A singular dark cone that rose skyward from the valley floor began to dominate the western horizon. Clouds of steam billowed up from the serrated top, drifting to the south. A jagged frozen sea of dark rock surrounded it on all sides.

"See that volcano in the distance, my little one?" Eira nodded as Waithe pointed ahead. "That be Mount Grimmur where we hope to find the spellbook we seek. Old tales tell of a great dragon spirit that lives there. Sometimes it would roar and spit fire to warn all to stay away." Eira's eyes grew wide. Waithe chuckled. "Fear not, my magic girl. It just be a fanciful story. Still, we should be careful."

At Waithe's request, Ceres concealed her head with the hood of her cloak. As the road continued to descend into the valley, they began to meet more people. Most passed with hardly a notice, others with a nod of greeting. Nobody realized the weight of purpose that this band of travelers carried.

Ceres sang a silly butterfly song to the little girl who shared her saddle. Eira grinned as she copied the waving hand motions in time with the song. Ceres' hand butterflies would float and swirl, then swoop down to land on the little girl with a tickle, all to the giggling delight of Eira. Numerous real butterflies seemed to share the game, flittering around the flowering vines that lined the road.

Waithe's happy mood turned grim as a group of black-uniformed soldiers rounded the rocky hill ahead of them. An officer led a squad of a dozen men on horseback. A dusty cloud hung in the still air behind them.

Waithe motioned with his hand. "Move to the side of the road. And Ceres, turn your head so that they will not see your face. We will let them pass." He positioned himself between Ceres and the road.

The blonde bearded young officer who led the squad scowled at Waithe as he approached. Waithe dipped his head down, hoping that the officer would interpret as a sign of respect. He did not want to give the soldiers any reason for scrutiny. Ceres drew Eira into her arms.

A pulsing green light appeared above Ceres and Eira. Ceres whispered. "Nay Eira, tell Phy to go away!"

Waithe's heart began to race, but it was too late. The officer held his hand high to stop the procession while he glared at the floating Life Spirit.

The officer came close to Waithe on horseback. "What business have you here?"

"We would visit relatives in Welde, Lieutenant. This strange light... it seems to follow us for some reason."

The Lieutenant narrowed his eyes. Waithe thought it unlikely that the officer would simply accept that explanation, so he dropped his right arm down near the handle of the long knife at his waist.

The officer turned his gaze toward Ceres. "You there, woman! Show your face."

Ceres slowly turned her bowed head to the Lieutenant. She cast her eyes up to his, then quickly darted them back down.

The officer pointed. "The hood, pull it back."

Ceres gulped as she slid the hood off her head. Her face grew pale and her lower lip quivered slightly. The mark of the Order stood out on her neck.

A vile smirk came to the Lieutenant's face. "So, the Medice witch herself. She comes to us."

As the Lieutenant's eyes remained on Ceres, Waithe bent down to grab the officer's left foot, yanked it out of the stirrup, and lifted it high. The Lieutenant tumbled out of his saddle and landed hard on the rocky path while his right foot remained tangled in its stirrup. Waithe slapped the officer's horse on its hindquarters, causing it to lurch ahead, dragging the cursing officer down the dusty road with it.

Waithe pulled his sword out from the scabbard attached to his saddlebags in a single fluid motion. He yelled, "Alden, fall back to the rocks."

Alden pulled Ceres' horses in front of a formation of black volcanic rocks that jutted up from atop a small hill, forming a semi-circular wall. Waithe followed, flashing his sword above him.

While still laying on the ground that Lieutenant yelled to his stunned men. "After them! Flank and contain!"

The soldiers galloped up the small hill in two lines, stomping on the grass and flowering vines, such that they approached from different directions. Waithe dismounted and held his sword high. Alden notched an arrow in his bow. Ceres embraced a scared Eira. The soldiers spread out and held their blades at the ready, but did not engage.

Waithe noted already that these men were well trained, much more so than the previous encounter with Lord Scias' soldiers. His gut tightened. He had little hope of holding off a dozen seasoned soldiers. Fleeing would be almost as futile, as they would soon catch up. He needed a new strategy.

The Lieutenant staggered to get back on his horse, then trotted up the hill. After pausing to brush the dust off his uniform, a moment that seemed to drag on, he glared at Waithe. "Ground your blades, or you will die."

"Actually, many will die." Waithe slowly swung his sword before the soldiers. "Who among you wish to be the first?" The soldiers looked back and forth among each other. He turned his eyes back to the officer. "Perhaps you, Lieutenant?"

