An Unlikely Bride 18

Daylight brought a sense of relief as their wagon crossed over the hill crest and on down toward the main road, Thonvar's eyes had lost their sharpness and his feet were heavy again. Runa and Anza had fallen asleep, the adolescent kobold was snuggled up against his wife's chest and looked as if she was any other child. He looked back at the kobold clutching his own set of reigns and as the sun bathed his tired face it... Somehow in the light he looked normal enough to Thonvar.

They were people, just like any other, with hopes and ambitions and the ability to bask in a new day's fresh sunlight. Deep down he should have known that earlier, but it felt more real in that exact moment than before; his heart may have understood it rather than just his head. It still didn't feel real to him, like something was missing, perhaps it was that the kobold didn't see the northman as his real chief. As long as he had his bride, his precious Anza, he would have the necessary power to rule and maybe enough of a chance to prove himself.

"Should we stop, my sir?" Drond croaked before swallowing down the dryness. "Mule horse get tired, so are Drond get sleepy."

He exhaled some hidden tension and nodded. "Just for a break, we need to keep moving if we wish to beat the heavy snows."

A break and some breakfast, he let Drond and the other wagons pass by until the kitchen wagon rumbled up being driven by the muscled cook. Wordlessly she gave him a nod, but her expression shifted just slightly when he started to walk beside the wheel. They still hadn't exchanged names so he didn't know what to call her, but she understood him anyway and sighed.

"Thank you," the chief said with some sympathy, "we can rest soon enough."

Thonvar let the wagons go ahead, he wanted to just count them all and be the last one to walk into the makeshift camp. Even with the new dwarven one they were still running short on available space, kobolds that had enjoyed travel off their feet were trailing far behind as they struggled to keep up. With such little legs they needed to move twice as fast as a human just to keep pace, finally their small stature had come around to bite them in the tails.

A mother carried a little bundle in what had been a grain sack, bits of rags and grass were stuffed inside to keep the runt warm while she struggled to keep up. Behind her was one of the males, a crude backpack slung over his shoulders and a sack of flour perched on his black horns. Oddly enough the makeshift helmet he probably wore, refashioned from a metal pot, was stuffed over the top and made him look that much more ridiculous.

Then the northerner realized something.

They were all wearing something on their heads, even Anza wore a hood or at least some jewelry; the only time she wasn't was with him. A few of the females had either cloth ribbons or a cape-like device affixed to rings that slipped over the oval-shaped base of their horns, the ribbons also seemed to come with smaller rings that hugged tightly further up and were stacked in a rainbow of colors. Males? None of the male kobolds seemed to have such decoration, in fact they seemed to prefer more traditional cloth hats or crude helmets.

Some of the obviously wealthier or more important ones had layers of decoration, while the poorer ones seemed to assert their dominance with layers of cloth and leather caps. Zan seemed to stand out in that way, his helmet was more or less form-fitting in that it was easy to overlook. His prominent horns still jutted through, both the large pair and the smaller secondary pair behind and underneath, and the metal plates were carefully crafted to overlap neatly. Padding was simple too, but allowed the armor to sit close to his natural scales and didn't look as sloppy as some human warriors.

Yet far, far back was the exact opposite and a truly sad-looking creature that appeared to be on the verge of tears. He had to take a moment to recognize her, but she was one of the females that escorted Anza up to the Lawstone! What was she doing struggling to carry a big basket like that?

Well he didn't wait for her to pass, before she could manage anything more than a surprised squeak he lifted the kobold up and snatched the basket with his opposite hand.

"Is there anyone else back there?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Good. Why are you way back here, carrying something so heavy?"

"Khala bad," she whispered, hiding her face in shame. "Make big shame on Anza, get punish now."

"What shame? I think I decide what punishment you deserve, if any."

Tears began to form in her big, yellow eyes and the kobold hesitated to answer so he didn't press the matter. Whatever happened he could squeeze out of his wife, but since he hadn't noticed her scolding anyone in particular he doubted that she even knew about this. Their society did seem based around a concept of honor and shame in a way, certain obligations and responsibilities, but he was beginning to notice that the kobold way was ultimately a matter of whoever was strongest would prevail. Anza had a power that obviously the kobolds respected, but she was one of them and she had their love.

