The wind and the snow died down as Tythos walked onto the road. A glance at the clouds told him that the storm wasn’t done, it was only getting started.

“Oh good,” said the Nightmare. “We’re in the eye of the storm. That’s so appropriate I just got chills.”

Tythos ignored this as he looked down the road. His breath plumed out in front of him, and he let out a chuckle at the thought he’d been sweating under the sun less than an hour ago.

“Really?” Said the Nightmare. “That’s what gets a laugh out of you? A joke about the weather? Are you finally developing a sense of humor?”

“What?” Tythos asked, shaking his head. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Great, you’re so hilarious in your own mind, that you can’t even be bothered to listen to what I have to say. You sure do know how to make a creature feel wanted.”

“You’re not wanted.”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. We’ve got to work on your taciturn abrasiveness. If it wasn’t for me, and my long-suffering friendship, you’d be all alone.”

“You’re going by creature now? I might use that.”

The Nightmare let out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s not like you’ve left me many options. Just agree to let me tell you what I am, you stubborn brute.”

“No.”

“But it would make everything so much easier. We could work together in ways you haven’t even dreamed about.”

“Your options are, Nightmare, Creature, or Demon.”

“I’ve told you, I’m not a demon.”

“Telling me what you’re not is skirting the edge of the agreement.”

“Fine. Nightmare or Creature, I don’t care. It’s a miracle we’re still around, with your willful ignorance.”

Tythos grunted. He could see the party in the distance, making their way down the road. They rode hunched in their saddles, huddled in cloaks. They looked cold. Tythos took pleasure at this and stood taller, a smile on his face. His thin clothing did little to protect against the cold, and he was going to make sure the party saw this when they reached him.

“Thin blooded southerners,” Tythos muttered.

“Ah yes, let’s judge everybody by how well they handle the cold. I forgot that your brain froze a long time ago.”

Tythos ignored the nightmare, watching the five riders approach. Sigrun was the one only one wearing armor. The others, excepting the hunter, didn’t look like they were experienced with riding. They didn’t look like soldiers at all. Who were these people who’d been sent to fetch him?

“We need to talk,” said the nightmare.

“No we don’t.”

“We really do. If we’re going back, you need to consider deepening our bond. Neither of us would survive a second trip, otherwise.”

“No.”

“Don’t be unreasonable. Listen, now that we have the hand, we could connect more fully, and then we wouldn’t have to share a body all the time.”

Tythos didn’t reply.

“All you have to do is share your soul with me and I can walk around—“

“No.”

“It’s completely painless, and you would benefit from this as well.”

“I don’t warm to blood magic.”

The nightmare let out a deep sigh. “Your archaic superstition about ‘blood magic’ is so… so stubbornly pig-headed, that I don’t even have the words.”

Tythos snorted. “Very eloquent. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Shut up, I can’t be witty all the time. You wouldn’t even know what eloquent meant if it weren’t for me.”

“And how I’m better for it.”

“I’m not going to talk to you if you keep being rude.”

“Promises, promises.”

Tythos eyed the approaching party, huddled against the cold. Crippled by it. Their bodies too weak to hold their warmth. All except the hunter. He sat tall, his black bird not in evidence.

“All I’m saying, is that you’re wrong about blood magic and about deepening our bond, and if you’d only listen…”

Tythos tuned the nightmare out. It continued to talk, but he treated it as wind in the trees. Letting the noise become a background.

Tythos felt more sure now, as he watched them, this group was not military. Sigrun had been a palace guard when Tythos had taken the throne. Or maybe it had been a squire. He wasn’t sure. When the king had the throne back, he would have slapped her with an honorific and kept her close, as the holder of the hand. Had she run away? Who was this group with her, and why did the army have scouts sneaking around the valley?

The party reigned up in front of Tythos, Sigrun in the lead. She looked angry. She also looked like she was trying not to shiver long enough to start yelling. The hunter brought up the rear, his hateful glare still in place. Riding ahead of him was the severe looking man, his posture and hauteur, marking him as from the palace. He had short hair, and a face that would have been called handsome before it was called strong. Tythos marked him as nobility, which only made the party in front of him more puzzling. If he was nobility, where was his escort?

