The Fortress of Gold: The Ballard Trilogy, #2

By Stephen L. Nowland

Aislin Ballard and her companions journey south in pursuit of the man behind the assault on her home town. Together, they must cross dangerous desert lands, brave bizarre magic and avoid clashing armies as they travel to the legendary mountain city of Aurumgaard. There, they may find clues to his location, but risk being swept up in regional events beyond their control, culminating in a confrontation that will test their resolve, forcing them to question how much they desire to see their quest through to its ultimate conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen L. Nowland
• Release date: Oct 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370435579

Stephen L. Nowland

I was one of those kids who daydreamed his way through school. All the little adventures I'd concoct in my mind were far more interesting than math or tests or sport. Somehow, I passed the important bits (art and english) and moved on, but always with a creative perspective to my life. It was around 1992 when the magic of reading really sunk into me, for it was then I discovered fantasy novels. Feist, Salvatore & Eddings showed me worlds that fired my imagination, and from that point on I knew I wanted to write the stories that flitted around the recesses of my imagination. Unfortunately, I spent most of the next fifteen years dealing with poor health, including resultant chronic fatigue syndrome which interfered with my life immeasurably, but gave me ample time for thought. An abortive attempt to create a story happened around 1996, but I look back on such things as stepping stones on the road to where I wanted to be. My first complete novel was actually done back in '03, but it was a derivative work based on elements from other stories, something I didn't realise until after I'd written it. The mind can do funny things if you don't keep it on a tight leash! Still, there were some unique points to the story I kept, so I scrapped the rest and began a completely new for Neverwinter Nights, that RPG video game thing you may or may not have heard of. The story was so successful (filled with rich, creamy character development) that I lamented that only people playing the game would ever see it. In 2009, with my health improving, I resolved to novelize the stories I'd written, in addition to developing the world in which they exist as the basis for a new fantasy series. I consider those stories to be merely the first iteration of the saga, for my novels have evolved far beyond the original scope, in terms of detail, plot and character building. Looking back on it now, I can see my style has evolved a very long way from those humble beginnings indeed. Oh, I also paint. You can expect to see more cover art with each title, becoming more technically sophisticated each time.

Book preview

Prologue

Paperwork, like the turning of the world, was endless. The officer sat at a mahogany desk, his attention firmly focused on reducing the towering pile of documents before him to a manageable level. There was little else to distract him within the confines of his new office, for the rest of his boxed possessions had yet to arrive.

Despite having received his promotion just the previous day, these documents had been awaiting his arrival, showing a speed and efficiency the bureaucracy rarely demonstrated. The officer paused for a moment as the sound of trainees discharging firearms echoed around the stone walls of the fortress before returning to work. The summer air drifting through the window was warm and dry, yet the confines of his office remained cool. That was the thing with stone construction – bearable in summer, absolutely freezing in winter.

He was in two minds about the new weapons his military was busily arming itself with. They were powerful, easy for inexperienced men to train with and represented a chance to take the initiative in their long-running war with their neighbours.

On the other hand, they were also bloody loud.

Not exactly what you envisioned when you started this whole thing, the officer muttered to the room's sole decoration, a portrait of a barrel-chested man in a crisp black uniform hanging on the wall. He was laden with shining medals and his bristling grey mutton-chops harkened back to a hairstyle of male fashion not seen in decades.

His grey eyes stared out over the viewer's shoulder, as if boldly looking to a future only he could see. The caption at the base of the picture read 'First Grand Duke Gerhard Kurnst, founder of Kurhain'. He was noted in history texts as a titan of a man, a legend of his time and a renowned facial hair enthusiast. That last part wasn't written in any book, though it was surely on the mind of whomever painted his portrait.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the officer's train of thought. Enter, he ordered, turning to see who had arrived. Two young men of minor rank, wearing ill-fitting uniforms stained with sweat awkwardly sidled into the room while carrying a huge wooden chest between them. The poor fellows seemed torn between keeping both hands on the chest, or saluting and risking a serious injury in the process.

Over there, if you please gentlemen, the officer instructed, nodding towards a space beneath the room's only window. Too out of breath to reply, they shuffled over to the designated location and eased the expensive chest onto the stone floor before raising their hands to their foreheads in a belated salute. It was addressed to Major Maximilian Strauss and for a brief moment, the officer didn't recognise the rank as his own. He was still becoming accustomed to the new title.

