A Hero must not accept a hire unless there is probable hope of success

   -Hero’s Guild Book of Rules

   Rule #15  

  
   Will was beside himself with excitement as he lay wide awake in the gray light of pre-dawn. His old keepers, the barman and his wife, had not been too eager to lose him but they could not argue with Skemm’s claim on him as a Hero’s apprentice. That night he’d gathered up his few belongings and then joined Skemm in her rooms. There was only one bed but Will was happy to sleep on the floor at the feet of his new master.

     Waiting for Skemm to wake and begin his training was almost more than he could stand. As soon as he heard the rooster crow he crawled quietly out from his blanket, got dressed, and made his way to the kitchens. Years of experience told him that the first fresh loaves of bread would be coming out of the ovens now and he wanted to make sure Skemm got the best breakfast possible.

   Down in the kitchens there were no smiles for him when he made his appearance and even less welcome was his request that they prepare Skemm’s breakfast right away. Will had never been mistreated by his keepers, but there had never been anything like familial affection between them. They were always very clear with him that they’d taken him in with an eye to the future when he’d be able to work and earn his keep. He’d certainly been working hard for them ever since he was able to gather eggs and empty chamber pots, but he did not begrudge them working him hard. They’d shared their home with him, kept him fed and clothed, and even gave him the day off every year to commemorate his parent’s deaths.

   Will was determined to make it up to them, for their losing him after getting only a few years of labor out of him. As a Hero he’d be able to earn far more than he ever would have working at the inn, and he’d quietly promised himself that half of whatever he earned in his first ten years as a Hero would be given to his old keepers. He hadn’t told them, of course, since he wasn’t sure how they’d respond to that, but he would never break a promise even to himself.

   “Here you go little master,” was all they said to him when they finished preparing Skemm’s meal.

   Will took the tray of food, thanking them all for their service, and then made his way back to Skemm’s rooms. When he pushed open the door he found Skemm awake and dressed.

   “I’ve got you your breakfast, master,” Will announced and carefully set the tray down on a table in the corner of the room. There was a good view of the surrounding fields and woods from the window beside that table and Will figured that Skemm would enjoy seeing the final preparations for the tournament going on.

   “Thank you, Will,” Skemm replied but did not move to the table. Instead she began stretching and motioned for Will to join her. “Our bodies are our most important tool,” Skemm instructed him. “A lot of injuries can be avoided if you keep yourself limber and strong.”

   Will did the best he could to mirror Skemm’s stretches and his excitement was almost enough to make him ignore the discomfort he felt in his limbs.

   “It will take time,” Skemm added after a particularly long stretch that made Will groan and mutter.

   The sun was finally peaking over the treeline when Skemm announced that they were done with their stretching. Will massaged his shoulders and thighs where the stretching had been most uncomfortable.

   Skemm took the water pitcher from off the breakfast tray and poured them both a full mug to drink.

   “This’ll help the soreness go away faster,” she said, offering him his drink.

   Will took it and drank. He wasn’t sure how exactly drinking water would help but he trusted to Skemm’s knowledge. After the drink he felt his stomach beginning to wake up and he eyed the tray of food he’d brought up for Skemm.

   “I can go down to the kitchens and get my breakfast while you eat yours, master,” Will proposed hopefully.

   “Oh, we’re not ready for breakfast yet,” Skemm chuckled. “We’ve only warmed up our bodies. Now we’re ready to strengthen them.”

   Will, who was use hard work, not to mention to not being able to eat whenever he wanted or as much as he wanted, nodded and stood at the ready for Skemm to show him what to do next.  Skemm smiled and it seemed to Will that some worry she’d been carrying was lifting.

   “What is it?” Will asked.

   “You just remind me of someone, that’s all.”

   With that, Skemm began showing Will all of the exercises she expected him to perform each morning. It was a difficult, but not exhausting, regiment that took up the greater part of the morning. Before long they could hear the sounds of the tournament starting and Will sneaked peaks out of the window to see what all was going on whenever he could. Skemm, however, seemed determined to ignore the tournament as much as possible.

     “Good,” she said, wiping the sweat from her face with a spare cloth. “Now we can eat breakfast.”

     Skemm sat herself down at the table and motioned for Will to join her.

   Will sat, uncertain if he should ask to go and get his own breakfast or if this was part of his training. Skemm ate in silence for a time, glaring out the window. Will didn’t have a very good view from his seat and so he could only listen. The fields where the tournament events were taking place were just far away enough that Will couldn’t make out what was being said. Periodic outbursts of cheers, gasps, booing, and applauding was mostly all that he could hear punctuating the staccato of clangs and thuds.

