Mr. Andvari walked into his room and opened a cypress box with brass hinges and fastener and pulled out the map Wilendithus gave him at Halibios. He stuffed it in a side pocket of his backpack, grabbed his gear, and walked the passage of Panae Hall looking into each room to make sure it was clear. He walked to the steps and closed the door, locking it behind him.
As he approached the top he heard yelling. Mr. Andvari topped the last step and spied the Leftovers standing around the remains of Tholos screaming. Adrastos pushed a boy Mr. Andvari did not recognize from that distance. He strode across the grounds and walked up behind Adrastos. Facing him was a small boy with golden locks sticking out beneath his white and gold helm. He held a shield with a brightly painted sun and anvil on the front in his left arm and a Yauuh war pick in his right hand. The boy donned the same white and gold armor as the helm with a newly painted sun and anvil on the chest.
“Mathias,” said Mr. Andvari coolly. “Why …”
“He thinks he and his lackey here are going with us!” screamed Adrastos pointing at a taller boy in the same garb standing next to Mathias. “I told him he’s an arxidi and there’s no way he’s coming with us.” Mathias stood straight and proud with a smirk.
“Greetings, Mr. Andvari,” said Mathias with a nod of the head. “My lieutenant and I, Nox, are ready to accompany you on your mission.” Pim moved to Mr. Andvari’s right side.
“Lieutenant?” asked Penelopas.
“Lieutenant and I?” screamed Adrastos. “When did you get a title? You haven’t gone through the Declaration yet or received a track!” Mr. Andvari looked at Pim who nodded.
Mathias snapped his fingers and Nox pulled out a scroll tied with yellow silk ribbon and sealed with golden wax. Mr. Andvari pulled the knife from his belt, cut the ribbon and wax, and opened the parchment.
Dear Mr. Andvari,
Considering the life threatening outcomes of your previous adventure, the High Holy Synod for the Iasos Unified Preparatory Abbey has elected to add reinforcements to your traveling party.
I have assigned our top cadet, Lieutenant Mathias Eligor, and his corporal Nox, as your companions to act as your second in command and assist on your journey.
Sincerely,
High Abbess Lada Gudrun
Mr. Andvari handed the note to Pim, whistled at Geros, and walked toward the land bridge shaking his head. The old bear lumbered behind him lashed with equipment, supplies and weapons. Mathias and Nox turned and followed Mr. Andvari while the Leftovers gathered around and read the note.
“You’re second in command!” Adrastos yelled. “Oh, na pari i eychi! This just gets better and better.”
Mr. Andvari stopped across the land bridge with Geros right behind him. Mathias walked up right behind him where Pim was usually stationed.
“You should walk in the middle,” said Mr. Andvari as the boys approached, but they didn’t listen, walking even with Geros’ head.
“We are second in command, or didn’t you read that part?” snarked Mathias. The old bear turned his head and snapped, opening a wound on Mathias’ elbow, then turned and nipped at Nox.
“I read it,” Mr. Andvari laughed never turning around. “But if you want to make it through this journey, I recommend you walk behind Geros. He doesn’t like people who he doesn’t trust.” The Leftovers caught up and walked past Mathias and Nox. Adrastos clopped her shoulder into him and stuffed the parchment into his chest as she walked by.
“I bite, too,” she said as she walked by and took her place in the front. Adrastos turned back toward Mathias. “If you still want to be second in command, then come take my spot up here.” Mathias squinted his eyes. “No? Alrighty then.” She turned and guffawed. “Second in command! Gomena in command is more like it.” Maveith and Pim sniggererd.
The Leftovers took their typical zones with the exception of Penelopas who traveled beside Mr. Andvari. The two whispered a lot and Penelopas shook her head often. Mathias and Nox walked behind the bevy five paces behind Maveith. Phylos slept in a basket secured to Geros’ back. Instead of following the road down to D’wyee, Mr. Andvari took the kids through the mountains heading northeast.
After three hours, the bevy stopped by a stream for a break. He commanded the wards to sit by the stream to drink some water and eat a snack of jerky.
“What are Mr. Andvari and Penelopas whispering about?” Pim asked Adrastos when they stopped by a stream for a break.
“I don’t know,” Adrastos snorted. “But it bugs me. I don’t like them keeping secrets.”
“Me neither,” said Maveith.
“They’re talking about how much you guys suck,” Mathias laughed. Nox snickered. “That’s why we were sent with you..”
“Or they’re in love,” mocked Nox.
“Ha! Good one, Nox,” proclaimed Mathias as they bumped fists.
“Shut up vlamenos,” Adrastos exclaimed as she moved toward Mathias. He stood up with Nox behind him.
“What are you going to do about it, filthy barn animal?”
“Enough!” Mr. Andvari walked over and clopped them both on the ear with his open hand. “If you have enough energy to fight, then you obviously don’t need a rest so let’s keep going.” Pim moaned.
When the bevy resumed, Pim snuck to the top of his zone to listen in, but Mr. Andvari rebuffed him and sent him to the end of his zone. They traveled for a week through forest and rock, up and down the slopes of mountains, and through valleys. Mr. Andvari crested a ridge and looked down on a lush flat grassland valley with a creek running through it and a small cluster of trees around which was built a tent town.
“Huh.” he said.
“What?” asked Adrastos as Pim walked next to Mr. Andvari.
“This little village isn’t on any of our maps,” remarked Pimgin.
