It was only a couple of months before Dyla began showing. Her slender frame, lithe with muscle softened as she rested. She was exhausted easily and although it pained her, she often was too sick to move. It wasn't long before the whole town knew of the baby. Their reactions mirrored the Jarl's, many fearing this would mean seeing more of Bryn and his dark temper.

Already, two merchants had almost died denying something to Bryn. Bryn had wanted a shipment of cloth the tailor had promised to an aristocrat in the capital. It was only by the timely arrival of her son that she had avoided being skewered on Bryn's sword. The son had begged forgiveness and given Bryn the cloth for free, unknowingly fulfilling Bryn's rules for survival.

The second was the stablemaster who had objected to Bryn building his own stable. Despite warning from the other townsfolk, he confronted Bryn who broke one of the man's legs by the time Ulris and the Jarl showed up.

The Jarl had negotiated for the man's life, promising he would leave the town. The stablemaster had thanked Jarl by spitting in his face. This was probably what had saved him. Bryn's temper had left when he saw the ingratitude of the Jarl's efforts. His rumbling laugh filled the town as the Jarl's men dragged away the stablemaster and Jarl Soren was forced to apologize to Bryn. The stablemaster left bitterly, cursing Bryn and the Jarl alike.

Many suspected it was that stablemaster who sent the mage. It was in the spring, Bryn was getting restless and to Dyla's dismay and the town's delight, would go out into the wilds for days at a time before returning home. It was during one of these trips that the mage arrived.

The townsfolk, far from Snærheim where the few mages of Valhym met, pooling their knowledge of the arcane, did not recognize him for what he was. He stayed at the inn until Bryn wandered back home.

Bryn was at the doorstep, Dyla opening the door to greet him when the first bolt struck him between the shoulders. He fell twitching on the floor before quickly rolling to the side, avoiding a spear of ice which shattered like glass on the doorstep. Dyla lunged forward, but Ulris and Nelly pulled her back, shutting the door.

Bryn got up, wards shimmering into existence. But the mage was fast, already there was a figure of stone rising from the earth, standing between Bryn and his attacker.

"Ah it's true!" the man tittered, his high voice nasally and proud. "The beast does know a few cantrips. This may be fun after all."

Bryn tossed an axe but it bounded off the man's ward. The mage waggled a finger. "Now, now, none of that."

Fire billowed from the mage’s other hand and Bryn moved forward, using the huge stone guardian as shelter. It squeezed it's rocky arms around him but with a roar Bryn broke free, sweat from the now heated stone trickling down his face. He slammed his axe into the stone chest, creating a crack and pressed his hand against it. The summoned roots burst out of the guardian leaving it crumbled in the dirt.

The mage's unrelenting flames burnt the plant to a crisp as Bryn moved to the side. He got five steps closer when the mage saw him and turned the flames at his target. Bryn didn't flinch as the flames hit his ward, curling around him but draining his strength. His small pool of magic nothing to a true mage. Bryn moved closer once more and the mage backed up laughing.

"So close, yet so far away. This is why I love these bounties, custom made for mages, a mass of murderous muscles boiling to a crisp under the fire in my hands. It's simply delicious."

Bryn threw another axe but it went wide, thudding into the dirt behind the mage. Bryn unsheathed his greatsword, still moving forward into the blaze.

It was a mage's favorite game, which would fail first, the stream of fire or the victim's ward? For what seemed like an eternity they danced, Bryn forward, the mage back.

At last, Bryn had the mage where he wanted him. The mage's backwards step tripped over Bryn's previously thrown axe. As he stumbled, the flames went high and Bryn, darting forward, lunged with his sword. It shattered the mage's ward and as he tried to regain his balance, Bryn grabbed his throat. The man choked and sputtered. Bryn muttered a silence spell, the effort breaking his own ward.

The man's face turned blue and his eyes rolled back before Bryn dropped him. Dyla burst from the door, coming to examine Bryn. He brushed her off, his grey eyes glinting with anger. He reached down, grabbing the front of the mages robes and picking him off the ground.

"Get me a pole, some rope, and a bucket."

Ulris scurried off to find the items and Dyla stood nearby wringing her hands. She had never seen Bryn fight such a powerful mage. The occasional cultist was usually weak, his powers recently gained and practiced only on the helpless. This was a man from the Snærheim guild of mages, trained by masters.

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"Woman, pack my bag."

Dyla wanted to ask questions, but she just nodded and went inside to do what he said. As she packed, unwelcome tears trickled down her cheek, a feeling of dread welling up inside her.

When Ulris and some servants arrived with the items, Bryn pounded the pole into the ground and tied the mage to it. He called for a second pole and put it between the man's legs to tie his hands stretching out forward. Bryn placed a bucket beneath his wrists. Then he sat and waited for the mage to wake up.

