When morning came, the Knight Kulin corroborated the boy’s story with the rest of the family. Most were hesitant to speak on it, but Kulin got a good sense that the boy told a story that they had all heard. He paid Amma for spare food and a few waterskins and left as soon as he could. A week’s walk was best started with haste, and Kulin was excited about it.

  Excitement may have been the wrong word, but Kulin could feel the adrenaline surging in anticipation of finding the Spear Maiden. He tried to remember her face, but the haze fell over his mind and he struggled. Had he known her at all? Racilla was the greatest spear warrior to have ever existed according to Elladan, she had even surpassed the legendary heroes of old. A little wave of nostalgia crossed Kulin, not of the mind, but in his body, he could feel his muscles flexing, his heart pumping, and his lungs expanding and contracting. But the moment passed as quickly as it came, and Kulin was left in his haze.

  Kulin found the road with ease, just a few miles south as he was told. It was old, the smooth grey stones laid by workers hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Elladan had commissioned it to ease travel and trade between the world, from the far west Ellarna to the southeast Isperion. It had taken years upon years to complete, and even after the main road’s completion, branches were built in several different places. It was well maintained, most issues snuffed out by human foot and horse hoof, but there was the occasional weed poking through, or broken set of stones. Here was worse with wear than near Ellarna, as Elladan insured Ellarna’s roads be pristine.

  The Long Road was not a walk as lonely as the Edge of the World. People would pass him by, heading north towards the valley. He would nod an acknowledgment but mostly kept to himself. He spoke to a few of the more talkative types, and they also told him the same stories; Racilla the Spear Maiden had taken residence in Erim, and the Children of Elladan pillaged the countryside. The stories about the Children differed, some even called them heroes, claiming that they would bring justice to Racilla, and others described them as burning villages for no reason other than evil.

  But it was still a lonely walk, with his only real comfort being each next step. Kulin slept just off the roadside for the nights, usually under a tree and using his white cloak as a pillow. The ground was teeming with all sorts of ants and beetles that irritated a perfect sleep with their bites and stings. There were also the mosquitoes, so Kulin was covered with bug bites that itched constantly, some of the worst ant bites swelled up with pus and oil. But the night often cooled to a reasonable temperature from the raging heat of the day, not cold, but a comfortable mild warm.

  The road also teemed with wildlife, something that the Edge also lacked. Birds of all shapes and colors patrolled between the trees, singing, gliding, searching for food, doing all manner in which birds did. A deep red cardinal landed on a near branch on the first day and watched Kulin walk along. On the third night, just after darkness had taken and Kulin had stopped for the night a bird took up to calling. For hours it sounded its three short notes, evidently taking great pleasure in Kulin listening to it. Kulin was annoyed at first, but after a while, he grew to appreciate the bird, for its audacity, for its unending will to call and call and call.

  Kulin had never heard a bird similar to it and wondered if a god or goddess had made it, or claimed patronage over it. Probably Iotestra, as the goddess of nature claimed and created most animals and plants, but Afling, the god of trees, sometimes dabbled in animals. Usually, Afling’s animals were of the trees, like woodpeckers. Other gods and goddesses had their animals and plants, like Elladan and his eagles or Ecteri and her ravens, but none near the extent of Iotestra and Afling.

  There were no towns on the way to Erim, but there were villages and farms that would pop up every so often. Kulin merely walked them by, maybe a passing acknowledging at someone who waved at him. Haste would get him to Erim sooner, and haste he would keep if he could help it.

  The fourth morning came, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, and Kulin had a less than stellar sleep. The calling bird had kept him up, but he had awoken to an angry ant stinging him on the leg. These ants were meaner than any he had known before, and their sting burned like fire. He had shaken it off and tried to find a different place to sleep, but it had done its damage. So, sluggish Kulin set off, chugging water and chewing the tough and dry pieces of sheep meat Amma had given him.

