Avarice Secret Unquiet CH 35

Fanning the Flames

It had been well over a week since the arrival of the Wolf Lord on their doorstep, and not a single shot had been fired by either side. The two combatants sat and faced one another, while the swollen river that divided them took its time to subside.

On this particular evening, Stephan sat with his closest advisors in the keeping room that looked out over his daughter's monument, and the spreading branches of the great wolf's apple tree. The buds of early spring were beginning to swell into delicious fruit. The old man looked up at the fast-fading sunlight. It was a shade of spectacular rose, almost the color of blood.

On seeing the old man's interest in the spectacular sunset Bryn Frazer commented. "Looks like the fair weather might be endin by tomorrow, lookin at that sunset."

"Yes," said Stephan absently. However, he was not thinking about something as mundane as the weather. The red of the sunset was playing on all the familiar faces of family and friends who sat about him in the bright room. All he could see was running blood. The old man shook his head, and he had uncharacteristically bad thoughts. He tried to tell himself that it was no more than nerves. However, he had this nagging dark thought, what if their resistance was futile... would there be fewer lives lost if only he would surrender... Honor the long-kept treaty. The old leader tore himself from such negativity and went back to trying to concentrate on the topics at hand. His son was speaking, asking many pertinent questions.

"How many do you think are in that encampment Dale?"

Dale stood up to make his report. "We think somewhere between eighty, to one hundred and ten fighting men. Then there are camp followers, a few women, and Jerome even reported sighting a child!"

"Only a monster would bring a child to war." Stephan muttered disgustedly under his breath.

Dale continued with his account of the enemy force. "They are felling the eastern scrub land for both fuel, and they seem to be building defenses. A palisade wall and archers towers encircling their immediate campsite."

"I guess they do fear attack then. We don't want them to dig in. Perhaps we should send a small force to shake them up?" Renard suggested.

"I have a better idea than that!" Interjected Bryn with spontaneity as he often did, taking a guzzle of the wine in his tankard, the remnants dribbled down into his great black beard. The man could put away copious amounts of alcohol, but as yet no one had ever seen him drunk. "Why don't we send a stealthy team of good swimmers to go about behind that camp and burn out the grassland and bush behind them. That way they will lose their convenient source of wood, and also feed for their cavalry. I've seen their attacks, they rely heavily on the speed of their horses."

Renard was silent in thought for a moment, Bryn's idea seemed sound. "You know what Bryn, that's an excellent idea. Without food for their mounts they will be forced to conclude the offensive as soon as they can. I know there's not much else out there in the way of grazing, back beyond that site is mostly barren dune country, it would be impossible to sustain those horses in peak condition for long."

"Yes, it is a good idea, but who to send? I don't want lives lost needlessly. That river is fierce right now." Stephan added concerned.

Aran was the first to raise his hand. "I'll go."

All assembled seemed taken aback by the warrior's announcement. They had not expected his participation at all. He was an outsider and it was not his war.

"So shall I," Aurianne said at once, adding herself to the foray. As Jhary looked awkwardly around the room wondering why he had even been called to this council. He would surely drown if he attempted to cross a turbulent river like that.

"I got a couple of lads that are up for it." Bryn winked and added confidently. "They could be over there and have the place a burnin in no time."

"Well if you all think you all can safely swim that river?" Renard remarked, lighting the single lamp that burned on the tabletop before them. The room was growing dark.

Aurianne and Aran nodded and Bryn added, "aye I do, but the real question is will it rain, or is the wind just on the rise bringin naught else? Because if it's just the wind, and it blows fierce enough, it will burn that pasture out before they can do anythin about it."

"It's worth a try," Renard responded. I say we keep an eye on the weather, and if it looks like it will be in our favor we will assemble a team and do it tonight."

"Aye, I'll go tell me boys." The short but wide man smiled at everyone, put his thumbs in his wide leather belt, and departed from the room.

Renard rose from his seat, "I guess I will do my rounds Father, and I will be in later for supper. Let's hope for no rain."

