The boy merely shrugged in response to Ronin’s question. He ducked down out of view before returning and pitching a rope ladder down. Ronin thought it odd, but climbed the ladder anyway. Once he joined the elven boy at the top of the wall, Ronin saw the village of Twiddledale. His anxiety rose as he saw and heard almost nothing to indicate people were around, other than the boy on the wall with him. Ronin went down the stairs as the other boy pulled the rope ladder back up the wall. As he walked down the stairs Ronin saw another boy about the same age as himself and the other, leaning a staff on his shoulder.

As he reached the bottom of the steps, Ronin was about to introduce himself when he heard someone come running over. Ronin placed his hand on his sword, as he turned to see who it was. A girl, again about the same age as everyone else came sprinting down the road. She came to a stop, panting, just after the elven boy from the wall joined them.

“Dakin” she said to the second boy, panting a little. “I found Dorn” she continued between breaths. “I mean his body. Um…he’s dead. I..I…Autry’s dead too. And…”

She turned and looked at Ronin, seemingly noticing him for the first time.

“Were you the one yelling.” She asked. “What I mean is who are you?”

Ronin was distracted by what the girl had said. People were dead? And their bodies were here. This was different than Llorkh then, maybe Sir Erikson was among the dead?
Ronin snapped back to reality.

“Uh.. my name is Ronin. I came here with a man, Sir Erikson, I’m his squire. We got separated just a few miles up the road, he told me to meet him here before he told me to hide.”

Ronin looked back to the gate, a large wooden beam was locking it closed. That was what had kept them from opening the main gate and it looked to need several grown men to move it. Ronin didn’t want to leave Amorachus outside the wall, he was very important now. He’d need him to get back to Waterdeep.

“Is there anyone who can help to open the gate? I don’t want to leave Amorachus out there.”

Dakin watched the boys exchange words over the wall until finally a ladder was offered to the newcomer, a young one just like the rest. He thought it strange how only the children would remain in the village after everyone else was 'taken', though there were indeed several village children not accounted for. What were they to do? Who were they to ask for help? Where were they to start looking? These questions and many more buzzed through his mind and caused his brow to furrow, his concentration only being broken when Brisa's voice broke the relative silence with an alarmed shout. She looked frantic, winded, with wide eyes and paled features but before he could begin to question her distress she was already speaking about finding Dorn, or rather his corpse.

The boy blinked for a moment as the thought took time to register in his mind but when the horrifying news took purchase every muscle in his body went tense. Completely oblivious to the newcomer or the other children, he stepped forward quickly and one hand grasped at Brisa's shoulder while the other tightened around the staff until its knuckles turned white. "Where?!" Was all he hissed, the blood pounding loudly through his ears and the world starting to go a bit fuzzy. "Where is he?!"

Argurios looked towards where Brisa pointed her finger. He followed he into the bakers shop. His mind, still trying to grasp what was happening. He followed Brisa and did as she asked. At this moment he would listen to anything she said. Going inside he laid the bodies to the ground. Silently he went and did the same with the last body. He closed the doors as he came out. Turning around he saw Brisa run. On instinct he darted after her. As he ran he slowly began to understand the whole situation. If those three were dead, does this mean that his father is dead too? That can’t be right, that’s just… The idea longed in his head till he accepted it. Kneeling down, tears on his face he whispered to the grounds. “I am sorry father.”

Brisa blinked in startled surprise at the vehemence in Dakin’s voice. He kinda scared her now. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she pointed back the way she came.

“Baker’s” she said quietly, eyes never leaving Dakin’s face. “His cellar. With Autry and Aheric. They will be safe there. I meant to get you but I…” she stopped realizing she had no real excuse and she probably shouldn’t try to excuse it anyway. It was a bit of a lack.

“I forgot. Argurios is back there. He helped me move them. I’m so sorry Dakin. I’ll show you. ”

She sniffled a bit and hoped he wouldn’t be too upset with her. She would have been distraught if someone found Autry dead before she did. Without speaking further to Ronin, she had all but forgotten him, she turned and headed back the way she had come.

“I’ve never seen a knight here” she called over her shoulder to Ronin as she finally remembered he had said something. “And everyone is gone now.” Her last comment faded off indistinctly as she increased the distance between them.

****
Thovren shrugged at Brisa’s totally scattered appearance, ramble, and disappearance before he helped Ronin get the gate open, the horse inside, and close the gate.

Brisa’s words were not lost on those at the wall however, there were at least three dead bodies. Oddly, or purposely, they were three of the town’s greatest leaders and protectors. The only one that was missing was Serath as head of the militia. That was one more odd fact in this pile up of odd things.

***

It was still morning, that fact tumbled around in Brisa’s head, as she stood near the Baker’s house. She had shown Dakin where the three had been “buried” and now was standing, alone and uncertain trying to figure out what to do.

She was going to leave, that much was certain. She would head back the way that the new boy had come. She may have been scattered in ordinary thoughts, but once she had direction…such as her plan to find and repay the killers of Autry…she could be quite meticulous.

It spoke volumes that she only cared about Autry, not her own family which had disappeared with the town. She had not asked about them, had not shed a tear for them. In fact she hadn’t even thought of them until this very moment.

She knew she could fetch her family’s pack goat, it was a pack goat, and that there would be plenty of supplies in her house. Not only that she knew where everything was. She ran off without another word.

****

She reached her house quickly, it was one of the smaller ones, all mud and clay but well built. Her parents were potters, they had a way with clay. It was strong and clean and neat looking.

Brisa didn’t hesitate, just ran inside. It was inside that the loss of her only true family hit her. Hard, deep, in the gut. What if she never saw them again?

She stood stock still looking around the room, the shadows and light through the open door. Now, surrounded by all she had known all her life, she cried for them. For several moments she stood in the doorway sobbing before she forced herself to continue and do what she had come for. Wiping her eyes dry she ventured in, knowing exactly what she was looking for.

