The wolf a wolf shall remain,
a time of peace shall rain
one day.
Reflections on the surface…
Whose arms from the river’s furnace
will lift me away?

— Ivain Melittar of the Vinairs

The following morning, Hagias Whitehead stopped Khóruin in the temple, just after the morning Song. All the other members of the company immediately gathered around to find out what was happening. All except Ivain, who had vanished as quickly as possible.

“Approximately ten days ago, I sent a group of fire-bearers to Lerna to strengthen the Aderan there. However, the flame-carriers have not yet returned, nor have they sent word, although the journey to Lerna takes at most three days’ walk to the northeast. Someone must go there and investigate. If the situation is resolvable, resolve it on the spot; if not, return immediately and report. And do not separate,” Hagias said in his usual curt tone. Vathila shifted restlessly to shake off the unpleasant feeling from the king’s hawk-like face and merciless eyes.

“We will set out immediately,” Khóruin nodded. Whitehead dismissed him with a gesture and headed toward the temple exit with his strange, limping gait.

“Muhur has fallen ill. The Master won’t let me leave the smithy,” Ghar broke the silence.

“It can’t be helped. We know what the Master Smith is like. The rest of us should manage to get away from work. Taihun, try to find Ivain. In an hour and a half, we’ll all meet at the bridge,” Khóruin said. Everyone nodded and ran to prepare for the journey.

“Maaasteeer Hiranyaaa!” Askra shouted in front of her teacher’s house until the wizard came outside.

“Why are you yelling so, dear apprentice?” he asked with feigned sternness, but cheerfulness shone through his voice. As soon as all magical activity around the lightning grave had ceased, the master mage was back to his old self.

“The King is sending us away again, so we won’t be under his feet for a while,” the sorceress replied politely and with deep humility.

“Ah, I see. It can’t be helped. I won’t be able to tan your hide during the next meditation exercises, nor assign you a mountain of unpleasant work,” the old wizard said with mock disappointment.

“Of course not, Master!” the girl beamed.

“And don’t go prying where you shouldn’t, looking for any ‘interesting’ magic that might be lying around!” Hiranya warned her.

“Of course not, Master!”

“I don’t like this. Hagias is sending us on another ill-defined expedition without even telling us what we encountered last time,” Khóruin noted with a frown. His horse shifted restlessly, as if in worried agreement.

“Yes. He returned from the lightning grave about half an hour after us and skillfully ignored our questioning looks and questions with silence,” Vathila added. Alphia nodded. She carefully checked her bowstring. Askra stood at the edge of the bridge, skipping stones as if nothing were happening—which was, of course, the sorceress’s usual state of mind. Saimún looked at his sister in disapproval, but that naturally had no effect whatsoever.

The clatter of hooves was heard, and Taihun arrived from the most remote parts of Darika. His stallion held its head high and proud.

“I couldn’t find Ivain. By Machuznatar, that one knows how to hide! I think he didn’t like our last journey one bit,” Taihun announced joylessly.

“At least we won’t have to whisper the whole way,” Askra grinned cheerfully.

After a full day’s journey, the company made camp. Khóruin concentrated on the ritual preparation of the hearth, while Vathila prepared food with Alphia’s help.

“I will try to find out what lies ahead. Perhaps the forest will tell us something,” Saimún said thoughtfully.

“Aha, going to go put down roots,” Askra jabbed. Saimún shook his head; the leaves of the living ivy woven through his hair trembled.

“You have no idea what it means to soak up water through your rootlets!”

“Oh, I do. I heard some Druvids liked it so much they stayed rooted, and someone had to chop them down,” Askra needled her little brother sarcastically.

“It’s a good thing Khóruin has his machete,” the Druvid apprentice retorted ironically and retired into the woods.

No one dared follow him out of the circle of light. Night had swallowed the forest and cast it into non-existence. Only Alphia moved on the edge of the darkness. Looking between the trees, the huntress subconsciously clutched the pendant hanging from her neck. An amulet in the shape of a triangle, made of a semi-precious stone resembling the night sky… An amulet that had protected her and Ghar when they wandered the forests as terrified children… But that was long ago, so long ago…

Saimún found a suitable spot among the trees and sat cross-legged. Pale moonlight drew patterns on the black bark. Druvids had their ways of defending themselves against the night. They did not need Aderan fire.