Maximilian returned their salute then walked over to unlock and open it wide. Inside were most of his worldly possessions, the only things he placed any real value on. Perched on top of everything else was a portrait, carefully wrapped in fabric. Max took it out and unwrapped it, gazing with a sense of loss at the picture of a lovely young lady with dark hair and blue eyes. He turned and placed it on his desk, where she could watch over him as he worked. The caption simply read 'Gunhilde'.

Will that be all sir? one of the soldiers inquired politely, snapping Max out of his reverie. He took one last look at the contents of the chest and a slight crease furrowed his brow.

There should be one last item, he pointed out. It was long, heavily wrapped, and bore instructions for whoever dropped it to be executed on the spot.

Ah, the soldier replied, moisture visible on his upper lip. Almost forgot about that one.

I'm sure, Max nodded sagely. Fetch it immediately and your task is complete. Before the soldiers could reply, there was a sudden noise from the other side of the room, a sort of 'thud' that made their ears pop. Turning to see what had caused it, Max was surprised to see King Osric Davignon, a recently acquired ally, leaning heavily against the wall while clutching at his leg, from which blood steadily dripped.

Osric's fair features were beaded with sweat, and his fine black clothing was dirty. His blond hair, normally combed was instead a mess, as if he'd been caught in a strong gale and neglected to neaten himself up afterwards.

King Osric, you seem out of sorts, Max remarked dryly.

Get me some help, Osric snapped as he collapsed to the floor in obvious pain. Max nodded to one of the enlisted men, who saluted yet again as he raced out the door to fetch a healer. The major grabbed his chair and hauled it over to Osric, then sat in it himself before the former king could make a move for it.

What happened? Max asked patiently.

The plan went awry, Osric responded through gritted teeth.

They do that. You need to plan for plans falling through. Tell me, where is Captain Jansen and his men?

They died for the cause, the former king grunted. Maximilian's levity faded instantly at the news. The dragons received outside help from men and women who tracked down my hideaway. They crept inside and seized the eggs. Jansen and three of his men died fighting them, I think the others ran off – cowards.

I object to you phrasing my men as 'cowards', sir, Max spoke in cold disdain. "They did not have the benefit of your unique abilities, yet they followed you to confront not one but two dragons relying on nothing but their wits and training. I will in fact, be awarding them medals of bravery posthumously. The major scrutinised Osric closely and a thought occurred to him. Speaking of such, how did you come to be wounded? I thought nothing could harm you, yet here you are, bleeding all over my floor."

I underestimated one of my opponents, Osric answered in a voice filled with pain and perhaps a dash of madness. I won't make that mistake again.

The healer, a local priest of advancing years who was on good terms with whatever powers answered his prayers, arrived at last and tended to Osric's wounded leg. Maximilian noted that the wound appeared to have been made by a stabbing weapon, a minor detail he filed away for later contemplation.

Regardless, Max finally continued, "I ask that in future, you... teleport to some other room in the fortress. How did you even know I would be here? I moved in only yesterday."

The magic works when I picture something specific in my mind, Osric explained as he winced at the ministrations of the priest. I seem to be able to recall the portrait of your lovely daughter quite clearly, and so I was whisked to within a few yards of it. Such a terrible loss for you, Major. She was quite beautiful.

"Her life and death are none of your concern, and I request that you conduct your strange magicks elsewhere in future," Max responded through gritted teeth.

You forget yourself, sir, Osric bristled, rising to his feet over the priest's objections. I may carry no title at present, but I answer only to Grand Duke Lothar. Speak to me like that again and I shall take your head off.

Maximilian wasn't intimidated by the threat, but he respected the chain of command. The Grand Duke had invested a lot of authority into this man and Max wasn't about to betray his orders, try as he might to push their limits.

Forgive me, Majesty, he replied, mustering as much conviction as he could. I meant no disrespect.

You are forgiven, Major, Osric purred with a slight nod. He flexed his leg with a measure of satisfaction, thanked the priest and hobbled towards the door. Before he walked through, he leaned back and gestured for Max to follow.

Come along, Major. We have a meeting with the Grand Duke and I need your counsel.

Max nodded and moved to follow, casting a longing glance back at the pile of paperwork with renewed appreciation for the less exciting aspects of command.

