From its shadow, cast against the void, the Flame created a guardian. Not from fire or light, but of pure blackness. His coat swallowed starlight and his eyes burned with the light of dawn. The Flame named him Argar - the Black that Endures and set him to patrol the ring of firelight and watch against the things beyond. Shapeless hunger that whispered into the dreams of mortals. The hungers learned to wear names and faces. They learned to make promises, which were rarely kept. And they kept coming. It was Argar’s duty to drive them back. Sometimes they were black, sometimes white, and sometimes made of many bright colors, like the one he was stalking now. Prowling in the grass, the dog kept his body low to the ground, his entire being focused on the creature in front of him. He crept up slowly so as not to startle it. His prey was standing right there, six legs planted on the rock, wings folded. Its back was turned so the black dog continued until he was close enough. His body tense, preparing to pounce.

  “Argar, leave the butterfly alone” Bryn’s voice came from the tent. “They probably taste horrible.”

  Startled, the insect spread its wings and flew off before the puppy could reach it, so the disappointed dog padded inside the tent and dropped down on the cold ground.

  “I am bored,” he sighed. “When are we going to leave?”

  “As soon as the count decides where we should go.” The human answered. Argar raised his head and looked at him.

  Twenty-something years old, or at least the dog had heard him say that. Years didn’t make much sense when you prowled the darkness for as long as Argar had. Bryn smelled different than anything Argar had met. Steel, sweat, predator, linen, leather, male, wood and hemp. All this he had smelled. But there was something else. Almost like kin, but not like the others of his kin. Argar liked this smell. It comforted him and made him feel calm and…the dog wasn’t sure if that was the right word…at peace.

  He knew that Bryn was a warrior fighting for money. That was another thing the dog didn’t understand. What he knew though, was that money got Bryn food, which he shared with the pup. And food was good.

  Ever since Argar woke up in Bryn's lap all that time ago, things have been weird. First, he was tiny. Like the pups that he had seen the humans have. And he often felt emptiness in his belly, the one that the humans called hunger. This had never happened before. As well as losing most of his abilities for this long. In the month since meeting Bryn the puppy had grown but was still far from its usual size. Before he could easily knock over a human with a swipe of his paw, now he had to get creative and position his whole body in the right place and time.

  Argar chuckled at the memory of the company’s blacksmith falling and knocking over the stack of helmets.

  “What’s so funny, pup?” Bryn reached over and scratched Argar behind the ears.

  “The Mirror and the helmets.”

  “You were lucky he didn’t fall on you. The blacksmith is heavy.”

  “Not luck. I am fast.”

  Argar’s belly grumbled.

  “And hungry,” he added.

  “You ate at dawn. It is not noon yet.”

  “Don’t blame me. Your voice startled my prey.”

  “I am sorry, Argar. But I don’t think butterflies taste good and I am still getting used to talking to you in my mind”

  “I am new to this too. Humans rarely saw me before and now there is a whole army of you trampling that can see me. A spear man even tried to kick me yesterday, because I was lying in the grass on his path.”

  “You should be more careful. Humans are not all friends like the Company.”

  “I am learning to be. And I hope he liked the gift I left in his boots.” Argar bared his teeth in a smile.

  “What?” Bryn looked at him with a strange expression on his face.

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  “It took me a while, but I caught a mouse and convinced it to stay in the boot until he tried to put it on.”

  Bryn laughed. Argar liked it when he did that. He hadn’t seen many grown up men laugh, so before his rebirth he thought that only kids did that. The pup crawled beside the human and fell asleep.

  ***

  Bryn placed his hand on the puppy.

  Ever since the fight with the monster - a gorgepaw, as Argar had called it, there had been some subtle changes in him and some not so subtle, he smiled as he gently petted the pup, changes in his life.

  His wounds healed in a matter of hours. The previous day he had cut himself while repairing the grip of a shield. And by nightfall there wasn’t even a trace of it.

  His senses seemed to work a lot better. He could hear the oxen stomping the ground on the other side of the camp, distinguishing the voice of each of the mercenaries speaking to the blacksmith through the din of his hammer. He smelled the air, the meat drying on the rack of the storage wagon, the sweat of the men training in the empty space in the center of the camp, the beeswax melting by the archer’s tents, and the wind carrying the stench of the camp’s latrine pit two hundred paces away. They would need to fill it up soon.

