The city loomed around Myra, its buildings daunting and its street labyrinthine. It was late afternoon, the warm orange light of the setting sun offset only by the mass of dark storm clouds gathering to the east. Yet still the main street of the city was alive with people and activity. Merchant stalls were gathering up their goods to return home for the night, while food vendors were dishing out the last of the days batches at discount prices. All the strange sights and smells that flocked to civilisation were starkly apparent to Myra, who couldn’t help but slow her pace to take it all in. She had a little bit of money she had managed to salvage from Garth’s camp, but she had not come to Balmung for the markets. Dressed in an unassuming traveller’s habit with a weighty staff in her hand, she had sworn to brave the roads and settlements of the March alone for one purpose, to find the murderous stranger who had massacred her companions, and kill him.

She made her way to an inn, a fancy place with private rooms and stables. She entered into the smokey common-room, scanning the room for any unfriendly faces. The place did not have very many patrons yet, and aside from the few sidelong glances at the dagger at her hip, none paid much attention to Myra as she passed them at their tables.

She made her way over to the inn-keep, a small and nervous looking man who was busy studying stacks of ledgers. When the man noticed her approach he looked up from his papers, his eyes widening a little as he saw her. The man obviously didn’t know why, but he looked for all the world like a mouse caught in open with a hawk overhead. Myra gave herself a rueful smile, such meek little clerks always had that reaction to her. She had spent all her adult years preying on the livelihoods of such people.

“You the master of this place,” she asked abruptly.

The man stuttered a little. “Y…yes… yes I am. At your service ma’am…” He made it sound like a question.

“Service accepted,” she stepped closer and leant heavily on her staff. “I was told by some of the locals to check in here…”

“Oh yes, of course. You’ll find the recommendation was not made in vain. Allow me to take your staff and baggage, a traveller like you must surely…”

“Maybe later,” Myra cut in. “I was sent here because I’ve been asking around for a particular person in this city. Perhaps a customer of yours.”

“Oh… I see. Were you expecting to meet a friend here?”

“Aye, a friend I’d kill to see again.”

The man seemed to squirm in his seat beneath Myra’s cold stare. She leaned closer towards him, her voice lowered: “He’s a head-hunter, apparently working for the governor here. Travels in a grey cloak and has a face like death itself. Stir any memories?”

“Oh… you mean master Pike? Yes he was a customer of mine, though mostly he just stabled his horse here, a curious breed…”

“He was? Where is he?” Myra blurted out, unable to hide her frenzied excitement. The clerk nearly stumbled from his chair. At the tables, a few stares were turned her way.

“If you were hoping to meet him here, you’re too late. He paid his bill early this morning and left with his horse.”

“You useless bastard, where did he go?!” Myra clenched the man’s tunic and nearly yanked the poor clerk from his seat.

“I… I… don’t know!” the inn-keep protested meagrely. “I didn’t see which way he went. I don’t even know if he’s still in the city or not…”

“Damn it!” Myra let go of the frightened clerk and slammed her fist on the desk in frustration. When she hadn’t said anything for a few seconds, the clerk regained his nerves. “I… don’t suppose you’d be interesting in a room for the night?”

Myra gave a long and drawn out sigh, holding a hand to her forehead. “Just a drink will do for now. Something strong and bitter thank you.”

“Of course… coming right up,” the in-keep said, gathering up his papers and waddling away.

Myra only stood there for a moment, thinking of what to do next. The head-hunter could have gone anywhere. The locals seemed to know the man on sight, but few knew anything about him, not even his name. If he had indeed left the city, then no one could no where he would be going or why. The first thing she might do would be to inquire with the gate-guards, but then by the time she learned anything useful the gates would be closed until morning. Even then, the man was obviously an expert forester, and might take a trail away from the road. It would be a long chase, and if she managed to find him…

Myra’s hand strayed instinctively to the dagger thrust into her belt.

When she found him, the Fate Weavers would decide who would live, and who would die. The outcome didn’t matter, her grief would surely end either way.

A gentle hand tugged lightly at the sleeve of her robe. “Excuse me m’lady…”

She turned to see a young boy at her side, clad in simple homespun tunic. He looked up at her with wide, unassuming eyes beneath a mop of mousey blonde hair. “You’re looking for the head-hunter? The man with a face like death?”

“That I am, little one. Why do you ask?”

“Why are looking for him? I’ve seen him from a distance only a few times, but I would not like to properly meet him. He is very frightening.”

“I guess he is frightening,” Myra said with barely concealed scorn. “But he did me wrong, and I would have him answer for that. I can be quite frightening myself…”

“You must be quite brave,” said the boy. “But he left the city this morning. He must be long gone by now. But I know a someone who would know where he is going.”

