Kane raised his knife, but hesitated, standing frozen in place. The black-bearded swordsman glared at him through narrowed eyes. He spat his words. "Now, Kane! Or, by the Spirit Ker, I'll skewer yer' gut!"

Kane advanced slowly with his blade wavering in his hand. Waithe braced for the attack. Ceres stepped up beside Waithe and raised one arm high. "Stop this, I beg you! There is no need for killing."

Kane's eyes widened and he took a step back as his eyes focused on the mark she carried on her neck. His voice trembled. "She... she is of the Order of Medice! Retribution would surely find us."

The swordsman replied, "What matters that? The Order has done nothing for us! Her ransom may make us rich."

Kane stood wide-eyed and motionless. The bearded man rolled his eyes and huffed. He motioned to the other man on his right. "Merde, you do it."

Merde gritted his teeth and immediately rushed toward Waithe, his long knife held high above him as he stomped into the stream. A bit of luck for Waithe, this sort of attack was the easiest to counter. He threw Ceres back, sending her splashing down into the stream. As Merde brought his knife down in a stabbing motion, Waithe swiftly stepped in and threw up his left hand to catch the wrist of the hand that held the knife. Two quick jabs with his right fist to the throat caused his opponent to gasp with a retching sound. Acting on instinct, Waithe turned and executed a hip throw that sent Merde down hard onto the rocks. All the while Waithe maintained his grip on Merde's wrist, twisting it until the knife dropped free. Waithe snatched up the blade, and in a flashing motion, plunged it deep into the man's chest.

Waithe pulled out the bloodied knife in a single motion and glared with narrowed eyes at the bearded man, issuing a silent challenge. Twisting his dirty face in rage, the bearded man yelled a battle cry and charged with his rusty sword held high. Another fighting mistake. Waithe sidestepped the charge and slashed his blade across the man's neck as he passed. The man put a hand to his neck as he gazed with vacant eyes at Waithe. Blood leaked out between his fingers and he collapsed into the stream. Ceres cried out as she scrambled away from the red stain that flowed down the stream toward her as if it was poison.

Waithe stomped out of the stream toward the only bandit still alive. Kane dropped his blade and stepped back, only to trip over a root and fall on his back. He stared in wide-eyed terror as Waithe now stood over him firmly grasping the long knife. He began to weep.

Ceres called out as she rose. "Waithe, stop! Spare him. Please."

Waithe took several deep breaths to still his rage. He pointed the knife at the man below him. "To this Lady, you owe your life. If it were to me, this blade would be buried in your gut."

The young man's eyes tracked Ceres as she emerged from the stream and approached him. His voice faltered between sobs. "Please... forgive me, my Lady. I knew not... not that blood would be shed." The sobs overtook him and he rolled to his side and retched out the meager contents of his stomach.

Ceres kneeled near him and spoke. "Kane, is it?" He nodded. "Why, Kane? You seem not of the heart to become such a loathsome bandit, I feel that in you. What led you down this path?"

Kane looked up into her eyes, then quickly averted his own. "My family... My wife and new son. We have not enough to eat and her breasts have not the milk for our son. The Taint, it curses our land." He looked up again at her, pleading with moist eyes. "I have no right to ask and no way to pay, but for them, would you help?"

She stood up and turned to Waithe, who shook his head. "You have a good heart, my dear Ceres, but as your protector, I would advise against it. He made his choice. You have already spared his life."

"This is my true purpose." She turned to the young man laying on the ground. "Very well, Kane. I shall take up your request as I am able. Rise now."

Ceres turned back to Waithe and gestured toward the two men laying lifeless in the stream. "What is to be done with them?"

"Let the vultures have them."

"We should not. Even the wretched deserve basic dignity, that be the will of the Creator God. We will bury them."

Waithe shook his head, then pointed toward Kane. "I would not dig their graves, but Kane, you shall."

*****

Kane led them off the road toward his homestead after they emerged from the canyon. Waithe cast a wary eye to him and the surroundings. As they journeyed on he could not help but notice the growing plight of the land. More and more the plants lay wilted and blackened. Many once mighty trees were barren of foliage, now little more than wooden monuments to death. The eerie silence, one without bird song or insect buzz, filled his ears. The sights sickened Waithe. He turned his head back to Ceres, asking silently if this be the Taint. She nodded solemnly.

With the sun low on the horizon, they arrived at a small straw-roofed cottage. Two rickety wooden rocking chairs flanked a weather-beaten wooden door under the narrow porch. A barn, privy, and pen laid behind it, containing but one sickly looking cow. A wilted garden grew off to the side. What should be fertile laid sickened. This would be a peaceful place had it not been surrounded with so much blight. Begrudgingly, Waithe began to understand Kane's desperate action, although misguided.

A gaunt young woman with long dark hair and a tattered long dress opened the door. She paused for a moment then ran to embrace Kane, her eyes wet. "Oh, Kane... I feared I would lose you."

Kane tightened the embrace. "Marra... I be sorry. I did something terrible. Only by the mercy of this Lady was I spared." He pulled back and smiled. "Lady Ceres is of the Order of Medice! She said she would help us."

"Thanks be to the Creator!" Marra's glance came to the mark on Ceres' neck and she bowed. "Please come inside, my Lady and Sir. All we have is at your disposal."

Waithe tied up the horses at the watering trough and followed them inside. The furnishings were few and simple. Two chairs and a rickety wooden table sat to one side near the sink basin. In the other corner, a straw-filled mattress spread across the floor, covered with a ratty blanket. 

Nearby stood a crib lined with another blanket. He walked over and peered within. The sight broke his heart. Two small eyes looked up at him from sunken sockets. The baby was emaciated. This small one should be sleeping quietly, fidgeting, or even crying. Instead, the baby just looked up with an almost empty gaze.

Marra came over and gently scooped the baby into her arms. "This be Jad, our son. He be not well. I can barely nurse him anymore." She turned to Ceres as tears again moistened her cheeks. "My Lady, is there anything you can do? I would give anything..."

"Allow me to hold him." Ceres held out her arms and Marra put her son into them.

Ceres sat down in one of the chairs and peered at the baby, humming quietly. "Marra, your son is indeed starving, but there is more, and I hesitate to speak it. The Taint is within him."