Happy 90th birthday, Pat!

 Here's my father-in-law doing pushups on his 90th birthday.

The Wolf

WARNING: SPOILERS!

 

30 years after Return of the Volon

Cricket hid on the edge of the woods, listening. The crunch of wagon wheels on the dusty road made her heart quicken. The wagon was early. Usually it passed this way after nightfall. This would make things tricky. Twilight wasn’t dark enough to hide her.

The roll of the wheels grew louder, as did the beating of her heart. She fingered the tip of her black braid nervously. A lot was riding on this. She hadn’t eaten in days, nor had her little sisters. She could only hope her stomach wouldn’t growl loud enough for the driver to hear.

Closer it came. She gripped her ragged linen bag tightly and peered out from behind a tree. Just the one wagon. None behind it. Good. Two men sat up front. One goaded two oxen with a whip. They seemed rather sleepy and kept their eyes on the road ahead. Perfect.

After the wagon passed, she darted out from the woods and ran to catch up with it. She stretched an arm forward as she ran. With a grunt, she lunged forward and grabbed a wooden slat. She pulled herself up, keeping low so the drivers couldn’t see her.

Between the slats lay her treasure. Coal. A whole wagonload! She’d heard people say a lump of coal was worth more than a lump of gold these days. She didn’t doubt it. Winters in Calandria were pretty cold, and gold didn’t heat people’s homes. If she could sell just one small bagful, she could buy food for her sisters for a month.

Coal was hard to come by. Everything was hard to come by these days. It’d been this way for thirty years, her father had told her, ever since every prefect lost a great deal of men and ships in Salamis’ war on the other side of the world.

Everything had gone wrong back then. The war on the western continent left Calandria in chaos. They no longer had a king, and even some of the provincial prefects had died. On top of that, the slaves in Shacor had revolted, so there was no seafire. That factor alone had practically shut down commerce between the two eastern continents.

No trade shipments had come from the western continent either, not since Xulon was now populated by another race. Not since Rhakos was now under a Temanite king. That’s what her father had told her, anyway. But that was a year ago, before he died and left her to care for her three sisters on her own.

Most people in Calandria shared her misery. Without a king, every prefect in Calandria vied for absolute power, bringing three decades of war and laying waste to their lands. Meanwhile, the common people went hungry and cold.

Without her father to tell her what was going on in the world, she could only catch snippets of conversation among the cityfolk. Most of those snippets were nothing but rumors. She heard stories of a faction of rebels up in the northern regions. Supposedly they were led by someone called Taj, the wolf.

Many tales were told of the wolf, but apparently no one had ever seen him. She’d seen his name painted on signs along with a reward for his capture, but there was never any picture of his face. According to the signs, he was wanted for thievery, but Cricket’s father said that everyone these days blamed every stolen item on the wolf.

Still, Cricket admired a thief that had never been caught. She’d had to resort to thievery herself, and she’d been caught twice. Once she escaped right off. The second time, she was sold but managed to escape before being delivered to the buyer. Both times, she’d been lucky.

If only she had someone to teach her. She’d heard that Calandria had a Thieves’ Guild and wondered if the wolf was in charge of it. Perhaps they were the rebels up north. She’d love the chance to join up with a Thieves’ Guild and learn the trade. Perhaps she’d eventually get good enough to give her sisters a better life.

As she reached between the slats and pulled out a piece of coal, she wondered why the wolf had to steal. Was he hungry too? If he really was leading a faction of rebels, were they all hungry? What kinds of things did they steal?

Again and again she reached through the slats and pulled out pieces of black gold. She had to select smaller pieces because she couldn’t fit the big ones through. When her raggedly bag was full, she jumped off the wagon. Her bare foot hit a stone. She bit her lip to keep from yelping in pain. Carefully but quickly, she limped back to the woods.

“Hey!” One of the men jumped down and chased her.

She tried to quicken her pace, but the brush was thick and grabbed at her threadbare skirt. Sharp stems jabbed her feet. She heard his heavy footsteps getting closer. She tripped and fell. A large hand grabbed her by the shoulder and hefted her up.

