The battlefield in front of the bakery was dusty from all the action. It was still early in the morning, and the long shadows from a building to the east obscured all of them but the tall Tex’ana. The noise of battle had started to settle alongside the dust, the distant jibbering of the retreating trifleys growing more muffled as they fled for easier prey.

  It was a moment for the four of them to catch their breath. They were quite the sorry sight now, each with his own injuries. The only one Jarod wasn’t certain of was Tex’ana, but he wasn’t certain of many things about the sight servant right now.

  Certainly he’d taken the brunt of the damage in the trifley attack, taking wounds from multiple enemies at once, all while devastating their numbers with his fearsome glaive. Then there was the matter of that sound he’d made to finally scare off the trifleys. It had allowed the group to escape with their lives, but there was something supernatural about what Jarod had experienced. Something that reminded him of his eerie first impression of the sight servant, and of his staggering proportions.

  Filgrin walked beside Jarod, bow across his back, and one arm clutching the other. The old bowyer had gashes in his clothing, revealing nasty cuts all over his chest and forearms. He had an already swelling black eye, and a hunch that was from more than just his age, but he had survived the encounter intact at least.

  “Best hope yer friend made it through this intact,” said Filgrin. “Wouldn’t want this to have all been for nothin’.”

  Jarod nodded, solemn. Wilfurd was the whole reason they had chased their way through rampaging trifleys in the first place, but if nothing else he would get a pardon for his sentence from the debacle. Although right now, the other terms of that agreement weren’t looking so agreeable. Jarod didn’t know if he fancied an extended trip with Tex’ana. Logically, all of the sight servant’s actions had done nothing but help them, but something about the slender limbs and that terrifying roar left him with a bad feeling about the man, whatever Tex’ana was.

  Somehow, he had the opposite impression of Nikolao. All of the surveyor’s actions made him want to hate the man, and there was a part of Jarod that did, but something about surviving a fight together had given him a respect for the man that hadn’t existed before.

  Jarod’s reflection on his companions was interrupted when Tex’ana spoke up.

  “You shall lead us to the mill now?” There was still a gravel in Tex’ana’s voice that hadn’t been there before, but his peculiar and formal manner of speaking was just as usual. “The trifleys will know that we are to be left alone for now. It will take time before their strength and braveness grows enough to risk an encounter.”

  Jarod watched the sight servant carefully. “It’s just on the other side of this building,” he said. “We can cut through the bakery.”

  Tex’ana made the odd rolling motion with his head, expressing agreement, or perhaps resignation. Jarod wasn’t quite sure. He took as wide a berth as he could excuse, and was relieved to see Filgrin and even Nikolao following closely behind.

  Jarod felt Filgrin’s arm around his shoulder as he came up beside him. Filgrin’s arm was heavy as Jarod felt the older man’s weight rest partially on his shoulders, but the feeling of camaraderie was welcome, especially as they approached the giant hole blasted in the wall of the bakery.

  “Still a pretty good shot even when I’m injured, eh boy?” said Filgrin. The man was bloodied and bruised, but Jarod noticed a life in his step that he’d never seen as long as he’d known the man.

  “Thankfully,” said Jarod. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

  “And I, you boy, but there’s no sense in dwelling on history ‘cept to celebrate. Soon as we get through this and I get to rest my feet at my house, I’m cracking open a nice bottle of port. Something heavy enough to forget my aches when I have to stand up again.”

  Jarod couldn’t help but smile, despite the situation. “In good time, maybe, but we’re not done yet. Until those trifleys are out of Cleftshire, I don’t think I’ll be able to relax.”

  “Startin’ to sound like you’ve got more experience with this than I’ve taken ye for. Or maybe yer just lucky.”

  Jarod’s grin didn’t fade from his mouth, but it did from his eyes. He looked forward, staring at the blasted wood ahead of him, but his mind was thinking back to the fight from earlier. They had gotten lucky. If it weren’t for that fate die he had somehow used, they might all very well be dead right now. Even Tex’ana might’ve met his end from a barrel full of explosives. He still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, or how he’d managed to do it, but he’d have to try to figure out this power after the situation with the trifleys was dealt with.

