“Don’t you dare,” he said, clapping her on the shoulder and sharing that laugh with her.

  “As your grace commands, of course,” she said, giving Aefric a mischievous look.

  And with that, they set out to leave the Dragonscar.

  3

  Travel back from the Dragonscar was a slow affair. With everyone afoot, and too many injured, speed wasn’t even a consideration.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Aefric worried about speed all the time. He worried that they weren’t moving fast enough to get the worst off of the injured to healers before they suffered permanent damage, or died from their wounds.

  He also worried that even their slow pace might be too fast. Might jostle their wounds in ways that would only make things worse.

  But nothing could be done about it. The wounded had received the best field care they could get without a true healer. And Aefric had no magical way to get them to help sooner.

  Even if he could fly with so many — which he could not — he couldn’t guarantee them any smoother a ride than they’d have strapped to those litters.

  At least the whole company had enough food for the trip, even at this speed. They’d brought enough to see them through the Dragonscar, which meant they had enough food to last at least another aett out here in the wild.

  Which was just as well.

  With the four scouts having been left behind on the ridge, watching the chasm and — Aefric hoped — making sure nothing bad happened to Ge’rek and Po’rek, there would be no target-of-opportunity hunting along the way.

  The healthier and more mobile among the archers handled the scouting duties, but they were under strict orders not to draw unless attacked.

  Ser Yrsa had explained that if they were given leave to hunt, they might pay more attention to scouting food than danger. They simply weren’t trained to do both and do them well.

  Most of their archers could hit a moving squirrel on a branch at two hundred paces. But in so doing they’d overlook a tarok, standing at the base of that tree.

  Training. A simple matter of training.

  And given the state of their party on the march home, Aefric agreed that having those on scout duty focus on seeking out dangers was far more important than the possibility of fresh meat for dinner.

  They’d be eating fresh meals soon enough. Even if the hike, itself, seemed to take forever.

  Didn’t help that they’d had to return to that first pass, down near the mouth of the Dragonscar, to make their way back up to the ridge.

  Oh, the scouts had found another way up that was much closer to the caves with the gold. Unfortunately, though, until stonemasons and engineers came down and worked that route into a proper pass, it would only provide access to those who were hale and healthy, and on foot.

  Great for getting the scouts into position atop the ridge quickly. But not an option for Aefric’s party on the return trip.

  Backtracking to near the mouth of the Dragonscar had cost them most of their first day’s travel.

  Aefric did reach out to Karbin by message spell, as they had neared the water. But Karbin was off investigating a lead he’d found aboard the Swift Wave, and nowhere near any ships or healers he could send.

  And so the march continued.

  The land between the Dragonscar and Lake Deepwater was good, arable land. Fine fields, broken up only by small hills and occasional groves of trees. Mostly maples and oaks.

  Oh, there’d be more than enough farmland up here to support a mining town or two. Especially around Lake Dragonskull and the Elquill River. That was good.

  Possibly too good. Aefric found himself wondering why no one had settled up here before. A river and a lake, and no town or city nearby?

  Isolation was one possible answer. The Elquill flowed down out of the Threepeaks, and didn’t connect to any larger rivers. So no water traffic.

  Still. Aefric’s old adventuring instincts wondered if there might be a more sinister reason no one lived between the Threepeaks and the Dragonscar…

  Aefric shook himself out of his musings. He had more than enough worries before him already. He didn’t need to go hunting for more. The question about settling that area could wait for now.

  He shifted his attention to their travel. He didn’t expect to run into any trouble, but until he learned who had created those stone simulacra, he couldn’t afford to assume safety.

  Still, it was a hot day in the seventh aett of summer. Just past the midpoint, and the heat would stick around for some time.

  There was some breeze, yes. But as he hiked along, belly full of yet another bowl of that roast chicken stew, Aefric found his thoughts wandering away from the clear skies and waving grass and nearby small pack of birch trees.

  Could one of his lers have been responsible for those stone simulacra? They would have had to find and hire a fairly powerful wizard to handle those spells, but some of his lers had money.

  Lers were technically nobles, but they were not considered ranking nobles. The true ranks of nobility started with the barons. Lers were more like knights who didn’t take up arms.

  Possible. It was possible that one of his lers was behind whatever was happening in the Dragonscar.

  Aefric tried to remember if any of his lers oversaw lands in this part of his duchy. Didn’t seem likely, given the lack of settlements. Some might control lands nearby, though, closer to Lake Deepwater.

  If so, one of those lers might be trying to angle for a promotion to barony. Perhaps hoping to be allowed to hold some or all of the land between the Threepeaks and the Dragonscar in Aefric’s name.

  Certainly he’d mused more than once during the hike home about the possibility of elevating a baron to look after the people who’d end up settling between the Threepeaks and the Dragonscar. Assuming the king gave him permission to create a new baron, of course.

  But he couldn’t remember which lers held land where.

  The question would have to wait until he returned to Water’s End. Which felt like a lifetime away.

