After the warriors left, the rest of the people in The Stump started to slowly disperse. It seemed the scuffle between Fergus and Gunar had soured the mood of the night, like a rotten apple that had found its way into being used for cider. Alef had returned to the corner of the room where Niall and Liv were seated and they had all finished their drinks in stunned silence before Liv finally spoke. “Well,” she drew in a shaky breath, “my pa is probably getting nervous that I’m not home by now. I should be on my way. Thank you two for keeping me company.” She turned and flashed Alef an uncomfortable, sheepish smile that still made him feel warm from the tips of his ears down to his toes. Alef got up from the bench to let her scooch her way out from behind the table.

  “I’ll walk you home. You know, with what Erik said about the mistwalkers we probably shouldn’t go alone.”

  Alef tried to keep his shock from showing on his face. He couldn’t believe he had just blurted that out. Maybe it was the fear still fluttering about in his chest like a wounded bird that had caused him to lose control of his tongue. Whatever the reason, this was it for him. She would probably realize how hopelessly he had fallen for her, she’d tell him she’d rather one of the pale-eyes eat her alive than have him walk her home, tell him that he was the last person in the whole of the land that she’d be interested in. Heat rose to his cheeks like smoke floating up a chimney. He tried to brace himself for rejection.

  “Alright. I’d enjoy some company at least.”

  Liv looked at Alef with a kind, open smile, no hint of malice or spite on her face. It took all of Alef’s focus not to have his jaw drop to the floor. He took a second to gather himself so that he could say something, anything to not look like a complete fool.

  “Ale can’t keep you safe if there are mistwalkers prowling about, so I’ll come along as well.”

  Niall pulled himself to his feet and gave Alef a tight-lipped smile and a playful looking, but painful slap on the back. Niall was trying to appear friendly and easy-going, but Alef could tell the older boy was beginning to be fed up with Alef competing with him for Liv’s attention. There was a cold, angry tension brewing between the two of them. Alef was trying to avoid being the first to be openly hostile. He didn’t want Liv to think he was bad tempered. So instead of telling Niall that he should wander off into the mist, or stick his head into his forge, Alef just returned his stiff smile and grated out “The more the merrier.”

  The walk to Liv’s home wasn’t a particularly long one. Her and her family lived about a quarter of a league outside of Ermont. The sun had long ago set and Liv had sweet talked Marin out of two resin-dipped torches; one for their walk to her steading and one for Alef’s walk back to his home. Even though Alef had just been scrambling to come up with a reason to walk with Liv, he was a little spooked by the thought that there might be creatures from the mist skulking about the land. The torchlight cast long, eerie shadows making it look like things were creeping up at him from the corner of his eye. He, Niall, and Liv were chatting amicably about the events of the night, and Alef was enjoying himself in spite of his simmering resentment towards Niall.

  “I just about died laughing when Fergus fell off the table” Niall said, chuckling at the memory.

  “Aye,” Alef agreed, “but, you know what? He sprang up pretty well for a man his age. I don’t think Ivar would have gotten up at all had he taken that tumble.”

  The three of them laughed at the thought of the master smith toppling off the table. It had been quite the ordeal for him to get up on the table in the first place.

  A comfortable lull fell on their conversation for a spell. Alef’s mind wandered back to him being pressed unstoppably towards the warrior as he drew his blade. He couldn’t remember ever being so scared in his entire life. Just thinking about the experience made his heart start to race as the fear clawed its way back to the forefront of his mind.

  “That whole thing between Fergus and Gunar was terrifying, wasn’t it?” Liv said quietly, as if she’d been reading Alef’s mind. Alef blew out a long breath and nodded. He didn’t want to admit to anyone just how terrified he had been, but he wasn’t so foolish as to act like it hadn’t shaken him up at all.

  “Fergus has got to stop picking fights with the warriors, Gunar especially,” Alef said, thinking the whole time about how he had almost been the first casualty of the growing tensions. “Gunar, he’s a cruel one. He won’t be forgetting Fergus’ disrespect. I love the old boy like my own family, but he’s going to get himself killed.” And Alef meant it. He thought of Fergus as an uncle. He looked after Alef as much as Garban did when they were out working, and he and Iona were the only real friends Garban had. Alef would hate to see anything bad happen to the woodsmen, but no matter how he spun it he couldn’t see anything but blood coming of his feud with Gunar.

