Chapter 1

Pherein MacDiarmidson almost went the other way.

When he heard the cry, he instinctively knew that someone was in trouble.

"Not my problem," the burly Delorgan warrior muttered to himself, but something pulled at his heart and sense of honor.

With a sigh of resignation, the seasoned fighter turned and strode purposefully towards the sound that had caught his attention.

He was glad he did.

Turning a corner on the well-travelled road from the town of Grantsbend in the northern kingdom of Latrellus towards the Lone Bridge he saw the cause of the outcry and it made his blood boil. Three young men, well-dressed and obviously pampered, had cornered a slight, blond-haired woman. The men were young and foolish but old enough to know better. The woman was terrified and even from a distance she had a look of desperation on her face. One of the men had the woman in a forced embrace while his companions cheered her on. She was dressed as a simple peasant but that gave no right for the man who was obviously of a higher station to take advantage.

As of yet no one had seen him, so Pherein still had the chance to walk away and not become involved in this situation that was not of his concern.

He couldn't do that.

Squaring his shoulders he walked down the road to confront the trio.

"Ahem…"

The young man and his companions turned towards the sound of the interruption. The woman's eyes were closed in fright, tears streaming down them.

"Move along oaf, this doesn't involve you." There was a slight slur to the man's voice, and it seemed the trio had been drinking. Then the attacker looked at the burly man and said with a wolfish grin. "That is, if you'd like a turn. You can follow me once I'm done."

"I think you misunderstand my intention, lad," Pherein stated, keeping his voice even. I don't think this woman is a willing participant in your actions, so I suggest you leave her be and carry on your way."

The woman's eyes opened in surprise at her would-be defender. "Please sir, help me!" she cried.

"Wench, shut your mouth!" the man demanded, slapping her hard with the back of his hand, causing her to yelp in pain.

"Let her go," Pherein demanded, voice lowering to a menacing tone which caused the two companions of the man to take half a step back.

"This woman is a slave, so none of your concern," the man reasoned, fondling her breast possessively with his hand while maintaining his tight grip.

"Is she your slave?" Pherein asked in his thick island brogue.

"I said, this is none of your concern, Delorgan," the man spat back. "My father is Amon Sul so you best be on your way if you know what's good for you," he sneered, turning back to the woman and beginning to kiss her bosom.

Pherein thought of home in the stormy Stone Sea and the land he'd not seen in four years. He didn't quite like the way the ruffian had said 'Delorgan'. But he did recognize the name Amon Sul and knew him to be a powerful merchant in Grantsbend who was rumored to have even greater power in the area of criminal activities. That gave him pause for just a moment. So, it seemed to be in the northern kingdom of Latrellus. He wondered again why he'd left the land of his family, the land of his people but then he remembered, and it made him feel ashamed despite the gold in his pocket from his latest contract. He thought about walking away.

But only for a moment.

The stocky fighter took five deceptively quick strides and roughly grabbed the young man starting to ravish the woman. She fell to the side of the road in a heap as the startled man was lifted clean off his feet and thrown unceremoniously to land on his ass in the middle of road.

"By the gods, what in the Nine Hells do you think you're doing," the man screamed. Then turning to his two companions ordered, "What are you waiting for? Kill him."

Each pulled short swords to face the Delorgan but a look from Pherein, who was still unarmed though his hand hovered close to his hand-and-a-half masterwork bastard sword froze them in their place.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the man whined to his friends though he made no move to get up or do anything.

The 6' 4" fighter who weighed 245lbs took a step towards the pair, his icy blue eyes narrowing menacingly.

"We want no trouble, sir!" the one man declared, dropping his sword in fright as the other backed away.

Pherein stroked his plaited red-orange beard. "I think you best be going now, your nonsense for the day is over," he ordered.

The youth on the ground scrambled to his feet and began to run away once he saw his friends already fleeing for town. He did turn back and yell at a safe distance, "Wait until my father hears about this!"

"I am not hard to find," Pherein declared quietly.

A quick, natural assessment of the area led the seasoned fighter to know there was no longer a threat. He then turned to the woman who still cowered face down in the dirt on the side of the road.

