Magistrate of the Dark Land

Part Thirteen

by G. Lawrence

A final battle in the caves of the Arkland

This has been a fantasy novel providing high adventure and romance, but there have been no dragons or magic spells. Well, maybe a few magic spells. This is the final part. All characters are over 18 years old.

Recap: Having been rescued from certain death by Jalana and her allies, they still face great danger in the mysterious caves.

* * * * * *

Chapter Fourteen

A JUDGMENT MADE

Jalana climbed over the dead and wounded, her black eyes searching the cavern. Many of those who had faced Rotanna's sword would never rise again, but most of the disciples felled by my club were merely stunned, laying about in moaning piles. I guessed there were eight bodies in the immediate area and twice as many wounded slowly crawling away.

"Owen?" Jalana shouted, spotting me among the young women.

"Welcome to our battle, war captain. I tried to save some enemies for you," I said, sitting against an upright pole. I had felt a great exhilaration during the fighting, but now I was content to rest for a few minutes.

"You saved too many enemies," she said, squatting next to me with sword in hand.

"Too many for the First Sword, I fear."

Jalana saw her cousin lying behind me. She was grieved but not surprised.

"Did she die well?" Jalana asked.

"She attacked an army a hundred and fifty strong, rescued these innocent women, saved my life, and held her position to her last breath. Is it possible to win greater glory?" I asked. Jalana smiled sadly.

"We will sing of her at the summer bonfire," Jalana said.

I looked at the Black Axe and Yellow Banner occupying the cavern. Some were finishing off the wounded, others were staring around the chamber in horror, particularly at the basin filled with hundreds of white bones. The raging fires and grim walls decorated with skulls could not have inspired more dread.

"How many came with you?" I asked.

"We are but twenty-two," Jalana said, reading my concern.

"We must not linger. The monks came to this cavern without their weapons, but they'll be back the moment they're armed. We're greatly outnumbered."

"Their numbers will count for nothing in the tunnels. Can you stand?" she asked.

I realized Jalana must think me severely wounded, for my stolen robe was soaked in blood, and the last time she had seen me at Cowers Crossing, I had still been a cripple. An object of her pity. In truth, I had only gathered a small gash and a few scratches during the fighting,

"I'm at death's door, war captain. My body too feeble to move," I said, weakly reaching to take her hand. "Take these women and flee while there's still time."

"No, I won't leave you, Owen," Jalana objected, dropping to her knees.

"I travel the final trail. Go before it's too late," I urged.

"We will leave this place together or not at all," she insisted.

"I'm afraid this is the end, bravest of the brave. Give me a final kiss to speed my soul on the great journey," I pleaded.

"By the Dread Goddess, I won't let you give up so easily," she swore, her brow bent with grim determination.

Suddenly I grabbed her shoulders, pulled her into my lap, and kissed her with the full strength of my passion. Her instinct was to struggle, her hands gripping my arms, but I was too strong. She was helpless in my embrace until I let her go.

"Owen? By the gods!" Jalana exclaimed in surprise.

I stood up and spread my arms to show I was uninjured. Another part of my dream had come true, though not with the trepidation I'd expected.

"Ravenna, Katie, come on girls, you're going home to your fathers," I said.

We stopped to strip twelve monks of their robes so the freed captives wouldn't run through the tunnels naked. I exchanged my brown robe for Jonah's gray one, thinking it a good joke.

The burning oil dripping off the altar ledge had spread through the cavern like a spider web of thin red fire. When the last of the panicked monks fled into the tunnels, Sir Philip came to my side. I wanted to take Rotanna's body with us but Jalana said such a gesture was unnecessary with so many still at risk. I promised myself to come back for her if I could.

"Magistrate, this place reeks with evil," Sir Philip said. The man was alert to the danger of a counterattack. It reassured me to have a professional soldier in command.

"It would seem not everyone returned to Lydia," I remarked, seeing Rowena approaching. Rowena's cheeks flushed.

"Should I not have justice on those who stole me? Am I a little girl to run home?" Rowena said, gripping her slender sword. She exchanged a subtle look with her father. I deduced his attempt to return her to Lydia had been a source of disagreement which Rowena had won.

"Everyone is entitled to justice," I agreed. A burly soldier appeared, one who had escorted the rescued women at Rohan's Crossing back to Crowley. Sir Philip had wisely reunited his command before entering the Arkland.

"Sir Philip, I count thirty-eight dead outlaws but a hundred fled into the tunnels. We should fall back to better ground until Sir Geoffrey arrives," the soldier reported. Sir Philip saw the question in my eyes.

"Sir Geoffrey comes down the north side of the valley with sixty men. Lord Hastings is summoned from Ravenshire with the militia," Sir Philip explained.

I was glad to hear such forces were on the way, though how they had mobilized with such speed was a mystery.

"If we move quickly, we'll be at the gate before the priests block our path," I recommended.

"It's a good plan. Sergeant Tyrone and two men are guarding our horses should retreat prove necessary," Sir Philip said.

