Category: Writing

Inquisitor Alvaric stood straight as a pike in the arcade of the temple complex. This close to Dimre, one always had to be alert, but Alvaric would have been just as alert in Wintershiven. After all, it was his duty, and a Pholtan would never fail at his duty.

He became aware of a soft sound coming down the arcade towards him. It was too dark to see (the irony did not strike him in any way), but the soft thumping was definitely making its way slowly down the arcade. Eventually, it was close enough that he could identify it as the sound of metal bumping and scraping on stone.

Alvaric ran mentally through his preparations. There had been no cry from the walls – no claxon rung. Whatever it was made no effort at stealth, so it was unlikely it had slipped past the outer guards. Still, it was irregular, and Alvaric distrusted it.

Finally, a shape resolved itself out of the gloom. A small girl – a ragged child he thought at first – struggled down the arcade carrying a large sword. It was nearly as tall as she was, and looked to weigh as much as well. The point of the sword dropped and scraped along the stone floor, reminiscent of fingernails and chalkboards, if Alvaric had ever heard of the latter. Certainly, the thought of the scratches on the sacred stones made his hair stand on end, and he even spared a thought for the poor soul who would be responsible for honing the blade after this abuse.

Surely it was only the sound, and the thought of the damage, that made a chill come over Alvaric, and he stepped forward to confront the girl, now visibly older than he had first thought. That is, he intended to step forward and ask the girl her business, but he found that he had actually taken a step back, his eyes fixed on her grimy, grimly resolute face.

She wore a large canvas backpack which was surely one of the reasons she was struggling under the weight of the sword. She shifted her grip on it and Alvaric could see that it was wrapped in rags, presumably to keep her from cutting herself on the edge. As Alvaric took another step backward, he could see that the edge gleamed wickedly, as though with intent.

He shook his head. An Inquisitor of Pholtus did not retreat from a ragged girl with a sword, no matter how inauspicious she looked. At least – she did not look like a ghost or revenant. Alvaric stepped forward, in Truth this time, and held out his hand, palm forward, bidding her stop.

The girl stopped, raggedly, hefting the sword again to lift its point from the floor. She looked unutterably weary and Alvaric had the sensation that she was at the edge of her patience with delays. She looked up, but he noticed that she didn’t meet his eye.

“What is your business?” he asked, as peremptorily as he could muster given the iron cords that were wrapping themselves around his heart.

“Please, sir,” the girl murmured in a faint little voice. “I was told to find the Curate Militant.” She struggled to heft the sword into a more comfortable position, and apparently failed.

Alvaric studied her for a moment. He thought now that she might be 30, or even more, though there was hardly more to her than a maid. He thought he could see the tracks of tears in the dirt on her face, and he was sure there was blood on some of the ragged tears in her garments. He reached forward to take the sword from her.

“I am permitted to lead you to the Curate,” he said, “as his chambers are within my range of responsibility. Allow me to carry that sword for you.”

Her weakness, weariness, and meekness prepared him for her to give the sword, unresisting, into his hands. Instead, he was surprised to see he pull it back, almost violently, nearly to the point of toppling over.

“No,” she husked, sounding almost surprised at her own temerity. “I can carry him the rest of the way.”

Alvaric raised an eyebrow at the masculine pronoun applied to the blade. It had been many years since a thinking sword had been brought to the brothers here, other than the ones worn by some of the more powerful paladins. He cringed even a little more at the thought of what the point was suffering as the girl dragged it on the stones, but he also felt an unaccountable sense of relief, and shrugged as he turned his back on the girl to lead her to the Curate’s chambers.

It took considerably longer than he had expected, for the girl walked very slowly, and he noticed that the sword dragged more and more as they neared the Curate’s chambers. Finally, when he had given the pass-sign to the Watchers at the Curate’s door, as he crossed the threshold he heard the large blade clatter to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the girl wimpered, seemingly speaking the to sword itself, as she picked it up again, and hurried into the room where the Curate Militant was seated on a leather sofa, reading a faded scroll beneath a shining ball of light that hung unsupported in the air above his head.

“Alvaric,” the Curate said. “What have you brought me this evening?” He laid the scroll gently on a side table as he rose to meet the newcomers.

Alvaric looked to the girl, and found her curtsying, badly, to the Curate.

“Please, sir,” she said. “My name is Yuki. I was sent with … with Spencer,” and she gestured with the rag-bundled sword in her arms, “to collect an artifact …” Her voice faded away as she glanced up at the face of the Curate, probably unable to see him clearly with the bright light shining behind his head.

“Yuki,” the Curate said, meditatively. “Ah, yes. The agents of Dimre reached the relic before your team did.” He waved his hand dismissively as she flushed with embarrassment.

“Such are the fortunes of war,” he said, “even for those on the One True Way, and there were those in your group who were …” he chose his words “… far from that Way.” He nodded indulgently, assuming that Yuki understood his reference.

“So you have been sent all the way here, to the edges of the Pale … for what purpose?”

Yuki gestured again with the sword. “Spencer …” she broke off.

“Spencer …” The Curate said encouragingly. Then, with more understanding, “Ah, the … the thing … the …” He searched again for a word. He finally said, somewhat lamely, “Your companion.”

“Yes, sir,” Yuki replied, sounding grateful. “We found an ancient evil creature in those ruins. I think it was a lich –” she broke off briefly upon hearing Alvaric’s gasp. “Spencer … Spencer doesn’t know how to talk to people. I think he’s forgotten a lot of that sort of thing. And he asked the … the lich … a lot of questions, looking for the chapel of Pholtus.

“The lich became more and more agitated, and we were trying to leave, but Spencer wanted to stop searching and find the way directly to the chapel. The … the lich pointed its finger at Spencer and suddenly there was just more dust. More dust, and his sword…”

“And what is it that you wish me to do with his sword, child,” the Curate asked. “It is unlikely that one of our holy warriors would wish to wield such a thing.”

“N… No,” Yuki stuttered. “I … I think Spencer’s soul is in his sword. I think that his body was destroyed, but his soul lives on, but it’s … it’s trapped in his sword.”

Understanding dawned on the Curate’s face, with a bit of horror, followed by a stern resolve and compassion.

“Not trapped, I think,” he said, “but preserved.” He mused for a minute. “Do you know what you are asking?”

“I don’t even know what to ask,” Yuki said. “I know that when Spencer shed blood with the sword, he was healed. I guess I thought that perhaps he could grow a new body …” Her voice tailed away.

“And whose blood should be shed for … for someone like him?”

“I don’t know!” She suddenly sounded angry. “I know you don’t think he’s worth anything, and I don’t have enough blood in my whole body to help him, but he’s the kindest man I’ve ever met and he saved my life over and over again, and I couldn’t just leave his soul lying on the floor of the lich’s cave without trying to do something to help him I … ” her anger seemed to be spent. ” … I just couldn’t do that.”

