Then she and her attendants went on, leaving Fawnlum with new thoughts, and troubles.

After a few moments, the young warrioress walked from behind the cover of the wagon and rejoined the revelers, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing.  She suddenly found herself again in the company of her friends, with Honee still perched atop the rock, wearing a large grin.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked.

“We found Sienna.”

Fawnlum looked, and saw a large, dark-haired girl – a match for herself in terms of height and power – stalking up the hill towards them.  Even from this distance, Fawnlum could see the bloodshot eyes of a painful hangover, and an unbidden knowledge related to mischief-making Honee, with impending vengeance.  Prudent locals kept out of the lumbering maiden’s way.

“Honee,” she sighed, her tone somewhat exhausted.  “What did you do?”

Honee did not answer.  She just kept smiling.

Then Fawnlum, knowing full well who she was dealing with, looked up and asked more accusingly, “What did you do?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t smile.  You’re lying when you smile.”

Nepta’s tone of voice started to lose some of its easy manner.  “You were the last one with her at the pub last night.”

“We had a contest.  She lost.”

“And then?”

Grinning with an abundance of devilish delight, she practically burst out, “We had a drinking contest!  I had some of my sin-sin elixir; so it didn’t souse me.”  She let out a giggle.  “Don’t worry.  I got her to Halsteadder’s barn, so she could sleep it off.”

Wearing a large saber on her back like Fawnlum, with a surly stare fixed with murderous intent, Sienna closed in on her friends with deliberate strides.

With a voice like two grating stones, she growled at Honee, “You little rat!”

“Who, me?” Honee asked, with feigned innocence.

“I never agreed to pull Lady Dasarens’ cart!”

“As soon as you showed up at the door, I’m sure Master Dasarens took their horse to rent out, and make a little extra money today.  You did a good deed.”

“Then let fate reward me, if I do a good deed now,” she said, as an engine of destruction waiting to be unleashed.

Unfazed, Honee replied, “Fawnlum, my mighty and wise leader, remind us how the people depend on law, not vengeance to fix grievances.”

“Retribution is the way of Nature, Honee.  You’re on your own.”

“Hah!” Sienna laughed.

Honee nimbly stepped back a couple of feet, balancing on her toes.

If Sienna made any move, the smaller girl would have room to avoid.

Honee kept watching Sienna with her characteristic grin, and shameless enjoyment.  Fawnlum knew she never tired of showing how her smaller, more nimble form could outdo her and Sienna’s bigger, stronger forms.  ‘Dancing among the trees’, as she called it.

Slowly and smoothly, Sienna drew the saber from her back, and closed in.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll use the flat of the blade.”

“Sienna, stop it,” Fawnlum said, growing weary of the game.  “If you can’t see a trap from Honee by now, you never will.”

To Honee she ordered, “Apologize.  Nepta, fix her head.”

Sienna did not even look back.  “Not yet.  Not until I’ve brained the little snake.”  She slowly drew nearer to the much smaller girl, but besides sidling backward, the scout did not act intimidated.

“Honee, show at least a little remorse.  Sienna, sit down here and let Nepta heal your pain.”

Still Sienna ignored her.

Honee never let her smile waver, despite Sienna’s power and reach.

Nepta looked up at Fawnlum, and shrugged.

“Fine.”  Fawnlum stepped between the rocks, and got on the other side of Honee, so she had nowhere to go except toward the trees, which were packed too close to use as an escape.

Now it was Sienna’s turn to smile, with wicked anticipation.

“What are you doing?” Honee asked.

“Well, you’re too much of a child to make amends,” Fawnlum answered, with finality.  “So, this is the best way to end it.”

“Child?!” Honee snapped.

“Fine, then!”  Her manner changed as if a page had been turned.  Her smile was gone.  Her fun-loving mischief evaporated.  She straightened up, and walked right up close – dangerously close – to Sienna, with hard eyes.

“I’m sorry!” she said.

Sienna lowered her weapon, resting the point on the soil.  “What?”

“I said, I’m sorry.”

Her big friend cupped her free hand to her ear, with her head turned to the side.  “I can’t hear you.”

“I said, – ”

Sienna lunged faster than an eye could blink, her open palm striking for the top of Honee’s head.

Little Honee was quicker, though, and dodged the hit.  Leaning over heavily, as one would do with a bucket of stones pressing behind their eyes, Sienna slowly straightened back up.

Then she took a deep breath, and sat on one of the rocks, absently waving at Nepta.

Without any ado, Nepta stepped up, and drew from her bag a small bottle of fine, blue powder.

Honee sat down beside Sienna, safe and secure, since by their foursome’s own rules, the attempt at revenge had failed, and the matter was closed.

“Next time,” Sienna quietly promised.

“I doubt it,” Honee lilted, once again smiling.

“Stop trying to tempt fate,” Fawnlum grumbled.

Nepta held her hands above the top of Sienna’s head, where sat the sprinkled pile of spell component, quietly reciting a series of arcane words.