Myra raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“I certainly do.” The boy nodded his head enthusiastically. “My uncle works in the palace, he says he has even talked to the head-hunter on a few occasions. He says he knows all about the hunter, like where he comes from and where he’s bound to go next.”

Myra felt a surge of excitement. “This uncle of yours, can you take me to him now? I have a few silver coins that will make it worth the time.”

“I sure can! Come, we can get to his house just in time for dinner. I’m certain a lady like you would be welcome at my uncle’s table.”

“Then by all means, lead the way young sir.” Swiftly, the boy lead Myra out of the inn and into the streets beyond. A few moments later, the inn-keep emerged from the kitchens with a tray of drinks in his hand, looking around in confusion for Myra.

The sky was growing rapidly darker as the sandy-headed boy lead Myra through the winding streets, turning aside from the main road and into smaller lanes and alleys. Myra followed silently on, her excitement giving way to impatience the longer their journey took.

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“Not much longer now lady. My uncle’s place is right around the corner from here.” The boy said as if sensing Myra’s discomfort. She had no liking for cities, especially how they seemed to be vastly larger inside than they seemed from without.

“Don’t you worry about me, I’m no stranger to hiking. I can do this all day.” It was only half true. The smoke and lack of wind was making her lose her breath. She had almost forgotten what that feeling was like.

“Here we are, just down this way!” The boy picked up his pace as he turned into an tight alleyway. Myra had to start into an awkward jog to keep up.

“Come on! This way… this way…” The voiced echoed, bouncing from wall to wall.

“Hold up lad!” Myra called as she shuffled through the alley, not liking the narrowness of the place. She had lost sight of the boy, looking about frantically as panic began to seize her. Further down the alley, the boy reemerged from around a corner with a broad smile on his face, waving at her to follow. Myra breathed a sigh of relief as she started forward. That was when the man seized her.

Suddenly, a broad hand had clasped around her mouth, stifling her scream while another took hold of her arm and forced her to drop her staff. She reached for her dagger, but a dark figure had emerged from the shadows and snatched the blade from its scabbard. She tried to struggle, but the cold steel of her own dagger flashed at her throat. Her nose was assaulted by rancid breath, as the man with the dagger flashed her a gap-toothed grin, demonic in the heavy shadow of the alley.

“Not bad,” the man in front of her croaked in a hoarse voice. “But not all that pretty…”

“What did you expect, an actress?” The sandy haired boy said in a hushed voice. “It was the best I could pull on short notice. Just hurry up and get her out here before someone shows up. The slave-ship is bound to set sail come sunrise.”

“They won’t pay up very much for a wench like this,” the man holding Myra said in a gruff voice beside her ear, his arms unmovable as iron bars.

“Well if you clouts had planned this out sooner, we might have at least snatched a few more for the slavers. I can’t work miracles here!” The boy said indigently.

The dagger-wielder looked Myra up and down with a critical eye. “Might get twenty dux for this one, at best.”

“Not worth splitting three ways…” the other man said. Gap-tooth shot a knowing glance at the man behind Myra, a look in his eyes that Myra knew all too well.

“Twenty isn’t that bad,” said sandy-hair. “That knife there looks worth a little something too. We can call it even if you give me that.”

Gap-tooth turned to face the youth. “If you wish…” The dagger flashed out. Before the boy could react, blood was gushing from a hole in his throat. He clutched his throat and gasped for air, before Gap-tooth pushed the youth over to let him die in the mud.

Myra tried to scream again, muffled by the kidnapper’s hand. Gap-tooth held the bloody knife close to her face. “Don’t be making this difficult now. If you get all cut up, then we can’t sell you off. And if we can’t sell you, then we’ll just have to keep you with us, and then things will start getting bad…”

Before she could react, the big man behind Myra had gagged her with a strip of cloth. Then they bound her wrists together behind her back, each taking firm hold of her arms and practically dragging her away. Myra fought to control her breath, forced her muscles to relax. Conserve your energy, she told herself, bide your time. Animals caught in traps fought against their own bodies to free themselves. A hunter must be patient, wait for the right time, and then strike the killing blow.

The kidnappers shuffled out of the alley and into the nighted streets, Myra in their grasp. They had not gone very far when they were halted suddenly by the sound of shattering pottery. Myra glanced over her shoulder to see a broadly built, military looking man sitting casually atop a crate, in the shadow of an outcropping wall the kidnappers hadn’t been able to see as they passed. At the man’s feet were shards of broken pottery in a puddle a dark wine. The kidnappers whirled in fright.

“Now look what you made me do,” the man said, the slightest hint of a drunken slur in his strangely accented voice. “Yes you two, you ugly looking rogues, you’re stench made me go drop my wine…” The man leaned forward and gestured seriously at the evidence. Aside from the weary look on his face, and a fresh cut below his left eye held together by stitches, the man had a strong, noble countenance, with square face and broad shoulders evident beneath his cloak and woollen shirt.

