Shadowed by the mountain, the graveyard rested on a foothill overlooking the valley and one of Lord Garion’s lush vineyards. Those who had survived the battle against the skura worked alongside Felix, Lord Garion’s son. For five days they dug the ultimate resting place for those who had died at the hand of Skotádi’s demons. Lord Garion had provided his finest hospitality during that time, affording ample food, shelter, and tents pitched in the soft soil of his tilled farmland.

Erika assisted in grave digging, working alongside soldiers she had fought with, and those with whom she sparred at home. Hearts were heavy and voices low. Men, whom they buried, had been friends and so laying them to rest became a solemn ceremony. Several times she had to step away from the scene to gain inner strength.

During those days she wandered into the gardens and the vineyards seeking solitude. Barin had warned her frequently about the aftermath of battle, and until now she’d never experienced such trauma.

“You must grow callouses, Erika,” he had advised her. “War is not about glory. War is about death and seeing wounded people that you cannot help. It’s about counting bodies and digging graves.”

Part of her training entailed preparing to see death and experience sorrow. But how does one ready themselves to see friends die? She wished this battle had not been so lethal and that she hadn’t caused the death of so many good men. Their kingdom had been under constant attack. That Lord Garion and his estate lived in such conflict made no sense. Tellwater residents wanted to till, plant, prune, harvest, and live a humble and honorable life. Even as a princess, Erika had yearned for a simpler life.

When the time came for the Potamians to return home, Lord Garion invited the troops to a feast in his manor. Every bit a castle in its own right, though not as adorned as her father’s palace, the stonework and thatched roof encased a grand and beautiful interior with enormous rooms for both Lord Garion’s family and some of his domestics. The large oak table filled the dining area, as extensive as any of her father’s. Spread before them were savory loaves of bread, meat pies, and bowls of fruit paired with wines harvested from the vineyard awaited them. Erika’s stomach stirred at aroma of such wholesome food. She waited until the men sat down and then she took a seat next to Neal.

Her brother sat across the table from her, taking the role of spokesperson for the group, as he should. “I and my men thank you for this hospitality, Lord Garion. We weren’t expecting such cordiality.”

Erika avoided eye contact with anyone while at the table. Only a few soldiers were aware she had killed the king of the island, and they had said nothing to her. But the burden weighed on her heart, and with everyone eating together she gritted her teeth, hoping no one would mention the slain king. Hungry, yet feeling ill, she picked at her food and none of it reached her lips. She spent a long-time spreading butter on her bread, listening to the men.

“It’s the least I can offer for what you’ve done for us.” A thin man, Lord Garion, stood tall, but with an honest stature. He dressed well for someone living in a valley so far from Prasa Potama. Clothes made from the sheep he raised: wool layered upon wool in natural hues. All his serfs dressed as he did, their simple vests and trousers in browns and blacks with the same musty smell as the lambs they fostered. Tellwater Valley had its own culture unlike the more fanciful sophistication of Prasa Potama. Lord Garion’s hands were unlike the hands of a nobleman. Their coarseness, along with his weathered facial features, disclosed the work in the fields he did, tilling the ground alongside his serfs. His manor offered an informal, comfortable, and non-pretentious air despite its size.

“I’m not sure we eradicated the problem,” Barin admitted. He took another bite of turnips and paused his dialog to chew.

Garion frowned.

All the men knew the truth. Barin spoke it. “We’ve eliminated the prevailing threat, but the demons will return.”

Lord Garion poured a chalice of wine and offered it to Barin. They passed the decanter around the table. When Neal poured wine in Erika’s cup he smiled at her, but she only nodded a solemn thank you.

“I have to agree with you, Vasil,” Lord Garion said. “It’s a never-ending battle, and our enemy grows stronger rather than meeker. I’m afraid I may run out of men. The serfs have lost many sons in these attacks and are hesitant to have those who are coming of age join the militia. We have fields to work in the spring. There’s no sense defending a valley in which no one is alive to till.”