The Curate reached forward to take the sword, and although she flinched away at first, she let him take the blade from her hands. Alvaric could see that it had been a terrible burden, for she instantly stood taller, and the Curate seemed almost to be struggling with himself to hold it.

“If I had found it it a crypt, I would have destroyed it,” the Curate murmured to himself, “but the god would not have it so…” He walked quickly to his desk and set the sword atop the hornwood top.

“Alvaric,” he said more normally, though he sounded tired, “take Miss Yuki to one of the guest chambers. Have one of the sisters arrange proper clothing for her, and provide her with an opportunity to bathe. If it is late for a meal, send to the kitchen to get whatever is needed for her. She can join us for morning meal at the appointed time.”

Turning back to Yuki with great gentleness, “We do not always see the strength of a person at the first,” he said. “It is easy to be blinded by their physical appearance, or even by their moral failings. You have done what few of my Inquisitors could have done, and you have done it bravely, and without thought of the cost to you. Now, do not worry about the cost to us. If a maid such as yourself could carry that curséd blade all these leagues to bring it to the temple of Pholtus, we will not depart from the One True Way in what has yet to be done.”

He paused a moment. “I know not, yet, what that will be, but just as we were given guidance when … Spencer first came into our service, I trust that we will be given guidance for what is to happen next. In the meantime, rest, be at ease, and enjoy the discipline of our Rule for at least a few days. When we know what is to be done, I will make sure you know.”

Lisa tried to think of what she could say to soften the blow, but she was still mentally spinning when Usen spoke.

“It’s okay, miss,” he said, his pig-like face flushing redder with embarrassment. “I should be used to it by now.” He gave a little bow in greeting, and took a step back.

“You were asking how I came to be with the Elders,” he said. “I actually joined just a short time before Mother Dree did.” Lisa noticed that although his face was frighteningly monstrous, his voice was very human. She began to notice that the green on his neck was streaked with the colors of human skin.

“I was working for the Slave Lords,” Usen continued, pausing a moment for Lisa to recover herself when he heard her gasp. “Lord Agnar had been working for the Slave Lords, too, but Master Mikael had cast a charm on him, and he imagined that he was best friends with the Elders.

“The Elders had broken free of the Slave Lords and equipped themselves with some of their spare equipment. Master Ezekiel had almost all of his own equipment, but was missing the Mace of the Ram and his original sheep toy and sandals. Master Elwyn will say more than he ever does about how much he was missing his talking sword, Tressarion, but they were pretty well equipped.

“They had already taken out the Slavers’ base in Elredd, killing Lord Agnar’s brother in the process, and they had come down to Highport.” Seeing the blank look on Lisa’s face, he said, “Elredd is in the Wild Coast, and Highport is in the Pomarj. Those are all lands east of the Uleks, the Lortmil Mountains, and Celene.

“Anyway, I was working for the Slave Lords. They had taken an old temple just outside of town. Originally, I guess Master Mikael said it was dedicated to the Earth Mother before, but it had been re-dedicated to He Who Watches.

“I was one of the gate guards. It was rough, because I don’t speak Orcish well, and the Orcs were pretty mean to me, but the humans in the area all worked for the Slave Lords anyway, and who else would hire me?”

Lisa thought she might have heard a hint of self-pity in this last question, but it was a fair question. The few half-orcs in the Hochoch area were much more human-looking that Usen, and they were still looked down upon and mistrusted. Of course, many of them were not all that trustworthy, from what Lisa had heard.

“The Elders have a habit of going in the back way to a place,” Usen continued, “and so they came to the gate I was guarding from the inside of the fortress. The courtyard was full of soldiers, and the Slave Lords had a fire chariot that would spray fire at people. It was pretty scary.

“Well, the Elders got there without coming through my gate, and the first thing I knew about it, I heard the sounds of combat coming from inside the courtyard. I wasn’t too excited about getting involved, but I figured it was part of my job, so I started to draw my sword to go join the others.

“That’s when things got really strange. There was another person on guard duty with me. I thought he was an Orc, and we hadn’t really spoken much, since he didn’t speak Common. I was shocked to hear him say, ‘Put the sword down, I’m hungry.’

“That was not the right thing to say when I was drawing my sword, and I turned on him with the blade. I’d heard stories about blood-lust, and how Orc armies would sometimes fail in besieging a city just because they would start eating each other, but I didn’t want to learn anything more about that.

“The orc sneered at me and said, ‘You don’t even know how to hold that thing.’ I was still processing the fact that he was speaking in Common, instead of Euroz, and I was wondering how this would turn out. I figured that I could probably cut him while he was trying to draw his sword, but I wasn’t sure what would happen after that.

“He didn’t draw his sword. Instead, a sword kind of grew out of his hand, while his eyes glowed in a frightening way. At the same time, his face changed to look more half-orc, and I realized later that he made himself look like me.

“I had no way to process what was happening, and I just stood there, backing slightly away and trying to keep my blade steady when the door opened.

“You shouldn’t think that I thought I was saved. The others could have killed me for not joining the battle, or a bunch of other reasons, and I’ve mentioned that we didn’t get along very well. But it wasn’t the other orcs, after all.

“Standing in the doorway, blazing with light that outshone the fire in the courtyard behind them, they stood there like an army of planetars come to judge us, and then they ordered us into the courtyard.

“Well, I was completely afraid, and although I obeyed, I think I was noticeably hesitant to stand too close to the other thing. They noticed this, and Master Ezekiel sprayed some water around and then demanded that I come to him.

“I didn’t know what to do, but I guessed I could die on my feet as well as on my back, so I walked over to him. That seemed to satisfy him, though I couldn’t guess why. Then he demanded the other guy to come close.

“It made excuses. Oh, it was clever. And after a while it began changing shape and saying rude or mean things to the Elders. Finally, someone killed it, and they told me it was a dopplegänger, a creature that can read your mind and change shape to lure you into being its dinner.

“Once the monster was dead, the Elders asked what they should do with me. I didn’t really know what my options were. Mining slave sounded pretty good, since I’d be underground, but galley slave, on a ship in the water sounded terrible. They asked what I did, and I said I was a gate guard. Then Master Raven said that they were going to build a fortress someday, and when they did they would need a gate guard. I didn’t think anything of that story until they asked me if I wanted the job.

“I couldn’t believe that they were serious. I thought it was somehow a trick to kill me, but since they could easily do that anyway, I wasn’t sure why they would want to trick me. Finally, I said I wanted to be their gate guard.

“I helped them navigate through the rest of the Temple, and was there when Mother Dree just about killed an ant-man with her bare hands. They asked her to come along, and she decided that she would follow Master Ezekiel and learn about his god.

