The stagnant air that the meeting left behind had quickly dissipated over the passing days and was replaced with the nervous energy of waiting. Some had joked that it was all an overreaction and the assembled tribes would find nothing of note, that Valentin had hallucinated it. Valentin hoped that the jests turned out to be correct, even at the cost of his own credibility and sanity.
Numerous messengers had been dispatched the afternoon of the meeting to spread word throughout the Jerv Forest to assemble and eliminate the spirit. All they could do was hope that they would be answered by their rivals.
Ferron announced his nonparticipation in the venture south, but allowed any of his warriors to go if they so desired. His words ripped the blanket of comfort from the villagers, who had been content with Ferron’s warriors fulfilling their protection. When only three warriors volunteered, the villagers were forced to confront the fact that they had to be the ones to risk their lives.
He stood by Ferron when the Elders sent off the expedition. The villagers donned their gambesons and their iron caps. Some didn’t even possess those basic amenities and stood in their ragged jackets and cloaks and hoods. They put on brave faces but were betrayed by the spears that shook and rattled in their untrained hands. Even the scarce volunteers from the Armée looked unconfident with the troops meant to watch their backs.
Chief Glenna stood a couple paces in front of the other Elders and Ferron to address the volunteers. “You few that stand before me symbolize the pride of this village, of the Jerv. You are the protectors of our hopes for tomorrow. You few that do not call this place your home but chose to face peril, your spirits have been truly blessed by the Great Spirit. I humbly thank you. If you ever feel lost, please remember what it is you left for. Your names will go down in song.”
The village cheered for those that willingly chose to face the unknown threat in their stead. However, the volunteers didn’t appear to have their spirits raised. Glenna’s speech only seemed to weigh down on them further, as though their deaths had already been ensured.
Some relatives of the volunteers attempted to dissuade their clan mate at the final moment and remain behind. While some looked as though they wanted to relent and return to the cheering crowd, they knew it would only result in shame regardless of the outcome of the expedition. Instead, they stood steadfastly.
Valentin watched Min do the same to Gervin. Tears beaded in the woman’s eyes as she implored him not to go. The man reached to her face with a gloved hand and caressed it. She nestled into it with a face of pained comfort before they separated again.
“Why is Gervin going?” Valentin asked no one in particular.
“His wife’s from here,” Ferron answered. “I would have been shocked if he didn’t go. That is, if he loves her.”
Valentin tilted his head to the side like a puppy that discovered something new. Valentin had begun to doubt that such a thing existed. His memories of kindness shown to him were now perceived through a dirtied lens. He considered what it was people wanted from him through those acts. Memories of affection now warped and creating a vile feeling within that made him internally recoil.
Elder Caci marched forwards out of the village and the expedition followed. The procession trudged away from the longhouse and the crowd bid them farewell with a subdued energy. The remaining souls stood and watched them get further and further away until they disappeared over the crest of the hill.
“What do you think will happen?” Valentin asked Ferron. The energy that exuded from the village was as though the expedition had already failed.
“I wonder if the village is more worried about the spirit or the other Jerv tribes,” Ferron remarked. “It wouldn’t surprise me if there was a fight afterwards.”
“Why are they so hostile to each other anyways?” Valentin pried with an annoyed voice. “We help our neighbors where I’m from.”
“After Rilleon the Jerv and the other warlords left the Jerv Forest and founded Strettia, they say the least of them had been left behind. Now all that remains is a petty collection of those not good enough to conquer the country. Each was equally deluded that they were the rightful successors to Rilleon, but none have ever been up to task. Now they all walk around with a misplaced sense of superiority over the rest.”
So that’s what they were really marching for. To try to find a decisive blow to show dominion over all the other tribes. It was a disappointing revelation. It was foolish to assume that this expedition was done for love or any consideration of those that had been slaughtered.
----------------------------------------
A subsequent malaise hung over the village of Lutant. Villagers petitioned their ancestors for the safe return of their family members and they spoke constantly about their missing clansman over meals. They were colder to the warriors of the Armée who chose not to participate and it was common to see the groups segregated. A tense animosity lingered wherever one would look despite Chief Glenna’s best efforts to preach harmony.
Even if everyone wished to stay still and wait anxiously for the expedition’s safe return, time marched onwards and the villagers returned to their daily tasks.