The bevy broke zones and rested on the ridge watching the townspeople work in the field below. The village was comprised of tents, mostly. A few of them had the canvas removed and wood nailed up in its place with a shanty roof of thatch thrown above. Young children ran through the camp while a group of young adults sat in a circle looking at an adult.
“Those kids should be at the abbey,” commanded Mathias. “It’s against the law to not go to the abbey.”
“Easy,” said Mr. Andvari. “We don’t know anything about these people, who they are, or where they come from.”
“I don’t care who they are,” rebuked Mathias. “Everyone must present their children to the abbey for training.”
“Maybe they don’t know that,” said Pim.
“And maybe this is exactly why High Abbess Gudrun sent Nox and me on this mission,” Mathias said. “You Leftovers have no sense of duty to your country or honor for her laws.” Adrastos stood up but Mr. Andvari put his hand out.
“You two need to cut it out,” he said as he deepened his voice. “We’re observing our surroundings. Pay close attention to our security and keep your thoughts to yourself.” He glared at Mathias. The group spent the next four hours watching the village, except for Rarr. He and Geros strode off into the forest together.
“What of your runt?” asked Mathias. “You just let him run off whenever he wants? Do you have no military discipline at all?” Mr. Andvari took a deep breath and stared at Mathias.
“Do you always speak to your commanding officers that way?” asked Mr. Andvari.
“No, but they are real generals—soldiers,” he said. “They have honor and discipline. Not like this sorry group.”
Mr. Andvari leaned in nose to nose, his hot breath radiating onto Mathias’ face, his voice nothing more than a whisper but strong. He annunciated every syllable. “Well, I am now your commanding officer, like it or not. Speak to me that way again and I will take every piece of equipment off Geros and make you carry it the rest of the journey.” Mr. Andvari continued to stare into Mathias’ eyes. “Understand?” Mathias nodded but grit his teeth. “I’m glad we have an understanding.” Mr. Andvari leaned back and watched the valley again.
“It looks safe,” said Pim.
“I agree,” said Mr. Andvari. “Anything happens; you look to me for what to do.” He stared at Adrastos then turned to Mathias. “No one draws weapons or speaks unless I say so. That’s a—what do you call it, Mathias—an order? Yes, that’s an order.” He stood up and walked down the mountainside, out of the tree line, and into grass. The trees, it appeared, had been cut down and used by the villagers.
A child noticed them coming down the hill and whistled. Farmers in the fields grabbed their tools and ran for the tents as did the children. The adults collected together at the edge of the village while the children, teens, and a few adults huddled inside tents. Mr. Andvari hailed the village as they neared.
“Salutations, good people,” he said formally. “We are from the Iasos Unified Preparatory Abbey in the capital city of D’wyee.
“Hail,” said a skinny farmer with a ridiculously large hat.
“I apologize for our intrusion. My wards and I—mere children not unlike yours who were out here earlier—are on a journey across the mountains. We ran upon your village by accident. It does not appear on any of our maps.”
“What do you want of us,” asked the farmer’s wife. She was a thin woman with dark olive breeches, a white linen button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a large hat.
“Nothing. We wish for nothing from you. Nor did we even expect to come upon you. I hope we have not distressed you. It is not our intent to cause you any trouble.” The farmer’s wife stepped forward and looked at Pim.
“You are just children,” she noticed.
“Yes ma’am,” said Mr. Andvari. “My name is Erlend Andvari and these are my wards.” He looked around at their eyes. “Pimgin?” Mr. Andvari whispered.
“They are scared,” whispered Pim. “They’re farmers not fighters and they’ve been attacked before, but they won’t attack us.” Pimgin continued to scan the crowd of middle aged farmers with hard, dry hands and wrinkled eyes. “Wait. This isn’t everyone.”
“If you like, we will be happy to move along. We’ve been in the forest for days and we can do fine in the wilderness,” said Mr. Andvari.
“I think…” said the farmer.
“You should stay,” said his wife, putting her hand on his. “We might just be farmers but we know how to treat travelers and guests.” She looked at her husband. “It would be rude to turn them away once they’ve announced themselves,” she whispered to him. “We would invite you to be our guests, but you cannot linger more than a day.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Andvari.
A man in the village yelled and a woman screamed. Mr. Andvari turned around and saw Rarr riding Geros strolling down a grassy mountainside.
“Bear!” they screamed.
“You’ve come to eat us!” cried a farmer.
“No!” said Mr. Andvari. “No. That is my youngest ward, Rarr, and our traveling bear, Geros.” He stood forward with his hands open palmed in front of him. “I promise we are not here to eat you.” He took out his katana, scabbard and all, and put it on the ground. “Drop all your weapons,” he commanded of the Leftovers. They did. “Just please, do not make any sudden movements. Our bear is good but he is a wild animal and can be spooked easily.”
Geros strode up and Mr. Andvari met him. Rarr jumped down and Mr. Andvari grabbed his war hammer.
“Gotta leave this here for a little while, buddy,” said Mr. Andvari as he unlashed Geros and pulled the equipment off. “You go on in the forest and enjoy yourself. I’ll whistle when we’re ready to leave,” he said to Geros. Then he gave the old bear a smack on the rump and he lumbered off into the forest.
“Very well, said the farmer’s wife. “I am Florinda, the village mayor, and this is my husband Quirinus.”
Mr. Andvari introduced his wards and they followed the people into the village.