On Sigrun’s other side, rode two women, one huddled in so many cloaks and clothes, she was an indistinct mass of fabric. The other was hunched against the cold, but looking at Tythos with open curiosity. Tythos took the group in with a glance, and fixed his attention on Sigrun.

“Wh-what was that?” Sigrun said through a jaw tight with cold.

Tythos looked at her, wondering what he was missing. Yes, he was ten years removed from the world, but in what desperate reality would this group be on a mission for the king?

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Tythos said.

“You know what I mean!” Sigrun retorted.

“No, I don’t. And I’m not going to waste time guessing. Talk straight, woman, or shut up.”

“Woman?”

“You’re a woman aren’t you?”

Sigrun’s expression hardened, she seemed to forget about being cold and sat straighter.

“I am a king’s soldier!”

Tythos snorted and shook his head.

“I think you have a gift,” said the Nightmare. “You’ve made her so angry she seems to have forgotten what she was angry about in the first place.”

“Why does the army have scouts in this valley?” Tythos asked.

“Why does the army…” Sigrun’s angry expression crashed into confusion. “What? What are you talking about? There’s no army here.”

“Not an escort then,” said the Nightmare.

Tythos shook his head. “Why would he send the hand holder with the authority to make a deal if he was just going to kill me? It doesn’t make sense.”

“What are you talking about?” Asked Sigrun,.

“Of course it does,” the Nightmare laughed. “He couldn’t order your death until the old compact was dissolved, or don’t you remember the terms of the deal? There’s going to be a whole group of men waiting in the woods to murder you the minute they see you with the black hand. They’ll probably ride down and slaughter everyone in the valley just to make sure there are no witnesses. That’s what I’d do.”

Tythos scowled at the Nightmare. “Then we have to ride out of here before they see it!”

“See what?” Demanded Sigrun. “Who are you talking to?”

The Nightmare began to hoot with laughter. “Before they see it?”

“What are you laughing about?” Asked Tythos.

“There’s no need to worry about them seeing the hand now,” said the Nightmare. “When the first thing you did with it was to call a tower of emerald flames that pierced the clouds.”

“Shit,” said Tythos.

“Yes,” said the Nightmare.

Tythos looked back at Sigrun. “Give me my horse, we have to leave the valley before the army comes and kills us all.”

“We’ve been sent to escort a madman,” said one of the party behind Sigrun.

“Your horse?” Asked Sigrun.

“Yes, my horse. For riding. Did you lose it?”

“Did I lose it?” Sigrun began shouting. “Thanks to your magic stunt, we’ve wasted half the day already, chasing down our mounts in this backwater! If your horse is lost, it was your own doing!”

Tythos wasn’t about to admit now that he thought it had been too much. How was he supposed to know the army was watching? The valley had been the exact place where nothing had happened for as long as he’d been here.

“We don’t have time for this. Just say you don’t have the mount you brought for me, give me one of yours and have your women ride double! We can get another along the road.”

Sigrun sighed, “We are not far from your farm. Let’s go get one of yours, and then get on our way. With six weeks of travel ahead of us, it would be faster to find one of your horses first, than to start one short.”

“Hold!” Tythos held up a hand. “Do you mean to say; you think I have horses?”

“You’re a farmer aren’t you?”

Tythos’s face darkened. “That was the agreement; that I would live as a farmer.”

“Well then?” Sigrun said.

“This is delicious,” said the Nightmare. “I’ve been trying to make you this angry for years, but no, you decided I ought to starve; refusing to get angry over anything.” Tythos glanced at the Nightmare. “I’d let you keep going, but I’m already full. Just tell her what it’s like to be a farmer, because she really doesn’t know. She’s exuding exasperation and confusion.”

Tythos looked at Sigrun. “You don’t know what it means to be a farmer?”

“Why would I? It’s not my place to know how a farmer serves the king. My place is to know how to stand in between the king and danger.”

