Mr. Andvari slung his backpack over his shoulders. When they left the abbey, their packs were stuffed. Now, only he carried a backpack and it hung loose and light against his back. He carried his shield and spear in hand with his katana in his belt. Penelopas stood next to him, fully cloaked to offer her more camouflage. What was left of the bevy moved toward the villagers still gathered discussing their strategy. Mr. Andvari pushed through the middle of the crowd where Adrastos stood giving advice.
“What do you want, coward?” she snapped as Mr. Andvari stopped in front her her. Maveith and Penelopas walked around him to say goodbye to Adrastos.
“Stay with me and fight,” Adrastos pleaded with Penelopas and Maveith. “Fight for peace and what is right.”
Penelopas opened her mouth and drew breath. She stared into Adrastos’ squinting eyes then looked away and closed her lips. Penelopas shook her head.
“Do it for Pim. Please.”
“I am sorry, my friend.” said Penelopas still avoiding Adrastos’ gaze.
“Then run away. He’s poisoned your mind and made you weak and craven.” She scowled at Mr. Andvari. “Some mentor you are.” Adrastos turned to Maveith. “You have no excuse. You are a warrior who’s lost his taste for blood. I have no use for you at all. You are as worthless as that dwarf.” She cocked her head and squinted her eyes. “Go away already.”
“Adrastos,” Mr. Andvari said softly. “I give you my shield and spear. They are ancient but strong. Stronger than your ward-weapons or anything here.” He handed them toward her.
“I want nothing of yours, deilós! This shield will serve me well enough,” Adrastos tapped her blunt spear against her round, rusted, patched up shield up, blocking him from her view.
Mr. Andvari lunged his shield into hers snapping her head back. Maveith and Penelopas grabbed the barding on her back and kicked her hooves out from under her. Adrastos toppled back and sideways, hitting the side of her head against the ground. Mr. Andvari pounced on top of her, pushing his weight against her. He took the edge of his shield and pushed it against her throat. Penelopas and Maveith pulled her arms above her head and lashed a rope against her wrists.
Rarr lunged forward to help Adrastos but Mr. Andvari slammed him in the face with his shield, knocking the boy fifteen feet back. Then the dwarf got off Adrastos and pounced on Rarr. He dropped the shield and spear and held the boy down while Maveith and Penelopas tied his arms.
“Nupidio tis kinonias!” Adrastos screeched as Mr. Andvari tucked Rarr under his arm. The barbarian kicked his legs and howled. Mr. Andvari turned to the villagers, who remained still, as Maveith and Penelopas pulled Adrastos to her hooves.
“I am leaving with my wards. All of them.”
“Liars! Cowards! Deilós! I hate you!” shouted Adrastos, but Mr. Andvari ignored her. Farmers grabbed tools—hoes, shovels, picks—but none made a move otherwise. Mr. Andvari shook his head.
Mayor Florinda moved forward slowly. Her face was taut with pursed lips and eyes squinted. The muscles on her lower jaw pulsated as she clenched her jaw. She stood in front of Mr. Andvari, pushing her body against his. Her breath stunk of chewed up tobacco leaf. “May your unburied corpse be eaten by crows.”
Mr. Andvari pushed passed Mayor Florinda with the writhing, howling beast boy tucked tightly under his left arm as he grabbed Adrastos with his right and pulled her toward him. She continued her curses but he paid her no mind. He inspected the knot Maveith tied. It was a solid tumble hitch. He grabbed the long end of the rope and handed it to Maveith.
“Hold this,” he barked. Mr. Andvari untucked Rarr then slipped his arm around the boy’s throat and clenched. Rarr struggled then went limp. Adrastos screamed louder, her voice cracking and squeaking through her hatred. Mr. Andvari clicked his tongue and Geros lumbered toward him. Penelopas lashed Mr. Andvari’s shield and spear to Geros.
“I’m not hurting him, Adrastos,” Mr. Andvari spoke softly. “He’ll get hurt if he struggles and he will struggle. This is safer. He’ll wake up in a few minutes.” Mr. Andvari untied the rope and re-tied it with another tumble hitch, wrapping the rope around the boy’s torso, pinning his arms to his side. The dwarf tossed the boy on Geros’ back then handed the long end of the rope to Maveith. Mr. Andvari took back Adrastos’ rope. “Adrastos Kysfine,” he commanded. “We are leaving, now. You will walk on your own and obey my commands or I will tie your hooves together and toss you over Geros. Choose.”
“I hate you,” Adrastos growled, gritting her teeth.
“I am aware. Will you walk on your own or shall I cattle-tie you?”
“Dusk approaches,” Maveith insisted. “We should leave.”
Mr. Andvari looked at the villagers. “We bid you farewell, Mayor.” Mr. Andvari turned and walked away from camp with his bevy. He took the lead holding the rope tied to Adrastos. She stomped behind him as she moved.
“You have no honor,” Adrastos shouted. “Now I know why they stuck you in Leftover Hall.”
Mr. Andvari kept walking.
“You desecrate the memory of Pimgin Xofire,” she shouted again. “He would be ashamed of you.”
Penelopas jogged forward to the orea and whispered to her. “You have no idea what you are saying. So you either stow it or I’ll gag you.” Penelopas patted Adrastos on the shoulder and retook her spot in the bevy. Maveith took Adrastos’ typical position at the front right side of Geros..
“Cravens!” shouted some farmers as the bevy walked away. “Cowards!”
