A Game of Thrones - Winter Chills | AGameOfThrones-WinterChills / Marshend

Hex and Gwendla had, by this time reached the stables.

"Hurry," she urged him. "We must hurry."

Her fear was probably more superstitious than practical - if Thelbane's plan had gone smoothly, they wouldn't have been expected back at the camp for some hours - possible not even until tomorrow.

As they finished checking the saddles and preparing to ride, Hex became aware that Niko was approaching.

"Why must we hurry?" Hex asked quietly. "Did Thelbane say something while you were alone?"

Aware that he had been seen, Niko waited for Hex to acknowledge his presence.

Gwendla shook her head, with some reluctance. "I am just ... afraid," she said at last. "The green sickness in my soul ... "

"Fear is good," Hex replied, as he stepped in to the stirrup and swung up on to the horse. "It sharpens the senses, heart beats faster, air tastes sweeter. Fear is the difference between the quick and the dead, Gwendla."

The Dornish looked over to the approaching warrior. "Greetings, Niko, do you bring word from Master Thorne? Before Gwendla and I leave we should equip ourselves from the fallen. A familiar cloak to match these horses could buy us an extra second when it counts."

"Actually, if you wish it," Niko said, "the Steward has sent more than a word. He wants some credible word brought back to him about the forces that may be arrayed against those of Clearwater. So he has sent me to scout them out, and ride with you if you wish it."

"Thoroughness is a virtue, Niko." Hex replied. "Though perhaps Master Thorne did not intend for you to pass along any concerns he may have as to my credibility. Nonetheless, both your company and assistance are welcome. We would leave immediately, if that suits, for the camp where we left Gwendla's father,"

"Oh," Niko said. "You might be right on that count. Though I fail to see the reason for the deception, truth be told." He shrugged. "But in any case, I am ready to ride as soon as you are, though I would suppose we should obtain some rations for the two of you... How far is the crannog?"

"Three ... perhaps four hours," said Gwendla. "If they stayed where we left them."

"Water, then." Hex said. "And some dried food in case we have to track them, but even if they left immediately after us they'll only have a half day's ride on us." Hex urged the horse forward. "We should still grab cloaks and gear from the fallen to provide some camoflauge."

It didn't take long for them to grab either of these things, though Niko merely packed his procured cloak on the horse rather than immediately putting it on. "I suppose we should lead, and let the woman ride behind and between us," Niko said as he waved goodbye to the comrades he was leaving behind. "If something sudden does happen," he said to Gwendla, "if you hear either of us say 'go' then break to your right, instead of back the way we came."

"Go until you either meet a stream, or come to a clearing, and one of us will try to come for you as soon as possible. But if you hear horses, and don't hear us call for Aerin, it is not us- ride as fast as possible back towards Marshend to tell them what happened. Do not go directly for the road, but angle back towards it- that should let you evade any pursuit. Do you understand?"

At her affirmative, Niko set off, trusting them to form up on him- and Hex to eventually take the lead. They set a good pace- not breakneck by any means, but fast enough to allow them to reach Gwendla's home closer to the three hour than the four hour mark.

Hex continued in companionable silence for a time. After they had forded the stream he asked Niko. "So, do you tutor the lord's daughter?"

"The lord's... Aerin?" Niko asked, surprise registering as he realized who Hex was talking about. "Aerin is not the daughter of Lord Draupaud, but of his Master-at-Arms, Ser Prinksett," he explained. "And I train her in the art of combat- nothing more. The Septa is her tutor."

"A considerable honour to train a master at arm's child." Hex replied. "I mean no offence in asking, but does she train only in the short sword? It seems an unusual choice."

"Certainly I claim no expertise," Hex continued with a smile. "I am sure she is an excellent student and you an excellent tutor. It just seems that from the tournies I've attended, short sword duels often come down to strength of arms. I would have thought she would favour a weapon that extended her reach and played to speed and agility."

"The heavier sword would do her nothing but a disservice- these duels that you saw were most likely little better than butchers hacking at each other," Niko said, trying, but failing, to keep the disdain out of his voice. "But a water dancer does not engage, but seeks the way around, to disable, then dispatch. She uses the heavier sword as is custom her for the nonce- later, we will have a proper Braavosi blade made for her."

"You seem well travelled- have you heard of the Water Dancers from across the waves?"

