The hooves clicked and clacked with the rolling wagon wheels. An occasional pebble or rock would shake the wagon, causing the various goods and packages in the front half of the wagon to jiggle in place. The dirt road was worn and dried compared to the fields of grass around it. And it was morning, early, early morning. The sun still hadn’t risen, but some light bled through. Mist collected at this time of day, shrouding what was in the greater distance. If I could feel the air, it would be chilly and damp.

Last night, when night approached, camp was made. Margaret was still sleeping in the wagon, leaning against me, open book in her lap. I imagine it was around when they’d made dinner that Perrin had popped his head into the back cover of the wagon and said, “Serena wanted me to - “ I simply looked at him. He eyes then found Margaret, still sleeping, then he looked back at me. His lips pursed. His eyes were asking a question, both to me and himself. As if he were in some sort of push and pull turmoil over what to do. In the end, he said urgently and quietly, and with a bow, “Sorry for bothering you!” and left. What was that all about?

Margaret had slept through the night in the wagon. I knew it probably wasn’t good for her, that she should have slept in her sleeping bag on some nice even ground. But there wasn’t much I could do.

With each successive bump of the wagon, Margaret’s sleep became less and less deep, until she woke up, slowly raising her head and remembering where she had been and what she was doing. Margaret picked up the book, shut it closed, and placed it in her backpack that was beside her. She then hiked up her backpack behind her and jumped out of the wagon. I followed, sword still equipped but not my backpack or Margaret’s tent and sleeping bag. She had told me to put them down when we first entered the wagon.

Margaret walked up the procession, and found what she was looking for. Serena was sitting beside the middle coachman. She asked Serena about how long we’d been traveling, where they were, and other such questions. As Margaret talked with her on the coachman’s bench, where Serena and the coachman had scooted over to make room, Serena eyed me curiously.

Margaret said, “He’s a bit overprotective.” And that seemed enough to quell her curiosity.

Suddenly the front wagon stopped, causing our coachman to jolt up and yank the reins with his entire body. The horses brayed and reared, and stopped in time. But it was far too close. What happened?

Margaret stepped off the wagon and went up to the front wagon.

A lone man stood in front of it, his hand held out, palm open toward us. He wore a black bandanna around his head, studded leather armor covered most of his body, and he had a dagger, sword, bow, and quiver; none drawn. He had pronounced cheekbones, thin lips, and a mischievous squint to his eyes, as if something was always on his mind.

“What’s the meaning of this!” bellowed Dietrich.

He lowered his hand and declared, his voice high-pitched for a man, and his tone petulant yet matter-of-fact, “This pass is under the control of the bandit band Yellow Tail. If you wish to pass then you must pay a fine. If you wish to pass without paying the fine, you will be sorely disappointed.”

“Screw that!” He looked left and right, found the party that had gathered to see what the cause of the sudden stop was, said, “Get ‘em!” and pointed at the man.

Serena made a wry smile and said, “Hmm, I don’t know. Can’t we resolve this peacefully?”

“What do you mean by ‘resolve this peacefully’? I hired you and your men to deal with this exact sort!”

“It’s not as if we’re being attacked! And would you really risk one of my friend’s lives for the sake of what, a few gold?”

“That’s not – wait,” he turned back to the bandit who now had a retinue of 20 other bandits behind him (they came out from behind a boulder on the side of the road), and asked, “How much is the toll?”

“20 gold.”

“That’s outrageous! I won’t pay it! You know how much the toll to enter a city is? It’s 2 gold!” He turned back to Serena, “What about that big bloke you’ve got there,” he nodded toward me, “Couldn’t he take ‘em?”

Serena shrugged and swayed her head left and right, as if she were weighing the possibilities. “Even if he could – and I’m not saying he can! Even if he could, do you really want that blood on your hands?

“He’s the one who’s threatening me!”

The bandit leader held a hand up and said, “Whoa there, no one’s threatening anyone. I am a peace-loving man. I’m simply saying you cannot move forward on this road unless you pay the toll.”

“That’s called a threat!” Dietrich’s face was red now.

“Why don’t you feel inclined to share your wealth with us? We are but simple bandits of humble beginnings. Surely, one such as yourself has a hoard of gold in one of those wagons. We only ask for 20 gold. Even us bandits require food and equipment required to maintain our tools and livelihood!”

“Livelihood!? What livelihood!? What kind of bandits are you!? Attack us so we can defend ourselves so I get to the damned city for my damned trade! Damn this! Damn you! And damn you!” He regarded Serena. “Damn all of you!” He was huffing and puffing now, his hair a mess.

While grumbling, Dietrich left his seat at the coachman’s side, walked back, toward the other wagons, went inside of the first wagon, and came back with something in his hands. It was gold, had a handle on one end and what looked to be a spout on the other, on top, there was a lid, and on the bottom a stand. It had fine engravings that ran all the way from the handle to the spout. But there was something off about this it. It was old, with stains across the metal and an ungodly amount of dust and grime. In its prime, the little thing may have been worth quite a bit, but now, I can’t see why anyone would bother keeping it.

“Since we’re at an impasse, this is the only thing I can think of.” He sighed. “I was hoping to save my wish for something more important.” And he rubbed the side of it with his sleeve.

And from the spout spewed a stream of blue smoke, and throughout that blue smoke, there were sparkles of light that appeared, exploded, and disappeared instantly and continuously. The smoke wouldn’t stop. It would flow and flow and flow, surrounding us all around and above until out grew from it a form. And with the growing of this form, so came clouds of the deadliest storm. And from those clouds came bolts of lightning that shot down, shaking the very earth, and flashing the surrounding in the brightest light for a mere moment. The form grew and grew and morphed, into one of a man. His bottom half was a thick fog of smoke, as his body got lower and lower, so too did it become thinner and thinner, until there was only a wisp of a tail. His top half looked human, mostly, except his skin was blue and made of glass, completely see through. His figure was muscular, on his wrists he wore gold braces, and covering his waist, as well as being the separating line between his upper and lower half, was a red sash. He wore nothing else. He was the size of a giant, floating above us.

He folded his arms, and with it, the lightning storm stopped.

He looked down at us. His voice boomed and echoed, and shook us much like the lighting, “What is your wish, my master?”