Shun walked lightly across the fields of wheat north of Weldon Shire. The Rose Road dully shadowed a gray, could still be seen to his right. Dim light of orange light cast its fall across the horizon. Night was coming swiftly and Shun had a mind to abscond far from Ben. The short time the two had been together a foolish flame developed in Shun’s belly. A nudge of potential poked at his guts and his body responded with a twisting pain. All efforts were trying to block out the good feelings. A phalanx of loath bearers pushing back the promise of kindling a friendship. Heaps of repression and anxiety had been leading the way for so long it was natural. When the chance presented itself, Shun took it and left as quickly as his tired legs could carry him. Which wasn’t very fast and he felt it in every large stride. Shun did his best to leave little trace of his movement behind. A lordling that could fight was a lordling that could hunt. If Ben could hunt then he probably knew how to track. Shun hedged that bet after he had seen the man draw sword and stance himself ready to fight. Ben looked comfortable with sword in hand. He Carried himself confident in his ability and it spread to more than just fighting.

After the farm fields broke off, a wall of trees took root. Shun climbed the first and took a quick rest in a tall branch barely shielded by leaf cover. He looked out into the distance where he had come from. Debating whether or not Ben had come straight away to find him or was even interested at all. His eyes darted from field to obscured Rose Road. Listening for the sound of a rider. Hoping the silence holds and the stillness remains. Shallow breaths were exaggerated by the thin quiet stretching over the land. Drums played in Shun’s ears, the muffled pounding of his heart. There was no sign of pursuit. 

Shun relaxed hold of his body. Resting up his back into the lurching body of the tree. Glad for a momentary reprieve. The events of recent bearing down on him lifted for a moment. Shun pinned his belongings onto a broken branch, unburdening his pack. His legs immediately started to reel back in pain. Exhaustion driving needles into their middles. The day had been unyielding. Rest was hard to find but the hard of it all seemed right to Shun. All well deserved. Tribulations and hardships were another rung of ladder steps toward atonement.

Out of nowhere crackling fear wound its way up Shun’s spine. Tingling on his skin, rising the thin hairs on his neck. A gentle pawing of dread tapping on the back of his awareness. He stopped his breathing, knowing all too well that eyes were on him. Close. So very very close and so sudden the feeling had arose. A sleek predator stealthily ready to pounce, waiting in the weeds. Tension built quickly, higher than the walls of Bellrose. Shun shifted and threw his vision to all sides of him. Trying to pin down where he was being hunted from. A rush of mounted peril built. Cold sweat beaded on Shun’s brow. Drops were thrown as his panicked neck twisted, still catching no impending hunter. A rush of energy whipped forward. It was on top of him. The feeling was right there. In front of his face. The attack comes.

“Shun!” a voice whispered.

It rang like a soft toned bell and breathed like a lovers lament into Shun’s ear. Startled and bewildered, Shun lost all balance and wildly swung his hands and caught the branch that held his belongings but it quickly gave way. He fell to the ground six foot below him with a crash, affects toppling on top of him. His breath was harshly taken. The fall had stolen it and he did not remember what it was to inhale. Shock addled his natural senses. All the synapses that drove breathing were taken by other faculties. Faculties which were currently trying to understand what had transpired.

Taking to knee, Shun held up his right fist to his chin and held his left hand extended in front of him like a claw. Instinct was a fickle thing to get rid of.

A golden lotus floats in infinite darkness. A single petal begins to open, shining bright glorious light from its unfolding. My perception unveils the shadows and the static of life. My energy is the -- Stop!

A wracking, sharp phantom pain seared across Shun’s thoughts. Despite stilted starts, The Purity was mostly embraced by Shun’s mind. He managed to take over his regained breaths. Four second inhales, four second exhales. Eight is of the righteous path. It worked regardless if his faith was no longer in it. He could still center his focus on their long ins and outs and gain something. His senses flourished with deft accuracy from the other side of his obscured mantra. New smells and sharper lines poured out of the trees and wheat field nearby. Cracks of twigs and singing of leaves held sway in the air. A taste and feeling of evenings coming hung behind the fading sunlight. Peculiarity hanging right along with it. There was nothing out there. Gone. Lost without knowing who, what or where. A huge threat was here and left in a moment. Only one whispered word.