Ivy leaves whispered softly in the night breeze around the young Druvid’s face and ears. The plant, which lived in symbiosis with Saimún, sent thin tendrils into the ground. Saimún immersed himself in meditation. His mind posed a question to the forest, and it spread through the consciousness of the woods in larger and larger circles—from bush to bush, from tree to tree… And while the ivy that grew over him and his own body fed on what the earth offered, the Druvid patiently waited for an answer.

“West of Lerna, there is some weak magical source. I cannot yet reach Lerna itself. I know nothing of the nature of that source, but it is not kin to the Aderan. To the south, however, I discovered a place where the continuity of the woods is disrupted—it looks like a large camp, or something of the sort,” Saimún revealed the results of his nightly inquiry of the forest.

“A large camp… That’s strange. Should we warn Hagias?” Alphia suggested; her fox, Phia, could easily carry a message to Arka, though she usually preferred to avoid human dwellings. All faces turned to Khóruin.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. As far as I know, the Druvids around Arka question the woods night after night. They would know of any hostile movement before the enemy appeared on the horizon. And besides, they are even closer than we are. They will likely manage to find out more than us. Our task is in Lerna. We must ensure that in the event of an attack, no one else falls upon Hagias’s rear,” Khóruin Melittar decided after a long pause.

The consenting silence that followed was broken only by the footsteps on the road and the breath of the travelers and the two horses carrying most of the baggage.

At the bottom of a steep ravine rushed a wild stream, over which a wooden bridge led. The company stepped onto it without fear, animals and all. The bridge looked sturdy at first glance, and Taihun, who was well-versed in structures of various kinds, saw that the bridge would easily bear the whole group.

The weary sun cast long shadows on the surface of the foaming stream. On the other side of the ravine stood the wooden house of the Bridge Keeper. The man who occupied it along with his family was a woodcutter, and his task was to keep the river crossing in order. As the travelers approached, he stepped out onto the porch.

“Greetings to you, welcome, welcome. Come in and be guests in my house; night is fast approaching,” the man greeted them kindly and invited them inside at once, as the law of hospitality dictated.

“Hail to you as well,” replied Khóruin, who walked at the head of the company. He quickly exchanged a side glance with Taihun; Vathila’s brother nodded. Khóruin handed him his horse’s reins and, as the eldest and unwritten leader, entered the house with the others.

Taihun led the horses to the stable, which stood with other outbuildings behind the house, on the side facing away from the road. The stable doors were open. The warrior unsaddled and groomed the horses, cleaned their hooves, and put the prepared fodder into the trough. Khóruin and Taihun would not like to entrust their animals to anyone but themselves—or each other.

The Bridge Keeper first offered the tired guests food in the pleasant light and warmth of the hearth, whose flame was a descendant of the Aderan. Saimún excused himself, saying that as a Druvid he must undergo another of his forest meditations and could not accept the offered supper. Then he retired outside, into the thickening darkness.

“Are you heading to Lerna?” the host asked, only after everyone had finished eating.

“Yes. The fire-bearers sent there have not returned. The King sent us to find out what happened,” Khóruin replied.

“I didn’t even realize… The fire-bearers stayed here on their way to Lerna. I haven’t been counting the days, so it didn’t even occur to me that they haven’t returned for a long time,” the host said.

“It’s strange that they didn’t even send word,” Khóruin added thoughtfully.

“It is. Is there anything else new in Arka?” the Keeper asked.

“The fire-bearers surely told you that Master Tilukas lost his dog, and that a child is expected in the Kvanari clan. Otherwise, everything is as usual. King Whitehead enjoys good health,” the warrior smiled. The Keeper nodded and laughed as well. Hagias was a man of iron, and his health was of the same quality.

“I will tell a story then,” the host began. “Years ago, when I came here, I found a house, a bridge, and its Keeper. He was already an old man. He received me hospitably and told me the following fable. I have a habit of telling it to travelers who visit here. It is my inheritance, just like this house and this bridge.