I liked the sound of that. Nothing would please me more than jumping on a sturdy horse and riding like mad for Arbor. If I didn't stop to eat, drink or sleep, and the horse didn't drop dead, I could be there in four days. Alas, it wasn't an option.

"We have a task to complete. If these rogues recover their jewels and gold, they'll hire a new army with it. Gather what we can and throw the rest off the cliff," I said, shocking everyone. Especially Thory, who came up just as I was speaking.

"Have no fear, Magistrate, we will leave no gold for these devils," Thory said, motioning to his men.

Nothing of value was left behind except Marl of Evansham, who was tied to a pole underneath the platform. He had betrayed the Followers; they would know how to deal with him properly. I scavenged a few surviving scrolls from the altar that looked particularly ancient and put fire to the rest of their vestments.

The tunnel was black except for our torches but the walls gave us protection from superior numbers. Katie led the way, having spent many months in the temple, but she stopped at one of the central junctions, cautiously looking in two directions.

"We can't leave yet. Not like this," Katie said.

"What's wrong?" Rowena asked.

"The kitchens. It's not right to leave them behind," Katie begged.

I remembered the other three women Zebe had offered me in the garden, and he had hinted there were more. It made sense the Followers would maintain a staff of slaves.

"Black Axe, you're with me," I ordered, making a quick decision. "Ravenna, take Sir Philip to the gate. I saw a barracks off the first tunnel, there should be enough wood and straw to build a barricade. We'll make a stand until help arrives."

There were no questions. No debate. All seemed to understand what was needed. Dragging the sacks of treasure, the Yellow Banner followed Ravenna to the left, the freed women staying with them. I took Jalana and the mercenaries to the right, running to keep pace with Katie. She was a brave girl to risk everything in this way.

Katie referred to the slave quarters as the convent, no doubt an ironic jest of the priests. Bright lights appeared up ahead. Torches and cooking fires. I smelled the remains of fried trout. Jalana and Kaska rushed past, refusing to let me enter first. We found no guards, the captives being too terrified to escape.

"Hurry, everyone. Hurry. We're free," Katie shouted.

We saw forty or fifty women wearing short white linen dresses. Most were young but not all. There were also a few boys serving as kitchen helpers. Some had been sleeping in niches along the walls, the rest were cooking or cleaning. None dared move as we entered, staring at us in shivering fear.

"It's all right. Help has come. This is the man that Ravenna and I told you about. The one Stolly said was searching for us," Katie said, worried they wouldn't listen. Only a handful stirred. Most looked dumbstruck. Jalana grew impatient.

"There is no time to linger, village-folk. Heed the youngling's words," Jalana demanded, jumping up on a table with her sword drawn. She looked fearsome and desirable in the torch light. Had we been alone--

There was still no movement. For many, rescue seemed impossible. We could not afford prolonged hesitation.

"Ladies. Young sirs. I am Owen Vander, Magistrate of Ravenshire," I introduced, climbing on a stool. "The militia comes for you. So does Sir Geoffrey of Alcester. Come now. Take what you need, but come."

This time there was no delay. Like frightened mice, they grabbed their blankets and ran for the door. At first I thought them impressed with my commanding presence, but as they scurried past with heads bent low, I realized quite the opposite. It wasn't my stirring oratory that inspired them, but Jonah's gray robe. They had been indoctrinated to obey the Followers without question. It would take love and patience to restore their free will.

"Look out!" someone yelled.

It took a moment, but I saw two disciples appear on a balcony overlooking the kitchen. One carried a sword, the other a crossbow. The bowman loaded a bolt and took aim at Jalana, still standing on the table. I was too far away to help, but found a spear propped against the wall. It was not my weapon of preference. In fact, I rarely hit anything with a spear, especially at this distance, but I was desperate.

"Jalana, get down. Get down," I warned.

Jalana looked up at the bowman but too late to move. The monk fired.

Suddenly a large figure leaped up on a bench and grabbed Jalana, turning to slam her down on the table. It was Thory, but in saving Jalana, he had taken the bolt in his back. He groaned and slumped to the floor.

"My turn, you son of a bitch," I whispered, taking two steps forward as I hurled the spear with all my strength. The bowman was loading another bolt when the spear hit him in the chest with such force that his body was pinned to the wall behind him. The second monk ran off. Kaska glanced over at me in awe, as did many others. I did not explain that my newly discovered accuracy had been complete luck.

"You've become a dangerous man, Magistrate," Thory said, struggling to sit up.

Bruner and Charnon brought him to his feet. I made a quick examination. Thory's chainmail vest had taken the brunt of the bolt's measure but the head would need digging out. Once again the man had escaped death by inches.

"Foul male," Jalana muttered, rolling off the table unsteadily.

"What offense have I committed this time, she-devil?" Thory asked, gasping in pain.

"I prefer blood challenge from you, not obligation," Jalana angrily hissed.

"You owe me nothing, woman," Thory said.

"Easy for males to say who know naught of honor. I will have a reckoning for this. By the Dread Goddess, I swear," Jalana said, stomping off.