Honee looked back at Fawnlum.  “I thought our place was to make our own fate.  Do you want me to sneak up on you again?  Or is your mind still somewhere else?”

Sienna blinked, but kept her head very still, as she incredulously asked Fawnlum, “You let your guard down for the little snake?  Why?”

At that moment, with the completion of her incantation, some of the runes on Nepta’s robe glowed with soft light, and Sienna sighed, as a relief-bringing touch of magic flowed into her.

Honee spoke before Fawnlum could answer.  “She’s worrying over what that grifter said last night.”

“And she’s bothered,” Nepta said, while brushing the dust out of Sienna’s hair, “that she hasn’t seen Baneck yet.”

Fawnlum looked at Nepta, as if the contemplative wizard was joining the cause against her.

“Oh, for glory’s sake!” Sienna snapped, rising to her feet.  “You coddle him too much.”

“I do no such thing.  I simply think the strength of a smith shouldn’t have to perform the same as a warrior.”

“Thus you coddle him.  When you don’t trust him to fend for himself, then it’s like not trusting him to be faithful.  Therefore, you shame him.  Let him get here when he gets here.”

“Besides,” Nepta added, in a calmer tone of voice, “it was just a travel-humbug trying to make a bit of gold.  It’s irritating that the Festival always pulls such foreigners into our midst.”

Sienna gave a grateful grown and stretch, reaching up, up, and up toward the sky, refreshed and revitalized.  “But if the fools want to bring us money, let them.  We made good on that wager.”

Fawnlum was not willing to relent.  “Where that dragon is concerned, nothing is good.”

She looked at each of her battle-sisters with solemn eyes.

“Worrying like that,” Sienna retorted, “is like giving him power over our lives before the battle even starts.  If it ever starts.”

She hitched her belt to the side, and adjusted her saber.  “But we’ve got more pressing matters right now.”

“The word’s already gone out that you beat Solross, fool,” she admonished Fawnlum.  “You just had to show it, didn’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Honee teased.  “When she can do so well against her mother, everyone knows how good she is.”

“I told you, when I fought her last night, it was a draw.”

“It was after you’d beaten Solross!” Sienna scolded.  “And that was after two months of fighting the orc-dogs, in the hills during a Coastal winter.  And that damned march back home.  If you fought her for real,” she added incisively, “you would win.”

She stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the gathering crowds.  “Now the odds aren’t as good.  But we can still make a killing.  General Boarbusk will be here.  His rivalry with Solross is still strong.  He’ll want to meet you in the contest circle.”

“Glad you think so,” Fawnlum said, wistfully detached.  Despite Sienna’s drive and motivation, she simply did not share her friend’s love of riches.

“Hail, Saima Fawnlum!”

Fawnlum and the others turned at the call of the honorific given to higher-ranking trainees, as an elder boy and girl – Dreighton Anterage and Caitlyn Kuljeck – walked up, an older warrior between them.

Dreighton, sandy-haired, charming, possessed of a silver tongue and standing a strapping three inches over six feet, stepped aside, making room for the seasoned veteran.

“Captain Lyodor,” Fawnlum said, with a formal posture and bow.  “Good morning, sir.”

“Be at ease,” he said, as he looked at her and her battle-sisters with a stoic bearing.  Years of battle had left their mark, with a weathered face, and grey-streaked whiskers, but also a bright twinkle in his eye.

“Funny thing it is, Fawnlum.  I’ve kept as close a watch on you as any student, even though you left my instruction so early in your training.”

“Well,…”

“Now!  No need to thank me for giving you such a good start.  I always knew you were bound for glory.”  He put his hands on his hips.  “But defeating Commander Solross yesterday, right after coming in off the road,” he stated, quite formally.  “That I did not expect!”

Fawnlum looked a little sheepish, and avoided the looks of appreciation from the underclassmen.

“And thus the honor you bring to your people today.”

She kept the redness from her cheeks, but still beamed at the praise of the respected warrior.

Dreighton spoke up, helping to save her from blushing.  “Captain Lyodor wanted to speak to you before the Challenge of the Song.”

“Ah.  Yes.”  The elder cleared his throat.  “With your victories in the field, you’ve won a special honor among our forces, Fawnlum.  You and those with you will be with our representatives for the Song.”

This was the official invitation for her battle-group – herself, Honee, Nepta, and Sienna – to stand with the ranking forces, in the ceremonial Song of Diergon.

With a slight nod, he started to turn to go, but quickly stepped closer and slyly muttered to her, “Make sure to bring along those you trust in battle.”  He snapped a wink at her.  Then he stated more loudly, “You’ll be standing beside valorous champions; so lift your voices high.  Stop making that face, Honee!”

Then he walked off to his own business.

Fawnlum looked at Dreighton and Caitlyn.  Like her, they had grown up as warriors.  Although they were each a year younger than she, they had both distinguished themselves in their own battle-group against the kingdom’s enemies.  Fawnlum had seen it in their shared training journeys, even though their level of prowess was not yet that of her and her sisters.