In a certain forest dwelt a hunter. And one day he went out to hunt. As he proceeded through the forest, he was overtaken by a massive boar, which looked like the peak of a mountain. When it saw the hunter, it was struck by his arrow, which the hunter fired with his bow drawn to the tip of his ear. But the boar, terribly enraged by the wound, threw itself upon the hunter and ripped open his belly with its tusk, which shone like a young moon. The hunter fell dead. Then, having killed the hunter, the boar also perished from the pain of the arrow wound.

Meanwhile, a certain jackal came to these parts, one who had death on his tongue and wandered to and fro. When he saw the boar and the hunter, he thought joyfully:

‘Fate is kind to me! It has sent me this unexpected meal. I shall eat it so that the path of my life may last for many days. First, I will eat the loop of the bowstring fastened to the tip of the bow.’ Thus thinking in his mind, he put the tip of the bow in his mouth and began to devour the string. And when the string was gnawed through, the released tip of the bow pierced his upper palate and came out through his head. And so he died too.

This is how the story sounded in Hwarnij:

Karminhat waniri karian pratiavasat sma. Tar kaikatan karisai agun prasthitar. Atha tanair prasarpatair parwatakikharas magavarahas sanaditas. Tana vaidanwa aurantaguntasarair tar tanair sanghatas. Tanair-pi varahair kaupavirair yuvandyutair dantagrair patitadaras karian aitapranas danau apatat. Atha karianis martis sarapraharavaidanair pramartas.

Atarmin antari karhatasannan martas srgalan itasthatas parivamas daikan ayitas. Yavat varahakarianau vaidat, tavat prahurtas akintayat: “Sanukuras mahir vidin. Tanair tat akintitun annun upasthitun. Tat ahan tatha asnisam yatha vahuin ahain mahir pranayatra. Prathain snayupakan arkis kautiyitan asnisam.”

Aivan manasi nirkintya arkis kautin nukhira krinnwa snapun asnatun aradhas. Kai tatas agtun snayi talu vidirwa arkis kautirmastamadinai nirkrantai. Tar-pi martas.

“So ends the story. When the old Keeper finished telling it to me, he gathered his things and walked into the forest. I never saw him again. He left me the house, the bridge, and this story as an inheritance.”

The night progressed.

Saimún sat in the darkness, far from the warm lights of the house. With his strangely sharpened and altered senses, he perceived someone stepping out of the door. A quiet creak, light falling on the grass, light footsteps… One of the girls…? The Druvid’s consciousness merged with the earth and the plants; he felt as if the person were walking lightly upon his own skin…

The door creaked again. A heavier, firm gait, the movement of a warrior… The lighter footsteps stopped on a nearby hillock. The newcomer lay down in the grass and wrapped themselves in a blanket… At that moment, it dawned on Saimún. That is Riva!

The warrior came closer and sat down beside Riva. Khóruin! The brothers spoke quietly. Through the rustling of the wind in the grasses and his distorted plant-based perception, the Druvid could not distinguish what they were talking about. Then Khóruin rose and reluctantly returned to the Keeper’s house. Riva clearly intended to stay out alone overnight, beyond the reach of the protective fire, with only the stars above. And it didn’t seem anyone could talk him out of it.

Saimún reached out further. He immersed himself in the consciousness of the woods and permeated them. There, somewhere to the west, was the known magical source. Not far from it, another! Further… further… Finally—Lerna! A weak, dying Aderan… And the campsite to the south…? It had vanished… Without a trace, without a single complaint from the woods that anyone had ever been there…

On the third day of the journey, several hours before dusk, the light of open space began to flicker through the trees.

“We’ll leave the road. Alphia and Taihun will go scouting. Vathila will join them; her abilities might reveal something to us. Be back within forty-five minutes. The mages will try to sense something from a distance in the meantime,” Khóruin decided. The chosen three nodded and set off into the forest.

In less than half an hour, they returned.

“Lerna itself looks fairly normal. A few people are working in the surrounding fields,” Taihun said.

“They aren’t working,” declared Alphia with a frown, her eyes missing very little. “It might look that way, but in reality, those people are just walking aimlessly through the fields as if they’ve lost something.”

“The locals are strangely confused… Only occasionally do I sense a flash of some strong negative emotion among them, which flares up like a flame and immediately vanishes again,” Vathila added.

