Tegg sighted Bridgetown's outer townships in the late afternoon, four days after leaving Nira's hovel. The sky was heavily overcast, with dark rolling clouds and blustering winds that cut through Tegg's outer coat. Tegg dropped his pack for a moment of rest and gathered his cloak to escape the wind. A familiar leaden feeling had gradually taken over his stomach and there was a tightness in his chest. Tegg stood and surveyed the town as he fought the growing urge to simply return home. The feeling was worse than usual, and this was a first time his unease started so soon or felt so strong this far from the town. Bridgetown's outer townships largely consisted of single or two story brown buildings. Almost all were built with rough wooden pillars, natural mud brick and thatch roofs, meaning they blended together with each other and the maze of roads around them. Here and there a larger stone or log building identified an inn or stable, but these were uncommon and from Tegg's vantage it was a blur of muddy earth tones. In marked contrast, the inner city was built of white stone buildings with darkblue-gray slate roofs, divided by carefully placed trees and low red brick walls. It was a beautiful, if somewhat severe design.

On a normal visit, Tegg would time his arrival at the earliest morning. First, it would get the tanner or butcher before they were involved with customers, and it would require the least amount of time in town around people. Tegg hated being around so many people. Today Tegg was forced to fight his way through mobs of residents, refugees and traders. People pressed in from all directions, and he was often forced to back up against a wall to scrape past a throng of people looking at a stand or moving the other way. Hawkers yelled to him from street corners, beggars grabbed at his cloak, people of all size and shape bumped past and milling crowds blocked his way. The whole experience was maddening and as the time dragged on Tegg felt as if he was drowning. There was a tight claw gripping his chest, a slow churning in his gut and a cold chill that was not helped by the frigid winds that howled between the low, drab brown buildings. When he finally arrived at the western gates to the city, he groaned aloud at the queue of people getting checked by the gate guards. It meant more time stuck in town before he could clear up this horrible situation.

An hour later, after a town guard had briefly inspected his bag and belt knife, Tegg made his way across the massive caravan road and onto a side street, where he hoped to encounter less traffic. He walked past a number of smaller shops, including a binder and candle shop. Tegg made his way steadily northeast, aiming for the barracks. When he reached the Dock road, which ran from the north gate to the docks at the southern end of the city, he turned due north. There were fewer people here, although Tegg passed groups of travelers, farmers and even a clutch of monks before reaching the military barracks.

Once the guard saw his somewhat rumpled notice, Tegg was bustled into a cramped, sparsely adorned room where a portly man in a Watchguard tabard was sitting at a table. The man nodded to Tegg's escort. Beside the man a young scribe sat, writing on a roll of paper.

“Third footsoldier?” the man asked.

“Manned, stocked with tabards, but most with no swords or shields.” the boy responded, rubbing ink onto his cheek and making some mark on the parchment.

“Blast. Gorsen will give me fire for that. They're to watch the North Wall. What of third archers? They're supposed to be manning the gate towers?”

“There is no third archery, sir.”, the boy said quietly “Watchcommander Gorsen broke them into skirmishing groups for the West Wall”.

“Ah? What? Blast. He is too focused on that wall! If they flank north... well, nevermind. It makes my job of supplying them easy, eh?”. At this, the soldier turned to address Tegg and his escort. “Ah, another straggler? Thank you watchguard.”.

Tegg's escort took his dismissal and the soldier waved Tegg into a chair covered in parchment, tattered tabards and leather belts. “Have a seat, you've missed the big explanation, so I'll have to give you the short of it in a moment”.

“Ah. I'm Commander Hapsor. I gather you're from further out in the woods. Well, as you've probably heard, the Mayors have raised the watch in order to defend against...” at this, Hapsor paused, waiving his hand aimlessly while he searched for words. “Well, against our new and somewhat undisclosed enemy” he finished quickly. “Whatever that is. So, do you have any combat skills?”.

“No” Tegg responded. “I don't know that I do. I'm not really sure how I'd be of much help in this”.

“Can you shoot a bow? You look like a competent enough woodsman.”

Tegg paused, considering, then answered truthfully “I can. I've never shot in battle, so I'm...”

But Hapsor cut him off, “makes no difference. You can shoot, and Subcommander Yarris need archers. I don't have time to train you with a sword and I don't have the gear even if I wanted to. Yarris will decide if you're worth the time to outfit.”

With that, Tegg was dismissed. After being escorted to a grimy barrack room to drop off his bags, he was taken to another, slightly larger office. Inside, Tegg met Subcommander Yarris, a thin, older man with white hair and a pronounced squint.

“Archer, are you.”, Yarris asked rhetorically, somehow squinting even tighter at Tegg. “I'll measure that. I gather it falls on me to feed and outfit you with my miserable stocks.” Yarris walked behind a table topped with carefully arraigned maps and sat down. “I'll try you on the field tomorrow. If you have any talent, I'll put you on the wall. If you are helpless, I'll put you in the ranks as a skirmisher. I hope from that range you could at least club an enemy with your bow.”

Vallen walked out onto the archery grounds twenty minutes late for the final session. Her ongoing attempt to sabotage all of the watchguard's interest in her as a soldier had not been as successful as she had hoped. After her suggestion about being an arms supplier had reached only deaf ears, she had managed to prove herself an inept fighter, a useless stablehand and even a terrible cook. The bowmen, however, seemed desperate and regardless of her tardiness, inability to hit anything or her surly attitude, she had yet to be transferred or released. Today, she had vowed, she would simply shoot someone if it meant escaping from this torment. What little ariss she had smuggled into the camp was quickly being depleted, and it was getting to be a challenge to find opportunity to make her tea. She had resisted chewing the leaves, it would produce the needed effect, but would leave a green discoloration on her teeth and inevitably led to a spiraling increase in the addictive side effects. Vallen had personally witnessed the end result of ariss-eating; addicts in perpetual agony as their need to chew more of the horrible leaves overwhelmed them and drove them to madness or suicide.

Ignoring the watchcommander's snarl, Vallen grabbed a short bow from the rack and headed to an empty lane at the end of the firing range. Broken practice arrows littered the grass, and the muffled curses drifted by Vallen while she walked to her mark. Standing next to her a large woodsman seemed incredibly distracted. Although he was clearly familiar with the mechanics of a bow, his scowl and the tangle of arrows lying below his target suggested otherwise. Curious, Vallen eavesdropped on his mumbling, but couldn't piece together any real words.

