“Too dangerous?” I exclaimed, glaring at the gnoll woman. “Don’t you understand? I’m here against my will with a minuscule chance of getting home. We were on our way to get help to recover the body of a friend, and your people attacked us. I’m pissed, yes, but by the saints above, I would leave you and your tribe behind me as fast as we could ride if I had this collar off.”

  The Pack Matron gave me a disappointed look. “I understand that you just want to leave, but it would be dishonorable to allow you to leave in such a state. You are a Mage, and thus very dangerous. Come, you will stay the night with our Tribe as guests. You have earned that with your honesty and honorable actions.”

  My mouth dropped. Was I really that out of line? And weren’t the gnolls the bad guys here? Maybe I needed to withhold my judgement on that for the time being. Maybe there was a reason Harper was so friendly with them.

  Arilyn caught my arm as I turned and stumbled, still low on energy from the healing. “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “That was perhaps one of the bravest and inappropriate things I have seen. She could have killed you,” she said.

  “Heals is right,” Harper chimed in. “All you had to do was keep your trap shut and we could have been on our way. No harm, no foul.” She walked over to where the horses were secured.

  “No harm?” I asked, still amped up.

  She turned abruptly and stalked back, poking my bare chest with her finger. “Don’t you start with me! There is a proper way to deal with gnolls on and off the battlefield. The only reason she didn’t split you from your head to your balls was your honesty. Gnolls respect that. And the fact that you didn’t enter that honor fight intending to surrender. If you hadn’t given it your all...”

  Harper stopped and shook her head. “Fuck, Finn. She’s right. You need to chill. You look ready to blast something.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Arilyn easily spun me around so that I was facing her.

  “Finn. Look at me and just listen,” she said, speaking slowly and calmly. “The fight is over. All of us are still alive. The gnolls have a lot of respect for what you did during the attack and the fight, and are welcoming us into their homes for the night. Try not to fuck this up, okay?”

  I felt myself cooling down. Her very presence was enough to steady me. My eyes drank in her face, and she smiled.

  “I’m good now,” I said finally.

  “Great! Now let’s get your shirt on. I really don’t want you to catch a cold before I get it off of you again.”

  The gnoll village was far off the road and well hidden. I was surprised at the level of care they took, not finding any tracks suggesting gnolls, or anyone else, were moving through the area. The buildings blended into the forest and rocky hillocks to the point that they were almost invisible. The sun making its way behind the mountains didn’t help much, but fortunately there was enough light to travel by.

  Both gnolls had waited patiently for us outside of earshot and led us to their settlement. Gnoll pups ran around playing with an inflated ball, only to stop at our approach and watch us with wide eyes as we passed. They were adorable in the same way puppies always are at home. They weren’t acting like we were a threat or anything, and I was willing to bet they watched the one-on-one match earlier.

  “Be welcome in our village, Mage and friends,” the Pack Matron said. “You will find safety here for the night, as well as food and drink.”

  “Do you get a lot of visitors to your village?” Arilyn asked, her scholarly curiosity on full display.

  The gnoll woman shook her head, chuckling. “Who would want to visit monsters?” she replied. “We meet with traders who will trade with us every half-month, far away from here.”

  To hear her talk, the gnolls were a people not accepted by society as a whole. Other than the attack of the Warband, I would have believed it wholeheartedly. Yet, from what I’d experienced so far, they had some violent customs. It was a puzzle, and it made me think of the other sapient “monsters” I’d met.

  Don’t get me wrong, these gnolls are large and frightening. There were some odd contrasts with them, like the fight between me and Morcus. He didn’t hold back in that fight and didn’t flinch from hurting me. There was that look of relief in his eyes, though, when I came to and wasn’t dead. There was a lot here that I didn’t know.

  “I don’t find them frightening anymore,” Vessa said as she sat in front of me, her tail wrapped around the saddle horn. “At first I thought they smelled like the Eaters. But I think gnolls have a cleaner, spicier scent? It’s much nicer.”

  You’re judging them on scent alone? I thought back.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Well, yes? Doesn’t everyone?” she retorted.

  I snorted, though I wasn’t sure she was entirely wrong.

  “... and please, I insist you have dinner with us,” the Pack Matron informed Harper and Arilyn.

  “Oh, of course,” Harper replied. “We would be honored.”

  Warcaller Morcus was walking next to my horse. I glanced at him, startled. How did he do that without my noticing?

  He nodded to Vessa. “Your dragonkin is quite talented for one so young. I don’t think I’ve heard of intelligent dragonkin that small.”

  His demeanor was quite relaxed, but I wasn’t ready to trust him just yet. “Thank you. I’m really quite proud of her,” I replied guardedly.

  The gnoll nodded thoughtfully. “And your women are wise, though I thought it was unusual for your kind to have more than one wife.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I asked, confused.

  “I apologize, Mage. Earthborn. I meant no offense,” he replied. “It’s been said that Earthborn are testy about things like species or race. I should have been more mindful of what words I used.”

  I couldn’t get my head around this gnoll. First, he tries to kill me and insult me. Now he feels the need to be polite? “Neither of them is my wife,” I replied.

