, I need a fire going in the brazier, please,” she said. “There is some wood next to the fireplace in the kitchen.”

“Shoag, I need some water in this,” she said as she handed him a brass kettle. “Halfway full, please. And it has to be clean.”

As the two left on their errands, Durjaan said, “What of me, how can I help?”

“Since you ask, I need the floor next to the table swept clean. Murgen’s place is in the table, but Shoag will be on the floor. It has to be clean for me to inscribe the proper sigils and wards,” Armana answered.

Durjaan nodded agreement and looked around for a moment.

“Senji,” Armana called out, “there is a broom next to the wood, can you drop it down for Durjaan, please?”

A moment later, the broom clattered to the floor and Durjaan started his cleaning. Once he was done, Armana knelt and started to draw.

“Ok, child,” she said, “listen and remember.”

“What did you say,” Durjaan asked.

“Oh, my apologies. I am speaking to Talyssa. She is still here with me, watching and listening. I am going to teach her what I can as I go. There is no way I can teach her everything I know. But I can teach her simple things. Now, please step aside as I perform the thissal inika,” she said.

“Now, back to your instruction dearie. Many who practice the art use chalk to draw their symbols, or thissal. Chalk works, but is easily marred. If you grind the chalk and mix it with waxes, you can create a thissal that is not easily damaged. Inika is healing magic. Healers use herbs, roots and other organic components to healing. But I found long ago that even simple things like the color of the sigils and wards we create have an impact on the spells we cast.”

“When you leave, I would like you to have my books. They would have gone to my daughter, but now,” her voice dropped off to silence as she paused to collect herself. “But now, you are fated to be the heir to my skills. It is as the gods will it. Or at least I assume it is the god’s will. I have no other explanation as to why my spirit still walks this land to help you and your friends.”

Senji had returned and had started the fire in the brazier. The coals glowed red with heat when Shoag returned with the kettle of water.

“Senji, when the water is boiling, I need you to pour enough into the mortar to wet the ingredients completely, but not so much as to over top it.” Armana instructed the healer. “Then mix it into a paste. There is a vial of red oil, add all of it to the paste and continue mixing, please.”

After Senji nodded consent and followed her instructions, Armana kept drawing and instructing Talyssa. “Red is the color of life, it is in the blood that courses through our veins. We use the red chalks for the healing symbols. Blue is the color of power. Green is the color of love. Orange is the color of order. This spell we are creating affects life, and order but will harness the power of Shaog’s love for his cousin. This is important. Learn this lesson well, power is finite, but the intensity can be increased and harnessed through association. Like calls to like. Both Shoag and his cousin are minotaur. We could have used Amuul as an energy donor, but as he is an ogre, the spell would not be as effective. Using a human would be even less effective. Family ties bring an increase in the sympathy of the spell. Brothers would be more sympathetic that cousins, but with how close the two are, it might be just as powerful.”

She completed the diagram and stood. “Shoag, take care not to step on or mar what I just created and lie down on the floor. Your head needs to be placed here,” she said, pointing to a pink symbol, “and your feet down here.”

Once Shoag was settled, she used a fine paintbrush and the paste mixture to paint matching sigils on the two minotaurs. She finished the designs and lit a taper from the burning brazier to light the candles.

“First we must heal the physical wounds.” Armana said. She added a handful of dried herbs to the brazier and a soft, pungent smoke filled the room.

She chanted in a low voice, her words, soft and rhythmic. The words were meaningless to the witnesses of the ritual but the chant followed a steady, repeating beat that lulled Senji and Durjaan into a fugue state, they eventually slid down the walls and slumped to the floor, half asleep. The chant affected Shoag even deeper and he drifted into a deep slumber.

“Interesting,” Armana whispered, “that spell is supposed to target the donor, yet it seems to have an effect on your two friends, child.” She paused for several moments before saying, “Child? Talyssa, are you asleep too? Fekt! Never have I seen this before.”

She shrugged and continued with the ritual, chanting her spells and working her magic. Just over an hour later, she was finished. Spent and with little energy left, she joined Senji and Durjaan against the wall and all five were soon snoring deeply.

The sun was high in the sky when Kestral finally woke Senji, vigorously shaking her awake. “Gods,” she said, “what happened here?”

Senji came to her sense, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs. “I have no idea,” the orc answered. “The last I remember, Armana was casting her healing spell. Then, nothing.”

After being shaken awake, Durjaan stood, stretched and rubbed his lower back. “By Drunnda’s backside, I feel like I slept on a pile of rocks. Everything aches. What of the girl? Is she awake? And Shoag and Murgen? Did it work?”

