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The waters parted as the Quarterchief and Sara carried Lloyd up the raised mound into the stone circle that marked the headwater shrine. Maat followed in their wake, nursing his own injuries while on the move.

Within, the shrine had multiple iron rods rammed into the mud by hand and hammer. They poked out, ramrod straight, into the air.

“Ah, you arrived just in time,” said Aminia, the river priest, with a grin. “Welcome back, Michael.”

“My son and Hector’s kids are hurt,” Michael said.

Aminia sighed. “Nice to meet you again, too, dear. I’ve grown quite sympathetic to the dangers of mortality. Another day and they’d have erected that stake through the heart of the spring, and the magic would have gone away.”

Michael grabbed the river priest by the shoulders. “Aminia. Can you help them?”

“Of course,” Aminia said without even looking the trio over. “It’s been awhile, Michael. Welcome back.”

First, Aminia moved to Maat, cupped some water in his hands, then waved this water over Maat’s ribs. With an involuntary gasp Maat felt his lungs fill with air. His ribs reset themselves, painlessly but not without a strange, tingling, uncomfortable buzz as the puncture wounds healed themselves in short order.

Next, the weird water priest sprinkled some water on Sara’s head.

“You’ve been concussed,” he said. “Left untreated you’d collapse into a coma before half a day was done. That won’t be a problem now.”

“T-thanks,” Sara said.

“Now for the hard one.” Aminia pointed to the deep spring.

Without prompting, Michael brought Lloyd into the spring, and let him go. The youth sunk into the clear waters. Before he could disappear into the dark, Aminia daintily grabbed his hand and held him horizontally.

“This will take a few minutes. If you could remove these rods, it should pay dividends.”

Michael and a newly healed Maat pulled the iron stakes out of the ground. They gave way quite easily in the soft mud, despite a bit of friction. The Quarterchief called in some men to expedite the process.

“Going to have to pull these out,” Aminia said, then immediately pulled out the first arrow. “Worry not. The waters will heal your wounds on contact.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Yeowch,” Lloyd managed, then gargled a mouthful of water.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked.

“Second one, now.” Aminia pulled the arrow shaft out.

There was more screaming, then more garbled drowning, but then it was done.

“Go in peace,” Aminia said, then dropped Lloyd off by the shore.

Lloyd spat out a stomach full of water.

“Gah, at least the spring is clean.”

“They’ll live?” Michael said. “If not, you’re the one explaining to Hector…”

“Missed you to, Mike. It’s been, what, twenty years? Could’ve stopped by at any time.” Aminia’s face was placid. His eyes turned to Maat. “And if it isn’t the man of the hour.”

Maat pointed to his chest. “Me?”

“Come midnight it will be your birthday, yes?”

“I suppose…” Maat always felt awkward when the riverman stared him down.

All at once, Aminia’s attention turned elsewhere. He peeked out through some of the headwater’s stone circle archways.

A thunderous dust cloud appeared in the distance. Quick application of the spyglass revealed bird cavalry – not the slender centurion birds from the isle, but some foreign species with black feathers. Flightless, but bulky enough to support armed Jean’in in full, heavy armor getup.

Aminia held up his hand, and a misty barrier formed over the headwater shrine. That mist soon turned into a thin azure sheen. A barrier or wall, protecting Michael and Maat’s war party, but also keeping them stuck in here as well.

“Glad we could all meet here, at the agreed upon time.” Aminia kicked his feet around in the water. “Michael, your geas should be lifted. If you wish to explain the kid’s birthright, well, everyone’s a captive audience.”

“It’ll take hours.” Michael removed the final iron rod from the grotto.

“Well past midnight. He’ll be twenty by the time we’re done.”

Michael frowned. “The plan was to gather all the Outlander kids around.”

“Quit stalling!” Aminia put his hand up to his head with a groan. “It’s a weakness of yours, Mikey. These three can explain to the rest of the half-humans. ‘Sides, it’s most important to Ma’at, here.”

“I want to hear.” Maat nodded. "And also, why are you on nickname basis with the local river god?"

“Very well.” Michael stamped a foot in the mud. “There's probably time. Only so long as we’re not in danger of a counterattack.”

“The rods are gone. I have full power from here to the edge of the rapids. Cavalry is already being swept away. And with my barrier, well, unless those strange forge priests come to dispel it, we should be safe here through the night.”

The Quarterchief walked up to Aminia at the water’s edge. “Okay, let’s do it. Maat, come here, we’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Listen well. I’m about to explain the truth behind the Outlanders, the man with the clipped ears, the expedition from the foreign isles. Everything you could want to know…

Sara, Lloyd. Feel free to listen in. This involves you as much as any other Outlander.

Aminia summoned some glow-fish to bathe the headwater shrine in a soft cerulean glow that matched well with the green-blue hue of the moon above. His twin-braids seemed to glow as he gazed upon the Quarterchief.

Ma’at, meanwhile, looked on from the far side of the headwaters pool. What secrets were his father hiding? And why’d he suddenly feel emboldened to reveal it now that this strange river god was here? There was something about the headwaters and, while Ma’at couldn’t explain it, it just felt right that he was supposed to be here, wading along the start of the Torrent.

Without further ado, Quarterchief Michael opened his mouth and began to testify…

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