OMG! A NEW CHAPTER!

I gave up on having long chapters. Also, wow, has it been two years almost since I updated? I'm so sorry. I need to explain to my readers why I haven't written any fan fiction in two years, it'll be on my main user page soon. So for now, just know that I have no given up on this story, I just had a lot of things in my life that I had to deal with and couldn't write for awhile. Not fan fiction anyways, bread and butter first, cake and tea for afters.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, short as it is, its important that I bridged the human and Gummi stories as much as possible before they split away so that I could write both sides of the story and still keep the story going. We'll be going back and forth between Cala and the Gummis for awhile. And I decided not to bring Calvin back, as much as I want a happy ending for everyone, I want to keep this one more real, and more honest. Its part of my process for writing that I don't leave out the painful stuff. Its also important as a writer as I'm going to be writing a lot of original work like this in the future and its necessary that the reader can hurt and feel pain for the characters when they feel pain, and stand with them during their triumphs. I'm not happy with my writing here though, because one bit is from two years ago and one bit is from now, today, I started right this morning with reading the entire story first before writing the rest of this chapter, and I have been writing since about 2 pm, a couple hours. So I guess, like Gusto, my painful depression may be starting to lift and my inspiration has returned. I'll have more about that on my userpage.

Anyways, onto what you have been waiting for!

-It ain't a fit night out for man or beast!-

Sir Shane Tavish wrapped his tartan more tightly around his shoulders against the fall rains and winds, saying a grateful prayer to the sky for the rainfall that they were now enjoying, despite how much the rain and winds were now chilling him to the bone. The drought had ended and the people of the West would survive yet another lean year. The sun seemed to have run in terror from the rain, or perhaps it was not the rain the sun feared.

Fall comes, and soon too comes the cool of winter. The Sun cannot stay warm in such weather, and can only provide so much warmth to winter travellers.

It was still fall, however, the trees had begun their masquerade of colors all around him and the wet and rain weary road to Dunwyn seemed more cheerful for the presence of such pretty hues. The mare he had chosen some weeks ago to be his new mount was now used to his way of doing things, though he knew she could still run as fast as the wind; the first major storm had scared her into throwing him and bolting south. Shane had enjoyed tracking her down to the farm where he had thanked the farmers whose farm she'd invaded for locking her in their barn. He was sure they had only given her up to him because of his intimidating company; him and his six largest and bravest warriors and one tiny local villager on a pony whose services he had finally had to pay for because the rain had washed away her tracks.

He was glad to have her back though, so now she was called Bolt. Superstitiously he and his men believed if you named an animal for its fear, this would become a shield of courage. His right hand man, Ronin, rode a rather lean stallion named Serpentis. Ronin had been thrown when his mount had been frightened by a snake crossing between his hoofs. Now he was certain Serpentis would trample any such creature that threatened Ronin's life.

Loyal. As loyal a serpent as has never been seen on Earth. I wonder what the Christians in Dunwyn would think of a horse named after the creature their religion claimed was Evil.

This was his third trip to Dunwyn since the first, in which he had been impressed by King Gregor and his intelligent daughter. Rumors of an incompetent and old King were clearly unfounded. Gregor was simply in ill health and even if he hadn't known what he was doing, he was leaving the country in the hands of someone who clearly did.

Cala…

The beautiful and tragically sad Princess was at the top of his thoughts often lately. Her mourning period would be a year, but she had already cast off all but the black veil, wearing decent warm clothes that were meant for this changing weather. The last time he had been there her ladies had convinced her to at least wear a black cloak when they had ridden again.

She's dead smart, she knows why I was chosen to be her consort. She knows I owe King Gregor my service for some reason. But does she know I'm the true Lord of the Thorn's Barrow?

That was what the Northern and Western people called the thorny wastelands of Drekmore. Shane had once travelled through there for a short cut and had been dismayed to discover the damage ogres and other evil creatures had done to this land. Old Druid tradition had it that when the trees of the Thorn Barrows bloomed and the flowers grew than the people of Thorn Barrow would return from the North.

My foster father's people are fleeing south from the mountains, and many of them are descended from the Thorn Barrow folk. After months of drought even the swamp must have surely dried out. Will the lands of Drekmore be blooming in spring?

He would have to take a trip there to find out. If so, he might just be willing to reveal his identity, and take control of the lands of his father. He would bring honor back to the family name, and the Lord of Thorn Barrows would bury Duke Igthorn so deeply in the ground that even the worms could not find him.

You will die for your treachery father, Shane decided to himself fiercely. I know which Master you serve, though you deny it at every visit you make to my mother. I know why she must hide in the convent. I know the evil that travels with you.

