Chapter 2

Sounds of screaming, people crying. The bloodthirsty marauders killing, looting, burning and raping. Led by a strong war magi , who blasted the guards with ease, letting his men roam the streets unhindered. No escape, everyone trapped. A Scraw-bear is pierced by magical spears, as it is rearing up on its hind legs, protecting a child…

It was the light and soft sounds of cooking that woke Deedra that morning from a bad dream, still utterly exhausted after the day before. The dream however quickly faded away into obscurity.

“Good morning my little sleeping blossom.” her mother said to her, noticing her stirring in her bed.

Deedra fought to get the sleep out of her head as she sat up. It took a couple of seconds before she remembered that she would be going to the market by herself.

“Am I late?!” she nearly yelled, worried that she would not get a good spot at the market, since she had to unload the dried flowers first.

“Do not fret,” her mother told her, smiling at her as she went about setting up the table for them all to eat “there is plenty of time for you to eat and get ready. Your father is setting up Ballock with the cart harness, so you can go once you have eaten.”

Deedra quickly went about getting dressed, made a loose braid of her long brown hair and then helped with the remaining things to get the breakfast ready.

Just as they were setting the cauldron of porridge on the table, her father came in, wiping his hands in an old rag.

“That main buckle is not in good condition anymore,” he said with brows furrowed in thoughtfulness “you have to get a bit of copper from the smith in town, so I can make a new one.”

“Will it be safe for her to travel alone then?” her mother asked, gesturing for them to sit down to eat.

“Yes, no doubt about it. The harness could make the trip ten times over with a much heavier load before I would become worried, but it needs to be mended nonetheless.” he reassured her, as he sat down on his chair and grabbed a piece of bread, leaving the dirty rag on the table. Her mother scowled at him, which he either did not notice or outright ignored, of which one Deedra could determine.

Her mother then cleared her throat, which got his attention.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“That rag, dear?” she said, giving him a stern smile.

He picked it up, holding it at his eye level and looked at it as if it was a tiny defenceless cub of some sort.

“You hear that, raggy? Old meany, weany Genna does not want you at the table. Guess you better be hidden in my pocket.” he said to it, while making big sorrow filled eyes at it.

At this, Deedra laughed so hard that the water she was just about to drink shot out of her nose, causing her to cough and laugh at the same time.

Even her mother could not hold back laughing at his utter stupid silliness.

It took them a while to calm down to be able to eat again, but the sheer happiness and love for one another filled the little home to the brim. Right now, this was the happiest place in the whole kingdom, if not the whole continent.

As they were finishing up, Deedra and her mother went over a list of items for her to buy, once she had sold what she could, adding on to it the copper for the buckle. In the meantime, Wrenrik was fastening Bullock to the cart, making sure everything was secure and working.

Once everything was in order and the list securely stored in her wandering sack, along with some food and drink, Deedra took her bow and quiver with two handfuls of arrows in it and heaved herself unto Ballock, the big Scraw-bear lending one of his legs for her to use as a stool.

Even though the roads were safe from other people, there was still the potential for critters of various kinds.

As she was making herself secure in the saddle on the big beast's back, her father came up to her, reached up and gave her a gentle squeeze on her thigh, saying “Tomorrow you’re turning 12, so you have my permission to spend a full silver coin at Mrs. Boon’s store.”

“A WHOLE silver coin?!” she exclamied in surprise.

Mrs. Boon made some of the best hard sweets and small cute pastries. And to get to spend a full silver coin would get her a stomachache of grand proportions, she knew.

“Be careful and make us and yourself proud” he said to her, as she set off with Ballock pulling the heavy cart with ease.

“And remember, if Master Fremdon tries to get out of giving you coins in hand at delivery…” Her father called out to her.

“I know, I know! Start to pack up and mention Master Blenberry.” She yelled back at them, giving them a final wave.

“What was that about?” Genna asked him, looking up at him with curiosity.

“Master Fremdon has been trying to drive the prices down and on more than one occasion tried to withhold payment upon delivery of goods. A couple of weeks ago, I learned that Master Blenberry, over in Gladston, was the former apprentice of Master Fremdon. And his famed tea-making skills are quickly growing.”

“Huh…” Genna said, thinking a bit “Small town slander and gossip?” she mused “Rivalry among the tea-makers. Would it be worth the trip at some point?” she asked him.

“I will bring him some samples, next time I have to make the trip and see what he would be willing to offer.”

Then, they stood there a while, looking at Deedra making her way to town, arms around each other.

“Listen, my blossom,” Wrenrik said to Genna after a short while “I have a few things I need to do, but how about we relax today and maybe we could open a bottle of blueberry wine…” he trailed off.