Darkness began to form around the outside of Shun’s vision as he kneeled down on the cool evening grass. Fuzzy static sparked in his mind. The world was eclipsing. Shun stumbled and held out his hand to find balance by a tree but found nothing. Time had finally crept onto weary muscles and a body wracked with effort and stress. A long distant feint finally seized him and Shun collapsed to the ground. A distant bell from a farm calling a flock of sheep to barn cried out. Its echoed call hummed back and forth in his ears.The last thing heard.

-------

Crackling sounds of fire popped in sporadic locations nearby. The air was thick with smoke wrapped in humid sea air. Torched wood and bodies wafted on an acrid miasma. Smells passing with searing winds. Shun’s lungs took bubbled, stilted breaths. Sharp thorny pains stabbed with the labored inhales. Shun was on his knees, arms heavily cemented to his sides. A weight anchored him in place. The middle of his body pinned and his eyes unable to open.

Shun tried lifting his arms.. His left did not respond but his right picked up with a heavy drawl to it. His fingers were wet and spread that wetness over his face as he wiped his eyes clear. Whatever was caked to his lashes was thick and tore hairs out as he rubbed them off in chunks. Shun’s vision was blurred and splotchy. Perceptions were obscured. The light coming into view was painful. Shun shut his eyes again.

Footfalls crunched on gravel, approaching from behind. Shun did not move. His mind was sluggish and just as useless as his eyes.

“Do you know where traditions start? Where cycles begin?” A soft woman’s voice spoke, entering the confused fray.

Her tone was all too confident. Assuming control of the conversation. Strong and full of purpose. A rye eagerness on the tip of her tongue and words. Well rehearsed words.

“The people that started these traditions, their beginnings, do you think they realize them at the time? Or did they go by unnoticed? Their significance lost in the moment?”

She walked around his left side. Her hand landed on Shun’s shoulder and her fingers traced up his neck and flicked his earlobe playfully. Her skin had an aftershock. A chill followed her touch like a breaking frozen river. Icy and harsh but disappeared quickly off his skin like rubbing alcohol. She left a tantalizing perfume of wicked violets in the tundra. Like snow capped hillsides beside crystal lakes. Like a crisp, smokey, morning. Like a fresh kill in the snow torn in frenzy by a vicious pack of wolves. Her body loomed in front of him, brassy and apparent.

“I saw you sing such a beautiful song, once. It was powerful and enigmatic.” The woman continued.

She paused between some of her speech. Between words. Their weight exemplified by the gesture. Letting each sentence sink in and be known rather than understood. It was not so simple to reach at her audience superficially, it needed to be felt far deeper.

“You danced so vigorously too. Passion unbound from convention. Your steps in tune to the song you belted out. Or was it the other way around?” She giggled. 

The laugh, a falling icicle in a crevasse. 

“Was your music being challenged to follow your steps? Either way, I remember it even now. I was left breathless. You astounded me.”

Her breath fogged, crystallized and fell like snow onto shuns warm skin. Cascades of emotion fell over him. Emotions that did not feel like his own. Forced upon him. They came in waves. They struck his psyche one by one. Happiness, loss, anger, determination, destruction, satisfaction, loneliness, regret, and back again. Looped along with her words. Shun struggled against the pounding of the ocean against his mind. The spray of emotion crashed and landed like hail. She held out a hand and caressed Shun’s cheek.

“No, no, no, no. None of that. Stay here with me. Be calm, my love.”

Her hand was still, it soothed the heat of the moment. It was entrancing and so inviting. Shun did not want to leave it. Even when the cold began to bite and burn his face. Even when his skin hissed and crackled. Even when it froze and was left paralyzed. Even when she pulled away and left a chasm of loss. Shun leaned forward but was overpowered. Forgetting he was being held in place mysteriously.

