Book One Chapters 11-13

Chapter 11

Hate. So delicate a word. So many think it to be wrong to hate. We say hate is the strongest of emotions. It fuels the warrior to press past all limits to achieve the goal. If in the end, the hate has left the warrior empty, then so be it. The goal has been achieved.
- Priesthood of War teaching


Two days past and Briel still was not seen. Cyan found this gnawing at him more and more. His training took on a new vigor, as his concern for her was transferred into it. He worked harder, learning everything he could wring out of his friends about martial prowess, and picking it up faster than he ever had before. He wanted for Memos to give the word, the word when whatever plan he had would be put into effect, and Cyan would either be dead, or free.
As evening meal finished Cyan was working outside in the courtyard, repairing part of the manacles on the pole set near the well. The sand was brown again, all traces of blood lost from it. Apparently the manacle needed slight adjustment, and the smithy gave Cyan a hammer and told him to go to it. Memos walked up to him as he worked.

“ Our day has come.” With four simple words Cyan’s world was on fire. At the moment, he felt good, and excitement infused him.

“ When?” He asked anxiously.

“ Tonight, as Aoi crests the mid sky.”

Cyan nodded. “ What’s the plan?”

“ Your job is to meet us in the kitchen then, and to ready Maris and Briel. Just as the moon crests, be in the kitchen.”

“ How? Briel will be with Athrax?” He would have willingly killed him, but he knew that might jeopardize it all.

“ That’s been taken care of. Trust me. Just go to their rooms, he will not be there. Get her and go.”

Cyan looked at Memos and took a moment to compose himself, his body already on edge. “ Thank you.”

A look of pride, almost fatherly came across Memos. He nodded and left Cyan alone, thoughts of hope, thoughts of freedom, thoughts of life running through his mind. Quickly he pushed his dreams aside and focused on the tasks at hands. Laying the hammer down he went to find Maris, first going to his room, not finding him there he searched the dining hall, and finally found him in the courtyard where he had been moments ago. He was sitting leaned up against the wall, looking up at the moon.

Cyan dropped down beside him and grinned.

“ Find a nugget of gold in the sand?” Maris asked quizzically.

“ Better. I told you I’d see you to her. We leave tonight.”

Maris’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “ When?”

“ As Aoi crests.”

Maris nodded. “What do we need to do?”

“ Memos has a plan, we’re to meet him in the kitchen at the appointed time. We are also to get Briel.”

Maris’s face went serious quickly. “ I’ll be of better help this time in dealing with Athrax.”

Cyan shook his head. “ No, sadly, Memos has it taken care of, she’ll be alone.”

“ Alright. I’ll watch your back.”

Cyan smiled. “ How long a journey is it to your homeland?”

“ Two months, maybe a little more. You’ll see the beauty of my land for yourself.”

“ Your people will except me?”

Maris chuckled. “ You are my meo-naf’, my brother. They will accept my brother as their own.”

“ If I had a family I’d name you my brother as well.”

“ Well, you do now.”

“ Meo-naf’.” Cyan extended his hand.

“ Brothers.” Maris shook it.

***

As Aoi began its last ascent to mid sky Cyan and Maris crept into the corridor holding the door to Athrax’s chambers. No guards present, and the torches burned low. Cyan hoped Memos came through, although he realized a battle with Athrax, while being a detriment to the escape, would satisfy his lust for Athrax’s blood.

They crept to the door ever so slowly, conscious of every sound they made, thinking each footfall as loud as the ringing of bells. Reaching it Cyan could not help but tremble a little as he put his hand on the knob. Thirty seconds later he turned it and with an audible click the door opened. Maris stood guard as Cyan snuck in.

The room was dark; the only light a small candle on the main table. Letting his eyes adjust and wishing he had Maris’s vision talent he looked about and saw no one. The last time he had been in Athrax’s chambers he had not the time to see how the warrior lived, looking around he saw it was in luxury. Rich carpets decorated the floor, all well made and thick. No bookshelves lined the walls, as Cyan had expected, and instead weapons hung on the walls. All sorts, for broadswords to pole arms to bow and staves, they decorated the walls each displayed prominently. Moving closer he saw a broad rapier situated in between a Longsword and a double bladed battleaxe. It caught his eye because of its unique blade, forged from a reddish metal that seemed to be steel melted and re-forged with blood. The hilt was an artful basket hilt that covered the entire hand in black steel circlets, beginning at the crosspiece and ending at the spike tipped pommel. A scene of landscape was etched into the base foot of the blade, depicting a small keep set onto a hill overlooking a town. Looking around and realizing again he was alone, he reached up and tried to take the sword from the wall.