Shane made a warding gesture and thought very darkly about legions of orcs from the North.

And if they are here, then their Master isn't far behind them.

Princess Cala stood with her hands on her hips in the central throne room, her ladies cowering together in fear from her fury. It wasn't her ladies that had directed her anger, but a very affronted Cardinal in red, bald and wrinkled and looking quite insulted.

"My maids tell me that I must wear black for a year for a proper period of mourning! Yet you tell me you want me married before the first fall of snow! Somebody is going to give here, as I will not be wearing black when I marry, and I will not wear white until I have fulfilled my duties as a Princess. I am not the only one in black!"

This was certainly true. All the women of Dunwyn were dressed in black, all of them mourning not just Sir Cavin, but all the men who were dying in the North. But Cala's tirade had amused Gregor, which was why he was hiding just outside the door, not revealing his presence until Cala had handled this situation on her own.

True to form, the maids agreed that since she was unmarried the traditional one year was not expected after all. She could remove her black clothing and return to society before the next major holiday, which would be well before Christmas. The Cardinal decided that a November bride would be acceptable to the Church, as long as it took place after the pagan holidays at the end of October, when the Christian church had also begun celebrating the Hallows Tide, to honor the departed dead. The bodies of the fallen soldiers that they had been able to retrieve had already been buried, but there would be a mass on that date and prayers and candles, the whole country would be praying. Once the funerals were ended and the pagan festival passed, the country would look forward to the celebrations of a royal winter wedding. Gregor wondered what Shane would think of these arrangements.

"All this will be moot if Shane Tavish doesn't get here soon," Cala said. "How can I marry someone who is never here?"

Gregor decided now was the time to come in. He adjusted himself and put a look on his face of surprise as he entered the throne room.

"Ah, Cala, daughter. There you are. I was hoping to find you here. The West men were spotted at the border and should be here within the hour."

Cala ran to her father for a grateful hug for the information, and Gregor noted that her face was now free of much of the previous sorrow, though the sadness was still in her eyes. Her color was back, she must have been eating properly again, and Gregor looked over to her maids who retreated in relief, all a flutter with preparations for the coming nuptials. The Cardinal huffed and strode out of the throne room with his nose firmly in the air.

If I was paid in gold for every man who has left this throne room with his nose in the air...I'd have enough money to build several churches.

"Oh father, I just wish all this business was over and done with. I cancelled the ball I was going to throw and now all of polite society is in a kerfuffle because there's no events planned beyond the wedding and nothing for them to do. I'm supposed to be the example in which they follow!"

"They can follow your example and learn to ride a horse," Gregor mused, and his comment earned a kiss. "We'll be sending everyone but the fighting forces down to the safer south lands once the soldiers start arriving…They'll enjoy attending the Parisian balls across the channel..."

Cala frowned, and looked like she might put up a fight about something.

"Of course you'll remain here with me in the castle, unless you prefer to travel with Sir Tavish to his father's keep in the West…?"

Cala looked suddenly flustered and Gregor could certainly understand why. Though her future husband was not the man she had chosen to marry, he was a far cry from unacceptable. Every woman in the court who wasn't tutting over his barbarian manners and dress were swooning over his rakish charms. He was also kind and considerate, taking time out of his days to write letters which he sent to Cala along with his border reports, both with regular consistency. Gregor did not ask about the contents of her letters, but Cala seemed to look forward to their arrival.

But I don't like the rumors going around…The sooner Cala marries him and is off North to the Tavish lands the better. Dunwyn is vulnerable and I can't handle the thought of her being in a vulnerable place when this invading army comes down from the mountains. It's all up to Kauldric and his Barbarians now to keep the Orcs in line...

"Father...is something wrong?"

Gregor smiled at his daughter and kissed her worried forehead.

"Just an old man's melancholy. Why don't you go help Sir Tuxford with the evacuation preparations, at least until the West men get here. It'll give you something to do.."

Cala seemed relieved that he'd glossed over her obvious embarrassment at the prospect of living with Sir Tavish, or Sir Shane as he preferred, up at the Northern border Fortress. The idea had merit to her, and she was probably feeling guilty over falling so fast again after Cavin's loss.

Youth have a way of springing back from tragedy and bringing about triumphs, Gregor decided, watching Cala leave the room in search of Sir Tuxford, their future and the future of all resting upon her gentle shoulders.

Only once she was well out of sight did he pull out his hanky and give into the hacking and coughing fit that he had been suppressing half the morning. A page came around eventually to help him to his throne.

"Thank you Brenton. I'd be grateful if you didn't mention this to anyone."

The lad nodded and left Gregor alone in the throne room, staring at the dark concentrations of blood and phlegm on his hanky with an ominous sense of the inevitable.

