Draka could hear Balor growling and talking to himself from the moment he began walking up the road. At first, he didn’t pay attention to him. He had gone through enough embarrassment and had his fill of embarrassing the only people who had been friendly since he arrived. How could he make this right? Causing a married couple to argue? That was possibly the worst thing he could have done and yet he wracked his brain trying to figure out how he did it.

  Had to be the ride for the young one. Maudeline…no, Maud was her name. Nice girl. Vigora liked her. Of course, Vigora likes anyone who feeds her, the little shit. It was her mother who bothered him the most. A part of him desperately wanted to please her, which confused him even more. It almost felt like a command. The sort of command that usually came for a more holy reason. But the woman was hot and cold. It would take him time to figure out how to keep on that one’s good side, and his life probably depended on it. Balor liked him, though he suspected that was for the wrong reason altogether. Their fight told him as much.

  Draka had sat on the porch as soon as he had unsaddled and unbridled Vigora. She always seemed to match his mood when it was strongest. No prancing, no trotting circles. She was nuzzling grass and weeds, keeping her eyes fixed on him from across the road. As the last of the sun’s light faded over the forest beyond her, she hooved at a patch of prickly grass and huffed. He wasn’t entirely certain, but he swore she was glaring at him.

  I don’t like it here, either. He shrugged toward her with a shake of his head.

  “Blasted woman can take her ‘lordships’ and shove them in the rivers,” Balor had gotten much closer, now yelling in spitting growls.

  Draka rolled his eyes. First friendly person in the village and he wished the man still wanted to kill him. Why on God’s green Earth was he coming this way? He couldn’t escape.

  “Women,” Balor flopped beside Draka on the porch and picked up a small rock from the ground to throw it. “There is no happy love.”

  Draka stared at him with furrowed brows, blinking. What was he doing here? As in, not anywhere but here. Is this man completely mad?

  Balor gave him a playful wink, “I’m sure you know what I mean. Must have had a dozen or more beautiful women annoy the shit and piss out of you. Hence why you’re not married yet, right?”

  Draka continued to stare and blink through ways of politely telling him to get off of his porch and go somewhere else.

  Balor stretched his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to have any ale or spirits, would you?”

  Draka narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Then, closed them at the realization. The man needn’t tell him. He already knew. She had kicked him out for his shenanigans. Isa did it to Phillip more times than he could count. And, like Phillip, Balor was almost jovial about it after growling all the way there.

  Balor told him anyway. As Draka listened, his mouth hung open and he tilted his head, one brow rising higher and higher at the blatant idiocy spilling out of him.

  “…and she had the gall to say that I was being unreasonable! Pah, what does she know? We were married before our seventeenth and had Maud that following spring. Clevlans can plow a field, if you know what I mean.”

  He shook his head. No, I don’t and please never explain it.

  “You look confused. I keep forgetting you’re a mute offlander. See, what I mean is…” And Draka slapped the back of Balor’s head. “What was that for?”

  Draka shook his head at him. He held out his hands, hoping to convey, ‘Why are you here?’

  “That kind of hurt, friend,” Balor rubbed at his head with a frown. “I screwed up, alright. The gods know she’s right and all, but I’m stuck, you see. Look, I swear my loyalty to you, Offla. Do you mind me calling you that? It sort of has a nice ring to it the more I think about it.” Balor grinned sheepishly then slapped Draka’s shoulder before he could react with a silent yet resounding, ‘No’.

  “Offla it is!”

  Draka wanted to spit.

  “I, well,” Balor glanced at his house, the grin fading when he returned his gaze to Draka, “I need a place to stay. Look, I know you’re just settling into your new home and recouping from that wound, but I saw your roof and thought maybe I’d help. Earn my keep while she simmers, you know. Once she’s calmed down, she’ll understand that we made the right choice in siding with you. Always stand with your noble, I heard them say.”

  Wait. No. No. Please, Lord, no.

