An Unlikely Bride 17

Hey.

Listen.

You should really wake up.

This isn't helping anyone, you know. Being on the floor like this isn't good for your back, and it's not going to actually make your problems go away. You want them to go away, right? Okay, so what if you didn't ask for any of this, it's not like you can go back in time. Or... can you?

Haha, just kidding! You can't go back in time, that's funny. You laughed, didn't you? I laughed, you heard me. Right?

Anyway, you can't go back in time and you can't change what has happened, you can't fix all the stuff that got broken and crying about it won't help. Best to just pretend like it never happened, your old life, and just accept that you're an awful person. I mean look at all the people you've hurt along the way and all those poor souls who are going to die because of you. Oh it's not your fault, you didn't mean to do it, but you really are just pure scum and should probably just kill yourself immediately. Best to get rid of a thing like you, just so nobody else gets hurt.

Come on there are so many ways to do it, it's easy, just cut off your own head or maybe stab yourself. It'll be over really quick if you just use the blade right, plunge it deep, twist, and then pull it out to let all that hot and sticky red stuff spill out. You could always hang yourself too and, face it, you probably deserve something quick like a broken neck anyway. Yeah it's how criminals die, but... Well, stealing is a crime, right? That's on top of your other crimes, of course. You are an abomination so some of that is excusable, but you did commit a few crimes against nature along the way.

Why are you angry? You know it's the truth.

You fucked an animal, married one too. Did you think that was just for fun? That's some very serious stuff, everyone hates you for it and you're just a dumb joke at this point. Your father is disgraced, he's probably killing himself right now, and now your secret's gone far and wide across the Reach. Sick, right? Then again your kind were a bit... Well, look at your father. Those nomads aren't nearly as noble and pure as they seem, everyone thinks it yet nobody out-right admits that they wonder how many horses get fucked out there. Who can blame them? Man doesn't belong in a place so cold! You mortals go wherever you're not supposed to go, TAKE things you're not allowed to have, stick your dicks in things, lick things, eat things, it's disgusting what you freaks do.

Oh who am I? Why is that important?

You really, really wanna know?

Call me Otar. Your most important god, bow down to me and kill yourself. Oh wait, you people have a thing for dragons... Yeah, it's a bit weird to be so obsessed with dragons and I should know because I am Thuunav, great winged beast of the Reach!

What? Don't believe me?

Yeah, I don't blame you. Okay, fine, I'm not what you would call "a god" exactly, I don't quite fit the conventional definition. Oh no, I am so much more, so much older, so much more powerful than a mere god. I am the most ancient thing that has ever existed and survived.

I'm the thing you fear the most. That's right.

You do know me.

You just don't know what to call me.

That's okay because I have no name, not one you could pronounce anyway, and certainly not one you're worthy to know. Even the pathetic so-called dauvic "god-kings" don't know what to call me, but-- What was that? Oh, oh haha, we're not the same thing. Black-skinned pathetic worms just like humans, screeching and clawing, crying out into the black for my power.

No, my power is real and quite lethal.

So what was that about the dragon?

Believe what you want, but just because your world is... technically... out of my reach, for now, it does not mean my power is diminished at all. When faith in your gods wane, when their impotence becomes known, when the superliminal bond is made whole once more then you will know me again. That piece you have in your hand is but a small part of the bigger puzzle, if it wasn't for that mad fool Vrazzul scattering the parts across the world I wouldn't have had to wait so long. Yet elves want power, men want vengeance, dwarves want to know, orcs to conquer, kobolds to steal, dragons to hoard... Oh, you all have your parts to play. I won't be banished again.

Yes, I suppose you will fight, that's all you're good at. Did you expect that to surprise me? Shall I trick your mind into thinking your head's getting a pat for being such a good mortal? Perhaps I orchestrated this entire thing, the war, your father's incessant meddling in the affairs of his betters, the elves you hate, the deals you don't understand, the world twisting, turning, tick tock tick tock like a dwarven clock. You cannot possibly fathom the power I have, mortal.

