Nobody had moved from their spot. They had ordered more drinks and food, and the bar maid was very busy while Mervella and Rhojeka finished their meal. Nobody had left, not even to relieve themselves. Everybody waited patiently for the bard to continue. While they were waiting, the patrons chatted and discussed things in their usual matter, but whenever their glance would hit the two women at their table, those voices went down to a whisper, as if they wouldn't dare getting caught talking about them. Still, it was obvious: They were the talk of the people tonight.

Kane didn't join in that talk. He sat all by himself, slowly drinking. He was still on his first mug, as Mervella noticed.

When Rhojeka picked up again and continued her performance, the program changed a little bit. The first half had been mostly songs and playing the flute, but now that the audience was warmed up from that half, she focused on telling stories and legends. This was the most basic part of the bard's trade, sharing the knowledge of other bards with their audience while also entertaining them. And Rhojeka was good at that, too. When she told stories of heroes and villains, she brought the characters in her tales to life, giving each one a distinct voice and feel. When she spoke of battles, Mervella felt like being taken onto this battlefield, feeling every single word of her friend like a clash of her sword on an enemy shield. She felt the rush, the urgency, the yearning for victory, and she would listen breathlessly until she knew how this all would end.

Finally she announced her last tale for the night. "This is a small one, but one with a very important lesson which shall not only educate you all, but foremost your children. It tells of adventure, of bravery... of sorrow. It is a tale no other bard will ever tell you."

Mervella stared at her with her eyes wide open. No!, she thought. You wouldn't... She wouldn't tell this particular story now, would she?

"There once was a small village, a bit like this one..."

Rhojeka, don't! Mervella shook her head, trying to catch the look of her friend, but the bard seemed to ignore her completely.

"This village was home to a few children who decided that one fateful night they would sneak out on an adventure of their own..."

She couldn't do this! Mervella watched her terrified as the story unfolded before her very eyes. The story wasn't the worst part - but the memories that came back with it. They flashed before Mervella's eyes, and she felt it again: the fear, the guilt, the anger... Everything came back, and she couldn't stop or fight it.

"So when the moon had risen over this village, the children met in the darkness and..."

The front door was suddenly pushed open, and a young man, almost a boy, hasted into the room. "Men are coming!" he yelled. "On horses. Many men." He sounded terrified and had trouble catching his breath. The cold wind that had come in with him was enough to make the hearthfire flicker and send cold shivers down Mervella's back. Rhojeka frowned as she was so suddenly interrupted, and so was her audience, but within a heartbeat they understood the message. Everyone jumped up, looking for their family and friends, a weapon or a place to hide.

"Who are they?" asked one man who had dropped his mug on that sudden entrance.

"I don't know." The boy wheezed and gasped for air. "But they look dangerous. Like soldiers. They have weapons and armor. And they're coming right here."

As Mervella looked onto the crowd, she saw that Rhojeka finally returned her gaze. Her look spoke louder than her voice ever could. They found us, they said. Her eyes were full of fear. Mervella understood her well, and she felt with her. At this point she would have loved to take Rhojeka and get with her to a safe place. But she was a soldier in the royal army, or at least she had been. She couldn't just leave these poor people to their doom.

On the other hand, if they left and tried to flee, maybe the soldiers would spare the village. It was more likely that they would give chase and try to hunt the two women down. But they would probably succeed in that. They were on horseback and probably not as tired as the two of them were. And in the dark, in a region that Mervella hardly knew, it would be impossible to find the right way and escape them.

Fighting them was their best option. Their only option.

She realized that she was already stepping forward, her sword in hand, ready to fight. "People, get your children to safety. Anyone who is able to fight will be welcome to join me." She gave Rhojeka another look, one that could hardly be misunderstood, especially since Rhojeka knew perfectly well what Mervella was on about right now. Whatever happened, she didn't want to see Rhojeka anywhere near this battle - she should find herself a hiding spot and leave the fighting to Mervella. But it didn't surprise her that Rhojeka's glance back was disapproving. She wouldn't leave her friend to die out there. Not if she was able to do something about it.

Then she turned her eyes away, looking for Kane. If he was a swordsman like she thought, he might be of use to them now. But the hooded man was gone. His empty mug was the only thing remaining of him.

So he is a coward after all...

The other patrons, the ones who hadn't fled to safety, stood in the tavern. Some with bats, clubs or planks of wood in their hands to defend themselves. Not quite an army, Mervella thought, but it was better than nothing. One of them actually had a hatchet. And the innkeeper himself brandished something that looked like an old and bent morningstar, with it's round head full of ugly metal spikes. Rhojeka stood amidst those men, sticking out like a gemstone in between rubble, with her hand on the flute that was back on her belt again. Almost as if she planned to use her small instrument to defend herself.

