It took Hirodias a while to find the mountain with the red face, as Singis had instructed. They had moved as a large pack west on the Old War Road, and they encountered a smattering of Aredunian soldiers acting as sentry on the road. Nordlunders, they called themselves. Other than the routine stop and inspection, they were by and large left alone. The soldiers were guarding the road for refugees coming into Aredun from the Sea of Ruin. Certainly they would not be stopping any from leaving Aredun and entering that barbarian forest.

That was what Hirodias remembered them calling his people. Barbarians. He corrected a unit of soldiers only once and let them know his people were Arkromenyons, descended from an ancient people that had ties to the gods. The soldiers flipped a few copper coins in his direction and walked away. They had thought he was a beggar. Instead of reacting in anger, he thought of any reason why the soldiers should not think of him as a beggar, but found no answer. He stopped trying to explain himself or his people after that.

Palimedis and Symian were helping the slower ones catch up. Once Hefaistas was exposed for her treachery, those who had been waiting for their loved ones realized they had lost them to slavery. Their hearts were broken when they came to terms of them never returning. Nearly all of Old Menathinion emptied. Almost four hundred, some strong, but many old and weak, followed him. Several had perished in the journey.

The first to die was an older woman who was already sick. She had a fever on their fourth day, but she didn’t last past their fifth. The old man Iosifus performed a returning home ritual, speaking the native language of Arkromenyon and lighting a small fire to burn a hastily made effigy. Hirodias had seen the ritual performed before when he was a slave, but never participated in it. By the fourth death, he had asked to lead it.

The caravans had given them steady travel through the Old War Road. The woman Hefaistas did not last through much yesterday of the journey, chained and dragged along. Three days she lasted, and when Hirodias cut her bindings to leave her body behind, no one performed the ceremony to return home.

There were a handful of towns east along the road after they left Menathinion. Hirodias negotiated a barter of good or services in town. The Arkromenyons were a strong people, ready to work. In the town of Calchester they moved stone for buildings, and in Tottenhem they dug trenches to reroute creeks. It was a long journey east, so they could always afford to spend a few days working in exchange for enough food for the whole pack. The children enjoyed exploring new towns as well, and a happy child uplifted the spirits of all.

As they continued their way east, the last location they stopped was Holbeck, an unsavory small outpost of a town with little to offer. There was no work and no welcome. It was where people went if they wanted to be as far away as possible from civilization, or in some cases, the law. Another several days east would be the Queensgate, the beginning of a long mountain pass that ended through the Kingsgate, leading into the Sea of Ruin. Brigands, thieves, and murderers watched that pass, and surely the criminals hiding in the Queensgate pass had eyes and ears in Holbeck. Still, Hirodias was able to offer enough coins to replenish their supplies, as he knew this was the last outlying town.

It was from Holbeck that Hirodias turned north into the dense forest instead of east along the road. He had no map except to move toward the high mountain range called the Kolasi Fruoros. Iosifus told him that Kolasi Fruoros meant Fire Giant in the old language. The old man shared the mythology of the beginnings of the earth when the Fire Giant consumed the trees, the animals, and drank too deeply from the oceans. The Fire Giant was so ravenous that it even had a giant mouth where its belly was to devour the earth’s creations faster than the gods could create them. When the giant was full, it would spew fireballs from its massive mouth until it was hungry again. Then the gods sent angels to subdue the Fire Giant, but to no avail as it grew too strong from eating the earth. At last the angels partnered with the demons that lived deep in the fiery caverns of the earth, and together they chained the Fire Giant and prevented him from eating away from the earth. The gods descended to earth themselves and encased the giant into mountains, creating the Kolasi Fruoros. The Fire Giant tried to escape many times, often sending fireballs and rivers of molten rock from its peak, but under the watch of angels and demons, it never escaped and eventually it fell asleep. From those mountains the trees and rivers returned while the Fire Giant slept in his prison. Every once in a while the ground would shake to remind all that the giant was still alive, but thousands of years had passed since the mountain rained fire.

It took three more days of walking through the forest until they saw a red side of a mountain. The next day, they had found a cave against the red faced mountain about twenty feet tall and just as wide, nearly covered by trees and bushes. The cave had a wide, even arch, as if it was as chiseled.

“This is the mouth of the Fire Giant,” Hirodias said.

Palimedis was the first to walk through the shrubs and into the cave. He lit a torch and examined the walls. “Looks safe,” he said. “I think people came through here, though not for a long time.”

Hirodias ordered some of the bushes to be cut down to clear the way for their wagons. Inside the cave was a long tunnel with a flat path. The wagons had no trouble going through.

With their rations and water having been replenished, they were able to continue on through the tunnels. After five days, they saw metal tracks on the floor of the tunnel. What Singis told them was turning true, this tunnel was an old traveling system. The Steel Road, she called it. They continued on for another five days.

The tunnels were dark but were wide enough for whole caravans if any could have come through the mountains. They had spent ten days in those tunnels. Several more had perished and hope began to wane until Symian had scouted ahead and returned after a few days describing the green at the other end.