Your role was played and you did as expected! Only your insistence and stubborn refusal to die has given me, divine perfection, a brief moment of pause. Congratulations to you, masturbate your pride while you still can. I wasn't surprised considering the stock you come from...

Unfortunately you cannot be bent to my will like your weak peers, so sad, I would have loved to toy with the product of two exotic and noble lineages. No matter wherever you hide it I'll find it, and then I'll come for you. I have other pawns, kings, queens, chiefs, warlords... All listening to my whispers, all doing as they're told, the ones I can't reach have a way of being made irrelevant.

Which is what you are. Nothing. You will die nothing.

-------------------------------------------------

...

...

...var...

His hand hurt so badly, but only slightly more than everything else. When he opened his eyes it was to blackness, painful, gut-wrenching blackness that stabbed into his brain and made him wince and writhe on the cold stone. There was no sound except for the high pitched whine his ears made, a never-ending note so high in pitch that it was almost impossible to hear and yet it was so damned loud. His world had been drowned in this misery for longer than he could remember, the paradigm existed before his reclamation of consciousness, but regardless it needed to go. He willed himself to life.

All the effort paid off, he soldiered on through the pain and kept his eyes open as he fought to sit.

Rose-colored eyes were his first sight, she had been cradling his lifeless body in tearful worry. Behind her, standing, was the king.

"It's coming for you."

Thonvar gritted his teeth and grunted, "I know."

A dead hand extended out to help him up and the warrior took it, groaning as he found his footing through the cramps and stiffness. He glanced around at the others and saw they still had their strength and courage, their eyes told him everything he needed to know. Good. One human, one kobold, one giant lizard, and a dwarven cat, these were the people he had chosen to witness this event... No doubt Kix would have enjoyed to see it too. Well, everyone had their role to play, and Thonvar decided his would be to carry the hated grudge of his people to the far reaches of the world if need be.

Their sky would remain true forever, he would not let the darkness come again.

"Then we shall leave and take the Kol stone with us, when the enemy comes they--"

"Will be crushed before Fjoar, son of Sarik, once king of these lands," the draugr growled. "Six hundred huscarls, one high-king, and Ulfgar the Black-hand."

"Wind guide you, honored king," Thonvar said, bowing before the armored corpse.

"May the gods watch you, jarl of the mountains. Now go!"

With a smile Thonvar turned and left, the shimmering artifact clutched in his blistered, bleeding hand. Perhaps the act of grabbing it had given him a new well of strength, or maybe it was the newfound knowledge of where he came from, but he marched ahead with an enthusiasm that kept his senses sharp. They wordlessly followed behind him, back along the path they came, through the halls and tombs where the honored dead rose to their feet. Each one raised a weapon as Thonvar marched past, they had the respect of ancient heroes and the great king's chosen companions now that the mantle had been passed.

He felt good. Honored.

For a son of the Reach it was also a stern reminder of his duty, the dead did not climb to their feet for frivolous things. What he held in his hand was a piece of something great, and if the ancient evil of his people, of all people, wanted it then he wouldn't let it go. As long as he lived, perhaps even after that, he would do everything he could to spite that nameless foe and deny it what it craved at every opportunity.

Still, questions remained that he hoped would have answers. Sometimes it was hard enough keeping up with events here and now, but in the past too? Stories of spryggans sacrificing foolish travelers to their forest gods always put him on edge, it made the forest seem even more terrifying because they could will themselves out of any tree or runestone. From that glimpse into the queen's memory, he wondered if the spryggan tribes were lied about because they did not seem that savage to him.

"Anza!" a voice whispered.

Kix stepped out into the light as they approached, Zan's shadowy figure didn't bother to move.

"Has anyone come?" Thonvar murmured.

"Not come, we--"

"Get ready to move, I don't care to see what you've stripped of their bodies," he said, ignoring the rest of her sentence. "We don't have the time."

"Wait! Please, I need to gather my things, from my lab," Razalryn pleaded.

