A tall woman stepped forward seemingly out of nowhere and looked at the two of them stoically. She was built much like Torysen, but wielded a large battleaxe and heavy studded leather armor.

“Take off those ridiculous cloaks, Archer. I know who you are, and who you guard.” Her voice was commanding and deep.

Leornal acquiesced and stepped toward her, “Don’t trouble us, Valree. We’ve passed your men, we’re leaving the city. You know as well as I do that the rumors are not true.”

She chuckled mirthlessly, “I don’t give a damn about the rumors. We are not on Marra any longer. Real measures need to be taken. Our enemies need to be treated as such, not spoonfed our greatest secrets and trained by our best warriors. Let me give the boy a real trial, and perhaps we’ll leave him under guard rather than execute him.”

“I can’t do that. Captain’s orders.” He held his rapier defensively in front of him.

“Captain, or that traitorous daughter of Leenel’s? And you would really raise steel? Torysen herself couldn’t win in a fair fight against me.” The woman hefted her battleaxe, and Mason paled trying to picture how one would deflect a blow from that.

Leornal didn’t budge. He was in a fencer’s stance, and there was energy pouring off of him as if he were begging for the fight. His voice grew deep, “Who said anything about a fair fight?”

Mason drew his staff at that, and it glistened even in the darkness. Mardun Mana swirled around the gem at its head, forming an eerie haze to mana sight, and the ornate black body of it seemed to catch every bit of light that moved in the nighttime.

“I mean no harm to anyone in the city, Captain Valree. You heard me talk before the council, and I meant what I said. Just let us pass,” he pleaded.

She shook her head and stepped toward them, “You think I care what your intentions are? You are not of our people, and that means you are the enemy. I will be the one to pass from this plane to the next and win the freedom of New Marra, and if your head is the price to pay I will consider it a fair bargain.”

Mason took a step toward her and saw her eyes lock on him. He matched her stare, and then sprinted as quickly as he could down the length of the city wall.

Valree’s reaction was slow, but when she realized what had happened she turned to chase after him, only stopping just in time to see Leornal circle around to what would be her backside if she moved. When her attention was back on him, Mason cast Shadowstalk again, and began to move as quickly as he could around and back toward the battle.

“Tricks. You two play at tricks. Do you not see the Demon you’re supporting? I can feel the soul arts in him. And he’s got the seeds of power, too. That boy is dangerous.”

“So am I,” Leornal stated.

Then he lunged.

Rather that move the massive, heavy head of the battleaxe, Valree shifted the pole of it to deflect the thrust, and then stepped back to give herself room to swing. Her attack came with a massive rush of air as the bulky axehead moved quicker than it should have, and Leornal barely got down and back fast enough to stay in one piece.

Three arrows flew down from atop the city wall and Valree jumped back and out of their way to avoid them. She roared in frustration. “Is a fair fight so much to ask?”

“I’m not in the giving mood.”

The next volley of arrows was scattered about, and Valree had to move quickly out of the way to avoid them. Leornal pressed in and made several attempts at piercing through joints of her armor, but his blows were mostly turned or left no worthwhile mark.

The arrows and Leornal continued to press the offensive, and the warrior began to look nervous as she was pressed further back toward the tree line. She avoided any heavy strikes with her battleaxe because she knew a well placed arrow would take full advantage of any movement she made that wasn’t defending or dodging.

Mason meanwhile waited stealthily at the tree line, watching as she got closer to him with each step. One good strike and he could drain her stamina and life, and hopefully distract her enough for Leornal’s blade to find purchase as well.

He watched, ready to pounce, and felt his blood pumping with the thrill of it. To take her life force would be so satisfying. He hadn’t been able to use that ability in quite some time, and there was a certain savory characteristic…

A hand clamped tightly on his shoulder and pulled him backwards. Before he knew it he was stumbling and half-turned, and a hand caught the wrist that was closest to the staff. A foot came up and kicked his leg so hard that he went down on one knee, and as he fell the attacker’s second arm chopped into his wrist hard enough to make him release the staff, while the first hand took it.

He was about to reach for his knife when he saw his staff turned and pressed to his forehead, and only then did he look up to see who had so handily disarmed him.

“Faynel?” Mason asked, shocked.

“You have a sword. Do not give our people more reason to hate you. Valree may be your opponent but she is respected. Watch how Leornal toys with her. Torysen will arrive soon, and she’ll desist, and if we end this encounter without any wounds then nobody will have any further reason to treat you as an enemy.” The look in her eyes was reproachful and distant, as if the companionship they had built up had completely broken down.

But things were as she said. Mason watched through the bushes as Torysen charge in and began to strike with her own magical blade against the heavy battleaxe. The archers stayed their bows, and Torysen’s strength was enough to actually turn direct strikes from Valree’s heavy weapon. Though they clashed fiercely, there was no sense of bloodlust. It was merely a battle of pride.

A great many people watched interestedly as the fight drew on, but the matter was already settled. Even with reinforcements, Valree would have to step aside. She wasn’t here to start a war.

Mason muttered as he watched it, just loudly enough for Faynel to hear. “I’m tired of not being strong enough to protect myself. I don’t like that Torysen is fighting my battles for me.”

Taking a languid seat next to him, Faynel sighed. “I wouldn’t be able to do more than run around that woman myself. There’s always something to learn, or something to practice. But you did ask to be part of the Roving Band. You didn’t think we could let you handle things on your own after that, did you?”

