Giordi could do nothing for days, dozing in between fits of agony and the unavoidable moments where he had to rise. The unfortunate side effect of drinking goats’ milk with the strong anaesthetic in it was that, eventually, he had to relieve himself. For the first two days he was in too much pain for pride to be any kind of a factor. Judd and Suvau had helped him to stand, all modesty flung far away and his pride, a distant memory. However, eventually he began to try to stand on his own. This was only accomplished with screeches and every expletive he could think of as the broken skin pulled and pained. Between these brief, blinding and exhausting moments, he remained on the table and slept.

  When he opened his eyes, he would usually spy someone sitting with him. Caste would be nearby, reading but looking up occasionally. Judd and Suvau also kept him company and even Verne was there once or twice, pretending to doze but Giordi suspected it was a ruse. Whatever he had done to offend and infuriate the mellow archer seemed to be at an end.

  Then there was the day, three days after that torturous night, that Giordi opened his eyes and saw Revna nursing her son. Giordi took a moment to just gaze at her, admiring the calmness about her where there had once been so much guilt, fear and shame. She looked at Mali’s face lovingly, his little hand waving in the air. Revna caught his tiny fingers and kissed them, letting them wrap around her thumb.

  She looked so beautiful when she was at peace. When Mali had his fill, Revna tucked her tunic back around her body and rocked her son to sleep, glancing up. She went to gasp but Giordi put his finger to his lips and she smiled and nodded.

  “How are you?” He asked in a rough whisper, his lungs squashed and his throat still ruined from the screaming.

  “We are well.” Revna held little Mali out so Giordi could see his sleeping countenance.

  “Handsome boy.” Giordi grimaced, the anaesthetic wearing off.

  “Need…” Revna held the milk up.

  Giordi shook his head. “The more I drink, the more I need to pee…and I hate standing up.” He flinched, spasms of pain revisiting him, reminding the minstrel of the wounds he could not see. Revna’s fingers gently stroked his forehead, brushing away the frown, sliding through his curls. Giordi relaxed into the attention, his body sinking into the furs he was lying on. “That’s nice.” He murmured, fighting waves of exhaustion.

  “What you did for me…for us...” Revna played with his limp golden curls. “I cannot…”

  “I told you I would look after you.” Giordi’s eyes were growing heavy again. “I’m your husband.”

  “No longer,” Revna smiled almost sadly, “you are free.”

  Giordi winced as he tried to sit up, trying to prop himself on one elbow. He eyed Revna as sharply as his befuddled senses would allow.

  “What about you?” He asked. “I can’t leave you unprotected.”

  Revna continued her attention to his hair and it was all Giordi could do not to slump back onto the table and fall asleep.

  “Patras and I spoke. He said things…he sorry…” Revna shook her head. “I never hear him say sorry before. Never wrong. Never…”

  “He thanked me for what I did.” Giordi gave a single laugh of derision. “Cowering, terrified…half fainting…a pathetic sight.”

  “Patras say you nomad,” Revna pointed to Giordi’s chest, “here.” She returned to stroking his hair and Giordi gave in and put his head on the cushion. “I no afraid to stay. But Giordi must go.”

  “I’ll visit…” Giordi murmured, his eyes closing as sleep overwhelmed him.

  “Always welcome, Giordi Liontari.”

  Verne traded some of the rabbits she’d killed for a pair of nomad boots. Her usual slim footwear was much thinner, allowing her to feel the ground almost as if she were barefoot but they were not adequate against the frost and the bite of winter. Once she slid her feet into the fur lined boots, she sighed, immediately feeling warmer.

  “Warm toes, warm all over.” She quoted, standing and stomping her feet, taking care of her injured leg. Something had swiped at her in the dark, cutting her calf and causing her to limp but it was already healing. Soon the only reminder of it would be a light scar. “That’s so much better.” She slid her coat on, wrapping a scarf around her neck and checked to make sure the bandana was in place. She had taken to tying back her lengthening hair, leaving several shards of black to frame her face. The bandana was part of her expression, giving her the more heavy set look of a grim male rather than expose her fine boned features and hiding her surprisingly delicate arched eyebrows that were decidedly feminine.

  Once reassured that her femininity was effectively concealed, Verne headed for the meeting hall where she knew Judd had gone earlier. She was pulling on gloves when she heard Aalis speak encouragingly and Giordi chuckled in return. Aalis was walking with him as he ventured out from the tent, still struggling to stand upright.

