Heric pondered.

For the first time since stepping aboard, Heric had been unable to sleep. He stood at the prow, gazing up at the stars, listening as the wind fluttered the sail. The ship was running dark, with just a covered lantern placed near the stern. Pirate attacks were rare, but not unheard of.

It was their third night aboard the ship. They expected to reach Milardus some time the following morning. The journey had been pleasant. Mostly. There was little privacy aboard the ship, and Tegalie and Lera had remained in the Master’s cabin near the stern (The Master sleeping in the forward spaces with his Mates). It robbed the four of them of spending time with one another. As did the other issue with being aboard a seagoing ship.

While Heric was no stranger to travelling on a ship (and he found it much better than being in a little boat), he still didn’t like it. Getting used to the constant motion, as the ship rolled and dipped upon the waves, took time. Fortunately he no longer became stricken by seasickness. Unfortunately for Falduin and Lera, they did. They spent much of the journey leaning over the gunwale emptying their stomachs overboard.

Tegalie somehow considered their mutual incapacity romantic. Heric did not. He had to live with the smell when Falduin didn’t climb out of his hammock quick enough to reach the bucket. Being below deck only made the stench worse.

Yet despite Falduin’s tender stomach, Heric could see that the wizard was more content with himself. For starters, Falduin no longer felt compelled to fill the silence. Sometimes the two of them would spend hours in their hammocks, or on deck, saying absolutely nothing to one another. The journey had definitely changed the wizard. Or perhaps it was something else.

“What woke you?” Heric asked Falduin the first night aboard. Heric was curious how Falduin had recovered so quickly from the senselessness he’d suffered during the battle.

“A faerie tale,” the wizard said. Heric glanced across to see that the wizard grinning from ear to ear. He didn’t say anymore, and Heric didn’t press the matter. However Heric did overhear Tegalie and Lera speaking in their cabin the next morning.

“You kissed him?” Tegalie asked, astounded.

“On the lips,” Lera said

“And he woke up?”

“He actually wrapped his arms around me and pulled me on top of him. I think that first kiss might have lasted a full hour.”

“How romantic.”

Heric was happy for both of them, however he expected they might face many struggles in their immediate future. Lera suggested that she might use her payment to start a new order of religious sisters, trained not just in the ways of healing, but also in combat. That would take a lot of work.

Falduin fretted that he might still be hunted by the Keepers, the guards at the White Tower. He’d need to take The Test before they caught up with him, or he’d forget everything he’d learnt on the excursion, including their names.

However, none of this was the reason Heric remained awake. He worried about tomorrow. Once they made landfall, once Tegalie was safely returned to The Castle, everything would change. The mission would be over. He would again be a captain without a company.

Tegalie had made some vague promises upon the moor, but Heric had been around the nobility long enough to know that their pledges amounted to little. When he served as Lady Frista’s bodyguard, she teased him mercilessly, offering to set him up for life, as she put it. She even vowed to seduce him on multiple occasions. Yet all her assurances went unfulfilled. Only Sir Helmund honoured his promises, including making Heric his captain despite being so young.

Perhaps the notoriety of rescuing Tegalie would attract the notice of benefactors. Leastwise, it might quell the stench of being associated with the traitorous Lord Elwic. However, Heric suspected the Baron would insist upon secrecy. Nobody would ever know about Tegalie’s sojourn, nor his company’s role in rescuing her.

At the very least Rido had promised him a decent reward. Even after deducting all the others’ shares he would be well-off. Yet he didn’t know what he would do with any new -found wealth. He had no real plans beyond delivering Tegalie safe and sound.

He heard one of the crew call out from nearby, “Twelve fathoms.” A depth reading. A moment later the ship turned to the right.

Heric found himself thinking about what had happened over the last few weeks. So many innocents dead: the bargemen; Burha; and of course Fahesha. Even the plague victims, the Priestesses of Baná had been burying. Strangely, all their deaths hit him harder than the countless victims he’d seen during The Wars. It didn’t seem fair, or right, for them to have survived so much warfare only to die soon after.

His thoughts eventually turned to the two members of his company he had left in Frileah: Ifonsa and Ganthe. He hoped they chose to follow Lera’s advice and remain until they were fully healed.

