Shadow Walker

by James 'Fel' Galloway

Chapter 11

How does one outfox a fox?

Kyven pondered that question for quite a while after giving the things in the shadow world the slip yet again and returning to Rallan, then walking out in the dead of night due south along the road that led eventually to Lanna, as he promised Lightfoot he would. He had to beat his spirit at her own game, and it was a game she'd been playing long before he was even a glint in his father's eye. But he knew, almost instinctively, that there was no other way to free Danna from the clutches of his spirit. Threats didn't work, not when she had all the cards, so he had to do to her what she'd done to them, trick her, deceive her, manipulate her into getting what he wanted, which was Danna.

But the big question was how. How did one trick a trickster, deceive a deceiver?

He was certainly at a disadvantage here, and he knew it. For one, she'd been watching him most of his life, so she knew him very well. For another, she was a fucking spirit, for the Father's sake, possessed of a greater wisdom than him. But the biggest obstacle he had to overcome was the fact that this was her game. Deception, trickery, guile and deceit, it was her realm, her purview, her strengths, and to try to challenge her at her own game and beat her, well, it wasn't going to be easy. He honestly had no idea how he was going to do it. Having Firetail Seal Danna so she couldn't conceive and passing the Seal to him was a stopgap, a spur of the moment action designed more to make Danna feel better than what he pretended it was, just the first step in a plan. The truth was, he'd deceived her by not telling her the whole truth, something he had never done to Danna before; he had always been totally honest with her since they'd become friends. But this was a good kind of deception, as far as he was concerned, for it had eased some of her anguish and gave her a little hope. She hadn't been quite so distraught when he left her, and that was what it was all about. Yes, it did do something for them in that it gave Kyven control over something his spirit wanted, but when he'd hinted that it was just part of a plan, well, that wasn't the entire truth.

Father, now he was lying to Danna. How low he'd sunk.

The late summer night was warm, muggy, and still, and it gave him time to think without much concern for what was around him, as he pondered the problem. The simple fact of the matter was, if he was going to do this, he had to be methodical, approach this problem the same way he approached tackling Avannar. So. The first question, then, was simple; what was the fox after? If he could identify her objective, he could move to impede the achievement of the objective, and use that as leverage in forcing her to give him what he wanted. So, what was it that the fox was after? What did she want from Kyven and Danna and Toby? And even broader than that, what did she want in what was going on?

He stopped dead in the road, a cold feeling through his soul.

War. She wanted war. It explained everything. It explained why she allowed him to be captured, to give the humans information that would send them rushing west with their armies because of their prejudice and bigotry against Arcans, and what was more, it explained why she pulled him out of Avannar. He could have almost single-handedly stopped the war if he'd stayed in Avannar by killing off the Circle, killing enough of the leaders of the Loremasters to cause them to abandon their plans. But she had not done that, she had actually pulled him out of where he could do the most good by sending him off on this, this, busy work. She wanted war, she wanted it enough to manipulate both the humans and the Arcans into a collision course. After all, it was what he was doing now, ensuring that a large army reached Cheston to threaten the Loremasters once the Flaurens joined with it and marched back to the north.

He remembered her coming to him at Haven after he learned the truth, and had told him that she believed that war was inevitable. He'd agreed with her, but now that he thought back to that conversation, he realized that even then, she was planning this. She was planning this war not as the ultimate and last-resort option, but she was planning it actively. Sending Kyven to Avannar, the information he gained, and the information the Loremasters gained from him, it was the catalyst that started them on this path because it mobilized the Arcans for war, and it warned the Loremasters that the Arcans were more than they believed. She had said to him that she saw war as inevitable then, but now, now he realized that she was actively working to incite this war.

Why? Why, for the Father's sake? Hundreds, thousands, maybe tens of thousands were going to die, on both sides. And they were risking all of Noraam joining together to attack Haven should the humans feel that the Arcan nation was too much of a threat, which could devastate Arcan society and possibly doom their race to an eternity of enslavement, or maybe even annihilation should the humans feel that without collars Arcans were too dangerous to allow to live. She was going out of her way to intentionally plunge Noraam into turmoil, and in that turmoil there was nothing but pain and heartache in their future, for both sides.

Was she so absolutely certain that there would be war, she intended to get in the first blow? Possible. But what was also important for him to remember was that she had no light inside her. The shadow fox was evil, and though she was a spirit and sought to protect the Arcans, her methods and her motives were not as noble or as kind as the other spirits. To her, slaughtering a few tens of thousands was an acceptable outcome so long as her objectives were attained. To her, the end justified the means, and the number of bodies left strewn lifeless on the field behind her meant nothing.

I seek not your affection, nor your approval. I require only your obedience.

It had chilled his soul the day she told him that, in a cold, merciless tone, and it was the perfect example of her personality. But, it also left him all kinds of room. So long as he obeyed her, he was free to work against her in other ways. After all, what she had not said was something he could assume was perfectly fine for him to do.

Guile and deceit ... even if it was self-deception.

So, his treacherous spirit wanted war. Why, he had no idea, but that was her objective, that was her goal. Now that he knew what she wanted, he knew how to attack her to force her to give him what he wanted, which was Danna. She would release Danna, restore her humanity, and leave her alone. In return, Kyven wouldn't undermine her plans.

That was a sobering thought. Was he willing to allow Noraam to descend into war just to get what he wanted? Was Danna worth the lives that would be lost when war came?

Well ... that was basically a moot point now. Kyven couldn't stop this war now no matter what he did, even if he slaughtered every soul inside the Loremasters' headquarters that very morning.

So, in actuality, he couldn't threaten to take away her little war. So, he needed to figure out what about this war would benefit her so much that she was willing to kill tens of thousands and risk ruination across Noraam-

Kyven almost fell down, he came to such a sudden stop. Ruination. Of course. That was what she was doing. It ... it was so clear to him now. Though her methods were vicious, almost barbaric, he could see through all the twists in her plotting and see right to the heart of the matter. And he had been wrong, very wrong. All this really was about the liberation of the Arcans from human control. The Shaman and Council wanted to talk about it. The fox was doing something about it, and she was kicking the human race in the face on her way out the door, punishment for nearly a thousand years of abuse and mistreatment of the Arcan race by humanity.

This war was just a step along her path, and that path led to the separation of the Arcans from the humans. And since they would have won that freedom through violent struggle, being forced to fight the humans, then humanity would be forced to accept the result rather than delude themselves into believing that the Arcans had slipped through their fingers through deceit or trickery. And the Arcans, a slave race for a thousand years, would find a measure of confidence, and maybe not a little glory, in defeating their human oppressors and winning their freedom rather than being given it.

That was why she was going out of her way to engineer this war. She was forcing the Arcans to fight for their freedom, and through that struggle, impose their will on the territory west of the Smoking Mountains as well as establish themselves as slaves no longer, but as free beings. She was forcing them to grow up.

And what was more sobering ... was he ready to help her? Was he going to be able to go to sleep at night knowing he had helped pull the strings that brought the chopping blade down on tens of thousands of humans and Arcans?

But ... what was the alternative? To leave things as they were and try things the way the Shaman wanted, to try for peaceful change? Sure, in the short term, far fewer lives would be lost, but the Arcans would continue to be abused, misused, and slaughtered. Over time, the mountain of skulls piled under him for doing nothing would be far higher than the mound he was building for himself. And unlike the Council and the Shaman, he knew that nothing would change unless change was forced. That was a fundamental truth. The humans had no reason to want change, not when they had their slaves, they had their power, they had everything. The Loremasters were a perfect example of that, seeking even more, not content with what they had. They already had indirect control over Noraam, and now they wanted their empire. Sure, they'd call it a restoration, a democracy, but in reality it would be replacing twelve kings with one.

There would be no happy ending. Not in this.

The other side of what she was doing also needed inspection. She had a plan, and a long-reaching one. She went out of her way-in fact, she expended a tremendous amount of time and effort-to create a new breed of Arcan, an Arcan with her monster's shadow powers. Now, the question was, why. What did she want them for? She had to have some kind of a reason, some goal, for creating something completely new, even violating the natural order to do so in making Kyven Arcan and turning Umbra Arcan, and her intent to have Danna breed like some kind of farm animal. The fox wanted a race of shadow fox Arcans, who would have powers over and above other Arcans, and she had to have a plan. His spirit was nothing if not meticulous and prepared.

What use would a shadow fox Arcan be? Well, if the powers of his offspring were as strong as his, well, they would be effective spies and assassins. The only reason for them he could come up with was to keep the humans in check after the war, by sending shadow fox Arcans over into human lands to silently remove any human who had any bright ideas about attacking Arcan territory. Kyven could easily invade nearly any fortress or stronghold and murder a single man without ever being seen, and do it in such a way that nobody would ever know what happened. He could even do it without it appearing to be murder on its face, unless they used an alchemical device to discern the cause of death. There could be another reason, but if there was, he couldn't see it.

But, the question inside the question was how could he use this information for his own ends, against his spirit? He knew what she was doing, and more importantly, why, so how could he threaten her enough to get what he wanted, without messing up what they were doing and putting the plan in jeopardy? It was a tricky proposition, and not something he'd come up with immediately. But, at least now he knew where he had to start, and what he needed to do.

He already knew part of that answer, and that was what he'd already done. He couldn't really threaten her plans for war at the moment because he didn't know how to put his hand in there without risking his mission, but in a way, he'd already started in having Firetail Seal Danna. That took Danna off the chessboard and put control of that piece in his hands, and that meant that the shadow fox would have to deal with him to get it back. That meant that only Umbra remained to produce Arcan offspring, and since he was the only male, well ... that meant he controlled two pieces on the board. Sure, Umbra was pregnant with three of his children now, but three did not a breeding pool make. The shadow fox knew that, and that was why she went after Danna. Toby too had some place in this plan, though he wasn't sure what she wanted from him quite yet ... another breeding partner?

Possible. Actually, probable. The shadow fox admired Toby Fisher, admired him mightily, and she might see his qualities as perfect for her new race of Arcans. Toby was clever, insightful, motivated, and was also a nightmare of a whirlwind in a fight. If she was looking at him to be the second male Arcan to form the two branches of Arcans necessary to produce a viable breeding pool, she actually made a very good choice, much better than Kyven ... and Kyven had the wisdom to admit that. Again, that, he could see, was why she wanted Danna as well, for Danna was intelligent and brave, and she wasn't a slouch in a fight either. Kyven, Umbra, Toby, and Danna, the progenitors of a new Arcan race.

