This being an early chapter in a fantasy novel, there is obviously quite a bit of world builiding and exposition that goes with it. I've tried to sprinkle it throughout between bits of character developement and action, so that it comes of more natural rather than an encyclopedia entry. Of course, I'll never know how successful I've been without and outside eye looking in.

Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

 

Chapter 2

Awakening

True Aspiris sat running a grindstone over the edge of her sword, pausing intermittently to feel the edge with her thumb and frowning with each knick or incongruence she felt in the blade. Normally she would be done by now, but...

     She looked over her shoulder at the tent behind her. Her Transporter caravan had found its occupant, a strange young man dressed in animal skins, near the site of some Pharasi ruins two days before, clutching a piece of fragmented Pharasi sculpture. If Darius, the commander of her transporter company, hadn't spotted the vultures flying overhead, they would have missed him completely. Even then, vultures weren't a strange sight on the Nepheralian plain, but for some reason Darius saw fit to call a halt.

     He went to investigate the site himself, taking her and Earling, another wagon Captain, with him. True expected to find a dead chicken hog or ox...something dead, in any case. Instead they found the stranger. When Darius slung him over his shoulder, the boy whispered one word.

     Sparrow.

     "Ow!" True cried out, dropping the sword. A thin ribbon of blood ran down the length of her index finger, mixing with the thin layer of dirt that coated most Pharasi skin. She sucked on it, examined the cut -- barely a scratch -- and picked up the sword.

     She sang while she worked...

O, what will this season bring?

Love and hope for everything?

What fruits will the season bear?

Love and new life to rear?

 

     "Sparrow?"

     A grunt followed the word and True whirled around, verdant eyes searching for the disturbance. The stranger lay on the grass, half out of the tent. Her hand tightened around her sword and he retreated inside like a rabbit into its borough.

     "Well, look who's up," she said, standing straight and planting a fist on her dusty hip. The stranger said something in a language she could not understand. She rolled her eyes, sheathing the sword and mumbling, "Just my luck, I get stuck watching a foreigner."

     "W-where am I?" he asked in heavily accented though passable Nephish.

     "Aw, so you can speak some sense," True said. Looked like he had some surprises, after all. "You from Predor?"

     He cocked his head, thinking the words over. True crossed her arms, trying to wait and finding it difficult. Always did.

     "I am sorry," he said. "My other-tongue is...atrophied? I have not used it since my father left."

     "Left? Left to where?"

     "To spirit place," he said after a pause.

     "Oh, you mean Tephet," she said.

     "No. I mean spirit place," the stranger said. True tried to calm herself with a deep breath, and failed.

     "You best stand when you talk to me, stranger," she said, kicking the ground at his head. The stranger reeled back, protecting his eyes from the stinging spray of dirt and grass. Those wild eyes shot back up to hers, his intent clear. She reached again for her blade. He stood, matching her height. Much larger game than this scrap of a boy had fallen to her blade, and she stood firm.

     "Why you kick dirt at me?" he yelled. His bronzed skin suggested a half-breed of Nepheralian and Predorian descent, but his accent sounded unlike anything she'd ever heard.

     "You're being rude to your hostess," she said and stepped forward, convinced he wouldn't do anything unless provoked. He might scream and yell and try to threaten her, but that's all he would do. No backbone, this one.

     "Who are you?" he asked.

     "No, I don't think so. You first," she said. His eyes widened.

     "Answer me, wom--agh!"

     True's fingers dug into his throat, cutting him off.

     "Complete that statement," she said, and with her other hand grabbed his crotch. "And I'll be more a man than you before I'm done. Understand?"

     She squeezed sharply, for emphasis. The stranger nodded, and she let go with a light push. He gasped and she stepped away, picking up the grindstone and returning to the task of her sword.

     "What's your name?" she asked.

     "Euticus," he said, waddling around the fire and squatting in front of her, wincing. He sent his brown eyes wandering over her. The lack of luridness surprised her, and had it been present she would have had to trounce him again. She saw only curiosity, however, and let it slide until he said, "You dress like man."

     True slammed the grindstone and the sword into the ground.

     "That's it!" she said, preparing to lunge at him.

     "True!"

     The voice threw her off balance and she fell forward, catching her weight with an elbow. Darius strode up, his dark hair ebbing like ocean waves driven by the wind. She scrambled to her feet, coming to attention under the glare of his faintly lion-like features, perfect except for a single scar running down the right side of his face from the corner of his eye to his chin. He carried an ox skin bag tucked under his arm.