Lera had placed them under the care of the Reverend Mother. She had spent a good deal of time instructing the Reverend Mother how to treat them. Lera had said that was why they were late arriving at the ship.

“I still fret for their welfare,” Lera had said. “But seeing Teg safely home is far too important.” She sighed and said, “However, I don’t believe Elean fully understood what I was teaching her. It was Sister Sinda that was the clever one. Too clever perhaps.”

“Were Ifonsa and Ganthe awake when you left them?” Heric asked.

“Ganthe was. I believe he thought he was strong enough to make the journey. He’s not. I told him to rest and heal. He did say that he felt he was no longer welcome in Milardus. His intention was always to leave us.”

“Not even after rescuing the Princess?”

“He probably made many enemies, living as he did.”

“He didn’t really have much choice. What about his share? Did he mention where he planned to go?”

“Not beyond what he divulged previously. To settle down. To buy a farm. To wander. It kept changing. I expect Tegalie’s benefaction will be enough for now. If you want my advice, save it until your paths cross again.”

“Do you believe that likely?”

Lera nodded, “If it is Úlæ’s will.”

However, Heric thought it was better to return to Frileah to deliver it personally, to both Ganthe and Ifonsa. If he could find a ship heading that way he’d leave within a day or two.

Heric was suddenly reminded of something Falduin had said. It was after one of his purges. Heric had sat with him for a while, neither of them speaking for a long time.

“Be wary of a wizard with salt in his hair.” Falduin had suddenly said. It was almost as though he was talking to himself, as he gazed across the water.

“What do you mean?” Heric asked.

“We don’t tend to live long.”

“What about the masters you keep disparaging?”

“They live very much within a safe garden with walls surrounding them. They keep a close watch upon one another to ensure they don’t stray too far from acceptable practise.”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“In the Towers, at least in the White Tower, we are taught just enough to be useful, without becoming... dangerous. Or that’s the intention,” Falduin explained. “Once we pass The Test, once we are assigned our placements, they can’t watch us as closely. I’m certain during the initial years the Keepers maintain a careful watch, but at some point that must wane. So an old wizard, must either be a dotard that has obeyed the rules for twenty years or more, and therefore is dangerous beyond measure because of his stupidity, or is good enough to hide their efforts from The Keepers.”

“Efforts?”

“Experiments. We are naturally curious. We constantly seek for ways to do things better.”

“Who?” Heric asked, “Wizards or non-wizards?”

“Yes,” Falduin murmured, “But our craft is exceedingly dangerous. Sooner or later we all stray too far.”

“And?”

Falduin turned to Heric, “We die horribly,” he said. “Or worse.”

“What’s worse than dying horribly?”

“Living horribly,” Falduin said, and turned back to stare out at the sea.

Heric wondered if tomorrow he would return to living horribly.

They arrived at Milardus soon after dawn, however it took until mid-morning before they managed to berth. The harbour was busy, and they had to wait. Firstly for the tax official to row out to them and check their cargo. Then they had to wait for space at one of the docks.

The Ship’s Master had requested to tie up at the Northern Dock, where the Fishing Fleet berthed. There was one pier there that was rarely used except for the larger ships coming from Arthleah, or The Empire. The Master preferred to use it whenever he was allowed. Initially they were granted permission, however the pilot guided them to the Southern Docks instead. The Master shrugged and explained to Heric that these things happen from time to time.

Heric didn’t mind. All it did was lengthen his journey to The Castle. He could remain captain for a little while longer.

He was almost glad to be back in Milardus. The stench he could live without, but he enjoyed the mood of the place. It made him feel alive. Even if the place was completely chaotic.

The docks certainly lived up to that description. They were a mad scramble, as labourers worked to load and unload the ships. Barrels, amphorae, crates, as well as live goats, sheep, caged chickens, ducks and geese, all competed for space with ships crews, porters, passengers, soldiers and officials. It was bedlam.

What he didn’t particularly miss was being back in his armour. He’d noticed its absence the first day, the lack of weight especially, but by that night he welcomed being free of it. The constant jingling was gone, as was the rancid smell he’d never managed to remove.

He stood on deck, sword in hand, as they pulled into their dock. That drew the attention of those on the nearby vessels. Even those working on the wharf stopped to stare.. It also drew derisive laughter from the crew.