But ... only Umbra was a true Arcan. Kyven and Danna were only temporarily Arcan, and Toby would be as well if that was what the shadow fox was after concerning him.

Hmm ... if that was the case, then his treacherous spirit was going to have to make a second Arcan out of a human. Maybe he was wrong in that. Maybe it was far easier for her to take a human and make him or her an Arcan than it was for her to take a monster and make it an Arcan. After all, she had to use someone's humanity to do it, and to get something like that, she had to bargain for it, she couldn't take it. And spirits were invisible to mundane mortals, they couldn't communicate with anyone but Shaman ... or perhaps those who knew beyond any doubt that spirits existed.

People like Danna and Toby.

Alright, point. His spirit could make another Arcan out of a human, provided she bargained it out of her unwary prey.

Point. If she did so, then she could turn around and use that hapless person's humanity to create another Arcan like Umbra.

Point. His spirit couldn't just grab some random guy off the street and strip him of his humanity. She had to bargain for it, and to do that, she had to find a human with which she could interact ... and that wasn't very common. The vast majority of humans couldn't see spirits ... unless, of course, he was thinking far too narrowly. His spirit had in times past manifested visually, and had even once communicated aloud, though she usually conveyed her intentions through touch. Alright, so, maybe that meant that for a spirit to manifest into the real world like that, it took tremendous effort, and might be something that not all spirits could do. He'd bought that bullshit line from her about all spirits being equal back when he didn't have a clue, but he knew now that some spirits were stronger than others, and his totem was fucking powerful. She could do things other spirits couldn't do.

Correction. It was highly unlikely that his spirit had grabbed some poor random slob from a street in some city and tricked his humanity out of him. He was going to assume that his spirit couldn't just do that to anyone, and if she could, well, maybe she was very particular about who she took. Perhaps she couldn't do it an unlimited number of times, so she had to be careful in who she picked and how it was done.

So, he worked himself right back to where started; the number of shadow fox Arcans would be restricted until she formed breeding pairs, and at the moment, Kyven had control over both the male and female side of one of those breeding pairs. She could probably work around that roadblock, but it would take her time ... and that was his true advantage.

That was the one thing she'd let slip. She was working from some schedule of hers that he couldn't see, but was there nonetheless. He knew it because she had gone for the jugular against Danna, not even bothering to try to talk her or trick her into doing what she wanted. She had instead gone right for the throat, trying to terrorize her into obeying. That was not how his spirit usually worked, not unless she was pressed for time, as she had been preparing Kyven for his work during his Walk, when she admitted as much to him. After all, to be so blatant about her manipulations was ... crude. Infantile. That was not how she did things. So, if she was being so savage about it, that meant that whatever plans she had for Danna were in jeopardy because of time. She wanted Danna pregnant by a certain time, and her threats against Danna were to ensure that she conceived according to his spirit's schedule. And now Kyven had gone and stuck a wedge in her clock's mainspring by taking control over Danna's ability to conceive.

Now, what other advantages did he have over his spirit? Not many. The only one he could really think of was that he understood how spirit sight worked, and since spirits operated under the same rules, then they had the same restrictions. They couldn't see what wasn't alive-

They could not see that which was not living or magical.

Now that might be useful later on.

He also had his shadow powers. She had the same powers, hers were stronger than his, and she knew how they worked far better than he did, but in one respect, they gave him one thing, and that was power over which she did not have direct control. She could deny him his Shaman magic, but she couldn't do shit about his shadow powers unless she took it to him at that level. She had given them to him when she made him human again, and Kyven knew that she could not take away that which she had given without a bargain.

In reality, she couldn't entirely deny him his Shaman magic either. He learned that little trick the hard way, so although she could say no if he beseeched her for the power to cast a spell, she couldn't passively stop him if he drew that power from a mana crystal and cast it himself. She'd have to actively stop him, use her spirit powers, which in actuality were just Shaman magic. Granted, it'd be easy for her to do it, but, she had to see it coming. If he could distract her or trick her, somehow, he could conceivably blindside her with magic if it came down to it.

Cunning bitch. He'd believed her when she said she stripped him of all his powers, when the twisted irony was that when he was in Ledwell's cage, he could have drained the crystal in his collar at any time. She had trapped him in that cage by convincing him he had no powers, using his unfamiliarity with Shaman magic against him. He hadn't known how to drain a crystal then, and besides, he was so convinced that he couldn't, he may not have even been able to do so even if he tried. The mind was a powerful thing, as capable of allowing someone to perform superhuman feats as it was capable of trapping a man in a prison of his own making. It all came down to perception and awareness, fundamental pillars of reality which his illusions attacked.

That was the truth of this, the only real truth. His spirit was a deceitful, manipulative, cunning bitch, and he had to be very, very careful in how he did this. He didn't have a doubt that if he pissed her off too severely, she'd kill him. After all, he was nothing but her possession, her tool, and she would only lament the waste of her time training him if she killed him. She didn't care about him, and his life hinged on his usefulness to her. Danna was right in that regard, when she said that she would have to watch his spirit hurt him, and hurt him, and hurt him. It wasn't that she took pleasure in hurting him, she simply did not care if she hurt him. That more than anything told him exactly what she was.

He was honestly surprised when he looked up and saw a faint slash of pink in the sky over a wide farm field filled with cotton, an unusual crop to see this far north. He'd been pondering almost all night! How far had he walked, lost in his reverie? It almost scared him to think that he'd gone so long without any realization of where he was and what he was doing. He stopped and looked around, then almost chuckled when he looked back down the road from where he came, and saw two familiar shadows lurking some dozens of rods back there.

"Alright, come on," he called, waving them forward.

The two Lupans, who had somehow found him during the night, padded up to him. The large male almost knocked him down brushing his shoulder against his waist, and the female nuzzled his hand as he moved to stroke her wiry fur. His concern at not paying attention melted when he realized that these two would have made sure nothing attacked him while he was distracted, but it didn't change the fact that he had to be much more aware of things if he wanted to live to see spring. "I'm surprised you found me, I left no trail you could follow," he told them.

"They followed me."

Kyven honestly started then, for Lightfoot's voice seemed to come out of nowhere. He looked around, then opened his eyes to the spirits and quickly picked her out among the cotton plants, down on all fours and almost impossible to see. "Lightfoot!" he gasped, then he laughed. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to kill you about fifty times," she said reproachfully, standing up and jumping the fence separating the cotton from the road. As usual, the striped tabby wore only a belt holding two pistol holsters and sheaths for three alchemical rods, but she was also wearing a slender bronze collar which his spirit sight told him had no crystal in it, her little bit of deception to keep people from harassing or attacking her as they moved.

"Where's Strider?"

She pointed, and he looked back behind him. His spirit sight let him see the Equar well back from them, walking along at a pace that kept him a set distance. Kyven gave a low whistle, and the massive animal picked up into a shambling trot, catching up to them. "How did Ember take meeting Clover?"

"Awe."

"I figured," he said as the large male gave Lightfoot a cool look, but grudgingly got out of her way when she moved to join Kyven, surrendering his spot beside the Shaman. Kyven didn't miss that; the Lupans were afraid of Lightfoot. That only proved they were intelligent. "Any trouble getting here?"

She gave him a flat look.

"You know, this is why I hate traveling with you, Lightfoot," he said blandly. "Talk, talk, talk, talk, I just can't get you to shut up."

She gave him a stare, then laughed suddenly, a sound he didn't hear from her often.

"How far back are they?"

"Two days," she answered, nudging her muzzle towards the northeast. "We need to go east. We need to be in front of them."

"I figured," he said, digging Longtooth's map out of his belt pouch and unfolding it. "We can take these two roads here over to the Chain Road that runs from Charron to Cheston. I see Clover got you a fake collar, so we can just ride. I'll keep my eyes open for the army, but from here out, it's about getting the army there fast. It's so big now, it can't hide anymore."

She nodded. "That's what they want us to do," she affirmed. "Rush to Cheston. Scout for the army."

"Simple enough," he said as Strider trotted up to them, and nearly knocked Kyven down as he nudged him with his broad muzzle. "I'm glad to see you too, you pain in the ass," Kyven chuckled, reaching up and patting the Equar on the side of his nose. "Now, first things first. Belt," he commanded, reaching his hand out to Lightfoot.

She frowned, but instead of removing her weapons belt, she instead started unhooking her pistol holsters and rod sheaths from it.

"It'd be easier to just take it off."

"But I'd be naked," she protested, which made him give her a strange look. "Don't want you riding with a hard-on."

He burst out laughing, no doubt waking someone up on the plantation they were about to pass.

Kyven was the only one that rode the Equar. Lightfoot preferred to stay on foot, bounding ahead on all fours to scout as the two Lupans slunk back behind him, which would cover his backtrail. It turned out that the Lupans didn't slink back there for long, for he glanced back after they'd just started out and saw that their ears were up and they were both looking off to the east. There was something out there that had their attention, and that made Kyven curious. The two Lupans bounded quickly into the forest, and Kyven didn't think much more of it, thinking they'd scented a deer, until he heard the squeal, and then shouts of protest.

He knew that voice!

Cursing, Kyven turned Strider around and galloped him back past the plantation they'd passed, looking towards the east. "Don't kill him!" he barked loud enough for the Lupans to hear as he reached where they entered the forest, slid down off Strider, and then rushed into the woods.

He found them just inside the treeline. The female had him pinned down with her paws and the male was pacing back and forth. Little Lucky looked terrified, and he wasn't even moving his tail as the female, which weighed a good three times more than he did, literally laid down atop him, giving him a cool look as she licked slowly at his face, as if tasting him.

"Lucky!" Kyven called in a harsh voice. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

"I won't let her go out into danger alone," the calico said in a weak, wheezing voice as the weight of the Lupan inexorably squashed the air out of him.

Cursing again, Kyven looked down at him. He too was wearing a fake collar, from what he could see between the Lupan's massive paws. "Up," he commanded. The Lupan looked up at him, then moved her paws and stood up, but kept him firmly between her paws and under her, looming over him threateningly. Lucky was nude, wearing only the fake collar, and had nothing with him, not even a knife. "Now, before I let her eat you, boy, you'd better talk very fast."

Lucky gave the Lupan a single fearful look, then swallowed. "I won't let her go alone," he declared, more to himself than to Kyven. "I know she's all trained and stuff, but I won't let her go alone. She needs me."

"She needs you out here like she needs mange," he said with brutal honesty. "The only thing you can do for her is make her breakfast."