Straining against the weight of effort, Shun lifted his head and opened his eyes again. Focusing hard to see the cold mistress taunting him an arms length away. The crust around his lashes flaked off with each batting of his eyes. Flakes of dried dark blood. The light scolded his refusal to look away. Brightness and glare was intense but Shun carried on with his stare.

She was pale. Midnight moon skin glowing delicately. The powdered look of it was smooth and perfect. She wore a sleek violet dress. It fit her form seamlessly and shrouded her lunar light. Slits from the ankle to the hips parted the dress on either side. It left her arms and shoulder bare and connected together around the whole of her neck. The dress had a triangular cut at her chest, showing off the heart of her bosom. Her ample breasts heaved slowly, accentuated by the way she leaned back on her hands with an arched back. She sat on rubble. Indistinct wood and stone architecture crumbled into a heap. Shun was surely not near the forest of Weldon Shire. Her laced and thick leather strapped sandals twisted up her ankle to her knees. Sharp purple fingernails clacked almost impatiently on the stone she sat upon. The percussion of the beat was anxious in anticipation. Her wrists were tattooed with twisting purple lines, a hazy shine pulsing in them. The tattoo’s showcased purple runes up the outsides of her forearms. Solid, thick, and black barred metal tightly rested where her palms kissed the wrist. She had been shackled at some point. A link of chain broken on the middles between manacles. She wore them proudly, like it was an achievement to have broken them.

“You are beautiful. Do you know that?” The cold mistress spoke again. 

She did not need conversation nor provocation to do so. This was her time and her place. Time was irrelevant, only the purpose of pushing her agenda.

Her cheeks were full and squeezed pursed black lips into a smile. A strong chin angled femininely like a Valkyries. Warrior woman and dark seductress tones took over each aspect of her jaw and face. Her eyes were of all Violet and dark swirling royal purple. Twinkling dark luster shimmered like reverse starlight in the depths of them. Her brow was silky and the hair tailored. She stared at Shun and her look gave away nothing. Just a lingering smirk. Relishing the moment with its curved expression. Her raven jet hair was styled wildly, like ruffled feathers. Behind her head, a wide braid locked uniform down her back. The shine of the hair glowing orange from nearby fires and a setting sun.

“Does my form please you?” She gestured with one hand, presenting all of herself to him.

Shun tried to talk. He was desperate to try and explain and agree but the words escaped him. A rasp of air flushed through his neck. Shun looked down and saw that not only was his chest soaked in blood but there was a large pole of wood driven through his chest. The butt of wood tilted in its post hole toward him. Another casualty of the landscape. A survey of the ground around the beautiful cold mistress was devastation. It was a catastrophe and she fit right into the scenery. Despite how gorgeous and well dressed she was, there was chaos in her looks. Fires caught on the wood bore between stone and plaster. Buildings were savaged by some seismic event. Any earth not scorched was brown and dead. Large stone walls with red painted tops crumbled all around. They blocked the land outside and capsuled the destruction here. Inside was apocalyptic and it was no doubt the same on the other side.

“Come to me. Come, love.” Her words were hard to ignore.

Shun’s eyes took in the surrounding and tried to make sense of what he was experiencing but all of that stopped when her words took flight. He obeyed so quickly and senselessly.

The first hurdle Shun had to leap over was his impalement. His arms may have been sore but they still listened to his call and grabbed the wood. The pole was a finger across and drowned in dry blood. Dark streams raced past the impact zone down to the earth. Shun raised his right knee and placed a foot on the ground. Curiously, his feet were in padded leather and red steel sabatons. His legs draped in red silks, the waist dark with aged blood. Pulling back with his hips, pushing away with his hands and feet, Shun shook with effort as he began to extricate himself from the pole. Time’s might worn the wood as splinters chipped off and dragged along the inside of Shun’s middle. The pain was coarse but the need to get to the cold mistress numbed his reception to it. Inch by inch he struggled and pushed himself away. A foot and a half of bloody wood passed through Shun before he met freedom. A cold frost of the air close to the pale woman sliced into his splintered viscera. It plunged icy tendrils in and gripped fiercely. Her ghostly embrace picking Shun up to his feet. He walked to her, one arm blocking his open wound. His other arm stretched out toward her. Shiny red steel bracers ran from wrist to mid forearm, three large circles of raised metal wound around them. Labored steps propelled him to her. She stood with expectant eyes. They fed on his power, drank up his might. Shun fell into her. His outstretched palm landed on the round of her shoulder and she held him up beneath the arms without effort.

