Author’s Note: It’s only when you start writing with both real world and fantasy animals that I realized that I shouldn’t be capitalizing taikeet if I’m not gonna capitalize mule.  So, expect that change going forward.  The author should probably write that style guide he’s been putting off.

It was strange for him to struggle to sleep.  He had slept on the nights before clashes with other tribes, had slept with only a few wakings through storms as the land surged and changed around his tent with only Strider for comfort.  Here all he had to do what wake up, say a few words, mount Strider as he had done countless times before and ride off.

Except he’d be betraying his tribe and thus there may very well be no tribe to return to.

He was also saving his tribe, which was a whole different kind of pressure.

So, Brokel had tossed and turned throughout the night.  Wanting to get up and do something but not wanting to give away that something was causing his trouble to sleep.  The night passed and he caught the lines of first light entering his tent.  The old rider rose, folded his blanket and placed it on his cot, and broke his fast.  When he had finished he made up the bundle of his pack.  He had to pack light to avoid suspicion, the blanket of the bundle, the kit for his tack and weapons, the baubles and mementos no longer fit to sit on his spear head, a little food for him and Stider.  The Bard had said she would bring supplies with her.  He had stressed that she would need to bring a horse, he offered her some gems to help with the costs.  She had told him it would be no issue.  Perhaps musicians were well paid in the Provinces.

Tasks done within his tent, and the place, his bit of privacy within the clan, looking as it had for each day they had been outside Verken, Brokel pulled on his mask and cloak and exited his tent.  Strider was waiting for him and Brokel enjoyed the familiarity of putting tack to his friend.  It was rare these days for them to range wide, often staying with the clan and the slower baggage birds.  If nothing else, he knew that he could count on Strider enjoying the next few days.

“Heading somewhere Sirrah?”  Brokel didn’t turn or stop from his task, it was plain that the voice was from Kartof.

“The concerns of the city dwellers are resolved, I doubt I will need to talk to them again,” Brokel straightened a strap and tugged it firm, “at least not for a few days more.”  Finish he turned and faced Kartof.  “I wish to move about, throw off the stillness of these lands.”  Kartof gave silence as Brokel finished but the older rider wasn’t worried.  He wasn’t in the city, silence was no ill omen, Kartof’s stillness was a sign of calm.

“Shall I join you?”

“No,” Brokel answered plainly.  He had thought about this, both if perhaps there was hope that Kartof did indeed see the foolishness of the tribe’s path and, when that answer was too unsure, who best to bring with him.  “I could be wrong, the city dwellers may wish for more talk, or reconsider the price of our stay.  I trust you to them.  I will take Elric, it will be good for me to pass on knowledge to one so young.”

A small chuckle escaped Kartof but the man had nothing else and departed.  That was all there was to it.  Brokel finished readying Strider, found Elric doing the same with his taikeet Quick Beak, and once ready the pair mounted up and left the camp.  That was it, one hard conversation done.  It did little to make Brokel feel at ease

* * * * *

Elric didn’t say anything, him and Quick falling alongside Strider as the quartet headed out.  On one of the hills outside the city was an old road marker.  Brokle knew it from their first survey of the area around the city.  Moss grown and weather worn it was certainly older than the city.  It’s held little interest to Brokel though, he was instead most concerned with the figure standing by the pillar and the two four-legged mounts with her.  Horses were a strange breed to Brokel, he could understand their value as pack animals, those two extra legs offered both load carrying and stability, but as creatures for battle them seemed awfully ungainly to him.  Yet the people of these lands insisted on using them.  These seemed to be a odd bread, smaller than many and with particularly long ears.  Those ears had swung around to be fixed on Brokel, Elric and their mounts

“Are you carrying so much as to require two of the creatures?” Brokel called out as he neared.

“One of them is for later,” Keto shouted back, pausing as she looked to Elric.  The younger rider’s mask was still, gaze settled on the minstrel.  His spear hung down by his side.  Brokel took a breath and pivoted Strider about.  Time for another conversation already.

“Elric, this woman is to join us.  She will take us to the Last Landian, so I might talk to him.”  Brokel waited, tracking the shift of Elric’s mask from him to the minstrel and back, the way he rolled the spear’s shaft in his hand.  Elric had spun the shaft several times before he stilled, shoulders dropped as the younger man relaxed in the saddle, finishing with a nod.  Brokel turned back, “You are comfortable on a horse?”  She had claimed it would be fine earlier but Brokel had learned it was worth double checking.

“They’re mules, supposedly well behaved ones, and better for when we get into the grounds around the mountains.  I didn’t have any issues getting them out here.”  One of the two mules gave a sound, Brokel felt Strider tense as the sound dragged on, undulating up and down.  Keto gave a red-cheeked smile as the sound went on, adding as it finished, “They may need some time to get used to your birds.”

Brokel nodded, running a hand down Strider’s flank, brushing the plumage down as the taikeet calmed.  “You lead and we will keep to one side of the way and see how they do.”  Keto nodded and mounted one of the quadrupeds quickly enough.  With a pull of reins and a series of tuts she got the creatures moving along the road.  Both animals turned several times to watch the taikeets, giving another one of those long whinnies when they realized the birds were following.  Keto seemed to keep them under control and before long Brokel and Elric were easily following.