She collected saddle bags, very odd looking ones, and filled them with dried fruit, bits of meat, hard biscuits, and three very small skeins of water. She found her father’s travel blanket, she didn’t know what it was made of but it was warm and not wool. She hated wool. She had no idea what travel would be like, she was just trying to guess. Of course she was so intent on the travel aspect she wasn’t really thinking of the danger. She grabbed nothing that could remotely be used as a weapon.

Finally slid her mother’s wedding band into a pouch on her belt, she had several for odd bits of things Autry told her were always invaluable. Her mother never wore the ring anymore, it had been crafted when she was much younger and no longer fit on hands worn by constantly working clay, but she always kept it near her in the house and took it with her when she left. It was obvious to Brisa that whatever had happened, her mother hadn’t even time to grab that before she was “disappeared.”

So equipped Brisa headed to the little shelter that housed the family goat. Not only was the goat a milk goat, she was also a pack goat. Her father and mother used her to haul clay in from the moors. Now Brisa loaded her with what she had chosen to take on her adventure.

Leading the silent animal out of the pen she headed back to where she had left Dakin, Kaya, and Argurios. By now everyone had a chance to gather.

It was noon, and the sun was high by the time Brisa walked up to the others, determination clearly written all over her face. It was plain no one was going to talk her out of whatever it was she had resolved to do. She took stubborn to new heights. She had vowed to be completely stubborn on this one.

“I copied down the words on the wall” she said pointing. “I don’t know what language they are in, but I think they are important. Like Thovren’s letter. Something to do with this place, with what happened here. I’m going to try and find out. I need more information though, and someone who can read this writing. Or if I can find more of it maybe I can figure it out.”

She looked at Ronin. ”You came from Llorkh right? I’m going to head that direction.” She didn’t mention it was the only logical direction to head, the road went there and into the desert. And she wasn’t about to go into the desert.

“I think it’s the best hope. Maybe I can find more clues. But I have to at least try and find out what happened to Autry and, well maybe I can bring her killer to justice. I don’t’ know. I just know I have to try. Could you maybe help me open the gate? I want to get far away from the moor before dark.”

She didn’t ask anyone else to come with her, she hoped someone would. She had never minded being alone before. Now she was afraid she was doing the stupidest thing she had ever done in her life. She didn’t want to be all alone when she failed. She desperately hoped someone would come with her. To talk to her or help or something. She just didn’t want to be alone in this.

Ronin was a little startled at the reaction the boy with the staff had at the news. He must have known one of the people she mentioned.
Baker’s. His cellar.” The girl said, she mentioned someone named Argurios before starting to leave leaving. She stopped for a moment, saying over her shoulder “I’ve never seen a knight here. And everyone is gone now.” Then she left.

Ronin’s heart sank, he wasn’t here. ‘Where is he? What do I do now?’ He remembered what Sir Erikson had told him. Get supplies, head to Loudwater then Waterdeep and tell them everything. But there were survivors now, he hadn’t told him what to do if there were other people.

‘Should I still leave?’ He thought. ‘No, I should see if their willing to come with me, they’re not safe here. But won’t they slow me down? I need to get back quickly so I can get help to find Sir Erikson.’ Ronin shook his head. ‘No, I need to help these people.’

“Here, I’ll help you open the gate.” The elfish boy offered.

“Oh ya, thanks.” Ronin had almost forgotten that the boy was there. They removed the blocking beam from the gate and opened it. Ronin led Amorachus through the gate and help close and bar the gate again. Ronin took a few minutes to check Amorachus saddle bags.

There wasn’t much left in the way of rations, enough to last four days for one person. They’d need more if they were going to need a lot more unless they managed to find enough horses to carry supplies for everyone, otherwise the journey to Loudwater could take days longer if they were forced to look for food or water. Plus they would be much safer being able to run from danger on horseback.

He didn’t find much else in the bags, another map, a few torches, a flint and steel and the letter Sir Erikson had received from Grothby. He’d packed light. The girl had mentioned a bakery and that others were there, he was going to need to talk to these people and the bakery would be a good place to find supplies. Ronin grabbed Amorachus’ reins and led him in the direction that the boy with the staff had run. He arrived about the same time as the girl. Ronin found the bag-laden goat an odd sight. She spoke.

“I copied down the words on the wall. I don’t know what language they are in, but I think they are important. Like Thovren’s letter. Something to do with this place, with what happened here. I’m going to try and find out. I need more information though, and someone who can read this writing. Or if I can find more of it maybe I can figure it out.”

She looked to Ronin.

”You came from Llorkh right? I’m going to head that direction.”

She was talking to the group once again.

“I think it’s the best hope. Maybe I can find more clues. But I have to at least try and find out what happened to Autry and, well maybe I can bring her killer to justice. I don’t’ know. I just know I have to try. Could you maybe help me open the gate? I want to get far away from the moor before dark.”

“Well if you’re looking for clues, Llorkh would be the place to find them. What ever happened here, happened there too.” Ronin said. “I’m going to be heading for Waterdeep to bring help. I’d hope you could follow me there, or at least to Loudwater where you’d be safe.”

Ronin turned to the others. “We’re going to need supplies for the trip and I doubt there’s going to be much between here and Loudwater. We’re going to need horses or, uh, pack animals.” He gestured to the girls pack goat. “We can’t take too long gathering things if we’re going to be out of the Moore before night falls.”

Ronin nodded to the girl, glad she knew something about traveling. Last thing they wanted was to get stuck in the Moore at night. Gods only knew what monstrosities were out there.

