If Keto had been made to guess she would’ve assumed that the journey to face the tribe-chief of the nomads of the Finnupave to have been a silent one.  Brokel’s quiet stoicism, as well as his mask and feather cloak, offered little insight into the man’s thoughts and he mostly sat quietly astride his bird.  Which left her and Quartes travelling as they often did.  In silence until she decided to break it.  There had been his discomfort at riding for part of the first day, and its resurgence when he struggled to walk that night, but Quartes had seemed to resign himself to their need for speed.  As Brokel had gone to send Elric off with the riderless taikeets, Keto had helped the Landian up on the mule.  It seemed despite his claims that he was to walk everywhere, he had ridden and it didn’t take long for them to get going.

Brokel had explained that he knew where the various clans were encamped, knew enough of how they would patrol that he he was confident he could keep them from being found as they headed north.  It was along the Ainrun river, the northern border of Koric and the Provinces, that the tribe-chief had made camp.

“What’s the tribe-chief’s name?”  Keto asked, breaking the silence over the group.  She turned in her saddle, looking over to Brokel, waiting for the man’s mask to shift to her.

“The tribe-chief is Sorna,” the man answered.

“How long ago was Relan overthrown?”

Keto thought she could almost read the hard blinked in Brokel’s body language as the man’s mask shifted to Quartes.  The Landian had stowed his armor, riding now in his familiar cloak and hood.  “Relan has not been tribe-chief for some dozen years, he fell in battle to a hagerc.  Sorna prevailed at the foregathering that marked Relan’s passing.”  Keto waited in the silence betweent he two man, finding a reward for her efforts as Brokel continued.  “You knew Relan?”

“A few years into his rule we met.  Koric and Migin were skirmishing that year.  Relan had decided to raid vice trade.  I persuaded him to turn back when he came upon the village that had taken me in for a time.  Keto tells me you’re old, you might’ve been a child then.”

“I said older,” Keto interjected, “Which you know.  Why that particular village?”

“Because I was there, the people of that village had been kind enough to have me after a hunt, and I couldn’t just leave and do nothing.”  Quartes’ gaze looked back to Brokel, “At the foregathering, how did Sorna fight?”

“She has long mastered brand and spear, with the former she hems her opponents into the later.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Keto observed.

“The battles for tribe-chief tend to result in many new clan-chiefs.  It helps to establish a new order,” Quartes explained, Brokel’s mask silently watching him before giving a nod.  Quartes looked to that mask, “Did you fight her?”

Brokel’s answer came back with a halt in it, “I…did not compete for tribe-chief.”

Quartes pulled on his reins, bringing his mule to a stop, the animal swishing its tale at the sudden change.  Keto did the same.  Strider had already stopped, giving a quizzical chirp, one eye looking over its shoulder at Brokel.  “Yet, you intend to do so now?”

“Sorna possesses a relic, I am strong in battle but I knew none could prevent her claim,” the rider answered, mask’s painted face fixed on the Landian now.  Keto was watching Quartes as well, his hand running a thumb over the tarnished pommel of the Hilt-Shard of Lehn.

“What does this relic do?”

“With it she learned to not just call down storms but to harness the very lightning of them,” came Brokel’s answer.  Far off, Keto thought she heard thunder, her eyes turning to the mostly clear sky for a moment before returning to the Landian.

“Where would they have gotten that?” she asked.

“I don’t have all the shards of the sword,” Quartes answered face grim, looking back to Brokel as he drew the hilt-shard and held it out for the rider to see.  “A shard with blue gray metal like this.”  Brokel nodded after which Quartes sheathed the hilt-shard, leaning back in the saddle, slowly he took a breath.  “She’s learned how to use it,” he murmured before looking back up.  “More of this tale makes sense.  I assume that were this hunt successful that the tribe-chief would have first pick of my possessions.”

“That would be her right,” Quartes nodded to Brokel’s answer, setting his mule walking again.

“She wants the Shards of Lehn,” he continued as the others followed.  “That is a dangerous aspiration I had not considered.”  He looked to Keto, “Might be a way to change the story, for her to win it, a different kind of heir to Lehn’s legacy.”

“I thought we were avoiding stories that required killing you,” Keto answered, steering her mule closer towards Brokel.  “A question, did those who fought Sorna to lead the tribe know she possessed this power.”

“They did not until the first of her battles.”

“Then how did you?”

“I was the one who helped her obtain it, and first saw her use it.”  Brokel’s mask nodded towards the Landian ahead of them.  “Can he not use his own shards against her?”

