"It is blasphemy, Brother," the Brother said. Kelton thought it the surest sign of the man's ineptness. The Brother made a bad leap of logic, thinking Kelton was one of his own. Possibly this white-robed was not treated well in the Brotherhood. A coward among cowards. "It is lies upon lies."

Kelton rose from the bench in a slow and deliberate way. The other patrons gave him space as if he bore the plague. "Aye, it is lies," Kelton said. The Brother crawled away from Kelton before he gained his feet. A sign of fear. "The day was not so dark, and the boy, not so brave." The Brother took steps back as Kelton stepped forward.

"It did not happen, Brother," the Brother argued. "Blasphemy is forbidden."

"Blasphemy?" Kelton questioned. "Do you speak with the Goddess? Has she made known her wants?" Anguish could be heard from behind him as he questioned the Brother.

"It...it is a known thing, Brother," the Brother said, his confidence fading as was his distance to the wall.

"Brother?" Kelton said, this time more loudly. "Do I share a mother with you?"

"Who are you?" the Brother demanded, his right hand disappearing into his robes, a sloppy maneuver without commitment.

"Not your Brother," Kelton replied, waiting for the Brother's hand to return with a blade in it. "And who are you to interrupt such a tale?"

"The voice of the Goddess," the Brother replied, confidence vacant in the words. "I am to police such lies."

"They are little lies," Kelton said, still waiting for the Brother to draw his blade. He took a step back to give the man more room. Kelton raised his voice so all could hear. "The boy was terrified and desired only to preserve those he loved. A deed he thought would be the end of him. It was his curse to be Unseen and sneak up on a Brother." Kelton chuckled. "That boy lost his stomach looking upon the blood he spilled."

"Kelton," Taggert whispered under his breath, though many heard it.

"Who are you?" the Brother asked again, his hand still hidden.

"A night terror to one such as you," Kelton said. "An Aragonian who has seen the world. I have read in the Unglang library and journeyed through the Waitland." He smiled and pointed to the door. "Best if you be on your way and leave me be."

The sword emerged as expected. It was a cumbersome move, the Brother's stance more defensive than it should be. Kelton decided to let spiders-bite rest and drew his belt blade to counter. It was apparent the man had little experience with the Unseen. He spent his life as King of the defenseless.

Kelton caught the Brother's thrust, dancing his torso away as his blade's guard engaged with the sword, pushing it to the side. He moved forward, riding the guard up along the Brother's steel. When guard met guard, Kelton flicked his wrist and cut a stripe along the Brother's knuckles that held the weapon. The sword fell to the floor as Kelton pushed the Brother against the wall. It was over in a blink, the Brother gasping as Kelton's knife pressed against his neck.

"That boy risked all in fear," Kelton said. He reached up with his free hand and pulled down his hood. "Do you think the man would risk less?" The Brother's eyes grew in size as he put all the pieces together.

"Kelton!" Taggert said, this time echoing in the building with certainty. Whispered astonishment began.

"I have come to gather those I care for," Kelton instructed the Brother. "It is best if you and yours give me the space I desire. After which, I will part from these shores and leave you to your sheep." Kelton saw terror in the Brother's eyes. It was not unwelcome, and reminded him of the terror he felt being hunted in the woods so long ago. "Do we have a bargain?"

The Brother nodded, the knife drawing a thin red line against his throat. Kelton relaxed the blade and stepped back. He gestured to the sword, which the Brother retrieved as he ran from the building.

It wasn't as satisfying as Kelton would have expected. The Brother was more of a weak worm, then a threat. He knew nothing of the man's past and had never seen him before. Not the picture of the Brotherhood he remembered. It was if he had punished a small child for the sins of the parent. He sheathed his blade and turned. Taggert was the only one smiling. The rest of the crowd showed a mixture of fear and awe.

"It is you," Taggert said as he stepped down from the platform. "They said you were dead, but I never believed it."

"Aye," Kelton said, matching Taggert's smile. "It is your promised rematch in stones that has kept me breathing." They both laughed as Taggert wrapped his arms around Kelton, and Kelton's about him. The embrace was more welcome than Kelton imagined it would be. They were both boys when last they had seen each other. An eternity in both time and age, yet here they hugged as if they were brothers. It was if his family was being rebuilt.