"Then that's what I'll do," he declared. "Shaman, please, don't send me back! I, I have to be here if she needs me!"

Kyven sighed and put his palm over his face. The same reason he couldn't send Ember to the army kept him from sending Lucky. He didn't trust the boy to make it on his own, and now that Lightfoot was here, now the only one that could take him back was Lightfoot ... and she might kill him for following her. This was no place for a half-trained boy. But, if he managed to keep up with Strider enough to get there before they left, well, at least that much Kyven could respect. Lucky was certainly intent on keeping close to Lightfoot, even if it meant risking both her wrath and the wrath of a Shaman.

But the wisdom of a Shaman took over before he said anything else. "I'll leave it up to her. But boy, she may have the Lupans eat you for this."

Lucky looked up at the Lupan, looking down at him and licking her chops, and he swallowed.

Lightfoot was certainly not one to fail to notice something unusual, for she bounded into the woods on all fours just seconds later. She padded up enough to see, then he heard her curse in a voice louder than anything he'd ever heard from her before as she rose up onto her feet and glared down at the calico Arcan youth. "What are you doing here!" she demanded in an angry voice, then Lucky yelped when she reached down, grabbed him by the fur of his chest, and physically dragged him off the ground. She hauled him up to her arm's length, putting Lucky's head above hers, and also demonstrated just how strong the diminutive cat Arcan really was.

Lucky gave her a fearful look, but his heart was also in his eyes. Kyven knew beyond any doubt that Lucky was utterly in love with Lightfoot in that moment, and he'd do anything to stay with her ... even risk having her kill him for being stupid. "You may need another pair of eyes," he said in a quavering voice. "I can help."

Lightfoot gave him a truly murderous look, then let go of his fur. He gasped when he crashed to the ground, but then yelped in pain when she grabbed two handfuls of his chest fur and pushed him down into the ground. "Stupid infant!" she snapped at him. "This is no place for an untrained child!"

"I managed to follow you here," he said in a breathless voice, trying to sound brave. "I can keep up, I can help, I swear!" He gasped when she pulled him up off the ground, then slammed him back down, and she was not gentle about it. "I won't let you go into danger alone!" he wheezed, "and if you take me back to the army, I'll, I'll just follow you when you leave! I did it once, I can do it again!"

"Not if I break your legs," she hissed.

"It's your decision, Lightfoot," Kyven said simply, leaning against a tree and scratching the female Lupan absently behind the ear. "I'll leave it up to you if we send him back or let my friend here eat him."

Lightfoot glanced back at him, "Thanks," she said in a disgusted tone, telling Kyven far more than what Lucky had heard. Lightfoot truly fancied Lucky, and didn't like being put in the position where she had to send him away. She wanted Kyven to be the bad guy and force her to take him back to the army.

Kyven considered it a moment. If Lucky could get here, then he was pretty serious about it. And if he could get here without Lightfoot knowing she was being followed, well ... that said something. He'd proven himself in that regard, that he could follow Lightfoot all the way from the army, keep up with Strider- mostly anyway- and manage to do it without the wary Lightfoot sensing she was being followed or being found by anyone else. And, well, maybe he could be handy keeping camp while he and Lightfoot were out prowling. He considered it because right now, Lightfoot really didn't have time to take him back, not if she wanted to get back to him in time to matter. And, at least with a third person in camp, Kyven could shadow walk away and Lightfoot could patrol and still leave someone in camp to tend Strider.

She looked honestly torn, then let go of him in disgust and stood up over him. Then, to his surprise, she put her foot on his chest. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked, a little winsomely, a surprising sound coming out of Lightfoot. She looked to Kyven. "I can't take him back."

"I know, it's too far out of the way. I'll be moving, so you won't be able to easily catch up with me, and we don't have time to wait. So, should I let her eat him?"

"I'll think about it," she said, pushing down on Lucky with her foot, making him wheeze, then stepping back. "Stay out of trouble or I'll kill you myself," she declared, glaring at him, then she turned, dropped to all fours, and bounded back towards the road.

Lucky panted, putting his hand to his askew chest fur, then looked at Kyven. "I'll prove you need me, Shaman," he declared boldly. "I won't be a burden, and I'll prove she needs me."

Kyven had to chuckle as the slender little cat Arcan got back to his feet, his tail swishing nervously. "Go out to the horse," he commanded. "And get ready to run. If she runs, you run."

Lucky gave him one of his bright smiles, then rushed past the Lupan and the Shaman, heading for the road.

"And Lucky."

"Yes, Shaman?" he asked, turning to look at him.

"Don't ever call me that out here," he warned in a sober voice. "It will get us all killed."

A look of horror passed over him, and he nodded vigorously. "Okay, that was me being stupid," he admitted. "I won't do it again, Kyven."

"Good boy," Kyven answered, and Lucky vanished between the trees, heading out to a waiting Strider.

Kyven looked down at the female, who looked up at him impassively. "Well, this'll make this trip interesting if nothing else," he noted. "You two leave him be," he told both her and the male, who stood quiet guard close to them. "He's a friend. And thanks for nosing him out, it makes me feel very secure knowing you two are out there keeping an eye on things," he told them, patting the female fondly on the back of her neck.

Kyven wasn't entirely happy Lucky had followed him, but he couldn't deny that the young male was absolutely serious about doing anything it took to stay with Lightfoot. As Kyven rode Strider towards the roads that would take them to the road that would ultimately get them to the Chain Road, he saw that Lucky was militantly silent, half-running half-bounding along beside Strider's churning legs as the Equar cantered along at his ground-eating pace he could hold all day, and Lightfoot ghosted both in front and behind them. Lucky was going to prove himself, and the first thing he felt he needed to do, Kyven could see, was keep up with the Equar and make not a single sound. Granted, half of that was because they were in human lands and he wasn't sure if he should talk to Kyven- pretending to be the Arcan slave- which was out of character for the young male. He wasn't the kind to talk endlessly, but he did talk enough to take note of his silence.

The two Arcans certainly didn't attract any attention from the farmers and plantation workers they passed. One human farmhand, standing at a fence rail watching Arcans toil in the tobacco fields, simply glanced at the trio as they traveled past, seeing it as not unusual at all to see two collared Arcans running along with a well-dressed middle-aged man with grizzled features and graying hair riding a horse. A bloody fucking huge horse, but still a horse. Lucky kept up with Strider all through the morning, but he was noticeably winded when they stopped for lunch, a lunch of venison jerky and a rabbit that Lightfoot caught just before they stopped, which she didn't share with Lucky. She remained stonily silent during lunch, barely even looking at the young male, and she padded off as soon as she was done.

By sunset, Kyven was very, very tired. He'd been up for a very long time, almost two days, and he'd delayed camping to get to a place on Longtooth's maps that showed that there were no farms or plantations a comfortable distance around them. The reason, he found when he arrived, was that there was a strange sulfurous, smoky smell about the area, and faint wisps of smoke that carried that smell oozed out of the grassy ground along a very gentle ridge.

"The smoking glade," Lightfoot noted as they got there. "We can cross before sunset."

"The ground is hot," Lucky declared, shifting his hands on the ground.

"There's a fire underground," Kyven realized as he looked around. "Something under this hill is burning, and the smoke is seeping up out of the ground itself. I've seen a mine fire, what it does to the ground above it, and this looks just the same."

"Coal?" Lucky asked.

He shook his head. "The coal is in the mountains, not out here," he said, smelling the smoke and then making a face. "This is something else. Whatever it is, it surely doesn't smell healthy. Let's get through here and find a place to camp that doesn't smell like rotting eggs."

After about an hour, after the sun went down, they found a clearing in the woods far enough away from the smell that the air was clear. Lucky made sure he did all the work, setting out bedrolls for Kyven and Lightfoot, digging a firepit and lining it with stones, and collecting up enough firewood to last them a week. Lightfoot made sure to lounge on her bedroll, hands behind her head, glaring at him every time he looked in her general direction. When he left to go fill the waterskins, Kyven leaned over on his bedroll and nudged her. "Fraud," he teased.

She gave him an angry look, then it turned slightly guilty. "I don't want him here."

"He certainly wants to prove you wrong."

"He'll get hurt."

"He faced that with the army too," he noted. "At least here, you can keep him out of trouble. Oh, and you can keep staring at his dick when you think he isn't looking."

She gave him a sudden withering look, then her face fur ruffled.

"Busted," he teased with a chuckle.

"Hush," she said, cocking a threatening fist in his direction. "I can look without touching."

"Still refusing him?"

"I won't risk it," she reaffirmed. Then she looked at him. "You're here."

He laughed. "You certainly know how to torment a man, Lightfoot."

"His fault," she shrugged. "What?" she asked when he stood up.

"I guess I've gotten spoiled," he admitted with a chuckle. "I'm going to go hunt before I pass out from exhaustion. Keep everything under control."

"Always," she answered.

After shedding his clothes and enacting the power of the medallion around his neck, Kyven stalked off into the muggy darkness. He wanted this done fast, and that meant cheating. He found the signs that a herd of deer were nearby, tracked them to a small clearing between the forest and the fence of a plantation field, and he easily reverted to his old hunting tactics to down the largest of the animals. It felt strange yet also nostalgic to make the kill with his jaws, to taste the hot blood in his mouth as his bite strangled the life out of the kicking buck, his claws penetrating the buck's hide as he held it down and still so its thrashing couldn't break his teeth. There was something ... thrilling about making a kill as an Arcan, the anticipation as he tracked, the tingling thrill of the initial attack, the taste of blood, the joy of the kill ... in some ways, he was still Arcan. He was a bit startled to hear more commotion out there in the direction the herd had fled when he attacked, and once he was sure his kill was dead, he saw the two Lupans padding into the clearing, each of them with a deer in their jaws. "Still following me," he chuckled as he licked away a thin spot of blood from his chops.

With three deer, there was more than enough for everyone. Kyven and the two cat Arcans ate from one carcass, the two Lupans shared one of theirs, and as usual, the Lupans surrendered a kill to Strider, who hogged his deer all to himself. After a filling meal, Kyven made no pretenses about his intent. "I don't care what you guys do, just let me sleep until dawn," he told them. "I'm exhausted."

"Sure thing, Kyven," Lucky told him, then he glanced at the two Lupans, who were moving from the bloody patch of ground that had once held their deer, which they had eaten, bones and all. "Uh," he sounded as the male sat down beside him, all but nose to nose with the young cat Arcan, staring at him with a cool expression.