“I was there when Bornthien learned that the Slave Lords had killed his family, instead of holding them as hostages. I was there when Master Ezekiel raised Millby to life, from a bit of her arm. I was there (though not much good) when the Elders killed the horrible ant queen thing, and later, when Master Mikael got his arm bitten off by a giant weasel.

“Pretty soon, the Elders seemed to think they could trust me, and they gave me a magic sword and sent me off to help the team with the baby dragons, and here I am. We still haven’t built a fortress, so I’m still not a gate guard again, but I suppose that the Elders will do it when the time is right, and not a moment sooner.”

Over the next few days, Lisa didn’t leave the house unless she had to. Dree came by to check on Father, and she also helped out with some of the cleaning and things.

Mother was horrified that Dree would do these things, because how would they ever pay for it, and besides, couldn’t she keep her own house? But Dree just cheerfully and calmly kept helping, and Mother really did enjoy when Dree played with the small children and taught them songs.

Lisa was dashing in to the house with the most recent purchase from the market as she saw Dree getting ready to leave the small house. Perhaps Lisa’s disappointment was evident on her face, as the Priestess looked at her with a smile.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said. “Would you like to come with me to our camp?”

Lisa looked over at Mother, and Mother nodded in a way that indicated this had been discussed, and agreed upon. Annette started singing “Lisa and Usen, sitting in a tree…”, but she was more interested in playing with her sheep toy and the baby, so Lisa gratefully put the shopping on the table and slipped out of the door with Dree.

“Is the camp where the dragons are?” she asked, breathlessly.

Dree nodded. “It’s where we all stay at night,” she said.

Lisa realized that she had assumed Dree was staying at an inn, rather than some kind of camp, but she knew the dragons weren’t in town. There were some rumors, but nothing like the talk would be if the dragons had been clearly seen in town.

“Why don’t you stay at an inn?” Lisa asked.

“The dragons are hard to accommodate,” Dree replied. “Apart from prejudice and diet, they smell bad and horses are uncomfortable around them. I suppose when they get older they’ll have an aura of fear that will make things even more complicated.” She seemed thoughtful.

“I understand about the dragons,” Lisa said, “but you have servants to take care of them. I meant you, and maybe Usen.” She realized that she hadn’t seen Usen for a couple of days, and wondered what that meant.

Dree laughed. She never sounded like she was laughing at someone – she just enjoyed life and humor. “Oh, the rest of the party aren’t my servants,” she said. “Except for Milby, everyone has been a member of the group longer than I have.”

Lisa thought about this, but Dree changed the subject, and they shared small talk the rest of the way through town and into the woods.

As they made their way among the trees, Lisa realized with a shock that they were heading towards the haunted shack. The faint remains of the old trail showed signs of more recent travel than she would have suspected, and she was not entirely surprised when they emerged into a small clearing around a tumbledown wooden shack, its thatched roof green with moss and caved in in places.

Around the shack and filling the clearing was a camp, but one unlike she had ever seen before. The halfling woman was tending a stew-pot as big as she was that was suspended from a tripod over a fire. The halfling man was standing in the air three feet off the ground. He held a strung bow in his hands and was shooting at a target at the edge of the clearing, spinning slowly in place as he shot.

One of the men was sitting in the mouth of a tent, doing some sewing while reading a book, while the other man was racing a dragon around and around the clearing. While Lisa watched, he passed directly in front of the target as the halfling shot, and the man dodged under the arrow without breaking his stride, while the dragon thundered on its four legs just behind the target among the trees.

As she looked around the rest of the camp, she saw the other dragon curled up in the sun in front of another tent. Usen’s feet and legs stuck out from the far side of the dragon, and although the racing duo were making a racket, Lisa thought she could hear snoring.

The halfling woman waved when they entered the clearing, and called out, “Keom! Stop that foolishness! The lady is back!”

The running man rolled to a stop and braced himself as the dragon caromed into him. He went flying, but tumbled back up to his feet with a laugh and rubbed the dragon’s dorsal spines as it shoved its big ugly head under his arm. The man at the tent put his needlework away and came over to the newcomers, greeting Dree formally as “Mother Dree”, and then, “You must be Lisa,” turning to the young girl.

Lisa blushed and nodded. “I’m Brother Ron’has,” the man continued. “Welcome to our camp.” Then, he turned and walked over to where several big wooden barrels stood upright under a tarp.

The man who had been running came over as the halfling man slowly descended to the ground.

“Brother Keom,” he said in introduction. “Welcome back, Mother,” he said to Dree. “I think Fang will be a good boy – he’s had a good run.” With an impish grin he headed over to the barrels by Ron’has, who had begun pulling some disgusting-looking pieces of meat from one of the barrels, and a putrid smell washed over the clearing.

“Sorry about the smell,” Dree said, “but Fang always likes to eat after a run. It helps him to nap afterwards.”

“What is it?” Lisa found the courage to ask.

“Dead giant frog,” Dree replied. “It’s none too fresh, but the dragons don’t seem to mind, and we have a lot of it. It saves on needing to buy food in the area. Although …” She tailed off into an internal conversation to which Lisa was not privy.

The halfling woman pulled the kettle to the side and came over to Lisa, wiping her hands on her apron. Like all half-folk she was cheerful and pleasant looking, and she dropped a peasant curtsy as she said, “Milby Hoetoe, at your service. The lunk in the air is me husband, Boernthien.”

Mr. Hoetoe was actually just behind his wife, having descended and headed over to the women. “Boernthien Hoetoe, miss,” he said with a wink. “I think we first met by the ferry.”

Dree looked at Lisa in surprise while the girl blushed at being recognized. “Annette and I were washing clothes the morning you crossed over,” she said softly.

Dree nodded. “I was busy with the ferrymen,” she said. “People have such strong opinions about dragons, even when they’re small ones.”

Lisa looked at the sinuous creatures. They were bigger than ponies, and she thought she wouldn’t describe them as small.

“How old are they?”

“Keom, how old are the babies?” Dree called out.

“I figure they’re about a year hatched. Maybe a bit less.” He chuckled. “We kind of had our hands full, getting them out of Homlette before they caused too much of a stir!”

Lisa must have goggled at the off-hand comment, so Keom strolled over, sat on the grass, and began to tell the story.

“The Elders went up from Homlette to Mitrik to speak to the bigwigs over there,” Keom said. Lisa had heard the name Mitrik – it was somewhere to the north somewhere, up in the direction of Old Iuz’s land. Homlette was a new name to her, but she didn’t want to interrupt.

