Henton moved the party away from the road and released most of the horses after a late breakfast. This was followed by a half hour of careful packing, and setting up Henton's horse to be the new pack animal. Henton insisted on apologizing to the horse for every bag loaded, while Tegg and Vallen argued about what was necessary.

“Stone you! We have no room for cooking items”, Tegg barked. “All we'd need is to be lighting fires so they can find us!”

“I'll walk the hells before leaving my gear out here to ROT”, Vallen replied with a snarl.

Tegg opened his mouth to argue, but Henton grabbed him by the soulder. “If you two are done yelling, we're leaving. Vallen, if you want to carry it, and you can do it quietly, then so be it. But if you lag behind I'll personally strip your pack down.” he said, pointing fiercely at her.

As a final burden, Arasen hadn't regained conciousness, and had to be carried in a litter. Tegg and Talbert took first duty lifting the makeshift gurney, made from a blanket and two small trees. One final travelling companion was added when Ren refused to leave the dog behind.

“I won't leave it here to die.” Ren argued.

“The hells you won't”, Talbert argued. But Ren refused to budge, arguing that the dog was now his responsibility. It limped horribly, regularly holding its injured leg in the air while it hopped along, but it seemed to be perfectly content to follow Ren around. Talbert grumbled, but Ren's will was absolute and Talbert had to admit that whatever Ren had done, it had apparently turned the dog's loyalty.

Henton led them deep into the woods, relying on Tegg's sense of direction and the sun to stay on path to the next tower. He had decided to risk getting lost in order to put as many trees as possible between them and the road. Even as they left, they thought they could hear enemy patrols arriving and investigating the section of the woods that Arasen had obliterated.

“How long will it take us at this pace, Sergent?”, Talbert asked the next day over a cold breakfast.

“An extra day at least. Probably two.”, Henton responded glumly, glancing over at the gurney. Arasen had been getting worse, a fever had taken him and he had lapsed into unconciousness. Ren tended to him daily, but was unable to help much.

“And if the tower is held?” Tegg asked, taking a seat. “He's ill. Ren is doing what he can, but we need a healer or herbwoman. At this rate he'll die before we reach Tivar.”

“I realize that. If the second tower has fallen, we are seven days ride from Bridgetown. Three times that from Tivar. Arasen will have to get better on his own.”

It would be two full days and most of the morning before Henton estimated that they were close to the second tower. The rising terrain had slowed them further, and the weather had again turned against them. Brambles and thin, twisted trees started to appear under the pine canopy, making direct travel difficult. Worse, a freezing rain began to fall late in the second day. The one bright bit of luck was the dog, which Ren had named Cathnoma. It roughly meant "Three Legs" in some obscure languag and the dog became surprisingly helpful in picking out trails. It seemed to be a natural scout, finding deer trails and footings where none seemed obvious and Ren's ceaseless attention and praise had clearly worked wonders. Talbert, who had many misgivings about taking the animal along, had also warmed up to Cathnoma dramatically. Vallen and Henton ignored it, while Tegg, with fresh memories of the dog chewing on his shoulder, had adopted a plan to wait and see. Before lunch, Henton angled them back towards the road and after lunch he had Tegg head out to see how far they were from the road and if he could see the tower. It took Tegg over an hour to reach the road, and after crawling through the brush and grass, he couldn't spot the second watchtower. What he did find was clear signs of people marching by. The muddy road was a mire of footprints with the odd bit of broken gear or discarded food lying around.

“The roads about an hour off”, he reported back at the camp, “but no tower. Stones if it wasn't a good idea to get off that blasted road, its been well trod lately.”

Henton grunted and rubbed his temples. “With this rough path we're on, I'm sure we haven't passed that tower yet. We'll move closer in and see if we can't find it. Although I'm less and less hopeful about what we'll find.”

The group picked a path close enough to catch sight of the road as they walked, but had no sign of the tower before dusk. With no fire and the ongoing drizzle, it was a miserable campsite. Ren was just about to turn in when Arasen woke up.

“Hells Ren, it's cold out here”, he grumbled.

Ren chuckled and checked his forehead. “You've had a nice fever keeping you warm. Looks like it'll pass soon enough.”

Arasen glanced around at what little of the campsite he could make out in the darkness. “Here's a merry scene”, he griped, “blast my arm hurts. Think I'll be able to make and more earthquakes?”

Ren sat down, and was quickly mobbed by Cathnoma, looking for attention. Arasen startled at the sudden appearance of the dog from the gloom. “Ah, you've met Cathnoma already. Not the one that bit you, by the way. I've managed to turn him around to our side.”

Arasen frowned, “How? Those bastards were pretty hell bent on chewing us up.”

“Bit of magic... and some friendly words. He's not evil, just trained to attack on command. I don't know if he'll attack for me, but I know he won't attack any of us.”

