Theris knelt, picked up his son, cradled him and wept.

At sun set, not knowing what else to do, he took Garick inside and stretched him out on his bed. Then he picked up baby Dorea, trying not to look at her crushed head. He couldn't help but notice her small face, eyes screwed shut and mouth open in an unfinished cry. He wrapped her in her blanket, stiff with dried blood and laid her in her crib. He tried to wash the blood from the doorpost and, as the moons rose, spent the night scrubbing at the stain with handfuls of sand.

As dawn neared, the men of the village, who had run off in pursuit of the attackers, returned. Theris first heard the wails of the women. When Iyanni, his eldest daughter saw him, she ran into his arms. She told him, between convulsive sobs and shrieks of anguish, how the men of Korion-Harpagae had attacked, how Dorea and Garick were killed, how she, Thysia and their mother were taken away and raped, how Thysia bit her attacker and had her throat slashed....

Their neighbor, Georgos, followed carrying Thysia's body, wrapped in a cloak taken from one of the attackers. Asophra accompanied them, looking like a sleepwalker, staring blankly into the distance. Georgos took Thysia's body inside, while Theris held Iyanni stroking her hair and telling her "I'm sorry," over and over as if everything were his fault. He was their protector. He should have at least gone out to rescue them. He couldn't help but feel as if he'd failed them.

When Iyanni had cried herself into exhaustion, Theris led her and Asophra inside. He had just got Iyanni to lie down when he heard a sharp gasp and saw Asophra standing before Garick's bed. She quivered from head to toe, trembling as she sucked in an enormous breath.

Theris put a hand on her shoulder.

She turned, eyes wide, mouth open and teeth bared. She locked eyes with him, but he saw no recognition there. He saw nothing of his wife in her gaze.

Asophra screamed.

She emptied her lungs and filled them up again, hurling blast after blast as if she could with her voice alone, batter him to the ground.

Iyanni bolted upright from her pallet. Theris put his arms around his wife, trying to comfort her. She did not resist, merely stood in his arms, face turned upwards toward his and screamed.

Iyanni led her away, sat her down on his bed and closed her eyes, cradling her head in her lap. It took Iyanni nearly an hour to calm Asophra down while Theris paced the small circuit of the main room. When peace finally, returned he waited outside their bedchamber, reluctant to disturb it.

From the other room, he heard Iyanni ask, "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Asophra replied.

"You're home now. You're safe."

Theris stepped into the room. Asophra glanced at him over her shoulder and stiffened. She rose to her feet, eyes and mouth growing wide as she fixed her eyes on him and inhaled.

She screamed.

Theris ran from the house. The rest of the evening passed in a blur. At one point, Theris' stood at the edge of the wheat fields staring at the stands of uncut wheat. His foot struck the handle of his scythe lying in the straw. He picked it up, remembering the simple joy of that afternoon.

Hearing the rustle of leaves, he turned and saw the shadows of a strange man standing behind him. He struck out with the scythe, cutting down a young tree where he thought the man had stood. Its trunk as thick as his arm, it offered no resistance to the dwerka-fashioned blade which passed through the trunk like smoke.

He eyed another tree, imagined the man who ran the spear through his son and cut it down. He killed the man who smashed out Dorea's brains and the man who slit Thysia's throat. He cut down an even bigger tree, killing the man who raped Iyanni and cut it in half as it fell.

Turning to his wife's attacker, his scythe caught in the middle of a gnarled old oak. He had to brace his foot against its thick trunk to yank the blade free. Staring at its perfect edge gleaming in the moon's light he thought, it has to cut straight. He looked back at the stands of uncut wheat.

I fear you will hurt yourself, she had said.

But look how straight my cuts are! It never goes but where I tell it.

It had to be straight if it is to cut straight, he thought.

Theris looked up to the distant mountains. The smith who had forged this blade lives there, he thought. He can straighten it.

-=====|==

"Be our lord/husband/king/body!"

The voices returned every night, filling Karux's dreams with their insistent pleas. Even worse, he could feel the land groaning under the weight of the curse, his own protective schemas snapping like strings as the n'kroi overwhelmed and consumed the n'phesh. The elementals called to him, begging him to join with them, to allow himself to be consumed by them so they would not be consumed by the n'kroi.

Once again Karux stood on the dream road between two rows of wooden poles on which the heads of his friends and family sat impaled. Knowing the only way out of the dream was to go through, he started walking, eyes downcast, trying not to recognize the silhouettes of his father and his Uncle Naipho and Aunt Sairu. Some of the silhouettes were of people who had not yet died. He feared those the most.