Senji and Kestral both shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine,” Kestral said. “I woke the two of you first. I didn’t want to mess with the magic….stuff. Nothing good comes of magic.”

“You might need to rethink that, my friend,” Shoag grumbled weakly. “In the past day we were saved by a magic use. A dead magic user, to boot. How is Talyssa?”

“She will not waken,” Senji said. “Her breathing is strong, though she is a bit pale. Her pulse is good and strong. Whatever she did, it seems to have left her exhausted.”

“Fine, we let her sleep then. Kestral, take her upstairs and put her in one of the beds. Better up there than down here on the floor,” Shoag instructed. “Senji and I will look after Murgen.”

“Good, good,” Durjaan said. “I will head out to the camp and check on everything. I assume if anything bad had happened, Kestral would have let us know.”

“We have repaired what we could, sir, but we lost one wagon and two horses were too injured to continue,” Kestral replied.  “They had to be put down. Kip and a couple of your drivers butchered them. They are smoking the meat now. I have no liking for horsemeat, but I did not like just letting it waste.”

“You made the right decision,” Durjaan replied. “If anything, this incident should be a reminder that bad things happen.” His voice dwindled with distance as the two climbed upstairs and left the house.

Shoag was tired, as tired as he had ever been. As he sat on the floor next to his cousin gathering his strength, he admitted to himself that, no he had NEVER felt more tired. This was a bone deep exhaustion like nothing he had ever experienced, and never wished to experience again. His knuckles ached as if he had been grasping his axe in battle. His joints were stiff and his muscles quivered with exhaustion. It took every ounce of effort he had simply to sit upright and not fall over.

“Well, cousin,” he rumbled. “I do dearly hope this has been worth it.”

“Let me help you,” Senji instructed, holding out her hands. “You look like death, old friend.”

“I feel like I just danced with the Reaper and barely escaped.” He accepted her help in rising. “She did not say anything about feeling like I just fought a battle.”

“You look a bit worse for the wear. You have quite a bit of gray in your hair that was not there before,” she noted. “Do we assume that a side effect of giving your cousin some of your life force would be to age a bit?”

He harrumphed a noncommittal answer as he stood and stretched expansively. Though the room was large, it was not tall and his horns touched the ceiling.

“I feel older. Maybe that will go away,” he said. “I don’t think I am up to lugging his large ass up those stairs. Go get Amuul. Between the three or us, we should be able to drag his carcass into one of the other beds.

They succeeded in carrying the comatose minotaur upstairs and put him in the largest bed. Though large and sturdily built, no human bed was made to hold a minotaur and it groaned and creaking in protest to the abuse. After making sure his cousin was comfortable, Shaog found the third bed crawled in. Unlike the large bed, this one could not take his weight and the legs collapsed, leaving the straw stuffed mattress on the floor and his feet hanging off the end.

Senji checked on her three charges before she took to a large stuffed chair in the main room, kicked off her boot and fell soundly asleep 

Chapter Two, Scene Three - Edited and changed

The caravan had set up camp in an abandoned farm. The fields were unkempt and overgrown, the pastures empty and the fences knocked down. Kestral had scouted the area and pronounced it safe but even so, Shoag had everybody clearing the area of tall grass and repairing the fences as best they could.

“Durjaan, it would be best if we placed the wagons in the closest paddock and picket the horses between them.” Shaog had discussed his plans with Murgena and the twins before approaching the caravan owner. “We have a nice clear spot where we can set up camp.”

“Why not use the farm house and barn,” Durjaan asked. “They seem sound enough. I must tell you, I do not relish another night out in the open and sleeping on the ground.”

“They are sound enough,” Shaog said. “But it would spread out our people. We would have to keep guards in the house and the barn. They are not mutually defensible. We are too few to be able to do that if we were to be attacked. Trust me, I would love a roof over my head too.”

The old merchant harrumphed but nodded agreement. “Fine, we do it your way. I hired you for your expertise. ‘Twould be foolish of me to ignore it. Yet I noticed the farmhouse had a full kitchen, complete with a real oven. Might your cook be of the mind to make us some real bread? Trail biscuits are nice and all.”

“No,” Shoag interrupted. “Trail biscuits are not nice at all. I am sure we can arrange for some real bread. Kestral found some ripe melons and apples. The farmers may have left, but it looks like they left some of their crops.”

Amuul had come up behind Shoag as he had talked with the merchant.

