Karreki shuffled into the village the next day, with Latgalay walking by her side. As Latgalay worried of running late, she had tried offering an arm to the crone, if only to speed them along. But of course, Karreki refused.

“Why the hurry to hear Jaxtos’s send off speech?” Karreki asked. “You have heard them before, and it will not have changed.”

“Because,” Latgalay said. “Trexnos will be leading the raid this time.”

Karreki scoffed and glared at Latgalay with squinting eyes, causing Latgalay to blush.

“What matters who leads the raid?” Karreki asked. “Unless, perhaps, you think you shall join them in this folly?”

Latgalay tried biting her tongue, but she could not. “Well certainly you could not go!” Latgalay said. “You would never survive that trip, and one of us must go.”

“Is that a certainty?” Karreki asked, her tone testing Latgalay, setting a trap for Latgalay with her words. Latgalay knew she would need to answer carefully this time, else the crone’s ire would be raised.

“And who else will protect Trexnos and his warriors from the Laeten magicks?” Latgalay asked. “Who will guide them in matters of the spirits? You might be too old for the trip, but I am of similar age to some of the warriors sure to accompany the raid.”

Lagalay of course desired strongly to attend this raid. She was thinking of the long trip and the solitary time that she would spend with the chief’s son. Without a hint of doubt, Latgalay knew she needed to serve as the raid’s druid. Then she could spend the nights binding Trexnos to herself, securing her own position within the tribe, and perhaps, just perhaps, foiling Karreki’s plans to send her off.

Unfortunately, Karreki had other plans.

“Fie!” scolded Karreki. “I see that maiden’s blush. Again so eager to spread your legs? Or perhaps eager to spend your days lost among thorns and frozen swamps, or eager to spend your nights with your stomach gnawing from hunger? There is no pleasure accompanying a raid, and the heaped glory is a false promise to trick fools to throw their lives away.” Karreki labored to breathe between each word. “You. Will. Not. Go.”

~

They entered a gathering of gaunt men, women, and children. In the center of the tribesmen, on a mound of dirt with a flattened top, as a makeshift stage, there stood Chief Jaxtos and his eldest son Trexnos. Trexnos beamed with pride and excitement under his furs and leathers, his smile apparent, despite his face being partially obscured by a wolf’s head helm. And at his waist, was a heavy leather belt where there hung a short sword, one that was either stolen or traded from the Laetens, for their steelworks were far superior to anything the tribes could produce.

Jaxtos spared an irritated glance towards Karreki for arriving late. The crowd parted to make way for Karreki’s shuffling pace. They backed away in awe, perhaps reverence, and definitely unease. This was the crone, after all.

Karreki called for hands, and Jaxtos helped her climb up towards the top of the stage. Latgalay moved to follow, but a sharp gesture from the crone caused Latgalay to remain with the crowd below, though she claimed a spot near the front, as near to Trexnos as possible. She hoped to draw his eyes.

“Finally they arrive,” Morwen said. “We have been standing for too long waiting.”

“You cannot rush the spirits,” Karreki said, as she shuffled to claim her spot.

“Nor old women, so it seems,” Morwen said, to which Trexnos hid his smile.

Karreki scowled at Morwen for a second, before addressing Trexnos. “The path is perilous, even with the spirits at your side. For to the south, atop the great mountain Turi-sleibos, you may rile the demon Swantae. So I ask, and I ask once again: Are you certain of your course, to rile this demon?”

Texnos knelt before Karreki, bringing his head to just below Karreki’s hunched figure, for he was much taller than the bent and shriveled crone.

“I am,” said Trexnos.

“Then you are a fool.” Karreki spat.

Trexnos started an outburst when the chief coughed and spoke quickly, covering his son. “We ask for the spirits to guide us in selecting warriors for the raid, as our ways demand,” said Jaxtos.

Karreki held Jaxtos’ eye for a moment. Jaxtos did not back down, and all else were silent, except for the crone’s wheezing breath.

“Perhaps the crone has forgotten why she came, and why we waited for her?” Morwen the poet said, from the crowd, not so far from where Latgalay stood. No one laughed with him. Karreki was not one that most wished to cross, and her displeasure was legendary.

“Hold friend,” Jaxtos called back to the poet. “Karreki knows her duty, just as she knows it is mine to decide the warrior’s course.”

Another moment of near silence, of Karreki staring down Jaxtos. Finally, Karreki relented.

“Then so be it,” Karreki said.