She pinched his buttcheek and looked up to him, answering “I would love that. I too, however, have a few things I need to get done, but come find me, when you are done with the things you need to do, I think I will be done before you are.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and sauntered off toward the barn, the wind playing with her long black hair, the early morning making it gleam like polished onyx. Wrenrik just stood there, taking in every little detail.

“Get going, you big oaf!” she called out to him over her shoulder, laughing “I want to be in your embrace soon!”

With that as motivation, he started off to do the things he had planned to get done this fine morning.

First he wanted to take some measurements for Deedra’s room and mark it up, which should not take him very long. After that, he needed to go see, if that blundering ball of negative elegance, Ballock, had trampled through the firewood piles, he had spent quite some time building up.

Doing the measurements had not taken Wrenrik very long and with a little luck, it should not cost much more than 3 gold in total to build. Now he was sorting through the stacks of firewood, the freshly cut stack and the stack of dry firewood having been knocked over, as he suspected, by Ballock, most likely while chasing small vermin through the grass.

As he was squatting down and sorting the wood into two piles, his ears picked up the sound of snapping branches in the thick underbrush of the forest, some 60 feet away to his left.

Getting up and turning toward the sound, three men emerged, clad in mismatched armour, various pelts and dirty clothing. The one in the middle had a bow with an arrow already knocked on the string, while the other two had nasty jagged swords and small round shields.

By instinct, his hand went for where he would have had his sword, but it only found empty air. The only thing he had was his small axe and a log of wood.

“Oha farmer man,” one of the men with a sword called out to him “you live here alone so far out from a town?” as they all slowly started to advance toward him, dark intentions in the eyes of them all.

“Ay, that I do.” Wrenrik lied to them. ‘By the Gods, please run and hide my love’ he prayed within himself, as he slowly started to move toward them, evaluating their movements and which of them would be the biggest threat.

The fact that this simple farmer started to advance toward them and did not wet himself and run, as they had expected, made them pause. No matter, even though a hunt for scared prey is fun, nothing beats a fight, the one that had spoken, thought to himself.

In an instant, the man with the bow had let the arrow fly at him, Wrenrik just managing to twist out of its path in the last second, as it zipped past his chest within the width of a hair.

He could feel it. He had gotten old and slow. He had not physically trained since Deedra was born, only going over the movements in his mind. In his prime, these would-be robbers would not have presented a challenge for him. As things were right now, however, he was without sword, armour and practice. He would have to make due with what he had and win by outmanoeuvring them.

Using the momentum of the twist, he flung the log at the archer. A crunch from the archer's nose could be heard, as it connected with his face with great force, knocking him out cold.

The other two men were caught off guard, not expecting a simple farmer to stand up against them like that, but it only lasted a second. “Aw, this gonna be fun!” one of the men with a sword snarled, flashing a wicked smile at him, exposing his dirty teeth.

They charged headlong at him, savagery making up for the lack of discipline and skill, slashing at him, stabbing and lunging, but Wrenrik dodged the attacks, blocking them with his axe and getting them to block potential attacks by not allowing them to surround him. Wrenrik was straining himself to keep up with the much younger men and the wooden handle of the axe would not stand up to many blocks from their swords.

Using the head of the axe, he managed to get it to lock around the guard of the sword and with a strong twist and spin, he disarmed one of them. The surprised marauder did not perceive how the spin ended with the small axe buried in his skull, nearly cleaving it in two and the handle finally giving out after all the punishment, breaking in half.

The other man took a couple of steps back, not willing to re engage, giving Wrenrik time to pick up the sword and shield from the dead man.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now. And you picked the wrong farm to attack!” Wrenrik said to him, getting into a proper defensive stance and started toward the now worried would-be robber.

Wrenrik did not see other than a small streak of blue light out of the corner of his eye, as a vicious magical arrow came flying, tearing through his calf, ripping it halfway off.

Crying out in pain, he fell to one knee, unable to keep himself standing, the last man with a sword beginning to laugh at him

“You think it was just us three, you dull peasant? Look at the big bad man now!” he said, spitting at him. Wrenrik was still holding on to the sword, keeping it in a defensive position between himself and the swordsman.

The underbrush rustled, as some four dozen men stepped out from the forest underbrush, having watched the spectacle. Wrenrik’s heart sank deep and fast, a gaping pit forming in his gut.

“Enough of this!” The man in front, leading them, called out, clearly not pleased that this simple farmer could take down two of his men with such ease.

He was clad in fine maroon robes and wore light leather armour, an elegant rapier hung at his side and he held a staff with a glowing stone at the end of it in his right hand.