Stephan nodded, but his mind was far away.

*****

Sven had sat immobile by his son's bedside for hours. He neither moved for his own comfort nor did he speak. His large and calloused fingers gently stroked his child's fine hair and temples. Hoping, praying, wishing for the slightest sign of improvement or recovery, and yet saying goodbye. The hard man who had endured war and indescribable loss without the slightest flicker of emotion fought to hold onto his calm facade. Little Eirik had meant everything to him, the thought of him being torn away... He took a deep breath and willed himself to remain calm.

Eirik was asleep in a coma, blotches of necrotic color dappled his once-glowing pink skin. He did not stir, and the Doctor who came regularly to the child's bedside dutifully uttered his troubled hums and ahhs as he checked the child's unresponsive body over for new developments. Saying little else of reassurance to the distraught parents who never left Eirik's side.

Lucy was present too beyond the small cordoned-off ward, perched awkwardly on a chair waiting. Uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and afraid. She didn't care to be here, in this unfamiliar town. She hardly knew how to react to the strangers who kindly addressed her. Her long existence as a lowly camp slave to a band of brutal raiders had served to make her highly suspicious of anyone's intentions. She shook her head refusing all offers of kindness. Her dead eyes stared off into nothingness. Waiting for either Sven or Raissa to give her a command. However, the reassurance of a command never came.

*****

Aran had been initially wary of going into the farming settlement. He had at the outset desired to stay behind and camp on the outskirts. The societies of men had become difficult to feel at ease in. He was no longer who he once was, the bold warrior unstoppable and confident no matter what came at him. Slavery had changed him fundamentally, and the treachery of Stephan's people withholding their men at the final moment. Turning for the hills to leave his clan to die and be tortured at the hands of the Wolf Lord, was to him an unforgivable crime. But, his brother needed him, and as always family came first.

Yet, he would remain wary and guarded in his interactions with the locals. The group of travelers had been offered a vacant home deep within the settlement. Comfortable though it was the golden-haired warrior declined, preferring to sleep in the large barn that afforded him a good view of the town center and everything that was going on. He would not fall victim to another betrayal.

He had been walking about that morning after visiting his distraught brother, offering what little hope and support he could, and yet waiting for the inevitable to come. He would, he had decided busy his mind with doing what he did best, preparing for war. Darius was at this moment crafting the warrior a sword, and he was on his way to the smith to see how the newly forged weapon felt in his hands. Certain it would taste blood tonight. Though in his heart he still grieved for the loss of the magnificent Blacksteel.

Why he should assist his enemy was a rough blemish on Aran's conscience. They had betrayed him once after all. However, after sitting and listening to the conversations of last evening he realized that the Wolf Lord was everyone's mutual enemy. There too were other factors in his acceptance to fight for Stephan. Aran was well aware that he could not resume his allegiance to Bennett and his men even if he had wished to. Bennett would probably slay him on sight rather than readmit him to the war band. Besides, Bennett's men numbered very few. What would he hope to achieve? There were no other settlements that Aran felt he could live in without facing the stigma of the mark emblazoned on his thigh. In Stephan's village, at least people from all walks of life were equals and could live their lives freely. There were no slaves here, the idea was repugnant to all.

Perhaps this would be as good as it got? Though as he looked about him at the crudely constructed palisade walls and archers pacing atop lookout towers. He truly wondered if this place could be defended without heavy loss of life. Lothar's force unless they were fortunate would be devastating against these simple folk. He had kept quiet last evening as he listened to their strategies bandied about the war table. He knew what kinds of superior weaponry their enemy possessed and he felt grim. He was not afraid for himself, he was pretty sure he could conduct himself well on the battlefield. But he was afraid for the village. All he could think was lambs to the slaughter. He hoped he was wrong in his assessment of the probabilities.

