As the morning sun climbed over the dark hills, the cold shadows finally slinked away into the cracks, leaving a stark and barren visage of the hill lands in the morning light. At the crest of the great hill, where the homes and possessions of the outlaws were smoldering in ash, the last of the smokey gloom slowly vanished. All eighty-seven of the outlaws’ corpses lay in rows on a lower slope now. Among the dead, a lone dark figure in a shroud moved silently and inquisitively. Mid-way down the hill and not far from that grave scene, the two wild-haired girls, the companions of Joanne Ballessteer, bickered on their pair of dusk land steeds. They idled on a patch of mostly level ground, keeping the red-faced horse between them while having words with each other.

  “I’m telling ya it’s gold,” insisted the girl with long, red-painted hair.

  Calmly, the blue-haired girl responded, “That cannot be. Joanne is never concerned with mere gold.”

  The red-haired girl became indigent and shifted squirrelly in her saddle before reasserting boldly, “It’s GOLD.”

  The two girls were sisters, twins, exactly. Both maidens of ten and seven years old, or close enough to claim so. Named after the Lysaneea ’s old folk gods, Gairas and Melynas—the god of earth and fire and the god of sky and wind—but were called simply Gai and Mel in the legion.

  Gai continued to argue, “What else might they have stashed away? They’re outlaws. There might be jewels. Maybe even a fancy tiara stolen from a princess.” She perked up in her saddle. “Aye. And I’d wear it too. I’d ride with it, glittering on my head, like a queen.”

  Mel, the blue-haired sister, struggled to remain patient. She sat on her golden-haired horse and carefully held the reins of Joanne’s dismounted mare. Eventually, with a curt tone, Mel responded to her sister, “And you’d look foolish, too.”

  “Foolish?” Gai spit. “You’d only be jealous of my splendor. And don’t think I’ll share it with you, ever—NEVER.”

  Mel breathed a long sigh as a loose flock of blue hair gently twisted in the wind over her increasingly vexed face. When she finally faced her sister, she said sincerely, “You know, even if she finds gold, or any princess tiaras, Joanne will only take it to the lord master. You know that.”

  “No,” Gai said defiantly. “I say we keep it. All of it. It’s ours. We have the rights to.”

  “Oh, sister…” Mel spoke wearily.

  Suddenly, a voice rang out from the distance. “Hail, soldiers!”

  The two wild-haired girls turned their heads.

  A boy was hustling his way up the hillside alone. Adorned in stitched leather, fine-tailored clothes, and wearing a floppy round-brimmed hat down to his eyes, he labored with a sword on his side to keep it from swinging awkwardly.

  The girls turned away indifferently.

  The boy persisted, “Soldiers. Soldiers.” He continued to call at them as he trekked ever closer. “Soldiers… Ladies?”

  Gai finally spun her head, the fiery strands of her hair rippling across her face, and said with a sparked tone, “Ladies!”

  The boy halted only ten paces away. He lifted the brim of his hat to meet them fairly and spoke again, “Apologies, ladies. I’m Derrek Halloway. The squire—I mean the new squire—to the lord master. I came with the provisions train this morn.”

  Derrek Halloway was born a merchant’s son sixteen years ago. Always dreaming of a life more than counting coins as his father, he left his family and joined the Legion of the Black Moon with a promise of a future knighthood.

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  Gai said to her sister, “Did you hear that, sister? He called us ladies.”

  “Yes, I did,” said Mel. “Noble squire, you needn’t call us ladies.”

  Gai picked her teeth at him. “Unless you want to.”

  As both girls eyed him down, Mel asked, “What castle you from?”

  “My family has no castle,” answered Derrek.

  Gai suddenly made a sour face. “Aye. I suppose not. You don’t look like a lord’s son to me.”

  “I’m not,” said Derrek.

  Gai merely shook her head.

  “Never mind, my sister,” said the blue-haired girl, nicely waving the boy in, “Come, squire.”

  He started his approach, walking a few steps, before staggering momentarily after catching the unsettling gaze from the strange white and red-faced horse. Its bloodshot eyes peered deep in him, almost judging him, as the fur around its red eyes seemed to turn darker. Unnerved, Derrek completely stopped.