“He refuses to use them for anything besides Dragons and their kin,” Keto answered, fighting an exasperated sigh.  “I assume he’ll try to find a way to fight her without either of them using the shards.”

“I’ll need to,” Quartes called back, “it’s largely forgotten but Lehn killed many of his own kin before he turned to battling Dragons.  That legacy makes it a dangerous foe for me,” Quartes had slowed his mule, the three of them riding abreast now.  “I’ve stayed ahead of this hunt through ambush and picking battles where your mounts offer little advantage.  Sorna, through her shard, will know that I am near, and likely ready for me.”

* * * * *

They had settled into a dark camp that night, darkness and cold part of their necessary defense against the patrols they were seeking to avoid.  Keto sipped from a bottle of wine, Brokel tended to Strider, feeding the taikeet strips of meat.  Quartes busied himself with his leather bracers, cloth pushing oil into the armor.  As Brokel returned the Landian looked up, “You can wield the fire of a brand?”

“I can,” answered the rider.

“How does that work?” Keto interjected.  “It’s certainly different than the flashy tricks of a street mage in Verken.”

Brokel sat in silence for a bit, his mask gazing back at the bard.  “My people have a connection to the Finnupave, like the plains smoke is temporary, changing, thickening and dispersing.  It helps ties us to the land, to draw strength from it.”

“But why fire?” Keto probed.

“Watch the lands shift around you and it is very similar to the dance of flames.”

“How many clan-chiefs can wield a brand?” Quartes asked, Brokel’s mask coming around.  The rider hesitated, looking between the two of them.  “Defeating Sorna seems to be my best path to not having to fight your whole tribe, but her aspiration for the Shards of Lehn hints that she is after something more.  I would think that would be to unify the other tribes under her rule, to have a force large enough to perhaps conquer what people there are here or in the west.  Keto has told me your rule is already unsure. I have to worry that someone besides you replacing Sorna would continue her hunt,” Quartes set aside his bracers, “or that my support would only see you shortly replaced.”

“There are other clan-chiefs that can wield flame, and even some of those who cannot who would pose a risk to me in combat.”

Quartes nodded, stretching a leg out before him with a pop of his knee.  “We need a story,” he concluded, pale gaze turning towards Keto.

Keto smiled, setting her bottle aside and leaning towards the Landian and Brokel.  “Well, let’s start with when did Sorna start talking about the danger of Quartes?  When did she start claiming he was a risk?”

Brokel’s mask stared in silence for a time.  “Maybe five years ago there was a horde of kercs which entered the plains, coming down from the Hendarks.  Their arrival had been herald by a storm some days before.”

Keto looked to Quartes, the Landian had that unfocused look but nodded, “Five years ago I fought a Dragon of one of the mountain peaks, slaying it and scattering its horde.”  He shifted to look at Brokel, “They would’ve run down the other side of the mountain into the Finnupave.”

“Our scouts found the remnants of the Dragon.  When we raided later that year we heard tales of your battle.  Seemed just another tale of yours to me, but that’s when words started that you were sending the hordes, that the Dragon hadn’t been slain by you but had simply been created too early to yet live.  You broke a horde two years ago, sending the kercs into our path once more and the stories grew into the dangers you would bring.”

Quartes sighed, massaging his eyes and casting a glance towards Keto.  “A hagerc led a horde out of the north from Aus Argentum that year.  The remnants went west.”

“How did you handle the remnants of dragonkin in the past?” the bard asked.

“I had armies in the past,” Quartes answered.  “Once the horde was broken and the hagerc or Dragon slain they would hunt the rest down.”

Keto thought for a moment and then smiled.  “The parts are all there.  You’re not inadvertently sending dragonkin into the Finnupave,” she held up a finger to stop Quartes’ protest.  “You’re recognizing the strength of the nomads, using them to help you protect Illithiust.”  Keto moved to point to Brokel, “So, Sorna is betraying your warrior heritage, and risking the land, by being fearful of this task.”

“The kercs have done us great harm,” Brokel countered.

“But would you run from them?”

The masked man sat for a moment, masked gaze upturned before looking back to the bard, “No.”

Keto nodded before looking towards Quartes.  “He becomes the counter argument, and we tie their warriors to your defense of Illithiust.”

Brokel looked between the two, settling on Quartes. “Is this how you normally do things?”

The Landian opened his mouth to answer, eyes still on Keto.  “I’m still getting used to it.”

“He’s gonna need one thing Quartes,” Keto interrupted.  “He needs his own shard to equal Sorna, one that he can use.”