  “You need a cane, old man.” Verne remarked, falling into the distant and aloof persona that had protected her for so long from any persistent and inquiring questions.

  “A few more days and Giordi will be able to travel.” Aalis assured her.

  “Good because in a few days, I suspect the nomads will be gone and we’ll be here on our own.” Verne nodded.

  The nomads had been preparing to shift their camp northward. Several structures and tents were already dismantled and there was a sense of anticipation as the nomads hurried about, each knowing what they had to do to be ready.

  “Where are you headed?” Giordi asked, wincing.

  “To the meeting hall.”

  “Race you.”

  “Very amusing.” Aalis said dryly then looked at Verne. “What is up there?”

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “Judd is having a word with Chief Elk with Caste. He’s trying to find out when the last time a minotaur was sighted.” Verne waved goodbye, escaping Giordi’s presence with relief.

  A heart in love was a vulnerable and fragile thing. Verne already hated it that Aalis looked at her with sympathy and understanding. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like if others, especially Giordi, knew the truth. Safer to remain Verne the enigmatic archer than attempt to be what she really was.

  “Whatever the Maul I am…” Verne muttered and stomped up the incline to the meeting hall. The breeze was frigid and he was eager to get inside as quickly as possible. When he arrived, he found Judd, Suvau, Caste and Chief Elk looking over a map, frustration the tone of their conversation.

  Suvau caught sight of Verne and waved him over.

  “Doesn’t sound promising.” Verne remarked quietly.

  “It’s not.” Suvau admitted. “If Caste is interpreting Elk correctly, minotaur have not been seen for at least three generations.”

  “That’s a problem.”

  “A rather large one.” Suvau sighed.

  Though it was out of his control, Chief Elk did seem grieved that he was unable to help Judd. Whatever offense and distrust there had been because of Giordi’s doppelganger had disappeared overnight…the night Giordi took the punishment which restored Revna’s honour and set Giordi free. The nomad’s opinion of the outsiders had swelled considerably when Judd, Verne and Suvau had chosen to risk everything to defend Giordi…and their reputation had burgeoned out of all proportion when they had returned to the palisade, triumphant.

  Not even Sten dared to cross them. In fact, he’d made himself very scarce…especially once the nomads began to count and burn the bodies of the monsters and beasts that had sieged the whipping post.

  Unfortunately, despite the pile of carcases, there wasn’t a minotaur among them.

  Judd and Elk talked with Caste between them at length, Judd trying to curb his disappointment and reassure Elk that he would work out where to find a minotaur himself. There was another brief spat of conversation where Caste listened intently and relayed the information to Judd.

  “Two more days?” Judd asked and Elk nodded then indicated for Caste to display the map again, pointing to a place on it. “You’ll be moving further north in two days.” Elk spoke softly and Verne heard Giordi’s name mentioned. Judd held up his hands. “Even if Giordi is not able to travel, you need to take your people north where it is warmer.” Judd insisted. “We can stay in the palisade if we need to.” He clasped Elk’s arm and walked away with Caste, seeing Verne and Suvau standing together. “So, heard the news?”

  “No minotaur and the nomads will be leaving soon.” Verne concluded.

  “That’s about the size of it.” Judd huffed, striding out of the meeting hall.

  “Does it have to be a minotaur?” Verne asked, jogging after him. “Couldn’t you substitute something else in its place?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know…a hydra?”

  “I didn’t get evidence or could verify the blood of the hydra on the monster quest list.” Caste protested.

  “Pretty sure the legend of Judd LaMogre killing a hydra would have reached Astaril by now, even from as far south as Fort Omra.” Verne argued.

  “Even so, it’s not a minotaur.” Judd stopped walking and growled in frustration. “Why? Why put a minotaur on the list if there aren’t any?”

  Suvau folded his arms. “Is it possible this, Sir Rylan, made the quest an impossible one?”

  Judd turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t actually want any young middle class men to achieve knighthood.”

  Judd frowned. “But that would mean he sent us all out to die and Sir Rylan is an honourable knight.”

  “Like Egrette or Fereak?” Verne said in disgust.

  “I’m not saying he’s perfect but…” Judd looked at Caste. “Back me up here?”

