Chapter 6 (Part IV): Picking a Fair Fight

Oh yes, I remember when Thrakaduhl came to Gerault’s summer festival for the first time. Yes indeed. That was a hard year to forget, even before all those things they talk about in your history classes. Ethyl Meechum cheated at the pie contest. My hand on the Good Scrolls I swear to you she cheated. I never tasted a pie like that that was made without some sort of unearthly hocus pocus like the kind they teach in the city. And a gooseberry pie, no less? Who even tries to make anything with gooseberries and expects to win? Witchcraft I say; illegal use of witchcraft. But she’s dead now.

-          My great grandmother, recalling her own personal brush with history

Thrakaduhl wasn’t naïve; he was well aware that plotting in the midst of a crowd was unwise. While most of these people were very invested in dispatching their overlord, any one of them might be reporting back to Lionel, so Thrakaduhl deliberately spun a half truth. He made a lot of noise about cutting the head off the snake, and confronting Lionel tonight at the fair.

The trio then discussed the rest of their plans in private. With any luck, Thrakaduhl’s big talk in the bar would prompt Kerwyn to focus most of his security on safeguarding himself, drawing men away from the horses and any prisoners on the Kerwyns’ estate. Kaira insisted Jon handle the horses, and she handle searching for Regina. Jon had protested, but relented when Kaira explained her reasoning. Jon was an experienced farmhand and a fairly plain looking white man; he could walk around the stables and blend with the townspeople in a way she never could. He’d be able to get close to the horses, and even if he couldn’t steal them, she was certain he could spook the hell out of them, creating a sizable distraction. If the distraction were big enough, Kaira would likely only need to deal with a handful of men on the estate, and being stealthier and (admittedly) more ruthless than either the orc or the weredog, she was confident she had the best chance of dealing with the guards.

What Kaira didn’t like was the idea of Thrakaduhl tackling Lionel without her, but he insisted that at the very least, he had to maintain the bluff until the last possible moment. While Thrakaduhl was cunning, Kaira knew he was also noble to the point of imperiling himself. Because of his honor and conviction, he’d suffered greatly at the hands of his father, and Kaira suspected that Chieftain Tharkrada had only allowed the man to live because he held onto some love for his son. Despite Thrakaduhl’s reassurances he’d be fine, she could easily imagine that he wasn’t bluffing – he intended to take Lionel on, and he never promised her that he wouldn’t.

When night fell, the townspeople lit torches to illuminate the fair. The fair was always scheduled in the dead of the summer, so that it could run pretty late, but apparently tradition was that the big horse race, the one people talked about for months before hand, had to be done after dark, by starlight – one of the constellations, apparently, held special significance for the horse breeders that had started the tradition, and they’d only have their race with it high overhead.

The darkness of the new moon suited Kaira well as she slipped onto the Kerwyns’ land and made her way along the dirt road up toward the main house. As if to maintain their distance from the people they tormented, the Kerwyns had left many trees along the road and around the base of the hill their house sat on. The fair was likely visible from the house’s balcony, but aside from that this portion of the estate was isolated from the surrounding community. The trees provided excellent cover for Kaira, her slim frame and long limbs allowing her to navigate the branches and limbs almost as easily as walking along the ground. She might have been a bit quieter advancing on the ground, but guards wouldn’t give as much thought to a rustle in the branches as to a cracking twig in the grass.

Kaira circled around the house, and found the building Jon had described. It was down on the back slope of the hill, barely in sight when approaching the big house. Its construction was peculiar to say the least; It looked like a fairly typical storage building for a farm, except that it backed into the hillside, with earth and grass reaching out onto its roof. Kaira guessed it predated the house by quite a bit, but beyond that she wasn’t sure what she was looking for.

She scanned the area in the darkness, wishing that Ochsner were there to guide her with her uncanny lowlight vision. She could see one guard at the door of the building, another on the balcony of the main house, and two patrolling the grounds, casually wandering around the hill, and talking about something irrelevant – macramé? That didn’t seem likely, but Kaira figured you can never really guess what people will be into. The important thing was that their minds weren’t at all on the job at hand, and they’d be unlikely to hear her over the sound of their own voices. She paralleled them until they came near the building, and then she slipped down out of the branches and quietly fell in behind them. Not too close, but close enough to hide her silhouette behind them as they approached the building. As soon as they passed its corner she rolled away and pressed herself to the wall out of sight of the door’s guard.

She climbed on top of the building, waited for the two talking guards to move out of earshot, and then deftly leaped off the roof, landing squarely on the man guarding the door. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs with a muffled whumpf and a tight grip around his neck had him unconscious within a few moments. The door was locked, so she rummaged through his pockets for the key. Once she had the door open, she dragged the man in behind her and relocked the door from the inside. With any luck, his comrades would think he’d wandered off to relieve himself.

Kaira lit a small oil lamp she’d bought in the market, and inspected her surroundings. The building was old alright – it covered the entrance to a mine shaft that burrowed down into the hill. She doubted very much that she’d encounter another abandoned Dwarven fortress, but given the guard she’d had to knockout to get in, she was sure she’d find something.