He could have ruled with fear and intimidation, but there were more than one old story about foolish jarls who did not inspire loyalty in their people. Rangvaal and the fjordlands had more than their share of such men, wars between the holds were not so common in the Reach.

So he didn't want to be a tyrant, maybe with the foreigners that joined their ranks he might make the Kozakrim adopt new ways. Just as he finished the thought of the humans and the sebekans settling in, his eyes fell on the huldra as she worked her charms on the southern farm boy. With no need to hide her identity, her tail flicked side to side and she clearly didn't mind letting him see a bit of skin as her coat came off. Nothing improper, but he felt it would be best if she was sent packing sooner rather than later.

A hand stopped him.

"Let it go, northman," Ruran muttered, nodding at the unfolding scene. "Just let 'em have their fun, she won't hurt 'em right?"

"They try to slip in, find a man to marry. I won't have her with us, they are only good for making trouble."

"Aye, we call 'em women down south," the spellsword chuckled. "I reckon any as pretty as that's gonna cause more than her fair share, but she *is* friendly."

"They absorb a man's energy," he warned.

Ruran just laughed again, but Thonvar took the advice to heart and only watched as Hedrek was quietly led away to a more private spot. As far as he could remember none of her kind had killed a man through... using him. Some stories said they were strong, that's why they had the cow tail, they were as stronger than an ox and could kill anyone with their bare hands. He doubted the extent of their strength, but there was more than one reason why her movement in the woods was mistaken for a man. When she gently shoved her prey ahead, her gait changed from an alluring sashay to something that reminded him of a predatory beast. After a bit of watching he decided that the horseborn reachmen, the ones that liked to wrestle, had a similar way of carrying themselves before they fought.

Maybe evicting her would be tougher than he thought, but if she was a threat to his people or his honor... Queenkissed reminded him of its presence as he continued walking, such a heavy and powerful blade could cut down a troll for sure. Such thoughts weren't good to carry, especially in a forest that harbored magical beings most only heard of, but he was chief and had to think of them.

No, that wasn't right, the old king Fjoar had called him a *jarl* of the mountain, but he wondered if that's what he meant. Thonvar, jarl of... What? Kozakrim? That was the clan's name, which word meant "clan" and which meant... something else? Koza? Koza's clan? Or perhaps the clan of Krim? Krim sounded like a name, a strong name for some kobold warrior, he wondered if "Krimshold" sounded alright to other ears, perhaps a bit better than "Thonvarshold" or something like that.

That was too much to think about with an ignorant head, he needed to know more.

Thankfully he happened to be carrying a kobold, so after setting her down he asked, "what does 'Kozakrim' mean? Can you explain it?"

"Khala?" she asked.

"Who else am I speaking to?"

Immediately she shrank down in shame, but she did raise her voice to say, "Kozakrim is Khala people."

"So what means that? "Koza" is how you say "people" in your tongue?" he asked as he wondered if she could even answer.

She shook her head.

Thonvar sighed in disappointment before asking, "so you don't know then?"

"Khala know, chief make wrong word, 'krim' is of how say the people," the kobold explained, risking an upward glance as she did so. "Koza old name, old, old name, all krimzen of old names."

"Krimzen," he whispered, trying out the new word. "What name do the kobolds have for the mountains then?"

She thought for a moment before shrugging. "Not have name for those, kranziiko, dragon, make name. Not have for us, khuziiko come to--" she slapped her hands over her snout. "Khala are big dummy, Khala bad."

"What is a 'kuhzeekoh' and why does it need to name things?"

She got up and ran away, Thonvar just watched her with a confused expression.

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

They rested their feet and had a much-needed meal, but it wasn't particularly exciting or inspiring and left him wishing for the earlier stocks of food. Meat was a prized commodity, the kobolds were definitely more carnivorous than humans, but between the beef pulled from the farmer's lost oxen and the other meat they had procured along the way he felt they would be good for a week. This was a critical part of being a leader, reachfolk rich and poor knew hunger and the prospect of famine was always on their minds, his father had gone to great lengths to keep Ivarshold fed through the winters. They never starved, but there had been days where his belly carried just potatoes and some chipped beef...