It was at that troubled moment he saw her. A slight girl moving hurriedly along the street with purpose, eyes down. She would have caught any man's roving eye. Her rare shade of silken moonlit hair betrayed her identity to him unmistakably. Though Aran had been vastly interested in another, and longed to put the redheaded archer in her place, as her body still drew him strongly. His interactions with her had not run their predicted course. The inexplicable that surrounded her bothered him, and he found himself often going over recent events trying to understand just what it was his party members had known that he did not. Maya, on the other hand, was pretty and malleable, and she adored him.

The sudden look of recognition on the girl's pretty heart-shaped face and the surprise in her pale eyes told him that he had been missed. Her tight pressing hug and sharp intake of breath called to his desire. Her soft hair brushed against his skin in barely a caress, akin to a whisper. He smiled, glad to see a familiar face as he softly called her name. Her comfort was welcome, and his errand quite forgotten he hurried her away to the privacy of the barn where he could enjoy her gifts discreetly. War was on the horizon after all, and a man never knew just how much time he had, even a confident one.

*****

Aran and Maya had loved fiercely and then slept in the bright fresh straw in one of the vacant horse stalls. Completely undisturbed for the entirety of the afternoon. Maya told Aran how much she had missed him and how she had longed for his return. He dwarfed the svelte woman as she nestled in the protective crook of his arm. Aran quietly listened, stroking her perfect soft skin, and nibbling and kissing her neck. Most of the settlement was preoccupied with the war and the raid that was to happen that evening. Aran though enjoyed Maya's gifts, thinking of nothing else until he realized the shadows had grown long and he must retrieve his sword.

Maya had reluctantly revealed to Aran her current living circumstance, and of the soldier she had moved in with to assuage her loneliness for a man's touch. Aran listened quietly to her soothing whispers. He was not happy that she had another man, but he remained quiet as the girl stumbled over her words in her shame and guilt.

The warrior rose brushing the straw that stuck in his identically colored hair and on his trousers, ordering her to "go to the infirmary and wait with my brother. You will be safe there. I will come later and get you, you are not to return to that soldier, understand. If you have anything there I will send Raissa or Lucy to retrieve it for you later." Aran knew that sending Maya home would possibly lead to an ugly altercation. The man would surely realize that Maya had been with another lover if he paid attention that was. She was again his and he was not going to share her. However, now he must prepare, there was a war to be won, and they needed to succeed this evening to put their strong enemy at a disadvantage.

He watched Maya run toward Stephan's sprawling home, satisfied she would be safe until his return and he made his way to the smithy. As he expected Darius was there working at the anvil and feeding his everburning forge. The warmth felt good on Aran's skin as the cool evening air descended and the sun began to set. The wind was on the rise and Aran noted it would both cover their approach and fan the blaze toward their enemy's encampment.

"Ah, here she is." Darius clearly proud of his work pulled forth a newly minted blade from a well-oiled brown leather scabbard. A shining two-handed long sword. It was brightly argent and the design was very clean. Devoid of any superfluous embellishment. A weapon designed for killing. Aran looked the sword over critically, as he took it in his hand. Testing its balance. The keen blade was serviceable enough, and Aran tried to find the words to praise the smith's skill, however alongside the otherworldly magnificence of Blacksteel he struggled to sound enthusiastic. Fortunately, the smith was busy with some short swords and arrow tips and he didn't register Aran's muted reaction to his work. He thanked the man and made his way toward the rendezvous point to hear the final plans.

*****

Maya ran through the village until her breath came in ragged gasps toward Stephan's large home. It was easily the largest domestic structure in the village. A sprawling two-story homestead. Around this large building, there was a constant bustle of activity. Military men were coming and going with reports, supplies were being brought and furniture was repositioned. Maya was unused to such frenzied activity. Preferring the peace and quiet of her sewing to all this war time fuss. She hadn't given much thought to the war, that was partly deliberate. She often in her dreams relived that terrible night when her own settlement had fallen to Bennett's raiders. Her life changed forever. She was well aware of what would eventuate if the walls fell, but she tried her best to block it out. David had at times spoken to her of it and the precautions he wanted her to take if the hamlet was overrun. She had dutifully listened and nodded, but she knew if that happened she would simply flee and attempt to hide. To worry about tomorrow as it came.