Arasen seemed doubtful, but carefully pet Cathnoma with his good arm. The dog responded immediately to the attention, and Arasen had to defend his injury from the dog's demands for attention. “Well, I guess its better to have him on this side. He doesn't look quite so mean without all his armor.”

Ren smiled and dragged Cathnoma off Arasen's lap. “No, now he's more likely to squish you than bite you. As for the armor, it wasn't doing us much good in the woods.”

Henton, Tegg and Talbert sat in a rough circle in a small area between two trees which provided some cover from the weather. The rain had become mixed with sleet, adding another level of discomfort. With no light, the group were all shadows hunched against treetrunks. “At this rate the weather will do these guy's job for them”, Talbert griped, wiping his face.

Henton chuckled “You sound like an old soldier, Talbert ”, he said, fishing a pipe out of his cloak “all it took was a war and six kinds of hell to lighten you up a bit.”

Talbert frowned a bit, then shrugged, “I'm going to bed”, he said, “at least in my tent I won't get rained on”.

When Talbert was out of earshot, Tegg looked at Henton and said, “Vallen is going to become a liability”

Henton scowled, “Damn. What is it? horsegum? ariss? junisen? something exotic?”

“You noticed?”

“I've known enough soldiers. Mood swings like hers, I'd normally guess pregnancy, but that'd have cleared her from duty. Otherwise, I've known many a soldier turn into a drinker or take a few herbs to keep them fit.”

Tegg grumbled sadly “It's ariss, at least I suspect that's what I smelled. She was putting it in her tea...”

“Until we abandoned the horses.”, Henton finished, glancing over where Vallen's tent roughly sat. “Shades, she'll be chewing it before long.”

“Or lighting fires to boil water.” Tegg said softly.

Henton rubbed his temples and eyes. “Shades and hells and stones. There's no win on this. If we take it...”

“She'll go mad. Or enough so for us. If we don't...”

“She'll chew the blasted stuff.. or give us away with some damn kettle fire.”

“So there you are Sergent”, Tegg said, looking over where he could hear Arasen and Ren talking. He couldn't make them out in the dark, but Arasen sounded awake and alert. Tegg thanked the fates for that, then turned back to Henton. “Something to test your newfound leadership skills.”, Tegg said, leaning over and clapping Henton on the shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, then added “Just wanted you to know. Things get ugly at the wrong time...”

Henton grunted and the two sat for a while in silence, Henton smoking a pipe while Tegg listened to the sounds of the camp.

Although Arasen's fever had subsided thanks to Ren's healing skills, he was in constant agony from his wounded arm. The next morning Tegg and Henton adjusted the packhorse to let him ride, removing and distributing some of the gear amongst themselves. The rain that had drenched them throughout the night had subsided, returning off and on just enough to remind them of their misery. Before long, it became clear that Henton's hunch had proven true. Talbert returned saying that he believed he could see the tower just up the road and the party's mood lightened considerably. Tegg scouted next, but his report was devistating. The tower was indeed ahead but it was capped with a collumn of smoke.

The party approached carefully, but need not have. As soon as they were within sight, it was clear that the tower had been razed. Most of the main stone tower still stood, but all of the wooden buildings had burned to the ground. Charred support pillars identified the skeletal remains of the bunkhouse and stable, while the stone storehouse looked to be mostly intact with the exception of its thatch roof.

“Shades”, Talbert whispered, kicking a bit of the shattered door out of the way. Inside the wall, the scene was surprisingly sterile. Fire seemed to have swept the small open area, consuming everything and everyone.

“We'd best get on”, Tegg said. It almost seemed sacreligious to him to speak in such normal tones in the ruins, but there was no time for litanies or prayers.

“Why?”, Talbert asked. ldquo;We could sleep in the tower. At least we'd have a roof.”

“There's going to be more of them, Talbert.”, Henton answered. He had gone over to the tower entranceway and was looking around inside. When he walked out, he shook his head. “There's no real cover here anyway”, he reported.

Back in the roadway, Tegg and Henton examined the maze of footprints in the mud. “Any clues?”, Henton asked.

Tegg shook his head. “No. There were a lot of them, most of the tracks continue south, but there's some going north as well. Whoever these bastards are, there are a lot of them.”

Jenk had considered riding back through the forest, or even returning to Bridgetown, but opted instead for the road. It would be faster, he reasoned, and any enemy would be hard pressed to catch him if he turned into the woods quickly. By nightfall his horse was exhausted, so he turned off the road. With no way to set watch, he camped on a treelimb, a tactic that was useful and uncomfortable. The next morning, cramped and sore, he set off on the road again. When he passed the dead horse, the smell was starting to get strong. Scavengers had cleared off most of the brush and had scattered much of the carcass through the ditch beside the road. What few flies had braved the weather were feasting and Jenk gave them a wide berth.