Dakin followed Brisa right on her heals until she pointed to the cellar where she'd said Dorn had been left. They'd locked it, she'd said, to stop the wildlife from taking the bodies but it was not the way Dorn would have wanted. He grabbed the key from her without so much as a word and nearly risked breaking it off in the lock when he jammed it in and forced it to twist, yanking the portal open and being greeted with the faint musty odor of death. The boy's bright hazel eyes gave her one last glance before disappearing into the dank cellar.

It was cool in the underground room and the light streaming through the entrance cast yellow beams filled with millions of dancing dust particles. In the gloom he could see the bodies laid out but his eyes immediately went to the largest of the three. Dakin approached slowly, his breath coming in ragged gasps though he'd been telling himself he wouldn't cry since his hand grasped the door's handle, and he looked over the gray, stiff features of the man who had been a father too him for the past ten years. He could feel the emotions rising up in his chest like a flood and he grabbed at his heart as if trying to stop them from overflowing out of his very being. Tears glistened in his eyes but he refused to let them fall and in his defiance sought only to bury that sorrow with something else, something more powerful.

It was a red hot fury that was so strong and so sudden it caused every muscle in his body to tense.

With a bestial roar, he lashed out at everything around him; his pounded his fists violently on the walls and when blood began to trickle from his knuckles he grabbed at the various pots and jars that lined the dusty wooden shelves and sent them smashing against the floor. After a short time his energy was spent and he collapsed to his knees before the body of the man who had raised him and only then, in his weakened state, did he realize that such wild anger was just what his mentor had spent so many years training him to control. Unable to keep his other feelings at bay, this thought alone tipped the balance and his tears could no longer be held back.

He wept on hands and knees.

His rage spent and his eyes dried out, Dakin finally managed to regain his feet and was once again thinking clearly. Though he understood what Brisa was trying to do, hiding the bodies in the cool cellar and away from the buzzards that flew in from the desert, she was ignorant of the ways of a druid. It was the natural order for a body to feed the wild and even when a druid was buried with ceremony they were never put into a coffin or left in a tomb. Stumbling back into the morning sunlight, he squinted through blurry eyes but still made for the side of the baker's house. There he found a small wooden hand-cart, one that could be easily drawn by a single person, and when he managed to maneuver it over to the cellar door he went about the arduous process of getting the body of the massive man onto it. Dakin was strong, a well built and well trained youth, but Dorn had still been over a foot taller and likely over a foot wider. Still, through determination and a lot of struggle he eventually had the body hanging just off the edge of the cart. He didn't need to go far from the wall to find a suitable area of bog, one that would take and cover the whole corpse, for though he knew in his heart Dorn would have welcomed the buzzards, Dakin still didn't like the thought of something gnawing on his foster father's bones. Finding a decent sized stone, Dakin carefully weighted the body by tieing it into Dorn's simple clothes and, without grace of ceremony, pulled the body into the cloudy water. It sank quickly and within a matter of moments of shroud of green algae was separating them, the living from the dead.

Dakin watched until the water had stilled and the sound of the moor insects droned on in his head. He didn't bother bringing the cart back, leaving it beside that pool as a sort of grave-marker; though it was significant only to him; and after retrieving his staff and re-locking the cellar he made his way back to the other children with pant-legs still dripping, eyes lightly bloodshot and knuckles covered in dried blood. Brisa was taking charge again, which was unsurprising to Dakin though there was much he did not know about her, and it was clear they were preparing to leave. The apprentice made no objections, even when the stranger boy with the horse chimed in, and remained silent near the back of the gathering. With Dorn gone there was nothing left for him in Twiddledale and he had no other family or friends he could turn to in the rest of Faerun so it did not matter where they went, though after a moment he did have a thought. "We need to find whoever did this... If they're sticking to the roads to the west and stopping to prey on the small towns then perhaps we can catch up with them. I have some of Dorn's maps..." He pulled the hand-bound book from his pack but didn't mention that he could read the symbols found on them. "Maybe those will show us where they're headed next?"

Argurios sat there for awhile. tears falling down on his knees and hands. He tried to convince himself his father was alive, but something in him kept telling him his father, the old veteran orc, was dead and lost forever. This thought frightened Argurios. He slowly stood up. Looking around he noticed lots has changed. Though it seemed like meer moments to Argurios in truth quite allot of time passed by. He went towards where chatter could be. As he joined the group he noticed a new boy joined them, and that Brisa was ready to leav. He walked up to her. "Can you wait for me before you go. Id like to join you, I just need to gather some stuff." His voice was monotone and he spoke slowly. Turning around he went towards the old Autrys house. As he arrived he took his bow and quivers. 'Why take this bow, take the military bow.' He said to himself. With that thought he went towards his home. There he packed some clothes and took his father's travelling pack. Argurios was a strong lad, yet the pack all seemed to heavy for him. He unpacked certian metal tools, like hammers and such. Immediately the pack was lighter. He found some knives in the pack, which he decide to give to others. Argurios went to his father's room. He knew where his father had kept all of his war gotten treasure. Without thought autos took it all. With each passing moment Argurios began to become more confident. His mind was focused. He will find his father and the best way to do that was to go and search. Brisa knew magic stuff which made her a priceless companion. So he decided he will join her. Ayr he got everything he needed he went to the armory.

Strapping the pack on his back he confidently maetched out of the house. A small pouch of gold at his side. A large pocket shirt underneath all of the clothes full of gold. A pouch with oats, cheese and did meat hand at his left side. Beside the pouch wild gold a large quiver of arrows hung. In one of the quivers larger pockets metal balls in size of marbles were stored for the sling. In the pack there was a new leather crafting kit, a sleeping blanket;, couple of different knives. Water bag, maps, Flint and some other survival stuff any merchant had with him, when he was on the road. And Argurioss farthers leather winter cloak.