Tegg barely noted the girl moving into the lane to his left, until her first shot hit his target. After three days of the worst shooting of his life, he was momentarily stunned to see an arrow score the mark. Tegg was then aware of having his own bow fully drawn his ear, and took his shot, hitting the man-shaped red mark on his target in the center of its chest.

“So, you can hunt. All you need is a fair lady to impress”, Vallen remarked, absently firing a shot high over the target and protective poles. She then drew another arrow to a half-pull and lobbed it into the grass.

Tegg grunted, aware again of his environment and slipping rapidly back into his aggravated funk. He tried to draw the next shot cleanly, but the arrow lost its notch and fell to earth a few feet from him. There was a familiar burn in his arm as the string slapped him.

“Ah, my beauty fades quickly”, Vallen said, chuckling. Her next blindly drawn shot hit the back poles with a thunk. “ I think... judging from your empty quiver and empty target, that you are either as disinterested as I am in joining this company, or you are unable to shoot on a range. Maybe if they put up some trees?”. Vallen looked at Tegg and seeing his discomfort dropped the sharp edge to her glare. “Or something... I'm Vallen.”

“Tegg”, Tegg mumbled. “I don't like this city. I don't like these people, and I have no interest in fighting to help them. I just can't focus like this.” he said, gesturing absently at the twenty or so bowmen behind them and off to their sides.

The watchcommander's shout interrupted them “You two on the end, report to Subcommander Yates!”.

Vallen grinned, “I think we just got fired”.

Tegg wasn't so sure.

In the commanders office, Subcommanders Yates and Tinsin were discussing the mission when a messenger arrived.

“Sirs, the recruits have been gathered in Commander Yates' conference.” the watchguard said.

“Good. Is that monk with them” Tinsin replied.

“Yes sir.”

“Excellent. I think 7 will be enough, Yates?”

“Seven is more than enough. I still argue that there is no need to take trained guards on a errand like this.” Yates said, with a tone indicating he recognized his losing position.

“Only two. One to command and one to add some metal to this.” Tinsin replied, dismissing the guard with a wave.

“And the scout”

“Who you've wanted to be rid of for some time.”

“His father will not take kindly to us sending him into danger”

“His father is in Carttra, and will be thrilled that his son has put to good use.”

Yates accepted this with a rise of his eyebrows and gathered a parchment map and some wooden tubes. The two commanders made their way to the small conference room, where the seven were assembled. The room was sparse and clearly not intended for such a large group. The table was well worn, with a rough map of Bridgeton etched into the surface. Henton and Talbert snapped to attention and the remaining recruits stopped their conversations to watch Yates and Tinsin take up positions at the head of the table. Tegg and Vallen sat together at the back of the room. Tegg felt like a caged animal while Vallen was felling perfectly mellow. Vallen had finally gotten a small dose of Ariss when she smelled it's unmistakable aroma wafting from one of the barracks. She'd paid five times what she might have in better days for a cupfull, but it was worth it. To their right, Ren sat wrapped in his robes. Across from Ren was Jank and Arasen. Jank sat wrapped in a scout's cloak while Arasen simply looked lost. Tinsin's aide entered a moment later with a parchment map, which was unrolled onto the table.

“My name is Subcommander Tinsin”, he began as the aide squeezed by to the door. “You have been brought here because I need a team to hand-deliver a message to the Duke in Tivar. Our scouts have returned with information on the attackers, and it appears inevitable that we will soon face a siege.” There was some murmuring around the room and Tinsin continued, “Our previous attempt at sending a message failed, and so we've assembled you into a special force unit. Watchguard Henton will be leading this mission”.

Henton looked startled and stood back up, “Sir?”

“You'll be promoted to Sergent and tasked with getting this group to Tivar to deliver reports on our situation to the Duke.” Tinsin replied. “Its felt that a larger group will have a better chance of reaching Tivar, especially if each of them is carrying a separate copy of the messages.” Tinsin indicated the tubes. “I do not care how you get to Tivar, but you must get these messages through. The fastest route would, of course, be the caravan road. I expect you to try that first. If there is a problem, you can use any route necessary. The message has been encoded and separated so that the Duke needs only receive three of the seven tubes to piece it back together. I realize that sounds harsh, but we have no idea what to expect on this mission. You will be provided with horses and gear in the morning. That is all, dismissed”.

There was a stunned silence and Tinsen and Yates simply turned and left, leaving the assembled group to stare at each other and Henton, who was the only one standing.

Henton was completely lost as to what to do, so he followed Commander Tinsen's lead, “Uh...We'll meet at dawn at the stables. Dismissed”.

Tegg arrived at dispatch early to help load the horses. Any opportunity to speed his escape from Bridgeton was welcome, and the stable hands were more than happy to share their work in the frigid dawn air. Gear had been piled outside the stable with minimal care. Each member of the company was issued cloaks, tack and gear for their horses and some travel gear including camp sets, rope and tinderboxes. The stable was a long, thatched building of stout log construction. The upper floors housed a massive hayloft while the stalls and tack rooms filled the main level. The chestnut horses had been led out of the stable and tethered to a set of rails for their tack, stamping and snorting in the cold, misty morning.

Tegg had finished his horse, marveling at the excess of equipment when Ren arrived. Tegg nodded to the monk, who he hadn't quite made his mind up about, and Ren replied with a quiet bow. The monk then turned and gave his horse a long, curious look. Tegg started to load up a second horse when it occurred to him that the monk had probably never ridden. He was about to say something, but decided against it. There was no time to help him learn. Tegg pitied the poor animal for its virgin rider and the rider for his sore backside and thighs come nightfall.

The remaining company arrived slowly, each wrapped tightly in cloaks. No one spoke, loading the remaining horses in silence. Once they had finished, the stable hands brought out the supply horse, with it's large baskets of feed and gear. Henton broke the silence with an order to form a line. This turned out to be chaotic at best, and only finally happened at all because the experienced horses eventually figured out what the group wanted and took up the familiar positions by themselves.

By full dawn, the company reached the North Gate. The guards were expecting them and had the large doors partly opened. They passed through under the watchful eyes of bowmen, turned their horses west and followed the large and well-packed road along the northern wall. To their right, farms extended to the horizon. Nearly all of the fields were barren and covered with frost, although there were a few fields left fallow or growing winter wheats. The closest farm houses gave off lights, likely from farmers doing early chores. It took most of the morning to reach the outskirts of outtown, and by midmorning the small caravan turned northwest on the main caravan road.

