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  Caerwyn struck while Gosse was turned away, deflecting Jais’ blade. But her blade wasn’t long enough. She caught him, but only a shallow wound, barely slicing through the light armor on his side.

  Gosse spun, and with his free hand, grabbed her sword hand. She’d been trying to get as much reach as she could out of her shorter blade, lunging in, which meant she was off balance. He pulled, and she stumbled forward as Gosse stepped out of the way. Jais was charging in, swinging. She ducked, falling forward. She felt Jais’ blade score along her shoulder, but not deep. Her sword was tossed to one side as she landed on her hands. She rolled along the ground, trying to get away from the fight, yet expecting a killing blow to come. When it didn’t she scrambled to her feet and looked around.

  Gosse was disappearing into the woods, picking up his bow along the way.

  “After him!” she shouted to Jais, but the young man only sat heavily in the middle of the road.

  “I’m done,” he said.

  She ran to the edge of the forest. Gosse was gone into its depths. She shouted back at Jais. “Track him! I can’t let him get away again!”

  “I’m in no condition to go anywhere,” he called back. “And…” His gaze turned to Barami and her heart froze.

  Gods, Barami!

  She needed to go after Gosse, but she wouldn’t be able to track the man through the forest. Jais could, but he was injured, and he was their only healer, even if his healing skills were still uncertain. He needed to stay and tend to Barami. This left her with the horrible choice of letting her friend die or pursuing the man who had ruined her life… twice.

  She let out a feral scream of frustration.

  2

  Jais’ vision swam. His breathing was short, and he was trying to calm himself and breathe deeper to keep from passing out. It was the pain from his wounds, more than the exertion of the fight, which gave Jais pause.

  After a moment, he got up, unsteady on his feet, staggering over to Barami, to fall next to the man. Jais’ wounds would heal given time; he possessed exceptional healing. It was one of his drahksani abilities. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pass out. Barami needed to be healed before that happened. He felt at the man’s neck, as his aunt — a practiced healer — had taught him, and thankfully found a pulse. With little finesse, he rolled Barami onto his back, lacking the energy to be nice. Jais put a hand directly over the wound in Barami’s gut and focused on healing.

  He hoped this would work.

  Healing was a gift from his mother’s side. Jais’ experience with it was limited, having only healed a few times before, and that had been during the fight with the krolloc — the massive monstrosity that had been controlling the krolls attacking his village. Previously, he’d just sort of… done it, and he still didn’t really know what he was doing. There had been no need to practice in the weeks since then.

  He knew he needed to push energy into the wound to heal it, but he lacked skill. His aunt had never trained him. She’d hidden the fact that he was drahksani from him, trying to keep him safe. Then she’d died, leaving him with many unanswered questions. There had never been time for training. All he knew of healing was the little she’d mentioned in passing while working on others, and the little that his father’s spirit had passed on to him, through the sword it now inhabited.

  He’d hoped he’d have the time to learn more later.

  But for now…

  He let out a long grunt as he simply tried to infuse some of his life-force into Barami. It worked! He could feel the wound closing, the blood stopping, Barami’s pulse growing stronger. He didn’t even know how he was feeling these things, but he did.

  Once Barami was out of danger, Jais stopped, not wanting to give too much of his energy while he was injured, and even then, he was exhausted from his effort.

  Caer had joined him some time while he’d been concentrating on healing.

  “Will he live?” she asked.

  Jais nodded.

  “And you?”

  He grimaced. “I’ll be fine. I’ll heal. Nothing fatal.” His breath was short though and his vision was narrowing. He was close to passing out. “Sword!” he said urgently tapping around, feeling the ground for where he’d dropped his father’s sword.

  She looked around, and a moment later pushed the grip into his palm. He moved his hand from the grip to the blade, touching the cold metal.

  Father! Help me. I need some of your energy.

  This was also something he hadn’t done since that fight. His father’s spirit had spoken to him in his time of need but had been silent since then.

  I am here. Take this. Energy flooded into him, and he blinked as the fatigue and exhaustion was pushed to the side for a moment.

  He released the sword and reached over to his shoulder. He tried to pull out the dagger still embedded there. However, between the pain from the wound Caerwyn had inflicted on his other arm and the fact that any movement of the blade caused searing agony down his arm and into his back, he couldn’t pull it out.

  “Oh for…” Caer said and, pushing his hand aside, pulled the dagger out.

  Jais cried out as a wave of agony washed over him, but it was gone quickly.

  “Thank you. I’ll heal in time, but I don’t know if I have the energy to do it myself now. If that man comes back…” He saw her expression at the mention of the man. She’d known him. That was clear enough. She’d even called him by name, Gosse… or something…

  “Who was he?” Jais asked.

  “The man who killed my parents,” she said softly, though there was a certain intense menace in her voice.

  That explained a lot.

