Magistrate of the Dark Land

Part Eleven

by G. Lawrence

Owen and Jalana set out for the Arkland

This is a fantasy novel providing high adventure and romance, but there are no dragons or wizards. Though, as Owen has discovered, there does appear to be something unexplainable by known medical science. All characters are over 18 years old.

Recap; crippled at the Battle of Salisbury Cross, Owen was living quietly until he discovered a possible cure in the dreaded Arkland. On the eve of his departure, he has suddenly been reunited with Jalana.

* * * * * *

Chapter Twelve

FOR THE ARKLAND

I didn't pass out completely. Kaska caught me before I hit the floor and helped me to our table.

"I warned you," Kaska whispered, though I couldn't tell who he spoke to.

Suzie came up with a glass of water. Fuschia hovered nearby. Jalana took the chair next to me, holding my hand.

"What are you doing here?" I asked without the tenderness I hoped for.

"What better place than at your side looking for trouble?" she answered.

"Anyplace would be better. What of your obligations?"

"My sisters are returned to the forest. My obligations are met to all except he who gave me freedom."

"You owe me nothing for that, and you know why."

Fuschia herded everyone else away, even a few at the next table who were unable to mind their own business.

"I thought you would be happy to see me," Jalana said in disappointment. I clenched my fists and had trouble breathing. My heart was pounding.

"I had a dream," I said. "You were in the dream, and there was great danger. But I knew you were in the forest, so the dream could never come true."

"Is this dream the only reason you're unhappy to see me?"

"I'm not unhappy to see you. I'm afraid."

"Then nothing has changed," she said with a smile. "It's tradition to dance on First Eve. To honor the Savior. Will you dance with me?"

"It's not your tradition."

"No, but it's yours."

She helped me back to the dance floor. I noticed Kaska and Suzie breathe sighs of relief. Fuschia was holding Golan's hand and smiling. Jalana felt good in my arms.

"You look lovely in that evening dress. Giving up red leather?" I asked, noting the long gray low-cut gown she had acquired. The dress had no sleeves, showing off her graceful arms and forest tattoos. She had traded her trail boots for low heeled dancing shoes. Her delicate black headband held two white feathers.

"Red leather does not make a Farina, any more than a sword makes a warrior. I will return to the leather when we return to the forest," she said, resting her head on my shoulder during the slow part of the dance. She was quite a good dancer for a barbarian. I ignored her remark about returning to the forest. Such a future was too far away to worry about.

I woke up late the next morning with Jalana nestled next to me. My rooms were empty, Kaska and Suzie having found privacy elsewhere. I got up to warm tea over the fireplace.

"Are you ready to explain?" I asked, pouring us each a cup and crawling back into the warm bed. I wore my nightshirt, happy to have it cover my scars. Jalana wore nothing. The few scars she had were proudly displayed.

"I did not lie. When we parted on the dock, I thought never to return. All changed when we reached Arbor," Jalana explained.

"I don't see how much could have changed. At worst, Arbor is but three days downriver from Crowley."

"I was not happy, Owen. The wife of the dead Judge Potter saw my hurt and made me confess. She has the will of a queen and would not be denied. Yet my sisters needed return. We traveled on to Wheat Harbor, then up the Saber as you planned. All save Fuschia, who vowed a new life against my counsel. Once my sisters were home safe, I set out again. There were many adventures."

"You traveled alone?" I asked with displeasure, remembering her last journey.

"At first, but upon visiting the Burnt Leather, Amara gave me escort to the Mohana River. Just before reaching Falmouth Crossing, large males on fine horses demanded knowledge of my quest. There seemed no doubt they would ask an unacceptable price for passage through their land, but when I mentioned your name, these Vatar were transformed. Truly it was magic. Like brothers born they escorted me all the way to Wheat Harbor. The one called Grainger sends greetings. From there I took barge to Arbor. The Widow Potter was much pleased to see me but the weather was unkind. It took another quarter moon to reach Crowley."

"You take too many risks. What if something had happened?" I asked.

"Captain Toban offered men to travel at my side, but I did not think them needed. Slavers now find their trade dangerous in the south. Roads are guarded. Wagons searched. The docks are watched. Much has changed since you went to Kannae in search of my sisters."

"I'm glad to hear the municipalities have finally awoken," I said, relieved that my many dispatches had not gone unheeded. Much had I feared that my endless scribbling had been nothing but wasted ink and paper.

"May I assume you arrived yesterday morning?" I asked, the mystery of everyone's strange behavior finally explained. Jalana nodded and sipped her tea.

"I stayed with Fuschia so we could surprise you at the festival."

"You definitely surprised me. How is it you and Golan haven't killed each other?"

"He is now husband to the Red Leather. I can do nothing that will rob my sister of children. Though I want to," she answered with a sigh. "You make life complicated, beloved. Golan is brother to Kaska. Kaska is brother in blood to me for saving you. You are brother to the Red Leather for saving my sisters. Suzie is now sister to me because of you and Kaska. Life is simpler in the forest."

"I know what you mean. Hardly a year ago, I was but a humble hunter and sometime farmer minding my own business. All I cared for was enough beer to drink and a dry place to sleep. I miss those days."

"No, I don't think you do," Jalana disagreed, setting her tea aside. "I think you needed time to hide because your world was filled with pain, but your time of hiding has passed. Where you go, others will follow."

"The trail I follow is going to be dangerous."

"When do we leave for the Arkland?" Jalana asked.

"In a few days, if the weather holds."

"You will not talk me out of coming with you."

"I know."

"Good, I was afraid you would be stubborn," she said.

"Sometimes there's no point in being stubborn."

"But you're not displeased, are you? I can tell you are thinking of something," she correctly surmised. I don't know how she had learned to read me so well. I pulled her in my lap, kissing her as I'd longed to. I had no power to do more.

"You give me strength. I'm going to need it," I explained.

"I will ride with you. So will Rotanna and Kaska," she assured.

"We're not going to fret about that today. Find your red leather. I'm going to wear my black wool suit. Church services are at noon, then we'll lunch in the park, and tonight we exchange gifts. Wear your sword. I want everyone to know that a beautiful warrior walks at my side."

"I have no gift for you," she worried.

"If we can't find a gift, I'll let you kill an enemy for me."

"Thank you, Owen," she sighed.

* * * * * *

At the end of the Yule season, Suzie, Fuschia, and Golan booked passage for Arbor. I urged Kaska to go with them but he would have none of it. Even Golan and Fuschia appeared envious of my latest quest, but they had duties waiting. Golan carried my latest dispatches along with another suggestion that the town fathers find a replacement for me. He laughed, convinced my request would find little support.

A week later, four of us rode to Crowley's north bridge, our horses the best that could be found. Before we took our leave, I made a short speech to the hundred friends and colleagues who had come to see us off. Our destination was a poorly kept secret.

Fortunately, we were expertly arrayed. Our swords were sharp, the longbows made of strong yew, and the quivers filled with steel tipped arrows. We wore thick leather vests and long daggers. Two pack mules held our gear. Kaska, Jalana, and Rotanna looked like true warriors, and I could pass for one if it didn't involve walking or raising my arms. I purchased a stout oak staff before leaving, thinking it both a weapon and a crutch.

Our destination was Alcester and my appointment with Stolmeister. Though I had spent a good deal of time attempting to decipher the scroll, I'd only been able to pick out occasional words. The language was ancient, older than the Sacred Teachings, and involved heretofore unknown sacraments. I assumed them to be unholy spells and allusions to pagan magic. Complete nonsense. Nevertheless, the scroll was my admission to the Arkland.