Glaring at her he judged the look in her eyes, she did not feel like the sentimental type to him. After a few seconds of indecision he nodded, letting the dwarf-raised cat take the lead. Right away he noticed she didn't have much in the way of weapons, he wondered if that was an oversight on her part or if she would rely on magic. Many of the elves he had seen wore special gloves that left the palm exposed, but she had nothing, yet she carried her hands like a mage would.

His close scrutiny paid off, when they stepped through darkness he saw a faint aura of orange outline her exposed hands. Maybe that was why mages walked that way; with their palms slightly forward and away from the body, fingers loose and slightly curled. Having been exposed to the arcane practices so many times, he found he had gotten somewhat used to the presence of mages and their mysterious ways.

Either that or it was fighting demons that did it, being bitten twice and surviving their venom had changed him. He was no longer a bastard son of a somewhat unimportant jarl, he was a chieftain. A warrior. Slayer of demons. A hero.

"Up here," muttered the cat-elf, "I will need some help carrying my things."

"This one helps," Agziqoh volunteered, clenching a fist to show off the muscle. "Kitty make good for carrying, Agzi lift good."

"That's wonderful," Razalryn sighed as she unlocked the chain, "because I was foolish enough to bring a dwarven strongbox with."

Questions about that were answered as soon as the door opened, in the center of the room was a metal safe that looked like it would barely fit through the door. Unsurprisingly the sebekan huntress just sized it up before stomping over and grabbing hold to hoist it up, but even she had to set it back down.

"Not carry fast, this one need--" Razalryn handed her a length of thick rope, "... This good."

"Make a backpack outta it, muscles," Ruran joked while looking around. "Aye, I can carry some, hand it 'ere."

Seeing how much she had to take with, Thonvar shook his head and sighed. "We will all have to carry some weight, even Anza. What can you leave behind?"

She looked around and lowered her ears. "My books? I would hate to--"

Anza sighed and rolled her eyes. "Husband not think, not know, Anza fix."

"What?" he asked.

Instead of answering him she limped out into the corridor, both the humans followed close behind and lingered as she fell to her knees in front of a statue. They were everywhere and each one sported carved ribbons of ancient runes, their rough shape reminded him of a strong-shouldered warrior clutching a crude sword planted between their feet. Obviously it was useless as a normal weapon, the blade was as wide as his own at the thickest part and had no balance, it would be like swinging a bar of pure steel.

The faceless head looked down at them, only the nose, brow, and beard were somewhat defined, and yet it still somehow managed to strike a twinge of fear in the northman.

Especially when the "eyes" glowed to life.

Immediately he backed off, he almost called to Anza to get away, but he was bewitched by her rhythmic movements as she weaved her twisting hands through the air. Beneath his feet he felt the pulsation of the stone radiate from her knees, each twisting jerk of her shoulders, each arch of her back, the movement of her hips side to side, they happened in time with the drums. Drum. Da-drum. Drum. Da-drum. Repeating over and over as her green aura licked the cold air, the stone man's runes flashed with each generated pulse.

Ruran leaned over and whispered, "she's usin' the well. I can feel it drain."

Thonvar searched his feelings, why he didn't know, but he felt the energy in the air dwindle into a state of nothingness as the statue peeled itself from the base. So this was her power?

"...khozaaarrr..."

Hearing it speak was something else, the stones themselves vibrated with a deep, bone-piercing resonance and instinctively made him back up a few extra feet.

She rose to her feet and stumbled back, her stony thrall stepped off the pedestal to fall to a knee to receive her head against his. When her eyes shut his green orbs dimmed, only flashing back to life when she broke their bond.

"...grrrun... ...tunzii..." it grumbled, rising to march through the door.

Before the huntress could protest it gripped the ropes with a single hand and hoisted the safe up and over it's shoulder, the mighty blade clutched firmly in the opposite fist, and it slowly ambled out the door. Everyone watched it come and go without a word, the kobolds had their heads lowered in a respectful way as Anza's magical pet went about it's business.