“As much as I enjoy slowly freezing to death,” the stern looking blond haired man spoke up, “while watching the simple attempt to communicate, I fear it would be a dereliction of duty to further indulge. Since I am a slave to duty, I will simplify for both of you. He is a farmer, which means he is property and owns nothing, as the gods intended. She is a guard, made for standing in front of sharp things, not for thinking and planning. For reasons I cannot fathom, she is in charge, and made the plans and provisions for this journey. Which means, he does not have a horse, and we did not bring a horse. However, he appears to have legs, which happen to be the magic that horses use to get from one place to another. Which means he can walk, and we can leave this gods forsaken valley, where winter appears to happen whenever it pleases, instead of happening in winter time like the rest of the world.”

Sigrun turned in her saddle to look at the blond man. “You knew the man we were coming to get wouldn’t own a horse, and you chose to wait to tell me this until now?”

The blond man shrugged, “I suggested we use rope and a hood and tie him to one of the horses. Instead of listening to me, you chose to arm the madman with a magic sword.”

“Thanks for making my point,” Tythos said, stepping forward with the black sword in hand, “And for volunteering.”

…

The rate of snowfall continued to increase as the party began to try to make their way out of the valley. Tythos had spent the last ten years in the valley, and he was used to the feeling of being boxed in by it. He had come to think of it as a snake that had swallowed him, a great winding depression in the earth that was walled in on either side by bluffs and greenery. In the belly of the snake. It was almost a comforting thought at times to think he was being digested and would someday be shit out the other end of it.

Tithos took the lead, both because of his familiarity with the valley and to give himself some space from the people that didn't want to see him right now. The blonde man was now riding double with whoever it was that wore everything they had packed for the journey. Tithos hadn't gotten a good look and wasn't sure he cared to. Sure, he was stuck with these people now, but that didn't mean he had any interest in them. Quite the contrary. Tathos knew if he generated the energy to grow interested in these people, it was the surest sign that they were going to die. It happened that way. Everyone he cared about was damned, marked for death. No way out of it.

The only exception so far were the Gladwells and their little farmstead next to his. He had begun to think that the curse was finally broken, but with this party showing up in his life, breaking the agreement and its authority, and saddling him with a whole new one, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was just a stay of execution. He knew one thing. He had to get out of this valley before he caused harm to the people who he actually cared about. The party he rode with be damned. He was bound by authority to keep them, well, not exactly keep them safe, but to help them.

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"What are you thinking about?" the nightmare broke into his thoughts.

Tythos started and looked over at the creature. It was walking beside the horse. He looked down at his hand. The black hand was present, although indistinct again.

"What the hell?" Tythos asked. "I didn't feel you leave. How did our connection break again?"

"Well, I think we forever broke it," said the nightmare.

"Back when we stepped across the boundary onto Mr Saggets land?”

“Ugh, don't remind me. Disgusting place. Anyway, perma-broke or not, it's not the same as it was anymore."

“Care to explain that better?" Tithos asked.

"I wish I could," said the nightmare. "I have no idea what's wrong with it, but I can step out as I please. I kind of like it. I think that I'm going to go on a walkabout. Never been on a walkabout. Always wanted to try it."

Tithos stared at the creature for a long moment. "A what about?”

“Ugh, You are so uncultured. I can't tell you anything. Ooh, look, we have company."

Tithos ignored the comment. "Hey, we almost blew away a minute ago. You separated from me and ate someone. I still don't know how I feel about that."

"So?" said the nightmare.

"How the hell did you get out again?"

"Get out? What? You're not a prison. What are you thinking? We share a bond. I'm not getting out of anything. Ew. You think I'm inside you? I'm not inside you. Don't be gross."

Tithos looked up as one of the party members drew rein beside him. Tithos did a double take. He had mistaken this person for a girl. But it was a fair-haired youth with delicate features, pale skin and long black hair. The youth smiled at Tithos.

"Hi! Who are you talking to?"