  It wasn’t that bad, of course. “A lifetime away” was how he thought of Oregon these days, and Portland. Of lost Andi, and roleplaying games, and tight matches on park basketball courts.

  “A lifetime away” was the world where he’d been born as Keifer McShane, before he’d backed a Jumpstart for the next edition of the Torn Kingdoms campaign setting, and learned that the duchy he’d “bought” with his support was more than just a piece of paper.

  He still thought about his life in Oregon once in a while. And Andi, whom he’d loved so well he’d thought he’d never love again. But his memories of her now were sweet, not painful. And his memories of Oregon brought no longing for those simpler days.

  Aefric liked the man he’d become. And the truth was, he was sure Andi would have approved. Not least because she’d always liked his hair long, and she’d love the scars he had these days.

  No, Water’s End was not “a lifetime away.” But it was farther than Aefric wanted it to be.

  On the way up, Aefric’s party had needed just under a day and a half to reach the Dragonscar from their final civilized waystation, Lachedran.

  The large town of Lachedran sat at the northern tip of Lake Deepwater, right at edge of the foothills which led to the Threepeaks Mountains. No further from Water’s End than an hour or two by ship.

  But slowly as they had to go, the hike back from the Dragonscar to Lachedran would take them almost four full days.

  After four long days of marching, Aefric was only too glad to be met by outriders from Lachedran as he approached the crest of one of the larger — if gentler — hills in the area.

  The outriders approached in a pack of six, leather clad and armed with both crossbows and either longswords or maces, by their preference.

  Their horses had been chosen for speed, and as soon as they confirmed Aefric’s identity and the extent of the situation, they sent two of their number riding back at a gallop, seeking healers and wagons.

  For his part, Aefric didn’t really want to stop. Unless his eyes deceived him, over the tops of those elm trees on the next hill along, he could see signs of smoke. And with a few quick, deep breaths, he was pretty sure he could detect the scent of woodsmoke as well.

  Late afternoon woodsmoke meant cooking fires.

  And if Aefric was right that he could hear the faint sounds of cattle lowing and sheep bleating, they had to be close to the outskirts of Lachedran’s surrounding farms.

  The town couldn’t be far, now.

  His feet itched to keep moving. To cover that last distance, whatever it turned out to be.

  The last thing he wanted to do was stand here and wait. The breeze had faltered and quit at least an hour ago. He was hot, dirty, sweaty, and more than ready to take a bath. Perhaps sit in a chair, and eat a meal that didn’t involve either roast chicken or stew. Perhaps not root vegetables either.

  And certainly not jerked deer or apples. He’d had enough of those things to last him through the summer.

  Still. Aefric held his tongue, and stayed where he was.

  Stopping was the right thing to do.

  Too many of their number were wounded too badly to take risks. Calling for the healers to come deal with them here was faster and safer.

  Of course, not all of the troops were badly off... Some had come through unscathed, and even those who’d suffered only minor bumps and scrapes had recovered well during the hike.

  The real concern were those in the litters, and a handful of others. But did that mean everyone had to wait here?

  Aefric almost suggested sending the healthier troops ahead, so they could get settled and have something fresh to eat. But he knew what Ser Yrsa would say, without even asking.

  Send the troops ahead while your grace remains behind? Does your grace want to insult them?

  Fortunately, the healers and wagons didn’t take long to arrive. Only two healers, but several wagons.

  The troops then moved the dead — who were as well-preserved as Aefric could make them with the wand Garram and such ice spells as he knew — into one of the wagons, while the healers tended to the living.

  At least the two healers the outriders had brought were good ones. Both in the yellow robes and bearing the hand symbol of the goddess Nilasah, goddess of compassion, and patroness of the Guild of Healers and Physickers.

  Both healers were dark-skinned humans. The man older — going gray in his black curls and showing smile lines about his mouth — and the woman younger. She wore her long black hair knotted behind her head.

  They both had the fitness and vitality that Aefric always imagined indicated they were in good standing with their goddess.

  The healing took time. There were only the two healers — quite likely the only true healers in the whole town — and they had to work through their examinations before beginning their prayers. Then came the chants and incense and more.

  After all. Those in the litters were in bad shape.

  Well, no. They’d been in bad shape after the fight with the stone simulacra. At this point, they were in terrible shape.

  Days of dragging them across the hills and plains of northern Deepwater had not been salutary.

  In fact, those men and women needed more treatment than the healers could handle with their travel packs. Those soldiers would need to be in the care of healers for days before they could even recover enough to move about on their own, much less return to Water’s End.

  But thanks to the efforts of those healers, all six would live. And that was the most important thing. In fact, as Aefric checked on each of them, he saw that festering wounds had soothed and closed, and fevered skin had returned to normal colors and temperatures.

  Some of them had begun to smell like death. Now they just smelled like days of effort and travel.

  All six were breathing easier, and sleeping. And for the first time in days, their sleep looked comfortable. Almost untroubled.