Not at all that different from the salted venison cut and oat porridge the cook had put out.

He ate it, but it was almost tasteless compared to what she was making earlier.

Even the whorish newcomer managed to get something to eat in between her conquests, the men coming back red-faced and on the verge of crawling while she positively glowed. Each one left her more and more vibrant, but she only enjoyed the company of a few kobolds before his stern glare got to her. Distrust for her kind came natural, and unlike the kobolds trying to hawk their useless crap she actually could pose a threat. Wordlessly he pointed and sent the hulder shuffling away to a quiet place within eyeshot, all he had to do was exchange a glance at Anza to convey his annoyance.

Yet she wasn't being malicious, like any forest predator she was just doing exactly what she was born to do. Sure the myths about her being able to kill a man with a gaze, or about having a hole in her back, or bark, weren't true but the other ones certainly were. They were parasites on human society, beautiful ones, but parasites all the same and were best kept at a distance.

They still deserved a bit of kindness though, he held in his amusement as she stumbled over her cape and just barely catching herself. Her kind would never build great cities, but... They weren't so bad. Better than most, at least they belonged in the north lands.

A loud crash rumbled in the distance.

"Mage!" he called, practically jumping into his stride. "Razalryn!"

She was already on her way to find him. "A meteor, my lord. I'm sure of it, and with no red in the sky it must have come from far away, to the southeast."

"Are we in danger?" he asked, finding the question silly when it pertained to a sky falling apart. "Should we move now?"

"No, we're not in danger, but..." she trailed off as she looked around at the serene clouds above, "I have no way of knowing where it came from."

"More, then?"

Hesitating at first, she finally shook her head and replied, "no, I believe we are safe. We should continue to move regardless, with the stone in the open like this..."

"I agree. Go tell Khedze, the wise woman, to tell the others to make ready. Remind her to tell the others that the weak go on the wagons, the strong walk, no exceptions."

"Yes, as you wish," she answered, slipping past him.

Thonvar made a beeline right for Anza, but the hulder intercepted him with her hands clasped across her chest as demurely as she could. Oh how he wanted to ignore her, but...

"What do you need?" he asked, not bothering to soften his tone. "We must make ready which is work."

"Oh yes! Yes, yes, much work for you, but this one must go her own way soon. Red man understand, yes?"

Understand? Oh of course he did.

"As I expected, good luck to you then... Here," he uncovered the wagon and grabbed one of the cleaned daggers, "this is not much, but the forest is--"

Her free hand unsheathed his own blade like it was made of feathers, but she stopped him from moving to retrieve it. With that he felt her true strength; she easily overpowered his grip with possibly twice his strength and then some, but it had the feminine grace that one could expect from such a fine creature. Again she wasn't malicious, she eased him down with a radiant smile and raised the blade up.

A cool breath of the north left her lips, wisps of magic coiled around the blade and made it sing a cheerful note.

"Thank you, red man, you have kindness and love in your big heart, I feel it, this why I come for you."

With a kiss to his cheek she released her grip on him and stepped back, he didn't quite know what to say.

So she continued, "we hear the queen's song when she goes to you, all of forest does, these lands..." she looked around at the tall trees, "have many friends for you, but are all scared of the wind you bring. We not afraid, this one, not afraid."

"Then you came here just to prove that?" he asked, sheathing the giant blade. "Maybe I would not have been so harsh had you said this earlier."

"No, this one quite... hungry," she giggled, stealing a glance at one of the spearmen. "Now all know your heart, if red man ever sires child we hulderfolk would be so happy to care and teach. Yes?"

He imagined that wasn't the only thing they would do if he were to have a son, but the gesture was appreciated regardless. With a silent smile he nodded, the hulder giggled and gave a little wave of her fingers over her shoulder as she strolled away. All he could do was watch, not sure if the creature was weaving another ruse or telling the truth about the forest's hidden folk.

Slowly he shook his head and started walking again, he would think about it some other time.