1

Conviction

High on a mountainside in the south-eastern frontier of the Kingdom of Aielund, nestled between cracks in the hard, unyielding ground grew a tiny plant, fighting against all odds to survive in a harsh, unforgiving environment. Its continuous struggle for life made it strong and hardy, but it was no match for the girl in the amber dress who plucked it from the earth and examined it with her dark brown eyes.

The very properties that allowed this small herb to thrive here made it a desirable addition to any herbal concoction, which as it turned out, was the fate Aislin Ballard had in store for it.

The ceaseless wind whipped her long auburn hair about as she dropped the small plant into a bag along with many others she had collected. Aislin paused for a moment to catch her breath and take in the astonishing view afforded by the altitude. Behind her, verdant lands stretched beyond the horizon to the north, slowly diminishing as she and her companions travelled a little further from home every day. It was the land to their south that captivated young Aislin's imagination, however.

Less than a day's journey ahead, the mountains abruptly tapered down to meet with a vast plain of red - the sands of the Hocarum Desert - an uninhabited region of dry earth that formed a natural border between Aielund and the southern realms. The excitement Aislin felt at visiting a place she'd never been before was tempered by the potential dangers involved in navigating such an inhospitable land. Fortunately, she was not alone.

With her small bag full of herbs and roots harvested during the day's journey, Aislin caught up with Jaz Katan, searching for more treasures in the earth a few dozen yards away.

A full bag, Aislin said as she handed it over. It's getting hard to find plants around here so that might be the last of it.

Oh, that'll do just fine, Jaz exclaimed at the unexpected bounty, the dark skin of her impish face creased with a brilliant white smile. Her shock of dark, curly hair was held back by a headband and a spark of excitement danced in her large eyes as she peered into the bag. Picking a random herb from the collection, she scrutinised it with expert eyes.

A little scrawny, aren't they, Jaz remarked despondently. "I'll take what I can get, though. I doubt we'll find much once we're walking through that," she added, nodding at the expanse of dry, flat earth dominating their view. Without waiting for a reply, Jaz carefully sat on a flat rock and took out a mortar and pestle from her satchel, then began grinding up the various herbs with vigorous strokes.

Although less than two years older than Aislin, Jaz was well-educated and something of a prodigy in her homeland, the Free States of Lyden. She had a profound grasp of herbal medicine, but seemed able to add a little bit of magic to the final mix, giving it a kick no other remedy could match. Combined with her skills with magical artifice, she was probably the smartest and most talented person Aislin had ever met, and she smiled slightly at the thought that they were becoming fast friends.

Strapped to the top of Jaz's pack was, in appearance at least, a rusty metal helm with glistening red rubies for eyes. This was actually the head of a metal golem, a magical construct able to move and act on its master’s command. Jaz had liberated it from the deep tunnels beneath the mountains, where it had languished for centuries unknown. Barely able to move, the head did seem to take some interest in its surroundings from time to time, although Aislin would prefer it didn't swivel about quite so much – the staring red eyes were just downright creepy.

Once the mixture was ready, Jaz poured it into a jar, added some water and shook it very hard, smacking the lid with one hand while whispering some kind of arcane chant when it was done.

Come, let's go visit the patients, Jaz suggested with a wink. The two girls hurried to catch up with the other three members of their group, who were moving through the rough landscape at a leisurely pace. All three had been grievously wounded in a recent battle and Jaz was doting over them like a mother hen, making sure they all healed up good and proper.

Their first stop was Gordon MacTavish, a stout member of the dwarvish people. In spite of being decades older than Aislin, he was roughly the same height and would grow no taller. His long, plaited beard was dark brown tinged with grey and his dirty longcoat concealed a number of small firearms, procured from their foes during their recent battle.

Aislin had known Gordon for a few years, as he liked to stop by the inn that was her home whenever his travels brought him into the area. An engineer by trade, Gordon had also saved Aislin's life when the town of Bracksford had come under attack.

Strong for his size, Gordon also carried a longarm under his pack and another slung over his shoulder, as if he couldn't bear to leave any of the seized weapons behind. His demeanour had been sullen and introspective since encountering soldiers from the nation of Kurhain, armed with weapons he himself had invented. The mystery of how they had acquired his designs had plagued him for days, but his expression softened when Jaz cheerfully asked him to open his coat so she could apply healing salve to his injuries.

Yer a treasure, lass, he chuckled, wincing only slightly as she spread the pungent stuff on the side of his chest.