  “If I heal myself I’ll probably knock myself out. Better I’m alert in case he returns.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” She took a moment to scan the forest edge. “And knowing him, he’d attack when I least expect it. I would appreciate an extra set of eyes.” She glanced at his other shoulder. “I’m… sorry…”

  He grimaced and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not that deep. I know you weren’t trying to hit me.” That didn’t stop it from hurting like Holn, though. He didn’t know how she could have missed, but she had. This Gosse was a slippery fellow.

  She gave a quick smile, seeming relieved, then was up and moving, getting them back on the road.

  She retrieved his bow and quiver then loaded the still unconscious Barami into the wagon. She took some of the cloth and blankets they used for their bedrolls and tents and made Jais a bit of a padded seat, which would face the forested side of the road. Then, binding his wounds as best she could, she helped him over and into the wagon as well. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t that bad either. Even as the wagon continued down the road, and the wooden wheels bumped along, he found it tolerable.

  For her part, she kept the donkey between her and the forest, trying to shield herself from potential danger as she led it along.

  Jais scanned the forest as they went but saw no threats.

  “How much farther do we have to go?” he asked as they moved on. He didn’t know where they were heading; they were off any maps he’d ever seen. He knew only the kingdom of Erestin and they’d long since crossed the eastern border of that small realm into lands unknown to him. The village of Thresh, where they’d bought this wagon, was the farthest village to the east he’d ever heard of. They’d left that behind weeks ago.

  He didn’t know where they were going, only that Caer had a “sense.” Her “sense” being the ability to feel other drahksani, something he couldn’t do. That wasn’t a surprise. All drahksani had different abilities, sometimes vastly different. His were focused on strength and combat, along with healing, traits passed from his father and mother, a warrior and healer respectively.

  “We’re close,” she said. “Perhaps we’ll get there by the end of the day?”

  Given they were down a warrior and that he, himself, wouldn’t be much good in a fight, Jais certainly hoped so.

>   Sure enough, several hours later, as the sun was setting in the west behind a row of mountains, they came to a town. It was sizable, much larger than Klaston’s Green, or Thresh, which had been the largest settlement Jais had ever seen.

  They crested a hill and found the town nestled in the valley below them, snug up against the curve of a river, which meandered south. The forest, which they’d skirted all day, continued down the hill and then fell away to the south. It probably provided much of the building materials and heat for the town. There were farms up the hills on both sides of the valley, and a bridge which spanned the river. At the center of town, there were large buildings, two or three stories tall with smaller buildings farther out. It looked well established and cozy at the same time.

  One thing was for certain, they’d be sleeping in beds tonight and after the afternoon bouncing along in the wagon, Jais was thankful for that.

  There was a wooden palisade around the town, about twelve feet high, with a wide gate where it met the road.

  Caer stopped at the gate as dusk settled over them.

  “Good timing,” a man called out. He was pushing one side of the wooden gate shut. “We were just closing up for the night. “What brings you to Cold River?”

  “We’re looking for someone,” Caer called out. “Most immediately we’re looking for a healer if there’s one in town. We were attacked by bandits on the road and have a couple injured men.”

  “Bandits? In these parts? I’ll have to let the town council know. Haven’t had bandits in years.”

  “What’s the gate for?” Jais called out.

  The man must not have seen him in the gathering gloom of twilight and peered up over the wagon for a moment. “Oh, hello there. The gate’s mostly for wolves and the occasional bear. It keeps them from wandering into town when their hunting’s not so good.”

  “A healer?” Caer asked, as she passed through the still open side of the gate.

  “Yes, sorry. There’s one in town, a good one too. You’re lucky. Her name’s Elria. You’ll find her at The Boar this time of day. It’s a tavern near the bridge. But I wouldn’t recommend staying there unless you’re well off. The Setting Sun is a better choice for most. It’s just there, on the edge of town, along the main road. Can’t miss the sign. It’s bright yellow!” The man pointed.

  “Thank you,” Caer said and they were moving again.

  Jais watched the man close the other side of the gate and felt a bit better. That wall wouldn’t stop any determined man from getting into the town, but still. He let his guard down a little and tried a little self-healing on his stinging shoulder.

  He was tired. Even just a little healing and he found himself slipping into sleep. He nodded off, coming awake when the wagon stopped in front of the Setting Sun Inn.

  He remained awake enough to stagger inside to a room, but once in a bed, was out the instant he hit the mattress.

  Yet his dreams were troubled, filled with swordsmen he couldn’t beat and wounds that wouldn’t heal.

  3

  Caerwyn’s day was not done. By the time she’d hauled Jais and Barami to a room, it was full dark out. She left them to sleep while she went to find the healer, wanting to get her friends tended to as soon as possible. Both Barami and Jais looked to be doing well, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. She wanted them both up and able sooner rather than later, what with Gosse still out there.

  Oil lanterns lined the streets, illuminating them well. The buildings changed from low, smaller structures to taller, larger ones as she walked farther into town. Few were awake at this hour, and the windows were dark.

  She was on edge and couldn’t stop the feeling that she was being hunted, watched, stalked. She looked around as she walked, but there were only a few townspeople about on the streets, no concerns there.