Aran's reentry into her life had changed everything. The pretty girl felt little guilt in abandoning David. Perhaps she was cold and calculating, but Maya knew that Aran would protect her no matter what happened. She could hardly contain her excitement and delight at being reunited with him once more. That flurry of happiness gave her feet speed, but as she neared wide front doors of the homestead that stood open she halted. If Sven was here where would he be, and butterflies again arose in her stomach as she feared she might have to pull someone aside and ask. She really dreaded conversing with these people.

As she walked into the large room set with rows of cots she found herself saved. There was Lucy, her back to the doorway sitting on a chair her bruised legs stretched out before her. The woman was looking at her toes seemingly lost in thought. Maya called out to her and Lucy not expecting to hear her name called looked up in an expression of fearful surprise. An expression that soon manifested into one of happiness, and for Lucy that was a rare thing. The two women embraced and there were the faintest glimmer of tears in the corners of Lucy's eyes.

It was then Maya turned her attention to the cordoned-off area of the room. Lucy put her hand on Maya's arm and in barely a detectable whisper over all the noise in the homestead she told Maya of the terrible circumstances of Eirik's sickness. Maya felt a wave of sadness grip her, she loved the boy. He was a delightful happy child, and she had many wonderful memories hoping that someday she could give Aran a son of his own. A mirror of little Eirik. So the two women sat quietly keeping vigil, both of them being godless they didn't even have the comfort of prayer.

*****

The sun was now positioned far to the west. It would set soon. Jhary felt a great tension grip his body, it was as though every muscle and fiber of his being had been pulled taught. It was difficult to love in these times the man of music ruminated. He knew that Aurianne was about to leave, he had so wished she had not volunteered. He could not afford to lose her. It was a selfish realization, but he wished someone else had gone in her stead. It was then he saw the flame-haired object of his tension emerge from the home they all shared. He turned abruptly on his heel and headed her way. His hand alighting on her leather-bound wrist. "Be careful Aurianne, that river is treacherous," Jhary had said, worry and care on his usually happy countenance. He had really wished she would not go, but he dared not give vent to his true feelings.

"I shall," Aurianne said confidently giving him a heart-melting smile. Her gray-blue eyes sparkled with both confidence and affection.

Jhary watched her walk away, tall and proud. Her quiver and bow slung over her back and a short sword strapped to her side. He could not bear to lose her, and yet he knew what must be done.

Kario had emerged from the domicile to see her off also, but as always he appeared unaffected. As was often the case his emotions were completely unreadable. He watched the warrior woman's retreating form as the night had begun to arrive.

*****

Aran clutched his sharp poniard carefully between his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was stupidly cut his tongue, but he didn't wish to lose the blade crossing the river. He checked over his weapons one more time seeing them secured for the rough swim he must make. Perhaps there would be no killing tonight but he would never be found unprepared. The blond warrior had always been an excellent swimmer and athlete, the guy to beat at all the high school swim meets. The quintessential sporting jock, just like his brother had, and his father before him. So this crossing presented little concern to the seasoned warrior. He watched his three companions readying themselves, and his green eyes lingered on Aurianne in overt appreciation, as they often did. Her tightly formed leather armor left little to the imagination as he watched her tuck the well-wrapped tinder stone into her bodice.

The sun was fast setting and the wind strengthening, and they all had their orders. Get in behind The Wolf Lord's encampment undetected and light the grass, the strong gusting winds should do the rest.

Aran was the first to wade into the rushing water, it was surprisingly cold considering it was almost summer. Sharp pinpricks of sensation tore his senses as he forced himself to submerge and begin the fight to swim against the roiling current. A lesser athlete would have found this dangerous. However, the four who had been chosen were strong swimmers and made the other side. Though they had been swept even further down the river by the time they reached the far shore. There were no sentries here as they were quite a way downstream from their target. They made their way to the treeline and slowly advanced to the far side of the enemy camp.