  Nevertheless, the healers kept all six strapped to their makeshift litters as they were moved into wagons for transport.

  Of the others who’d been mobile, but too injured for further fighting, they were handled easily enough, once the healers got to them. Splinted breaks and deeper hurts of muscle and sinew were handled with quick prayers and a liniment that smelled like orange blossoms.

  Hardly seemed like effort, after the long chants and incense and such that the healers had needed for the others.

  And yet with those quick prayers and liniments, the healers mitigated those broken bones and other wounds. Stopping those injuries from getting worse or treading water, and boosting them on the path to becoming whole again.

  Even poor Filsan, whose left forearm had been broken in three places, was smiling and rolling his wrist as though the whole arm were a new toy.

  It was enough to make Aefric smile.

  The sun had been hovering about mid-afternoon when the healers had arrived. It was close to setting by the time they finished, and Aefric’s party was ready, at last, to continue on.

  With the healers having done such work as they could do out here among the hills outside Lachedran, it was finally time to see about going into the town itself.

  By this point, the sun hung low in the western sky, and the worst of the day’s heat was behind them.

  Aefric still felt baked and dirty and smelly, and more than ready to find fresh food, and rest.

  Fortunately, the returning outriders had brought drays and wagons enough that none of the troops needed to hike the rest of the way, while Aefric and his knights were now free to ride their horses again, for the final approach.

  The outriders split into two groups of three, one group up front to lead the way, and the other group spread out and handling rear guard. And then the whole gathering got underway.

  Aefric hadn’t paid very much attention to Lachedran, when they’d come through on their way north. His thoughts had already been racing ahead to the Dragonscar. But now he found himself curious about his northernmost settlement.

  If any strange and unusual forces kept people from settling the area around Lake Dragonskull and the Elquill River, those forces must never have bothered the people of Lachedran. Not any more than the Godswalk Wars had, and the wars had left the town itself untouched, even though some of its people had died in the fighting.

  As the town had grown, they’d never added a second wall around the newer settlements. Certainly they had the money to build one, so Aefric presumed that they hadn’t built a second wall because they’d deemed it unnecessary.

  Not even so much as a watchtower.

  In fact, the defensive fortifications of the farms out here extended only as far as rail fences intended to keep their sheep and cattle at home for the night.

  The roads of packed dirt he rode on now were wide, and fairly straight, leading directly towards the town ahead.

  They passed a couple of checkpoints — no fortifications there, either, just a couple of guards with spears and a signal horn — on their way past the farms, and then they started onto the cobblestones of the outskirts of Lachedran.

  Single-story houses, and occasional two-story buildings out here, all built from wood. Though it did look as though they used stone for their foundations.

  The wall surrounding Old Lachedran looked old, but strong. It was made entirely of wood, as well, and stood perhaps thirty feet high. Though Aefric didn’t spot anyone patrolling up there.

  Definitely not a place used to trouble.

  The gates were open, and the spearmen standing guard waved Aefric’s party through as though expecting them. Which they probably were.

  Here in Old Lachedran, the roads were fire-hardened brick, and a good deal more stone had gone into the construction. Though wood had certainly been used to turn some one- and two-story buildings into two- and three-story buildings.

  There was a good deal more activity in this part of town. Out beyond the wall, Aefric hadn’t seen many people moving about, or heard all that much activity. But here, barely twenty yards inside the wall, he could hear music and laughter and all the indications of a thriving inn and tavern community.

  In fact, he noticed that his soldiers perked up immediately, no doubt hoping to investigate those noises. As well as the delightful smells of roasting mutton and beef and more.

  Wasn’t just the taverns and inns, either. Aefric could see more people out on foot or ahorse, on about their business even as the sun was setting.

  But then, Lachedran was a large town, with a good-sized population. No doubt that, like the cities of Water’s End and Behal, activity did not stop here just because the sun went down. Already he could see lamplighters igniting oil lamps at intervals along the streets.

  Oil lamps instead of torches. Very fashionable of them.

  Interesting, though, that the area outside the wall seemed so much more provincial. Was that because the denizens came into Old Lachedran for their nightly affairs? Or did that wall represent a sociological dividing line between the peoples of Lachedran?

  Aefric wondered about that as he looked about, riding through the town. Whenever a group of people saw their duke notice them, he got bows or doffed caps and waves, and often wishes of long life or good health.

  Aefric’s party passed through an open area in the town center that looked as though it were being set up for a market, which was interesting. Most farmers and peddlers markets, of course, began with dawn, not dusk. Which meant it was likely another kind of market entirely…

  This was where the healers departed for their temple, along with their charges. Before they left, they promised once more to send regular reports to Water’s End, about the soldiers’ recuperation.

  Aefric’s thoughts went back and forth between his wounded soldiers and that strange market setup as they passed further along through the town, to a second, smaller town square, closer to the water.

  Here, they came to stop before a pair of three-story buildings, joined by what looked to be a single enclosed hall on the second floor, supported by a pair of pillars down below.