  It took her a moment to identify why she was feeling this way.

  In all the commotion of getting to town, getting her friends settled, and going out for the healer, she’d forgotten why they’d come here.

  A drahksan.

  When the man at the gate had mentioned a talented healer, she’d thought that might be who they sought, but now, as she made her way to The Boar tavern, she didn’t sense the drahksan ahead of her, but somewhere off to her right… and up?

  She looked in that direction. The houses or buildings here were uniformly three stories tall and all built together in a long row. Was the drahksan in one of those buildings? Perhaps in an attic? They seemed higher even than that top floor.

  She shook it off. She could find him or her later, after she found the healer.

  She hurried onward to The Boar tavern. A boar’s head, intricately carved from a chunk of wood, hung above the door marking the building. The windows glowed with light, creating pools in the dark street. Even out here, she could hear the din of many people within.

  She opened the door and was met with the scent of ale and roasted meat, with an undertone of stale straw, sweat, and worse. The noise of people shouting and cheering greeted her. She stepped within and looked around.

  The far wall was ablaze with three large hearths, all cooking something. The center one had a full boar roasting on it, the other two had pots bubbling away. There was a long table in front of the hearths where meat was being sawed off another already roasted boar and plates of various foods were being put together by a crew of men and women. Ale flowed freely from several large casks at the left side of the room. In the same place on the opposite side, a long stairway ran to a second floor. Everywhere else was a mass of people, sitting or standing, talking or shouting. Smaller round tables lined the edges of the room, with four much larger ones, long and square, dominating the centre of the room. One of the long tables seemed to have a great group around it, all turned inward at something, cheering or groaning in turns at whatever they were watching. There would be no way to yell out a name over the din of the crowd so finding the healer seemed unlikely without help.

  Caerwyn pushed her way up to the long bar where food was being prepared and poked the large man carving the boar.

  “Hello!” she called out over the noise. “I’m looking for a healer? Elria?”

  “Eh?” the man said only seeming to have noticed her just then.

  She tried shouting louder. “I’m looking for Elria, the healer!”

  “Ah!” He nodded then pointed to the big group at the long table. “Red hair!” the man shouted. “Can’t miss her.”

  Caerwyn surveyed the group. As far as she could tell, there were only a few women present, and none had red hair.

  She drew closer. Better to be sure before she went back to ask again.

  She began pushing her way through the tight crowd, not easy, given their boisterous nature and intentness on whatever they were watching, but she was a dragon-blooded warrior and she was stronger than she looked.

  She pushed through the final row of onlookers and… there she was.

  Caerwyn gaped for a moment.

  Elria’s hair was indeed hard to miss. Flame red, it stood out like a beacon, as did her clear green eyes. That wasn’t what caused Caerwyn to gape though. The woman was downing a flagon of ale… in one go… and by the look of the many empty flagons in front of her, it wasn’t her first.

  Elria slammed down her mug, and the crowd went wild with a great cheer. There was a grin on the woman’s lips, and a heady rose color to her cheeks, but she didn’t seem that drunk. The same couldn’t be said for the men drinking with her…

  It looked like there had been three others. Two were now face down on the table. The last was swaying wildly as he lifted his own flagon. He tilted his head back to drink, but instead just kept falling backwards into the crowd, the mug slipping from limp fingers as ale spilled on him and the floor.

  Another cheer as Elria rose sharply in victory.

  Caerwyn’s sense hadn’t deceived her. This woman wasn’t a drahksan, but she certainly could hold her liquor. She wasn’t even swaying as she stood, rais
ing a hand to acknowledge the roar of the crowd. Some money was exchanged, and a portion of it went to Elria herself. After that, the crowd began to disperse.

  Caerwyn slipped around the table quickly and caught hold of the other woman’s arm.

  “Elria?” she asked. “The healer?”

  The woman nodded. “I am she.” There was a heavy accent to her voice, not from these parts, much harsher and a little sing-song. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Caerwyn, and I just came to town. I have some injured friends if you wouldn’t mind taking a look at them?”

  “Now?”

  “Now, yes.”

  Elria shrugged and brushed off her green dress, removing the remains of dinner and smearing a few splashes of ale. She was not as tall as Caerwyn, but she wasn’t far off, which was odd. Most women were much shorter than she.

  “Lead the way,” Elria said and Caerwyn nodded, heading out of the tavern.

  “What happened to your friends?” Elria asked once they were out in the quiet night, walking swiftly back to The Setting Sun Inn. She kept pace with Caerwyn’s long strides. She was certainly a woman who would stand out, what with her hair and her height, perhaps even more than Caerwyn herself. “Sickness? Wolves?”

  “Swords and arrows,” Caerwyn said. She decided it would be best to stick with her story about bandits for now. “We were hit by bandits on the road today.”

  Elria didn’t break stride, but her expression was just as the gate’s man had been, shocked. “Bandits? Truly? That is odd.”