“Steal from me, will ya?”

She looked up into the charcoal eyes of a very large man just before everything went black.

When she awoke, she found herself in a small, dark room with stone walls and a dirt floor. Others were there, crowded together tightly. Voices from the other side of an open doorway spoke quietly, but she was near enough to hear them.

“One hundred pieces for the lot of them.”

“I’ll give ya fifty.”
The second man’s words were brusque, his voice low and deep. Cricket leaned around the doorpost to have a look. A thin, clean-shaven man sat behind a table. A burly, bearded man stood before him. Both had black hair. Peering more closely at the thin man behind the table, she held in a gasp. She recognized him. He was the one who had tried to sell her a few months ago.

The thin man sniggered through his nose. “I got other buyers. Take your fifty and leave.”

The bearded man let his breath out heavily. “I can go as high as seventy, but that’s it.”

“Like I said, I got other buyers. Slaves are hard to come by these days. Seems they keep disappearing. I hear the wolf’s behind it.”

“Who, Taj? He ain’t real. People just use that name to get away with stuff. Make people afraid of ‘em. Everyone’s pretending to be something these days.”

“I dunno,” the thin, nasally man said. “I heard things.”

The standing man scratched his beard. “Ever seen him?”

“No, no one’s ever seen him.”

“That’s cuz he don’t exist. Just last week I was in a tavern in Bizzayon, and people were talking. One said he saw him in Veil on the solstice. Another said it couldn’ta been him cuz he had seen him in Icaria that same solstice. Those cities are a continent apart!”

The thin man made a scoffing noise. “Just people talking, that’s all. Musta had their dates mixed up.

The bearded one said, “I’m telling ya, the wolf ain’t real. Ain’t nuthin but a name that thieves hide behind to scare people. Now take my seventy and be grateful.”

The thin one laughed. “There’s one girl in there I could sell for seventy all on her own. Got eighty-five for her once before.”

Cricket’s heart quickened.

“That so?” the bearded one said. “How come she’s worth so much? How old is she?”

“I dunno, about seventeen, maybe. But that ain’t what makes her so valuable.”

“What then?”

“She’s got three sisters, all younger than her. She’d tell you where they are if you, er… treat her right, if you know what I mean. You’ll get four girls for the price of one.”

Cricket had to bite her lip to keep quiet. They were talking about her, about torturing her to find out where her family was. Just to have more slaves to sell.

The bearded one said, “All right, how ‘bout you take my seventy just for that one?”

The thin one looked as though he was considering it. But finally he said, “Nope, I’m selling ‘em as a lot. Take the whole batch or none. Gotta move ‘em outta here so I got room for the next batch.” He leaned over the table and jabbed a bony finger on the wood. “No less than a hundred.”

The bearded one sighed. “Fustilugs. Guess I gotta come back tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself.” The thin one leaned back in his chair. “But I can’t guarantee they’d still be here. Like I said… I got other buyers.”

Before the bearded man could leave, a woman stepped into the room. She was petite, well dressed, and wore several golden chains around her neck. Her black hair was tucked into a gem-studded netting. As she entered, she flipped back one side of her light-green cloak, revealing wide sleeves on her dark-green gown. Golden bands around her upper arms held the sleeves in place, and from there they swept open and almost brushed the floor.

She ran a finger along the standing man's beard. “What’s going on here, my love?”

“Our seventy ain’t enough.”

“How can it not be enough?” She stepped close to where Cricket was and peered into the tiny room stuffed with boys and girls. With a delicate hand she fanned the air in front of her face. “Such an odor. These aren’t worth half seventy.”

“Says he’s got one in there that’s worth seventy all by herself.”

The woman leaned over the table and gazed into the thin one’s eyes, which went straight toward her low-cut neckline. “Why’s she worth so much, hmm? Is she pretty? Prettier than me?”

“Uh…”

She drew a ring-studded finger along his clean-shaven chinline, then cupped his chin in her hand. “You didn’t answer me. Don’t you find me pretty?”