In addition to his warrior’s strength, Dreighton was known for his charm with the young ladies, which had gotten him in trouble more than once.

As for Caitlyn, Fawnlum had seen her hold the line enough times to know the depth of her character.

“I did good bringing him here, did I not?” Dreighton asked shrewdly.

“Not that you had to work hard to do it,” Fawnlum said, with a nod to Caitlyn.

Like Honee, Caitlyn was a scout for her own battle-group.  Hers was the role of tracking and spying out enemy positions.  But where Honee also acted as assassin, Caitlyn walked more exclusively as a pathfinder.  This she was well suited to, in light of her particular gift.

Like other Coastals, she had a profound closeness to the Nature Spirits, treasuring them as stewards of the land in which they lived, and revering them as givers of blessings, and the strength that helped them survive.

But among Coastal womenfolk, some individuals possessed the syiajryn power, a rare and special rapport with the Spirits.  From the trees, the running streams, even the wind and rocks, the Spirits dwelt; and a syiajryn could sense them, reach out in her meditations, and commune with them.

The Spirits, in their own way, also touched the basic magic that coursed through every piece of the Natural World.  Some syiajryn could draw on that magic through their union to produce certain effects.

Caitlyn could not do that.  Not yet.  But her own gift gave her an awareness of the world around her that very few Coastals could match.  She was nearly impossible to ambush; and she could see a trail where a tracking hound could not smell one.  Her battle-group walked with extra security, knowing she was beside them.

“Dreighton,” Honee said.  “Do bring that fine voice to the fray.  You’ll walk with the Dumian regiments beside us.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t miss our meeting point!” Fawnlum told him.

He flinched as if stung by a hornet.  “Saima!  I’m hurt.”

“Miss it,” Honee said, jabbing a thumb at Fawnlum, “and you will be.”

“I say, you can depend on me!”

He would have been more convincing, if his eyes were not drifting off to the side, following a pair of young ladies, laughing with each other as they passed by.

“Then I better get my traipsing done early,” he said with a wink.  And nimble as a sparrow he turned and started off – not too quickly, of course – down the hill in pursuit.

“I have to go as well,” Nepta said, “and meet the other Dumian wizards for the Song.”  And then she too walked away.

“Caitlyn, if I could bother you for a favor,” Fawnlum quietly said.

“I’ll make sure he’s not late, Saima.”

“Thank you.”

“Do tell us if he meets any angry fathers!” Honee called after her.

“That charm will get him into trouble some day,” Fawnlum dryly commented, as Sienna and Honee stood by her.

“Not at all like Baneck, eh?” Honee asked.  “Good thing you adore him for other reasons.”

“He’s charming in his own way,” Fawnlum countered, defiant to Honee’s gouging, as she rested her hands on her hips, and looked out at the scores of people.  “I wouldn’t pick any over him.”  She looked around for another second.  “But where is he?!  He was supposed to be here by now!”

“You talked to him last night, yes?” Honee asked.

“Yes.”

Suddenly they all turned their heads, to a blare of horns from the east.  All the other people around them stopped short, and the eating, merry-making and chatter came to a sudden stop.

From their spot in the trees, the girls watched the crowd move en masse, to the eastern end of the Meadow to see the approach of King Dregor.

Sienna smacked Fawnlum on the shoulder.  “Look alive, sluggard.  Let’s pay our respects, before you get back to your distractions.”

They walked out from under the trees, and joined the crowd as their ruler’s procession drew near.

The royal entourage approached from the upper flatland, set above the Meadow by a short cliff-face.  As he walked past, followed by the families of the ruling Houses and their own guards and banners, Fawnlum spotted her mother among the royal elite guards, none the worse for their little spat last night.

The guard post around the king was indeed a place of honor, but Fawnlum’s heart was with the battlefield, to someday lead her own regiment.

With Honee sitting atop Sienna’s shoulders, the girls watched, along with their countrymen, as Dregor stood atop the 30-foot cliff.  The magnificence of the man himself could not be diluted by his formal garb.  Standing well over six feet tall, and carrying himself every bit the leader, he inspired strength in those around him.

Arm-in-arm with his queen Allarah, his voice carried to the farthest ear by the spell of his house wizard, listing the heroic deeds of the nation’s past generations, and praising them for their strength and prosperity.

“But we will not be afraid,” he boomed, “to show our own strength here and now, to live in peace and freedom!  Let us be remembered by our children and our children’s children, so long as any one follower of Diergon still draws breath!”

Fawnlum shared a feral grin with Sienna, among the roaring cheers.  Their kingdom would not be forced into anything by a red dragon, or any horde of red dragons.  As far as Felldrake and his threats were concerned, Dregor would throw them right back in his scaly face.

Then suddenly, amid their cheers, a giant shadow passed overhead.