Karux stopped walking, surprised to find Theris standing with his back toward him, holding a long thin sharp piece of metal. "Theris! What are you doing here? Where are you going?"

Theris gave a side-long glance over one shoulder, eyeing him with one red glowing eye. He wore ragged clothes that fluttered in the breeze like fur, and on his head, the skin of an antelope, its long curved horns still attached. He walked away towards a fork in the road, one path leading eastward to the sacred mountain, the other path leading westward to the Pardos, which ran red with blood.

"Wait! Stop!" Karux called out as Theris approached the fork, but before he turned either east or west, Karux woke gazing up at the inside of his tent.

The clatter and thud of wooden poles dragged Karux from his bedroll. He threw on his tunic, tied on his sandals and stepped outside yawning and scratching his beard. Scores of tents circled stands of trees and large open fields where groups of young men practiced with the three spears. Karux walked over to Somek drilling new recruits in thrusting with the short two-headed spears at weights suspended from tall racks. "Any more reavers come down from the north?"

Somek half-turned towards him, keeping one eye on his recruits. "Only a handful. Did you expect more?"

"After a fortnight of traveling all over the valley explaining how if they let the koria of the plains fall, they will have no chance against Nur, yes."

"Humph! The elders had the right of it. Having fought to reclaim a place for their flocks and families, they want to enjoy it."

"But Nur—!"

"—is a distant threat. In their minds they've sacrificed enough. They're not willing to sacrifice more until they're directly threatened."

"They are directly threatened," Karux grumbled. "I wish they would learn to trust me."

"You! Pick up that pole!" Somek shouted, storming over to a new recruit. The swinging bag had knocked his practice spear form his hands. "Tuck that under your arm and hold it tight like you're holding a girl!" Somek corrected the recruit's technique and had him make several lunges at the bag before returning, satisfied, to Karux's side. "At least they're sending us their younger brothers and those sons that have come of age."

"Only because of the second harvest agreements and even then we have to train them only to lose them to the next planting or harvest."

"Any luck with the dwerka?"

"No. They still refuse to kill men."

Somek spat. "Their attitudes may change if we are unable to stop Nur."

"That won't do us any good."

"Well, we may have a partial solution to our training problems." Somek smiled. "Brakus sent us some silver skins as advisors. They are teaching the recruits delos'etah—shield fighting. It's supposed to be easier to learn than the short spear but it will require additional equipment for the men."

Karux sighed. "Time and men are what we are most short of. If this will help us get more men trained faster, I want to see it."

Somek pointed at a stand of trees at the far side of the field. "Jomel is watching them train in the next field over. No! No! No! You try that again!" Somek shouted, striding back to his recruits. "You keep both feet on the ground when you attack and you put your whole weight behind the thrust!"

Karux found Jomel standing in the shade of a keleos tree watching one of Brakus' silver skins instructing the recruits. The dwerka, covered head to toe in silvery metal, walked up and down the front rank of men whose waist he barely measured up to. The men all wore tunics of hardened leather and bore wicker shields covered in hardened leather.

"He's sure got them packed in tight together," Karux observed after Jomel greeted him.

"The object seems to be to put as many spears as possible on the same target to make it harder to defend against."

"Must be something they learned to do fighting the Angorym."

Jomel nodded. "I suppose so. All I know is I wouldn't want to have to stand up against that wall of shields and spear points."

"Karux! Karux!" A man called out as he ran toward them from N'shia-Potoma.

"Is that Baz?" Karux asked.

"Jomel shrugged. "Your eyes are better than mine."

"There's been an attack!" Bazma called out as he ran up to them.

"Where?" Karux asked.

"Kor-Kor-" Bazma had to stop and catch his breath. "Korion-Noton!"

"Was Theris hurt? How is he?" Karux demanded.

"No. The men were in the fields harvesting. The women were taken and the children butchered."

"I have to go to him. Does Mac know?"

"He's with Theris now."

"How soon can you bring the spears south?" Karux asked Jomel.

"We still have men trickling in. Most have barely started training."

"Bring the trainers, bring everyone. How long?"

Jomel paused calculating. "We'll need at least a fortnight just to gather supplies, but we could probably have them to you before the end of the month."

"I'm leaving today. Bring them as soon as you can." Karux turned to go, nearly tripping on Eiraena who suddenly appeared before him. He wanted to run, but she took his hand and they walked back to Har-Tor to get their things.