  The bakery ahead still looked structurally sound, despite the giant hole that had been opened up. The edges of where the explosion had reached were splintered and blackened from the blast, but the thick load-bearing beams had managed to stay standing. An acrid stench still hung in the air, and grey dust was scattered throughout the bakery storefront. Whether it was ash and char, or unexploded material, it showed in clear footprints the paths the trifleys had run. Bread and pastries were scattered all over, a couple with experimental bites taken out of them. There were no signs of any human activity.

  “Hello?” Jarod called out, tentative, but loud enough to be heard into the living space upstairs. “The monsters are gone, you can come out.”

  The only footsteps he heard were from behind as Nikolao and Filgrin trudged inside after him. After a few seconds, the padded footfalls of Tex’ana thudded dully on the wood floor.

  The non-response had Jarod worried, but the trifleys had only been on this side of the bridge for a short while before their quartet had confronted them. Hopefully they had just gone to hide somewhere else, or maybe run off into the woods beyond.

  Jarod proceeded through the front door of the bakery, stepping outside and into the outskirts of town. The buildings that were out here had been around for a long time, nearly as long as the town had been around. Standing high above them all was the mill. It was 3 stories tall, capped with a steeply sloping roof. A thick crankshaft stuck out the front of the building, allowing it to become a windmill during harvest time, but mostly it was operated by oxen or horses as needed. The unpredictably strong winds from the mountains to the north were sometimes too powerful for the blades of the windmill, so they were kept off most of the time.

  From the outside, it didn’t look like there was any damage or any signs of struggle. Jarod kept his sword at the ready all the same as he led the group up to the door of the mill.

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  Keeping an eye on the only windows of the mill up on the second floor, Jarod gave a couple knocks on the door and called out just as he had inside the bakery. “Is there anyone in there? It’s Jarod, we drove off the monsters”

  Only the faintest of muffled voices called out inside, and after a moment, a wary head poked out of the window directly above the doorway. It was one of the baker’s girls, young enough that she had to pull herself up and over the windowsill slightly to look down at the area below. Her eyes passed over the three humans with barely a glance, but she looked warily at Tex’ana, who was standing well above the others even in his half-crouch.

  “Are you good or bad?” she asked.

  “I fight for good, child,” Tex’ana answered.

  “Good, otherwise, we’d hafta ambush ya.” She dropped back inside and called out something in her high-pitched voice to the other occupants. Jarod heard wood groan and squeak from the other side of the door, and then it was cautiously pulled open.

  “What in the blazes are you doing out there?” said Wilfurd, peering out from the gap in the door. “Get inside before those creatures see us.”

  Jarod smiled broadly and practically leapt onto Wilfurd, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Wilfurd. Esther’s kids are safe. I had them hide in a safe spot in the cellar.”

  Recognition passed over Wilfurd’s face and then the man hugged Jarrod back tightly. “Thank you. I wanted to go for them, you know, but there’s so many others here to take care of, and with those monsters running around…”

  “You don’t have to explain, just be happy they’re safe.”

  Wilfurd pulled back with his hands on Jarod’s shoulders to look him in the eye, contentment across his face. Behind Jarod, Filrgrin and Nikolao stepped through the doorway, followed by the folded figure of Tex’ana. Wilfurd’s face regained some of the previous stress as he regarded the unlikely companions that Jarod travelled with.

  “We okay with them?” Wilfurd asked quietly.

  Jarod nodded slightly, but his eyes betrayed his reluctance. “For now,” he said. “They helped us fight off the monsters on our way here.”

  “Then we’ll wait this out together,” said Wilfurd. He stepped past Jarod to close the door behind him, and picked up a hammer to re-board it shut.

  Inside the mill were a half-dozen people who had taken refuge from the trifleys. Jarod saw the baker, his wife, and their eldest son standing against the wall where the door opened to, kitchen knives still in hand. A couple other townsfolk were sitting by the stairwell looking unhurt, unarmed, and scared. Not exactly a defense force that would have fared well against the trifleys if they decided to blast a hole in the mill after they were done with the bakery.

  The girl who’d peered out through the window earlier was now looking down at them from atop the stairs leading to the second floor. She smiled and gave the group a friendly wave, watching them, especially Tex’ana, with curiosity.

