A few torches were lit and Artowen could see the massing of people. An iron smell infected his nostril before he could see what was occurring, but he instantly recognized the stench. He cleared his way through the crowd to find the corpses of three Welkia soldiers. Not the most experienced lot, young men like him who had rarely seen combat, but had been born here and decided they wanted to protect their village. Others had been recruited from Haoggen but were off fighting or guarding other areas.

  The three were torn asunder, two of them split crossways from shoulder to hip, and the third split in half at the midsection. Guts strewn about; blood and bile soaked into the cold autumn road. From Artowen’s deduction, he assumed it had been an unexpected blitz. Only one soldier had partially drawn his sword, the other two lay in their sheaths. One had a spear, but it had obviously not been leveled. The three were probably drunk when they were attacked anyway.

  There should have been an old sly man with them, a veteran who had been maimed in war and simply guarded his home village now. Perhaps he had retired for the night before this mishap, but as he was nowhere to be seen now Artowen found that possibility unlikely.

  That was when he noticed where they were. Outside of the smithy. It also doubled as Tobain’s home and from the ghastly faces of a few exiting the building he could hazard a guess where the old veteran lay.

  That was all of the soldiers of Haoggen, and for some reason, he found everyone’s gaze turned towards him.

  “Tell me what happened,” Artowen growled.

  The master woodworker spoke first, “Some villagers heard Loo screaming in the night and came wearily to check on the commotion, probably to reprimand the child. What they found was Tobain standing over the corpses, wielding a bloody war axe.” A dead silence ensnared the crowd at that word. A sign of the enemy, the Uxsons. After clearing his throat the man continued, “He then picked up Loo and ran into the night.”

  Someone in the crowd called, “Gather the men, we’ll chase and kill him!”

  There was a raucous applause at that. Life would have it that even a farmer could get conscripted for war, so while the people of Haoggen could certainly put up a fight and swarm Tobain, they had other more important tasks to take care of, and losing them would not be worth the reward.

  “No,” Artowen said. The villagers looked to him, some with suspicion in their eyes, others with hope. “What will we do if Uxsons or bandits attack the village? I will go, and either drag him back for punishment or behead him myself. Send word to the lord of the land that we had a spy among us, and that we will need new soldiers for protection.”

  None could argue with him as he set his features into steel.

  The cold morning air bit at Artowen. The sweat he exuded did not help, as it would cool and force him to bear the temperature even further. Still, he could not slow down. He had to take vengeance for the slain and rescue Loo.

  Being so deeply betrayed hurt, but as a Drajin it was a feeling most were used to. He could question Tobain, but Artowen had already formulated what had happened.

  The blacksmith was a spy. He was a known gossip and that provided a cover for why he always pressed for information. Perhaps he was trying to formulate a plan of going to the other side, as being a Drajin was not the best prospect for the future. The old veteran might have sniffed it out and uncovered the truth. That was enough for Tobain to unveil his true character.

  Artowen ran through the back trails, following what he could see of the tracks left by his former friend. That man was rushing, not caring to cover up his tracks. At this rate, he would escape into Zernau, a Dradris Kingdom bordering Welkia. The Kingdoms were not on the best terms, so escape would prove simple. From there he would take it easy until he headed into the dead zone that proceeded to the Lost Lands, the territory of the Uxsons.

  Since the fiend did not have a horse he avoided the roads where word of his crimes might have already spread and instead used animal and other such trails to traverse the wilderness.

  Welkia was a pristine area of mild forests and beautiful grasslands. It was not hard to run through such terrain. However, he would be lugging Loo and she had not been dumped off as of yet, so she would still be a nuisance.

  Because of this, Artowen had to be faster. The putrid sensation was in his knees, and with every push off the ground he leaped, gaining massive terrain with every stride. He tried to ignore the cold sweat on his neck that was adding to the chill. Unable to admire the beauty of Dradris, Artowen raced for the foe who had betrayed his trust.

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  “Let me go!” Loo railed against her captor.

  Tobain displayed a grim smile, but Loo could see that his brow was furrowed. He was trying to hold in his rage. She knew that familiar expression from the countless villagers she lightly harassed.

  He smacked her again, and she stopped struggling for now. This constant back and forth had gone on since he had snatched her away. Tobain had nothing to restrain her and unduly damaging her seemed to go against his plans, so he never beat her senseless. Was this out of kindness for a friend? I doubt it.

  Her light persona she put on so that the adults around her could smile had been marred, a person she called friend had utterly betrayed her trust. Worse would come, especially as she got older. She witnessed it when her original village was raided and burned. Saw the slaves be ushered out when she had somehow managed to escape. She unwillingly observed it with the Uxson slaves in Haoggen.