Thrakaduhl hadn’t played the part of the subtle hero, so he didn’t start now. Lionel turned up at the racing circuit with a retinue: several guards, a couple of guests, some older family members, and a young woman who was either his wife or his daughter. Once he saw them get situated in their box seats, Thrakaduhl ran out into the middle of the field and stood in the light of the torches, his bow in one hand and a borrowed woodsman’s axe in the other. The townspeople chattered excitedly in the aged wooden stands.

“People of Gerault,” Thrakaduhl said loudly, “I don’t know you or your town as well as I should like, but I am fond of it nonetheless. You work hard, and readily share the fruits of your labor with complete strangers. You’ve also raised some vicious checkers players.”

The people laughed, and someone shouted that they wanted a rematch on the hay bales.

“I’d very much like that,” Thrakaduhl nodded and gestured with his bow, “But I’m afraid right now I must bring to you a more serious issue. As I spent the day among you, enjoying your company and your kindness, I’ve heard one name uttered with universal disdain. Kerwyn.”

The crowd entered an uneasy quiet.

“The Kerwyn family’s reputation extends beyond the borders of this little town,” Thrakaduhl said, “In fact, that's part of the reason I came here. I never imagined, however, that Lionel Kerwyn could be half so bold a brigand as he is.”

“Get off the field!” one of the men in Lionel’s box shouted. Another man in the bleachers shouted the same, apparently trying to rile support from the crowd, but both of them were cowed by the deathly silence of the townspeople.

“If it would please the people of Gerault,” Thrakaduhl said, “I would extend the protection I have offered to the people of Defiance. I would ask you to deny the Kerwyn’s any further indulgence, and join my people in ending this mockery of society.”

Lionel stood up and walked to the front of his box laughing, “And what protection can a lone orc offer?”

“Well I thought I might start by escorting you and your kin, and all your lackeys out of this nice little town, and restoring the property you’ve stolen.”

“I’ve stolen nothing…”

That bold assertion was apparently a tipping point for the crowd, which began shouting and flinging food and drinks into the Kerwyns’ box.

“Enough!” Lionel shouted, “Do you think you frighten me? Any of you? You’ve cowered beneath me for years. You didn’t stop me when I took your wives into my bed, or your daughters. How many of you are raising my bastards? Hm? And not one of you cuckholds has ever had the balls to stand up to me before!”

The crowd continued shouting, but Thrakaduhl realized Lionel’s men were issuing direction to someone while he carried on with impressive volume.

“You think this orc showing up somehow changes things? That because of him you can suddenly stand up to me?”

Thrakaduhl turned to see fires lighting behind him. A dozen of Lionel’s men appeared out of the darkness on the far side of the track, with flaming arrows nocked in long bows – and they were all pointed at the men, women, and children sitting in the wooden bleachers. The people hadn’t reached the angry-mob threshold yet, maybe because there were so many children and elderly to be mindful of, and when they noticed the archers, they fell quiet.

“What now, Lord Kerwyn?” Thrakaduhl said, “Will you murder your people, or simply have me killed? Which course do you think will best endear you to them?”

“I don’t frankly care what would earn their affection,” Kerwyn said, “Fear is far more valuable to me.”

“Well, you certainly have a close acquaintance with fear,” Thrakaduhl acknowledged.

“I am its master. I shape it as one shapes clay…” the man praised himself.

“I think you may have that backwards,” Thrakaduhl said, “Because from where I stand, I see a man ready to have other men shoot your enemy in the back. If you held the bow that did the deed, I’d mark you a coward, and you don’t even have that.”

Lionel was easily prodded, and with a sneer he marched down from his box seat, flanked by his guards, and readied his razor sharp sword.

“If it’s a fight you wanted, it’s a fight you shall have, orc.”

Jon hated not rushing straight in to rescue his wife. It had been bad enough not charging in last night, but to continue waiting after finding out what Lionel might be doing, or have done, seemed intolerable. It had only been the memory of Regina’s calm voice in his mind that had persuaded him to listen to his conspirators’ plan, and now he felt ridiculous. The others were risking their lives while he screwed around looking for a way to steal the horses. Bad enough he was horse thieving, he was actually supposed to do the job badly, in order to provide a distraction. Having never stolen someone else’s livestock before, he was sure he would do it badly, but he wasn’t at all sure how to deliberately do it badly.

He’d been able to make his way into the back of the stables next to the race track, where he was now brushing down a prize bull that had been competing against would-be riders all day. He was blending well enough for the moment, but the Kerwyns were tight nit. They didn’t even have their deputies handling their horses – this was all Lionel’s brothers and cousins tending to their animals and getting them ready for the show. There would be no way to close in discretely, so he began listening with his exceptional hearing, hoping to hear something useful.

“… Hemomancer is offering actual gold for the special ones,” one of the men said.

“They all want special women,” another man said, “They all think they’re special. Like they’re the only sons of bitches ever got into the business of buying and selling people.”

“Not that kind of special,” the first man said, “he doesn’t care if they’re pretty or exotic or got big tits. He wants anything strange.”

“Strange how?” a third man asked.