“I’m aware of your lack and have made note. I can’t speak for my father, but I’ll request more troops and better weapons. We can bring crossbows, the plans of which we’ve recently gained and have consigned smiths in Prasa Potama to build. If you have housing for reserves, they can fight under Felix’s command this winter.”

“That would be a much-needed relief, Vasil. What we don’t have for housing now, we’ll build.” Lord Garion breathed easier hearing Barin’s pledge.

“My father may want to construct a fortification for his men-at-arms here, and a place wherein your people can find shelter. Let it be so.”

“Thank you.” Lord Garion stood when the door opened, and a group of young men entered. They didn’t wear uniforms, but they had fought with Barin and still wore their leather armor.

“Felix!” Lord Garion greeted.

“Good evening, Father,” he said. “My apologies for being late for supper.” He addressed Barin. “We’ve constructed a simple memorial for your men, Vasil,” Felix bowed. Barin acknowledged the gesture and stood.

No stranger to Erika’s family, Rhea and Olinda, her twin sisters, talked often about the handsome young man who led the militia in the valley. Olinda had fallen foolishly in love with Felix—swooning and carrying on though they lived so far apart. The relationship had potential heartbreak, and Erika had often reminded her sister of that fact. Felix led his father’s soldiers in a never-ending battle against the dark lord’s skura. How long the young man would survive she couldn’t guess, but Erika suspected that his days were numbered. No one soldier would outlive so many horrendous battles. Olinda should put him out of her mind, or else come to Tellwater and fight alongside him—and die with him.

“Thank you, Felix. My father, and all of us in his kingdom, are grateful for what you do.” Barin offered his hand as Felix came to the table.

“It’s good to see you, Barin.” Felix took his hand, and the two embraced.

“It will thrill Olinda to know we fought alongside each other and that you are alive and healthy,” Barin said, patting his shoulder.

“Tell her I miss her. When this is over, I will see her.” Felix hung his coat on a peg and stepped aside for his friends still filing in the door. Their energy comforted Erika. Surrounded by many, and committed to none, the more men who came to the table, the easier to slip into obscurity.

“Felix, everyone, come join us. Let us feast together and enjoy this time before Prince Barin and his men-at-arms depart,” Lord Garion offered. Felix sat next to Barin, and the others found their place at the table.

“The journey to Prasa Potama will be difficult,” Lord Garion said. “As winter approaches, the more dangerous your travels will be. Even now there are dark clouds to the north.”

“Which is the reason we’re leaving tonight.”

Barin regarded his men, focusing on Erika. She bowed her head lower. They’d be facing dangers going home, and Barin had already said he wanted to leave that night. He had great faith in his abilities, Erika thought. Demons come out at night.

The conversation grew light as the men drank. Lord Garion’s vineyard made the best wine in the Tobian kingdom, and so these weary soldiers feasted.

“Barin offered to send troops to us, perhaps to spend the winter,” Lord Garion briefed his son.

Felix’s face lit up, and he turned to Barin. “You’ll return?”

“We’ll bring reinforcements. All that Prasa Potama can spare. There’s a new crossbow invented that may help you.”

“Excellent! I’m eager to appraise your new weapons.” Felix served himself a ladle of carrots and cabbage, passing the stew pot to the man next to him.

“We find them better than a longbow. Easy to use. Even a woman can draw one with a good amount of accuracy. We should train our female soldiers to shoot the crossbow. It might simplify things.” Barin’s words burned.

Erika glared at him.

“You should. We have a few women here in Tellwater who shoot straighter than our men! They have to be as good, at least. They’re at as much risk as anyone else.” Felix added.

Barin nodded, took another swill of his wine, and ignored Erika’s stare.

“That fascinates me, Felix. The women in this valley are beautiful and worthwhile soldiers as well? I should think I may settle here myself and marry one,” Barin said.