Their target came into sight and silently they fanned out. Aurianne could glimpse the few scattered guardsmen lounging at their posts, but they were a great distance from her. They obviously did not expect an attack to come from this direction and behaved accordingly. Standing at ease, their weapons not at the ready. They would present little danger.

A large herd of fine-looking horses grazed the tough grasses before her. Aurianne lay flat on the sand as the lead stallion ever watchful raised his head snorting in alarm and pawed at the earth. It was a distinct sign that an alert sentry would watch for, but no one caught the watchful animal's gesture and in a short time as the last of the sun's rays crested the horizon the four were in place to begin the assault.

Aurianne crouched down to remain unseen. She could not detect the others but knew they would all be doing the same thing some distance away. She didn't have much time. She pulled the well-wrapped bundle from her bodice, kept safely dry in its zip lock bag. A once everyday item that had become both valuable and rare as the years went by. Like this one repurposed over and over until its use ran out.

She once again appraised the herd of fine horses that grazed before her and her heart foundered. War was a difficult thing when one held on to a strong sense of empathy like she did. She hoped the magnificent animals would come to no harm. To cause them distress was not her intention. She thought of her own beloved mare and there was for a moment a trace of a tear in her eyes. She blinked them away and got back on task taking the tinder stone in her long fingers and arranging the rest of the specially formulated starting tinder under the dry brush. Though the river was swollen, the grasses and fallen eucalyptus leaves were bone dry. They ignited easily, and with little coaxing, there was soon a wall of roaring flames that sped across the grassy plain. Fanned by the strong wind consuming all in the direction of the war camp. Satisfied the trap was set the four departed undetected into the ensuing night. The mission had been an easy success without any need for bloodshed.

*****

Victor let the tent flap fall behind him only to have it again be torn open by the rising wind. The sun had almost set, and as he had done every evening it was time for his report.

Lord Lothar sat in his wheelchair picking at the repast set before him. He looked up giving his second-in-command a deadpan stare. "Damn wind," he muttered, "can't even keep a candle lit! Do join me Victor."

The rugs moved on the loose sands under Victor's Jackboots as he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite his Lord. He could see that the crippled man was having a difficult time moving about in his wheelchair under these conditions. The wheels constantly dipped down into the soft sand beneath the layer of heavy Persian carpets.

Victor didn't really have that much to report but his Lord wished to hear it anyway. However insignificant progress had been. "The river has subsided by another couple of inches my Lord I am happy to report. If it doesn't rain tonight we very well may be able to ford the river in the next couple of days or so. Work on two of the four watch towers is complete, and the palisade work is still ongoing."

Victor helped himself to a portion of beef and the tureen of steaming vegetables. He poured some wine into a goblet taking up a heavy silver fork and began to eat. He was hungrier than he had first thought.

"Any sign of the enemy?" Lothar inquired. Setting down his fork and draining his glass. A well-dressed male servant crossed the carpets silently and refilled his Lord's goblet, he was no more than a boy of ten years old. He then returned to his place and stood in silence until his master or his esteemed guest would require his services again.

"So far no, my Lord."

"They are probably cowering in their homes, what did they think they could do to us with pitchforks!" Lothar scoffed.

Victor did not reply. Perhaps his Lord had a short memory, the last foray on this enemy had not gone as expected. However, he said nothing and merely listened as he soaked the rich brown gravy from his plate with a slice of crusty bread.

Lothar looked up from his half-eaten dinner, his dark eyes catching the cold gaze of his second in command. "So Victor, I was thinking that the best strategy would be when we do cross the river to send a detachment of knights and cavalry first. I was discussing this with Major Hawkins today earlier. He agreed with me. They can set up a forward guard on the opposite bank to provide protection for the rest of our force to cross. I am expecting some kind of attack once we move."