I think one more application should clear that right up, Jaz remarked. Luckily for you, we've found more ingredients.

Bah, I'd heal up in time anyway, Gordon grunted as she touched a tender spot.

All done, Jaz finally declared. Try not to get beaten up quite so badly next time. Gordon seemed about to protest at her choice of words, then thought better of it. He raised an eyebrow at Aislin briefly, and she could only grin in reply at Jaz's 'bedside manners'.

Leading the troupe was a man who could be described as a walking mountain. Carthack Valdis was around eight feet tall and half as wide, his massive frame a legacy of the escardi people. The word meant 'survivors', and he claimed they came from another world, though he lacked the skill with the Aielish language to properly articulate this bizarre concept.

Jaz tugged at his tattered longcoat to gain his attention, then held up the jar of salve with her customary smile to indicate it was his turn. Amber eyes looked down at her from beneath his hood and, although stoic in demeanour, Carthack always had a smile for the two girls.

His tunic had been cut up quite badly during his recent fight with Osric, and although they had recovered clothes and equipment from the enemy camp, his sheer size rendered most of the seized clothing inadequate. So, Jaz and Aislin had taken needle and thread and stitched Carthack's tunic back together using cloth from other garments. The result would never win a prize at a town sewing festival, but it did the job and Carthack had the good grace to express his gratitude for their work.

Carthack surveyed the landscape ahead as Jaz gingerly applied salve to his arms and stomach, wincing slightly at the red welts still visible on his olive skin. His understanding of the natural world was remarkable, and he used this knowledge to guide them safely along their journey. Although he refused to speak of it, Aislin wondered what sort of life he and his people had lived before arriving in Aielund. Certainly, he didn't feel the need to carry a weapon, aside from the one sleeping in his backpack.

Come on out Keg, it's your turn, Jaz called to Carthack's passenger, lifting the top of his pack to reveal a ginger tomcat taking up much of the internal space. Far too comfortable to bother with things like 'walking' or 'staying awake', Keg rarely emerged during the day, content to doze as Carthack hauled him along.

You're a monster of a cat, you know that? Aislin remarked, giving him a fond pat while Jaz dabbed some salve over the scar on his face and ear, wounds he'd gained when he bravely attacked Captain Jansen, the soldier who had threatened to shoot one of the dragon's eggs they'd eventually saved. A glint of purple shone from the collar around Keg's neck. It was a magical gem Jaz had used to increase his intelligence far beyond that of an ordinary house cat, something their foes had underestimated so far.

Was he always this big? Jaz asked as Keg recoiled from the smell of the thick salve on his face.

No, he was the cutest little thing when we found him hiding in an old beer keg in the stables a few years ago, Aislin recalled fondly.

So that's where the name came from, Jaz remarked as she worked.

Dad tried to shoo him away with the broom, but the little terror just held onto it and tore it apart. I said he'd be good at keeping mice out of the larder, so we put food out for him to make him feel at home and soon, he was friendly enough that I could pat him without getting all scratched. Keg was the terror of mice around the inn almost straight away, as well as the other cats in town, all of the dogs and when he grew a bit bigger, a black bear."

There you go, Jaz said to Keg as she finished treating his wound. Don't go licking that off your face or I'll be back to put more on. Keg mewed in apparent understanding of her words, one of the benefits of the magical gem around his neck, then Aislin closed the pack and sent the very patient Carthack on his way.

I suppose I'm next to be subjected to your ministrations, Madelyn Fairchild remarked dryly from nearby, having watched with mild disdain as the two girls went about their task. Her first name was actually 'Angelica', but she despised it so much that she greatly preferred to go by her middle name.

She was quite beautiful, in a cold sort of way. Hailing from a wealthy family, her skin was fair, highlighting her fine, almost regal features. Her hair was long, lustrous and dark, and her eyes a piercing bright blue. A rapier swung from her hip and her riding pants and blue leather jacket were, like Carthack's clothing, mostly patched together since the vicious fight with Osric.

My salve saved your life not so long ago, Jaz pointed out a little defensively.

Yes, and though grateful, I swear the odour of that concoction lingers still. I feel well enough that I don't believe I need another treatment, if it's all the same to you.

That's okay, I'm sure you'll be fine, Aislin responded cheerfully. You can hardly see that scar on your face. Madelyn's smug attitude faded and she unconsciously brushed her cheek with one hand.

