It is every Heroes duty to hunt and kill any Hero who has abandoned the Guild.

-Hero’s Guild Book of Rules

Rule #80

   Red hot embers glowed in the small fire ring at the mouth of the cave. Feral had a medium sized slab of stone propped up above the embers as a makeshift frying pan and he had a few thin strips of meat and crushed roots slowly cooking on it. Neither looked very appetizing but there wasn’t much to choose from up on this peak and Feral hadn’t brought any food stuffs with him. This was the first bit of edible food he’d been able to scrounge together since arriving at the cave and he wasn’t going to be picky.

   “Hello?” a faint voice called from within the cave.

   Feral turned at once and breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw Skemm sitting up on the bed of leaves and twigs he’d fashioned for her. After pulling the stone frying pan away from the coals to prevent the food from burning, he moved to sit beside Skemm.

   “How do you feel?” he asked.

   “Better than expected,” she replied. “What happened? Last I remember, Riven was pulling me behind some cover after I’d taken that arrow.”

   “Not much happened, really,” Feral told her. “I got you up here, took care of your wound, and spent the last day and a half foraging for some food.”

   “Day and a half?” Skemm said with surprise. “Have I been unconscious that long?”

Feral nodded. “You bled quite a lot. I’d guess it’ll still be another day or so before you’ll be able to get up and start walking without getting light headed or passing out.”

   Skemm pulled back the edges of her bandages and examined the wound.

   “It looks clean at least,” she said. “It should heal well…thank you.”

   “From what Riven told me, I should be the one thanking you. You didn’t have to take that arrow. You could have let me get shot.”

   “The thought crossed my mind,” Skemm said with a grimace as she shifted her weight, and then added after looking around at the cave, “Where’s Riven?”

   Feral looked away from Skemm and back towards the mouth of the cave, towards the wilderness.

   “She was injured, too,” he said in a flat tone. “We both knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up so I went ahead to draw away the soldiers so she could sneak away. Assuming our plan worked, she should be here some time later today.”

   In truth, he’d expected Riven to catch up the day before and it wasn’t like Riven to be late. Still, he hadn’t been able to get a good view of her injuries so perhaps he’d underestimated their severity. In either case he didn’t want to think too much about it. 

   Riven would catch up, she always did.

   “Feral?” Skemm set a hand on his shoulder and brought him out of his reverie.

   “Hmm? Oh, I think your food’s ready.”

   There wasn’t enough to share, barely a few mouthfuls of either the meat or the roots, but it was far more important for Skemm to eat than it was for him. He’d gone without eating before and knew it wouldn’t hurt to go a bit longer.

   Skemm accepted the meal, such as it was, and ate without complaint. Feral was grateful for the silence, since there was so much noise in his mind already with his worries about Riven, Will, and the Princess, not to mention the uncertainty surrounding the cattle and the war in general. Had their plan worked? Would the King’s armies be able to turn back the Western Realm’s invasion?

   “There was a fourth army,” Skemm said abruptly, “wasn’t there?”

   Feral cocked an eyebrow at her. “Um, yes,” he said with some of his old humor back, “I believe I told you that a number of times.”

   “How in the world did you and Riven defeat an entire army?”

   “Honestly? Just kept fighting,” Feral said, and memories of that day came to his mind and he shut his eyes against them, not wanting to be distracted even further. “It was that or die.”

   “I just,” Skemm seemed at a loss for words. “Even the best fighters get overwhelmed eventually.”

   “Yeah, well, it kind of helps if the people you’re fighting are all horribly ill,” Feral said with a wink. “Bad water, you know?”

   Skemm’s eyes widened with dawning comprehension. “That’s why they were ready for us?” She asked. “I couldn’t figure out why they would have set traps on their water barrels. I gave up trying to disarm them and decided to just rub the dipping ladles with the leaves instead. Might not be enough but I figured it was better than nothing. I’m surprised you’d try the same trick twice.”

