Sparrow reached the Timberfort Tavern at the same time as the sun was setting. He had dust on his feet and a hunger in his belly. He'd walked the whole way to the tavern, and he was proud of himself for it. The tavern’s light burned like a lighthouse for the ships of the road, and from inside came the sounds of singing and chatter and a lutist strumming Tinker Tanker Talks The Town.

A few heads turned in his direction for a moment. Scanning his face, looking for a friend, a foe or any familiarity. When they saw it was just another dirty young traveler, they turned back to their meals.

Sparrow dipped his feet into the foot bath beside the door, then wandered over to the bar. A pretty barmaid with rats' skulls plaited into her hair put a steaming meat soup in front of him.

Sparrow eyed a chunk of grey meat that floated to the top, ‘What’s in the soup?’ he asked.

‘Whatever the hell we can get,’ she grinned, flashing her braid towards him.

Sparrow tried to forget about the rats in her hair as he spooned the steaming mix into his mouth. His eyes wandered the tavern to the musician at the front.

‘They all look the same,’ he muttered to no one. This musician had jet black hair and a scar above his right eye. He finished a song, took a swig of ale, gave a low strum, then tapped on one of the many runes that occupied his lute, the second strum was higher in pitch. The man tapped another rune and his next strum reverberated through the room louder and longer.

Sparrow narrowed his eyes... he hadn’t seen runes used in such a way before.

‘There are so many songs out there about love,’ the lutist said, ‘well I tell ya what... I’m sick of love. It’s only given me indigestion and an empty wallet.’

The bar roared its approval.

‘Tonight, dear friends, I hope you’ll join me in singing about something far smellier than love, far uglier than death, and far more fun then talk of the struggles in the east. Tonight I want to introduce you to the legend of the Sparrow.’

He knocked on the side of his lute four times, then slapped a rune on the front. The sound of the knocks continued on its own, carrying the beat as the musician started to strum. It was a familiar tune – the same one he’d heard from the lips of another what seemed like an eternity ago.

Down by the stream

I first heard his hum

The stuff of legend

Was he to become

We wandered mountains

Near and far

And fought a collector

Of things bizarre

He was my love

My hope, my fear

But in the end my Sparrow

Is no longer here

Down by the stream

I first heard his hum

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The stuff of legend

Was he to become...

The bar caught the chorus quickly. Their spectrum of voices filled the night. As people wandered into the bar they threw verses of their own into the mix...

And then the rock

Lay down and cried

For his enemy, his purpose

Sparrow had died

The lutist was talented, but Sparrow recognized the way his fingers danced over the strings – the tune was all Zoe’s. Thoughts that had lay dormant for a long time bubbled to the surface of his consciousness. How was she doing? Was she still with Zan? Was she still making music?

A burly, black clad figure was beside him. Sparrow blinked. He hadn’t even noticed the man – his head had been so full of Zoe. But the man’s fingers were closed around Sparrow’s wrist in a steely grip. Sparrow turned to look at him, the men's fingers were burning iron, but he kept his face neutral. It was never a good idea to show pain near alcohol. The man's hood cloaked most of his face. Only a large, almost royal grey beard hung from his chin. The beard stared at Sparrow for a minute, mouth not moving, eyes tracing their way across his face.

‘Can I help you?’ Sparrow said, nodding his head to the barmaids, ‘They'll take your order, not me.’

The men in black shook his head. ‘I do not crave food or drink, but something far sweeter.’

Sparrow rolled his eyes, ‘Right...’ The man was obviously a drunk, lonely, hole of ass.

Sparrow clenched his fist and stoneskin shot up his arm. But even with skin made of stone, the man's fingers didn't lose their grip.

‘Could I have the pleasure of your name before I break these fingers?’ Sparrow said.

The man chuckled. ‘Oh, Sparrow, wearer of stone, breaker of bone, you do not remember me?’ He let go of Sparrow’s arm, ‘You should be on your knees bowing. After all, I'm the reason you're here today. I gave you your schooling, your power.’

‘The road’s been my teacher for as long as I can remember. Surely you did not build them.’

Behind the bearded idiot, a drunk spilled five coins onto the bar, they rattled in place for a moment before toppling onto their backs.

‘Well, technically I have...’ The man lifted his hood ever so slightly and Sparrow recognized the face. It was the same face as that on the back of the coins. He was the Emperor of the Dragon River Region, Princess Jade's father, the same man he'd run away from half a lifetime ago.

****

Sparrow licked his lips. Should he bow? Should he get off his stool?

The emperor gave a tiny shake of his head, ‘Let's not draw attention.’

‘How did you find me?’

‘Oh Sparrow, I've had spies out looking for you from the moment you broke my heir to the throne's heart. You know that.’

‘It was better to break it early, to let it heal and recover, then it would have been to allow something false to grow.’

‘I suppose she has healed in her own, rather furious sort of way.’ The emperor said, ‘She commands my armies now, she's the best tactician out there. In public the men call her Commander Jade, but in private they call her Bloody Jade. There isn't a war she hasn't won...’

As the old man talked Sparrow’s eyes slid to the door. How quickly could he reach it? Would anyone stand in his way? If he could just get to the door he’d be free...

‘... and that’s why we need your help, need it like we've never needed it before. Even the goblin army is nothing compared to what we face now, they’ll slice a child’s head off as readily as an armored man’s. They take no prisoners except to eat! And while they decimate us to the West my daughter’s lands in the east are falling to bandits. If my empire crumbled I wouldn't give a damn, in fact, it would allow me to be free like you. Free to run the roads, learn and grow and experience.’ The emperor shook his head, ‘But its not just my empire that's at stake. It's our people, Sparrow. They aren’t interested in castles and land and gold. We tried to negotiate with them and they ate and they ate my chief negotiator’s heart for breakfast. Surely out there somewhere you must have family or friends that you do not wish to have killed.’

Sparrow bit the inside of his lip, he thought about his grandma. He thought about how long it had been since he'd seen her. He wondered why he hadn't visited there yet - was it the shame of being kicked out of school? Was it the belief that he had to prove himself first? He shook his head and told himself that after all this was finished, after he’d escaped from the emperor he’d visit her.

Sparrow got off his stool, ‘If you’d been spying on me for as long as you claim, you’d know the way I live. The road is my school, my garden and my single quest. If I sign up with you, I lose my freedom. I lose my ability to just walk away. I can see the future stretching off into the horizon. I'm not a soldier. I'm not a commander. I'm not even a particularly good cultivator. I'm a hobo, a man on the road, and that's where I belong. Good luck with your war Emperor.’

‘Sparrow!’ The old man shouted. Around the tavern people started to turn. They knew the name from the song, and they saw his bare feet and dirty cloak. ‘If you had seen the horde as I have seen it you would do everything within your power to stop it. They are a force unmatched. Please, please we need you.’

Tears slipped down the old man's cheeks and around the room, people began to bow. They recognised the face they'd seen on coins.

Sparrow swallowed as a vision of an army of wraiths riding the body of a bull with the head of a lion, ‘What did you say their name was?’

The emperor's eyes lifted slightly, there was a quiver in his chin as if he was almost too afraid to speak the words again.