It would not budge. Peering closer he saw that it was fastening in iron wire bolted to the wall, and Cyan realized that this was because Athrax lived with Briel, a slave. Apparently, he did not trust her, as Cyan had expected and even went to the point of bolting his weapons to the wall. Fingering the iron wire he wondered if he could snap it and realizing that he might as well try he dug two fingers under it and focusing, pulled back, and the iron wire did not snap, but bent back with his fingers. Moving it too and fro, working it this way and that it was not long before he could slip the hilt from the wire, and the then he simply pulled the blade free from the wire that held it. Holding the beautiful sword in his hands he smiled, realizing this probably meant a great deal to Athrax to be held in such honor on his wall, and laughed to himself that he, a slave that Athrax despised would be taking it to either us or sell to make his way in the world of the free.
He looked around the room some more and found another door set back in the corner. It was half open and inside he found Briel, asleep in a large, four-poster bed. He stood to the side of the bed and looked at her, seeing her beauty that had been denied him for days. Her beauty struck him and for a moment he forgot about escape, freedom, Athrax, Imona, all of it and stared at her. The rise and fall of her chest, the light pulse of her neck, her hair undone from the normal high curls, all the locks spread out across the pillows; he took it all in and watched her. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there and it was Maris’s hushed voice from the hall that urged him from his entrancement. Reaching out he gently touched the side of her face with the tips of his fingers and her eyes opened, surprised, focused on him. She pulled the covers around her chin and sat up.

“ Cyan?”

He stared at her, forgetting for a moment he could speak.

“ Cyan?”

Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes he replied. “ Yes, sorry, uhm, yes. We ah, we have to go.”

His voice stammered horribly as he talked.

“ What?”

“ We have to go.”

“ Where?”

“ Away. Uhm, Memos, Pix, they, Memos uh, they and I, Maris, we all are escaping in a few minutes.”

She stared at his for a moment, blinked and then laughed. “ Alright.”

“ No please, uhm, really we, we are.” He tried to speak succinctly, but failed, a red blush covering his face as he found he could not look her in the eyes. She looked at him and her smile faded.

“ You're serious.”

“ Yes.”

She smiled, and his heart melted. “ Turn around then, I have to get dressed.” Her voice was light, the way he remembered before all that had recently happened.

He turned and she dressed quickly. When she told him he could turn again, she saw the artful sword in his hand and laughed, covering her mouth.

“ What?” He asked, confused.

“ That sword. You’re taking it?”

He nodded.

“ It’s funny, Athrax refused to use it, feeling he was not worthy.”

“ Why not?”

“ It was his fathers.”

Cyan looked at it and nodded. “ Mine now.”

She smiled and took his arm, walking him to the door.

“ Lead the way.”

Chapter 12

What is so bad about slavery? Where else is a man guaranteed work, food, and lodgings? His survival is assured if he does his job. There is no threat of an outside force taking the slaves life, they can work without fear of happenstance killing them. They can be proud of their work, and produce for society. I see it as a most noble of professions.
- Baron Deus Valkerig, Patriarch of House Valkerig


The six stood in the half lit kitchen amid the leftover food from the day’s meals. Apprehension was common among all, as was hope. Pix sat on the table next to a large rolled up sackcloth bundle, absently munching on a pair of carrots his yellow eyes alight. Memos stood in the middle of the room, his eyes full of pride, and his hand on Sherrill’s, standing next to him. Maris, Cyan and Briel stood near the table waiting.

“ Alright we’re here. From now on, it’s all or none. Tonight we get out of here. Tonight we find freedom.” Memos said, his voice hushed.