The group rode in silence, only looking at each other occasionally. At midday, Henton called the riders to a halt. “We need to eat, and give the horses some time to graze”, he said. Henton also wanted to have a talk with the group. He had growing doubts about the whole mission, but didn't know how to broach the subject with everyone. The fact that only three of the company had any military experience was nagging him, and the details of his orders didn't make much sense. The group turned their horses to the grassy areas just beside the road and began to dismount. Tegg and Jank unloaded rations and found spots to sit. The rest of the party were finding dismounting to be a little trickier than climbing onto a horse.

Once everyone was seated in a rough circle, Henton spoke “I'm not sure how this is supposed to go. This whole situation is a problem... this... company. My promotion. I don't understand why they've given us this mission.”

“I think I have a very good idea.”, Jank said. “Look at us. With the exception of you, we're all fresh recruits or troublemakers. You're just the unlucky nanny.”

Talbert stood up “Hey! Wait a minute!”.

“Sit down, Talbert”, Henton said grabbing Talber's arm. He paused for a few seconds with his head down, then said, “I think he's right.” Henton looked around. Ren, Arasen and Vallen were fresh recruits with no skills the army could use. Jank was the legendarilly troublesome son of a full Watchcommander. An army brat with a surplus of skills to balance his lack of respect for the Watchguard. Talbert had made Second Class Watchguard, but was still as green as any recruit. Tegg appeared able to handle himself, but Henton knew there must have been some flaw to land him in the group. And so as he looked around, the rest of the group looked back, and caught his mood. Subcommander Tinsin had called them a “special force unit”, but Henton now realized what that meant: they were largely expendable. “The watchguard doesn't expect us all to reach Tivar”, he said simply. “Which is why we all got parts of the cypher. We don't all have to”.

The groups mood soured even more over lunch as they considered their fates. After repacking the horses, Henton gathered them to review the plan.

“There are small watchtowers from here to Tivar along the caravan road” he said, indicating several marks along the map. “They hadn't been manned in years, but these first four have got watchguard in them now. Each tower has three men, who report to each other every few days using runners. Its about a three day ride between each post, and each post has a small walled compound for protection. At least we'll have somewhere warm and dry when we get there.”

“And past that?”, asked Vallen.

“Past that is the wild. There are more towers, and the waystation.”

“Waystation?”

“There used to be a caravan waystation between Tivar and Brigetown. A low defensive wall, two stables and a handful of large buildings. It was used to give caravans a rest point, but it fell into disuse when the caravan carts got big enough to sleep in. Its empty now, but its better than sleeping in the rain.”

“And if the road is held by the enemy?”, Jank asked.

“We take to the woods.” Henton replied. “Which, I suppose, is one reason you're here Jank. I also gather that Tegg is familiar with the woods” Henton said, looking at Tegg.

“I live in the woods to the southwest of here. I'm familiar with this area. Two weeks ride out, though, is farther than I've ever had reason to go.” Tegg replied, pointing to the map.

“Woods are woods”, Henton said rolling up the map and sliding it into a case. ”So we've got two woodsmen, an apprentice mage, a monk and a... “, Henton trailed of, looking at Vallen.

“Business owner.”, Vallen answered, shrugging. “I import things from upriver and sell them to Cartta and Port Redcap”.

“Great”, Jank said sarcastically. “that'll come in handy at some point”

“I didn't volunteer for this.” Vallen retorted angrily.

“It doesn't matter” Henton said, stepping between them. “The Watchguard didn't send us for our skills, apparently. They wanted you out of their hair” he said to Jank, “and they didn't have anything better to do with you” he said, turning to Vallen. “So lets all just live to see Tivar”.

The rest of the day's ride went silently. Only Tegg seemed to brighten as they traveled out of sight of outtown and left the last of the homesteads behind. Once they were fully in the woods, he brought out the lens that Nira had given him and slowly turned it over in his hands.

“It is a filter of sorts”, she'd explained, hanging it around his neck. “It shows the world based on magic rather than light. Close your eyes, hold it up and look through it, but not in here” she warned, leading him out into her garden. “ When you are done, you must close your eyes again before looking away.”

Tegg had been a bit incredulous about the bauble, but he allowed himself to be drawn outside. Nira walked over to a small garden table and set two bottles on it, side by side. “Now”, she said “tell me which is magical”.

Tegg looked at the disk and shrugged. He closed his eyes, held the lens up to his right eye and opened it. He could make out Nira's house and the rampant flora, as well as Nira herself and the table, but it all looked to be made of ink swirling in a well of slightly darker ink. On the table, however, one of the vials stood out a brilliant pale blue. “The left one”, Tegg said immediately. He also noticed hints of light struggling to peek out from the neckline of Nira's heavy dress, and on one finger he spotted a wavering brightness. “Your necklace and one of your rings are magical”.

Nira clapped her hands and chirped a sharp laugh. “Ah, you have excellent vision! Good, this will serve you well. Its fond of you!”.

“Why not inside?” Tegg asked, closing his eyes and turning away. “And why all the blinking?”.

Nira chuckled. “Such a mind” she chided. “The lens works as it works. To look directly in it is dangerous to your eyes. To look away even more so. Its like opening your eyes at noon after having your head in a bag. As for inside... I have a few powerful bits of magic lying around. The lens would have been white, like looking at a riverstone. I needed just a bit of magic to show you against the darkness of nonmagic.”. Nira busied herself with putting the bottles away.

“Why give this to me, Nira?” Tegg asked, putting the lens inside his shirt. “I appreciate your concern, but its not as if you are in debt to me”.

Nira looked at Tegg for a moment before replying “Alanha and Sirus are fond of you and asked once about your futures.” Nira paused at this and looked hard at Tegg. “I saw.. risks. There are always eddies in the pond of time. Ripples from choices and actions that distort clarity. People usually just want to hear if they'll marry, or if their crops will be full. Looking in your future, the ripples became waves and the waves became a tempest. I don't know what's coming, Tegg, but your futures are unclear and turbulent. That lens is one of the few simple magics that I have left. Maybe it will help you”.

Tegg meant to ask any number of questions, but found himself escorted away from the house. Nira clapped him on the back and returned to her hovel. He spent a moment looking back and stroking his beard, but it seemed futile to try and squeeze any more information out of the woman.

Tegg chuckled at the memory and watched the sun vanish behind the treeline to his left. The horses were content to plod along the road with no interference, so Tegg shifted his stance to relax his thigh muscles. The rest of the company appeared lost in their own thoughts, and Tegg was not motivated to disturb them. He pulled his cloak against the chill from the shadow of the trees and allowed himself to doze a bit.