  Tears flowed freely as she tried to stifle her cries. It was not sadness at her predicament, or the slow swelling in her face, not even at the dark future that lay ahead. These were tears of the betrayed. Thought to be one of her few true friends, and that person would not even do her the decency of running her through to avoid a cruel fate. Arty always warned her, but even if she was cautious she doubted it would have amounted to much. This was a dark storm that would always be at the edge of her life, unable to fight against it she could only await her turn to be swept away by the fierce winds. It was only chance that the moment was now.

  “Arty’s going to kill you!” She screamed, her emotions flooding out onto the fallen leaves like a cold autumn rain.

  Tobain snickered. “He won’t catch me. Knowing the fools of the village they’ll bicker before sending some men after me, but I’ll be long gone. My only regret is that I was unable to obtain a horse. Damned backwater village. The only horse on the other side of the village.”

  “No, he’s coming. Arty will save me like he always promises, like the stories Lady Idwyn tells.”

  “Hah! Utter nonsense about there being something as grand as a promised one, or a Drawalda. He should get his head out of the clouds and do some actual good. I’ll tell you, little girl, even if he catches up he is no match for me. I’ll crush him.”

  As the traitor made that declaration a rustle of bushes sounded off behind them. Hope radiated on Loo’s face.

  “I’ll have you back your words up Tobain!” Artowen roared from behind.

  Before he could round on the traitor, the man launched himself into the air, landing on a thick branch far too high for a normal feat of athleticism. Artowen scowled, but Tobain smiled widely. Here in this forest and after the events that had occurred his appearance was completely different. No longer in simple garb, Tobain was outfitted with chainmail, a few plates of armor on his shoulder and wrists, and a pelt of the black wolf. The long-hafted single-edged war axe glimmered from the midday sun. The spitting image of an Uxson warrior.

  The man had shed the disguise of a blacksmith.

  Artowen embraced the cold steel of his mind, setting his face calmly and firmly. He hoped he was imposing. “Give Loo back and come with me, traitor. You might get some mercy that way.”

  Tobain barked a laugh. “I’m no traitor. You saw that jump right? I’m Uxson to my very bones.”

  “It’s possible to have an internal governing strength deity and not be Uxson. You’ve lived in that village your whole life. You couldn’t possibly be one of them.”

  “I was an escaped slave. A child younger than the squirming wretch in my arms. That is why there is no trace of an accent. I didn’t start spying until I had a sound reputation with no one questioning my origins.”

  Artowen bared his teeth. “Return Loo you Uxson swine. You have no right to take her.”

  “You run my people’s name through the mud, but your guardian deity is so similar, drop that sword for an axe and I’ll welcome you with open arms.”

  The taunt succeeded in riling Artowen’s emotions, but he dared not let it show on his face. “You name me one of you invaders? Cut the nonsense! Release the girl and let’s settle this.”

  “I can’t do that, she will make an excellent slave, especially when she gets older. You’ll know the taste of slaves, if you can ever manage to achieve that naive dream of yours, promised one.” The man guffawed.

  “I abhor slavery! As the promised one I will abolish it as soon as I accomplish my dream. No, I will complete that far before then. Once your people are sent packing and all my goals are complete I will become the Drawalda!”

  “Foolish boy who knows not of the real world, die with your dreams. Once you’re gone I’ll be free. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that beautiful young mother of yours.”

  The comment made his mind swirl with fury creating a gap in his defense and Tobain tossed Loo high into the air to take advantage of that misstep. A fall like that could kill, but he would have to deal with the bastard in front of him first. Artowen drew his sword, a double-edged blade with a small hand guard, as the traitor jumped from the branch, launching himself with ferocious speed. The putrid sensation touched Artowen’s neck, then poured through all the joints in his body.

  Artowen jumped in the air to meet his foe. The force of Tobain flying down combined with the guardian deity should have been too much for anyone to handle. But not for Artowen. Despite the elevation advantage, when sword met axe there was only a brief confrontation. In a flash Tobain’s axe haft had been sliced in two, the chainmail he wore doing nothing as blood spilled forth.

  Artowen landed behind Tobain, throwing his bloodied weapon to the side and sprinting in a frenzy to catch the falling Loo. He leapt with both hands open, barely managing to catch Loo before she was hurt from her fall.

  There was no need to check the status of the enemy, Tobain was dead before he landed.

  “Are you okay Loo? Did he hurt you?” After a moment his eyes turned dour. “Did he do anything to you?”

  She shook her head displaying a wide smile. “I’m fine. That was amazing Arty. Standing up to him, you were the perfect image of a golden grizzly!”

  His expression turned slightly bashful. “Don’t I usually look like a cub? I was going for something more intimidating.”

  “No that isn’t it. You were like the regal and glorious adult bear. Known for their majesty and honor.”

  Despite everything that had happened, he couldn’t help but smile.