“And while we’re on the subject of flames—the Aderan here has grown damnably weak,” Askra finished the matter. Riva agreed with a miserable nod.

“What now?” he asked uncertainly. “I don’t really want to go into that strange place just before dusk…”

“We could spend the night in the forest, by our own fire. Then we would have the whole following day to investigate Lerna. But it’s possible the situation in the village is worsening by the hour. We shouldn’t risk a tragedy because of our hesitation,” Khóruin said after mature consideration.

The company emerged from the forest and headed toward the palisade surrounding the village.

“Halt! Who are you and from whence do you come?” the guards at the gate stopped them.

“We come from Arka. We wish to speak with your ruler,” Khóruin replied just as formally and curtly.

One of the soldiers set off into the town. It didn’t take long before he returned. Walking with him was the Lord of Lerna, wearing a golden circlet, and three white-clad Arkian fire-bearers.

“Welcome. Be guests here,” said the ruler. Khóruin and his companions bowed slightly and followed their host.

Lerna looked grey and neglected. The walls of the houses were scuffed and damaged.

“We are sorry we did not return on time, but it was not possible,” the leader of the fire-bearers began as they all walked up a gently sloping street.

“What happened?” Khóruin asked, glad that the orthodox custom of hospitality—which would only allow discussing the reason for a visit after the meal—was not being followed in Lerna.

“We were attacked by a wolf pack. It was a terrible fight; we have many losses. But with the heroic help of the priests and fire-bearers, we defended ourselves,” the Lerna lord replied.

“Wolves? Tell us, what exactly happened?” Khóruin asked.

“It was necessary to expand the village, so part of the palisade was torn down to rebuild the fortification ring. At night, wolves from the forests rushed in. Huge, black, with glowing red eyes. There were hundreds of them. The Aderan here was already very weak, and we didn’t manage to strengthen it with the proper ritual,” the fire-bearer recounted.

Alphia exchanged a side glance with Askra. Wolves? Wolves that gnaw on the walls of houses? Hmmm…

“And why didn’t you even send word to Arka?” Khóruin continued.

“We were caring for the wounded and burning the dead. The Lord could spare neither us nor any of his people. Not to mention that after the attack, the Lerna folk were afraid to leave the village in a group smaller than twenty. And it’s hard to blame them…”

“In which direction did those wolves flee when you repelled them?”

“They didn’t flee. We had to slay them all.”

“And the bodies?”

“We burned them in the Aderan.”

“You did well. What about tracks? Did you find out where they came from?”

“It seems from the east.”

Suddenly, a shriek rang out from a nearby house. Vathila winced. The shriek was accompanied by a sudden flash of emotion like the one she had noted before—a flare of insane fear.

“What happened there? I am a healer,” she immediately moved toward the house and knocked before anyone could stop her. A brown-haired man stepped onto the threshold.

“We heard a cry. Is someone injured? I master the healing arts; I could surely help,” Vathila said sympathetically.

“That… My wife… She has such a sickness… Occasionally she has fits… But she’s fine now,” the man replied, glancing at the Lord. “She’s fine now,” he repeated.

“Allow me, I will look at her,” the blonde insisted, although she felt very uneasy—the expression of both the brown-haired man and the Lerna ruler was certainly not pleased.

“Our healers have tried to help her, but they didn’t succeed,” the man countered.

“Vathila is exceptionally capable. Perhaps she could contribute a remedy or useful advice,” Khóruin supported his wife, who was already starting to lose heart.

“Fine,” the villager conceded reluctantly and stepped away from the door. Vathila made an inconspicuous gesture for the others not to follow her and entered. The man led her into a room where his wife lay on a bed.

“Greetings to you. I practice healing. I heard a cry, so I came,” Vathila said gently and signaled to the villager with a hand movement to leave her alone with the sick woman. The man reluctantly obeyed.

“I already feel absolutely wonderful,” the woman replied and smiled contentedly.

“What happened to you?”

“I don’t even know, such a weakness.”

Aha, Vathila thought, so she knows nothing of her usual ‘fits’. The healer took the woman by the wrist to measure her pulse. At the same time, however, she was looking for something else. Her special abilities allowed her to sense what a person lacked.