“Mathias and Nox,” Mr. Andvari said smiling. “Please get our equipment and supplies and bring them to wherever we shall be bedding for the night. That’s another one of those order things.”
The villagers made a palette of blankets next to the mayor’s tent where they placed the Leftovers’ weapons.
After getting acquainted, the farmers headed back to the fields. Mr. Andvari instructed Adrastos, Maveith, Rarr, Mathias and Nox to help in the field in order to earn their keep.
“We shall have a party tonight to welcome our guests,” said Florina. Pim and Penelopas remained in camp to help cook supper for the evening’s party and attend to other village needs.
“Pim,” called Mr. Andvari. Pim left his chores preparing a whole boar for dinner.
“Yes?”
“I’m going off for the night. I’ll be back tomorrow—late morning or early afternoon.”
“Where are you going?” asked Pimgin.
“I need some time to think,” said Mr. Andvari.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not the truth,” said Pim carefully.
“Indeed, it is not, Pimgin Xofire,” smiled Mr. Andvari. “But I don’t intend to explain myself. If you need me, blow this.” He handed Pim the whistle carved into an garğ he used to call Geros. Pim furrowed his brow. “Do not worry, Pim. I will not be far off. Neither is Geros. You’ll be fine. Just don’t let Adrastos or Mathias do anything stupid.” He turned and left.
That evening the villagers offered a simple feast of roast boar, grilled zucchini and mushrooms, fry bread, mead for adults, and chicory root tea sweetened with honeysuckle for everyone.
Pim and Rarr sat on the ground next to one another. A boy with short brown hair, green eyes and no legs crawled along the ground, dragging his torso with his arms. The boy stopped next to them.
“Hi,” the boy said smiling. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Pimgin, but you can call me Pim. This is Rarr.” Rarr grunted.
“I’m Volundr,” the boy said. “Can I eat with you?” The village had no other boys their age. The kids were either older or younger … or girls.
“Sure,” Pim said staring at Volundr’s missing legs.
“I don’t got no legs,” Volundr said matter-of-factly. Pim realized he was staring.
“Got no legs,” Rarr sang. “No legs. No legs. No legs. Got no legs.”
“Sorry,” Pim said as he smacked Rarr. “Stop it, Rarr.”
“No legs,” Rarr grunted then he scrambled up a nearby tree that sported a swing.
“I don’t mind. It’s okay to look.” Pim leaned over. The boy had breeches with no legs in them.
“How do you go to the bathroom?” asked Pim.
“Same as you, unless you are a girl. I don’t have legs but I have everything else,” laughed Volundr.
“Rude!” Penelopas gasped as she passed by, flicking Pim in the head.
“That’s always the first thing people ask me,” smiled Volundr. “I get it all the time. I’m used to it.”
“What happened?” asked Pim rubbing his head.
“Nothing happened, shrugged Volundr. “I was born this way.” Pim nodded. The boys chatted and laughed and poked at one another during dinner.
As night fell they turned from food to song and dance. Penelopas grabbed her flute and other instruments and passed them out to the Leftovers and they performed some songs. Volundr crawled over to the tree Rarr was in and made his way up some makeshift steps nailed to the trunk of the tree.
“Here, let me help you,” said Pim.
“No. I can do it myself,” said Volundr. He drug his torso along the thick lower branch to the ropes hanging from it. He grabbed them and lowered himself onto the seat. Pim sat next to Penelopas and took his drum and played music. Soon, villagers jumped in, playing, singing and dancing.
Late into the evening a pack of five male armed barbarians walked into the village: three tall humans, one drákōnblood, and a gnome. They strode into the middle of the party, villagers separating as they sashayed through the throng of people. The tallest human, a muscular beast with beads woven into his long black hair and beard, pushed his way to the table and scoured the offerings. His torso and arms were bare but for the thick black hair that covered him from neck to ankle, the strap across his chest carrying his satchel, and a bone necklace around his neck. He grabbed an entire leg of boar and turned. The music died down and the dancing ceased. The villagers stood still avoiding direct eye contact.
“No one invited us to your party,” snarled Vicq. “I believe my feelings are hurt, Florinda. How about you, Froqull,” he said to the drákōnblood. Froqull was green and wore a fur loincloth and a gold crown, although he was not the leader.
“Do you have feelings? Vicq?” quipped the drákōnblood. “I didn’t know.” That garnered laughter from the bevy.
“I have feelings enough for that little cutie,” Vicq remarked as he strode over to Adrastos. “I don’t believe I remember seeing you before.” Penelopas touched Adrastos’ arm and whispered so quietly she could scarcely hear herself.
Patience will attain the goal. Patience will attain the goal. Patience will attain the goal, Penelopas repeated.
Adrastos raised her head and met Vicq’s eyes. Her face was stone and she kept her mouth closed. He raised his hand to touch her face and Adrastos grabbed his thick wrist then flicked it away.
“She’s spicy, Vicq,” said Gaillard the red headed human. He wore a sleeveless tunic with a braided belt and bronze buckle and carried a double headed battleaxe. His hair was a bird’s nest of short curls.
“I like my food hot and spicy,” said Vicq.
Please move away from her. Please move away from her. Please move away from her, chanted Penelopas.
“Why did the party stop when we arrived,” shouted Umver. The gnome had blue-tinted hair that stood on end. He, too, wore a sleeveless tunic with a wide black belt carrying two short swords. He carried a belt across his chest attached to which were a dozen throwing knives. He hopped onto the dinner table and smiled wide. Only three teeth remained. “Bring me mead and let’s get this party started.”
