-1Chapter One

Tipa's Caravan

When Rufus retired from the caravan, his son Heath all but disowned him. He refused to help with customers, or with taking inventory or transportation. Soon, he cut himself off from the entire family. Roland could only shake his head at his younger brother. The more rational of the two, he came to grips with his father's age almost immediately. Rufus was a respected member of the community, even after retirement, so his family did not become a target of ridicule.

The same could not be said of Barah Fen's family. The Selkie had no established occupation, and his home was a shack along the river. When he stopped traveling with the caravan, Barah Fen became a pariah to the village, and his children often received the brunt of the dislike.

So in one year, the caravan of Tipa had been reduced from four to two, and Dorian had already announced that he was tired of adventuring and wanted to retire soon. He was so old, it was a wonder he was able to leave the village at all. Fenny, on the other hand, was as energetic as ever, and seemed to have no intention of laying down her lance any time soon. Tipa tradition demanded, however, that at least four people travel with the Chalice, so new warriors would have to be chosen.

The elder sat on the stone steps that served as the altar for Tipa's Crystal, an inkpot beside him, quill and paper in hand to take notes. Fenny sat on the step below him, reclining. Dorian stood to the side, off the steps. As senior members of the caravan, the elder valued their opinion on prospective new members. After all, these two were the ones who would suffer if the elder chose poorly.

"With Barah Fen gone," Fenny said, flicking a strand of brown hair from her eyes, "we'll be sorely lacking in magic, unless Dorian here wants to become a magician."

Blowing his gray moustache out indignantly, Dorian turned his nose up in a huff. "Only the sword is worthy of me, woman!"

Fenny smiled, but turned away to regard the people milling around the town center. "Like I was saying, we're going to need someone with a little magical inclination. Someone maybe not so physically strong."

The elder nodded, jotting this down. "Do you have someone in mind? Someone you think could manage?"

Fenny shrugged, repositioning herself to lay down on the step. "It's kind of hard to say. I mean, if there were some Yukes living in Tipa, then we wouldn't have any trouble. But all I have to work with are Clavats, and maybe Barah Fen's kids in a few years, when they're old enough. Heaven knows Bren would never figure magicite out."

The elder smiled and nodded, feeling a brief sympathy for Fenny's son and her high expectations for the lad. "So you have no real suggestions for me? I can't tell a skilled magic user just by looking at him, you know."

Fenny waved a gauntleted hand airily. "Then just pick someone who wants to go but can't wield a weapon to save his life. How about that?" The elder chuckled, but took note of what she said. He didn't have much else to go on. "Anyway, I'm thinking we take two more for this year, so we won't have to train another new recruit when Dorian retires."

"That seems sensible," the elder replied without looking up from his notes. He did look up, however, when he heard shouts from close by. He glanced over his shoulder to see Barah Fen's son, lying on his back. Above him loomed a Clavat girl with short black hair.

Dorian shook his head. "Darned whippersnappers! Always getting into fights! I'll need to have a word with that boy of mine about how he's raising his children…"

The elder turned his attention to Dorian, "I did not realize you had a granddaughter."

The Clavat, who outranked even the elder himself in age, snorted disdainfully, "I don't see why you wouldn't! You presided at her naming! Lydia, my little firebrand. Picking fights with Selkies…"

Lydia had, by then, sauntered off, talking and laughing with some Clavat friends while the Selkie slunk away, shooting dirty looks over his shoulder at his oppressor. Fenny, having sat up, scratched the side of her head thoughtfully. "She is of age…"

Dorian snorted again, shaking his head. "Absolutely not! Lydia's a child! Why, I was almost four and twenty when I joined the Caravan!" He turned to the elder, his voice almost pleading, "You agree with me, don't you John?"

The elder frowned slightly at his paper when Dorian used his first name, but did not comment on that. The issue of the girl was more pressing. "Dorian, we must all do our part for the village. Whether that be producing food or tools, or traveling the world to find myrrh for our crystal, we must all do our part."

The senior warrior shook his head stubbornly. "I'll not have it! She's only a girl!"