Jenk felt optimistic about his chances until late that afternoon. He was, in fact, starting to wonder if there had been some colossal mistake in assuming the runner's horse had been attacked. All doubt was quickly removed when his horse screamed, buckled underneath him and catapulted him over its shoulder into the tall grass beside the road.

Jenk didn't think he had passed out because he could still hear his horse moving around in the road behind him. Gray clouds swam in his eyes and the wind was knocked out of him, but he still managed to roll onto his side and free his dagger. He tried to quiet his gasping so he could hear what was going on, but the only sounds were his poor horse struggling in the muddy road and the grass rustling in the wind. After a few moments, he finally managed to stop gasping and breathe deeply, provoking a sharp pain in his side that hinted strongly at broken ribs. He then crawled forward a bit to look out through the grass and onto the roadway. Jenk could see his horse off to the right, it either hand not fallen or had managed to get back to its feet. An arrow stuck out of its front right thigh, missing the neck by a few life saving inches. Jenk looked left and scanned the road and forest, and eventually made out some movement in the trees. The prone position was unkind to his throbbing ribs, but Jenk wanted to be sure he knew where all of the enemy was. Whoever had taken down his horse would surely suspect he had survived and would be on their way to finish him off. When he finally managed to get up, he wanted to be sure to run in the right direction.

The attackers made his job easier by breaking cover and picking their way toward him. Although they were across the road and hugging the far treeline, Jenk made out only two soldiers. Both wore gray chainmail shirts with red slashes and carried short bows. As Jenk watched, one shouldered his bow and drew a long curved sword while the other had his bow ready and notched. They were fair skinned and wore their black hair long, tied off in a topknot. Jenk couldn't see any bags, so he assumed they had a lookout post or campsite somewhere in the woods.

After a moment of consideration Jenk knew he had no real option except to kill them. He couldn't run with his ribs so sore, and had concluded that there were no other guards in the woods. Although his odds weren't great, he didn't relish the idea of fleeing into the woods with broken ribs and no gear. His first priority was to be somewhere they didn't expect, so he carefully crawled back into the ditch and up through the brush that lined the trees on the south side of the road. Once he had cover, he decided to backtrack behind his horse. They wouldn't expect him to double back, and he might be able to retrieve his bow or use the horse for cover.

The assailants relaxed after seeing no movement in the grass, concluding that the horse's fall had incapacitated or killed their latest victim. The two worked their way over to the spot where he had fallen, and began searching for a body. Unexpectedly, there were two screams of pain, one from someone near the horse, and one from the bowman. The other attacker turned, and was stunned to see his partner collapsing with an arrow through his abdomen.

Jenk had never been in so much pain. Elated at having reached his horse and retrieving his bow, he had unthinkingly notched an arrow to take out the bowman. When he released the shot a blinding pain ripped through his injured ribs and he collapsed onto the roadway. The echoing scream of his enemy was faint comfort as he rolled in his own agony, causing his horse to startle and stagger away. Jenk desperately staggered to his feet, knowing the other attacker would either charge him or retreat to find cover. The approaching footsteps on gravel alerted him that he was going to be fighting hand-to-hand. With a cold numbness in his stomach, a burning fire in his side, half blind and disoriented, Jenk rose and drew his knife.

The attack was sudden and brutal. The remaining soldier had chosen a full charge, correctly concluding that Jenk could not properly prepare himself. Jenk had reached the same conclusion and gambled on his attacker swinging high and hard. When Jenk's dagger didn't rise to block his sword, the invader howled in victory, only to find he'd missed entirely and Jenk had stepped forward and under his swing. Jenk's blind dagger stab was only a bit more successful. It hit armor, turned and barely managed to scratch his enemy's side. Enraged, the attacker swung sideways, clubbing Jenk in the head with his elbow.The follow-on attack was a vicious kick to the ribs that Jenk barely blocked. The attacker growled in frustration, turning to face Jenk, only to find that he had bolted.

Jenk knew he was injured and couldn't win in a fair fight, so at the first opportunity he'd run for his horse. Unfortunately it had wandered further than he'd hoped and he was forced to dodge around it for a shield. His attacker rushed up to the horse and found himself running around it in circles. Jenk might have found it comical if his attacker wasn't so insistent on killing him, and after several slow laps his side began to hurt so badly that he could barely walk. The horse, meanwhile, was not happy about the situation at all, and began to rear up, ignoring the arrow in its front leg.