For Vallen, the ride was much less pleasant. She had never been particularly fond of horses. They were majestic and beautiful at a distance, but she found them foul smelling and ill tempered up close. She also had never bothered learning to ride, and was paying for it now. The early tightness in her thighs and back had turned to a burning as the muscles protested the awkward position she found herself holding. Vallen tried in vain to figure out how to properly sit, but fidgeting seemed to aggravate the horse and she didn't dare try to pull her legs in to a comfortable position without losing her balance. She had finally taken note of the two guards and Tegg, who appeared to ride with their feet further back in the stirrups, riding on the balls of their feet. One small comfort was that her horse seemed perfectly willing to follow Ren or Arasen's horse, allowing her to abandon the reigns.

Ren spent the ride in quiet medatation, reflecting on his successes and failures during his trial. He had arrived, as expected, early and dressed only in his fighting robe and carrying nothing. The judging panel sat ready, sitting in a small semicircle on the ground. As he entered, one of the judges indicated that he should sit.

“We shall meditate”, another judge intoned.

And so they did. For seven hours. Ren had known there would be trials, but to sit still for seven hours is torturous, especially when you are barely pretending to meditate during the last half. Ren squirmed and attempted to clear his mind, but was unable to do so.

Finally, the head judge opened his eyes and announced, “now we shall test your skills”

Ren was given a full staff, which stood nearly nine feet tall. As an initiate, he had trained extensively with the short staff and normal staff which were four and five feet long. He could barely balance this monster, and struggled to simply keep it in proper positions. So focused was he on the wobbling of the staff and trying to balance its weight that he never saw the first strike. The judge, weilding a pair of training clubs, clipped Ren's staff sharply downward, and Ren had to fight to keep the stick level. The second blow caught him on the arm with a tremendous crack, sending him sprawling. For the next hour, Ren managed to block only a handfull of attacks, and when the judge indicated they should meditate again, he nearly wept.

The final test consisted of a series of questions, fired at him from judges sitting in their semicircle. It was disorienting, but Ren managed to answer most of them in what he felt was a satisfactory way. When that ended, the judges all stood, indicated that he should remain still, bowed, and walked out. Ren was crushed. He knew he had done fairly well on the questions, passionately arguing his position on a few in a way that made him feel that he had done well. As for the rest of the test, he knew he had failed miserably. Ren had no idea what to do now, and when Master Tonpen arrived, he was crying.

“I have failed”, Ren said simply

“Have you then?”, the master asked with a note of humor. “It was certainly an interesting test.”

Ren noted the humor in Tonpen's voice and was stunned. “I don't... I did so poorly, Master.”

“Seven hours...”, Tonpen said in a bit of mock awe, “You made those poor old men sit for seven hours. You do know that Master Reese has a poor back, don't you boy?”

Ren started to speak, hesitated, and finally found his voice, “But, I sat until ... I thought...”

Master Tonpen chuckled. “Its a test, son. To see how well you can quiet your mind in a time of turmoil. Its not about how long, its how well you manage to still the struggle before moving to act.”

“And I... failed it?”

“Not exactly. They could tell you stilled your mind, but never completely. Most students lose concentration and break the meditation in a few hours, sometimes four. You struggled with yours for seven!” Tonpen laughed out loud at this, sitting down next to Ren and patting him on the back.

“I am sorry”, Ren said, allowing himself to share some of Master Tonpen's amusement. “I should apologize to them”

“No, you won't have time. You must leave tonight.”

“But... I did so poorly! Even with the staff! I was sure we would have annatar or short staffs. The full staff is beyond me.”

“And why did you do so poorly?”

“I.. I've never fought with something so... unwieldy. It was difficult to block, I could not find a suitable balance to even swing it!”

“Then why did you bother? Surely you would have done better without it?”

Ren paused, and let the lesson sink in. The fight itself had not been the whole of the test.

Tonpen noted his acceptance and asked gently, “What should you have done instead?”

“I should have abandoned it and fought with my hands. Or broken it in half to form two staffs. Or.. just about anything except fight with a giant worthless stick. ”

Tonpen nodded. “Yes. That is the lesson. You will rarely get to pick every tool you want in a given situation. You must adapt, change, work with what you must but use it to your advantage. Do not slavishly accept that what you have is all you might have.”

Ren nodded. “I was too focused on what I thought I was supposed to do. Did I at least do well on the last part?”

Tonpen smiled, “You are a stubborn and determined boy. Some of your answers demonstrate a simple view of the world, but that is to be expected. You did, however, answer all of the questions, you answered them honestly, you answered them well and you defended your positions when challenged.”

Ren nodded and bowed while seated.

Tonpen bowed in return and patted Ren on the shoulder, “Your skills were tested in your classes boy, these tests look at how well you have learned to go beyond your skills, see the world for what it is and accept when you are wrong. Many can learn skills and numbers and ideas, but to put them to use is something else. In that, you have passed.”

Tonpen reached into his robe and pulled out a green strip of cloth, embroidered with yellow swirls along the edge. “You are no longer an Initiate, you are now a Journeyman of the Spirit.”

Although Arasen was depressed when he was sent away from the mages school, he had since taken a pragmatic view of the experience. The lack of structured learning would just have to be replaced with personal growth, he decided. At each opportunity he would flex his magical talents and see what he could learn through experimentation and chance.

As he rode, Arasen would spot pebbles lying on the sides of the dirt road and would focus. His skills lie in the earth, no matter what form, but he had been limited by the strict rules of the academy. Out here he was free of supervision, and he focused that thought into the pebble, blasting it into the woods.

When he tired of making pebbles fly, he tried to make them dance. It was harder to control the pebble, because you had to continue to pour energy into it. Most times the rocks would spin for a bit, then fly off when his attention wavered. It was frustrating, but it gave him some idea as to what he could improve.

For Jenk, this mission was yet another reason to despise the Watchguard and their incompetent leadership. His father included. He recognized that this was exactly the sort of mission a good leader might want to send a troublesome scout on, but to burden him with half a dozen dead weights was simply counterproductive. Jenk recognized that the woodsman might be useful on such this mission, and two good scouts had advantages, but the rest were clearly fodder. The woman claimed no weapon skills, but Jenk had seen her quickness, at least late in the morning. He knew, however, that she was an urban fighter at best. The monk and apprentice mage were just going to be noisy, making them useful only as a distraction or diversion unless he could weigh their other talents..