Valentin was no exception as he dragged his groggy body towards the clearing to meet with his relentless instructor. The sessions had only grown more and more intense since their first meeting. He was run ragged, made to chop down trees, carried oversized objects, and rowed Hrost around the bay in a small rowboat.
He vomited after his second lesson and napped the entire afternoon.
Even his meals grew ever larger in portion size. Ferron instructed him that if he wished to be a powerful warrior, he needed to have the build of one. Valentin’s appetite did not match the portions but he was made to eat until he felt overfull and lethargic. A single meal would feed any of those children for a day or two, but he had to press that concern towards the back of his mind. There was purpose to this; he was constantly reminded of the foundation that they were meticulously building within.
An imposing boy leaned against a tree on the trail towards the clearing. His arms were crossed and his face was contorted with deep thought. His eyes were shut and he did not notice Valentin’s approach.
“Darri?”
Darri went rigid in surprise, as though the arrival had come too soon. “Valentin. What are the chances of seeing you here?”
“I walk past here every morning to go to training,” Valentin responded. He was uncertain where his relationship with the kids stood and how familiar he should act.
“Oh, well isn’t that…something.”
The two boys stood in awkward silence, both without the proper confidence to drive the conversation forwards. Valentin made the first move. Unfortunately, it was not one towards reconciliation.
“Listen, Darri, I can’t stay and chat. Hrost will have my head if I’m late for training.”
“Wait, Valentin, I need your help. Do you think Hrost will train me too?” Darri spoke with an uncharacteristic softness in his voice as he braved the question.
“If you come with me I can ask. Though I wonder why it has to be Hrost.” Valentin was certain that Hrost would decline but didn’t want to deliver the bad news himself. He had not heard of the man teaching anyone outside of Ferron and himself.
“Who I am today is not good enough,” Darri conceded. “You heard what Ferron said about us. He cared not for me. Right now, Maeve is risking her life and didn’t ask for my help because I cannot be relied upon.”
“She’s with the expedition then,” Valentin stated more than asked.
“They didn’t have enough druids.” Darri laughed in a pained and jaded way. “It’s funny isn’t it? She was denied every time but now that things are serious they drop their act. What a shameless tribe.”
Valentin did not return the smile and stood passively. “You’re fine with coming to me for help?”
Darri balled his fists and Valentin flinched slightly in preparation of being struck. The large boy sighed and relaxed his hands. “It still frustrates me. You can’t understand how difficult it was for us during that time. Just knowing that you ate and slept in comfort with a beautiful woman made me more frustrated.”
Valentin looked away, unwilling to correct Darri’s misconception. Ferron’s words still rang in his head and Darri’s understanding was unknown. Would someone in Darri’s position have been willing to trade themselves for food and a warm bed? Would he have traded cold and starvation to run away?
“I will say a lot of my anger went away after I watched Guin’s verbal lashing in front of the longhouse. His stupid confused face almost made it all worth it. Now that Cnap went with the expedition, it’s almost pitiful how helpless and alone he looks.” Darri chuckled to himself with the memory before offering a wink to Valentin. “You don’t have to be so standoffish anymore Valentin.”
Valentin led Darri in the direction of the clearing and silently hoped that Hrost would not provide the answer that he envisioned the crotchety instructor saying.
“Fuck off out of my sight,” the grizzled warrior grunted at Valentin’s unexpected companion. He shot his apprentice a venomous glare.
Valentin sighed at the expected response. He glanced over at Darri and saw that h took it better than expected. Valentin found Hrost’s words to be confrontational and demotivating at times. Not wishing to gain any of Hrost’s stray ire, Valentin began his morning spear training. However, the boy still held a curious ear open to the conversation.
“Please, it would enrich Ferron if I were to grow strong as well,” Darri requested.
“Enrich Ferron?” Incredulity colored Hrost’s voice. “I’m only training this one because Ferron ordered me to. What makes you think I’ll train some talentless weakling like yourself?”
Darri seemed to be wavering to Hrost’s dour personality. “If someone as strong as you were to train me, I don’t think I would be weak anymore.”
Hrost spat on the ground and looked at Darri with a face of annoyance. “What a blithering fool. You’re weak because you were born weak. A tiny spirit inside an oafish body.” He turned his back to the petitioning boy and strode away. “Just strap a heavy rock to a stick and swing it around.”