“While they were gone, Ron’has and I were left with the goods in Homlette, which included the dragon eggs.” Lisa must have gasped a little bit, because Keom chuckled. “The Elders got the dragon eggs on one of their adventures, when they traveled to a place just outside the Elemental Plane of Earth. Master Hieron was killed by the adult black dragons, but Father Ezekiel raised him up again, and they went back and killed the dragons.

“After they killed the dragons, they discovered these two eggs, and Father Ezekiel said that the eggs should be given the chance to hatch, even though their parents were evil, so Master Raven brought the eggs to us and had us watch them and take care of them, though we didn’t really know what black dragon eggs need to hatch. They’re certainly not much like chickens!”

Lisa laughed a little at this joke, so Keom continued with enthusiasm. “When the Elders got back to Homlette, we had these two little black squirts of dragons,” he said, seeming a little disappointed that Lisa didn’t laugh when he called the dragons squirts.

“Father Ezekiel spent a bunch of money with the local shepherds to arrange for sheep to be delivered to feed the babies, and we kept them in the stable with Master Mikael’s animals.”

Dree handed Lisa a stool, and she sat silently as Keom continued speaking.

“So, one evening Master Raven came to us and told us that they were having a fancy dinner at the inn, and he would bring us some leftovers later, or in the morning. We were out in the stables with the animals, and didn’t think much of it, but he didn’t come out to see us that night, and in the morning no one knew anything about where they had gone.

“The Elders had been kidnapped by slavers, although we didn’t know it yet, but Ron’has and I had been left in charge of the dragons, so when they got a little bit bigger we knew we needed to do something different to protect them.

“Master Gundigoot of the Welcome Wench wasn’t going to give us a hard time, especially since the Elders had left most of their treasure behind, and we could easily pay for the lodging. The problem was that many of the guests at the inn didn’t like the idea of leaving their horses with the dragons, and there were adventurers who increasingly talked as though they’d like to make their reputation as a dragon-slayer, even though they were just babies.

“So, one night, we headed out into the woods. Master Elmo helped us to pick out a good place to camp where we wouldn’t be easily found, and he also helped us by bringing the sheep carcasses that Father Ezekiel had paid for before all of the Elders disappeared.

By now it was clear that Lisa had completely lost sense of who was whom, and Keom paused for a breath.

“So, the Elders are Father Ezekiel, Master Raven, Lady Alianna, Master Elwyn, Master Mikael, Mistress Lydia, and Master Hieron. Lady Alianna wasn’t with them, yet, but she was already an Elder because she had joined Father Ezekiel’s church as the first Paladin, and had gone off on errantry to the Shield Lands.” He waved in a generally north-east direction.

“Father Ezekiel is the High Priest of the God of Gods, and the founder of the church. Master Raven is the first Monk, and the master of all of the monks of the God of Gods,” and here Keom gestured to himself and Ron’has.

“Master Elwyn is a Ranger of Ehlonna, but he’s been with Father Ezekiel for ever so long, and Master Mikael is a Druid of Obad-Hai who’s been with both of them since before they came into the regions around Homlette.”

“Mistress Lydia was with them, too, when they came, although I’m not sure where she came from originally, and Master Hieron was a man-at-arms they rescued from the torturers in the Temple of Elemental Evil.”

Lisa’s head bobbled as she absorbed all of the names and stories. She must have looked the question at Dree, because Keom quickly added, “Mother Dree and Bornthien and Milby and Usen didn’t join us until later, after the Elders had started to kill the Slave Lords.”

That wasn’t really an explanation, as far as Lisa was concerned, but it did explain why they hadn’t been named in the story so far.

“Anyway, once Mistress Lydia learned how to teleport,” Keom continued, “the Elders started visiting us in the Homlette area again, and it was agreed that we should take the dragons out of the area. Homlette always has adventurers traveling through, on their way to the Wild Coast, or looking for the Temple of Elemental Evil, even though the Elders destroyed it, but it was getting positively thick with them as people came to the area looking for a couple of easy black dragons to kill. Mistress Lydia says that their blood is an expensive ingredient for some things.

“So, we left Homlette, and have been wandering ever since. Once Mother Dree and Usen and Bornthien joined us we started to adventure, and we went through the Gnarly Forest and up to the Mist Marsh and the Cairn Hills.”

He nodded at Dree. “The Mist Marches are where we found out that black dragons just love giant frogs, and the Cairn Hills are where we learned that Mother Dree could destroy undead with her sheep toy just like Father Ezekiel does.”

He seemed to be finished, and Lisa had finally found her voice.

“How do you do that?” she asked Dree.

Dree smiled. “I don’t. My God does it.”

“But … aren’t Keom and Ron’has servants of that god, too?”

“They are. They are Master Raven’s disciples, and they work very hard to understand all of his teachings. But Master Raven can’t turn undead, either. Monks are not given that power, even if they wield a consecrated holy symbol,” and Dree patted the sheep that she had removed from its pouch.

“Only a cleric who has been invested by a higher cleric is given the power over undead that Father Ezekiel and I have.”

Lisa thought about this. “And Father Ezekiel invested you?”

Dree nodded.

Milby had been listening to the story from the side of the stew-pot, and commented over the quiet bubbling, “Before Mother Dree was even invested, she helped Father Ezekiel dig through a charnel pit for the pieces of my body.” Lisa’s horrified expression met only a steady nod from the halfling woman.

“Bornthien had been captured by the Slave Lords, and to force him to do terrible things, they took me and the children captive, as hostages for his good behavior.” She snorted derisively. “They never intended to keep us alive. Shortly after we arrived in Highport, we were given to the ant people,” and here she shuddered in memory, though she had stoically shared the rest of the story.

“The ant people tore us limb from limb, and I’m only glad I was killed first, although that meant that the children had to watch. Once Father Ezekiel had found my arm, which Bornthien knew because of my wedding ring, he used a precious magic artifact to bring me back to life. He didn’t know me, or even Bornthien, really, but he used the last power of that rod to bring me back, and we’ll be forever grateful to him, and to the God of Gods, for that mercy.

“He wasn’t able to identify any parts of the children, but the magic of the artifact was spent, anyway, and they’re with Sheela Peryroyl and Arvoreen now. Bornthien and I have been given a second chance at life together, and we’ll do what we can for Father Ezekiel and any of his people as long as this life lasts.”

Lisa glanced around the clearing and saw that although the second dragon still lay in the sun, and the snoring continued, Usen’s legs were no longer visible. “How about Usen?” she asked.

A soft voice behind her startled her and she turned to look, horrified, into the face of an orc! A moment later she recognized Usen’s armor, and the wounded look on his face told her everything she had just done to him.

Dree put the flask and ointment back in her pouch, and put the cloth in another one. Then, she produced a jar of water to wash her hands.