“Lionel’s been pretty tight-lipped about that, but apparently old Scales in Kingstown’s been giving him and some others in the trade nibbles. He went in on a raid and scooped up a dog woman.”

“A what?”

“She’s like a werewolf.”

“There’s no such thing,” the second man said.

“Don’t be daft,” a fourth man said, “Werewolves might not be common about this part, but they’re real enough. Grandpappy nearly lost an arm to one when he was a young man.”

“That was a bear.”

“Well this one’s real enough,” the first man said, “I’ve seen her myself. She was supposed to be sold off to the hemomancer with the rest of her kind they rounded up that night, but she was pretty enough Lionel decided to bring her back here. Thought maybe someone else might give him a better offer.”

“How pretty?”

“Real pretty,” the man said, “Lionel said not to touch her, but just looking at her locked up down there was enough for me to get what I needed done.”

Jon’s teeth ground against each other, and his fingers ached with tension.

“With or without the fur?” the third man asked.

“Werewolves aren’t real,” the second man said again.

“Seen her both ways and she’s plenty fine either way,” the first man said, “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’ve got some saved back,” the third man said, “might be enough to buy her off Lionel.”

“Might need to split the cost with someone…?” the first man said.

“How much have you got?” the third man said, “And mind you I get her first either way. I don’t want you roughing her up before I get a chance to…”

Jon snapped. He couldn’t listen to it anymore. If he was supposed to create a distraction, then he was going to do it now. His claws pushed out of his finger tips and his fangs slid out from between his teeth as he transformed and rushed at the men.

Chapter 6 (Part III): The Fair Affair

The fair's beer garden was in a nicely shaded area near the woods. Every slight breeze gently rattled the branches and leaves nearby, and birds flitted about in the thick undergrowth, serenading one another. It was a nice place to relax, talk, and cool off, though after the games and dancing, Kaira had ended up downing more water than beer. 
Rehydrated, Kaira showed off some bar tricks she’d learned in Kingstown that involved stacking spoons and glasses, while Thrakaduhl made a point of talking with everyone there; his gentle but hardy manner, paired with his sharp memory for names and stories, charmed almost everyone.

Kaira herself was laughing at one of his stories – something about dressing up a big lizard as a dog – when a familiar voice caught her attention.

“Kaira? Kaira?” a man slipped over next to her and tugged her sleeve.

“Jon?!” She immediately recognized the lycanthrope they’d met outside Rosebud, “Oh my gods,” she said in a whisper, “We thought you were dead!”

“Fortunately not,” he said, “She burned everything. The dragon, she razed our fields, our livestock, even our homes.”

“How’d you escape?”

“She came from upwind,” he said, “we smelled the brimstone and heard her wings from a mile away; just enough time for most of us to scramble out of our homes.”

“Most?” Kaira asked, but she didn’t pry for numbers, “Where’s Regina?” she asked about Jon’s wife.

“She got out, but she’s in trouble. I need help. Please. I know the last time we met…”

“I know,” Kaira said as she got up and led him away from the crowd, “I remember what you did, but I also beat you up a bit and stabbed your wife in the course of it, so let’s call us square now. Just tell me what’s wrong."

“There were people waiting when we fled our homes,” Jon said, “The dragon’s attack wasn’t spontaneous; she flushed us out of our homes into the woods, but it was a trap. Men were waiting in the forest. They had snares and caltrops and nets… They took a bunch of us. Mostly pups. Regina was still nursing that wound, so she couldn’t fight them off. I got caught in a bear trap,” he showed Kaira a nasty scar on his leg, “and couldn’t catch up to them.”

“But you followed them here?”

“Only Regina,” Jon said, “The men who attacked us split up. The pups were hauled off northwest but Regina was taken this way. Everyone else that escaped went after their children, so that just left me to track her down alone.”

Jon and Regina's community had tried to scam them before, but Jon himself had proven to be a bad liar and what little Kaira had interacted with them was enough for her to be certain this wasn’t the sort of stunt they’d pull if they were running another job.

“Have you made contact?”

“No,” Jon said, “I found my way here two days ago, managed to navigate the smells, and yesterday I worked out she’s being held on the Kerwyns’ property just south of here. I prowled around a bit last night, and I think she’s being held in a barn or a shed, but the place is heavily guarded.”

“How many?”

“At any given time, two guards at the building, two more on patrol, and two more at the house nearby, close enough to be in earshot. They’ve got dogs too, and they’ve been trained to fight; not the sort I can reason with.”

Jon could take almost any single human guard by himself – Kaira knew from personal experience that the short man’s alternate form was formidable in a fight – but the man had no training, and his only weapons were the natural fangs and claws of a large dog. There was no way he could handle those men on his own.

Jon looked past Kaira and started growling. She turned and saw a broad chested, finely dressed man had come in to the beer garden and started talking to Thrakaduhl. Everyone backed off, deferring to the man, except Thrakaduhl who remained seated, calmly sipping his beer.

“I understand you’ve made quite the impression round here,” the man said, offering his hand, “I’m Lionel, Lionel Kerwyn. Though my friends call me Leo and the ladies just call my name.”

The orc ignored the offered handshake, but introduced himself, “I am Thrakaduhl da Tharka, son of Tharkrada, the late chieftain of clan Dhaka.”