It took two days to reach Rohan's Crossing, a village on the east bank of the Great River. It had the only ferry between Crowley and the South Fork large enough for wagons. The dirt highway was wide at this point, nothing but grain fields lying to our right, a steep river embankment on our left. When we sighted trouble, the women instantly hefted their spears.

"Fuschia and Obina will be jealous. Once again Owen has found us battle," Jalana said, reining in her black stallion.

"Never have I known a male so inclined to violence," Rotanna falsely exaggerated.

"We can always ride away," I suggested.

"Since when do you ride away from trouble?" Kaska asked.

"Not as often as I should, brother," I realized.

Before us, about a mile short of the village, four freight wagons were formed in a square, the defenders holding bows and spears. On a hill two hundred yards east of them we saw a dozen mounted soldiers armed with lances. The riders had no baggage train, and after a quick count, it looked to me as if the two sides were about equal in numbers. They seemed in a standoff, though I could not tell how long the confrontation had been taking place. No one was coming out of the village to help.

"What should we do?" Kaska asked, taking a longbow into his lap. He was a fair shot. Not so good as I, when healthy, but adequate.

"Put up your spears, ladies. We won't be charging on horseback today," I firmly decided. Whatever the problem was, I wasn't getting us killed on our second day out.

My horse was named Smitten, a larger than average chestnut mare gentle in her ways. I gave her a nudge forward. Jalana started to follow but Kaska held her back. Several swords coming forward at once would only escalate hostilities. One of the soldiers broke from their siege position, riding fast in my direction. I quickly recognized him.

"Magistrate, I need your help," Sir Philip of Roxbury pleaded. The man was gaunt, unshaven. I saw a yellow banner flying above his small battalion.

"You're far from home, sir," I said with much disapproval. It was one thing for a foreign power to demonstrate along our border, quite another to be attacking wagons in the heart of our kingdom.

"Rowena is kidnapped. Taken by your god-accursed slavers," he replied, a fist gripping his sword. I looked back over my shoulder and raised my hand so Kaska wouldn't shoot the man from his saddle.

"Is she in one of those wagons?" I asked.

"These are the ones we heard of. We've ridden hard. Followed them all the way from Danbury."

I wondered if Rowena had been kidnapped by the same freebooters who had stalked me from Kannae. They seemed to be operating freely in Baron Lackston's domain.

"Where are the rest of your men?" I inquired.

"My king would not allow more, fearing war with Duke Rykar. But there will be war if I don't find my daughter. I'll raise an army if I have to," he insisted.

"Calm down, sir. Let me see what can be done," I said, waving my group forward.

Jalana came first, riding fast and looking worried. She quickly recognized Sir Philip, as did Rotanna and Kaska. I indicated for everyone to stay quiet.

"Sir Philip, organize your command. Order your line with banners flying. Ladies, stay here on the road. Pretend no knowledge of our friends. I want the wagon drivers to think us neutral. Kaska, come with me," I ordered.

I sensed protest from all concerned, except Kaska, but would brook no disagreement. A direct assault would result in more blood than I cared to shed. Kaska and I rode forward, stopping a few yards from the wagon circle. There appeared to be sixteen teamsters in all, each armed but not with soldiery efficiency. I suspected they were frightened but determined not to surrender.

"My name is Owen Vander. Who is your captain?" I summoned. They stirred in confusion before one disheveled rogue came forward. We had met before.

"I'm not the captain," he quickly said, hands held open.

"You've come far from Arbor, Mister Pogg. Still driving wagons for Cyril Bekins?" I asked.

"You have a good memory for a bounty hunter," Pogg said.

"I have a good memory for outlaws. Are you still trading in stolen women?"

"You hang those who do," he said.

"Just as I'll hang you, if I get the chance," I honestly replied.

"We have more swords," Pogg threatened.

"The Lydians want their daughter back. I have business in the west. If you speak quickly enough, perhaps you'll avoid the noose. Give me grief, and I will set my women on you." I glanced back at Jalana and Rotanna. They straightened up in their stirrups, lances held ready.

"Two camp sluts?" Pogg dared to laugh.

"They are Farina," I said.

Pogg stopped laughing. I doubt he was afraid of two women, but Farina were said to travel in packs. I could tell he was wondering how many more might be in the area, and what his fate would be when they arrived. I noticed some of the teamsters whispering.

"It's the Magistrate," one said in a hushed tone.

"Who?" another voice asked.

"Owen Vander, you idiot. The one in the song," a third explained.

I could not help smiling at their consternation, thinking it good they knew nothing of the truth. I slowly drew Sir John's sword and laid it across my lap. Fortunately, the blade was not heavy.

"Bring your captain forward," I demanded.

Another man crawled over the wagon tongue, a wary look in his eyes. Kaska nocked an arrow should he need it.

"Cyril Bekins, late of his majesty's service. Once a member of the King's Companions," he said, holding a spear.

"You've come down in the world, sir," I said, having heard stories of the elite guards.

"Perhaps, I but don't intend to go down further. Not today," he said. He glanced over at Sir Philip's men, not liking what he saw.

"It need not come to that. Let me hang Mister Pogg and the rest of you can go free," I offered. Bekins looked at his driver in contemplation. Pogg backed away ready to draw his sword.

"No, sir. Don't even think it," Pogg begged.

I laughed and gave Kaska a nudge. Kaska laughed, too. Both villains were unnerved by our cavalier attitude and stared down the road, now convinced we had a larger force coming up.

"I grow weary, Mister Bekins. Tell me straight, do you wish battle with the Yellow Banner? Or would you prefer the ministrations of my Farina?" I asked.

"What do you offer?" Bekins asked.

I slowly dismounted, glad to make the effort without seeming weak, and walked to the edge of their camp.

"Put aside your weapons. Stand in the middle where my deputy can keep watch while I inspect your wagons," I instructed.

They did as they were told. Kaska rode his horse in close, studying the rogues for treachery. One man against so many would not prevail, but his confidence was sufficient to keep the villains cautious.

The first wagon held sacks of grain and canvas for making tents. Stamping on the sacks indicated they had come up from Freehold, probably through Barlington. I found six women in the second wagon, all in their late teens and early twenties. Bound but not abused. The third wagon held five more. The last wagon contained several heavy chests of brass trinkets, small silver bells, pewter dinnerware, and a box of old books. Books that might be of interest to Stolmeister. I did not find Rowena.

"You had a girl. Eighteen with long blonde hair. The daughter of a knight. Where is she?" I asked, standing before Bekins.

Bekins and Pogg exchanged guilty looks but offered no clues.

"You will answer or die," I said.

"You are within our power, Magistrate. A hostage to our will. You should not be so bold with your threats," Bekins answered.

"Perhaps it's you who will die?" Pogg added.

Pogg suddenly grunted as a blade burst from his chest. Blood spurted from his mouth and he sank to his knees. The entire group turned to find Jalana and Rotanna standing behind them. Rotanna pulled her sword from Pogg's body and wiped it on her skirt, her eyes daring anyone to face her. I realized they must have dropped over the steep embankment, come up along the river, and emerged among the wagons without anyone ever noticing.

"I'm sorry, Mister Bekins, my women grow impatient. As do I," I said, startled but determined not to show it.

"May we have our lives? Our liberty?" Bekins asked more contritely.

"Speak and I will consider mercy," I granted.

"The girl you speak of was given to us at Drew. We did not kidnap her, we only agreed to transport her to Alcester. We did not touch her on pain of death," he explained. "Her buyer met us on the road yesterday morning and took her north."

"A man with an eye-patch?"

"Yes, sir. These wagons bear his goods," he explained.

"What do you think, Magistrate?" Kaska asked.