"I think the Selkie she just knocked down might disagree. In fact, I'd wager that she'd disagree as well."

"So she's a bit of a bully. Shoving Selkies and fighting monsters are very different things, John! She's never held a sword in her life!"

The elder turned to regard Dorian, noting the desperation in his eyes. He was so upset, the elder was almost moved to agree. Averting his eyes, the elder shook his head again. "I'm sorry Dorian, but there are many in Tipa with even less experience than she. Lydia is now one of our candidates." Dorian gaped for a moment, before his weathered face reddened with anger. Without another word, the Clavat marched away.

Fenny watched him go and sighed. "And you people call me temperamental. Don't worry, sir. You're doing the right thing. We can't be selfish when it comes to myrrh."

The elder did not answer, glancing at his notes. "Did you have anyone else in mind? Another warrior like yourself, perhaps?"

The Lilty paused, then nodded, rebuffed. She turned to glance around the people, noticing two young, male Clavats walking side by side. Fenny pursed her lips. "Who are they?"

The elder glanced up. "Rufus' boys, Roland and Heath. Why, do they seem like prospective candidates to you?"

Fenny shrugged. "That one is big, big muscular I mean. Contrary to popular belief, that helps when you're fighting sometimes. And the way the other walks, it reminds me of Dorian a few years ago, when he was still strong. They might be worth looking into."

The elder nodded, scribbling the two boys' names on his paper, then sighed. "I hope we pick a few adults soon. Sending so many children off into danger just seems foolish to me."

Tipa, the village on the tip of the mainland's southernmost peninsula, had seen better days, even if those days had been filled with the haze of miasma as well. Once, the village had teemed with activity, all but bursting with citizens. Members of every tribe felt comfortable walking the dirt roads of Tipa, and there was always an ample supply of fresh recruits to join the Crystal Caravan. Even mighty and distant Alfitaria had had no choice but to nod its head in respect to the small village's prowess in adventuring.

But those days had passed. Lilties moved back to Marr's Pass when a new crystal was found to be nestled there, and travelers soon saw no reason to go any farther south. Then monsters had moved into the mountains of the Tipa Peninsula, and built a brooding fortress, the dreaded Goblin Wall, whose shadow loomed over the village. The Fields of Fum, with the Yukish technology of irrigation, replaced Tipa as the leading producer of food. Tipa had become unspectacular, and no longer seemed like such a safe haven from the dangers of the world.

No one wanted to take the long journey to Tipa anymore, and soon, the more ambitious youngsters in the village decided that they were better off elsewhere, and moved away. Tipa shrank. Eventually, all that was left were a few Clavats, too stubborn to move, a family of Lilty ranchers, who praised the peninsula's lush grass which was so good for their cows, and a family of Selkie beggars who could find nowhere else to stay.

The elder of Tipa, John, had had a grandfather who had lived during Tipa's glory days. The current elder often sighed and mused over that bygone era, when no one had worried if they would be able to scrounge up a caravan to go forth and protect the village. Everyone was too busy on the farm to go now.

Thinking ruefully of this, the elder went to visit the house of Dorian's son, Luther. Luther had been one of those who had been too busy on the farm to join the Crystal Caravan, the elder dimly recalled, though that had been years ago.

It was evening, but Luther was still outside, planting crops. Commendable behavior, the elder mused, but perhaps a bit too zealous. The elder also noticed Luther's wife and his two children, Lydia and her sister, helping.

The elder stopped at the fence surrounding the field, and cleared his throat. Luther looked up, sighed loudly, then approached, wiping dirty hands on his vest. He held out a hand to shake, which the elder took unflinchingly. "Evening, sir."

"Good evening, Luther. I wanted to have a word with you." The farmer nodded, leaning on the fence. The elder had to resist a scowl, "In private, please."

"What's wrong with right here?" Luther asked, smiling coyly.

The elder was tempted to say something harsh, but decided against it. He was, after all, about to take the man's daughter from him, even if only for a small part of the year. "As you know, the crystal is nearing the time where it shall dim. With our caravan deprived of two of its members, we need to recruit new citizens to travel with the caravan.

