Kax’s clear voice rang out over the din of horse hooves and wagon wheels. “Hey, pyromancer! Come ride on the wagon with me for a while. We need to get you a weapon!”

“Go ahead,” Goslin said, nodding his head to Kax.

“Thank you,” Sarien said, pulling on the reins and falling back until he rode alongside the wagon.

“Jump up here instead!” Kax yelled, waving for Sarien to join him. “It’s impossible to talk like this!”

Sarien dismounted and tied his horse to the back of the moving wagon. Then he scrambled ungracefully up and plopped down beside Kax.

“So, a weapon,” Kax said, thinking out loud. “You don’t want a sword. That’s much too common. Some sort of staff would fit the robe, but they’re not great for fighting. Do you have any experience?”

“With weapons?” Sarien thought back to the night at Kalstram where his inexperience nearly costed him his life. “Not really.”

“Thought not,” he said. “Don’t worry, we’ll whip you into shape.” He grinned and used the back of his hand to brush his hair out of his face. “Only teasing, only teasing.”

After a quiet moment as Sarien watched Kax sink deep into thought, the young man nodded to himself. “You’ll want some distance between yourself and your foe. My recommendation would be to start off with a spear. Just stick them with the front bit and keep backing away.”

Sarien winced. He used a spear, a makeshift one at that, in his failed fight against the monster. It didn’t bode well for him to use a spear again, but maybe, if he trained to use the weapon, things will turn out better in the future. His thoughts flickered over the gruesome sight of Perti, Ola, and Hein’s dismembered bodies.

“Okay,” Sarien said. “What weapon do you use?”

Kax coughed and glanced behind them. The back of the wagon was full of cloth rolls that clanked gently when the wagon drove over holes and stones. “I haven’t settled on one yet. Haven’t found the perfect fit, so I’ve been practicing with several.” A look of desperation passed over Kax’s face when he spoke of weapons, like he had to find the answer and find it soon.

A little uncomfortable, Sarien changed the subject, “Hart mentioned you’re head of your house?”

Kax looked away sharply. Sarien cringed, it seemed he had stumbled upon a topic that made the conversation more awkward.

“Yeah, my parents died,” Kax mumbled.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”

“No harm done. It’s just not a very fun story, but it did start me on my journey to find the perfect weapon. Now, let’s get you that spear! Hold these.” He threw the reins on Sarien’s lap and jumped into the back of the wagon and began rummaging around the cloth-covered weapons. Sarien grabbed the reins.

“Aha! Here they are. Do you prefer long or short?”

Sarien looked over his shoulder to see Kax holding a spear taller than himself in one hand and one nearly half the size in the other. “What’s the difference?”

He shrugged. “One is long, the other is a little shorter. I’ve heard it said that you can throw the shorter ones if you practice enough, but it seems dumb to throw your weapon away, if you ask me.” He eyed Sarien before holding out the shorter spear. “I recommend this. And hey, it’ll double as a staff to go with those pretty robes of yours.”

“It’s heavy,” Sarien said, hefting the spear with one hand while clutching on the reins with the other. It was unornamented but looked well-crafted, as far as Sarien could tell, with a sturdy wooden haft and heavy metal head polished to a shine, and sunlight glinted off the edge. A solid weapon, unlike his previous makeshift excuse for a spear.

“It’ll put some muscle on you, that’s for sure. You should practice when we stop. The soldiers back there,” he pointed to the back of the column. “They use pikes. Those are pretty similar in fighting style. Ask one of them to show you.”

“I will, thank you.”

Kax took the spear back and wrapped it gently back in its cloth covering. “Take this too.” He handed Sarien a belt holding a sheath with a short sword.

Sarien tied the belt on over his robes. It looked ridiculous, but Kax didn’t comment. “Thank you,” Sarien said.

“A short sword. Lighter than the blades Goslin and Hart uses, but I think it’ll fit you well. If someone comes in too close for the spear, make ‘em regret it with the sword. And, it’ll come much handier than your knife in a fight.”

“What are you using now?”

Kax smiled broadly. “This!” He pulled two bladed weapons from beneath a bit of canvas.

Sarien stared. He had never seen anything like them before. “What are they?”

“Hooked swords. They’re from the dark continent. You can hook your opponent’s sword or shield with one and strike with the other. Neat, huh?” The sword had a hook down one end and a short, sharp blade down the other.

“Looks dangerous.”

“I thought so! Not great to practice sparring with, though.” Kax eyed his weapons like they were his most prized possessions.

Sarien shook his head with a smile.

Suddenly, he felt something tug inside him, the same sensation he felt at Kalstram. It was like whatever called to him came into existence somewhere off in forest by the side of the road.