Tithos scowled. The nightmare chuckled as it began to walk away. Tithos tried to get it to come back. "You get back here! We have to set terms."

“Oh, stuff it where the sun doesn't shine. I'm off to have fun," said the nightmare.

Tithos growled. The youth looked over Tithos' shoulder, a perplexed look on his face. "Um, is there someone else here?"

Tithos looked over at the kid. "No, there really isn't. What do you want?"

"Oh," said the kid. "I wanted to introduce myself and pick your brain about what sort of magical rules you applied to summon that green column of fire. Green fire? I’ve never seen anything like it! Can you teach me?"

Tithos let out a deep sigh. He was committed to sharing the road with this person. He supposed he could at least make an attempt.

"Fine. I'm Tithos, tyrant of all the land. What's your name?"

"Hi," said the kid. "Nice to meet you, Tithos, tyrant of all the land. My name is Peony."

Tithos blinked. "Your name suits you," he said. The kid didn't seem to get the jab and grinned at him.

"Thanks! Everyone thinks so."

Tithos shook his head. "Look, I can't teach you anything about magic."

He'd been asked this question so often that he was used to giving the answer. Magic remained elusive to everyone who didn't have a source of power. Tithos had a source of power, or at least he did until a minute ago when it walked away to go hunting. He needed to deal with that. He knew it could only get two miles from him, so... The best thing was to leave the valley quickly and figure the rest out as he went.

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself," said the kid.

Tithos blinked again, not understanding. "Hard on, what?"

"It's okay if you're not a good teacher. I'm an excellent student. I'm sure you could teach me."

"Kid, look, what the hell are you on about?"

"What? Why, I'm a student of the new magic," said the kid.

"Uh," said Tithos. "New magic? Now you've really lost me. What the hells are you talking about?"

The kid lit up. This was clearly a subject that he enjoyed talking about. "Oh, the Thaumodynamic principles underlying the makeup of the universe, of course. Oh my goodness. Do you not know about new magic?"

“Thaumodynamic? I knew someone who called themself a thaumaturge once, they built a miniature bridge and said it gave them magic to build a real one. That’s not magic—“

The kid grinned even wider. "No, you're wrong! It's been discovered! The five laws of Thaumodynamics. Thaumaturgy has come a long way. Look, I'll show you."

The kid, steeped in enthusiasm, stood in his stirrups and plucked a branch off a passing tree. Tythos eyed the branch, noting the green buds forming at the ends. He heard Farmer Sagget’s voice in his head,

“That’s a scrub oak. Slow grower, but they’ll make do with land you can’t work. You can add them to part of your wind-break to harvest later for tool-wood.”

Peony sat back down in his saddle and held the small branch before him. With a look of intense concentration he began speaking something in a language Tythos didn’t recognize. It rhymed, with a sing-song quality to it.

Tythos heard what sounded like a child’s laughter nearby, then the twig Peony held burst aflame. It wasn’t a big flame, or particularly hot. It was a merry, normal looking fire, except that it had apparently come from laughter and a rhyme.

The branch burned down quickly and Peony tried to shake it out, only to fan the flame. He yelped and dropped the burning stick. Last year’s growth of grass was standing tall, yellow and dry along the roadside.

On reflex, Tythos extended a manifested shovel from his arm and caught the burning branch before it hit ground. He hadn’t stopped to think what the black hand being indistinct might mean, or where the power would come from with the nightmare gone.

The moment he caught it, a white starburst of light burst in his vision, and a sharp throbbing headache was kicked off, starting behind his left eye. With gritted teeth, he slowly brought the burning branch to him, then glared at Peony.

“Do you see the color of this grass? How far into this gods-damn valley does this grass go? What would happen if you started a fire that we’re downhill from? Do you feel that damn wind blowing?” Tythos loomed over the younger man, “What the fuck were you thinking boy?”

Peony shrank in his saddle, at first looking defiant, but as Tythos went on, he looked like he was ready to cry.