“Not left,” the ogre grumbled. “Dead. Found bodies.”

“Where? Kestral did not find any bodies when she scouted.” Shoag said.

“Long dead. Just bones,” Amuul replied. “Broken and gnawed upon, behind the barn. Whole family.”

“Keep this between us, OK?” Shoag said.

“Aye.” The ogre finished speaking and walked away, continuing his in detail search of the farm.

“I do believe that is the most I have ever heard him say at one time,” Durjaan said.

“Oh, he do talk. Get some ale in him and he likes to sing. Of course, it takes a special person to appreciate an ogre’s singing.” Shaog said.

“What kind of special person?”

“A deaf one.” Shoag’s answer left the merchant in a fit of laughter.

After a good meal, with fresh yeasty bread, the company bedded down for the night. The wagons formed a rough square around the camp. They had used some of the broken fencing to create temporary barriers between the wagons. This gave them room inside for the horses and small tents the caravan carried.

Not all of the guards slept in the tents. Shaog, Murgen and Amuul were used to sleeping among the stars and Grofded actually preferred it. However, Shaog made Talyssa sleep in a tent with Tra Lun. It seemed a good idea to have the girl under protection. Humans were frail compared to his people and she was young to boot. He had tucked her in earlier and held her hand as she fell asleep. It had become a nightly ritual. If he did not stay with her until she was asleep, she would wake up with nightmares.

Which was why he was surprised when she found him during his watch. The moon was low in the sky and a slight mist had crept up to blanket the land. And if a minotaur’s night sight was not as keen as an elf, their smell was very much superior. He had smelled her long before she had found him.

“A bit late for you to me up and around, missy,” he whispered.

“I had to warn you.” She whispered back. “Something bad is coming. I can feel it.”

“Something bad is coming? Shh, now. You probably just had a bad dream.” Shaog had many night terrors as a child. He assumed that human children did too.

“No,” the child was indignant and angry. “It was not a bad dream. I saw it coming. It is what killed and ate the family that lived her. She told me about it. It is huge and mean. With big teeth and angry eyes.”

“Someone from family, who is dead, told you about it? She warned you?” He said slowly. “She told you this creature ate them?”

“The mother told me. She can talk to me, but I can only sort of see the rest. They are standing by the front door of the farmhouse.” Talyssa pointed in the general direction of the house. “She told me it comes around occasionally, hunting. Now she says it is hunting us.”

“I have heard tales of people that could talk to the dead. I never really believed them.” He gathered the girl in his arms and said, “I don’t rightly know if I believe it now, but you have never lied to me, so I will take it upon faith that you can. Maybe you are touched by the gods.”

With that, he carried her over to Murgen and Amuul, kicking them away and warning them to be at the ready. “Wake everybody. Get everybody armed. We need bows and spears. Get the drovers at the ready, the horses might bolt.”

The two seasoned veterans reacted with arched eyebrows and muted looks of disbelief, but followed orders. Murgen trusted his cousin and Amuul was experienced enough to do as he was told. Within a minute, the whole caravan was awake and alert and Durjaan crept over to Shoag.

“What is going on?” The caravan master asked.

“There is a monster hunting us,” Talyssa answered. “It is what ate the family that lived here.”

“What did you say?” Durjaan tried unsuccessfully to hide his disbelief. “A monster, and it ate the family that lived here? Nonsense. This area has been settled for years. All the big creatures have been hunted down or run off. Whatever killed those people, it was not some monster.”

“Yes, she told me. The mother,” the girl replied calmly. “It has a large head with big teeth. It has black fur and scales and a tail with a stinger on it. It eats people.”

“Durjaan, the only people who know that we found the bodies were you, me and Amuul. There is no way for her to know. Since she has been with us, she has never, not once, lied or told stories. Maybe she can talk to the dead, maybe your gods have given the dead permission to warn us. And maybe she was just having a bad dream that seemed realistic,” Shoag said. “But what do we lose by taking precautions?”

The merchant looked long and hard at the girl before he answered, “You are right, what do we lose? Girl, I hope by all the good gods you are wrong. But my father raised only one fool and he does not walk in my boots.”

“Shoag, get your people ready. Get Grofded’s toy set up. If this thing is as bad as she says, we may need the heavy weapons.” Durjaan instructed.

“Everybody up!” shouted Shoag. “Get armored up and set a defensive perimeter. Grof, get your toy set up. Now.”

The caravan had been on alert for only a few minutes when the wind shifted. Shoag and Murgen smelled it immediately. It was distant, but getting stronger. Soon everybody could smell it. It was the smell of rotting flesh, like an open grave.

