“No matter how jaded we become, we must never leave a situation where children are in danger.” Marteel of Tiberea (819.-780 B. F. E.)

  The scent of death lingered in the air. Garassk stopped flicking his tongue out a long time ago, and he could still taste the scent. The city itself looked like it was on the verge of falling apart, which only added to the feeling.

  “So this is Pullvair,” he said. “Not sure what I expected.”

  “They just lost a war,” Rathorn grumbled. “Whatever you were expecting was never going to come close to the real thing.”

  Garassk could only let out a small snort in response as they drew closer to the city walls. Knights roamed the outskirts like guard dogs. The local population felt more like sheep, or rats, given their timid nature and tattered clothes.

  “I’m not sure that this is a safe place to be stopping,” he finally said. “Everyone here looks like the either want to kill us, or are afraid we’re going to kill them.”

  “Well I’m sick of camping,” Rathorn snorted. “And this is the only town for miles. So unless someone starts something, this is where we’ll be spending the night. So let’s get this over with.”

  Garassk didn’t have an argument against that, so they pressed on. The people stared as they approached, but that wasn’t anything new by this point. He just ignored it and kept walking. The winding paths to the city were a lot to keep track of anyways.

  “Do you even know where we’re going?” he finally asked.

  “Wherever we can get some rest,” Rathorn grunted. “The city gates are about to close, but I’m sure there’s a house or monastery near the walls that will give us shelter for the night. There usually is.”

  Garassk nodded and kept walking. None of the buildings they saw looked like they’d serve their purpose, and they all looked like they’d taken a beating.

  As they turned a corner, Garassk thought he saw a castle in the distance. Finally, he thought. It looked like it was in good enough shape to take in guests, and was large enough to boot.

  “Stop!” he heard a man yell. “I order you to stop!”

  Garassk spun around to try and see where the noise was coming from. Something charged right for him before he even had the time to process it, causing him to jump out of the way.

  “Whoa!” he shouted, causing the figure to stop. It was another varanian. A female. Fear burned in her eyes, as if her constant fidgeting didn’t make it obvious enough.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “Help me!” she shrieked. Before he had the chance to ask what was going on, four knights charged in from the direction she’d been coming from.

  “Another one?” one of them said. “I thought we’d gotten all of the lizards.”

  “Another one? What are you talking about?” Garassk asked. “What’s going on here?”

  The knights drew their weapons.

  “You’re all coming with us,” the captain said sternly.

  “Wait,” Garassk cried. “I just got here, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

  “Insubordination!” the captain snapped. “Kill them all.”

  Garassk drew his sword, seeing that the time for talk was over. One of the knights stepped forward and thrust a spear at him, but he sidestepped it and slammed his tail into the man’s head.

  “Bastard!” one of the others shouted. Garassk turned to face the knight, but Rathorn was faster, hammering him into the ground.

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  The captain turned to both of them. The other varanian struck him from behind, driving her claws deep into his neck. Blood seeped down his armor like a waterfall as he sank to his knees.

  The last man fled. Garassk moved to catch him, but Rathorn held him back.

  “We need to leave,” the older varanian said. “We can’t afford to make any more of a scene than we’ve already made.”

  “Yes, leave,” the new varanian cried. “Quickly!”

  She took Garassk by the arms and pulled him towards through the trees.

  “Who are you?” Garassk asked, struggling to keep on his feet. “And what’s going on here?”

  “My name is Savrassa,” the varanian replied, not stopping at all while talking. “And I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time.”

  “What do you mean?” Rathorn called out.

  “It’s not safe for varanians to be here,” she said. “Ever since the war ended, the knights have divided up the lands. Sir Victor Drakkill took the swamp, and he’s made it hell for us. He’s destroyed our homes and forced us to serve as slave labor.”

  “Sounds like a real charmer,” Garassk chimed in, turning to Rathorn. “Do you think he’d let us stay the night if we asked nicely?”

  “Most of the varanians are dead,” Savrassa continued. “I’m the only one with a realistic chance of surviving, but I can’t stay here.”