“Answer truthfully, and I will end you quickly. Lie to me, and I will slowly sear off your skin.” the leader of the group said, as he walked right up to Wrenrik, just out of reach from the sword.

“Do you know of someone named Gren? Or maybe Mallock? Might have moved to these parts 3 or 4 years ago, setting himself up to be a mayor or judge? A man of authority? Hm? Oh, and where do you keep your coins, if you have any? You owe me for a man or two…” he said, as he pointed the staff at Wrenriks head.

—

Genna had just finished milking the cows and was about to set them out to the pasture, when she heard what sounded like… fighting? No, that’s not right, she thought to herself. She stood still for a bit, just listening. Nothing. Must have been old nightmares playing tricks on her mind again, she thought to herself.

As she started to pour the last milk into a clay jug, she heard Wrenrik cry out in pain.

All of the world's fear set upon her in an instant. Letting the bucket fall, her legs felt like they were filled with lead, as she began to run. With every step, she tried to reason with herself, that he had just fallen and broken something or cut himself by accident, nothing serious, just…

It took her less than a minute, but it felt like hours, to reach the house, where she looked inside for him. Not here, she thought to herself and worried that he might not hear her, if she called out to him.

Just then, she heard an unfamiliar voice talking, dread gripping at her gut. She followed the sound of the voice, coming from somewhere behind their small home.

Peaking around the corner, her fear was replaced by vengeful fury. Without thinking, she started to walk toward them.

To Wrenriks great horror, he saw his beloved Genna come walking towards them, eyes glowing bright green, her hair flowing wide with the power within her.

“YOU FOOLS!” She screamed at them, voice cold and nearly ethereal “YOU HAVE JUST DELIVERED YOURSELF TO SLAUGHTER!”

The sudden appearance of her put many of the men on edge and even their leader took a couple of steps back, raising his staff toward her, ready to fend off an attack.

“NO! GENNA, PLEASE! DON’T BREAK THE PACT! THINK OF DEEDRA!” he yelled out with all his might, that he might break through to her.

The green light faded slightly from her eyes as he continued to plead to her.

“If you break the pact, not only will you die, but Deedra too. Both of your spirits…” he continued, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. He knew that there was no surviving this for the two of them, but at least Deedra was safe in town.

The green light flickered in her eyes, as she remembered the pact she had made and her beloved daughter. Never would she use magic again, in exchange for giving birth to a living child, made with the man she loved, the man that had saved her from her dark and lonely spiral of death.

All her thoughts left her, as two arrows, laced with poison, found their mark in her abdomen, bringing her to her knees.

“What are you?” the leader asked noone “Such power… and yet you hold back? What? Because of your child? Pathetic!” he said, his voice laced heavily with disdain. “Weak!”

He stood still a few seconds, contemplating the situation.

“No matter,” he continued, as he gestured for his men to pick them both up and bring them along “we will search your house and be on our way soon enough, once you have answered my questions.”

Wrenrik tried to fend them off, but they roped his arms and tied him up, making sure he could not pose a threat to them again.

Genna was numb in her entire body, unable to fight back, as they dragged her by one arm to the front of the house. Here they tossed onto Wrenriks woodwork table, which stood under a small canopy.

Several of the men started to rummage through the house, sounds of items being broken, things being torn apart, as they searched for anything of value. Their leader questioned Wrenrik about some man. Not knowing who he was talking about, the leader's frustration grew, as he kicked Wrenrik several times in the gut and face.

“Sir, look what we found…” one of the men came running out of the small home with something wrapped in cloth “it was hidden in the rafters.”

The leader removed the cloth to reveal a sword. Not just any sword, he quickly realised, but one given to soldiers that served in the Demagok war at Heraman, for their bravery. It was sleek and light, made of the finest steel, inlaid with silver along the spine and magically sharpened. On the hilt, the names of the survivors were etched and outlined with white gold and a family crest engraved in the pommel, a crest given to the survivors by the five kingdoms. Only 36 were made and given out, to the very few that survived the ordeal.

“Will you look at this?” Their leader said, smiling with delight, as he gripped the sword and gave it some practised swings. “Do we have ourselves the Great grandson of a war hero here?” He turned to face Wrenrick that lay bound on the ground “Or did you steal it?” he asked, smiling slyly at him.

“You are not worthy to hold, nay, even to gaze upon that sword!” Wrenrik spat at him, as he struggled against the ropes, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Oh, I will be more than just holding it.” he retorted, his eyes flashing with anger at the insolence of this peasant, as he quickly lifted the sword above his head, bringing it down in a swift motion.

One of the men walked over to Genna, where she lay on the table. He was huge, both in height and bulk. Half of his face was disfigured by fire, the eye having turned white from the damage.