   “I thought you were hungry,” Skemm remarked after some time.

   “I am,” Will said and took that as his cue to go and get his breakfast. He got to his feet and began walking towards the door when Skemm caught him by the arm.

   “Where are you going?” She asked him.

   “I’m going to get my breakfast,” Will replied, confused.

   Skemm shook her head and pulled him gently back down into his seat.

   “You’re my apprentice,” she stated. “You eat what I eat.” She pushed the breakfast tray a few inches towards him.

   Will ate slowly and uncertainly at first but after a short time he was able to relax and they both made quick work of the meal.

   It was well after midday when Skemm and Will made their way outside to join the throngs of people who were watching the tournament. To Will’s great disappointment it seemed that most of the arenas that had been erected for the tournament were already being taken down. He’d never attended a tournament before but from everything he’d heard from those who had attended them in the past he expected it to last all day.

   “Skemm!” A deep, booming voice called out suddenly and startled Will.

   “Gavin!” Skemm called back with just as much enthusiasm.

   Gavin turned out to be a short but stout man. He wore his Hero’s Guild badge proudly in the center of his chest and held a massive sword in one hand, propped up against his shoulder. Will figured if the sword were placed upright beside Gavin that the sword would be the taller of the two. His arms were bare and covered in many scars and Will found himself staring, trying to count them. With so many scars, Will wondered at how many battles this man had seen and knew he must be an exceptional fighter with so much experience.

   The two Heroes embraced briefly and then took a moment to appraise one another.

   “How are you?” Gavin asked at last.

   “I’m well enough,” Skemm replied. “How has the tournament treated you so far?”

   Gavin’s smile slipped and was replaced with a scowl.

   “Not as well as I’d hoped,” he grumbled. “Some rogue blade has shown up and is winning everything.”

   “Well I’m sure you at least gave him a good fight,” Skemm said. “You always do against me.”

   “I was nothing but a child with a stick compared to him,” Gavin laughed darkly. “I wouldn’t mind the sound defeat I suffered if he’d been a Hero.”

   “You don’t remember his name do you?” Skemm asked with growing unease.

   “I was so distracted by his constant string of insults during our fight that I missed it,” Gavin said, “and I haven’t bothered watch any of his other matches. But enough of this unpleasant business,” Gavin added, brightening, “who is this young fellow?”

   Will had been quite enjoying listening to the two Heroes conversation and was overjoyed that he was being brought into it.

   “This is Will, my apprentice,” Skemm said, resting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him to stand before Gavin. “If not for him I’d be competing myself.”

   Will turned back to Skemm, confused. She’d told him she wasn’t competing in the tournament before she’d taken him on as her apprentice.

     “I thought you said—

   “Good people!” A loud voice called out, interrupting Will and drawing all of their attention toward the central arena. “The Sword Master’s Final is about to begin!”

   “Already?” Skemm asked.

     Will and Gavin began making their way over to the arena and Skemm followed shortly behind. The central arena was square shaped and larger than the others and there were raised benches along on three sides with the fourth side being reserved for the town’s leaders who would act as judges. The two combatants were standing on opposite sides of the arena from one another.

   “I was afraid of this,” Gavin said, pointing up at one of the combatants. “It’s that rogue blade I mentioned earlier. Seems he’s leveled the field even faster than you did at last years mid-Summer tournament.”

   The man that Gavin pointed to didn’t look like anyone special. His clothes were simple and it didn’t look like he had any scars at all. Will gave out a short laugh at how preposterous it seemed that that man could pose any real challenge to a Hero.

   A man came forward and handed both men a smooth, wooden dowel. They each gave their respective lengths of wood a good swish through the air before nodding.

   “What are they doing with those?” Will asked.

   Gavin laughed. “You don’t expect them fight with real swords, do you?”

   Will had never thought about it but now it seemed obvious that no one would want to be fighting with real swords in a tournament.

   “You have got to be kidding me,” Skemm said as soon as she caught up with them and could see who the combatants were. There was loathing in her voice.

   “You know that man?” Gavin asked.

   Skemm only continued to glare and both Will and Gavin were left wondering what history she had with the man. Regardless, Will was excited to watch the competition. He was somewhat disappointed that he’d missed all of the other fights but consoled himself with being able to watch the final fight. He was most eager to watch this man whom both Skemm and Gain despised so much. Certainly seeing him lose would brighten both of their moods.