  The biggest change though was the magical puppy now curled up beside him. Three months ago, when Bryn had first pulled him out of his travel food bag, Argar could fit in his palm. Now he was the size of a fox hunting dog. And both had learned that they could speak to each other in their minds if they were close enough.

  The free company had quickly adopted Argar as one of their own and the pup had soon found out that all the mercenaries are willing to share some of their food if you look at them long enough. And with Bryn being the company armorer, the puppy got to ride in the supply cart, when he got tired during their month-long month march across the plains of Lendiss.

  The journey itself was almost uneventful. Only twice was the mercenary company attacked. One time, during the day by a band of Ruchey nomads who were driven off by the arrows of the company’s twenty bowmen.

  It was the second time that Bryn appreciated having a dog. It had been past midnight, and Bryn was fast asleep when Argar screamed in his mind.

  “BRYYYYYN! Enemies. Wake up.”

  The man had jumped up, grabbed his sword and shield and rushed out of his tent. There were shadows entering the camp from the east.

  “To arms! Enemy!” he yelled and rushed towards them.

  Before the first of the mercenaries joined him, Bryn had already killed one and severed the arm of another intruder. Argar had remembered that he had a voice and was barking like mad. Seeing the company waking up, the attackers fled leaving three more dead in their wake. The bodies were Lendissian, most probably bandits, who mistook the mercenaries for a caravan. Still, they had managed to kill the three guards on the east side of the camp. It was the death of one of these guards that Argar had heard. They buried the bodies and continued their journey. That evening Bryn gave Argar an additional piece of meat.

  Argar suddenly tensed and Bryn was brought back from his memories. The dog stared at the opening of the tent. His ears pricked, head tilted to one side.

  “Sevar is coming.” The dog said.

  Bryn stood up from his bedroll and with the dog at his heels left the tent.

  The captain was walking towards the small camp of his free company. Like many of the other mercenaries, they had a separate place on the edge of the main one.

  Sevar was in his late forties, with salt and pepper hair and a beard that made his face look more round and less grizzled. His mail chimed softly with each step. At his hip hung a longsword, its grip wrapped in leather gone smooth with years of sweat. The only decoration he wore was a signet ring.

  Two decades ago, he had decided to leave the service of his liege lord in Marenta and had become a mercenary. His master had given him the ring as a parting gift. Since then, Sevar’s company had grown in reputation and numbers. When Bryn joined it two years ago there were fifty men in it. Twenty archers and thirty footmen.

  The Mirror, the company’s blacksmith, joined Bryn as he was watching their captain. The other gaersar came into the company about a month after him. He came from a village not far from Bryn’s own and with their duties in the company being related, they quickly became friends. Dressed in his apron, the blacksmith brought the smell of smoke and metal, causing Argar to sneeze as he rubbed his side against the man’s knees.

  “Do you think the wait will be over?” - asked the Mirror.

  “I hope so.” answered Bryn.

  Sevar entered the camp and the men gathered around. They had been stuck in this field for two months now and most were eager to leave. There had even been calls to break the contract. In all its history Sevar’s company had never done that.

  “We will be marching tomorrow.” Sevar spoke loud enough so everyone could hear him. Cheers erupted all around. Then he raised his hand. Silence fell at once. And he continued.

  “The count of Vethren has moved his forces to across the river Intava using the ford at Ravaryn. So, we and the rest of Duke Namkar’s army will meet them. We must stop them before they reach the Barren hills, or we will have a much harder fight on our hands.”

  Bryn nodded thoughtfully. The company had passed through the hills on their way to the camp. The rocky windswept ground was hard to walk, let alone keep any form of line. If the enemy managed to get on top of one of the hills it would be very hard to dislodge them.

  “Prepare to leave in the morning. Anything not needed for the night should be in the wagons by sunset. If you have any doubts about any piece of armor or weapons, talk to Bryn or the Mirror. We march at dawn.” Sevar ended.

  “There goes the day.” The blacksmith slapped his hand on Bryn’s shoulder “At least the wait is over.”