“Ready those weapons.” The power within him reverberated, thrumming to a silent tune. “I think something is coming.”

Kax’s eyes flew open as he peered into the dense woods surrounding them. “Burn it! What are you talking about? I don’t see anyone.”

“In the woods.”

“Everyone stop!” Kax yelled and ripped the reins from Sarien’s hands, halting the wagon. “Our new friend here thinks we’re about to be attacked from the woods!”

“Why?” Emeryn yelled from behind them.

“How would I know?” Kax yelled back at her. “Just get ready!” The soldiers circled the wagon and positioned themselves toward the trees, their long pikes pointed straight ahead.

Sarien clambered down, grabbing the spear in his descent. His hands shook, making the tip of the spear tremble.

The others gathered around. Kax stood right beside Sarien, glancing up at him with both hooked swords at the ready.

“It’s open,” Sarien said, unsure of what he meant. Twigs snapped in the underbrush. A low growl emitted from the shadows.

Lana stood close, and Sarien asked through his clenched jaw, “Can you feel that?”

“Feel what?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the tree line. “I don’t feel a thing.”

Tom stepped in close. “Me neither. What do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Sarien admitted, confused. The resonance he felt was stationary, it didn’t move. But something was, and it was coming right for them.

A long-haired, shaggy beast that ran on all fours hurtled out from behind a bush. An arrow flew from behind it, but missed and struck the ground.

“Stop!” Hart yelled. “It’s just a dog! Heylien, get out here!” Hart moved ahead of the others as everyone dropped their weapons.

“That’s not a dog!” Kax yelled, backing up quickly. “It looks like a monster!”

Sarien followed Hart. “Be careful. It could be dangerous.”

Hart looked at him skeptically, then at the dog. “Sure, they can be. Do you really think this one looks like it wants to do you harm?”

When Hart yelled for the others to stop, the beast had stopped in its tracks. Now it sat panting by the side of the road, its long pink tongue lolling out of the side of its impressive maw.

Sarien smiled. The beast seemed to smile in return. “I guess not.” It appeared quite friendly now that it wasn’t charging straight at them. Its tail wagged back and forth in a frenzy, picking up speed when they moved in closer.

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A man stepped out of the underbrush. He was tall and lanky and carried a bow over his shoulder. His clothes looked like they were designed to blend in with the browns and greens of the forest, not unlike the kind his father wore when out hunting. His long, dark brown hair was tied back with a strip of leather cord.

“Why did you shoot at it, Heylien?” Hart asked.

Heylien pointed at the dog. “That thing appeared out of nowhere!”

Hart chuckled. “You’re angry that you didn’t spot it?” He placed a large hand on the dog’s head and scratched behind its long floppy ears. The incessant thumping of its tail heightened to an alarming degree.

“I’m telling you. I didn’t miss it, it just appeared out of nothingness. Right in front of me!”

“Sure, sure,” Hart said, dropping to his knees and hugging the beast. It pressed itself against the huge man like they had known each other for all their lives. “Well, I’m keeping him,” Hart said. “Come, dog!”

Sarien gazed into the still forest.

“Is there something else out there?” Goslin asked.

“I didn’t see anything,” Heylien said, grabbing Sarien’s hand and giving it a shake. “Heylien.”

“Sarien,” Sarien said, absentmindedly. “I’m not sure.”

Goslin frowned. “Is it dangerous? Something we have to deal with?”

The strange sensation was fading away. “No,” Sarien said, shaking his head slowly. “I think it’s disappearing, whatever it is.”

A look of concern filled Goslin’s face, but he turned and nodded to the others to move out.

Once camp was set up for the night, Sarien took the opportunity to speak with the cluster of soldiers who sat apart from the others. He heeded Kax’s advice to seek out training with his spear. After the earlier event that day when the dog suddenly appeared, Sarien knew he was not ready for a fight. He doubted he could even take down a dog, much less an armed opponent.

“Hello.” All eight soldiers nodded in acknowledgement, obviously wary.

“I’ve got this spear,” Sarien continued, feeling like an idiot when he held up the spear in his hand. It wasn’t as if the men couldn’t see him carrying it from across the camp. “Kax said one of you could show me how to use it? I can pay if you need compensation for your time.”

One of them chuckled. “Kax. Like what a cat sounds like when it’s puking.” One of the others laughed and made sounds like he was a cat throwing up a hairball.

Sarien stood awkwardly waiting for the laughter to die down.

“I can show you a little, if you want. While the food is cooking,” one of the soldiers said. He turned to the others, who still sat around their little campfire. “Not like the company here is all that great.”