For Jenk, this revealed an unexpected opportunity. While his horse was not a warhorse, it was trained for battlefield service and at least recognized Jenk. Each time it reared, it naturally turned away from him, which meant turning toward his attacker. Jenk waited for an opening and when the horse reared again and turned, he rushed in the other direction and found his attacker dodging the horse's front hooves. By the time he noticed Jenk, it was too late. Jenk stabbed fiercely and connected with the man's arm below the shoulder. The attacker howled and dropped his sword. Jenk went to pull back on the blade. but the attacker was faster, he turned abruptly and caught Jenk in the cheekbone with a left-hook, sending him sprawling to the ground. Jenk tried to roll over, but his attacker kicked him in the chest. There was a loud crack and Jenk was blinded with agony. He heard the attacker retrieve his sword and knew he had to get up, but the pain had doubled him over. Instead, he rolled to his knees and managed to open his eyes. The attacker had his sword again, but in his left hand. Jenk's dagger was still embedded in his arm and Jenk realized he'd been saved when his attacker had been forced to avoid the horse again.

Whispering a silent thanks to whatever god made horses, Jenk turned around and hobbled to get his bow, which lay abandoned in the roadway. The run caused his head to swim, and he was nearly blind again by the time he grabbed the bow. He heard his attacker shout something, but was too focused on finding an arrow to worry about it. He spotted one where his horse had obviously fallen, rushed over to grab it, and looked up in time to see the attacker stab the horse angrily with his sword. Jenk was stunned for a moment, rage boiling up inside him. Jenk had never been overly fond of horses, but this one had been loyal to the last. Ignoring the pain and blinking tears from his eyes, Jenk notched and drew his bow in a single clean motion, checked his aim, released and promptly blacked out.

Henton led the group north, picking a trail that led steadily uphill. Although the normal routine was to only stop for a brief lunch, Henton ordered them to pitch camp.

“We need to figure out our options”, he said as they sat in a rough circle. “Its clear that we can't expect anything better up the road. It might be clear nearer to Tivar, but we'd be fighting for every mile.”

“We should go back”, Vallen said miserably.

“To what?” Talbert grumbled. “Their patrols could be in the outtown by now.”

Henton nodded “and we'd have failed to help the city. We'd be charged with disobeying orders. At best, we'd be out here again on another mission.”

“Or on the front lines holding pikes”, Ren said.

There was a long silence until Tegg sighed and said, “So we go on. North into the mountains.”

Henton agreed and unrolled the map. The mountains formed a rough arc, leading north and then west. On the map there was a clear line showing a pass through them. Henton pointed to this and said, “Here's the Sinlit Pass, it runs north and west along this line of mountains until here, the Urni river. The pass splits at the river, one branch running west alongside the river, the other crosses and heads northward to the far plains and savannahs on the western edge of the Sea of Rushes.”

“Do we have any idea what's up there?” Ren asked.

Henton looked around at blank faces. “I guess not. I've heard its a pretty rocky path. There's supposed to be old mineshafts all over these mountains, copper or iron or something. ”

“It'll be cold and rocky.” Tegg ventured. “And we have no idea if these guys are hiding out up there or not.”

“No. No we don't.” Henton agreed. “So the only remaining issue is Arasen. Do we take him with us or send him back?”

The party exchanged looks, but no one spoke. Finally, Ren said “There is no lesser harm here. He's not well, and he can't travel without me healing him. Even with me he may lose that arm, he may die from gangrene, or he might slowly recover. More enemies march south every day, blocking Bridgetown, but there could be ten times as many north of here.”

“So we stay together. If we send you two south, you have just as bad a chance as staying with us.” Henton said.

Jenk slowly became aware of his surroundings despite desperately wanting to stay unconcious. He knew it was raining because he could hear the constant patter and feel the drops running down his face as he lay on his side in the muck. He knew it was also sleeting, a very nice touch, he thought, nothing like the weather kicking you when you were down. He was fairly sure it was daylight, but he had no idea if it was still the same day, which it was not. Finally, he knew he wasn't dead, although he was starting to think that might be preferable to the torment of breathing. It took him a few moments to roll onto his stomach. He had considered rolling onto his back, but that had the disadvantage of a full facefull of rain and he didn't think he could sit up with his abused ribs. He had also considered lying here for a while, but knew with some certainty that there would be other patrols.

When Jenk finally managed to get up onto his knees he was rewarded with a wave of nausea and emptied his stomach into the muddy pit where his head had been.. His side was screaming in pain, his head was throbbing and he could barely move his legs. When this passed, he surveyed the scene. His enemy, he noted in satisfaction, had at least fared worse. Jenk took some pride in the shot, his attacker lay square on his back next to the horse, an arrow pointing to the heavens from his chest. Seeing the horse again bothered him, and he shook his head sadly. The poor animal had been an unexpected ally in a bad spot, something Jenk would not forget. One surprise was his other attacker, which Jenk hadn't considered after his first painful bow shot. The man had apparently managed to crawl out of the weeds and onto the road, leaving a long trail of blood. Whatever strength he'd managed had quickly left him, and the soldier lay face down in the roadway a good distance to Jenk's left. Knowing he could be spotted at any moment, Jenk forced himself to stand and made his way over to his enemy. Looting corpses was not something he particularly enjoyed, but the man was in possesion of Jenk's knife, after all.