“Can your magic laughter magic put fire out? No? No merry extinguishing rhyme? So you decided you start a fire on a windy day? Did you put your brain in your skull when you got out of bed this morning? Clearly you didn’t! Next time you’re asked a question that can be answered simply instead of showing off in a way that puts your people in danger, and risks the lives of civilians, I expect a simple answer! AM I CLEAR?”

Peony was looking back wide eyed, like a cornered animal.

“I SAID, AM I CLEAR?” Tythos thundered.

“Yes,” Peony squeaked.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“That’s enough Tyrannous!” Sigrun said as she caught up with the pair.

“You keep your big brown nose out of this!” Tythos snapped at her.

“It is not your place to order my men around—“

Tythos reigned over and got in her face, “It damn well is my place when the actions of your men are so sloppy that they endanger the lives of King’s citizens and threaten the lives of your unit!”

Sigrun reached for her sword, looking alarmed. Tythos looked down at his hand, which had transformed into the black sword. It had been a completely unconscious thought. He dismissed the sword and returned his hand. It was still a faint outline. The backlash from summoning the sword now would likely make him pass out. He reigned forward and urged his horse into a walk while everyone was still looking stunned in his wake. Working quickly, he tied his belt to the pommel so he wouldn’t spill to the road when—

It hit him like a kick from a mule, and he kept his head down, trying not to fall over. He lost his ability to see and hear as his head filled with a thundering pain that sent shooting tendrils through his body. The pounding, thudding agony was all he was aware of and he tried desperately to stay sitting up, with a hand on the pommel.

After an interminable amount of time the sensation abated, leaving Tythos dizzy and shaken. He was still on his horse, though he had to straighten his seat in the saddle. His head hurt like it’d been split with an axe and his back and arm ached.

The party had let him ride ahead, and they may not have noticed his weakness. He didn’t dare look back to check. He would fall off the horse if he did. Instead, he let the horse have its head and focused on breathing. The coolness of the falling snow was a welcome relief. Tythos closed his eyes and tried not think.

***

Birdge Beauchamp was the oldest member of the small party. He’d been hired on as the hunter for the journey to fetch some old farmer. That had been how the job had been presented. Some old farmer. The name “Tythos Tyrannous Rex” had been mysteriously absent from the tall woman’s lips when she’d brought him on.

Birdge had been with this group for the better part of six weeks, and had begun to enjoy their company. Until that smelly pig farm. Sitting astride his horse as that hateful name was shouted, his perspective shifted. Sigrun had played him. He thought seriously about simply riding away as chaos unfolded around him. Watching Peony’s futile efforts to catch his panicked horse had been what had caused him to decide to stay. This group would be dead inside of three days without him. Leaving someone stranded because they’d lied to you was one thing, leaving them to die for it was another.

Birdge had been checking the back trail. The horses had spooked on that farm like they’d smelled a giant wolverine. Those beasts didn’t often range this far south, but that didn’t mean one wouldn’t get it in its head to do so. He’d heard of one tracking a group of people almost two hundred miles overland. Every time they thought it had given up and left, one of the animals would disappear in the night.

Birdge caught up with the group easily. Lancaster and Gina were riding double. Sigrun was riding beside them, speaking in a low tone. Trailing behind, Peony was hunched in his saddle like he was trying to hide. Tythos appeared to have taken the lead and had ranged a ways ahead. Birdge had expected Sigrun to be off in the lead like that. She tended to take charge like she had something to prove.

Birdge reigned in beside Sigrun.

“No sign of whatever spooked the horses— that is, no sign we’re being followed.” He gave Sigrun a flat look. “I suspect, it was the simple farmer we picked up that spooked them so badly.”

Sigrun gave the look back, meeting his eye.

“We couldn’t tell you.”

Birdge held her gaze until she looked away.

“Bird, I’m serious, we couldn’t tell you. We have orders.”

“Horseshit. Tell me why I shouldn’t’ ride off and leave you.”

“We hired you for a job and—“

“Nope. You voided that contract when we picked up the man who burned down half the world and that was the first I heard about it. One more chance.”