“Ah, so you are,” Lionel said, withdrawing his hand and placing it on the head of the ornate cane he carried, “Word is you killed your father.”

“No,” Thrakaduhl said, “she did.” He motioned to Kaira, “Kairumina Doro Asterigennithika challenged him in one on one combat, per the traditions of our people, and defeated him in an honorable fight to the death.”

“Well, that’s an unusual thing to do in this day and age. Most would call that murder.”

“You might. I’d call it justice. My father was terrorizing the good people of Defiance. Takin’ their belongings and threatenin’ their women. Lady Asterigennithika and I, neither of us takes too well to that sort of petty despotism. Or any despotism, really. So yes, I'd call it justice to remove a tyrant from power, but I reckon you would call it murder, wouldn’t you?”

The gathered crowd was dead silent.

“Are you suggesting something son?” Lionel asked.

“I hear tell you ain’t been too good to the people you were elected to look after here. In fact, I hear tell maybe you ain’t been elected at all.”

“I think maybe you ought to leave,” Lionel said, “Gerault doesn’t need any trouble from orcs that still practice the barbarism of their ancestors.”

“I think maybe I’d like to see you make us leave,” Thrakaduhl said, putting down his mug.

“You think I won’t?”

“No. I think you’ll wait until there’re fewer people looking. Or maybe when you’ve got more than…” Thrakaduhl pointed out a few glowering men in the crowd, “Three of your henchmen to back you up?”

With a sudden blur of movement, Lionel popped the end of his cane free, drew a sharp, lightweight sword from it, and swung it at Thrakaduhl’s throat. Thrakaduhl raised his right arm to block, which stopped the blade, but given his arm was completely naked, the blade cut deep into his forearm. Lionel drew the blade back and thrusted, but Thrakaduhl rolled his chair backwards and kicked the table in front of him up, stopping the blade. The orc landed on his feet and stood up. Kaira started to move in, but Thrakaduhl looked at the deep bleeding cut on his arm as if it were a scratch, and motioned for her to stand down.

“I’ll admit,” Thrakaduhl said, “I didn’t take you for a man that’d ever done his own work. But are you so ready to fight a man on his feet?

Lionel looked tempted. He wasn’t the sort of coward Kaira had assumed; the man might not have honor, but he had an ego, and he was willing to fight for that. Caution seemed to finally overtake him though; he backed down and left with his men. The gathered crowd let out a collective sigh of relief, and people began patting Thrakaduhl on the shoulder while one of the women looked at his wound. Kaira helped set the table back down and urged Jon to join them as people began spilling out their stories.

Lionel was worse than they’d imagined. Apparently the Kerwyn’s handled women about the same way they did horses. The sheriff, of course, had the authority to make marriages, and Lionel’s father had taken that a bit past the extreme.”

“Forced marriages?”

“Among other things,” the woman tending to Thrakaduhl’s arm said, “Lionel’s father also unofficially instituted prima nocta, and there’s some rumors that Lionel, being a bit more ambitious than his pa, has been engaged in a sort of ‘match-making’ service I would generally call human trafficking.”

Jon now became distraught, and told the people he’d come here on the trail of his kidnapped wife. The people nodded sadly. Lionel didn’t traffic away the local women, but a lot of people suspected his horse trading was a cover for moving women through his property from one place to another. One person even mentioned that Lionel had done business with Brogan, the kidnapper Kaira had killed at the beginning of the summer.

Though Thrakaduhl’s tone was as cavalier as ever, the tension at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the slight flare of his nostrils, showed that he felt as angry about it as Kaira.

“So, what’s the plan then?” Kaira asked, “If Jon’s right, if Lionel can manage six guards round the clock on his own property, then he must have more mercenaries than we thought.”

“Plus his own brothers and cousins,” Thrakaduhl said, reflecting on the information the fair attendees had provided, “that’s another dozen men. Presumably armed with more than farm implements. And Lionel’s not going to be useless in a fight.”

“How much does Lionel value his horses?” Kaira asked the people.

The general consensus was quite a lot, “The Kerwyns treat them better than their own wives,” one man said. Another suggested they’d bedded the horses, but Kaira hoped that was an exaggeration.

“Are you still thinking about stealing them?” Thrakaduhl said, “Seems petty at this point.”

“Lionel’s petty. The women might be on his property, but the horses are here at the fair, right?”

“They will be tonight,” one of the older men said, “Tonight’s the big race. He won’t dare cancel it, and he won’t dare withdraw. It’d be humiliating for him.”

“So how much of his security force will he dedicate to protecting his horses?” Kaira asked.

“And himself,” Jon said, “He’ll be here too, and I imagine he values his life as much as anything.”

“His men will be divided three ways,” Thrakaduhl smiled at Kaira's shrewd logic, “I don’t reckon there’ll ever be a better opportunity to take care of him than now.”