"Your mugs are free, Leafman," Lagneer called from behind the counter, breaking the silence.

"I would prefer tea, good keeper," Kelton called back, his cheer fully restored as he released Taggert from his grasp. Lagneer nodded and turned to prepare a mug.

"You are he," Another man called out. "It is him - the Brother ran from him."

"I am not he," Kelton said. "I am only Kelton."

"You are the Answer," O'fan called out.

"It can not be," Still another added.

"Tales of old are plenty," Kelton said, his hands raised to stop the talk. "Men are men, and I have no more answers than any other."

"But you have returned," Taggert said, more quietly than the others.

"Not to be the hero of some ancient tale," Kelton said with a sigh. "You are a storyteller, and you of all people should know the falseness of such things."

"Is he not the Kelton of your tale," a man asked Taggert.

"He is," Taggert said. There was a mix of conversation as many began to list the facts that proved Kelton was the Answer. Kelton's pleading fell on deaf ears.

"Come, demon!" The shout came from outside, the voice of the Brother. Kelton rolled his eyes, fools inside and out. "Come face the glory of the Goddess." The man desired a lesson Kelton thought he already delivered. Yet, another chastisement seemed a better alternative than arguing with a tavern full of broken logic. Kelton moved through the door to replace many fools with one.

"Kelton!" Tagger called in warning. It came too late.

The sword thrust was quick, and so was Kelton's body. He had not anticipated another Brother, one opposite the door, and nowhere near the first Brother's voice. A shameful lack of awareness, not unlike the first Brother's fumbling. The blade was meant to pierce his belly, but Kelton's reaction stepped in, and it grazed his side. A wound he barely felt, yet exploded in his mind as the cost of his stupidity. The feeling of invulnerability disappeared and was supplanted by instinct.

Kelton turned, allowing his cloak to flair out, briefly entangling the Brother's weapon so Kelton could create distance. He dropped low, rolled along the wall, and found his feet again without loss of momentum. Nagada were never still in battle.

"Come, demon," a third Brother said. Kelton steadied his mind as his feet found purchase and prepared to dance. Along the wall, the sneaky Brother inched closer. Three more approached from the central fire, widening the distance between them in an attempt to hold Kelton in place. With the three was the first.

"You have declined my offer," Kelton said, regaining his confidence. It was always better to see your enemies. He moved farther to the left, toward the long storage building. There were four, and he preferred to eliminate attacks from one side. He wanted no doors or corners to cause problems. Spiders-bite remained sheathed. Better not to let it out before its time. He brandished his belt blade to slow their movements while he chose his ground.

"It is your end, demon," a Brother with a small black strip for a beard said. He was confident of his skill, holding his sword low at his side as he approached. The sneaky one from the wall was all height and muscle. His sword was held out like spear as if Kelton would desire to fall upon it. The third's sword was moving slowly as if its tip refused to choose a location. The Brother wielding it wore a smirk as if this battle pleasured him. Kelton sorted them in his mind, Clumsy, Confident, Muscles, and Smirk. It was Confident Kelton figured would be the hardest to drop. The others seemed to feed off of him. Kelton crossed the distance between the tavern and the storage building, placing it at his back.

"Nowhere to hide now," Confident said. He gestured, and the other three spread out in an attempt to pin Kelton in. And pin they would, on ground chosen by a Nagada.

"I offer a truce again," Kelton said. "It would go better for all if you allow me to pass. I mean to leave this land and only take a few with me. I have no desire to be demon or Answer."

Confident's laugh was their answer. Even Clumsy grew nerves with the others at his side. It looked as if Muscles desired the first blow, his feet moving faster than the others. Smirk would deliver the last strike. Kelton sensed he was a snake and sought weakened prey.

"Four against two, hardly fair," Kelton said as the foursome neared.

"I see only one, demon," Confident said. "Do you think those sheep will help?" His grin spoke of what he thought of those without the Knowing.

"Nay, fool," Kelton replied as he reached for the clasp of his cloak. "Nagada count blades."

"Nagada are myth," Smirk said, with as much disdain as he could fit into the words. Clumsy slowed as if he knew that to be untrue.