His gaze took in her expensive clothing before lighting on her face, which was very close to his. “Yer real pretty, lady.”

“That’s what my husband tells me.”

“Yer husband?”

“That’s him right over there.”

The man quickly leaned back in his seat, away from her.

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. “Don’t be afraid. Go ahead. Kiss me.”

“Uh…”

Still holding his shirt, she pressed her lips against his.

The bearded one cleared his throat, and the thin one pushed away.

She straightened herself, put a hand on the bearded one’s face, and said, “You’re jealous, how sweet. Now as for you…” She strode around the table and sat down in the thin one’s lap. “Kiss me again.” With both hands on his head, she kissed him, long and hard.

Slowly she released him, but she kept her face close to his and caressed his cheek. “Now tell me again how much for those slaves in there.”

“Um… uh…” He cleared his throat. “One hundred.”

She clucked her tongue. “That’s really too bad.” From under one wide sleeve she produced a dagger, thrust it into his side, and pushed him off the chair. His head hit the ground, and he was out cold.

Cricket gasped and ducked behind the doorpost, hand over mouth.

She heard the bearded man say, “That’ll leave a mess.”

The woman said, “Well, I’m not cleaning it up.”

“You went a little far this time, Azelyn.”

“He forced me.”

“Fopdoodle.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll live. Now kiss me and tell me how clever I am.”

“Not with his slibber-sauce on your lips.”

The woman peered into the small, dark room. “You children are free. Do you have homes to go to?”

No one answered.

“If you don’t have homes, you can come with us.”

“Who are you?” Cricket asked.

“Some people call me a thief,” the woman said. “Others call me the wolf. Sometimes they call him the wolf.” She pointed back toward the bearded man.

“You’re the wolf?”

“Maybe.” She leaned down toward Cricket and whispered, “Wolves travel in packs, you know.” She straightened herself. “But you can call me Azelyn. You look older than the rest. Are you the one he was talking about? Worth seventy all by yourself?”

Cricket didn’t answer.

The bearded man stood beside the woman in the doorway. “He said you have sisters. If you tell us where they are, we can help them too.”

Slowly, cautiously, Cricket said, “What do you mean, help them?”

The woman said, “We can give you a safe place to live. All of you.” She swept a hand to indicate all the children. “Now, who’s coming? He’s got biscuits.”

All the others leapt up and clambered over their rescuers.

“Whoa, whoa!” the man said. “Slow down, I only got two hands.” He pulled biscuits from pockets inside his cloak and passed them out.

“What about you?” Azelyn asked.

Cricket shrunk into a dark corner.

“I understand,” Azelyn said. “Why should you trust us? You don’t know us. I just stabbed a man, he’s giving out biscuits, I called myself the wolf…”

“I’m not scared of the wolf.”

The woman’s narrow eyebrows raised on her petite face. “You aren’t? Why not?”

“Cuz he’s a thief, like me.”

“Is that why you’re in here? You stole something and got caught?”

Cricket nodded.

“What did you steal?”

“Coal.”

“Ah. You’re cold, you and your family.”

“No we’re not. We’re hungry.”

“Aha! So you do have a family!”

Cricket bit her lip.

“Any parents?” When no answer came, the woman looked to her husband and giggled. Children were clinging to him, munching biscuits, reaching for more. He held the smallest one in one arm and tried to push away another.

“Hey, get your hands outta there. I said one each, you scobberlotchers. I ain’t got no more.”

The sight reminded Cricket of her own father whenever he came home with treats. Her father even had some gray in his beard, like this man. Slowly she rose and approached the man.

“Hungry? I saved one for you.” He pulled the last biscuit from his pocket. “My name’s Vik. What’s yours?”

“Cricket.”

“Really? That’s your name?”

“No, it’s Kateeka. But my sisters couldn’t pronounce it so they called me Cricket.” She bit into the biscuit. It was dry and stale, as though it had been in his pocket several days. But she was starving and hurriedly ate it all.