It is all up to them now. Ah, Sigmund, if you could only see our children now. You'd laugh at the irony that your own blood that you rejected will one day be King.

Gusto shivered. The rain that had been their saviour was now swiftly pounding down upon their company without pause or pity. It drenched his fur down to the skin, left his clothing a sopping mess and he didn't even want to think about what had become of his shoes, which he he'd lost back there in the mud somewhere a mile back or so. The mud was so thick it was threatening to wash the wagons over the precarious edge of a ravine and Gusto could hear Ursa raging at her Barbics all around them using their own bodies to keep the wagons on the road.

"If those wagons go over so does Sunni, Grammi, and Gruffi and Gusto! SO KEEP IT UP! DON'T STOP!"

If any of the mentioned names had more merit with the Barbics than the others, he didn't know, they certainly doubled their efforts more after this,, and the wagons started to clear the mud and pull out onto solid ground again. Sunni poked her head out of the wagon tarp quickly to ask Gruffi a question that Gusto didn't quite hear since it was blasted over by heavy thunder. Gruffi hadn't heard it either and she needed to repeat herself. Would they please collect some more water with the rainfall so Grammi wouldn't have to use their stored supply for making tea?

"There's too much mud splashing everywhere, wait until we're clear!" Gruffi called back, and Gusto, feeling supremely useless, just agreed with him, and clung to his seat.

Grammi poked her head out to argue with Gruffi about the water, the previous drought having put the fear of no water into everyone. Gruffi was so incensed that he'd handed Gusto the reins and turned back to argue with her. Gusto, having no experience at all with rammas and not being a good rider, wasn't the least bit surprised when the rammas decided not to obey his ordered, stopped in their tracks and looked back to "baaaaa" balefully back at him.

"What's the holdup!?" Ursa shouted.

That hadn't taken long, and Gusto was surprised to that she had managed to make her way right up beside their wagon despite the narrow ledge and the number of barbics using their rammas and their bodies to keep the wagon wheels moving in the right direction.

"They don't like me," Gusto said immediately, shaking the reins again. "Hya! Come on you stubborn oversized goats, move it!"

Ursa laughed when the lead ramma merely dug his hooves in and farted in response.

"They don't like rain," Ura corrected him, climbing up onto the seat beside him as Gruffi climbed into the wagon to continue his argument with the girls. "Have you ever tried wearing a ramma wool coat and gone out in the rain at the same time? Not the nicest pairings. Here, now watch me," and she began instructing him on how to properly snap the reins to command attention, and the right things to say. Once she was confident he could handle it, she hopped off the wagon seat back to her own ramma, which she had simply leashed to the side of the wagon. "Tell Gruffi he fails at being a husband."

"Wh-wha?" Gusto was startled by this, and Gruffi looked out of the wagon again, angrily.

"Never put your inexperienced mate in lead of a tricky situation like this so you can argue water rationing with your sister," Ursa hopped off the wagon and back onto her ramma, untying her from the wagon and then moving ahead of the group. "I'll lead…."

And just like that they were off again, with Gruffi complaining loudly about pushy people not minding their own business and Gusto gingerly urging the rammas on, though he couldn't manage the same speed that Gruffi had, at least they were a little safer to go more slowly now that they were out of the mud. Grammi was humming delightedly as she hung an empty jug with a funnel out to catch more of the rain, on Gusto's side so only he would know about it. Gusto couldn't help a smile.

Well, I'm soaked, muddy, and will probably not get sex tonight, but this has been a fantastic day. All around, I'd say, I think I'd rather be here, doing this, than fighting with those troggles. Poor Thornberry has the city all to himself again. I hope he'll be all right. He just wouldn't be convinced that he should come. But the Gardener will make sure he gets enough food. I'm sure of it.

Somehow between Ursalia, Grammi and Gruffi fighting, and Gusto's ill handling of the rammas, not to mention the brave rescuing of the wagons and the rammas by the Barbics several times in the mud, Ursa had managed to get them out of the Ursalian mountains, well passed the territories of the shepherds and down to the valley they were now currently camping in. This would be a rare thing, Gusto had warned them, everything passed this valley were rough roads, mountains and trees as tall as giants. And Orcs.

The little stream they rested by had calmed Grammi's worry about water, and they set a camp fire so she could make some soup from the dried chicken and vegetables they'd brought. The Barbics gamely took the empty baskets Gruffi offered when joined them in their attempts at spear fishing, using his own handy fishing pole. Tummi and Cubbi joined them, this being a favorite activity.

Arte Deco had gone into the forest a bit with Gusto when he had 'needed to go badly' so Ursa was sure he would be fine, if there was any trouble Arte would come flying.