  “At least he’s standing up for us,” Niall grumbled reproachfully.

  “I don’t know what good his ‘standing up for us’ will do once one of those warriors has run him through,” Alef replied, thinking back to what his pa had said when they had been walking home after the warriors first arrived. There’s no strength or honor in getting yourself killed, Ale.

  “And what would you have us do?” Niall asked, the bitterness towards Alef he had been working to conceal starting to spill out like a leak in a dam. “Would you have us lie down so they can get their boots on our necks without so much struggle?”

  “No, I-”

  “Niall,” Liv snapped, interrupting Alef before he could fully respond, “don’t pick fights with Ale. He’s not the one you should be mad at. In fact, when Fergus got himself into trouble Ale was the first one to try to help him.” She stared pointedly at Niall.

  Liv was typically so cheerful that the sudden turn took Alef off guard. She was by no means some fragile wilting flower, she had some iron in her bones. Honestly, it was one of the things Alef loved about her. However, she had such a sharp tongue that if she had an issue with someone she could typically just jab and tease them into line without having to be too confrontational. Now though, she had spun on her heel and was giving Niall a glare so fierce that it would have turned Alef into dust to be blown away on the wind. Alef felt a strange mix of thrill and embarrassment well up in him. Thrill that Liv apparently liked him enough to stick up for him, but embarrassment that she seemed to be fighting his battle for him.

  Alef wanted to defuse the whole situation. He wanted to keep Liv from making him look weak, but he also didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her to mind her own business. Also, he didn’t truly want to fight with Niall in the first place. He put up his palms reassuringly and stepped between the two of them. “Look,” he said calmly, “all I was trying to say is that my pa said we should all be cautious around the warriors, and I think that was wise. Even if we don’t want them here there’s not a whole lot we can do about it.”

  Niall turned towards Alef again, his face beat red at having been scolded by Liv and his eyes full of anger. “Oh, is your pa scared?”

  Alef knew that Niall was trying to goad him, and he tried his best to sidestep the remark. “My pa stood up to the Gunar and probably saved Fergus’ hide. But I think he is scared. Scared of having his friends’ blood spilt in the street. Is that-”

  “Well then he’s a coward!”

  Being called a coward was the worst insult you could hurl at a man, and Niall knew it. Cowards had no strength or honor and their souls were destined to freeze and shatter in the icy depths of Hell. Fury filled every fiber of Alef’s being as if he had been struck by lightning. Before he knew it he was practically chest to chest with the older boy, looking up into his face and screaming.

  “Shut your mouth, whore-son!” Alef yelled, pushing Niall in the chest with trembling hands. “My pa is brave! You’re the co-”

  Liv had been trying to get between the two boys, she was shouting and trying to pry them apart, but Niall brushed her aside and punched Alef in the belly as hard as he could. Niall was older, broader, and taller than Alef. He had strength earned through long hours in the forge, and he had some martial training as well. His left fist hit Alef so hard Alef thought it must have punched a hole straight through him. He could have sworn he felt the knuckles graze his spine. Alef doubled over in pain as the air was forced from his lungs in a ragged groan of pain. He looked up just in time to see Niall’s right hand streaking down towards him like a falling star.

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  Alef woke up when his head bounced off the ground. He had been unconscious for less than a second, but his head was muddied like his thoughts were wading through honey. He tried to stagger back to his feet, but his legs felt like willow branches, twisting and bending underneath him. The world seemed to be spinning around him, and he was having trouble seeing out of one of his eyes. He swiped his hand across his face and it came away bloody. He stumbled and had to put a hand down on the ground to steady himself. Out of his good eye he saw Niall took another step towards him, pulling back his fist for another blow. Alef tried to get ready to fend off the next punch, but Liv stepped in. She drove her shoulder into Niall’s ribs, pushing him as hard as she could. Before Niall could get his balance back she hauled off and hit him in the face. The strike wasn’t some womanly slap, meant to show offense and outrage. No, Liv had obviously got a lesson or two from her father. She planted her feet, balled up her fist, let out a furious scream, and cracked the big lad across the jaw.

  Niall took a big step backwards and put his hand up to where she had hit him. Alef had heard he was one of the better pugilists among the young men of Ermont, so it wasn’t his first time taking a punch. The look on his face was more shock and betrayal than pain.