As Kaska and Katie herded everyone into the tunnel, I briefly searched the convent for a ledger or list of the Followers' slaves, but found nothing. There was no time to be thorough, which distressed me, for it meant that most of the victims might remain nameless forever.

Katie showed us a shortcut to the gate, hurrying before opposition cut us off. I had Jalana and the Axe brothers take the lead while I brought up the rear with Kaska. My earlier bravery began to wane as we twisted through rock corridors and empty chambers, for at any moment I thought to be confronted by a hundred deluded fanatics. By God's grace, my chance to be a coward was postponed. We reached the final junction without incident.

Sir Philip had erected a palisade just inside the heavy oak doors, wood beams and straw mattresses blocking each of the three tunnels. Beyond the open doors were the company's horses with supplies and extra weapons. Smitten was there, too, my longbow and Sir John's sword hanging on her saddle. I rushed outside for a breath of fresh air, feeling the glorious dawn that Stolmeister had sought to deny me. The sword was lighter than I remembered, but I still preferred my bow, taking both off the horse.

The freed women gathered on the sandstone ledge guarded by Rowena and Sergeant Tyrone. Tyrone gave me a nod, not unhappy with his duty. Retreat was no longer an option. Even riding double, we had far more people than horses, and once on the narrow trail down into the valley, we would be easy prey for an ambush.

"They're coming, Owen," Jalana said from the entrance.

I went back inside, taking a spot in the center with an arrow nocked. Charnon closed the doors so the sunlight behind us would not aid the enemy. The monks were just shadows at first, dark squirming shapes barely visible in the tunnels to our right and left. Then they crept forward. A spear flew past me. Then another. Everyone ducked behind the barriers, making the Followers' servants come to us. A handful of torches were the only light.

"Steady, men. These rodents are no match for cold steel," Sir Philip said.

I heard a rapid shuffling of sandals and stood up, firing at the first available target. My aim was good, and the villain went down with a moan. I quickly fired twice more before the monks were at the barrier. Swords flashed in the dim reflections. Some of the Yellow Banner had their lances ready, skewering those trying to climb over our walls. I backed up and kept shooting, sometimes to the right, then to the left. It was my best skill, far better than hacking at the barrier with a sword, and at a range of twenty feet I wasn't likely to miss. Another spear flew by, then one that caught in my hood. I yanked the spear free and threw it back, thankful there was no place to run.

The wave on the right receded first. The attackers could only come four abreast and Sir Philip had eight men set in two rows, more than enough to stop them. When the battle on the left subsided, Jalana began to mount the wall, intending pursuit. I grabbed her by the waist.

"Let go, male. I will eat their hearts!" Jalana declared, the heat of battle upon her.

"War Captain, your place his here," I said, pulling her back. She whipped around, fire in her eyes, the sword ready to strike.

"The enemy has not quit the field," I said.

Jalana sighed and caught her breath, lowering the sword. I waited until no one was watching to kiss her.

"They gather in the middle tunnel," Denar said.

"Sir Philip, they might send men around the outside to strike our rear," I warned.

"You may be right. Take our wounded out and guard the women," he ordered.

"Have Jalana protect the wounded. She's a warrior, I'm not," I disagreed.

"You're our best archer. If they attack, you'll cut them down before they can close the distance," he said.

"I've spent too much of my life running. I won't do it now. I can't."

Sir Philip nodded, seeming to understand.

"Jalana, withdraw with our wounded and help Rowena. The enemy may be sneaking up on us," Sir Philip said. Jalana looked at Sir Philip in disbelief and then glared at me. I was in trouble again.

"Am I to be denied?" she asked, ready to refuse.

"We're safe in the tunnels. The real danger is from the mountain," I said, my longbow and a stack of recovered arrows held ready for the next attack. "Are you afraid to fight where the odds are unfavorable?"

"Blood insult? You offer blood insult amid battle?" Jalana growled.

"I will give you challenge later. Perhaps of a sort we haven't tried for a while," I whispered, grinning under Jonah's torn hood.

"Do not expect mercy," Jalana warned.

I turned her around, slapped her on the butt, and sent her outside. She glanced back with a look fit to kill.

The disciples made a valiant effort on their second try, though they would have done better to coordinate their assault from all three directions. Leaving a token defense on the flanks, Sir Philip concentrated his best men in the center, taking a terrible toll on the enemy. After a good half hour of steady fighting, the attack finally melted away. Nearly everyone was wounded to one degree or another, three seriously. Thirty-five slain monks filled the corridor, the bodies piled high enough to form another barrier.

"They're a tough bunch of bastards, I'll give them that," Sir Philip said, nursing a slashed arm.

Half an hour passed but the tunnels remained empty. We opened the doors for light while Rowena and I treated the wounded. Three times Sir Philip sent out patrols, the last led by Kaska, but they returned without sign of the Followers. I supposed the temple had a rear door but we were in no condition to close it.

"I don't think they're coming back, Owen. Sorry we couldn't get them all," Kaska said, sitting next to me near the door and sharing a loaf of bread.