“So weak now.” She crooned. 

Snow tickled the top of shuns head as she spoke. The tightening and freezing of Shun’s hand on her shoulder crackled between her words. 

“Your time comes, sweet thing.” 

Burning sizzled on Shun’s skin. His palm ablaze with the chill of her perfect skin. She lowered her voice to a whisper. Violet breath serenading her words.

“We will be together again..”

The burn of her worked its way up Shun’s arm. The conflagration overpowering the numbing she provided.

“..and the world will shatter.”

An explosive blast shot Shun flying into the air. His body was thrown across the demolished ground. Breaking his body and mind. Breaking his essence and he smiled as he soared.

The crashing impact of Shun’s body on the crumbling stone walls broke the spell of numb and he roared with agony. A sweet, cold and fulfilling agony.

--------

Shun woke with a shiver. His breath fogging in front of him. The dark of night blowing cool winds over his body. Ushering in a cruel mist, tendrils gliding silently above the peeks of grass and twisted tree roots. Tips of of green grass sparkling in the light starting to crest land to the east. Orange light making the frosted flora sparkle in frozen fire. The burn of the cold tearing at his skin.

It was a dream. A dream unwillingly lived and sleep forcefully given. Despite being unconscious for all of the night, Shun was tired. More tired than he was last night. His body was sore and heaved with wet coughs. Body quaking uncontrollably with hypothermia. His breaths were quicker than a mouse trapped between cats. The world spun too quickly around Shun’s body. Crunched up in a ball trying to create more heat than he was losing, he held back the creeping anticipation of death. Held back a joy reserved for surprising a love after a score of weeks warring. This type of joy was not intended to be met by the embrace of death. Shun tried to suppress a smile. A jaw clicking, freezing smile.

A golden lotus floats in a chilled infinite darkness. A single frosted petal begins to open, shining cool glorious light from its unfolding. My body is a siphon. I absorb the elements like--

“Oh Gods damn you! For the love of Brenn, Shun. You could have tried to get farther than that!” The vexed voice of Ben Cried out.

Benjamin’s approach on Tydas had gone widely unnoticed by Shun. Freezing to near death had caused his senses to dull and sluggishly accept the world around him. Building on those facts, Shun’s teeth chattered faster than a pine beavers first felling of the morning, he was distracted slightly by another potential encounter with the White Woman and the recent dream encounter with the Frost Queen. He was curled up, clutching the ball of affects he had exhumed from his cave. The significance of the items only lessened by their mystery to anyone who would have stumbled upon the scene. What was worth protecting in death?

“When I woke this morning ready to race down your trail and chase my fate, I did not intend to go less than a bloody furlong! Excuse my language but I am just a little bit tweaked by your selfish act to run from me and not even make a viable bards tale of it. How would Samuel Ravenflight’s story looked like if he had to cross the road to save his beloved? How am I suppose to be an intrepid hero if.. Oh goodness! You are dying!”

Ben flung himself off of Tydas and went immediately to Shun’s side. The bold lordling reeled back at the touch of Shun. Face contorted in fear and confusion. Retrieving a thick blanket from a saddlebag, Ben wrapped shun in it and laid his own body upon him. The additional heat and weight trying to diminish the frightful cold sinking into the bones of the foreign man.

“This is the second time I have saved you in less than a day. If this continues to be a theme our story might end up being a comedy, friend.” Ben chuckled. 

He wore a smile but the edges of concern found his lips and twisted them marginally.

‘The cold had seeped in too deep for this kind of remedy.’ Ben Thought. ‘Not even closeness to a fierce blaze will turn the cold now.’