A frown crossed Luther's features. He knew what was coming. "That's nice to hear. What is it you want from me, then?"

The elder sighed. He should have known that Dorian's youngest would not make this easy. "I would like to take your daughter Lydia into consideration for a place on the caravan."

Luther's family, who had already been listening, stopped even pretending to work. Lydia's mother stood, glaring at the elder. "No!"

Luther turned to scowl at her. "Not now!" His wife hesitated, but fell silent, crossing her arms and glaring vehemently at the elder. Luther turned back to the older Clavat, "Why Lydia? There are many others in the village who could go."

The elder frowned. "Not as many as you might think, Luther. Most of the children are simply too young. As you know, tradition dictates that only villagers over fifteen may-"

"Lydia is sixteen," the farmer interrupted, "but she's not old enough to go out into the miasma! She's a child! Why, my father was twenty-four when he-"

"I am aware of Dorian's age, thank you. But that is not what we are discussing." The elder leaned over the fence to call out, "Lydia, would you come here a moment?"

The Clavat girl, her valor from earlier vanished, hesitated before shyly approaching. She stopped when her father held out a hand, however. He turned to the elder, "She is my child, sir, and follows my orders. If you want to talk about this, you can talk with me."

The elder's frown deepened. "Luther, we must send out the caravan, and we dare not send out only two, one of them too old to hold a sword on his own. You do realize how vital the caravan is to our very survival, do you not?"

"Leuda only sends out two people," Luther pointed out, "and they seem to do just fine. In fact, Leuda has been around even longer than we have, following that same system! Why do we need four warriors when those Selkies need only two? Could it be that the people of Tipa don't quite measure up?"

The elder reddened slightly. The sheer nerve of the man! He had to wait until he had sufficiently calmed down before he could speak again. "Tipa will do as Tipa must. And what we must do now is choose warriors for our caravan. Lydia shows more aptitude toward combat than many other Clavats who are available to go. Will you give your permission?"

Luther glared at the elder. "And if I don't?"

"You may very well condemn your village and your family to death, when the light of the crystal fades away."

Luther scoffed, turning his back on the elder. "We'll see about that. I'll believe this when I see it for myself."

"You doubt that the crystal could fade away?"

"I do!" the farmer turned back to shout, "What proof do you have? Theories? Musings? How many crystals have died in the world? None, that's how many! Every village with a crystal has never died! Alfitaria is still there, Marr's Pass is still there, Tida is still there, even the Jegon River still has a functioning crystal! There is no proof that the crystals will ever truly fade, and that miasma will ever truly take us all!"

With that, the son of Dorian the Bold turned and walked away, shouting at his family to get back to work, the fields would not sow themselves, etcetera, etcetera. The elder stood there for a moment longer before turning to walk away.

As he did, he silently fumed. Now they wanted proof! Proof that they were really in any danger! The world had become such a difficult place!

But as he considered it, the elder realized that there was no proof, that he did not have an example of a failed crystal to show to Luther. In fact, there was no proof for the elder himself. Only tradition, and the word of the people who had come before, those scholars of Shella who had first determined the light of the crystals to be temporary. What if they had been wrong?

The elder simply could not consider that. It went against everything he had been taught and raised upon. The work of the Crystal Caravan could not be a waste! Those who died protecting their homes and their families could not have died for nothing!

The elder was still contemplating this when he arrived at the house closest to the bridge that led away from Tipa. He fervently hoped that Rufus and his sons had not become as jaded as Dorian's child.

In the house of the merchant, the elder was pleased to be welcomed much more readily. Rufus sat him in a comfortable chair and brought tea, while the elder explained the need for more members of the caravan that was to set out soon.

"And you want to send my boys? Is that it?"

Rufus had always been so good at cutting to the heart of the matter. He had never had the patience for the outer fluff. The elder nodded, sipping at his tea. "Indeed. Fenny tells me that both look like they could become skilled warriors, with a bit of training."