"It's a miracle we got any of them. How did you find me?" I asked.

"When Marl bribed Bruner to report you killed, Bruner told Thory. He told me and I went to Sir Philip. It wasn't necessary, for Rotanna was not fooled. The story that you had drawn your sword to fight the slavers single-handed was too absurd. Jalana thought it best that the villains think their plan successful, so we returned to Alcester. Sir Geoffrey organized a company and sent word to Lord Hastings while Rotanna followed Marl, leaving clues on the trail that Jalana recognized. It's amazing how much they can say with a few twisted branches."

"I shouldn't say it, but I'm glad it was Rotanna who found me in the caves and not Jalana," I confided. Kaska had found a bottle of rye whisky. We each took a swig.

"Holding her back was difficult, but Rotanna insisted that her honor took precedence, and only Jalana could read Rotanna's clues. I'll miss her, she was a courageous woman."

"She was courageous," I agreed. "I appreciate that you and the Black Axe came to help. And Sir Philip, of course, but none of you were under obligation."

"I think you've proven that we all have larger obligations. Golan would not have Fuschia if not for you. Thory would not have Rachel. I would not have Suzie, nor Sir Philip his daughter. It's like you said at our campfire all those months ago. Taking a stand for what's right is everyone's obligation."

"I'm still in your debt," I said, not thinking the situation so simple.

Thory stirred next to me, waking from a short nap. His wound was painful and my supply of kampa root had run out.

"Where are the girls?" Thory asked.

"Down at the waterfall bathing," I said.

"Maybe you should join them?" Thory suggested.

"Should such a difficult assignment be mine? To guard fifty frolicking nymphs?" I said in jest.

"I meant, maybe you should bathe. You stink of dried blood," Thory said.

He was right. Except to clean my hands, I had not taken time to wash after treating the company's injuries.

Keeping Sir John's sword, I went down the hillside to the white sand beach, the cascading waterfall to my right, the trail into the valley on the left. It was a beautiful blue day. The women stopped their laughing and splashing when I approached, staring at me in wonder. But they were young, inclined to hero worship. I went downstream for privacy and waded into the cold creek, letting my robes soak before squeezing out the red-stained water and hanging them over a branch. Soap root grew nearby, allowing me to scrub off the dried splotches.

"You are a magnificent male," she said.

Startled, I looked up to see Jalana watching me. Her predatory gaze reminded me of that day many years before when Queen Amara had ambushed me at my bath.

"Best be careful, war captain of the Red Leather, I'm not a helpless cripple anymore," I warned with a smile. She stripped off her clothes and dove in, surfacing with a shake of her long black hair.

"Prove how dangerous you are," she dared, closing in for a kiss.

"Don't tempt me, you know why I shouldn't," I said.

"Owen, look!" she exclaimed, twisting my arm. At first I thought she was attempting to wrestle me, but then I saw what had caused her excitement. "Owen, the bird tracks are gone. All of your scars are gone."

"It was the accursed ritual of the priests," I said, noticing that even the scars of my youth had disappeared.

"This is no curse. I begged the Dread Goddess to intercede with your god, for I know how unforgiving he is. And my pleas have been answered," she said.

"This can't be God's work," I disagreed.

"Do not deny the Dread Goddess, Owen. The plea was made and answered. We may finally be honest with each other," she insisted, ready to pounce on me if I objected.

I looked up at the blue sky. Birds chirped in the trees. Spring was bringing forth a rainbow of delicate flowers. Could Jalana be right? Had I somehow been absolved of my crime? I did not think so, but the scars were gone. Was it my place to question such an act?

Jalana laughed.

"You think too much," she said, pushing me back against the embankment.

* * * * * *

An hour before sunset, our relief forces were seen riding up the valley. I recognized Captain Elias Toban of the Arbor Watch, Sir Geoffrey of Alcester, and Lord Hastings of Piedmont. A hundred men rode with them. Our small group assembled on the ledge before the temple and sent up a cheer. Only then did I see Golan, Fuschia, and worst of all, Suzie. I say worst, for Suzie had a journal in her lap and was busily scribbling notes.

"She must be stopped," I said to Kaska.

"Suzie probably writes another chronicle," he said.

"That's what I fear," I agreed.

"Fear what?" Sir Philip said, intruding on our conversation.

"That's my girl there. The pretty brunette," Kaska proudly explained. "I suspect she writes another chronicle about the Magistrate."

"Like this one?" Sir Philip said, pulling Suzie's ridiculous novel from his breast pocket. "I bought it in Alcester. I tried to buy a case to take home, but the bookseller would only part with a baker's dozen, saying the rest were consigned to Quarterstone."

"You actually liked that... that... fantasy?" I asked.

"Of course, it's an inspiring story. Rowena and I are in chapter nine," he said with a grin, showing me the bookmarked section on Trodden.

