It didn’t take long for Rial to reach the seven-story pagoda that marked the outskirts of the village, and from there he could follow the well-trodden path down into the square. The smell of roasting meat wafted through the air, making his mouth water, but his steps came slow and tentative as he moved closer to the voices he now heard.

The voices were dull and subdued. It was difficult to tell from such a distance, but some of those voices carried accents unlike any he had heard. The occasional cry of a child would ring out over the background murmur, hushed quickly.

Rial moved into the trees and the shadows they cast as he came closer to the crowds. He wanted to see them before they saw him.

It was dark by now, and orange firelight flickered through the leaves where he crouched, looking out. Ahead of him in the now greatly expanded village square burned row upon row of small fires, each surrounded by its own complement of huddled people.

They wore a variety of clothing, from mere rags to rich cloth, but all shared a worn, frayed condition in common. Rial could see the dirt that crusted their clothing through the gloom, hems heavy with the dried mud of recent rains. Many sat sniffling and coughing, wrapped in multiple layers despite the relatively warm night air. The roasting meat that had so caused him to salivate was less appetising at this distance, a mix of small creatures and rodents hanging from makeshift spits, cooking through the thick smoke of wet firewood.

The doors to the First Family's compound were closed, and outside was a sight Rial had never seen before. Two house servants, positioned either side of the entrance with swords at their sides.

Rial did not recognise the swords. He hadn’t even known the Family possessed extra ones. They hung loosely from the servant’s hands, without a sheath in which to store them. Where the sword Rial now possessed glinted in the slightest firelight, these ones remained lacklustre, old and uncared for. The servants were clearly untrained in their use, even to Rial’s novice eyes.

His inspection was halted by the sudden line of yellow light that marked the opening of the sliding door. The line grew thicker, widening to reveal a silhouetted figure who strode out and stalked quickly away without looking back. It took Rial several seconds before he realised it was Shaleigh, the glow of the fires framing her rage-filled expression, lips drawn tight and lines pulling across her features as she scowled. Her wide strides carried her across the square and between the buildings that led to the other compounds before he could decide how to react.

The clatter of wood falling to the ground behind him caused Rial to whirl around in an instant, hand instinctively reaching for his sword before he caught himself. Standing further into the shadows, cut firewood strewn at his feet, was Trian. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, eyes wide in surprise.

“Rial,” said Trian in a hoarse whisper. “You’re back. How? We were told…”

The young retainer’s word trailed off and he stepped forward quickly, reaching out to place a hand on each of Rial’s shoulders. He stared at him as if he were a ghost, then his face broke into a wide grin and he pulled him in for a hug.

“You’re back! You made it back!” he beamed.

Rial smiled awkwardly in return, embarrassed at this display of affection. Trian didn’t seem to notice.[1]

“When did you get back? How did you get back? I need to tell Seb, Tamarla…” Trian’s words trailed off and his brow furrowed in sudden worry.

He released Rial and fixed him with a serious stare.

“Rial,” Trian said, tone low. “I have to tell the Kotaku you are back. He ordered it.”

Rial knew from Trian’s expression that something was wrong. He said nothing, waiting for him to explain.

“The Kotaku is still… not right. He’s quick to anger, seeing enemies where he once saw friends, threats where others see none. I do not know what he wants with you.”

Trian was choosing his words carefully, and this was enough to warn Rial that things were seriously amiss within the village. Trian was never so respectful when not under the watch of the head servants. That he was being so now, with no others aware of their presence, would have worried the Rial of only a few short weeks ago.

He realised it did not worry him now.

“You can take me to that khaf as soon as you tell me what is going on here. Who are all these people?”

Trian froze, and then it was as if a weight had fallen from his shoulders. He grinned anew and let out a quiet laugh.

“Life changes quickly, doesn’t it? Come on, let’s get somewhere we can talk. They can wait for their firewood.”

Trian turned as he spoke, gesturing for Rial to follow him further into the trees.

They made their way quietly through the forest until they came to the timber stores, a collection of rude shelters positioned in a square under which sat the gatherings of the village lumbersmiths, the men who spent their days wandering the mountains searching for usable, mature lumber, collecting and preparing the wood for both fire and construction. By this point in the year the woodpiles were overflowing, pouring out from under the roofs in stacks that rose higher than the head.