     "Ease, Pharasi," he said, and True relaxed. Darius looked down at Euticus.

     "Stand for the Company Commander," True said. Euticus obeyed, and Darius extended his hand. Euticus made no move to take it, his attention locked on Darius' scar.

     "Hey." She snapped her fingers. "Accept your host's greeting."

     Euticus blinked, looked at her, and shook Darius' hand.

     "My name is Darius, and that is my only name," Darius said. "What is your name, stranger?"

     "Euticus. Some call me Eue."

     True smiled. "Ewe? You mean like a girl-goat?"

     Laughter rippled through the crowd beginning to gather around them. Darius held up a hand, and it died down.

     "You are made of strong stuff, Euticus," he said. "We found you two days ago on this very road on our way to The Hub. We would have missed you had it not been for the vultures flying over head."

     Darius twirled two fingers in the air to illustrate the point. True saw Euticus waver and stumble forward.

     "Whoa," Darius said, catching him. "Sit down. True, get a stool."

     True sighed and went to find a stool. She returned a moment later and slammed it down before Euticus. Darius lowered the boy onto the stool and crouched before him.

     "Is she always so warm?" Euticus asked. True fingernails bit into her palms.

     "You always so insolent?" she shot back.

    "Careful what you say," Darius said. "She is my third in command. We are hospitable people, Euticus, but I do not take kindly to insults. She helped you. Show her respect."

     The stranger bowed his head slightly to True, and she let it go.

     "Good," Darius said. "Where are you from, Euticus? Predor?"

     "I am from Living Valley, at base of eastern high rocks."

     "High rocks? You mean mountains?"

     Euticus considered this a moment and nodded. True took another deep breath. The little bastard probably needed to get his story straight.

     "There's nothing but sea to the East, stranger," True said. "What you say's impossible, unless you come from west of the Bone Wastes and the Dragonspine, and that's even more unlikely than mountains magically sprouting up out of the water."

     "Sea? What is sea?"

     A chuckle went through the crowd, and one said, "I think his head broke, Cap'n!"

     "Silence, Earling," Darius said. "The sea is water, Euticus. Leagues of water, stretching into the horizon. That is what lies to the east."

     Euticus shook his head. "No, there are high rocks! My village is at base, at edge of forest..."

     "What, now there's trees in the east as well?" Earling asked. "Now I know he's broke!"

     Earling got another laugh. Darius ignored it, never taking his narrowed eyes from Euticus, who leaned away from it. True knew that gaze well, how it could turn some men into blubbering idiots crying out for their mothers.

     Darius reached into the bag and pulled out the piece of sculpture Euticus had been found with.

     "What do you know about this?"

     Euticus studied it for a second, and said, "What is it?"

     "I hoped you would tell me. We found you clutching it to your chest. Here, take a closer look."

     Darius held it out for the stranger, who took it hesitantly. True saw him focus on the symbol of Pharen, a slender figure with wings extended out and up. His eyes glazed over for a second. Why, True could not discern, but she guessed fear.

     "Well?" Darius asked.

     "Never seen before," Euticus said.

     "Don't you lie," True said. "You recognized this symbol."

     She pointed to the symbol of Pharen.

     "Saw something like it, once. Creature," Euticus said. True backed away, and heard gasps from the crowd around her. He had seen the Pharen, and had the audacity to call it a 'creature'? Her sword called to her hand. Never before had someone teased its wrath so many times and gotten away with it.

     "I think you should rest, stranger," Darius said after a moment's contemplation. His voice put her at ease. "Tell us your story when you are ready. Earling!"

     "Yes, sir?" Earling eased past True, rubbing one eager fist with his hand.

     "Have Pim make our guest a meal, and prepare the camp for another night's stay. It does not appear that we will be going anywhere tonight."

     "Yes, sir," Earling said, dropping his fist. Euticus took a relieved breath.

     "Sleep, stranger," Darius said, standing. "We have much to discuss later." He turned to True, and with a hand on her shoulder led her some distance away. Her pulse drummed heavily with each step, and when they stopped and his hand dropped from her shoulder, so did her heart.

     "I trust him," Darius said.

     "What? We've no idea who he is or where he came from! Sure, he's got a Nephish name, but can barely speak the language. And how could he possibly come from west of the Dragonspine? Even if he'd managed to make it through the range, he'd still have the desert to cross."

     "I do not think he did either of those things," Darius said.