The riders came to a halt on the beach below the waterfall, dismounting from their rapid trek. Suzie smiled and waved, no doubt glad to see Kaska unharmed. Fuchsia's eyes sparkled when she saw Jalana and eagerly searched the ledge for Rotanna. A brief blink of Jalana's eyes told the story. Fuchsia whispered to Golan, whose shoulders slumped. He and Rotanna had become friends in Crowley, much to my everlasting amazement.

"Greetings, Sir Philip. Greetings, Magistrate. Have you found the outlaws raiding our women?" Lord Hastings asked. He was a big man, the most important noble in Ravenshire since the Earl of Rutland had died without an heir. With a long history of loyalty to King Tarten, there were many in the southern shires willing to serve him. Myself included.

"We have made battle," Sir Philip said, which was obvious by the number of wounded men and bloody bandages in our party. "We estimate sixty of the villains killed, and that not half their number. They may have fled but we cannot be sure."

"May we offer assistance, sir?" Lord Hastings asked, respecting the conventions expected from soldiers in the field.

Sir Philip paused, glanced over at Kaska, and smiled in a most perturbing way.

"Kaska?" Sir Philip said.

"I think so, sir," Kaska answered with a wink.

Suddenly each man was down on one knee, hands on their swords, looking up at me with great gravity.

"Magistrate, you who have led us to victory over the devil's army, what commands will you issue now?" Sir Philip asked.

"Speak and we will obey," Kaska added.

I was aghast. What nonsense is this? I wondered. In what manner did they seek to embarrass me? I looked down the hill to see Suzie busy writing in her journal. Every man in the relief force was staring in admiration. Standing on the ledge wearing Sir John's sword, it was possible some of them might actually mistake me for a soldier.

"Sir, we are at your disposal. In what manner may we serve?" Lord Hastings asked.

The powerful nobleman was not making himself subservient to my will. Lord Hastings was commanding battalions when I was still learning how to read. But he was asking for my judgment of the situation, a distinct honor. And one I could not respectfully refuse.

"The day is late, the strength and intentions of the enemy unknown. With your permission, I would like to make camp downriver. We will tend our wounded, send out scouts, and investigate this accursed lair in the morning," I suggested.

"It will be as you say, sir," Lord Hastings agreed, quickly issuing the orders. I sighed with relief, then turned on Sir Philip and Kaska with a frown. They laughed, knowing they had played an excellent prank.

We spent three days exploring the wicked temple and the surrounding forest. Every member of the militia was given the opportunity to view the Cave of Rituals. It was a sobering experience, and with witnesses from a dozen townships, the story would be told and retold. The Followers would never again be able to pursue their dark plots in such secret. Evidence was seized, the caverns gutted, and a search begun for the outlaw priests and their deluded minions. Lord Hastings agreed that a force should be assigned to the valley so it would not fall back under their sway. I issued an arrest warrant for Stolmeister but doubted it would ever be served.

On the morning of the third day, we buried the bones of the innocents while I said the prayers, erecting a cairn over their grave. The night before, Jalana and Fuchsia had burned Rotanna's body on the mountain top, scattering her ashes in the woods. The few men found worthy to participate did not join their primitive dance, but I played my flute, Kaska softly strummed his banjo, and Golan beat out a rhythm on a hollow log. I could never bring myself to like Rotanna, but she had my respect. Perhaps that should be enough.

* * * * * *

It took an entire day to ride down from the rocky temple cliffs to the green pastures of the valley. Jalana and Fuschia rode point with Kaska and Golan close behind, watchful for our enemies. We had not killed even half of the Followers' servants, so I expected to be attacked at any moment. The mountains around us were high, the trees tall, and there seemed many excellent opportunities for ambush. And our movement was slow, encumbered as we were with newly freed women, a dozen wounded, and bags of stolen treasure. I stayed in the middle of the column riding with Suzie, my bow laid across my lap.

"You did it, Owen. You found the lost daughters. It's a miracle," Suzie said, jaunty in her riding leathers which looked very much like those of the forest women.

Just ahead of us, Ravenna and Katie were riding double with Rowena and Sir Philip, the Lydians having taken them under their wing. In a few weeks the young women would be back with their families. I confess to a certain prideful satisfaction, mindful that a power far beyond mine was truly responsible.

"You seem stronger. Much stronger. How can that be?" Suzie asked.

"There is no good answer, and it's better the question not be asked," I replied, still disturbed by the revealed truth I had witnessed. To acknowledge the miracle might, in some respect, validate the Followers' ambitions, and I wasn't prepared to accept their vision. I had many years of study and prayer ahead. Suzie sensed my troubled thoughts and chose to change the subject.

Late in the afternoon we reached the valley's only settlement, which the natives called Tarnak, a small hamlet with a blacksmith, mercantile, tannery, and a granary. There was no church or tavern, indicating how deeply the people had been oppressed. We obtained tables and chairs from the town meeting house and set up camp in a nearby pasture under a grove of old walnut trees. The locals were unhappy having an army gathered in their meadow but had no choice. We weren't leaving until the fate of the Arkland was decided.