"I think we've become teamsters, my good friend," I said. "Mister Bekins, you and your men may take the road to Kannae. You will be walking. There you will inform the town fathers that their day of judgment approaches."

"What about our goods? Not all belong to our employer," he objected.

"Go now and you will not be harmed," I urged, sincerely ready to end the situation more violently.

"Owen, you promised to let me kill an enemy," Jalana interrupted.

"That's true, war captain. Are you my enemy, Mister Bekins?"

"No, sir. Your message will be delivered," he promised.

Bekins grabbed a bedroll from the first wagon and hustled for the north trail followed by his crew. I momentarily considered letting Sir Philip ride them down but decided against it. We had more important obligations.

While Kaska and Rotanna freed the women prisoners, I summoned Sir Philip and his men, making camp for the night. While they laid out their blankets, I took the Yellow Banner leader aside, sitting on a log overlooking the river. A leafy tree provided shade from the late afternoon sun.

"You let them go," Sir Philip said. "They had Rowena. I know they did. We can torture the information from them."

I drew out a flask of rye whiskey kept hidden from Rotanna, took a sip, and passed the bottle over. He took a tentative taste.

"Is your daughter a virgin?" I suddenly inquired.

"Sir, in what spirit may such a question be asked?" he angrily said.

"In a spirit of great sadness, I assure you."

"Is she dead?"

"No, I believe she lives."

"You know where she is? They told you?"

"They didn't need to tell me, and I doubt they know. They are but conveyers of someone else's product. We may find her in Alcester, though I don't wish to give too much hope. Have you ever heard of the Arkland?"

"I've heard myths of your Arkland."

I took a full swig of the whiskey, almost choking. Sir Philip waited nervously.

"Your daughter has been kidnapped by a slaver who specializes in virgins. He sells them in the Arkland. To whom, and for what purpose, cannot yet be known. I have reason to suspect it's not the ordinary perversion one would expect."

"Is this where you travel now? To find those girls you spoke of?"

I nodded, still not optimistic about my chances.

"Then we will come with you," he stated.

"The secrets of the Arkland are said to be guarded by fanatical warrior priests. Too large a group would alert our enemies."

"And too small a group makes you vulnerable to them," he insisted. "Don't try to dissuade me."

"Let it be as you say, but take care, sir. We venture to a dark and terrible place from which few return."

"I will travel to hell itself to save my daughter," he said. I took another sip of the whiskey and let Sir Philip have one more gulp.

"Please don't mention the whiskey to the girls. I'm in trouble enough already," I requested, putting the flask back in my jacket.

We rode into Rohan's Crossing the next morning. The wagon carrying Stolmeister's goods came with us driven by several of Sir Philip's men. They were not wearing uniforms or carrying the colors of Lydia, for I wanted no part of a foreign invasion. The other three wagons were sent back to Crowley with the rescued women under the protection of the Yellow Banner. Pogg's naked body was left hanging from a tree with my brand on it.

Having fought together at Trodden, there was an easy familiarity within our group. Sir Philip's spirits were much improved, my knowledge of events giving him a false confidence of success. Jalana rode proudly at my side, convinced that I had once again defeated slavers and freed innocent women by some overwhelming force of character. I had done no such thing, or course, merely read the fear in the slavers' faces and used it to my advantage. Rotanna rode at the rear of our march, somber as usual.

A small castle once guarded the crossing but had long since fallen into ruin. Now the village's only protection was a rough stone wall and a shallow moat that was mostly swamp. The citizens watched our approach. They could not deter an attack by determined enemies, but there seemed little in the village worth plundering. The buildings were badly kept and the church in need of repair. Portions of the road that had once been paved were now mud. Such was becoming common in the north, the people poorly served by their nobility.

"We seek no trouble, merely transport across the river," I firmly explained.

"You reclaimed those women from the slavers," an old farmer said, boldly coming forward as we paused before their pathetic wooden gate. What had once been a drawbridge was now just a collection of thick oak planks. There was but one watchtower, and that so weakly made that a single shot from a catapult would knock it down.

"They are sent to Crowley for safety, then home to their families," I said, letting them know we weren't merely stealing women for our own profit. The two young guards at the gate hesitated. Jalana grew impatient.

"Listen well, village dwellers. This is Owen Vander, the Magistrate. We ride that your land may know justice. Prepare your raft so we might cross the river," she demanded.

The gate was instantly swung open, the people gathering. The village priest came forward, kneeling in the late winter grass.

"Are you truly the Magistrate?" he asked, the accent educated.

"I am Magistrate of Ravenshire," I replied.

"You ride for Alcester and the Arkland," the priest said. He wasn't asking. He already knew my destination.

"Has my fame preceded me?" I asked in jest.

The villagers weren't laughing. An old hag ran back to the dilapidated church, disappeared inside for the briefest moment, and returned with a rolled parchment. She gave it to the priest.

"We have missing women, all taken in the last few weeks. We beg your help, Magistrate," he said, offering the scroll.

"In what manner do you deserve my help?" I asked in anger. "I have no doubt you would have allowed Bekins' wagons through without question, as you've allowed many others. How much misery have you visited on families in the south? Am I to feel sorry for you now that your chickens have come home to roost?"

The villagers dropped to their knees in shame, for they knew my words were true. The women began crying. The men lowered their eyes. I was tempted to take the list and tear it in half. Jalana leaped from her horse to stand by the priest.

"Magistrate, I beg you have mercy on these city folk," she said, much to my astonishment. Her shining black eyes stared at me in genuine petition. Rotanna dismounted and came to Jalana's side.

"I, too, request mercy for them," Rotanna said.

In truth, I nearly fell off my horse, for the First Sword seemed just as sincere. I could believe Jalana was playing a role, but not Rotanna. She was no actress.

"Let me see your list," I grumpily said, reaching out.

The priest jumped to his feet and handed me the scroll. It contained three names and detailed descriptions. It had been prepared by someone experienced in law.

"We will seek your lost ones," I agreed. "Now help us get this wagon across the river. And expect no payment."

The villagers of Rohan's Crossing rushed to do my bidding, dropping the ramp to their flatboat and securing the wagon with ropes. Even though the barge was wide with high sides for rough weather, it still took three trips to get our horses and supplies to the west bank. After a quick breakfast, we were on the road to Alcester.

"What was that all about?" I asked, Jalana riding on my right, Rotanna on the left.

"They are but simple folk, Owen, without warriors to protect them. To stop the wagons would cost them their homes and families," Jalana said.

"Since when do Farina accept cowardly excuses? Do you now plead mercy for males without honor?" I asked.

Riding close behind us, Kaska moved up to hear more of the conversation. I could tell he was curious.

"I have discovered much since leaving the forest, most deeply that we of the Farina have much to learn of the larger world," Jalana said. "At our table in Arbor, you once said that villains are thwarted when communities unite. When we lend aid to strangers, and they in turn lend aid to others, all are made strong. This land needs such strength. Now that you have offered help, the town must accept their obligation or risk your wrath."

"Spoken as a leader born, my war captain. And what of you, First Sword? Why do you beg mercy for cowardly males?" I asked, hoping to provoke her. She smiled at me as one would indulge a child.

"War comes to this land. The villagers watch a vital river crossing. It is better they be friends than enemies," Rotanna easily explained.

"You think yourself a better strategist than I?"

"I saw your charge at Salisbury Cross, Owen. A girl-child is a better strategist than you," she said with a smug grin.

Rotanna gave her horse a kick and moved to the head of our column, riding next to Sir Philip. Kaska rode up to take her place.

"Pay no attention, brother. She's jealous that no one has written a song about her," Kaska said.

