Kindly edited by @CollinHarrison4: I thank him for the gift of making reading a bit smoother.

"Last time I traveled these parts, I almost succumbed to the snow and cold," Kelton said, remembering each shiver, "It does not look the same dressed in green leaves." He looked north to where O'fan had pointed the way to Shunneer City.

"It is but a day away, I assure you," O'fan said.

"Of that, I trust," Kelton said, his smile proving as much. "It is the memories of hard travel that make me wary, not your guiding." He saluted O'fan with his mug before taking a sip of the South Allyander tea. It was a chilly morning, one which left a layer of dew that seeped into everything. The field that lay beyond the treeline was glistening with it.

"I worry on your desire to separate," Bynard said to Kelton. "I know we cannot all enter the city, yet for you to travel with only Gossamer is unsettling."

"We have done it many times in the past," Gossamer said with a shrug that held no concern.

"It is a must," Kelton said. "The ones we seek will hide from numbers, and will see through any guise you devise. Two attract far less attention than many - it is safer."

"Not if you are confronted," Bynard argued.

"We will steer far from the garrison, and any who..." Kelton's words faded as the Knowing indicated two figures coming from the west. They were moving fast - too fast for stealth. Their direction was dead on the camp, that knowledge possessed only by their scouts.

Kelton stood and looked at O'fan. "Your scouts return with great speed."

"They are not expected so soon," O'fan said, standing as well. Bynard looked between the two, his eyes registering the concern Kelton felt.

"To arms," Gossamer said, rising with deliberate ease. Panic was not in his nature. Bynard nodded and moved with purpose to stir the camp.

Kelton's insides knotted as one of the scouts vanished from the Knowing. One moment he was there, and then nothing. The other was moving erratically, his pace increasing. Only death removed a soul from the Knowing, and Kelton had felt no one near enough to cause such a thing. An accident, or an ending by one Kelton couldn't sense. The other scout would have stopped, or at least slowed, for an accident.

"Brethren," Kelton concluded out loud.

"How many?" Gossamer asked.

"I can not..." Kelton's breath caught. The edge of the Knowing filled. To the west, he felt countless men moving. Many upon many, the sum exceeding his ability to tally as their intent merged into one bright mass. Far more than could be handled by the small force he led.

Kelton turned to Gossamer. "Our luck is at its end, dear father. They come from the west in numbers far beyond our abilities. We are not ready for this."

"We run," O'fan said.

"Aye," Kelton said. His mind traveled through the possibilities. "Leave anything that will slow us down." To the east lay a vast field of waist-high grasses, the one they intended to avoid. Fleeing north or south from such a force would only delay the inevitable. The Brethren would surely sense the maneuver. The field looked more like a grave with its lack of trees, only open ground to be trampled upon. Unfortunately, it was the only option to put distance between themselves and the Brethren. A sense of dread filled Kelton - he had led everyone to their deaths. He looked around at his assembling men with the sense of a father. They needed time if he were to save them. The Brethren needed to be slowed long enough to allow them to travel beyond the Knowing.

"Juno," Kelton said, as her life became paramount in his mind. He looked to Gossamer. "I need you to gather her now. Move east with the others." He pointed to the trees at the far edge of the field and handed his pact to Gossamer. "There is coin enough to see her safe."

"You will see her safe," Gossamer said, looking as if he meant to stay at Kelton's side.

"Aye," Kelton replied, the tone hiding the lie he knew it was. "I must stall them, then find you once I have created the distance needed." Gossamer looked to argue, so Kelton forced the decision. "Do not tarry, or I will fall slowing them." Gossamer took the pack and moved off at a run to gather Juno. One worry lessened, a hundred more remained.

Bynard returned as the camp assembled itself on his orders. He stalled as he watched Kelton remove his shirt, exposing his scarred and Nagada-painted torso. "Fear," Kelton said to the unasked question. He replaced spider-bite's sheaths, crossed over bare skin. "I must use all I have." He again pointed to the east. "Move everyone east. Find the trees on the other side, and lose yourself among them. Scatter, so the Brethren lose the scent."

