I sniffed the mixture Gertha had plastered over my hands. It smelt like a mixture of herbs, mud and shite. I’d been sitting on the muddy ground for about thirty minutes while she fussed over the puncture wounds in my hands. I screwed my face up and held my hands as far away as I could. Eggs sat watching me, taking a sniff themselves before backing away.

  “You won’t be turning your nose up at it when you see what it does for you,” Gertha said as she wiped her hands on a wet rag.

  “I hadn’t had you pegged for a follower of Physic,” I said.

  “I serve the Pantheon Bonded in a way I follow them all.” She smiled curtly.

  “Couldn’t make up your mind?”

  “The Gods touch each aspect of our lives. It makes sense to give them each their due.”

  “Except the Mummer, they can piss off.”

  “Ironic, I think they’re quite fond of you.”

  “What? What makes you say that?” I said, surprised at how insulted I felt.

  Gertha merely looked at Eggs, then the spot just below my eye, where my shame dwelt for all to see.

  “Oh, piss off, Fizzmouth,” I growled and rose to my feet.

  “What are you gonna do? Fight me? It’ll take a few days for you to be able to swing a sword again. Besides,” she poked a coin out from between her teeth, “you couldn’t take me on your best day.”

  I held her gaze for a few moments before laughing. It was true. I think if Gertha and I found ourselves at odds, I’d need more than a sword and some fancy armour. Eggs might even the odds, but I wouldn’t want to risk them. Not against Gertha. She laughed back and punched my arm.

  “I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of your words, let alone your spells,” I said.

  “You don’t do a good job, you’re very easy to berate.”

  I had a clever reply lined up, but I saw Bulriar bring his axe down with a sickening crunch onto one of the heads of the fallen nomads. The body moved with the impact, a mixture of blood and brain trickling out from the wound, falling down the sides of the ruined head, mingling with the grass. He flicked the blood off his axe before walking to another body nearby, raising his weapon again, he repeated the desecration. Everybody watched him, but nobody spoke out.

  “Are his eyes blinded by glint? What in the Hunter’s name is he doing?” I hissed at Gertha.

  “He’s protecting them,” Gertha said, her voice quiet, meek.

  “From what? An open-faced burial?”

  I noticed Sayo and Sila had walked up to us, silent as a last gasp. Sayo wrapped her arms around Gertha, who rested her head on her Hold Daughter. Gertha buried her face into Sayo’s clothing and covered her ears with her hands. Another sickening crunch told me Bulriar had desecrated a second corpse. This time, the axe had sunk through the skull, severing it clean in half. He shook his head, then walked to another body.

  “Is nobody going to stop this? These warriors deserve a proper burial.” I said, the rage in my chest building. Bulriar was cracked; there was no other explanation for it. Leader or not, he couldn’t be allowed to dishonour good men and women who had given their lives in defence of their homes like this.

  “He does this, so they cannot rise to the Fugue,” Sila said quietly.

  “So dead isn’t dead enough? You have to kill them again?” I asked, horrified.

  “Yes. The Fugue claims all who die near it, but if you destroy the mind. Then all it gains is flesh and bone.”

  “Bulriar does this every time, to every fallen Nomad?” My voice was distant as I watched Bulriar bring his axe down on yet another body.

  “Yes. He allows no other. Each death is his responsibility, he says, a lesson and a burden.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Sayo and Gertha held each other, crying without making noise. I noticed Sila wept as well. I didn’t know the other Nomads, but the loss of life was a tragedy to our kind, no matter how small or large-scale.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, unsure what to do. I slowly put my hand on Sila’s shoulder for a brief second before taking it away. I felt like an intruder in their moment of grief.

  “It is not your fault. It just is. It is the way of life.” Sila said, his voice wavering.

  It wasn’t just life, though. Mavev was a human who had used one of our sworn enemies, a Drake, to kill fellow humans. I might be marked for killing Peevan, but he was a predator that needed putting down. Mavev had killed people who fought tooth and nail every day just to survive beyond the protection of a Kingdom. I would make Mavev pay, and I would unravel whatever group he was in that masqueraded as Steelweavers. I almost clenched my hands, but I remembered the poultice just in time. I didn’t want to undo Gertha’s hard work.

  She clung to Sayo, and I approached them both slowly.