From a pouch and into her hand, she emptied runed bones, fragments of bone carved upon each side with the sacred words passed down from the gods. She lifted the casting bones above her head. She lifted her face to the sky, and she shouted with a warbling and unsteady voice.

“Then let the spirits decide who shall join this fool’s raid.”

Karreki threw the bones down to the earth. The bone fragments numbered in twelve, four spirits, each with three tenses: past, present, and future. The bones had been taken from fallen warriors, had been bleached, and then painted over with runes. These runes Karreki now bent low to read.

Her voice cleared and she looked up, just long enough to shout, “Melroth the blue!”

A large and strapping kenget stepped forward. His left shoulder and chest had been tattooed in blue knots and at his side he bore a long handled axe and a shield at his back. He flexed held both arms aloft and circled twice before joining Trexnos. The tribe stomped their feet and cheered.

Karreki tossed the bones again, and again she bent low to read. “Gruth the scarred,” she called.

The crowd parted to let an old kenget pass through. Thin and white scars laced his arms and face; a large purple scar puckered his cheek. The tribe stomped their feet faster than before. They had all heard the valiant Gruth: Only the fierce or the cravenly grew old, and Gruth was no coward.

Karreki did name more, and over, and over again did her voice call out. And with each name, the tribe cheered and stomped louder than before. And with each name that was called, Latgalay hoped to hear her own, despite Karreki’s designs. For the crone would not deceive the tribe as to what the spirits spoke through the runes, and the spirits might decide differently than Karreki.

When near forty names had been called, Karreki uttered: “Gelinda the Grim.” The crowd paused in silence. “Gelinda the grim,” Karreki called again.

A tall and built kenbennas stepped up to join Trexnos. She strode with a straight back and looked straight into Karreki’s eyes, which was no small feat of courage.

“You named me a new title?” Gelinda asked. “And one so unbecoming?”

“Child,” Karrekie said. “Do you dare to challenge the spirits, you who suckled yesterday? The runes called your new title, not I.”

Gelinda shook her head, “But I did not think myself grim. I am, or was, Gelinda the blonde.”

“And henceforward, Gelinda the Grim,” Trexnos said. “The title suits you.” He smiled at her and winked, and Karreki scoffed.

Latgalay remembered Gelinda from the feast. She had been with Trexnos then too. Latgalay wished Gelinda’s name had not been called, for competition was not to be desired.

Jaxtos then asked, ruining the trail of thought. “Must any more go south, or will you have the tribe depleted of all its warriors?”

A few laughed at the question, but not Karreki. She held out one finger. “But one name remains,” she promised.

She tossed the bones up into the air. They twisted and turned. Ribs pointed every which way as they hit the apex of the throw. Then they fell fast into the earth. Some bones stood up straight and others laid flat. Karreki bent low to the ground. She mumbled and shook her head.

Everyone edged in. Latgalay held her breath. Trexnos hovered over the bones until Karreki scolded, “You are blocking my light!”

And finally, Karreki stood, dusted wet grass from her knees, and took a deep breath—her chest swelled.

“Krag,” Karreki called. “The bones have called your name to go south.”

For a minute, there was only silence.

Then Trexnos said, “No…Why Krag? He cannot join us. He is but a boy.”

But the scout from the night before, Krag, already stepped forward. His face was split by a scar running from the top of his head, between his eyes, and down one side of his nose. As he stepped forward, he put each foot carefully, tentatively, as though an adder might bite him. The eyes of the tribe followed him, but no one cheered or slapped his back as he passed.

“You would send him south,” Morwen scoffed, “On a raid as important as this? He is no warrior.”

“Do you doubt me?” Karreki hissed. “Or should I say, do you doubt the bones, which are the spirits’, and their making their desires known to us? Do you doubt the spirits?”

Morwen spat. “Nay, I have no doubt for the spirits, yet I do doubt you. Why should the boy go south with the true warriors of the tribe?”

“Thus have the bones said: For the venture south to find success, then the scout named Krag must lead.”

Morwen laughed, Trexnos scowed, and a mockery rippled through the crowd. Morwen spoke over the laughter, “But the raid is already to be led by Trexnos, most certainly not the unblooded Krag.” Then Morwen suggested, “Perhaps your eyes are as feeble as your ears?”

But if Trexnos took Krag south, an untried warrior, then perhaps they would take Latgalay as an untried druid. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and then called out, “Has the scout not already been to the south? Perhaps this choice is reasonable...” As glares started her way, Latgalay quickly added, “Though not as leader. Perhaps as a scout?”