Kelton undid his cloak and let it fly with the wind out of harm's way, thankful the heat of the day had made him remove his tunic. His belt blade flew at Clumsy, catching the bicep of his sword arm, then spiders-bite found air and began to dance.

"Come meet the myth," Kelton said. Clumsy stepped backward, his sword limp in his hand. His cry sounded like a child's. It was three blades against two, hardly fair.

Kelton's scars and warrior marks did their work well. Even Muscles fell back on his heels for an instant. A feeling of wetness made Kelton glance at his side. There was more blood than the pain had indicated. He would live, but weakness may invade if the battle was drawn out.

Muscles moved first, his blade driven by strength. Kelton danced, his right sword moving to counter Muscles, the left protecting against the other two. Confident chose that moment to cut low, aiming for Kelton's leg near the ankle. He lifted the forward leg, letting the blade slice air, then set it his foot back down and bringing his left sword to bear, slapping Confident's blade further than the man desired. Smirk drove forward between the two, thinking Kelton too busy to counter. Spiders-bite sang as Confident stepped back to recover, expending its full energy on Smirk, one countering his blade, the other slicing into his sword arm. A minor wound, but enough to end his offensive.

"You'll never be the Answer," Confident spat. "Your witness is dead, and the prophecy died with her."

Kelton faltered for a moment, stepping back toward the building. His mind digging out Joycelyn's words. She claimed she was his witness, a title he used once.

"Hung on a tree," Smirk added, ignoring the cut on his arm. "Cut through the night, I'm told." He smiled as if the idea was pleasurable, then followed with a thrust that Kelton barely blocked.

Anger began to swell in Kelton's mind. The thought of Joycelyn, the closest thing he had to a mother, killed in such a way broke some barrier. A dull pain flooded his being and smothered the goodness that dwelled there. With the pain came a surge of purpose, as if a thousand warriors inhabited his bones. Kelton screamed.

Spiders-bite no longer cared for defense, and Kelton no longer desired a bargain. He drove forward, his blades singing through the air, each guided as if held by a different warrior.

Smirk blocked the first blow, then fell back as the second removed the blade from his control. The man screamed, watching his hand following the sword, then went silent as the first blade returned and buried itself in his throat.

Kelton turned with abandon, his blades never slowing. Muscles' face was frantic as his strength couldn't keep pace with Kelton's agility. Kelton danced low and drove one blade upward, finding exposed gut. He sliced with the other, nearly separating Muscles' leg at the thigh. Muscles went down, the sound of his pain filling the air.

Kelton spun on Confidence, who no longer was so. The man tried to run but caught a low blade above the ankle. Something had broken in Kelton as no thought of mercy crossed his mind. He rose above the prone man, and drove his sword into the side and up, rending the parts men needed to breathe. Returning to Muscles, a single swipe ending the cries.

"Do not run, fool," Kelton yelled at Clumsy. The man was disappearing into the trees. "I will find you!" He started to move, then stalled as his side began to ache. The wound would make for a short chase. He pressed his hand into the cut to slow the flow.

Kelton looked down at the bloody remains of the three Brothers, no breath left in their souls. He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky, to the All-Father, or Goddess, or whatever other hateful being was steering his ship. "I did not want this," Kelton yelled.

Lin'cy shook Farni's shoulders as she lay on the ground. Her eyes had rolled back into her head as they spared, then she simply dropped like a sack. At first, he had thought it was his doing. Now he knew it wasn't. A sickness, most like.

"Farni," he called again and peeled back her eyelids. He could only see white, which was frightening. They were too far, and it would take too long to retrieve a healer, so he picked her up, cradling her like a babe in his arms.

The walking was slow, and he began to think he should throw her over his shoulder to quicken his pace when she started to stir. He lowered her to the ground as her eyes fluttered awake. It hurt him to see such a strong warrior weakened by some sickness.

"Farni," he repeated, pushing her hair from her face.

"I am back," Farni said. She smiled as if she had woken from a night's sleep.

"Back?"

"My bonded one called," Farni said, her smile grew. "He needed strength, and I lent him mine."

"What?" Lin'cy looked at her and saw she believed what she said. "It is not a real thing."

