Shifting at the sudden appearance of Argonians walking through the opened doorway, we all saw the familiar sight of Weebam-Na and Bejeen as they returned from their walk through the village and speaking with the locals. They had a small collection of dried fish, and behind them a trio of younger hatchlings were bringing in a handful of gourds and clay pots that appeared to be filed with fresh water. Without a word, the younger Argonians placed them down in a pile near where Mazoga sat, turned and simply left the hut.

  “Find anything interesting?”

  “Not really.” Bitterly dropping the fruits of his labour down into one of the empty cooking pots for storage, he also leaned his spear against the wall next to Bejeen’s. “The whole village is quiet and none of them are willing to talk to us about much at all. Every time that we try to talk about the Shield, the local area or recent events they clam up tighter than a caiman’s jaws. It was hard enough to barter for dinner.”

  “These scum probably have already plundered the shield and seek to hide it from us.” Detane snarled, his whetstone stopping mid blade. “I say we tear this place apart and find it.”

  “They have no need for trinkets or relics such as that.” Weebam-Na explained, showing his hunters patience as he stared down the Breton chevalier. “They value the Hist and not much else. Something is going on here and my sniffer is telling me that we need to find out what.”

  “Addicts and inbreds the whole lot of them. The only redeemable feature about them all is that least they aren’t pigs.”

  As she had several times during the long days travelling, Mazoga simply couldn’t resist the bait and glared at him. I knew most Breton’s had a racial prejudice against the Orcs but Detane took it to an extreme. “At least they aren’t Breton’s with their heads stuffed up their arses!”

  “Big words from you Greenskin. You almost reached three syllables there.”

  “That’s enough from you Detane!” I snapped, and both he and Mazoga turned to look at me from the growl in my throat, Mazoga trying and failing to hide the fact she was repeating the words she just said under her breath and counting their syllables on her fingers. Like the rest of them I was tired and sore, but unlike the others the responsibility of leading the group had fallen to me. Despite herself, Viconia had been content on taking a step back and following along, doing what she described as ‘leaving this manure fire to someone else to contain.’

  “Can we not go a single day without you two going for each other’s throats?” Next time either of you say anything to the other, I’ll throw your arses in the swamp for the night.”

  Mazoga looked at me like she had done over the previous days as though she was trying to calculate whether I had the strength necessary to make good of my threat but in the end she relented. As for Detane, he simply scowled even more deeply as though his facial muscles were going to crush his skull and returned to what he was doing.

  I turned to Weebam-Na who was looking highly amused, his reptilian grin enormous as he too didn’t get along with the short Breton. “You know that you had someone following you?”

  His head twitched and he looked confused for a second before a scratching at the door announced a visitor.

  “I keep forgetting that you have better hearing than me.” Turning on his heel, he moved back to the door, looked out and stopped in place. “Ah. We definitely have a visitor.”

  Stepping back from the door, he shifted slightly and allowed the new arrival to enter. Of the locals we were not expecting the sight of the hunchbacked and leather clad shaman to come shuffling in.

  Almost as a united group with the exception of Falid who continued to sit as still as a granite statue, we all shuffled in place to put distance between us and the unnatural visage of the village magic user. In the confines of the hut his stench was almost overpowering, smelling like a sickly-sweet combination of vomit, rotten meat and decaying plant matter and yet again I found myself cursing my vampiric senses.

  Hissing and chirping in a manner that I could only describe as slow and purposeful, the way that the Argonian spoke was at odds to the customary tics and spasms that rocked various limbs at random. He looked about the room under his cowl of leathery hides and layer of moss, speaking to us all at the same time.

  “Greejan-Ze apparently has several things to tell us that we will find of interest.” Weebam-Na translated. “But firstly he recommends that we do not drink or otherwise use the water that we were just provided.”

  Mazoga was in mid motion of reaching for one of the gourds to help scrub the blood off her leg from the leeches and paused. “Why?”

  Hissing back and forth Weebam-Na suddenly looked a lot more nervous. “Because the water has been poisoned.”

  “I knew it. these filthy lizards mean to kill us!” Detane snapped, looking pleased with himself for being proven right.

  Talking to the shaman, Weebam-Na shook his head. “It doesn’t sound to be that simple. Apparently they were instructed to poison any travellers who came here for any reason and dispose of the bodies.”

  Viconia’s brow furrowed and there was no doubting the way her hand was gripping Dragonbane’s hilt. “Instructed by who?”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  There was another collection of hisses to Weebam-Na’s question and if he had been human he would have paled. “Uh oh.”

  “Uh oh?”

  “We… ah, may have stuck our heads into a flamestinger nest.” They continued chittering for a few more minutes which left Weebam-Na leaning against the wall and Bejeen looking just as concerned as he was. “It appears that the reason why none of the hunters or warriors of this village are present is that they are all dead. This village, and a handful further up river are all under the control of a group of bandits that arrived in the area a few months ago. They killed everyone who resisted and are taking whatever food and supplies they can.”

  “Shit.” I murmured, and there was a sudden pall of unease and concern filling the room.

  “Yeah. Wuleen-Tulm is the son of the previous chief who tried to stand up to the bandits. As he’s now the chief you can understand how well that worked out for them at all.”

  “So why is he telling us all of this?”

  “Because he has been instructed to do so by the Hist. The bandits have for all intents enslaved all the Argonians within the area and have threatened to burn the Spirit-Tree and kill every last villager if they are betrayed or otherwise crossed.”