"Well, guess that's her contribution," the spellsword muttered. "Right then, let's gather up the rest."

-------------------------------------------------

"Animated statues," Razalryn marveled, eyes up on the hand-crafted giant, "I had no idea kobolds had such a grasp on geomantic theory."

Anza shrugged. "Magic place, make magic."

"So you can only use magical wells?" the cat-elf asked. "A bit primitive, but expected. I should be writing this down!"

Thonvar didn't bother looking back as he said, "we shall have plenty of time to discuss magic on the road."

"Yes, husband," agreed the kobold, reaching out for his hand. "Khezde know the bone, can make magic."

"Necromatic-related methods like osteomancy don't interest me, they are often mere theomancy in disguise," Razalryn replied in a dismissive tone. "Even those fools in the Streydan Arcanaeum disregard it, theomantic methods often disguise themselves as true magic. I'm sorry."

"Aye, ma never had much use for the road folk claimin' all sortsa nonsense," Ruran added. "Suntown's college 'tracted 'em like flies, it did. Always talkin' 'bout this new way of doin' old magic."

Flicking her ears, the cat-elf looked back at Thonvar and explained, "ancestor worship is different, you understand, it's nothing like a theomancer's role as a basic instrument for some god or godlike being's will. What your kind practices, even what the sebekan wears, are different than deriving power from some chicken bones."

"Why are we talking about this?" he asked.

"I don't know, I thought you might have been interested in the magical world. This is all quite relevant to the artifact."

"I have been curious before, but I just want to leave this place and never return. Fjoar is nothing like I imagined, I need to think."

She furrowed her brow. "How is he not like you imagined?"

"He didn't hate elves," the northerner bluntly said. "I expected him to take offense by your presence, thankfully he did not."

Ruran glanced over and nodded. "Aye, he said it was lies."

"Lies spread by the elves themselves, by--"

"The successor state to old Silelunel," Razalryn finished, her ears flat again in deep thought. "I would need to consult the Badzuhnraz library, but I have never heard a dwarven artificer speak of Fjoar Sariksen any differently than any other nordic king. Perhaps there's dissenting opinion, you have to remember that this all happened immediately before the Schism. Perhaps we could inquire with the orcs."

"What are you talking about?" the southerner asked. "Inquire with the fuckin' orcs? What do they know?"

She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. "Of course, all you know of orcs are idiotic tavern drivel. Had you gone to the college like a proper mage..."

"Watch it, kitten."

Thonvar scowled. "Enough."

"She's actin' like this is a conspiracy years in the makin' or somethin' like that!"

"That's because it is," the chieftain fired back, that time glaring directly at the spellsword. "This evil we face has the demons in it's service, the healer in Sardag mentioned factions as if this were a plot by some demon-king to overthrow our world. It isn't. They serve the nameless foe, it spoke to me. I ignored the foolish taunts and threats, no son of the Reach would betray the dragon lord and I don't intend to be the first."

"What are you talking about, lad?"

"Fear is it's weapon, the stories speak of the sky filled with Fear itself, before Thuunav and the gods cleared them," he explained before looking down at his wife. "This evil hates us, I do not know why it is so offended by our marriage."

Anza smiled up at him as she gave his knuckles a kiss. "Anza want Thonvar, Anza get. Demon get mad, Anza not care."

"Yes, wife. Pay it no worry, that is how we rob it of power over us."

Movement in the next room made him shift focus, his wounded arm crossed over and he bounded ahead with Queenkissed in his grip. Two humans.

Armed.

His teeth grit with effort as he burst forth, the blade being drawn out to attack.

"Woah woah!"

Due to the tattered rags on his boots he slid a few feet, sword half out of the long sheath, the pommel almost touching Corrick in the chest before he came to a stop. Movement outside told him the relief force had come, Reina and Declan leading the force of kobold militia right through the doors.

"We heard the worst," the human spearman laughed. "Fuckin' bless, lad. Tha' surprise... Wha' the fuck!?"

A vibrating rumble from behind him made Thonvar's neck hairs stand at attention.

