‘Rytmer abandoned?’ came Mauvawen’s voice, touched with accusation and finishing with only just noticeable anger.

  ‘No, no.’ came was the reply that escaped the courier. ‘Reinforcements sent.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Nine days’

  ‘Reason?’ Mauvawen had taken a position leaning over, the heat of her gaze wilting the courier’s soft spine, she leaned over him her presence crushing him.

  ‘Fo-Fo-Forbidden.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Roads...dangerous.’ came Kirru through feigned innocence. ‘Accidents’ she shrugged. The morale of bureaucrat was straining to hold, with the threat only just veiled. Mauvawen simply continued to bore into his form with escalating rage apparent in her glare. The confrontation was causing some discomfort in the folk of the small keep. The support troops of the valor’s was instead clearly suppressing laughter, as they avoided looking with practiced ease. It was not long before the soft, tawny haired man made his decision.

  ‘Falner.’ he clearly hesitated. ‘Broken’ he let the last out, just above a whisper. ‘Hundreds…’ and that seemed to be all that could be compelled from him. Mauvawen glanced toward her captain, who while he did not falter, he did not comply. His head shook in response.

  ‘Battle’s finished. Winter arrives. Ease.’ Came some half stuttered apologies from the courier who now that his word was done, desperately speaking to salvage what good will he could.

  ‘Toll of Dol Aram.’ spat Mauvawen, her expression hard, her hands tensed into fists. She turned and practically stomped toward the keep.

  The support troops resumed their winding down after the campaign, many disappearing into various barracks, leaving just Kirru and her shadow, and the destroyed letter bearer. He turned and attempted to resume his effort with the junior valor, seeming to look for softer ground.

  ‘Rest! Galas! Honors.’ he attempted to gain Kirru’s attention.

  ‘Deaths on border.’ Came her response with a sweet smile. ‘Falner?’ her expression melting into studied, neutral stone.

  ‘Fifth Bow, dead. Nine score. Hashamal’ the messenger’s face too took on a more formal expression. ‘Never twice, two centuries.’ With the keep taken, the council had decided it unlikely another attack would come. It had been several generations. Kirru could not prevent the crack in her facade at the shock at the sheer number reported. The name, one of the more notorious demons that had been harassing the border for nearly two decades and the death of a fellow valor, a fifth no less.

  Kirru’s mind drifted back to her sparring sessions, when she’d first gained her own rank, a fight with a sixth a year before, toward the end of that training season. She’d been demolished, practically helpless. It was a lesson in humility she’d been told later. She had also yet to see Mauvawen fight more than a few demons at a time. She wasn’t fast, but she was strong, unbelievably so, a castle-breaker, or so Kirru had been told.

  ‘Peace, one year?’ She asked. The demons had struck once in late winter, but it had been thirty years, and on the back of a storm. To this day some folks on the border claim the blizzard was unnatural.

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  ‘Spring.’ for the first time since coming back her shadow spoke.

  ‘Aye.’ the other man agreed.

  Kirru was not keen to disobey, not with her only being on the border one season. She did not want to be accused of cowardice or weakness. She knew her position was not beyond reproach. She looked off to where Mauvawen had gone, then to her shadow. The two exchanged a nod, before she took off. The courier moved to follow, but his path was barred by the grizzled soldier. The two glared at each other for a time, before the tawny haired traveler offered the soldier dinner, deciding he would recoup what he could from him.

  Kirru’s mentor was found where expected. In her room, at the base of the keep. She forced a smile, but it was transparent, the student all too studied on the faces of her teacher. The two embraced, for a moment, before Mauvawen went to packing. Kirru understood that this was the answer she had come for, and so set to help as well. The two were silent for a long time, before Kirru addressed her other concern. ‘Split?’

  ‘Both, to Ardwyn.’ the mentor replied, pausing to pass a genuine, warm smile between them. She mussed the hair on her students head. ‘next year.’ the mentor pursed her lips in thought before shaking her head. It was likely, four years, was usually as long as these pairings could last, almost never more than that.