Years of survival training calculating chances and possibilities were being checked off in his head. Shun would need to be taken to a healer, that was the sure of it. Ben searched his mind. Geography and sociopolitical lessons leaping into the forefront of his thought.

‘South Lon Garun was the closest to have a comparable healer to shake the cold from Shun. The ride there would would have to be hard for most of the day. Shun would have to be strapped down to Tydas’s hind and the clip there might kill him. He looks the part of a sturdy and strong man but he is worn so thin he is like to tear at any minute. He would have to ride in saddle ahead of me and I am not sure we are that close yet. Brenn, I pray you guide me surely.’

Ben gathered Shun’s belongings from the ground and wrapped them up with Shun in his blanket. Ben picked Shun up with a face pushed by effort and then on very confused. The man was surprisingly light. There was a significant lack of burden about the entire situation of carrying Shun to the gelding and putting him in place. A surprising ease in the motion of getting to saddle and holding the man in place as Ben heeled at Tydas and the warhorse kicked off into a trot followed by a dead gallop. Even while near death the balance of Shun was impeccable. Ben applied little effort to keeping him upright and free of falling.

The Rose road made travel easier. Tydas was anxious to be running when Ben had come for him at the farmer Aldan’s barn. The gelding had always been keen for running. He was a pure Poleyan strider. Bellrose bought most of their warhorses from Chaille. They specialized in breading the large muscular Colts from the wide breath plains with the Mares the Silian’s raised on their reservation. But Ben had a chance encounter with a Poleyan breeder on a trip to the southern seaside city when he was younger. Tydas was the most handsome and fastest of the stock. A jet streamer challenging his kin with each bounding footfall. Poleyan strider’s were known for their endurance and speed and Ben was enamored in a way he thought only reserved for swordplay and women. But that horse changed his life. The light bounce of the gelding as it grated the hard dirt road with its pushing gallop reminded Ben every time how they were meant for another. Tydas tore the ground asunder and raced abreast the wind. He matched Ben’s soul step for step.

Shun’s head knocked from side to side as Tydas continued his gallop. His body was balanced and stable but his head was loose and bobbled. Mumbles escaped Shun’s rasped breaths. Giggles and scoffs soured the delirium between incoherent rants in a language Ben could not pinpoint.

“Vai skaza thollum es baktka..” Shun muttered quietly. 

His voice was harsh and guttural. The words intentions were meant to be inner monologue. The discombobulated mind made a jumble of what it should do and regulate. As Shun’s head swayed to the other side of his neck it changed all together. 

Tone and cadence differing drastically, “Woyon yuen ba hu zai gao zang sanzon.”

Shun dipped in and out of consciousness between the juggled languages. Jolting awake from time to time and hazily looking left and right before going limp again and hanging to his chest.

“You are kind of scaring me, friend.” Ben spoke to Shun but mostly to assure himself. “I know it is hard to stay in control but I need you to stay with me. I will get you healed Shun but I need you to stay with me.”

“Zess tor vikt voleth chug boyza.” Shun replied. 

Shun’s chest pushed out the words with a grim voice. His head lurched backwards and bobbed up and down in the run. Eyes partially open and staring down Ben.

“Nope. I do not like that.”

Ben held a sturdy notion of courage in his heart the same way a proud dog does when it hears thunder nearby. Unable to see why he is scared but there is some overwhelming feeling that is bearing down on him with Shun’s words. An aura of dismay and fear. Ben pushed Shun’s head forward again.

“I think maybe you should conserve your energy, friend. All of this talking in tongues is starting to appeal to unnecessary fear in my britches. Not to mention we haven’t come across a good tailor and I don’t have a secondary pair.”

Shun’s head snapped forward, alert and conscious. Twisting left and right, on the lookout. A shiver returned to his body. The quake of him being felt by Ben. Cold started to seep through the blanket and pierced Ben’s armor. He shook with the feel of it and tried not to let it diminish the courage he had built up so strongly. Shun turned his head and looked with thin slit eyes up to Ben. The bags beneath his tired look were charcoal and sunken.