  “We heard the monsters yelling and explosions outside.” Wilfurd had finished shoring up the lone point of entry and came alongside Jarod. “We did what we could to prepare for them in case they came for us, but there’s not much we could do if they breached the wall with their explosives. We heard some terrible roaring sound and thought maybe they’d brought another monster to the surface, but then all the noises stopped.”

  “Yeah, that was Tex’ana,” Jarod said, indicating the sight servant. “Long story, but we fought them off and they ran back towards the bridge they came from.”

  “Good, we’ve got enough to deal with as is. Basma’s upstairs trying to keep the kids entertained while taking a look at Hadrin and Matilde. Those two came to us concussed and delirious from some explosion, but Basma says they’re stable at least.”

  “Basma’s here?” Relief was clearly evident in Jarod’s voice as he looked at the stairs.

  “Yeah, she said she was on the bridge to watch them take you off when she saw the monsters come out. She ran back yelling out warnings to people, and finally came here with the baker’s family to hide.”

  “I was so worried, I thought she might have gotten caught in the attacks.”

  “Go see her. I’m sure she’s been worried about you too.”

  Jarod drew Wilfurd into one last embrace and said, “it’s good see you, Wilfurd.” He gave the other man one last look up and down, double checking that he looked intact, and then followed the young girl who’d been watching up the stairs.

  There were another half-dozen or so children upstairs, mostly grouped together in a corner drawing on the floor and walls with charcoal. Jarod’s eye was drawn to the pair, Hadrin and Matilde, who were lying on makeshift cloth beds on the floor. They were each bandaged up, white linen barely stained red with dried blood, but they looked to be intact, and not in danger of any immediate death. Basma was bent over to tend to them, making sure they were drinking water, and stood up at the approaching footsteps.

  “Jarod?” Her eyes went wide when she saw him. “How are you… you escaped?”

  “It’s a long story, but I’m here now, still standing.”

  Basma ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. “I thought you were done for, stuck in the wagon caravan when those monsters attacked. Now is your chance though. You can run away, find somewhere new to live, away from those damned surveyors.”

  Jarod let himself get lost in the embrace, resting his head on her shoulder. He hadn’t realized before how tired he was, but now that he’d finally accomplished his mission of tracking down Wilfurd, and now that he was sure Basma was okay, he felt the energy start to drain out of him. Maybe it was just the effects of Tex’ana’s potion wearing off, but he felt himself sag down as Basma took hold of his weight.

  “Oh dear, you’re exhausted. Here, we’ll sit you down for now, and then we’ll figure out how we can get you a horse. I’ll go along with you as long as I can to make sure you get out of here safely.”

  “No, it’s okay Basma, we’ve worked out a deal.”

  Basma had already run off to fetch some water for him, and returned with a cup full and a puzzled look. “What kind of deal have you made, Jarod?”

  It was hard to know where to start. “That strange tall man down there is something like an advisor to the king, I think. He overruled the surveyors and said that if I come with him back to Chath, they’ll wipe out my prison sentence.”

  The barmaid looked at him sternly now, hands on hips. “You better not have taken that deal. You did nothing wrong in the first place. They’ve no right to haul you off to the capitol. Besides, you’ve seen how these people are. They can’t be trusted.”

  Jarod thought back to the terrible monster that Tex’ana had become during that fight. There was definitely more to the sight servant than met the eye. “I don’t trust them,” he said after a while. “At least, not all the way. But I do believe their word. If I do this, I can come back to Cleftshire after it’s all done, and it’ll be like nothing happened.” He recognized even as he said it how that could never be true after the trifley attack, but it was close enough. At least he’d have a chance to return to his home.

  Basma looked unconvinced, but sat down beside him and leaned against him. “Everything’s come undone since those surveyors came. I just wish they’d left us alone to live our lives.”

  Jarod didn’t disagree with that. He just let himself rest, leaning against Basma. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, as though he were back at the tavern, keeping an eye on Wilfurd with Basma’s reassuring hand behind him. He knew it couldn’t last, but he allowed himself that reprieve, at least he could pretend for now.