Volundr pulled his torso along the ground spiraling between the legs of the villagers to get to the front of the crowd. He sat on the grass and watched the Leftovers walk away from his defenseless village. Phylos hobbled next to him. Volundr grabbed the three-legged dog’s neck and held him as it howled after Rarr. Phylos pulled, but Volundr held tight as tears streamed down his face. Rarr woke up and howled.
“Don’t leave me, too,” Volundr whispered, between sobs. Phylos howled.
Rarr turned his head and watched Phylos. “Friend!” he screamed. “Frrriiiend!”
“I curse you, Erlend Andvari! You and your whole tribe!” cried Mayor Florinda. Behind her, villagers shouted more taunts and threw dirt clods and rocks as the bevy soldiered on.
What tribe? thought Mr. Andvari as a dirt clod hit him in the back of the head. Another zipped by Penelopas and landed in front her her. Without looking down Penelopas stomped on it as she continued on, muttering to herself. The bevy reached the edge of the valley and headed up the mountainside and into the forest. Adrastos stomped and muttered as they moved up the slope. Rarr cried out. They reached the crest and Mr. Andvari stopped.
“That’s enough!” Mr. Andvari turned and faced Adrastos. His voice was deep, harsh and cold. “That’s the end of your caterwauling, Adrastos. Got it? From here on we are moving fast and silent.” Adrastos growled softly, but nodded. He turned to Rarr, looking up at the boy slumped over the bear’s back. “No. More. Screaming.” Mr. Andvari stared at the boy. “Yes?” Rarr spit. Mr. Andvari turned back to Adrastos. “You tell him.”
“Or what?” she snarked. Mr. Andvari stepped forward and pressed his body against hers. He put his forehead onto hers and stared into her eyes. The air from his nose blew against her chin.
“Tell him. Now.”
As long as she knew him, Adrastos never heard his voice so deep and gravely. Adrastos stepped back and looked at Rarr. “Rarr. Shh,” Adrastos whispered. “No more noise.” The boy grunted and put his head down. “There. Happy, deilós?”
Mr. Andvari turned, still holding her rope. He gave her rope a tug then dashed through the forest with the rest of the bevy behind him. He took them through the woods just like the time he took them for par’quor on the way to the salt mines, but this time the sun was moving lower in the sky and it was hard to see. They ran for a mile until they reached a bluff with a creek below.
“I need a drink,” gasped Penelopas.
“No time,” Mr. Andvari insisted, but Penelopas opened her water skin and drank. No time. No time, he thought. Not here next to a bluff. Mr. Andvari heard a slight rustle. He stood still and listened, controlling his breath so he could hear the world. The sounds. He heard sounds of creatures moving, but it was not the sound of squirrel looking for acorns or deer moving. The movement was purposeful and many. Like a herd. A herd of soldiers trying to walk softly. “Luó!” Mr. Andvari called out as he slipped toward Adrastos. With his right hand, he jerked on the short end of the rope tying her hands and the binding fell to the ground. Adrastos stared at the ropes lying in a tumble at her hooves then furrowed her brow at Mr. Andvari. He didn’t notice as he twirled forward then pushed his back against Geros’ front shoulder with both hands on his katana.
Penelopas grabbed two ropes. The first was dangling from Rarr and the other was part of Geros’ lashing. She yanked them both—hard—and the ropes fell. Most of the shields and weapons strapped to Geros dropped in a clang. Penelopas grabbed a trident and short sword and tossed them to Adrastos who caught them and stared at Penelopas confused.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Penelopas.
“What are you doing?” Adrastos stared down at the weapons in her hands. “I don’t …”
“By the Smith’s bones,” Penelopas said as she pressed up against Adrastos and whispered in her ear. “The only way to save the village was to get the barbarians to pursue us.”
“We were bait?” asked Adrastos.
“You … were loud. That’s what we needed. They were watching us all along. Mr. Andvari knew it. Vicq wants you. So we used your anger to stage a scene—a loud, obnoxious scene.”
“They followed us.”
“They followed you,” said Penelopas. “We looked scared and you were tied. Made us look easy to over take.” Penelopas touched Adrastos’ cheek. “Everything he’s done, we’ve done, is for those villagers’ own good although they can’t see it.”
Adrastos watched as Mr. Andvari slid over and grabbed Rarr’s hammer off the ground. Mr. Andvari tossed it handle first into the air. Rarr leapt from Geros’ back, grabbed the hammer in mid-air, then landed in a tuck and roll. Footsteps shuffled in the forest around them. Mr. Andvari dropped his backpack. The orea looked back down at her trident and short sword. Adrastos belted on the sword, saw her net on the ground and strapped it to her belt.
“For Pim!” Mr. Andvari whispered. Rarr sniffed the air, turning his head this way and that, then lunged into the forest like a beast on the hunt. Adrastos followed him. “Follow the plan,” Mr. Andvari said as he nudged Geros and the two disappeared into the woods. Maveith stood in front of Penelopas with his shield and spear in hand. Two war picks hung at his hips. In the forest the bash of metal bounced among the trees.
“You do your weaver thing and I will protect you,” stated Maveith. “Let’s find a clearing.” Maveith led her along the bluff for fifty yards, then circled into the woods keeping the sounds of death to his shield side. He walked uphill and found a clearing where Adrastos and Rarr stood back to back. Vicq circled them, darting in and out swinging his battleaxe and hooting at the kids, teasing them. Twenty yards from the edge of the clearing stood a clump of three trees. Beyond the trees about forty yards was Adrastos and Rarr. “There,” Maveith announced. He rushed to the trees with Penelopas behind him. He reached the trunk, dropped his shield and spear and laced his hands. Penelopas put her foot in his hands and he launched her upward. She caught a branch and pulled herself up, crawling high into the tree. Maveith looked up at Penelopas and nodded, then picked up his shield and spear and moved toward Adrastos and Rarr.