Memos moved the bundle next to Pix and pulled back the sackcloth, unrolling it to expose metal the reflected in the low light. A broad rapier, two hand axes, a shortsword, and a dagger lay on the cloth. All of them were from the weapons stock that they used when they fought in the arena.

“ Where did you?” Maris asked, but was silenced when Memos held up a finger.

“ I’ll explain it all in a moment.” The weapons were handed out, the shortsword to Pix, the hand axes to Maris and Sherrill, the dagger to Briel, and Memos took the broad rapier for himself.

“ If we get separated, we’ll need a place to meet. Any suggestions?”

“ My homeland. Morningdew tribal land, we don’t hold slaves.” Maris responded.
All nodded.

“ We shouldn’t get separated, but if we do, all go there and wait for some time. I want to make sure we all are free, if not, it’s everyone’s responsibility to find the others, agreed?” Memos said.
All nodded.

“ Alright. Here’s the plan. “ Memos rubbed his hands together and looked at Pix. “ First we make our way to the south wall, back behind the forge. The drainage grate behind it is our means of exit. I know, I know your wondering how we get the bars off of it. The bars are as thick as a sword pommel so cutting them won’t do. The grate itself is heavily mortared into the ground, but they can be dealt with. Once we get it open my theory is the a quick crawl through the sewers should place us on the other side of the walls into the city. Once in the city we commandeer a wagon and some horses and make our way out.”

“ First question, how do we know if we get the grate off, the sewers won’t be a dead end?” Maris asked, spinning the axe back and forth in his hand.

“ Three weeks ago Pix stole a ball of binding twine from the stables, as well as a few coins off the guards. I tied the wire to a cork from the kitchen and dropped it in the grate. I saw a beggar that sleeps near the wall on the other side and called to him, asking him to go down and see if he could find the cork.” Memos smiled. “ He did, and I gave him the coins Pix had given me. Finding the cork and pulling the rope as I held the other end proved to me it could be done. We just have to get the grate off.”

“ Impressive. Good job Pix.” Maris said.
The gobbeley smiled a yellow-toothed grin.

“ How do we get the grate off? And what about the other side, how did the beggar get the grate off?”

“ The beggar said it wasn’t fastened on their side, only ours. Getting our side off is the biggest problem we have, but we have two things in our favor that can get us through it.”

“ And those are?” Maris asked.

“ Pix, tell them.”

The gobbeley smiled, and then his face grew more serious, something Cyan was unaccustomed to. “ First, we have a man who can channel his anger into his body, seemingly doubling his strength.” The gobbeley snickered. “ When I saw that table after you hit it, my mind got working, and I knew our plan could work, but you’d still need help. That brings me to something you all my feel odd about, but I should hope not. Our second favor is a traitor.”

Puzzled looks passed around the room. Pix continued “ This traitor supplied us with the weapons, and the second half of strength that should be able to get that grate off. Let me say, I know this man, and although it may be odd, trust me, he is on our side. Come on out.” Pix called to the doorway.

The doorway was then obscured by the massive, hulking form of Ulrag. Cyan, Maris, and Briel all took a step back, and Cyan’s hand reflexively gripped Athrax’s father’s sword tighter. The half ogre’s massive jowls were set, his eyes calm.

“ Believe me, please. He’s on our side.” Pix said, hopping down off the table.

Ulrag bowed his head slightly and looked at Maris, his eyes big and sorrowful. His normally hard, imposing visage was passive, compassionate, and for the second time Cyan was unaccustomed to the sight. Ulrag opened his mouth, and did not grunt but spoke in a low, guttural voice, which seemed to shake the very stones on the building.

“ Elf. I am sorry for having to hurt you. I beg your pardon.”

Maris stared back at him, blinking, a look of confusion mixed with anger on his face. Pix looked expectantly between the two, and Cyan saw concern for both on the gobbeley’s face. Maris slowly nodded his head and the anger left his eyes.

“ Pardon given, and my name is Maris.” He extended his hand, and the half ogre took it quickly, his knobby face turning into a smile, his eyes alight. For a third time, Cyan was unaccustomed to what he saw. For the rest of his days he would remember the sight of the huge hands of the half ogre cupping around the small, delicate Elven hands of Maris.