  A few hours after he set off, he came across a man standing in the road, waiting for him, a spear in hand. As Kulin approached, five extra men emerged from behind trees with weapons of their own, surrounding Kulin in a circle. None of them were well-armed or armored, their weapons sickles, pitchforks, and axes, only one of them wearing a padded wool gambeson.

  “What’s your business friend?” the man in the gambeson called out, his voice light and lean. He looked hot, as sweat covered his brow, and an unhappy scowl his face. His eyebrows and beard were thick dark hair, his head shaved.

  “Traveling to Erim,” Kulin said. After he did, he noticed some of the men shift their weapons, tightening their grips.

  “What would you be doing, going to Erim?” the man, probably their leader, stepped closer to Kulin. He wasn’t a tall man and he had to look up to Kulin’s eyes. Were these the Children? Or just some petty opportunity grabbers?

  “I am a knight,” Kulin pulled his silver pendant from beneath his shirt and held it before himself for the man to see.

  The man stalked forward and snatched the pendant, pulling it hard against the back of Kulin’s neck. The man looked at it, regarding it. He wouldn’t be able to tell if it was fake or read it, Kulin knew. Its runes were an ancient language, long since dead to all but the gods and their knights. The man nodded as if he was satisfied inspecting something he had never seen before in his life. He let go of the pendant.

  “What’s a knight to do in Erim?” he growled; his scowl somehow forbidden from leaving his face.

  “I am hunting Racilla the Spear Maiden. I seek to kill her.” This drew laughs and giggles from some of the men. The leader tilted his head.

  “She’s a goddess you know. You even have a weapon to kill her with?”

  “I was planning on finding one when I got there.” More laughs.

  “A knight with no weapon, no armor, come to kill a woman turned goddess?”

  Kulin smiled at the man. “I will do it.”

  Finally, the leader smiled. “You have a name knight?”

  “Kulin.”

  “Well, Knight Kulin, I like you. You have a brave stupidity about you. I am Marrow and we are of the Children. If you would so kindly, I would like you to come meet our priest.”

  Marrow could be lying, trying to lure Kulin off the road so he and his compatriots could kill Kulin. But Kulin would trust him for now, he would be disappointed to not meet the priest. Kulin eyed the daggers holstered on Marrow’s belt.

  Marrow and the farmers escorted Kulin away from the road, into the sprawling yellow hills once again. Kulin made sure to stick close to Marrow, walking near a step behind him.

  “How far from Erim are we?” Kulin asked.

  “About a day of walking, maybe a little more,” Marrow answered succinctly.

  “I heard a lot of stories about the Children of Elladan,” Kulin said.

  “People, especially poor folk, they love to embellish their little stories.”

  “So, the Children haven’t been raiding villages and farms?”

  “We have been bringing justice to traitors of the good faith is what you mean,” Marrow said, tapping his spear on the ground.

  “You don’t strike me as a man of faith.”

  “I am the holiest man east of the mountains.”

  They walked a few minutes, exchanging little more in the way of conversation, and Kulin began to grow more suspicious. There were no extra men in the woods here, just Marrow and his farmers. Kulin wondered if could take them. If he got his hands on Marrow’s spear, he liked his chances.

  They rounded up another hill, and a herd of cows came into view, grazing the grass and resting in the shade.

  “Watch the bull,” Marrow said, gesturing towards a titanic cow with massive sharp horns. “He can be a tad excitable.”

  Beyond the cows though, Kulin saw an encampment with a group of men. A cookfire burned in the middle, with a large pot above it. A quick guess said there were nearly twenty men in the group altogether, mulling about the few tents, some trying to train with spears, others sitting around and laughing.

  “I must offer apologies, Marrow,” Kulin said, “I thought you aimed to rob me.”

  “Hah! I would have if you didn’t have the pendant, but don’t count me out yet, Gavon decides what happens to you, not me.”

  “Gavon your priest?”

  “The one and only, sent to bring Lerona’s divine justice.”