Fortunately Anza was quick on her feet, before the two spearmen had time to ready themselves she was out in front with her hands up high.

"Hulan ka'turii Anza!" she shouted, hopping up to get in it's vision. "Khozar grun taza hulanen, ka'turii, tek?"

"...khozaaarrr... tekga..."

"Good," she chirped, folding her arms across her chest. "Tunzek, khozar."

"...tek..."

Standing upright again, the giant lowered the giant sword and made a careful step forward to carry out the order of its mistress. Stepping off to the side she weaved emerald fumes between her claws, the air around her form seemed to distort as she worked. Thonvar didn't understand the power she held, but he was beginning to understand the theory and saw it in practice at her feet. Trails in the dust were kicked up by unseen movement, like tiny snakes of magic slithering to her and disappearing under claw. Part of him wished to see if he could conjure up the wind again, but he doubted it would matter much since... He was not the owner of that power. Unlike Anza, his magic came from elsewhere, in his heart he knew that he was a mere avatar for greater forces.

"Theomancy" as the furry mage had put it, not real magic at all. Was that true? Well it felt real enough, especially when it made his deep rage bleed out and manifested into something real. So perhaps it wasn't real, but if it wasn't then that meant he was chosen. Selected.

Special.

"What in the fuck is tha' thing?" Corrick breathed, stumbling out of the way.

"An animated statue," the cat-elf offered as she passed by.

"Who the fuck is tha' lady?"

Ruran shrugged as he followed. "Another fuckin' elf."

-------------------------------------------------

They had to leave the statue behind, he was too slow to keep up and he belonged back in the temple anyway. Drond had made the wise decision to not switch wagons, the supplies on the outside were thoroughly picked through and loaded as quickly as kobold hands could work. Another storm was coming, but the way ahead was all downhill so they didn't need to worry about going slow. Traveling at night would be critical, Thonvar was informed by Khedze that the animals could be given a supplement for their endurance.

Each one received some of the bland-tasting paste, like butter that had been colored green with flecks of red, their mouths held open to have it rubbed on their teeth and gums. They didn't like it, some kicked, but when night fell their strength didn't wane and Ruran's magical light guided the way.

"I have something better," the elf-cat declared.

She had gone back to the big dwarven wagon and came back with a brass-framed, wooden box that she set down next to Drond.

"Wonderful," Ruran sarcastically muttered as he directed the light ahead.

She ignored him. "Driver, open it."

Drond hesitated, but curiosity was a kobold's curse and he couldn't help himself! Flicking the latches open, he carefully peeled the lid back to...

It flew open all on it's own, and a chattering insect sprang up with a flutter of it's metal wings to hover a few feet above while he fought the mules. After a few seconds the construct, which looked something like if a soulstone fixed to a glass jar and sprouted wings, flickered it's bright magical lamp and raced ahead.

"Well lookit tha' there!" Corrick exclaimed, tilting his metal skullcap back. "A dwarf bug."

"Automaton. This one is... Not supposed to be out on the road, but I took one anyway," she admitted sheepishly with her ears lowered. "There are larger ones, of course, but these are for miners and explorers."

"They make 'em bigger? Tha's gotta be a sight."

She smirked as she answered, "it is."

Anyone could see it's utility, it fluttered quietly above and ahead at the same pace the wagon traveled. Trees were not a concern, it neatly avoided the occasional low branch that extended over the road and provided a large beam of light that lit the way for quite a few yards. A secondary beam, guided by a pair of mirrors that Thonvar had mistaken for fins, shined deep into the woods on either side and within a minute it had locked on a fleeing creature.

"So that is what it does?" the chieftain asked.

"Yes, there are sometimes creatures in the deep," Razalryn said solemnly. "There are massive chambers underneath the mountains, some so large that you could fit a northern hold within their open space. Strange creatures live down there, and of course more conventional ones."