“She says it is close,” Talyssa said, her voice quiet with fear.

Then it was upon them. It appeared out of the misty shadows in front of the farmhouse and with a few leaps was among the wagons. The monster was seven feet tall at the front shoulder with a short, powerful neck that ended in an almost human head. It opened its mouth, revealing several rows of shark like teeth as it howled. The high piercing shriek spooked the horses that fought to break loose and flee.

Shoag was the first to react, taking his long broad bladed spear and driving it into the beast’s chest. But the blade skidded along the scaly hide and the beast casually knocked Shoag away.

The archers had taken up protected positions and were peppering the beast’s head with arrow after arrow. A lucky hit struck the large, glowing left eye.

Murgen had better luck. He came in on the monster’s blind side, his spear found a weakness behind the front leg, biting deep. It was a short victory. As soon as the creature felt the spear strike home, it spun around. Its claws raked Murgen’s armor, leaving large dents in the dwarven forged steel. The force of the blow knocked the large minotaur to the ground, winding him. That is when the group saw the creature’s scorpion like tail stab into the fallen warrior.

“No!” Shouted Shoag as he tried to get to his cousin’s side. He had lost his spear, but he struck out with his war axe with wild abandon. Amuul joined him, the seven foot long Ogre greatsword struck a stead beat against the creature’s neck and shoulder.

Durjaan and Grofded struck next, with the dwarf’s secret weapon. One of the wagons had been built to mount a small ballista that the dwarf had designed and built. The was a clever contraption of springs, pulleys and levers that threw a seven foot long, steel barbed spear with incredible strength. The first spear pierced the beast’s chest, striking deep.

The wound was grievous and the creature surely had to be dying. But the hellbeast fought on. Durjaan and Grofded worked furiously to rearm the weapon asn the others formed a circle around the creature. The archers kept up their rain of arrows while Amuul and Shoag took the fight in close, fighting as a team to keep the thing off balance and away from the unmoving Murgen.

The second shot from the ballista took the creature high in the neck, flying completely through the beast’s flesh and flying off into the darkness. But the blow ended the fight as the monster collapsed into a lifeless heap.

Senji beat Shoag to his cousin’s side checking the warrior for signs of life. “He be alive, but only barely. I know not what poison this creature carries or how to counteract it. Get his armor off. I can treat the wounds and clean them out as best I can, but,” she trailed off into silence as they worked to remove the damaged armor.

“Shoag,” Talyssa said. “Armana says.”

“Who is Armana,” Shoag asked.

“Armana is the, was the mother who warned me.” Talyssa answered. “She says she can help. But she says there are some risks.”

“What kind of risks,” Senji said.

“She cannot work her magic anymore.” Talyssa paused and took a deep breath, “She says she needs a vessel to work her magic. She says that I am the only vessel that she can use.”

“I cannot allow you to take that risk,” Shoag said softly, almost at a whisper. “I love my cousin like a brother. But he would not allow the risk any more than I can.”

“I swore and oath to protect you. It was,” he paused, “it was a serious oath, the most serious I could make. If I allow you to take this risk, I violate that oath. I would be shamed.”

“Forgive me, Shoag, but isn’t saving Murgen’s life is more important than your oath?” Senji interjected.

“You are unfamiliar in our ways, Senji. Among my people, the oath I gave is referred to as an Oath of Stone. There is no higher dishonor among the minotaur clans than to break that oath.” Shoag sighed, “It is to integral to who we are. Who I both Murgen and I am. He would understand.”

“Why is it that you minotaur are always more concerned with honor than life?” Talyssa said, in a strange tone. Personally, I think that saving a life is not a matter of honor, but a matter of right and wrong. You have the ability to save your cousin’s life, yet you let your misguided ideals block your ability to think and act.”

The three adults stood in stunned silence for a moment before Shoag asked, “You are the ghost, the witch woman?”

“Tsk, witch woman? That is highly offensive, but I will forgive your ignorance.” She replied. “Talyssa decided that you were not going to listen and invited me in. I am the spirit of Armana doLanges. In life, this was my home. You healing skills are impressive, Senji, daughter of Silleal. But your training will not help with these wounds.”

Senji was taken aback, “How do you know of my mother?”

“It is given to the spirits to know many things in death that were unknown in life, child.” Armana replied.

“Now, to the task at hand, Shoag. You misunderstand the dangers,” Armana turned to speak to Shoag directly. “The dangers are not to Talyssa or me. The dangers are to you and Murgen.”