Chapter 6 (Part II): A Fair to Remember

There ain't no man can save me

There ain't no man can enslave me

Ain't no man or men that can change the shape my soul is in

There ain't nobody here who can cause me pain or raise my fear

Cause I got only love to share

If you're looking for truth I'm proof you'll find it there

- The Avett Brothers, musicians from the northern land of Carolina, on the world of Earth 

The horse show was being hosted at the county fairgrounds, an open communal space marked by a few permanent stables and a large arena, all surrounded by tents. Almost everyone knew that the kingdom was crumbling and if Thrakaduhl was right, Gerault was being hit harder than most places in Caelia.

Yet, at least some of the ranchers, farmers, and craftspeople tried to make the best of it. They bought and sold trinkets that ranged from junk cobbled together into decorations, to fine blown glass and handmade jewelry. Their smallest children played with piglets and lambs kept in little pens – or maybe the piglets and lambs played with children kept in the pens? It was hard to tell. Men attempted to demonstrate their upper body strength by competing over feats vaguely related to farm work. At the center of it all was not the farm show, but some local band, apparently a group of brothers, playing a song that had people clapping and stomping their boots. And the lyrics seemed to deliberately thumb their nose at the grim circumstances beyond the boundaries of the little fair.   

Kaira felt her face being drawn into a smile; it was strange, given that no violence had erupted yet. The stomping boots and the clapping hands brought back a memory. Weeks earlier… no, it was over a month now... Kaira had been drinking in a bar with Azraea and Ochsner while some of Kingstown’s students celebrated the end of the semester behind them.

Some might have said that the students’ good cheer was infectious, but at the time Kaira had regarded it like any other contagion – best avoided. Their celebration seemed unwarranted, delusional, and given that the whole university had been burned to the ground and a large portion of the students murdered soon afterward, Kaira could be forgiven for thinking that her negativity had been validated.

Still… as much as Kaira had sneered at their celebration, she wondered how many of those ‘clueless’ students had been out in the streets protesting while she was fleeing town on a quest for personal wealth and glory. Should she have been there? Should she have been in the street when the dragon laid waste to the crowd? Should she be dead?

And then Kaira remembered what Azraea had said; the dragon never should have been able to murder those people in the first place. Kaira’s former classmates shouldn’t be dead, and neither should she. The injustice of it gnawed at her, and she started thinking of the people here – how much had they endured under the Kerwyns? And what was to stop the dragon from coming along some day and burning this all to the ground, just as she had done to the farms around Rosebud?

“And here I thought you might be at serious risk of enjoying yourself,” Thrakaduhl interrupted her thoughts.

“Pardon?” Kaira jarred out of them.

“It’s a fine day, plenty of sun, the smell of grass and healthy animals. Children laughing. People selling jars of moonshine that can peel paint… all of that, and the promise of grand larceny in our future. I thought this might please you. I even thought I saw the beginning of a smile.”

Now Kaira did smile, “Did you bring me out here on a date?”

“Well, granted we have things need doing, but I reckon life’s too short to do one thing at a time. When I ran into you on the road, after so long apart, I decided to improvise a little.”

“And what would you have done if I hadn’t come along?”

“Oh, waited until after dark and stolen Kerwyn’s horses then, I imagine. Like I said, it still needs doing, but I might be a bit less bold on my own.”

“Less bold? Or less motivated to impress me?”

“I reckon a bit of both. Now tell me, have you ever eaten anything deep fried?” Thrakaduhl asked.

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Well, that explains your delicate dimensions.”

“Delicate?” Kaira raised an eyebrow.

“In much the same way a rapier is, of course.”

“I’ll accept that. What is ‘deep fried’?”

“Well, the farmers south of here have figured out how to turn rapeseed into something darn close to oil.”

“Like olive oil?”

“Somewhat. Or maybe like bacon grease. Somewhere in between, I suppose. Now, they produce it in such great quantities they can fill cauldrons with the stuff. Like the kind you’d use to drive siege troops off of a wall.”

“Impressive,” Kaira nodded, “Sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, indeed, this may be among the most dangerous of delicacies,” Thrakaduhl nodded as he led her over to a tent that was releasing peculiar smells. “Now, with a little egg, butter, and flour you can make something akin to dough, but they batter it into a fine liquid, dip things in it, and drop it into the boiling oil.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Anything edible,” Thrakaduhl said, “And a bit more beside. The batter alone is worthwhile.” He tossed out a handful of coins and ordered something from the person working in the tent. The man ran some of the batter out of a funnel into a basket, and dipped it into the cauldron for a few moments. He pulled it out, threw it onto a parchment, and handed it to the orc.

It looked like animal scat. Pale brown scat.

Thrakaduhl could tell by the look on her face she was not yet won over, “Allow me to apply the finishing touch.” He picked up a bowl of fine white powder and gently sprinkled it over the pile of hot dough-worms.

“Is that sugar?” Kaira had never seen it so finely ground. It wasn’t impossible to come by in the kingdom, but having to be imported from the south, it was fairly expensive. She loved it in tea, but in the quantities she liked, it made for a pricey beverage. Her parents had always had plenty to spare, but since leaving home, she’d had to learn to settle for honey. Eager to have a years-long craving fixed, she set aside what the hot funneled cake looked like and began eating. It was crispy on the outside but soft on the inside. It made for a satisfying crunch, and she happily licked the sugar from her finger tips.