Those standing closest to Latgalay looked at her as though she had the plague about her, and they all stepped away, leaving a gap around her.

“And so have many of our warriors already,” Morwen shouted. “Many of our tried and blooded warriors.”

“But Krag is blooded,” Latgalay said stubbornly. “Just look at his scar. He deserves a—“

“That scar,” Morwen knocked on the top of Krag’s head, “Is not from combat, despite what he tells the girls he tricks into his bed.” Morwen paused to chuckle. “And that the naïve girl now seems to believe. But let me share the truth with you: This mighty scar that inflicts ugliness upon the boy is not from combat, but from where he fell in his trial, and failed to either die or succeed.”

The crowd nodded and Karreki caught Latgalay’s eye. A small shake of the head. Latgalay was forced to bite her tongue. Why would Karreki not wish for Latgalay to press forwarded, Latgalay wondered.

“Krag stays here,” Trexnos declared. “I shall not have a sulking unblooded scout spoil my journey.”

Karreki remained silent. Krag hung his head and slipped back into the crowd.

“What of soitos? Who shall guide my son in this raid?” Jaxtos asked.

Karreki remained silent. Latgalay wanted to step forward, but Karreki caught her eye and, again, shook her head. If Karreki would refuse, then this would be Latgalay’s chance.

“Well?” Jaxtos prompted.

“You would ask an old and feeble woman to journey many days and night over hard terrain, jagged hills, frozen swamps, and all to do battle at the end?” Karreki asked. “This is madness.”

Jaxtos looked at Karreki appraisingly. “Surely someone else could go. If not you, then your apprentice?”

Latgalay’s heart jumped. This was it. Her one and only chance. She called out, “Send me. I am ready.”

Jaxtos looked gratefully to Latgalay, and Trexnos finally saw her down below. His eyes lingered on her. Her heart thudded. Finally, she could escape Karreki. She would find a way to seduce Trexnos. Then she would have the man bound to her, twisted about her arm like a torc, to accompany her as an ornament, and to allow her to rule the tribe, and—and then Karreki ruined Latgalay’s plans.

“You are not ready,” Karreki said. “No. My apprentice shall not go.”

Jaxtos looked to Karreki and opened his mouth to speak, but Karreki beat him to it. She rattled on with a heated voice.

“She is not ready. She is not blooded. She is not tested. She is not joined by a companion. She is not spoken to by the spirits. She is not known to the mists. If you send my apprentice, then your son shall surely find terror and pain along his journey.”

“But a druid must go,” Jaxtos said finally. “I will not have my son undefended from the demon to the south. And given your age, your apprentice is better. This is an opportunity to test her. Let her go against an easy foe. The Laetens shall be no match for our strength.”

“Fie! If it were so easy, then why send a druid at all? But if you insist on soitos, then let me write a spell of protection upon Trexnos, and let the spirits guide him directly.”

Trexnos looked uncomfortable. Jaxtos looked at his son for a second. Karreki caught the look and added, “What is the matter boy, afraid of a little soitos? Or perhaps the runes of the spirits frighten you?”

Trexnos paled and the chief sighed in a long suffering manner.

“You or your apprentice,” Jaxtos said. “Lest you taste my judgment. What say you, Karreki the Earth-Shaker, shall you join my son in a glorious raid to the south? Shall you do battle once more? Or shall you send your apprentice in your stead, to learn her place in the tribe.”

Karreki scoffed. “The spirits do not rise so eagerly as they once did,” Karreki muttered. “And neither do I.”

Karreki continued muttering under her breath and fishing through her runes as she spoke, undoubtedly considering her position, and the possibility that Jaxtos might move against her.

The crowd kept silent. Karreki would unlikely survive this trip, this she knew, and this everyone else suspected. Obviously, the choice would be for Latgalay to go. Karreki would be forced to put Latgalay through the mists, but that would only take one night, and then Latgalay could be ready to attend the raid by the next day.

Latgalay’s heart continued pounding in her throat, and her hands shook in excitement. This was it, this was when Karreki would give in and agree to send Latgalay on the raid.

Karreki finally broke the near silence, and made her decision known. With a loud voice, she shouted: “I shall go. I shall endure this fool’s journey. My apprentice shall stay here with the tribe, until ill winds consume us.”

Trexnos groaned, and Latgalay’s ears rang. She must have misheard, but deep down, she knew.

Karreki…How could Karreki do this? Karreki did not want to go, Karreki could not go, and yet…

Latgalay’s hands continued to shake, but now, instead of in anticipation, they shook in anger.