Vicq took a bite out of his boar leg, winked at Adrastos, then turned and found a log to sit on. Quickly villagers brought the bevy pints of mead. The music and dancing continued throughout the night. An older couple, exhausted, sat down in the grass. A young woman joined them with her small children. Vicq jumped and landed in front of them.
“Stand up, maggots. This is a party not an inn!” The older couple struggled but stood up with the help of the woman with children.
After that no one dared sit. A teen leaned against a tree, but his mother smacked him on the head and he stood up on his own. The barbarian pack—unable to dance with any sense of rhythm—moshed into one another, spilling mead and knocking themselves bloody onto the ground. The more gashes and bruises they gave one another the more rabid they became—smashing into one another hysterically—blood dripping onto the soil and stamped into the ground by their feet.
Froqull took a run and moshed into Vicq, stumbling the barbarian back into Pim, who moved his drum out of the way before the gorilla smashed into him. Vicq stood up, yelled, then grabbed Pim and spun him like a father twirls a toddler. He tossed Pim into the air and caught him, whooping.
“Look, boys! I gots me a baby boy of my very own,” hollered Vicq. He tossed Pim again and again. “Listen to him squeal. He loves it!”
“Let me down, please,” Pim screamed. “Let me down!” Vicq caught him and snarled. The villagers stood by watching. Adrastos, Pim and Penelopas watched cautiously while Mathias and Nox clapped and cheered. Adrastos shot them a look.
“What?” snapped Mathias. “They’re just teasing and having fun. Relax.”
“I said, baby boy likes it.” Vicq tossed Pim again and the boy tried to squeal like a child having fun, but it was difficult through the tears. Vicq tossed him high and Pim came down hard. Vicq missed his catch and Pim dropped onto Vicq’s shoulders and head. The barbarian growled, yanked him off then tossed him higher, catching Pim.
From the crowd, Rarr climbed a tree and threw himself onto Froqull, the drákōnblood, knocking him down.
“Arrrrr!” Rarr yelled smiling. He leaped twice then flung himself onto Gaillard’s neck and shoulders. He howled again, locked his legs around Gaillard’s throat and leaned backward, flipping the red head end over end. “Raaaaarrrrrr!” the baby barbarian screamed pounding his chest with a smile. Adrastos gasped and shuffled forward but Maveith stopped her.
“He’s playing,” Maveith noticed, pointing at Rarr “Look at him.” Rarr was howling but smiling. “He’s having fun.” Adrastos stepped back and watched.
“He’s a barbarian,” she said.
“It’s what they do,” offered Maveith.
Vicq ran for Rarr, dropping his shoulder, ready to shove the boy face first into the dirt, but Rarr parried and flipped on top of Vicq’s back beating his hammerfists into the human’s back. Vicq fell on his stomach, reached behind and grabbed Rarr by the arm. He got to his knees and tossed the boy hard, skipping him across the ground.
“Got you, boy!” Vicq laughed. Rarr stood up and laughed then made for Vicq but was sideswiped by Gaillard. They both rolled on the ground laughing.
“I like you, boy. You are fun,” said Vicq as he went back to Pim and tossed him in the air again. As he did, Pim cried, screaming to be left alone. Finally, Vicq tossed and caught Pimgin then dropped him to the ground, stepped over him, and went to the mead barrel. “You are boring. I need more drink.”
Adrastos rushed to Pim as he laid on the ground. She grabbed him under his arm and helped him rise. Rarr bumped up against the other barbarians, punching one another and slapping, moshing in the circle as the music continued to play.
“You okay, Pimgin?” she said.
“Not really,” he cried softly. She put her arms around the small of his back and hurried him to the edge of the mosh pit. The barbarians continued to dance and smash, grabbing villagers and throwing them in the middle then pounding into them. Villagers dropped easily and crawled to the side of the circle.
Vicq grabbed a man by the ankle and drug him back. He clapped him on the back and picked the man up by his shirt, then shoved him into Umber the gnome, who rammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, dropping him to the dirt. The villager grabbed his chest, then rolled on all fours and crawled out of the way.
As the sun came up, the bevy tired out, and like toddlers who fight sleep, dropped where they stood and slept. Rarr crawled onto a tree limb nearby. The villagers, exhausted, had to tend the fields and village business so they got to work, cleaning up the party around the bevy of barbarians.
“Who are they,” Penelopas asked Mayor Florinda as she directed the cleanup efforts.
“Pestilence! That’s what they are,” she gruffed. “Those troglodytes moved in last autumn. They took us over and stole supplies. We’re helpless to stop them. We were able to get them to leave most of our supplies if we simply give them what they want when they want it without a fight. They only come around every three or four months.”
“And what do they want?” asked Penelopas.
“Oh honey,” said Florinda. “You don’t really wanna know.”
“What?”
“They need supplies: grain; dried meats, fruits and vegetables; furs; tanned leather; candles, mead, corn, you know. Stuff. Everything.”
“Why don’t you tell someone?” asked Penelopas.
“Oh girl. The authorities don’t care what happens in the mountains. Besides, our children do not go to the abbey. If we did ask for help and received it, then we would have to comply with the law and send our babies to your abbey and follow your laws. And, we don’t want to do that.”
“Oh,” said Penelopas. “So this village is illegal.”