When Argurios came to the armory he was confident of his strength. Taking v the strongest of the boys he tried to pull back the string, but the bows strong curves didn't budge an inch. Argurios tried again, this times he put his full strength into it, but to no success. Demoralised Argurios put down the now and took the standard militia bow. It was of normal quality. But compared to Argurioss bow it was more than normal. Strapping it to his back Argurios went to pick his axe. For some time he serched around trying to find the right one. Then in the corner something wrapped in cotton blanket stood. Our of curiosity Argurios took it and unwrapped it. At first he didn't notice, then his eyes spread wide and his chin hit the floor. In his hands he held an old orcish axe. Well balanced and well made. It was clear that the weapon has seen battle before. And Argurios recognised it without a problem or doubt. This was his father's axe. Though it was heavy and large that Argurios had to hold it with bought hands and if he swung it he couldn't stop it, yet he took it. It was exactly as his father described it when telling his war stories. a surge of pride and confidence ran through Argurios as he held the axe to him. 'Now im definitely ready' He thought.

He came back to Brisa with a wide smile on his face. "I'm ready when do we leav and where do we go? " He asked almost jumping with joy. With his father's old axe.

Now that Brisa had a plan she was all business. She wasn’t sure where her plan would lead her, but a starting point was better than nothing, If they could find more clues as to what happened maybe she could figure out how to get justice. She had a vague idea of capturing the culprits and turning them over to the law for hanging. She could see the end quite clearly, everyone praising her for solving the mystery and making those who wrought such evil pay. The beginning she could also envision very clearly. She would travel to Llorkh and find a bunch of clues. It was the middle part that was somewhat fuzzy.

Brisa had heard of Waterdeep, from Autry. It sounded a simply fabulous place. She wouldn’t mind going there, though what help could be fetched she was uncertain. There was nothing left to do here at the town, whatever happened was done and over with. Now they had to find their families and friends. For Brisa she sought her family yes, but the real thing she yearned for was Justice for Autry. Justice or Revenge.

Brisa nodded when Argurios asked for time. Of course she would wait for him. She owed him so much for his help, she was still nervous around him but she was beginning to think that maybe she had let her imagination run away with her. He was a genuinely helpful person.

While they waited she looked around. There were a few horses, they seemed “workable” save for the fact that they, like all the other village animals, were unnaturally quiet. The thing was she had no idea how to handle a horse at all, and had never ridden one in her life. She used to ride the goat when she was small, that memory brought a wistful smile to her face, but that generally involved just hanging on while the goat went wherever it wanted to go.

Her family used pack goats to collect clay, they were small and light and able to forage anywhere, including the moor. She usually milked the goats, which were all female, in the morning but other than that she wasn’t even sure she could handle a goat. A horse would be much worse.

Not certain if it would be helpful however she told Ronin where the few horses in town were, what families made enough money they could afford to keep a horse.

“You have maps Dakin?” Brisa asked in wonder. She had heard that Dorn traveled a lot, imagine if he mapped everywhere he went. What an amazing thing. She was familiar with maps but the idea of actually drawing one, much less several, was almost impossible to fathom.

“What does it say about travel between here and Llorkh? Anything? Any short cuts? I want to find them too…if we can figure out how to get ahead of them somehow.”

She looked over Dakin’s shoulder as he showed her the map. She was afraid to touch it herself, such a treasure should be…well treasured. She was disappointed however. The road between here and Llorkh was marked with nothing but a small set of triangles that crossed it…mountains she assumed. No trails, no other roads, in fact the land looked to be forbidding and mostly mountainous. She looked for a name and found Graypeak Mountains. She didn’t know the path went through the mountains, no one ever said anything about that. Maybe they were really low there or something. There didn’t seem to be any way to gauge how many days it would take to get there; from the few that she knew visited it took three days, they were riding horses however. How much longer would it take walking. She had no way to know that unseasoned travelers made very little progress each day, and the children were certain unseasoned.

She also spotted a note in teeny tiny writing right where the path crossed the mountains. “Raven’s Rest Inn.” She blinked startled. She had heard of the inn naturally, it was a popular stopping spot for caravans passing for people rarely stayed in Twiddledale. She was surprised she hadn’t thought of it before.

“If we have money we could stay at the inn” She didn’t realize it would still be three to four days of walking for the children unless they somehow managed to ride horseback “or even if we can’t pay them maybe we can work for lodging.”

When Argurios returned Brisa blinked rapidly. He looked grown up in an instant. He was bristling with weapons, well she considered it bristling with weapons, and looked almost like his warrior father. A glance at the axe told her she probably couldn’t even lift the thing, it was definitely not an axe designed to chop wood. If she looked really closely she could see that it was well used and suddenly Brisa felt the enormity of what was happening.

They weren’t talking a walk. They weren’t visiting relatives. They weren’t even going on a spell component collecting venture.

She let out her breath in an “oomph” and tried to suppress the shiver that ran through her. Argurios and Ronin were warriors…that much was obvious. Even Dakin who was supposedly training with Dorn as a druid held his staff like he knew how to use it as more than a walking stick. What did she have? A book.

She picked up the leads to her goat and nodded to the others.

“Lets go” she said softly. “Can we seal the town behind us? When we get back I’d hate to find it destroyed by rampaging trolls.” She didn’t say what she was really wondering. Would she ever be coming back?

They left the village without fanfare, going so far as to tie a piece of frayed rope around the handles of the gate: a simple knot, one that anything with thumbs and a bit of intelligence could undo, tied only to keep the moor beasts out for a time. Though no one said it, the measure was one for personal comfort rather than actual purpose and it made all the towns-children feel just a little bit better imagining removing the rope again but with family and friends in toe. The entirety of the morning was then lost in a solemn march into the mountains, the only sounds greeting the children were the occasional call of a bird or chirp of an insect and the ever present sucking of the mud around their booted feet. It was slow going and by mid-day they stopped in a sheltered glade beside the road to make a rationed lunch of the food they'd brought along.