   “It wasn’t my trick,” Feral told her. “It was the cowherd’s.”

   Skemm’s look of confusion told him he’d lost her and he knew he’d have to tell her the full story.

   “When the Western Realm stole the cattle,” he began, “they also kidnapped one of the cowherds to help care for them. Now, whenever herds are being moved, it’s pretty common practice for cowherds to gather up all of the Shepherds Bane they come across and burn it when they make camp since a single plant can easily sicken and kill a dozen animals. Well, that cowherd must have been gathering it up, but not burning it, the whole time until they reached the valley where they encamped. Then he dumped it all into their water barrels when they weren’t looking.”

   Feral laughed as he imagined the sickness that spread through the army.

   “And how do you and Riven tie into all that?” Skemm asked.

   “We actually just stumbled into it. We came up over the rise, saw the army, heard the commotion, and were able to figure that the Western Realm was invading pretty quickly. 

   As we got nearer we heard enough from the shouting to figure out what the cowherd had done. The soldiers that were well enough to fight were trying to execute him but he had some skill in self defense and wasn’t going to be taken easily.”

   “So you two just walked into camp and joined the fight?”

   “Well, we ran into camp, actually, but you’ve got the right idea, more or less.”

   “I’m sure the cowherd was grateful.”

   “I doubt he ever knew we were there,” Feral said with a half laugh though it was more to cover the anger and disappointment he still felt for his failure to save the poor cowherd. 

   “He was dead long before we could reach him. But by that time we were too far into the thick of things to back out so we had to just keep fighting.”

   “You and Riven are quite the heroic pair.”

   “We are not Heroes!” Anger rose in him and Feral had to fight to keep it from boiling over. Besides, Skemm didn’t know what she was talking about.

   “I don’t know, Feral,” Skemm pressed on, “You two rescued me from bandits, agreed to help return the cattle, and now you tell me you both fought an entire army just to try and save a single cowherd? Sounds like Hero material to me.”

   “Heroes only fight when they know they can win!” Feral shouted at her, no longer able to contain himself. “Rule number three, remember?”

   Skemm looked as though Feral had slapped her but she was not entirely daunted by his outburst.

   “And you two just happened to wind up at the village where the cowherd was from?”

   She had him there, though it had been mostly Riven who had finally convinced him to work with Skemm.

   “Our fight with the army drew too much attention for us to try and steal the cattle back,” Feral explained while forcing himself to speak calmly. “So we went to check if the village would be alright without their cattle. We didn’t have much more of a plan beyond that. Along the way we heard about the tournament, and then about a group of bandits who were attacking Heroes and we figured they’d been paid by the Western Realm to discourage Heroes from aiding the village. Not too smart on the part of the bandits since it was bound to draw the attention of the Guild, but it would serve the Western Realm nicely to have the Guild busy with that while they moved through the Northern Realm stealing cattle and whatever else they seemed to need along the way towards the Central Realm.”

   “You claim to hate the Hero’s Guild,” Skemm said, “but you fought those bandits knowing they were targeting Heroes? I just don’t understand you, Feral.”

   The small leather pouch that he wore around his neck was suddenly impossible to ignore, it’s leather cord digging into his skin while the pouch itself rested uncomfortably against his chest. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and he needed something, anything, to lighten his burdens. Before he could stop himself he was speaking and once he began he couldn’t stop.

   “There was a boy in the Western Realm,” Feral said, staring anywhere but at Skemm, “He hated it there, hated the injustices he saw every day. He’d heard of the Hero’s Guild so he went off to become a Hero. It took him a while but eventually he found a great Master Hero who was willing to take him as his apprentice. At first the boy was thrilled, but he soon got over that. The Master Hero was brutal, and he followed the Guild’s rules to the letter.