“Praise the divine,” Thrakaduhl smiled, “she has a vice.”

“I have a lot of vices,” Kaira said, “but this might be the oldest. How do these people have sugar?”

“Many of them are descended from men and women who worked the plantations north of the Facian Sea,” Thrakaduhl said, “The culture there practically revolves around the sugar cane crops they raise. Cakes, pies, candies, fruit drinks… it’s hard to get here, but they love it so much that they find the means, especially for special occasions like this.”

“If you love something enough, you make it work.”

“Something like that,” Thrakaduhl said, “Now tell me, how is it you were such a sugar junkie already? I imagined you grew up on kale and radishes.”

“My parents worked a lot with exports and imports through the eastern harbors,” Kaira said, “and we travelled out of Caelia sometimes as part of their work.”

“I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t have guessed,” Thrakaduhl said, “You seem more grounded in the here and now than I would expect someone with such an exciting childhood to have,” he scratched behind his ear as if slightly embarrassed, “I expect all of this must seem quaint…”

“The world my parents live in can be… harsh. I guess in a way it’s its own sort of wilderness. My mother would call this quaint, maybe rustic if she was being kind, but to me it’s… I don’t know… civilized? I know it has its own dark backdrop, but this place, right now, this fair is a lot like the college was, actually.”

“Well, that seems unlikely…”

“At the college, most people came and went within a few years, only a few staying there for the rest of their lives. Because of that… there’s a different attitude from most other places. People worked to deliberately create a community they knew would only be temporary.”

“Like this fair?”

“Like this fair,” Kaira nodded, “Now, I’ve been thinking… If our goal is to get the dragon’s attention by making you famous…”

“Infamous,” Thrakaduhl said, “I believe infamy is technically our goal.”

“Maybe,” Kaira said, “But if we just spontaneously bust into the stables and take the Kerwyns’ best horses, we’ll just be horse thieves.”

“Oh, I agree,” Thrakaduhl said, “I need to leave a bigger impression than that.”

“And do you have a plan for that?” Kaira was surprised he was one step ahead of her. She mentally chided herself for that – just because she wasn’t especially socially adept didn’t mean Thrakaduhl wasn’t.

“Follow my lead,” he winked and smiled as he finished what was left of the funnel cake.

Thrakaduhl headed towards the games the men were playing, and paid in for both of them.

“What are we doing?” Kaira asked.

“Just do what comes natural,” Thrakaduhl said, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

The men heaving and tossing hay bales stepped aside for the two of them. There were other elves and orcs at the fair, mixing about, selling wares and playing games but even among them Kaira and Thrakaduhl stood out. None of the other elves had Kaira’s tattoos or piercings, and none of the orcs were as powerfully built or handsome as Thrakaduhl; the orc's emerald green skin practically glowed in the sun when he took his loose shirt off and picked up a hay bale. What may have made them stand out the most, though, was that they were together. In any part of the kingdom, an orc and an elf flirting and sharing food would have been a strange sight. Orcs had once been the elves' under caste, exploited for manual labor and warfare. After coming to this hemisphere, the orcs had overthrown their elf masters and made their own mark on the continents north of the equator. Though few of the elves from that time survived, and none of the orcs, there were deep scars that transcended time and space, distancing the two races from one another, even in Caelia.

Thrakaduhl talked to one of the other competitors as if they were longtime friends. The man seemed surprised by the unfamiliar orc’s friendliness, but warmed up to him quickly enough and showed him how to properly throw the hay bale. After one or two tries, Thrakaduhl heaved the bale through the air, tossing it well beyond the man’s furthest toss. Rather than being jealous or angry though, the man congratulated himself on being such a fine teacher, and urged Thrakaduhl to show off again for the other competitors.

The canny orc had showed up a complete stranger and earned his respect, rather than his resentment, simply by charming him with a bit of humility and flattery. Kaira was impressed.

Thrakaduhl motioned her over as a crowd gathered and showed her how to toss the bale the way the man had shown him, asked the man if she was doing it right, and confident she was doing so, had her gave it a toss. It was heavy; probably fifty pounds or more if it had been dry, and it had definitely gotten some rain the day before.

She tossed one of the bales but couldn’t match Thrakaduhl’s distance. Going, by the cheers, she clearly threw it much further than any of the spectators expected a woman to be able to, but even as an intensively conditioned elf, her upper body strength couldn’t compare to Thrakaduhl’s. On the other hand, she had other strengths.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but I assume that it would be more useful if these bales were stacked, right?”

“Yes ma’am, generally speaking, yes,” the farmer said.

She heaved a second and a third bale, landing each one squarely on top of the other in a neat little stack. The onlookers cheered and shouted. Even the other elves and orcs that had wandered over were impressed by the show.

“Oh,” Thrakaduhl said, “We’re all out of bales. Let me get that.” The orc sauntered down range, knelt in front of her neat little stack, and hefted all three of the bales in his arms. He casually sauntered back to the others and set them down gently. Even Kaira was impressed by that, and without thinking about it she gave him a peck on the cheek. That got as many cheers as anything – apparently the fair was full of romantics.

