The door is not barred.

Cable paused, his hand already raised to knock, and reached for the door latch, letting himself in. He gave his drenched cloak a shake in the direction of the street before closing the portal and hanging the dripping cloak from a peg beside it. Then he kicked off his boots, setting them on the mat on the other side of the doorway. He proceeded then, in his sock feet, to where he expected the old woman would be waiting.

“Sensei,” he bowed deeply the moment he spotted her.

She was sitting before the hearth with a girl, presumably her granddaughter, kneeling beside her, head in her lap and weeping softly. Antel kun, she replied, smiling faintly and nodding. How fare thee? And your studies?

He grimaced. He’d been too busy lately to stretch, let alone meditate. “Progressing,” he answered noncommittally. “I’ve been working on fire,” he added at her arch look.

And your healing?

His shoulders slumped. “Not so much, Sensei,” he admitted. "Even though I’m getting more practice with it. It seems as though I’ve hit a wall.”

We will work on it as time allows, she nodded. But for now, shall we address the true reason for this visit?

He didn’t waste time. “I’m here to request that your granddaughter invite me into her party.”

The girl’s head came up, wide eyed.

And why might that be, Antel? The old woman queried.

“Bor Jonkins and I have been giving it some thought,” he told them, an edge to his voice. “And we think we know the bunch your young man,” he ignored the girl’s glare, “is marching himself off to meet.”

And? The old woman had picked up his edge.

Cable hesitated for a moment before proceeding. He was remembering Bor’s description of how the girl had taken her earlier encounter, and matching it with her current state. What was coming was orders of magnitude worse.

Out with it, Antel, the old woman ordered.

“We’re pretty sure they’re the ones raided Weilei’s Crossing last summer,” he said roughly.

Rosaluna’s eyes widened in alarm. Mohrdrand straightened, grunting his dismay. Only Tiarraluna failed to realize the implications of what he’d said. She’d been far away for most of the past two years and hadn’t heard about it.

“Killed everything,” Cable went on for the girl’s sake. “Men, women, children, livestock, right down to the barn cats. Anything they couldn’t carry off or couldn’t be bothered to carry off, they slaughtered. Didn’t even burn the place. Just left the dead to rot.

“Ungifted hunter came across the place a few days later and worked out most of what had happened. Found one starving survivor who’d only lived because he’d been checking traps well outside the village when the attackers had ridden up. Had the sense to go to ground rather than throw his life away raising an alarm wouldn’t have done any good anyhow. Came up to just about what you two ran into up north, right down to the dark mage.

“Hunter brought him to Bailess, where the nearest guild hall was and a couple of them as were left came out and did an investigation. Nothing left but empty, ruined buildings and rotting corpses.”

“Why... why have I never...?” Tiarraluna sputtered.

“Weilei’s Crossing’s away out west,” Cable waved in that general direction. “Out in the higher ranked zones, more'n three hundred lenn from here. It never occurred to us we might run into that same lot in this province, let alone this county. Otherwise I’d have been out there myself hunting them down a month ago or more.

“As it is,” he pressed, “I need to get up there fast as my horse can carry me. Even three down, those lot are more than a rank nine will be able to handle on his own. Even a rank nine sentinel.”

Tiarraluna was staring in openmouthed horror at the tale. She looked to her grandmother, who nodded.

And you must go with him, Button, the old woman insisted.

Tiarraluna blanched white, drawing back, her emotions a whirling storm of chaos. “G-Grandmother!” she entreated.

No, Button, the sending was grim. You must go. He is your hero, and you must support him, even against this. Invite Cable. He is a good man and a strong fighter. He will protect you.

But protection wasn’t what concerned the girl just then. The mortal fear that gripped her heart at that moment wasn’t of the bandits. Not entirely. The worry that brought her terror was what else she would find at the end of the journey. What sort of monster would she find there at the bandit camp? That was the terror that held her now. What would she find Jackson had become?

“I... I cannot ride well enough...” she stammered. “We will never be able to....”

Mohrdrand? Rosaluna raised her head. You still have the wagon?

The old wizard rocked his head, taken aback at the force of the sending. “The Runstable’s?” he asked. “Of course I do. It’s in the back lot where it always is. You’ll need horses, though.”

“Horses, I’ve got,” Cable volunteered, eyebrows bunched in confusion. “Even a couple broken to harness. Will two be enough?”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Four or six would be better,” Mohrdrand nodded. “Eight better still. But two will do. Fetch them and I’ll get the wagon prepared. You know the back way in?”

He didn’t, but Mohrdrand explained it to him.

“Before I go, though,” and Cable turned back to the distraught girl. “The invitation, if you please? Have to make it official.”

Tiarraluna raised a shaky hand, still struggling with the notion that she was actually allowing herself to be pressed into this folly. “A-Antel Cable,” her voice broke. “I... I invite you to join my party.”

“I accept,” he took her hand, clasping it tight. “The bounty token?”

“H-he has it,” she didn’t meet his eyes.

Of course he would, he thought, frowning. He nodded, turned, and was off and out the door into the still pouring rain even as his cloak was settling about his shoulders.

* * *

Jonkins regarded the chronicler, perplexed, scratching his head with the hand not holding his mug.

“What is it, guildmaster,” Tiglund asked curiously. He’d taken the horses to Cable’s holding, fed and curried them, and had returned to await further instructions. He was now watching the guildmaster watch the chronicler.

“You know how these things work, right, Tig?” Jonkins asked.

“Yessir,” the boy answered promptly. “Cable taught me that right off.”

“So,” Jonkins mused. “What would you say if I told you that the sentinel has a good chunk more experience than last time I checked? And is still ticking up?”

“Why, that’s easy sir,” Tiglund beamed. “He’s earning experience.”