  “And maybe even build that horse of yours a suitable stable.” Balor looked to the sky, “Hopefully before the rain starts.”

  That made Draka scratch at his stubble. He regarded the man for a moment. Then he shook and scooped up dirt from the ground into a fist. He tapped a finger into his chest, staring at Balor with upward brows and eyes begging for him to understand.

  Balor narrowed his eyes, “You?”

  Draka nodded emphatically. He held his fist over the edge of the porch and opened it to let the dirt scatter into the soft evening breeze.

  “Dirt?” Balor tilted his head. “You are dirt?”

  Draka nodded with a grin.

  “No, friend. You are far above dirt, above me! Such a jest.”

  Draka shook his head at him, taking up another handful of dirt and slapping a hand to his chest before dropping it again.

  “But you’re not!”

  Draka narrowed his eyes and pointed to the ground with the other hand on his chest.

  “Fine,” Balor bit his lip. “You are dirt.”

  Draka nodded. He pointed to Balor’s house.

  Balor regarded him while turning slightly away. “My house.”

  Draka shook his head. He waved his hand over Balor to indicate all of him then held it beside him with it parallel to the ground.

  “My daughter?”

  Another shake of his head, his hand remaining.

  “My wife!”

  Draka smiled and pointed to Balor’s house again.

  “Yes, she’s at my house.”

  He shook again.

  “I assure you she is.”

  Draka’s head dropped with a sigh. He indicated his wife again and pointed to the house.

  “I don’t understand. I’m trying, I swear by that.”

  Draka pushed himself to his feet. Indicated her again, then pointed to the house, then ran a hand over the wall behind him. Pointed, then rubbed one more time.

  “She is my house.”

  Draka waved for him to continue his guesses, but he was close.

  “The house? The bricks? The wall? Walls!”

  Draka beamed, nodding. Then, he jabbed Balor with a finger.

  Balor nodded, meeting his smile, “Okay, okay, I got it. Me, right?”

  Draka nodded. Then he pointed to the roof above them.

  “The porch? The beams? For shit on it all, the ceiling? The roof?”

  Draka nodded again. Pointed at the wall, waved his hand to signal ‘no,’ then pointed to the roof and a finger across his throat as if slitting it.

  “Without the walls…roof gets throat slit? Roof dies?”

  Close enough. Draka put a hand out for him to put it together.

  Balor narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow.

  “My wife is the walls and I am the roof, but without the walls, there is no roof.”

  Draka nodded, smiling.

  “Yes, but without the roof, the walls are fairly useless, don’t you think?”

  Draka shrugged, tilting his head from side to side. Sort of, yeah. Then he waved for Balor to stand as well, which was simple enough that Balor stood, muttering, “Alright, got that one. What now?”

  Draka squeezed the top of his shoulder, leaning to look the man in his deep-set brown eyes. He jabbed a finger into his chest.

  “Me?”

  Draka pointed to Vigora.

  “Am a horse?”

  Draka shook his head, indicated Vigora again, then put a hand to say, ‘shorter.’

  “Am a small horse?”

  No.

  “A pony?” Balor started jumping, looking like a boy playing a fun game.

  Try again. You almost have it. Maybe this will help…Draka put his hands to the sides of his head with the fingers stretched to the sky.

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  “A donkey?” Balor bounced anxiously, smiling even wider. Draka indicated a little shorter and Balor was nodding, snapping his fingers as he obviously tried to think. “A mule?”

  Then, the bouncing stopped and he glared. “A jackass.”

  Draka widened his smile with a tap of Balor’s chest with the back of his hand. There you go.

  “I am a jackass. Thanks,” Balor turned from him with a defeated frown. “Cuts deep, friend.”

  Draka’s expression softened with an agreeing nod. He pointed at Balor, made the sign of talking, then pointed at Balor’s house. When Balor turned to it, Draka kicked him off the porch.