Victor was not so sure they should risk the valuable cavalry by sending them first, but he was in no mood to argue with the often brittle leader. It was Lothar's war after all. So his reply ran a safe tangent. "We must be patient my Lord, that river will have to be very low for us to safely execute that crossing. I think you are right though, we will be at our most vulnerable then, but they will be armed with little more than one shot rifles, bows and arrows. I doubt that they will attempt close combat with our heavily armored knights." Victor added dabbing at his face with his napkin.

"I want nothing held in reserve Victor, we must show them we mean business." Lothar continued. "I want the mounted force to all be using the Austeyrs, and we will cover them with mortars. Once we all cross we will go straight to the walls and destroy... What was that?''

Victor cocked his head trying to make out what his Lord had heard. "I am unsure my Lord." Victor then rose from his place, pulling on his gloves, and peered out the tent flap. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place in the bustling camp, until he registered the orange glow behind them. It was then the distressed whinny of horses and the crackling of burning grass came to his ears.

"Damn it!" Victor spat.

"What is it man!" Lothar boomed from his tent. Doing his best to maneuver himself to the front door on the sinking carpets.

"The grassland behind us is ablaze and the horses have bolted!"

*****

The fire could not be easily abated by men running frenziedly with buckets of water. The parched grasses caught and burned, horses careened through the camp in panic bringing down tents and bowling over soldiers. The winds were strong and gusty and the billowing smoke choked the men who fought fiercely to try and stem the fierce blaze that threatened to surround them. Worse still the cool change did not bring a drop of rain.

Lothar, Victor, and Major Hawkins feared an impending attack during the chaos. But it never came. Yet regardless, they were forced to designate some men to be ready for such an event, and the remainder to combat the encroaching flames. Fortunately, the camp area had been well cleared of the fragile grasses creating a natural firebreak. Even so, the strong winds drove showers of sparks into the encampment and the men had to contend with spot fires. Some of the tents burned, and the stores along with them. There were injuries to a few of the men and not all of the valuable horses could be accounted for. Though they still counted themselves as fortunate, that their enemy had not seen fit to take advantage of the chaos in any tangible form.

The following dawn revealed a demoralizing vista to Victor's tired eyes. The entire contingent had been up all night stymying the blaze. Burned to ash was the supply of convenient timber, and the grazing too. Now there was to surround them no more than blackened earth.

Victor stood gazing at the charred aftermath, his unkind mouth drawn into a hard line as he kicked at the still-smoldering charcoal with his boot. Revenge in his thoughts. He would have it he swore the day the river no longer swelled.

*****

Stephan and his people observed the well-placed fires do their work. Many residents stood on top of the palisade walls to get a good view of the orange glow on the opposite river bank. A rousing cheer went up as they registered the chaos unfolding. Though they were kind folk many made no secret of their disdain for Lothar and his bullies. The farmers had suffered under Lothar's oppression for many years. Always fearful of his harsh retaliation for the slightest shortfall in their promised quotas. There were many present who were upset that they had not chosen to attack during the blaze, and they openly voiced their opinions.

Perhaps they should have gone all in? Stephan thought. Maybe this was his first mistake in this war. Yet he had argued against it when it had been suggested. The river crossing was still way too dangerous to make with all his forces.

Most present celebrated, yet the elderly man knew that such celebrations were premature. The river level would fall in the coming days and he suspected they would all be embroiled in the fight of their lives.

*****

Jormugar and Jacques' men made good time and soon reached the secluded raider camp. The calm weather had been in their favor even if it was now growing uncomfortably warm. He had halted his men a short distance from the plunging ravine and went forward on his own to advance scout his quarry. He squatted a long while overlooking the plunging cliffs training his eyes on the small camp below. He could see no cooking fire smoke and no sounds of activity came to his keen ears. That seemed strange to him he would need to get in closer.

He knew that to descend the steep path he would be exposed. Easily picked off before he made the bottom. So he elected to skirt the encampment and find the small fissure crowded in box-thorn spines and make his way through with care.

Again he stood at the prickly portal to the desert wastes above, however, silence again greeted him. In that animal way of his, he had already sensed that there truly was no one about.