The older man grabbed his own polearm and pointed off to the side of the camp where a lone tree covered in yellowing leaves stood. They began heading in that direction.

“I’m Slakt.”

“I’m Sarien.”

“Yes, I know. You’re the pyromancer.” He nodded to Sarien’s chest, where the guild crest hung on a leather cord around his neck.

“You’re one of Goslin’s soldiers?”

Slakt shook his head. “Tarkum.”

“Hart?”

“That’s right. We’re here to make sure nothing happens to him.” Then he shuddered. They arrived at the tree and Slakt pivoted to face Sarien.

“Spears are best used in formations. If there’s fighting, either keep back or come to us. We use pikes and stay together. That way we don’t get singled out.”

“Singled out?”

“A lone spearman can easily be flanked. You’ll have to be careful. If they get past the tip of your spear, your best bet is either quickly stepping back or to drop the weapon and pull out that sword of yours. Understand?”

Sarien nodded. “I understand.”

“Good, then let’s begin. Food is almost ready.” Slakt got into position with his much longer polearm and showed Sarien how to brace himself and hold the weapon. As they stepped forward in unison to thrust, Sarien spotted Tomford where he sparred with his instructor in hand-to-hand combat. Goslin and Hart practiced to the side with their swords and shields.

“Keep your focus,” Slakt said. “Your spear is on the shorter side, but it can still throw you off balance.”

Sarien thrust forward and up again, as if striking at someone’s face.

“Bend your knees more before you thrust and let the wood slide across your front hand. It will get you more reach.” Sarien followed the instructions to the best of his abilities. Eventually, Slakt nodded. “Not too terrible, I guess. How are your arms feeling?”

Sarien panted. “Sore. Like I’ve been doing this for hours!”

“Practice every day and you’ll get stronger before you know it. There are other techniques, like slashing, but I would stick with thrusts for now. Keep your distance from your opponent.”

Sarien dug into his tunic for his bag of coin, but Slakt stopped him. “There’s no need for that. Just help me keep the young lord out of trouble.”

Sarien watched as Hart drove his sword down on Goslin’s head and the princeling dodged the blow in the last second. There was a strange alertness in Hart’s eyes while Goslin seemed to be saying something to calm him. “I’ll do my best. Though he looks like he can take care of himself.”

Slakt chuckled and patted Sarien’s shoulder before returning to his companions and their dinner.

“Thank you!” Sarien yelled after him.

Sarien practiced on his own for a while longer but quit when his palms started burning. The smell of meat cooking over fire drifted from where the group of nobles had made their camp and his stomach growled.

Off by the side of the camp, Lana was throwing daggers at a wooden board. He watched in surprise as her dagger changed trajectory in midair and struck the middle of the board with a soft thud.

Lana’s shoulders were heaving, but she kept throwing her daggers as he walked past. Every single one struck the board despite none of them flying true when they left her hand. A gust of wind blew sand into his face, and he coughed, sputtering as he wiped his face clean with his sleeve.

Lana glared at him as he quickly made his way to the campfire. Kax, Hart, and Emeryn sat around a fire pit each with a plate of food in their hands.

Kax pointed to one of the erected tents. “That one is yours. Goslin asked his manservant to put out some clothes for you, so you don’t have to wear that ridiculous outfit.” He pointed to Sarien’s red robes. The hem was already brown with dirt.

“I’ll have to thank him.”

Chairs surrounded the fire and Sarien fell into an empty one and accepted a plate of food. The dog lay on the ground next to Hart’s feet. It looked content, blinking its large brown eyes sleepily.

Sarien watched Tomford sparring with his instructor, a man Sarien hadn’t been introduced to. They danced around each other and threw quick punches that were difficult to follow in the dim light.

“Where are the others?” Sarien asked.

“Heylien is out scouting again. It’s all he does,” Kax said. “Restless, that one.”

Hart chewed and swallowed a large mouthful of red meat. From the look of it, it was a hunk of beef. “Goslin is taking his bath.”

“Bath?” Sarien asked.

Emeryn shrugged. “He likes baths and doesn’t like being dirty. Wouldn’t hurt the rest of you to do the same every once in a while.”

“Hey! I bathe plenty,” Kax said. “I just don’t get the shakes as soon as I get a bit of grime on me. I probably smell just as good as you, Emeryn!”

Hart laughed, choking on a bit of food. He hacked, beating a fist against at his own chest. When his coughs finally subsided, he said, “Doubt that, Kax. She looks like she smells very nice.” It turned very quiet around the campfire, and Hart looked around. “What? It was a compliment.”

“Such a weird thing to say,” Kax said. “Your manners need some work, my giant friend.”