* * * * * *

We made camp near a small creek before sunset, stopping early to find a defensible site. Driving the wagon over the muddy road was difficult and the weather cold. I thought it best not to press our luck. After pitching tents and making a pleasant meal, I called a meeting. The eleven of us sat around the campfire sharing wine found in the teamster's wagon.

"I have thought hard on something Rotanna said today," I began. "I'm not without wits, but I'm no strategist, either."

"She was but jesting with you, Owen," Jalana said.

"No, she wasn't," I disagreed. "The villagers at Rohan knew of our quest. They know something of the Arkland. They even suspect their lost children might be found there. Stolmeister passed through here two days ago, probably with Rowena. I put it to you, brothers and sisters, what do you think this means?"

I quickly perceived it a good question, making me feel less foolish. Each sat in thought. Kaska started to speak but changed his mind. Sir Philip knew little of our one-eyed enemy and withheld judgment. Jalana may have had a suspicion, but she also knew nothing of Stolmeister. I turned to Rotanna.

"He sets a trap," Rotanna said.

"That's not impossible, but why?" I asked.

"You thought to kill him before reaching the Arkland. Perhaps he plans to slay you first?" Rotanna suggested.

"He could have assassinated me in Crowley."

"But not stolen the scrap of paper," Rotanna pointed out.

"Scrap of paper?" Sir Philip asked.

I told him of George Manners, the stolen books, and my suspicions regarding the forbidden incantations being acquired by the Arkland cults. He had no more belief in black magic than I, but that didn't mean the kidnappers shared our skepticism. I did not speak of Stolmeister's miraculous cure for I had no wish to be thought mad.

"This villain doesn't know we travel together. Perhaps we should enter the city separately?" one of Sir Philip's men suggested.

"The women can pretend to be our slaves," another said.

The second idea didn't go over well with the Farina, who put angry hands to their daggers.

"It would fool no one. All know I travel with fierce forest women. Especially Stolmeister," I quickly said.

"Perhaps it is you who should be the slave?" Rotanna growled.

The soldier smiled. I think he found Rotanna attractive.

"Dividing into two groups would keep our enemies guessing," Kaska said. "Sir Philip can enter looking for Rowena. We go in with the wagon looking for Stolmeister. None need know we work together."

"We will use the silent words of the forest. In this way we may speak in secret," Jalana recommended.

"The One-Eye will seek to kill Magistrate and steal the scrap of paper," Rotanna said. "If all else goes asunder, the One-Eye must die. I would have the honor."

"Owen promised me first," Jalana protested.

"He promised only to let you kill an enemy. He has many enemies that need killing. I wish to have the One-Eye's blood on my blade," Rotanna insisted.

"You can both kill him for all I care, but not until we know the path to our destination. Let's not forget that we need him, just as he needs the scroll," I reminded them.

"Sir Philip, what if we find Rowena in Alcester? Will you return home?" Kaska asked. It was a good question.

"If we find my daughter, my men will take her back to Lydia. I will go on with Magistrate. I'm beginning to think the plots of these mountain priests reach beyond Northwaye," he said.

By mid-afternoon of the next day we were on the outskirts of Alcester. As the stronghold of Baron Dudley of March, it was well fortified. The town is enclosed by a high wall with crenellated towers every thirty yards. Dudley Castle lies in the northeast corner perched on a steep hill. The Cicely Road runs west through town toward Earl William's castle of Kendall sixty miles away, much of the road hugging the Arkland foothills.

Of all the northern barons, I think Dudley had the most difficult situation. The pasture lands between Alcester and Quarterstone were sought after by his grasping neighbors, most particularly Earl William, Baron Lackston, and Lord Kirkon. Had Dudley not enjoyed the protection of Duke Rykar, his lands would have been divided long ago. But Rykar's help came at a price. Dudley's ally by tradition and marriage was Baron Yarmouth of Youngstown, who claimed the Low Greens, but now Duke Rykar wished the Low Greens for himself. Yarmouth claimed protection of Earl William, Rykar's enemy. Thus Dudley was in danger of losing a valuable friend.

Between the quarreling peers lay Two Bridges, the post assigned to the Black Axe. The town wasn't large, but controlled access over two major rivers, Duke Rykar to the east and Earl William to the west. I asked Kaska if he'd like to rejoin Thory. Kaska said he'd rather stick his head in a hornet's nest.

How all of this would affect our quest was unclear. I did not expect trouble in Alcester, but it encouraged me to know that Dudley could ill afford a quarrel with Arbor, who was kin to Piedmont and Brookshire. Piedmont was but three days march from Alcester. The last thing Dudley needed was more enemies.

We split up a mile from town, Sir Philip taking his half dozen soldiers forward while we followed in the lumbering wagon. The weather was cloudy with occasional gusts of freezing wind, causing all to bundle up. Kaska drove the wagon while I sat in the brake seat, our horses and mules following. Jalana and Rotanna rode out in front watching for trouble. We passed a number of hovels and two fine estates before finally reaching the east gate. I was looking forward to a hot bath and warm bed.

"Cargo?" a helmeted guard asked when Kaska pulled the wagon to a stop. He was about Kaska's age, dressed in chainmail. Another guard stood a few paces back armed with a halberd. Above us on the catwalk, two more guards watched holding crossbows.

"Trade goods," I said.

"Are there any women hidden in your wagon?" he asked.

"No, sir. No hidden women," I replied.

"There better not be," the guard said, motioning for our wagon to be searched.

Jalana and Rotanna exchanged a glance of curiosity. The inspection only took a moment.

"These women, do they travel with you of their own free will?" the guard asked.

Jalana raised a spear, frowning with insult. Rotanna put a hand on her sword as if ready to draw. The guard took a step back in surprise before waving us through the gate.

"If you need rooms, the Freemont is clean and cheap. You may say Joshua sent you," the young sentry said. This was not an uncommon practice, such recommendations usually resulted in compensation for the guards.

"Excuse me, youngster, may I ask a question?" I inquired, leaning forward against a gust of wind. The guard looked annoyed, anxious to find the warmth of his gatehouse.

"If it's quick," he said.

"In what manner is such care taken for women travelers?" I wanted to know.

"There is evil afoot, sir. A dozen women have been taken since the Yule season. We know naught of what it means, but Baron Dudley has ordered a stop to it. If you have information, report to the hall of justice. Rewards are offered."

With that the guards returned to their coal burner and shut the door. Kaska got the wagon moving again, and with the help of a friendly local, we found the Freemont, a suitable merchant's inn on Low Street not far from the town plaza. I noticed Sir Philip standing across the street at Palmer House where he could keep watch on us. Kaska stabled our animals in the back while I went inside with Jalana and Rotanna, immensely glad to be out of the cold.

"Doing good business?" I asked.

"Not bad. Might be better soon. Or worse," the inn keeper said, an older man with the look of a retired soldier. His wife glanced up from the kitchen where she was washing dishes, curious to see women so heavily armed.

"Trade?" I inquired.

"War," he answered.

We requested one of the better rooms on the second floor with a view of the street. I washed up and took a short nap. Kaska joined us with many questions.

"The town is rife with rumor," Kaska reported. "They say a small army is camped at Quarterstone under the command of Duke Rykar, but none know who he plans to attack. If anyone."

"Rohan's Crossing isn't the only town with missing family. There seems to be a surge of missing women," I mentioned.

"This cannot be a coincidence," Kaska said.

"No," I agreed, looking out the window.

I dwelled on events of the last year. The kidnappings. The forbidden books. Stolmeister's miraculous cure. The increased strain between the nobles. I was forced to wonder if it was all part of a grand scheme. If so, what possible purpose could such a conspiracy have? I decided to keep the suspicions to myself until I knew more.

