Loth tossed and turned on the mat in the middle of his room. The three humans had asked for his help, and out of fear he had told them no. Fighting against wild beasts and armed men? Loth had no problem with those. Magic was something else entirely. Magic frightened Loth.

  His mind flashed back to that terrible night when he was a child. A rogue elf sorcerer, as a way of exacting his sadistic pleasure, ravaged Loth’s village, singlehandedly killing most of them before getting an ax to his head. Loth shuddered as he pictured the sick glee in those red eyes and the maniacal laughter. As far as Loth was concerned, nothing good ever came from magic.

  With every wave of fear that washed over him, other memories quieter, but fiercer, accompanies them. From the time he was able to wield a stick, Loth was trained to fight without relenting. Surrender was only an option if it were somehow beneficial to the tribe. Nothing else mattered but the preservation of the tribe.

  But Loth had no tribe. Not anymore. In the eyes of an Arns?than from the north, a man without a tribe was a man whose life had lost meaning. He recalled the day he had been cast out by his father and the shame that accompanied it. It had happened because of his fear then, the same fear that gripped him now. The little human had liked him and said it wanted to be Loth’s friend. The picture of Satchel’s downcast face stood out in Loth’s mind. He had let someone down again.

  As he rolled over for the hundredth time, his hand accidentally rapped against his ax, making Loth pause and stare at his massive weapon. He ran his hand down the thick iron haft, nicked from the many battles it had seen, and across the rough leather grip. His fingers reached the symbol embossed into the metal near the knob at the haft’s base and stopped. To an ordinary human, it looked like a crudely drawn “R” with a short line crossing through its middle. To an Arns?than, it showed who the ax truly belonged to. The symbol on Loth’s ax was that of his father’s line, forged over a century ago and passed on from son to son. Loth remembered the stories told of the strength of his ancestors and the bravery with which they had all wielded this ax.

  “Will you be the weak one?” His father had asked him. “The one who breaks the link and brings shame to this ax?”

  The question rang through his mind as clearly as the day it had been asked. Loth turned his hand over and stared at his palm.

  He closed it into a fist and struck the floor.

  Resolve replaced fear. Determination poured from his heart and flooded his veins. He finally had the answer he should have given his father so long ago. He would not be the weak one. Leaping to his feet, Loth grabbed his ax, marched out the door, and made his way toward the Hill.

  ~*~

  The first thing Jarek was aware of when his eyes opened was the pain. His chest burned like it had been doused with boiling water. His back felt like one large bruise. The base of his skull ached too, but this was minor compared to the rest.

  Looking down, he saw that his chest had been wrapped in cloth with a healing salve. That explained the burning sensation. He then saw the broken railing high above him and remembered what had happened. After splitting up to search for Addie, he had found her, but she was different. A strange light had struck him. It had come from her hands, and then he plummeted to the floor.

  He tried sitting up, but the driving pain in his back forced him down. However much it hurt, he was relieved that nothing seemed to be broken.

  “Easy, friend,” said Basco’s voice. “You took a nasty fall.”

  Jarek turned his neck so he could see the man. The former mercenary’s shirt was off, a streak of black charred across his chest. He sat on a wooden crate while the doctor who had tended to Addie wrapped a wide bandage around the man’s massive torso.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “What happened?” asked Jarek. “Where’s Addie?”

  “She’s fine now.” Basco pointed to the ceiling. “From the looks of things another magic-user showed up. They defeated Addie and then ran off. The doctor took her back to her room.”

  “Wait. Where’s Satchel?” Jarek asked in a panic.

  The scholar did not reply. The thief’s eyes fixed onto Basco and burned into him as he said, “Basco, tell me where he is.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve had Orvis search the manor and the grounds. He can’t find him. I have scouts scouring the city.”

  Jarek cursed. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Satchel was his responsibility. He had promised to protect him.

  Fighting the pain and soreness, Jarek struggled to sit up. The doctor began to protest, but the old thief gave him a look that shut the man up. The doctor finished applying Basco’s bandages and then headed for the kitchen, muttering something under his breath about gratitude.

  Forcing himself to his feet, Jarek worked each of his limbs. Fortunately, his arms and legs had not suffered much damage. However, the muscles and tendons across his back groaned. The cloth rubbed on his chest, renewing the burning sensation. Moving around would be tough, but he had been in worse shape. Never mind that it had been almost three decades ago. He forced himself to move around and get used to the pain.

  He stopped his pacing and regarded Basco. “What’s our plan then?” he asked.

  “Plan?”

  “Satchel’s out there somewhere and we need to bring him back.”

  Basco looked at Jarek with disbelief. “You must’ve gotten hit on the head harder than I thought. I told you my scouts are looking for him. Let’s wait on their report.”

  “I’m not sitting around waiting for some flunky to tell me where to go. I’m going to find Satchel.” Jarek took a few steps and winced as the pain made a sharp return.

  Basco approached Jarek but stopped when the thief held up a hand.

  “I’ve had worse than this.”

  “The salve heals quickly but still requires time. Rest for another hour or so, please, and let the medicine do its work. Then, we’ll search for Satchel. You won’t be fully recovered, but you’ll at least be able to function.”

  A noise at the main doors drew their attention. An imposing figure stepped in.

  “Loth?” said Basco, “what’re you doing here?”

  The Arns?than replied with a new strength in his voice. “Am here to help. No more running for Loth. Loth help old man and little friend.”

  “You’re a little late,” said Jarek. “‘Little friend’ is missing. We were attacked, and I don’t know where he’s gone.”

  Loth frowned. “Then I help find him. Tell Loth what to do.”

  “The trouble is,” said Basco, “we don’t even know where to begin. He might have gone to find help.”

  Jarek shook his head. “We would have heard from him by now. It’s obvious he was kidnapped.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” retorted Basco.

  The two began to argue back and forth.

  “Maybe little friend in brown bag,” said Loth.

  Basco and Jarek stopped and looked at Loth. Jarek asked, “What brown bag?”

  “When Loth come here, Loth see something at other big house, but not think it mean something. Happen fast, but Loth sure of what he saw. Men carry brown bag away from big house. They move quietly, but Loth see them. Loth now sure. Brown bag big enough to be little friend.”

  “Which house was it?” asked Basco. “What did it look like?”

  “Had lots of flowers and was white. Gate in front had statue of horse on top.”

  Basco’s eyebrows went up. “A horse?”

  Loth nodded.

  “What’s wrong?” said Jarek.

  “That’s the Lady Montague’s home, but that doesn’t make sense. How could she be involved?”

  “After what’s happened today, I’d say anything’s possible.” Jarek checked his weapons. He glanced at the other two and said, “Well, what you are standing around for? The Lady has a few questions to answer.”

  “Now, hold on a minute,” said Basco. “We can’t just barge in there with weapons drawn. We don't even know the bag had Satchel in it. It could be something more innocent. Let’s at least plan a little before barging out the door.”

  Jarek’s face reddened. “The longer we sit here, the less chance we have of finding Satchel.”

  “I understand, but against magic powerful enough to turn your girl thief into that...thing that took both of us out in moments, we’re at a disadvantage. If the Lady is indeed involved, she has resources of her own including several large and powerful bodyguards.”

  Jarek let out a sigh of exasperation. “All right then, what do you propose?”

  Loth stepped forward and said, “Loth can do fighting. Help clear way to get little friend.”

  “Thank you, Loth,” said Basco. “If we’re going to do this, your help will be essential.” A thought entered Basco’s mind that made him chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” said Jarek.

  Grinning, Basco said, “I’ve thought of a way to find young Satchel. Follow me.”