"Here's your first test, boy," Kyven said with a yawn. "The Lupans are going to inspect you, see if you're worth their time. If you're still alive in the morning, you passed. Have fun," he said, then he deliberately laid down and covered his eyes with his hat.

So it was a bit of subterfuge, more or less intended to reinforce Lightfoot's need to punish Lucky for following her, what should they expect from a Shaman of guile and deceit. The Lupans wouldn't harm him because he asked them not to do so ... but he didn't know that. He was sure the two of them would harass Lucky a little bit, but they wouldn't hurt him.

Either way, Lucky was in for an interesting night, between the Lupans and an angry Lightfoot.

Dawn in Deep River was a quiet, tense period for Danna and the army, for the Loreguard had arrived.

It surprised her when the scouts came back in the night and woke Danna up to tell her that the Loreguard was moving at night, at least until she heard why. They'd roused from their camp four hours before dawn and moved under torchlight, and they did so because the rear of their column had been attacked by an Ursorax that took issue with the large number of noisy humans that had invaded his territory. From what the scouts reported, the Ursorax killed nearly ten men around a campfire at the edge of the encampment, then was scared off by musket fire ... if only for a moment. Scouts kept sighting the Ursorax prowling the encampment, and the squad the Loreguard commanders sent into the forest to kill the Ursorax were instead wiped out to the man by a pack of Lupans, their screams and the gunshots audible to the horrified army that heard them being wiped out.

The army, too jittery to rest and clearly in a bad location, then pulled camp and started marching by torches and alchemical lamps to get away from the Ursorax and Lupans, which their scientific advisors would tell them were territorial by nature. They were leaving the monsters' territory.

This was not a random occurrence. This was the human army learning the hard way what happened when a hostile force invaded territory claimed by the Shaman. The Shaman had saved this tactic for when the army was closer, letting them get far, far away from reinforcements or supplies, then they had, well, sort of talked to the spirits and asked them to rile up the local monster population. Danna didn't know they could do that, she thought they could just talk to monsters, like they had with the monsters that were with their army.

Just thinking about that fucking Wolveran they'd brought into the army almost made her pee herself.

There were other little surprises waiting for the Loreguard when they reached Deep River. One of the Shaman with them was particularly close to water spirits, and she was going to ask those spirits to stop all river traffic once the army crossed the river and took over Deep River. The spirits would then sink anything on the river that wasn't natural that came within twenty minars of the settlement, from a trading coster to a child's toy boat. They were also going to ask the spirits to make it unbearably hot inside the walls of Deep River, allowing the heat to drain the strength and spirit out of the invaders

Again, this was something that Danna know Shaman could do, since she'd never seen them do it before. But that didn't mean much, she'd come to learn. The Shaman were notoriously tight-lipped about their abilities.

It was all part of the plan. Danna had carefully planned this siege so that they could force the Loreguard army to surrender without firing a single shot. She didn't want to risk a single soldier, because they were going to need every single one of them to repel the next invasion, the serious one, when word of the defeat of the Loreguard expedition into uncharted territory got back to the Loremasters. When they found out what happened, they'd strip Noraam of every single able-bodied man and march them across the Smoke Mountains in a tidal wave of seething hatred. Even though Flaur was about to attack the Loremasters with help from a large Arcan army that Clover helped raise, Danna knew that the shockwave that would blast through Noraam when the humans found out that the Arcans had their own army was going to change everything. They would fear the idea of an Arcan army threatening the western frontier far, far more than they would a Flauren invasion from the south.

But that was worries for later, for right now, sitting on her horse in a small clearing on the top of a ridge overlooking the Deep River Valley, she watched a snaking line of human soldiers filing out of the forest, marching four abreast and with cavalry walking slowly behind them. They were on the far side of the river, and the ferry at Deep River was already crossing to go meet them, having been warned of the approaching army by a group of Loreguard scouts that the Shaman allowed to live to get there. Her army, camped out about two minars west, would stay where it was for now, because what they needed to have happen was for the Loreguard army to occupy the town of Deep River. She wanted to see where they set up their camps, how many would be outside the town and how many would be in. She wanted to see if they tried to fortify the town, since they didn't plan on being here more than a week or so. According to the Shaman, they were to wait here for supplies that were coming downriver from Two River, supplies that were supposed to arrive within the next two days, but were in fact on their way to her army thanks to a strike force of fighting Arcans and five Shaman that had intercepted the four riverboats about sixty minars upriver, boarded them, killed their crews, and taken their supplies. Those supplies, she'd learned from Dancer, who had led the attack, were desperately needed by her army. The food and uniforms weren't all that necessary, but included in the shipment were nearly two thousand muskets, five hundred shockrods, a case of impact rods, ammunition, spare crystals, tents, and useful tools such as shovels, tents, blankets, and whatnot. Her army wasn't very well supplied as far as weapons went, even though cases and cases of muskets, pistols, and alchemical weapons arrived every day, literally being carried by Arcans who had run all the way from Haven lugging those heavy loads. She had more and more supplies every day, but half her army still had no ranged weapon, was utilizing whatever they could find, be it wood axes, staves, and even simple rough wooden cudgels fashioned from tree branches or sapling roots.

That was the first warning to Tag that things were amiss, for he'd had no communications with the resupply party, and they'd had talkers ... which were now in their hands rather than the Loreguard's. No doubt that Tag was already aware that his supply ships had gone silent, and was probably worrying about it, sending repeated messages back to the Loremasters and demanding to know what was going on. Because of that, Danna figured that Tag was going to be careful with his deployment around the town, even more careful than he'd need to be taking over a town filled with outlaws, prospectors, frontier settlers, mountain men, and other cantankerous individuals who wouldn't take kindly to the Loreguard marching into their town. There was a bit under ten thousand soldiers down there, their supply wagons, about two hundred cavalry horses, and a contingent of about four hundred Arcans and around three hundred human laborers, men and Arcans who had been all but kidnapped from around Riyan and from farms and villages as they marched west. Those were the unlucky bastards who would be doing any heavy work that Tag wanted done, if he decided to fortify his position as he waited for his supplies and prepared to push west along the Deep River valley.

She almost felt sorry for them. Both them and the soldiers.

"And so it begins," Firetail said sadly from the horse beside hers as they looked down into the valley.

"Fuckin' amen, Firetail," Danna agreed.

"What are your orders, General?" the Shaman behind her, a saucy little rodent of some kind named Quick, asked. Quick had fast hands, a sharp mind, and unfortunately, he also had a quick tongue and little care of where and how he used it.

"General," she snorted, then laughed without much humor. "What we have planned, Quick. We let them cross the river and settle in, then I'll go have a little chat with Tag."

"You know him?"

She nodded. "I've met him several times, and I was under his command once, for about two days, during an exercise."

"How long do you think it'll take for them to get across the river?"

"Given there's only one ferry, all day," she answered. "Just keep our people out of sight and keep their scouts away, and we'll be alright.

Danna's prediction turned out to be true. Tag wisely wouldn't leave his forces divided, and the poor ferryman spent all day running his barge back and forth as the nearly eleven thousand men and Arcans and all their supplies were ferried over to the west bank of the river, the poor man finishing his grueling work at nearly midnight as he brought over the last of the human laborers. Danna watched nearly the entire process from their little clearing over the day, watching carefully as about half the army set up inside town, and the rest camped in the open area north of the town, in that clearing over which that cave Kyven said the human and his Arcan wife had lived stood. Men were put in the town, including the Arcan slaves, but the supply wagons were parked in the clearing with the other half of the army, both keeping them out where they could be easily accessed and keeping them away from potential thieves in town.

It began around noon, as General Taggan Wild prudently put out scouts after they had a chance to rest. Those scouts weren't searching for an enemy army, they were instead getting the lay of the land and concentrating on searching out their projected route west to look for anything that might hinder the movement of the army, due to their four small wagons and numerous pack horses. Due to the fact that they were crossing virgin territory, at least to them, thick forest with no roads, they couldn't use conventional supply wagons. However, they had brought four narrow wagons designed for travel over rough terrain that were loaded with foodstuffs and delicate items that wouldn't take being bounced around on the back of a pack horse all that well, and also to test the somewhat new wagon design to see how effective they were at cross country travel. The majority of the supplies the army intended to utilize were being sent downriver by boat after the army reached its destination, which was a plan that made sense to Danna. To load men on the limited number of riverboats would take away room for the supplies they'd need to build a permanent settlement far from civilization, but they'd need those men to both defend the settlement and also to push further west when they intended to go in search of the machine that originally created the Arcans. They'd already decided to send a force so large that the river cities like Nurys couldn't possibly attack and dislodge them, and to send that many, the best way to go about it was to march them there overland and then send the boats filled with the supplies their laborers and architects would need once they arrived.

The scouts had no expectation of trouble, and because of that, not a single one of them put up a fight. The professional fighting Arcans Danna sent out to capture them did their duty with perfection, rounding up every single one of the 18 scouts Tag had dispatched to survey the area, blindfolding them, making them dizzy so they didn't know which direction the Arcans took them, then they were brought to the main Arcan encampment. There, the men stared white-faced at a huge army of Arcans as they were stripped naked, allowed to see what they'd be facing, and once they had their fill, they were blindfolded again and dumped about a minar from Deep River, on the edge of the land cleared by the farmers. They would then walk back to the occupied down naked and terrified, and would report what they saw to disbelieving officers ... at least the first one or two would. As more and more scouts returned naked and with the same story, the officers would begin to believe them.

As Danna watched from her small clearing, the army down below went from lounging about in rest after the long march to digging hasty fortifications by sunset.

It was then that General Taggan Wild knew he was in trouble. He tried using his talkers to get information back to the Loremasters, but his talkers no longer worked. They could receive messages, but his messages couldn't get out. He then tried to dispatch riders to ride back to civilization with a warning, but the officer that set it up watched in horror when the ferry that had brought them all over was just swallowed by the river itself when 12 men on horses were trying to get back to the other side. The river simply rose up like a giant hand, slammed down on the ferry, and the 12 Loreguard and the ferryman were never seen again. He sent six more along the west bank with the idea to simply ride along the western bank all the way to Two River, but the men were massacred just at the northern edge of the clearing, shot down in clear view of the army, but nobody could see who attacked since the attackers were in the trees.