“I figured you were more likely to try and get rid of me as soon as possible, if we’re being honest. I knew what I was doing when I put Torysen on the spot.”

“She would have accepted you either way. Our band has a certain reputation, after all.”

Mason looked down at her curiously, “What sort of reputation?”

Mischief in her eyes, she explained, “We’re all Darkest Night to some extent. The defense teams love the council, they love the old order. Us Roving Bands tend to be the ones that want to see what The Trials are actually about.”

The fight was wrapping up. The two women had their weapons down, and were locked in a staring contest. Wordlessly, Valree walked from the field, and Mason wondered what the power must feel like to be able to force a warrior like her to back down.

“Darkest Night, huh?”

“You’re not the only one to turn an insult into your pride. The Corrosi shame us because we’re hidden from their eyes in the night. They think even our warriors are assassins. You’re pretty good at running and hiding yourself, so they’ll love you as much,” she nudged him with her elbow and smiled.

“Leornal suggested the plan and it seemed like a good one.”

“You were saving your own hide,” she accused.

“Actually, it looks like Torysen did that.”

“Form up,” Torysen shouted as she passed under the treeline toward where Mason and Faynel were watching.

Two archers landed on the ground from their perches in the trees, and Sentir and another swordsman slipped out from among the trees as well. Meanwhile, the archers on the wall had donned cloaks and vanished into the city.

There were eight of them clustered closely together just at the edge of the trees then. Sentir was casting some sort of magic, likely ensuring that they weren’t being observed, and Leornal was breathing heavily from the fight. Torysen though looked commanding as she stood silently before them, her sword still held tightly in an armored hand.

“Mason, on behalf of New Marra, I apologize for the threat that has fallen over your life this night. You were accepted by the council, and your safety should have been assured, but these are more troubled times than is often readily apparent. Leornal reported to us about the attack yesterday, and rumors spreading throughout the city confirmed it, and gave us cause to believe you would be attacked again tonight.

“Unfortunately, you are not safe in the city right now. Despite the fact that we have heard rumblings of external threats, it seems a great many people are willing to endanger our relationship with the humans if it means removing what they consider to be a threat in you. Upon your approval, and under the watch of a small force,” she gestured at their audience, “I would remove you to a safe location that our band setup in advance in the north.”

Though it sounded like she was requesting his permission, her odd formality and icy stare ensured that Mason had no pretense that this was up for debate. “I appreciate all of your assistance,” he looked around, nodding at each person who had been here to defend him, “and promise that I will speak kindly of the Darkest Night when humans finally enter The Trials.”

That was enough for her, and one of the archers clamped shut a small box which Mason guesses was either a transmitter or a recorder. So things have progressed to that point then? He wondered at the difference in their behavior from their earlier encounters. This was a different group. When they had been training and sparring, they’d even been friendly and cheery.

But even though Mason could hardly see in the dim light under the trees, Mason could see that this escort was made of grim warriors. They moved quickly and efficiently, but kept quiet. Sentir, Leornal, and the other two archers were all especially on edge, drifting apart from the group from time to time to inspect a rustling bush or a far-off noise.

They kept to no path, but each of them moved as if they had gone this way a dozen times before.

If he had begun to feel uncomfortable in the city, he was downright unnerved passing through the woods. Dim moonlight struggled to pierce the tree canopy, so he moved mostly from what little vision Focus gave him, hurrying between the moonshafts and mirroring the other’s movements over fallen branches and uneven ground.

There were more noises out here, too. Mason had run fairly freely in the forest to the south and had barely encountered a handful of rodents. But more things lived here and they had made their marks. Even in the middle of a group of people, he found himself waving off spider-webs, and struggled to keep his footing among the many burrows and holes throughout the ground.

From time to time, eyes would flash at him from among the branches, often with a flapping of wings or a loud screech as a bird or an owl would take flight away from the group. Faintly, he even suspected he heard howling.

For the thousandth time, Mason thanked his luck that he had appeared in precisely the way he had in this world. With even a single less advantage, he doubted he’d have survived a week.

The group trekked on as the night grew deeper and darker. The canopy above let in almost no light now, and Mason was thankful for the abilities that let him track with where his companions were guiding him. But even they seemed to be growing increasingly wary. None of them spoke, and the scouts among the group still investigated possible threats, but with more castings of mana, and far less wandering from the safety of numbers.

When they passed what Mason suspected was the darkest part of the forest, he saw Sentir move up and tap twice on one of the archers. They made a hand sign in return, and the both of them got Torysen’s attention, and made the same sign. She scowled, and looked back at Faynel, who took Mason’s hand. He was thankful for the darkness as he turned red, but then he felt her pull his hand onto his sword and he realized what she had been doing.

He gripped the sword, and sensed the group picking up their pace. They accelerated slowly, but after several minutes it seemed almost as if they were jogging in formation. The cold air felt even chillier on the thin layer of sweat forming on the back of his neck. His heart began beating faster even as he grew more wary of their surroundings.

Awooooooooooooooooooo!

Mason nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a definite howl, but though some looked that way, Mason followed Sentir’s stare off in the opposite direction. The wind blew and the trees and undergrowth rustled noisily. Mason thought he heard the sound of footsteps quietly beneath the auditory camouflage

Suddenly from behind Mason there was the chink of metal colliding, and he rapidly turned around, drawing his blade. He was moments behind the rest of the group in getting his weapon out, and took even longer to process what he saw.