  “Oh! But the way the Cleric touched you and Harper instructed you! I thought... my apologies, Mage. There is much for me to learn.”

  He made a gesture strangely similar to one that I grew up with in church, touching his heart, lips, and then head before giving me a slight bow.

  “I... it’s okay. And call me Finn. Being called Mage all the time is disconcerting,” I said placatingly.

  The gnoll grinned and gave me another slight bow. “And you may call me Morcus, Ma—Finn,” he replied.

  An insistent chirp from the baby dragon let me know she was feeling left out. “Oh, and this is Vessa.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Vessa,” Morcus said with a bow a little deeper than the one he gave me. “You did well on the battlefield today, surprising me the way you did!”

  She preened at the compliment and chirped happily.

  The Pack Matron stopped in front of one house backed up to a hillock. “Here we are,” she said, opening the large double doors. “Please be welcome in our home.”

  We left the horses tied up to a nearby tree and followed her in, Vessa perching on my shoulder. Morcus lightly put a hand on my free shoulder when I tried to go in at the same time as Harper and Arilyn. “Women always go first. We must wait for our invite,” he said quietly as the doors shut.

  We stood there waiting. Vessa did a nice little glide from my shoulder and spent time exploring, always keeping me in view. She was trying to push her limits, obviously, and was doing rather well. Not that I knew much about that topic, as the baby dragon was an entirely different ballgame from having a little brother.

  “You shouldn’t worry about her safety here,” Morcus said.

  “I worry about safety wherever I go, Morcus,” I replied. “Most people would hang me without trial or consideration — just for being a Mage.”

  The gnoll snorted. “And the gnoll are uncivilized?”

  The comment made me stop for a moment. “Why are your people considered uncivilized or monsters in the first place? You are obviously intelligent... other than the whole ‘puny human’ comments.”

  Morcus laughed. “Most humans despise being called puny,” he answered. “Makes it an excellent insult. But yes, we are treated differently. I cannot go into a town to buy and trade like a dwarf or an elf. I am not trusted like the goblins. No, it deals with our differences. I’d like to say it has to do with how our society is structured, with the woman in charge and the men subservient, but the kingdoms are not only ruled by kings. Being born to lead has nothing to do with whether the ruler is a man or a woman anywhere.”

  What the heck had I walked into? As much as the gnoll put me on edge, the gnolls seemed very civilized the more I talked to them. There was the matter of the attack that led to all of this, but I’d confront him with that later.

  “So what is it, Morcus? Why are gnolls treated like this?” I asked, a little standoffish.

  He didn’t speak for a while, looking out over the village, the children being gathered by their families; the sky darkening as the evening turned into night. “Ma—Finn, that is a question I have pondered for years. We have some violent customs, yes, but so do many other people. The dwarven Nameday Ceremony is a dangerous gauntlet that not all dwarven children survive, from what I’ve read,” he said, followed by a reflective pause. “But I wonder if it has anything to do with our size.”

  That was the moment the doors opened. The Pack Matron stepped out and looked at us and the baby dragon frolicking around, looking at everything. “Husband, Mage, I wish to invite you in. Please join us for food and drink.”

  Morcus bowed deeply to her, lingering at the bottom of the obeisance. “Thank you for the invitation; we accept gratefully.”

  Vessa followed us in, and we were seated at a separate table from Harper and Arilyn. There was food and pitchers of what I thought were already on the table. Morcus poured some into a large mug for me before pouring some into a similarly sized mug.

  A sniff and a sip were enough for me to figure out it was not a beer of any type, but a sweeter brew. “What is this?” I asked.

  “Honeywine. Much more pleasant than ale on a night like tonight.”

  He was right, and it went well with the food. After eating my fill, I wondered why I had only drunk half a mug. At least until Morcus topped it off, finishing our second pitcher.

  “This honeywine really sneaks up on you,” I said, showing my keen grasp of the situation.

  Morcus nodded. “Yes, but it is needed for the discussion we need to have tonight.”

  He was right, in a way. I was much more relaxed than I had been when we were standing outside. “I see what you’re saying,” I replied, eyeing the contents of the mug appreciatively. “You talked about how gnolls were looked down on unfairly, but if you are all so civilized, why the hell did you attack us?” I asked.

  “I see you do not know much about us and aren’t fully as ready to judge anymore,” Morcus replied ruefully. “But it is good that you ask, Finn. It is good that you learn of our Purpose.”

  “Your purpose? Look, Morcus, I have put most of my anger over today’s events to the side because Arilyn is very convincing, and you and the rest of the gnolls are not what you appeared. But when I hear about purposes like they’re a divine thing, I get a little twitchy. The history of Earth is filled with people who thought they were given a mandate from the heavens to kill and torture others in the name of God. So many wars were fought over such stupid shit.”

  The gnoll held up his hand. “Please, Finn, let me explain: this is not something connected to the Gods. The Voice gave my ancestors this purpose: to test Mages. To gain a measure of their strength of character. To sift through the monsters and find those with the wherewithal and restraint to do as the Voice required of them.”

  “As sweet as this honeywine is, Morcus, I don’t think I like what you’re saying.”