  Liv stepped in front of Alef and glared at Niall defiantly, her hands still bunched into white-knuckled fists. At last, Alef was able to groggily straighten up. He scooped up the torch from where it had landed and held it out in front of him like it was a warrior’s blade. Of course, it would be dishonorable to light a man on fire when he had only come at you with his fists, but at this point Alef was willing to accept some dishonor if it meant not getting his head caved in. His vision was still swimming, and his legs were barely steady enough to hold him.

  “What are you doing?” Niall yelled at Liv, still clutching his jaw.

  “Keeping you from killing Ale, you bastard!” Liv shouted back.

  In that moment, nothing had ever looked more beautiful to Alef than her. A look of righteous rage on her face, the torchlight shining off her tangle of auburn hair making it look like a cloud of fire about her head. She looked like a heroine stepped straight from a tale told round the fire to defend him. Nothing had ever made him feel more awe, or more shame. She had had to step in to save him because he was having the piss beat out of him, with no hope of defending himself. He had had his jaw spun near off his face in front of the one person he wanted to impress. The shame threatened to wrap him up like a net. He could feel tears trying to force themselves out, but he’d rather die than embarrass himself any more than he already had.

  “You’d side with him over me?” Niall blustered angrily.

  “If you’re going to act like some savage fool, then yes!” Liv spat fiercely.

  That response seemed to hurt Niall more deeply than any punch. He took another step back as if he’d been struck again. “If that’s the way you feel,” Niall bellowed, “then let the mist take you both.” From the sound of his voice, it seemed Alef wasn’t the only one fighting back tears. The older boy spun on his heel and started walking back to town, quickly disappearing into the night. Liv hurled a few more insults at his back before she turned towards Alef.

  When he locked eyes with her he saw it written clearly on her face, more plainly than if it had been etched in stone: pity. She pitied him. The poor motherless, helpless boy. He had wanted her to think he was strong, and charming, and wise, but, at least in that moment, she saw him for what he was: a hurt, scared child. He would have gladly let Niall beat him into a paste if it meant he wouldn’t have had to see her pity. It was as if the ground had opened up and dropped him into a bottomless pit of shame.

  “Ale, are you okay? Oh, you’re bleeding. Here, let me take a look.”

  Her voice was so soft, so gentle. She eased towards him slowly, hands raised reassuringly. It was like she was trying to keep a skittish animal from bolting. It didn’t work. Alef fished out the other torch, lit it with his, and pressed it into her hand.

  “I’m… I’m sorry. I…” Alef stammered. Then he turned and ran into the darkness, his shaky legs barely able to carry him.

  “Ale!” Liv cried at his back as he ran. “Ale!”

  He didn’t stop running.

  Garban had been waiting up a while. He realized the boy had probably just lost track of time. That everything was almost certainly just fine. He tried to feed those perfectly reasonable explanations to the beast of worry that was gnawing incessantly at his guts, but it spat them out. He sat in front of the fire, anxiously whittling while his mind raced through every possible thing that could have gone wrong. He should have never let the lad go into town unattended with those warriors prowling about. He pulled in a deep breath and held it in an attempt to settle his body and mind. Garban wanted to give the lad space to grow into a man, but if Alef was going to leave him fretting until the wee hours of the morning Garban would never let the boy leave his side again.

  At long last Garban heard footsteps approaching the cottage and he blew out a relieved sigh. He set aside what was turning out to be a fine ladle and did his best to make it look like he hadn’t been worrying himself half to death since the sun went down. Alef quietly opened the door a sliver, as if he was trying to slip in unnoticed. “Ale,” Garban said loudly, making Alef jump, “you had me worried sick, boy. You were out much too late…” Before Garban could finish scolding the lad, he caught sight of his face. He had a cut just above one of his eyebrows and that side of his face was crusted with blood. The boy’s eye was blackened and swollen as well, making his face look partially melted in the firelight.

  Garban’s blood ran cold. An icy anger spread from his chest till his whole being shivered with rage. Someone had hurt his boy. What would he do about it? The voice of the man he had once been, the man who he kept locked up deep inside and pretended he had never known, answered that question unbidden. Hurt them back. Hurt them worse. Twist and tear and break and rend and kill. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles popped. The Legend inked onto his arms burned like hot brands being pressed into his skin, a permanent reminder of the man he had once been, and maybe he’d let that vicious bastard handle this. But no, the lad needed a father not a monster. Garban drew in a deep breath and held it.