Penelopas found a strong limb with two smaller branches below. She straddled it and placed her feet on the limbs below, then took a dagger from her side and cleared some small branches away so she could see better. She lowered her hood, closed her eyes, removed her mask, and then took a deep breath. Penelopas held the air in her lungs for a moment, clearing her mind. She could hear the blood pumping in her ears. She pictured Mr. Andvari whispering to her on their journey before they discovered the village.
“Penelopas, you are strong,” Mr. Andvari said to her as they traveled together at the front of the bevy, the rest of the group in their assigned positions. “You are what’s known as a weaver.”
“A weaver?” she asked.
“Yes. A weaver of magick. You were born that way. It’s very rare.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you are incredibly powerful.”
“So, I’m like a magus?”
“Oh no. A magos isn’t born magickal. They have to study, be trained by a cleric, and memorize spells and rituals.”
“And I don’t need that?”
“Penelopas,” he smiled. “There are different kinds of magick users in the world: magus, wyzard, sorcerer. They all need help accessing the magick that is a natural part of the world around us. Magick is in every living and nonliving thing. Some need spell books and rituals. Some need implements like a wand or orb or a staff to wield magick. Some must worship a guardian and be trained by a cleric of that religion and carry that guardian’s symbol for their magick to work. A weaver does not need any of those things. All a weaver needs is a voice and practice.
“I don’t do magick,” she muttered.
“You already have. You summoned a spirit horde of orea to save us from the dog fighters.”
“I didn’t really do that.”
“You did do it,” he continued. “You just didn’t mean to. It was natural. That’s how I know you are a weaver. Now it’s time to train.”
“That nearly killed me.”
“No it didn’t. It just depleted you. It was more magick than you were ready for.”
“What if it does kill me.”
“It won’t. We will start small. You can practice on us Leftovers.”
“I don’t know how. What if I hurt them?”
“I want you to start concentrating on your magick. Use your words to help.”
“You mean manipulate?”
“Manipulate?” Mr. Andvari considered it for a moment. “No, not manipulate. At least not Leftovers. Think of it as helping them make good choices. It might be to help Adrastos and Pim calm down when they get into a fight. Encourage Maveith to participate in par’quor. Small things first. Then practice on giving a Leftover a boon: courage, strength, skills.”
“I don’t want to be dishonest.”
“You aren’t going to make any Leftover do anything against their will. That would be wrong. You aren’t going to lie. We will tell them. Just not yet. Not until you’ve practiced for a while.”
“I’m scared,” Penelopas admitted.
“Just remember: The power comes from your words and your thoughts. Be mindful.”
Penelopas opened her eyes. Vicq continued to goad Maveith, Rarr and Adrastos into battle. She took another breath and weaved.
Goodbye dear sun this day it passes now.
But, ho, the moon is bright and gives me hope.
The night is dark and full of death and hate.
The blood! The blood! The taste of iron is nigh.
My friends! Do come into the clearing now,
And make your final stand against these beasts.
Be fast, my kin. Be quick. Be quick! For they
Shall not be true and find a mark on you.
Behind the tree where Penelopas was perched, a loud clash of metal on metal rang out. A small tree snapped and branches hit the ground. There was a scream, a howl, then silence. From the woods Mr. Andvari appeared with Geros behind. The old bear carried a human head covered in red curly hair dripping with blood in his mouth. Mr. Andvari glanced up at Penelopas as he and Geros galloped past. Vicq stopped moving. Adrastos lunged at him with her trident as he looked at the dwarf and bear, but Vicq parried and swung, his battleaxe catching Adrastos in the shoulder. She shuffled back and kept her shield up. It’s just a flesh wound5, she thought, but just grasping her trident hurt. Geros padded up to the kids and dropped Gaillard’s head at their feet. Mr. Andvari passed the knot of kids and bear and stood between them and Vicq.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Vicq roared. Froqull entered the clearing from the same place Mr. Andvari and Geros had. Blood streamed from under his tunic down his green scaly legs. A crisscross cut on his stomach stained his tunic.
“I’m not playing anymore, Vicq,” Froqull gargled. “I want to taste roast dwarf tonight and maybe something else, too.”
“Where’s Umver?” asked Vicq.
“Ho brothers! I think I missed all the fun.” Umver dove over a shrub on the west end of the clearing and rolled to a fighting stance. His blue hair was full of leaves and grass. In his hands were two throwing knives. The gnome strode up to Vicq’s left. Behind Vicq, seven red-footed cuckoos lead by Zed and Maynard joined the fray.
“I’ll help you roast that dwarf, Froqull,” said Zed.
Maynard cackled and drew his sword as did the other cuckoos.
Mr. Andvari shuffled backwards, pushing the kids back. Geros moved beside him and Mr. Andvari returned his katana to its scabbard and reached out and untied the final binding on the bear. A single, large katana-like weapon was left. The nagamaki fell into his hands and he turned back to Vicq. Geros circled behind and flanked the kids on the west. Mr. Andvari stood on the east. The barbarians and cuckoos spread out in front of the Leftovers, walking forward slowly.
“I want that little filly alive,” Vicq commanded. “I’m going to keep her and make her my plaything.”