By sunset our campfires were burning along the southern shore of the large blue lake. Thirty tents were erected flying the banners of Sir Geoffrey, Lord Hastings, and Sir Philip of Lydia. We were an impressive group, well-trained and well-armed. Perhaps the Followers were wise not to attack us after all. That didn't stop the battalion commanders from laying out the foundations for a fort to be erected over the next few weeks.

Though the Black Axe had no tents when we left Alcester, that was not the case now. Thory had found a fine green pavilion large enough for twelve occupants. A flag embroidered with a black axe waved in the breeze from the tallest pole, but Jalana refused to sleep under such a banner, so we camped near one of the bustling brooks, bedding down beneath a sea of stars. Later we went to celebrate at the victory bonfire, eating our fill of the village beef, but I fell asleep early, weary from recent experiences.

A meeting was called for the next morning. All of the commanders and their adjutants were present. Sir Philip and Rowena were now ready for their long ride home. They had entered Northwaye to end the depravations along our border and would return heroes, receiving many honors.

Thory was surviving but grumpy. Fortunately, the kindly ministrations of young Rachel soothed his bad temper. He would not be riding a horse again for several weeks. Or his prospective bride.

Golan and Fuschia sat with Captain Toban representing the Arbor Watch. The town was much in pride, having played a prominent role in addressing our kingdom's woes.

"I have permission from Baron Dudley to make agreements in his name," Sir Geoffrey announced, a mark of great trust.

As the ranking peer, Lord Hastings chaired our meeting. He was not a gruff leader, but open and amiable. He seemed particularly anxious to hear more stories of my quest, glancing at the two young women watching from the cooking fire. When I looked into their grateful eyes, everything I had endured was worth it.

"I was thinking," Lord Hastings said. "Several of these townspeople seem reliable, and Thory can't be moved much farther. With the Black Axe unemployed, would you consider commanding our garrison here? We can place the Arkland under the jurisdiction of Brookshire and pay you from the county coffers."

"That's very generous, sir. It would be an honor to enter your service," Thory said.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's not possible," Golan interrupted.

"Why is that?" Lord Hastings asked, not accustomed to having his desires overruled.

"Because Thory is under arrest," Golan explained.

"Arrest? For what?" Thory exclaimed, twisting so hard I was afraid he'd tear the stitches in his back.

"Assault, attempted rape, and slave trading," Golan said, deadly serious. All could tell that Golan was unhappy with the accusation but determined to proceed, his heavy red brow bent with resolve.

"What? Who?" Thory said in rising anger.

"Jalana," Golan said, reaching into his pocket and producing a warrant. He flashed the parchment at Lord Hastings before handing it to me. All seemed in order, the document written in the hand of my chief clerk.

"This is absurd. Outrageous," Thory complained.

"I'm sorry, brother, but I am now sheriff of Arbor, sworn to uphold the law in Ravenshire. Suzie's chronicle bares testimony that you bought Jalana from slavers, attempted to rape her, and held her captive. Fuschia and I now make our home in Arbor. Our first child will be born in the fall. Am I to tell my neighbors that my older brother is exempt from the law?" Golan asked with genuine regret.

"You did no less than I, and it was Owen who raped the thorny wildcat," Thory insisted, throwing his goblet.

"I did not buy her, though I might have hurt her if not for Magistrate's intervention," Golan confessed. "For that the gods must be forever thanked."

He took Fuchsia's hand, gazing at her with adulation. There could be no doubt the fates had been uncommonly kind to them. And I understood Golan's dilemma. His authority as sheriff would be worthless without the people's respect. His wife and child held in low esteem. To choose between one's brother and family could not be easy.

"What about Owen?" Thory asked.

"Does Jalana wish to press charges?" Golan asked, turning to look at her.

"You know I do not," Jalana clearly answered.

"In that case, Owen cannot be held to account," Golan explained. "My clerks have referenced the law. He did no more than necessary to preserve his life and that of another from imminent harm. The town fathers agree."

"This has been adjudicated?" I inquired in astonishment.

"The case was examined when the warrant against Thory was drawn," Golan confirmed. "You stand absolved."

"Do you see, Owen? It's as I've said. Even city-dwellers know the justice of it," Jalana said, taking my arm.

"What have the town fathers in mind for Thory?" I asked.

"You are still Magistrate of Ravenshire," Golan said.

"Yes, but given the situation, I must recuse myself from the case. If Thory had not come to my aid, he would be back in Quarterstone with Rachel. I am in debt to him, even though he still owes me a horse."

"Then the grand jury will need to appoint a judge," Golan said.

"Golan, my friend, let me admit how impressed I am with you," I praised with true sincerity, for his grasp of the process was impressive for one so dense. "You may be wasting your time as sheriff. Have you considered the office of county advocate? A year of law at Crowley will admit you to the bar."

"Sheriff will be fine for now," Golan said with surprise.

"Thory, as I may not judge your case, would you accept me as counsel?" I asked.

"It seems my best chance," Thory conceded, sensing I had something in mind.

I whispered to Jalana, who laughed, and conferred with Lord Hastings, who was curious. He laughed, too. The tent grew quiet.