  Marrow and his men led Kulin into the camp, where many of the men looked up at him in curiosity. Most of them were farmers, Kulin could tell, but a few carried themselves differently. Mercenaries. Like Marrow.

  Marrow led Kulin to the central of the three tents, where a burly and hairy man stood guard.

  “What you find, Marrow?” the man asked.

  “Something Gavon might have use for.”

  The man then ducked his head inside the tent for a brief moment. He then pulled out and nodded his ascent so Marrow led Kulin into the tent.

  Inside was small, with a bedspread to the left, and a small wooden desk to the right. The ceiling hung low, just enough for Kulin to feel it with the hairs on his head. Three men were sat inside. One behind the desk, with papers of all sorts and an ink and quill. Another beside the desk, and the third standing in front of the two.

  “What have you brought me, Marrow?” the man beside the desk spoke, his voice calm and collected, proper and respectful. He had a well-trimmed beard and hair and wore a priest’s robes.

  “A knight,” Marrow said excitedly and waved his hands at Kulin.

  This caused the priest to sit up quickly. “A knight? Way out here?” The man, Gavon, looked at Kulin sharply. “Can I see your pendant?”

  Kulin felt a churning in his stomach. What if the priest could read his pendant? It certainly didn’t say his name was Kulin, among other things… But Kulin raised the pendant off of his head and gave it to Gavon, who looked at it expectantly.

  “A knight of…” the priest stopped, freezing at the ancient rune. “Is that Elladan’s mark?”

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  He wasn’t confident in reading. That was Kulin would need. “No sir. Desotis.”

  “Ahh…” Gavon nodded, “the sleeping god always tried to shorten the distance between himself and his uncle, much to the chagrin of everyone. Takes a good eye to tell their marks apart.”

  Not really. Elladan’s mark wasn’t that close to Desotis’. Yes, they were close, and it was true the Desotis often attempted to copy Elladan, but to someone who saw Elladan’s mark every day, mistaking the two was impossible.

  “I should rap myself for thinking the mark was Elladan’s. Elladan only has six knights, the six swords, and certainly, none of them would be here. But a Knight of Desotis, in Desotis’ own territory? Makes half a lick of sense, doesn’t it?

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Kulin said curtly.

  “On the contrary. I am excited to have a knight come to help. Has Desotis finally decided to govern his given land?”

  “I can’t speak to whether he has.”

  Gavon’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  “He has been asleep the last twelve years.” Kulin was surprising himself with his memory. He seemed to know more about Desotis and his knights than he would have thought.

  Gavon smiled, “Of course. Desotis was always an odd god, but then why are you here?”

  “He says he is going to kill the spear maiden,” Marrow interjected.

  “Are you?” Kulin didn’t answer quickly, so Gavon continued, “But where is your sword, your armor?”

  “I lost them when the traitor knight attacked.”

  Gavon stood up and paced behind Kulin. “Then you failed your duty. While you might have been sworn to Desotis, all knights oath to protect all the men, women, and children in this world. But Elladan is dead, and humanity is soon like to join him if the traitor knight and his pretender gods have their way.”

  Kulin’s face burned. “I failed every oath I had sworn. I have become a man worth less than nothing.”

  “You didn’t fail to protect Desotis, did you?”

  “What?”

  “Desotis, being your patron, would be your primary oath, would he not? Is he not still among the living, even if he has been sleeping?”

  Kulin nodded hastily. “You are correct.”

  “Then are not yet worth less than nothing.” No, the knight was worth less than nothing.

  “Do you really think you can kill Maiden? From the sound of it, you already failed to kill her and her ilk,” Marrow joined in again.

  “Yes,” Gavon said, “what was your plan to kill Racilla? She holds the spear Dawncaller and is the greatest spear warrior ever to live. You have nothing.”

  Kulin looked down. They were right. Even if he had his armor and sword, she would’ve proved difficult to kill. Now, even if he found a weapon, it was unlikely to be better than what he had. But he had to try. Elladan deserved it. Those who have died because of Elladan’s death deserved vengeance.