                                                                                * 

  Feral was enjoying himself far more than was good for him and he knew it. He’d taken it pretty easy in the first few fights but as he got further along in the tournament his opponents had steadily grown more of a challenge. That was to be expected, of course, and Feral forced himself to focus on the fight at hand. His current and final opponent, Hero Whettem, was certainly a capable fighter. What was more, he wore a full suit of plate armor. A real sword blade would be of little use against such armor but the wooden dowels used in the tournament would give him a slight advantage since it carried more force in the swing.

   “Hear me good people,” Whettem held up his hand as he called out in a loud voice. “I am Hero Whettem, defender of this land and people for over two decades. By my blade and the blades of my fellow Heroes are you kept safe and I am glad for this opportunity for us to prove ourselves to you.”

   Feral glanced over to the seated crowd and caught Riven’s eye. “Advertising,” he mouthed and Riven shook her head, chuckling.

   “…and so I ask you, Feral,” Whettem was saying when Feral turned his attention back to him, “do you accept my terms for this fight?”

   “Sure,” Feral called back, though he wasn’t sure what he’d just agreed to. Immediately he knew he’d been caught in a trap and he kicked himself for allowing himself to enjoy this tournament as much as he had been.

   Riven was by his side and she was holding out his sword for him to take.

   “What did I agree to?” Feral asked her as he took the sword.

   “There won’t be any scoring,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re to fight with real blades and go until submission. No rounds, and no breaks.”

   “Huh,” Feral said as he handed her the wooden dowel, “and I was really counting on that stick to get through his armor.”

   “I think Whettem was thinking along the same lines.”

   Feral shrugged and he began wrapping the sword blade in the rag he’d been given to wipe sweat from his face between matches.

   “One other thing,” Rivan said with a mischievous glint in her eye, “I bet twenty gold pieces that you’d take off Whettem’s left boot.”

   “You what? That’s all we have left!”

     “Good luck with that,” Riven smiled and waved before returning to her seat.

   Before Feral could call after her he was interrupted by Whettem.

   “Are you quite ready?” He asked.

   “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” was Feral’s reply.

   With that they both nodded to those who would act as the judges for the fight. Whettem fell into his stance and presented his sword. It was customary to tap the tips of the weapons together to signal the beginning of the fight. Feral, however, was instead gripping the wrapped blade in his hands and  so tapped Whettem’s blade with the handle of his sword.

     “Shouldn’t you hold your sword the other way around?” Whettem asked.

   Judging by his voice, Feral assumed Whettem was smirking, but he couldn’t tell for certain since Whettem’s helmet obscured most of his face.

   “Why would I do that?” Feral asked and then swung his sword upward, catching Whettem hard in the face with his pommel. “I’d have to swing pretty hard for you feel the blade through all that armor.”

   Feral brought his sword back down on Whettem’s sword arm, his cross guard gouging deep into the gap in the armor around the elbow and causing Whettem to drop his sword.

   “But you see,” Feral went on as Whettem staggered backwards and tried to recover, “this way ignores all that metal and get’s right into your center.”

   Feral swung his sword into Whettem’s chest. Whettem lurched from the blow and Feral, unable to keep a hold of his sword as it had penetrated Whettem’s chest plate and become stuck, found himself similarly disarmed. As Whettem reeled from the blow, Feral picked up Whettem’s dropped sword and charged forward. Whettem attempted to dislodge Feral’s sword but it was too solidly wedged within the  splintered metal.

   Feral struck downward with the blade, guiding it along the inside seam of Whettem’s leg and splitting the straps holding his greave in place. He then drove his shoulder into Whettem’s stomach lifting him off his feet and throwing him backwards. As Whettem tumbled through the air, Feral caught hold of his boot and yanked it free, tossing it back towards Riven.

   His shoulder ached where it had connected with Whettem’s armor and he took a moment to smile for the crowd while the aching subsided. Meanwhile Whettem got back to his feet and finally succeeded in extricating Feral’s sword from his chest plate.

   “I know what you are!” Whettem shouted as he charged Feral.

   “And what is that?” Feral asked with mock interest, parrying Whettam’s strike and then stomping down hard on Whettem’s exposed foot.

   But whatever it was that Whettem thought Feral was, Feral never got to hear because at that moment he was struck in the head by something thrown at him by someone in the crowd.