Tag understood then that he was in serious trouble. He had no reason to disbelieve the scouts, he now had evidence they had access to serious alchemical weaponry if they could use the river like that, and they had Deep River surrounded. He dispatched more scouts at sunset with the mission of reconnoitering the immediate area to search for enemy positions, but this was not a smart thing to do. Had General Tag had more experience dealing with opponents that could see in the dark as well as a human could on a sunny day, or believed that the Arcans his scouts reported were the real army and not just cannon fodder for a human army that had somehow beaten them there, he'd never have sent his men out into that darkness. He learned the hard way that any kind of operation at night would end in disaster, and he learned it quickly when the agonized screams of his scouts echoed back across Deep River after the sun went down.

It was another long, sleepless night for the Expeditionary Force of the Loreguard, as they dug in and fortified Deep River with anything they could find. Buildings were literally torn down to form barricades as the general used the inner ring of buildings as a wall of sorts and filled the gaps with anything he could find, then brought his entire army inside. In a show of true compassion for the residents of Deep River, he confiscated their property and threw them out and left them to the mercy of the enemy army. Those people, afraid of what was out there but unable to go anywhere, ran into the forest or holed up in the caves north of town, but they weren't in the way for long. They were all rounded up by her fighting Arcans, disarmed, and escorted west to be allowed to settle temporarily at a camp the army had built for them near the grassy plain northwest of Deep River, well stocked with provisions and more than capable of seeing them through the winter if needs be.

The army had no quarrel with those men, and so they were treated with respect.

At dawn, and much over the strenuous objections of Firetail, Danna Pannen and Hardstep rode down out of the hills and into that northern clearing alone. Danna rode in as a human, but she was wearing the uniform of Haven, for they'd already contacted Kyven and asked him to take Danna's Arcan body for the entire day, from sunrise to sunset, so she had time to do this. Had she shown up as an Arcan, the men would probably capture her and stick her in the pen with the other Arcan slaves. Danna rode towards the hasty fortifications slowly, letting them see her coming, then she stopped just outside the range of their muskets and had Hardstep wave a white flag.

Much to her surprise, about ten minutes later, General Taggan Wild himself rode out with five escorts and met her in the field.

He was still burly and healthy despite his short-cropped steely gray hair and moustaches, and Danna felt a tiny bit vulnerable as the six armed men cantered their horses up to her, where she had no weapons and had only the unmounted Hardstep for protection. But she was not a woman known for timidity. She kept her jaw raised and her eyes calm as they rode out to face her, about fifteen rods of empty space between them, and Tag initiated their parlay. "Well, I'll be, we thought you were dead, Pannen," he declared. "You've been missing for over a year."

"I'm alive and well, General," she answered. "And as you can see, I'm working for a new organization."

"And what organization is that?"

"Come now, Tag, you read the reports. You heard the rumors. They're true. The Arcans have their own nation out here in the frontier, and they can't let you invade their territory and set up permanent settlements. You're a threat to their security."

"You're working for them?" one of his officers sneered.

"I wasn't willing at first, but they convinced me," she answered coolly. "All they want is to be left alone. If they hadn't proved that to me, I wouldn't be here now."

"So, what are you here for then?" another asked.

"I'm here to offer you a peaceful end to this, General, with your unconditional surrender," she answered. "Send out your men in groups of ten, unarmed, and they'll be allowed to return to Noraam."

"And why would we do that, dear?" Tag asked, his eyes amused.

"Because I have you surrounded," she answered bluntly. "Because I have over a hundred thousand soldiers in these hills around Deep River and over on the east bank, and you're not getting a mouse in or out of Deep River that won't be blown halfway to hell before he can take ten steps. Because I have control of the river north of here, and those forces have already captured the supply boats that you thought would be here waiting for you when you arrived, and they'll make sure no reinforcements or supplies reach Deep River. And," she said, taking a breath, "I because I have the Shaman behind me, Tag. Your talkers aren't working right, you can hear messages but can't send out any, can you? The Shaman are why. The river seemed to come alive and kill the outriders you tried to send back to Noraam to warn them, didn't it? The Shaman are why. You have no idea what the Shaman can do, General. Hell, I didn't believe it either until I saw it with my own eyes. Nature itself comes to heel when they call, and now you're going to be on the receiving end of it. You may have muskets and shockrods, General, but I have Shaman, and they can make your life hell without coming within ten minars of you. I'll let them demonstrate just what they can do and how helpless you are against them over the next few days.

"So, here are our terms, General. You surrender unconditionally. In return, your men will be allowed to return to civilization, with just enough supplies to make it back, and closely watched by Arcans who will keep the monsters away from them, but won't help them. They'll be walking and unarmed, but you have my guarantee they'll make it back alive. Further, every man must take a binding oath sealed by magic that they can never come back into Arcan territory, so they can't simply be rearmed and sent right back over to fight. You then tell the Loremasters that the land west of the Smoke Mountains is not theirs for the taking, and you make sure to tell them that the Arcans of Haven don't want war, but they will not be quite this merciful the next time the Loremasters march an army into their territory.

"If you refuse, then understand this, Tag. Winter is coming. We'll pin you inside your fortifications, and we will starve you to death. We have you surrounded, we've cut your communications, and we have the river choked off. You won't get any supplies, you won't get any help, and I don't think you brought enough food to last your men the entire winter. So, you can either surrender with dignity, or we'll pin you behind your walls and watch you waste away to nothing. When we come into Deep River, General, we'll do it when what men you have that are still alive are eating the dead to survive and will be too tired to care to lift a musket when we walk down the street."

"And those are your terms?" he asked, his eyes no longer amused, as his officers seemed to comprehend what horror she intended to inflict on them if they didn't surrender.

"Those are the terms. I'm sure you won't take them right now, and I'll have to kill a few hundred of your men you send out to look for my weak spots. That's fine, I can accept that. I'm sure you can also accept that every time you test your cage, we'll have to punish you for it, and we'll do it in ways you won't expect. But when the time comes, Tag, when you're convinced I have you pinned in here, you know that no help is coming, and you do the math and realize how long your food will last, I hope you'll be a man before you'll be a General."

"You do realize that as soon as they lost contact with us, they'll send a relief column?"

"I'm sure they may want to, but right now the Loremasters are dealing with a major insurrection in Noraam. Remember that little raid on Riyan that caused you to march with half your manpower and no Arcan labor? Well, that's now an army of about ten thousand, and it's laying siege to Cheston. There's also an army marching north from Flaur intending to force the Loreguard out of the Free Territories, and they'll be joining into a single force in about four days. So, if the Loremasters do try to send you reinforcements, there won't be enough to break through my hundred thousand soldiers and bring you relief. Your talker still receives, so I'll let you simply listen in and learn that truth yourself."

She nodded to Hardstep, who turned and started walking away. "Tonight, it's going to be very, very cold in Deep River," she warned them. "And I'm not talking about just chilly. I'm talking the kind of bone-chilling cold you see once in a generation during a Hamm winter. We're warning you it's coming so you don't lose men to frostbite or exposure, and also to prove to you that the Shaman can attack you without coming within ten minars of your slapdash walls. Experience what a Shaman can do tonight, General, then seriously consider our offer. The Arcans don't want to slaughter your army, Tag. They just want you to go back to Noraam and never return. If you leave Deep River and don't lose a single man, then both sides will consider that the best possible scenario."

She turned her horse halfway, clearly intending to follow the massive Arcan back to the trees. "I don't want this either. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to have to kill my own people, Tag, but I've seen the Arcan nation. I've seen the Arcans they bring, how scarred and abused and afraid they are. They need a place that is theirs, without humans, and I guess I decided that I'd rather uphold the Loreguard code and protect the defenseless in a place where it means something."

"You're a traitor to the uniform and to your race," one of the officers sneered.

"Do you know what the Loremasters intend to do, Major?" she retorted. "Do you know why they're sending you into the frontier to build a city?"

"To restore civilization to what was once civilized Noraam," he answered.

"They intend to take over Noraam, depose the kings, and rule the entire continent in their stead," she answered bluntly. "And they're going to take advantage of the fact that the mana crystals are almost all gone to do it. That's why they had you send detachments of soldiers to the mining villages. It had nothing to do with Arcan incursions or bandits, it's so the Loremasters have control of the last regions still producing crystals. The city you're building's purpose is so the Loremasters can build an alchemical device they believe will create new crystals, and keep it far away from the rest of Noraam so they have an absolute stranglehold on all crystal production on the continent, then use that to take over every kingdom from Hamm to Flaur. Flaur is marching on Avannar as we speak. They learned about it, and they're not going to let the Loremasters strangle them. And I'll bet my lacy panties that soldiers from Georvan, Alamar, and Carin are in that army by the time it reaches the Free Territories. The kings will fight back against the Loremasters, Major, and then you and the Loreguard will be fighting your own people on behalf of people who have broken their word and are trying to take over Noraam through treachery. That's half the reason I agreed to join the army of Haven, because at least here I know exactly what I'm fighting for and what it means to the Arcans I'm protecting. So long as the Loreguard fights at the behest of the Loremasters, then you are all breaking your oaths and betraying the very people you profess to serve.

"I know you don't believe a word I'm saying, but I want you to remember every word of it. Once you do learn the truth, I want you to think back to this moment and realize that I warned you. So, think about that while you wait for what the Shaman do to you next, your food supplies dwindle, and hope fades. Good luck, gentlemen. I sincerely hope you make it."

She turned her horse and started it back towards the trees, leaving her unprotected back open to them. But she knew that they wouldn't attack her; it was against the rules of war, and General Taggan Wild was too entrenched in the formalities to do such a thing.

That night, a cold unlike anything ever felt before settled over Deep River.

And only Deep River. The few trees inside the town literally exploded as the sap within expanded beyond the ability of the frozen wood to contain it, bats in search of insects that wandered into town died almost instantly, hitting the ground nearly frozen solid, the ground became hard as steel, liquid water would freeze in the time it took for it to be poured from the height of a man's waist to the ground, and men huddled under blankets and around campfires that struggled to remain lit against the intense cold, and threatened to go out any time a frozen piece of wood was banked into them. And yet, ten rods past the hastily erected fortifications around the town, the frogs sang, the grass wavered from warm breezes, and nothing at all was amiss.

It was the object lesson to the humans, the demonstration that the Shaman could attack them in ways they could not stop, but what the humans didn't know was the massive toll it took on the three Shaman who had volunteered to do this service. The price demanded by the spirits to so violently go against nature was steep, and Danna doubted that any of them would be able to get out of bed for a month. All three looked as if they'd aged ten years during the night, and for an Arcan, that was significant. This was her bluff, this was her gamble. If the humans believed that the Shaman could do things like this every day, putting constant pressure on them, they might be compelled to surrender quickly. But if Tag didn't go for it, well, at least they'd had a taste of what the Arcan army could do.