“I do not understand. Yes, Murgen is near death, but I fail to see what danger that could possibly mean for me?” Shoag said in mild exasperation.

“You should speak less and listen more, minotaur.” Armana chided. “Healing magic takes energy. In life, I would have used my own energies. This child has great potential in the arts, but she is too young for me to use her energies in the magics. That leaves us with the undesirable choice of using another source.

“There are some who practice the arcane arts that would not hesitate to take the energy they need but that is a repugnant practice that my order works to stamp out wherever we find it. We equate that practice to Necromancy, which is evil,” Armana explained.

“Magic, at its core is the manipulation of the life energies of the world around us. I can take some of your life and give it to your cousin,” She said. “Imagine that your cousin is cup with small hole. The fluid within leaks out slowly, and if not stopped, will eventually be empty. I can heal that small hole, but his life force is very damaged. I need to place more water in his cup. I will take that water from your cup, Shoag, and pour it into his.”

“You will take some of my strength and give it to him? So be it. I ask it freely.” Shoag answered.

“You are his cousin, his blood. That family bond means that the magic will flow strong. Which is both good and bad.”

“I do not understand,” Senji said. “If it is how you say, the bond is strong, how can that be bad?”

“The risk is that the bond may be too strong to break,” Armana said softly. “Magic like this can become almost alive. I have seen spells like this go awry and link to two souls involved. One will feel what the other feels. They will often share thoughts, no matter the distance. In extreme cases, the two are linked so closely that they no longer have private thoughts. Once, I saw two souls so tightly bound that they behaved as one person and it drove them mad.”

“Murgen would do it for me,” Shoag said. “How could I do any less for him? We have taken risks together since we were but children. His wounds are not my fault, but if he dies and I could have done something about it, I will carry that guilt for the rest of my life.”

“Honor gives strength, my friend,” Durjaan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “But honor cuts as keenly as any blade.”

Durjaan turned to the healers, “Is there any chance Murgen will survive this without the magic?”

Senji shrugged her shoulders and Armana replied, “The creature was created with magic as a weapon and as such, the poison is magical in nature. The only way to cure it is to burn it out with my magic.”

“What does it take,” Shoag asked. “What do we have to do?”

“First, there are some things in my house you need to get,” Armana said. “We will need to move him into my workroom, but that is hidden under my kitchen. I will show you how to get into it. Then we can start.”

A brief pause in the story for some introspection.

I often read fantasy stories where the author creates new systems of time, weight, money, religion, days, months and all the other things that exist in a fantasy world. I understand why some chose to do that. A unique world would have these differences.
I am creating religions and societies for this story. I will eventually have to create days and months. It is not like I can use the Julian calendar after all.
But for all the other mundane things, I am using the Imperial and US customary measurement system.
Why? Because: 1) You will easily understand it. 2) I don't have to explain the new system. And 3) I am lazy. So there.

I also want to warn you that while this is a fantasy story, I am breaking away from some of the Tolkien inspired High Fantasy norms.

1) There are NO HALF HUMANS in this world. The different races cannot interbreed. While we call them different races in the story, they are actually different SPECIES.
2) Out of all the races, only the minotaur resemble the creature from myth.

• Elves are more catlike.
• Orcs are more like a razorback boar.
• Ogres have large curving horns like a bighorn sheep with a head and facial features to match.
• Trolls are armor plated like a rhino but with reptilian eyes and ears.
• Dwarves have beards, but not the big, bushy ones typically found in fantasy. They also have a fine layer of fur all over their bodies. The have lived underground so long that they have lost much of their coloration, almost like troglobites.

Chapter Two, Scene Two

Shaog’s company of caravan guards were a mixed bunch. Besides Shoag, there was another minotaur, three elves, a dwarf, an ogre, an orc and four humans. Shaog knew them all well.

Murgan was his cousin. Their fathers were brothers. Murgen was three hours younger than Shoag and they had been lifelong friends. Where you found one, you found the other. Shoag was closer to Murgen that he was to his siblings. But though close family, they looked nothing alike. Shoag was tall and lean with reddish brown hair that grew long and unkempt on his head. Murgen was even taller, but built solid, weighing almost seventy pounds more than Shoag and had short fur was a charcoal grey with small white spots.

The elf twins, Kolli and Kommi, were an anomaly. Elves often had twins, but identical twins were so rare that the two were the only ones known to be living. There was only two ways to tell them apart. Kolli was an archer and carried a beautifully made horn and wood longbow along with three quivers of arrows. His backup weapons were two short swords. Kommi was an adequate archer, but was an artist with the elven bladestaff. The bladestaff was a six foot staff with a three foot curved blade on either end. When he danced the blades, he spun and leaped with astonishing speed and agility.