"Miss, come, get up." Pherein put his hand gently on her shoulder which caused her to spasm involuntarily in fright. "Don't worry, you're quite safe now," he assured her.

The woman turned and what he saw gave him his own pause. She had deep blue eyes like the ocean that contrasted her shoulder length shining blond hair. She wore a gold hoop in her nose and though dirty her skin was quite fair with defined cheek bones.

"Am I…safe?" the woman asked in fright, looking up at the big Delorgan warrior and realizing her torn blouse was showing her breast.

"Quite safe, on my honor," Pherein answered.

She looked at the intimidating figure and relaxed, realizing what had just transpired. The woman allowed the warrior to help her to her feet where she consciously pulled her blouse closed.

"Thank…thank you," the woman stammered, "…for saving me," she added genuinely, then gave a shudder.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Pherein asked with continued concern, stepping in protectively.

"Yes, I am now, thanks to you," she replied, steadying her nerves. Taking a deep breath, she was touched by the obvious concern. "Who…who are you?" she stammered as another wave of emotion hit her.

"Pherein MacDiarmidson of Clan MacDiarmid of Delorgan, at your service," he replied in his thick island brogue. Who might you be?"

"Again, thank you, my name is Lily."

"Well met, Miss Lily, though I am sorry for the circumstances," Pherein answered with a nod of his head. "And what might your family name be?"

"I…I don't have one," she looked down at the dirt road in embarrassment.

Pherein looked again at the gold nose hoop signifying a slave woman and chided himself for his insensitivity. Of course she would not know her family name. To the proud Delorgan the idea of someone not only owning another but then denying them a name was something to be cursed. In the islands one's family and heritage were the most important thing about them. His heart broke for the woman before him.

My apologies, miss, I meant no offense," the islander stammered.

The attractive woman's face lit up in a strange smile for the first time. "No need but thank you again for your kindness."

"Is your home far from here?" the warrior asked, disarmed by the smile. "You should be getting off the road."

"Yes…yes, of course," Lily answered absently, still processing what had happened. "Not far, I live in a cottage in Grantsbend Farms. I am sure I can make it."

"No, I will escort you to make sure you make it okay," Pherein responded instantly.

"That's not necessary, you've already done so much," Lily replied, avoiding the man's look.

"I insist. It would not be right to leave you alone after what you endured."

"Thank you," Lily answered, her expressive blue eyes welling up in tears. "I would appreciate that."

"Lead the way."

"Those young whelps could have ruined everything," a hard female voice stated harshly from the shadow of the dense forest the road travelled along as the pair left out of ear shot.

"Yes, that sweet thing would have been…well…she could have been many delicious things," another whined.

"I would kill the one for his foolish inability to control his libido," the first added.

"Patience, sisters. There are many others out there. We are in no hurry," a third, older and wiser voice added. "Besides, his father could become useful for us."

"We could still catch one of the lads and grab him," a hard male voice stated.

"No. You continue to carry out your work in the shadows. We are not ready for something quite so public," the mature voice ordered. "Come, there is nothing left of interest to us here."

Pherein and Lily walked in silence over the Lone Bridge and the short distance to the small farming community on the other side. Pherein's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword while Lily defensively held her arms around her chest. She led the warrior down the main street of the village and partway through turned to the right and down a laneway to the outer edge where a small, well-kept cottage sat.

Pherein eyed the surroundings like a seasoned raider, unconsciously taking everything in, but his observations were interrupted by a small girl of likely five with straw blond hair who came running out of the cottage wearing a simple, linen homespun dress.

"Hello, ma!" the little girl called out cheerily, blissfully oblivious to her mother's distressed situation.

"Well hello Molly, my love," Lily responded, her voice sounding almost musical. She scooped the girl up into a big embrace, face instantly lighting up in a radiant smile.

Pherein watched the touching scene and was taken aback by the transformation of the previously distressed looking woman. Though she stood only about 5' 5" and was petite the attractive woman was not frail. Rather she had a lithe form that moved gracefully.

"Who's this, ma?" Molly asked curiously, squirming out of her mother's grip to come and stare up at the big Delorgan.