She knew she wouldn't see any sign of whether or not it worked for maybe a week, because Tag wasn't going to give up without being convinced he was in a no-win situation.

The probing began about an hour after dawn, after Deep River's unnatural cold melted away with the rising sun. All their alchemical surveillance equipment either simply failed to work or revealed nothing but static or mist or hissing static from the earpieces, which meant that the Shaman were actively interfering with any attempts to gather intelligence via alchemy. That meant that General Taggan Wild, or just Tag to friends and his men, had to rely on good old fashioned manpower. Tag sent out twenty scouts, slipping them into the forest as best they could without revealing what they were doing, but it became clear within minutes that the Arcans were ready for it. The screams of his scouts were audible in Deep River as they were eliminated, leaving him twenty men down and not a single scout returning with any information he could use. There was nothing wrong with his spyglass, however, and he used it to ascertain that there were no visible or obvious fortifications, walls, or barricades along the relatively flat valley bottom between the river and the valley hillsides, meaning that it might be possible to get an armed column out of the trap. He sent twenty men on stout cavalry horses southwest, in the direction least likely for any of his men to go, with orders to escape if possible and return to Noraam as quickly as they could to bring back reinforcements. But sometimes, fortifications were more than simple walls and trenches and artillery. The twenty riders got nearly a minar out from Deep River, riding through a field of wheat that was now untended, when they reached the end of their mission. A withering hail of musket fire erupted from the treeline and cut them down, most of them before they could even turn their horses towards the attack. In mere seconds, all twenty men were dead, as were all but four of their horses, and those animals laid on the ground bleating in pain and terror from mortal wounds. Tag, from his vantage point in town, looked through his spyglass and knew that it took hundreds of muskets to produce that kind of carnage. And what was more, the Pannen woman was keeping her forces in the trees, using the forest as natural cover as well as natural fortifications to both conceal the movements of her forces as well as provide them protective cover from any return fire. She hadn't erected any obvious fortifications, but it was clear that any force that tried to march through that clear area was going to be subjected to attack from the treeline high enough up on the hillside to make a charge at their positions dicey, and that was as good as a twenty rod tall wall built across the farmland. All they had to do was picket in a nice long line along the trees and they could kill nine out of ten men that tried to break out of this trap and escape.

Tag could admire the tactic were it not being used against him.

So naturally, he formed up an infantry unit of a thousand men and had them start shooting into the trees from the town's roofs, blind fire to pin down any hidden attackers and maybe kill a few of them, and his army prepared for a probing attack into the forest behind the town from the river, along what looked to be a well-used trail that was so wide and well-worn that he could roll his wagons along it. He intended to attack those hillside positions from behind, send his men up onto the hillside and have them cut across and eliminate any enemy positions they found. The musketmen fired into the trees for a good ten minutes, at least until the retaliation came.

Fire.

Balls of fire lobbed in over the trees and crashed into the town. It wasn't magic, it was simple pitch set afire and launched, but it got Pannen's point across quickly. The men hastily became firefighters, beating out the flames before they burned down the entire town and robbed them of their only defensible position.

That happened three more times. Every time he assembled his infantry for a push into the forest, fire rained out of the sky to break them up and force them to put out the fires. Pannen was declaring that she could see everything he was doing, and she was going to break up any attempt he made to attack her. Either he committed his entire army to attacking an unknown position and abandoned his defensible position, or he did nothing.

A damned clever fucking sneaky thing to do, and he respected her for it.

The second probing action wasn't an attack, but a creation of his engineers and architects that had been with the army. Arcan slaves were pushed out to the river and put to work building a floating ramp of sorts, that would eventually traverse the minar-wide river and give the army a bridge to the east bank and give them a means to escape. The pontoon bridge, a clever design, extended nearly two hundred rods out into the river when Tag felt that it might just work, but then the river's natural flow seemed to shudder, and then a vortex appeared in the river not far from the end of the bridge. The Arcans screamed in terror and ran, but Tag saw even then that it was too late. A massive amorphous form exploded from the surface of the water, and with one log-thick tendril, it smashed the pontoon bridge near the riverbank, severing the bridge from its land moorings and stranding nearly a hundred Arcans on what was now a disintegrating raft. Some jumped off and tried to swim, but most of them grabbed hold of the bridge as it started breaking apart and spinning downriver in the sudden current created by that ... thing.

But the Arcans weren't pulled under with the bridge. The water thing herded the remnants of the bridge downriver and towards the opposite bank, even plucking the Arcans that had jumped and gently placing them back on the pieces, and he saw a mass of nearly a thousand Arcans wearing crude uniforms through his spyglass, coming out of the forest on the opposite bank. They met the water thing well outside of musket range, secured the remnants of the bridge, and started pulling the Arcans off of it. He could clearly see them removing the collars from the slaves and leading them into the forest.

In one day, he'd put nearly a thousand men in the infirmary with frostbite, lost about a hundred men, twenty horses, and over a hundred slaves. This was not a good day.

"Well ... fuck," Tag growled. Clearly, Pannen had thought this out. He was hoping he was dealing with a poser, an average intelligence leading the ignorant and therefore appearing to be a genius among them, but Danna Pannen was smarter than he expected her to be. She had deliberately chosen Deep River as her trap, surveyed the area, worked out her enemy's escape routes and effectively blocked them, and had a clear tactical advantage with her forces holding the hills behind his position. Clearly, that ... thing wasn't temporary, like the unnatural cold that had gripped the town last night. It had attacked and sank the ferry, and now it had attacked and destroyed the bridge over a day later. With that thing in the river, it made the river as good as a hundred rod tall wall, and the visible east bank of the river may as well be the coast of Briton for any good it would do them to reach it. "Any word on the town's talkers?"

"Nothing new so far, Tag," his second in command, Colonel Trent, answered. "Every talker we've found so far is the same. They can receive, but no messages can get out. I never knew Shaman could do something like that."

"I think we've badly underestimated the Shaman," he admitted, chomping on the end of a moustache as he swept his spyglass across the forested hillside behind the town. "Then again, I've never heard of them being capable of anything like this. Even when they were using magic to save their own lives."

"Maybe the ones we've dealt with in Noraam weren't their best," Trent considered.

"At this point, anything is possible," he said, zooming in on what looked like a break in the trees near the top of the hill, and he saw Arcans. Nearly a hundred of them, tending two catapults. He studied what he could see for long moments, and saw that the defenders of those siege engines had no muskets. They were carrying farm tools.

So, Pannen, what muskets you have you probably stole from my supply boats, he thought, studying the Arcans carefully. Your army may be big, but you're limited by the number of musket balls you can shoot at me at once. "Trent. I think we're going to make a go of it."

"With all due respect, sir, are you sure about that? Pannen seems to holding four swords and a crown in this hand."

"I'm looking at a large number of Arcans guarding two catapults armed with pitchforks, hoes, and wood axes, Trent," he answered. "She has numbers, but she doesn't have equipment. And she hasn't cut off all of my communications."

"Are you sure the pigeons will find us?"

"If the talkers still receive, then the pigeons can home in on our beacon," he answered. "We just have to get them back in the air with our message without losing them."

"Pannen was Loreguard, Tag. She knows about the carrier pigeons."

"True. But given how many pigeons there are, do you think she'll see one land in town and guess that it's one of ours?"

Trent was silent a moment, then chuckled. "I see your point. So we're going to stall?"

"Stall isn't a military term, Trent. Think of it as digging in for an extended defense of a strategic position."

Trent laughed.

"She may have us in a barrel, but she'll be the one getting her ass slapped if I can get a message to headquarters. They'll send a relief force that'll hit them from behind, and since they don't have enough muskets to give to Arcans defending critical equipment, I'll bet they won't be able to stand up to an attack from a direction they're not prepared to defend. And in the meantime, I'm going to keep testing her and gather as much intel as I can so our relief knows exactly what they're up against. She doesn't want to come in here, even though she knows she could burn us out."

"That's not very smart."

"She's saving her army," he told his subordinate. "I know exactly what she's doing. She only has so many muskets, and probably only a handful of alchemical weapons, and she knows that the next army that comes over the mountains will be fifty times bigger and ready to fight a war. She wants to force us to surrender without risking her own forces, saving them for the next phase. But mostly she wants to capture all our gear, which she can't do if she tries to burn us out. So, she either risks soldiers she can't afford to lose attacking us, or she risks losing equipment she needs later if she tries to burn us out. That actually gives us a little breathing room here, cause it stalemates her and gives us time to prepare. If she can get our gear, she'll try to dig in and hold off an army that's nearly as big as hers, but has much better equipment. We didn't come prepared to fight a war on this kind of scale, Trent. All things given, we're only lightly armed, more to deal with stray Arcans and the occasional monster, not an enemy army. Hell, we only brought four cannons with us. But I'll guarantee you the army that comes in after us will have artillery, alchemical death machines, flitters for aerial reconnaissance, and enough firepower to blow her and her entire scummy Arcan fuckstick army to hell and back."

"That sounds reasonable."

"Trust me. That shit about them being merciful is just a frilly way of telling me that they don't have the manpower or the balls to try to come in after me. So, get the men settled down, Trent, turn this town into a fortress, get our supplies under hard cover so she can't destroy them, and work out a rationing system with the quartermasters to stretch our supplies as much as possible without starving the men."

"What kind of time window do you want us to work with?"

"A month," he answered, staring at the two catapults through his spyglass. "That's how long the food has to last."

"I think we can manage that," Trent said after a moment's contemplation. "Between what we have and what we confiscated from the villagers, we should be able to hold out that long without going hungry."

"Then get to work on it," he said. "Specifically, I want the town dismantled and cleared, and timber used to build solid fortifications and treated to resist fire. I don't want that cunt lobbing fireballs onto anything that'll burn us out."

"I'll take care of it."

"Good. I'm going to watch them watch us for a while and see where we can piss her off."

"Good luck with it, Tag," his junior officer said, then he scurried off.

You haven't won this game yet, Danna Pannen, Tag thought with an evil smile. And when I make you kneel down and surrender, I think I'll stuff my dick in your mouth and give you my terms while you suck my cock.

Cheston knew it was coming.