Leaning in over her, he squeezed her breast hard, her eyes flashing murder at him.

“Mmm…” he said in a low growl, smiling darkly at her “Ripe.”

He flipped her over, the arrows boring deeper into her gut, as he tore apart her dress.

He then forced himself upon her, violently and without mercy, tears of pain running from her eyes, as she turned all of the thoughts to Deedra, focused on her beloved daughter, who would be safe in town at least.

Once he was done with her, he drew out a knife from his belt and let the cold steel glide over her cheek til it came up to her ear.

She didn’t even feel the pain of it, as he cut off her right ear, which he stroked gently between his bloodied fingers very shortly, before adding it to his collection in a pouch.

The giant man then let his fellow marauders have his leftovers.

They took turns violating her, the pain from the arrows not masking the hurt it brought, as they cheered each other on, laughing like madmen.

With what little strength she still had left in her body, she turned her head to look for her beloved husband, her Wrenrik, to seek comfort in his eyes.

She found them looking at her, unblinking and lifeless, the happiness, warmth and joy robbed from them by these filthy animals. She wanted nothing more than to release all of her power, in a last consuming firescape, ridding the world of these monsters.

But she could not. She could not bear the thought of her daughter's spirit being bound to a Grand Deamagok, bolstering its own powers, forever in torment.

Her lifeforce was ebbing out quickly, the wound of the arrows and the poison working quickly in tandem. She exhaled her last breath, cursing the men.

After tearing the small home apart and not finding much else of interest, except for a small chest with their coins and some trinkets, the leader released a torrent of fire from his staff as he sat the small home ablaze, before they moved on. ****___

Chapter 1

Deedra opened her eyes slowly, eyelids still heavy from sleeping. It was the dream she just had, that woke her. It was not a bad dream, just… strange. She had seen herself being held by a man in battered golden armour. The man didn’t seem familiar to her, but his eyes reminded her of her fathers, deep warm brown, filled with kindness and compassion.

The family common room was covered in pre-dawn darkness, only faint light coming in through the window behind her, ever so slightly illuminating the room.

She rolled over in her bed, facing the window, looking out into the sky. The clouds on the horizon had begun turning purple, signalling the coming of Zul’tekt, the Great Lifegiver, giving them another warm day.

She lay there, thinking of the stories her father often had told her about the great battle, Zul’Tekt had fought, to be able to serve the people below him, to bring them life and light. How he won with the help of his sisters, Gel’Tekt and Mun’Tekt, who now gives soft light at night to the people below them. Gel’Tekt had been badly burned, according to the story, which was why she had a red face. But her red face was supposed to bestow eternal love, if lovers kissed beneath her face, when she looked directly at them, fully round. Deedra wondered often if her parents had kissed in her full view of them.

A large shadow moved past the window, blocking her view of the sky for a brief second, breaking her drowsy state.

“Ballock,” she whispered with a smile “You’re awake early too, I see…”

The Scraw-bear her father had rescued a little over 8 years ago, would often go into the forest to forage, just when day would be turning to night, and then return some time during the night to sleep in the barn. She saw him as her brother, having grown up together, playing and running through the meadows. He always won ofcourse, given his six powerful legs.

Deedra could vaguely remember the day her father came home with him, so tiny he was, not much more than skin and bones. She could however, clearly remember how angry her mother had been with him, not wanting him to bring such a dangerous animal into their home, near their daughter.

He found the tiny cub, deep in the forest while looking for wild seeds. He was cuddled up against the dead mother, having died in a trap someone had set. Now, though, she loved him just as much as the rest of the family.

He was smart as a whip too. Had taken all the training her father put him to, like a fish learning to swim and now helping with ploughing, hauling, hunting and even playing hide and seek with her!

Deedra slowly slid out from under her covers and let her bare feet touch the cold floor, sending a shiver through her body. Sitting up, she wiped the sleep out from her eyes, while letting her feet find her boots, so she could get this day started.

After pulling her boots all the way on, she got up and went over to the hearth, holding out a hand over the firepit. It still radiated heat. Hoping she had a bit of luck with her, she bent down and gently blew on the ashes, making some embers flare up.

Happy that she would not have to use the flint and steel to make a fire, she drew out some kindling from the basket next to the hearth, as to give the fire something to feed on, before placing two pieces of dry wood on top of the flames.

Heavy breathing and the sound of sniffing coming from the outer door drew her attention. Ballock was aware that she was awake.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming to say goodmorning to you.” she whispered with a chuckle, taking two handfuls of dried berries from a jar on the counter, next to the hearth, one of which she stuffed into her mouth.