"This is…a…," Lily began uncertainly.

"A friend," Pherein finished, dropping one knee on the ground to come to the level of the little girl.

Lily's hand went up to her mouth in pleased surprise at the gentle action of the intimidating fighter.

"What's your name?" the girl asked unafraid, which strangely touched the big man's heart.

"Pherein, my name is Pherein," he replied with a warm smile he didn't realize he possessed. "And your name is Molly?"

"Yes, it is," Molly answered, nodding her head vigorously, her long blond hair bouncing on its natural curls. "That's an awfully big sword, Pherein," she observed, reaching her hand out to touch the hilt of his blade.

"Aye, it is," he responded with a slight chuckle in his thick island brogue.

A sound from the door of the cottage caused all three to look. Coming out was a young boy of likely three who had darker hair and an elderly woman with milky white eyes.

"Grandmum didn't sleep long," Molly reported, "and Nigel didn't help, carrying on in the house the way he does."

"Oh well, I am sure you did your best, my darling," Lily responded, her distress seeming to melt away in her daughter's innocence. "Both of them can be difficult, can they not?" she whispered.

"I heard that, daughter," the elderly woman retorted crossly. "And who do you have with you?"

"A friend, mother," Lily answered.

"A friend, hmmm," she responded in an accusing tone. "Well, he can be on his way, you have much to do."

Lily looked at Pherein, her eyes filled with apology, but the big Delorgan was more amused being used to the old crones on the island who had sharper tongues.

"Oh no!" Molly interjected. "Could he stay for supper, mother?"

"Absolutely not!" the old woman responded.

"Would you?" Lily asked, blue eyes filled with hope.

A warning went off inside Pherein and he grasped at an excuse to leave. To help the woman was one thing, the honorable thing, but to share a meal? That was another thing. He wasn't prepared to take that step.

"Well?" Molly asked, looking at him expectantly and taking his big rough hand into hers to add to the pressure.

"I can not…I mean, I have no….," he stammered but then resolution came in and he declared, "I would be honored to dine with you."

"Hurrah!" Molly cheered and did a little jig which gripped Pherein's heart for some reason as he ignored the scowl of the woman who was likely Lily's mother.

"Come, let me show you our chicken, Henny," Molly declared enthusiastically, taking the big Delorgan's hand and trying to pull him closer to the cottage.

"Molly, please, give Master MacDiarmidson his space," Lily implored, embarrassed by her daughter's enthusiasm. She had caught his full name and made the association with the clan name he carried. She knew this was someone of note.

"It is no bother, miss," Pherein responded, grin renewed at the energetic child, "I am happy to be shown about by the bairn." Then he paused, and added almost apologetically, "And I am no master, I am just Pherein."

Lily returned his grin with a radiant smile that caused confusion for the quiet warrior but he allowed the child to show him all about the small yard and then cottage where the family lived. He couldn't believe it could take over an hour to be given a tour of the small homestead but the energetic little girl had much to show and even more stories to tell. By the time the guest was ready to be served a meal he was quite enchanted by her.

"Pherein! Molly! Dinner is ready," Lily announced before her daughter could share another adventure with the Delorgan. Then pointing to a wash basin that had been set on a rough wooden stool under the awning that ran the length of the building she added to him, "You may wash up if you wish here," pointing to it and the clean towel.

As the woman pulled the protesting little girl away from her new friend Pherein considered the sight before him. Though he bathed regularly this was not a routine before eating. Perhaps she thought him too dirty to eat or it may just have been a courtesy. Regardless of the motivation he decided to take up the offer. The warrior first unclasped his cloak, then removed the thick surcoat and oiled mail shirt he wore as armor, then the dark brown stained leather jerkin underneath. Clad now in a linen shirt and his breeches he leaned over the large wooden bowl and splashed the warm water up on his dusty face. It felt good, soothing in fact, to the weary fighter so he deftly pulled off his shirt to more fully wash himself. The man was enjoying the experience and became lost in thoughts of his home isle when he heard a gasp behind him.

Instantly Pherein turned and instinctively drew the dirk that was sheathed on his waist to see Lily, eyes wide in surprise and hands over her mouth.