The kidnappers glanced nervously at each other. Myra noted the hilts of knives protruding from their belts.

“You looking for trouble, friend?” the larger of the rogues said firmly.

“Not at all,” the newcomer waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ve had quite enough trouble today, so I was very much looking forward to that wine you made me drop. So how about this, I’ll forgive and forget about the wine, if you just leave that woman here with me and be on your way.”

Gap-tooth scoffed. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t be so quick to brush off a stranger,” the scarred man said indignantly. “You would feel right silly if you happened to snub a palace guard, for instance…”

Myra felt tension in the air, her kidnappers were wary. The scarred man reached into the shadows beside him and lifted up a sheathed sword, a ruby gleaming dully in its pommel. He was eyeing down the kidnappers coldly, no longer seeming at all drunk.

“Let the woman go,” he said. “And I’ll let both of you off with a warning this time. I might even forget about that body you left in that alley back there…”

“Great hells, we can’t let him live now.” The larger rogue hissed through his teeth.

“Shut up and let someone with brains do the talking.” Gap-tooth growled. “I’m sorry good sir but you must be confusing us for criminals! This woman here, she’s an outsider, a vagabond who assaulted a young boy back there. We were too late to save the poor lad when we restrained the hellion and…”

“Enough!” The scarred man lurched suddenly from where he was sitting, sheathed sword in his hand. “I am Erasmus Gracchus, a sworn retainer of your damned king, and I have had a long day. If you value your lives, then you’ll leave the woman be and run for your hovels.”

Suddenly, Gap-tooth grabbed a handful of Myra’s hair and violently yanked her head back, pressing Myra’s own dagger against her throat.

“And if you care that much about this bitch, you’ll put that fancy sword down and walk away.”

“If you kill her, you’ll only make things worse for yourself…”

“I’m a gambling man, I’ll take the risk.” Blood began to show where the blade pressed against Myra’s throat. Still, she did not flinch or utter a sound. She expected to die, yet in the dim light she thought she saw some hesitation in the eyes of Erasmus. To her surprise, Erasmus tossed his sword aside, letting it clatter on the cobbled street.

“Well,” he said. “Now what.”

“Hurry Ogun!” Gap-tooth cried to his brutish companion. “Kill him now!”

The one called Ogun charged towards Erasmus, knife flashing in the moonlight. Erasmus made no move for his sword, the kidnapper was too quick. Myra expected to see the swordsman fall back to avoid the oncoming knife, yet instead he took a step forward. Ogun’s knife-hand shot towards Erasmus’ stomach for the disemboweling thrust, but Erasmus somehow sidestepped the blow, while his own fist shot up and slammed into his attacker’s chin.

Ogun’s bull-like head snapped backwards. Erasmus immediately grabbed the wrist of the man’s knife-hand. There was the sound of bone snapping beneath Erasmus’ grip, and the knife fell to the ground. The kidnapper was seized by a berserk fury and, ignoring his broken wrist, grappled with Erasmus.

Myra felt the pressure of the knife ease from her throat. Gap-tooth was obviously distracted. She let her muscles relax and began to topple downwards like one who has lost consciousness. The ruse worked, Gap-tooth let go of his grip on her, and before Myra could hit the ground she caught her footing snapped back upwards, slamming her head into Gap-tooth’s jaw. The man stumbled backwards, and Myra kicked his leg out beneath him. He fell with a grunt, but Myra’s hands where still tied behind her back. She awkwardly tried to turn and run away, but Gap-tooth had managed to grab her by the ankle and sent her toppling to the ground. Her head hit the cobbles and before she could regain her senses, Gap-tooth was on top of her, mad rage in his eyes.

“You bloody bitch! Die!” He raised his dagger high for a downward thrust. But as he held the blade above his head for that split second, there was a blur of movement, a glint of steel, and suddenly Gap-tooth’s hand was sliced from his arm. Gap-tooth squealed in pain, rolling off Myra and cradling his bleeding stump.

Myra’s head still swam, her vision blurred from the fall. But slowly she realised that her bonds had been cut and her gag removed. She was helped up into a sitting position.

“That was a close one,” Erasmus said kneeling beside her, his sword at rest beside him. Gap-tooth still whimpered over his severed hand even as he lost conscious from blood-loss, while Ogun did not move at all, his head slammed through a wall.

Myra looked at the speaker, still dazed. Through her shaky sight, she thought she saw Garth beside her, the same old smile she remembered on his lips. She was at a loss for words. Then her vision cleared up, and Garth was no longer there, only the stranger who called himself Erasmus. “But it’s over,” he said softly, “you’re with friends now…”

Tears welled up in Myra’s eyes. She broke down into sobs and collapsed into Erasmus’ arms.