As they ate their meal cold seated upon a conveniently placed fallen oak tree, Dakin took the opportunity to once again peruse the maps he'd found in Dorn's hut, benefiting greatly by the light of midday. He could now guess the areas a few of them showed, though he could not read the squiggled writing marking each point of interest nor the scrawled notes around the margin. Still, one map in particular drew the boy's interest more than the others; one that showed a great forest-covered peninsula; for it was clearly of great interest to the previous owner who had scrawled many notes in the margins. His brow furrowed in concentration but, no matter how hard he willed it, he could bring no memory of the map, or the area it depicted, to mind. Finally, with a sigh of defeat he moved over beside Brisa and showed her the page in question, finger pointing to the scrawling script that he assumed was the name of the peninsula. "Brisa..." An astute observer might notice the slightly brighter tint to his cheeks as he admitted to his lack of reading ability. The apprentice druid suddenly noticed how strange it was that he'd so rarely felt embarrassed by this, much more occupied with his mental training or druidic lessons, but how in the presence of one who he knew was well studied in books it was almost something he was ashamed of. "What does this word say? This one here? I can't... I can't figure out what this map is showing."

Brisa walked. And walked. And walked. She had never imagined that travel would be like this. When Autry had talked of adventuring there were…well…adventures. She never mentioned hours of trudging and sore feet and sore hands and aching back and bruised shoulders.

She was a giant walking hurt right now and the only way she was going on was to keep reminding herself to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. When they stopped for a brief rest Brisa flopped.

Her fingers were still holding onto the lead rope for her goat when she flopped onto the ground with a unceremonious thump. She didn’t even bother to find a place to sit alongside the others on the oak tree, just leaned her back against the roots of the tree, closed her eyes, and whimpered slightly.

She didn’t ever remember walking that far, even when she went collecting with Autry they stopped regularly and though the distance was the same it somehow seemed easier. The goat munched on the grass nearby, ignoring Brisa. It was not bothered in the slightest.

The lunch was simple enough but she felt immensely better for it, though still incredibly sore. She wished she had thought to bring Autry’s herbs though she wouldn’t know the first thing about what to use for what ailment. She had studied enchantment not healing.

When Dakin nudged her she looked up, she hadn’t realized she had been dozing.

“Hmm. Ohh. Let me take a look.” Brisa was not at all bothered by the request, it was actually uncommon to find children who could read and or write. In fact it was uncommon to find adults who could. Most focused on more “useful” pursuits.

She hauled herself up, wincing at feeling the sores on her feet, and sat down next to Dakin to look at the map. It was gibberish. Lots and lots of gibberish. She frowned.

“I don’t know. It’s not in common.” She was about to turn away then she realized that some of the letter combinations looked familiar. Like when she first learned to read and understand magic she had some talent at quickly recognizing patterns in language.

“Wait” she said and turned back. She grabbed her bag and pulled out her carefully wrapped spellbook. She pulled the paper out that she had so carefully transcribed the words written by the dead bodies. “It’s them!”

She was excited now, pain and tiredness forgotten.

“Whoever hurt the town. This is the same language. Look” she pointed to the writing and then to the writing on Dakin’s map. “Could this be wherever they, it, the magic, whatever comes from or is going to? Would Dorn have known and drawn it out like this? I can figure this out. We have to figure this out." Her voice became softer and her eyes focused inward liek she was thinking. She kept talking however. "Something tells me whatever the words are, here and on Dakin’s maps, they are important. I need more though…something to compare it too…something I already know.”

She was talking entirely to herself now. She had already folded the paper back up and slipped it back in her spellbook. She was wrapping the important book up now and talking as she did so. She had seen the others rising to leave, and Ronin packing his horse back up, and knew she didn’t have time to do what she needed to now.

“Later can I copy the words Dakin? That way I can try and figure out what they mean?”

She picked up the lead to Daisy, her goat, and then at the last moment realized maybe she wouldn’t have to carry her shoulder bag of books and the few odds and ends she had. Daisy could. She began to carefully tie her bag to Daisy’s back.

How much longer she wondered. She was not an adventurer and she didn't know what she was doing. At the moment she was just following the others and she was too sore and tired to do otherwise.

Ronin headed in the direction that the girl had said there were likely to be horses. He arrived at the first house after only a minute or so of walking when he realized how quiet it was. He stopped, listening for anything. No birds or swamp animals, even the other children were out of earshot. Now realizing that he hadn’t heard anything other than his own footsteps or the pounding of Amorachus’ hooves from when he’d awoken to when he reached the town.

“What in the nine hells is doing this?” He said to himself. He suddenly felt shame at cursing, Sir Erikson didn’t approve of him cursing and would have scolded him for doing so.

‘But he’s not here.’ He heard himself think. ‘He’s gone and you’re alone.’

‘NO! I am going to find him and he’s going to be alright.’ He thought, fighting back the fear in his mind.

He opened the large door to the barn, the smell of the animals within knocking him to his senses. He found several pigs in a large pen within the barn, the horse was in its own stall. None of them were making any noise, even as he led the horse out of the barn. He went back in to look for a saddle but found none, only tack for plowing. They weren’t going to be able to ride this one, probably never been trained to carry a rider. He was able to find some bags meant to be slung over the back of a horse and a large bag of feed which he strung to the plow horse. He also found a cellar, gathering what he could for the others to make the journey.

He felt guilty for taking the horse and the food, even if the owners were missing. Remembering something Sir Erikson had said. “There may come a time when your survival and the survival of others, may depend on taking what is not yours. You need to remember that this is for the greater good and do what must be done.”