"Sheriff Golan, Jalana makes a civil claim against Thory in the amount of two gold crowns. Lord Hastings will stand good the judgment, pending his wages for service in the Arkland," I presented.

"Two gold crowns? I only paid two silver circles for her!" Thory said.

"An unwise investment, sir. Maybe Suzie's next chronicle will be a cautionary tale on the financial perils of slavery," I said. "Do you agree to the compensation?"

"Yes, yes, I agree," he said.

"This does not negate the felony charges," Golan said, wondering what I was thinking.

"I'm afraid it does, good sheriff. Your work on this case has been impeccable except for one small detail," I said, trying not to smile.

"And what is that?" Golan asked.

"The high meadows of the Cat Mountains do not lay in Ravenshire, therefore your warrant lacks jurisdiction," I explained. "Jalana and I will speak with Sir Roger St. Clair on our return to Taylor Creek. With a civil judgment in hand, I have no doubt we can resolve the case without further proceedings."

Golan looked relieved. Most of our company laughed. Thory glared at me, realizing I had known all along that the warrant was too narrowly drawn. The Black Axe had brought several fine horses to the Arkland and I already knew which one I wanted.

"Damn lawyers," Thory muttered, letting Fuschia refill his cup.

I noticed Suzie trying to hide behind Kaska while making notes.

"Stop doing that, you're making me nervous," I complained.

"My readers want detailed reports," Suzie defended.

"Your readers? Are you now a scribe?" I asked.

"Yes, I am," she said, defiantly raising her chin.

"There is no such thing as a female scribe," I insisted.

"You're just jealous, Owen. I've sold more books in three months than your beloved Hogarth has sold in the last ten years," Suzie bragged, her gaze bright with a rich, saucy intelligence. She dared me to disagree, flashing her long eyelashes. Had it not been for Jalana and Kaska, I'd have been on her like a beast.

"What now for you, Magistrate? Back to Arbor?" Sir Geoffrey asked.

"Briefly," I said. "My first duty is to return Katie and Ravenna to Falmouth Crossing. Then I must visit the Red Leather to keep my word to Rotanna."

"I hear visiting the Farina can be dangerous," Lord Hastings said with a grin.

"That is true. Fortunately, I'm in good health," I said, glancing over at Jalana. She actually blushed.

"It's almost time for the ceremony," Captain Toban announced.

"There's still time to consider another candidate," I suggested.

"I think not," Lord Hastings said, furrowing his brow.

"All has been agreed, and rightfully so," Sir Philip added, many nodding approval.

"Give me a chance to clean up," I requested. And though I believed their selection lacked merit, the decision had been made. There was no way to avoid it now.

"Don't disappear," Sir Philip said.

"Not today," I agreed, leaving the tent.

I went down to the lake for a brief dip in the cold water, laying out my new suit of crimson woolens. Jalana came with me, taking longer at her bath. We were far enough from the village that we enjoyed our privacy. Several times.

"It's been almost a year since our adventure began," Jalana said, deliberately holding my interest.

"We still have a few months left," I answered.

"Or longer."

"Will you hold me prisoner in the forest?"

"No, but I'd like to," she teasingly answered.

"Do you wish to leave your sisters? Give up the red leather to be a city woman?"

"Such a fate sounds cruel," she conceded.

"A wise woman once told me it's foolish for warriors to see too deep a future. Let us have our moment before the gods take it away from us."

"Is this why all the people in your society hate lawyers? Because you take the words of simple folk and throw them back in our faces?" she pouted.

I had thought on this question since Jalana reappeared in Crowley, afraid to bring it up. Now appeared to be the necessary moment.

"Sit with me," I urged, drawing her to the embankment. She seemed nervous. I was, too.

"As Rotanna lay dying, I promised to speak of her last battle at the summer bonfire."

"This I know. All of the tribes will be there."

"Then know this, my beloved," I said, pulling her close. "You wish to be with me now. And I want that, too. I want it so much. But once you're back in the forest, among your women, performing your role as war leader, you may not wish to leave. And it would be unfair of me to ask that of you."

I reached into my breast pocket, producing a gold ring I'd purchased in Alcester.

"Perhaps we cannot see the future, but I offer this pledge," I continued. "After I have made good on my oath to Rotanna, you may come home with me. If you wish. As my wife. As Fuschia has chosen to be Golan's wife. We will have an exciting life together. Children. And many adventures. But if you choose to remain in the forest, it won't change the love I have for you."

"This is much to think of," Jalana said.

"I would not expect you to decide right away."

Jalana took the ring, fondling it with her slender fingers, and then took a strip of leather from her jacket. After tying the ends through the ring, she hung it around her neck.

"I must not make a rash decision," Jalana agreed. "But I make pledge also. If the day comes you see the ring on my finger, you will know I have accepted. If not, I will wear it over my heart forever."

She leaned forward for a kiss. I pressed her into the willows. We were late getting back to camp.

It was truly a beautiful spring day. Kaska and Captain Toban were waiting for me at the tent. Kaska offered Sir John's sword that I would wear during the ceremony. Toban held a thick leather vest and a thin plate helmet. Heavy black boots shined with a pair of silver spurs.