  “A tree told him that he is to help us?” Detane asked incredulously and found himself partially surprised when Viconia and I seemed to share his disbelief.

  “The Hist aren’t normal trees.” Weebam-Na explained. “To you smoothskins they might appear to be so but they and the Argonians exist together in harmony. They have power unmatched by anything in existence whether you believe it or not.”

  “So now we are being aided by a stack of sentient firewood.” Despite her bitterness, Viconia was smiling and almost laughing to herself. “I’ve seen stranger things in my time.”

  “So obviously they want our help in kicking their arses out of the area?” Alexi asked, beating me to the most obvious question of them all.

  The hissing and chirping was renewed and left Weebam-Na scratching at his jaw in frustration. “It appears so, but unfortunately for us this is definitely the village we were seeking. Greejan-Ze says that he knows how we have come for the shield and knows where it is located. The really bad news is that the old fort we seek is where these bandits have set up their home.”

  The wave of despair and defeat that suddenly flooded the room was almost a physical thing but only a few of us were unaffected by it. Falid, still sitting quietly in the same position he had in the past hour simply opened his eyes.

  “They will not have the shield.” He rumbled. “If they had, they wouldn’t be staying here. They would be closer to civilisation trying to bargain or ransom it.”

  “There is still hope then.” I turned my gaze from the giant Redguard and back to Weebam-Na. “How many are there?”

  Having obviously already asked the question, Weebam-Na shrugged and gestured hopelessly. “They are uncertain as they have never been here in a single group but there are at least forty, easily a lot more.”

  Of all the typical reactions throughout the room, it was Detane’s that caught my attention. While everyone else looked extremely sober by the number we were facing, Detane had somehow relaxed, an expression of contentment consuming his usual sneer until he was as relaxed as Falid. It was not an expression that I found comforting in the current situation.

  Mazoga however was busy using the fingers of both hands to calculate the number, her brow and tusked jaw tightening as she counted, lost count and began recounting before shrugging and losing interest.

  “Viconia and I have faced worse odds.” My exclamation was more concerning that it wasn’t a boast and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that fact.

  “So have I.” Alexi replied, and he smiled as he caught my gaze. “Okay, fine. I haven’t, but I didn’t want to admit so in the presence of the Heroes of Kvatch.”

  “What now?”

  Rubbing the rough stubble on my jaw in thought, I glanced at Viconia before looking at the others in the hut. “I’m not sure. What does Greejan-Ze say?”

  Weebam-Na gestured to the water that we had been provided. “The bandits usually come once or twice a week for their tribute, but their scouts keep a close eye on the villages under their control. By now word of our arrival will be going back to their camp and he said just before that the last time that they had visitors a group of them came during the night. The village had initially refused to poison them so when the bandits came there was a fight. The next day they killed some of the hatchlings as punishment. They don’t have anyone strong enough or the numbers to be able to fight them off and they are too scared of retaliation to stand up to them. Too many have died already.”

  Detane’s expression soured again and changed from the relaxed expectation that he had worn the second before. “So they expect us to fight and bleed for them instead. Pathetic.”

  “How many are they expecting to come tonight?”

  After a brief hiss, Weebam-Na nodded to the shaman. “Last time there was three to four dozen who came to secure the town while they checked on the visitors. The merchant or whoever it was managed to kill or wound a couple of them before he and his guards were killed.”

  The slow crawl of a plan started to form in my mind, and I clenched my jaw at the thought of what awaited us once the darkness fell. Taking my time to look about the group, I blew out a long breath clicked my tongue. “Everyone’s thoughts?”

  “We retrieve the Shield.” Falid said simply, and Viconia, Alexi and Mazoga nodded in agreement.

  “What about you two?” I asked Weebam-Na and Bejeen.

  “You have only paid us for half the journey, which means that we need to get you back to Leyawiin to get the rest of the coin.” The gleam in Bejeen’s eyes was not entirely the lust for gold.

  “And it’s either facing death here, or death in the marshes. This lot coming for us will know the area between than myself and Bejeen. We have a better chance surviving if we stand and fight here.”

  “What about you Detane?”

  The Breton’s scowl was in full force but somehow the prospect of a fight and potential death was calming his otherwise bitter tongue. “I will fight. Banish your thoughts to the contrary Sir Desin.”

  “Well then.” Turning back to the hunched shaman, I looked him straight in the unusually mismatched eyes and gave him a single nod. The way that his mouth opened slightly in what I assumed was a grin left me remembering the enormous crocodile that we had encountered a few days previously that was longer than our boats. “I guess we better work out how we are going to pull this off.”

  “Well, you know what time it is then, Sir Desin?” Alexi said, picking up his custom made duelling sallet and fitting it down over his head.

  I turned and looked at his grin that entirely matched the Argonians in size as he was struggling to contain his laughter. Slapping down the visor that hid all but his eyes in the three centimetre gap between the face plate and the helm itself his voice became muffled and slightly muted.

  “It’s Knight time.”

  My groan at the pun was matched only by Viconia and our Argonian guides while Mazoga looked confused, Detane looked gravely insulted and Falid’s eyebrows marginally raised.

  “Isto’sunduiri sslig'ne uns'aa dal waelen.” Muttered Viconia bitterly while rolling her eyes and fidgeting with the hilt of Dragonbane. “Surely he doesn’t need his tongue in this endeavour?”