   “Left boot!” Feral heard as he staggered from the blow.

   He looked down and saw Whettem’s boot lying on the ground between them. Both Feral and Whettem were so surprised that they each took a moment to look down at the boot in wonder and then up into the audience. Riven sat there holding up her left foot and pointing from it to Whettem and Feral finally understood.

     He’d removed the wrong boot.

   Feral was not in the mood for these kinds of games, but then again it was exactly these sorts of outlandish games and bets that Feral and Riven used to make much of their money.

   “I’m sorry about this,” Feral said to the still bewildered Whettem.

   “S-sorry?” He stammered. “You’re sorry? For what, exactly?”

   “Well,” Feral began and he started walking calmly over to Whettem who immediately took up a defensive stance. “I was about to end the fight but now I need to get your other boot.”

   “Like I’m so stupid as to fall for that trick again!”

   “That’s exactly what the problem is.”

     Feral was mere inches from the sword tip when he saw Whettem’s strike beginning to take shape. Whettem shifted his weight ever so slightly to the side, his shoulder beginning to dip and his head tilted. He was preparing for a powerful thrust, one that would kill Feral outright. It probably wouldn’t go over very well with the locals, but Feral doubted that was of much concern to Whettem since it was within his right to kill Feral in fair combat since they’d both agreed to using real swords.

   As it was, Feral pivoted around his forward leg so his chest ran parallel with the sword and was out of harms way. His back foot caught Whettem’s boot on the ground and kicked it up into the air. Whettem tried to turn his thrust into a slash at Feral but there wasn’t enough distance between the two for Whettem to get enough force behind his strike and the sword came to a stop against Feral’s leather armor. Feral caught the boot and brought it’s heel around to collide with the side of Whettem’s head. The solid leather soles gave extra weight to Feral’s improvised weapon and Whettem’s knees buckled.

   Feral bent down over Whettem when he did not rise and removed his helmet. There was a large red mark on the side of his face and his eyelids were fluttering. Feral took advantage of the moment to hastily remove Whettem’s other greave and boot, tossing the latter to Riven who caught it. Feral smiled as she angled the mouth of the boot to the men sitting around her who each in turn deposited a handful of coins into it.

   Whettem began to stir and Feral rolled Whettem over and onto his stomach. He then grabbed Whettem’s left hand and right foot and lashed them together using some cord from one of his his pouches. He then did the same to Whettem’s right hand and left foot.

   “He’s amazing,” a young voice from the crowd said and Feral looked up to see who his admirer was.

   A young boy was standing just outside of the arena, mouth wide open in awe. Behind the boy, and looking much less impressed were two Heroes, both of whom Feral recognized. The man was a Hero he’d beaten earlier in the tournament and the other was Skemm.

   “Hello, Skemm!” Feral called out cheerfully.

   “He’s mocking us,” Skemm told the boy. “Being good with the sword doesn’t make you great.”

   “Yeah, but,” the boy murmured, “I bet it sure helps.”

   Feral fought back a chuckle and turned back to face Whettem who seemed to have regained his senses once again.

   “Yield,” Whettem muttered.

   “What, me?” Feral decried, “You must be joking.”

   “I yield!” Whettem cried out.

   “Oh, well thank you,” Feral said and gave Whettem a little bow.

   “Now untie me at once!” Whettem demanded and Feral complied before turning to the crowd and bowing deeply to each side of the arena in turn.

   “Swordsman Feral,” a woman from the town said after he’d bowed to the judges, “We would ask for your services.”

   Feral halted in his celebrating and looked up at the woman who’d spoken.

   “I am LaDash, master of our herds and—

   “I am no Hero,” Feral cut her off before glaring at Riven.

     She’d assured Feral that these people were simply holding an open tournament for the sport of it but now he suspected she knew otherwise.

   “We know you’re not from the Hero’s Guild,” LaDash continued, “But no Hero has been willing to accept our hire.”

   Skemm, it seemed, had overheard their conversation and rushed forward. Feral smiled at her.

   “Hi,” he said kindly, knowing it would probably only upset her more.

   “If it is a Hero you seek,” Skemm proclaimed loudly, ignoring Feral, “then I am certain I or one of my fellows will be more than capable of aiding you.”

   Riven joined Feral and he elbowed her lightly in the ribs.

   “You knew all along,” he muttered so only she would hear him.

   Riven just shrugged and pulled an apple out of her bag and began munching noisily on it. A broad grin playing across her face.