Jenk had little difficulty finding the enemy campsite, where he managed to scrape together a decent supply pack. He had abandoned his bow for an enemy bow, although he didn't particularly like the shorter size and heavy pull. It was simply a matter of arrows, he really didn't feel up to hunting in the muck and grass when both of the fallen invaders had quivers. Jenk was sorely tempted to crawl into the odd cone-shaped tents and rest a bit, but the next patrol could not help but notice two dead fighters and a horse. He did feel bad about leaving the horse to scavengers, but in his current condition there was nothing he could do. After a glance back at the road, he shouldered his pack and struck off into the woods.

Three days of hiking took the party higher and higher into the foothills. The rain finally quit, and a surprisingly bright series of skies greeted them through the thinning birch and pine trees. The cold continued, it was aproaching midwinters day and the higher altitude only added to the sharp bite of the wind. Tegg worried about their rapidly diminishing cover, not only because of the enemies that might be lurking higher in the bay formed by the mountains, but also because of larger predators. “Trogs and brushcats”, he'd explained to Henton. “They hunt deer, rabbit, gormonk, and goats.”

Henton shook his head, “Thats just wonderful. Will they bother us?”

Tegg considered this. He'd run into only one trog, and had only glimpsed brushcat a handful of times in all his hunts. “Not likely. Not with so many of us, at least. They're usually braver in the winter, when food's scarce. If they can single one of us out or catch the horse away from the group, they might risk it. It might be wise for us to stay together.”

Out of habit, each time they encountered a deer trail or animal path, Tegg would check for tracks. What he found was not encouraging. Fewer and fewer animal trails were fresh, and today he figured out why.

“They're human. Boots.” he said, pointing the tracks out to Henton and Talbert. Ren, Vallen and Arasen seemed content to take his word for it. Cathnoma sniffed around the area where Tegg indicated, but lost interest.

“Recent?”, Henton asked.

“Maybe. Ground's too hard. Cathnoma doesn't seem to think so. It's not good, though. These aren't hunters or trappers.”

Henton sighed and turned to look south. He could sometimes get glimpses of the treetops downhill from them, although he never saw any sign of the watchtower. “I wonder if Jenk will find us...”

At about that moment, Jenk was looking at the second tower from a treebranch. What he saw was very discouraging. There were three enemy tents pitched just inside the gates and although Jenk hadn't seen anyone moving, he assumed they were either in the tower or sitting around a warm campfire. He had no idea if the rest of the party had fallen here, but he assumed they hadn't. The enemy seemed remarkably unfriendly toward horses, and there was no sign of dead horses or riders.

Jenk adjusted his position in the tree so he wasn't visible to the tower and considered his options. He could continue along the road, although that meant dodging enemy patrols for the next two weeks, or he could head north into the woods. It was very likely that the second option would take longer, but it also meant a better chance of finding Henton. A sharp pain in his side also reminded him that he needed to rewrap his bandages, which finally decided his course. Trying to tie strips of cloth around your chest by yourself was hard enough, doing so with broken ribs was torture. He desperately needed to find the rest of the party.

The party's diligence paid off two days later. They had been alerted to the patrol by Cathnoma's growling and darted for cover. A few minutes later, three enemy scouts walked by, although they were more sightseeing than scouting. The trio seemed utterly disinterested in their surroundings, simply following a deer-trail through the woods. After they had passed, Henton called the group together.

“This whole blasted situation is falling apart”, he said, pounding his fist into his palm.

“What choice do we have?” Ren asked. Everyone's silence was his answer.

As they crossed the trail, Cathnoma began to growl again and turned around. Ren caught his leash.

“Are they coming back?” Talbert asked nervously, looking up the trail.

“No” Vallen said, stooping down and following Cathnoma's line of sight. “Someone is following our trail.”. Soon enough, they could all hear the distant yapping of dogs on the hunt.

Henton looked around quickly for options. There was cover, but it was useless if their pursuit was using dogs. With Arasen and the loaded horse and their other injuries, escape was not likely. “We're trapped.” He said, looking around. “We can't hide if they've got dogs. We're going to have to fight.”

Talbert and Vallen drew their weapons and Tegg grabbed his bow. “We should set an ambush. Its our best hope.”, Tegg said.

Ren helped Arasen off of the horse, and looked desperately for somewhere to hide it. The area was dotted with pine and birch trees, but none were big enough to hide a loaded horse. What bits of undergrowth struggled through the rocky soil were all scrawny bushes. “We can't hide the horse”, he said simply.

Talbert groaned, “We can't outrun them. We can't hide from them. Stone us, we're hung!”