  “I must try.”

  “You would be walking into suicide. Not even Elladan’s swords could defeat her. Not Termino the Glass Knight nor Kynkaros the Loyal. A small knight of Desotis stands no chance.”

  “And do you and your men stand a chance?”

  “If you mean to be privy to my plans, think again. I will not spout them to any stranger.”

  Kulin paused, thinking a moment for what he could say. “I could stab her in her sleep, I could pin an arrow through her neck from a distance, she may fashion herself a goddess but she still has weaknesses.”

  “Not very knightly of you. To assassinate a woman.”

  It wasn’t. But was Kulin even still a knight? Did he need to recover his honor?

  “Before you continue, I have tried assassins. Three, for a fact. Not one has succeeded. Her guards are vigilant. The third also took the little money I gave and ran. He knew it was a fool’s errand.”

  “According to you, Racilla is unkillable. I would ask you for a sword or spear to prove otherwise.”

  “I am not against you joining our cause. I could pay you four ronds a day, plus six per day if we defeat her and make our way back to the high temple. I could arm you with an old spear, set you in a squad, maybe even in command. How much battle have you seen? Can you command?”

  Lots. While the world was mostly peaceful under Elladan, there were still a few campaigns.

  “I fought against Brand’s forces. Earned my steel. Earned my knighthood.”

  “That was twelve years ago, are you still in practice? Marrow can test you, if you consent.”

  Kulin nodded. He expected he would be rusty. It had been months since he wielded any weapon.

  “Are you willing to do it now? Marrow, send someone to fetch a couple sparring spears.”

  A ring was formed around Kulin and Marrow by the farm boys and mercenaries. Gavon had a seat brought out for himself, and he sat comfortably while the rest of the circle stood. The ground was a wash of dirt, any grass stomped out by foot, or eaten out by the cows.

  “Chop his dick off!” someone called, to laughs and cheers. Kulin and Marrow weren’t using sharp blades, so that would be an admittedly impressive feat.

  Kulin held the spear how he had been taught, right hand back and left forward, angling the point down. He made a few test swings and stabs, feeling the weight and balance of the wooden spear. Jeers came from the crowd. It was a shorter spear of thick wood. It wouldn’t bend near as much as an eight-footer or larger.

  “Get on with it!”

  “C’mon coward, we don’t have all day!”

  Kulin sighed. As good a time to start as any. “I am ready.”

  Gavon nodded and raised his hand. The crowd grew silent.

  “First man to five wins, Begin,” he said and chopped his arm downward in a swift motion.

  Marrow stepped quickly towards Kulin, his body leaning forward over his spear. Kulin attempted to move in a circle around Marrow. But Marrow did not care and jabbed his spear out quickly. Kulin held his ground and his spear calmly. They were test jabs. Marrow was trying to learn how Kulin might react. Kulin didn’t bite, and instead kept his spear forward, the point trained on Marrow.

  Kulin continued to try to circle Marrow and Marrow continued to move with him, not exposing his side or back. Jeers could be heard from the crowd, but they felt a distance away from Kulin. All he felt was the rising adrenaline in his body. Adrenaline could be dangerous. It made someone jumpy and often overexcited. He needed to keep his wits about him. Deep breaths.

  Marrow stepped forward again, this time a larger step. Kulin felt his arms move his spear automatically and when Marrow’s spear flashed forward, Kulin batted it downwards, and rammed his spear tip quickly into Marrow’s chest, stepping past his spear aggressively. Marrow called a point for Kulin, and they moved back to their starting positions. Marrow’s swing had been telegraphed and amateur, like someone who picked a spear for the first time was trying it.

  Kulin now saw Marrow was smiling. Not a happy smile but a chilling one, unnerving. Gavon called for them to go again and Marrow exploded with speed, thrusting the spear violently forward. Kulin traded against the spear and tried to move backwards, but was too slow and Marrow slid his spear down Kulin’s own and into Kulin’s hand.