“It’s weird being back,” Tegalie said, as they pushed through the crowd towards the Dock Gate. “It’s only been a month, and I feel so much has changed.”

Heric’s mouth watered as they passed one of the vendors offering slices of goat and spiced pork cooked over an open flame. It had been a long time since he’d indulged in some of Milardus’s famous Dock Food.

“How often did you manage to leave the castle?” Lera asked Tegalie.

“Fahesha and I would sneak away whenever we could. We’d dress up in old clothes, and then take one of the secret ways out of The Castle. We’d wander about in the markets, and Fahesha would teach me how to buy and haggle. After The Goblin War, we even saw a show at the Hewarta. Cats with Blacksmiths.”

Tegalie sighed. “Without Fahesha, it all feels different now.”

“And yet so much remains the same,” Heric said, as he spotted the patrol of soldiers marching toward them.

“So soon?” Tegalie asked. “I only just sent it.”

“They’re not here for you. In any case, he wouldn’t send soldiers.” Heric turned to Falduin, who walked side-by-side with Lera behind them, “Quick, hand me your sword.”

“Why?” Falduin asked. He still wore his blade on his hip.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lera said, her hands unbuckling the scabbard, Ganthe had found for Falduin. “You’re not allowed to wear this,” she explained to him.

“And you are?” Falduin asked.

“Yes,” Lera said, coiling the belt around her.

“What about me?” Tegalie asked Heric. She carried her sword in her hands, again wrapped in linen.

“Keep your head down. They won’t even notice,” he told her.

By lawful decree, only those with the special permission could go arrayed for war within the town walls. Technically the docks weren’t within the walls, but the law was still enforced. They stopped to wait for the patrol to reach them, as Lera and Heric fished in their packs for their Letters of Lawful Deterrent.

The soldiers examined Heric’s and Lera’s authorisations carefully. That was another changed, Heric noted. The Guard weren’t normally this diligent. Something must have happened.

Once the soldiers were finished with Heric and Lera, their eyes fell upon Falduin.

“What?” Falduin asked. “I’m unarmed,” he held out his open palms, then slowly twirled. “See.”

“You’re an Apprentice from the High Tower.”

“He’s with me,” Lera said.

“Sorry,” the Leader shrugged. “You’ll need to come with us,” he said to Falduin.

“Why?” Falduin asked. “I only just arrived.”

“Orders,” The Leader said, “From the Keepers of the High Tower.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“Since when does The Guard follow the orders of The High Tower?” Heric asked.

“You’ll be interned until the Keepers can provide you with the necessary authorisation,” The Leader stated.

“He does not need authorisation,” Lera said calmly. She smiled at the Leader.

“He doesn’t need authorisation,” the Leader repeated.

“This is not the Apprentice you’re looking for.”

“This is not the Apprentice we’re looking for.”

“He can go about his business,” Lera told the Leader.

“He can go about his business”

“Move along,” Lera prompted.

“Move along,” The Leader said stepping aside and waving them through, “Move along.”

As they left the patrol behind, they all watched Lera. However none of them said a word. Meanwhile, Lera walked serenely as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

They expected more trouble at the Dock Gate, but the guards just waved them through. Whether it was because of something Lera did or just because there were so many waiting to pass into the town Heric didn’t know, but he was pleased to pass through unhindered.

They followed the hordes heading down Water Street. Rows of craft shops (designed to attract the trade of visitors) lined the right side of the street, but on their left there was only a railing, to prevent anyone from falling into The River.

It was pleasant just ambling in silence. Just the four of them amongst the crowd. The breeze was cool, driving away the mid-morning warmth. Spring was gradually turning into Summer.

As they neared The Tall Bridge, Heric spotted what remained of the Crown and Anchor on the opposite bank. All the debris had been removed, and rebuilding had already begun. It looked like another tavern to replace the one Falduin had burnt down.

He glanced to Falduin and Lera. They met his gaze and nodded. They had noticed too.

“Let’s take Fair Bridge,” Heric said.

“The Tall Bridge is right there,” Tegalie protested. And she was right. It was directly in front of them, but it would take them straight past the site of the former meeting place.

“I agree with Heric,” Lera said. “Let’s prolong this moment together while we may.”

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Tegalie glanced at each of the others in turn, then nodded, “It’s only a little out of our way,” she agreed.

