After Danto’s death and return, Galen’s narrator had informed him that even in this world where magic was real, bringing people back from death was a big deal. All the usual TTRPG constraints applied—the magic required was powerful and rare, it didn’t always work, and the ritual required was usually far too expensive for any but the most rich and influential to be able to afford it.

Galen had also picked up on a sense that resurrection was often considered unnatural, especially if worked by a non-divine nobody of a person who couldn’t even explain how he’d come by those powers. Better to just let the matter slide past official notice.

They’d made one half-hearted attempt to explain everything to Danto after he’d regained consciousness. Danto had dismissively and a bit insistently repeated his claim that he’d been just dreaming and seemed to not want to hear anything more about it.

So Galen had let that slide, too. And after that, of course, during their regular, non-militia lives, Galen and Danto had little cause to cross paths.

But you did see him.

“Once. A couple of days after.” Galen studied Brin’s face in profile, but he couldn’t understand anything more of what he saw there than he could from listening to the plants or the earth. “I had a nightmare. About him dying. Only in the dream, he stayed dead.”

Galen had wakened in utter darkness from that nightmare, his sweat-soaked blanket wrapped so tight against his face that he saw only blackness and could barely breathe. He’d felt, almost, as if he’d heard voices then, too.

“It was unsettling. So on my way to work, I swung by Voshell’s Favor, just to see for myself that he was all right.”

“And was he?”

Again, Galen was struck by the sense that Brin’s question had more weight than it seemed at first notice.

“I didn’t talk to him for long. But.”

“But?”

“He was… Danto. Wearing his Novice robes like they were prison chains. Bored and restless and talking about his next militia stint like it would be a reprieve.”

Brin smiled. “I suppose he’ll be happy to see us tonight, then.”

“Maybe.”

Brin’s smile faltered. “You think he won’t?”

“He was Danto. But there was something different about him, too. Almost like, I don’t know. A shadow in his eyes.”

Brin’s brow furrowed anew. After a moment, she nodded. “He died. He claimed not to remember, but he went through the experience just the same. How could that not change something about him?”

Galen nodded. Brin was right, of course. But despite having gone to see Danto alive and being his usual self, Galen still hadn’t shaken that sense of heavy darkness that had wrapped like a blanket across his face when he wakened from the nightmare of Danto’s death.

“Things certainly changed for you.” Galen gladly stepped away from the heavier topic and toward one that seemed entirely good. He cast a grin in Brin’s direction. “You don’t miss the farm at all, I guess?”

Brin’s face changed entirely. Her brow smoothed, her mouth curved, and her eyes lit up. “Since I petitioned the commander for full-time duty and got it? Just long enough to gather a few things and say my goodbyes. My folks have me over for dinner now and again. But it’s not the same thing at all.”

Brin had handled the commander on that day that Danto had died and Galen had blundered into resurrecting him. Certainly, neither Galen nor Danto had been capable of handling anything. That Brin had then leveraged her job well done and accomplished her goal of becoming a career soldier bothered Galen not in the least.

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“You deserved it.”

“I’m never going back.” Some of Brin’s previous ferocity had mellowed, but it underscored her words now. “I am going to be the very best soldier the commander has ever seen.”

Galen snorted a laugh. “So why in Voshell’s name are you rounding up me and Danto of all people to help you?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

Brin and Galen rounded the corner, and Danto hopped down from the wall where he’d been sitting. His boots scuffed as he picked up his rucksack.

As Danto straightened, just for a breath of a moment, he seemed to wince. In the falling darkness, the shadows under his eyes seemed deep.

Then Danto grinned expectantly at Brin. “I certainly won’t complain about being rescued from the Tender. But why? What’s going on?”

Brin’s face lit even more than when she’d been talking about her new career. Her smile took in Danto and Galen, both. “Impatient boys. I’ll explain on the way to the barracks.”

Guilt whispered at Galen’s ear, reminding him that every moment he was away was a moment he wasn’t helping his family.

But Danto hooked one arm through Brin’s and the other through Galen’s, and the whisper quieted.

#

When they departed the next morning, early autumn cool rose from the earth but sunlight soaked into Galen’s bare forearms. Rain overnight had turned the air sweet but left the road muddy, so he and Brin and Danto walked their borrowed horses on the grassy roadside. A few farm carts trundled past, one direction or the other, but not many. Summery weather still held sway, and the season was too early yet for many crops to be harvested and hauled into market.

To either side of the road, deep greens and golds of distant tree crowns overlooked the crisper emerald of grasses waving in a southerly breeze. Between grasslands and pastures, mottled gray lines of low stone walls marked off boundaries for the specks of white and black and tan that were distant cattle and sheep. Darker brown and gray farmhouses and outbuildings dotted the countryside.

None of them burned. No black smoke marred the brilliance of the blue sky. Galen tensed as they approached the turnoff path which wound eventually to Gastusad Manor.

But you’re not going that way today.

Since the massacre at the manor, no more had been seen or heard of those raiders from across the river. Nor, according to Commander Farsafe, had there been any other trouble along this stretch of road. That was, she had assured them, the reason she felt comfortable sending out a less experienced party of scouts—that, and her faith in Brin’s capability to handle herself.

The scouting had to do with a caravan traveling north along the High River Way from Diairm and through Chanford Falls that would pass along this same road in a few days’ time. It would have a full guard on it, but Commander Farsafe wanted her people to travel north from Chanford Falls and ensure that section of the River Way was also safe.

A guard on a caravan was no rarity. Merchants and other travelers making the trek from Diairm all the way to Thandre and points north often took such a precaution.

But why the extra precaution from Chanford Falls’ militia commander?

The narrator didn’t conjecture, and it was probably above Galen’s pay grade, so he hadn’t asked. Their orders were to go as far as the village of Utfast, three days travel north on the militia-provided horses they rode. As they traveled, they were to gather reports from people at their stopping points about travel conditions—and stay out of trouble all along the way. By the end of a week, they should be back in Chanford Falls to pass along their findings to the commander.

Despite the commander’s admonition to stay out of trouble, Galen and Danto had each been outfitted with the usual militia gear—worn leather armor, equally worn green and brown tabards, and spears. Galen had couched the butt of his spear in a carrying sling on his horse.

Much as Galen enjoyed a good game combat, he mostly hoped he wouldn’t need the spear. He didn’t regret killing the raider that he had—she would certainly have killed him if he’d left her to it. But although they came less frequently than the nightmares about dead Danto, sometimes Galen dreamed of blood on his hands that would not wash away.

She wasn’t even a real person. He kept telling himself that, but the dreams didn’t seem to care.

Danto handled his weapon with even greater temerity than Galen, but not so Brin. As a regular, her armor looked slightly less tattered. The spear she carried was more slender and all of metal, and she’d slung a shortbow and quiver on her saddle, as well. She carried herself with an easy confidence that Galen had only glimpsed in her before. Despite the persistent serious furrow of her brow, Galen caught flutters at the corners of her mouth.

She’s enjoying this.

Whether what Brin enjoyed was a chance to show off her new situation or being entrusted with official leadership of their little scouting party or merely the chance to be on the road for a few days, Galen could only guess. He didn’t have to guess that whatever the reason, watching her made his own heart a bit lighter.