By the time the mage stirred, the Jarl had arrived. "What on earth are you doing, Bryn?"

Bryn turned and gave him a dangerous look, rage swimming in his eyes. Jarl Soren stopped in his tracks, feeling he had just walked into a bear's den. Summoning courage, the Jarl tried again, "You can't keep a man tied up in the middle of town."

"I can. This swine attacked me at my home. He was sent by a bounty. I have yet to decide if you should share his fate, Jarl, so I suggest you go home."

The words were quiet and low, chilling the Jarl. He knew Bryn was going to do something awful to this man, but he couldn't save him. All altruism turned to self-preservation and the Jarl backed off, urging his guards to keep the townspeople inside.

"Wha...?" The mage stirred.

Quick as a snake, Bryn's hand reached forward, grabbing the man's tongue and slicing it out of his mouth. The Jarl heard the scream as he walked away.

"Good, you're awake. I would've have waited and asked you who sent you, but you mages are so tricky and I got impatient to see your blood."

Red poured from the man's mouth and he gurgled.

"Hmm that's a lot of blood. I wouldn't want you to bleed out. Better wait for the next bit." Bryn took a cloth from his pocket and shoved it past the mage's teeth, his screams were muffled and the cloth soon turned red.

Bryn checked that every finger of the mage was tied down so he could not cast anything tricky. As the mage moved his head and his eyes rolled in pain, Bryn sat and waited.

Night fell and still Bryn waited. His eyes sparkling like a wolf's in the darkness. Dyla brought him his bag and some food. He set the bag beside him and ate the food, saying no words to her. Dyla too waited until Ulris and Nelly came to get her in bed.

"Leave me," she ordered, refusing to leave Bryn's side again.

They pleaded with her but she remained adamant until Bryn spoke, "Go to bed, woman. I will be here when you wake."

Without a word, Dyla let Nelly help her up and into bed.

The sun rose and with it Bryn. He moved forward, crouching by the mage. He ripped the bloodied cloth out and the mage's eyes shot open, his scream waking the town.

"Now I'm going to ask you some questions and you will nod. Understand?"

The mage nodded.

"Are you from Snærheim?" Nod. "Were you sent by the Jarl?" The mage shook his head and made some guttural noises. Bryn held up a hand and he stopped.

"There is a bounty for me?" Nod. "It is just for mages?" A hesitant nod. "These mage bounties, are they approved by the king?" Shake.

Bryn gave the mage his predatory smile. "Good man. Now if you survive this next bit, I will take you home."

The man stiffened and Bryn stood up, took out his great axe, and brought it down on the mage’s wrists. As he screamed, pulling his handless arms to his chest, Bryn reached into his pack and wrote a note. He pulled a sack out and dropped the man's hands inside. Tying the sack, Bryn marched up the road until he reached a guard who was trying very hard not to run towards the screams.

Bryn loomed over the man, who tried not to shake in his boots. "You. Take this to the Jarl."

He handed the man the bag and note. The man looked horrified at the bag, it's bottom soaked red. Bryn eyed him. "Move." he growled.

The guard took off and Bryn returned to the mage. Dyla was standing in front of him, her blonde hair tangled from a sleepless night and her pale blue nightgown fluttering in the chill morning breeze.

Bryn walked up to her and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. She moaned, feeling in her soul what he was about to say. "I am going to Snærheim and you are not coming."

She clung to him. "Please, no, my lord. Take me with you. You promised me I would stay by your side."

He took her by the arms and gave her a small shake. "No, woman. You cannot travel and this must be addressed. Do as I say."

She shook her head, tears welling. "No, I—"

It was the first time Bryn had ever struck her. It was the first time she had ever disobeyed. Her cheek burned and the tears escaped. Her body spasmed with sobs and Bryn picked her up and carried her inside.

She clung to him but he firmly tore her away and placed her on their bed. She tried to get up but with a look from Bryn, Nelly and Ulris held her back. Her struggles stopped and she froze when he said, "If you are not here, I will not come back."

Dyla was told that he went outside and untied the mage. That he slung the bleeding man over his shoulder, picked up his bag, and walked into the wilds. Dyla was frozen on her bed as they told her this.

"Snærheim," she muttered, "he's going to Snærheim."

Nelly gasped, "It'll take him at least a month to get there on foot!" She covered her mouth and Ulris shoved her out of the room as Dyla collapsed onto the bed.

"He promised," she moaned, "he promised I wouldn't be afraid. I am so afraid."

Ulris stayed by her side until she slept.

The Jarl received the bag and message shortly after Bryn left. He ordered the hands burned and buried and sat at his throne the note on his lap. A gift, just in case he was yours. He ran a hand through his quickly greying hair and wished for the millionth time that Bryn had never come to Hjor.