“We need you Bird—“

“Yes you do.” Birdge spoke quietly, but it cut off Sigrun’s words like a slap. “Think good and hard on that fact before you answer the next question. This is what will decide if I stay. Is there anything else you need to tell me? A lie by omission is still a lie. Lie to me again and you’re on your own. You put my life in danger as well as that of your group when you withhold critical information from me.”

Sigrun opened her mouth to reply, but Birdge cut her off.

“Don’t answer right away. Really think about it. I can’t do my job if you have secrets you keep from me. Especially secrets the size of Tythos Tyrannous Rex. You might have orders, but if I can’t do my job, we’re all going to die. That might seem like a joke to you, because you don’t know what I do. Don’t open your mouth to contradict me, you’re not a hunter. You weren’t raised by a hunter and you’ve never been taught the craft. If I leave, and you try to make the journey anyway, you won’t last a week. I’ll let you think on that.”

A range of emotions crossed Sigrun’s face. She clearly wanted to argue, but managed to hold it in. Eventually, she nodded.

Birdge looked up the road to where Tythos Tyrannous Rex was riding. The man was riding like he was under a great weight, and weary enough to fall out of the saddle. At least the madman wasn’t currently taking to the empty air. Birdge shook his head.

“I’m going to go check on our charge.” He looked at Sigrun to make sure she heard and understood. “I’m going to expect that answer when I get back. If you hold your tongue, or your answer smells funny, I’m gone.”

Birdge turned and urged his horse forward. It was time to go get a measure of the most horrible man in the world.

***

Tythos jerked awake when his horse missed a step. He'd fallen asleep in the saddle. He looked around. Snow was coming down heavily. The wind was blowing mild and steady. And he wasn't sure which mountain he was on. This wasn't the first time that he'd slept in the saddle, leading men to battle, marching at the head of a column, ten thousand strong. Some days that was the only time there was for sleep. He was more than used to it.

But why didn't he recognize which mountain he was on? He looked around, confused, until the last fourty years caught up with his lagging awareness. Tythos shook his head slowly. It had been a long time since he had thought about that. A man in his second decade out to conquer the world. That wasn't who he was anymore. He had failed. Now he was just an old man on a foolish adventure. He looked down at his hand, or the insubstantial outline that marked where his hand should be. He was unclear as to what exactly was going on with it now. He didn't have any sensation in it. It felt like the stump had always felt; like there should be a hand there. But every time he thought about it, it was only a thought, a memory. Now the memory existed.

He was able to interact with some objects with it. But when he held the reins, it took a force of concentration to keep them in hand. Otherwise, they fell right out of his insubstantial grasp. It's like it was and wasn't there at the same time. He shook his head. He had an itch right on the back of the hand, the same one that had plagued him since he lost it. The same phantom itch. He had the damn hand back and the itch was still there. Life was full of cruel irony. He reached and tried to scratch. And even with concentration, he couldn't feel anything, even though he could force the hand to provide some resistance. He gave up and reached through the hand and scratched at the stump. It didn't help, but he scratched anyway.

With the return of the awareness of where and when he was came the return of his awareness of the problems he now faced. If the nightmare was correct, the king wanted him dead, which didn't make sense to Tythos, because that would create a whole new set of problems for the kingdom. The nightmare wasn't even there to discuss its reasoning with him. The creature never ceased to be infuriating. When he was stuck with it, it never shut up. And now that he had something he wanted to talk over with it, it was gone. He needed to figure out a way to keep hold of it. If he lost control of the thing, he didn't know what sort of damage it would cause.

One of the party drew up beside him. Tythos glanced over. It was the older man, probably somewhere in his third or fourth decade. He was lean and weathered, like one of the pines that grew at the edge of the bluffs, and hung on despite the winds and crumbling earth. The trees tenacious efforts to grow, in spite of the harsh conditions, anchored the dirt and sheltered the other trees from the wind. This metaphor had such apt implications for the man riding next to Tythos that he pictured farmer Sagget expounding on it. Tythos began to chuckle.

The man riding beside him gave Tythos a wary look. The kind of look you gave a scared animal, assessing if it was about to attack or flee.