This left her in charge of Sunni and the remaining Barbic 'youngsters', Hawk, Buddi and Joxer who were trying to take advantage of this pause in activities to socialize near the wagons. Ursa urged the three boys, well, men if she was honest about it, and the young...lady, into helping her look out for trouble, and the Barbics all grabbed their spears to start patrolling. Sunni struggled with getting her bow and quiver to behave with her...dress...in the wet rain and so Ursa spared her any embarrassment, giving her a spear and giving her some quick lessons in its use. If she was destined to marry a Barbic she'd learn quickly enough just from spending time with them. If the Barbics were not her destiny she should still understand the use of various weapons for her own protection. Ursa didn't really understand why gender should decide what clothes should be worn or which chores should be done, after all, Grubbi was a far better cook than her, and Hawk did a lot of their sewing, with his good eyes and deft fingers. Mokka knew as much of medicine and moreso than Grammi, but when it came to the battlefield only Gritty, and maybe now Gusto, could match her.

It was a suprise to them all when he came stumbling back into the camp waving his hands hushing them, Arte circling lowly overheard silently, looking horrified.

"What is it?" Ursa whispered as the fishers all abandoned their half-empty baskets by the water. "Barbarians?"

"Yes, well, no, not just humans, troggles and ogres too. It's Duke Igthorn and his hired mercenaries."

"Oh Great," Gruffi said. "Did any of them spot you?"

"No, they're camping on the other side of the woods, I sensed them nearby and got close enough to spy on them..."

Gusto quickly revealed what Igthorn had been discussing. Plans to follow the North road they were headed to, to go south into Drekmore from the West. The Barbarians were coming down from the east so Igthorn's forces could slip into Dunwyn and snatch up their 'quarry' before the Barbarians did. And they they'd random said quarry to Bauldric in exchange for an alliance with him and his forces. If Bauldric refused then Igthorn would bring down more forces...this time Orcs. How he had managed to ally himself with Orcs, Gusto did now know.

"And what exactly is this quarry that he's after?" Gruffi asked, but Gusto barely had to speak before they all knew.

"Princess Cala."

Silence, and then Ursa quickly signed to Hawk, and whispered to the others, instructions for watching the ogre camp and making sure they weren't discovered here, and made sure they grabbed their share of the soup before they left since they would have to be on watch most of the night. Fortunately Grammi had done the cooking before the Glens squelched the fire. The Glens wouldn't eat yet, like all Glens they were most well trained in staying out of sight, and she was amazing so see how quickly they gathered the fish baskets and fishing supplies, began clearing their camp and loading the wagons before they finally sat down to eat in the darkness, in silence. Cubbi and Tummi lead the rammas towards the river, which they would be crossing the next morning, so they could drink and therefore quiet down and rest. Ursa was impressed. She had thought her scouts were quiet.

Zummi and a grief stricken Gusto were sitting to the side, Zummi furiously and carefully writing a very long missive on a parchment, with Arte sitting once again on his hat looking depressed. Oh. A letter to warn the Princess. Arte and Gusto looked at each other painfully before Zummi had finished writing...OH!

That's right! Arte might not be able to find us again if he leaves now! He knows the direction, but he has never been where we're going.

Even flying overland a bird would have trouble finding one Gummi in a forest of thousands of trees, and the cold weather had already begun setting in. Birds who didn't fly south in winter either froze to death or found a place to wait out the weather. Arte would be staying with the Princess, possibly for the next six months…

Possibly forever.

Gusto and Arte shared a sad goodbye, with each of the Glens giving the toucan a sad goodbye and give his feathers a scritch. Ursa was startled when the bird came over to her and the other Barbics to say goodbye as well. She had to admit she had become attached to the colorful cheery creature, and there was a sense of sadness as the dark form disappeared south, everyone watching him until his form was no longer visible in the dark skies.

By the time morning had come the ogres and Duke Igthorn had already begun moving south. They really wanted to help, to stop them, to do something, but Zummi had told them this was a human problem now, and humans had to solve it. If anything, Igthorn going south with the orcs waiting for instructions from him meant that at least the orcs would be staying in the North for awhile.

Unfortunately, that could become a problem for them, their route had depended upon their belief that the orcs would follow Bauldric's reatreat southeast. But if the orcs were waiting in the North for Bauldric to conquer Dunwyn with Igthorn as his aid, then they would stay in their mountains…

Mountains that, as they now knew, had once been Gusto's birthplace. The mountains which he said were calling to him, like lightning calls out with thunder when it strikes.

Suddenly mud and rain seemed like a good thing after all. The longer the trip was delayed, the less likely they'd have to spend the winter in the close company of orcs.