When she finished, she peered up into his eyes, which had a hint of brown in the charcoal gray. She’d never seen that before. “Are you the wolf?”

“Depends. What do you know about the wolf.”

“I know they call him Taj. Isn’t that a word that means wolf?”

His eyebrows went up. “You know his name?”

She shrugged. “Is he real?”

“Oh, he’s real, all right.”

“Can I join your guild?”

“My what?”

“The Thieves Guild. You’re part of a guild, aren’t you?”

He scratched his head. “Well… sort of.”

“It’s all right, I won’t tell anyone. I’m a thief too.”

“So I hear. Well, Cricket, you are welcome to join us. We live pretty far away, though. You’ll want to bring your family, I imagine.”

Despite her hesitation and desire to protect her sisters, she decided to trust this stranger, this friend of the wolf. Maybe it was a stupid decision, but something about him and his wife was different from anyone else she’d met. They were the only ones she’d ever seen to offer food and a home to desperate children.

And he reminded her of her father.

Two hours later, Cricket sat in the corner of a wagon, her three sisters huddled in her arms. The other children from the dark room were there as well, sleeping soundly despite the creaking of the wagon and the jolts of the bumpy road.

From the driver’s seat, Vik turned to peer at her. “Sorry about the bumps. We need to keep off the main roads.”

“How far?” Cricket asked.

“’Bout a day and a half. Should be there by tomorrow night.”

Before sundown the next day, they reached their destination—the city of Orella in the northwest corner of the realm. Great walls stretched around it, and directly in front of her, two great gates, the height of seven men. The gates had been painted blue with the image of white wings on them—white wings edged in gold.

“I thought the wolf and his people lived in hiding.”

“I know what yer thinking. Kinda hard to hide when your gates look like that, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, we’re not exactly hiding. I mean, we’re not hiding that we’re here. We’re just hiding who we are and what we’re doing.”

“What are you doing?”

“The rest of the realm think this city belongs to me and that I’m a winemaker.”

“You’re a city governor? And you didn’t have more than seventy coins on you?”

He laughed. “Course I had more. I just don’t give it to lubberworts like that guy back there, that’s all. But no, I ain’t the city governor.”

“Who is? Is it Taj?”

“You’ll see.”

The gates opened almost as if by themselves. It wasn’t until the wagon passed through that Cricket could see tall aqueducts running toward each half of the gate. “It uses the power of water?”

“Yup. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Amazing. How’d you learn to do that?”

“We got friends in high places.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look up.”

Behind the city of Orella stood a tall, gray cliff. She followed it with her eyes, all the way to the top. “Up there? You have friends up there?”

“Sure.”

“What do they do up there?”

“They live there. They farm and raise animals and build machines that use the power of water.”

“Who are they?”

“Just more of us wolves.”

“Is that where Taj lives?”

“No, he lives down in the city with the rest of us. But we go up there sometimes.”

The wagon rolled to a stop, and Azelyn and Vik came down to help the children out. Azelyn said, “There’s food in the longhouse over there.”

Cricket’s sisters ran off with the other children. “Wait!” Cricket called, but they didn’t stop. “Will they be all right? Is it safe?”

“Everything about Orella is safe,” Azelyn said. “Your sisters can go anywhere they wish inside these walls. Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want to join them?”

Cricket shook her head, for she’d rather take in the wondrous sights of the city. “Can I leave them in there without me?”

“Sure. There’s people in there who’ll look out for them. If you don’t want to eat, what would you like to do?”

“I’d like to meet the wolf.”

“Very well. Vik, will you take her? I’ll see to the children.”

Vik put an arm around Cricket’s shoulders. “Come with me. He’s probably in the center of the city. That’s where you’ll usually find him.”

As they walked a cobbled street, Cricket noticed how most buildings looked very old but with parts that seemed newer, as though they’d been repaired. “How long have you been living here?”

“About five years now.” He must have seen her gaping at the buildings, for he said, “Yeah, we did a lot of rebuilding the first two years. First we extended the walls. Then we had to make the city livable. Same with the high places.” He waved a hand upward, toward the cliff.