“Just ten years and now all my thoughts come in farming metaphors.” Tythos thought. This observations made him laugh harder.

The man watched Tythos laugh and said nothing. His laughter wound down, and the pair rode in silence for a while. Tythos scanned the farm they were passing, looking for any distressed behavior in the cows, or any sign of the nightmare.

Tythos sighed, “You’re waiting for me to speak first, and you’d wait all day— even all day tomorrow if that was what it took, wouldn’t you?”

The man said nothing.

“I know this trick. I’ve traveled with men like you before. I heard the stories. You’re a hunter, but that’s the obvious conclusion. No one else in the group is old enough or hard enough to be.”

Tythos watched the man for a reaction, but his face was blank and he held his tongue. Tythos shrugged.

“As it goes, a pair of your lot set out on a journey to get a measure of each other. Or to win a bet, I’ve heard different versions. Supposedly, each was reputed to be the greatest hunter in the land, or the world— I have no idea. So they set out, traveling together, hunting together, all the other things your lot does— you’re damn secretive about some of it— neither man saying a word. Not even a grunt, if you get the story further away from the capital. Point was, somehow or other, the need to talk was a sign of weakness— or some shit— and the first to break the silence would be the lesser man.”

Tythos paused, looking for a reaction. Nothing.

“Or some horse shit— I’m just a soldier. Well, farmer now— anyway, they went on like this, the journey not gonna end until one of them broke the silence. Now there are three different endings to this story, but they all amount to the same thing. Ending one, they walk until both men die of old age, neither making a sound. I think this is the most far fetched. Ending two, they do something long and heroic, both dying in the attempt and save a village, or the kingdom— or the world in some versions. This is the most believable— except for saving the world. Then there’s ending three, and you strike me as an ending three kind, where they walk around the whole world, neither man uttering a word, and end up back where they started. Well, this completes the thing for them and they shake hands and part ways as equals.”

Tythos eyed his stoic companion.

“So now I’ve broke the silence you get to be the better man and still ask the questions you’re clearly burning to ask me.”

The man’s mouth twitched, then he schooled his features blank and spoke,

“You’re Tythos Tyrannous Rex?”

Tythos grunted. “Not anymore I’m not. It’s just Tythos now.”

The man gave him a look like he was shit stuck to his shoe.

“Ah, I’ve got your measure now. You hate me, and don’t even know me. Let me guess, someone you knew— maybe more than one— died in the war and you blame me.”

“You started the war.”

“Yes I did. I started that war. You go ahead and hate me if that’s what you need to do. I got one ask though…” Tythos paused to gauge the man’s reaction. “Wait until we get where we’re going before you try it. My woodcraft is shit and I don’t fancy trying to travel without a hunter, or having to kill that lot back there so they’ll leave me alone.”

The man’s eyebrows raised as he caught the implication.

“His name was Gottard and he was ten times the man you’ll ever be—“

“Spare me. If I wanted self-righteous speeches I’d go ride with Sigrun. I don’t claim to be a good man. I don’t think what I did was right or justified. It just is. I get to live with that, and you get to walk away. Take your chance to do that; leave believing I’m shit on your shoe and don’t look back. Make something of yourself instead being anything like me. Thinking somehow you’re doing Gottard proud or some shit.”

The man drew a knife from his belt, his eyes flashing. Tythos looked him in the eye, not hiding what waited if he tried it. The tension between the men stopped the horses and Tythos waited until the man looked away.

“Good. You’ve decided to at least wait. Now, let’s act professional since that means we got to work together.”

The man nodded, sheathed his dagger. “Call me Bird. I’ll act as hunter for this trip and when we get where we’re going, I’m gonna kill you.”

Tythos nodded, “I can live with that.”

A terrified scream pierced the quietude of the falling snow. It was filled with horror and quickly followed by another. It was coming from up the road. The snow and a bluff obscured any chance to see where it was coming from.

Tythos and Bird shot each other a look, then both kicked their horses into a gallop, heading for the sound of the screams.

***