Nothing… Nothing unusual… The woman is completely healthy… Suddenly Vathila paused. Every human body has energy paths running through it. And in the body of the “sick” woman… Double paths…!?

“Ow! What are you doing!” the villager shrieked and pulled away.

“What happened?”

“It burns…”

“I was just trying to find out what caused your weakness. Your husband said you suffer from a sickness, but he couldn’t describe the symptoms to me,” Vathila said in a concerned, calming voice. Nothing of her true thoughts penetrated even slightly into her facial expression.

“I’m sorry I accidentally hurt you. I wanted to help you with my abilities so that nothing would make your life difficult anymore,” the healer added gently and apologetically.

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” the villager replied, her resistance and the suspicious glint in her eyes blown away by Vathila’s ability to comfort.

“Who treated you before? I would like to visit him and learn something. Perhaps I could even bring some medicine from Arka in a few days,” the blonde offered readily.

“Our master healer will surely be happy to tell you everything; go see him. You know, neither I nor my husband understand healing. But don’t worry, I’ve gotten used to it…” the villager replied calmly.

The two women said their goodbyes. Vathila promised to stop by again if possible, and with that, she left the house.

“Everything is fine,” she said with a smile. The others looked relieved and satisfied. In reality, however, they knew nothing was fine. Vathila was not in the habit of driving away favorable powers by uttering such unequivocally positive sentences when returning from her sick patients.

“What kind of sickness was it?” Askra asked with a touch of interest.

“It is apparently a seizure-related illness I haven’t encountered yet. But it only manifests occasionally. I will consult further with the healers in Arka,” Vathila replied. No one asked anything else.

In silence, they reached the house where the company was to spend the night. The Lord and the fire-bearers sat down with their guests to eat supper.

“What we need most is for the King to send us help from Arka. We don’t need supplies as much as people. We only have four priests of the Aderan left. Many men were slain. Also, we must re-erect the palisade as quickly as possible. Time is pressing us,” the Lord continued the previous conversation.

“At dawn tomorrow, we will set out for Arka and deliver the message to the King,” Khóruin said. But that message will be far from as favorable for you as you might think, he added in his mind.

“The fire-bearers will set out on the return journey with you. They helped us heroically; they deserve admiration and recognition,” the Lord added.

Khóruin nodded. “We will see you at the evening Song for the summoning of the stars,” the Lord said after a while, taking his leave and rising from the table. There was still a little time before dusk…

As soon as the door closed behind the Lerna ruler and the fire-bearers and their footsteps faded, Alphia also rose: “I’ll look around the vicinity to see if I can find tracks.” Taihun joined her: “And I’ll look around the town a bit. Their whole story isn’t exactly the height of credibility.”

The fingers of twilight slowly reached for Lerna. In the windows of the guest house, the flickering glow of the Aderan fire in the hearth danced. Taihun sat down with the others and frowned: “The palisade on the eastern side is indeed torn down and under construction. Something could have gotten into Lerna through there…”

“Except what happened after it penetrated the town is far from certain,” Khóruin muttered.

“Toward the east, there are some wolf tracks in the forest. But they gradually mix with human ones until finally only human ones remain. If those are the tracks of the attackers, then they weren’t wolves… but werewolves,” Alphia said. “But on the other hand, the woods don’t look at all as if an attacking army—whether of wolves or humans—had rushed through. It rained a few days ago, but it still doesn’t seem right to me. And besides, werewolves would never cause a town to look like this!”

“I wonder if those werewolves aren’t the ones we were just cheerfully chatting with,” Taihun noted grimly.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Vathila spoke. “The woman I examined had double energy paths in her body. She knew nothing at all about her alleged sickness. Something is terribly wrong here…”

“It certainly is. And of course, the fire-bearers had to look after the poor little village, so they really couldn’t possibly let anyone know what happened. So they sat here and waited for us like for the mercy of Machuznatar,” Askra grinned.

“They’re as suspicious as apples in spring,” Saimún added.