The merchant sighed, sitting down in a chair opposite the elder's. He stroked a graying beard while he spoke, "I must admit, sir, that I don't want to let you take them. My sons… they are precious to me. And I know what sort of things are out there. When I think about Roland and Heath in such danger I…"

"I understand," the elder said gently, "but there are few in the village that Fenny and Dorian will agree are suitable for the journey. My choices are limited."

Rufus nodded, staring at the wall behind the elder vacantly. "Then there is… no one else?"

"Luther will not allow Lydia to travel, so yes, there is no one else. Tipa needs your sons to help defend her."

Rufus paused, then stood to go to the stairs. "Roland! Heath! Come down here!" he shouted, before turning back to the elder, "I can't send them off. It has to be their choice. I'm sorry, sir."

The elder nodded to show that it was fine, just as the two Clavats came barreling down the stairs. The elder studied them, and noticed that, as Fenny had pointed out that afternoon, Roland was indeed very large. He saw nothing distinctive about the way Heath walked, but the boy did have a certain confidence about himself that may have meant the same thing.

Rufus glanced from one to the other. "Boys, the elder believes that the two of you might do well as members of Tipa's Crystal Caravan, but I want to know what you think. Tell me honestly: do you want to go?"

Heath answered immediately and loudly. "Yes! Yes I want to go!"

The elder smiled. "Quite an exuberant son you have there, Rufus."

The merchant smiled, then turned to Roland. "What about you?"

The older son paused, glancing around as though hoping the answer might be written somewhere in the house. "I… um, well, I guess so."

"That's not the answer I asked for, Roland," his father said sternly, "This is your decision. No one will think less of you if you say no."

But that was a lie, the elder knew, though he said nothing. As soon as Rufus said that, the elder's mind turned to Malayde. Perhaps Roland's did as well, for he looked up, meeting his father's gaze. "Yes, I'll go. I'll join the Crystal Caravan."

Rufus smiled, though the elder noticed that the smile was a bit of a sad one. "That's my boy. There you have it, sir. Two men, ready to go off and fight."

The elder smiled, standing up. He approached the two Clavats, laying a hand on the shoulder of each. Heath started to shrug his hand off before being halted by his father's glare. The elder pretended not to notice and spoke. "Roland, Heath, this will be a dangerous journey, I hope you realize. You will not be alone- certainly not!- but you must always be careful. The last thing anyone wants is to lose a citizen of Tipa to the miasma. If either of you want to stay-"

"We're fine!" Heath cut in impatiently, "We both want to go! Now let us go!"

Rufus smacked his younger son over the head. The elder paused until Rufus was done reprimanding his son, not wanting to interrupt. It wasn't his place. When it was silent, the elder began again, "Unless we find any new candidates, you can both be assured of your places on the caravan. In two weeks, the ceremony officially announcing the Crystal Caravan will take place, and you will all set off on your journey for myrrh. I trust that you will be ready by then."

When the elder had finished, Rufus sent his sons up to bed. He turned in time to see the elder gathering his coat to leave. He paused to smile at the merchant. "I am glad that there is some good news this evening. Will you be able to cope, here on your own?"

Rufus shrugged. "I can manage the store alone, I think, but I'll miss the boys. This house hasn't felt so empty since Clara died, and they haven't even left yet."

The elder nodded, reaching out to pat Rufus on the shoulder reassuringly. "Your sons will be heroes, Rufus, just as you are. And they won't be gone for too long. The caravan is usually absent only for a few months at a time. And you still have the village to act as your family."

Rufus nodded, but he seemed unconvinced. With that, the elder put his coat on, said goodbye, and left the house.

As he was walking past Fenny's ranch, the yard of which was empty at that late hour, the elder became aware of a sound behind him. Turning, he saw someone several feet away, apparently attempting to move stealthily. That someone jumped in fright, then ran off to hide when he was caught by the old Clavat's gaze. The elder smiled as he called out. "No need to be afraid, child. Please, come out."

Stopping in his tracks, the person turned and walked back, rather like a naughty child being called for his punishment. When he was close enough, the elder noticed the shocking blonde hair, and recognized the Selkie that, just earlier that day, had been fighting with Lydia. The elder arched a bushy eyebrow. "Barah Fen's boy, correct? Your name was…"

"Odelle," the Selkie muttered sullenly.