Pix smiled broadly and turned back to Memos and nodded. “ Alright, we need to get moving.” The older warrior said. All nodded followed him out of the kitchen, and began to sneak through the halls, moving as quietly as they could. At every turn Pix would poke his head around the corner and then wave them on. They made their way to the courtyard and quietly moved past the forge to the south wall. Finding the grate, they stood around it and Cyan and Ulrag looked at each other.

“ Ready?” Ulrag’s deep voice growled.

Cyan shook his head. “ I think so. I don’t have control yet, over it, that is, I’ll do my best.” He looked down at the grate with the iron bars as thick as the pommel of his sword, and the heavy mortar that set the metal into the stone. His brow furrowed and he closed his yes and concentrated his thinking on freedom. He saw himself in a field, trees surrounding him, birds flying in the air, sunlight kissing his neck. Nothing happened, and he tried harder, visualizing what freedom might be like. Nothing happened.

“ Cyan we don’t have much time, hurry.” Memos whispered.

“ I know, I know, I’m trying.” He continued to concentrate, seeing the open air of the Morningdew Mountains, just as Maris had told him in what seemed like ages ago in the wagon ride to this place. He saw Maris’s eyes as he had first seen them, the light of the sun as he first stepped into the compounds courtyard, and he felt the sand on his feet as he first stood in this accursed place. He saw the eating hall, and the meals, the days spent in training, and the nights spent in thought. He saw the meager library that gave him sight beyond the walls, and the forge that trimmed his body and kept his mind open. He saw the bath, the well, and the footlocker at the end of his bed, and the walls. He saw Memos and Sherrill, huddled close together in the cold desert night, and Pix eating. He saw Ulrag training them, and never using a heavy head, never beating them. He saw Athrax and his heart skipped a beat as anger began to fill him. He saw the wolf like smile, the eyes of a snake, the armor, the sword, the whip, and his hands on Briel. He saw Imona and her bed, and what she made him do. Her eyes that made him hate, her hands that he wished to break, and the luxury and wealth built off the backs of men like him. He saw Briel, her eyes full of hope, her hair falling over her shoulders in the chilled night air, Aoi playing, dancing of her face. He realized his eyes were no longer closed and he stared at her as the others stared at him. They all looked at him, waiting, hoping, and she looked at him knowing, understanding, not wondering if he could, but wondering when he would.

Pix scuttled back from his vantage point on the side of the forge, where he had been watching the courtyard, his face full of worry.

“ Athrax and three guards just came out from his hall, I think they found that Briel is missing!”

“ Gods.” Memos cursed.

“ They just went into our wing.” Pix continued.

“ Cyan, please.” Memos said, he voice hushed, but strained.

Briel came and looked him in the eyes, moving closer to him. Her blue-green eyes locked on his she said, “ When you do this we will be free. Alive, and free. Free to choose our livers, our destinies. Free Cyan, free.”

He nodded, and felt his body stir. The fire inside was kindled and was quickly becoming a burning rage. Ulrag sensed it and knelt down, gripping his side of the bars. Cyan’s veins began to glow slowly, and then their light was bright, and he knelt, his knotted, twitching muscles ready as he gripped the bars. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and he began to pull back slowly on the bars, and soon he heard the crack of rock as a small part of it splintered. Ulrag began to pull slowly, his muscles knotting as he followed Cyan’s lead. Soon, they reached a point were the slow pull had plateued them, and they waited for a moment, gathering all the strength they could.
Closing his eyes saw the spider web crack around the base of the grate. His obstacle was real, and in front of him. He remembered his hazy dream of breaking rock, and realized he did not need the tool, he was the hammer. He saw freedom, and he remembered the years of abuse, of hate, of work, of slavery. He focused the life of a slave into his arms, and waited for it, felt it, all in one moment. He could taste it, and it was sweet. Focused, ready, free he felt his day had come.

“Now.” He breathed. As the sound of the word ended, in tandem the strength of the half ogre and the strength of the slave became one. They pulled with all their might and the crack of the stone rewarded their work. A loud pop echoed off the south wall and then they were sent back onto their rears, holding the grate, with pieces of broken rock still attached to it, in their hands.
Cyan felt it in his hands and he opened his eyes and saw the hole. In one moment, freedom was before him. He looked at Ulrag and the half ogre grinned back at him and they dropped the grate to the side.