Kyven, Lightfoot, and Lucky stood on a ridge overlooking the independent seaport of Cheston as the rising sun painted the tiled roofs and buildings in a reddish glow, sun that warmed the scrabbled bark of the tall, sturdy, delightfully aromatic pine trees known as sea pines for which the region was famous. The sea pines grew in clusters surrounded by other trees, mainly southern hardwoods like maple, birch, oak, and a few live oaks here and there.

About a day behind them, Danvers' army was coming. It numbered over ten thousand now, closer to fifteen thousand, and it was moving with a speed that confounded the local Loreguard detachments that tried to catch them. Danvers had abandoned stealth for speed, and the humans of Noraam were starting to appreciate how fast an Arcan army could move. Arcans on foot could easily keep up with cantering horses, and that gave them a mobility that far outstripped the humans trying to catch them.

Cheston knew it was coming. The army of Cheston only numbered about three thousand men, reinforcing a Loreguard detachment that numbered about two thousand, but the entirety of the city was out there now, in a frenzy of activity as they built fortifications under the direction of the military men. The vast majority of those laborers, Kyven saw, were Arcans. They knew that the army was coming, and they were trying to prepare for it.

Kyven had a job to do here, but this time it was personal. Cheston. Cheston. The Ledwell plantation was just about an hour's travel southwest of the city, out of the path of the incoming army, but what was equally important was that the famous Pens, the most infamous Arcan fighting club in Noraam, was also south of the city, just outside its southern border. Kyven wasn't about to come here and not pay that bitch Annette Ledwell a little visit, and after he was done, he'd attack the Pens, free the Arcans, and use them to cause chaos in southern Cheston, letting them exact their pound of flesh against the humans for everything the humans had done to them ... within reason.

Kyven's official job was to observe the fortifications and tell Danvers where the weak points were, then try to disrupt Cheston's preparations to make it easier for the insurgent army to attack, but unofficially, Kyven intended to go off on Cheston, a place of which he had intensely personal and intensely painful memories. This was where he was changed into an Arcan, captured, sold, and then tortured by a sadistic son of a bitch. Nothing would make him happier than burning Cheston to the ground and watching the freed Arcans punish the bastards who lived there. But, those were the happy kitten dreams he enjoyed while half asleep. In reality, he couldn't perpetrate an atrocity here because the Flaurens would be here in four days, and they couldn't march up to find the road lined with the impaled corpses of the Chestoners rotting on splintered stakes and the entire city nothing but a smoking ruin.

He'd find a way to exact his vengeance while not making it look to the Flaurens like the Arcans were psychotic killers.

"Cheston. Cesspool," Lightfoot said in a grim kind of voice.

"Amen," Kyven agreed.

"Where?"

"It's about an hour southwest of town," he answered, which confused Lucky a little bit. Kyven had known Lightfoot enough to know what she meant when she asked those questions, but Lucky hadn't quite gotten the hang of it yet. "I think we'll drop by about lunchtime and I'll have a little chat with that bitch," he said with a dark expression.

"I'll help."

"You can round up the Arcans while I do my business with Annette Ledwell," he told her.

"Ohhh, okay," Lucky piped in. Kyven was surprised he dared to speak. Lightfoot was still seriously pissed off at him, to the point where he walked very carefully around her. Lightfoot also proved that she could be a vindictive bitch as well, for she punished Lucky in many ways for following her. She made him do all the chores, she kept him from eating barely a mouthful with every meal since that first night, and she kept a cold glare on him any time she looked in his direction. In a bit of true bitchiness, she had been frisky last night, and not only did she partake of Kyven in full view of Lucky, which was normal in Arcan society, she tortured him with what she was doing, which was not normal. She made it abundantly clear that she was fucking Kyven, including one point where she was on top of him, her legs spread as wide as she could get them to go, and stared Lucky down as she deliberately mounted Kyven, showing him in blatant, graphic detail just what she was willing to do with anyone but him. Lucky sat transfixed watching Lightfoot lower herself down onto Kyven, and from what Lightfoot rather sadistically intimated to him earlier that morning, he looked humiliated, angry, contrite, and aroused all at the same time. Lucky was utterly smitten with Lightfoot, and her forcing him to watch her have sex would both arouse and frustrate him. Male Arcans, like male humans, were somewhat visually keyed and could be incited into sexual arousal through the right erotic imagery ... and nothing would seem more erotic to Lucky than seeing the woman he wanted engaged in a sex act, even if it wasn't with him, letting him see her doing what he wanted to do with her, but couldn't.

Trinity, did Lightfoot know how to punish someone.

But, Kyven could admire Lucky's determination. He had been a model travel companion, enduring Lightfoot's wrath with stoic dignity as he tried to prove himself to her, prove that he would be no burden. He had made no complaints even when Lightfoot was being her bitchiest, and had done his work. Hell, even Strider and the Lupans seemed to like the boy. Strider liked playing with Lucky, which for him meant knocking the young man off his feet with his snout any time Lucky wasn't paying attention to him, and the Lupans took a liking to him as well ... but that might be because two nights ago, Lucky spent almost half the night grooming both the Lupans, which they seemed to enjoy.

The little punk had even named them. He'd started calling the female Sirra, which was Flauren for charming or impressive in a feminine sense, and the male he started calling Dauro, which meant demon or monster in Flauren, a nod to his huge size and intimidating appearance. What annoyed Kyven more than anything else was that the Lupans were answering to those names, and now Lightfoot was using them, too!

Kyven had no idea that Lucky could speak Flauren, but he could, he'd found out just that morning, having learned it from an Arcan that had spent enough time in Flaur to speak the language. Given that they were about to meet up with a Flauren army, having someone with him that could speak the language might be useful. That in and of itself made him suddenly thankful that the little twerp had followed Lightfoot.

The Lupans. They were behind him, and it seemed apparent that this time, they weren't going to run off into the forest. Much as he expected, the Lupans gave Lightfoot a wide berth. They could instinctively sense the danger the little Arcan posed, that she was a whole lot of deadly wrapped in a small package, and they had the sense not to think they were above her in the hierarchy. But, that really wasn't a problem, since Lightfoot saw the two Lupans as little more than oversized housedogs ... dogs that could look her eye to eye. She seemed to get along with them, though she didn't pet them or show them any affection. To her, they were simply there, no more no less.

A commotion behind them caused Kyven to glance back, to see Lucky picking himself up off the ground after Strider knocked him down from behind. The Equar nickered evilly, almost like he was laughing, and knocked Lucky down again as he tried to get up, which earned him a playful swat on the muzzle from the beleaguered Arcan. That caused the Equar to prance about a bit in place, obviously amused, then bat Lucky in the chest with his muzzle without knocking him down until the young Arcan patted him on the side of his head and scratched his ear. That ... wasn't unexpected. Strider was a juvenile, and he liked to play.

"Where first?" Lightfoot asked.

"Cheston first," he replied. "Let's look around and get the information Danvers wants, call it back to him, then go take care of some business."

"Gladly."

To his surprise, the Lupans followed them all the way into Cheston, and Trinity, did they attract attention from the men and Arcans laboring to build fortifications outside the city. The two of them stalked after Strider with half snarls showing a little fang as they looked back and forth, intimidating all the people who gaped as they padded by. They all stopped what they were doing and watched the grizzle-haired older human on the impossibly large horse walk by with two Arcan slaves and two huge wolves trailing behind him, staring for long moments, then either returning to work on their own or being punished by human overseers for slacking. They reached what looked to be a small gate in a hastily built wall around the north side of town, that was still being built further south. The wall was being built out of charred logs, and it looked like a strong breeze would blow it over. They weren't even reinforcing it properly in their panic to get the wall built, which would make it a momentary inconvenience for a serious invading army.

"Who are you-holy shit!" the Cheston militiaman gasped, reaching for his shockrod when he saw the Lupans.

"They're mine," Kyven cut him off in a calm, gravely voice, the voice of Van Steady. "I'm Van Steady. I'm a rancher, or at least I used to be. I'm here looking for a safe haven, but from the looks of it, I need to just keep going south."

"Safe haven?"

"Don't you see what's going on out there, boy?" he asked flatly, turning in Strider's saddle and motioning the way they came. There's war in the Free Territories. Didn't you know that?"

The man gasped. "No, we didn't hear about it!" he said breathlessly.

"The whole of the southern Free Territories is a big mess," he said in his grating illusory voice. "Some army just appeared out of nowhere and rampaged from Riyan all the way down into Carin. Caught the Loreguard with their pants down, beat the shit out of them in Riyan, then they started south. I think they're attacking Rallan as we speak but I ain't too sure, because I've been pushing my horse half to death trying to get as fucking far ahead of them as I could. The Loreguard has marched into the mining villages and barricaded them off like they expect them to be attacked any second, and citizens are fleeing the entire Free Territories like the Great Exodus come again, flooding Marand, Balton, and Phion with refugees. Trust me son, you don't want to go more than ten rods north out of this gate. It's a fucking mess back that way," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I used to be a rancher, until the Loreguard confiscated half my herds for their war effort, then that fucking army stampeded the rest of them off a few days later. Now all I have is what you see, and I want to get as far from that insanity as I can and start over."

The guard gave him a long look. "Sir, I think you need to talk to our commander," he said. "I think he needs to hear about this."

"Surely, long as you let me come in, get something to eat, and resupply before I keep going south. From the looks of you folks here, I think I want to just keep on going."

"I don't think that'll be a problem, sir," he said, motioning to men atop the rickety wall, who then opened the small door.

They let them in, and Kyven and Lightfoot both spent long moments carefully assessing what they could see, and seeing that it was both slapdash and poorly planned. They'd built a wall around the outer edge of Cheston, but they hadn't thought to barricade the city streets, which would give an invading army complete access to the city once they got past the wall. They thought to put some cannons in a square about a block from the wall, but the buildings in front of it would restrict their firing angles unless the gunners knew what they were doing and could fire at high trajectory without landing cannonballs inside their own walls. They couldn't really put the cannons on the walls, since the walls wouldn't hold them, and Cheston was actually the low point in the region, built in a shallow bay, so attackers would have the high ground. Cheston did have two sea forts flanking their harbor, however, and those tower cannons could probably fire in a thorough arc. They'd mobilized the citizenry to fight, and it was almost comical to see "Cheston gentlemen" trying to look professional as Loreguard and militia drilled them through the streets. What he did notice, though, were the large numbers of what looked like refugees, probably farmers and families from around Cheston who had fled here seeking shelter, and the Arcans. They were everywhere. The plantation owners had pulled all their slaves in with them, refusing to leave them out where they could lose them, and almost every street corner had gangs of Arcans, collared and chained together, sitting or standing and trying not to get ran over by wagons that bustled through the city.

