Prince Rathner drew his sword in one fluid movement and from the corner of his eye, he saw Jale do the same. The sight of the dying little girl on the stretcher with her thin, black hair would haunt them for the rest of their lives. The puss, the blood, the black ink-like substance weeping from her eyes.

"NO! Wait! Wait!" Prince Tolder yelled, stepping in between them and the stretcher not realizing his feet had moved over the line in the snow. He raised his hands. Neither Prince Rathner nor Jale flinched. Gone were their calm and welcoming poses.

"She must die!" Prince Rathner roared. "You all must die! You have been with her. She is infected!"

"No!" Prince Tolder clasped his hands together as if he was praying to the Gods. He inched closer.

"You dare to put us all at risk?" Jale also yelled, rage burning through his lungs.

Prince Rathner tried to hide his real fear. Did he breathe the air she was breathing? Had merely being in her presence meant that they now too would be subjected to such a curse of an illness?

"Do not fear!" Prince Tolder screamed. His eyes were wide. His chest heaved. "We're safe! I'm a healer. I have been working on a cure! Her blood, it's in her blood. It's a cure!"

His words did little to ease their fear, it only disgusted them further. He had tortured and experimented on this poor little girl. Prince Rathner with arms held high and back behind his shoulder ready to strike.

"I've been working on a cure," Prince Tolder repeated. "I'm not quite there, but she is stable. She's been sick for two weeks, much longer than anyone else, and she hasn't gotten worse and we've..." he paused, "we've drunk her blood and we haven't fallen sick."

Prince Rathner grimaced. Drunk her blood?

Prince Tolder turned and ran back to the caravan. He reached inside and pulled out documents from a bag. He held a pile up in his hands before retrieving more. He ran back to Prince Rathner and Jale. He dared to edge even closer. "I have documentation, full recorded research of what I have been doing."

Prince Rathner shook his head, his eyes closed. The girls sunken face, her shallow breaths from the ribs that stuck through the material of her dress. He cast a nervous glance at Jale, worried that he may fall for such words.

Jale took a step closer and when he spoke his voice shook with fury. "That's not a cure! All you have done is drawn out her misery?"

Prince Tolder took another step closer, his hands held out in front of him as if in an attempt to appease the men. He stopped short when Prince Rathner raised his sword even higher. "We're talking about trying to save a whole kingdom of people! I've only done what anyone else would have done, if they'd had my expertise and were in the same situation."

"You're a monster!" Prince Rathner scathed.

Prince Tolder's expression turned snide and then like before, the expression was quickly replaced with a happier demeanor. He obviously knew he had to try and convince them.

"You can't pass," Jale said flatly. "We don't care what you think you have managed to do. All of you," his eyes flickered down the path where all the other soldiers and civilians stood waiting. "You can't pass. If you refuse, you force us to act in accordance with the Keglar Kingdom and Talbecan Empire agreement. We will be forced to kill you and burn everything that is left."

Prince Tolder looked back and forth between Prince Rathner and Jale. "You're making a mistake," he hissed. "If it travels over the border, then you're all screwed as well. Both your kingdom and your empire will be wiped out. I'm so close, so close to a cure."

"I don't care what you say," Prince Rathner said, his voice low. "That young girl is dying, if she isn't already dead. You have two choices: turn back and pray to the Gods of Eternity that this horrible plague leaves you all. Or, fight for your life here."

Prince Tolder took a step back, his hand going to his chin to rub it. He paced while he thought and then, he stopped in front of the stretcher, his eyes landing on the motionless girl at his feet. He turned again, his feet crunching on the snow, its sound loud in the silence of the pass.

Prince Tolder's anger finally came forth, unable to contain it any longer. "You'll have the entire Brandeen Kingdom on your back for this!" he threatened. "They won't stop until you are all dead. The rest of the Brandeen Royal Family will hear of this act. They will hear of what you have done and mark my word, they will make sure you pay for what you are about to do, killing all of these children who I have worked on."

Prince Rathner's stomach dropped. The girl on the stretcher wasn't the only one? She wasn't the only one being treated with this trial cure, tortured with this trial cure? Prince Rathner leaned his head back and counted the caravans in line. Just how many other sick children were there? Panic filled his body and he swallowed hard. He turned his head to Jale and eyes that matched his own terror, met with his.

"The girl is not the only one," they said in unison.

Prince Tolder nodded smugly. "I'm close, so close. If you don't let me pass, if worse comes to worse, I'll just go back down the pass for a mile and continue my work there."