“ They’re coming!” Pix shouted as he wheeled around the corner and back to the party.

“ Gods!” Memos growled. “ Pix, Briel, darling, Maris, Ulrag, Cyan, that order, into the grate now!” He shouted, bringing up his sword. Cyan was at his side in the next instant, Athrax’s fathers sword at the ready. Maris flanked him, hand axe spinning, ready to face whatever came around the corner, the look on face ready to challenge man or dragon.

Pix darted into the hole with Briel quickly behind. Sherrill kissed Memos on the cheek and followed, and as she ducked into the hole Athrax and four guards came around the corner, weapons drawn. Cyan, Memos, Maris, and Ulrag stood their ground, ready. Athrax looked at the half ogre surprised and then grinned devilishly, flipping his sword out of it’s scabbard. A moment passed between both sides, sizing each other up. Five on four; slaves versus masters. The moment passed and battle was joined.

Memos plunged forward, sword raised high as a battle cry echoed from his throat. Met by the man to Athrax’s right steel flashed on steel, and they began to war. Maris charged, his axe spinning in his hand, an Elven war cry on his lips. Ulrag met his attacker head on, unarmed to the guard’s double bladed axe. Cyan pitched forward, his eyes, and his sword set on Athrax.

Ulrag caught his attackers chest with a heavy shoulder at full force, and the double axe was never even swung as the man flew backwards, his ribs collapsed onto his lungs, and his armor dented in with the impression of the massive half ogre shoulder. Ulrag moved onto his next man, the sides now even.

Maris laid into his foe, the axe dancing in the air, ringing on shield and sword blade as the guard scrambled backward, trying to defend himself against the Elven onslaught. Quickly he was pressed against the wall, and Maris’s axe was working at double time.

Memos masterfully worked his opponent away from him, slowly wearing at him with score after score of feints, slashes, and stabs. His broad rapier already dripped blood, and his opponent held cuts on his face, arms, and chest. Memos was unharmed.

Cyan and Athrax met and a battle filled with hate was joined. The more experienced warrior parried the young slaves attacks with ease, but was already feeling the effects of Cyan’s strength. Athrax would attack when he could, and had scored a few light cuts to Cyan’s torso. Cyan had not hit Athrax, but the warrior’s sword was chipped, and his armor was already bearing the marks of his father’s sword.

Ulrag smashed the face of his second opponent into the sand, and then brutally stepped on the back of his neck, ending him with a loud pop. A moment later Memos withdrew his blade from his foe’s chest and let the corpse slump to the ground. Maris pinned his opponent against the south wall and then bashed his face, neck, and chest into a bloody mess with the axe.
The three turned to see Cyan locked in a struggle to the death with Athrax.

“ What do we do?” Maris asked, his face dripping blood, not his, but his dead foes.
Memos looked at the elf, his eyes pained and then back to Cyan. “ Even unbolted the outside grate will be heavy, someone is going to have to move it.”

Maris nodded. “ Go then, get the grate and a wagon, I’ll stay with Cyan, we’ll be with you soon.”

“ I can’t, you go, I’ll stay.”

“ No! Memos we don’t have much time, get a wagon, move the grate, Cyan will win this, trust me, go!”

Memos grimaced and nodded, motioning to Ulrag. Following the half ogre into the sewers, they were gone. Maris turned his attention back to the battle at hand, hoping he was right. They fought on back and forth. Cyan was looking worse; cuts criss crossing his chest and arms. Maris hoped he could win, but if not, he knew he would avenge him with his axe planted in Athrax’s back. If it had been a normal confrontation between Cyan and Athrax, Athrax would have won much sooner, his skill being so much more than Cyan’s. This fight was even however because of Cyan’s passion. What he lacked in skill he made up for in heavy, powerful blows, and the will to be free. Athrax continued to defend and fall back, staggering under the force of Cyan’s blows. When he could, he would score a hit on Cyan, and then fall back some more. Cyan was not tiring, despite the blood he spilled, and Athrax was showing signs of fatigue. Cyan focused the rage of seventeen years of slavery into every swing of his sword.