Henton thought for a moment, then ordered “Take the horse uphill, Ren. Lash it to a tree then get back down here. If they see the horse, maybe we can surprise them on their way to investigate.”

Tegg was about to argue, but couldn't think of anything to say. Vallen took off to a fair sized evergreen and hunched down behind it while Talbert did the same in the other direction. Ren headed uphill while Arasen found cover further beyond Vallen where he'd be out of the way. Tegg was looking for a good tree when Ren returned. “Give me a boost”, he said to Tegg.

“What? Into a tree?”

“Yes. I've got an idea.”

Tegg shrugged, and helped Ren climb one of the few large birch trees, then he worked his way a bit further downhill to wait. Henton grabbed Cathnoma's leash and found a good sized bush. There he tied Cathnoma off and hunched down.

The noise of the dog gave them ample warning, and the entire group was somewhat relieved that there was only one dog to contend with. There were, however, four enemy scouts following it. When they spotted the horse they did not charge uphill as Henton had hoped. Instead they grew cautious and began to look around, which is how they spotted Talbert. The one who seemed to be the leader shouted something and unleashed the dog.

“Stones!”, Talbert yelled, jumping to his feet. The dog closed the distance quickly, but couldn't outrun Tegg's arrow. Tegg had been dubious of the plan, and had decided that he would snipe the dog the moment he had an opportunity. Soldiers he could deal with, dogs had shown themselves to be less predictable. His shot was not as easy as he would have liked, but the arrow found the dogs exposed neck and killed it cleanly. The soldiers turned around and realized they were walking into an ambush.

Surprisingly, Vallen was the first to reach the soldiers, some of whom hadn't fully recovered from the shock of Tegg's appearance. She lunged, dodged one soldier's reaction block and drove her knife into his side. Tegg tried to notch another arrow, but one of the soldiers had closed too quickly and he was forced to abandon the bow for his knife. The enemy was prepared for him, and foced Tegg to block and retreat up the hill. The slippery footing of loose dirt and pine needles put Tegg in an even worse position, and he started to get very concerned. Then he heard Ren shout.

Ren knew the situation had gone badly when Talbert yelled, but he couldn't get out of the tree without leaving himself very vulnerable. He was desperately looking for a way to help when Tegg started to back up past his tree. Originally, Ren had hoped to attack from above using a simple tumbling attack he'd trained for at the temple, but Tegg was not retreating directly below his branch, meaning he'd have to improvize. Ren hated to improvize. His shout was unintentional, but effective. The attacking guard hesitated at the sound and looked up just in time to see a large, robed figure completely lose all control while falling directly at him. The shock of the sight was so stunning that he never flinched as Ren crushed him.

For Tegg, Ren's arrival was fortunate, if unexpected. He'd all but forgotten about the monk's odd tree-climb until nearly being flattened by him. Tegg was still in shock when he reached down to help Ren to his feet. “Uh. Are you alright, Ren?”

“I think that guard stabbed me.”, Ren said in a daze.

Tegg looked Ren over, trying to find the damage. He finally spotted blood on Ren's cloak, and realized the source. “No, well. Sort of” Tegg said, losing color.

Ren looked down and nearly gagged. His blow had certainly killed the guard, apparently shattering the enemy's legs. One of the shin bones had somehow managed to remain pointing up and had stabbed Ren in the upper leg. The damage was minor, but so gruesome in nature that Ren nearly lost his lunch.

Tegg blocked the image out of his head and rushed down to help the rest of the party, who weren't all faring well. Vallen had managed to injure one of the guards, but he was skillfully fighting off her following attacks. Talbert was locked in combat with another guard and Henton was trying to help him and dodge the remaining invader. Tegg charged down the hill and decided to help finish off Vallen's injured enemy. As he approached, the scout spotted him and moved to defend himself. When he did, Vallen attacked high, forcing him to try and block. As his arms came up, Vallen grabbed one arm by the elbow and shoved, suddenly shifting his balance backwards and causing him to stumble. The enemy soldier pinwheeled his armos to try to recover his balance, dropping his sword and exposing his neck, which Tegg found easily.

Vallen and Tegg turned to assist the others, and realized that Talbert was in serious trouble. The scout was a superior swordsman and Talbert had lost Henton's help when the older soldier had been forced to defend himself. Talbert swung repeatedly at the scout's head in desperation and the scout nearly disarmed him with a powerful upward slash. Talbert spun to avoid getting hit but the scout was ready, attacking low and slashing Talbert up and across the chest. Tegg and Vallen rushed over, but Henton got there first. His blow surprised the scout, but in abandoning the other enemy, Henton had put himself in a dangerous spot. The fighter attacking Talbert swung a powerful haymaker, which Henton had to block with both hands on his sword. When he did, the other enemy stabbed Henton under the arm, driving his sword to the hilt between Henton's ribs.