We went downstairs to the tavern for dinner, paying extra for a place by the fire. Alcester is cattle country, so we ate large steaks with hearty cups of amber beer. Jalana and Rotanna spoke at length on the city's defenses. Kaska mentioned that tensions were running higher than when the Black Axe rode through the previous summer. I said little, preoccupied with dark thoughts. We were ordering berry pie for dessert when a lean man wearing an eye-patch entered through the front door.

Stolmeister paused to study the room, quickly locating our table. Eight henchmen followed, weapons concealed under their long woolen cloaks. I didn't see Sir Philip and wondered if he would set upon the villain on sight or have the patience to see the game out. I didn't know enough of the Lydian soldier's personality to make a guess.

"Hello, Mister Stolmeister. Will you join us?" I invited.

The henchmen formed a group at the bar watching from twenty feet away as Stolmeister took a seat. He appeared confident. Perhaps he had hired better help this time.

"Good evening, Owen. And greetings to your Farina. Rotanna, First Sword of the Red Leather, and Jalana, a forest war captain. And Kaska of the Black Axe. I find myself in noble company," Stolmeister said, filling his goblet from our pitcher. His grip on the handle was steady, his hands strong.

"You are well informed, sir," I congratulated.

"It isn't hard, Owen. I read your damn book," he said, slamming a copy of Suzie's pamphlet on the table. The pages had been well turned.

"I see your interests have gone from the occult to fantasy," I remarked, pushing the book back at him.

"Do you have my scroll?" he asked.

"In a safe place," I assured him.

"I will give you a last chance to sell it," he offered.

"I already have a wagon in the stable filled with your property."

"And I have a barn in the countryside filled with goods you want. And if not you, certainly Sir Philip of Roxbury will be interested."

"What do you propose to trade?" I asked.

"Two score of missing women for the scroll, and we part as friends," he said, smiling in an odd manner. I could not tell if he was really negotiating. Jalana started to speak, then Kaska. I raised my hand to keep them quiet. Rotanna watched.

"You know what I really want," I said, reminding him of my earlier proposal. I still did not wish to end my life as a cripple if it was avoidable.

"Who else knows?" he asked, looking at my companions. They appeared surprised, for I had not shared my knowledge of the villain's cure. Stolmeister had no trouble deciphering their mystified expressions.

"If we go, you and I travel alone," Stolmeister said.

"No. I'll not have Owen abandoned to the mercy of a jackal," Jalana interrupted.

"You know nothing of my character, girl," Stolmeister dismissed.

"I know of your profession. Would you like to learn more of mine?" Jalana questioned, rising from her chair.

"My, my, what a temper your Jalana has. Is she this passionate in the furs?" Stolmeister inquired, smiling as he ran his eyes over her.

"How would I know? I'm not so virile as you," I said, tingeing my voice with bitterness. "I'll swap the wagon for your hostages, then we can proceed to our destination. As friends."

"I would like to see the scroll," he requested.

"Not until our other business is satisfied," I denied.

His cup was nearly empty. I refilled it, the pitcher heavy enough to make my arm shake. Kaska reached to help.

"They say you are fond of the Sabbath. We will speak again on the second holy day. Have my goods ready to move," Stolmeister said, draining his cup and walking away. I envied his smooth movement. The henchmen followed him out the door into the frosty night.

"I don't like him," Kaska was first to say.

"Owen, you are not going anywhere with that foul crow. He has murder in his heart," Jalana said.

"So do I," I answered. "What do you think, Rotanna?"

"He is male, but not stupid. Much was unsaid here tonight. By the villain, and by you," she said. "It would help if we knew all."

"I'm not sure if it would help, and even I don't know all. Not yet," I said, hoping to avoid a more specific answer.

"We need to make the trade. The women must be free of his slavery," Jalana said.

"And we must tell Sir Philip as soon as possible," Kaska added.

"Take him aside quietly, we still don't know where Rowena is," I agreed.

We had two days to wait until the Sabbath, which I expected to pass quietly. I could not have been more wrong. Needing more information, I went down to the courthouse the next morning with Kaska, leaving Jalana and Rotanna to guard our property. I did not feel comfortable carrying the scroll with me about town. The latest rumors from Quarterstone were worrisome, and as some had said, could very well lead to war between the barons.

Alcester has much in common with Arbor, lying at a crossroads and busy with local trade. The population of four thousand was mildly prosperous, the county government more honest than most. The constable's office was on the ground floor near the front door, which I considered good should a hasty retreat prove necessary. There were no recent postings on the bulletin board.

"Excuse me, sir. We are strangers from the south. Might there be a gazette or newsletter available?" I asked at the desk.

A town clerk held the duty, a man about my age with several old battle scars. A youngster armed with a halberd stood at the bottom of a wide staircase, another outside the courtroom doors.

"No gazette this week. New bulletin tomorrow. Maybe," the clerk said. He was writing something, possibly the new bulletin.

"Might we gather some news? We seek missing persons who may be in the area," I said.

He looked up at me, initially ready to give a quick dismissal, but then he hesitated. I didn't like the sudden glint in his eyes.

"Wait just a moment, sir," the clerk said, jumping from his desk and disappearing into a rear hallway. The two young guards moved forward, trying to be subtle. I put a hand on my sword and instinctively took a step toward the door. Kaska seemed unperturbed.

"This way, sir," the clerk said, waving us forward.

"You seem busy. We'll inquire again later," I said.

"No, no, you must come. Please, sir," the clerk insisted.

The two guards reacted, one going to block the exit, the other coming close. Kaska gripped the hilt of his sword in alarm but did not draw it. Two more guards came running down the stairs.

"What's wrong, Magistrate? What is this?" Kaska whispered.

I did not think it wise he had called me magistrate, for all were able to hear. Yet the clerk showed no surprise.

"Good sirs, please, Sir Geoffrey requests a meeting," the clerk respectfully said.

A tall, distinguished man with searching blue eyes appeared behind the clerk. His hair was brown tending towards gray. His salt and pepper beard well-trimmed. I guessed him at fifty years. He wore an olive-green uniform with a single decoration. I recognized the award, a medal of valor from the days of King Tarten.

"Owen Vander? I'm Sir Geoffrey Connors, Sheriff of March County. Welcome," he said, coming forward to shake hands.

We followed him down the hall into his pine paneled office, taking seats in sturdy maple wood chairs. He offered us a choice of wheat beer or watered wine, it being early in the day. We chose the beer. Several banners hung on the walls, a green flag with a gold crown having a place of honor. I didn't know enough about the northern battalions to recognize the regiment.

"You seem surprised, sir. I am not. Word of your journey came to us several days ago," Sir Geoffrey explained, seemingly anxious to make me comfortable.

"I'm surprised by your reception, Sir Geoffrey. Kannae was not so hospitable, nor have I heard of generous opinions among the northern barons."

"Indeed, Lord Kirkon considers you a prickly nuisance. You've embarrassed him by exposing his corrupt officials," Sir Geoffrey confirmed. "But Alcester is not Kannae, and Lord Kirkon is my liege lord's most bitter enemy. Therefore, you are our dearest friend." He smiled and made sure my cup was full. A loaf of fresh cornbread and goat cheese appeared.

"We seek missing women," I said, reserving opinion on the doings of the nobility. Involving myself in affairs of state was well beyond my place.

"We've been intercepting wagons all winter. Freed fourteen unfortunates. Alcester held no traffic with slavers even before you began your crusade, though this recent surge of outrages has caused us to grow more vigilant. Baron Dudley is a man of high honor. He'll be anxious to meet you upon returning from Quarterstone."

"It would be my honor, though I have pressing business in the west," I graciously answered.

"The crisis seems to be abating, though our new challenge grows more difficult," Sir Geoffrey said. "I take it you haven't heard?"