"I will remain here with you," Bynard said.

"Nay," Kelton said, allowing faux anger into his voice. "You will slow me down. I mean to drag them south, then lose them in the trees." He sighed as if he just realized Bynard's loyalty. "The Brethren cannot track me; you know this." His hands found Bynard's shoulders. "All must survive this so that the days to come will bring what we desire." Juno must survive, or life would seem for naught.

"Aye, sire," Bynard agreed. "Do not dance long with them."

Kelton watched his small army race across the field, men and women moving with far less panic than they should have. They could not sense what he knew. The wave of intent coming from the west was overwhelming. At the edge of the field, he saw one of O'fan's scouts break into the open. He moved with a panic born of what followed, two white robes in tow. The scout wouldn't last much longer, nor would Kelton's fledgling army. If he did nothing, they would be lost, and his soul would bear the burden.

Kelton closed his eyes and let the memories of Juno bask over him. He swept aside thoughts of the future and filled his mind with the memories of her scent, her soft skin, and bathing in the lake. He desired more, but he could die with what she has given. Her laugh graced his thoughts and filled him with purpose. He decided these past days were worth a lifetime. He opened his eyes and hardened his heart, then stepped from the trees. He let anger fill him to the core.

"I am here, foul beasts!"

Juno froze as Kelton's voice echoed from the trees. The others halted as well. The sound seemed to surround them as if the trees themselves had uttered the words. Deep, hollow, and with malice embedded in each word. She turned and saw her love walk with purpose towards two in white robes. He was not running as she was told. Instead, he drew his swords as men beyond count broke from the trees. The King's colors drowned out the colors of the forest.

"He is not coming," Juno yelled.

Gossamer dropped his gear and drew his sword. "Go," he yelled and ran toward Kelton. She didn't listen, drawing her small blade, the one Kelton had trained her with. Better to die near him than far away. She let anger fill her, supplanting the fear and desperation the situation bled. They would have to end her as well if they wished to take her dreams.

"Pull her hand away from the fire," Unyvon'ar ordered his bonded one. They had been eating and sharing thoughts on the young one's training when Farni dropped her bowl and fell forward as if she were an old tree that lost its hold to the earth. Lin'cy moved to help her, then he too collapsed, his bowl's contents now soiling Farni's hair.

They straightened out the two afflicted warriors. One of the elders fell, her bonded one not swift enough to lessen the brunt of the fall. Not a safe thing for one who has seen rains beyond count. "Sit, sit," Unyvon'ar commanded, signaling for all to find the earth before it found them. "The dreams are claiming us."

As one after another fell, Unyvon'ar thought, 'Fire-head's need must be great.' It was his last independent idea before another's thoughts filled him. He had almost forgotten what it was like for muscles to move with the ease of youth. A crooked smile graced his face as the ground came up to meet him.

Spider's-bite found air. They sang as Kelton tested the new determination that ran through his veins. He ignored the men emerging from the trees. Justice first required those in white. They were the wrong that needed to be removed. Orders rang out from the Brethren, words that demanded their minions taste the bite of the Answer's blades—more proof of the need for those in white to be ended. There was no question as to what must be done, only the need, and the need was great.

Each step Kelton took became easier, speed filing him as his blades dispatched those who desired to block his path to the Brethren. There were too many, yet they couldn't keep him from his goal. Those white robes would turn red before he fell, that much he knew. Evil deserved no respite, only justice. His end would be one worthy of a Nagada warrior.

"There are so many," Taggert huffed as he ran toward Kelton. All had given up running and turned toward the impossible battle. At first, Bynard made a feeble attempt to herd them away, but even he eventually defied his own fruitless orders and ran toward death. It was the Answer or nothing, and no one shied from it.

"Goddess," O'fan said, his feet moving as fast as they could. "He is glowing!"

Taggert's eyes moved from the growing mass of soldiers and back to Kelton. There was a green glow pulsing from the wavy designs on Kelton's skin as if they lived separately from the man. Kelton's blades were moving so fast that the tips disappeared.Only the blood of the fallen noted where they had been, and yet more men were flinging themselves at him.