However by the time they reached it, the Fair Bridge was blocked by an overturned cart. Instead of trying to right the cart, or even unhook the horse, the driver was too busy arguing with the another cart driver, who he blamed for the accident.

There was a long line of carts, wagons, horses and other traffic backed up along the arched bridge. Fortunately, it appeared as though there was just enough room for pedestrians to slip through between the upturned cart and the edge of the bridge. Heric and the others joined the end of the queue and waited as it slowly crept towards the top of the arch.

“Holy Mother,” Tegalie began, as they drew near to the blockage. “Why did you tell Fastri we were the Chosen?”

“I’ve already told you,” Lera said. “I didn’t. Lord Fastri drew his own conclusions.”

Falduin laughed, “You told him to consider what would happen if he stood in the way of The Chosen Ones.”

“Stood in the way?” Tegalie asked.

The crash site was a mess, spilt grain covering almost the entire bridge. However instead of cleaning it up, the argument between the drivers had gotten more heated. They kept wandering across the bridge as they screamed at one another. What surprised Heric was that nobody complained. Nobody seemed to be in a hurry. Everyone, including the pedestrians, just gathered around to watch. Heric had to push past them.

“Lord Fastri believed I was still too ill to travel,” Lera said. “He even prompted Elean to back him up.”

“And?”

“She did initially, and Fastri ordered his guards to bar my leaving. However, Elean’s heart wasn’t in it.”

Heric glanced to his left over towards The Tall Bridge. They really should have taken that route. It was completely clear. He could see people running across it. He always found it ironic that The Fair Bridge looked down upon The Tall Bridge.

The Tall Bridge had been built first, of course, and both crossings needed to be high enough to allow ships to pass underneath them. Not that the Eastern Docks were used much for ships. They were mainly used for barges now.

Further Westward, smoke rose from somewhere beyond the West Gate, near the Northern Docks. Heric wondered what had caused it.

“Did you...?” Falduin asked.

“Did I, what?” Lera asked.

“Do what you did to the soldiers?”

“I did nothing to the soldiers whatsoever. They just saw... reason,” Lera said. “But to answer your question, no. I did not. Elean couldn’t wait to see me leave. I think they’re lovers, Fastri and Elean. That would be the only reason for a Reverend Mother to be posted at the frontier. She was always so prim and proper in the convent too. No. Ultimately, I posed a threat to Elean, and so she petitioned for my ... our release.”

“But that wasn’t enough,” Falduin added.

“No. I didn’t have time to conceive something better.”

“So even after being touched by Úlæ himself, you don’t believe that we’re the Chosen?” Tegalie asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s simple,” Lera said, “We’re not important enough. I don’t believe there are, or ever were, Chosen Ones. Even En was just one of many. Without the thousands that died to enable him to reach the Demon Gate, he would never have succeeded. And that came at the end of a thousand year war, and the untold numbers that sacrificed themselves along the way. No, as monumental as our feats are personally, they matter too little. All we did was survive a goblin attack, and that’s hardly unusual in these parts.”

The two cart drivers had resorted to shoving, as they screamed at one another. The man in front of Heric stepped aside to watch. Heric pushed through the gap. Beyond the way was clear, down to the other side of the River and The Fair Way, which would eventually lead them to the Castle.

“There’s also the snake creatures,” Falduin added.

Heric noticed there were about twenty people running eastwards along River Street. He wondered if they were the same ones he’d seen rushing over The Tall Bridge. He glanced back towards the top of the arch. One of the arguing cartmen stared straight back at him

“I’m more than half convinced they were phantasms. Even in En’s time resurrecting the decapitated was impossible.” She turned to Heric, “Are you certain it was the Goblin King?”

“Run,” Heric cried. “Run! It’s a trap!”

They ran. Down the bridge towards where it crossed River Street. Glancing to the East, Heric saw that that side of River Street was clear. In fact, except for those on the Fair Bridge, and the runners heading towards them, all the streets were empty. How had they managed that without drawing the attention and ire of The Guard?

To the West, he could see the runners. Heric didn’t like the look of them. Fortunately, the runners were still a good way behind.

“Straight,” Heric shouted, and they passed over River Street onto The Fair Way.

They didn’t get far. Just beyond the kink in the road they found two carts blocking their way. Each cart was filled with dry straw. They burst into fire as soon as they appeared in view a thick plume of black smoke pouring upward.