   “Begging your pardon,” LaDash was saying, “but every Hero we’ve asked has turned us down.”

   “What?” Skemm sounded shocked and she glared angrily at the other Heroes gathered around. “Why would any of them refuse you their services?”

   At this, the Hero who had been standing beside Skemm earlier stepped forward and muttered, possibly not as quietly as he\’d intended since Feral was able to hear him, “Rule fifteen Skemm, and you’re best leaving it alone.”

   Skemm looked both shocked and disappointed at her companion. “What is the task?” She asked LaDash.

   “Nearly all of our cattle were taken from us a fortnight ago,” LaDash explained. “We rely on them for our food and trade throughout the winter and if we do not get them back…many of us will starve before the year is out. That is why we have offered a reward of a thousand gold pieces for their return, but even such a price has not enticed the services of any Hero.”

   Skemm glared at the Heroes in disgust. “How could you claim to serve the people and then refuse such hire?” She demanded of them and then shouted more loudly for the people to hear, “I, Skemm of the Hero’s Guild, will take your hire!”

   “Skemm, you should know that our herds were taken by the Western Realm,” LaDash said, “Are you still willing to aid us?”

   “I see no reason why that should change my mind,” Skemm stated. “I have fought those from the Western Realm before and they are no less mortal than you or I. So I give you my oath as a Hero that I will return to you your herds!”

   A cheer went up from the people and Feral pulled Skemm aside while they were all distracted.

   “I believe the point LaDash was trying to make,” Feral began, “was that it was the armies of the Western Realm stole the herds.”

   Skemm lost some of the color in her cheeks.

   “Wait,” Skemm said to LaDash, “the Western Realm’s armies?”

   “Yes,” LaDash said and it was clear she was expecting Skemm to back out of her oath.

   “Have fun,” Feral whispered in Skemm’s ear and then turned to the growing crowd. “My good people,” he shouted over the throng of countless voices all discussing the strange course the tournament had taken. “The Hero Skemm has given you her oath of service and so I can no longer accept your offer or provide you aid.”

   There was a general groan of disappointment throughout the crowd but it was quickly subdued when yet another voice began shouting.

   “Yes he can!” The voice was shouting and Feral quickly spotted the speaker: the young boy he’d seen beside the arena.

   “What are you talking about?” Both Feral and Skemm demanded of the boy.

   “It’s true that Skemm has given you her oath,” he continued, “but she is free to hire any number of people to help her, Hero or otherwise.”

   He turned, beaming at Skemm as a loud cheer went up from the people.

   “Isn’t it wonderful?” He asked Skemm. “All you have to do is hire Feral and we can take him with us on this quest!”

   His excitement was palpable and Feral found himself smiling at the boy.

   “This isn’t a quest,” Skemm told him through gritted teeth and she began to lead him away from the crowds. “This is suicide.”

   Feral watched them go and would have been content to leave them to it. However, when he turned to go he found Riven’s hand on his arm and she pulled him on in Skemm’s wake.

   “Really?” Feral demanded of her. “You knew this all along, didn’t you. Knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to show up this bunch of Heroes, and then knew I’d get dragged into this.”

   Riven said nothing as she continued tugging on his arm as they made their way out of the crowd until they caught back up with Skemm.

   “Why are there even armies from the Western Realm this far from their borders?” Skemm was asking, more to herself than to anyone in particular. She didn’t seem to notice that Feral and Riven were walking behind her.

   “You haven’t heard?” the boy said. “They’ve made a claim to King Yarin’s throne and march for the Central Realm. They took the cattle to feed their army.”

   “Wouldn’t they have slaughtered the cows by now?” Skemm asked, an edge of hope in her voice.

   “No,” the boy said. “They’ll wait until winter, same as we would. Living cows don’t spoil and can graze wherever the army is encamped.”

   Feral finally shook Riven off his arm and stopped following Skemm. He was not a Hero. He didn’t want to be a Hero and he didn’t want to get mixed up with one, especially on such a foolhardy quest.

   “She’ll die without you,” Riven stated, looking after Skemm and the boy as they walked farther away.

   “She’d die regardless,” Feral countered.

   “And you?” Riven asked.

   “Of course I’d live,” he stated emphatically. “The Western Realm still lies awake at night because of what we did the last time we were there. Half of those cow thieving soldiers would turn tail and run just at the sight of me.”

   “No more than a third,” Riven countered.