Hand it over, I'll do it myself, she muttered, while the two girls managed to keep straight faces until Madelyn turned away to quickly apply the salve.

Their journey down the mountainside continued for a few more hours, and as the sun touched the horizon Carthack called a halt for the day and began setting up their camp. He chose a location beneath the shadow of several large rocks, but otherwise, there were no trees or cover against the impending fall of night. Keg emerged from his mobile bed and dropped to the ground, stretching and yawning after a hard day's rest.

We left Aielund today, the big escardi rumbled as he set up a campfire with wood they'd taken from the Kurhanir encampment. Great desert ahead, will be rough going. Hot days, cold nights. Little water or food.

I can already feel the air getting warmer, Aislin remarked.

Tell me again why we're going this way? Madelyn asked pointedly as she eased her weary body onto her bedroll.

It's a straight run down to the homeland of me kin, Gordon answered, unrolling a map he retrieved from his pack and laying it out on the ground. Be a dear lass, and light this up for us?

Certainly, Jaz murmured, invoking one of the magic rings on her hand which produced a steady white light. Aislin ambled over to look, though she was very tired from the day's journey and discovered her eyelids were already drooping.

We're about here, Gordon explained, poking a stubby finger at a location on the map denoting mountains. In a straight line to the south-west lies the mountain fortress o' Aurumgaard, where we can find out more about what's goin' on in the south.

Are you planning to scale 'Hellfire Peak' along the way? Madelyn pointed out, tracing a finger along the route and discovering a mountain with a rather ominous name blocking their way."

Well, obviously not, Gordon grumbled. We'll have t’go 'round it, either east or west.

It would be best to skirt this entire region, so I propose we go west, Madelyn surmised. We can still reach the Trinity Highway and continue along it to Aurumgaard, just like all civilised travellers.

That'll take us an extra three days, Gordon responded with a shake of his head. We've got limited supplies and we'll be cutting it fine as it is just going straight there. We can go 'round the eastern edge o' Hellfire peak and be in Aurumgaard before we run out of rations.

I've heard it said this region is especially dangerous, Jaz interjected, staring at the map with trepidation.

Aye, it can be, but me fear is, whoever made these firearms has a lot more on the way, Gordon grimly explained. These people from Kurhain made a deal with Osric, and if'n we want to take another shot at him, that's our ultimate destination. If nothin' else, I want to warn me kin o' what might be comin' their way. Besides, all that extra walkin' doesn't do me legs much good, and I'm mindful o' the wee youngin's having to keep up too.

Don't mind us, we'll be okay, Aislin protested without enthusiasm.

Ace, ye can barely keep yer eyes open, Gordon remarked with a rueful grin, a claim she couldn't deny.

I just need to get some more sleep, Aislin whispered, stifling a yawn.

We could all use more rest, Gordon agreed. I'll get crackin' on dinner and then ye can turn in. With the small fire growing by the minute, he pulled out some of their supplies and cooked up a fine meal of sausages, potatoes and tomatoes.

I suppose that's the last of the vegetables, Madelyn sighed, poking at the sausage on her plate.

Enjoy it while ye can, Gordon grunted, too interested in his meal than sparring with the fallen noblewoman. Aislin followed his lead, eating her meal before reclining back on her bedroll for the night. Nearby, Jaz was whispering to Conrad's metal head as she positioned it to look out over the camp, as if to keep guard. What a disembodied head could do even if something threatened the camp was beyond Aislin.

She leaned back and stared at the stars above, glistening in clear skies, and the last thing she saw before drifting off was Keg sitting on a nearby rock, his tail lashing about as he too kept watch over the camp.

The sun was well and truly up by the time Aislin woke, having slept so heavily she couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming about. Groggy and unkempt, Aislin sat up and glanced around, noting everyone else appeared to have been awake for a while.

About time, Jaz remarked. We thought you were going to sleep the morning away.

I still might, Aislin slurred, taking a sip from her water skin and squinting at the clear, bright day.

Mornin' Ace, Gordon muttered, his focus firmly on the pair of small firearms on the ground before him. He seemed to be taking precise measurements of each and scribbling notes onto a piece of paper.

"Well, I'm ready to go, Madelyn suggested, sitting cross-legged on a nearby rock. At least Aislin has an excuse for being late – you, Master Dwarf, have been fidgeting with those bloody weapons for an hour."