“How can I prove that I’m good enough?” Darri had dug within himself to obtain the bravery to continue to hound the old warrior. “There must be some sort of test I can complete to show my resolve?”
“Your resolve?” Hrost stopped. “Fine. Valentin!”
Valentin reluctantly turned his head to the side to meet eyes with Hrost. As always, his instructor’s eyes were cold and his lips downturned in a look of mild inconvenience. Whatever it was that Hrost wanted, he doubted he wouldn’t enjoy it.
“Get over here and spar with this boy here. Let’s see his capabilities.”
Darri was given a practice spear and the two faced each other in the center of the clearing. The size of the spears were identical, but the weapon looked childish in the large boy’s meaty fingers. Valentin swallowed nervously as he looked Darri up and down. There was at least a four cycle difference in age and Darri’s manual labor showed clear results in his physique.
“Use your instincts to impress me, boy,” Hrost commanded Darri before looking at his shivering apprentice. “Valentin, I expect to see your progress as well. Use everything I have taught you to dispatch him.”
Hrost raised his arm and the two opponents readied themselves. Valentin inspected Darri’s stance. Darri’s spear was held higher towards his upper torso and head, perhaps relying on habit. Valentin envisioned his opening moves and tried to imagine his success, however, he envisioned himself in the dirt more easily than the older boy laying on his back.
The arm dropped and Valentin immediately struck forwards at Darri’s soft, unprotected stomach. Darri pushed his spear to try to block, but it was too slow. All the defensive action accomplished was to deflect the strike into his hip. Darri winced slightly and cursed under his breath as Valentin hopped backwards, making sure to balance on the balls of his feet.
Darri struck his weapon downwards and Valentin hopped to the side and stepped in to stab back. Darri tried to retreat and the top of Valentin’s spear only lightly connected to his target. Valentin struck again but did not connect with anything significant and retreated again.
He was aware that the padded tip of the staff would do him no favors in dealing important damage to Darri. He considered what victory in this spar would look like. What should he be striving to achieve?
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Darri’s barrage of spear strikes was sluggish in comparison to Hrost’s and Valentin found himself easily evading any of Darri’s offenses. The seeds of confidence were starting to grow within Valentin’s mind as he landed tiny blow after tiny blow. Darri seemed physically unaffected by any of the pokes or prods. However, Valentin saw frustration appear on the boy’s face. Each swing contained more malice and anguish. These strikes were simpler still to dodge and the exaggerated swings provided more openings for counter attacks.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed now that Valentin got into a rhythm of dodging and weakly counter attacking. His instructor stood perfectly still the entire duration of the fight and sported a bored face. Valentin hoped that the look was not meant for him.
Darri was slowing further, his endurance not equipped for this sort of exertion. His sluggish blows were now weak enough to be blocked by Valentin’s spear and return blows landed on better spots more consistently. Valentin must have struck the same part of Darri’s stomach over a dozen times now, each blow with slightly more damage than the previous.
Anger no longer flickered in Darri’s eyes. Now, only an anguished face remained as aimless blows swung and Valentin. Valentin felt no further need to strike back and instead just hopped out of Darri’s range. Seeing the smaller boy leave the engagement, Darri doubled over with ragged breathing. His hands were held tightly to the part of his stomach that Valentin constantly attacked and his teeth were clenched in apparent pain.
“That’s more than enough for me,” Hrost stated, ending the match. “As I thought, I’m unimpressed with your display. It lacked the raw qualities that I look for in a powerful warrior.”
“What qualities are those?” Darri wheezed through his sucking breaths.
“It lacked spirit,” Hrost explained simply. “There was no desperation in this fight even though you were staking much upon it. You didn’t use your natural size advantage properly. Worse still, you gave up at the end and looked relieved that Valentin gave you mercy and relented. I would waste my time trying to train you at all.”
Darri did not protest. He bowed to Hrost and returned his practice weapon. “Thank you for allowing me to try.”
Valentin watched Darri despondently leave the clearing and disappear into the trees. He felt a pang of guilt for having a hand in destroying his hope at being better.
“I just repaired that friendship, Hrost,” Valentin complained to his instructor. “Was he really so hopeless?”
“He will be a decent foot soldier, but nothing more,” Hrost remarked dismissively. “You, on the other hand, performed well. I saw precision in your blows that compensated for your stature. If you had a proper weapon, you could have incapacitated him in the first blow.”