Everybody was looking at Mervella, expecting her to take command. It didn't surprise her. If nothing else, the royal crest on her armor was to thank for that. "Let's go outside. Keep it together! We shall see what these men want before we start a fight." Reluctant, but obedient murmur was the answer. So Mervella checked her hand crossbow and readied it before she stepped outside, with the village people following her and Rhojeka coming last.

She wasn't expecting what she would find out here.

The men had arrived. Not exactly like the boy had said - few of them were riding horses, but most of them were on foot. They wore armor, but it was greatly improvised, pieced together from single parts that didn't match, like they had plundered them from dead bodies. They carried swords, maces and spears. Mervella could see them in the moonlight. The weapons were like their armor, shabby leftovers from battles past, looted by those vultures and hardly fitting a real army. If they had ever served in any army, then those times had long past. Those men were out for nothing else but themselves.

And now Kane was standing right in front of them. Barely ten paces separated him from them. He was holding his wrapped item in one hand, presenting it to those men. Kane didn't seem to be aware of Mervella and the village people behind him. Maybe he didn't even care.

"I see that Telred delivered the message I gave him," he stated, looking from one man to the next. "That is good. I would have been disappointed otherwise."

The first man on the horse, obviously the leader of this band, dismounted and stepped forward towards Kane, looking at him curiously. "You were the one that had us come here," he concluded. "Telred said that a man told him of treasure that could be found here." Mervella could see that this was the leader for two reasons: He was bigger and more muscular than all the other men in this group. And he was wearing by far the best pieces of armor. Even his sword, a two-handed one that he carried on his back, demanded some sort of respect. Next to Kane he looked like a giant, and Mervella wondered how the hooded man was planning to fight him.

"And he was right," Kane confirmed calmly. And then he untied the ribbon and unwrapped his long item. The cloth fell to the ground...

And all the men in front of him made one step backwards. Except for the leader. He stepped back twice.

Mervella looked over Kane's shoulder and saw a silvery shimmer on the hilt of the sword he was holding. A silvery shimmer that was accompanied by a faint green glow where the pommel was. She had heard the stories. And she understood completely why those men reacted to it like that. That can't be... she thought.

Obviously the men agreed. "He's a Lhewai!" one of them uttered, sounding almost panicky.

The leader glared at him shortly. "Don't be daft, Nork! He can't be, he's human."

As nervous mumbling sounded from the rest of the men, Mervella tried to assess what other weapons they possessed. Most of them had simple weapons for close combat, but she could see two of them equiped with bows and arrows, and two more of them who seemed to hold throwing knives. If a fight was about to break out, then those men would attack first, trying to take Kane out. Because if what they said was true, none of them could ever hope to beat him in honorable combat, one on one. But they were right. He was human. It couldn't be true. Or could it?

She didn't see Kane's face, but as he spoke again, she really could hear his smile on his face. "He was right, Cennar. This is the treasure he told you about. And all you have to do... is take it from me."

Had it been a normal situation, then Cennar would have surely accepted without hesitation. But he knew what he allegedly was facing. His face looked a bit puzzled, but also worried. "Do I happen to know you?" he asked cautiously.

"I know of you," Kane answered. His voice sounded as cold as the winds out here. The polite and friendly demeanor that he had shown in the tavern was now gone. "I know that you have been at this place before. Three years ago. At a farm, a bit south from here. That you pillaged before you burnt it to the ground and killed everybody there."

"Three years ago?" Cennar snorted. "That was nothing. Worthless peasants, led by an old woman who was just too stubborn to..."

He would never finish that sentence. The blade of Kane's sword came out of the sheath that he had been holding this entire time. It sang as it cut through the air in one swift move, sang almost like Rhojeka performed one of her songs. But it sang a song of death. As the sword hit flesh, the song changed to something even darker, and when it had made its cut, it was resting in Kane's hand, pointing away from his body at the end of a wide bow. With red blood dripping from the blade that seemed as black as night, in contrast to the silver grip that Kane firmly held in his hand.

"She was my mother, you bastard!"

Cennar would never answer to that. Never utter one more word ever again. In shock and terror he looked at Kane... until his legs gave in, and he fell to the floor, with the large slash wound on his torso that led out gallons of his life juice. His eyes looked upwards to the man that had struck him. But his gaze soon faded away. And he passed his last breath.

It was the only sound, apart from the slight breezes of wind around this place and the creeking of the tavern sign. The rest was silence - deadly, terrifying silence. Mervella couldn't really believe what just had happened. Nobody could. The armed men in front of them looked in shock at what had been their leader and at the person who stood above him with a bloodied sword. The peasants next to Mervella didn't even dare to breathe at this moment. As if this entire moment had been frozen in time, everybody just stood there, trying to process what they had just witnessed.

The tavern sign swung in the wind and creeked one more time.

It sounded like a battlecry...