Suddenly Vathila winced and signaled for everyone to be quiet, although they had only been consulting in whispers until then. “I felt someone behind the western wall. Just a flash of emotion, then it vanished. I have a feeling someone is spying on us,” the healer whispered into Khóruin’s ear. The warrior nodded and turned to Taihun. He pointed to the western wall and then to the door. Vathila’s brother rose noiselessly and, with his hand on his sword, slipped out. Soon he returned.

“Vathila felt someone extra, didn’t she? But I found no one,” he said. Khóruin nodded. Taihun lowered his voice: “On the other hand, that wall is about two strides thicker than it has any right to be.”

Everyone rose and began searching the house. Something wasn’t right here…

“Come here!” Saimún called from the cellar. The others ran down to him. The Druvid stood by dusty, cobweb-covered doors in the western wall, on which some writing could still be seen. But Saimún couldn’t read.

“It’s in some unknown language. It tells me nothing,” Riva declared, and Askra gave a shrug to indicate that she couldn’t read the inscription either. Vathila cautiously touched the door.

“I have a feeling it’s some warning inscription relating to the past. Something to the effect that someone hit their head here some time ago, so as to not repeat it,” she interpreted her impression. Saimún took the handle. The door didn’t move. It seemed stuck rather than locked. If only Ghar were here with us. He would walk through and not even notice there were any doors here, the young Druvid thought. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The tendrils of living ivy on his arms moved and began to wrap around the door, reaching through every crevice they found. Soon a cracking was heard, and the door gave way. Saimún waited for nothing and rushed up the narrow stairs.

The small cavity in the western wall was dusty, the air stale. “No one has been here for many years,” the Druvid noted, quite unnecessarily. Khóruin, who had been standing on the stairs with his hand on his sword, stepped back so Saimún could return. Then the warrior entered, accompanied by his wife.

Vathila cautiously and carefully examined the secret space. Suddenly a strange vision came to her. A hillock… and upon it… an iron tree… A magnificent tall iron tree… She shook her head.

“I sense faint magic,” Askra reported from the stairs, where she had inquisitivey squeezed herself.

“Physically, no one has certainly been here,” Vathila added and returned.

“We can do nothing more now,” Khóruin decided, “let’s go to the Aderan, it’s time for the evening Song.”

The Song that summons the stars was, with small differences, very similar to the ritual the company knew from Arka. At home, however, they came to the temple with a clear mind, in white ceremonial dress, and without weapons. Here, it was far from the case. That evening, they focused very little on the ceremony. Their eyes inconspicuously wandered over the faces of the people of Lerna.

There were very few Lerna folk at the Aderan. Too many people were carelessly wandering through the town or chatting on their porches as if no significant ritual were taking place. Something like that was unheard of in Arka. But the Lord was present, as were the Arkian fire-bearers. The ruler stood conspicuously close to the sacred flame. To his left and right sat a Lerna priest dressed in white.

At least those standing here must be alright. No demon can surely approach the Aderan, Khóruin reasoned.

As soon as the ceremony ended, the locals began to disperse indifferently and tiredly.

“Perhaps the priests will tell us something,” Saimún whispered to Khóruin, “but we need to distract the Lord somehow.” The warrior signaled to the others of the company to join him. The Arkins clustered around the Lord. Casually and in a friendly manner, they began to discuss the circumstances of tomorrow’s journey back to Arka and various practical matters with him.

Behind their backs, Saimún sat down beside one priest. The man in white robes looked exhausted, with hidden fear in his eyes. “What happened here?” the Druvid whispered urgently.

“Werewolves… attacked…”

“Advise us, what should we do?”

“Quickly… Bring help from Arka—especially priests… We won’t hold out alone for long…”

One of the Lord’s soldiers leaned toward his master and whispered something to him. The Lord of Lerna immediately turned and began to disentangle himself from the group surrounding him.

“Beware the Lunar Hall!” the priest said quickly.

“And where is the Lunar Hall?” Saimún asked, completely desperately not understanding what the priest could be talking about.

“There… Outside…”

At that moment, the Lord had already approached, along with several guards. “Please do not disturb our priests. We have no one else to help feed our Aderan, and they are already very tired,” he said to Saimún. The Druvid sighed. I won’t learn anything here either.

Vathila, standing nearby, however, sensed danger behind the veil of the Lord’s speech. Two of the soldiers meanwhile took the priest between them. They helped him up and led him away. With military escort, two more priests were arriving to replace their fellows in the ritual chants for the night.