“I’m going to dig your eyeballs out of your skull with my fingernails then bathe in your blood!” Adrastos cackled. Her eyes were wide open, teeth clenched
“Kill the rest,” Vicq finished. The barbarians and cuckoos laughed and growled as they continued their approach.
“Stop!” Mr. Andvari responded. “We make our stand here. No retreat.” The Leftovers stopped and took their warrior’s stance back to back as the army encircled the Leftovers. Mr. Andvari drew his nagamaki which stood taller than he. Froqull stood nearest to Mr. Andvari. The drákōnblood held his longsword high and his green scales glistened in the moonlight. He darted slightly, testing Mr. Andvari. The dwarf struck with unworldly speed. He blocked Froqull’s attack. The nagamaki sliced downward cutting through Froqull from left clavicle to right hip, cleaving the green demon into two hunks of meat. Mr. Andvari spun, planted his feet, and swung at Vicq. The barbarian lost his footing and fell backward, the tip of the nagamaki barely missing his skull.
Adrastos and Rarr sprung forward toward Vicq, but the barbarian was fast. He rolled backward and stood just in time to parry a lunge by Adrastos. They exchanged blows between his battleaxe and her trident when he sidestepped her, slipped forward and kicked Adrastos in the side and sent the orea rolling. Rarr leapt high and landed on Vicq, biting him on the neck.
“Aaargh!” yelled Vicq. He grabbed Rarr and tossed the boy ten feet away onto his head. Penelopas continued her chant, controlling the battlefield from her tree.
These men, such scum. They are no match for us!
For we the Leftovers are virtuous.
Our cause righteous and souls are pure as light.
And these creatures are wicked beasts of Hell!
A crit! My kin! Strike hard and quick to flesh.
Your steel she cries for blood and bone and death.
But hold your hate and seek out justice, now.
And revel not in death, anger, and fear.
Defend! Defend! And do not pause unless
The enemy falls low and begs for life.
For we are good aligned and seek the light.
Umver was quick. Geros lumbered toward the gnome, but he dodged the bear and headed to Rarr. The boy’s hammer lay on the ground so Rarr grabbed the handle and used it to push off and kick Umver in the chest. They both hit the ground and then jumped up together. Umver tossed a throwing blade, but Rarr dodged it easily. The knife found a home in Mr. Andvari’s thigh as he ran toward Vicq. He cried out as he stopped and removed the blade then threw it at Vicq, but the barbarian deflected it with his greataxe.
Rarr took up his hammer and crouched, growling at Umver as he slowly lurched forward. Side to side, the boy barbarian loped along. He hooted and howled and growled, enjoying the moment. Umver stood his ground, a knife in each hand.
“Too bad you have to die, boy. I like you. You’d make a formidable cuckoo.” Umver watched Rarr dodge and move and caught the boy’s pattern: one step left and one step right, then a lunge. He moves the same every time, Umver thought. Nail him when he dodges right.
Rarr did as predicted. He faked left then right. As he did, Umver flung a dagger where he knew Rarr would land. The blade plunged into the flesh of Rarr’s right pectoral. Rarr screamed and paused. Umver acted fast, flinging another blade. It grazed the boy’s skull, opening a gash above his eyes three inches long. Blood poured down Rarr’s face. Umber pulled a third dagger from its home across his chest and launched it. Where a typical child would freeze or fall, the barbarian found a spring of resolve. Rarr raised his hammer as quick as a shield, blocking the blade. The boy pulled the hammer back and looked at the dagger planted into the wood. He pulled it out with his left hand and looked at Umver who stood wide eyed.
“By the Smith’s bones,” Umver muttered. “You are no boy.”
Rarr tilted his head and stuck out his tongue so the blood from his head streamed into his mouth. He swallowed deep, howled into the moonlight, then bared his teeth, covered in his own blood. The boy was no more, replaced with a wild, angry, threatened beast.
Umver retrieved two more daggers and took a defensive stance. Rarr moved in slowly, deliberately, growling and howling. The right half of his head was drenched in crimson like ancient war paint. Rarr tossed the dagger back at Umver with his left then bolted in a slight right curve. Umver dodged the dagger on one side, which left him open on the other. Rarr swung the hammer and caught the gnome in the hip, knocking Umver off balance, but he recovered. The crack to his hip slowed Umver down. Umver kept turning trying to square up against Rarr, but couldn’t quite spin quick enough to catch the bloody beast circling around him. Umver tried to step backwards. Rarr swung again and caught the gnome in the side, crunching his ribs like dry leaves. Umber let out a grunt and doubled over. Rarr launched upward, his war hammer overhead, then dropped the weight upon Umver’s skull. The gnome went limp and tumbled into a lump on the ground; he laid still, taking shallow, quick breaths. The broken ribs punctured his lungs, filling his chest cavity with blood.
Rarr. Turned. Toward. Vicq.
Geros made for three cuckoos. One stabbed him in the side, but the bear swiped with his powerful paws, clawing the cuckoo’s chest open and the man fell. The bear trampled another, pouncing up and down, crushing the cuckoo’s chest. Geros bit another cuckoo’s shoulder as he tried to save his comrade. Geros crushed his shoulder bones into fragments, then tossed the man aside. The cuckoo screamed as his shoulder met the dirt.
Zed and two cuckoos ran toward Mr. Andvari. He planted his feet into a wide stance. The cuckoos maneuvered to take advantage of Mr. Andvari’s heavy, slow stance, but they were fooled. As Zed jogged right, Mr. Andvari danced breezy and lunged the nagamaki forward. Zed slid and fell to avoid the pierce. Mr. Andvari deflected a strike from a cuckoo on his side. He quickly stepped forward and tucked his leg behind him in a twisted stance. He spun and cleaved his nagamaki through all three cuckoos. Zed’s head rolled from his body. The nagamaki cut through the air in a downward, horizontal trajectory cutting the next cuckoo high on the chest and the other through the stomach, spilling his innards onto the ground. All three bodies fell.