  “Hey!” Balor growled as he stumbled to catch himself. “I can’t! She’s in no mood to talk to me. She literally told me that she refuses to sleep in my bed. My bed! Our bed! She’s never done that before. This is the worst fight we’ve ever had, over you! And I defended you, you know. Because I’m loyal to my nobleman.”

  Draka rolled his eyes from him and pointed at the house again, signaling talking.

  “And you’re telling me to what? Go talk to her to make her see?”

  Draka slid down the steps, carefully lifting his foot to keep his ankle from dragging. Then, he jabbed a finger at Balor, who tucked a lip to focus on him. He straightened and ran his hands downward to show that he was standing, then indicated Aurie again, as if she were beside him.

  “Me…stand…with her bes…”

  Draka cut him off with another backhanded tap to his chest that he had already guessed right.

  “Stand with her. But that would mean standing against you?”

  Draka nodded. He grabbed both of Balor’s shoulders and forced him to face the house. He kicked him again.

  Balor only spun around. “You don’t understand. She’s livid, friend. She’ll murder me if I walk back into that house. She’s inconsolable. You don’t know her, she’s stubborn as a…as a…as a mule. You call me a jackass…”

  Draka blinked and nodded.

  Balor stiffened his chin with a glare. His voice darkened, “…but wait until you’re on the receiving end of her fury. You’ll see what I mean. She won’t hear a word. And I don’t want to sleep in that bed without her. I’d rather die a thousand deaths than be without her.”

  Draka signaled Vigora again, who was watching and looking from him to Balor and back again with interest.

  “I’m not a jackass! With all due respect but shit on you. She won’t listen to reason or even an apology until she calms down. The whole plowing family is against me. For you, I might add.”

  Draka blinked at him, still pointing at Vigora while indicating all of Balor with the other hand.

  Balor let out a long huff and hung his head. “Yes, I know. Plowing rivers, I know. Let me stay here until she calms down so I can escape taking the place of that deer. I beg you. I’ll make up for it and will be even more in your debt than you can imagine. But I see your meaning.”

  Draka narrowed his eyes with a raised brow. Do you, though?

  “As soon as she’s calm, I’ll talk to her, but I can’t right now. I’m…scared. There you have it, I’m scared. She may not be able to leave me, but I refuse to live like Egan and his wife, who sleep in separate beds and barely even look at each other.”

  Draka breathed a long sigh and waved for him to go inside, shaking his head. Fine, you jackass. I’ll let you stay if it will help. Then, he turned to slowly lift himself back up the porch, one careful step upward at a time.

  Balor leapt to help him and together they went in. It was nearly pitch inside. For Draka it wasn’t blinding. He could see the textures and lines of everything. Balor, though, stumbled over some pieces of wood and nearly pulled him to the ground. Draka was able to catch him from falling with a lightning strike of agony from his ankle that made him hiss.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Balor chuckled, lowering himself to nearly crawling toward the opposite end of the room from where Draka had left the pile of hay from his torn mattress. “Here,” Balor tossed and brushed debris from a corner. “This will do me fine for the night. Thank you, I knew I could rely on you, Offla.”

  Balor curled himself into a ball in that small space on the floor with an arm tucked under his head as a pillow. Draka let out a breath of acceptance. He lifted the top pelt from the pile near the door, the brown bear pelt, and tossed it to him.

  Balor jumped when it landed on him and beamed when he realized what it was. Yawning, he said, “Thank you. You’re a good man, Offla. Don’t care what they say about you. Far more than I ever would have thought.”

  Draka could only imagine. With a huff, he collapsed onto the pile of hay and laid his head back. A long yawn and he closed his eyes. It felt like only a few seconds had passed before he heard Vigora’s hooves stomp from the doorway as rain pattered behind her. Far more streams from the roof than Draka wanted to count were pouring onto the floor here and there across the room.

  He shot upright. It was raining. Vigora was half inside, her mane dripping as she huffed at him. Ignoring the pain, he leapt to her with a comforting hand to her cheek and neck.