“Right!” Heric told them, as he ducked down one of the narrow alleys between the buildings. Twisting and turning they eventually found themselves in a wide plaza, normally reserved for weekend markets, and night festivals during summer.

Heric’s parents had brought him there once as a child on a day excursion. He remembered being fascinated by the jugglers.

They turned left, heading along the long twisting area. During his visit as a child, it had been filled with a variety of stalls, selling all sorts of cooked food, fresh vegetables and fruits, but also items crafted from wood. It was crowded too. He initially found that intimidating, and his father had to carry him on his shoulders. Heric had gazed around at all the wonderful clothing people wore. So many colours.

This time the area was completely empty. There were no stalls, and no people other than them. It just felt like a large alley, filled with rubbish and nightsoil, instead of a wondrous place packed with glorious food and music.

Heric knew they were being herded. He just didn’t know where.

Then he heard the rapid sound of popping. The noise echoed off the surrounding walls growing louder and louder. Then a torrent of fire roared over their heads. They stopped.

Stuska, the witch, floated down to land fifteen or so paces in front of them. She wore black, her dress and hood trimmed with red. She had pulled the hood low so that it covered her face, revealing just a few locks of long dirty-white hair.

“I’ll take care of this,” Falduin said.

“We’ll all take care of this,” Heric told him.

Falduin shook his head, “You’re going to be too busy with them.” He indicated behind Heric.

The Runners had caught up to them.

The Runners proved to be the same bandits that had pursued them from Cabridge. Some of them openly wore an iron cultist ring on their fingers. However, these ones didn’t wear armour, and they only carried knives, staves, and clubs for weapons. Yet there were enough of them (at least twenty) for Heric to worry about their chances. And even that presumed that Falduin could neutralise the witch, which given past encounters didn’t seem likely.

The bandits spread out across the plaza. All were breathing hard from their run.

Heric, Lera and Tegalie drew their swords taking up defensive positions.

“Do you want your sword?” Lera asked Falduin.

Falduin shook his head, his gaze firmly locked on Stuska.

“We just want the girl,” a familiar voice cried from amongst the bandits.

A hooded figure pushed its way to stand before the motley crowd. The cowl hid its features, but the weapon tucked into its belt revealed its identity.

“Orwic,” Lera hissed at the same time that Tegalie said, “Sem.”

Orwic chuckled, “You remembered me. Good.”

“That’s my axe,” Lera said.

“I’ll swap it for the girl.”

“There are no girl’s here,” Lera snapped. “Only women.”

Orwic snorted.

Tegalie peered around at the rooftops off to her right. The buildings were higher on that side of the plaza, further up the hill. Heric glanced towards them but couldn’t see anything of note. Had Tegalie spied something he’d missed?

“Why don’t you sweeten the deal,” Lera said.

“How?”

“Your head on a board would be start.”

Another snort from Orwic.

“Keep him talking,” Tegalie whispered.

“What?” Heric asked.

But Lera was already ahead of him. “That was a nasty wound to the belly. How did you survive?” She asked Orwic.

Orwic cackled. “I didn’t”

“You look lively for a corpse.”

“Do you see what you’re facing?” Orwic said, pacing in front of his troops, “There are more than thirty of us, and four of you.”

“Thirty?” Heric said. “I must have miscounted. I see only twenty.”

“There are... others,” Orwic said dismissing the dispute with a wave of his hand.

“There’s more than four of us too,” Heric said.

Orwic snorted.

“You know our number,” Heric added, coolly.

Orwic hesitated and glanced around at the rooftops.

“It’s about to kick off,” Falduin hissed.

“What?” Heric asked, quietly.

“The witch can’t hold her power much longer.”

Orwic snorted again. “Your number.” He chuckled, then asked. “Will that be ten, fifteen, thirty-five, or a hundred? Shall we ask Ganthe?”

“Dropped any pretense of being young, I see, “Falduin abruptly sniped at the witch.

Heric glanced towards the witch. Her hood had fallen back to reveal an old face covered with worry lines and many wrinkles. Her hair was almost completely white. She wore it long, the strands irregular and looking as though they hadn’t been brushed or cut in years. Her back was bowed, and she leant heavily upon her broom as she used it to draw a circle around her. However, what caught Heric’s attention was that neither of Stuska’s eyes had a pupil. They were slitted, like the eye of a snake.