“And yet, the girl... the party leader... isn’t.”

Now Tiglund was perplexed. “Too far apart, maybe?” he ventured. “You said she’s here in town, right? Maybe he’s moving away.”

“Could be,” Jonkins nodded. “Doesn’t feel like it, though. Anyhow, we know where he’s going, or where he’s supposed to be going, and it’s not all that much farther away than he was earlier when I know for sure they were sharing.

“‘S’almost... almost like he’s off doing something not tied to the quest at all. Can’t imagine why, or how that’d earn him this sort of experience, though. Little jots of it at first, too close together, like he was being swarmed by something small.”

“Ran afoul of some wandering monsters, maybe?” Tiglund asked. “Fangeddy weasels and dire hares up that way, not mentioning the prairie wolves, plains lions, foxes, or snakes. I hear there’s even some slimes been seen on the far side of the river, up by the sulphur swamps.”

“Probably it,” Jonkins nodded again, uncertainly. “But why wouldn’t the girl share? They’re partied up, and should be sharing whether it’s directly tied to the bounty or incidental.

"And now, it’s just ticking up slow-like and steady. It’s almost as though he’s taken on a solo side quest. Something not guild related at all. But that would be downright stupid to do up against the kind of adversaries he’s already fighting. And he didn’t seem all that stupid to me.”

Tiglund had nothing to offer to that.

* * *

The outlaw leader stared out the half open door of his cabin, a dismal expression on his scarred face. Bear the Mauler, they called him these days. He’d had another name once, but it had been long ago, and he barely remembered what it had been anymore. He’d shed it when he’d joined the demon lord’s armies in his youth and hadn’t missed it. Bear the Mauler was all he needed, and was more intimidating to the scum who followed him into the bargain. Particularly now that the lord was gone and what remained of his armies were on their own.

At the moment, he lay, half reclining in his bed, his back against the wall behind him, ignoring the quiet weeping of the naked girl who lay beside him.

She had no name. May have once, but she’d lost it when she’d lost her freedom back in Weilei’s Crossing last summer. Now she was just girl. Or whore. Or whatever whichever of them was addressing her decided to call her at a given time. No more than livestock at this point, and who bothered to name the livestock?

No, the girl didn’t concern Bear any more than the rain he was staring out into. He was thinking of those three idiots out in the dark, wondering were they dead or alive. The more time passed, the more he figured dead. Had Thumper and Bonce found them anywhere short of the road, they’d already have been back, even with the rain.

While he was staring gloomily out into the darkness, a splashing commotion interrupted his musing. Narkins, one of his boys, came charging across the yard, splashing mud everywhere. The soggy fool brought up against the doorframe, clutching it with both hands for purchase.

“Boss,” he wheezed without preamble. “Willie’s dead!”

Bear surged upright, dislodging the naked girl and sending her tumbling to the floor, where she crawled quietly to huddle in a corner.

“The hell you say!” he roared. “Where? How?”

“He were standin’ guard,” Narkins explained. “Up in that big tree, you know the one. Been out there all day. When he didn’t come in after the rain started and it got dark, we got to wonderin’ why, so we went to look.”

“And?”

“He were a’sittin’ up there on that big branch like nothing were ‘appenin’,” the bandit said, wonder in his voice. “Drenched to th’ skin, he were, face all pale... just a’sittin’ there, like nothin’ to it.”

“And?” Bear repeated, voice deepening with rage.

“And when Boz climbed up to see what were wrong, there were a arrow through his gizzard, a’pinnin’ him to th’ tree,” Narkins’ eyes were wide. “And he were dead.”

Bear was already up, shrugging into his rough clothing and his armor, forcefully ignoring the chill racing up his spine. Something bad was going on out there in the dark, and he meant to find what.

“You see anybody about?” he demanded. “Any sign or anything?”

“In this rain, Boss?” Narkins quailed. “Lucky we were we found th’ tree.”

Right. “Let’s go then, dummy. I want to see for myself.”

They hadn’t bothered to bring Willie down. He hadn’t expected them to. He was up there in the tree, alright. Looking like he was still pretending to be on watch. Bear had to get right close even with the lantern light to see the arrow sticking out his neck, and when he did, his face paled, his eyes going to slits.

“That arrow belong to who I think it does?” he demanded.

“Sure do look like one o’ Thumper’s arrows,” Narkins replied.

“Well get him down!” Bear shouted to the mob in general, since they were all just standing around stupidly staring up into the tree at the corpse.

Bear didn’t bother waiting for them to finish. He was heading back to his cabin, his jaw clenched as his mind raced. Thumper and Bonce would be dead, then. With Willie and them first three idiots, that was six. Worse, he had no idea who was out there in the dark hunting them.

Boseco was a rank fifteen dark Skulker, and had been in and out of that town five dozen times in the past four months if he’d been in it once. Wasn’t hard given the state of both the guild and guard contingents. So Bear knew just about all there was to know about the place and what sorts of forces they might send against him. He'd been certain the rank thirty would be his only worry.

Rank Thirty was a Spearman, though, with some mage ranks as secondary. If he’d also been ranked with the bow, Bear would have found out about it. So it hadn’t been him killed Willie.

Rank thirty’s apprentice could use a bow, but was a fourteen year old rank four. Thumper’s bow was rank ten with a heavy draw. A good four ranks higher than that kid could draw, even ignoring its draw length or weight. So it wasn’t him.

Bear didn’t even give the guards a thought. Outside the town walls, they were barely stronger than ungifted.

All that left was the guildmaster and the mage, and while Bear wanted nothing to do with either, he didn’t fool himself a rank one-seventy-nine would be out in the rain shooting arrows around, or that the guildmaster would leave the town.

So who the bloody hell was out there killing his boys?