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

They kept traveling until the sun started to dip behind them, but if it wasn't for the animals he would have been happy to press onward and drag them all with. Rest was good too, it let him finally retire to his wagon and relax as his wife tended to his bandaged arm, but his mind was still racing with possibilities. First he thought of the forest folk out there, the spryggans and hulderfolk in particular, but he imagined there was plenty of others that he hadn't heard of before. Did they all pay respect to the queen of the forest?

It was hard to imagine that they didn't, his experience with her was... intense. No doubt those that lived in the wilds of Rangvaal would be as equally enchanted and intimidated by her presence, they were well within her realm and would be wise never to cross her.

Humans played by different rules and were apart; they never could be one with nature in that way even if the hidden folk, the flora and fauna, and even the beasts made of magic and wonder itself sometimes mingled with his kind. Kobolds were just as alien, as were the dwarves, and he imagined only the elves far to the south that lived in their own forests had a better chance at connecting with the untamed wild. Even with his own unique parentage didn't help to dissolve the barrier between his heart and the forests she had called home, he felt a pang of remorse and regret for never being able to have that intense connection.

"Husband?"

He blinked and looked up. "Yes, wife?"

Anza smiled softly before giving him a soft kiss. "Husband sad."

"Our guest has made me think about the forest, she said if I ever had a child her people would be happy to teach it their way."

Scrunching up her nose, the kobold hissed disapprovingly at the notion and waved it off. Thonvar had to laugh, he had guessed she didn't approve of the newcomer at all.

"First we must have a child," he reminded, glancing down her tunic.

She swatted his shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Dummy husband, Anza busy."

"I will be fine," the strong, stubborn northerner replied. "My care is in the best hands."

Compliments made her smile, she tried to hide it and only allowed a sideways smirk as she continued to wash away the paste. Obviously it was going to hurt, but he sighed and let the pain of the open wound fill his senses before he willed his body into a sense of heightened vigilance. Already the wound had begun healing, he was quite familiar with such progress brought on by salves and potions brewed by skilled alchemists and Khedze was obviously quite skilled at her trade. Magical properties in the ingredients had come together and leeched into his hurt tissue, the new growth looked so pure compared to his rough hide that had not been seared and torn.

That was the first time he fought a real mage, like the ones in the stories, and as he examined the damage it dawned on him how lethal they were. Of course he knew they were dangerous before, but...

Had it been his head he might not have survived, a bolt of magical fire certainly packed more destruction than an arrow or even a rock flung from a tower down below. Maybe it even hit harder than a sword or an axe, certainly a powerful mage could make a great many fireballs and fire them as fast as a skilled archer. Or one like Ruran who had a very practical and utilitarian way of magic, especially when paired with others. Fortunately not many pure mages existed, from both his own experience and the observations he made on the road it was clear that people like Ruran were still uncommon.

Maybe that was due to how dangerous magic was to the novice, especially under stress, because the results of its improper use were catastrophic. Ruran lost his magical barrier with grace, it flickered and he seemed to discard it as one would discard a shield, but the poor elf caught under Thonvar's assault was not so lucky. Perhaps that was enough to keep most people from playing around with it on top of Ruran's testimony toward how rare the natural aptitude for magical arts were in the common folk.

Seeing how the easterners were, it made Thonvar wonder if there were cultures out there who ranked themselves based on their magical prowess.

Anza giggled.

"What?" he asked, blinking away his thoughts. "Did you say something?"

"Husband forget Anza," she teased as she kicked off the last of her clothes. "Not forget now."

Definitely not. He forgot whatever it was he was thinking about as she crawled over, his hands automatically found her hips as his wife leaned in for a sensual kiss.

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

When daylight came she had gotten up before he did and attended to things, he woke up to the sensation of a warm, damp cloth scrubbing him down. Immediately he could tell she had cleaned up, leaning close he noticed she hadn't yet applied perfume and he sampled her natural scent while she worked. Unfortunately she was much too alluring to resist and, after several minutes a few gentle pecks to her neck and shoulder, she sighed and gave in.