Prince Rathner's words came out slow and ice cold. "I don't think you are going anywhere."

Prince Tolder stepped up to Prince Rathner, across the line in the snow but Prince Rathner felt himself be pushed aside, and it was Jale that Prince Tolder's next words landed on. "How dare you?!" he hissed into Jale's face. "Who are you to make such decisions?"

Without another word, Jale pushed Prince Tolder back, the force of his actions sending Prince Tolder stumbling backwards onto the ground. At the same time, Prince Rathner lunged forward and swung his sword round so it was straight before him. He moved towards the stretcher, and the blade of his sword slid into the chest of the young girl.

Her body jerked, but her eyes did not show the sign of the betrayal inflicted upon her. The only sign of change was the increase of black ooze that poured from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her limbs spasmed, her last breath rattled her chest, and her body fell back onto the cushions of the stretcher as the blade was removed. She lay, dead, her cheeks sunken, her skin taunt and yellow over her thin form, her muscles already long ago wasted away.

A cry of anger escaped from Prince Tolder. "Kill them!" he roared in rage, ordering the soldiers at his back. "Kill them all for the attack on the Brandeen Kingdom. Kill them for sending Princess Shalin to her death!"

Chaos reigned.

All of a sudden, Prince Rathner and Jale were fighting side by side, the Talbecans and the Keglans as one.

Menelt's clansman leapt out of from their hiding places as well, shocking the Brandeen soliders as they joined the melee. The Talbecans and Keglans along with Menelt's men fought hard, and Prince Rathner could tell it was not going to be a long fight.

The Brandeen soldiers were tired and weak, their journey had been long, and who knew what food and rest they had been able to obtain on their journey. It was a slaughter, a horrible slaughter where Prince Tolder's men fell within moments of engaging.

When it was over, when the soldiers were defeated and only the civilians and members of the Brandeen Royal Family remained, Prince Rathner paused to gain his breath. The snow was covered in red, stained by the blood of the men who had fallen. Prince Rathner did a quick sweep and was pleased to see that only a few of his men had succumbed to the Brandeen Kingdom's sword.

Prince Rathner returned his attention to the civilians that were leftover. A mixture of maids, kitchen staff, and workmen, simple unfortunate souls who only followed their masters and did as they were told. They cowered and whimpered whereas, Prince Rathner noted, Prince Tolder had bolted. He caught sight of him running down the line of carriages. Reaching the last carriage, Prince Tolder mounted the driver's base and turned the horse on the narrow path so it could go back the way they had come.

"I don't want that man to go anywhere," Jale seethed beside him. "He doesn't get to choose. Not after putting these innocent children through so much pain."

"Agreed." Prince Rathner waved to some of his men to make chase and to capture Prince Tolder.

Galton turned and gave orders to the men as well. "Go down the carriages and determine how many people we have left," he ordered. "If they are sick, leave them where they are, and we'll burn the caravans where they stand. We'll give the healthy one last chance to turn around and leave."

Without response, five Talbecan soldiers turned and started to run down the line of carriages, opening the doors. Jale waved five of his own men to join the search. Some they left open and did not enter, others they pulled out civilians who were capable.

A shabby group of about thirty remained, huddled together in fear. Sad and desperate, Prince Rathner's heart went out to them. He hoped they would turn around and go back down the pass. Although without shelter from the caravans and horses of their own, they would not stand a chance of survival at night.

"What should we do with this?" Prince Rathner asked.

Jale looked to where he pointed, to the documents that Prince Tolder had written while he had been experimenting.

"We'll keep them. Proof of our actions," Jale told him. "I don't want anyone second guessing what we had to do."

Prince Rathner nodded in agreement. "We'll just have to make sure they do not fall into the wrong hands."

The next half hour stirred the foulest of taste in the mouths of all the men who were present. Silently and full of somber, they went about their tasks. The caravans were set alight, some still with the bodies of those who had been inflicted with the plague, although they were given a dignified and quick death by the sword beforehand. Cries and wails filled the air as loved ones watched the caravans burn.

None of the soldiers spoke. They walked with their heads down, hoping against all hope that they would never face the same with their loved ones. And then, amongst the sound of burning flames and cries and sobs of the living, a single low voice started to travel and echo around the pass.

The men stopped and watched in silence as the lone mountain clansman sang in his native tongue. It held a melody so lonesome yet also filled with such love and honor. There was no need for those present to understand its words; the emotion and pain in the man's voice was enough. It was a song for the dead, a song to send them on their way and to journey to the next life.