     "By ship, then? He could've been traveling from sea side."

     Darius looked back towards Euticus.

     "Trust me, True," he said, his eyes blank.

     "I...I do," she said reluctantly, and walked away. She spared a final glance at Euticus, sitting alone in the entry to his tent, watching the camp.

* * *

Euticus lay awake for the second night in a row, kept awake by confusion. He listened to the camp outside. A distant host of drunken voices celebrated some unknown thing, perhaps just being alive. The warmth of the voices brought a lonely shiver through Euticus, and he pulled his arms and legs closer to his body. Something similar to a reed whistle accompanied the singing. Despite the familiarity of the sound, the foreign staccato beat and dissonant notes separated him further from his hosts.

     Where in the Vulture's gullet am I?

     He kept his head down while they traveled, spending more time listening than speaking. He recognized the language they spoke; it had been his father's tongue, and though Euticus had not spoken it in several years, he'd begun picking it up again quickly.

     The clanking sound of someone doing metalwork nearby added to the din and shattered his thoughts. Euticus tried burying his head deeper in the straw they had given him for bedding to stifle the sound, but soon the edges of his ears began to feel like ants crawled along over them, tiny feet poking the soft flesh and setting it on fire. He withstood the sensation for only a few moments before rolling over in a huff and sitting.

     The pounding continued outside. He stood, wincing, a sharp pain spearing through his side. He clutched at it, his hand hesitating at the soft feel of bandages. He ran his hand over the strange material, inspecting the wrap with his fingers. Satisfied, he exited the tent and followed the racket. Four wagons in various stages of repair sat in a circle nearby. Two more stood about four meters away, looking like a couple of hunters recently tended to after a nasty struggle with a boar. They would survive, but their youth had fallen behind them.

     A fire blazed six meters away. He could feel its heat on his skin even from this distance. It did not smell like a fire, however. It smelled more like burning ****.

     A stout little man, built like a tree trunk with thick tufts of facial hair, crouched over it. He pulled something from the fire, glowing metal, and put it on a nearby block. With the confidence of years, he began to hammer and shape it to his will.

     Clank! Clank!The hammer strikes flashed orange sparks in the night, drawing Euticus forward.

     "A good evening for smithing, wouldn't you say, stranger?"

     Euticus froze. The man peered back over his shoulder and smiled, revealing a set of surprisingly straight teeth.

     "You'd think an old blacksmith like me couldn't a heard you creeping on, eh? You youngsters're so damned cocky. Too damned cocky for your own damned good, you know. Hanging around this bunch taught me that one long ago. Why, just the other day, they demonstrated the fact rather gratuitously, in my humble opinion."

     Euticus smiled and edged forward, watching the man work. Several metal bands rested in the fire, slowly growing red hot. Finished with the one he'd been working on, he pulled another out with a long pair of tongs and set it on a small but heavy looking block of iron and began to hammer it into shape.

     "If not for them cocky young bastards," he continued, "we'd never got stuck here in the open, thirty leagues from the Hub with only half a cargo and a third of the people we started out with. Damned shame, their loss. Not like Pharasi just pop out of the ground, you know. "

     "They say in my village that youth is wasted on the young," Euticus said, still fascinated by the man's control over metal. The smith paused for a moment, then began to chuckle, sending tremors through his densely muscled body. Even laughter could move a mountain, it seemed.

     "Is it what they say, now? Hm. Well, guess I can agree with that. You're kind of sharp, boy. Of course, not too smart. If you were, I doubt we'd have found you half dead on the side of the damned road. You owe your life to Darius, boy..."

     "Euticus."

     "Ah. I'd be Kroog, the Black Smith."

     Kroog extended a thickly veined paw that swallowed Euticus' hand when he took it. When they shook, Euticus felt like his teeth would rattle free of their sockets.

     "What happened?" Euticus asked. Kroog dipped the metal ring into a bucket of water. The water boiled and the metal sighed. Steam poured over the rim.

     "An Osernian Wolf named Slave. We're lucky anyone's left to draw down by the fire tonight."

     "Slave?"

     "Yeah. Kind of notorious, mean reputation. Bastards grassed us on the road back from Sea Side. Luckily, Darius caught wind of it, had us hit the road early. If he'd not done that, Slave would've boxed us in, crushed us into the dirt. Damned luck he didn't. Not that I doubt the boss's skill, or anything. That skill got us out. But I never discount luck, either."