Rial had forgotten this place existed. It was another place you came as a child, the setting for games of hide and hunt or as a place for forts to use in fantastic and fanciful battles. The weeds grew over everything save the freshest timber, winding their way around the roof supports and harbouring the worlds of a million crawling things. To a child, it was paradise.

It was deserted at this time, lit only by the moon high above.[2] Clicks and trills called out across the space, and something large dashed away as Rial and Trian emerged to sit across from one another on carved wooden stumps.

"So," said Trian, crossing his legs so he sat as some ancient yogi atop his stump, "You want to know what's going on. You promise then, that once I have told you you will tell me your story? The whole thing, from the start?"

Rial nodded, forcing himself to appear as comfortable as Trian seemed.

"That kid Rei seems to think you're in thrall to some kind of demon," said Trian, shrugging to show he found this unlikely.

Rial pulled the pack that held Mead tighter to himself.

"No demons," he replied, staring Trian down. "Agreed. I'll tell you, but first tell me everything that's going on."

Trian took a deep breath.

"They started arriving shortly after you left, only small groups or individuals at first, then in greater and greater numbers. They're still arriving every day, and we have nowhere to put them," he said, voice weary.

"But who are they? Where are they coming from?" insisted Rial.

"The first few were from the outpost, at least latterly, but word must have spread amongst the refugees that they say fill the plains because soon they were trying to come directly here. Our people would find stragglers in the woods, lost and on the point of starvation. They have no idea about woodsmanship!"

Trian shook his head wryly.

"We began bringing them here, but we've stopped that now. Kotaku's orders. He says we can't support any more, and I'm not sure he's wrong."

The last comment clearly stung Trian.

"Refugees? From what?" asked Rial.

"Hunger and bandits. War. You name it, they've got a story about it. The lords are the worst. They stagger up here, barely able to stand, and demand the Kotaku give them the finest rooms in the village. Did my heart good to see the response that got."

Trian smiled for a moment, then his face fell once more.

"We genuinely don't have space for any more. The mountain's dry - even the villagers are beginning to suffer. Our food stores are being drained and it's not even close to winter! Everyone who can hunt is out there day and night trying to keep supplies flowing. I don't know what will happen when people start getting really hungry..."

Rial pondered the news.

“Do these people have anywhere to move on to?” he asked.

“No, none of them have any plans past escaping whatever’s going on down below, but I don’t know if the village can support them!”

Trian slammed a fist against the stump in frustration.

Rial didn’t know what to say. They sat unspeaking for a while.

"What exactly did Rei and the others say about me when they got back?” Rial asked, breaking the cloying silence.

"The girl, Rei, was rambling on about you being possessed by a demon or something, it wasn't clear. Most people think it's just the remnants of the red water addling her mind, but she insists she didn't drink any of it."

"And Shaleigh? Eselwol?" asked Rial, leaning forward.

"Eselwol is too badly hurt to say anything very much, and Shaleigh... Well, Shaleigh wants to go back for you. The Kotaku forbade it."

Rial felt the now-familiar anger twist in his gut, a flush of heat coming over him that was unaffected by the cool night air.

“Forbade it? Why?” Rial struggled to keep the fire out of his voice.

Trian shook his head.

“Who knows why the Kotaku does anything these days?” The resignation in his voice was clear. “He no longer explains anything, and if you question him…”

“What?” demanded Rial as the other man paused. “What happens?”

“He’s already tried to exile several of us. You know what it’s like here; no-one questions the Kotaku, it’s not in their blood.”

“Tried to exile them?” asked Rial. “What do you mean, tried? Who did he send away?”

“The blacksmith and his assistant, for a start. He demanded the smith melt down as much iron as he could and make swords, and when the smith explained it couldn’t be done with such low grade metal he went mad. Now they’re holed up in the Fourth’s compound, hidden from the Kotaku.”

The import of this was not lost on Rial. The Kotaku had given an order, and it had not been carried out. The Fourth Family, no less, was going against the wishes of the village’s head. Rial knew of no other time that such a thing had happened.