Maveith stood three steps from Adrastos as the two circled Vicq. The orea held her trident in her left hand. Her entire arm was armored in a layer of quilted padding, covered in layers of glued linen, all laced to her her arm and shoulder. The armor was in four pieces connected and hinged at the wrist, elbow and shoulder. A bronze plate the size of an adult’s hand was fastened to the armor at the shoulder. It stood upright from her shoulder, giving her a semi shield to hide her face behind when lunging with the trident. Adrastos carried a net in her right fist.
“You will die tonight, barbarian,” she announced.
“Is that so?” quipped Vicq, as he rested his battleaxe on his shoulder. “You are a stupid little goat, aren’t you?” he laughed. Adrastos struck with her trident, but Vicq blocked it. “You are outnumbered and outclassed.” Vicq noticed the blunt ends of her trident as it passed by his head. “And apparently, you are out bladed. You expect to pierce something with those training tips of yours?” Vicq bleated at her then lunged. He teased her as he dodged in and out, slicing at her. She took two minor hits to her armor and blocked one with her trident.
Maveith kept quiet as they moved on one another, circling. He was ready to defend, not strike, if she needed him. Adrastos tossed her net at Vicq but he stepped back. She shot twice more. On the third toss of the net, Vicq spun back and to Adrastos’ right. Her arm extended with the net leaving her right side vulnerable. Vicq laid in for a kill shot—a cut between her ribs, which would slice her lungs open. As Vicq’s right arm swung that double headed battleaxe, Maveith rounded to Vicq’s front and caught the inner curve of the battleaxe with his spear. Both weapons touched the ground. Maveith rushed forward and rammed Vicq with his shield. Vicq tumbled backward, lost his grip on the battleaxe, and scrambled to stand. Adrastos charged forward with her trident but Vicq drew a short sword from his side and redirected her. As she passed him he slid his sword up but was blocked again by Maveith.
“You block a lot boy, but do you ever strike?” shouted Vicq as he blindsided Maveith with a flurry of blows. Maveith moved fast, keeping his shield up.
Adrastos came back to Vicq. He stopped his pursuit of Maveith and swung at Adrastos. She caught the sword between the tines of her trident. A classic retiarius move she learned early in life from her father. She twisted the trident and Vicq’s sword rotated out of his grip. Adrastos pulled her trident back and plunged it at Vicq’s face only to be blocked by Maveith’s spear. The behemoth slid forward between Vicq and Adrastos and stuck the flat edge of his spear into Vicq’s face. The barbarian landed on his back and Maveith pounced, putting the shield edge into Vicq’s throat.
“It is done. You and your men are defeated,” Maveith said as Adrastos ran forward ready to execute a kill. Vicq rotated his body and hit Maveith with his knee knocking Maveith into Adrastos. The barbarian then rolled and ran for his battleaxe. Maveith and Adrastos pursued. As he stared at Vicq, Maveith saw Maynard in the background heading toward Penelopas, who was still weaving from high in the trees.
Maveith sprinted wide around Vicq, throwing his shield to the ground in hopes of gaining speed. Maynard was almost at Penelopas. “Neeeeeeverrrr aaaaaagainnnnn!” Maveith screamed so hard it scratched his throat. I’ll never make it, he thought. So, Maveith skipped three times, landed sideways, and launched his spear into the air. He immediately sprinted again. Tears of rage welled up in his eyes. He pictured his father—the General—and Captain Hergol. He remembered when he and Eleftheria hid under the huckleberry patch and he remembered holding her lifeless body in the back of his father’s chariot.
The spear delved into Maynard’s thigh. Had the spear been sharp, it would have pushed itself all the way through muscle and bone. As it was, the spear stuck in his leg. The weight of the handle pulled down and ripped it from his flesh, leaving a jagged wound. Maynard fell face forward and balled up, grabbing his leg. He screamed and cursed as he rolled over onto his back. The cuckoo opened his eyes and gritted his teeth. In the trees above him sat Penelopas, perched on a branch. She stopped weaving and stared down at the mustached man writhing on the ground. Maveith screamed as he approached. Maynard scrambled to his feet in an attempt to defend, but was hunkered over with his weight on his good leg.
Clenching his teeth and limping, Maynard drew his sword. “One of us shall die and I don’t plan on it being me.”
“No one has to die,” Maveith panted as he stopped. “Not you. Not me. Not Penelopas in that tree.”
“Death is the only option,” Maynard reiterated. “Cuckoos don’t back down and we don’t get taken prisoner. We die for our cause.”
“What cause is worth dying for?” asked Maveith. He controlled his breathing as he stared at Maynard. The behemoth rested his hands on the head of the war picks still at his side. “You and I are not at war.”
“Aren’t we?” Maynard frowned. “What then is all of this if not war?” He pointed to the death in the background behind Maveith.
Maveith glanced behind then looked back at Maynard. “That is them not us. You’re not fighting. I’m not fighting.” He raised his eyes and looked at Penelopas. “She’s not fighting.”
“She was,” shouted Maynard. “She was controlling the battle. With her magick. I heard her chanting.”
“True,” Maveith nodded. “But that was then. Not now.”
“And what? You’ll just let me go off on my merry way?”
“Yes,” said Maveith.