Is all this for their safety, or so they don’t accidentally reveal something we shouldn’t hear? the Druvid asked himself, and with a kind smile, he nodded to the Lord in agreement with the wisdom of the measures taken and the care for the remaining priests. I hope when Hagias hears about this, Lerna will need a new lord…

Less than an hour before dawn, the company stood at the Lerna gate.

“I don’t like those fire-bearers we’re taking with us at all. Who knows what exactly is going with us to Arka. Hagias must receive a detailed report in advance so he can prepare. Fortunately, Taihun and I have horses,” Khóruin summarized the situation.

“But we can’t let our best warriors ride to Arka, in case the fire-bearers take a dislike to the company along the way,” Alphia added with a foxy smile.

“I’m afraid of horses,” Saimún repeated his argument from yesterday and stepped back to a safe distance. Riva grinned and mounted his older brother’s horse.

“My horse is quite a rebellious beast,” Taihun warned Alphia as he handed her the reins.

“In that case, we are equals,” the huntress smiled contentedly and vaulted into the saddle. The animal snorted in dissatisfaction and danced on its hind legs. But the redhead sat as if bolted on.

“Let’s go!” she cheered.

“You’ll make it to the woodcutter’s house at the bridge in a day. Don’t ride further at night; stay over there,” Khóruin warned his siblings. But he wasn’t quite sure if they heard him. Riva and Alphia sharply turned their horses and set off from Lerna.

In the evening, at the woodcutter’s house, two groups traveling in opposite directions met: the company with three fire-bearers, and a sizeable crowd of warriors, craftsmen, and Aderan priests led by one of the higher wizards.

While everyone who fit into the large hall of the house listened to the Keeper’s fable about the hunter, the wild boar, and the thrifty wolf, Khóruin and his companions consulted in whispers.

“Riva and Alphia didn’t listen to me and rode through the night, otherwise the rescue party to Lerna wouldn’t be on the road so soon,” Khóruin remarked dissatisfiedly.

“We can hardly blame them for that—after all, nothing happened to them and they delivered the message sooner. Alphia’s amulet protected them,” Vathila said conciliatoryly and smiled gently. Khóruin returned the smile.

“I told the master wizard everything about what we found out. I warned him not to trust the Lerna folk much and to be on his guard,” Saimún joined the conversation.

“A wise solution. On the other hand, I wouldn’t say anything to those who are with him. No need to startle them unnecessarily when we actually know nothing at all,” Khóruin replied.

Askra and Vathila meanwhile whispered something to each other on the side.
“…but I have to touch him, so…”
“…discreetly… that would work…”

Unnoticed, the two girls moved to the hearth. It didn’t take long before the leader of the fire-bearers had to pass by, avoiding people who were sitting around on furs or on low stools. A log from the supply intended for the fire rolled directly under the man’s feet. At that moment, Vathila quickly jumped up to catch the fire-bearer before he fell. He lost his balance for a moment but didn’t fall.

“Are you alright?” the healer asked, skillfully hiding her disappointment that she could only briefly touch the fire-bearer’s wrist.

“Of course,” the priest nodded and went on his way. The master wizard briefly looked back from the table at Askra, but seeing the young apprentice of Hiranya with a curious and eager expression, he let the faint waft of magic drift. Askra had a reputation for being a playful and lighthearted wizardess. But that was Hiranya’s problem, after all.

“So? Did you find out anything?” Askra asked, although she saw the ruse had only partially succeeded. Vathila shook her head, restless and dissatisfied: “Nothing. I found nothing. Only he is almost immoderately strong and healthy… Maybe… too much…”

At the bridge across the lake, guards stood—as always. This time, however, they didn’t let Khóruin’s company pass. One of the soldiers ran into Arka. Soon he returned with Hagias, the High Druvid Auragon called Plantain, the master smith Ghar, Hagias’s black-clad personal guard, and several fire-bearers. Khóruin recognized Chardan among them. Alphia was running from Arka, along with Riva and Ivain.