“The women are handsome, but the skura are ugly as sin. You’d be looking at both if you lived here,” Felix advised, and everyone laughed.

Erika chuckled to hear Barin talk in that manner. Barin would no sooner live in Tellwater than he would give up his horses.

“True. You just decided for me.”

They passed the plate of food around again. Erika shook her head and refused. She doubted she’d be able to eat for days.

“I’d leave myself but for these farms and this fertile soil, and father.” Felix adopted a faraway look and his eyes glazed over, if only for a moment. “I’d move to Prasa Potama and marry your sister. Lead a quiet life, one free from battle.”

Barin seemed sympathetic to Felix’s penchants. Erika felt for him too, poor man. She couldn’t imagine living in such a remote valley, wrestling demons for months at a time.

“The kingdom needs this valley occupied. I’m sorry for your sacrifice,” Barin said.

“Silly fantasies!” Felix shrugged. “Pay no mind to my musings. King Tobias has his allies, I must admit. If it weren’t for him, I’d have left already. He’s a righteous monarch. His people love him. Even your neighbors on the island respect him, don’t they? It’s a pity about the Cho Nisi ruler.”

The men around the table mumbled low, agreeing with Felix. Erika cringed, wishing she could shut her ears.

“Cho Nisi’s magic is inspiring. I would build them all homes and ask them to stay here forever,” Felix commented. “How they slaughtered the skura I’ve never seen the likes of.”

“I think their illusion would not be as effective if they lived anywhere else besides the island,” Barin noted. “They seem to draw their charm from their lifestyle and their drums.”

“I need to learn about these people,” Lord Garion interjected. “I keep hearing tales, but I have met none of them. They departed soon after the battle, didn’t they?”

“Directly after, yes. The Cho Nisi only lost one man, but a great one. They brought their king back to the island for a ceremonial burial. They had little to say when they left,” Neal relayed.

“I would think they departed with misgivings. It sounds like a touchy situation if their king died from friendly fire,” Lord Garion suggested.

A stony silence followed. Samuel peeked at Erika from across the table. Her face heated. When she caught Barin’s stare she wanted to slam her cup down and run out of the house into the cold misty air. Maybe she’d run up to the mountain and offer herself as a sacrifice to the skura. Something! Several of the other men glanced at her.

“Yes. King Tobias will know what to do,” Neal breathed.

“And so, we will take the Norberry trail home,” Barin announced as a change of subject, much to Erika’s relief. “It seems a safer route.”

“Longer,” Lord Garion cautioned. “There are more switchbacks and a canyon that could ensnare you should the spirits follow. Once you reach the western ridge of the canyon, though, it’s straightforward and easy rambling.”

“What spirits?” one man asked.

Lord Garion shrugged. “There are many on that mountain. Some more evil than the apparition of Lord Skotádi. Some that shape-shift and take on the body of a hydra. Some whose fidelities are a mystery. Some change their allegiances on a whim.”

“What do you suggest?” Neal asked.

“All a matter of preference who you’re best adapted to fight.” Lord Garion held his cup up and grinned. “Choose your demise. Winged brutes, shape-shifters, fire breathers. I’m surprised you didn’t encounter any of them on your way here.”

“Aside from a few false alarms, we had a safe journey,” Barin informed him.

“Good! Though, because your army just slew a horde of skura, I doubt you’ll be as lucky on your return trip,” Lord Garion concluded with a leery eye at Barin. “Perhaps it will be us rescuing you next.”

“Our scouts saw a flock of skura follow the Cho Nisi,” Felix commented.

“That’s not good news.”

“The islanders have the power to conceal themselves. Let’s hope they were aware they were being followed.” Felix looked to Barin for confirmation.

“They’re cautious people. I am surmising, they were aware.” Barin raised his cup. “Peace and prosperity to you and yours, Lord Garion.”

“And a safe journey home to you!” Lord Garion lifted his cup. The men at the table met the toast. Erika lifted her chalice and whispered the goodwill of her father’s gods for them all.