  “So you’re trying to leave,” Rathorn guessed. “Reasonable enough. And where are you going?”

  “There’s a swampland farther away from here where I’d be safe,” she said. “Blackslough. But the journey will be hard, and I have much at stake.”

  “What’s at stake?” Garassk asked.

  “Eggs,” Savrassa cried. “If I stay here, they’ll be slaves too! Hatchlings can’t be brought into a world like that!”

  “Where is this Blackslough?” Rathorn asked. “We don’t have much time to waste. I’m sure the one that got away is going to bring Sir Drakkill down on us soon.”

  “This way,” Savrassa said, darting off in front of them. The other two varanians weaved through the trees to try and catch up with her.

  “You were awfully quick to offer help,” Garassk said as they moved.

  “We don’t have much choice,” Rathorn grunted. “Drakkill’s men roped us into this before we even knew what was going on.”

  “And there are children on the line,” Garassk added. Rathorn grunted, but didn’t deny it.

  “So how many days will it take for us to get there?” Garassk asked when they finally caught up to Savrassa.

  “It can be done in one,” she answered. “But that’s under ideal conditions. Between the inevitable chase, and the fact that I’ve been living as a slave, this may take two days. Maybe three. If we’re lucky.”

  “Not what I was hoping for, but I’ll take it,” Garassk said. Luckily, the walk wasn’t so bad. There were enough trees around the area that Garassk felt certain that it would be difficult for anyone who wanted to pursue them to find their way through the maze. On the other hand, the path had little variety, which made it hard to tell if they were making any real progress toward their destination. He wanted to ask if Savrassa was sure they were headed in the right direction, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to do so tactfully.

  As the sun began to set, Rathorn leaned against a tree.

  “We’d best make camp for the night,” he said. “Or at least find a spot to stay warm. I don’t know if we dare to light a fire.”

  “Do you know of any safe places?” Garassk asked, turning to Savrassa.

  “I’ve never had to stop at a time like this,” she muttered. “But I think we can find something. We should all work together, though.”

  Three tongues flicked out in search for the scent of safety.

  “Hold!” Rathorn said, stopping them in their tracks.

  “What is it?” Garassk asked. The older varanian tapped his club on the ground.

  “This spot is hollow,” he whispered. He tapped it again. Garassk heard a faint echo.

  “There’s a cave nearby.”

  Savrassa flicked her tongue out a few times before darting off.

  “This way!” she called out. The other two varanians followed her. By the time they’d caught up, she was already examining the bottom of a tree the size of a castle.

  “I’ve found it,” she said. Sure enough, the base of the tree had a hole large enough for them to crawl through.

  “I’ll go first,” Garassk said, getting down on all fours and moving forward.

  “I’ll need a light,” he called out. “I won’t be able to see a claw in front of my face.”

  “We’ll get on that,” Rathorn called out. Garassk heard them pick up sticks, and do something else that he couldn’t make out from in the dark. As light began to appear in front of him, he turned around. Rathorn carried some fireflies in a jar.

  “These will do until we get inside,” he said. “They likely won’t last the night, but we don’t plan on staying long.”

  Savrassa came up behind him with a second jar.

  “Excellent,” Garassk said. “Let’s get going.”

  The light made the rest of the crawl a little easier. It was faint, but it was enough to see where they were going. Not that there was much to look at. The floor was stone, the walls were stone, and the ceiling was stone, none of it standing out in any meaningful way. Clearly, nobody had ever spent enough time down here to decorate it.

  The tunnel eventually led to a larger room, giving the three varanians the space to spread out.

  “Gods, it’s good to be done with that,” Garassk groaned, reveling in the sound of his joints popping as he stretched to get comfortable in their new space. Savrassa set her jar near the entrance, while Rathorn set his down across from hers.

  “That should do it…” Garassk muttered.

  “Now get close, and sleep,” Rathorn grunted. “We’ll have a long journey ahead of us in the morning.”