Noticing the distraction the witch offered, the bandits abruptly began to close in. However, Orwic settled them with a wave of his hand.

“Calm. Calm,” he said. “There’s no need for bloodshed.” He strode forward, addressing Tegalie, “Teg. Teg. You wanted this. You told me all the great things you’d do when you were Queen. Come join us. What do you say?”

Tegalie remained defiantly silent.

Orwic addressed Heric, “What have you done to her? Cut out her tongue?”

“He is my captain,” Tegalie cried, “He speaks for me. And I for him. We are one voice.”

“Which voice do you speak with, Orwic?” Lera said, gently. She had been silent during most of their engagement, Heric realised. Quietly staring at Orwic. “Why don’t you show them what you have become,” she said. “What they will become should they wear the ring, swear the oaths, and drink the blood of the serpent.”

Orwic’s peered at Lera. Even though his face remained hidden, they could feel the hatred and malice directed at The Priestess.

“Reveal your face,” Lera said. Her voice was calm, but there was no doubt it was a command.

Orwic’s fought against it, but slowly his hands began to rise.

“No!” Stuska suddenly cried. Heric didn’t know where to look. At Orwic or Stuska?

Falduin stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards Stuska. “Hold it. Hold it.” he whispered.

“No,” she wailed.

Stuska’s hand snapped out, a jet of fire directed at Falduin. But almost instantly the jet was smothered in ice. The frozen shard crashed to the ground and shattered.

“Hold it,” Falduin said, drawing closer and closer to the witch.

“Reveal yourself,” Lera commanded. “Reveal what you have become, deceitful demon spawn.”

Orwic whimpered as he hands shook. Dots of sweat poured down his exposed arms as the sleeves of the robe fell away. Painstakingly, Orwic’s hands rose until they just touched the fore-hem of the hood.

A knife suddenly darted from amongst the bandits. It spun, end-over-end, headed straight for Lera. Tegalie’s sword snapped out, knocking the weapon away. It clattered on the cobblestones and slammed into a wall harmlessly, but the distraction was enough to break Lera’s attention.

Orwic turned and fled, as Lera sighed and staggered from the effort. Tegalie reached out and steadied her.

The bandits eyed Lera warily. However, they were not cowed. Enough of them realised they still had the tactical advantage. They closed in weapons ready.

Heric didn’t give them a chance to organise. He charged straight towards them, his mighty sword leaping out towards, what Heric thought, was one of the ringleaders. The bandit tried to evade, but he was too hemmed in. Heric’s blade punctured right through the bandit’s chest. He fell.

The bandits closed in around Heric, coming at him from many sides. As he was withdrawing the sword, something caught his eye. He ducked instinctively, and the end of the quarterstaff glanced off his helmet with a dull thunk. He felt something dance off his breastplate, and then a pain in his thigh as a club struck him. His leg almost buckled, but he stepped back, unleashing his blade in a wide arc. They bandits leapt back, out of the way.

Then Tegalie was there, her sword darting about, feinting, then she suddenly slammed it into the skull of a bandit that retreated far too slowly.

Both Tegalie and Heric stepped back. The bandits were far more reluctant to rush them now.

“Hold it. Hold it.” Falduin’s voice said.

Heric could hear Stuska whimpering and whining like a dying dog. He dared not look away to see what was happening to her.

“You’re almost there,” Falduin whispered.

Stuska uttered a despairing cry.

“There.” Falduin whispered.

Heric turned, but just a fraction too late. All he saw was the after images that later haunted his dreams.

A maelstrom of flames surrounded the Witch, all contained within the circle she had drawn. Then for the briefest of moments, the inferno retreated into her body. She transformed: her head into a deformed hand, a candle flame leaping from it; her right arm was missing entirely, but from the stump of her left arm a jet of fire streaked upwards. It bloomed into a blazing hand, the fingers distorted and misshapen. She uttered a strangled cry. Her body strained, fiery seams peeking from beneath her skin and even her clothes. They pulsated once...twice... and then the Witch exploded in a fire storm that burst outwards.

However no fire touched them. Not even as much as a warm warm reached Heric or the others. The flames recoiled away from some unseen barrier Falduin had erected.