Henton blinked in shock, the immense pain in his chest lasted only a moment and then turned cold. He tried to reach down to grab the sword lodged in his side, but found that he'd lost feeling in his hands. His sword tumbled under the pressure of the attacker he'd managed to block, and Henton felt a momentary stab of worry. He needed to block. He needed to get out from between these two men. He needed to make sure Talbert was safe. Henton's thoughts slipped away and faded into a blur. There was a rushing sound like a fast river over rocks, and then darkness.

Tegg reached Talbert's opponent just as Henton fell, clotheslining him in the shoulder and sending the enemy swordsman sprawling downhill. Vallen charged the other fighter, shrieking and wildly swinging her knives. The guard managed to desperately dodge her attack without his sword, only to be blindsided by Tegg who stabbed him in the middle of his lower back. Vallen quickly shifted targets and stabbed the remaining guard as he tried to get to his feet.

Ren rushed to Henton's side and carefully rolled him over from his stomach onto his side. Tegg and Talbert winced when they saw just how deep the blade was buried in Henton's ribs. Vallen rushed up behind him and gasped at the sight, whimpering into her hands. Henton's eyes were open but lifeless, staring blankly at nothing. Tegg paused to collect himself, then sagged back and sat slumped over with his face in his hands. There was no point in checking for breath, Henton was dead.

In the aftermath of the battle, Ren tended to Talbert's wounds as Tegg and Vallen sat in stunned silence. Ren wanted to say something, anything, but there was no point. There was simply nothing they could do. His own injury was minor, so Ren busied himself with Talbert's and managed what tasks he could accomplish. The slash had not done serious damage to Talbert's chest, managing only to destroy his shirt and damage his chainmail shirt. Ren had carefully removed Talbert's ruined armor, cleaned and wrapped the slash. Afterwards, he went to retrieve the horse, Cathnoma and Arasen.

“We have to move”, he said softly to Tegg and Vallen.

Vallen gave him a horrified look, but Tegg mumbled agreement and stood slowly. He went over to Henton's body, took the message case and began to remove a few bits of gear.

“We have to bury him!” Talbert said firmly, his voice choked.

“There is no time”, Tegg said softly, pointing to indicate the battle scene. “The next patrol will find this, and they will come hunting for us.”

“You can't just take his stuff and leave him here!”, Talbert shouted, on the verge of tears.

“He doesn't need it anymore”, Tegg said in a gruff voice.

“Tegg!”, Arasen gasped.

“Look, if you want to stand here and say a few nice things to whatever gods you follow, you do so.” Tegg said, his voice rising from a growl to a near-shout “but I am not interested in dying for that opportunity. I am going to Tivar. I am delivering this blood-bought message and I am going to get as far from this as I possibly can. Then, and only then will I mourn him”. With that, Tegg grabbed Henton's gear bag, strode over and began lashing it to the horse.

The rest of the party was in shock, Ren finally said “He's right, Talbert. Its unfair and ..” he paused, holding his head in his hands “but Tegg is right. We have to get out of here.”

Vallen grabbed her bag from behind the tree and walked back to the horse. When she got there, Tegg turned and confronted her angrilly “How much? How much do you have left?”

Vallen stepped backwards, stammering, “Wha.. what? I don't”

Tegg grabbed her by the arm and drew her face closer, speaking in a low harsh growl “Its ariss, isn't it. How long until you snap, dammit! How long until I can't trust you in combat? How long until you can't crawl out of your tent because you're shaking so bad? How long until you start chewing the hellspawned weed!?!”

Vallen was nearly in a panic, the discovery and Tegg's aggression stunned her, but Tegg's increasing pressure on her arm finally got her to talk “Eighteen... twenty days of it left to drink. I'm not going to eat it. I won't, You can't...”

Tegg released her arm, buried his face in his hands and started laughing sadly. “Twenty days. We're thirty days from blasted anywhere. We're surrounded by enemies. We're fighting in the woods with two injured men and you're... you're just...” But Tegg didn't finish. He tightened the last strap on the horse and shouted across the trampled scene, “We're moving out. Now.”

Vallen rubbed her arm and watched him walk up the hill. “I'm not going to chew it...” she said to outloud. No one heard her and somehow it did little to reassure her.

Re'Tis Uron hurried up the final staircase of the new tower, carefully sidestepping another messenger coming down from the In'Tet's watchroom. Arriving at the door, he allowed himself only a moment to catch his breath before knocking on the door and dropping to one knee. He heard the door swing open and a voice from inside ordered him to enter.

In'Tet Ponsin stood at the large window of the upper tower with the shutter's open, surveying the treetops below. The tower was nearly complete, well ahead of schedule. This would please high command, and he looked forward with some measure of satisfaction to the eventual praise and promotion. Uron entered and resumed his kneeling position while the In'Tet walked over to his map table and set a small wooden piece in place.