“And what of them?” Maynard pointed at the battle. “I’m sure none of them are angry enough to come after me,” he snorted then shook his head.
Maveith stood silent. He knew Mr. Andvari and Penelopas would let Maynard go. Adrastos and Rarr will go after him no matter what we try to say or do, he thought. “We let Vicq go the first time. No one will come after you so long as you leave us be,” Maveith said hoping it wasn’t a lie.
Maynard studied Maveith’s face and eyes. The boy didn’t even have a weapon drawn.
“Tis true—you know—what Maveith says to you,” Penelopas peeped from her perch. She climbed down to the lowest branch, just feet from Maynard and smiled softly. “No harm. No harm. No harm shall come to you. If leave you take, your life it will be spared.”
Maynard looked up at Penelopas in the tree.
She dropped onto the ground and cocked her head. She stared Maynard in the eyes, her real face—her scarred face—exposed. “Go now. Make haste. Before we change our minds. Be safe. Be gone. Pursue you, we will not.”
Maynard sheathed his sword and bowed his head slightly. Then he turned and hobbled off into the woods.
Mr. Andvari, Adrastos and Rarr surrounded Vicq and a cuckoo. The barbarian stood in a fighting stance, his battleaxe ready to swing. They lunged in from time to time and he swung but no one made contact. Rarr twisted his grip on his war hammer and took a deep breath. Suddenly, Rarr heard a scream and was covered in blood splatter. The boy spun around then shuffled back. Umver was standing above him, knives ready to rain down death upon Rarr, but Geros’ teeth were clamped down on Umver’s neck, blood spewing like a fountain. The old bear shook violently, tossing and flopping Umver’s body like an old dog’s sock toy. When Geros finally let go, Umver’s mangled corpse slumped to the ground. Rarr smiled, reached up and petted Geros under the chin, grunting.
“Who are you?” Vicq asked staring at Mr. Andvari. “You fight like the stories of old. So fast.” He was panting.
“Yield or face your maker.” Mr. Andvari stated calmly. “Choose your own path.”
“You planned this.” Vicq noticed.
“You weren’t sneaking off like a coward,” said the cuckoo.
“Choose,” insisted Mr. Andvari.
“I never expected her to go along with being tied up,” Vicq said pointing to Adrastos.
“I didn’t,” she snapped.
“Clever plan, dwarf.”
“I will wait no longer. Stay back, Leftovers!” Mr. Andvari readied his nagamaki and moved in on Vicq who backed up three steps then stopped and dropped his battleaxe. The other cuckoo stared at Vicq with his mouth gaping open. Then he looked at Mr. Andvari and dropped his sword.
“Strike!” screamed Adrastos. “Kill him!”
Mr. Andvari shook his head and lowered his nagamaki. “You yield?”
“Sure. Why not?” Vicq mocked. Adrastos shuffled forward to lower her blade into Vicq’s flesh, but Mr. Andvari blocked her blade with his. He slipped toward her and nudged her back.
“We do not kill unarmed prisoners.” Mr. Andvari stared into Adrastos’ eyes. “Ever.”
“You’re going to let him live?” she screamed.
“I’m going to let him stand trial and be convicted by a magistrate.”
“What will they do?” asked Penelopas. She was standing outside the circle.
“Convict him and sentence him to death most likely,” offered Mr. Andvari.
“Then why don’t we just kill him now and be done with it?” Adrastos questioned. “It makes no sense. Why go through all that if the outcome is going to be the same?”
“It’s not about the outcome.” Mr. Andvari handed his nagamaki to Maveith and stood between Vicq and Adrastos. “It’s about your soul, who you are. Who we want to be.”
“I don’t care about that. I want him dead,” Adrastos pouted.
“You think you don’t care because you are hurt—angry. I understand that hate. Better than you’ll ever know.” Mr. Andvari placed his hand on Adrastos’ shoulder, but she shrugged him off, still angry with him for leaving, with Vicq for breathing, with Pim for dying.
“That boy’s blood tasted so good when I cut his ear off. What was his name?” Vicq mocked. “Pim, was it? It was divine. Nothing tastes better than little boy except, maybe, little orea sixameni. Now, that’s tasty.” Vicq howled with laughter.
“I’ll remove that archimalakas’ head from your shoulders and rid the world of you. Rotten sack of meat,” Adrastos screeched, moving around Mr. Andvari, but he sidestepped, staying between them.
“Maveith! Restrain and gag Vicq. Tie him tight and strong,” Mr. Andvari said, never taking his eyes off Adrastos. “Hands. Legs. And especially that mouth.” Maveith nodded and ran into the woods to retrieve rope from the backpack Mr. Andvari left at the bluff. He came back to the continued argument carrying the weapons in his arms and backpack on his back.
“If death you give him then your soul will rot,” Penelopas purred. “Then pain and hate will torture you till death. Be still my friend; be still and calm your mind.” Penelopas moved beside Adrastos so they both faced Vicq. “He warps your mind and goads us into hate. Manipulation is his only hope.”
“She’s right, Mr. Andvari whispered. He nodded at Penelopas, lowered his head, and closed his eyes. “I’ve felt hate and killed for it, fed it. Let it fester until I was dead inside. Do not follow that path. It is fraught with suffering.”
“Why would he want me to kill him?” Adrastos asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“He wants to own you,” Mr. Andvari counseled. “Don’t you see? If he can’t own your body in life, then he will own your mind and soul in death.” Mr. Andvari moved out of her way and pointed at Vicq who sat on his knees smiling. “He knows if you kill him in cold blood the memory will torture you until the end of your days. He will own you.”