Pulling the sheet over Father’s sleeping form, she retreated from the bedroom, ducking again in the low doorway, and taking the curtain from Annette’s unresponsive fingers to close it. She went to the front door and said some things quietly to Usen, who nodded and left. Finally, she went to the table in the middle of the room, pulled Annette’s stool from under it, and sat down.

“How long since he was wounded?” she asked.

“A month.” Mother turned away and busied herself at the hearth, glancing at the baby in the corner. As usual, he had arranged some sticks and wood chips into a battle scene, and was softly babbling to them about what they were doing. Mother rubbed her hands distractedly on her apron, and smoothed an errant hair.

“He’s a strong man,” Dree said. “The infection would have killed a weaker before now.”

Lisa wasn’t sure, but she thought Mother smiled briefly at this compliment.

“The medicine I used will help, but the wound was untreated for a long time,” Dree continued. “I don’t know if he’ll ever walk without a limp unless we can get him some better healing.”

“You’ve already done so much, my lady,” Mother said. Lisa saw her glance at the gold coins, still sitting on the table. They were not enough to pay for a healing spell, but they would help in so many other ways.

Dree smiled calmly, and opened one of the pouches that lined her belt. Somehow, she pulled a toy sheep, bigger than the pouch, out of the mouth of the pouch. The sheep was stuffed and soft, and may have been compressed somewhat, but Lisa still stared with her mouth open.

Annette didn’t hesitate, but ran over to Dree with her arms held out. “What’s his name?” she asked excitedly. Baby Joachim turned to see what the fuss was, and jumped to his feet to fight his sister for the toy.

Dree held the sheep just out of reach of Annette’s jumping, and pulled a second sheep out of the pouch with her other hand. Then, she handed one of the toys to each of the children.

“I don’t know his name,” she said softly. “All I know is that he is a powerful warrior for life.”

“I’ll call him Pelor!” Annette announced, lifting her toy over her head with both hands.

“No, don’t do that,” Dree cautioned sternly, causing Lisa to prick up her ears. Something about the way she had said it made even Annette pay attention, while Mother turned from her cooking to listen.

“I don’t know his name,” Dree repeated, “but I know that Pelor works for him.”

The shock that rippled through the little house was almost visible. Joachim didn’t understand, but Annette was amazed, Mother was alarmed, and Lisa was scandalized. Pelor was the great god. Even Beory had been revealed by his light, although he hadn’t made her. He was the father of the other gods.

Dree calmly waited until she thought that they were ready to listen again. “The sheep is a symbol,” she said. “Just as the disk that Lisa wears is a symbol.” Lisa’s right hand moved self-consciously to cup the symbol of Beory that she wore around her neck.

“When great Pelor shines,” Dree continued, “he can burn the skin of the laborer in the field. His light destroys the undead and nourishes the plants. His path in the sky tells us when to sleep and when to rise. But even Pelor came from another place, according to the stories.”

Lisa nodded. She didn’t know a story that explained where Pelor had come from when he came into the darkness overseen by Tharizdun and revealed Beory with his light.

“There is a god who is greater – as much greater than Pelor as Pelor is than the Hopping Prophet.” Annette giggled, thinking of the goggle-eyed prophet who ranted about human superiority. “There is a god who made Pelor, as the stories say that Pelor made Rao and Allitur.”

Lisa gasped at the thought of a god that powerful. Dree continued.

“If Pelor burns us without meaning to,” she said, “simply because he is so powerful, you can imagine what would happen to the mortal who encountered the god who made Pelor.”

Lisa imagined a being of such incredible power that Pelor became sun-burned in his glow. In her mind’s eye she saw the world engulfed in flames – even the rocks melting and burning in the intense heat. Dree nodded, as though she could see inside Lisa’s head.

“This god is not only powerful, but he is also wise and good,” Dree said. “After all, he gave us Pelor, and the other good gods to care for us. Since these gods care for us, the one who made them must love us also. But he is too mighty to show himself in all of his strength. If he did that, we would all die. Instead, he shows himself as a little lamb.” Lisa hadn’t noticed, so engrossed had she been with her inner vision, but Dree had produced a third sheep toy, and she was holding it tenderly.

“And if even a lamb is too frightening for some,” Dree said, “this lamb has been killed.” She turned the toy to show where it was clumsily stitched closed with bright red thread.

“This is the tenderness and gentleness of the god that I serve,” Dree continued. “He loves your family. He loves your father so much that he helped me to notice Lisa at the temple of Beory, so that I could come and help you here. He rescued me from the slave pits in the Pomarj, after the rest of my family had been killed by slavers. And the power of that little lamb –” she pointed at the sheep that Joachim was playing with “– can destroy undead in the hands of someone who believes.”

Joachim reacted to this news by using the sheep toy to send the sticks and wood chips of his armies flying. Annette was staring into the silly eyes of the toy, as though she would read its thoughts. Mother had turned back to the hearth. Lisa thought she knew what her mother was thinking. “Religion is all well and good for those who have the time and money for it,” was her general attitude, although she allowed Lisa to help at the temple when she could.

“Lady Dree,” Lisa said, “if your god is so powerful, why are there evil things, like undead and the dark god?”

Dree smiled at the question, but not as though it were a foolish one. “Why is there evil, if good is so powerful?” she asked. “Well, I like to think of it this way. If evil were the great force of the universe, there would be nothing but evil. In the Old One’s lands to the north, all that is good has been stamped out. So we know that evil is not the great force.

“Some people think that this means that good is also not the great force. After all, why would good not stamp out all that is evil? The answer is that we are all evil.”

There was a gasp of protest from the hearth, while Annette cocked her head on one side as though to help her understand. Lisa thought she had begun to understand already, however.

“As an example, when you go to the market, you tell the seller that you can’t possibly pay his price, and he must come down. Now, you don’t have a lot of money, but I know that for certain things, you would pay the seller’s price if you had to.

“At the same time, the seller tells you that he could not possibly reduce his price, or his family will starve. You know that this is not true, for he has reduced his price many times, and his family continue to be well fed.

“It’s all a kind of game, of course, and no one means much of anything by it, but it’s evil all the same.”

“Because it’s lying,” Lisa said.

“Yes, that’s true,” said Dree, “but it’s also selfishness. It’s a willingness to make the other person do with less so that I can have more. That’s greed.”

Lisa nodded slowly. She thought about the times she had come home, filled with pride at having reduced a merchant’s price below what the normal fee was. Now she felt ashamed.

“If the great god were to destroy all of the evil,” Dree said, “there would be nothing left. Also, if he forced us to love him, that wouldn’t be much of a true love. And so, he is gentle and patient, and he works through lesser beings like me…”

“And like Pelor,” Lisa said, understanding dawning.