Kestral was a distant cousin to the twins. She was small and slight with the uncanny ability to disappear into any surroundings. She was so silent that she could sneak up behind you and never be heard. She had uncanny night vision, with large green, catlike eyes that drank in moonlight as if it were daytime. And while she was not as good an archer as Kolli, she could outshoot him at night.

Grofded Stonebeard was an odd dwarf, odd to other dwarves that is. He fit in surprisingly well among the upworlders (as the dwarves call surface dwellers). So well, that other dwarves often thought him mad. When Shoag asked him why he stayed above ground, he simply said he liked to feel the sun on his face. He was an excellent armorer and blacksmith. Among upworlders, it is thought that all dwarves are a smith of some type. But Grofded had explained to the group that this was simply not true. The dwarves were well known for their metalworking, but it was impossible for every dwarf to be a smith. Someone had to do the other jobs all societies need. As children all the dwarves are apprenticed for one year to a smith, to see if they have the gift. If they do not, they are moved to some other apprenticeship.

Amuul Avdjern was the company’s sole ogre warrior. Built like the minotaur, ogres had the horns of a ram. Their facial features were similar to the large bighorn sheep that lived with them among the high mountain peaks. Amuul was heavily armored and armed. Grofded had made him custom set of armor with spiked and blades set in strategic areas. Even without his huge ogre battlesword, Amuul was a force to be reckoned with.  For such a fearsome warrior, he was surprisingly gentle and soft spoken with an uncanny rapport with horses and other animals.

Of all the non-humans, Senji was the most unique. Few female orcs ever left their villages and those that did never stayed gone for long. Senji had left her village at a young age and studied healing with the mystics at Draza’dur. The Drazi priests were known as the best healers in the known world and accepted few among their order. Senji was the first and only orc to ever be accepted by them. Once she completed her training, she had gone home but was shunned and rejected by her village. Shamed and angry, she had never gone back. She had found a home among Shoag’s team of misfit fighters.

The four humans that rounded out the company were Tag and his wife Teega, and Kouva and his brother Kipp.

Tag and Teega had met when Shoag hired them. They had married three years later. Theirs was a tempestuous marriage, full of fire and vinegar. The only thing they did with more passion than fighting was making up. Tag had been a cavalry officer with the Sarmatheen army. He knew fighting from horseback better than any man Shoag had ever met. Teega had been a cutthroat thief on the run and had hidden in one of the wagons they were guarding. She had managed to sneak past not just Shoag and Murgen but the three elves. Where Kestral was a magician in the forests, Teega matched her in a city. Shoag had recognized her skill and offered her sanctuary and employment. He had not regretted it.

Kouva had joined a few years back. He was a solid and fearless fighter, if not as outstanding as the rest of the company. But he was honest and was a good fit with the others. That was important to Shoag. His company survived and brought good prices because they were such a tight knit team.

Kipp was several years younger than his brother and was a recent addition to the troop. He was an archer, and to be fair, was one of the best human archers Shaog had met. No human could ever match an elf for accuracy but Kipp was good, really good. And the boy could cook. As they travelled the wild lands, he scavenged and scrounged, coming up with herbs, spices and other bounty that made dinner something to enjoy. A good meal went a long, long way to keeping fighters happy.

Shoag counted all of them as close friends, a family of sorts. Now he had brought another member into his family. Talyssa had come out of her shell of grief and sorrow as the days had rolled on. He wondered if it was normal for a youngster to deal with grief the way she had. Maybe it is only as you grow older and you realize what you have lost that makes grief such a burden.

They had taken a rest to avoid the heat of the midday sun, finding a spot in the trees beside a strong babbling brook. The droves were watering the horses while the guards watched over them. Kolli had started to teach Talyssa the bow and had taken the break to help instruct the girl. They had all taken to the child, which saddened him a bit, for soon they would reach Marrover and then he would have to keep his oath and take her to her uncle in Willow Falls.

But for now, he just watched over his family as the girl sent arrow after arrow into the target the elf had set up.

Chapter Two, Scene One

Since her rescue, the caravan had passed through the Krinnistag forest, which is one of the most notoriously dangerous areas of North Ambriland. They were attacked twice, but the guards defended the caravan and they suffered only minor injuries. The bandits suffered permanent fatalities.