Having barely unlatched the door, it was pushed open by the big head of the Scraw-bear, his spiralled horns having made more scratches in the wood. He happily greeted her with a big wet snout to her face. He had become too big to enter fully, but would still put his whole head in, whenever the door was open. He loved to be as close to them as possible.

“Mammi is gonna be mighty mad at you for keeping making marks in her door” she whispered to him, while giving him a scratch along the scruff of his neck and putting the berry-filled hand into his mouth, where she let them go and withdrew her hand, so he could swallow them in one gulp.

“Did you have an exciting night?” she asked him softly, while wiping the saliva off her hand in her nightgown.

The morning air was brisk around her exposed legs, but forewarned that it would be a hot day. Perfect for harvesting the last Sulni-flowers and drying them.

She really enjoyed the tea Master Fremdon, Master Tea Maker in town, made with them. Sulni-flowers being the main ingredient, he got most of his supply from them so they made a fine living here.

Sulni flowers were notoriously hard to cultivate and farm, mostly growing in the wild, but those with the will, knowledge and luck could get them to grow. The flower itself was white as snow, with five long petals and a red centre, drawing in insects with its sweet scent, which would be trapped and devoured by the plant. Deedra would often spend time among them, enjoying their sweet aroma.

Her father had built a wind powered construct to speed up the drying process, so they did not need to let them lay out in the sun for several days, like others that managed to grow the flowers. She had heard rumours in town that some used magic to speed it up, but had never met anyone who could do that. She really wanted to meet someone who could do that.

The creaking of the door to her parents room caught her ear and she looked to see her father entering the common room.

“You’re up early.” her father whispered loudly, as he closed the door behind him.

“‘Morning pappi” she greeted him, giving Ballock a last squeeze, before going over to her father to give him a hug too. Her head only reached up to the middle of his stomach and her hands could almost touch behind him. He stooped over to hug her back and kissed her on the top of her head.

“You hungry?” he asked her, letting go of her and ruffling her long brown hair. She had inherited his hair. Thick, strong and boring brown, she thought. At least she had been blessed with her mothers beautiful eyes.

She hated when he made a mess of her hair like that and started to comb it with her fingers as best she could.

“Yes, a bit.” she answered, as he went over to the hearth, where he took down a cauldron from a hook and hung it over the low-burning fire. He then grabbed more wood to get the fire going strong.

“Is mammi all right?” Deedra asked her father, as she removed her nightgown and boots to change into her clothing. “I heard her scream in the middle of the night.”

“Yes, yes, just a bad dream…” her father reassured her. “Will you go fetch a bucket of milk when you have changed?”

A bit later, they were all sitting together, eating a hearty breakfast consisting of porridge, bread, eggs and some smoked meat. Her mother had dark furrows under her eyes, but she still looked as beautiful as a newly blossomed wild rose, with her raven-black hair, fair skin and emerald green eyes, that smiled at them both, full of love.

They were talking about the things they had to get done today, crops to harvest and equipment to check for tomorrow, when Deedra would go to the market, all by herself for the first time. She was very excited about it, but also a bit nervous. The 1 hour long journey into town was safe, but there were always many more people in town during market day and she had always had her father to lean on in case of uncertainties. At least she would have Ballock to protect her, if anyone tried anything.

Last month, she had done all the haggling instead of her father, with him watching over her, and had shown great aptitude for it, not letting anyone get the better of her. The price for the Sulni-flowers had already been arranged, so she would not have to worry about that. Master Fremdon had been by 10 days ago to evaluate the flowers and her father and he had agreed to 2 silver per pound of dried flowers and 6 pounds of tea, once it was done, which should last them for at least until next year.

“I think the harvest this year will bring in more than enough to buy the materials to build your own room, Dee” her father said to her “maybe even an addition for Ballock, so he does not have to sleep in the barn, all alone.”

“Wrenrik!” Her mother said to him, “I love him just as much as you, but he is NOT getting a room inside the house. He will make a mess of things! Not much worse than you, of course…” she ended, smiling at him.

Wrenrik stopped mid-motion taking a spoonful of porridge, putting it slowly back in the bowl, just staring at her. Then, swift for a man his size, he was out of his seat, got behind her, tickling her and ‘scolding’ her for saying he was a messy person. She screamed in laughter, trying to fight back. “So I make a mess of things, eh?” he said laughing, trying to kiss her neck, which made her scream with laughter all the more.

Deedra got up and tried to save her mother from this onslaught of tickling, but they were no match for him. With an unwilling kick from her mothers legs, they all wound up rolling around on the floor, laughing, food spilled across the table and some on the floor.

He took them both into his embrace and hugged them and kissed them.

“I love you both so much that I would fade away in an instant if I lost you” he said to them.