Jenk considered combat with this group. The monk might be useful as a healer, he'd heard such things travelling with the army, so he would be worth defending. The two real soldiers would have use, but could probably defend themselves for a bit. The woodsman was questionably useful, Jenk considered his own wood skill adequate, but it always helped to have two sets of eyes on the ground. The girl and the apprentice mage would just have to live without him, though. Jenk had already written them off.

Henton was aware of Talbert's sullen mood but allowed the boy time to mull things over. When it seemed like the boy was slipping into a depressed mood though, Henton decided on a gamble.

“Talbert, I know its unfair that you got lumped into this, but I need your training. We're going to have to hold this mess together.”

“Yes sir..” Talbert said quietly.

“Listen Talbert, Subcommander Yates only picked you because you're with me. And I'm sorry about that. I'm too long in the tooth to get promoted to any sort of command, and you happened to get stuck with me on gate duty. If you'd signed up a week earlier, you'd be sleeping in the barracks tonight. I want you to know that I understand that, and that I'm really sorry.”

Talbert gave Henton a quizzical look at this, “What do you mean?”

“I'm probably the oldest Watchguard in the whole town with no bars on his shoulder” Henton said, “and I never minded it. I was never interested in leading, I liked my job.” Henton lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper ” So they need someone to lead this gaggle. Someone whose only task is to get half this group to Tivar. Who do they pick?” Henton asked, carefully adding a tinge of self-pity to his voice.

“You?”

“Yeah. So I'm a Sergent now, but they still don't think I can handle it. No combat experience, just breaking up bar brawls and checking papers at the gate. So they throw some new Second Class who can survive the trip. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, Talbert, and I'm sorry about that”.

Talbert went to reply, but closed his mouth slowly. He looked aggravated then said “Well, we'll just have to prove them wrong about you!”.

“Yeah, that's what we'll do.” Henton smiled to himself at Talbert's indignation.

The first night's campsite was a disorganized and sprawling affair. Henton didn't bother to set a watch, they were barely a day's ride from the city after all. The fire and cooking gear formed a loose center and each member of the company pitched their tent at their whims around it. Talbert looked to Henton to set some order to the mess, but Henton simply shrugged as if to say “what can we do?”.

Henton recognized the same sullen mood as dinner progressed and decided he'd have to do something. Finally he stood up.

“Listen everyone. They made me the leader of this cursed affair and I'll be flogged before I have to ride in grim silence for the next two weeks. All we have to do is reach Tivar. There, you can petition the Duke's command for transfer and release and go home.”, he said.

Everyone gave him a curious look and Tegg finally asked, “What in Dalton's hide are you talking about?”.

Henton shook his head. “Bridgetown is within the Duke's domain. The watchguard, technically mind you, falls under the domain of the Duke. If you petition him and explain that you're just farmers and business owners doing their duty for Bridgetown, he may release you”

“And if he doesn't?” Arasen asked.

“Then you go back to Bridgetown and claim your civic duty complete. You haven't enlisted and they can't seem to find any other use for you.” Henton answered.

Although this didn't snap everyone into a good mood, the options at least lightened the gloom that had settled over the camp. Once cleanup was completed and the travel bags repacked, Tegg and Jenk tended the horses and everyone went to bed.

The next day's ride went smoothly and quietly. Tegg hadn't ridden in years, and although his legs were protesting somewhat, the weather was fair and the foothills were a beautiful place to ride. Arasen passed the time with more minor experiments with his magic and Ren passed the ride in quiet contemplation. The remaining company saw little point in carrying on conversations and approached the mission as something unpleasant and best gotten over with.

Henton did not break for lunch, instead passing out rations while mounted. There were groans of protest from Vallen and Arasen, but Henton shrugged them off. “The sooner we get to the first tower the sooner you can sleep on something not made of dirt”

Tegg was up early the next morning, largely due to poor tent placement. He grumbled a bit at the rockier terrain and was just crawling out of his tent when he smelled tea and something bitter. Tegg was not a tea drinker, but he knew his herbs. He quietly crawled out from under his tent and scanned the campground where he spied Vallen pouring tea. Tegg considered the information and let the matter drop for now. Vallen's problems were not his and it would do him no good to confront her. Tegg remembered that she carried a large knife around and was very comfortable using it. He filed the information away for the moment. If there was combat, he at least now knew exactly when Vallen would be an asset or a liability.

That day and night passed uneventfully and the party was well underway by midmorning. Everyone was interested in reaching the watchtower as soon as possible and it motivated them to hurry breakfast to move on. Low clouds rolled in before lunch and Henton's suggestion that they not stop was met with fewer grumbles. A few spatters of rain threatened them, but never amounted to a full shower. Late in the afternoon the group finally saw the watchtower as the road turned slightly northward.

The tower was a squat, two story stone cylinder sitting on the southern edge of a round compound. The outer wall was barely taller than their heads on horseback, and was broken by arrow-slits and a large double-door that sat just to the right of the base of the tower. It was not a heavy fortification, but would certainly provide modest protection for travelers against dangerous creatures or bandits. Talbert and Henton held up their bows as a signal and were greeted by a man waving a flag on the roof of the tower. The doorway was guarded by a young watchguard, obviously thrilled to have guests.

When the entire party had stabled their horses and settled into the bunkhouse, one of the guards came down to talk.

“Watchguard Portsow reporting, sir” the guard said, saluting Henton with fist to shoulder.

“Ok, ok”, Henton said, with a bit of embarassment. “Take it easy. We're bunking here tonight and moving on to the next tower tomorrow. Is there any news?”.

Portsow relaxed. “No sir. Runner's due tonight, but nothing has happened yet. Its nice to see someone besides Codo and Lunn around here”.

Henton smiled, “I bet, we're going to get some food. Is there anything her besides rations?”

Portsow chuckled, “I wish. We've probably got better stuff than your drag-around rations, but not by much. Its all in the kitchen. I'm on duty in a bit, so you'll have Codo's fine company to enjoy.”

“Alright, take a break son. You're welcome to come and join us.”.

Portsow was more entertained by the company than vice versa, but most of the company was just glad for somewhere to sit down comfortably. The evening brought intermittent rain, which came in short waves throughout dinner. When the guard changed, Watchguard Codo was just as interested in hearing news from Bridgetown as the company was to give it.

The next morning, Lunn was off duty and ate breakfast with the company before helping load up their horses. Just as they were about to leave, he stopped Henton and said “Sir, make sure you give Dobson grief for running late”.

