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The sun hung high above the horizon when Hierm, Edrin, and Mattyas, who still preferred his nickname “Hair” despite his newly-shorn locks, rode into Galsbur. The village looked much as Hierm remembered, save the stockade wall surrounding the center of town. The wood was charred and broken in places, and a wide swath of land had been cleared all around, the land trampled. Clearly, there had been a battle here. Hierm’s throat tightened as he wondered who had survived... and who had not.
A gate stood open and unguarded, and they rode into town unnoticed. Few people were about at this time of morning. Most would be tending their crops or about other tasks.
“It seems like forever since I was here last,” Hair said, looking out across the circle of green grass in the center of town.
“The tournament.” Even after all the time spent on the trail together, Edrin remained a man of few words.
Guided by prophecy, or so he thought, Prince Lerryn had held a tournament in Galsbur. Hierm had competed in the sword, Edrin in archery, and Mattyas in wrestling.
Hierm guided his horse along the path that circled the green and stopped in front of the warehouse that belonged to his family. His stomach lurched as he took in the scene. Both the warehouse and his family home alongside it bore signs of abandonment. Weeds grew thick in his mother’s flower beds and the windows were dusty. And although it was the middle of the day, the warehouse was closed up tight.
He dismounted, tied up his horse, and told his companions to wait. An icy certainty pouring over him, he ran first to the warehouse, trying every door, and finding them locked.
“Father!” he called, banging on the office door. There was no answer.
He ran to the house and found it, too, to be sealed up tight. He brushed a thick netting of cobwebs away from the window and peered inside. He saw nothing. He banged on the door and called several times for his father, hoping, irrationally, that Hiram was perhaps ill and in bed. After several futile minutes, he gave up.
The looks that Hair and Edrin gave him held too much sympathy for his liking. He untied his horse and mounted up without acknowledging them. Turning his mount about, he put his heels to its flanks and set off at a trot for the inn. Perhaps someone in the common room would know where his father had gone.
“Maybe he headed to Archstone to find your mother,” Hair offered, trotting alongside him.
“We would have passed him on the road.”
“Perhaps.” Hair lapsed into silence as they approached the inn.
Hierm hesitated before dismounting. He wanted his father to be alive, but something told him that the worst had happened, and he wasn’t ready to hear it. He and his father had had their share of rows, the last few the worst. Hierm had left Galsbur before the two of them could patch up their differences. Now, he wondered if he would ever get the chance.
He climbed the steps of the Dry Birch, the inn run by Khalyndryn Serrill’s family. Khalyndryn. His heart sank. Would he have to be the one to deliver the news of her death, or had Lerryn already told them?
Two men sat inside: one a thick-set, fair-haired man, the other a mountain of a man with dark, shaggy hair. Master Serrill and Colin Malan. Colin’s eyes widened and he lurched to his feet.
“Hierm!” He embraced Hierm roughly and greeted Hair and Edrin. “It’s good to see you, boy. How have you been?”
“I’m all right. Have you seen my father?”
The dark look in Colin’s eyes answered his question. Dizzy, Hierm dropped into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
“I am sorry.” Colin pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. “You should know he died bravely— defending the village from an invading force. We sent a messenger to your mother in Archstone. Something must have happened to him.”
Hierm fought to maintain his composure. He had a task to complete, and he couldn’t fulfill it by sitting here weeping over the dead. He raised his head as Master Serrill set out mugs of ale for Hierm and his companions. And then he remembered another death.
“Master Serrill, I need to tell you about Khalyndryn.”
“It’s all right. I already know. Prince Lerryn told us the news.” The innkeeper turned and hurried away.
“What about Shanis?” Colin asked. “Lerryn told me she was well and in Lothan, but that was all he said.”
Hierm hesitated. Would Colin believe what he was about to tell him? “She was well last I saw her. There’s something you should know.” He took a gulp of ale to buy time, but he could think of no way to ease the man into the story.
“We went in search of the Silver Serpent. And we found it.” The clatter of breaking glass rang out on the other side of the common room. Master Serrill had dropped a mug, and he now stood gaping at Hierm. “It seems Shanis is the one destined to bear it.”
Surprisingly, Colin merely stroked his beard and nodded.
“When I left, she was headed to a place called Calmut.”
“They want to make her queen, then?” Colin asked sharply.
“Some do. There is, apparently, an impostor who also claims to be the bearer of the Serpent.” He took another drink, letting the lukewarm, frothy drink slake his thirst.
“I feared the day would come. How is she?” Colin asked.
“She’s as ill-tempered as ever.” They shared a laugh, and Hierm recounted the story of their flight from Galsbur, meeting Larris, their search for the Silver Serpent, and, finally, their return to the lands of the Monaghan. Hair and Edrin, who had never heard the story, listened with interest. “They recognized her as one of their own and accepted her as leader,” he finished.
“Her mother was Monaghan and a descendant of Badla, their great warrior queen. I am a Malgog.”
This should have been a surprise, but now, having met a few Malgog, Hierm saw the resemblance.
“My father is Krion, chief of the Black Mangrove clan,” Colin continued. “I took Shanis away after her mother died. Since she is Badla’s heir, I always knew there was a chance she would be the one destined to bring the clans together, but I hoped it would not be the case.” He sighed. “I should go to her. I’ve been away from her too long.”
“But Colin, we need you here.” Master Serrill sat down opposite Hierm. “You are the closest thing we have to a leader, and no one else knows how to fight like you do.”
Colin’s shoulder’s twitched once in a silent, rueful laugh. “We have plenty of men who’ve been blooded. Besides, the invading army is broken. We’re safe for the time being.”
“What do you mean?” Hair spoke for the first time. “You think they’ll re-form and come back?”
“There were shifters and ice cats among them.” At this, Hair sat up straight and Edrin dropped his mug. “I don’t know what their purpose was in coming here, but I have no doubt a new Frostmarch is coming. And when it comes, none of us are safe.”
“We encountered ice cats on the road,” Hierm said. “I didn’t want to believe it could be another Frostmarch.” He drained his mug, wiped his mouth, and looked at Colin. “You mentioned Prince Lerryn. Was he killed in the battle?”
Colin looked down at the table and spun his mug in his big hands. “We don’t know for certain, but we think he survived. He fought and killed a shifter. After the battle, I found tracks that I believe are his heading off into the forest.”
“You could pick out one man’s tracks in the midst of a battlefield?” Hair sounded impressed.
Colin shrugged. “Only one of his soldiers survived—a man named Tabars. He went off in search of Lerryn, but I doubt he’ll find him. Tabars is a good fighter, but he’s no woodsman.”
“Unlike you.” Hierm took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Colin, we need your help. We’ve been sent here to find Prince Lerryn and bring him back to Archstone. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we are at war with Kyrin, there’s a rebellion in Kurnsbur, and there are...” he hesitated, “other problems. We need Lerryn, and I’m no more a tracker than Tabars. Will you help us?”
Colin sat back and looked a Hierm. “Those are someone else’s problems. Shanis needs me.”
“If another Frostmarch is coming, Galdora can’t be at war on two other fronts. Shanis is working to unify Lothan. We need to find Lerryn so we can keep our own country united,” Hierm argued.
“He’s right.” Master Serrill stood and wiped his hands on his apron. “Be thankful that your daughter is alive and well. What’s a few more weeks before you go to her if it means we’re better prepared for what lies ahead?”
Colin’s face darkened. “Just once,” he mumbled, “I’d like to do what I want to do.” He looked around the table at Hierm and his friends. “Very well. You three rest here while I gather provisions. We’ll leave at dawn.”