TIWAZ SAT ON the living room’s deep windowsill, cleaning the sword with fixated attention while Doom tended to the old dog’s broken leg. Both looked up when Marren emerged from her and her husband’s bedroom. “He will be fine, once he gets some rest. Old bones just don’t take excitement like that so well any more. I have no words to thank you both enough for what you did.” Doom remained silent, glancing up at Tiwaz, proud but worried.

Assured the sword remained undamaged and without a hint of blood or dirt, she slid the weapon back in its sheath and stood in a smooth motion. She bowed deeply to Marren in respect, holding the weapon to the old woman on the flats of both hands. “There is no greater honor than to be entrusted with another’s blade, especially when he had died honorably. Thank you for allowing me to use your son’s sword.”

Marren accepted the blade back, hugging it. “My son would have been proud to have his sword used with such skill. With Durakkar gone, I know our daughter will come home at last.” She looked up at Doom, not quite as daunted by his exposed head. She did not turn anymore pale than she already was from the fright of the events earlier. “I want to thank you on behalf of Sevren and myself for everything you both had done for us. I am sorry if I’d any doubts about either of you.”

Stooped over due to the low ceiling, Doom merely half-bowed to the woman. “I understand. Thank you for accepting us.”

“We are in your debt,” Marren effused. “You saved our lives and probably the lives of near everyone in the area.”

Tiwaz shook her head. “There is no debt, Marren. You needed protection and I was able to help. Aiding you in your time of need was only right for the kindness you have shown us both.” She looked at Doom. “We must be leaving. We have been here overlong.”

The old woman looked worried. “Are you sure? You are both welcome to stay here. For as long as you want! It would be no trouble at all.”

“I wish we could,” Doom apologized regretfully. “Thank you for the offer, but we cannot stay. You can keep the food we brought. I know it is not much, but—”

“Then wait long enough for me to make you something to eat while you get your things. You cannot be leaving without having a good meal.” Doom nodded, ushering Tiwaz out to get their gear together from the barn loft.

The gladiator did not speak while they packed their gear, not even looking at Doom the entire time. The gromek frowned in worry. “Ti,” he asked in a low voice. “What’s wrong?”

Eyes closing, she bit her lip. “I-I know you wanted to stay in Dragons Gate,” she said finally. “I am sorry.”

Doom sighed, shoulders sagging slightly. He hesitated responding. “You couldn’t help it. It wasn’t your fault.”

She shot a glare at him. “Wasn’t it? I was the one who forced us to leave. I didn’t try hard enough. I wasn’t in control.” She flung a handful of straw towards the loft’s back wall irritably before heading to the ladder. “You should have let me fall from that cliff,” she said bitterly. “A gladiator without discipline is worthless.”

His frown deepened. “Don’t talk like that. You are not a thing, you are my friend. My best friend. You are being too hard on yourself.”

She paused at the top of the ladder. “Then tell me honestly that you do not believe I am the reason you had to abandon something you wanted more than anything else in the world.” He could not meet her gaze. “I thought so.” She continued down the ladder to the ground and headed out of the barn.

“Ti, wait,” he called, climbing down quickly to catch up to her. “Blaming implies being angry. Yes, it was something I wanted. A lot. But I am not mad at you. It was…” His voice drifted off, not repeating what the emerald-eyed dragon told him about Alimar.

She would not meet his eyes. “And I took it away from you. A true friend does not do that.”

Growling at the self-deprecation in her voice, he grabbed her arm, pulling her back inside to face him. “I would rather never have a place to call home than lose you, Tiwaz. You remember that.” She winced, but said nothing. He sighed, releasing her when the house door opened.

Accepting the bundle from Marren, Tiwaz endured the woman’s embrace, bid her farewell, and turned to head down the road. Doom gritted his teeth at the pace she was keeping, but said nothing.

As the afternoon wore on, the two could hear the sounds of the city in the distance. The wall between the pair grew heavier as they walked in silence. They emerged from the trees to look into the valley below filled with buildings and roads. “This place is huge,” he commented. “I think if I keep my cowl far enough forward, no one will pay any attention to us.” He bit back words of exasperation at the woman’s noncommittal sound. As they entered the city, few people paid any attention to them, more concerned with their own business than the appearance of two more newcomers in the multitude of races filling the streets.

“Hey! Kiliana!” a familiar voice called out. Doom immediately seized Tiwaz’s wrist as she grabbed the hilt of her knife. Gareth Tavarius dodged a few people in the street, jogging to meet up with the pair. He smiled warmly to them, offering a gallant, exaggerated bow. “Or should I call you Tiwaz? And you, big fellow, must be the one she’s always known to be with. Doom, right?” The pair stiffened, both in shock and dismay.

Green eyes dilated then fixed angrily on Doom. “I remember now. He is the reason we went to Dragons Gate. You trusted him over me? And you fault me for having to leave?” The hurt was as clear as the rest of her raging emotions.

“You worry too much,” Doom tried to explain. “I didn’t want you stressing over things while you were recovering from—”

She stepped back when Doom tried to catch her hand. “I worry too much? Am I so much of a burden now you would heed a deceitful stranger over me?”

“Ti, please, you only just recovered from that fever. Calm down,” the gromek half begged, feeling the eyes of strangers on them. “I can explain—”

“Explain it to him,” she spat, glaring at Gareth. “Be friends with him. I am obviously more trouble than I’m worth. Here.” She snatched the pouch with her share of the gold she earned at Dramaden and threw it at Doom’s chest. “Enjoy your freedom.”

“What?” Doom could only stare uncomprehendingly as she turned on her heel and stalked into the crowd on the street. “No…wait…Ti!” He tried to follow her, but she quickly melted into the crowd and disappeared. With barely restrained fury, he turned back and stalked towards Gareth, grabbing the bard by the front of his clothing and lifting him a foot off the ground. While there was attention, it was more fascinated curiosity over the disagreement than any panic. “I should have let her kill you in Dramaden,” he snarled in the man’s face.

Glancing down with wide-eyes, his hands on Doom’s gloved fist, Gareth said, “Please, I was asked to find and help you.” He closed his eyes when Doom jerked him sharply, grunting. “I can prove it.” Desperately fishing inside his tunic, he pulled out a medallion on a chain bearing a dragon with a blue-diamond eye, a ruby, emerald, and onyx around its head.

Doom’s grip loosened in surprise, dropping the bard. Gareth stumbled back, rubbing his throat, shaking from the unexpected manhandling. He jerked upright as the thong the medallion hung on tightened against his throat when Doom grabbed the medallion to look at it closer. “I know this. You know what this symbol means?” he asked in disbelief.

Glancing at all the eyes turned towards them, Gareth put his hand on Doom’s elbow. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere with more privacy.” When Doom balked, he asked in exasperation, “Do you want to find Tiwaz or not?”

“You’re the reason she is gone. Why should I trust you?” Doom demanded.

Gareth’s expression was hard and he looked about to say something, but censored himself. Instead, he took a deep breath and exhaled first. “Because I have a better chance of locating her in Crossroads than you do.” Doom growled deep in his throat, unable to argue the point and followed him.