Waithe's head bobbed as he rode along. Having slept little through the night, the motion of his horse made him drowsy. Eira rode in the saddle with him. He woke well before dawn and could not still his swirling thoughts enough to return to sleep. The vision kept playing itself over and over in his mind. Seeing his wife in the vision just moments before her death dredged up powerful feelings that nearly overwhelmed him. But as it was for Ceres, he did need to see that. He needed to see his wife one last time and to hear that, even at the end, she loved him and held him blameless.

The vision hit Ceres much harder. Last night, she openly sobbed as she embraced her father. The message that Fera gave Aala to deliver to him was now fulfilled.

Waithe allowed Eira to take the reins as she rode in the saddle with him. The little girl continued to amaze him, this time with her resiliency. She seemed strong again now, but last night she was not. The vision touched something deep and dark within her as well. She must had been left alone much like Aala. The little girl pulled her knees in and trembled. Waithe held her in his arms to reassure her, but her only real comfort had came from Ceres' embrace. They ended up comforting each other.

Although he did not share in the vision, it still shook Alden through his concern for Ceres. As Ceres cuddled Eira, he came up to embrace both of them.

"You do as well with horse riding as you do with Magic, little one." He ruffled her hair and she cast her impish grin up to him. "The village be just ahead."

Three other horses followed them on a tether, one Ceres' packhorse and two others taken from the dark uniformed men who nearly took his and Ceres' life. Waithe intended to trade these two for supplies and warmer clothing, and perhaps a pint of ale as well. It was early autumn and the mountain passes would be cold, maybe even snowy.

Waithe said, "I wonder what Ceres and Alden be doing?" He grimaced at his words. "Perhaps it best we do not speculate on that, my dear young girl."

Alden's mother, Lady Jenn, was right, Waithe realized. Those two did deserve a chance at love, especially with the dangerous and uncertain future that laid ahead. Waithe and Eira had left them behind at the rundown house for the day. He had to admit that his continued presence likely inhibited their budding romance, both as Ceres' protector and now even more so as her father. Sometimes, it did feel awkward.

*****

The village sat at the crossroads of two trading routes and along a clear tumbling stream that flowed down from the nearby mountains. One route, the most traveled of the two, led west through the snow-capped mountains and eventually to Welde, the capital city of Kust. The other headed northeast to the upper lakes or south to villages in the foothills. As he hoped, the village did have a small general store and tavern. It and most of the buildings in the town were constructed of logs and rock.

A large frothy mug of ale appeared in front of Waithe and a cup of apple cider before Eira as he lifted her up onto one of the high stools before a long scuffed wooden bar. Her feet dangled down well above the floor. She grinned as she took a sip of the fruity sweet liquid. Waithe came here not just for the ale, although that was an important consideration. Bartenders at taverns such as this one usually held a wealth of information about road conditions and local happenings. If something was going on, they would know.

The bearded bartender struck up a conversation as he cleaned a mug. "Where do you travel, friend?"

"I take my granddaughter on a grand adventure and give my harried daughter a chance to rest." He was purposely vague as to his destination. "What hear you of the roads? Be they clear?"

"Aye, or they shall be now that the rains leave us. There be snow on the pass to the west, but it still be open, although time grows short before it would close for the winter."

"Rumors I hear of soldiers about. Know you any of this?"

"Aye, only five days ago the Reverend Quar herself and a squad of her Medice Guard stopped at this very tavern." The bartender stood tall and seemed proud of that.

"Reverend Quar?"

"Aye, she be leader of the Order of Medice. Have you not heard of her?"

"Of course. It just seems odd that she would be away from the house of the Order. What business had she here?"

"Just passing through, heading west toward Kust. Perhaps she would finally do something about the Taint before it takes over the whole of the Realm. Some have said it spreads anew in parts of the Lake Lands."

Waithe shook his head. "A foul thing the Taint is." He lifted the mug to his lips. "Have any other people of power or soldiers come by your establishment?"

"Some black-clad men came through here weeks ago, some of Lord Scias' cavalry, I would surmise. An unsavory lot they were. They seek a young blonde woman and offered a bounty for her whereabouts."

Waithe put a mock sneer on his face. "A young woman? What wrong had she done?"

"I know not." The bartender laughed. "Perhaps she resisted Lord Scias' amorous advances. Nonetheless, I think she would be not anywhere near this small town."

Waithe smiled as he took another drink. "A high crime indeed."

The bartender's grin faded to a more serious expression. "There be other tales of the Kust infantry assembling along the border. Others speak of dark doings, but these may just be fanciful stories."

Waithe matched the bartender's expression. "That be troubling. Be their plans for war? Should Lord Berne and the people of the Lake Lands fear this?"

"I know not why. Perhaps it just be a show of force for Scias to get himself named Overlord at the next Conference." The bartender leaned toward Waithe and spoke almost in a whisper. "As for Lord Berne, there be no need to invade. He already be Lord Scias' lap dog."

The bartender straightened back up. "This I do know, there be Kust soldiers at the border checkpoint and they search everyone who passes. Many have been denied entry for the slightest of reasons. Some travelers tell of paying so-called fees to avoid arrest."

"It would seem wise not to travel west." Waithe chugged down the last of his ale and placed a few coins on the bar, including a generous tip. "Thank you, sir. Your ale be splendid, but perhaps it be time to return home." He turned toward Eira. "Let us be off, little one."

As he helped Eira jump down from her high stool, bright sunlight beamed in as the tavern door swung open. Four roughly dressed men swaggered in as a fifth held the door open. Waithe recognized the first to enter, a tall man, and immediately turned away. Thorne! This was the same rival mercenary who nearly took his life outside a tavern in Brosse the day he met Ceres. Waithe pushed back the rage that bubbled up from his core. This was not the time for revenge, not with Eira here, not now that he found his daughter, and not with the much higher purpose he served. He almost chuckled to himself, before meeting Ceres he was never so prudent.

"Eira, let us find another way out."

Waithe led her by the hand around the wooden bar toward a door behind it, hoping that Thorne's eyes had not yet adjusted to the relative darkness inside the tavern and thus they would not be spotted. They snaked through a kitchen and storage area, startling a young worker who leaned back into a corner trying to snooze. The next door opened to the outside, behind the tavern among bins of rubbish.

They snuck around the building to the hitching post where their horses waited, each ladened down with newly acquired supplies. Waithe lifted Eira onto his saddle and untied the horses. He then took hold of the reins and walked them through muddy side roads between rows of small log homes. Rounding an abandoned building at the edge of town, they made their way along a brush lined stream back to the main road. The water gushed and burbled as it tumbled between the rocks.

Waithe stopped suddenly. Five men with blades drawn blocked his path. They were a rough bunch, with dirty torn clothes, mussed greasy hair, and menacing faces of scorn. These were the same ones he hoped to avoid.

"Well, look who we have here." Thorne flashed a sickening grin, showing his chipped yellowed teeth. "I thought I recognized your horse, Waithe. We have unfinished issues to settle."

The men circled around as Waithe backed up toward his horse, holding up his hands. "Thorne, this be not the time. There be much greater things at stake than our petty feud."

Thorne raised his rusty sword. "Nay, this be the perfect time."