“Yes, dear. I suppose you could say that. But we don’t hurt anyone and keep to ourselves,” reminded Florinda. “We live a quiet life on our own. Free.”
“Free? Except for the tyrants who plague you. They steal from you, hurt you. Is that really freedom?” inquired Penelopas as she watched the man who was in the mosh pit hobble by with a gash in his face. Florinda stopped washing and stared at Penelopas.
“You live under a governmental rule, yes?” questioned Florinda.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You live by their laws and what they say?” Penelopas stood and thought for a moment.
“Yes, but we elect the people who make the laws,” said Penelopas. “We can vote them out if we don’t like them.”
“You agree with all the laws?” asked Florinda. “Everyone treated justly and equally?”
“Yes,” said Penelopas. “Wait.” She thought for a minute remembering the aurochs at the eastern gates of D’wyee or the slaves in the salt mines. “Not everyone is free, but they must have done something to deserve that fate.”
“Are you sure about that?” asked Florinda. “You deserve your fate?” asked Florinda leaning in and looking at Penelopas’s mask. “You have your tyrants; we have ours.” Florinda said turning back to her dishes. “We each chose how we are ruled and by whom. We are ruled for a few days four times a year. It’s awful, but then they go away and we are free the rest of the time. You are ruled all the live long day.”
“But what if you stopped them? Then you could truly be free,” asked Penelopas excitedly. She had never had such a deep, adult conversation before. She enjoyed the feeling.
“One, I don’t think we have the ability to stop them,” mentioned Florinda. “Two, we would just be taken over by another tyrant. Maybe even one worse than this pestilence.”
“Maybe not, though,” offered Penelopas.
“My dear girl, there is no such thing as a perfect garden” Florinda said. “What you envision cannot last because everyone wants a piece of utopia and they will kill to get it.” Penelopas looked at her dishes and dried in silence for several minutes.
“It’s wrong. They shouldn’t terrorize your village,” Penelopas announced as she walked away. Even if they do it only a few times a year, she thought.
The Leftovers worked with the villagers until mid afternoon, when they took a break from the heat and gathered in the shade of trees and unwalled tents in the valley. The barbarians woke from the heat of the sun. Vicq stood up, wobbled and wretched. He made the rounds to his companions shouting and kicking them awake.
“What’s your hurry? asked Froqull stretching his reptilian limbs. “I was enjoying the sunbath.”
“We have people to threaten and girls to intimidate,” remarked Vicq. “And more mead to drink.”
“Oh, well then, I best be getting up,” laughed Froqull. The rest of the barbarian bevy got around and wandered around the camp. The gnome and another human puked, wiped their mouths, and headed for the shade where the villagers were gathered. Penelopas, sitting next to Rarr, stood up and sat next to Adrastos.
“Do you have our supplies ready?” asked Vicq. Mayor Florinda walked up, bowed her head.
“Cornmeal, wheat, all manner of dried foodstuffs, salt, pepper, butter, candles, rope, cloth, and oil,” recalled Florinda. “Shall you require anything else, Master Vicq?” He spied Adrastos on all fours in the grass.
“How about we take that little filly with us? Vicq quipped. “What do you say to that, boys? She’d make a fine serving wench.” He guffawed loudly then coughed. The others laughed, too.
Patience attains the goal, Adrastos. Patience attains the goal, Penelopas chanted softly as she touched Adrastos’ hoof lightly.
Adrastos stared him down but stayed quiet while Penelopas continued to pat her hoof.
“Hey, Vicq? Where’s your bone?” asked Froqull. Vicq looked down at his neck. His necklace was gone. Vicq dug at his chest and spun around looking at the ground.
“My bone!” he exclaimed. Vicq stomped to where he slept and examined the ground. The other barbarians joined him checking the tables and ground where the party took place. “Where is my bone?” Vicq repeated. “I need my bone!” His voice became more insistent and erratic as they searched unsuccessfully.
The villagers moved closer together for safety, keeping their children in the middle of the huddle. The Leftovers stood at the front between the villagers and the barbarians.
“You stole it!” he screamed. “One of you filthy gits stole my necklace.” He charged the huddle of villagers pointing. “Who did it?”
“Maybe you lost it before you came here last night,” remarked Adrastos coolly.
“Maybe you stole it you four legged gomena!” he shouted.
“I bet she did it, Vicq,” mentioned Gaillard. “She’s been giving you the stink eye since last night.”
“Maybe she likes you,” quipped Froqull. Vicq walked up to Adrastos and leaned down.
“Is that it, girl? Did you take my bone because you are fond of me?” Vicq’s breath stunk of mead and dung. Adrastos grimaced as he spit when he spoke.
“No one took your necklace,” said Penelopas. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” Pim grabbed Penelopas’s hand. He was pale.
“Let’s help them look,” commanded Mayor Florinda. “Everyone.”
Penelopas kept Pim’s hand and they wandered off to search for the necklace. Penelopas bent down on her hands and knees, dragging Pim with her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Pim squeaked out.
“Something’s wrong, Pim. I feel it. What is it?” Penelopas insisted. “You must tell me. I’m trying to keep Adrastos calm, but if something really bad happens, and I don’t know about it, I might not be able to help her remain calm. You know what happens when she gets worked up.” She paused and touched his face. Pimgin Xofire, I am your friend. You tell me what is upsetting you right now.