"They overwhelm him!" Taggert screamed as he pushed forward, pulling all in his wake.

Kelton was retribution. The world around slowed as spider's-bite whittled away the horrors of the past, separating limbs from the bodies of the foolish who tested their edges. They must have been addled to think they could stand between him and his goal; the Knowing was growing past their intent. There was so much strength in him, so much skill, and a determination driven by all that was right. It mattered not that his end was inevitable, only that the Brethren would meet theirs as well. Spider's-bite was hungry, and he meant to feed them the greatest of stories.

A spear thrust at Kelton, a feeble attempt that only shortened the staff, then ended the holder. Kelton spun, countering a blade. The fool only wielded one; a weakness easily exploited as the man's innards left their home and found another in the dirt. Kelton saw fear spread and the hesitancy grew with it. They were fools to give him space.

"Come," Kelton yelled, his words echoing from the trees he could now feel. Every plant glowed in his mind; even the intent of the smallest insect couldn't hide from his Knowing. He pointed a blade at the two Brethren. "Your demon awaits." It pleased him to see trepidation grow in their faces.

Kelton smiled as he felt a new force approaching from the north, as large as the first. Doubling the impossible odds was no worry; he could die only once. The tribe would live on, and even these will fall in the end. Justice knew no bounds, and time was eternal. The tribe would see it true in the end. He heard a blade move behind him - a mere breaking of air unheralded by the knowing. He ducked below the poorly executed strike, too high and lacking commitment. Spider's-bite stung an ankle below a white robe, its sister singing upward, painting a red slash along belly and chest. The guilty fell, a lump of useless flesh. There were more of them, four now. Well, three. The story became sweeter.

Bynard had never seen a Brother fall, or thought it could be done so quickly. The Goddess was in Kelton, her glow pulsing, and driving his blades. Bynard no longer cared about survival. He wished only to bask in the light of the Goddess' messenger. He desired to be an extension of the Answer's blades. "Guide me," he whispered between huffs as he approached the battle.

Men burst from the trees in the north—a new for force seemingly equal to the first. Bynard smiled for they wore no colors. The Goddess must have called them. Few carried swords, most wielding implements of farming or waist blades secured on poles. They paused when they saw the Answer, a radiant king fighting with mere men, swords moving in circles of death with the power of the Goddess.

"To the Answer!" Bynard yelled. To his exhilaration, all heeded his call. The roar of the new combatants was deafening, and added to his desire.

Spider's-bite moved with determined speed. Two of the Brethren chose to engage as one, their feeble tribe now shying from the dance. Kelton could tell they were trained, but not well enough. They assumed much and anticipated nothing. Their guilt was exposed, the uncountable sins against those they claimed as underlyings. The cursings, the choosings, and the death of the most perfect of mothers. "Joycelyn!" Kelton screamed, a war cry that fused new purpose to overtaxed muscles.

The name filled the world around him, the vibrations seeming to emanate from the trees themselves. Anger boiled over, and only the end of the Brethren's tribe could diffuse it. An arm, clothed in white, flew from its torso as the image of Joycelyn, hung on a tree, grew in Kelton's mind. Torture, he was told. The Brother's screaming ceased as Kelton pierced his lung. A moment later, the third Brother fell, his head rolling away from a body that jerked ugly on the way to the ground.

Kelton's tribe, an ever-growing flood, yelled as they joined the fray. Some falling with glory, others serving justice without remorse. The tide was turning. He smiled and turned to the last Brother. One of his tribe fell to the cursed priest's blade. "He is mine!" Kelton said as he ran toward the demon, dispatching a King's soldier who meant to stop him. It took no thought and little effort with the assistance of the Knowing.

The Brother's fear was apparent as the man turned to run. Kelton flipped his left sword in the air, switching his hold from grip to blade. With fury unbounded, he flung the weapon at the last of the Brethren. It sank to the guard into the lower back of the Brother, sending the beast to his knees. Kelton's tribe descended on the now reddening robe. The Brother was no more.