The elder was somewhat surprised when the boy did not elaborate. A one word name? That was unusual for a Selkie. He decided not to comment, however. "And why were you following me?"

"I wanted to- to talk to you, sir. About…" The Selkie suddenly burst out, jumping toward the elder, "About the caravan! I want to join!"

The elder had backed away in surprise, then blinked. "The caravan? Odelle, I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're too young."

"O-only a year!" he said desperately, "I'm fourteen! I'll be fifteen in a month or two! Please, I have to join the caravan! It's very important!"

The elder started to ask why, but stopped. It was obvious, wasn't it? Barah Fen had retired. The Selkie had come to the village without a Gil to his name, dragging along two children and a perpetually angry wife. He had never taken up a job. Barah Fen did not try to help the other villagers, he did not do anything to work. His family lived in a shack by the river that had once been owned by a fisherman, doing nothing. Eventually, the elder had been forced to order Barah Fen to join the caravan and actually contribute, before some of the other villagers tried to boot him out. The caravan had been the small family's only source of income and respect. Now that Barah Fen had quit…

Odelle's urgency was completely founded. The elder stroked his short beard thoughtfully. "I'll have to consult with the other members of the caravan first, to see if the rules can be bent. It's been done before, after all, in times of emergency," The elder blinked, struck by an epiphany, "Say, lad, are you any good with a weapon?"

"Weapon?" Odelle scoffed, "You mean those big, heavy rackets? No way! I was thinking I could steal stuff from monsters. I bet I'd be much better at something that kept me out of the way of swords and things."

The elder smiled. "This may work nicely, son. I will see what I can do, but I think you have a good chance of joining the caravan," His smile widened when he saw the look of relief on the Selkie's face, "Now then, you should be off to bed. Even adventurers need sleep."

"Ye-yes sir!" Odelle turned and ran away, quickly disappearing in the gloom. The elder watched him go before he turned to make his way to his own home.

Malayde was the pariah of the village, despite her rather lofty position as village physician, one of the few people who could effectively heal without magicite. Trained in the use of medicine in Shella, Malayde was the one people went to when they were sick, and folk remedies failed. But after they were better, they would glare at their healer's back and talk of her with contempt.

Some people were not healthy enough to join the caravan. Some had responsibilities that kept them home. Others were kept home by their parents. Malayde, on the other hand, simply refused. It soon became public opinion that she was afraid, that she was a coward. Her own parents disowned her, her fiancé cancelled her engagement.

For most of a year, everyone in Tipa refused to speak with her. So when the Alfitaria caravan happened to stop in Tipa, she went with them. They took her to Shella, and eventually she found her way home, to take care of Tipa's residents with her new medical skills. But they never forgave her. They learned to speak to her, but they never looked at her the same way again.

Not everyone, of course. Just most of them. The elder was one of those who tried to stay neutral on the issue, mostly because Malayde was his grandniece. Family still meant something in Tipa, he hoped. And in some ways, he couldn't blame Malayde. Leaving the village to go on some quest through the miasma-filled wilderness was a harrowing experience. He himself had never been part of a caravan.

Heath, on the other hand, could not fathom how Malayde could have refused, and hated her with a passion. Despite his father's commands, when he was discovered to have a fever the day after he was visited by the elder, Heath refused to allow Malayde to see him.

Ultimately, he wasn't given a choice. Rufus and Roland all but dragged him to see the physician.

Malayde's house was alongside that of her granduncle the elder, near to the crystal and in the town center. Thus, many people had the privilege to watch Heath struggle to stay away while his brother and father pulled at him, both cursing him for being such a child.

When finally forced into the house and into a chair, he still needed to be held down while Malayde examined him. Roland and Rufus held his arms while Malayde struggled to keep track of his head.

"His fever is already dropping," she informed Rufus later, though her eyes continually drifted from the father to the older son, who was standing by his brother and trying to pretend he didn't notice the physician watching him, "He should be fine. I don't think any medicine is even necessary."