  Alef’s pa blew out a deep breath that it seemed like he had held for ages, and with that deep sigh it seemed the man deflated, his face creasing with worry. “Sit,” Garban commanded, his voice clipped but tired. Alef sat on one of the stools in front of the fire and Garban went to rummage around in the cabin for something. Alef felt nervous and tense. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid his pa seeing his face, but he had hoped to put it off until the morning. Garban came back with a small armload of things and knelt next to him, a wet rag in one hand. He began to gently clean off the blood from Alef’s face and inspect the cut. As Garban prodded at his bruised face Alef couldn’t help but let out a hiss of pain. “I know it hurts, lad, but it has to be done.” Garban spoke gently and gave Alef a reassuring pat on the knee with his free hand. Some of the anger that had been mounting in Alef melted away. It didn’t seem that his father was angry, not at him at least. He had just been worried for his boy.

  Garban leaned in close, getting a good look at the cut. “Well, it bled like a stream, but it won’t need stitches. The edges are ragged, so it’ll probably leave a scar. That often happens when you take a crack to the head.” Garban’s eyes locked with Alef’s and there was a quiet intensity in them that caused some of the fear to return in a trickle. “What happened?”

  Alef considered lying, telling his pa that he had run into a branch or tripped on a rock and hit his head coming home in the dark. But he and his father were always honest with one another, and he didn't want to go ruining that now. “I got into an argument with another boy from the village. He was trying to get me angry and it worked. Once I lost my temper I shot my mouth off and he clobbered me.” Alef couldn't meet his father's eyes. He was ashamed of every part of it. Losing his temper, being beaten, running. All of it.

  Garban looked at Alef for a while, concern clear on his face. At last he spoke. “You typically keep a cool head. What did the lad do to make you lose you so mad?”

  “He said you were a coward.” Alef’s voice was an furious whisper and he could feel anger making his throat tight even now.

  “Hmm,” Garban grunted and paused again thoughtfully. “That would do it. Still you should not have bitten on that bait. We are who we are regardless of what people say. My honor is untouched. Our souls are weighed by The Spring and not by men.”

  Alef couldn't believe his ears and he snapped out a response before he could calm himself. “If I let him say you are a coward and I do nothing that makes me a coward too!”

  Garban shot Alef a reproachful look as he grabbed the jar of honey and pulled the lid from it. “Maybe to a fool that's how it would look. To anyone else it would make him look like an arse and you seem the bigger man.” He dipped a finger into the honey and smeared it over the cut to keep it from festering, just as he had done when Alef was small and had come home with scrapes.

  Alef would have typically listened to his father's rebuke and wouldn't have argued further, but his head still throbbed and the humiliation of the night’s events had chafed his pride raw. “Maybe for you!” Alef yelled, pushing Garban’s hands away and standing unsteadily to his feet. “But people already pity me and think that I'm weak! If I didn't stand up to Niall tonight then I would have proved everyone right.” Alef’s throat felt tight from the anger building in his chest and he was having to fight to hold back tears.

  Garban put his hands on his knee and pushed himself wearily to his feet. “Ale, people don't think you're-”

  “Yes they do!” Alef interrupted. “You won't let me do any martial training and you won't teach me how to fight. The other boys in the village take notice.”

  Despite Alef's outburst, Garban held his eye, meeting Alef's anger with quiet resolve. “I have taught you about fighting.”

  “Telling me to avoid fighting at all costs is not ‘teaching me about fighting.’”

  “That is all you need to know about it,” Garban replied flatly.

  “No!” Alef shouted. “If you don't teach me to fight it doesn't mean that I won't fight, because there are some things you have to fight for. All it means is that when I do fight I am going to lose.”

  Garban looked at Alef for a long time without saying anything. A muscle on the side of his head pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He took a deep breath and held it for a long time before he finally spoke. “If I teach you you have to promise you aren't going to go around picking fights and getting into trouble.”

  It took a moment for Alef to register what Garban had said. He was shocked. Typically when Garban said something he was as unmovable as the mountains no matter what Alef said, but he was apparently changing his mind. “Of course!” Alef stammered as he got his voice back.

  Garban nodded approvingly. “I think there may be some truth to what you say in some ways, and I want you to be safe if something happens. We’ll start in a few days once you've had time to recover. Now sit down and let me finish bandaging your head.”

  Alef's chest swelled with excitement, and even though, in his mind, he was almost a man he wrapped his pa in a tight hug.