Another thought came to Rial, one that would not have occurred to the Rial of the recent past.

Blacksmiths were a valuable resource in the village, few and far between, and through custom if not tradition they performed their craft first and foremost at the behest of the Kotaku and the First Family, providing them with the best of their products. Though a simple, little-considered fact, this habit contributed greatly to the prestige of the First. Now the Fourth had the services and debt of such a craftsman; Rial wondered how they would use this resource.

Trian coughed, tripping Rial’s thoughts.

“Go,” he said. “Just leave, if you want. I won’t tell anyone you were here. I don’t know where you can go, but there’s got to be somewhere safer than here for you.”

Rial smiled, then chuckled at Trian’s look of surprise.

“I am not afraid of the Kotaku,” he said. “There are things I need to ask him. You can take me to him, and don’t be afraid. I will be fine.”

Trian stared, cocking his head to one side as if searching for something.

“What happened to you out there, Rial?” he asked. “You’re different. More different than I was after my travels.”

Trian felt bad about lying to his… friend?...[3] but he didn’t for a moment consider disclosing the existence of Mead. Rial had resolved after Rei’s reaction to never again reveal the weapon without dire need.

He told the story of the trek to the water source as close to the truth as possible, detailing the attacks of the khiladri, Gryrne and his wild jump down into the canyon and his friend’s death, the days cold and starved alone, and finally reaching the poisoned springhead. He allowed himself a slight sense of pride[4] at his description of the following events, prepared in the days trekking back to the village.

The spring was indeed poisoned, Rial told Trian, a strange red mass that oozed its toxins into the water and corrupted the vegetation all around. At first he had no idea what to do. The sense of hopelessness Rial described was no fabrication.

It was only after encountering Rei, he continued, that an idea came to him. He had noticed several deposits of elemental sulphur on his hike up the mountain[5] and knew how flammable it could be from the warnings of the village apothecarist, a wizened old man who prescribed it for everything from fireskin to clasp-mites.[6] If he gathered enough he was hopeful he could burn away whatever the red mass was that was polluting the water.

The experiment was a great success, Rial continued, but he had overlooked one crucial fact. Sulphur, when burned, forms a dark red liquid, a liquid that closely resembles the red mass it was meant to burn away. Rei, seeing this red liquid form, was fearful and angry, believing Rial was using some kind of magic to exacerbate the problem, not cure it.

Rial impressed himself with his delivery. It was a story he had worked on with Mead over the last couple of nights, all information regarding sulphur actually gleaned from the weapon. Mead had been a font of information on the element, so much so that Rial had been surprised until he came to realise that sulphur contained so much destructive potential that of course Mead contained a mass of data and an eagerness to share it.

He concluded his tale with a short account of his journey back, words catching in his throat as he recalled the hole in Gryrne’s grave. He skipped that part.

“And that’s it,” said Rial, standing and stretching with an affected nonchalance. “Now, it’s late and Seb must be wondering what’s happened to you. Take me to the compound.”

Rial swung his pack over his shoulders, feeling the solid weight of mead against his spine as Trian stood and led him to the Kotaku.

“Strange, though,” said Trian as they walked.

“What is?” asked the impatient Rial.

“Well, Rei’s father was a tanner.”

“And..?”

“Tanner’s use sulphur for bleaching cloth. You’d think Rei would understand something like that…”

Trian knew he was lying. Rial cursed to himself as they approached the compound.

[1] Or at least, care.

[2] It was almost always full moon at night. A crescent moon was considered a precious, and romantic, sight. Rial had never understood why so many couples went gathering firewood on these substantially darker nights. It would be so much harder to find the wood.

[3] He’d never thought of Trian as a friend before, but Rial was coming to realise that trust was a fragile and complicated thing. Trian was someone he could trust. To a certain degree.

[4] At least, he hoped it was only slight.

[5] If you think naturally-occurring sulphur sounds odd, that's only because of the times you were born in. On Earth in ancient times such deposits were numerous, and still occur today close to volcanic activity.

[6] Again, check it out. Sulphur was used for all kinds of skin complaints.