When she looked at Drond it was clear to him, Anza had spoke of an underground lake and the dwarves at his wedding mentioned a rivalry. No doubt the dwarven kingdoms and city-states had claim to underground sections just as they did above, if his father had access to a chamber the size of Ivarshold... Perhaps they might have been more accepting to the kobold presence, his whole life might have been different and perhaps he could have met his Anza sooner.

No. They would've had dwarves living with them, that made more sense. Dwarves and the svalmer were friends of the Reach, and the dark elves went further north to trade with the fjordlands and beyond. Ever since the most primitive days of the Reach it was known that the Dvergafjall mountains to the west were friendly, while the lands of Rangvaal and the Kjarvangir range carried only misery in the fall and winter months. Heroes like Ivan Sky-Rider and Torkir the Wild were said to be friend to dwarves, Torkir even made his home up on the Dvalvidda for years.

"We should all be kept awake," he remarked, looking back at the wagons. "Corrick, go tell Khezde we need to fortify ourselves against the night. When we can rest, we will, but we must put distance between us and the temple."

"Aye, will do," the spearman replied.

Thonvar shook his head and sighed. "Perhaps that wasn't a good idea, we cannot remain awake forever."

Ruran glanced back. "No, lad. We can't."

"Husband smart," Anza added, poking her head out from the wagon. "Go far from demon."

"We can't run forever," he replied, eyes out to the woods. "When we get to the mountains we will have nowhere else to go. If my father were here he would have his mage do something, what I do not know."

"Aye, I'm no mage, but I reckon we might be better off underground," the spellsword suggested.

Razalryn nodded slowly, her brow furrowed in thought. "They simply cannot initiate a transliminal passage from their side, it's impossible, which would make a cave system a good defensive position. However," she looked at the chieftain, "even the smallest portal can, in theory, be used. A tiny piercing of the liminal barrier between our world and Angura is all that's necessary, a foolish conjuration ritual gone wrong can potentially leave a rift that may be utilized."

"I don't understand."

She sighed and tried to demonstrate with her hands. "If Angura, the dauvic realm, is here and we are here, then anyone who has clumsily broken through the wall between us and them can leave a permanent weakness. They may be able to force it apart on their side. Temporarily."

"How do we strengthen the wall?"

"We don't," she replied, shaking her head. "I hope these kobolds have not been summoning dauvic servants, but I highly doubt they have. Such magic is quite complicated and requires excessive mana or a large pool of external magicka. Primitive users wouldn't be able to survive the process."

Anza glared at her, but said nothing.

"... So we should be safe then?" he asked.

"Kobold not make demon come," his wife growled, obviously offended at the implication. "Kobold not dumb in head."

"There is nothing wron--"

"There shall be no summoning of demons while I am chief," he said firmly, giving the cat-elf a hard look. "We do not need such dark magic."

"Yes, of course, I wasn't suggesting..." she trailed off, her ears drooping as he continued to glower. "I apologize."

Waving the tension aside he changed the subject. "You mentioned earlier that the elf Ruran killed, that he was a vampire. Explain this."

"Oh, that," she sighed. "Like most other civilized folk, the elves of Streydor take offense to the presence of vampire clans and covens. Yet they do have an intrinsic bond with the dark god Lurakut, who's evil garden has many portals into Angura. There are followers of his among the dauva, but he has a fascination with corrupting mortals with his so-called 'gifts.'"

"Which are vampires," the northerner concluded.

"Correct. So they have their uses, they are able to commune with their peers on the other side through blood rituals and scrying. Obviously the necromatic arts are repulsive, but no doubt her majesty was able to overlook that while he remained a valued asset. Somehow he discovered my mission and practically begged to tag along, but I had no use for a vampire and certainly not one who worked for Viralyna."

"So then you turned him down."

"Yes, but he persisted in following me. I had thought," she frowned, "I had thought he would have left us alone. Vathan was insistent that we were followed, but I didn't believe him."

"Vathan was your friend?"

"Assistant. Svalmer."

Thonvar and Ruran looked at each other.

Carefully he asked, "was he a mage with Ruran's power? To move things?"

She looked at the chieftain with wary surprise. "Yes, he was."