Those words did little to lessen his guilt, but he managed to go to two more houses with horses. He gathered whatever might be useful and put it on the other two horses, hoping it would be enough for all of them to make it to Loudwater. Ronin returned to the group leading the three horses laden with the supplies he’d gathered. Once the others had returned they made for the western road, only stopping to close the gate behind them with some rope to keep the animals at bay.

They had been walking for a few hours when Ronin began to notice the discomfort of some of the others. They weren’t used to travelling this much on foot. ‘this is going to take longer than I thought.’ Ronin worried.

They stopped at a small clearing along the side of the road with a fallen tree laying through it. The girl with the pack goat flopped to the ground, propping herself against the truck of a tree before dozing off. Ronin couldn’t help but smile a little as he remembered the first time Sir Erikson had taken him travelling with him, how much his feet had hurt after walking on the rough ground for hours. He’d quickly learned the value of good boots when the blisters had begun showing up.

Ronin ate a piece of tough bread, washing it down with several swigs from his water skin when the boy with the staff approached the girl with the goat. He roused her from her semi-conscious state and showed her a map of some sort. He was too far away from them to hear what they were saying but goat-girl became excited when she saw something on the map. He’d ask her about it when they were underway, they were losing time as it was.

Once everyone had finished eating Ronin gathered the leads of the horse, signaling that it was time to begin moving again. Once they were marching along the road once more Ronin moved closer to goat-girl.

“Hi, uh…” Ronin suddenly realized he didn’t know her name, or anyone’s name for that matter. “Sorry I don’t think I’ve introduced myself, I’m Ronin.” He said.

She replied.

“I haven’t got the chance to say this yet but I’d just like to say I’m sorry for what happened to your village.”

‘And what happened to Sir Erikson.’ He pushed the selfish though away, not wanting to feel sorry for himself right now.

“I was meaning to ask, what did you see on that map that got you so excited?”

Brisa was startled when she realized she didn’t know Ronin’s name any better than he had known theirs. For some reason she had just sort of worked him in among the group as if he belonged. Maybe he did in a way…he was missing someone he obviously cared deeply about as well. If she was a gambler she would bet his “Sir Erikson” met a similar fate as most of those of Twiddledale. She took a moment to point out each of the others before they were once on their way.

Brisa guessed for the others it was a rescue mission…but for herself, and she was guessing for Dakin, this was a vengeance mission. Through whatever means necessary . She didn’t like to admit it but she felt this streak of hatred whenever she thought of Autry. Her feelings on the subject scared her, she didn’t like to think of it much. But when Ronin asked her about what she had found interesting those thoughts came back.

She wanted to hunt the bastards down and turn them into toads then squash them under a giant’s bootheels. She shook her head to clear that thought.

A mage must always have a clear and focused mind…she could almost hear Autry’s voice repeating the comment over and over. Brisa’s mind was rarely focused; she got that lecture quite regularly.

When they settled into a walking rhythm Brisa spoke again. This time she was happy to have something to distract her from her sore feet.

“I’m sorry about your teacher too” she said softly.

‘On the map, well I think its written in the same language as the writing over the…in town. I think it has something to do with everything. If I can find another sample of it maybe I can translate it. Dakin doesn’t know where it is…or what it says either but I’m sure its written in the same language.”

She sighed.

“It’s gotta have something to do with this whole thing. I just know it.”

"What do we do now" she said changing the subject. "It's gonna be dark soon. Are we gonna make it tonight?"

As they left Argurios was absent minded. He followed other with ease. Though he was on foot and carried a heavy burden it was not alien to him. Most of his life he spent working on the farm which meant standing and carrying heavy loads for most part of his days. His thoughts still lingered on his memory of his father, their last time together, and if what happened to the three village people happened to his father.
He forgot about the knives he had in his backpack, and the plan to give them to others. He noticed Brisa looking at the map, but Argurios didn’t even know how to read, let alone read maps. He abandoned the thought of helping. He was useless in map reading or path finding. He looked around and realised that he didn’t even know most of the people in his group. He didn’t care much for it either. In his mind this all would last a month or two, after that everything will go back to normal. He also didn’t understand why they took a break. He was fine and could walk onward with no problems. Till the sun set Argurios thought of all possible ways this journey could end. He didn’t eat the whole day, but he didn’t feel hungry either. When they stopped for the night, he spoke for the first time. “These here are knives my father had at the work shop…. I thought they might come in handy.” He laid the knives on the ground in front of others and then backed away to be alone again.

As the night came the children were forced to stop, darkness and exhaustion driving them to make camp for the night. Only Dakin and Ronin seemed to know what they were doing and Brisa was content just follow directions. Argurios didn’t look uncomfortable by the journey or the bivouacking outside however he seemed bothered by something. He was quiet and withdrawn and Brisa would have gone over to try and find out if she could help, except that she herself was overwhelmed with everything. She was so far out of her element that she wanted to cry. She didn’t. But she wanted to.

She tied up her goat, made sure it had food and water, and milked it. She did each task woodenly. There was something surreal about performing her usual chores in such an unusual place. As it got darker Brisa got more and more nervous. Training from the time she could walk drove her to always seek shelter at night. She became a bit jumpy, like a frightened deer.

She collected the jug of milk, it was easily enough for everyone to have a glass, and stood up trying not to leap out of her skin. The growing dark and all the weird noises were terribly grating to the girl who was never outside after dark. When Argurios brought over knives she stared dumbfounded. What in the name of all that was holy was she supposed to do with a knife? She would be more likely to cut herself than anything else. She didn’t want to say that outright to Argurios however, he had been so helpful earlier. So she merely nodded.

So she picked it up, tried unsuccessfully to find a place to put it, finally put it carefully in her shoulder bag, and set the whole kit-n-caboodle down by the fire. She didn’t know what to do and feared she would only be in the way. Still she felt she should be helping; she was sure they would need her to do something. Before she could even offer however she fell asleep standing up and toppled over, landing with a terribly hard thump on the ground.