 “We are deceiving her?” Elric asked, his gaze fixed forward, his voice canted low.

“No,” Brokel answered, fighting down anger at the insinuation of the question.  “That is not my way.”

“But then you are deceiving others,” the boy’s words were tight.

“I told Kartof I wished to ride,” Brokel scratched Strider’s neck, “that is true.”

“You are heading to talk to our quarry,” Brokel looked to Elric now, the lad’s voice had a strange tint to it.  A desperation perhaps

“Nothing in the hunt forbids talking,” Brokel raised a hand to forestall.  “Yes, I do not intend to hunt the Landian, I instead will use his strength to help the tribe set a new path.”

Elric sat quiet for a time, “You intend to challenge for tribe-chief?”

“Yes,” Brokel let the answer hang.  A look over at Elric showed the man settling back into his saddle.

“I prefer this path,” Elric announced after a moment.  “The stories of the Landian were inspirations to me as a child, a wanderer akin to our own ilk, it seemed…ill to turn against him.”

Brokel felt something in his shoulders loosen, he looked to Elric to give the younger rider a nod but the bard intervened.  “You all seem inspired by his sense of seriousness.”  Elric’s gaze turned to the woman.  “I’m Keto by the way, I travel with Quartes.”

“I am Elric,” a pause before he added, “the Landian invited you to tell his story.”

“Tolerates is probably the better word.”  Keto answered and Elric’s head tilted as he looked to Brokel, the older man gave a slight shake of his head.  “Should we worry about the rest of your clan following?”

“Not in a time that will concern us, they’ll be surprised I’m not back tonight but not worried until tomorrow.”

They rode in silence for a time before the bard called back over.  “Your clan doesn’t care for you does it?”  Brokel noted Elric’s visage moving towards him again.  “Your opinion about Quartes is not just a minority, it’s dangerous, or else you’d bring your whole clan.  You need him to be your strength.”

“He needs to be a reason,” Brokel pulled Strider’s reins.  The taikeet gave a low squawk of displeasure but halted.  Keto did the same with her mules, turning the beast around.  Those was a hardness to her stare he had not expected.  He supposed it did help answer a few things.  “The tribe-chief has declared that the Landian is not the slayer of Dragons, but that he is the herald of them.  Letting him live will bring the ages of destruction back around.  You sing stories, you can see how some would find this believable, who would prefer a task they can take action against.  You are largely safe from Dragons here, the Landian and city-named heroes have saw to that, but the monsters still lurk out there in the wilds where I live.”

“I would rather fight a man than them if those were indeed the true choices,” Brokel took a breath before he continued, “but that is not the choice.  I do not predict the turn of the ages, but putting your Quartes against the tribe-chief will remind all of another fact.  The Landian is no man, and fighting him will mean death more certain than any Dragon.”

* * * * *

Keto’s questions grew less poignant but more common as their trek continued, her barrages carrying them through the long rides and slow evenings.  This held true even as the minstrel, unaccustomed to riding, found herself barely able to walk around at the end of each day.  Brokel wondered if the questions were her way of coping with the soreness and tired muscle, and wandered again when the growing familiarity between the taikeets and the mules meant she wasn’t forced to shout her questions across the road.  Even Elric surrendered to her relentless assault.

As they followed the markers left by other riders and climbed into the foothills along the crumbling road, Keto had gotten the younger rider to share some of his life and that of the nomads of the central plains.

“No we couldn’t settle, that wouldn’t do well for the birds,” Elric was explaining as they made their way through what looked to be an ruined fort.  “They will only lay their eggs in their breeding grounds, we have to return there with them.”

“Where are those?”  Keto prodded.

Brokel shifted slightly to look at Elric but the younger man knew his duty.  “Ah, that I cannot share with an outsider.”  Keto shrugged and they continued, exiting the shattered fort.  A cascade of calls welcome them as they did so, Strider’s plumage raising.  Brokel straightened, a cold clench rising in his gut.  There was at least a score of taikeets scattered about the broken road before them.  Strider gave a honk and each of the creatures began to head their way.

To his side the mules were stamping at the sight of so many taikeets and while she was struggling to keep control of the animals, Brokel could see the minstrel’s eyes on him.  His mouth was sour but he swallowed, pausing to take a breath, steadying himself so that his voice would be level.  “Elric gather this flock, you will take them back to the clan once we are finished here.”  Quick Beak gave his own call as Elric took charge of the flock, circling about and leading them off the road as he brought the birds together.  Brokel took another moment to brush a hand down Strider’s neck.  “We’ve got other duties yet old friend.”  He and Strider pushed forward, Keto and the mules catching up as the immediate departure of the taikeets had let her regain control of her mount.

“Each of those would’ve had a rider?” she asked as they moved away.

“Yes,” he answered, content with the flatness of his voice.

“I am sorry.”

“It is as I said, the Landian would be the death of us.”

They rode from then in silence, the quietness around them growing as the road led them between two spurs of the oncoming mountains and then they saw it before them.  The entrance to the mountain halls of the Landians.