They hefted a few more of the bales, and at the urging of the farmer’s wife, Thrakaduhl lifted the man onto his shoulder, and had the man throw a bale while being carried. It wasn’t a very effective technique, but it got some good laughs. They moved onto the other sports – sheaf tossing and horseshoe throwing, which Kaira excelled at, and pole tossing, which Thrakaduhl eventually out did everyone at. He downed a beer and tossed one last pole, throwing it high enough it landed in the ground and stuck like a javelin. Technically that was a loss, since the pole was supposed to flip at least once to count, but it was an impressive enough feat to get cheers anyway. Kaira handed her own beer to a new friend to hold for a moment, and surprised Thrakaduhl by hopping into his arms. With some urging she managed to convince him to toss her – given she weighed a fraction of what the pole did, it wasn’t difficult – but it still thrilled the crowd when she twisted in the air and landed squarely on top of the pole with perfect balance.

“That was too easy; I don’t think I’ve had enough beer!” she shouted from on top of the pole. The crowd laughed as she gracefully flipped down to the ground. Thrakaduhl walked over and, though shorter than her by several inches, lifted her onto one shoulder and carried her over to the music as the rest of the crowd followed. After some impromptu lessons from the local experts, they joined in with the other people dancing in front of the stage. Kaira effortlessly copied the movements the women showed her, while Thrakaduhl did well enough to not completely embarrass himself. They traded partners as dictated by the song, many people excited to rub shoulders with the fair’s new minor celebrities. 
At last needing a break, they followed the crowd to the beer garden for some arm wrestling, darts, and checkers.

Chapter 6 (Part I): All's Fair in Love and War

Come one, come all to the East Central Caelia Tri-County Equine Entertainment and Crafts Festival in Gerault! Fun for the whole family, sponsored by Kerwyn Livestock Traders, Agricoal Biomancy Enterprises, and the Kingstown Lending Company!

-          Promotional flyer advertising the annual summer fair in Gerault.

Kaira and Vidi had ridden very nearly from dawn until late into the evening, each day, for ten days; ten days of riding at such a pace that it was a considerable work out, even for the rider.  They'd even ridden through rain storms that would have sent most riders looking for some sort of shelter. That rain had left the crumbling, decaying highway a muddy mess, and it took all the effort they could summon to offset the mud left by the storms. It sucked at and clung to the horse’s hooves with each step, wearying the animals and slowing the pace.

This morning, the evaporation of the glistening dew had made everything seem a little cooler, but barely an hour past dawn the invigorating chill had been replaced with humidity. It wasn’t too bad yet, but Kaira knew that it would be downright unpleasant by midday.   

Kaira urged her horse along at a brisk pace. She knew she was probably pushing their animals too hard, but her Gnoman communication device had stayed with Azraea, and without it she had no idea how fast things were unfolding. She imagined that the news of Defiance’s liberation could zip right to the dragon’s ear and set her off like a mule that’d been slapped, or it might slowly leech its way across the country to her, only to be received with the apathy and laziness she used to associate with the dragon. Having seen Syliva’s temper tantrum in the marketplace days ago, though, she now imagined that ‘slapped-mule’ would be more accurate. She could imagine the dragon racing overhead any moment.

She was trapped in that worrying frame of mind when they crossed paths with her nascent romantic interest, Thrakaduhl.

“Kairumina!” he shouted from up ahead and came riding down the road at full gallop.

His shout snapped her out of her mental sinkhole and, for the time being, brought her back to the reality of the present. She urged her horse to pick up its pace and hurry forward to meet him. After months of imprisonment, he’d been a mess when they rescued him from his father; a muscular, perfectly symmetrical mess, but a mess nonetheless. Cleaned up and adorned with colorful paint, he’d looked much better the next day when he’d engaged her in ritual combat to ‘avenge’ his father’s death by initiating her into their clan. 
Now he looked thumb-bitingly good. The weather was warm enough that he’d evidently decided his brown tunic was too warm; not only had he packed the garment away, he’d undone the laces on his loose white undershirt. Obviously she’d seen his glistening, emerald green bare chest before but it was one of those things that just hadn’t gotten old yet.     

They reached out to each other and clasped arms when they met. Thrakaduhl’s grip was strong, his large hand easily wrapping around her slender arm, but after a brief squeeze he loosened it and affectionately slid his fingers down the inside of her forearm to meet her hand. The way it made her feel did nothing to alleviate her confusion over the kiss Azraea had given her when she left Kingstown with Vidi. That confusion aside, Kaira was relieved to see him. 
“I’ve been in the dark for over a week now,” Kaira said, “Please tell me there isn’t any bad news?”

Thrakaduhl was amazingly perceptive when it came to the concerns of others. He had a sense of empathy that Kaira didn’t think she could ever match, “Azraea is fine,” he said, immediately targeting the focus of her concern, “Though she constantly calls in to ask if you’ve shown up yet.”

“And Ochsner?”

“I see less of her than I’d like,” Thrakaduhl said, “but she seems oddly happy. I reckon she’s about as anxious as a fox caught in a henhouse, but she either thrives on stress or she really enjoys playing with twenty ton phallic objects that can level a building from two miles away.”