The Lieutenant turned and spat a glop of saliva onto the ground. He looked back up with narrowed eyes. "I would hear not the words of a dead man. But I shall be generous, surrender the witch and I will allow you and the others to live. Refuse, they die."

Waithe narrowed his eyes. "You meddle in the destiny of the whole Realm. But I have another proposal. Send forth a champion and we shall duel for the Lady. This would avoid needless death and risk not the Lady's safety. Lord Scias would be most disappointed if you were to deliver her damaged. What say you, Lieutenant? Do you have a warrior's honor?"

The Lieutenant's scowl morphed into a venomous smile. "Very well. Your death should be entertaining." He turned and yelled. "Yorg!"

One of the soldiers dismounted and shuffled before Waithe, leaving a wide crooked furrow across the ground as he dragged a battle maul behind him. The massive cast iron block attached at the end of a thick wooden handle was a weapon worthy of this giant of a man, one at least a head taller than Waithe and with a huge girth. Yorg threw off his unbuttoned black uniform shirt to reveal the scars across his barrel chest and gut. This was not his first fight. Reddened narrow eyes burned at his opponent beneath a low creased brow. An audible puff of air emerged from his nose as he grunted.

Waithe turned his head back to Alden and Ceres. He implored with his eyes: be ready. Alden pulled back his bow, then reached into his saddlebag to extract two round objects. Ceres' eyes watered as she held tightly on to Eira. Phy still hovered above them.

Waithe raised his eyes to the man-mountain. "A big one you be. Shall we begin?"

Yorg growled as he stomped forward. He swung the maul down. Waithe only just jumped back out of the way as it smashed into the ground, breaking a large rock into fragments. The giant recovered quickly and swung his weapon horizontally, again missing and bludgeoning only air as Waithe backed away.

For a moment the two fighters studied each other. The giant's fighting style relied only on brute force. But then, with such size and strength, there was no need for finesse. The impressive speed of his maul swings left little opportunity for counterattack. Waithe recalled the old adage about using a stronger opponent's strength against him, but that was not so easy to do. Raw strength was still a substantial advantage, but if off-balance, the advantage might be lessened.

The giant interrupted Waithe's thoughts with a rumbling growl and charged again. Waithe grunted as he caught the downward swing of the maul with his sword, locking the hilt against the underside of the sledge head. The flat clang of metal against metal echoed off the rock wall. The giant flashed his teeth as he pushed down and forward, bringing the blunt iron closer to Waithe's head, but Waithe had an advantage of leverage over the long-handled weapon and was able to hold the advance to a stalemate.

Waithe kicked hard against the giant's knees three times. Yorg yelled out in pain then shoved Waithe, who stumbled back against the horse of one of the soldiers who circled the makeshift arena. The soldier struck Waithe's head with a sword handle. Dazed, Waithe dropped his sword and collapsed to his knees.

The giant stepped forward, but instead of delivering a killing blow to Waithe, roared at the soldier, who turned white-faced as he withdrew. The giant huffed as he backed up, pointing at Waithe's sword lying among the vines. At first confused by the gesture, Waithe then grasped his sword and rose to wobbly feet, bowing slightly to his opponent in a warrior's show of respect.

The giant let out a battle cry and charged again, this time slowed with a limp. Waithe's sword caught the forceful downward stroke of the maul, shattering the blade into several pieces with a sharp metallic clang. The hammer glanced off Waithe's arm as he tumbled back onto the ground.

Yorg stepped forward with his maul held high, preparing to end the fight with a decisive blow, but staggered as his sore knees wavered. Waithe took advantage of the hesitation and dove between the giant's legs, pulling out the long knife at his waist and slashing in a flurry of motion. The cuts to the back of the knees caused the giant to roar in pain. Waithe slashed his knife again as the giant fell back, slamming down hard to the ground. Yorg clutched the deep cut to his side as he wheezed, blood leaked out between his fingers and painted red the bed of vines on which he laid. His face became emotionless as his eyes turned to the man who defeated him.

Waithe put his blade to the neck of the giant, but then pulled it back. "Nay, Yorg. With honor you fought. I shall not take your life."

He rose and turned his eyes to the Lieutenant. "It be done. We shall take our leave."

The Lieutenant's breath quickened as he tightened his face and narrowed his eyes in contempt. "You shall not." He held up a hand and yelled at his men. "Form up!"