Valentin felt warm from the praise that he had gained from the stern warrior. His efforts were bearing fruit and his victory tasted sweet despite the blow Darri took.
“However, you lack the killing instinct, you relented when you could have gone further,” Hrost criticized. “Also, your defense work was wasteful. A single mistake on the battlefield can end in death. Let me teach you.”
Valentin sighed, no praise could be only praise when it came to the elderly warrior. The boy faced Hrost with his practice spear ready. His instructor did not bring a weapon of his own. Instead, he stood vulnerable and empty handed, his palms facing Valentin to show there was no hidden trick to be wary of.
“I wish for you to try to strike me. I will not strike back in any way, so focus on attacking only.”
Valentin did not waste time and sprung his spear forwards to the center of Hrost’s chest. The instructor pivoted on his left foot slightly and allowed the weapon to brush harmlessly against his coat.
“I have an opening to strike back,” Hrost stated, but kept his hands at his side.
Valentin aimed for Hrost’s head but it only grazed his cheek. A blow aimed at the knees was slightly stepped back from. The boy feinted an attack at Hrost’s head before switching targets to the chest. It did not appear that Hrost had the space to perform a similar pivot and Valentin believed he had struck an elusive blow.
Sparks danced off of Hrost’s body and the man made the evasive maneuver easily. The tip of the practice weapon striking only air. Valentin pouted slightly before trying again. However, he would never again get as close as he just had. The grizzled warrior seemed to anticipate Valentin’s attacks and barely dodged out of the way of all the strikes, his braided hair barely swaying from the exertion.
Valentin felt a frustration that made him feel sympathetic to poor Darri. Every blow feeling so close made him constantly feel that the next would surely be the one that would work. Eventually, Hrost should tire. However, Hrost seemed entirely unbothered by the sparring, closing another route to victory.
Valentin gathered favor in his body while he was continuing his strikes. He had not perfected an empowered attack yet, but, he had to try something different or he would get nowhere. His arms and legs buzzed and tingled with the favor that coursed through them.
The power released and Valentin’s entire body surged forward with the spear tip. He could see Hrost’s eyes widen in surprise as the instructor leapt out of the way of the strike. Once again, Valentin had failed to connect a blow on the grizzled warrior. Annoyed, he threw the practice weapon on the ground and groaned.
“That is what I’m looking for. You’re showing a determination to win,” Hrost grinned widely, unsettling Valentin who expected the opposite. “I concede this match as I could not dodge in the way I was trying to show you. Well done.”
“I won?” Valentin looked at the spear he threw at the ground in his tantrum. He certainly didn’t feel like the victor in the match, he had failed to land a blow at every turn. Dissatisfied, Valentin looked at Hrost with a scowl on his face. “I think I lost.”
“You successfully performed a favored strike. It was respectably quick,” Hrost reassured. Looking at Valentin’s unconvinced face, Hrost sighed and grumbled under his breath. “It’s a shame that your attempts were so pitiful.”
“You were just barely getting away from me,” Valentin spat, still indignant over his presumed defeat.
“It was all I needed to avoid your efforts,” Hrost countered. “Or are you implying that luck carried me through all those attacks?”
Valentin went silent. His strikes weren’t perfect enough. His stabs were not fast enough. His strategy was imperfect and easily seen through. Outside of his final strike, his efforts had been lacking in all ways. Even the smallest of movements could thwart them, offering no additional openings and burning little energy. His eyes widened. He was the one wearing himself down. He looked at Hrost who grinned at the boy.
“Do you understand now?”
The boy nodded.
“Good. You must be fearless in your defense. Your moves were too large and wasteful. When I’m finished with you, you’ll be untouchable as well-”
Hrost broke into a coughing fit and doubled over. Valentin ran towards his instructor but he was halted by the man’s outstretched hand. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a container that he drank greedily from. He stifled his coughs and forced the tonic down. Valentin stood silently next to his instructor as he allowed the drink to spread throughout his body.
Hrost returned to an upright position and pocketed his medicine, “I don’t know what spirit resides over time, but they are a bastard.”
“Do you need help?” Valentin offered, reaching his hand out to his instructor.
“Oh spare me your concern, boy,” Hrost commanded, swatting Valentin’s hand away like an insect. “Get running, we wasted too much time today.”