Thonvar closed his eyes and laid back as she reminded him of what the back of her throat felt like, his mind drifted to an ethereal projection of that sensation.

After a minutes of bliss somebody with a fist the size of a mountain knocked on the side of the wagon, daggers of fear cleaved his ribs off his spine and made him spring back.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"Sir it's... people on the road, Corrick said this was somethin' you had to see."

"Alright, I shall be out shortly," the chief replied, punching the bare wood in frustration.

Anza sat still with a coy smirk.

He just looked at her, but she didn't seem to have any sympathy for his plight at all. Still annoyed he shoved her, laughing as she toppled over and shielded himself from the quick retaliation. Even though she was feisty, a wet rag did not make a very effective weapon and he survived the onslaught. At least she was willing to concede to a wordless truce, he kissed her cheek as she fell on top of him and they shared a final embrace before he hurried to get his clothes on. Not willing to wait, his already dressed wife giggled and left him alone to contemplate what kind of visitors would be so important.

Soon he had an answer. Emerging from his wagon he saw a party of armed and armored men, immediately he scrutinized their equipment and took note of the patterns on their shields. A pair of crossed, yellow pitchforks on a red background? He had seen that before...

"You are from a southern hold," he stated, eyes on the men to gauge a reaction.

"Yah, brother northlander, we are, and you are from the west," replied the man in the center, he was definitely the leader. "A long way from your home, fire-hair, you travel with these kobolds?"

"These are my new people now, Streydor knife-ears made a plot and my father was forced to marry off one of his sons. This is my wife, Anza," Thonvar motioned to her, "by her birthright Uzkrig's daughter the title of chief passed first to her, and then by marriage to me. I am Thonvar, son of Kargruuf, chief of the Kozakrim kobolds."

She stepped closer, he didn't shy away from slipping an arm around her. There was no reason to be ashamed and he did not wish to project such foolishness, he would not dishonor his wife in public.

"Strange things happen lately," the man politely observed, "but perhaps not as strange as they could be. We travel north to ask for aid of our brothers deeper into Rangvaal, maybe going north to the fjords if we must, the holds to the south are beset by demons of another world."

"We have killed some ourselves, and Sardag was on fire when we arrived. There were mortal servants of the invaders trying to steal from Fjoar Elf-Breaker's tomb, we sent a dwarf back west with an artifact they wished for themselves."

"You stole from the old king?" the nordic southerner hissed, his group shifting uneasily.

"No."

That answer did not seem to satisfy the other man. "Then what did you take?"

"I do not know, that is between the dwarf and the Elf-Breaker himself. Even if I knew I would not tell you."

Cautiously the leader of the warriors returned to a more relaxed stance. "Then I should keep this news to myself, give the dwarf time to make it across the bridge."

"By now he is sure to be near Ivarshold, perhaps further into the Reach. Do not hesitate to spread this news, if only to annoy the elves."

All the northerners laughed, if there was one thing they could agree on it was that, and they all relaxed a bit further. Everyone else seemed somewhat... awkward, especially the other humans who wore the smile somebody had when they didn't get the joke. What was there to get? Causing strife for the elf was a tradition in the north, an old draugr in his tomb sending a dwarf on an errand to...

Thonvar shook his head. "Tell me of your lands, the evil comes forth there?"

"It does, it happened when the fire stone crossed in the sky. At first it was just... We thought it was just farmers being afraid of the dark, but then one of the huscarls, Harald, he saw it, saw the red eyes in the night. What could we do? Graf Carsygg sent us north, but the villages had already been sacked and we saw dead... Not our honored dead, not like that, these were fresh kills walking in service to the enemy. Jarl Farkald's men there, they were fighting in the fields."

That was terrible news.

Another man spoke up and added, "before we left there was a rider from the southern lands, Allanar, where the elf-king Evindal the Stone-Fist rules. They were asking at Carsygg's hall for strong men to go south and help there, I think were were all hoping this was the elves and their magic."

"Yah, but this far north is outside the reach of Allanar mages for sure," the leader noted as he looked around. "This deep into the forest... I've never liked these pines, Adalheim does not put a chill in your bones like this."