—

It had been a hard day's work, but everything was ready for tomorrow. The cart was filled to the brim with baskets and crates. 34 baskets alone for Master Fremdon alone took up the majority of the space, 12 pounds each, but also a wide selection of other vegetables and herbs to sell.

Deedra had been exhausted, as her father carried her on his shoulders back to the house, after finishing up, Zul’Tekt low on the sky, but still beaming down light and warmth.

Her mother had drawn her a warm bath, which she went into with delight, enjoying the soothing warm water. Deedra wanted to spend more time in the bath, but she was tired and crawled out of the warm water and into the soft embrace of her mother, who was holding a blanket ready for her.

After quickly drying off and putting on her freshly washed nightgown, she went over to her father, who sat in front of the hearth, humming songs. He lifted her up onto his lap, where she leaned into his chest and looked at the fire with him.

“Pappi? Will you tell me the story of the evil witch and the kind soldier that saved her?” she asked, ending with a yawn.

“That old story?” he said, chuckling “I must have told you that one at least a hundred times by now. I know you know it by heart.”

“But it is much better when you tell it” she protested softly, yawning once again.

Giving her a soft kiss on the top of her still wet hair, he started the tale. “Long ago, in a land far away, there lived an evil witch Or at least, many found her to be evil. She ruled a cursed land that none dared venture into, called The Winter Marshes. Many a king had sent vast armies to her door to vanquish her, but none could, all of them fell to her unparalleled magic.

So strong was she, that she could even command the dead, raising them to become her own army, sending back the dead soldiers to where they came from.”

“I think I will retire to the bed,” Deedra’s mother said, putting a log of wood on the fire, then kissing her cheek. “Sleep well, my little blessing.” she said, as she left them and closed the door behind her.

“Please, pappi, tell me more.” Deedra said, eyes closed, sleep steadily taking hold of her.

“For a century, or more” her father continued, voice deep and softly rumbling “she lived in these cursed marshes, alone and isolated, feared by all.

But one day, a soldier, a single man, lost his group as they were escorting a diplomat from one kingdom to another. They were attacked by bandits, one of which used magic to kill many in a single attack. He had been left for dead, but fate had plans for him still. Not knowing the lands he was passing through, he started to walk and soon had crossed into witches marsh.

Night fell upon him soon enough and he lit a fire to both keep warm, heat some food and to keep all the predators at bay that were regarding him with keen interest.

As he sat there, he sang songs about lost love, broken and mended hearts and growing old together.

What the young soldier did not know was that the witch could see his small fire from her keep. Curious, she spied on him, using her magic. Seeing the single soldier, she was about to strike out and kill him, but his songs made her stay her hand, tugging on heartstrings that she had forgotten she had.

Instead, she moved herself closer to the lone soldier, using her magic. And for a short while, she stood there, hidden in the shadows, listening to his deep voice, singing many songs.

Then, something that had not happened in a long time, a single tear fell from her cheek. She wanted to talk to this either very brave or very dumb soldier.

‘May I join you at your fire, Man at Arms?’ she asked, her voice soft and gentle, as she stepped into the light.

Now, the soldier had been so entrenched in his own thoughts, that the sudden appearance of her made him jump and fall backwards off the log he was sitting on, legs now pointing toward the sky and arms flailing to find a hold.

Such a silly sight to her, it made her laugh for the first time in decades.

After finding stable footing and getting himself up, he looked at the young woman standing there, beautiful and delicate, with long black hair and eyes that shone like precious stones, reflecting the world around them.

Clearing his throat, he said ‘Young miss, I must insist that you stay at the fire tonight! It is not safe to travel alone here, when it is dark’.

She gave him a polite smile and found a seat on a log, close to the fire, as he too sat back down. He shared what little food he had with her and they talked. All throughout the night.

His eyes were filled with compassion and warmth, making her heart long to be forever close to them. She could not detect any deceit or malice from him, nor any kind of bewitching magic. He was just a man, not knowing who he was talking to.

He in turn, had been struck deeply in his heart. He knew from the moment he saw her, that here was a woman, that he would lay down his life to protect. Yes, she felt cold, but it was a sad kind of coldness, the kind that arises when you have been abused, hurt deeply and have become an outcast from everywhere.

He would not, nay, could not treat her like that! He would show her compassion and love.”

Wrenrik paused to see if Deedra had fallen asleep, her breathing slow and steady. He was just about to slowly lift her up to place her in her bed, but the movement made her stir.

“Then what happened pappi?” she said, clearly not fully awake.

Letting out a sigh, smiling and kissing her on the top of her nearly dry hair, he continued.