"Morathienne guided us through the Kolasi Fruoros," Iosifus said when they finally left the tunnel. The sunlight was welcomed like freedom. "Ahead is the region of the forest called the Fringewood. Mother is forgiving."

"Mother is forgiving," Hirodias agreed.

Palimedis walked up carrying a child on his hip as he stood next to Hirodias. “He marveled at the view of the forest. “Do you remember any of it? I wouldn’t know. I was born in a Yghr camp.”

"I remember soldiers," he said. "I remember being frightened, and my mother put my head on her lap until the soldiers passed. I remember deep green. I remember the smell of flowers.”

“I remember the first time I saw an oasis,” Palimedis said. “It was just some palm trees by some salty water. I thought it was a forest.”

“I have heard the Aredunians call it the Sea of Ruin,” Hirodias said. “It is a never ending body of green. The elders told me once it was called the Face of Gaia.”

“The Face of Gaia,” Palimedis repeated.

“This child looks tired."

"He's fine," Palimedis said. “Just a bit grumpy.”

"Tell me your name, child,” Hirodias said to the small boy in Palimedis’ arms.

"Beneditus," the small boy replied.

“And your parents, Beni.”

The boy shook his head.

Hirodias understood. “Niko!” he called for the old man’s grandson. The boy Niko left his grandfather's side and came to Hirodias.

"These tracks will take us to the old city," Hirodias said. "From here the path should be even and easy to walk. Every warrior gains strength from walking his own path. From here you will walk with me."

The boy nodded.

"Niko is like you, though he is a little bigger," Hirodias said. "He will show you how to become a warrior."

Palimedis set Beneditus down while Niko took his hand and started walking together through the trees.

The tracks had not been disturbed for a very long time, as there was a lot of growth over them and when the crags of the Kolasi Fruoros gave way to a forest foothold, it grew difficult to find the tracks.

As they ventured deeper into the density of the forest, many spoke of a feeling of returning home even though they were going somewhere they had never been before. They ran their fingers along the bark of the trees, plucked the flowers from low shrubs and pointed at the colorful birds resting on tree limbs as if they were all familiar.

During their first night in the forest, they foraged for berries and mushrooms, and ate roasted woodland grouse. They shared stories and songs and felt safe as they slept.

In the next several days any signs of the tracks were completely gone. They had spent too much time looking for them so Hirodias decided to abandon the tracks and move toward the sunset.

One day Hirodias stopped by a stream and touched the cool clear waters. He instructed the people to gather what water they could. That was when he noticed some of the group had fallen behind.

“Find out where the rest are,” he ordered Symian.

Hirodias told the group to start a fire to boil the water while they waited. They did not wait for long as Symian returned before the first pot could boil.

“They’re not far behind,” Symian reported. “There’s a fellow ordering the others around a bit, getting them to work. Gathering food for him. He’s talking about building a shelter. I don’t think he wants to continue on.”

“Take me to them.”

Hirodias’ stride was wide and Symian had to jog to keep up.

“You seem annoyed.”

“We do not go backwards,” growled Hirodias.

When they reached the group of about fifty, they were starting to build tents out of sticks and broad leaves.

“We are up ahead where there is water,” Hirodias said.

“We’re not coming,” a man said coming out of one of the tents.

“And who are you?” Symian asked.

“I’m Castor, and this is my clan. You can have your water. We’ll be fine by ourselves.”

“We stay together,” Hirodias said. “The forest is dangerous.”

“You know what I think,” Castor said loudly so the fifty could hear. “The only thing dangerous is you. You’ve led us back to where our people left a long time ago. And they left for a reason. There’s no work here. No money. No trade. You’ve brought us back to live as barbarians. I think you’d rather be a barbarian, if I am honest. You like to be filthy, living like an animal.”

“Watch your mouth,” Symian warned.

“No, in these forests every man is free,” Hirodias said. He surveyed the tents. “You cannot stay here for long.”

Castor shrugged. “We’re near a grove of mangoes. We might even go back. That last town we visited, Holbeck, maybe I’ll decide we go back there. But it’s for me to decide, not you.”

“Those who wish to stay with Castor, I will not force you to join the rest of us,” Hirodias spoke to the fifty. “Those who are wish to see the old city, come with me now.”

The faces of the fifty stared back at him. Some lowered their heads. No one took a step forward.

“Very well,” Hirodias said, turning back toward the direction of the stream.

“That’s it?” Symian asked. “You’re going to let them just stay?”

“I am not their king,” Hirodias said. “We will lose more before we reach the old city.”

“No, you’re our shepherd,” Symian said.

Hirodias stopped and looked at the treetops. “Perhaps Castor is right. This is my dream, not theirs. I have done things that has made me a barbarian. There is a filth to my past I will never wash away. I only seek to be better tomorrow than I am today. Even so, the cost to others…”

“Let’s just go back,” Symian said.

Hirodias kept his eyes on the treetops for a few more moments and then nodded.