   “After a few years, they were hired to escort a small family out of the Western Realm. They’d done something to upset a local warlord and they were fleeing to the Northern Realm to avoid being killed. A couple days after crossing into the Northern Realm, they were caught by the warlords men. It was still a week or more to the next town and there was no where to run. So the Master Hero invoked rule three: A Hero must disannul any contract if it becomes apparent that success is no longer probable. But the apprentice refused. There was a small trappers cabin not far from where they were and the apprentice wanted to take refuge in there. When his Master still refused, the apprentice called his Master a coward. In return his Master struck him down. The apprentice survived, but was in no condition to fight. The Master, on the other hand, left them all to die. The warlords men let him pass. He was a Hero, just doing his job, and they had no qualm with him now that he wasn’t standing in their way.”

   Skemm listened, eyes wide and mouth agape as Feral told his tale. He was glad she didn’t try to interrupt him. He wasn’t sure he would be able to resume if ever he stopped.

   “The family took the apprentice and tried to take shelter in the cabin. It shielded them from swords and arrows well enough…but not from fire. As the smoke began to choke them, they found a small root cellar beneath the floor and they shoved the apprentice down into it along with their infant son. The roof collapsed before any more of them could make it down below.”

   Feral closed his eyes again as he heard the cries and gasping shouts from all those years ago playing in his mind. He wasn’t sure when he’d pulled the pouch free from his neck but was aware of it now clenched tightly in his fist. He relaxed his grip enough so that he could pull the contents free from within: a small, tarnished medallion. He began turning it over in his hand as he finished telling Skemm his story.

   “The apprentice and the infant survived. It took a while, but the apprentice was able to find a village that would take the infant. They were mostly cowherds, but they seemed good natured enough that the apprentice was confident the boy would be well cared for. After that, the apprentice figured the guild would record him as having died so he changed his name and went his own way.”

   Feral tossed Skemm the medallion and she caught it. For a long time she just stared at it, Feral’s old Hero’s Guild medallion, marking him as a member of the Guild.

   “That’s why you’re still protecting him,” Skemm said at last “Why you agreed to come out here with me, isn’t it?”

   Feral turned to face her once more. “I failed his family when I was suppose to be their Hero,” he said, “and I guess I’m still trying to make up for that failure.”

   “WHAT?” Will cried from the mouth of the cave.

   Feral spun and was shocked to see Will standing there, anger and betrayal marring his face.

   “You were my family’s Hero?”

   “Will!” Skemm called to him, “You didn’t hear the full story. Let Feral—

   “It’s true,” Feral admitted, cutting Skemm off. “My real name is Jesse. I was born in the Western Realm and I failed to protect your family.”

   “Failed?” Will said with obvious disgust. “You abandoned us!”

   “No, Will,” Skemm cut in again but what color she had was quickly draining from her face as she struggled to get Will to listen. “It was a hopeless fight and…

   Skemm slumped back onto her bed and it was obvious she was having a hard time staying conscious.

   “How can you defend him?” Will demanded, oblivious to Skemm’s condition. “He’s just admitted to waiting until my family was dead and then he just dumped me off at the first village that would take me!”

   Will gave Feral a withering look, turned away, and stormed away from the cave. Feral wanted to follow him, to set the story straight, but knew better than to try and force Will to listen to him just then. Besides, Skemm wasn’t looking very good and she needed looking after. He’d seen people in her condition before who overexerted themselves and ended up getting such violent, uncontrollable shakes that they’d wind up bashing their heads into the ground, or else vomiting and then choking to death on their own sick.

   The daylight slowly waned into evening. Skemm recovered enough that Feral was no longer so concerned for her but still didn’t go in search of Will. He’d come back when he was ready. Besides, the fact that he’d found them meant that Riven had probably gone back to their old camp first, rather than the peak, and sent Will on ahead. He probably just went back to Riven and she could maybe set things straight on their walk back to the peak.

   Not too long after sunset, Feral heard the slow treading of approaching footsteps and Riven walked into camp. She had on her traveling pack, though it looked like she’d removed much of her usual gear to lighten the load on her injured leg. Her left arm was in a sling and she leaned heavily on a walking stick held in her right hand. On her hip hung Feral’s sword.