“As morning broke over the marsh, the marsh itself seemed to have changed, becoming lighter, not as dark as it was the day before. The witch told him of a route to get safely across the lands and to meet with her at a very old tree, two days from that day. She would leave the marsh, that had been her home and domain for nearly two centuries, to come with him.

He followed the path she had given him, making it safely to a very large tree that marked the end of her domain. And true to her word, she came just as Zul’Tekt was setting, carrying only a few things. Among them, her tome, containing all of her knowledge, the things she had learned and made.

She feared for it to fall in the wrong hands, but bound in the skin from a Greater Deamagok and warded with powerful magic, not even she could destroy it. She would keep it hidden and locked away from those not of her blood.

That evening, they set off, to make a new life together, away from their past lives.”

Deedra had fully fallen asleep in her fathers arms. He gently got up and placed her in her bed, kissed her cheek and hoped the Gods would bless her each and every day.

Wrenrik tossed a few logs on the fire in the hearth, before he made his way into the bedroom, where his beloved wife was waiting for him. He found her sitting up in the bed, writing in her journal by the dim light of the oil lamp.

He stood there a bit, just taking in the sight of her, as she sat there, deep in thought, writing. He knew it helped her with her nightmares, a repentance for her past life, before him, before Deedra.

He took off his clothes, laid it on the chest at the foot of the bed and got under the covers with her, giving her a long soft kiss on her shoulder, his beard tickling her and making her turn her head to face him, giving him a loving kiss on the top of his head in return.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes for a few moments, enjoying the love they felt for one another.

She then looked away with a solemn expression on her face.

“Wren, I have been thinking…” she started, before biting her lip, seizing up. “What is it, my delicate winter blossom?” he asked, gently turning her head to face him with a strong hand on her cheek. “She is turning 12 the day after tomorrow and I think she needs to know of her heritage. I can feel her essence is strong and growing stronger by the day. I think it might manifest unwillingly if she is not taught to control it…” she trailed off, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Hey, listen now,” he said to her, as he softly pushed away her journal and drew her in to hold her tight, “you made a pact, but that does not mean you cannot teach her yourself, as long as you are very careful. I trust you and know you can do it safely, for the both of you.”

She cried silently into his bare chest, hugging him as hard as she could.

From today, I will be aiming to post a chapter every 2 weeks, on Thursdays or Fridays. This gives me a buffer with what I have now, allowing me to take it easy, space and time for unforeseen events and not burning myself out, even though I have so much more just filling up my mind. Thank you for reading and I hope it you like it

Hi all you lovely people out there in the wide world!

So, except for the finishing polish, chapters 1 to 3 are done, working on 4 and 5 side by side, which should be done no later than mid next week. But here is the question: Would you prefer the chapters drip-wise or have it all to read in one massive chunk?

It had been a hard day's work, but everything was ready for tomorrow. The cart was filled to the brim with baskets and crates. 34 baskets alone for Master Fremdon alone took up the majority of the space, 12 pounds each, but also a wide selection of other vegetables and herbs to sell

Deedra had been exhausted, as her father carried her on his shoulders back to the house, after finishing up, Zul’Tekt low on the sky, but still beaming down light and warmth.

Her mother had drawn her a warm bath, which she went into with delight, enjoying the soothing warm water. Deedra wanted to spend more time in the bath, but she was tired and crawled out of the warm water and into the soft embrace of her mother, who was holding a blanket ready for her.

After quickly drying off and putting on her nightgown, she went over to her father sitting at the hearth and he lifted her up onto his lap, where she leaned into his chest and looked at the fire with him.

“Pappi? Will you tell me the story of the evil witch and the kind soldier that saved her?” she asked, ending with a yawn.

“That old story?” he said, chuckling “I must have told you that one at least a hundred times by now. I know you know it by heart.”

“But it is much better when you tell it” she protested softly, yawning once again.

Giving her a soft kiss on the top of her still wet hair, he started the tale. “Long ago, in a land far away, there lived an evil witch. She ruled a cursed land that none dared venture into, called The Winter Marshes. Many a king had sent vast armies to her door to vanquish her, but none could, all of them fell to her unparalleled magic.

So strong was she, that she could even command the dead, raising them to become her own army, striking down the kingdoms that dared to challenge her.”

“I think I will retire to the bed,” Deedra’s mother said, putting a log of wood on the fire, then kissing her cheek. “Sleep well, my little blessing.” she said, as she left them and closed the door behind her.

“Please, pappi, tell me more.” Deedra said, eyes closed, sleep slowly taking hold of her.

“For a century, or more” her father continued, voice deep and softly rumbling “she lived in these cursed marshes, alone and isolated, feared by all.