"We've heard something is afoot," I said, declining to reveal my ignorance.

"The south isn't the only region to suffer from slavers. Gold has been flowing like a spring river, and not all of it is Kirkon's doing. The barons have gathered at Quarterstone intending to stop these despicable practices, though from what I've seen, most of the kidnappings seem to have ceased. Many blame the barons, others fault the lack of law. All wish to see order restored to the kingdom. Three days ago, word came that Duke Rykar is seeking to take the throne."

"That is indeed important news," I agreed. "What support has his claim received?"

"I'll know more when Baron Dudley returns. He sits in council as we speak."

"The kingdom needs order, though I fear the southern shires may not show enthusiasm for the Duke's ambition," I dared to suggest. Sir Geoffrey nodded, seeming to have doubts of his own.

"And where would you stand?" he boldly asked.

"Who would care?" I said in surprise.

"Who? For God's Sake, man. You are Magistrate of Ravenshire, kin to Piedmont, Brookshire and Rhysem. You were Magistrate of Arthur County and sat the bench in Crowley. You've fought marauders from Wheat Harbor to Kannae. There's even a story that King Jared of Lydia looks favorably on you. If Lord Hastings calls on Ravenshire to rise against the duke's claim, he could not do it without your support."

"I think you overstate my influence, sir. Magistrates are officers of the court, not politicians," I said in protest, for everything he said was utter nonsense. Kaska nodded that he agreed with Sir Geoffrey, but Kaska was but a young fool from the ocean kingdoms, unaware of Northwaye's traditions.

"That may be, but Baron Dudley won't dare oppose Rykar without help from the south. I know of no one in Ravenshire with more influence than you," Sir Geoffrey declared.

I didn't see how this could be true, having no rank or military standing, but decided not to argue the point. Sometimes the illusion of power can have its uses.

"I'm glad you've stopped this plague of kidnappings. I have a list of women from Rohan's Crossing that need help. As for the rest, all will come in God's good time," I concluded, getting to my feet.

"Magistrate, that song they sing. How much of it is true?" Sir Geoffrey naïvely asked.

"None of it," I quickly said.

"All of it," Kaska disagreed.

"Kaska seeks to tease me," I corrected.

"Sir Geoffrey, I was there. I saw Magistrate charge into those marauders on that noble steed, sword in hand, calling down God's judgment on their evil souls. By the brotherhood of the Black Axe, I swear it," Kaska insisted.

"By what brotherhood?" Sir Geoffrey asked.

"The Black Axe," Kaska proudly said.

"Son, I think we have some of your fellows in our jail. Would you care to see them?" Sir Geoffrey said. He didn't seem angry or upset with Kaska, merely letting him know of a regrettable situation.

"Yes, sir. Yes, I would appreciate that," Kaska respectfully said.

We followed Sir Geoffrey toward the back of the building, through the guardroom, and into a prison block where the doors were made of iron bars. Four prisoners sat in the farthest cell. One of them was Thory.

"Brothers, what has happened?" asked Kaska.

"Kaska?" Thory said, standing slowly.

The man was a wreck. He'd lost weight, the eyes were shrunken, and his shaggy beard unkempt. With him were Bruner, Denar, and Charnon. The younger men were faring better, looking impatient rather than gaunt. Their clothes needed washing.

"Are the charges serious?" I asked Sir Geoffrey, hoping they had not fallen into bad habits.

"They started a tavern brawl that spilled into the street. Three silvers worth of damage. Their case hasn't been called yet, nor have they apologized for the disturbance," Sir Geoffrey said.

"May I speak with them?" I requested.

"Certainly. You may stand their bail if you wish. Arbor's magistrate will discover he has friends in Alcester if he wants them," Sir Geoffrey replied, making his point clear. Baron Dudley desperately wanted help from Lord Hastings and Sir Geoffrey thought I could provide it. He withdrew to his office, giving us privacy.

"What's this about a fight?" I asked, finding Kaska whispering to his comrades.

"It was no tavern brawl," Kaska said. "They came looking for a kidnapped woman and caught up with several of the slavers."

"For God's sake, Owen, it's true. I beg your help," Thory said with a whimper.

"Since when do you free kidnapped women? Is there a horse involved?" I asked.

"I earned that, God forgive me," Thory said, putting his hands over his face. I think the man was crying. Without doubt he was stressed to the breaking point. Charnon came forward.

"Hello, Owen. Perhaps you will show gratitude for the protection I gave you from Golan. Perhaps not. Maybe it's not deserved," he said. "We left Two Bridges, for the country was not to our liking, and lingered in Quarterstone while seeking new service. Thory fell in love with a young lass named Rachel. We all laughed, the old grizzly bear and the young fawn, but her gentle manners won us over."

"Rachel is Sir Anthony Scott's daughter, a lady of good breeding," Denar added.

"And unspoiled, even by Thory. Her father saw to that," Bruner said.

"She was taken some seven days ago, carried off in the dark of night," Thory said. "We followed her to this godforsaken town where Bruner saw one of the kidnappers. A fight broke out. The villains escaped while we are left to rot."

"Was their leader a man with an eye-patch?" I asked.

"How did you know?" Charnon said.

"I know too many things. If you have possessions, gather them. I'll have you released into my custody. If you promise to mind my word," I offered.

"I am your servant, sir, if you will help me find my Rachel," Thory begged.

"Thory, you insult Owen by even asking such a question," Kaska shouted.

"I know. I know, I'm sorry," Thory apologized.

"Calm yourself. Where is the rest of your company?" I inquired.

They looked off in different directions, the expressions embarrassed. Bruner scratched at the floor with his boot.

"Not everybody thought helping Thory in his quest worthwhile. Pinet now commands what is left of the Black Axe," Bruner finally said.

"Much of the brotherhood has dispersed," Charnon added.

"Perhaps we can discover work for you in the south, if you find it possible to obey the law," I suggested.

With their fines paid and weapons restored, we started walking back to the Freemont. Only then did it occur to me that Jalana may not be happy to see Thory again. Unlike Golan, there was no marriage bond to prevent her from cutting his throat. I was still wondering how to deal with the predicament when Jalana and Rotanna appeared on the street before us. She and Thory saw each other before I thought to intervene. Jalana drew her sword.

"Long have I awaited this day," she said, brow furrowed.

I tried to run between them, but my crippled legs were too slow. Rotanna soon blocked my interference. I saw Thory wave Kaska back before approaching Jalana alone. He did not draw his sword.

"Red Leather looks good on you, little bird," Thory said.

"Think not to save your life with words, Axe scum. By the Dread Goddess I have sworn vengeance upon you," Jalana said, closing within a few feet.

Thory still made no effort to arm himself. Instead, he dropped to his knees.

"I will not beg for my life. Your Dread Goddess has taken heavy vengeance on me already, and it is her mercy I beg," Thory said, tears creeping into his eyes. "My love is taken. The wrongs I did you are now visited upon an innocent young girl. Her only crime was loving me. I beg your Dread Goddess to restore her freedom and accept my life in return."

"You know naught of what you speak, male. Draw your sword," Jalana said, standing over him with blade ready.

In answer, Thory drew his dagger and laid it at her feet. Then he sat back on his heels. I struggled against Rotanna's hold and even considered punching her. Rotanna shoved me back toward Kaska who took hold of my arms.

"It's between them, Owen. It can end no other way," Kaska whispered.

"No, it doesn't have to end like this. Not in blood," I protested.

"You may not forbid me to slay him. Not this one," Jalana said, putting her blade to Thory's throat. Thory did not flinch. He was a far braver man than I could ever be.