Trinity, he loved it when they made it easy for him.

Two hours of roaming around and talking to men and ladies on street corners told him much. Many of the villagers and plantation owners and workers had abandoned their homes and fled to the city, seeking protection among numbers, mainly those to the north and west of the city. Those south of the city were more apt to barricade themselves into their villages and farms and try to hold out against any invaders, particularly the larger plantations that had plenty of men on hand to defend it. There were plenty of rumors that the Loreguard were rushing reinforcements from Lanna, which Kyven felt was probably true since it was now clear where the army was going. The people were, surprisingly, ready to fight. Even the townsmen were ready to fight, using anything they could find.

That, Kyven was sure Danvers wanted to know.

While he was talking, he and Lightfoot were observing their preparations. They'd built that rickety wall, and they had shifted their defensive artillery primarily meant to repel a naval attack to deal with a land invasion, but hadn't done much inside the city to prepare for an invasion. No streets were blocked, no bunkers were built at strategic locations, the Loreguard barracks hadn't been fortified, and the mood of the soldiers, while honestly fearful of having to fight, nevertheless felt they were going to win. They felt this way because they were certain that the army about to attack them was made up almost entirely of slave Arcans, and these men didn't fear Arcans. They were more afraid of the human mercenaries said to be in the army. They felt that they'd sweep the Arcans out of the way without much of a fight, and then have to deal with the humans, against which the Loreguard Colonel in command of the Cheston forces could be stopped by a simple wall, since he knew that the approaching army had no heavy artillery, only men on horseback with muskets, and a wall could stop men on horseback with muskets. So, even though there were frightened villagers pouring into the city and a lot of panic in the streets, the soldiers believed that this was going to be an easy victory.

They were overconfident, and that was something Danvers could exploit.

After eating at a streetside inn, and having to pay ten times the value of the meal due to price gouging, Kyven led his motley band out the west gate of Cheston and rode towards the Ledwell plantation. Even though it was more than a year ago, he remembered the landscape, and he remembered the fear he felt when he and that coyote had ridden in that wagon cage. He grew quiet and pensive as they traveled the hour or so it took to get to those familiar rail fences, and he saw the fields of cotton over which he had stalked after they'd released him to the overseer.

There were Arcans still working the fields. Clearly, the Ledwells weren't fleeing to Cheston.

Kyven rode up towards the manor house with a dark scowl on his face, an expression Lightfoot didn't miss as she padded along beside the Equar. He frowned even more when they rode around the front of the house, into the courtyard where he had been starved to death, and a chill ran through his soul as he looked around, seeing things he'd been forced to look at for days and days as his body wasted away. The buildings were the same, the roofed deck on the back of the house was the same, but the crude huts that had housed the Arcans, visible from where his cage had been, were gone. There was a new barn where they'd once stood.

"Good afternoon, Master," came a call, causing Kyven to turn back to the house. The coyote female he'd come with stood on the deck, wearing a modest gray dress with an apron over the front. "How may I help you?"

"So, they let you talk now," Kyven noted from the back of the Equar. "Where is Annette Ledwell? I have business with her."

The coyote looked a little surprised. "She's passed, Master," she answered. "Last winter."

Kyven was honestly startled to hear that. "What happened?" he blurted.

"Why, she was murdered by her own daughter," she answered in a conspiratorial kind of voice. "The daughter was sent to the Stocks, and Mistress Ledwell's cousin came to run the plantation for the little ones until they're old enough to take over."

That was a shock. The oldest daughter, she seemed nice when he was in the cage, but he remembered how hard she took Ledwell's death when Kyven killed him. She wanted him dead, revenge for the death of her father. Well, it seemed that the girl was more her father than her mother, and her revenge denied had driven her to murder her own mother, killing the woman who let the Arcan who killed her father get away.

"Is he a good man?" he asked.

She looked a little confused. "He's a fair man, Master. If you'd come in, I'll serve you some tea while we call him in from the fields to speak with you."

Kyven looked down to Lightfoot, who nodded. "I'd like that, little one," he said, sliding down off Strider. The coyote gasped when the two Lupans padded around the house and rejoined them, but said nothing when they came up to Strider and sat down. "Stay in the courtyard, and behave," Kyven ordered. "And don't kill anything," he added, looking to the Lupans.

"I, I can have a hand come care for your, um, horse, Master."

"Not a good idea," Kyven said, elbowing Lucky. "That's what this one is for. Strider might kill a hand he doesn't know."

Strider nickered ominously.

"Can I unsaddle him?" Lucky asked.

Kyven nodded. "We should be here a while, may as well give him a break."

The coyote had a name now. She was called Jewel, and she put them in the parlor as the older raccoon female brought him tea in silver cups. Where Jewel didn't notice a thing about him, the raccoon gave him a long look when she looked him in the eyes, and he could almost see her struggling to remember where she'd seen him before ... or more to the point, where she'd seen those eyes before. With Lucky tending Strider outside, Kyven only had Lightfoot with him, who stood silently by his chair as the raccoon gave her slightly disapproving looks ... no doubt because of her unclothed condition.

Kyven said little as he waited, he just watched and listened. Jewel was an attentive hostess, staying in the room, but she looked a bit uncomfortable under his penetrating stare. He could see that she was itching to speak, but for an Arcan to speak to a human unsolicited could get her flogged in Cheston.

That told him something.

He pondered the demise of Annette Ledwell until a young, handsome man strode into the room, wearing a pair of canvas breeches and a rugged denim shirt. He looked to be about thirty, with curly amber hair and glittering blue eyes, and most women would find him devilishly handsome. He took one look at Kyven, then he smiled brightly. "Welcome, welcome!" he said, scurrying over and offering a hand that had clearly just been washed. "I'm Tyler May, sir, Annette's cousin. Pardon the delay, sir, I was out working on our cotton gin. It's going to be needed in a few days, and it's a cantankerous old brute that likes to break right when we need it most."

"Not a problem," Kyven said, taking his hand. "I'm Van Steady. I'm a rancher, or at least I used to be."

"Bone said you had business with my cousin?"

"Not anymore," he said. "I came here to settle a matter of unfinished business of a personal nature, but with her dead, the matter is closed."

"That sounds, well, serious."

"It wasn't going to be pleasant," he said with a simple nod.

"Let me guess. Arthur?"

Kyven simply nodded.

"I figured," he sighed. "That man was more trouble for my cousin than he was worth. And he always seemed so, so, civilized. But after he died, the debts started rolling in. Gambling, accounts in half the shops in Cheston with outstanding debts owed, ladies of ill repute, even criminal activity. He was leeching off my cousin's plantation and had almost spent her into the poorhouse by the time he died."

"I heard her daughter killed her."

"I hate to say it," he admitted with a nod as they sat down. "The two of them were arguing because Annette felt overwhelmed because Arthur's debts were making turning a profit on the plantation impossible and wanted to sell the plantation and move to Lanna, but Cynthia didn't want to lose the plantation or leave Cheston. They came to blows over it in an argument, and Annette fell and broke her neck during the scuffle. So, now Cynthia is serving two years in the Stocks for her mother's death, and I'm here getting this place back to where it earns a profit, since all Arthur's debts were absolved when Annette died. Those debts can't be imposed against the children or the estate, it's an old Cheston law protecting rightful inheritance."

That surprised him, for he thought it was Ledwell's death that may have caused it. "Tragic," he noted, not feeling much emotion over it.

"Cynthia was devastated," he sighed. "She hadn't meant to kill her mother, it was all a horrible accident. But the law's the law, and here in Cheston you have to serve time even if you accidentally kill someone, if it happens during a fight or whatnot. So, if you don't mind my asking, what business did you have with my cousin?"

"Settling an old debt between her and me over something she did to me," he answered in a flat voice. "But with her dead, it's a moot point now."

"Come now, sir, I'm sure you can be honest about it. I don't believe Ann would do anything illegal or uncivilized. She was a gentle woman, even more so after Arthur died. She didn't have a hateful bone in her body, she was just blinded by love."

"We'll see," Kyven said, looking at the coyote. "Jewel."

"Umm, yes, Master Steady?"

"Have you been treated well since Arthur Ledwell was killed?"

She looked at him with surprised eyes. "Uh, yes, Master. Mistress Annette was kind. She tore down the huts and built a dorm for the field workers, gave them better food, allows us free range of the plantation, even gives the field workers a day off every other week during planting season, four days off after harvest, and fewer hours during the winter crop season."

"And she lets you talk."

Jewel gave him a steady look. "Yes, Master. Since Master Arthur died, we've been allowed to talk."

"How did she pay for the dorm if she was so far in debt?"

"She said some things were worth going into debt for," Tyler answered for her. "She borrowed the money for the dorm from my mother, her Aunt Lilly. Mother believes that a happy Arcan works harder, so she was more than happy to lend her the money."

Kyven looked to Lightfoot, who only shrugged. Maybe that moment of epiphany for Annette Ledwell, when she faced the monster inside her when she nearly killed Kyven with the collar, had a more lasting effect than just showing Kyven mercy. She seemed to have been a far more kindly mistress than her husband.

Maybe Annette Ledwell had indeed changed ... and changed for the better.

"Then my business here is done," Kyven said, standing up. "I consider the matter settled, and I must be on my way. You should really think about getting yourself and your Arcans to Cheston, Master May."

"No, we've put too much work into this place to abandon it," he said. "And we're just simple cotton farmers, sir. We pose no threat to anyone."

"War doesn't work like that, son," Kyven told him grimly. "So you'd better hope that the war doesn't find you down here."

"We'll manage, sir," he said. "I really wish you'd tell me what this was about. Now I'm worried that my cousin was up to no good."

"No, nothing like that. And you wouldn't understand even if I explained it to you. We'll see ourselves out. Good day to you."

"Good day to you then, guess I'll go back to fighting with the gin."

Kyven had Lucky resaddle Strider almost right as he took the saddle off, lost in thought. Maybe Annette Ledwell did change. Maybe she had seen what her husband was doing and moved to make things right. He looked to what he thought was a barn, but was actually a dorm. A dorm, for the workers.

He'd come here expecting to punch Annette Ledwell in the face several times for what she did to him. Instead, he mounted up and rode away, pondering the power of the human spirit and its capacity for change.

Chapter 12