Pim reached into his pocket and cried. He opened his hand exposing a bone necklace.
“Pim!” she said louder than she intended. She glanced around then whispered, “Pimgin what did you do?”
“I lifted it. Last night. When he was tossing me.”
“Why?” begged Penelopas. “Why would you do that?”
“When I get stressed I steal,” Pim confessed. He tried to fight back his tears but couldn’t. He turned his body, still on all fours, toward the mountains and away from the rest of the search party. “I can’t help it. Mr. Andvari’s been trying to help me. I do better when he’s around.
“Is that why you’re a Leftover?” She asked. Pim nodded. “What did you steal at the abbey that got you tossed,” asked Penelopas.”
“I lifted High Abbess Gudrun’s medallion, the one of Yauuh she wears on her forehead.”
“What?” Penelopas said almost laughing. “That was you?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I had it for three weeks until they searched everyone’s rooms and found it. I’m a good thief but terrible at hiding and lying.” Penelopas snorted.
“I’ve always wondered why you were a Leftover. I thought it was because you couldn’t fight but that didn’t really add up.”
“They were going to track me as a cook. I’m good at that,” he confessed. “But once I stole from Gudrun, they tossed me out of the kitchen and the abbey.
We should just drop it on the ground and say we found it, thought Penelopas as Froqull and Umber walked up.
“You two need to talk less and look more,” Froqull barked. “We weren’t over here anyway. Come back this way.”
“Yeah. We’re going to check all of you,” gruffed Umber. They marched Pim and Penelopas back to the group where the villagers were lined up single file. Vicq patted down everyone personally as the rest of the barbarians stood guard. Penelopas pushed Pim in front of her in the line. Froqull stood to their left and Umber on the right.
“You should try to drop it,” Penelopas whispered into Pim’s ear. Froqull smacked her on the head.
“Quit whispering. It’s sneaky,” he shouted.
“You being sneaky?” snarled Umber.
“No, sir, we are not sneaking,” smiled Penelopas softly. “I’m just comforting my little brother. He’s scared of you all.”
“Is that right,” mocked Froqull. “Are you scared of me, boy?” Pim dried his tears but they flowed again when Froqull put his face in Pim’s. “Little scrub. You need to toughen up.” Froqull flipped Pim in the ear and the boy flinched and cried silently.
“You teach him good, Froqull,” laughed Umber.
Pim dried his tears again when Froqull stepped away. The line continued, drawing closer to Vicq. Froqull and Umber stood by Pim the entire time so he couldn’t drop the necklace without being caught. Finally, he reached Vicq.
“My baby boy!” Vicq shouted. “You wouldn’t steal Vicq’s bone would you, baby boy?” He grabbed Pim under the arms and tossed him. “Squeal for me, baby boy! Squeal! I know you like it.”
Pim’s tears morphed. He cried, but his tears were no longer from fear. He hated. He hated Vicq and Gudrun and his parents for abandoning him. Pimgin Xofire hated himself—his fear, his tears, his weakness.
Vicq tossed him again then pulled his arms back; Pim crashed to the ground. Vicq grabbed him by the hair and stood him up. He took his meaty hands and patted and rubbed Pim everywhere, all over his body, until he reached the pocket. Vicq leaned down and stared into Pim’s eyes.
“What’s it got in it’s nasty little pocket2?” Vicq clucked. Pim froze crying. Vicq slid his fingers into Pim’s pocket and pulled out the bone necklace. His face tightened as he stared at the necklace. Vicq flashed his eyes under his brow at Pim. “Thief,” he whispered. He grabbed Pim by the throat and stood up. “The thief has been located!” he shouted to the crowd.
Snot and tears ran down Pimgin Xofire’s face and onto Vicq’s hand and wrist. The boy reached into the little pocket on the back of his belt. When Pimgin Xofire first came to Leftover Hall he had nothing but a tunic. Mr. Andvari showed Pim how to dye, cut, and sew leather. Together, they made Pim his first belt. Pim admired Mr. Andvari’s knife sheath so much that he constructed a small version into Pim’s belt complete with a four-inch skinning knife.
Vicq gripped Pim’s throat tightly, but the boy could still breathe slightly. Penelopas was careful to keep her place in line so not to raise suspicion.
Pim is a boy. Pim is harmless, she murmured.
“What should I do with a thief?” asked Vicq.
“A thief who steals from his master is the worst kind of thief,” added Gaillard.
“How should I punish him, Mayor Florinda?” he snarked. “You come up with a proper punishment for this little arxidi or I will.” The other barbarians laughed.
“Cane him,” she suggested.
“No!” shouted Adrastos as she stepped forward. She slipped her hand across her side and realized she had no short sword thanks to Mr. Andvari. “Na pari i eychi!” she cursed at her mentor. Tridents were not easy to carry during farming so they left them where they slept.
“Eight lashes of the cane to the back ought to work,” admitted Vicq.
“Eight?” cried Adrastos. “He’s a kid.”
“Perhaps you would like to take his punishment for him? Eh, horse girl?”
“I am an orea of Kirkis Mountains, not a horse,” said Adrastos boldly. “And I will take his eight lashes.”
“Eight is for him. It’s thirteen for you,” smirked Vicq.
“Very well. I …” started Adrastos when Pim grabbed his knife and thrust. His arms were too short and reflexes too slow. Vicq deflected the plunge to the chest, but took a slash to the arm. Vicq released his grasp on Pim’s throat, cross-grabbed Pim’s knife hand and took the knife. Vicq’s arm circled over and sliced Pim’s right ear off. The boy grasped his head with both hands and dropped to the ground, blood flowing between his fingers.