  “Aye,” said Gai. “Her Highness doesn’t like lowborn squires like you. Best not get too close.”

  Derrek asked, “The horse is named Her Highness?”

  “No,” answered Mel. “We only say Her Highness out of respect. Her true name is Metamora.”

  Gai then explained, “Named in honor of the queen of the red horde, herself. The horse master named her as such. Said Her Highness is the last blood of the red stallion Queen Metamora rode when she raided your lands and sacked your fancy castles.”

  “The daughter of the mage king? But that was eons ago,” said Derrek, “That’s impossible.”

  Mel said, “We kept the bloodline for as long as our kinsfolk can remember.”

  “Yes,” the boy said, “She is a remarkable horse. Even one suited for a warrior queen. But Queen Metamora rode over a thousand years ago. No one could keep a bloodline that long—especially not simple horsefolk. Your horse master told you a tale.”

  Incensed, Gai raised her voice, “Simple horsefolk are we?”

  Suddenly, the white mare snapped with a blistering snort. Derrek was startled and fell backward. He stumbled over a jut of rocks, tripping over his sword. His round-brim hat tumbled away as he rolled on the rocky earth. Gai broke into a mad laugh. The boy quickly raised himself and swept up his hat. In a fit of shame, he pulled it low over his head, covering his red face.

  Gai, still brimming madly, commented to her sister, “Look at this one. All the way from the merry capitol—a baby’s face and clean armor—no castle to his name. Must be running out of squires. No more of the good stock for us.”

  Mel gently measured the boy with her eyes. “Hmmm… a little green, perhaps. But I think he’ll do.”

  Ruffled by the wild-haired girl’s words, the boy reeled in his boots.

  Gai, seeing blood was drawn, pressed the boy more. “What worth are ya? Can you even fight, boy? Can you even swing that fine sword?”

  Derrek huffed, “well enough.” He went for his sword and seized the grip.

  Mel, seeing this, called out quickly, “Hold fast, squire. You needn’t prove anything to us.”

  “Aye. Not to us,” said Gai with a sinister smile. “It’s your master. And he’s not an easy man. The last squire wasn’t here long.” She chopped across her neck, making a morbid sound. “If I was you, boy, I’d run.”

  Derrek, feeling uneasy, released the sword’s grip and asked, “What mean you?”

  “Nothing.” Mel said, “She means nothing. The last squire died from an arrow to the throat.”

  Gai spun to her sister, snarling. “Is that so?” The two sisters stared at each other intently for a short moment. Eventually, Gai relented and said, “As you say, sister, as you say. But I bet you, he won’t last one winter, I bet you. Remember the first one? Hah. I already forgot his name. These squires come and go.”

  “Sister, that’s enough,” said Mel sternly. “You’re being cruel.”

  “Cruel, am I? We’ll see.” The red-haired girl turned back to Derrek. “So, Squire Derrek, since you’re here for now, why have you come to pester us?”

  Pausing to collect himself first, Derrek answered, “I was sent to see about the outlaws.”

  “And what about ‘em?” Asked Gai back.

  “To see if it was done.”

  “Yes,” Mel answered, “it’s done.”

  Gai sprawled her arm to the hilltop behind her. “See, boy.”

  Derrek veered up the hill. Among the corpses laid across rocky slopes in ordered rows, a single dark figure was kneeling and gently touching a body with a bare hand, seemingly caressing its face. He felt a subtle chill come over him as the realization emerged in his mind of who the dark figure was. Captain Joanne Ballessteer, he had been told, dressed as a daughter of the grey and wore a black shroud. Feeling troubled, he asked, “What is Captain Ballassteer doing?”

  “What the lady wishes,” answered Gai.

  Mel added, “She’s talking to them.”

  “To the dead?”

  Mel answered, “She likes to, sometimes. It’s her way.”

  Gai leaned over her horse. A mess of red strands fell over her face, masking a devilish grin. “Oh, don’t you worry, baby knight. She’s only saying farewells… for now.”

  “Squire Derrek,” Mel said, “don’t be troubled by our lady’s ways. She means no harm, I promise. Now run and tell your master the queen’s justice has been done. And don’t dawdle either… he don’t like waiting.”