"Who are you?"

"They call me Reiger the Blackbane, after I cut down five of the small ones fighting my way to their chief. We routed them with the help of the men to the north, but a few had been bitten. They came down with a fever, it took them in the night, we left them with the temple priests there. I was bitten too, but..." he trailed off and held up his hand, the bite marks were clear but uninfected. "They called me the Blackbane then."

"It's true," one of the few women of the group declared as she stepped forward, "I saw the beast draw blood from his hand with my own eyes, anyone who gets bitten by a night creature and never falls ill from it is a bane to the evil folk."

"That only counts with vampires," the first man countered.

"No, it counts with werewolves and such too," another said as he removed his helmet. After shaking his brassy-colored, braided hair free of tangles he joined the woman and said, "they all come from the same source, dark gods of the demon folk. Reiger is blessed by the gods, maybe recognized as an honored champion of Adalheim probably."

Murmurs of agreement with the statement seemed to put the naysayer in his place, but Reiger shook his head. "I'm no hero, I serve the reich and my king. Narin, Gundehar, your loyalty and faith in me is welcome, may the gods bless you, but Berimund is right. Legend only has it with the vampire's sickness, but this can be beaten with a potion of garlic and silver water. Did we not all take some?"

"Aligern and Rodolf and Thidrek all took some too," the woman, presumably Narin, fired back.

Losing friends and brothers in arms was hard, Thonvar almost felt that pain himself with Hroki and shuddered to think about that horrific attack. No doubt these folk from the south loved and cared for those lost men, the woman might have been closer to them for her own reasons, and he watched the troubled expression on Reiger's face. There wasn't much to say back to her, no easy answer could be given that explained the nature of life and death.

So the red-headed chieftain took a step closer and offered, "perhaps it could be both, the gods did smile on you and the drink helped. I do not know why those men died, but they will have a place in Otar's hallowed halls among the honored dead."

"You are right, fire-hair," agreed the Adalheimer warrior, "they all fought well and we drink to their memory tonight."

"You can drink with us," Thonvar offered with a glance down at his wife. "We are heading north to home, I believe we are still in Jarl Gurnjar's lands. I do not know how far his hold goes, but I know we will be crossing the Gunnarvik River and into land watched over by Hodvar, one of Gurnjar's thanes. I am told he knows of magic, perhaps he knows more than I do about this blight."

"Hmm... Yes, I believe this is a good plan. Alright then, we travel with you, it is best we travel in numbers anyway."

To that the chief fully agreed, it would be good to have a group of skilled human fighters with them. Even if it was for a short time, he felt safer knowing they could go most of the way along a dangerous road.

"Aye, good to have you midlanders with," Ruran added as he rolled a purple orb between his fingers, "showed up just in time for the blandest breakfast this side o' Streydor."

Reiger grinned and signaled to one of his men who, after visiting the handcart, held up two ropes of fat sausage links.

"Maybe we can fix that, southlander?"

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

They still had bland food, but it was offset greatly by the addition of fried sausage and butter for the potatoes while some partially spoiled berries made the porridge far more edible. This was their hearty meal to keep them moving, but it was the easy curves and gentle slopes of the road that really let them have a quick pace. Thonvar had taken to riding to provide additional security, such a large group would have easily attracted all sorts of attention and he wanted to be mobile.

Plus it gave him a chance to spend time with his mount, the people of the Reach had a special way about them in that regard and he was no exception. With his unlocked powers he could feel her with more detail and on a deeper level, but that wasn't so out of the ordinary before. They weren't fully bonded, not in the sense that would satisfy the horseborn, but they had a working relationship and he could feel she was curious about the road ahead. Good. Horses with curiosity were always useful, they wanted to go forward rather than running backward, and this would probably be quite helpful over the winter.

Others were not so lucky, he glanced back at the train of kobold-driven wagons.

Nobody would starve to death on his watch, he made a mental note to try and see if another wagon and some food could be procured at the next town. Yes, more animals, but he was fine with that and expected some of their existing ones would need to be slaughtered anyway. Keeping the kobolds fed would be the priority, along with keeping the useful animals maintained at their current weight until proper fodder could be traded for.