The lands they travelled had at one time been the frontier of a peaceful, civilized nation. But the former kingdom Sarmathae of had all fallen apart just over thirty years ago when the king had been assassinated. King Indiric the Third was a young boy when he was killed and there was no clear heir to the throne. The nobility had fallen upon each other in assassination and open war.

The kingdom fractured and the farthest areas from civilization had quickly fallen to lawlessness. With a power vacuum in the frontier, local warlords grabbed what power they could and bled the population of gold and goods. The inner territories had it a bit better. The nobility had reigned in these areas for years and they still maintained armies which kept the law intact. For the past decade, the status quo had been maintained and the nation of Sarmathae was no more.

As the years wore on, the roads deteriorated and trade had trickled off to almost nothing. This strife was bad for the people but good for mercenaries and caravan guards. Mercenaries sold their services to the highest bidder, often changing sides when the cause was lost or the enemy offered more gold. There had been times that the caravan guards had turned out to be in league with the bandits.

This led to the formation of the Guild of Free Warriors. The Guild licensed and guaranteed the mercenaries and guards. They could only be hired through a guild house and the guild insured their fighters stayed true to the contract. Those that did not were hunted down by the guild. The first few bloody examples were enough to prove the guild meant business.

“Shoag, why are there so many bandits,” the young girl asked.

“There are always men who prey upon the weak,” he replied. “Things are tough out here in the frontier lands. I guess there are too many who give up on the honest life and turn to banditry.”

“Why won’t anybody do anything to stop them?”

The girl had taken to riding with Tra Lun, one of the few female wagon drivers in the caravan.  Tra had become an older sister to the orphan. “It takes gold to pay soldiers. To get gold, you need to have a lord or somewhat to collect taxes. Then you need people to pay taxes. Not a lot of any of that around here. Not for a long while.”

“Aye, what Tra says is true,” Shoag grumbled. “The brigands run these areas now. Companies like ours are just big and strong enough to make the costs of taking the caravan not worth the risk.”

Talyssa was wrapped in thoughtful silence for a while, “I would do something to stop them, if I could. That way no more families would be killed like mine.”

“It is a noble thought, lass. Maybe someday we can do something about that.” Shoag said.

Chapter One, Scene Three

Shoag chose the fire pit as the gravesite. He quickly found the purse of coins and hid them. He trusted his people, but the caravan drovers were an unknown. Better to be safe than sorry. With plenty of hands, the burial did not take long. Talyssa cried silent tears and insisted on helping. No one complained that her help caused more dirt to fall back into the holes than she dug out. Even the ever irascible Durjaan took her plight to heart. He cataloged all of the family’s belongings, making a promise to the girl that he would get the best prices.

When the final shovel of dirt was laid, they gathered in a circle around the grave and Durjaan spoke. “It is not right to lay these good folk to rest with no words. We did not know them and we do not know what Gods they worship, but having met this sweet child, I know they had to be good people.”

One of the drovers, Nahan, cleared his throat and stepped forward and began, “We find ourselves here, laying these good folk to rest. While they are not our family, we take their child into our arms. I pray to Tarya to take this mother, father and son into his house and keep them and cherish them.” He looked around and stepped back into the circle.

Kouva, a guard, followed, “I follow The Warrior, like most of us fighters do. But I also tithe at the temples. Once a priest of Nahada spoke to me. He gave me comfort when I was suffering. I remember his lesson. To grieve is human, and grief is the price we all pay for love at some point or another, at least, in our lives. If you love, you will grieve. We find strength to go on in companionship and acceptance.”

Kouva was not normally so talkative and his discomfort in speaking was plain as his homily would to a close.

When nobody else spoke, Durjaan sighed and took his emblem to Aloura in his hand, “Aloura is the Goddess of Compassion. She brings light into the darkness and strength to the weary. She holds that all of us should be brothers and sisters and work to a better future.”

With nothing else to say, the group broke up, leaving Shaog and Talyssa by the graves.

“I miss my parents.” She said.

“I know child. Your mother loved you. I could tell. She gave everything she had to defend you. Always remember that.” With that said, Shoag gathered her into his arms and handed her to the woman driving her family’s cart. “Stay here with Tra. I will be back in a bit”

Talyssa nodded and curled up on some blankets in the back of the wagon.

Shaog was gathering the last bit of gear laying around, getting ready to leave when Durjaan approached. “Last night, I shamed myself.” Durjaan said, “You reminded me of my duty when fear and anger took hold of me. I will make it right.