Aiden saw the dark of night approaching. He was in the woods hunting when he heard the bell sound and figured he would stay away until he heard it ring again. Hours had went by and without any sound of the bell, he grew worried. He figured he was already going to be home after dark because he waited so long, but he was already being risky just by staying so late. He was only able to hunt a few rabbits before the bell sounded, oddly enough, after that there were no animals to be seen. He decicded to go ahead and wait another day since he was still unsure on approaching the town. Someone should have rang the bell. even if danger did befall them, someone should have returned to the village to ring it," he thought to himself. He made "camp" in a tree but he didn't sleep all night, it would be foolish. He waited till daylight to sleep, when it was safer to let his guard down to do so.

---

Aiden slept through most of the next day. After being up and working from sun up to sun down yesterday, then not able to sleep that night, his body wouldn't let his eagerness to return home get the better of it. The sun was actually starting to go down again and Aiden cursed his poor timing. He rushed back to the town, and reached there by nightfall.

**** AT THE TOWN ***

When Adien returned to the town the doors were already drawn tight and the cord tied around it; the children’s symbolic and defiant move against the encroaching wilds. The emptiness of the village seemed to make the air heavy and the silence made everything seem a bit surreal.

The prints of a horse were obvious in the mud outside the door, as were the small foot prints of several people, obviously children, leading away from the town.

With the town barred it would take a bit of effort on Adien’s part to get the doors open, and then closed again but this close to the moors it would be the safest place to spend the night. In addition there was food and water aplenty inside the village walls, the children couldn’t begin to carry everything.

*** ON THE ROAD ****

Brisa yelped, loudly, when she hit the ground. It threw her into full wakefulness and pain as well. She blinked, rather stupidly, completely startled. When she realized what happened she turned bright red.

“Sorry” she mumbled not really meeting anyone’s gaze. “I guess I’m not used to such traveling. Sorry.”

A little flustered, Aiden got to work on the doors. Once inside he closed the doors and checked the village for useful material, resources, and equipment. He paid his respects to the dead, he knew nobody was left, but he thought there would be more graves. Before he left back out again, he stayed at his families house and quietly kept to himself in the house and mourned.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but by morning he arose and looked over the abandoned house and smithy for anything else he could use. When finished, he set off with the supplies and followed the leading group, wherever they ran off to.

AS he opened the gate, he thought he could see a person in the didstance.

The soft spongy soil of the moors was surprisingly comfortable, Serra was actually surprised. She had spent zero time outside of a city well except recently on her enforced slavery and forced travel. But even then she was in a whole passel of folk so many you could trip over them. Her duties were just as they were in the inn, scullery duties and they kept her busy. She had little time to notice anything. But here, on the moors, the soft ground was easy on her body. Oh sure there were sticks and twigs and bushes but compared to her ordinary life they were no less comfortable than sleeping in a pile of flee infested rags, being woken by kicks to the head, and trekking in all weather hither and yon.

She curled into a ball in a hollow, burrowed herself under a bush, and hid. She didn’t know what happened or what was going on behind her, only that she had a chance to hide. The strange ground she was now hid her tracks, though she didn’t really know it. Barefoot her tracks would have been easily visible on the dusty and muddy road. Here she was safe from her human captors but it would take an extraordinary bit of luck to survive the night on the moors. Serra didn’t know that however; She only knew she had escaped and she was, for the moment, hidden.

The sun, warmed the ground under her, and trickled through the bush under which she was hiding. It made Serra cozy and warm, far more comfortable than she had been in some time. She was soon fast asleep. She slept through the bulk of the day, and woke at sundown. Something told her to stay where she was. The dusk on the moor was beyond weird and she was too far from the village to make it back before true dark. She was hungry and cold, but she had been hungry and cold for most of her life. She just tucked herself into a tighter ball, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.

Sleep came patchy at best. She was so terrified by the end of the night she was exhausted enough to finally sleep. Genuine sleep. It was noon by the time she awoke, cramped and miserable, and crawled from under the thick bush she was hiding under. She had no idea of the dangers that she escaped that night, mostly because she was too terrified to move and because she was too small to be interesting to anything.

When she woke she made her way back to town, completely floored that it appeared abandoned. Actually she was elated at first. There was plenty left behind, and no one to stop her from helping herself. By late afternoon she was starting to get spooked. It was creepy here in the silent village. She started to worry that maybe they had become ghosts and would come to haunt her in the dark.

It was only because Serra was such a generally uncertain girl that she had managed not to run into anyone else. But when dark was coming again and she was alone, again, this time in some place that was as spooky as the abandoned village she was extra careful. Packing her pockets full of easily pocketed consumables, a blanket over one arm, she slipped outside the same way she had come in. Over the village wall. It was easy enough to retrace her steps and find the hollow where she had slept before. This time, armed with a blanket and food she was much more comfortable. She still didn’t sleep however. Not till just around dawn. It was less spooky here but there was stuff out on the moors, Serra could hear it, and she knew she dared not move or anything. That long night she pondered her options and decided her best bet was to get back to Loudwater. She would fill up on food from the abandoned village and try and make her way back down the road.

So the next day she woke after her morning sleep, once again around noon, and made her way back to the village. She had planned to slip over the wall at the rear but the presence of a figure in the distance changed her mind. Uncertain, but deciding there was only one, she picked up her pace to see who was left. As far as she could tell everyone had abandoned the village, she hadn’t seen a person in nearly two days. She gripped her stolen blanket tighter in an effort to hide her nervousness and continued forward to see just who it was that had been left behind.

Aiden was flat out surprised when he saw Serra. He called out to her, "HEY, are you all right!?"