“The ballpipe works?”

“They tested it two days ago. I spent yesterday helping old man Clasky raise a new barn.”

“They targeted some poor old guy’s barn?” that seemed pretty cold for Ochsner.

“Targeting isn’t really something they can do yet,” Thrakaduhl said, “One might say the old building was smote down by the hand of fate, just as much as by the arms of dwarves.”

“Well, that’s something we’re going to have to work on…”

Vidi, who had continued his slower pace, finally caught up to them, “Is there an estimated time of arrival for the dragon?”

“No,” Thrakaduhl said, “In fact she’s become remarkably difficult to dislodge from her perch. According to Vinny she’s become involved in politics, of all things, and seems to be enjoying that so much that she’s ignoring our little insurrection out here in the east.”

“Any ideas how to motivate her?” Vidi asked.

“I reckon we ought to aim to make our insurrection a bit less little,” Thrakaduhl smiled at Kaira, “That’s why I’m so far out of Defiance. There’s rebellion that needs doing.”

Vidi had orders to return to Defiance, and running off for improvisational heroics wouldn’t have been acceptable, so he continued his ride on down the highway as Thrakaduhl led Kaira back to a side road they’d just passed.

“I’d hoped I’d meet you,” Thrakaduhl said, “but I didn’t think I’d be so lucky.”

“Do you mean this morning? Or in life in general?” Kaira asked.

Thrakaduhl simply smiled, “How is your horse fairing?”

“Probably not up for anything too dramatic,” she said honestly, “Lolila here has been strong, but she could use a vacation.”

“Well, by good fortune, I may have the means to give her some rest,” Thrakaduhl said, “Provided she doesn’t mind meeting some new friends.”

“Why, Thrakaduhl da Tharka, your rebellion doesn’t entail horse thievery now, does it?”

“I would prefer we call it equine liberation. Though the nobility of our endeavor lies chiefly in whom we’re thieving from, not in the pretty words we use.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Lionel Kerwyn,” Thrakaduhl said, “Owns a ranch just outside Gerault, to the south of here. Lionel has been Sheriff of Gerault for over fifteen years, after inheriting the position from his father.”

“His family must run quite an election campaign.”

“Given his family’s reputation as thieves, murderers, and rapists, I would have to think there’s more to it than that.”

“How bad?”

“Gerault has good grazing land, so his isn’t the only ranch. Has lots of cattle, some oxen, and the Kingdom’s best horses. There are people there whose families have been breeding and training horses for hundreds of years. Kerwyn’s family has the best horses of all, because they forcibly trade with the other ranches.”

“Forcibly trade?”

“The Kerwyns 'trade' their slowest, weakest, mangiest horses in exchange for their neighbor’s fastest, strongest, finest horses. Needless to say, it’s not a favorable deal for their neighbors, but the Kerwyns back it up with the authority granted by Lionel’s office, and the violence of his mercenaries.”

“The man has mercenaries? Our back country less-than-a-gentleman has hired soldiers?”

“He has some local sell outs, but mostly he’s protected by lackeys he’s hired from outside and deputized.”

“And the highway guard?”

“Oh, I reckon that title Lionel’s paid for comes with some perks,” Thrakaduhl said, “But even if jurisdiction and authority aren’t issues, I imagine they would be reluctant to tackle the sort of force that Lionel has at his beckon call.”      

“But we will?”

“Oh, while I figure the best solution to Gerault’s problems would be to take the sonuvabitch head on, we’re a little short on time, so I think we’ll have to rein in our ambitions.”

“So that's why we're stealing his horses.”

Thrakaduhl nodded, “I haven’t seen his books, obviously, but my guess is that a big portion of his wealth is tied up in those animals.”

“So his empire is built on those horses. Yank that foundation out from under him and it collapses.”

“That would be the idea,” Thrakaduhl said.

“You can’t possibly steal all of his horses, though,” Kaira said, “Maybe kill them, but round them up and run off with them? With just the two of us?”

“No, but we can steal his best horses. Doing that might be enough to cut into his mercenaries’ paychecks, and if they abandon him, he might not be able to maintain his grip on Gerault.”

Thrakaduhl’s decision to pursue this minor quest was not completely random. Gerault was currently hosting a week long horse show, and Thrakaduhl was certain the Kerwyn’s used the opportunity to ‘talent scout’ for the next set of horses they’d be forcibly purchasing. Kaira thought there might be more to it than that, though. If the Kerwyns’ finances were more complex and diversified than Thrakaduhl imagined, then the horse show would be a fine opportunity to network, make some deals, and show off the family’s public assets to some shady investors. Under-the-table business was not Kaira’s forte, of course, but she’d learned more than a bit from her parents.

Either way, the horse show would be a fine place to spread their rebellion. At the very least there’d be a great many locals present to see their oppressor humiliated and, if they took Lionel Kerwyn down a peg in front of some of his partners, it might seriously compromise his off-the-books business. Most importantly, the stunt would show that what started in Defiance was spreading, and that would rub Syliva's scales the wrong way, especially if the dragon was serious about involving herself in the kingdom’s politics.
That was assuming, of course, that they succeeded.