     They made their way to one of the broken carts and Euticus helped while Kroog fitted the metal onto one of the wheels. He made a few adjustments and stood, cracking his back. It sounded like dropping rocks slowly into a quarry.

     "I'm going to the Fire. Want to come?"

     "I should sleep. I'm not exactly sure what is going on with me."

     "Ah, the 'nesia, huh? My father got the 'nesia once. Never cured it. Wound up going ape ****."

     "What's an 'ape ****'?"

     "Bananas. Ha! No, it mean's he went crazy. What's the last thing you remember, boy?"

     Euticus struggled to remember.

     "I'd been traveling through the forest with Sparrow, a woman I know. Her bond mate jumped us, his people beat me. Then I woke up here, with you people."

     Kroog said, "Sounds harsh. Word of advice, boy. Don't try too hard to remember yourself. Let it come to you."

     Euticus nodded, unsure what Kroog meant, and went back into his tent. He lay down, unable to sleep.

* * *

During his tenth harvest, Euticus fell out of a tree and broke his arm. For the next couple of months, the tearing agony of trying to use this arm marked each day. The memory of that pain lingered in the back of his head even now, and since that day he'd been just a little wary of trees. Not a good thing, considering a forest surrounded the village.

     "Never thought I'd miss them so," Euticus mumbled, sitting on the edge of Darius' camp, his head lulling groggily to his chest. Grass rippled across a vast expanse of gently rolling land extending from one horizon to the other. Wispy little stalks of gold colored seeds sprang from the tops of the unchecked blades, and their movement in the wind reminded him of the Birthing Pool at midday, when the water caught the sun just right and appeared to glow.

     This faint comparison only deepened the already abysmal pit forming in his stomach. He shifted his attention to the sky, deep blue in the west fading gently to white in the east, where the sun had begun its daily journey. No clouds accompanied the sun on; with out them for reference, the day loomed overhead rather than peeked curiously at the world below. He felt like a mouse left dangerously exposed in a clearing where a passing hawk could swoop down and carry him off.

     A chirping sound made the image all too real, and jerked to find the source. He stepped around the back of his tent and found a group of strange birds pecking at the ground about a hundred yards away from the camp. Upon closer inspection, the only things birdlike about them were their feet, movements, and call. They possessed bodies too round to fly, covered with what looked more like fur than feathers. Their wings amounted to little more than stubs, and in place of beaks, they had a strange, fleshy tube overhanging a narrow jaw full of peg like teeth.

     He spotted one that had wandered away from the rest and approached it slowly. It stopped foraging and tilted its head, looking up at him with one fearless eye.

     Am I really so unthreatening? He wondered, reaching down to touch the bird when something hit it, lifting it off its feet in a flurry of down and blood.

     "Good, work, stranger. We may keep you around, yet."

     True appeared beside him, a bow in her right hand and a quiver of arrows strapped to her back.

     "What is it?" Euticus asked, turning back to the dead fowl and poking at it with his foot. True bent down and picked it up by the protruding arrow, blood running down the shaft and pooling in the space between her thumb and forefinger.

     "Breakfast," she said, a hungry look of satisfaction on her face. "Come on, I'll share. This time."

     Euticus studied her on their way back to the camp. She wore a sword on her hip, the same one she'd been working on when he first saw her. He had thought it might be Darius' sword, but the fact that it belonged to this woman sparked his curiosity. That, and not only the bow, but her apparent skill with the bow, turned his curiosity into a bonfire.

     "So, you are a hunter?" he asked.

     "When I need to be," True answered. "Other times I'm a warrior, or a thief. Also been a whore, when the occasion called for it, and one day I suppose I'll be a mother, too."

     Euticus blinked.

     "You certainly live up to your name, don't you?" he asked.

     "Not sure I follow."

     "True. You know...you are very honest. Where I come from, some might take it as too honest for your own good."

     She whirled around on him and said, "Then it's a good thing we're here and not there, isn't it?"

     Euticus swallowed, saying, "I suppose so."

     True leered for a second longer before continuing. They arrived at the heart of the camp, where twenty fires blazed at once. Groups of ten clustered around each one. For the most part these groups consisted of five men and five women, though the number skewed in a couple of cases. They sat in circles, some poking at various cuts and bruises, others nursing hangovers or cooking breakfast. A glut of strange and familiar scents teased at Euticus' nose, making his mouth water. True led him to a fire with nine men who, upon seeing her approach, stood up at attention.