----------------------------------------
If Hrost was a ferocious ice storm, then Jaela was a pool of infinite depth. Nothing disturbed the tranquility of a language lesson. Struggles were met with patience. Mistakes were answered with understanding. No question was too foolish for the woman. However, Valentin still felt uncomfortable by the piercing stare of Zunjing, who constantly watched by the doorway.
The tome of stories sat on the table between Jaela and Valentin. Valentin was scrawling down some sentences on some parchment in Diplomat’s Tongue as a part of his lesson. Every evening he would read stories from the tome and after his zenith meal, he would write some sentences about the story that he had read and his opinions. His understanding of the written language quickly improved through the method of reading stories and he rarely asked for help from Jaela in deciphering the texts.
Unfortunately, his accent was still atrocious. Their lessons were conducted entirely in the Diplomat’s Tongue and Valentin’s conversations were only growing slightly more comprehensible. Jaela had remarked that Valentin spoke as though his mouth were full of rocks or that his tongue chose to do the opposite of what it was told. For some reason, such tepid words from Jaela cut as severely as some of Hrost’s verbal undresses.
“What are your impressions of the stories of Hetecis?” Jaela asked in the foreign language. Her pronunciation was fluid and elegant.
Some post meal sweets were arranged on the table between them. Jaela insisted that having a reward helped with motivation. Today’s reward, a small pile of honeyed friochta. The fried dough balls were a festival favorite of Valentin. However, this batch lacked the peppery bite that was emblematic of the d’Gauval region.
“I liked them,” Valentin answered, eyeing the sweets. “Though I noticed that almost all of them had a river as an important feature of the story. You always knew who the villain was because they would commit evil to the river.”
“The Verani River is the life blood of Hetecis,” Jaela explained. “The people would not be who they are without it. It provides food, travel, and wealth. Namings and marriages and funerals occur on the riverbanks. Our ruler of Kohasa still refers to themselves as the Riverlord long after they became the Sovereign of Soil and mastered the secrets of the ground. It is important that our tales pay proper respects to it”
“Your ruler?” Valentin asked and tilted his head. “I thought the Seers lived in the Mother’s Cradle in Turpa-he.”
“Good catch, your conversational skills are improving,” Jaela complimented with a thin smile and gestured at the pile of food, allowing Valentin to take a reward. “Before my eyes were revealed to be blessed, I lived with my family in Hetecis.”
“How was it?” Valentin asked curiously.
“I was a daughter to a simple farmer’s family. I was just one of many children and grandchildren that lived in our village on the riverbank. I would watch my uncles and cousins and older siblings load our rafts with grain to send to the cities downstream. Our meals were full of life and laughter and warmth.” Jaela’s smile of reminiscence wavered at the corners of her mouth like the strum of a lute string.
“Do you ever visit them?”
Jaela’s voice turned melancholy. “You see, Valentin, people like us are often not afforded such things. I have not seen my family since I was taken to the Mother’s Cradle to learn the ways of divination.”
“Is that so,” Valentin responded with a similarly despondent tone.
“My presence would only serve to disturb their peace and ruin my memories of the place. Such is the curse of those born to rise above their intended station. I am sure that you wish the same for your own.”
“I suppose so,” Valentin responded silently. He hadn’t considered that there would never be an opportunity to return. He understood that he had to give up on seeing his home for the time being to keep everyone safe. However this carried more finality than he had been prepared for. His farewells weren’t good enough for them to be the last ones.
“I’m sure if you keep trying your best, an opportunity will arise,” Jaela reassured. “I’ll have my chance one day as well.”
Valentin tilted his head to the side. The boy of many curiosities had another curiosity he wished to ask the seer. He hesitated to ask his question, concerned that being overly nosy would only serve to upset his patience instructor.
“Is there something else you’d like to say?” Jaela asked with her hands clasped together.
“I was curious as to why you are no longer at the Mother’s Cradle?” Valentin adventurously asked. “I thoughts seers were too rare to be serving under mercenary leader, regardless of how strong Ferron actually is.”
“A wise observation,” Jaela complimented calmly, offering a treat. “Several cycles ago, I had a vision that convinced me that I was to be murdered in a grand sacrifice. I did not mind living to serve the Cradle, but I had no interest in dying for it. I began to distrust everyone there, not sure who was in on it or not. I had to leave.”
“How did you escape?” Valentin wondered, feeling a distant connection with the seer’s position.