“Wuman zeng bu rey ganzun.” Shun cracked. 

The squeak and rasp of his voice shook with an effort that should not be there. He closed his eyes hard and concentrated through a storm of disruption. 

“Followed.” 

Shun blinked his eyes open and looked at Ben’s chest. Looked through him. 

“Followed.” Shun insisted.

Ben put a hand to Shun’s shoulder to steady himself as he turned to look over his shoulder. Behind them was a large, heavy backed, black boar. It was keeping pace with Tydas. The Rose Road behind it was crackling with a small trail of ice in its wake. Ben pulled the reigns and Tydas slowed quickly in a clamor of weight and force. They reared around to face the beast, and Tydas snorted derisively. Peeved at the impromptu end to his run and the new smell of the menacing looking boar wafting its way to him.

The boar stopped just the same and kept its distance. Making a calculated stand off. Its black hide took a sleek dive back to sharp quills dipped in thin blue. Tips frosted and orbited by wafts of misty cold. The boar took a step forward and the quills reached upward to the height of a man. They shook back and forth and rattled off a chilling noise. Clattering the same as a shuffling of throwing spears. Its dark furrowed brow contrasted its furious cerulean eyes. Hints of knowing and purpose poised in its strong stance. The boars snout weighing the horse and men upon it. Sharp, unforgiving tusks waited for gore patiently.

Ben smiled. Now this is precisely what he was looking for. A threat, a challenge, a beast to be slain that impeded his righteous duty to save a friend in dire need. He soaked up every detail and would relay it one day to some famous writer come from some heinous distance just to transcribe his life. This would certainly make for a good beginning.

“Tydas..” He began as he dismounted and walked forward. “..be good.”

The horse obeyed, this time knowing its duty. The poleyan strider backed slowly to the edge of the road, head poking back to check on its slumped rider. Keeping an eye on Shun.

“You are far from home, young boar. The wilds of the titanic peaks are to the North. What brings your cold so far South?” Ben slyly asked.

Each sentence was more profound to him than the last. His words natural in the moment. The speech made to a nemesis as you foul their plans. Almost too cavalier the way he talked to an enormous boar enchanted with ice. Like it was normal. It would make sense for such a thing to happen to him. The gods tested the stoutest of heroes to ensure their bets were hedged correctly. Another stepping stone he had to tread across and he was going to make quick work of it.

“I appreciate your fervor, boar fiend. But my friend and I have mighty need to be on our way. Steady yourself for death, she comes quickly for you.”

Ben ran at the boar and simultaneously reached across his middle and unsheathed his top most sword. The metal cried as it left the sheath and found the cool embrace of air. The boar charged, silent but for its clicking run and the clatter of its quills. Ben spun around the boar and sent a flurry of slices flying as he did. His favored move, The Soldiers Divide. A black viscous liquid spilled out to the ground and filled the morning with an unbearable stench. It smelled of rotting meat left out on a sun baked tundra. The boar was a whirl of frenzy and pain. It rocked away from Ben then swung its hulking body toward him with a flick. A hail of frozen quills shot from the bleeding boars back. Loud snaps whipped with the quills as they tore themselves from its back. Black liquid spurting from their escape. Ben dropped to the ground, the quills flying over him with a whistle. Each quill stabbed the ground just a foot away and turned the dirt to a frozen mess. Without hesitation the beast rounded on Ben. The lordling rolled backwards and got to his feet and lunged forward with a practiced look. Lancers Strike. His sword dug deep and stopped the boar in its tracks. Sunken blade piercing the flared snout. A howling screech wailed from the open mouth. Rivers of black blood flooding its jowls and spilling over onto the ground. The boars muscular legs gave way and toppled the beast forward. Ben put his foot to the snout and used it as leverage to extricate his sword from the black.

The quills of the boar began to melt away as Ben walked back to Tydas. Cleaning his sword with the saddle blanket, the lordling kept up a smug smile. Satisfaction peaking gingerly across his face. The boar had lost a massive portion of its bulk with the melting of its ice quills and looked almost a regular boar if not a bit overgrown.