  “What the Rivers?” Balor also went upright, staring through squinted eyes. “Shit,” he said, rubbing at his face and scraggly red beard, “It already started. Poor thing out there in the…is that the horse?”

  Draka wished that he could express something along the lines of, ‘No, it’s a giant squirrel looking for some acorns.’ He only nodded emphatically as he kicked debris out of the way and led Vigora to his hay bed. Slowly, he guided her down, ignoring Balor’s shocked expression, and grabbed the other bear pelt to throw over top of her. It was big enough to cover her back and tail, but most of her sopping wet mane was left out. She tucked her legs and nibbled at Draka’s hair as he curled against her. As if meaning to shield him from the rain, she laid her head across him, eyeing Balor. Draka had already shut his eyes when he waved dismissively at Balor.

  “Huh,” Balor said, loudly rolling onto his side, “never thought I’d see that, but I guess it works.” He yawned even louder, “I’ll get that roof thatch fixed first light and then see if I can make her a stable.”

  Draka adjusted himself along Vigora’s ribcage. This, he didn’t mind. Laying tucked into her legs and curled against her ribs where he could feel every breath she took, the rhythmic thump of her heart against his ear, was as close to heaven as he could find anywhere in the world.

  The weight of her long chin was warmer than a blanket for him and the soft tickles of her breathing through her enormous nostrils calmed him. This, regardless of where they might be, was home. The patter of the rain and the sounds of it pouring from and through the roof made him drift into a deep sleep.

  He recognized the forest around him, even in the dim moonlight. The trees were as they had been last he saw them. The moss climbing up their bark were puffed and vibrant. He looked down. Furs with sinew threaded to hold them together covered his shoulders and chest, their bottoms rubbing at his bare legs. He felt the soft leaves under his feet. All his toes were there. Not one was missing. He furrowed his brow as he lifted his nose to the air. He could smell the burning of oak with a mix of the musk from the red squirrels and hares. There was a reindeer’s whistle and the hoot of a nearby owl. He narrowed his eyes toward where he knew his hut was nearby.

  “Où sommes-nous?” Draka whipped around to a woman’s voice. The language…he knew that language but it sounded foreign to him now. The words were unfamiliar, full of worry. Aurie stared at him, her eyes wide enough that they reflected the moon across the blues, her thick lips hanging open. “Quel est cet endroit? Comment suis-je ici?”

  He should understand her. But he couldn’t. “Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here! Run! You don’t know what she is!”

  “Ce n’est pas juste. Comment êtes-vous ici?” She looked around her, taking frightened steps back from him. “Ce n’est pas juste. Ce n’est pas juste.”

  “Run, damn you! She’ll kill you! She’s possessed by demons, you fool!” Draka rushed her and shook her.

  She only repeated, “Ce n’est pas juste.” It was as if she were in a haze.

  He threw her back from him, fright overtaking him. His heart raced, his head filling with air as he looked toward the hut again. This was his last night in his home. The realization made him shake. “Run! Run away from here!”

  She frantically clawed backwards from him, screaming. He felt the wood grain of the spear in his hand as if it had suddenly been placed there. Then he noticed that Aurie wasn’t looking at him, she was looking at something behind him. He turned, lifting the spear. It’s her, he thought as he whirled around, ready.

  Red eyes glowed in the darkness from a few paces away. Thick fur dripped with ichor, cloven hooves digging into the ground, two sharp tusks with unnatural razor spikes jutting along them. He knew it in an instant. A demon possessed boar.

  He aimed the spear and bent his knees, ready. Aurie’s scream rose in pitch. He would die, but he would protect her. He swore it in that instant. He would protect her regardless of the cost.

  The creature charged in a blur. It leapt for him. Jagged tusks tore his face as the spear pierced meat and vibrated through bone.

  It was Vigora chewing on his hair that woke him. Draka was reeling from the nightmare. This was the second time, but it was different. There was no spear, no boar, that day. Day. Not night. Not a full moon. He turned his head toward her just in time to get the corner of his brow harmlessly nicked by her large teeth and yawned with a light flick of her nose. She lifted her nose away and licked at the strands of hair still in her mouth.

