An arrow thwipped past and Annamarie turned to glare at her friend. “Do you intend to kill all of them yourself?”

Alaina returned the glare with an impish grin, her bow held in one hand and a loose arrow in the other. “Of course I do. After almost a decade of being denied my favorite pastime, I intend to cost my cousin for that act of betrayal, among others.”

Annamarie scowled, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “And just what am I supposed to do then?”

Alaina’s answering grin could only be called wicked. “Stand there and look pretty?” She ducked the stone sent at her head.

Stalking away, Annamarie shifted her hands back to the hilts of her twin swords, the leather of her gloves creaking from the strength of her grip. “I thought you were a noble woman. A person of impeccable manners. I was obviously taken to those galas of yours under false pretenses.” She whirled to point an accusing finger at Alaina. “You are no lady!”

Alaina raised an imperial eyebrow as she reshouldered her bow. “Oh? And precisely where are my manners lacking?”

“You aren’t sharing!”

Alaina’s crystalline laughter rang through the air as the two returned to the group. Dallon looked over from his position on the wagon. “Did you ladies have fun?”

“Yes!” “No!”

Dallon looked between them, then turned to Annamarie. “And what has she done this time?”

Alaina’s squawk of protest was very satisfying. Annamarie smiled at her husband before turning to glare at Alaina. “That woman is no lady! She refuses to leave anyone for me to fight.”

Dallon sighed. “We have arms men for a reason. They’re why we’re traveling in a caravan as opposed to cutting through the country and full speed to the Majestix.”

Annamarie huffed in a pout as she climbed into the wagon beside him. “It’s just not fair, is all. I deserve to be able to pay back the guard for the way they treated our son!”

Dallon reached out to rest a hand on Annamarie’s knee. “You will have plenty of chances soon, love. I will be at your side the entire time as well.” Giving the knee a squeeze, he added, “I would no doubt expect Palcon to accompany us.”

Annamarie turned to smile at her husband, resting a hand on his. “Oh Dallon, it’ll be our first family conflict! Palcon was too young for the Games before the Sundering. When you put it that way, I suppose I can wait.” She paused to level a meaningful look at Alaina. “As long as she keeps her bow in the wagons too.” Leaning against Dallon’s shoulder, she began happily humming.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see her husband and Alaina exchanging looks. Alaina might not fully understand her but Dallon certainly did. That quiet, solid man had won her heart when he beat her at the Games, where they met. She had pestered him out of his techniques, so different from those of her home in northern Dantala.

The entire time they talked he had been courteous and thoughtful, never once judging her for being a woman. He understood her passion, even knowing the realities of the Jeweled Gate.

Combat and protectiveness were in her blood, as it was in his. It was why he’d been able to convince her to leave the north and become part of his family in Terrace. It was why she felt such a bond to the city.

It was why the Empire was such a betrayal of those core principles.

Advancing the cause of humanity was admirable. Doing so at the cost of other people’s lives was not.

Holding back while the Empire committed atrocities had been hard. Only Dallon’s conviction that they weren’t ready had kept her from striking out with her blades. He had been right, though, and the time was finally arriving.

Soon, her family would be helping to right those wrongs. They would work to return peace and order to Ryode, and perhaps, unite all the peoples, as they had been on Central and in northern Dantala.

Ryode would become the new Central.

Annamarie snuggled against her husband, continuing to hum happily.

***

Typhonus slumped to the ground, exhausted. What had he been thinking, trying to travel on his own? He’d never been outside the city alone. He was a scholar, not a world traveler. It didn’t help that he was draining himself of magic every night, although that did allow him to sleep through the night, despite the discomfort of laying on the ground or leaning against a tree.

At least there had only been a couple of monster attacks thus far. A few magic bolts had been sufficient to scare them away.

Sighing, he struggled back to his feet, shouldered his pack, and continued walking to the south.

At least after everything was over he’d never have to walk anywhere again.

It was almost enough to make him smile.

***

Marcus and Hanna blinked into existence next to the border wall of the Majestix lands. Releasing his hold on Hanna, he stretched his arms overhead. “I think that’s getting easier! I don’t feel like falling over.”

Hanna smiled. “I bet we’re no more than half a day behind the group from the compound, even though we left later from further away. Won’t those two shadow twits be surprised!”

“Now now, be nice to those two. They’ve come a long way since the days of food fights. Speaking of which.” A ring of magic swirled to life at his feet and the fust and detrise of days of hard travel leaped from his robes, leaving them looking clean and new.