They turned a corner, and the scene changed. Here, people were busy working at blacksmith shops, carpenter shops, leather shops, and more. To Cricket’s surprise, not all the people had black hair and white skin. Many had walnut brown hair and tan complexions. Some had very dark brown hair.

“Who are these people?”

“Friends. You’ll get to know them.”

“Why are they making weapons? You look like you’re preparing for war.”

“We’re engaged in a different sort of war. For the most part, we don’t like to kill.”

“Then why arm for battle?”

He looked into her eyes. “Because the enemy does.”

A woman with sable hair—black with brown highlights—came up to them. “Vik! You’re back!” She hugged him. “Everything go all right? Where’s Azelyn?”

“In the longhouse with the children. Yeah, went fine. No trouble.”

“Who is this?”

“This here is Cricket.

The woman stuck out a hand. “Welcome, Cricket, My name’s Zoë.”

Cricket took the hand and couldn’t help but smile.

“She wants to meet Taj,” Vik said.

Zoë pointed to a two-story stone building. “He’s in there. Go on in.”

They stepped through the open doorway, and Cricket froze. A very large room stretched before her, full of tables and benches and lots of people. Most of the people had black hair, but again there were some with brown hair.

Cricket tugged on Vik’s sleeve. “Who are those people? The ones with the brown hair.”

“Some are Petrosians. Some are Temanites.”

“From the eastern continent?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Hey, you’re pretty smart.”

“My father used to tell me all the news he’d hear in the market or on the streets. He once told me a Temanite was now king of Rhakos. Is that what Temanites look like?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And the king of Rhakos… he’s a friend of mine, Baruch.”

“You’re friend to a king?”

“Sure, actually lots of kings. Now Taj… he could be a king too, if he wanted. Got the royal blood, anyway. Maybe one day he will be king. Maybe of this realm—Calandria.”

“What royal blood does he have?”

Vik smiled down at her. “All of them.”

That caught her off guard. She had so many more questions, but the one she asked was, “Which one is Taj?”

Vik pointed to a man whose back was to them. He wore a black cloak, and other than that, all she could see of him was his black, shoulder-length hair.

“Taj!” Vik called.

“Be right with you.” Taj was in the midst of talking with others, and their business seemed important.

Cricket began to feel like an idiot. Who did she think she was, asking to meet someone like that, someone with royal blood. Why would he take time for her?

“I, um… maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

“What’s the matter?” Vik asked.

“He seems busy. I should… I should go.”

Cricket turned to leave, but suddenly a commotion was happening just outside the door. A crowd had gathered, or had just arrived, or something, and their voices sounded urgent. Vik pulled her aside as a man with a silver angel on his black tunic came through the door.

The woman named Zoë threw her arms around him. “Angelus! You’re safe!”

“Yes, we’re all safe. Good to see you, sister.” He lifted his voice and called, “Taj!”

The one called Taj hurried to him and grabbed his forearm. “Glad you made it back, Angel. What’s your report?”

“We got her.”

“You… you got her? Where is she? Is she all right?”

“She will be. Her brothers are bringing her in.”

Two men in dark, hooded cloaks carried a pallet into the room and laid it on a bench. On the pallet was a slender figure, also wearing a dark, hooded cloak.

Taj dropped to his knees at her side and took her hand. “Vanya! Speak to me!”

Her voice was quiet and weak. “Taj.”

When Taj wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, the hood fell away. Long locks of white-gold hair slipped out and tumbled down her shoulders.

Cricket gasped. “Who is she?”

“His wife.”

“Is she Rygian?” Cricket had heard of Rygians and their golden hair, but she’d never seen one.

Vik whispered into her ear, “She’s a Volon princess, daughter of King Falcor and Queen Vala.”

Cricket gasped. “Are you friends with them too?”

“Sure am.”

Zoë went to the woman’s side. “Are you wounded, Vanya? Let me look at you.”