"Her name is Rachel. Owen promised to search for her. Do not let him forget," Thory said.

"Fight back, male. Stand up and accept blood challenge. Fight, damn your soul," Jalana demanded.

She slapped him across the face with the back of her hand. When he didn't react, she kicked him in the groin. Thory buckled over groaning. Due to a lack of food and sleep, he wasn't in the best condition. Jalana kicked him in the belly and put her foot on his throat as he lay in the frost-covered street, the sword pressed against his cheek.

"This is your last chance. Fight or die," Jalana pressed.

Thory had both hands clutched over his injured area. I could not tell if the pain was truly great or if he was preventing her from carving up the part she resented most.

"The man will not fight you, sister. Kill him and be done with it," Rotanna said so casually she could have been discussing the weather.

"I will make him suffer first," Jalana promised.

"As I made Owen suffer?" Rotanna asked.

Jalana's head whipped around, her hair flaying out. By now a dozen people were watching the confrontation, though none dare interfere. More were emerging from the nearby shops, for it was not an event one sees every day.

"It's not the same. Owen did you no wrong," Jalana said.

"You speak truth. Perhaps Owen should demand my blood, for I left him a cripple while this stupid male did but wound your pride. What say you, Magistrate? Shall all be kept equal?" Rotanna said, drawing her dagger and offering it to me.

"I have no patience for Farina games," I grouched, breaking Kaska's grip. "Go ahead and kill him if you want. Then find your horse and go home."

I walked past Jalana and Thory for the Freemont looking forward to a warm fire and a cup of hot soup.

"Owen, wait," Jalana said, catching up to me.

"What do you want, war captain?" I asked.

"You know what he did. You know my honor demands vengeance."

"You stuck a knife in him, as I recall. He would already be dead if not for my mother's medicines. If you wish to take back that which I gave him, follow your conscience, but don't seek my approval. Dozens of women are missing, Stolmeister is deep in plots, and my kingdom may soon be at war. I have no energy left for your private quarrels."

"There may be a compromise," Rotanna said, taking my elbow so I wouldn't slip on the slick street. The wind gusted up, causing us to pull our cloaks tighter. "Jalana still owes you a gift."

"A gift?" I asked, not following her thought.

"My gift to you is to kill an enemy," Jalana said.

"Thory is not my enemy," I told her.

"No, but he is my enemy. Rotanna is wise. Let me offer a different gift. For you, I will let an enemy live," she offered, looking up hopefully.

"Would you make so great a sacrifice?" I asked in surprise. Jalana turned back toward Thory and put away her sword.

"I forgo vengeance, male, however much it is deserved. But know well that the Dread Goddess would never bring harm to one of her own merely to punish low filth such as you," Jalana said, pointing her finger at him. "We are here to rescue innocents, even those without bond of clan. Do not offer insult again."

"By my oath," Thory promised, still finding it hard to breathe.

Jalana was not impressed, but her word was given. She joined Rotanna and I as we walked to the inn.

"Why did you not wish me to slay him, cousin? Was he not deserving?" Jalana asked.

"He is male and stupid, but said to be a good warrior," Rotanna answered. "To defeat the One-Eye, we will need every sword we can find."

* * * * * *

On the morning of the second Sabbath, I attended a sunrise service anticipating a busy day. My army now consisted of seven Lydians, five Black Axe and two Farina. Most of the day before had been spent writing dispatches for Arbor, Crowley, Barlington, and even Wheat Harbor, apprising them of Duke Rykar's ambitions and Sir Geoffrey's help in opposing the slave trade. I did not go so far as to recommend an alliance with Baron Dudley, for it was not my place to do so.

I scheduled an afternoon appointment with Stolmeister to trade his hostages for the wagon of trinkets. We would then plan our ride up the Cicely Road and into the Arkland. It was not clear how many of my party would make the journey, or how I would protect the scroll on the trail, for only a fool would trust Old Stolly.

"None can deny me," Rotanna said, angry with the direction of our debate.

"This villain will not let all of us make the journey," Sir Philip said.

"I have not come this far to be left behind," Kaska insisted.

"Nor I," Jalana said.

"What do you say, Magistrate?" Thory asked, sitting at the opposite end of the table from Jalana.

We were eating a fine lunch of roast beef and carrots. The beer was excellent as only the north can make it. The dining hall of the Freemont was largely empty, the hour late for the midday meal, though I suspected Stolmeister had his spies about.

"I have no idea how many enemies we face, or who may intercept us on the road. Taking two may be too many, or fourteen not enough. Of one thing I'm certain, I won't find the answer sitting here in Alcester," I complained, unhappy with the situation.

"If you find a hoard of kidnapped women in this secret fastness, you're going to need help getting them out," Thory pressed.

"That's true. Certainly horses and wagons, but how many? Are there ten women or fifty? I'm hoping to learn more from Stolmeister this afternoon. We'll make our final plans in the morning," I decided.

"Is there anything more you wish to tell us?" Rotanna asked, convinced I was holding back.

"I would only be guessing," I said.

"Then guess," Sir Philip said, sharing Rotanna's suspicions.

"I'm thinking it would be better to go alone, but Rotanna won't permit it," I said, peeved by their presumption. This was my quest, after all. "Once we know where these priests hide and what their intentions are, we'll know what is needed to pull them down. Until then, I don't think we should commit our strength blindly."

"I refuse to let you go alone," Jalana objected.

"Magistrate may be right, cousin," Rotanna said. "Sisters do not travel forward without knowledge of the land. Scouts should lead the way followed by our main battle."

"That's the way we fight in the south," Thory agreed.

"Standard cavalry tactic, but dangerous for the scouts," Sir Philip said.

"No one fears danger more than I, but do we have any real choices?" I asked.

"I will go with you and Rotanna," Jalana said.

"You will not. I'm not happy about risking my life. I'm even a little unhappy about risking Rotanna's life. I will not risk yours. Not for anything in this world," I insisted.

"You're being unfair," Jalana protested.

"I don't care," I answered.

"We will speak more of this tonight when we are alone. The last word is not spoken," Jalana promised.

"We should be ready to ride soon," Kaska said.

"That reminds me, we have unfinished business here," I said, grimly staring down the table at Thory.

"What would that be?" Thory asked.

"We're not on the road anymore, Black Axe leader. I'm not outnumbered twenty to one, and Jalana was not yours to sell."

"All of this is true," Thory agreed.

"I think someone owes me a horse," I said.

Jalana looked confused. Thory was astounded. Kaska laughed.

* * * * * *

The time for my meeting with Stolmeister was approaching. We went out to the stable to saddle our horses and hitch the wagon. The day was cold and windy, dark clouds blowing in from the west. I suspected rain before midnight. Even a late snow was not impossible.

"Have you learned any more of the scroll?" Sir Philip asked.

"Only that it contains ancient prophecies," I said. "When this is over, it must be returned to King's Library at Crowley. I think the scroll predates the Sacred Teachings."

"A holy relic? What does a devil like Stolmeister want with it?" he asked.

"I think he intends to practice dark rituals. The man is insane, and those he serves are insane, but they've managed great harm and must be stopped."

"Where is the scroll now?"

"In Rotanna's hood."

Sir Philip grinned for the first time since Rowena had been kidnapped. It was a fine joke and he needed the respite. Kaska and Thory were good fighting men, but I valued Sir Philip's experience as a field commander more. I needed him thinking as a soldier, not as a father.

We reached the west gate not bothering to hide our numbers. The guards seemed aware that something was up, half a dozen on alert in the courtyard. I quickly saw why. On the dry field beyond the city wall, Stolmeister waited with twenty armed men. There was no telling if they were loyal followers or hired thugs. We rode out, stopping on the open ground near the road. Rotanna and Jalana had longbows in their laps, quivers hanging off their saddles. Sir Philip was at my side.