  How was Aurie there?

  The light of the morning glistened across the damp debris and puddles across the floor. Outside, the air was thick with misty fog and the smell of morning dew made him yawn. He leaned forward and Vigora kicked herself up onto her hooves. He rubbed at the sleep in his eyes as she carefully clopped her way back outside.

  Why was she there?

  “Good morning!” Balor leaned his head into the door as she passed him. Draka was able to open one eye to look at him. His smile was wide and toothy, “I was looking through the old shed and found some straw that Sadie had left over. It’s enough to patch, but really, I think you need your whole roof done. No, don’t get up. You must have slept like a half-eaten rat with that beast. Rest. I’ll get some bales from my barn and some tools. Didn’t see where you might have yours, apart from that sword and your spear you got in here. What’s with the tube at the end? Doesn’t that make it hard to throw?”

  Tube at the end? Draka, still rubbing at his one closed eye, turned toward where he had leaned his spear in confusion.

  It was taller than Vigora when he held it upright, polished steel from end to end. About half a leg before the long, jagged angular point, it widened into a cylinder with holes every five centimeters all the way around that bent smoothly into the tip.

  He held up a finger to Balor and pushed himself to his feet. As Balor protested, he navigated the splinters of wood and crumpled boards and debris to where he leaned it against the bricks of the hearth. He lifted the point from the ground and gripped the spear with both hands, then twisted the handle at the grip midway down the shaft. Sharp metal spike points sprang through the holes.

  Balor’s eyes widened. Draka only shrugged at him and twisted it back, making the spikes retract into the cylinder.

  “The rivers do you use that for?”

  Demons. Like possessed boars. Draka thought for a moment about how to explain but decided to shrug dismissively instead. What did it mean? Is it because I saw those tracks and met Aurie? Something is happening here.

  He leaned the spear back in its place and limped back across the house. Balor started for him with arms wide, his eyes watching each of his cautious steps through the debris, but Draka waved for him to stop.

  Balor looked around the room, confused. “I don’t think it a good idea for you to walk by yourself in here until we can get this cleaned up.”

  Draka couldn’t help smiling when he looked at the man. Such an odd sensation, having someone willing to help him so readily. When his wife and daughter were tending him, it felt forced and insincere, but this was different. Balor looked genuinely concerned. Worried, even. It warmed him.

  Before Balor could say another thing, Draka put a hand to the wall near the hay pile he used as a bed. He slowly lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head.

  “I’ll just, well, go get my tools and things. You alright for now?” Balor paused for a moment. “Of course you are.”

  Draka didn’t look up to see him leave. He only kept his head down and clasped his hands.

  “Lord God Almighty,” He prayed, “Thank you for the blessings you have granted this day and each before. Bless and keep the villagers in Your Grace, protect the farmer and his harvest with Your Blessings most high, guide the craftsman and his works with Your Will, move the hands of the carpenter to continue the works of The Word, as taught by Your only begotten Son, and grant your holy light upon the people. Please help Balor and his wife reconcile, help his children to be all that Your Will intends. Forgive me for trespasses I have made which caused them to fight and please give me the wisdom to understand how not to do so again. And please forgive them for whatever sins they may have committed, as they do not know You or the Word, and know not what they do. I ask You, Lord, to continue blessing them.”

  The memory of the nightmare made him swallow dryly. “And, Holiest of Holy, Most High, show me why You sent me such a vision. I do not understand what it meant. I know that You are at my side, protecting me where e’er I shall go, by Your Will, and Your Will alone. But I am afraid of that which I have seen. By Your Will, and Your Will alone. I pray in the Name of the Father, Through the Son, By the Holy Spirit, I plead the Blood of the Lamb. Amen.”

  As he opened his eyes, he felt something squeeze his chest.

  “You swore another oath.”