     "Ease, Pharasi," she said, and they relaxed. Euticus scratched is head, unable to grasp the concept of a woman leading men. The fate of the bird, soon to be their meal, helped to clarify.

     "Ah, looks like the Cap'n brought some meat for us..." one said around a mouthful of potato.

     "Thanks to Euticus here," she said, taking a seat. Euticus raised his hand in greeting, but the gesture withered when the men ignored it.

     "What's he doing here?" one of them asked. True patted the ground next to her. Euticus settled uneasily, the men fixing him with dark eyes.

     "He helped catch your breakfast," she said, throwing the dead bird on Euticus' lap and handing him a knife.

     "Would you honor us, so?" she asked. He nodded and took the knife. The men collectively held their breath when his hand wrapped around the hilt.

     "Why is your group different?" he asked, and began cleaning the bird. The men exhaled, but continued to watch his hands.

     "What?" True asked, and looked around. "Oh, why aren't we Balanced?"

     Euticus paused in his task, turning the word over in his head.

     "Balanced?"

     True closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. "You really are lost, aren't you?"

     Euticus thought the answer obvious, so he said nothing.

     "Part of our faith, the Pharasi faith. All things require balance in order to work. Man and woman need each other to survive. Light creates darkness, and without light, darkness has no meaning. Same with life and death...if we did not know death, would we have a word for life? So on and so forth. We try to reflect this fact in our lives. So, five men and five women per group.

     "As for your original question, our group is different because we don't have any more women to put in it, and too many men."

     "Doesn't that mean you are offending your beliefs?"

     "No, it simply means we don't have the right number of men and women. We strive to attain balance, but it, like all things, has an opposite."

     "Imbalance."

     True nodded and began shuffling around in her pack.

     "There are no trees here," he said, more confident from the success of his last question.

     "Course not," True said. "These're the plains, you fool." Laughter from around the fire greeted her.

     "The plains?"

     True stopped in the middle of fishing a potato out of the pot and gave him a baffled look.

     "Yes, plains. A huge, grassy field extending five-hundred leagues in every direction from the Imperial Hub. There're a few sporadic growths of weeds here and there, and the occasional town or inexplicable stone wall, but for the most part, just grass.

     "What were you expecting?"

     "Forests," he answered.

     "You'd be a tad far south for that. And I'd hesitate to call the Velphan Wood a forest, much I would a grove. To the south're the jungles of Predor."

     Euticus paused his cleaning of the bird. "Jungle?"

     The word came out of his mouth awkwardly, Jongol.

     "Yes. It's like a forest, only...different. Air's hotter...hurry up with that chicken-hog a bit...the plants're...what's a good word..."

     "Sharp..." One of her men suggested.

     "Close enough, thank you, Brill. The plants're sharper, their leaves flat and waxy. And instead of wolves they got big cats, and snakes that'll swallow you whole, and talkin' birds, among other things."

     "Sounds horrible," Euticus said, ripping out the...what had she called it...chicken-hog's guts in a spray of blood.

     "Actually quite lovely," True said while he searched for a place to set the entrails. One of the men gestured to him to hand them over. Euticus did so, and the man set them behind himself. "If you survive, that is," True continued. "Only been once, myself. Right after joining Darius. He grew up down there."

     Euticus didn't reply, too engrossed in finishing with the chicken-hog and curious of its taste. True told him he had done enough and yanked it away, spit it, and laid it over the fire in the pot's place. She took a pinch of herbs from a pouch on her belt and sprinkled it over the bird. It sizzled, a pleasant aroma wafting off of it. His mouth began to water.

     "Say, how old're you?" She asked, finishing off her potato.

     "Thirty four harvests," he said, and she gave him a skeptical eyebrow.

     "What?" he asked.

     "Seventeen years? That's it?"

     The men around the campfire chuckled.

     "What do you mean, 'that's it'? This, seventeen 'years', as you put it, is the most important in the growth of a man. It is when..."

     Euticus looked away. At seventeen, village custom dictated that men took their father's name. First Son Crow would become Father Crow, and Father Crow became the Elder Crow. But Euticus had a different kind of name, a "Nephish" name. Did such customs apply to him?

     "When what?" True asked.

     "Nothing," He said.

     "Looks like the children have taken to fighting each other already," Kroog said, passing by with his hammer leaning against his shoulder. True and Euticus shared a brief, blush inducing look. Kroog laughed and continued on his way.

     Euticus turned back toward the fire and the men, no doubt feeling robbed of their chance to dispose of this newcomer. That did not stop them from thinking about it, apparently. Euticus could sense the murderous thoughts lurking behind their stabbing eyes.