"Anza," he began, waiting for her to peel back the tarp, "when we camp again we should take note of which animals that are the most difficult."

"Yes, husband," his wife replied as she looked back at the procession trailing up the hill. "For of eating, husband?"

"Kobolds need meat, do they not?"

She nodded.

"We will try to save as many as we can, but some will have to be butchered," the chief admitted, glancing back as he saw the elven cat's ears perk up. "Does my mage agree?"

"Uhh... Er, yes, my lord," Razalryn answered, clearing her throat. "Unfortunately I, we, do not have the necessary reagents for an alchemical solution to the preservation."

Magic? For keeping meats? Well of course, why would the elves rely on salting or freezing if they had the power of the arcane arts at their disposal? They wouldn't and if he knew magic like they did he wouldn't either, practical magic was useful and welcome no matter how intimidating it may have been.

Thonvar scowled and thought for a moment before asking, "well what would you need? Perhaps Khedze would have it."

"Unlikely, the simplest way is to obtain elemental salts powdered to a fine consistency. Cryonic salts are distilled from several sources that are dangerous and often hard to obtain and then evaporated, the easiest sources are extracts from elemental creatures. Alternatively naturally occurring salts from creatures or magical wells could be used, but the only well nearby is far to the north and quite dangerous."

He had to know anyway. "Where is this well?"

"Beyond the northern sea and the glaciers, where the natural fields of magicka converge, it is an expedition I would not advise taking with kobolds and sebekas."

That far north and the cold would freeze him to the bone, even the people of the fjords were wary of traveling near the great northern glaciers! There was no way to sail across to the eastern side, the glaciers met the Kjarvangir range and its sister that served as the spine to the fjordlands and completely covered northern Rangvaal. Such a terrible and inhospitable land was full of contradictions and was as beautiful as it was deadly, but it was said that brave souls sometimes crossed the great glacier to get to the east. As far as what was on the other side, he didn't know, but perhaps his clan could find a way to open up the ancient passages and claim them for the Kozakrim.

This would provide them with powerful economic opportunities, even if it meant subjugating anyone else on the mountain.

Anything to provide both security for their powerful artifact and a possible cover for the use of it.

Maybe Anza could read his mind, she regarded him with a doubtful expression and he had to put effort into remembering the conversation. Oh, yes, food preservation. Before he met her these things would not have interested him very much, no more than necessary, but as a chief he couldn't help but feel a sense of... No, it wasn't greed. Instead he wanted to have a great clan, to uplift his poor kobolds into realizing their ambitions to be met as equals among man and mer.

"Someday we will need to feed a great many people, now it isn't just kobolds among us."

Razalryn laughed. "Are you making a joke, my lord? I am more svalmer than I am cat, my diet is no different than yours."

"No that is not..." he trailed off, smiling about their small misunderstanding. "I do not intend to be just a chief of kobolds, I was born in the Reach, I only know how to be a jarl. Kobolds know nothing of building cities and working fields, so we will need masons and farmers, it is our task to lure them to us."

Again she laughed, but through it the mage asked, "and how would you lure humans up to the mountains?"

"How many here have nowhere else to go? I seem to collect misfits and outcasts," he retorted with a smug grin. "Dwarf-raised elf-cats, tribal scaleskins, southern mercenaries, and--"

Runa popped up at that moment, she didn't have to say anything.

"... Lost little kobolds, a pair of forest folk, and I would not be surprised if our new friends left us their wounded."

"Perhaps you shouldn't be a jarl, instead be a king of vagabonds and paupers."

Thonvar laughed, but he didn't disagree with it. Actually "King Thonvar" seemed to have something of a ring to it and, ignoring the inner voice that cautioned against daydreaming, he wondered how far he could actually rule if he were a petty king. Who would be his jarls? Thanes? Huscarls? Nobody was foolish enough to try and claim the Kjarvangir range as their own, it was too steep and too inhospitable, he wasn't even sure how the kobolds managed to get wagons up and down it without suffering complete ruin and he hadn't asked. These were things he trusted the elves to be in charge of, it was foolish to not be curious, and he had finally found a flaw with his upbringing in the Reach.