Once all the fire had evaporated there was no sign the witch ever existed beyond her broom. It lay smouldering on the ground.

When Heric turned back towards the bandits they were already fleeing, scattering down the alleys.

“What just happened?” Heric asked.

“Something I’ve want to try for weeks,” Falduin said as he retrieved the broom. “Ever since I noticed it in the cave. I was too exhausted on the moor.” He regarded the broom, “I’ve always wanted to ride one of these.”

“Are you well?” Heric asked Lera.

“Yes,” Lera said, waving away his help. “Whatever Orwic has become, it’s strong.”

“But you were stronger. Let’s go,” Heric told the others.”Before they can re-organise.”

“Wait,” Tegalie said, placing her hand upon Heric’s arm.

“We need to get you to the Castle.”

“Listen.”

Heric couldn’t hear anything beyond the constant buzzing.

“Sometimes you come to the Castle,” Tegalie said with a smile, “Sometimes the Castle comes to you.”

Then Heric heard it. Horses. Approaching rapidly. And the cries of The Guard, and the bells of the Fire Watch.

Just then four knights rode in, line abreast, from the arcade leading to The Fair Way. Behind them appeared two men wearing golden scale armour, their tabards bearing a white orb on a black field. They rode either side of a man, middle-aged but wearing no armour. Instead he was attired in a silken doublet and breeches, in golds and red, with a knightly sword at his hip.

Heric knew the man by sight, even though he had only seen him a handful of times. This was Baron Wreld du Milardus, Lord of the West. He was also Tegalie’s father.

Heric dropped to one knee and lowered his gaze, as he placed his sword on the ground before him. Lera knelt beside him, following Heric’s lead and laying both her and Falduin’s swords on the ground beside her shield.

Heric heard other soldiers arrive, from behind and down the alleys and side streets leading into the plaza. He glanced behind to make certain that Falduin obeyed the protocols and had knelt as well. However, the wizard was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Falduin?” Heric whispered to Lera.

“Gone.” She murmured. “The ones in the gold scale are Keepers.”

“How’d he leave so quickly?”

“He used his magic to run away,” she said. “Such a bounder.”

Heric glanced at Lera. She had a grin on her face and love in her eyes.

“Who stands in the presence of His Grace?” a voice cried out. One of the knights acting as herald, Heric guessed.

“I do,” Tegalie said loudly. Heric risked a glance towards her. She remained standing, her chin high and defiant. “His Grace’s errant daughter.”

“Where’s Fahesha?” The Baron asked, spurring his horse forward past the knights.

“She died sacrificing herself upon Thelna Moor.”

The Baron stopped his horse in front of Tegalie.

“Sacrificed herself? To save you?” the Baron’s voice indignant.

“To save a Royal Warden.”

“Then at least one of my daughters acted nobly.”

Heric and Lera exchanged an astonished glance.

“Who are these two?” the Baron asked.

“They were sent by Rido to rescue me.”

The Baron grunted, “They shouldn’t have bothered.”

“Then both your daughters would be dead.” Tegalie snapped. “And you’d need to explain that to The King.”

“Yes,” the Baron said. It came out as a hiss. “That would take a great deal of explaining wouldn’t it?” He turned his horse towards his knights. “Welcome home, daughter. My knights will see you safely escorted to the Castle. Try not to get lost. Rido won’t be able to save you.”

The Baron trotted back towards his knights.

“Why not?” Tegalie called.

“He’s dead.”

Heric stood and watched as the Baron rode away. With a cold realisation he suspected had been very wrong. Especially his claim, near Old Moon Hill, about The Baron not needing to use bandits. What if he couldn’t use his own men? Heric’s gaze fell upon Tegalie.

“Your Highness,” It was the Herald. His tabard, silver arrow on an azure field. He dismounted and led his horse towards them.

“Sir Aelgan,” Tegalie said stiffly.

“If you wish, you may ride my horse,” Sir Aelgan offered the reins

“Thank you, but I shall walk with my comrades.”

Aelgan turned, “And who are your comrades, Highness?”

Tegalie introduced them. “Sir Aelgan, may I introduce you to The Holy Mother, Lera. And this is my-“

“Her Highness’ bodyguard,” Heric interjected. And for the first time in a long time, Heric had found his purpose.

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END

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