“Not now.” Vanya’s bright blue eyes never left Taj’s. She stroked his cheek. “I thought I’d never see this face again.”

As Cricket watched Taj gently kiss his wife, she felt out of place, as though she was intruding on a personal moment. But many others were there as well, all watching just like she was.

“Are you hurt?” Taj asked her.

“I’ll be all right.”

The two men who had carried her in brushed the hoods from their heads, and Cricket gasped to see the same white-gold hair on both of them. She remembered that Angelus referred to them as Vanya’s brothers, but she still hadn’t expected that.

She stood on tiptoe to whisper in Vik’s ear. “My father told me there was a big reward for every dead Volon brought in.”

“That’s right.”

“How can they live here without being seen and caught?”

“Mostly they live up in Addir,” Vik said. “And they never travel without a Kaion with them.” He pointed to Angelus.

Angelus had just put a hand on Taj’s shoulder and said quietly, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem.”

Taj didn’t take his eyes off Vanya. His fingers caressed her cheek as he said, “What is it, Angel?”

“We were followed.”

Finally Taj tore his gaze from his wife and rose. “By whom?”

“The army of Varg.”

“The whole army? Of the whole province?”

“Seemed like it,” Angel said.

“Was Enfield with them?”

“I think so.”

Slowly a smile crept across Taj’s face. “Then it’s time we released our secret weapon.”

“I’ll get him.” Angelus went to the back of the building.

As Taj rose, he laid eyes on Cricket, and for the first time, she saw his eyes. Again she gasped. Bright blue eyes shone out from under a forelock of thick black hair. She had never seen such a thing before, nor even heard of it.

“Who’s this?” Taj asked.

Vik said, “New rescue. Her name’s Cricket. She’s got three younger sisters. They’re in the longhouse eating.”

“Cricket? Nice name.” Taj stretched out a hand. “I’m Trillian. But you can call me Taj.”

Cricket was so busy staring at his eyes that when she reached for his hand, she missed.

He chuckled and grasped her hand. “I’m glad you could join us.”

Vik said, “She was caught for thieving just so she could feed her sisters. Been caught before but managed to escape.”

“Really? Sounds like you have some skills we could make use of. I look forward to training you. Uh… you do want to join us, don’t you? Cause you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I do!” Cricket said quickly. “But, um… What do you do? What kinds of things do you steal?”

“Mostly the desperate, the hopeless, the outcast, and the abused.”

That was not what she had expected. “What do you do with them?”

He shrugged as though it should be obvious. “Rescue them.”

Vik said, “You know… like we did with you and your sisters.”

“Oh,” she said, beginning to understand. When Taj turned back to his wife, Cricket asked Vik, “Why is he called the wolf?”

“It comes from his name, Trillian Alexander Justus Corden. Taj for short. The word means wolf, so that’s what he’s called.”

A new commotion arose as men emerged from a back room armed with bows and quivers, swords and daggers, axes and spears. Cricket would have stood there gaping if Vik hadn’t pulled her off to the side.

Then another man emerged and came forward. His head was covered by a black hood. Candlelight fell across his eyes—his deep, dark, penetrating eyes that bore the most intense gaze Cricket had ever seen. At his sides were two other men, both older than him. All were armed heavily with swords, daggers, knives, throwing stars, and crossbows.

The hooded man stopped before Trillian, but then his eyes landed on Cricket. He pulled his hood back and grinned. “Someone new?”

She gasped. Three parallel scars ran down the man’s left cheek, as though he’d been scratched by a three-clawed beast.

Trillian said, “Cricket, meet Torin Enfield.”

“Enfield? Like the city in Varg?”

“Yes, he’s from the same family stock. Those two,” Trillian motioned to the men at Torin’s sides, “are his adopted brothers, Brandon and Elek.”

Torin must have noticed that Cricket hadn’t taken her eyes from his facial scar, for he showed her his right hand. What looked like a set of brass knuckles encompassed his fingers, but when he opened his hand, she saw three claws on the inner side.
The corner of his mouth curled upward in a wry smile. “I took this off the guy who gave me that scar.”