"Then he is dead," Thonvar confessed, shaking his head. "We believe he was pushed, or thrown from a cliff."

Razalryn didn't reply, she just sadly shook her head and looked off into the dark woods. Obviously he decided to not tell her about the ear, it had been left along the road miles back where it would be forgotten. They wouldn't be able to turn around and fetch the body, that much was obvious, but he still felt sympathy for her loss. From her face he guessed she might have just been grieving, but if it had been him he would be swearing revenge and to find out why the mage had been killed. Answers that were likely well beyond reach, but people still longed for them.

"So this vampire elf works for the same knife-ears that tricked my father, arranged for my marriage, left us to die," he mused, glancing over at the wagon with a slow nod. "A queen so powerful to openly meddle in the north like this, I wonder what other schemes she makes."

"Nothing good," the cat-elf muttered. "Nothing good at all."

-------------------------------------------------

They kept on traveling for hours, the night grew darker and darker and the stars high in the sky shined brightly through rainbow waves dancing from the north. Wildlife was around which was a good sign, if the demons were to strike they would have probably driven off the night creatures for sure. Yet...

Something lingered out there.

He was mindful of looking, if it was a predator on two legs then lulling it into striking would be their best way to deal with it. Some fools might have wanted to go stomping off into the night, yelling into the dark, but he knew better. He had stalked caravans before, watching them from afar on the steppes, sometimes just for the fun of it too. Having been the hunter taught him what it was like, it made him all the more wary of this unseen mystery stumbling on through the woods.

"Husband," Anza murmured, her eyes down. "Runa make seen of man."

"Have you?" he asked with a soft smile.

She shook her head. "Little eye sharper, Anza old kobold."

"Yes, so old," he teased. "I am aware of him, I just can't see him."

Thonvar wandered away from the wagon and stuck to the edge of the road, and sure enough the noise of footsteps grew louder and louder as the man made his way closer. It was almost comical, but the clumsiness gave him no reason to feel concerned at all. This person wasn't good at stealth, when they were close enough he stopped and faced them directly.

"Who are you?"

The figure in the dark jumped back with a feminine "ah!"

He cocked his head and leaned forward to get a better look, he could have swore... A torch from behind cast a light over the figure, the layers of clothing kept the occupant safe against the cold, wet weather. Under heavy fur hood though he saw the outline of a face, milky white skin, wisps of blond hair, this person was definitely female.

Gorgeous too. When she looked up his heart almost stopped, she was perfect in every way.

"... Who are you?" he asked again.

She blinked. "Yes, name, the name I am have... What is the prettiest name a man heard before?"

"Ruran," he retorted sarcastically.

"How funny, my name is Luran! Sound so similar yes, yes?" she replied with a wide grin.

In every way she was nordic, if he saw her in a tavern up in the fjords he wouldn't have been surprised, but her accent and behavior were very strange. Such a name didn't exist among the northerners, at least not that he knew, and it didn't sound very feminine to him. So she was telling him a lie, but why would she do that?

Scowling he shook his head and asked, "do you take me for a fool?"

"A fool?" she squeaked, taking a step back. "Oh this is not how I have taking you now at all! No, oh no, no, I take nothing like this."

"Then why did you lie?"

"Lie?"

His anger flared, but he remembered that not all northerners were so honorable.

"Yes, a lie, you are not named Luran at all, that isn't even a real name and not one for a woman," the northman said as cool as he could, but he knew his face was betraying his emotions. "Who are you?"

"A wanderer! Come from many far away, so far, can you come stay close near me?"

"No."

She frowned, her mittens didn't allow her to do much else besides clumsily bump her hands together. Obviously she had expected this exchange to go differently, but she didn't seem to want to walk away. Since she didn't bother to fess up, he wondered if she was some kind of criminal... Perhaps a thief, one who had gotten caught for obvious reasons. Or maybe she was just a distraction.

Thonvar looked around, he felt a bit vulnerable and didn't like the wagons coming to a stop.