  “Sir Rylan has an unblemished reputation.” Caste nodded. “His conduct is without fault. The list of monsters was also a collaborative quest list between Sir Rylan, his deacon and Bishop Peele who literally wrote the book on the monsters of Maul. They felt a minotaur on the list was an excellent, albeit dangerous, monster for an aspiring knight to kill. It’s also one that Sir Rylan has killed before so it puts you in the same league as he if you can kill one.”

  “Well that’s it then!” Verne started. “If Sir Rylan killed one then he must know where they are.”

  “We all know where they are.”

  Judd, Verne and Suvau all turned and looked at Caste. The red headed cleric saw their looks, even glares and stepped back.

  “What?” Judd demanded.

  “It’s obvious where minotaur roam.” Caste said as though it was common knowledge. Judd and Verne looked at each other then back at Caste, Verne’s hands on his hips while Judd folded his arms.

  “Care to share?”

  Caste gulped. “South of the wall.”

  Judd’s arms dropped and Verne turned his head and growled softly. “Well of course they’re there!” Verne flung his arms up. “That’s where they come from!”

  “And as such, as a knight of the wall, in order to prove his love for Princess Genovieve, Sir Rylan could have gone over the wall, killed three minotaur and dragged their heads before King Rocheveron…” Judd grasped his head through his brown curls, hunched over and grunted angrily. He tilted his head back and breathed heavily, knowing it was no one’s fault but so frustrated that he was so close and yet so far. He turned back to the other three. “So…that’s it? This is where my quest ends? One monster shy of knighthood?”

  Verne and Caste looked at him helplessly, unable to muster an answer.

  Suvau, however, looked down at the ground, his strong arms folded. “I know of one place where minotaur exist.”

  Judd gasped, Verne and Caste looking at each other then they all stared at Suvau.

  “Where?” Verne blurted when the silence became drawn out and Judd was nearly bursting in anticipation.

  Suvau lifted his head, his brow furrowed. “Fort Mavour.”

  “At a fort?”

  He nodded. “I heard about it by accident. Some of the soldiers, being fitted for their armour at Fort Omra, were talking about watching a match at Fort Mavour. It seems Sir Donimede has an arena where men don’t just fight other men but can be pitted against monsters of Maul.”

  Caste was more than a little horrified and spluttered indignantly.

  However, before he could speak, Verne asked, “Minotaur?”

  “The soldiers were laughing about one brave but rather foolish soul nearly being cloven in two by one. They had been part of Sir Fereak’s entourage when he visited Sir Donimede and were invited to watch the fight. There’s quite a list of monsters to choose from but don’t ask me how Donimede is able to manage it.” Suvau shrugged.

  Judd paused, something not ringing true about what Suvau was saying. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?” He asked. “You knew we’ve been looking for a minotaur for weeks…”

  “I hoped we wouldn’t have to go to Mavour.” Suvau admitted.

  “Why not, Suvau?”

  The big man looked to the side, his expression pained. “Omra is not the only place people of my skin type reside. I know my kin also exist in Fort Mavour, traded like cattle between Sir Fereak and Sir Donimede…and not one has ever returned…” He shook his head. “As bad as Omra was, I suspect Mavour is a great deal worse.”

  Judd gazed at Suvau, his heart twisting. “Suvau, I would never ask you to endanger yourself or your family.” He said gently but firmly. “I may have no choice but to go to Fort Mavour but I would not ever ask you to go there too.”

  “I swore I would see your knighthood fulfilled,” Suvau’s height was an intimidating thing to stand up to but Judd held his ground before Suvau sighed and stepped back, “however, Yolana and Emeri…”

  “What if they left with the nomads?” Verne asked suddenly. “I’m sure Elk would be happy for them to travel to the northern camping grounds and perhaps continue to help Revna with Mali.”

  Suvau brightened at the suggestion. “I think that could work.”

  “It doesn’t really because you’d still be going to Fort Mavour.” Judd argued.

  “Technically Suvau is yours,” Caste interjected, “I mean, they’re all yours but if Suvau goes with us, you can keep him safe…safer than he would otherwise be.”

  Judd huffed sternly, brow furrowed and mouth turned down. “I hate the idea that I would be ‘owning’ you.” He grunted.

  “It would be much safer for Suvau if you could at least try.” Caste argued.

  “Allow me to do this, Judd LaMogre,” Suvau urged, “if my wife and daughter are safe and they know I am in your ‘care’, then I want to accompany you.”

  Judd clucked his tongue and sighed. “Well…I suppose I agree…but you’re the one who has to convince Yolana.”

  “Good luck with that.” Verne snorted.