They did not pass through the center of the village again but made their way along the edge of the wall to exit through a small wicket gate out onto the tall, layered outcrop from which the walled town overlooked the farms below and the rolling hills, vast forest, and the blue haze of mountains to the east and north. The trees were stripped of their leaves for the year, making the glitter of sunlight upon the River Reinor barely visible between the bare branches. Despite the urgency of the situation, Restag could not help the tightening of his throat as his eyes passed fleetingly over the image, and it was only the presence of his current task that kept him from pausing to look out upon the landscape he had known since infancy, had looked upon from his mother’s arms, and then his father’s shoulders, and then his father’s side, had gazed upon countless times as Dar rose from his sleep to chase away his jealous sister, Dir, and reclaim the world again for the living. The land that he felt was part of him, the stones his bones, the earth his flesh, the many and hidden streams his blood, the settlement upon and around the hill his heart. And it was only with great effort that he kept his emotions hidden as he turned away from it all to follow the man slipping away to the steep, narrow path that ran as a crack between the rocks, hidden from any angle but above and therefore a way used often for entering or leaving the town without being seen from the surrounding country.

They followed the path to its end, Ecthar pausing to use his Sight to look past the stone and all around them to ensure they were neither observed nor followed. Once satisfied, he again motioned to Restag and began traveling along the edge of the hill. They came to a crevice in the rock, and if Ecthar had told him to enter, Restag would have refused unless the other went first with his own spear at his back. However, the high elder did so on his own. With his senses aware and his spear hand ready to act, Restag cautiously followed. In front of him, the older man constantly glanced around, his own shoulders tense, as they passed through the narrow gap in the rocks to a small space where the stones rose in a jagged ring around them. Wordlessly, the elder dug a flask from his belt pouch, approached one of the walls, and poured the contents onto a small bowl on a jutting rock until the liquid overflowed and ran down the stone to the ground. Hastily, he backed away and watched. Restag remained just outside the circle, spear ready. Stillness fell over them, broken only by the sharp call of a crow as it passed overhead. Restag crept just past the opening, unsure what Ecthar had done or if he should just kill the man and leave.

“About time you got out of the way.”

Ecthar jumped, and Restag instinctively swung the spear around, the hard wood striking the stone wall with enough force that the rebound knocked him back a couple steps. Reclaiming his footing, he brought the spear down into an attack stance, the tip pointed to the small Asgradi who now filled the crevice, smiling till his teeth showed, malicious laughter in his eyes.

Swearing profanely, Ecthar snapped, “What was that for?”

The little man looked to the elder and grinned contemptuously at the man, saying, “So you’re the contact. Nothing much. It’s just a lot more fun to let your prey walk right past you before stabbing them in the back. Much more interesting.”

It took a moment for Restag to fully take in the little man–to notice his unkempt braids and ornamented beard, his many engraved trinkets and rings, his worn boots and filthy skin, and above all the ugly brand burned into his cheek and from which ran rune-like tattoos that made Restag’s skin crawl–but the moment he did, fury flushed his face, and his eyes locked on Ecthar even as the spear remained pointed at the strange man. “Halsk take you, Ecthar!” he snarled. “An Oathless! You bought the service of an Oathless!”

The elder’s face turned stoney as he returned the warrior’s gaze. “I did what I must,” he said.

“But they are murderers! Kin-slayers! Thane-slayers! Swearers of false oaths with no loyalty but to themselves and to their purses!”

“They are men willing to do what must be done,” replied Ecthar calmly.

There were very few men Restag hated, and even those he did he still respected, whether for the man’s abilities or his cunning or his status. For the first time in his twenty-seven years, Restag now looked upon a man whom he both reviled and had drained every drop of respect he had once held toward him. Restag looked away, unable to stand the sight of the creature his kinsman had become.

The Oathless leaned lazily against the rock wall, staring at Restag with a bored expression. Looking over the thanesman’s shoulder, he said, “So he’s the one I need to take?”

Ecthar replied, “Yes. This is Restag Thanesman.” The Oathless’s gaze sharpened, and his body tensed as he focused again on the shield-man. Ecthar continued, “He wishes to go with his master. Fulfill this task, and when you and your sword-brother return, you shall have your reward.”

A mocking grin flickered across the little man’s face at the term “sword-brother,” but it soon disappeared again, replaced by a critical eye and a quick, sweeping gaze at the warrior. He seemed hesitant for a moment, but in the end, he pushed off from the wall, turned away, and called behind him, “Follow me, Thanesman.”