Rufus nodded. He pretended well, but Roland had noticed that his father's eyes never met Malayde's. "Thank you for your help. Heath was worried he wouldn't be able to go with the caravan this year."

Malayde smiled, though it did not touch her eyes. "I don't think that will be a problem, sir. Your son is perfectly healthy."

"Well thank you," Rufus said quickly, then turned to Heath, "Let's go. We have work to do. Roland, come on."

"Actually," Rufus visibly winced when Malayde spoke, though the physician acted as though she hadn't noticed, "I would like to check Roland as well. To make sure he is healthy. It would be a terrible mistake to send someone while ill."

"Is it really necessary?" Rufus asked, almost whined, actually. He took Malayde's expression as a 'yes', sighed a bit too obviously, then motioned for Roland to go to her while he left. Heath had run out the door the moment his father had mentioned leaving.

Roland watched his father leave, then turned to Malayde, feeling uncomfortable. The Clavat woman was young, certainly, but still four years older than he. Perhaps it was her quiet manner that made her seem so old. Or maybe it was her infamy. Surely someone so young could not be so hated.

Malayde tested his reflexes, checked his eyes (though Roland couldn't imagine what she was checking for), checked his mouth, and then felt his forehead. "No fever," she said, though Roland had known that, "You're as healthy as a horse. It's a wonder they didn't recruit someone as strong as you for the caravan earlier."

Roland shrugged, not wanting to speak. He didn't think he despised Malayde, but it was still hard to think of her as being another person.

If Malayde noticed his discomfort, she gave no sign, stepping away and folding her hands over her apron. "That's all, Roland. You may go."

Roland nodded, standing up. He hesitated, glancing at her. She had a look in her eyes as she watched him- no, stared at him. He attempted a smile, and she smiled back. Then he went as quickly as he could from the room.

Rufus and Heath hadn't waited for him, of course, so Roland walked home alone.

In the house of the elder, Fenny and Dorian were fuming. "This is very unlike you, John," the old warrior grumbled, "going against tradition. A fourteen year old, joining the caravan?"

"And a Selkie, no less! One of Barah Fen's ilk!" Fenny crossed her arms and scowled, "I don't like it!"

The elder raised his hands in a peaceable gesture, "I know it is unorthodox, but perhaps it is still worth consideration. Odelle fits your criteria for a user of magicite, Fenny," The Lilty turned her head to glare in another direction, "and his father is an experienced member of the Crystal Caravan. I'm sure he'll have passed some knowledge to the lad."

"John, we all know why you're really asking us to take him. I'm sure he's a sweet boy, to you, while you're doing what he wants, but taking someone with the caravan for pity is unwise," Dorian's frown deepened, "It's the sort of thing that could endanger an entire village."

The elder kept an impassive face, but knew that Dorian was right on target. He had been moved by sympathy when he had suggested Odelle to them, not because he knew the Selkie could help. He felt ashamed, but also justified. "Lydia is not coming, and I have been unable to find any more likely candidates. Our choices are limited here. Odelle may be our only choice."

"Then we'll go with only four!" Fenny shouted, sliding off her chair to stand, though the effort actually made her shorter compared to the two Clavats, "I won't take someone underage! No exceptions, sir! I will allow no exceptions while I am a member of this caravan!"

"It is traditional to have four-"

"It is traditional to wait for a child to become fifteen before even considering him for the caravan. In my opinion, that is also too young. A fifteen year old is a child, John. At least Roland is eighteen, almost a man grown. I'm not sure about this Heath boy."

The elder glanced between Fenny and Dorian, and could only sigh. "Very well. A caravan of three, with one old man to hold the reins. I hope the monsters you meet will understand and go easy on you." Dorian flushed angrily, and Fenny scoffed. Then both left the building.

The elder started to stand to find something to eat when the door burst open again. He sighed, expecting Fenny to be back with some parting comment. Instead, he was surprised to see Lydia, hesitating at the doorway. "Come in child. What can I do for you?"