-====|==

"We should kill him," Phylax insisted.

Kaelis tossed him a disgusted look. The farmer had offered the same advice every day as they had traveled through the villages of the northern valley. They had paraded him like some sort of trained animal while Karux told scary stories of his dreams trying to frighten the villagers into sending spears south to fight the oracle. It hadn't seemed very effective.

When he was done with him, Karux had gone off and forgotten him, leaving him to the tender mercies of the elders of Har-Tor. As Kaelis watched the elders sitting in their circle of stone chairs, he could tell by their faces they were considering Phylax's words.

"I'd just like to point out that the High Lord frowns on killing men."

"Shut up, beastman!" Phylax snapped. "You're more beast than man so I'm sure it doesn't apply to you."

One of the elders choked. "You would exhort us to remember our sacred obligations? A man-killer like you?"

Kaelis shrugged. "I didn't actually kill anyone in that korion."

The answering blow drove him to one knee before he felt the impact on the back of his head. Phylax's screaming in his ear was even more painful than his fist. "You brought those men there to kill women and children! You killed my family and the families of my friends! How dare you deny your guilt?"

Kaelis tensed as Phylax raised his hand to strike again, but at a nod from one of the elders, a reaver standing at the chamber's entrance stepped up and caught his wrist.

"Pronos, please take the captive to an empty room and see he doesn't leave." The elder who had nodded said. "I want him guarded night and day."

"Stand around guarding him?" the reaver complained. "Why should I?"

The elder sighed. "Because it needs to be done."

"But why me?"

"You could always go back to herding goats."

Pronos grabbed Kaelis' shoulder and jerked him to his feet. "You know I won't do that."

"Nor will you do any other work," the elder countered.

"But I—"

"And we can't let you train the others because you keep hurting recruits."

"I thought you were training them to fight!"

"Everyone who stays here has to earn their keep. Unless you can suggest something more useful to do, take the captive to a chamber and see he doesn't leave. We'll send a replacement for you in a while."

Pronos flung Kaelis toward the entrance. Kaelis stumbled and fell on his face, trying to break his fall with tied wrists, the ropes tearing into his scabs. Pronos dragged him back to his feet and shoved him down the corridor.

"It must be a terrible sick feeling knowing your leaders are such fools."

Pronos bounced him off a wall, caught him before he could fall, and kept him moving down the passage. "What would you know about it?"

Kaelis stumbled in Pronos' grip. "I just spent nearly a maht traveling with your oracle—"

"Who? Karux?"

"Yes, he—"

"He's not my anything."

"Well he's the only one around here that even has the slightest idea of what's going to happen and no one will listen to him. He knows he can't stop our soreavs."

Arriving at a heavy wooden door, Pronos shoved Kaelis up against the wall and held him there as he fumbled at the latch with his left hand. "What makes you so sure?"

Kaelis chuckled. "I've seen his forces and I've seen Nur's. These people don't have a chance. That's one thing both oracles can agree on—even if your oracle won't admit it."

Pronos opened the door and flung Kaelis inside. "I told you, he's not my oracle."

Kaelis landed on one shoulder and rolled onto his back. As Pronos started to close the door, Kaelis held up his tied wrists. "Free my hands...please?"

"Why should I?"

Kaelis shrugged. "I'd really hate to ask you to come in and wipe my ass."

Pronos stomped back into the room. Kaelis feared a kick to the ribs might come next, but Pronos towered over him frowning.

"Is Amantis still your oracle?"

"Yes."

"Does he still have that stone?"

"That's what makes him the oracle."

"He once promised me a bunch of copper if I would help him. He still owes me."

Kaelis laughed. "He's got a warehouse full of copper, another full of fine cloth and a dozen more filled with food and weapons!" Kaelis abruptly stopped laughing as an idea struck him. "You know, I lead a hand of his reavers. If you free me and come south with me, I'm sure he'd give you a great reward. He'd certainly give you a hand of spears of your own to play with, perhaps even a hand of hands. At least he won't tie your hands the way your elders have." He smiled holding up his wrists.

Pronos frowned down at him as if trying to work out all the talk of hands. He drew the knife at his belt, knelt and sawed through Kaelis' bindings. Afterwards, he rose and paused at the door. "I'll be back in a little while with some food and drink." He left and closed the door.

Kaelis lay on the floor rubbing his bleeding wrists. He wasn't sure if that meant they had an agreement, but Pronos had left with a peculiarly thoughtful expression.