The king signaled the newcomers to cross the bridge one by one. Vathila crossed first. Whitehead brought the sacred torch close to her. Then he just waved his hand for the soldiers to let her into the city. Askra went next, then Taihun, and Khóruin behind them. The last of the company, Saimún, stepped before the king.

“My Lord, those fire-bearers are unclean! They have sinned against the Great Aderan!” he said quietly but firmly and urgently.

Vathila and Askra looked at each other in surprise. They hadn’t expected such decisiveness and direct accusation from the otherwise deliberate Druvid. After all, they all knew so little! They had no real proof for such an allegation!

“I will act accordingly,” Hagias replied and let Saimún into the city. “Bring water from the sacred spring,” he ordered three soldiers. Then he turned to the fire-bearers standing at the start of the bridge: “And you three, take off your clothes!”

“But that…” the tallest of the fire-bearers began. But seeing Hagias’s men nocking arrows to their bows, he immediately fell silent.

“Obey the King!” Auragon advised them. The fire-bearers exchanged reluctant looks. Then they decided to fulfill what was asked of them. Vathila clearly sensed the strong, unpleasant tension hanging in the air. In Hagias’s face, she saw decisiveness and cruelty. The fire-bearers seemed partly frightened, partly angry.

“Come here!” the king commanded them. The three men stepped forward. Whitehead brought the torch close to them. He moved the flame slowly in their vicinity. The tension grew; the hostile silence deepened.

They are human—the Aderan does not harm them in any way! Khóruin realized again.

Hagias stepped back from the fire-bearers. The soldiers splashed water from the sacred spring on them. Nothing happened. Askra felt like swearing. Are we all blind and deaf?! Did we suspect them for nothing?!

“Take them to the temple! Let them walk around the Great Aderan three times!” Whitehead commanded. The soldiers surrounded the fire-bearers and, with Hagias at the head, set out for the center of Arka. The others followed them.

The three accused, who looked disgusted, walked around the sacred Flame. Once… twice… a third time. The soldiers stepped back from them. Priests handed the fire-bearers white robes befitting servants of the Aderan.

“They walked around the Aderan three times…” Saimún breathed in disbelief. His sister looked at him. She knew only too well that Saimún had acted on his instinct, which had never failed him yet. All eyes watched the departing fire-bearers. Then Hagias approached the silent company.

“My Lord,” Saimún spoke and fell to his knees before the king. “My Lord, I see that I was mistaken and made a false accusation. But I was irrevocably convinced of it, and I am prepared to bear the consequences.”

“You believed what you said. There was no ill intent, and you have committed no sin,” Whitehead said.

“Can we go?” Khóruin asked formally. Fatigue from the stay in Lerna and the journey back, from the constant vigilance and suspicious glancing over the shoulder, was beginning to weigh on him.

“Not yet.” The one who spoke, however, was surprisingly not Whitehead, but the Druvid Auragon. At his signal, the entire company retired along with him, Hagias, and Ghar the Elder in front of the temple.

“It seems another difficult journey awaits you,” Auragon said slowly. Everyone looked at him questioningly. “The Lunar Hall wants you. What you experienced at the lightning grave was one of its manifestations,” the High Druvid said.

“What is the Lunar Hall?” Khóruin asked.

“The adversary of the Aderan. It represents the power directly opposite the Flame. The Druvids have been investigating it for a long time, but it is a slow and dangerous investigation. When the time comes, I will have to take you there,” was the answer.

“Ghar shall stay by the forge,” the master smith said, and his voice sounded more than unpleasant. It didn’t seem Master Auragon intended to oppose him. Ghar the Younger just helplessly shrugged his shoulders. Khóruin caught Ivain’s mischievous expression out of the corner of his eye. He had no illusions that anyone could compel the clever bard to go somewhere he didn’t want to go.

“Why should we go there?” Khóruin asked. The gray-eyed master Druvid looked at him intently: “Because it is better if you are initiated and know something of the Lunar Hall. Then you will be prepared when the Lunar Hall unexpectedly comes for you one night. Now you may go. When the time is right, I will take you with me. For now, wait.”

The company was left alone before the temple. They stood there in a fragile, watchful silence.

“Askra…?” Vathila whispered.
“Hm?”
“Do you believe Saimún was mistaken?”
“No.”