  “Gertha. We can go for a walk elsewhere for a bit. If you like. Just the five of us. Leave Bulriar to his…duty.” I said.

  Gertha sniffed, turning to look at me, and she cupped the side of my face.

  “You’re sweet in your own way, Tullen. Like him.” She said, smiling through the tears.

  “Rolvh?” I ventured.

  She nodded silently, as tears began to fall again.

  “Mother…” Sila whispered, Gertha nodded at him and walked away, squeezing me briefly on the shoulder as she passed. Sayo followed her, smiling sadly.

  “Who was he, Sila?” I asked.

  “Her Trueborn son. It is a sad tale. One I will not revisit now. Let’s just say, Buriar's task brings back memories we’d all rather stay buried.” Sila took a shaky breath in and exhaled slowly. I didn’t push the matter further. I can always tell when a man is close to tears. I’ve learned it’s best not to push them too hard. Sila paced away after Sayo and Gertha. I didn’t follow; I would leave them to their grief as a family.

  I walked to where my sword had fallen onto the ground. Bending down to pick it up, I checked it for any damage. I found none, although I missed my old blade dearly; this one had served me well, and she had earned a name. I stood alone for a while, looking at my blade, when Eggs nudged me under my arm, pressing their head near my hand. Chuckling, I sheathed my blade and stroked my fingers across their frill.

  Eggs chirrupped, shaking their head and pressing their body close against me. It knocked me a step to the side until I found my footing and pressed myself against Eggs, wrapping my arms around their neck as they squealed.

  “Thank you for protecting me, friend,” I said.

  Eggs, of course, did not answer, but their wing draped across my shoulder, and I felt like that was their way of telling me I was welcome. I was no expert in Wyverns. Nobody was, after all, until recently, they had been confined to legend. Despite that, I knew Eggs cared for me, that they were capable of more than just the instincts of a predator.

  A lot like that Drake. It had ignored prey to come to Mavev’s aid; the beast was either well-trained or Drakes were capable of more than any human scholar had thought previously. That would be a world changing discovery to be sure.

  I broke away from Eggs, who grunted at me and pressed their body against mine yet again, pulling me close with their wing, and so I resumed the embrace, scratching the side of their neck with the backs of my knuckles. I could tell Eggs liked that because they opened their wings and frill fully, shaking all of them as they chittered.

  “Your mythical baby did well, Son of Barraz. They have earned their petting!” Bulriar announced as he drew nearer. Eggs watched him with a side eye, and he placed his Axe on the ground, keeping a distance but shifting his feet as he craned his neck for a look.

  “Eggs isn’t my baby, they’re a Wyvern,” I said.

  “Ah, yes, both things are true, no? I see how you love them.” He smiled.

  “Maybe you’re right, Bulriar. I did help them hatch after all.” I smiled at the memory.

  Bulriar barked a laugh, “HAH! Did you stumble on a clutch of eggs and sit on them like a giant, dangerous chicken?”

  I looked Bulriar deep in the eyes, I saw the sadness in them, then I looked him up and down, noticing the flecks of his people's blood up his arms and chest.

  He opened his mouth, but I started clucking before he could say anything. We locked eyes for a second before bursting out laughing. Bulriar wiped tears from his eyes as he panted from the laughter. That was a release every warrior needed after a brush with death.

  “Ah! Son of Barraz, I needed that. Thank you. To you and Eggs. For helping defend our people.”

  I bowed, “I was just doing what any right-minded person with means would.”

  He smiled, “I didn’t quite trust your pet at first. But I saw how they defended you and aided us. You are a good Lizard, yes?”

  Eggs looked at him, head tilted.

  Bulriar laughed again and stroked Eggs' neck delicately. Their frill opened slowly, and not as wide as when I stroked them.

  “I think they like you,” I said.

  “They are the first big Lizard I like!” Bulriar laughed.

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t earn another mark today.”

  “I will get them next time. I may not have gained a mark, but I got two new friends!”

  “That’s a good way to look at it,” I said.

  Bulriar nodded to himself, before sniffing, “Son of Barraz. Will you help us make a pyre for our fallen heroes?”

  “I’d be honoured,” I answered.

  He glanced down at my hands.

  “You can fetch the kindling.” He clapped me on the back.

  I’m no expert, but I was fairly certain I'd made a new friend at that moment.