As he roamed the camp. New rifle in hand lest he be suddenly surprised, he noted that possessions lay abandoned. It was as though it had been a normal day and the occupants for whatever reason had fled quite suddenly. This bothered him, so he walked about searching for clues as to what may have caused the sudden exodus. The fire was well and truly cold and it looked as though it had burnt itself out at least some two days prior. He peeked into the ramshackle huts noting that many useful items had been left behind. It was as though the occupants had all left but possibly they intended to return. He thought he saw vague trails of horse's hooves in the sand, soon backed up by the affirmation of horse manure, that too at least 3 days old. They had fled most certainly, but why.

He walked over to the well and pulled some water from its depths. It was cool fresh and clear. Perfectly drinkable. Why would the occupants abandon a place with fresh abundant water? It seemed strange to him that they had not left the women behind. They could not be on a raid then. What would necessitate moving the entire clan? The hair prickled on the back of his neck, his keen senses and intuition that had often saved him countless times before told him he needed to depart.

He spied it then among the corn rows, his usually keen perception did a sharp double take. A umbral darkness that stained the red soil. Appearing as a large puddle, yet it was not water. It consumed a large section of the garden plot. He was momentarily unsure what he was looking at. So he turned to investigate. His hair continued to prickle as he advanced, it was difficult to make sense of what he was witnessing. As he drew closer a knot grew in this throat and he had to fight the strong desire to puke. It was the same feeling he had when he had witnessed his first massacre, the aftermath of fly blown and half eaten corpses. But that was a long time ago, and in the ensuing years he had become quite inured to death.

His hand had automatically strayed to the dagger at his hip, and yet instinctively he knew that it would do nothing. He didn't know what he was looking at, but the fear and dread the sight elicited in him was strong. It was like that sudden rush of fright one has as a child after watching a scary movie. Where every shadow hides an invisible terror waiting to pounce. All his senses were screaming at him to turn and leave, what this was was quite inexplicable. Perhaps this is why they had fled.

*****

Jormugar said nothing to the others about his discovery, and the five slavers camped for three days above the hidden valley. Quietly watching for any signs of a return, yet there was none. The tracker didn't wish to give up on his mission. However, after his treatment at the hands of his employer last time, he decided on the third day that he was on a fruitless quest and sent Jacques' men back south. The slavers grumbled about not being appropriately compensated and reminding Jormugar of how angry their Master would be. Though the hired men were annoyed at being dragged so far north for no profit none of them were brave enough to affect any form of retaliation. They had each decided that Jormugar would be more than a match for them all, and that retribution would be their Master's to seek. Thus the young bounty hunter sealed his own retirement. He could never travel south into Jacques' lands again.

But Jormugar didn't have to as he was perfectly at home in the desert. With that in mind he decided that he would go back to his family lands up north and remain there. But not before he could purchase that puppy he had promised himself. That evening he sat in the darkness appraising the night sky and its diamond-studded beauty dwelling on where he might come by a new companion. There were very few settlements this far north, but he knew of an unfriendly fortress to the southeast and beyond that, a lovely tract of farmland that housed a small friendly village. It was likely someone would have a pup there. So he lay down to rest in that ever-watchful way of his and dreamed of what a fine companion he would secure.

*****

While the river level steadily dropped the Wolf Lord's forces took stock of their losses and readied themselves for the final assault. Two of the valuable horses were not located, presumably, they had fled into the desert beyond. Three others had received substantial burns making them at least for the time being unridable. Some of the tents were destroyed meaning that soldiers had tighter quarters. Many had opted to sleep outside, fortunately, the weather was still and fair. Though with the increasing temperatures there was little in the way of shade.

Valuable supplies had also been ruined meaning the campaign must now be completed swiftly. Food for the horses was an even bigger issue with the men being forced to walk great distances and physically cut the required ration for the animals, and even this effort was not enough. They must attack soon before the animals grew gaunt and weakened. The pressure was on for immediate mobilization, but would the river cooperate...