"What?" Pherein challenged as the woman recoiled slightly but held her ground.

"Your scars," Lily responded breathlessly. "What have you gone through?"

In embarrassment, Pherein was about to aggressively lash out but he saw no judgment in the woman's eyes, but compassion and she seemed to look more attractive.

"Nothing no other Delorgan has not gone through. They are the marks of battle, and life," Pherein replied with a shrug though he quickly grabbed his shirt and put it back on. "Can I help you?" he asked, to shift the conversation.

"No, I just came to see if you needed anything," the woman replied, embarrassed now due to her reaction. "I am sorry."

"Don't be. This is my path." Pherein put his jerkin back on, grabbed the rest of his gear and walked towards the entrance to the cottage.

Lily took the hint and led him in

Though the meal was simple, it was a delightful experience and several times he thanked his god Latrell for guiding him here and accepting the invitation. Though the meal was nut bread, cheese and fowl washed down with cold water and simple ale it was delicious to the man. The mother was quietly surly and thankfully departed from the rough-cut table to retire to her bed behind a blanket partition. Lily and her two children. Though, were engaging for the big Delorgan. He watched her afterwards moving joyfully through mundane tasks and even got up to help with some of the chores and found himself still there as dusk turned to night. The children would only be convinced to go to bed with the promise that their new warrior friend would visit them again soon. With that assurance they went down for the night and the man and woman went out into the now star-filled night to carry on the event.

The early fall night was crisp and clear with just a hint of frost in the air which was normal for the northern kingdom. Pherein sat down and took his pipe out of the ironwood box he carried it in and sat down with a contented sigh. He couldn't remember a more pleasant time of late.

"Tell me about Delorgan," Lily requested with a strange sense of urgency in her voice.

"It is nothing special, just an island in the Stone Sea north of this kingdom," Pherein responded, a bit detached.

"It is special to me," the woman replied, her blue eyes imploring. "I have never been anywhere my whole life…and it is where you come from."

Pherein was touched by her interest and motivation so gave her an overview of the geography and history of his homeland which enraptured the woman.

"Tell me of your family; of the Clan MacDiarmid," the woman asked.

Pherein paused for a moment since it was now becoming personal. The woman wisely held her tongue as she could see the man struggling with the request. He didn't want to share more intimate details of who he was but then part of him did. Looking up at the stars he decided to take a chance.

"I am the son of MacDhiarmid Halvardson, Jarl of Lothian and Askal Valisdotter," the man announced simply.

"Jarl?" Lily asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"A Jarl is a clan chief or leader. He would be that and more, like the mayor of Grantsbend," Pherein explained. I am a follower of the god Latrell which was my grandmother's influence since she was from here in Latrellus. Lothian is one of the bigger towns in Delorgan, and MacDhiarmid one of the bigger clans."

"Then why are you here, Pherein, and not home?" Lily asked genuinely, with no malice or judgment.

Pherein wondered himself, not for the first time. He knew the answer but was not prepared to share it with this woman he'd just met, no matter how charming. "That is a story for another time perhaps but not now."

Lily nodded her head deferentially to a man she now knew was someone with some degree of importance and authority.

Pherein caught the reaction and looked anew at the gold nose hoop the woman wore. "Tell me your story, Lily."

"It is not very interesting," the woman stated, fidgeting with the thin iron band she wore on her ring finger.

"You are married?" Pherein stated more than asked, noticing the band that signified marriage for the first time.

"Was."

"What happened?"

Lily explained she'd been married for six years to a well-off merchant she'd done sewing for. She was a second wife for the man though her husband loved her and treated her well even though she was a slave. He'd even paid out her indenture effectively freeing her though he'd never gotten around to changing her status. The man's first wife was from a wealthy family and didn't like her but that had seemed to be of no big concern since her husband handled all those matters. They had two children together but then things took a bad turn when he became sick during a spell plague. Her husband, Edgar, had promised to look after her and the children and had put away a nice sum of money with his attorney that would have kept them well in Grantsbend. Sadly, on his death his other wife had the attorney rescind the offer and Lily was left with a small payout that got them this cottage. Though illegal she had no recourse but to accept the offer of the bitter woman and give way for the good of her children. So, she continued to be looked upon as a slave though she had no master, and now no husband. To make ends meet she did sewing and sold what they could grow to make by, or so she told the man.