Athrax was twice the expert in the blade, and after some time his skill won out. Cyan over swung, his passion taking over reasoned practice, and Athrax capitalized by slashing the young man across the chest, sending him stunned onto his back. Cyan was shocked back into the real world out of his angered haze, and he saw the deep cut on his chest, blood welling up from it. Running from just under his left nipple to his bottom right rib, he knew it was bad. Athrax stood above him, his arm bringing down the killing blow.

It never came. As quick as light, Maris’s body tackled Athrax sending him flying into the dirt some yards away. The form of Athrax above Cyan was replaced by the young elf, a smile on his face and a light in his eyes. He extended his hand to Cyan to help him up.

“ Come on brother let’s move!”

As Cyan took his hand, Maris’s smile changed to confusion. Cyan stared horrified at the tip of a crossbow bolt that now jutted out of Maris’s throat. As the blood began to pour down Maris’s chest and onto Cyan, the young man scrambled up and ignoring the pain in his chest let Maris fall onto him. He didn’t know what to do as the elf stared blindly into his eyes.

“ Let go.” Maris choked as he spoke, his mouth contorting as he gasped for air. Blood bubbled out of the wound in his throat and Cyan felt sick, and numb.

“ Let go.” Feebly Maris pushed against Cyan until his body spasmed as another bolt struck him mid spine. Cyan felt the elf’s legs go limp, and felt the tip of the bolt against his own chest, where it had gone all the way through Maris. Behind him Cyan saw Athrax lying unconscious in the courtyard where the elf had thrown him, and further back he saw Lady Imona with a heavy crossbow in her hands, quickly reloading. Cyan could not move.

“ Go.” Bubbles of blood formed in the corners of Maris’s lips as he meekly tried to push Cyan away. Cyan looked into his eyes and saw the blank sightless orbs, and realized that Maris was close to death. Cyan let him go, his heart crumbling as he released Maris. Slumping to his knees, his eyes delirious with pain Maris looked back at Cyan.

“ I’m sorry.” Cyan choked back tears as the words passed his lips.

“GO!” Impossibly Maris screamed his command, jerking his body up, standing tall, blood pouring from his neck. Cyan turned and ran, diving into the tunnel as he heard the Elven war cry echo off the courtyard walls. As he pushed his way through the pain and the sewage, pushed his way to the other side and to freedom, he heard the war cry again, and then the crossbow fire, and then the sound of his first friend dying.


Chapter 13

A man born free will be able to put into words what freedom is. A slave who finds freedom will never be able to describe it.
- Unknown bard


They waited anxiously for the two to return. As Cyan’s bloody, muck encrusted body rose from the grate, they saw his face and realized no one else would be following him.

“ Alright, let’s go.” Memos’s voice was strong, but inside he was a battlefield of pain.

Ulrag didn’t ask, he just picked Cyan up and tossed him in the back of the wagon they had ‘liberated’ from a merchant. Memos jumped onto the drivers seat and grabbed the reins as everyone settled into place. Briel covered Cyan with a sackcloth and Memos urged the horses onward and they were off. Cyan remembered seeing Briel’s face full of worry, tears possibly in her eyes, and Ulrag’s large comforting hand on his shoulder. It did not take long for him to lose consciousness.

***

Cyan’s eyes opened to the light of a new day, and he realized it was late in the afternoon, near evening. His body, his mind, his soul, and his heart all hurt, and he wasn’t sure which hurt worst. Sitting up slowly he looked around. Briel was outside the wagon, stretching. Pix sat on the lip playing with his shortsword. Ulrag sat near him, looking out over the desert. Sherrill and Memos leaned against the wagon holding each other.

“ Where are we?” Cyan asked, his voice cracking.

“ North of Tacoma, near the mountains separating the plains and the desert.” Memos said.

Cyan nodded, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his wound. It was clean, as was most of him, and it was stitched with binding twine. He knew it would scar as his shoulder had.

“ Hungry?” Ulrag asked, his deep voice rumbling. Cyan nodded and Ulrag tossed him a small bag with dry rations.