Lisa never told Annette about the dragons. How could she? How would the little girl believe her? The two men had taken the dragons south, away from town, while the winged boat on wheels drove into Hochoch with the woman, the halfling woman, and a man that Lisa hadn’t noticed before on the front seat. The halfling man who had casually risen into the air had come back down and was sitting in the back of the wagon on top of all sorts of boxes, bags, bales, and crates. Lisa saw the top of a cooking tripod protruding in one place, and there were several cookpots hanging on the outside of the boat – er, wagon.

Once the laundry had dried, Lisa and Annette folded it up into the basket, and made their way back home. Mother was glad to see them back, and Lisa helped her to turn Father to put the clean sheets back under him, getting some fresh straw to replace the soiled. Once that was done, and the girls had cleaned up after lunch, there were other chores, and so until bed.

It was two days until Mother told Lisa, “You’ve been a big help this week. Why don’t you go to the temple? It is Godsday, after all.”

Lisa didn’t hesitate. She was already wearing her best clothing — the other outfit was for field work and things of that sort — so she told Annette where she was going and left the house at a run. The other members of the family worshiped the Old Gods in their fashion, but Lisa never tired of going to the temple to see the rituals and hear the teaching. She tried to think if it was a special feast day, or if it would be a “normal” Godsday, but she couldn’t remember.

Arriving at the doors, she decided it must be a “normal” day. Most of the seats were empty, and the priestess of Beory was going through the liturgy half-heartedly, knowing that there was little enthusiasm among the little crowd gathered.

Lisa’s attention wandered. It was the story of how Nerull killed Obad-hai and hung him on the tree. The way she told it, Lisa knew that it would end before the part about Ehlonna planting him to be grown (born?) again in the spring. Some days they told the whole story, and some days only part of it.

She started looking at the other people in the seats. Most of them she knew, even to their names, for they were neighbors and the most faithful in attending Godsday services. There were a few strangers. One was a small Bakluni man, almost hidden in his big turban and flowing robes. She wondered how well he understood the story, the way his head bobbed around. There were three halflings that were talking to one another in hushed tones – politely enough, she supposed, but the way they were quietly laughing, she thought they weren’t paying too much attention.

One woman caught Lisa’s eye. She was plainly dressed in a light brown robe, almost like a priestess of some sort, and she was listening very closely to everything the priestess of Beory was saying. She didn’t seem “enthralled”, as though she was hanging on every word. Rather, it almost seemed to Lisa that the woman was evaluating the story, checking to see if it was correct.

With a bit of a thrill, Lisa realized that the woman she was studying was the one who had been on the ferry. She glanced around to see if she recognized any of the others from that group and was startled to notice a man leaning against the wall of the temple.

This man was in the shadow of a support column, and standing so still that she thought for a moment he might be a statue. He was clad in armor from head to toe, including a helmet that covered his face completely. A long cloak completed the outfit. There was no tunic to show allegiance to a lord or any other marking like that. Lisa decided that he was a mercenary or sell-sword, but his attention seemed to be on the woman in the brown robe.

About this time, Lisa realized that the priestess had finished the story, and had begun one of the lesser litanies. Lisa stumbled over the words, distracted as she was by the strange woman and stranger man. Finally, the service was over and she moved to the front to give an offering. It wasn’t much, for her family didn’t have much to give, and Lisa made sure to contribute only from her personal funds. When she turned around after receiving the priestess’ blessing, the woman from the ferry and the strange mercenary were gone. The three halflings greeted her jovially, each holding a small money bag as they went forward to the priestess. Lisa returned their greeting automatically and hurried away from the altar.

She puzzled over it in her own mind, but she wanted to find the strangers. When she emerged from the temple into the morning light, she scanned the street, but couldn’t see them anywhere. Somewhat dejected, she sat down on the temple steps and leaned against a column.

Why was she so interested in the strangers, she wondered? Was it because of the dragons? Was it because of the man who so casually had cuffed and tugged on the dragon? It might even have been something to do with the strange boat-cart, or the halfling who flew. Perhaps it was just the thought of strange, exciting people coming from the Dim Forest on mysterious business.

As she was mulling over all of these thoughts, she heard the priestess say, “You’ve given me much to think about,” and then there were steps on the stones by the threshold. She looked up to see the woman from the ferry lifting the hood of her robe to cover her long, black hair as she exited the temple.

“Beory warm and Pelor’s light guide you,” Lisa said, rising to her feet and curtsying awkwardly.

The woman turned to her and smiled. “The one who made them welcome you,” she responded.

Lisa was shocked. This was not one of the normal responses to the religious greeting. Beory was the earth mother. She made everything, with Pelor, when they danced in the new light Pelor had brought. She looked up into the calm, dark eyes of the strange woman, who seemed to be waiting for Lisa’s thoughts to clear. About then, she realized that the mercenary from the church had moved up right behind the woman, and the fear must have shown in her eyes, for the woman glanced over her shoulder and then looked back, smiling.

“My name is Dree,” she said, “and this is Usen. He is my protector.” Taking Lisa by the hand, Dree led her down the steps of the temple and to a nearby tavern that had tables set out in the square. Dree guided Lisa to a seat and sat down next to her while Usen stood between them and and the square, the helmet turning this way and that as he surveyed the small groups at the scattered tables.

Lisa was overwhelmed. She had never sat at a tavern like this, although she thought her father had. She hoped the woman wouldn’t think her rude if she didn’t order anything, for the only money she had brought was the half-copper she had left in the temple offering.

Dree caught the attention of the serving girl and ordered two short beers. Lisa shrank down in her chair when the girl looked her way, and the wench returned to the tavern with Dree’s order. When Lisa looked up again, Dree was calmly staring at her.

“Are you new to Hochoch?” Lisa finally asked, holding fast to her courage.

Dree nodded. “We arrived on Sunday,” she said.

“So, where are you from?”

Dree laughed, a musical sound. “I’m originally from the Principality of Ulek,” she said, “and Usen is from the Pomarj.”

Lisa’s eyes must have goggled. She knew the Uleks were far away on the other side of the Rushmoors, and the Pomarj was even farther than that.

“I’ve only been to Leilam’s Orchard,” she said. “That’s in Gran March, but they talk just the same as we do. Father took us to a festival there before …” She broke off, fearing that she had said too much.

The beers arrived, and Dree pushed one of them over to Lisa, rather than giving it to Usen. Lisa gulped.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said, “I came out without any money today.”

Dree smiled gently. “That’s alright,” she said. “I have plenty.” Lisa looked again at her.

The robe was plainly woven, but of good quality. It looked like undyed sheep’s wool, although the sheep near Hochoch were a different color. She had no ornaments – no rings on her fingers or bangles on her wrists. She didn’t even have any pins in her hair.