   “With a proper introduction,” Feral bragged, “I could get a full two thirds in full retreat.”

   It was at this moment that Feral became aware that Skemm and the boy were standing beside him, no doubt having heard him and Riven arguing and come to see what it was about.

   “You couldn’t get the whole army to retreat?” Skemm asked mockingly.

   “Impossible,” Feral said, trying to cover his surprise at finding her listening in on his conversation. “There’s always that minority of humanity that’s too stupid to run for their lives.”

   Skemm was livid as she looked back and forth between Feral and Riven.

   “I can’t believe you two,” she growled. “I have to track down the armies of the Western Realm, take back the stolen herds, and make it back here without serious repercussions from said army, and you two are making jokes!”

   Skemm shook her head and rested her hands on her hips. Feral had seen that move before and he braced himself.

   “But I gave my word to those people,” she said, “and if I’m going to succeed I will need your help.”

   Feral nodded. “Good thing you have your apprentice,” he said and walked passed her.

   “Those people will starve,” Riven stated as she caught back up with him.

   “You said you’ve been to the Western Realm before,” Skemm said as she also hurried to catch up to him, “that you’ve fought them. You can help me.”

   “Is she really asking us for help?” Feral asked Riven, “after everything else she’s said to us?”

   He didn’t actually expect Riven to answer. He was happy enough to lend a helping hand here and there, but it was always on his terms, never at the whims of others.

   “Those that don’t starve will freeze,” Riven stated as though she hadn’t heard Feral.

   “Yes Feral, after everything I said before, I’m asking you for help,” Skemm stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop walking.

   “She’s going to get killed,” Riven said, nodding to Skemm.

   “Yes, so you’ve said,” Feral answered her.

   “The boy will die too,” Riven countered and at this Feral hesitated. “What’s you’re name, boy?” Riven asked without taking her eyes of Feral.

   The boy had been hiding in his master’s shadow throughout the entire argument and he timidly poked his head out.

   “My name’s Will,” he said in a small voice.

   Feral didn’t allow himself to change his expression but inwardly he was being torn in pieces. He’d sworn he’d never be a Hero. But he’d also made other promises.

   Feral pointed a finger at Will, studying him but unable to find the words to speak.

   “Feral?” Skemm prompted.

   “Didn’t he,” Feral began slowly, “Didn’t he say you had to hire us?”

   Whatever Skemm had been expecting Feral to say, this wasn’t it and she tossed her hands into the air.

   “Is that all you ever think about?” She asked.

   “No,” Feral said, recovering somewhat and returning to his usual manner, “but we are talking about taking on the whole Western Realm’s armies. That’s not exactly the same as those bandits we took care of for you the other day.”

   “All we have to do is return those cows,” Skemm said, ignoring Feral’s reminder about the bandits. “We don’t have to fight the whole war.”

   “She really hasn’t thought this through, has she” Feral said to Riven who still hadn’t looked away from him and was making him increasingly uneasy with the intensity of her gaze.

   “Listen,” Skemm went on, “the only reason the other Heroes refused help was because they thought they’d have to fight the whole Western Realm.”

   “They were right,” Riven said, finally looking away from Feral.

   “It’s just cows!” Skemm exclaimed. “We sneak in, take care of whatever guards they have, and then lead them away back here. The army will be too busy too—

   “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover,” Feral said, speaking over Skemm. He’d made up his mind and he didn’t want to waste any more time arguing. He and Riven began walking at once along the road that would take them out of the village. “We’ve got a good few hours left before it’ll be too dark to travel. How experienced is your apprentice at long walks?”

   Will immediately ran and caught up with Feral as though he wanted to show just how good he was at keeping up. Skemm followed last but caught up quickly enough.

   “Now just let me remind you that I am the Hero here, Feral.”

   Power struggles were never good for a group, Feral knew, and it was his opinion that they were best dealt with quickly and he turned to face her, stopping her in her tracks.

   “You may be the Hero,” Feral said, “but I am in charge. You and I are going to be working together now, probably for a good while, and I’m sure neither of us is too thrilled with that prospect, but that’s how it is and this,” he pointed to himself, “is how it’s going to be.”

   When Skemm didn’t say anything in return he nodded and allowed a broad grin to spread across his face and he resumed their march out of town.

     “That went better than I expected,” Riven whispered to him.

   “My natural charm, hard at work,” Feral whispered back.

   “I wasn’t referring to the Hero,” came Riven’s response as she fell back a few steps to walk with Skemm and Will.