   “You dropped this,” she said and handed the sword to him.

   “Thanks,” Feral said and he began looking her over. “How are you?”

   ”I’m mending,” Riven said with a wane smile. “Probably be a few weeks before I’m up for any more fighting. You?”

   Feral shrugged. “A few cuts but nothing too deep.”

   “Where’s the Princess?” Skemm asked when it became apparent that Riven had come alone.

   “I returned her to the King’s army this morning,” she said, sitting down carefully beside the remains of Feral’s fire and pulling out some rations from her pack and sharing them around. “The Western Realm’s armies began to retreat yesterday morning,” Riven explained. “Seems our poisoning attempt was rather successful after all and their scouts had already learned of King Yarin’s approach with his larger force so they realized they wouldn’t be winning any wars. I met up with Will and Princess Yaria last night. Will wanted to come check on Skemm once I told him what had happened so I sent him ahead while I escorted Her Highness.”

   Riven scanned the cave briefly and then added, “Where is Will? I would have thought he’d be here by now.”

   “He was,” Skemm said darkly, “but he overheard us talking about Jesse.”

   Riven shot Feral a surprised look and he shrugged.

   “Ah,” she said, “and where is he now?”

   “I had been hoping he would be coming back with you,” Feral admitted. “But since he obviously didn’t seek you out…

   “Captured?” Riven asked.

   “I’m guessing he went looking for them,” Feral nodded, “He was…pretty angry, and probably went looking for a fight, hoping it would make him feel better. As long as he didn’t kill too many of them they probably took him alive. Maybe use him as leverage or something. That or he’ll become a public execution.”

   Skemm was silent through their conversation but did nothing to conceal her concern for her apprentice.

   “From the last I saw of the Western Realm’s armies,” Riven said, “they seemed to be heading towards Lord Fesser’s castle so if they’ve captured Will, that’s where they’ll hold him. General Jernagin likes to watch executions, but his party was moving pretty slowly due to his injuries. Maybe a day and a half before they get there.”

   Feral mused on that for a moment, slowly working on the rations Riven had given him. He knew better than to eat too quickly after an extended fast.

   “Lord Fesser’s been friendly towards the Western Realm for some time,” Skemm told them. “General Jernagin probably knows he can’t run his armies all the way back to the Western Realm now that the King’s armies are here. My guess is General Jernagin is planning to use Lord Fesser’s castle to defend against the King’s armies.”

   “You think Lord Fesser will side with them now that they’re retreating?” Feral asked.

   “I doubt he’ll have any choice,” Skemm said. “He’ll be over run by the Western Realm if he refuses. From what I hear he’s never kept a sizable army of his own garrisoned at his castle.”

   Feral knew rescuing Will was a long shot, but he had sworn to himself long ago not to let that stop him from trying.

   “Do you know if they took the cattle with them?” Feral asked Riven.

   “Last I saw they were still in the valley,” Riven said. “I told the King’s army that there was a Hero here that was going to return them to their village and asked if they would keep an eye on them in the mean time.”

   “Okay,” Feral said with a sigh and he got to his feet. “I’m going after Will. You,” he turned to Riven, “keep an eye on her,” and he nodded towards Skemm. “She should be able to get up tomorrow for some light walking. King Yarin’s army should be here by then and you two can meet up with them. Maybe borrow a couple horses to ride.”

   Feral looked around the camp for a moment, considering what all he should take with him. Eventually he settled on asking Riven if he could borrow her pack and some of her rations, to which she readily agreed.

   “Do you mind if I borrow your bow?” He asked Skemm.

   “I’m not using it,” Skemm admitted, “But I thought you were a bed archer?”

   “I am,” Feral admitted and left it at that. “Hold onto this for me,” he told Riven and handed her back his sword. He gave the camp one last look around and then began his march down the peak. “I’ll see you two in a couple of days!” He called back to them with a wave.