“My oath on this, she shall be cared for. The gold I get from selling her family’s belongings, plus whatever I make off the bounty for the raiders will be invested and she will be entitled to all the profit when she comes of age. She shall not want in this life.”

“That is good, friend Durjaan. You do honor to yourself and your house.” Shaog replied, clapping him gently on the shoulder.

“Well, let us get a move on, then. We are behind and time is money.” Durjaan said.

“Yes, it is a long way to Marrover,” Shoag replied. 

Chapter One, Scene Two

The trek back to the caravan campsite took longer. Carrying the weight of a child was not an onorous task, but he took care to talk to the girl, hoping to soothe her fear and comfort her sorrow. Eventually, she fell asleep.

As he neared the campsite, he gave the agreed upon three hoots of a crag owl. He waited until he got the responding call before entering the camp.

Kolli was the first to approach him, his brother not far behind. “Durjaan is fit to be tied. He is claiming you deserted your post.” Stepping closer, he noticed Shoag’s burden. “And I doubt that will make him any happier.”

“Rubbish. I lead the guards. My post is where I say it is.” Shoag replied. “As for her, she is my responsibility. I will deal with it.”

No sooner had he said this, he heard the caravan owner call out his name. “Shoag, you misbegotten son of a devil, nice to see you have returned. Now, just what in all the Gods’ names were you thinking, leaving your post?”

“My post? I lead these guards. My post is wherever I say it is. I chose to go scout the disturbance and see if it was a threat. It is no longer a threat.”

Dujaan said nothing for a moment, “We have a scout. I pay a lot of coin for her. You are not a scout. You do not leave the caravan. Is that clear? I should dock your pay!”

“You would breach the contract then?”

“Breach the contract? What nonsense is this? You failed to do your job. You left your post, and, and, you came back with this, this child! Of course I am docking your pay.”

“Have it your way. You dock my pay, you breach the contract.” Shoag said as he turned and walked away.

“Listen up,” Shoag said loudly, “Durjaan is breaching the contract. Gather your things. We leave as soon as your gear is ready.”

“What,” Durjaan exclaimed, “What do you mean, leave? You cannot do that. Your contract is to carry us to Marrover!”

“You should read the contracts you sign, gaffir,” Kolli told the caravan owner. “You cannot dock the pay of a guard without the captain’s consent. In the case of the captain, your grievance is taken up with the Guild. They decide. Not you. You breach contract with the captain, you breach contract with the company. You breach the contract and we leave.”

“Aye,” Kolli’s twin, Kommi, chimed in, “good luck reaching Marrover. Especially when travelling through the Krinnistag. I hear the bandits are thick in that forest.”

Shaog waved the elf twins to silence. “I will explain this to you just once. And after, you can make amends or we leave.”

“I am the captain. I decide the disposition of the troops. Kestral is a fine scout, better than me, yes. But she is also an elf with better night vision than any of the races. She is also, on her worst day, a far better archer than me. The nighttime defense of the caravan, as you and I agreed, placed all the archers under cover, providing long distance protection against danger. My people know their responsibilities. Even though I am the captain, I was the best option to go scout.”

“As it stands, the choice I made was the right one, as the trouble I found was easily dispatched. However, Kestral would have needed help. As fine archer that she is, she is not a brawler.”

The silence hung heavily between them. Durjaan was wrong and he knew it but was too proud a man to let it go.

As Shaog turned and headed to his bedroll he said, “One more thing, breach of contract with one Guild troop gets you banned from Guild protection for a year. You can fight it, but the Tribunal is in Balaama. You must either go personally to plead your case or hire a representative. Your choice.”

Durjaan hung his head in defeat. “Fine, you win. No dock in pay. But you will be charged for the child’s food and upkeep. That is on you.”

“Agreed.” Shoag said, “Now, at sunrise, we will head to her family’s camp. By law, I was acting in your employ when I killed the bandits. Their possessions are your bounty. Her family is dead, we will bury them.”

“I am not taking the time to bury her kin. I will not lose the time. Time is money.”

“Also at the campsite are six horses a wagon and all of her family’s goods. As I am her guardian now, I charge you to take possession of the items and dispose of them. You will get a fifteen percent commission.”

“Twenty percent,” Durjaan countered.

“Do not be greedy, man. Fifteen is the typical amount. You will still make a fine profit.” Shoag pointed at the small medallion the caravan owner wore. “You wear the token of Aloura. She is the human Goddess of Compassion, yes? Show some compassion man. The child lost her parents and brother. Burying her kin in accordance to their Gods is the right thing to do.”

“Fine. You win again. Fifteen percent