Lisa glanced at Usen, and saw the glint of rubies from the pommel of his sword. He, at least, had some of the markings of wealth, and she thought that his armor must be somewhat costly too, though it was a different style than what the soldiers in Hochoch wore.

She picked up the beer and sipped it, feeling more at ease as her stomach responded to the wholesome drink.

“What’s your name?” Dree had hardly sampled her beer, but was looking intently into Lisa’s face.

“I’m Lisa,” the girl replied, taking another drink to avoid saying anything more.

“I noticed that you came to the temple alone,” Dree commented. “You mentioned your father. Is he still living?”

Lisa gulped. She had not wanted to talk about her father. “Yes,” she said. “He’s alive.” Perhaps there was something in her tone of voice that communicated the darker truth, that he was not well.

Dree nodded. “And your mother?” Her head was cocked on one side as she waited for Lisa’s reply.

“Oh, Mother is fine!” Lisa said in a rush, taking another drink of the beer.

“Do you have any siblings?”

Lisa wasn’t sure where all of these questions were leading, but at least she could talk about her siblings without worrying about complications. “Bobby is apprenticed to a carpenter over by the Town Gate,” she said. “I’m next, and then Annette. Baby Joachim is only three.”

Dree nodded. “Are the others working this Godsday?”

Lisa paused. “Well, I think Bobby works all the time. I don’t see him much because he’s always busy with his carpenting. Annette is helping mother at home, but I think she’s just mostly playing with the baby.” Dree’s calm face was like a forest pool that quietly absorbed everything Lisa said without showing a ripple of response.

“And your father?”

Lisa’s face burned, and she thought it was unfair of Dree to ask her questions like this. She hadn’t asked for a beer, and she didn’t feel that she ought to owe Dree answers to personal questions. Who was Dree, anyway, a stranger from Ulek?

“He… He can’t work.” Lisa studied her fingers, wrapped around the porcelain mug on the weather beaten wooden table top.

“Can the priests of Beory do nothing for him?”

Lisa looked up. There was care and compassion in Dree’s face. Looking back down at the mug, Lisa said, “We don’t have the money to ask them.”

Dree glanced at Lisa’s mug. It was basically empty, since she had drunk to keep from talking too much, and Dree drained her own in a single draught. Then, leaving a gold coin on the tabletop, she stood and held out a hand to Lisa.

“I’d like to meet your family,” she said.

“Are you a priest?”

“I am, although I have no healing magic,” Dree replied, anticipating Lisa’s thoughts. “I do have some skill as an apothecary, though.”

Lisa didn’t know how to respond, but Dree had been very nice so far, and although Usen was vaguely menacing, he hadn’t actually done anything frightening. She led the two strangers through town to the cramped neighborhood where her family lived.

When Lisa’s mother heard the door open, she said, “Oh, there you are. If you can give me a hand with the sheets I’ll take them down and wash them.” She stood and turned from the small hearth as she finished talking, and stood mutely, staring at the two strangers behind her daughter.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize Lisa had brought company. How may I serve you?”

Dree nudged Lisa out of the way, where she had been standing in the doorway, and pulling her hood down off of her dark hair, she bowed to Lisa’s mother.

“My name is Dree Dantreyuss,” she said, “and I am a priestess of the God above all gods. I met your daughter at the temple of Beory in town.” She glanced around the cramped common room, the bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters and everything taking just a little more room than was available. “I don’t know, specifically, what your prayers have been,” she continued, “but I know that they have been heard. I don’t know how they will be answered, but I know that I have been sent to you as part of the answer.”

As she was speaking, Dree moved gracefully into the room, and Lisa saw that two gold coins appeared on the table where her hand passed. Mother was too stunned to notice that, her eyes seemed fixed on Dree’s face.

Finally finding her voice, she said, “My lady is gracious, but we have no money for temple services.” She spoke huskily, and her eyes were downcast on the floor.

“Did Lisa-bones finally come back from the temple?” a saucy voice asked as Annette slid down the ladder from the loft-space. She whirled around to tease Lisa some more and froze as she saw Dree standing in the middle of the room.

“Who are you?” she said in a moment, dancing over to shut the door, and stopping again when she saw Usen standing in the street.

Dree turned to follow the little girl’s movement, and Lisa saw a big smile on her face. Annette had that affect on most people outside the family.

“You must be Annette,” Dree said. “I’m Dree. I came to visit you because I want to meet your father.”

“He’s in his room,” Annette announced, cheerfully, and before their mother could say anything, she had danced over to the doorway at the back of the room and pulled the curtain to one side.

“Annette!” Their mother finally found her voice. “You shouldn’t — I’m sorry, ma’am.” Mother’s face was a mask of anguish as she sought the appropriate way to avert this catastrophe, but Dree ignored the obvious cues and ducked her head as she moved into the little bedroom.

The room stank of infection and a used chamber pot, and the small window let only a little light through the greased parchment that covered it. Dree went directly to the side of the bed and lifted the tangled sheets from Father’s body. Lisa, peering through the small doorway, could see that Father’s nightshirt had twisted around and was hiked around his waist, exposing him. The wound on his thigh was open again, and blood and pus oozed out, soiling shirt and sheet.

Dree knelt by the bed and reached into a pouch at her side. Although the pouch was quite small, hardly more than a purse, she removed quite a large piece of cloth from it, and then a small pot which proved to contain an ointment. Using one end of the cloth, she cleaned the wound and then smeared ointment on it. Through the process, Father lay motionless, his glazed eyes looking past her at the wall.

Finally, Dree produced a small flask from her pouch, and she held it to Father’s lips and told him to drink. He did, and suddenly relaxed in a way he hadn’t done for weeks. Eyes closing, he rolled onto his back and his steady breathing showed that he had gone to sleep.

In the west, the sunrise touched the distant mountains with rose, and their snowy peaks seemed to glow in the fresh morning air. The streets were still in shadow, though, as Lisa and her little sister picked up the basket of clothes after carefully closing the door behind them.
Annette danced around Lisa as the older girl faced the big basket and finally nodded.

“Okay, ‘Net”, she said. “Help me get this up.” The last word ended in a squeak as Lisa hiccuped.

Annette giggled. “I’m not going to help you,” she said saucily, pausing in her dance just a moment.

“Annette!” Lisa’s frustrated complaint ended, again, in a squeak.

“I’m just teasing you,” Annette said, sticking out her tongue. “You need someone to scare you to get rid of your hiccups.”

Lisa sighed and hiccuped, gripping the sides of the basket and bending her knees. Annette grabbed the far side, and together they lifted the basket up to Lisa’s head where she struggled for a moment to get the balance, frustrated by the little shudders that shook her body as the hiccups came again and again.

She had hardly gotten the basket balanced when Annette released any hold she had on the basket and began dancing around her again.