“No one owns me!” Adrastos shouted.
“Then let him face justice and the law. He will pay for his crimes just the same, and you will live on.”
Adrastos lowered her trident and walked away into the darkness, collapsing under the clump of trees in the clearing. Tears rolled down her face. Mr. Andvari struck Vicq in the head with the hilt of his nagamaki, knocking the barbarian out. Maveith gag Vicq and the cuckoo, tied their hands and feet, then bound them together. He and Rarr drug them twenty-five yards from the trees—close enough to keep a watch on them, but not so close that they might attack easily if they loosed their bonds.
Mr. Andvari leaned against the tree then dug through his backpack. He pulled out a candle and lit it, then tended to their wounds as the wards ate jerky and dried fruit. When he finished mending the kids’ wounds, he turned toward his.
“Let me do that for you,” said Penelopas. Mr. Andvari left out a deep sigh and handed her the candle. She handed him some jerky and fruit then leaned down to his wound.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat,” she commanded. Mr. Andvari set the jerky down and closed his eyes. Penelopas picked up the jerky and stuck it in his mouth. “Eat. If I were laying against this tree what would you say?” she asked. The light of the candle highlighted her smile. “Or shall I weave you to get you to eat?”
“You aren’t wearing your mask” he said.
“Eat and drink!” she barked again with a wink. Then she jabbed the needle she was holding into his leg.
“Ow,” he said jerking.
“Then eat,” she smiled again. Mr. Andvari closed his eyes, laid his head against the tree and chewed. The saltiness of the jerky paired well with the sweet dried fruit. Penelopas cleaned and stitched up the knife wound on his thigh then handed him a water skin. “Drink.” He took three long swigs of water then sighed again.
“You are a true warrior, Penelopas. You may not wield a sword and shield, but you are strong and wise. You are the reason none of them got killed.” He looked at the rest of the kids as they were sleeping or resting silently around the tree. “You saved Adrastos’ life.”
“What do you mean?” Penelopas asked.
“You weren’t just talking to Adrastos when the fight was over. You were weaving her. You were throwing cantrips at her trying to calm her down and get her to see reason.”
“I don’t think I had that much to do with it.”
“You had everything to do with it. You are the reason she didn’t try to kill him.”
“So you think it worked?” she asked.
“It worked then. Who knows for how long. But it was still a great job. Very natural.”
“I think it worked on the cuckoo with a mustache,” she admitted not looking at Mr. Andvari.
“Oh?”
“He came for me in the tree. Maveith came after him.”
“Did Maveith fight him?”
“No, not really,” she murmured. “He threw his spear and wounded the man in the leg. It was just enough to slow him down.”
“And then what?” Mr. Andvari asked softly.
“Maveith offered to let the cuckoo go.”
“Did he?”
“No. The cuckoo was thinking about it. Then, I started weaving him.”
“Is that when he left?”
“Yes,” she said. She looked Mr. Andvari in the eyes. It was dark, but the fire and moon gave off enough light. “I had my mask off.”
“I’m proud of you, Penelopas.” Mr. Andvari sighed.
“What are we going to do with Vicq?” she asked. Vicq was sitting upright still hogtied to the cuckoo.
“Take them to the nearest town, find the magistrate, and charge them with murder among other things,” he said absently.
“Then what?”
“Then home.”
“What of the villagers?” she asked.
“What of them? They are safe and where they want to be.”
“Will we turn them in for not bringing their children to the abbey?
“No. Let them live.” He drank from the water skin again.
“What about Adrastos? I don’t think she’s forgiven you.”
“I know. Things will never be the same again.” He looked up into the sky. The moon was high, shining brightly on the clearing. “You should rest, sleep. I’ll watch Vicq tonight.”
“Will she try to kill Vicq in the night?” Penelopas asked.
“No,” he said. “Maybe. Probably.”
“I think she will,” Penelopas offered. “Want company tonight?”
“No. You need your rest. We might need your weaving again tomorrow.”
“How long does it last?” Penelopas asked. “The weave, I mean.”
Mr. Andvari shrugged his shoulders. “This is new for me, too. I told you, weavers are very rare. We’ll just have to see.” He looked at Adrastos sleeping nearby. “Hopefully your weaving on Adrastos lasts through the night.”
“If it doesn’t?” Penelopas asked.
Mr. Andvari sighed and stared at the moon. “Then I’ll have to stop her the old fashioned way?”
Penelopas froze and stared at Mr. Andvari.
“I’ll restrain her,” he offered. “Tie Adrastos up again if I have to.”
The Leftovers fell asleep on the ground under the tree with Vicq and the last cuckoo just a few yards away. Mr. Andvari stayed awake to protect the Leftovers from Vicq and his cohort if they broke their bonds. Mr. Andvari made sure Adrastos and Rarr slept as far away from the barbarian as possible. Late into the night, Mr. Andvari stood up. He drank a lot of water after the battle and it moved through him. He shuffled around a bit, watching Adrastos and Rarr for movement. Finally, Mr. Andvari walked away from the trees and turned his back to the kids. Halfway through he heard a twig snap. He stopped peeing and looked around. A figure moved toward the prisoners. Mr. Andvari spun and dashed toward Vicq.
“Erre es kórakas váll eis kórakas!” Adrastos screamed as she pulled out an eyeball from Vicq’s skull. He squalled in pain and the Leftovers jumped to their feet.