Her demeanor had seemed shy at first, as it had the night before, but the shyness vanished when she stepped forward, raising her head and proclaiming "I want to join the Crystal Caravan."

The elder pursed his lips, then shook his head. "Your father has very clearly stated that you are not to go. I'm afraid my hands are tied in this."

Lydia's youthful face twisted angrily, which somewhat disturbed the old Clavat. "But I must go! I'll die if I spend my whole life, tilling the field in this horrid little town! Besides, you were going to make an exception for that white-haired freak!"

The elder blinked, surprised again. How had she known about Odelle? "Do not refer to our brother Selkies like that, Lydia. We are all one people, in the eyes of both the crystal and the miasma."

Lydia scowled, apparently not at all disciplined by that remark. "I want to go!"

"And I tell you that you cannot. Your situation is different. Your father can and, knowing him, will make an effort to prevent you from leaving the village with the caravan. I cannot prevent him, by law, as you are his daughter. If your father says that you must stay, then you will stay, Lydia."

The Clavat girl's face reddened, more with anger than with shame. "B-but, but-" She whirled around and ran out, slamming the front door against the wall as she did. The elder went to the entrance and frowned at the dent she had left in the wall before closing the door gently.

Outside, Lydia was in the full throes of a temper tantrum, kicking at everything she passed, and shouting at anyone who looked at her, or even happened to be there at the wrong time.

In this way, she happened to hear a conversation that intrigued her. Ending her rage long enough to listen, the Clavat hid behind a bush near the shack where Barah Fen and his family lived. The first voice she heard was that of the Lilty rancher, Fenny. "-just too young. I'm afraid there is no way we can take him."

"I didn't even know he had gone to the elder! Rotten brat, he'll have the back of my hand for this!" Lydia sneered at the obsequious tone in Barah Fen's voice. More likely, the Selkie beggar would never mention the incident to his son.

Lydia moved deeper into the shadows when Fenny walked by, watching her leave. As she moved, she bumped into something, something which then shouted at her to shove off. Lydia responded much more colorfully, and Odelle stood, his pale skin turned dark red. "What are you doing here?" he demanded of the Clavat.

"I can do what I want, you disgusting bum!" she shouted, standing up to glare at him. Odelle was younger than she, and so hadn't quite become tall enough to tower over Clavats. Her glare turned into a sneer when she remembered what she had just heard, "So much for saving your loser family's name, Selkie!"

Odelle glowered at her, then looked away. "Whatever! I don't care! Why would I want to be on the stupid caravan, anyway?!"

Lydia laughed scornfully. "Stop lying! You're awful at it!"

The two spent the next moment glaring at each other with mutual loathing, until a strange look came into Odelle's eyes. "You can't go either, can you?"

Lydia blinked, then reddened herself. "I can if I want to!"

"Liar. Your father won't let you. I heard about it earlier. So neither of us get to go."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "I figured that out, thanks. Your deduction skills are just amazing, you Selkic freak."

"Will you stop being a jerk long enough to listen to me?" Odelle demanded, before calming his voice to a reasonable level, "Maybe there's a way for both of us to go."

"Oh yeah?" Lydia scoffed, "How's that?"

"I followed the elder around last night, and apparently, Roland and Heath are the only other people who will join the caravan. That means there's still one open spot, since they're taking five this year. The only things preventing us are your father, and 'tradition'. But if they were really desperate…"

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying? You want to hurt my dad, is that it?"

Odelle scowled at her. "You want to go, or not?"

Roland and Heath usually practiced just past the river, where the sphere of the crystal's protection ended and the miasma began. That place was safely away from people who would watch them, and had plenty of room.

Heath, Roland noted, had become better. Once, he had impatiently gone all out in fighting, and quickly exhausted himself. He had, however, learned to pace himself, and to take the time to defend as well as to attack. All in all, Roland had much more trouble against his younger brother.

So much trouble, he had actually lost. The experience was so odd, so unique, Roland hardly knew what to do when he realized his brother was holding out a hand to help him to his feet, smiling smugly as he did. Roland accepted, trying to keep himself from scowling. "Not bad, Heath. Maybe you're ready for some real fighting after all."