  “Point,” Gavon called.

  Kulin was able to take the next two points though, the first a low strike to Marrow’s leg, the second a cut to Marrow’s arm. They traded the next, as Gavon ruled it a tie when they stabbed each other near the same time.

  “You cannot win on a tie,” Gavon reminded Kulin of the rules.

  Kulin nodded as the sixth match started, his breath beginning to pick up. Fighting was stressful work, mostly just instinct mixed with hard trained in drills. Even the most skilled of fighters could die in stupid ways, a little cut festering was all a man needed to die.

  Marrow’s spear had gotten faster with every point Kulin earned. Unlike Kulin, who grew more sluggish and tired, as he was out of rigorous practice. Marrow earned his third point by hitting Kulin in the neck after a feint. Kulin had noticed it, but was too slow to catch it. Marrow had been merciful, and he greatly slowed his spear before Kulin’s neck. Kulin realized with a start how easily he could have died. Not just if they used real spears, but if Marrow had violently driven his spear and crushed Kulin’s windpipe he would have died here, for nothing.

  The seventh match saw another tie, as Kulin struck Marrow’s belly and Marrow Kulin’s leg. Marrow had rushed forward quickly, grabbing at Kulin’s spear. Kulin had managed to just barely slide his spear back out of the way and then forward into Marrow but Marrow had been swift and whacked Kulin’s leg. Grappling in close with someone was never easy and always messy. But spears especially were not meant to have enemies so close. A tie was ruled and Marrow was given a point. It was match point, with both fighters at four.

  “Go!” Gavon started the eighth match and Kulin again circled Marrow. Marrow allowed him to do this much easier this time, with no testing strikes, instead choosing to join in the circling. Kulin now sped up and slowed down his pace, trying to keep Marrow guessing, and when he felt Marrow give him even the slightest angle of advantage, he struck hard and fast, but Marrow deflected and dodged it, sending his own slash back, causing Kulin to jump back. Marrow didn’t release the attack, and pressured Kulin again, forcing him to take a few unwanted steps back. Marrow tried his feint again, but Kulin was ready and quickly moved his spear into place.

  Or he would’ve. If he didn’t feel it get stuck for a brief second, hitting something unseen behind him. Smack! Marrow hit Kulin in the chest. Kulin tried to respond quick enough for a tie but Marrow deftly dodged away, making the winner obvious.

  The farm boys and mercenaries cheered for Marrow and mobbed him, excited for his victory, but all Kulin could feel was emptiness. He had been out of practice so long now, that he couldn’t even beat a mercenary, much less the Spear Maiden.

  After, Marrow and Gavon brought Kulin back into his tent. Gavon offered Kulin a place and Kulin accepted sheepishly. Marrow praised him and said he was quite skilled, but it didn’t feel real. Kulin should have been more skilled. What would his past self thought of him now? A pathetic weak old man is what.

  Marrow then led Kulin around the camp and introduced him to all sorts of farm boys and a few mercenaries. Marrow told him that he was going to be put into Marrow’s group. Kulin was mostly quiet, just nodding towards all of the new faces and names.

  “Look,” Marrow said, “I suspect you fancy yourself a fine warrior, and for good reason. Your only real mistake in the last bout against me was not a total awareness of your surroundings. You were too focused on me, that you hadn’t noticed that I had walked you back a fair bit when we circled. Your spear just hit someone behind as they didn’t move out the way fast enough.”

  Kulin nodded, it was true, he had figured it out himself, and he felt a little ashamed to be advised not only by a man younger but also by a mercenary who didn’t seem classically trained. Kulin really was worth less than nothing now.

  Kulin went to sleep that night questioning whether he was even capable of completing his mission.

  But if he didn’t, who would?

  Too anyone confused about certain character/place names that are dropped with no explanation, I am going to put an appendix chapter out, hopefully in the next few days. It will not be comprehensive and it shouldn't be required to understand everything going on, but hopefully it will be nice to those who might've wanted it.