“Yes, Re'Tet?”, Ponsin asked.

“In'Tet Sirro says that "it" has arrived, sir”, Tohri answhered, carefullly selecting his Siv Tohri words.

Ponsin smiled. Another step to Tohri victory. The messenger's choice to use the absolutely neutral form of "it" was betrayed by his lower class Dom Tohri cadence. “Excellent. Are there any scout reports?”

Uron suppressed a shiver at Ponsin's mood. Once it passed, he gave his memorized scout report, “Three missing scout parties, one returned with reports of encountering scouts in the southern area. All watchtowers have been secured.”

Ponsin smiled. A few missing scout parties was expected, and he had budgeted conservatively for fifty lost soldiers. Fewer losses would reflect well on his planning. “Any unusual reports?”

“Some signs of magic, sir. A rather large magical attack between the last towers.”

Ponsin grunted in dismissal. “Expected. Note it for further scouts. Dismissed.”

Uron stood, turned smartly, waited for the doorguard to allow him out, and made his way down to the mid level of the tower. As he entered a common room, he was intercepted by a group of lower-class Dom Tohri soldiers.

“One of them is here, isn't it.” one asked, his Dom Tohri dripping with anger and distaste.

Uron hesitated, then answered “I don't know. They have not revealed the nature of our ally.”

There were murmors of anger. Another spoke up from the rear of the group, “You know what it is. You know where this magic comes from! This alliance will doom us all... why are we tolerating this?”

Uron straightened his shoulders and growled “Because we must. Our orders are clear. We must serve the Ja”

There was another, quieter murmor among the group, who were looking to each other for some response. Finally, an older Dom Tohri stepped forward to speak. Uron recognized his rank among the faithful immediately by the red and blue tattoos on his nose. “If this is true, than it is an abomination. If the Siv are supporting an abomination, then they are ganrash.” the old man said, his calm tone barely hesitating at the harshest curse word in Dom Tohri.

Uron felt like he had been slapped. He considered ordering them all to disperse but his higher military rank paled compared to the older man's status among Ja. To take the military line would be chosing sides in a battle he did not want to win. “What can I do? I am ordered to relay messages, not decide who the Siv will ally themselves with.”

The old man surprised everyone by stepping forward and placing a blessing mark on Uron's forehead “Will you serve the will of Ja?” he asked quietly. Although this was a standard question, his Dom cadence indicated a question of the highest importance. Several of the gathered throng inhaled sharply, and three of them dropped to a knee.

Uron was stunned. He was being asked to reaffirm his service at a level equal to his first admmitance. “I... I do” he managed to stammer.

The old man smiled softly and completed the sign of blessing, tracing down Uron's nose to his lips. “Then you must serve it fully. Find out the truth of this abomination. We must serve the will of Ja, and if Ja has abandoned the Siv...” he said, leaving the sentance unfinished. There were more mumblings from the group, and the old man turned and slowly left.

Uron stood shellshocked as the group dispersed. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his chest as a heavier weight, one that the blessed would call Sen'Ja, the burdeon of following Ja, had been laid on his shoulders. He bowed quickly and walked quickly from the tower. Uron knew how to find the truth, but it would mean breaking an honor bound oath to serve the Siv. Now, however, he had a higher purpose, a higher calling, a master who had no other and who stood above all.

Duke Malloy ignored the newest sheaf of reports. They were no different from the last stack and, if things continued on the current course, would be no different from the next dozen or so that would end only when Tivar was flying a new flag.

Kenv took his mood and poured a taller glass of port. He glanced through the sheets and sighed. “Three more scout troops attacked. We'll have to recombine them.” He noted the Duke's dismissive wave and picked up his own glass. “Nothing new on locations. They're sitting north of the road, sir. There can be no doubt.”

“I don't even care why anymore, Kenv.”

“Motive is important...“

“Not in this one. We can't worry about motive until we have a firm foothold.“

“We could pull everyone back to the farmline.“, Kenv offered.

“Pull back to the outer wall.“ the Duke said softly.

Kenv shuddered. He worked up a dozen alternatives and dismissed each reluctantly. There was little point in debating the decision, without some gague of their enemy's size and some ability to strike back, they were wasting their men against a murderous ghost. “Aye. Bridgetown will be hard pressed to hold without us.“

“In my mind Bridgetown has already fallen.“, the Duke said. He lifted the glass and downed it quickly. “We can barely hope to help ourselves, Bridgetown is lost to us.“

Kenv nodded and glanced over a few more reports. “We should evacuate the city.“

The Duke stiffened. “Gods, Kenv.“

“You disagree?“

Duke Malloy shook his head and considered the glass in his hand. “I don't think I have had enough to drink tonight.“