Trillian called, “Torin!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Angel said they’d been followed.”

“By who?”

“The army of Varg. He thinks Enfield was with them.”

Torin nodded and a wide grin spread across his face. “Take care of your wife, Taj. I’ll handle my cousin.”

“You won’t go alone. I’ll bring reinforcements.”

Cricket made to say something but quickly stopped, feeling as though she had no right.

But Trillian smiled down at her. “Yes, Cricket?”

“How can you go out there? Wouldn’t everyone notice you?” She pointed to her own eyes and then to his.

“Not necessarily.” He pulled up the hood of his dark cloak. From inside the hood, at the top, he pulled down an attached piece of black mesh fabric that completely covered his face, hiding the color of this eyes.

Cricket said, “People see that mask, they’ll know you’re hiding your eyes. They’ll know it’s you.”

“Will they?” As Trillian said those words, every last man pulled the same type of black mesh down across their faces. “Taj the wolf is everywhere.”

Vik said, “Taj, I don’t think you should go out there. Looks like Vanya’s been through the wringer. Stay with her.”

Trillian brushed his hood back and shook his head. “We’ve been working here for five years, Vik. I think it’s time to show this realm who we are and why we’re here.”

He removed his cloak, and Cricket gasped. His tunic was divided into four quarters diagonally both ways, like an X. The top was blue and held three interlocking golden rings, each ring made of three strands. The bottom was black and held a white oroborous dragon encircling one golden ring of three strands. The right side was red with a golden lion. The left side was gold, and it bore a three-petalled white flower.

As Trillian pointed them out to Cricket, he said, “These are for my grandfathers, Corden, Eliada, and Drahkôn. This one,” he pointed to the white flower on gold, “is my personal insignia. It’s a flower called a trillian.” He pulled his sword from its sheath. “Look here.”

Cricket gasped. In the hilt of the sword were three gems—diamond, ruby, and sapphire. All along the blade was etched an ivy, beginning as a seed at the point and leafing out all the way up to the hilt, where it became a three-petaled flower just like the flower on his emblem.

Vik said, “Hold on, Trill, this might not be the best time to reveal yourself. Your wife was just rescued from Varg. She needs you right now.”

“I disagree, Vik. I’ve held off only because they had her imprisoned. Now that she’s back and safe, it’s time we taught those people a lesson.”

A woman’s voice said, “I agree with Trillian.”

Everyone looked to see that Vanya was sitting up on the bench.

She said, “Don’t forget, Vik, they’re on their way here. Of all the provinces in Calandria, Tavien Enfield has the biggest army. If we don’t stop him now, he could take over the entire realm. Then his power will be limitless.”

“In that case, count me in,” Vik said.

Trillian smiled, pulled a horn from his belt, and stepped outside.

“What’s he doing?” Cricket asked.

“Oh, this is something you’ll want to see. I’ll have to leave you now, but Zoë and Azelyn will watch over you and your sisters. Meanwhile, go on outside and have a look.”

Zoë took Cricket’s hand and led her out into the sun just in time to see Trillian put the horn to his lips and blow out a series of notes, some long, some short.

“What happens now?” Cricket asked.

Zoë said, “You’ll see. It might take a few minutes, so let’s head down to the longhouse and see how your sisters are doing.”

Cricket followed Zoë back the way she had come, but before they reached the longhouse, she heard someone shout, “Here they come!”

Following Zoë’s gaze, she looked up, all the way to the top of the cliff. A hundred or more blonde-headed men lined up, all with something large and black attached to them. She couldn’t make it out from where she stood, but the next moment, she gasped.

All one hundred leapt off the cliff. Great black wings held them aloft, and they soared overhead. One by one, they swooped down, out toward the southwest.

Zoë said, “Take a good look, Cricket, and know this… When we win this land back for the Volon, it’ll be because of men like that.”

“And Trillian,” Cricket said.

Zoë nodded. “Of course. And Trillian.”