An identical ring formed around Hanna as she repeated the first spell they’d ever shared. Once they were clean, she transformed part of the wall into some seating and they settled in to wait.

***

“What do you mean they just appeared?”

Cathan glanced at the Beast Caller, who seemed to be arguing with his bird. There was a moment of silent conversation before Sarjen turned away, the bird flying towards the border.

“Daria says two humans just appeared at the border wall. They didn’t travel there and no one else saw them coming.”

Cathan grimaced. “Mages. Are they from the Empire are the Rebels? What did the bird say they were doing?”

Sarjen shrugged. “Sitting there.”

Turning away from the Tigra, Cathan began making his way back down the tower, saying over his shoulder, “You know what to do if I fall.”

It did not take him long to arrive at the border wall. He could see the humans. They seemed at ease, sitting on a bench that had never before been part of the wall. Typical mage arrogance, changing the world to suit their whims.

The humans rose as Cathan approached, a male and a female, though they were dressed oddly for their apparent genders.

Stopping a short lunge away, Cathan eyed the two, who were smiling at him. They bowed and he returned the gesture, though these humans broke eye contact. The male spoke up.

“Hello there. My name is Marcus and this is my fiancée, Hanna. We’re here seeking the safety of the Majestix, as offered by the Accords. The other rebels should have already arrived.”

Cathan eyed the humans, silently weighing them. The male seemed typical of what he knew of mages, not quite a part of the world. The female had the feel of a warrior to her, which was strange in a mage.

There was nothing that shoulder being a member of the Empire forces, nor any feeling of maliciousness. With no readily available reason to deny their request, he merely nodded.

“I have just returned from escorting your associates to the city. I will escort you as well.”

Marcus smiled and pointed upwards. Cathan noticed Daria circling high above.

“If you’ll have your Beast Caller let the city know we’re coming, we’ll be on our way. I don’t think you’ll be able to keep up.”

Cathan bristled, though he heard no condescension in the male’s voice. “Do not underestimate me, human.”

Marcus kept smiling even as he shook his head. “No disrespect meant, warrior. It’s just that we’ll be traveling in a unique manner.” The male took the female in his arms, then suddenly disappeared in a rush of displaced air.

Cathan scowled at the empty space. Mages. Bah.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

***

“I am told you performed well on the raid.”

Ethaniel gave a start and turned to see the old Panthra standing behind him and Vincent, watching them with an amused smile. Was this how people felt when they’d been snuck up on by them?

“Hey, old one. What brings you to our humble lodgings?” They were currently in a sprawling tent city. The Majestix had turned out thousands of lengths of canvas and linen. Most tents lacked walls but it was an amazing accomplishment for the space of a couple days, even just considering the logistics.

“While checking with promising young Shadow Dancers is always a reason unto itself, I am actually here on behalf of another. Given the result of the raid, my Khan has lost some standing in the eyes of her fellows. She cannot be seen to be too close to you at this time.”

The Panthra’s eyes shimmered with amusement. “But an old Panthra? Who watches him?”

Ethaniel nodded with his own smile. “He certainly likes to talk.”

“The province of the old.”

Ethaniel could see Vincent fairly vibrating with the repressed urge to comment and move the conversation along. “So what can two young Shadow Dancers do for an older one?”

The Panthra suddenly looked serious. “I want you two or someone similarly skilled to be with each group that enters the city. I fear for an incident between our peoples, one engineered by unfriendly forces.”

Ethaniel blinked. Before he could respond though, Vincent jumped it.

“It’s Khan Kubla, isn’t it? I could feel his hostility each time we met with the Khans.”

The old Panthra leveled a glare at Vincent. “Be careful where you make accusations like that. You threaten someone’s honor and you could find yourself on the wrong end of a blade.”

Vincent winced and ducked his head. Ethaniel resisted a chuckle at his friend’s expense. “How is that to work with him in charge of security?”

“I trust you cubs to figure that out. Keep your eyes open. Same with your people here. Do not relax just because you have made it this far.”

Both Shadow Dancers nodded, then bowed. The old Panthra returned a shallow bow, then seemed to fade away.

“That was a fascinating conversation.”

Ethaniel gave another start. What was it with people sneaking up on him today? He turned to see a familiar ax-wielding barbarian.

“Makae? What are you doing here?”