"We're ready, Magistrate. You're to stand here, Lord Hastings and Sir Philip will be there," Captain Toban rapidly explained. We stood in the meadow not far from our camp underneath a graceful oak tree. Colorful banners hung from the lower branches. April grass had turned the landscape green with a carpet of red and yellow flowers.

"Calm yourself, Elias, people will think you're the one being knighted," I said, suppressing my anxiety.

"Nervous?" Kaska asked.

"Wouldn't you be?"

"No, I'd be the proudest man living," Kaska said.

"You probably would. All it will bring me is more attention, and just when I was hoping to settle down to a quiet life."

"Perhaps your expectations are too high?" Kaska suggested.

"I have enough gold to buy a ranch in the Rohana River country. It's good land for raising horses. The woods are filled with deer. The soil grows rich wheat. I can set up a small legal practice, teach in Crowley during the winters, and never again touch a sword. Is it too much to ask?"

"It's not too much to ask, Owen, but it might be too much to wish for," Kaska replied. "King Alfred once said that a man does not determine his time, the times determine the man."

"I had not thought you such a philosopher."

"My father thought I'd make a worthy schoolteacher. Am I wrong to think you won't be shoveling horse droppings anytime soon?" he asked.

"We'll see. I haven't given up hope yet," I said.

Several hundred people gathered to watch Lord Hastings tap a sword on my shoulder, but first there was music, speeches, and ancient rituals to perform. And we had a surprise guest, much to Sir Geoffrey's satisfaction. But a few minutes into the ceremony, a party of horsemen rode in from the north with flags flying. Leading the company was a peer of the realm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Baron Dudley of March," Lord Hastings announced. Dudley appeared to have advance word of the event. After a brief stop in Sir Geoffrey's tent, he emerged in a blue silk coat with a golden chain around his neck. A heavy broadsword hung at his side.

I had not met Dudley before, finding him similar in size and age to Lord Hastings. Both had served King Tarten. As peers of adjoining counties, Dudley and Hastings were well acquainted, though not necessarily allies. I had no doubt that Dudley's sudden appearance was an attempt to gather support against Earl William. Or against Duke Rykar, depending on the situation. The quarrels of nobles can get complicated.

The ceremony began again with a drum roll. Wearing a long black cloak and Sir John's sword, I walked between two long lines of comrades. Some were from the Arbor Watch, some from Alcester. There were also the soldiers of the Yellow Banner, the Black Axe, and many assorted friends. Dudley, Hastings, and Sir Philip waited under the shade of the ancient oak. Jalana and Fuschia stood near the nobles, accepting such a place as their due. My hands trembled but I tried not to let anyone see. As the leading peer of Ravenshire, Hastings made the official pronouncement.

"Owen Vander, born of Freehold in the time of King Tarten, now found worthy in courage and deed, I do dub thee knight of Northwaye, with all the honors and obligations entitled wherein," Hastings said, tapping me on the shoulder three times with his sword. "Rise, Sir Owen, and accept our homage."

The crowds cheered. I bowed. I was a knight. Mentioning obligations was not part of the customary christening, a message from Lord Hastings that he had plans for me. I was not pleased by the subtle prodding, but could not help thinking how proud my parents would be if they'd lived to see this day. How proud Martha and the children would be. I accepted the applause in good cheer, looking forward to a long night of heavy drinking, rowdy carousing, and sunrise in the furs with Jalana. Life can be good.

"Sir Owen, if we may have a word?" Baron Dudley summoned, taking me aside with Lord Hastings.

"Yes, my lord?" I answered, following them to a shady grove far from the celebrating crowds.

"I have a letter signed by several of the barons," Dudley said, holding a rolled piece of white parchment. "As you've heard, Duke Rykar seeks to claim the throne. Some have questioned his right. There are even those who might take up arms."

"We think the south would rise if the Duke seizes the crown," Hastings remarked.

"I pray it doesn't come to that," I said.

"Many don't want war. They seek to form a commission to rule on the Duke's claim. One commissioner would be Earl William of Angle," Dudley said.

"He will certainly oppose Duke Rykar. They have become bitter enemies," I observed, having heard as much in my travels.

"The second commissioner is Baron Strophe of Darthmore," Dudley said.

"Strophe will certainly support Rykar. It would give him a free hand against Baron Lackston," I guessed. "With Earl Robert in exile these many years, Strophe may even aspire to an earldom."

"A worthy bribe for a crown," Hastings surmised, unhappy to think of Strophe's troops just across the river from Piedmont.

"There is a third commissioner listed, one not so easily corrupted," Dudley said, unrolling the parchment.

"Only a fool would accept that office," I said, snorting with contempt.

"Let's hope that's not true," Baron Dudley advised, showing me the document. "The third commissioner is Sir Owen Vander, the Magistrate."

* * * * * *

And thus Owen's quest has reached its conclusion. A sincere thank you for the readers who stayed with this adventurous tale.