I've got time, Ace still needs to eat somethin', Gordon protested.

Just give me ten minutes, I can eat on the go, Aislin responded, willing her tired young body to get started.

See? No excuses, Madelyn said primly. I don't understand your fascination with those things anyway. You've already established they're similar to your own designs.

"They're not just similar, they're exactly the same, Gordon pointed out without taking his eyes from his work. This isn't just some kinda co-incidence – someone stole me original plans! See here, look at me own sidearm and any one o' those taken from the Kurhanir. The numbers come up precisely the same. The quality o' craftsmanship is remarkable, to be able to duplicate me designs so reliably. They've got some method o' ensuring similar quality fer each weapon they produce. They could be making dozens o’ them a month. I just wish I knew how they got their hands on me designs."

"That is disturbing, especially if we encounter more of those soldiers armed with such weapons."

Very likely, Carthack rumbled, sitting on the ground with a dozing Keg in his lap. The two of them had a rocky start together recently, but it seemed they'd overcome their initial animosity. Six men on mountain, well provisioned beyond what they could carry. They had support.

Oh that's just marvellous, Madelyn groaned. "There could be dozens more of them around here some place. I really wish I still had my bow, or any bow for that matter. I'm not fussy." Jaz seemed about to make a comment about Madelyn’s level of fussiness but Aislin quickly shook her head, indicating Jaz should hold her tongue.

I've plenty o' powder and sidearms, Gordon hinted.

You want me to use one of those things? Madelyn hedged, nodding with distaste at the assorted weapons Gordon carried.

Aye, plenty o' power, he explained, putting away his tools. It'll punch through iron armour at close range, and ye've seen what they can do to people what don’t get out o’ the way.

"But they're so loud, Madelyn complained after a moment's consideration. I've seen you shooting at targets not all that far away without success, so don't try and tell me they're accurate, and how long does it take you to reload that damned thing anyway? No, I'll stick with bows, thank you."

Sorry, we're all out o' those, Gordon grunted a little defensively. Look, they're easy to learn and yeah, sure they're not perfect, I'm just sayin' you can use one fer now, til we get to Aurumgaard and you can probably find yerself a pretty little bow there.

The discussion continued while Aislin made ready for another day's travel, and when she returned she was surprised to see Madelyn holding a sidearm in one hand as if it were about to come to life and bite her.

Heavy little thing, she complained, then sighed. Fine, show me how it works.

With pleasure, Gordon answered, and suddenly Aislin found she had rushed around getting ready for nothing. Content with sitting down to eat breakfast like a normal person, she tore into some bread and cheese while Madelyn practiced loading the weapon and aiming along its length.

Would anyone mind terribly much if I took a shot? she inquired, to the assorted groans of the others. Well I can't very well go into a fight not knowing what it feels like to shoot this contraption, can I?

Go over there, make noise, Carthack rumbled, gesturing to a random place further away from the rest of them. Madelyn shrugged and did as he suggested, moving roughly fifty yards away before taking her first shot with the sidearm. The distance did little to dull the racket and Keg, who had recently experienced such a noise at point-blank range, bolted behind a rock.

I'll never get used to that, Madelyn muttered upon her return, touching her ear painfully with one hand. Nevertheless, she tucked the sidearm into her belt and declared herself ready to go. The others gathered their things and after Carthack kicked some dirt over the camp fire, they collected Keg and followed the big man along the final leg down the side of the mountain.

Within the hour they were walking on soft, sand-like dirt that felt very strange to walk on. The view ahead was nothing but flat red ground as far as the eye could see, and hot winds gusted across the desolate landscape. Aislin couldn't help but gaze with longing at the relatively inviting incline of the mountains, the last tangible vestige of her homeland she was likely to see for some time.

Memories of her life at Bracksford flooded her mind – her father's easy-going smile as he worked behind the bar of the inn, the bustle of the main street as people went about their business and the aroma of Vicki's cooking lingering in the air. Though it was an idyllic start to her life, her time at the inn was marred by conflict on three separate occasions, and the loss of her older brothers in the war pained her to this day.

It's not too late, you know, Madelyn suggested, having spotted Aislin's lingering stare at the path behind them. You can still go home, if you really want to. Leave Sliver with me and I give you my word, Osric will be brought to account for his crimes.

Aislin absently touched the hilt of her weapon, the