He’s been punished. He’s been punished. He’s been punished, Penelopas murmured. “Pim’s been punished enough now,” she said out loud. “He needs no more. The deed is done.”
“Oh he’s been punished enough for trying to murder me,” said Vicq looking at Penelopas. He then turned to Adrastos. “But not for stealing my bone. Not nearly enough for that.” Adrastos shuffled forward.
“You agreed to me taking his caning.”
“That was before he attacked me,” Vicq announced. “What do you say, boys? I think they both deserve a good caning now don’t you?” The barbarians laughed and shouted.
“Penelopas!” Mr. Andvari snuck up to the village during the commotion. Geros stood beside him.
“Think, girl” Mr. Andvari directed. “Command.”
“And who are you?” Vicq asked turning toward Mr. Andvari. Are you my baby boy’s daddy?” mocked Vicq. He and the other barbarians pulled their weapons.
“Penelopas?” Mr. Andvari called, ignoring Vicq. “Lead. Control,” his voice was calm but commanding. “Just like we discussed.”
“Weapons. Innocents. Protect. Stick and move,” she recited quickly. The Leftovers looked at each other, confused. Mr. Andvari and Penelopas were having a private coded conversation in a very public way, and ignoring the impending doom as if the barbarians posed no more a threat than a rain storm. Mr. Andvari nodded toward Penelopas, turned his gaze to Vicq, then placed his left hand on his katana with his thumb on his tsuba—the guard of his sword. He drew his right hand across his body and around the grip.
The barbarians left the villagers and walked to Mr. Andvari and Geros forming a half circle around him, weapons in hand.
“I haven’t had bear in a while,” said Gaillard. “It’s dense and gamey, but I like it.”
“I don’t care for dwarf, though,” snarked Froqull. “Too greasy.” Penelopas pulled her hood back and gave orders to the villagers and the Leftovers in iambic pentameter with a sense of beautiful urgency.
These evil men doth come to us with hate,
To suck our souls and spill our children’s blood.
Be strong my friends and stand for what is right.
Protect the innocent from wrath and death.
Take arms! Take arms! Come all who may stand strong,
And stop the beasts of war and pestilence.
Surround! Surround! And stand your ground. No more,
Shall we be meek and low toward tyranny.
The Leftovers ran to the mayor’s tent, grabbed their weapons then walked up behind the barbarians. Adrastos had a net and trident, Pim a spear and shield. Mathias and Nox carried shields and war picks. Rarr, who climbed out of his tree when Mr. Andvari showed up, had his war hammer over his shoulder. Penelopas and Maveith were unarmed. Several farmers—men and women—stood with pitchforks and hoes in their hands behind the Leftovers. Mr. Andvari pointed to the mountains running to the south.
“That’s your way out,” he commanded sternly. “No bloodshed taking that path.” He cocked his head. “If you stay, Geros and I will make you wish you did not. My soldiers—kids yes, but soldiers just the same—will back me as will the farmers. You will die.”
Penelopas continued her orders:
My child! My child! Get hence away and watch
How love—oh, love—doth stop the dogs of war.
Be gone, with you, now lovely fiends.
And torture us no more. For if you stay,
We shall unite and burn your bones to dust.
Vicq snorted and slung his sword over his shoulder. “Useless farmers,” he said. He popped Froqull on the shoulder, turned toward the mountains, and walked away. The rest followed him grumbling.
Mr. Andvari watched them move through the field until they disappeared into the trees, then he sighed deeply.
“Why did he come after you, Pim?” Mr. Andvari asked. Pimgin didn’t answer. The dwarf stared at Pimgin, his red eyes flecked with gold piercing the boy’s soul. “Again? You stole again, didn’t you?” His voice was stern, low and filled with anger. Pim stood with his eyes down, still holding his ear. His hands and arms were covered in blood. “That’s disappointing.” Some villagers came to Pim with bandages and ointment to tend his ear properly. They cleaned the wound, heated a knife and cauterized the wound, then bandaged him up.
“Adrastos, how did you handle yourself?”
“Better,” she said.
“She kept her cool,” said Penelopas as she winked at Mr. Andvari.
“Good,” he retorted winking back “Good. We should stay the night and then we need to go.”
“Weren’t we on a mission,” asked Pim.
Mr. Andvari glared at Pimgin then turned away. Mathias smiled.
“Our work’s not done,” Mathias said to Pim.
“What does that mean?” asked Pim. Mathias laughed and pointed at Phylos lying by a tent then walked away laughing. “Adrastos!” screamed Pim. He ran to her. “What’s happening with Phylos?”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Hey Penelopas! Maveith! Come here.” The Leftovers stood in a huddle chattering at one another.
“Mr. Andvari?” Pim said meekly turning toward his mentor. “Is something going on with …”
Pim gasped, his brown eyes wide and bewildered. He tried to breathe but could only catch a shallow, sputtering breath. An arrow pushed out of his chest, dripping with blood. Pim took two more shallow breaths as another arrow punched through his throat. He fell to the ground.
At the edge of the valley where trees met grass, Vicq and his men loosed more arrows. An old woman was hit in the arm and a man took an arrow to the calf. The barbarians laughed and disappeared into the forest.