“Well, that will certainly be a surprise for whoever walks the road next.” Ben said as he mounted back on to Tydas and kicked off into another gallop. “Now ease yourself, friend. You are safe with me.”

Shun remained mostly conscious for the remainder of the journey. Never falling into a deep enough lull to speak his odd tongues again which was a relief to Ben. Although little could be done to shirk his outrageously good mood.

Six hours of empty stomachs and a hard ride yielded a slight drop in morale but that wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed by the sight of South Lon Garun in the distance. The lands gave way to farms only a few miles back and that sign generated a second wind in both Tydas and Ben. Rider giving unending encouragement to his mount. The Poleyan strider that called wind ‘brother.’

Shun wheezed with an effort to breathe and retain his conscious self. Many times did he try to embrace The Purity to numb the cold but every time was thwarted by a chilling mist. Their tendrils undying and without budge. Lingering in what was once a safe place. He resigned to looking over the land with half shut eyes. Wishing to be left alone and to die on his own. He would warm and wake alive again. It would take time but it would happen. More over he would get a chance to see the White Woman and any amount of pain was worth that.

South Lon Garun grew as the pair galloped their way towards it. High walls were dwarfed by the memory of Bellrose’s but were no less magnificent. Their hard red brickwork a monument to human engineering and the gruff people that lived there. No plaster to smooth out the look. These people were tough and the walls reflected that. The quarried stones were crushed and molded with local reagents to give it hardened qualities and the bright red look. Each brick three span wide and two span high. Masonry unmatched by the sister town or any town in the Bellrose kingdom for that fact. Sieges have come up short for centuries. Each reached up to the walls to tear them down and each was denied two times over. Only did they yield by the hand of the old king Eilon.

The traffic on the Rose road now made haste a trial in of itself. The afternoon masses packed the street going in. Dirt giving way to cobble also ushered in folk from all corners to buy and sell wares. Make their business among the high slop roofed buildings. Ben had only been here a handful of times but was sure that the mercantile square held apothecaries and healers for hire. That was knowledge enough to ensure that he could save Shun from a freezing death. Stave off the shivers and keep him on this side of the nether.

Tydas narrowly avoided the throng as he trotted at the will of Ben and his limited streetwise. South Lon Garun was centered around its merchants and economy. It was the beating heart of the city and the district surrounded the glorious middle gardens. The streets were all circles, rings upon rings that wound themselves smaller as they neared the middle. Little alleys sliced between but the main thoroughfare were the massive wide bands of road. Tydas squeezed through a network of houses before reaching another large ring road. The crowds packed themselves harder as they neared the cities epicenter. Another snug crossing of the street followed by a quick passing between two large inns finally made impact and the mercantile district was at foot. Insults echoed from perturbed folk down the alley Ben had gone through. Their yells almost indistinct noise from the chatter of the congregating masses.

Ben eyed above the heads of folk and spied all the different signs of buildings working their way along the final circle street. The road known as the garden promenade. Stalls of every merchant peddling food, clothes, weapons, armor, and goods of all kinds littered the road. Ben circled the road at a trot, ignoring the upset voices rising in his wake. The wooden sign designed with painted golden wings on a bouquet of herbs poked out from a small building with hanging flora in the windows. The gold painted door signified the learning of the healer. Most small folk said that the door was a telling of how much to expect to pay. Too rich a meaning for everyday people. Often why the poorer sort died with treatable afflictions. But a life to Ben was worth more than pockets full of silver lilies and golden trumpets.

Tydas pulled up sharply in front of the shop and Ben dismounted quickly, taking Shun into his arms. The lordling kicked in the front door in dramatic fashion. Machismo prominent in his hurried steps inside. The front room was booming with fragrances. Plants hung from the vaulted ceiling in groupings. Chopped up roots were piled in labeled bins and barrels. Vials, tinctures, potions, and salves were displayed on multi leveled shelves. A small desk and a surprised older woman behind it stood in the back near a set of open golden doors.