Kelton turned to the King's Own, the vermin who did the bidding of those wicked souls. They deserved as much as their masters—even the ones who were kneeling and screaming their sorrows. Joycelyn was given no quarter, so none would be offered.

"Juno!" Serenity yelled as she ran to the woman.

Juno was on her knees, hopelessly trying to stop the blood exiting from the wound she had created. Tears filled her eyes. "It will not stop," she pleaded when Serenity arrived.

Serenity pulled her away from the soldier, who was clearly dead. "You must stop him," she pointed at Kelton. Juno tried to return to the soldier. Serenity turned her back and shook her. "You did what you must - leave him!"

"He kept coming," Juno said as if she needed a reason to defend herself. She looked down at the dripping blade in her hand, shame painting her eyes.

"Kelton is lost," Serenity said as she pulled Juno forward. "He will kill everyone, deserving or not." She forced Juno to watch as Kelton dispatched a soldier who was trying to flee. Gossamer was yelling for Kelton to stop, yet it had no effect on the vengeance delivered. Magnificence was turning to horror.

Kelton's eyes widened as he saw what stood before him. A handful of the King's Own, weaponless and pleading. He expected nothing more from cowards who preyed on the weak. If he would turn his back, they would likely stick a sword in it. Breathing was for the deserving, and they will get no more - for the tribe.

"My love," Juno shouted. "It is over, my love!"

The sound was soothing as it caressed Kelton's ears. A warm bath filled with sensual oils, a soft sunrise on a warm day, the feel of her skin in his arms. His anger drained, and with it, the need to unbreak the world. He turned to her; the sight of the dead lying in pools of red filled his vision. He no longer saw justice, only death. So many. Too many.

Through the horror that surrounded him, Juno approached. Her face was strained, and blood ruined her clothes. A blade dangled in her hands, its recent use obvious.

"It is over," Juno repeated, her voice like a dream. Kelton tried to ignore the destruction around him, concentrating only on the face he adored. A sanctuary in the hell he had created. He dropped his last blade, the grip on Spider's-bite reminding him of all that transpired. Guilt filled his gut and began to turn ugly.

"I...I have killed many," Kelton confessed. He wondered if it would make her afraid, ruining what dreams they shared. Still, with her, only truth was allowed.

"You did what you must," Juno said, tears in her eyes. "As did I." Her bloodied blade fell to the ground. She wrapped her arms around him, the embrace granting forgiveness for the unforgivable. Kelton closed his eyes and pulled her close, shutting out the world beyond.

The yells of victory seemed far away. They held no joy for him.

Unyvon'ar's mind shifted; the scents of home replaced the smell of the other land. He opened his eyes to find others rising, most smiling. He added his crooked smile to theirs. For a moment, he was young again with twin-tails in his hands. He hadn't realized how much he missed the freedom of painless movement.

"You were there," Farni said. She began pulling her fingers through her hair, trying to dislodge Lin'cy's meal from it.

"Aye," Unyvon'ar replied. "Your bond pulled us all to him. I do not know of those in white, yet I felt his need to end them. He is of the tribe, and I know his mind to be sound." He sat up and signaled her to turn about so he could pull the bits of food still stuck in her hair.

"They smelled of evil," Farni agreed. She turned her head. "Have you ever moved so fast?" Her smile spoke of how it made her feel.

"Nay," Unyvon'ar said.

"Nay," Lin'cy agreed. He moved alongside Unyvon'ar and helped with the cleaning, picking the bits that clumped in her hair.

"Any doubts?" Unyvon'ar called out to the elders who were still rising with the help of their bonded ones. Many shook their heads no, and others voiced it. The oldest, the ones whose teeth were lost and now drank their meals, showed the most exciting responses. A return to youth was a powerful thing.

"Lin'cy, you will gather the tribes and bring them forth. It is time." Unyvon'ar spoke with the authority of the elders. Any reservations that may have existed faded away in the dreams.

"Which tribes?" Lin'cy asked.

"All," Unyvon'ar said. "The All-Father has shown us the Treewalker, and his need is great."