“Dobson? Your runner?” Henton asked.

“Yes sir, he's running late again. Supposed to be here before we close the gates. I guess he figured he wouldn't make it and didn't feel like sleeping outside the door while we heckled him from the tower.”

Henton felt uneasy about this, but let it slide. “Alright. Ten laps around the compound for him”

Lunn laughed “Its a pretty short walk, sir. Better make it twenty”.

Back on the road, Henton didn't mention the late runner to the company. It was a minor matter and he expected that it would mean nothing in the long run, but it set him on edge. All that day and the next, he kept chiding himself for being worried about it, but as night fell, he became even more concerned. They were now a day closer to the second watchtower and the runner should have been a day closer to them. If they didn't cross paths tomorrow, Henton was convinced the stress in his chest would suffocate him.

The next day on the road he was wired, which is probably why he noticed the dark flecks in the mud that the night's rain had not washed off the road. Henton slowed and turned his horse and when Tegg and Jank caught up they both quickly dismounted.

“Blood?” asked Henton.

Tegg shrugged. There was too little to be sure, but as he stood and looked around he spotted a mound of freshly cut branches between the edge of the road and the underbrush. It had been hastily constructed, and was just large enough to camouflage a dead horse. Jank followed Tegg's gaze then walked over and grabbed his bow.

“I think we've got a problem, sir”, Jank said, dropping the sarcasm that he usually reserved for the title.

Tegg grabbed his bow and knife. “We should get back to the tower”, he said mounting and turning his horse in a slow circle. “This is bad, we're seriously exposed.”

Talbert drew his sword and the rest of the group tried to hold their horses still while Henton considered. The mission was to get to Tivar, not cower in the first watchtower. “No, we'll get off the road, but we move on.”

The party clearly did not like this plan, but they turned their horses to the north of the road anyway. Tegg and Jank carefully checked the mound of brush, confirming that a horse was indeed under it. There was no sign of the rider.

Riding along the edge of the underbrush showed their progress considerably. Jenk rode ahead to scout out any trouble while Talbert fell back and to their right. They rode in silence, although Vallen and Arasen had to occasionally struggle to keep their horses from eating the last of the fall leaves. At lunch, they ate standing with their horses and Henton reviewed their options.

“We don't know that it was the runner's horse, but we have to think that. If we see any Watchguard on the road, we can try to get some information. But at this rate, it will take us twice as long to reach the second tower.”

“We need to send somebody back to the first tower”, Jenk said quietly. “I should go back and warn them.” Henton started to protest, but Jenk insisted, “I'm the fastest in these woods. I know my horse and I know the area. Somebody has to warn them. I can catch up with you at the next tower”.

Henton thought about this for a second, looking from Jenk to the road. “Alright. Go. But be careful and be quick about it”.

Jenk mounted his horse and turned south. “If anything happens?”

Henton gave him a level look “then you meet us in Tivar. Whatever else happens, if you can't meet us at the towers, go to Tivar.”

Jenk nodded and coaxed his horse to a trot through the woods. In a few seconds he was gone in the trees.

Henton was near panic. The situation had gone from bad to horrible and he felt like a steer being driven down a chute to slaughter. The rest of the group looked like they shared his feeling, but he was supposed to be pulling something together here. In the dim light of the woods, he fished out the map. Tegg and Talbert came up to watch, the rest of the party seemed too stunned to move.

“We're somewhere in here. If the second tower has been taken, and if they're killing riders, then we can assume that's the case, we can't follow the road. We either drive south and cross the mountains north of Avendoor, or head north toward the bay. The bay route is shorter... but I know nothing about it.”

Tegg looked the map over. He was familiar with the woods to the south, but it would mean a detour of hundreds of miles. The mountains to the north were lower, but had been cut sharply by the river at some point in the past. There was a pass, but if some enemy already held it, they would be boxed in. Tegg was about to say he had no idea when Talbert spoke up. “ I say we go north. Its probably harder going, but south will take forever. If we want any help to reach Bridgetown, we'll have to get to Tivar in time.”

Tegg nodded. It made sense, at least given what little they knew.

“Alright. We find out what's happened to the next tower and we move from there.” Henton said. He was relieved that they had a plan, as simple as it might be.

The party saw nothing that night, and set watches for the first time. In the morning, they continued slowly picking their way through the woods, checking the roads for any sign of life. That afternoon, the rain began again, and the party was forced to walk their horses for fear of tripping in the low light and slippery ground cover of needles and fallen leaves.

Near dusk, Arasen stopped short and said “I hear... something..”.

The party stopped and listened. Somewhere ahead on the road they could hear marching footsteps. Whoever it was, they wasn't trying to be quiet because as it got closer they could hear murmurs of talking and even arguments. Henton ordered everyone deeper into the woods where they tied their horses to trees. Tegg, Henton and Vallen then crawled out to the underbrush border of the woods to see. Lying in the drizzle, they finally spotted torches coming up the road. The distance revealed just how loud the group was and the spacing of the torches suggested a fair amount of dicipline. Soon, a banner could be seen fluttering above the crowd, although the rain and late hour obscured any identifiable insignia. When the mob's voices were finally clear, they were in a language none of the three recognized. It had a cadence to it, with changes in pitch, but seemingly had no gaps between the words. The combined cacophony sounded like several choirs competing with each other with song. The crowd came clearly into view in the gloom of dusk, revealing eleven armed and armored people, two of which were leading massive dogs on chains. The armor of the invaders was a light grey with crimson painted in slashes like a tiger's stripes. Their dogs looked to have similar armor over their backs with vicious spikes on it.

Tegg became very concerned when he saw the dogs, knowing his position had just become much less secure. He looked over at Henton who whispered, “Its a scouting party”. At Tegg's curious look he continued, “They are scouting the road. Light armor, dogs, they've taken the second tower!”.

Henton tapped Arasen on the shoulder and was about to retreat into the woods when the dogs began to howl.

Jenk broke cover in a gallop and charged around the side wall of the first watchtower, vaulted from his saddle and nearly tackled Lunn, who was rushing out of the tower's base.

“What the hells are you..” Lunn started.

“Your runner is dead. The enemy have likely taken the roads”, Jenk said, leading his horse to the trough of water. “Lock the gates and send word to Bridgetown. I need another mount, this one is tired.”

Lunn stared at him slackjawed for a second, then turned and rushed back into the tower.