“Thank you, Hart,” Emeryn said, smelling her own armpit before wrinkling her nose. “Perhaps I shall enjoy a bath after supper.”

“You might not be a noble, but you can sure sound like one,” Kax said.

Emeryn smiled. “Thanks, I’ve been practicing.”

“How did it go with the spear?” Kax asked, just as Sarien took a mouthful of the stew he was eating.

He chewed and swallowed. “It went well, I think. Slakt showed me how to thrust and gave me some pointers.”

“Sounds like you’re ready for some bandits!” Kax said. “Can’t wait to try out my hooked swords in some real combat!”

“You don’t think you’re taking this whole thing a little too lightly, Kax?” Hart asked. “It isn’t easy to kill a man.”

Kax blinked. “You’ve killed someone?”

“Well, no. But I can’t imagine it being easy.”

They sat in silence for a while, eating and looking into the fire.

Emeryn glanced at Goslin’s tent, then back to them. “Well, I better go rest. We’ll arrive at that village tomorrow. Best keep our strength up in case we do find some bandits on the way.”

Hart nodded to her, and Kax looked lost in thought.

“What bandits?” Sarien asked.

Kax shrugged one shoulder. “Himmi. They were attacked by bandits, and we are here to stop them.”

“Oh.” Sarien wondered how much he was expected to contribute. Today was the first time he held a proper weapon in his hands. Perhaps, he should wake early and put in a few hours of practice before they broke camp in the morning.

“I think I’ll go too. See you both in the morning,” Sarien said.

Sarien stepped out of his tent, wearing the clothes Goslin had set aside for him. The pants were a bit snug, but they were perfect for travelling. More importantly, they weren’t garish like his pyromancer robes. His new clothes reminded him of what he wore every day at the Karm estate, only of finer quality.

“Morning,” Kax said. “Got you something.”

“You did?”

“Here.” Kax handed him a leather string with a closable loop at each side.

“What is it?”

Kax laughed. “It’s a sheathe for your spear, so you can carry it on your back.” He grabbed Sarien’s spear and showed him how to close the ends around the spear’s haft. Kax slung it over his shoulder. “It would get annoying carrying that thing in your hands all day. How are your hands?”

Sarien held his palm up before him. They were red and tender, but no blisters. “Fine. Only hurts a little. Thank you for the sheathe. I’m sure it’ll come in handy.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget to practice with the sword too, at least a little.”

Sarien nodded. “Right.”

Kax smiled and ran off to where his servants were taking down his tent. Sarien headed to the fire pit from the night before and found Goslin sitting alone, deep in thought.

“Did you sleep well?” Goslin asked as Sarien joined him.

“Yes, quite well. Thank you for letting me use one of the tents. And, for the clothes.” He gestured to his new outfit.

Goslin nodded, smiling. “It suits you better.” He glanced around the camp. “How do you find our little company?”

“Everyone is being really kind and welcoming.” Well, not so much Lana, but Sarien kept that to himself. He was sure he would come to some kind of peace with the young woman at some point. Perhaps, it was simply the sight of his robes she hated?

“Where were you last night?”

Goslin blew a strand of blond hair from his face. “I got back from my bath after you left, ate some dinner, and went to bed. Travel can be tiring.”

“It can. We’ll make it to that village today?”

“Himmi, yes. Shouldn’t be too far from here. Perhaps we’ll even sleep on proper beds tonight, rather than these bed rolls.”

“Is it a big place? Himmi?” Sarien asked.

Goslin shook his head. “No. I haven’t been there personally, our estates are further north, but from what little there was in the report I received, it’s barely more than a few houses along one street, and a cluster of farms in the surrounding area. It does have an inn, though.”

“I wonder what bandits are doing there, then,” Sarien said.

“Easy pickings, I suppose. Farmers can’t mount much of a resistance. Banditry has been a problem for a long time in these parts.”

“What are we going to do with them?”

“The bandits?”

Sarien nodded.

“Depends on the severity of their actions and how willing they are to repent. Either they give up their arms and agree to be taken into custody, in which case we’ll turn them over to the magistrate in the next town.”

“And if they refuse?”

“If they will not put down their arms, we have the authority to put the offenders down ourselves.”

“You mean kill them?”

“Yes,” Goslin said, his voice solemn. “That is my duty as a nobleman of Eldsprak, and as a man of this realm.”

“Have you killed anyone before?” Sarien thought back to when he drove his knife into Madge’s neck and shuddered. Even though the woman was pure evil, it was not easy to do, and worse, to live with afterwards knowing that he had taken a life.

“I haven’t,” Goslin answered. “But I will, if it’s the right thing to do.”

A few hours later, they rode into Himmi.