"Good day, Owen. I hope you brought enough wine for everybody," Stolmeister said, attempting to be funny.

"Maybe we won't need so much wine after the hangings?" I suggested.

"I think we can avoid unnecessary violence today. We are here to trade, aren't we?" he questioned, daring to wink at my women. I sensed Rotanna wanted to put an arrow through him, and I was tempted to let her.

"That's what I've marked on my calendar. See that the docket doesn't change," I warned.

"Woe to those who appear before your court, Magistrate," Stolmeister lightheartedly replied.

"Woe to those who strain our patience," Sir Philip said, a hand on his sword.

"Fear not, brave knight. I think you'll find the day's bartering to your liking," Stolmeister said, giving the man hope.

Sir Philip motioned the wagon forward, two of his men acting as teamsters. We started on the Cicely Road heading southwest, the grassy landscape making ideal cattle country. Three hours from town, we branched off on a rough western track, going down a gentle hill toward Keebler Creek, a tributary of the Targus River. A small village at the ford was surrounded by several ranches, the peasantry sufficiently provoked by our approach that most of them fled. A ferry was available for those who preferred not to wade the chest-deep river.

"Welcome to Cowers Crossing, ladies and gentlemen," Stolmeister announced. "If you will set up in that grove of trees to the right, I will make arrangements."

"Maybe we should put a knife to your throat instead?" Jalana suggested.

"That would not prove helpful, young lady. My men in the village are instructed to kill those you seek to save at the first sign of treachery," Stolmeister fearlessly answered.

"We're not here to fight anybody. Let's get this business over with or we won't make it back to town before dark," I said, looking again at the rain clouds.

Stolmeister took amusement at my remark and rode down into the village with his men. We veered off the road, making a temporary camp on a small hill. Sir Philip ordered his men to fell trees, throwing up a barricade. He wasn't taking the unfamiliar ground or unknown odds for granted.

"What do you think, Magistrate?" Thory asked, staying close to my side despite Jalana's angry glares.

"Let's not look for trouble," I said.

Two hours later, as the sun was getting ready to set, one of Stolmeister's minions walked up to our camp. We had started a cooking fire and set up tents, the day too late to start back.

"Master Stolmeister says all is ready. You will need that wagon to take the women back in the morning. If you will unload his goods and set them at the side of the road, we will send helpers to gather them," he instructed.

"I don't distrust your master, but I would like to see the women first, just to be sure they're in good health," I said. I had brought my mother's medical bag should it prove necessary.

"Of course, sir, of course. I will take you to them. My master asks if he might see the scroll?" the man asked.

"Perhaps later, as we sit by the fire over a cup of ale," I generously hinted.

"I will give him your kind message," he said, walking fifty yards down the hill and waiting. I strapped on Sir John's sword and prepared to follow.

"It must be said, if I suddenly become a hostage, there will be no trade. Summon Sir Geoffrey from Alcester and hang them all," I ordered.

"Let someone else check on the women," Thory said.

"I'll do it," Sir Philip volunteered.

"No, this isn't my only business with Stolmeister. If I'm going into the Arkland with him, we'd best reach an understanding now. As long as you have the scroll, there won't be any trouble," I insisted.

I climbed over our log barrier, using my staff for support, and slowly caught up with the messenger still hoping my journey would make the staff unnecessary someday.

"Your name, sir?" I asked.

"Marl of Evansham, once of Earl William's service," he said.

"Do you now serve a better master?"

"A more prosperous one," he answered.

We reached the village, a dozen sturdy brick buildings with shingled roofs. The church and a mercantile stood to my left. To the right was a slaughterhouse with large windows for ventilation, a tanner to cure hides, and a warehouse for packing beef. A barge lay tied up at the water's edge, convenient for taking product downriver. Stolmeister stood before the wide slaughterhouse doors.

"Our trip into the Arkland will take a week. I was thinking a small reward for the women would cover my expenses," Stolmeister said.

"A reward for women you kidnapped?" I asked.

"No proof I kidnapped anybody. Certainly a magistrate so eminent as yourself recognizes a need for evidence."

"How much to you want?"

"Two silver flats each should do," he calmly said. I looked about at the large company of men he was employing.

"It seems a small amount to meet your payroll," I remarked.

"There is something else I want. Something worth far more than silver."

"You want gold? How many women have you recovered?" I asked.

"See for yourself," he said, waving me into the slaughterhouse.

The building was large, with a tall, vaulted roof, darker than it should be due to canvas curtains blocking the late afternoon light. I half expected to find it filled with dead women, my heart racing with profound anxiety. My hand gripped the sword that I had no strength to wield. As Stolmeister well knew. Then I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Magistrate!" Rowena of Roxbury exclaimed, jumping up from a hay bale.

"It's him!" another girl cried out, young and dark-haired. She was the miller's daughter from Rohan's Crossing.

"Thank God," a young woman wept. She was frail with long auburn hair, an intelligent gleam in her eyes. I recognized her as the missing Rachel.

"Thirty-four women in all. More than I promised," Stolmeister proudly announced.

I nodded in confirmation. It would seem that most if not all of the recent kidnappings had been gathered in this reeking old building. The majority were decently clothed, and those who weren't had blankets. All appeared healthy, sitting together in groups guarded by three of Stolmeister's men. I couldn't tell where the rest of his hirelings had gone.

"You are generous to return so many," I wryly said, guessing this was the villain's attempt to placate the angry fathers he had outraged.

"Did you bring the scroll?" Stolmeister asked.

"No," I said.

"Too bad, it would have made a nice bonus," he cryptically remarked.

Suddenly I heard noise from outside. The thundering of hooves charging past the building. Angry shouts of defiance. I glanced out the door to see the camp was under attack, fifty or sixty men moving up the hillside drawing knives and carrying spears. A dozen were mounted, encouraging the men on foot. They were a ragged bunch, heavily bearded, wearing burlap and worn leather. I doubted any of them had bathed since winter solstice.

My comrades had not been caught unaware, firmly secured in their position. Sir Philip stood near his banner, a sword pointing toward the greatest concentration of enemies. The fallen logs surrounding the camp were providing good protection from the carelessly thrown spears, forcing the villains to storm the barricades where the swords of the Black Axe and Yellow Banner were waiting for them.

The first wave slowed halfway up the hill, but they were soon urged on by the lightly armed horsemen. I saw a man drop, an arrow in his chest, and had no doubt Rotanna fired the deadly shot. Several more fell, but rather than be discouraged, the rabble suddenly found their courage, rushing forward with brave oaths. It was not clear who would win the fight.

"All right, girls, this is your chance. Get out! Get out now!" Stolmeister unexpectedly demanded, waving his arms.

The captives looked about the old slaughterhouse in surprise, glancing at Stolmeister's minions, wondering if it was a trick.

"Out. Get out. Run for your lives!" his men ordered, poking swords at the women while herding them from the building.

The women needed no extra urging, streaming past me for the door. The moment they were outside, they scattered in every direction. Some ran across the dirt road for the old stone church, others toward the thick woods beyond the Cicely Road. I saw Rowena brave the battle, skirting Stolmeister's men in an attempt to reach her father on the hill. No one tried to stop her. No one made any effort to recapture the fleeing women. All about the village had turned to chaos.

"What madness is this?" I asked.

"I have released the women, as promised. Now we have places to go," Stolmeister answered.

I turned to face him only to discover myself surrounded, swords pointed at my heart. I started to take a step backward. Someone stopped me. Then I was hit from behind and everything went black.

* * * * * *

To be continued in part twelve, The Martyr Stone.