“Zunjing helped me escape the Cradle in the middle of the night,” Jaela explained. “I won’t bore you with the details. Needless to say, we used disguises and bribes to put ourselves in a position to flee. However, that is still not good enough to avoid relentless pursuit once they figured out I fled. It was purely fortune that we found Ferron’s camp out on the Xanbo borderlands. He offered to escort me to Strettia in exchange for me performing at least one reading a cycle for him.”
“They are no longer chasing you?” Valentin asked intently, colored by his own experiences and concerns.
“They are,” Jaela conceded. “However, the world is a big place and the druids of Strettia are barely tolerant towards Seers. Any progress by the Cradle’s agents to locate me here will be arduous.”
“Did you ever find out why you were going to die?” Valentin inquired.
“No, but I intend to find out someday,” Jaela answered. “Now, tell me about your thoughts on Verani…”
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There was a peace in the routine that Valentin was subjected to. The days would travel quickly and leave him scarce opportunity for his mind to drift towards uncomfortable things. Even if Darri had given him an invitation to return to their group, he fretted over the awkward visit after the failure with Hrost. Most importantly, in this state, he could put off the Morna question indefinitely. As long as he didn’t choose to punish or forgive her, Hubert enforced a protective blanket of no contact.
Of course, contact wasn’t avoidable in such a condensed community. He would spot the woman on occasion in his commute to his various destinations. Their eyes would meet every so often and the two would quickly break eye contact, though the reasons couldn’t differ more.
These brief moments of fear and panic were the only things preventing him from truly appreciating the relief that holding off his decision provided. He knew he couldn’t hide from his choice forever. He still wasn’t enticed by Hubert’s offer of violence. Ferron wanted her around for her popularity.
What did he want?
Those inconvenient thoughts were quickly buried by the next lesson and the next meal. The bliss of running from facing his discomfort would once again wash over him and allow for the cycle to continue once again.
As the day grew ever closer to the day of departure, scouts reported that the snowmelt had already started and the rivers were full of the cold water that rushed downwards into the estuaries along the beaches. The warriors were preparing to depart while the village still cast furtive looks over the southern ridgeline where the volunteer party would surely return.
The village’s unease permeated wherever Valentin went. It was clear that Ferron was departing regardless of the expedition’s condition. In his eyes, those volunteers from his ranks were already considered lost. There was no incentive to wait for them to return.
“They know where the rally location is in the case they do return,” Ferron commented when Valentin asked him about the scenario during a meal. “I told each of them what was at stake before they agreed to go. It’s up to them whether or not they regret their decision.”
“Won’t that upset the warriors that you are willing to leave them behind?” Valentin asked. He was meticulously inspected his whitefish for tiny bones
Ferron chuckled between bites and pointed a greased finger at Valentin. “That would be a proper question if we were liege lords and led patriotic folk. However, these are people who value money over country. I guarantee you they will be more upset over a potential loss in money from waiting over the loss of three comrades. They have families to feed and estates to run, you know. Besides, I don’t recruit anyone that can’t hold their own.”
It was then that they heard a large clamor from outside. Rising from his meal, Ferron moved deliberately towards the entrance. Valentin, unwilling to be left behind, took the role of the man’s shadow.
Outside, people stood around and pointed towards the trails that wound down into the village. Soon, the crowd parted and created a lane for the travelers to make their way down the slope and towards the longhouse. The scarce procession created only silence while it made its way down. Valentin squinted his eyes to see if he could make anyone out before they reached him.
Seven figures passed Valentin. Druid Ula led them down. Her face lacked the playfulness that Valentin had seen her sport in the past. She didn’t make eye contact with any of the elders as she stumbled towards the longhouse and fell to her knees. Behind her were three volunteers. Their spears were nowhere to be seen. Their faces were haggard and wrinkled. Their clothes were riddled with holes with patches of burned skin revealed.
Valentin breathed a sharp sigh of relief. Maeve led two warriors Valentin had not met. Their faces were stern but strained with effort. Between the two was a huge bundle of blankets with a body inside of it. The figure remained motionless inside of its cocoon.
The warriors lowered the blankets in front of Ferron. The man dropped onto one knee and slightly opened the fabric to peer inside. He stuck a hand in and placed his fingers near the neck. Satisfied, the warrior stood up to face his subordinates.
“So, did you kill it?”