Or maybe it was just his upbringing as a bastard son.

A wiser man may have been asking these questions, his smile dropped as he tried to consider all the other ways he should have been curious.

There were a lot.

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

One full day's worth of travel and they had finally stopped at the crest of a hill, as the sun set they could see the lights of a distant city miles away. Above them the sky danced with an incredible rainbow of color, but it simply didn't match the evening before his wedding and he doubted the lights ever could. In this way he felt their marriage was blessed, a fact he didn't shy away from when telling the story of his journey from Ivarshold. Those that hadn't been there from the start, or simply hadn't been paying attention, were just as enthralled with the story as Reiger and his warband were.

However he spoke of loss as well, and others recounted the fantastical way he fought off the undead horde and defeated the dauvic lord in single combat. Thonvar had caught Anza rubbing at the fresh scar tissue from her wounds, he didn't need to be coaxed into pulling her close and making her feel safe in his arms. Khezde and some of the other kobolds insisted on explaining the significance of his kill, the thing that started it all, but hearing her speak made it sound so...

She glanced over toward him, her old face curled up in a sly smile as he wondered... Did she have a vision? Of him?

"I do not believe such a cat could exist, why would it stalk so far north? North enough to harm kobolds from the east?" Reiger asked.

Ruran was quick to respond. "I was there when they brought it back, I saw it, the thing had paws bigger than a silver platter."

"Aye, bigger than a bear," Hedrek agreed.

"It wasn't that big," Thonvar corrected, even though it really was. "They said it was a dangerous beast that preyed on them, I believe them, it killed a horse and almost killed my friend."

Disbelief in the foreigner waned as his face shifted from a half-cocked smile to a grave look of understanding, Reiger looked over the northman with a cautious gleam in his eyes. What could this warrior from the highlands to the south be thinking? They both had slain demonic foes in single combat, and when their eyes met Thonvar saw his own soul reflected back at him.

For the first time he was forced to acknowledge that he was afraid.

Not too long ago he had almost lost Anza, he had almost been ruined by the venom of dark creatures in the night and it happened more than once. Only through the strength of the gods and the breath of the Reach itself did he survive, ultimately he was more or less a pawn to larger forces at work. Did they care about his wife? Or him? Probably not, and truly they had no reason to either, the fate of the world and all mortals seemed to be in the balance and his worry made itself known then. What if they didn't need all the pieces? What if he hoarded the one they didn't care about, while others out there let the dauvic enemy and their ancient lord of evil carry out whatever plans it had?

No, they wouldn't have chased after him and the elves wouldn't be interested in it if the stone didn't have power. With the help of his friends and companions he would guard the piece of the primordial era before time itself, and he would lead them and the Kozakrim clan to prosperity. Yes, this was his mission now.

"Slaying cats is hopefully in my past," Thonvar proclaimed with a nod to the foreigner, "and now I am chief of a kobold clan. When we reach the town tomorrow, I hope you find the aid you need."

"Naturally, brother northlander. Of course I will be passing along the news as well, and speak of your journey, are you going to sleep now?"

Anza was well ahead of him and already tugging her husband along as she replied, "yes, Anza tired, need Thonvar for of keeping warm."

They chuckled, but the innuendo made the shy northerner blush.

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

(So sorry for the delay! I had to rewrite this one, I lost the whole thing.)

(I decided to include a link to my discord server for discussion, so the URL starts with a https, then discord.gg, and finally after a slash Y8RSHcx is the code.)

(If you're not a robot you should be able to figure that out, I advise copying the whole thing starting with https and ending with the code, inserting the necessary bits as needed. Don't forget the colon and double slash after the https!)

(Oh and if you don't have discord installed it is available both for desktop, mobile, and also through browser. Please do not hesitate to show up and chat, there's other stories in the works, a post-apocalyptic Outlander 2181, and the sci-fi nonsense of Thera-2556 where I take D&D characters and breathe new life into them. If the link doesn't work in the future what probably happened was I or another mod deleted it because people can't behave.)