"It is," Farni said, and jumped to her feet. "I am bonded to him." She looked at him, her eyes seemingly sucking in his disbelief. "A warrior needs his tribe, would you deny him that?"

"Nay," Lin'cy replied, then paused to think. "This is not something for others to know." He feared she might have some sickness of the mind growing. Better to pray it was a one-time thing, and hope it never happens again.

Farni nodded and began walking as if nothing happened.

"Goddess," Taggert said. The word repeated by the others that witnessed the battle. Their stricken faces examined the mess in the dirt.

"I did not want this," Kelton repeated to them. He did not like losing control as he did. It was all Nagada, as if the Anagoria in him had hidden away. He looked at Taggert, and his eyes began to swell. "Tell me they lied about Joycelyn."

"If they spoke of her death, I can not," Taggert said. He looked down at the bodies. "They hung her on a tree, and it took some time." When he looked up, his eyes were dripping as well. "She said nothing of you." He shook his head. "I would have gladly done this, had I the power."

"There was no purpose to it," Kelton said, his eyes flowing freely. "It is just a story." He dropped to his knees and lowered his head. He had fled to save them all, and now he found it a waste. He should have stayed, the story, and he could have died together. It could have spared Joycelyn.

"Your bleeding," Taggert said as he rushed forward. Others followed.

"Goddess," Lagneer sighed as he examined Kelton's new and old wounds. "It will heal with stitches, and be well hidden on this body." He helped Kelton up and retrieved his cloak. "The healers are a short walk."

"Aye, I can do a short walk," Kelton said.

"Gather his things," Lagneer said to Taggert, then turned to the others. "This village is forfeit, best if we are gone before the robed ones return. He will bring the King's men in great numbers, and I suspect they are not far."

"My sorrows," Kelton said, then repeated his words to whoever would listen. "I did not want this."

"Done is done, Answer," Lagneer said. He looked at the dead Brothers. "They took 'want' from us long ago."

"I am not the Answer," Kelton said.

"Three have fallen," Another man said as if it were an apology. Others agreed.

"Never have I seen a Brother fall," Lagneer said. "And now I have seen three by the same man."

"It is just a story," Kelton said. He had to get to Juno and find Gossamer. The quicker he left this land, the better. The Brotherhood had proven their insane desire to war over the story. A story he wanted no part of. He pursed his lips. "Which way to the healer?"

"Come," Taggert said, Kelton's pack now over his shoulder. He gathered spiders-bite from Kelton as if they were revered. Lagneer covered Kelton with his cloak; it had been bloodied as well, sliced through where it met Kelton's wound. "It is this way."

Kelton heard more instructions coming from Lagneer, words of where to move families, and staying off the main road from the north. Kelton chastised himself. Home for a few days and he had destroyed a town. There had to be a better way. He had meant to sneak through, and now he had lit the largest of fires in the darkness. No more villages, he vowed.

"What is this?" An old woman asked as they approached a fat looking structure. She was sitting on a chair situated on planks in front of the door to the building. Next to her was a younger woman, equally at ease in another chair. A table between them held mugs.

"He has been cut, Vinara," Taggert said. Kelton saw the wilted rose on the young woman's arm. A more faded version lay on the Vinara's. It was a nighthouse, small by the look of it. "Lagneer says he needs to be sewed."

"A fight?" Vinara asked.

"Aye," Taggert said. "A Brother was in the tavern, unknown to me."

"You fool," Vinara said as she stood. It was not an easy task for her, taking both hands on the arms of the chair to accomplish it. "I told you to silence that story. It is a wonder you still breathe."

"It is he, Vinara," Taggert said.

"It is only me," Kelton argued, wishing the story would fade. King Vitalica had the right of it, remove all traces of it from the world. "I must travel soon. I have coin for the healing." His murky plan now bogged in mud. He'd have to disappear into the trees as soon as possible.

"He is scarred, Mother," the young woman said as she stood.

"Aye," Vinara said. "And red of hair. A curse of birth these days." She signaled Kelton to follow her through the door. "Tis a wonder you breathe as well. A day of wonders." Kelton was becoming light-headed as he walked into the nighthouse. He'd have to find a place to rest far from the town. A night would rebuild his strength once his wound was closed.