“Let’s go!” screamed Adrastos.
“Not me,” said Mathias.
“You deilós!” she snorted. “Come on everyone!”
“No! exclaimed Mr. Andvari. “Mathias is right; the forest is their home.” He pulled the arrow out as Pim screamed. Mr. Andvari pushed on the wound. The same villagers that tended to Pim’s ear ran over with medicines.
“Let me look,” said a tall, stout old woman with thick, wrinkled hands and short, curly grey hair. She wore an ivory linen tunic with a stained apron embroidered with strawberries on the chest. It was covered in pockets stuffed with vials and cloth and salves and tools, with a few dangling bits of hair and bone and herbs clipped to the bib. A satchel was strung across her chest. “I’m the shaman,” She shoved her shoulder into Adrastos knocking her off center, then leaned down and put her ear to Pim’s chest. “Keep putting pressure on the wound,” she said as she dug into her medicine bag.
“Sorry … I … stole,” he gasped to Mr. Andvari between short breaths. “Wish … you … were … my …dad.” Pim closed his eyes and took three gasps. Then he took no more. His body went limp.
Mr. Andvari released his chest and wrapped the boy in his arms and rocked him.
“I’m going to kill them!” Adrastos shouted as she turned.
Mr. Andvari rocked Pim back and forth, sobbing and patting him. Maveith nodded at Penelopas and they flanked Adrastos.
“We can’t go,” Maveith commanded. “They have the advantage; it’s what they want. It’s too easy to split us up and tear us apart. I’m the only one of us that’s trained in tracking and forest warfare. It’s very different than a flat, grassland battlefield. We will die.”
Penelopas took Adrastos by the arm and shook her head. We will die if we go. We will die if we go. We must live on for Pim, Penelopas whispered.
“Fine, cowards. I’m standing sentry, then.” Adrastos stared into the mountains watching for the enemy.
“Erre es korakas váll eis kórakas!” screamed Mr. Andvari as he picked up Pim and carried him to the shaman’s tent. He laid the limp body on a table and laid down beside him, holding Pim in his arms and wept.
The next day, Mr. Andvari took off Pim’s clothes, and folded them in a stack. He washed his body with herbal tea and wrapped him in white linen, sobbing. Several villagers came in to help, as did Penelopas, but he sent them all away. Adrastos, Maveith, Penelopas and Rarr built a funeral pyre with the help of Volundr and his parents. The rest of the village tended the fields, giving the Leftovers private time to grieve. At dusk, Mr. Andvari carried out the body and laid it gently on the pyre. Adrastos, Maveith, Penelopas and Rarr held hands as Mr. Andvari lit the fire. They watched in silence for an hour as the flames engulfed Pimgin Xofire’s body carrying his soul back to the All-Smiths.
After an hour, they turned and made their way back to the village.
“Mr. Andvari?” asked Penelopas. “May I ask you a question?” He nodded. “Where is Mathias and Nox?” Mr. Andvari continued to walk muttering to himself. “What?” she asked gently.
“They left. Last night.” he said softly. “After ….”
“Why?” she asked but Mr. Andvari didn’t answer.
“Phylos has to stay here,” he said too harshly. “We can’t keep him at the abbey.” Mr. Andvari stopped and turned to Penelopas. The others caught up. “Phylos is not allowed to be at the abbey. It’s against the rules.” His tears were gone. Mr. Andvari was stern but quiet. He leaned down to Rarr. “Rarr. We must leave Phylos here.” Rarr pushed away.
“Aaaarrrgh!”
“If we take him back to the abbey High Abbess Gudrun will have him killed.”
“Why?” shouted Adrastos
“She says it’s against policy to have pets, but …” He stopped. Mr. Andvari, in his pain, wanted to tell the kids about High Abbess Gudrun and her enjoyment of punishments and revenge. That it was retaliation for poisoning Mathias. Don’t do it. No good will come of it. Be strong, he thought to himself. If I tell them, then they will blame her for Pim’s death. Adrastos and Rarr may try to kill her.
“But what?” insisted Adrastos.
“What!” repeated Rarr.
“But … nothing. We came out here to follow this map I got in Halibios.” He pulled out the map Wilendithus the half-orc gave him the night they disposed of Ylli and Yolli’s father. “I wanted to explore this map. Maybe find treasure and train you for a long adventure.”
“And abandon Phylos!” snapped Adrastos.
“Abandon!” screamed Rarr.
“Yes, that too.” he admitted.
“I hate you!” screamed Adrastos. “I hate all of you. All of this!”
“Hate!” repeated Rarr.
“We should have just killed them when we had the chance! Why didn’t you let us?” she continued to scream.
“And would a group of partially trained kids, a bunch of farmers, a dwarf, and a bear survive without casualties?”
“We might have!” she said. “At least we would have tried.”
“And have the farmers die?” He cocked his head. “No one knows how things will end, Adrastos. No one can see all the ties of life—all paths and ends. Come here, girl.” He moved toward her, but she backed up and ran off. Rarr ran for his tree, scampered up, and hid.
“Adrastos! Come back” shouted Maveith. He turned to run for her.
“No. Leave her be,” said Mr. Andvari. “She needs time.”
“She hates you,” Penelopas said weeping.
“Not really. She’s just filled with pain and is lashing out. Better her pain’s aimed toward me than one of you, the villagers, or those barbarians.” He hugged Penelopas and motioned for Maveith who declined. They went to their tent.