  The capitol, Ardwyn, was home to the various circles that gave their power to the valors. This would mean, stopping for gifts like as not. Something Kirru, was looking forward to. There was another matter of travel, that would be left for them to discuss. ‘Galtormon?’ a city on the way to their destination, that happened to be the hometown of Kirru. Her ancestral home no less, where her siblings might yet be found or her father assuming in his state that he had survived the year. It would delay their trip, but no one would question them.

  Kirru was instead unsure. Most of her retinue, were drawn from the Capitol, or were from the province on the on the opposite side from where her home sat. She did want to, not to see her family which would likely be unavoidable, but rather to get gifts, from her home province. She also had no desire to delay the men in her charge from their well earned rests. The season had been hard, which she knew Rytmer was not the hardest hit area, and even still it had been difficult. The sooner they were home, the sooner she could pursue further training.

  ‘Time. A week.’ Mauvawen said, pulling her back to the present.

  ‘Now.’ she let the word hang for a moment. She frowned as she said. ‘perhaps.’ she had hoped this would signal well enough her thinking. Eyes continued to pry, so Kirru added. ‘Carchal?’ The addition seemed to satisfy the elder. It was a city on the edge, where much of the same goods would likely be found, if perhaps in lower quality. Mauvawen gave her a concerned look, but did not pry further.

  ‘Your things.’ Mauvawen added, the first word bore all the emphasis, as she finished bundling up a bag of her clothes. The younger playfully avoided eye contact, along with the question. ‘Go’ the command preceded a gentle push. She lingered, to finish observing her mentor. The action of cleaning seemed to have brought her piece with it, in spite of her displeasure.

  Kirru, was in possession of much less, and had a much smaller room. Most of her things were brought with her. Given what she knew now, she would see to different arrangements. Of course, it was possible they would not return to Rytmer at all next season. Shifting defenses, to keep the demons guessing. Though she pondered, that might change. Nine score. Nine. Would it be that they could ever afford to assemble a group that might repel such a force. For the first time since hearing it it occurred, that might have been them. She could herself be dead, or worse. This sank in, for some reason without disturbing her. It was a strange feeling for her, and one she could not entirely identify, at least on her own, noting so she could consult her friend later.

  She was already finished with her own small collection of belongings, before Mauvawen had even arrived. She rolled her eyes, in faux exasperation at Kirru. She ended up on the bed next to her, one arm wrapped around her shoulder, sitting in silence for some time. ‘Strange.’ Kirru finally stated at least.

  ‘Dread.’ the mentor spoke with her tone dropping, an nearly guttural sound.

  'Ball Gowns.' she joked, but the feeling from earlier settled back in, letting a chill fill her being. Kirru ensured their eyes met when she spoke next. 'Rytmer. Small Falner.’

  ‘Fear?’ a question paired with a tilt of the head, their gaze held. Kirru responded with a shake of her head. She looked down and away. ‘Too comfortable?’ the mentor asked her expression was certain, and knowing.

  ‘His day. Not mine.’ Kirru responded. She felt a kind of emptiness at it all. She knew, it might be the fifth bow having this same conversation, with another younger valor only not so unlike herself. It was a peace, with the fact, if not with her death itself. A feeling that she could fight, and do so perfectly, and still they would find her battered form buried beneath a dozen corpses. Yet, knowing all of this, she would walk again to that place of steel and blood. The calm felt alien, if she focused on it.

  Mauvawen struggled to find the words, a state Kirru could see. She knew, the Third Axe had felt this, she had looked into that depth within herself, this calm, this stony silence in her own heart. ‘Duty.’ the older woman said, but a word with which the displeasure was obvious. ‘Certainty.’ again a shake of the head, signaled that it was off. Between the two, they lacked the word.

  Tears, from a place she couldn’t describe, formed at her eyes, leaving Kirru to bury her face into the firm shoulders of her friend, the one soul with whom find solace. The two sat in silence, for some time that night, with only the sobbing of the younger disturbing the calm of night.