     "Can you fight?" True asked.

     "A little," Euticus said.

    "If you're going to stay with us, you better learn to fight a lot. We're transporters, if hadn't figured it by now, and we've got a lot of enemies.

     "Other nations're constantly trying to sabotage our shipments. Course there's nothing we can do about it. Got no proof, and we don't take to flinging off accusations that cost us our alliances, however fragile they've become. Not that the word of a Pharasi goes very far, anyhow...."

     True's voice trailed off under the sound of a sudden commotion somewhere on the eastern side of the camp. Transporters began springing up around the campfires, running past them toward the din. True stood and stopped someone.

     "What's going on?" she asked.

     "It's Boma, Noon's son. A rider came out of nowhere and just dropped him at the edge of the camp..."

     True darted away before he finished. The other men followed after her. Euticus watched, unsure what to do, and decided to join them. They gathered around Darius, crouching next to a young man. The young man lay nude in the grass, his skin pale and bruised. His ribs showed through his skin, and...

     "Oh, Crow," Euticus muttered, seeing that the young man had been castrated. He searched the crowd and found True.

     "What happened?" he asked.

     "Slave," she said. "Slave happened."

     Kroog handed a blanket to Darius, who unfolded it and placed it over Boma's broken body.

     "I...is my father here?" he asked. Darius placed a hand on the boy's forehead. Euticus could see tears brimming in his eyes.

     "No, Boma. I am sorry. Rest now..."

     Two riders cantered over, crossbows slung across their back.

     "Did you find him?" Darius asked. One of the riders shook her head. Darius cursed under his breath and turned to Earling.

     "Help Kroog take Boma to a tent."

     "Yes sir," Earling said. He helped Kroog lift Boma, and they started away. The crowd began to disperse, cursing the man they called Slave. Euticus remained a moment, staring at Darius. The Transporter captain stared into the east, focusing on something unknown to Euticus.

     "Let's go," True said, turning back for the fire.

     "Who is this Slave?" he asked on the way back.

     "I want to call him a demon," she said, "or a monster. But he's only a man, and that's what frightens me most."

* * *

Darius watched the sun creep below the line of the horizon, painting the western sky a deep crimson, while in the east, the sky began to fall away, exposing the star studded heavens beyond the borders of the earth. He found no solace in either area.

     Soft footsteps in the grass called his attention. True crouched beside him, picked a blade of grass and played it gently through her slender fingers. Watching her, his heart softened, admiring her strange grace. He recalled the first time he'd seen her, standing over the body of an Imperial guard that had gotten too fresh with her and covered in blood. She had stabbed him in the groin with a dagger.

     "How is Boma?" she asked. Darius' fists clenched quickly.

     "He will survive," Darius said. "But I do not think he will ever be able to live."

     "Slave'll die for this," True muttered. Darius sensed the lack of conviction in her voice, but did not mention it.

     "How did your talk with the boy go this morning?" he asked after a moment.

     "He knows some things, but I'm not sure if we can trust him in battle."

     Darius nodded. "He has never killed. Either directly or indirectly. Yet," Darius paused, searching for the right word. "There is shame in his eyes."

     "You think he's a spy? The Osernians have mountains..."

     "No. His guilt is in the past, rooted in some personal matter. Give him a weapon, and double the watch."

     "You believe Slave'll attack again?"

     "After this morning, I expect it. Sending Boma back to us served only one purpose, to rattle us, and that purpose has been achieved. We need to level ourselves, but I doubt we can in time. Which is why I am taking the undamaged wagons and leaving."

     "What?" True said, standing up. "But there's no way we can get everyone out if we leave now..."

     "Not we, True. You and Kroog will remain here with a small force, and wait for my return."

     She stepped back, her face scrunched in thought. He wanted her to argue, to ask why. She would not, though. She never did; none of them ever did. Such blind devotion made respect difficult, but it did not keep him from loving them.

     "You promise to come back?" she asked.

     "I promise."

     "Alright then," she said, stepping away. "Just remember what'll happen if you don't and I survive."

     "Your faith in me knows no bounds, does it?"

     True smiled and said, "It hasn't failed me yet, so no."

     The image of her standing before him with a weary yet sincere smile on her face caused a longing in his heart, and even when it passed he could not completely shake its echo.

     "You have a task," Darius said. True nodded and went back to the camp, leaving Darius with his thoughts.

     Slave.