But one day, a soldier, a single man, got lost from his group that was escorting a diplomat from one kingdom to another. They were attacked by bandits, one of which used magic to kill many in a single attack. He had been left for dead, but fate had plans for him still. Not knowing the lands he was passing through, he started to walk and soon had crossed into witches marsh.

Night fell upon him soon enough and he lit a fire to both keep warm, heat some food and to keep all the predators at bay that were regarding him with interest.

As he sat there, he sang some songs about lost love, mended hearts and growing old together.

What the young soldier did not know was that the witch could see his small fire from her keep. Curious, she spied on him, using her magic. Seeing the single soldier, she was about to strike out and kill him, but his songs made her stay her hand, tugging on her heartstrings that she did not know she had.

Instead, she moved herself closer to the lone soldier, using her magic. And for a short while, she stood there, hidden in the shadows, listening to his deep voice, singing many songs.

Then, something that had not happened in a long time, a single tear fell from her cheek. She wanted to talk to this either very brave or very dumb soldier.

‘May I join you at your fire, man at arms?’ she asked, her voice soft and gentle, as she stepped into the light.

Now, the soldier had been so entrenched in his own mind, that the sudden appearance of her made him jump and fall backwards of the log he was sitting on, legs now pointing toward the sky and arms flailing to find a hold.

Such a silly sight to her, it made her laugh for the first time in decades.

After finding stable footing and getting himself up, he looked at the young woman standing there, beautiful and delicate, with long black hair and eyes that shone like precious stones, reflecting the world around them.

He then cleared his throat and said ‘Young miss, I must insist that you stay at the fire tonight! It is not safe to travel alone here, when it is dark’.

She smiled at him and found a seat on a log, close to the fire, as he too sat back down. He shared what little food he had with her and they talked. All night long.

His eyes were filled with compassion and warmth, making her heart long to be forever close to them. She could not detect any deceit or malice from him, nor any kind of bewitching magic. He was just a man, not knowing who he was talking to.

He in turn, had been struck deeply in his heart. He knew from the moment he saw her, that here was a woman, that he would lay down his life to protect. Yes, she felt cold, but it was the kind of coldness that arises when you have been abused, hurt deeply and had become an outcast from everywhere.

He would not, nay, could not treat her like that! He would show her compassion and love.”

Wrenrik paused to see if Deedra had fallen asleep, her breathing slow and steady. He was just about to slowly lift her up to place her in her bed, but the movement made her stir.

“Then what happened pappi?” she said, clearly not fully awake.

Letting out a sigh, smiling and kissing her on the top of her nearly dry hair, he continued.

“As morning broke over the marsh, the marsh seemed different, not as dark as it was the day before. The witch told him of a route to get safely across and to meet with her at a very old tree, two days from that day. She would leave the marsh, that had been her home and domain for nearly two centuries, to come with him and become better.

He followed the path she had given him, making it safely to a very large tree that marked the end of her domain. And true to her word, she came just as Zul’Tekt was setting, carrying only a few things. Among them, her tome, containing all of her knowledge, the things she had learned and made.

She feared for it to fall in the wrong hands, but bound in the skin from a Greater Deamagok and warded with powerful magic, not even she could destroy it. She would keep it hidden and locked away from those not of her blood.

That evening, they set off together, to make a new life together, away from their past lives.”

Deedra had fully fallen asleep in her fathers arms. He gently got up and placed her in her bed, kissed her cheek and hoped the Gods would bless her each and every day.

Wrenrik tossed a few logs on the fire in the hearth, before he made his way into the bedroom, where his beloved wife was waiting for him. He found her sitting up in the bed, writing in her journal by the dim light of the oil lamp.

He stood there a bit, just taking in the sight of her, as she sat there, deep in thought, writing. He knew it helped her with her nightmares, a repentance for her past life, before him and Deedra.

He took off his clothes, laid it on the chest at the foot of the bed and got under the covers with her, giving her a soft kiss on her shoulder, his beard tickling her and making her turn her head to face him, giving him a loving kiss on the top of his head in return.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes for a few moments, love overflowing from them to one another.

She then looked away with a solemn expression on her face.

“Wren, I have been thinking…” she started, before biting her lip, seizing up. “What is it, my delicate winter blossom?” he asked, gently turning her head to face him with a strong hand on her cheek. “She is turning 12 the day after tomorrow and I think she needs to know of her heritage. I can feel her essence is strong and growing stronger by the day. I think it might manifest unwillingly if she is not taught to control it…” she trailed off, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Hey, listen now,” he said to her, as he softly pushed away her journal and drew her in to hold her tight, “you made a pact, but that does not mean you cannot teach her yourself, as long as you are very careful. I trust you and know you can do it safely, for the both of you.”

She sobbed softly into his bare chest, hugging him as hard as she could.