“Adrastos! No!” cried Mr. Andvari as he ran toward her. Adrastos raised her short sword ready to take the barbarian’s head off as Mr. Andvari dropped his shoulder and rammed into her body. He plopped to his hands and knees as Adrastos fell back into the cuckoo and tumbled over him.
“Come on you stupid, inbred sack of hair and hooves! Kill me!” Vicq screamed. Yet, he smiled. “You can’t even get a shot in on me!”
Mr. Andvari scrambled to stand on all fours, but his leg stiffened up from sitting so long. “Adrastos,” he pleaded. “Please. You cannot …”
Adrastos let out a guttural screech as she stood up. Her eyes were wide and wild. She panted. Mr. Andvari stumbled toward her, but the wound hurt. Vicq kicked his legs and Mr. Andvari stumbled, giving the orea the time she needed. Adrastos grabbed the cuckoo’s hair, pulled back his head against her torso then slid the steel of her chest dagger along his throat. The cuckoo sputtered blood from his mouth and neck. Adrastos let his carcass loose and he slumped over, held up by the ropes that bound him to Vicq. She licked the dagger and howled into the night. Rarr joined her.
“I will have justice!” Adrastos hollered. “Justice! For Pim!”
The darkness of the night hid Mr. Andvari’s tears as they streamed down his face—not for the cuckoo or any of the dead that laid nearby, but for his wards and their souls. “You will not take this man’s life in cold blood, Adrastos.” He stood and approached her.
“I will see him die,” she spat.
Penelopas and Maveith walked up, joining Mr. Andvari, Vicq and the dead cuckoo still strapped to Vicq.
“Get this bloody skatofatsa off me, Vicq complained as he squirmed next to the cuckoo.
“Shut up!” The Leftovers said in unison.
“Maveith,” Mr. Andvari ordered. “Gag this sihama before I lose my mind.”
Maveith took a rag and stuffed it in Vicq’s mouth, then tied another rag around his mouth. Adrastos tried to walk around the cuckoo to get to Vicq, but Mr. Andvari blocked her way.
“I want justice,” she snarled.
Rarr, standing outside the group, grabbed his giant war hammer and launched into the air. He drew back his hammer with Vicq’s head his target. Mr. Andvari scooted over and caught the handle of the hammer. Rarr swung forward and dangled, his feet kicking. He cackled. Maveith grabbed Rarr and pulled him away. Mr. Andvari put the head of the hammer on the ground and leaned on the handle.
“And you shall have it. But not like this.”
“Away, you walk, and cool your mind …” Penelopas chimed in, but Mr. Andvari shook his head and held out his hand.
“I promise you justice, Adrastos, but you will have to trust me.”
“I trusted you once and let Vicq go. What did it get us? An arrow through my little brother,” she said. Tears rolled from her eyes. “I will not do this again.”
“I promise you, Vicq will get what’s coming to him,” Mr. Andvari said softly. “But it will not be at the expense of your soul.”
“My soul?” Adrastos scoffed. “I’ve already killed this cuckoo in cold blood. What’s it matter now? One cold death. A thousand?”
“Everything matters,” he snapped back. Mr. Andvari took a breath. “Everything matters. A single bad decision does not have to define who you are or who you will be. Just because you did it once does not mean you have to keep doing it and repeating the same mistake.”
“I hate him.”
“I hate him, too. I hate the way he smells and the way he looks. I hate the way he sits on the ground.” Mr. Andvari took another deep breath. “And that hate is exactly why none of us should execute his death sentence.” Mr. Andvari’s voice was a whisper of calm and reason. “Hate will slowly turn us into him,” he said pointing at Vicq. “We cannot become the thing we revile most.”
“Na pari i eychi!” Adrastos shouted as she sheathed her dagger and turned away. Rarr followed her to the trees. She sat down and Rarr climbed the tree and perched on a branch.
No one slept after that, but they rested their bodies in silence until dawn. From then on, Maveith, Penelopas, or Mr. Andvari guarded Vicq day and night. As the sun broke the sky, Mr. Andvari whistled for Geros who came lumbering. He lashed the extra weapons onto the old bear. The wards rose and ate dried meat and fruit from their packs.
Mr. Andvari untied Vicq from the stiff, cold, cuckoo’s corpse then tied the barbarian’s arms to his torso. Mr. Andvari bound his ankles so Vicq could walk and shuffle, but nothing faster. He left the gag in Vicq’s mouth.
Adrastos and Rarr circled wide around Vicq and Mr. Andvari and made their way to the cuckoo. Much of his blood was coagulated, but she found a spot on his clothing that was slightly wet. Adrastos rubbed blood on her fingers and painted a stripe beneath each eye. She did the same for Rarr who hooted. Adrastos grunted back and the two danced around the body.
“I guess we go home to Panae Hall, now?” Penelopas stated.
“No. Not now.”
“What?” Maveith asked. Mr. Andvari pointed at his two wards rejoicing in their kill.
“We can’t go … home,” Mr. Andvari said faintly.
“Then where?” asked Penelopas. Mr. Andvari just stared at Adrastos and Rarr.
“An old friend,” he announced after several seconds.
“Why?” asked Maveith.
“Because we are broken and we need help,” Mr. Andvari said as he walked away. “Geros, come. We go to Hattori!” The bear snorted and joined him.
“Hey!” shouted Maveith. “Time to move you two. Let’s go!”
Adrastos and Rarr took one last hoot at the cuckoo then ran ahead passing Maveith and Penelopas.
“The crows will feast on unburied corpses after all. Just not ours.” Maveith snorted, turned, and followed the rest of the bevy with Penelopas beside him.