"Of course," Heath said confidently, swinging his wooden sword to drive his point home, "I was practically born ready. In fact, maybe you should stay home. I'd hate to embarrass you out there."

Roland gave his brother a wry smile. "Try not to let your head get too big, kid. We haven't even left yet. I hear Goblins sniff out people with big heads and-"

"Give me a break, Roland. That was mom's story." Heath's smug smile had faded away, before he turned to walk off. Roland blinked, then sighed. He had gone too far there, obviously.

He started to stand when he noticed how dark the sky had become. Frowning, he wondered what time it might be, when he heard the distant sound of thunder. Roland ran to catch up with Heath. "Sounds like a storm. We'd better get home quickly." Heath nodded, but did not answer, and the two brothers ran home.

"Mom!" A Lilty, slightly shorter than a full grown one, ran from the barn to where Fenny was standing by the road, leaning on her lance, "Mom, the wind is getting bad! You need to get back inside!"

"Arth's not back yet…" she said absently, squinting to keep her eyes open despite the wind and the rain. Her head jerked upwards when she saw a flash of light, but she was too late to see the lightning. "Bren, get inside and stay there. I need to go find Dad."

Bren blinked, then grabbed his mother's hand as she tried to walk away. "I'll come too! I can help!"

Fenny jerked her hand away, scowling at him. "Do as you are told! Go inside and stay there! I'll only be gone a short while." The Lilty shouldered her lance and started walking, holding up a hand to shield her eyes. Her son watched as she walked away, but made no attempt to follow again.

Fenny went to her closest neighbor, Rufus, first. After several knocks, the Clavat opened the door. Before he could invite her in, Fenny shouted over the storm "Arth is missing! He went out to the elder's house earlier to see if he was well, and he hasn't come back! Is he here?"

Rufus shook his head, but grasped Fenny's shoulder when she tried to leave. "Hold on a moment. I'll come help you look. And don't start going on about how you don't need help." Rufus pulled his cloak from the peg by the door and hurried outside, following the Lilty up the road.

From the top of the stairs, Roland and Heath exchanged a glance. Then, without a word, Roland hurried down the stairs, grabbing his boots and his cloak. "What are you doing?" Heath asked, having not moved from the stairs, "Have you seen the storm? You could get hurt!"

"So could Dad!" Roland answered, hurrying out the door.

In Barah Fen's house, Odelle was fuming when he heard the door open. He didn't bother to see what Fenny wanted, instead grumbling over how his plan had been ruined. How was he to sneak out to Dorian's house now? Would it be too late by tomorrow?

His father approached, blinking at his son. "What's the matter, boy?"

"Nothing. We'll just always be the Selkic freaks is all."

"No one has seen him!" Rufus shouted to Fenny as they left Luther's house, "He must still be with the elder! We should head back to shelter!"

"No!" Fenny shouted, "I'm not going home without him! You can go if you want, but you're going alone!"

"No he's not!" Roland hadn't heard most of the conversation, and his statement seemed rather meaningless.

Rufus, however, was too focused on his son being there at all to notice. "What are you doing here, boy?! Go back to the house with your brother! It's dangerous out here!" As if to add to his command, lightning flashed overhead.

"No! Dad, I'm not going! I'll help find Arth!" Thunder rolled just as he said that, causing him to flinch. He then stood again, resolute, if cowering slightly before the wind and the rain.

Rufus shook his head, then motioned for him to stay close. The three hurried into the storm, Fenny screaming her husband's name as they went.

They approached the house of the elder, with Malayde's house beside it. Fenny was slamming her fist on the door when Rufus asked his son "Is Heath alright?"

When his son did not answer, Rufus turned and realized that he wasn't there. Rufus turned, looking around, then cursed. "Roland? Roland, where are you?"

He saw a flash of lightning, close, so close. A tree several feet away burst into flames, and a large limb fell away. In the brief flash, the area around was illuminated, and Rufus saw the figure of his son in the gleam.

The large tree limb fell on top of him. The scream Rufus heard made his blood run cold.