“ It’s good to see you up, we had feared the worst.” Sherrill said as she walked over to him.

“ I should be dead.” He said, bowing his head.

“ He gave his life for you, didn’t he?” Memos asked, his voice sounding fatherly.

Cyan nodded, rubbing his eyes.

“ Then it is your responsibility to honor him with a good life.”

Cyan nodded and looked up at the older warrior.

“ We are free now. He gave his life for that.” Sherrill said. “ He was a good man.”

They all sat in silent remembrance for a moment.

“ Where do we go now?” Cyan asked.

“ We’ll need to split up. I imagine they will hunt us, and split up we’ll have better chances.” Memos said.

“ I have family in the deep southern jungles, near Piar’ Nibar.” Ulrag spoke “ I have not seen them for many seasons. I go there.”

“ I’ll be tagging along with him.” Pix said.

“ We are going west, past Imperial city. We hope to find rest outside of Holstamp. Start our family.” Memos said. “ You are all welcome to find us, when all of this dies down.”

“ Thank you. I’m going to the Moringdew homeland.” Cyan said, staring off into the horizon.
Memos nodded, patting the young man on the shoulder. “ Take one of the horses and may the gods be behind you.”

“ Thank you.”

“ You know how to ride?” Memos brushed a piece of sand off his shoulder, the most fatherly gesture Cyan had ever experienced. He nodded and looked the old warrior in the eyes, committing ever line of his face to memory.

“ Briel, where do you go?” Sherrill asked.

Turning to face the group and bringing her arms around herself, as the desert grew colder she looked at Cyan. “ With Cyan.”

Cyan nodded and was glad she would be with him. It was a fleeting, butterfly feeling in his stomach and whatever was between them would be explored on the journey in a new life, and the thought excited and frightened him. He quickly put it from his mind and focused on the present. He turned to Ulrag and shook the half ogre’s hand.

“ Thank you.” He said, bowing his head.

“ Good life to you Cyan. May suns always find your back, and the winds give you safe passage. Visit me someday, I’ll make sure a place is prepared for you.” Ulrag’s voice growled softly.
Cyan stood up, feeling pain in his chest but ignoring it and hoped off the wagon. He picked up his sword and cracked his knuckles.

“ Goodbye Pix, good luck.”

The gobbeley winked and Cyan saw the cunning behind his eyes. “ Don’t worry kid, we’ll see each other again.”

Cyan smiled and turned to Sherrill and Memos. Memos unhooked one of the horses from the wagon and looked at Cyan. He was proud, tired, and sadness clouded his features. Cyan stared for a moment and searched for the words to speak as he remembered all they had been through.
“ You’ll never know what the two of you…” He stopped as Memos waved his hand.

“ Save it. This isn’t goodbye; this is just a fork in the road. We’ll meet again. Trust me, and when we do, it will be as free men.”

The two men embraced, and Cyan knew he would miss Memos the most of all. He felt a kinship, almost a fatherly bond with the man. He never knew what a father was like, but if it was anything like Memos was, and then it hurt him even more to know he had never had one. He silently thanked himself that Memos was there for him, and resigned himself to the face he may never see the man again. He hugged Sherrill and kissed her the cheek. He swore he felt a tear fall from her eye, and hugged her closer.

“ Good luck to the two of you. Stay safe, stay alive, and stay free.”

Memos tossed Cyan the reins and laid a saddle blanket across the horses back. Cyan mounted the horse and held out his hand to help Briel up behind him. Memos handed Briel a bag and stepped back from the horse.

“ Wait, take this!” Pix tossed Cyan a small pouch that jingled. Cyan caught it and smiled, knowing where the gobbeley must have gotten it. “ Figure you might need some loot, and those guards sure don’t need it anymore.” The gobbeley smiled a yellow-toothed grin.

“ Good luck.” Memos said,

Cyan turned over his shoulder to Briel and she smiled back at him, her face twinged with sadness and hope. It was a look of resignation, fear for what might come mixed with what had already come to pass. He smiled back, warily and with sadness. It was a new day, and the power of freedom urged him onward, but the pain of the past anchored him, an ache in his heart.

“ Ready?”

She put her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“ Let’s go.”