“Nic sent me on ahead to check out the accommodations. I was touring your new settlement when I caught this utterly fascinating conversation. I was thinking Nic and I could be another escort team.”

Ethaniel smiled. “That does sound good. I’ve been hearing good things about what you two did during the raid.”

The barbarian grinned. “When one trains against monsters, normal opponents don’t seem as bothersome. Should be interesting going back to being the smaller one in the pairing.”

“That eases my mind. I hadn’t even begun thinking of other escorts. Then again, I wasn’t given much time. I wonder if I should bring this up to the Travel Council?”

Vincent instantly shook his head. “I wouldn’t. The more people who know, the likelier it is to get out and we end up with an incident anyway.”

Makae nodded agreement. “I would tell those mage friends of yours, and perhaps Palcon. He impressed me with how he directed the raid.”

“Good point. I was thinking of tracking him down anyway.”

“Nic should be here with his father and the rest of the people they gathered in a few days. I”ll meet up with them and have them travel straight here.”

“Sounds good. See you all then.”

***

“We will not be housed with sheep.”

Palcon gazed up at the tall Tyran. Raze’s visage was disconcerting to most people, even those on the Travel Council, which was why they kept sending him this way.

“They aren’t sheep, Raze. Not any longer. They are people like you and I.”

Raze’s gaze didn’t change, though perhaps his eyes narrowed slightly. “They are not people. They are sheep, with no identity of their own. They are here because they have nowhere else to go and would not know what to do were they granted freedom.”

Frowning, Palcon looked at Evalyn from the corner of his eyes. She stood with her staff at her side, face neutral as always. Focusing back on Raze, he said, “Even if that were true, I fail to see why that makes it such a concern for you.”

Raze crossed his arms over his chest. “The Tyrans are forging an identity as a people. We will not be influenced by sheep, nor will we allow sheep to emulate us. You will either rehome the sheep, or we will do so. They will not enjoy our attentions.”

Palcon’s frown deepened. That was the most blatant threat the Tyran had ever given, though he had never expected it to be directed at Evalyn’s people. They were placid and docile and frankly no one knew what to do with them.

The council was supposed to handle housing issues. Palcon was a warrior, had trained most of his life to do so, minus the estate management training his parents had insisted upon.

Seeing Raze’s determination, Palcon finally nodded. “I’ll deal with it, Raze. Give me some time to arrange things. Make sure you come to me first before you do anything yourself.”

The Tyran gave a curt nod then turned and strode away. Palcon watched him go for a moment. Why had Feron created the Tyrans? Wanting a race of workers that could eat anything? Definitely missed on that one.

“You are a natural leader.”

Palcon turned to look at Evalyn, who had come to stand closer to him, her staff clasped in one hand. Were the branches up top actually flowering? Every time he saw the staff it seemed to have changed.

“You’ve said that before, Evalyn. I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“That is what a leader does.”

Palcon sighed and turned to make his way towards the council. “What do you think should be done with your people?” There had been some reports that people were nervous around the sheep people. They were quiet and still, seemingly content to sit in place for most of the day. People seemed to think that because Evalyn had attached herself to him that made him their representative.

Truthfully, they seemed to do whatever they were told and were placid and content otherwise.

“They will do what needs to be done.”

Palcon glanced again at Evalyn. At some point she had exchanged her linen scraps for a full length dress that fell nearly to the ground. Only when she walked could you see her hooves. Her poof of a tail did stick from a slit in the dress. Other than the shape of her face, it would be easy to mistake her for human. He wondered if that was her plan but never asked.

“Have you given any thought on what should be done with your people? Maybe even what they should call themselves?”

“Have you?”

Her response was as he suspected. She offered nothing but quiet acceptance and encouragement.

For several minutes there was silence between the two, though Palcon returned a few greetings along the way. As they neared the tent that housed the council, he decided to voice an idea that had been circling within his mind for most of the day.

“Do you think your people would be interested in textiles, or would they be offended?”

“They would not be offended. Speak to them about your desires.”

Palcon reached up to caress the scars near his good eye. “They aren’t my desires, Evalyn. I just want to help your people find an identity.”

Evalyn reached out to lightly touch his forearm, something she had been doing a lot more of late. “Your desires are to help and lead.”

Sighing, he nodded. “I suppose they are. Come on, let’s go talk to the council and get your people a new home. Then we can both talk to them about finding a purpose.”