Pherein looked at the woman whose life he'd saved earlier in the day with a sense of shock and wonder. It was obvious to the observant fighter that Lily was deeply saddened by telling the tale which made the man feel a bit uncomfortable. Yet she seemed to have no bitterness towards anyone no matter how poorly she'd been used or treated. He thought of his own people, and his own temperament, and how bitter and vindictive he could be. He wasn't sure if he admired the woman's character or was convicted by it.

The pair chatted pleasantly for a length of time neither remembered, each lost in the conversation. Once they realized this it was obvious the hour of night had become uncomfortably late.

"Thank you, again, for saving me today," Lily stated, looking down in embarrassment. "And thank you for your kindness towards my children, especially Molly."

"It was the least any decent man would do," Pherein responded though he knew how close he'd been to not investigating the cry of distress he'd heard. "And it truly was my pleasure to spend the evening with you. Molly and Nigel are delightful."

"Will we see you again?" Lily asked, this time looking up at him, deep blue eyes filled with hope.

Pherein chuckled. "I think I have little choice. Miss Molly has positively declared it."

Lily laughed as well, light and airy, which delighted the man. "Yes, she is determined. Good, I am glad." She then averted her eyes and added, "I would like to see you again too."

Pherein said nothing at first, though he wanted to agree with the statement but he couldn't make himself take that step. "I am lodging at the Sorrowful Ranger in Grantsbend if you need me. I will see you again soon."

The big Delorgan turned and walked off into the star-lit night but didn't get a dozen paces before he turned back. Lily had not moved, she stared at him in the darkness. He quickly went back and pulled five gold pieces from his pocket.

"Here, take these to help you with your mother and children," the man declared.

"Five gold?" The woman's eye's bulged in shock. "That's four months earnings! I cannot accept this."

"Take them," Pherein ordered, placing them in her hand. "I have more than I need, and this would ease your burden."

Before she could protest any more he walked away swiftly into the night.

Lily watched the enigmatic fighter walk away into the inky darkness and hoped he couldn't hear the sob she tried to stifle. Five gold! That meant she wouldn't have to do what she had been again forced into a position to do to feed her family. She did not have to do the thing that stole a piece of her soul every time she did it.

"Thank you, Pherein MacDiarmidson," the relieved woman declared to the night, sniffling. "You have saved me this day from more than you can imagine."

Then an idea came to her. She wanted to see him again, to express her thanks in a tangible way, the way a man so physical as he would appreciate. And once done, she would see where that took them.

For Pherein, the road was empty at that hour and the stars still shone like they had back in Grantsbend Farms causing the islander to turn his thoughts to the evening and what had unfolded. His day had started innocently enough with collecting payment for a job, one that he'd tried to forget since it wasn't befitting someone of his station or homeland. His act of saving Lily had been noble, fitting of a Delorgan.

"That's the first in many moons," Pherein said to himself quietly.

For he spoke the truth. He'd come to Latrellus to forge his own course, or at least to not be under his father's scrutiny, and had done so with gusto. Without restraint or oversight, he'd taken full advantage of every opportunity afforded a young man with money and physical power. Now four years later, if he was honest, he hardly recognized himself. He'd done things he'd not imagined or even knew existed back on the simple island. At first it had been exhilarating but now…he found himself tired.

The slave woman Lily, no, he checked himself. She was a free woman though she still wore the nose ring, came again into his mind and he could see her easy smile and simple joy radiate despite the pain of her situation, what had happened to bring them together, and even the bitterness of her mother. No, there was something special about the woman that was both agitating and compelling to him.

Pherein stopped and looked up at the stars. He listened and heard nothing. It had been years since he'd prayed to Latrell so was not surprised when he heard nothing. He was undeserving. Maybe he could be again. He'd been so sure when he left the island but it had been ages since he'd heard the clarion call. Perhaps it was time to chart another course.