Tegg abandoned the idea of sneaking and rolled to his feet in a run. He heard snapping of branches behind him and hoped that Arasen and Henton had reached the same conclusion. Rushing through the trees, he saw Ren, Vallen and Talbert running toward him.

“They've spotted us”, Tegg said simply, taking cover behind a tree and stringing his bow.

“I heard”, Ren replied calmly.

Tegg gave him a measured look and considered the monk for a moment. Arasen and Henton arrived a moment later and found their own cover and Vallen ducked behind a tree.

“They're still on the road”, Henton said, breathing heavily. “I don't doubt they saw us. I think they're deciding on a course of action.”.

“Good”, Tegg replied, notching an arrow. “Maybe we can pick them off. If they charge us, we're doomed”.

Cracking branches and sharp exclamations announced that the enemy had entered the woods, and Tegg, Henton and Ren risked occasional glances to check their progress. The invaders were still holding torches, and were clumped together in haphazard groups of two or three. There was no sign of the dogs being in the trees, but they could be heard yipping and growling.

Tegg drew his bow and checked to his right. Henton was backed against a large tree and had a good view of the advancing enemy. When Henton nodded, Tegg rotated around the tree, found his mark, fired and returned to his cover. He heard the arrow find flesh and felt some grim satisfaction in the gurgle and wail of his mortally wounded foe as he notched his next arrow.

Henton looked back at them and said, “I see seven more. They've got spears and maces. Talbert, you...”, but he was cut off by the enemy screaming a charge. Talbert's face lost color as he fiddled with his sword and hazarded a peek around the tree.

Tegg turned to Ren, about to tell him to get back to the horses when he noticed Arasen. He was standing with his arms outstretched, eyes closed and was mumbling some sort of incantation. A sudden feeling of power swept inward to him, and Henton, Ren and Talbert all turned with gasps. Arasen smiled and said “I think that might work”.

For a long moment nothing happened and Arasen's smile and arm movements wavered. Then a low grumbling seemed to surround them. The earth beneath their feet rumbled and everyone exchanged looks. Suddenly a massive wave of earth rushed past them, expanding like a fan. Trees cracked and fell as their roots were obliterated, leaves and pine needles exploded upwards and there were screams from the invaders. A final quake rattled them and everyone stumbled for support.

The scene was gruesome. Huge areas of earth looked like they had been overturned by a godly plow. Sharp thrusts of rock had formed and erupted upwards in arbitrary directions and the remains of several large trees had fallen across the mess. Intermixed in this were the gory remains of the invaders, some had mercifully died instantly, others were struggling to move under the crushing weight of earth and wood. Vallen paled and Talbert looked like he might be sick.

Ren immediately moved through the rubble to reach the bodies first while the rest of the group stood in stunned silence.

Henton finally spoke up “By Dalton's blasted stones, boy, what in the ninety hells did you do?”

Arasen looked as shocked as everyone else. “I... I didn't mean to... Well, I meant to stop them.. or kill them.. but I don't know how I”.

Tegg realized the boy was overwhelmed and moved over to comfort him, “Woah there, Arasen. Take it easy. You did a good thing here. We're just a little shocked at the.. uh... size of it all”.

Arasen gave Tegg an uneasy smile and combed his fingers through his hair. “I was... trying to, uh, make a wall to slow them down.” he said, shyly.

Tegg laughed and clapped Arasen on the shoulder. Henton and Talbert had already moved into the chaos, and Tegg went to join them, and Vallen announced she was going to calm the horses. Tegg, Henton and Ren finished off the few stragglers and were checking the last of the dead for any clues when Ren suddenly said, “I think we forgot about the dogs”.

Standing in shock at the far edge of the rubble, two remaining invaders stood with the dogs on chains, surveying the damage. When they spotted Ren and Henton, they shouted and released the dogs' chains.

“Son of a whore” Henton growled, vainly looking around for cover. “Those are the biggest blasted dogs I've ever seen”.

Tegg drew and fired a shot almost without thinking, but the arrow deflected off the plating with a high pinging note. “I can't get a clear shot. Hang them, they're too low and fast!”.

Talbert grabbed Arasen, shouting “Do it again! Blast those things!” but Arasen just shook his head.

“I can't. Too much energy last time. I need rest...”

The dogs covered the remaining distance at an astonishing rate. They were huge, compact monsters on the hunt. Tegg fired another shot, but the dog swerved and he knew he wouldn't get another chance. Tegg dropped his bow and drew his knife. “Looks bad, fellows.”.

The first dog leaped at Ren, who had his staff ready and caught the beast in midair. With a massive heave he turned and threw the dog sideways. It landed squarely on its side with a thump and a yelp, but rolled back onto its feet growling and sending dirt flying from the spikes on its armor. Tegg moved to intercept the second beast, but it sidestepped him easily and launched itself at Arasen, who was unarmed. Arasen screamed in panic as the beast closed the distance, leaped into the air and bit hard into his arm. Tegg and Talbert charged the dog, which was dragging Arasen down to his knees, blood flowing freely through the dog's teeth. Arasen's yells seemed to drive the dog into a fury and it suddenly began shaking its head, rending the flesh in Arasen's lower arm. Tegg reached the dog and raised his knife to drive into the beast's neck when Ren shouted a warning. Tegg tried to turn, but the other dog slammed into his back, sending him face first into the fresh dirt and launching his hunting knife into the underbrush. Tegg was stunned at the weight of the dog, and desperately tried to roll over or cover his neck, knowing it would be a killing blow if the dog reached it. Henton, meanwhile, slammed his sword down across the dog holding Arasen, only to nearly break his hand when the dog's armor deflected it. The dog, sensing it was exposed, released Arasen and turned to face Ren and Talbert as its companion bit down on Tegg's shoulder. Tegg's chainmail prevented any punctures, but the pressure on his shoulder muscles was excruciating.

Vallen's limited understanding of horses had quickly reached an end as panic swept the group. All of the horses were rearing against their leads, attempting to flee from the smell of the dogs, the massive ground shakes and the sounds of combat. With eyes rolled to white and no consideration of Vallen, they were nearly as dangerous to her as the dogs were to her companions. Vallen was forced to abandon the main horses and decided to save the one thing she could not lose, her stash of ariss. Drawing her Bridgetown standard-issue battle knife, she desperately cut the tiestraps on the packhorse and dragged the heavy bags to the ground. As she was checking the packs, she heard snaps and turned in time to see two of the riding horses and the packhorse charging into the woods. Vallen repacked her tea then rummaged through the supply pack and extracted one of the bows and a handful of arrows. Although she wasn't the worlds greatest shot, she hoped that with this and her trusty knife she might be of some help to the rest of the group.