**** Group A (Brisa & Argurios & others)****

Travel was not like any of them expected it to be. Firstly walking everywhere was difficult, true they had a horse but only one and it was strangely resistant to being ridden by anyon but Ronin. Fortunately between the horse and Brisa’s goat they were actually able to pack and carry a fair amount of supplies. The walking, hour after hour day after day was wearing however, on both the body and mind. It seemed there was nothing out there but more wilderness. They encountered nothing to break the monotony. It was not exciting, it was not glamerous, and it was nothing like the adventure stories all of them had heard. It was boring, hot, and tiering.

The were a bit awkward at first, that first night was a long one with no one sleeping well. In fact it took a couple of days to get a good rythym going. They had packed supplies, but not enough. It was by virtue of Brisa’s goat, Daisy that they got along so well, she easily produced a gallon of milk each day, which meant their other food went further and the small amounts that they were able to gather from the land was the icing on the cake. It was a diet, indeed a daily routine, that none of them were used to however in the manner of young children they actually adapted fairly quickly.

For Brisa the nights were the worse. The other’s seemed less bothered but they didn’t say anything when she slept extra close to the fire and the light it gave. She didn’t like the dark, or the night noises. She had always, until this whole thing started anyway, been told of the horrors of being outside at night Now they had no choice.

It was the fourth day that things got bad, around noon it started raining. Not just little soft raindrops but pouring sluicing rain, cold and miserable that cut through the clothes and left one chilled to the bone. Even the animals hated it and the children quickly learned that walking on a dirt road in the pouring rain meant mud. Thick sucking squelching mud that ground into every stitch of clothing they had.

They had to give up. Fortunately they were able to rig a shelter, albeit a sloppy one, to protect a small sputtering fire. They huddled close around the fire and ate the rest of their food stuffs, the food was soaked and would be ruined anyway. A cold miserable day turned into a far colder and more miserable night. No one slept very good and the mood was low. There was no talking, no anything but grumbling.

It stopped raining sometime around midnight but sleep still eluded most. The mud and water soaked clothing ensured that. It was a low point in their travel. Four days and they found nothing, none of them had realized how far away the next town was. When they started to climb uphill through the low pass in the Graypeak mountains Brisa was about to give up. This was for the birds. Only the knowledge that behind her lay nothing kept her moving forward.

On the 6th day Ronin suddenly turned off the main road to a side path. The path was well worn, nearly as well worn as the road they had been traveling, and there was a sign marking the turn. A black bird carved onto a piece of wood.

Brisa spoke up, asking Ronin where they were going, and he said there was an inn nearby. Spirits lifted at that. They had no idea how much an inn would cost but beds, real beds, baths, food, shelter, and warmth was a welcome thought for them all.

****Group B (Adien & Serra)***

Introductions went quickly, as much as each child chose to reaveal anyway. Neither had seen the other around town which made fudging the truth or keeping things to themselves rather easy.

Serra was completely new to the area, and that was plain in her words and comments, however neither child knew what had happened to anyone. They had even missed the dead, their only clue the empty abandoned village and whatever odd things they managed to find that the others had missed.

It was noon, just slightly passed actually, and leaving that day would not get them far out of the village. It was decided to spend one more night in the abandoned village. Serra was more comfortable out on the moor but when she learned what dangers she had luckily avoided, she agreed to stay inside. It would give them time to gather up things for their trip too.

Serra had no qualms about that, she knew what could be sold or traded down the road for food and money and she was good at figuring where valuables might be kept while Adien on the other hand had a more practical approach. Between the two of them they managed to gather quite a load of “essentials” before dark. So many “essentials” that there was no way the two could carry them.

In addition they didn’t really have a clear “goal” in mind as to where they were headed. After barring themselves in one of the houses, getting a good fire going, and setting down to a dinner, a feast from Serra’s point of view, they would have to discuss the logistics and what they actually planned to do. Not really knowing eachother would make this both easier and harder for them but they couldn’t go haring off at random.

*** Group A (Brisa & Argurios & others)***

Inn was somewhat of a misnomer. When the children reached it, about 2 hours before dark, they saw a sprawling set of buildings. It was once a mining town, now the miners homes and service buildings had been carefully roofed, cleaned, and turned into a massive Inn complex. There was a huge stable, staff quarters, three massive courtyards for the pitching of tents, and at the center a huge two story rambling structure that was the Inn proper.

The place was designed to hold multiple caravans, almost a town in and of itself. And it was undeniably empty. No smoke drifted from chimneys. No horses whikered from in the stanbles. No sounds of people carried on the breeze. The place was deserted.

The only inhabitants was a flock of chickens that must have escaped their coop and were now roaming the grounds in perfect happiness. Unlike Twiddledale however it was plain the complex had been purposefully abandoned. Buildings were shut and locked. Gardens were harvested leaving only the newest fruits and vegetables behind. There were no valuable animals such as horses or cows. It was silent and clean, everything was packed up and only the basics remained. The main inn, however, was clean and dry and well stocked. There were so many supplies in the larder that even though the best stuff was gone there was a good supply of staple foods like dried fish, potatoes, cheeses, ground corn, flour, and honey. Even though the best clothing and linens were gone older wool blankets, servant clothing, and basic dishware remained. It would be easy enough for the children to set a comfortable camp here, dry their still damp clothing, clean up, and in general refresh themselves and their supplies. So despite the oddness of the place being abandoned they decided to stay.

They had two hours in which to get the animals settled, gather supplies for dinner, stoke the fire in the big inn hearth, and in general set themselves up for the night. The urge to explore the abandoned buildings was also quite strong in at least Brisa. Why had it been abandoned, it was obviously prosperous and it hadn’t been abandoned all that long ago. The garden, while a bit overgrown was still fairly neat and orderly. Had they known something bad was coming? How had they known? And where had they gone? So similar and yet so different from Twiddledale. Twiddledale had an aura of great disaster, this place had an aura of great mystery. One inspired fear, the other curiosity.