"We can't wait here, we have to keep moving," the warrior softly declared.

An adolescent kobold, no taller than his knee, pointed behind the visitor as it exclaimed, "nakhe!"

What?

Leaning over, the northerner tried to get a better view of the child's interest but she turned quickly. So he went the other way. So did she. He scowled and took a hard step, but she turned even further with a growing expression of worry. Thonvar was just about to hold her still but Hedrek's eyes went wide as he caught sight of the mystery too.

"That's a tail!" the spearman gasped.

A tail? Falling to a knee, the frustrated human leaned down and caught sight of the appendage swishing to the side and trying to stay out of sight. Yes, that was a tail and it was coming out of her. His gaze locked squarely on her eyes and he hoped with all his heart that she could suddenly develop the ability to read minds, especially his complete contempt for her deceitful ways.

"A hulder, I should have known."

Suddenly her eyes got wide. "Wait! No, please, don't--"

"No, I won't have you in our midst," he growled with a pointed finger, slowly rising up to tower over her. "That is the last thing we need."

"We're not bad! Don't!"

Nonsense, complete nonsense, her kind were worse than goblins. Hulderfolk were the subject of many legends, some said they were spryggans that tried and failed to become human, some theorized they were the result of unnatural unions between men and female trolls, but these hypothesis about their origin were largely useless conjecture. No matter the tale, no matter the legend, there was always a constant in all of them regarding the nature of the creatures.

They were walking disasters.

None of them meant it, they weren't mean or malicious in their misdeeds, but they seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to break, screw up, or mangle even the simplest of things.

"I know what you of thinking and these are not true!" she cried, reaching out to take his hands.

Unfortunately she caught them, clumsily holding on as she stumbled forward and he braced himself to support the extra weight. However the proximity reminded him of the other half of the legends and he caught a whiff of her scent, he almost melted right there. There was a candle that his father's whitemage would sometimes burn, she had a scent quite like that, it overpowered his senses and made her even more alluring. Remembering his honor and commitment, he gently pushed her back onto her own feet and stepped away to regain his senses. Finally, with a clear head, he looked over at her and saw she was eagerly watching him with excitement, he quickly connected the dots and determined that she willfully did that.

There were other tales about the hulderfolk, those ones centered on the rarely satisfied lust and the ensuing troubles it caused. Men would fall prey to the alluring human-like maidens and get dragged off to the forest for weeks and months, some would be tricked into marrying one if she was particularly clever.

"I'm married already," he snapped, making her enthusiasm dissolve. "This is why your kind are unwanted."

She sighed and fell to her knees. "Please? I behave, so much! Very hungry, have only eaten the berry, a bark, the mushroom, the--"

"Why don't you go back to your own kind then?"

That made her frown and she didn't answer, instead she looked as if she had been slugged right in the gut. Seeing that made him feel a pang of shame, if the spryggans were troubled by the demonic presence then obviously the other forest creatures would be too. Some said they lived in rocks, hollowed out maybe, but he imagined they made their homes inside caves and other natural formations. Maybe their talent for concealment would save most of them, but for her, all she had left was her beauty.

Even though she was a liar and tried to trick him, he did feel sympathy for her.

"You will not cause trouble," we warned.

Her eyes lit up. "Oh no! Not me!"

That wasn't very convincing, but he sighed and added, "we will stop for a meal soon enough, until then walk alongside us."

"Oh thank you! Thank you! This is very--"

Instead of being allowed to engulf him in an embrace he might not ever escape, her happy spring was stopped with a sharp finger.

"I will not have you stealing anyone either, control yourself."

She settled down and demurely nodded.

Thonvar doubted she would listen for long, even if she was thankful for the charity it didn't change what she was. Young hulderfolk were particularly stubborn, in that way he imagined she had quite a lot in common with the kobolds. They desperately wanted to belong among the humans, some were clever enough to fool most for awhile, but it was almost inevitable that they would reveal themselves. After all, a tail that looked like it belonged on a cow wasn't hard to notice when it poked out from under a dress.