“Lisa and Jakob, sitting in a tree…” the little girl began to sing.

Lisa sighed, but smiled at her sister’s energy. Annette never seemed able to sit still for more than a moment. She was more like a butterfly than a girl in some ways, flitting here and there, never resting long. A shudder passed through her with another hiccup and her hand flew up to make sure the basket was still balanced, but she needn’t have worried. This was a task she had practiced for many years, and even with the involuntary shaking, the basket would stay where it belonged. She started to walk down the street east, towards the river.

As the girls made their way through town, doors and windows began to open to one side or another of them as people opened shops or came out on their own chores. Mrs. Biltmore came hobbling down her little alley, as bent and crooked as the stick she leaned on, or the alley itself.

“Good morning, Mrs. Biltmore,” Lisa hicced, bending ever so slightly at the knees in courtesy.

“Good morning, young thing,” Mrs. Biltmore replied, peering at the girls to make sure they were who they sounded like. “Goodness, but I can’t see the one that’s flitting around so much,” she remarked. “That must be Annette!”

Annette giggled, and gave the old woman a hug that might have knocked her off her feet. “Now, you stop that,” the old lady scolded, and then looked up at the basket looming on Lisa’s head.

“It can’t be wash day already!” she remarked, her cloudy eyes fixed on the large dark shape hovering over Lisa.

Hic. “The baby’s been sick,” Lisa informed her, “and papa’s wound opened up again, so the sheets are (hic) nasty.” Her neck ached each time her body jerked and the basket shifted, just a little.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Mrs. Biltmore said, pressing a half-copper at Annette, who didn’t see because she was just dashing across the road to try to catch a cat.

“Good day to you,” Lisa said, and she continued down the road towards the river gate.

With the delay, she wasn’t surprised that the entire steeple of the temple of Beory was lit with the sunshine before they got near the docks. When they could finally see the Realstream, he had already risen above the edge of the Dim Forest, escaping the mists that always seemed to gather there, and was shining brightly on the two sisters.

Annette rolled her eyes when Lisa didn’t turn right, to the nearer part of the shore, but went left. Past the fishing docks, past the ferry landing, Lisa finally found the part of the bank she wanted. She had explained to Annette a hundred times that if you washed the clothes downstream of the fishing docks it took much longer, as you were always cleaning fish scales out of the clothes, but the little girl thought it was a lot of pointless walking.

Pulling the sheets out of the basket that now sat on the ground, Lisa gulped to try to suppress a hiccup, and glanced across the smooth dark water of the Realstream.

There was a sort of unofficial camp over there, where people waited for the ferry to start in the morning. As it wasn’t market day, Lisa didn’t expect there to be many people, but was surprised to see some large tents spread around a smoky fire. The tents were low — probably half-folk — but there was a man walking around the fire, poking it.

Lisa turned her attention to the clothes, coaxing Annette into digging out the bar of soap that had been her burden on the way from the house. After she had wet most of the clothes, she made the little girl scrub with the soap while she rinsed the sheets in the river water. Her hiccups were louder, as she worked less at suppressing them, but focused on her work.

It wasn’t long before she heard the voices of the men who manned the ferry as they settled the oars in place. One of them grumbled loudly about the party on the far bank – why couldn’t they have waited until later in the day – but the other men mocked his laziness, and the ferry pulled away from the shore, hanging on the cable as it pushed across the main current of the Realstream.

Lisa had just spread one of the sheets out on top of some bushes near the bank when she glanced up to look at the people across the river. The ferry had arrived there, and there were several people walking around, including two half-folk. They had what looked like a boat that was being pulled by some horses, and the ferrymen were all standing back, on the near side of the ferry instead of helping to make sure they loaded the thing correctly. While Lisa was trying to figure out why the people didn’t just cross in their own boat (although it did look small) and why they hadn’t taken down all of their tents, one of the tents moved.

It was long, low, and black, and it might have been just a row of bundles, but now it stretched and flexed, and a big, black wing reached up shakily into the air before sorting itself onto to the creature’s back.

Two men-folk followed the boat onto the ferry, and the half-folk went with them, but the other man had stripped down and was standing passively on the shore while the ferrymen leaned to their oars and began to row.

Once the ferry was well away, the last man on the shore walked to the water, and followed by not one but two large, black, sinuous shapes, slid into the water.

Lisa’s laundry was forgotten, and somewhere along the line she had lost her hiccups, too. Annette was under the bushes, under the sheets, having a sing-song conversation with one of her imaginary friends, but Lisa stood transfixed, staring at the ferry laboring across the river, and the man swimming easily through the strong current with the two black, scaly creatures.

When the man climbed, dripping from the water, his finely-etched muscles gleaming in the morning light, the first of the black creatures surged out after him. It had an ugly, scaly snout, and as she stared it opened a long mouth full of sharp teeth and yawned. The man slapped it on the neck, just behind the head, and it jerked away from him, hauling itself completely out of the river water and stretching out, two huge wings spread to catch the sun. The other creature followed, and a hideous stink like the aftermath of vomit wafted down the bank to where Lisa stood, transfixed.

The ferry tied up at the landing, and the ferrymen busied themselves with untying the restrains that had been put on the boat. Lisa could see (when she looked away from the huge, black creatures) that the boat had bat-like wings, and also, inexplicably, wheels. The horses willingly pulled it onto the bank, ignoring the huge black creatures, and one of the half-folk, a woman, climbed up to a seat at the front of the boat.

The other half-folk, a man, rose casually into the air, pivoting slowly as he looked around. Lisa wasn’t sure, but she thought he might have winked at her as he turned past her, but she thought she couldn’t be sure of anything right now.

The other two folk on the ferry were regular people, a man and a woman. The man headed over to the swimmer to give him his clothes back, while the woman paid the ferrymen. Lisa couldn’t hear what she was saying, but could tell by the tones she used that she was calming and soothing them. Lisa was so interested, trying to catch the woman’s words, that she didn’t realize one of the black creatures had silently crept closer to her.

There was a sudden whiff of the acid stench as it opened its mouth and a long, black, slimy tongue stretched out towards the drying sheet. The swimmer had just finished putting his tunic back on, and saw what the creature was doing as his head cleared the neckline.

“Hey, cut that out!” he yelled, seeming to cross the distance between them without moving. Cuffing the creature behind the head, he turned to Lisa with a slight bow.

“My apologies, miss,” he said. “He knows better – usually.” Cuffing the creature again, so that it swung its head insolently away, he grabbed it by a horn and began tugging it towards the rest of the party.

Lisa found her voice. “Sir,” she said hesitantly. “Sir –” The man turned to look at her. “What is it?”

The man smiled broadly. “Fang?” he said. “Fang’s a black dragon.”