Tegg had never felt so helpless. Face down in the dirt, the dog had managed to completely disarm him and was in the process of ripping his arm off and there seemed to be no means of escape. Arasen was howling in agony to his left while Talbert and Henton circled with the other dog, trying to find an opening. Ren finally came to his aid by shoving his staff under the dog's neck and prying it off. He was nearly bitten in the process and Tegg took a nasty claw to the lower back as the dog released its hold and leaped to the side to face Ren. To make matters worse, the two dog-handler invaders had arrived, maces at the ready. Tegg struggled to his feet as Ren backed the dog away with a series of swipes from his staff. In a fit of frustration, Talbert abandoned sparring with his dog and charged the mace-wielding invaders, buying Tegg enough time to scavenge a heavy branch to use as a weapon.

Henton studied the dog's reactions as he circled it, hoping to find some flaw, some semblance of fear or even pity in the dogs actions. Finally, he lunged forward with a feint and was rewarded with a simple dodge. Checking his thrust, Henton stabbed with the knife from his belt and found flesh. The dog yelped in surprise, then bit down hard on his sword arm, locking its teeth around the edges of Henton's bracer. Henton dropped his sword in surprise, and the dog immediately started dragging backwards and shaking its head. Even without breaking skin the pain of the rapid twisting was excruciating. Henton fell to his knees and struggled to stay upright. The dog's backing was impossible to stop, and Henton found himself getting dragged, shoving one foot forward and kneeling on the other to keep from repeating Tegg's face first fall in the dirt. His eyes swam, his ears were ringing and he screamed in agony, and he fought to keep a clear look at the dog. When the dog paused between shakes, Henton switched his knife to an underhand grip, dove forward and slammed it down between the dog's ears.

Ren managed to back the other dog until it stood on a slight downhill slope, which he hoped would prevent it from lunging easily in the loose soil. He had no interest in fighting the beast for long, he had no blade to kill it with and doubted if his skill with a staff would do him a lot of good. It appeared, however, that the remainder of the company was occupied with staying alive somewhere else, so he was trying to improvise something.

Talbert's charge had distracted the mace-men, but not for long. The first squared off against him, easily deflecting his sword stroke. The second had moved right to flank him until Tegg had arrived, swinging a huge, leafy branch. As a weapon, it was laughable, but it had the advantages of length and confusion. Tegg used it to back one of the mace-men away from Talbert, and then thrust it at him. When the invader deflected the branch up an to the right, Tegg let go and shoulder-tackled him into a pile of rocks. Tegg then rolled off the mace-man and hurriedly collected a long curved blade from one of his dead comrades. He returned to find the invader ready with the mace, his compatriot quickly wearing down Talbert's defense. Tegg was trying to figure out how to defend himself and rescue Talbert when an arrowhead erupted from the man's forehead.

Vallen's trek through the rubble had been troublesome, but it offered excellent cover to set her shot. She had hoped to help Talbert, but had taken the opportunity to finish off the easiest target first. As Tegg speared the other mace-man in the back, Vallen took aim at the other dog. It was clear that the armor was designed well, but no animal is well suited to wear armor. Vallen felt only a twinge of guilt as she fired cleanly into the poor dog's back thigh, dropping it to the ground and rendering it harmless.

“You were smart to save the packs”, Henton said. “We'd be hard pressed if you hadn't remembered to grab them”.

Tegg kept his thoughts to himself about Vallen's wisdom as Ren tended to his shoulder and back by the light of the campfire. Arasen was unconscious, the damage to his forearm was extensive and Ren had knocked him out with a measured dose of a fiery liquid from the medical kit. Vallen was helping Henton bandage the gashes caused by his bracer and Talbert was collecting equipment from the fallen. Over the protests of the group Ren had also insisted on treating the surviving dog.

Ren carefully leashed the animal with one of the chains he found at the site of the battle. The chain was cleverly designed to latch on one side of the mouth, run under the dog's chin through a ring and latch again on the other side, effectively muzzling it. Both latches were also connected by a thin chain that ran through a series of rings up the larger chain, allowing for a quick release. Although Ren hated locking the dog's mouth nearly shut, the animal was in pain and was extremely suspicious of his actions. In order to relax the dog Ren sat in a meditative pose and extended a sense of calm and concern to it. The dog's growls slowly calmed to a nervous whimipers of confusion and pain, and Ren made quiet murmuring sounds to enhance his spell. Finally the dog became failry docile, lying its head down on its front paws with a plaitive whine.

In the rapidly vanishing light Ren moved over to the dog and scratched its head. The move allowed him to get a good look at the arrow in the dim light while providing him with some leverage on the dog's head in case it reacted badly. He gently touched the wound while sending another wave of friendship and empathy through the mental link he had established. The dog whined in pain, but allowed Ren to carefully grab the arrow. Ren steeled himself for a sudden reaction and attempted to prepare the dog for more pain. Then, with a sudden wrench, he pulled the arrow free.

Ren was surprised at the dog's reaction. It yelped, but was not difficult to console, nor did it seem to hold Ren responsible. Ren wondered at the training the dog must have had and tossed the bloody arrow into the woods. He spent the next hour switching between tending the wound and reinforcing his mental connection with the dog.

The four remaining horses were clearly unhappy about having the dog around, even though they were tethered quite a distance apart. Henton hadn't figured out what to do about the animals yet. It might be impossible to find the three that had escaped, assuming they hadn't fallen into a ravine in their panic or that something hadn't eaten them. Finally, Henton announced that they would largely be abandoning the horses.

“There's no point trying to continue on the road, and they'll just slow us down in the woods. We'll keep the pack horse and set the rest free. If they make their way back to Bridgetown or find some farmer, so be it”.

There were no arguments from the party, Vallen especially was happy to see them gone.

Talbert returned with an armload of gear. He'd recovered a number of bits of armor, a few swords and some supplies. Tegg, Henton and Talbert managed a few additions to their standard armor, but the invaders tended to be larger in stature so much of it was useless. Vallen took a belt and sheath and picked through a few gear bags for odds and ends.

“Sargent Henton, what about the second tower?”, Talbert asked.

“What about it?”,

“They might need our help”, Talbert said, his tone dropping as he looked around. “I guess it doesn't matter much if they do”.

Henton started to answer, then stopped himself. “No... no you're right. We owe them at least a look-see”.

Tegg began to protest, but caught Henton's determination and let it drop.