“I need a healer for my friend!” Ben bellowed proudly. 

The smile still without fade. He had a friend and a friend in need. One that had taken injury in their grand adventure. 

“The cold has set deep in his bones. It goes for his lungs and I fear it might already be too late. I pray you are skilled my fare healer. You are my only hope.”

The old woman rounded her counter and quickly began an inspection of Shun. A mesh of metal coins linked together made armor for her long skirts. A sign she had worked on battlefields. The gold tattoo across the bridge of her nose and to the ends of her eyes in a thick line meant she dealt with lords. Her hand opened his mouth first and she felt his tongue. She then fingered the roof of his mouth where the soft pallet started and held her other hand to his forehead. She checked his eyes without curiosity. Blowing on it and letting go to watch the lackadaisical eye lid flutter. She put her head to his chest and listened with a frown and raised one eyebrow up to Ben who had been holding Shun through the entire process.

“You give me a start and then play up your friends disposition, had I the mind to I would get a switch and do what your mother should have done to you long ago.” The healer said. Her voice strong despite her age. “The cold has him but not so much as the exhaustion. Nothing I can’t drive out of him. Follow.”

The healer led the way beyond the two open painted doors. There were a series of beds in this back room, all vacant. She gestured to the middle bed and began to rummage around bags that tinked with the sound of shifting glass bottles. Shun lay in the bed still wrapped in the thick gray blanket Ben had him in. The old woman returned, hands full of medicine.

“Your name?” She asked. A certain sweetness peppered into her voice now.

“Benjamin, if it please you. It is a pleasure, lady healer.” Ben switched to a regal tone. Sure in every word.

“You can just call me Mathda. No need to soggy up my britches with that sort of tongue. You can reserve that for the lords you serve. I have work to do.”

 Her attitude kept up the stigma that all battle healers treated everyone the same. A general or a cadet looked the same bleeding out on the field. Each deserved the chance to be made well. No one was given precedence. 

“Place the other blankets on you friend.” Mathda instructed.

Ben was quick to acquiesce to the old woman. Drawing the blankets from the flanking beds and stacking them on top of Shun. The healer forced open Shun’s mouth and counted measured drops in.

“I owe you a debt, lady Mathda. I cannot state enough how much this means to me.” Ben admitted. 

He spoke to her as though she had carried out the monumental feat of saving both their lives in the dire straits of battle. Toppling over their foes for them and carrying both men to her shop.

“You will owe me a debt and we can discuss that at a later time. Red fire flower is growing sparse around this area and the remedy made from it is not for novices to concoct. I hope your lord employers pay you well. For now I need privacy. Come to me on the morrow.”

Ben made a bow and walked with a straight back out the way they came. He gave a look over his shoulder to Shun and beamed his smile wide. Looking at him from a distance, Ben felt a prying fear back away. Stepping back into the unknown where it could no longer bother him. Where it had stalked him from when he had picked Shun up into his arms this morning.

Tydas was waiting patiently outside the shop. Garnering looks from passersby. The leather warhorse armor still strapped tightly to the gelding. Ben grabbed the reigns and walked to the large garden at the city center. Encroaching grass splitting between the seems of cobble. Towering oak trees rose at all ends. A wind swept the air suddenly, setting leaves soaring in the afternoon sun. A tire took hold of the lordling. Pushed away by his intrepid heroes spirit for most of the day. Ben led to a shady oak and sat up against its trunk. Tydas lightly grazed on the grass in the area by him while Ben hefted a sack of coin from his belt and opened it with a disappointing smile. Platinum roses looked back at him from inside.

“I suppose we should have seen a money changer when we left home, eh Tydas?” The lordling thought aloud. “Should we buy Shun a house? Ya know, for his services? He did nearly die on our adventure. Or is that too tacky?”

Ben hefted the purse into the air and caught it in the other hand. The contents very nearly able to buy an entire district of South Lon Garun.

Next Chapter: Chapter Four: Mistress of Frenzies