"Heard of them, certainly." Hex answered. "And one sees the occasional fellow at a tourney calling himself such. A heavier blade for training is clever. One so often sees young soldiers drilling with wooden swords, then surprised at the weight of a steel blade."

"One on one speed and skill may overcome brute strength and plate mail, I suppose." Hex said. "Though I'm not sure that's the way I'd wager real money."

"Against plate mail?" Niko queried, raising one eyebrow. "This one would hope that the fool girl would follow instructions and run in such a case- I know that this would be my course of action if possible." He shrugged, then continued, "But mail has gaps where joints meet, and come together. Arms move, legs walk, spaces are formed and can be used. Against full plate armour? A master forged blade made for penetrating armour or one of Valyrian steel are your only choice."

"But against full plate, one relies too much on strength to breach it- the crushing of the sword rather than the cutting, the speed of the horse to put the lance through, or the sheer power of the crossbow or longbow are the most sure ways of bringing such a one to the earth."

"Valyrian steel is rare enough, I think, not too count on finding such a weapon." Hex replied. "And I've found one can rarely choose how their opponent will present, either arms or armour. Why does Aerin train? Surely not to serve as a soldier in service to the House."

"True enough," Niko said sagely to the first part of Hex's response. "So the best one can do is to prepare oneself to face an opponent with what one has, or to outrun him if that is not enough." He shrugged. "As for Aerin, her father thought it a useful skill, and as Aerin is one to seek things herself if stymied, thought it best that she have instruction." He pondered. "Either that, or he thought that I would deny her the training," he admitted.

"So you were not hired particularly to train her?" Hex asked. "Fathers and daughters ... I can see why he would choose not to train her himself. The scars one acquires in training may last a lifetime, and a father might hesitate to blood his own child. A soldier often comes to appreciate a hard lesson, a daughter might not prove so forgiving."

"No," Niko responded, "it just happened, I suppose. And what about you? You talk as if you have experience in that area?"

"In hard lessons?" Hex replied. "Aye, I've had a few. As to arms and armour, I trust it will not shock you if I suggest that soldiers like to drink, perhaps they cannot afford the finest vintage but a merchant can turn a profit on quantity as often as on quality."

"And they are chatty when they're drunk," Hex finished with a smile.

"Yes," Niko said, his mouth a moue of distaste at some distant memory. "That is surely correct."

He looked towards Hex. "So what is your story? How long have you been a merchant? It seems lonely work... How did you come to such a job?"

"Not so lonely, really. People are always happy to see a wine merchant." Hex answered. "I've been a merchant, well, going on 5 years now. At least that's when I made it formal, before that I was trading this and that for years. Scrounging and haggling, usually while someone else ate at the high table and I dined on the crumbs that were left."

Hex tapped the shield strapped to the side of his horse, the sun of House Martell faded and barely visible.. "I come by this honestly enough, if that's what you were asking. As a young man I served my House, looking for glory as young men do. I learned to polish armour and walk in a straight line.I liked the travelling, didn't care for the food or having to worry that some other young lad looking for glory would find it by running three feet of steel through my gullet."

"Or vice versa, I suppose."

Niko merely nodded. "You do not really strike me as the flower of knighthood," he said.

As they came to a crossroads, Niko asked, "Which way... and how far now?"

"Never a knight, ser." Hex answered. "Nor did I claim to be. I served my House as many do, but I have always worked to earn my keep. We bear to the left now, and not much further."

"I take it House Draupaud was not your home?"

"This one has been in the Free Cities and all around that area since he was eleven. No home have I known for a long time," Niko said, focussed on the road. "How is the home of the woman set up? Are there others besides her sire that are held?"

"When we left with Thelbane, there were two guards and Gwendla's father." Hex replied. "No other prisoners when we left, just a simple camp site. No fortifications, though there were still a number of wine barrels."

"Were the two expecting more? Reinforcements, I mean," Niko responded.

Gwendla was silent, her pale face strained as they rode forwards, letting Hex speak for both of them.

"They gave no indication they were," Hex answered. "And it would have made a fine threat. As I told Thorne, Thelbane said he was serving a new master now, not the Mummers. I suppose his employer could have more than one team in the field, though I don't know how they could find one another."

"This one fears he did not obtain the correct impression," Niko said, thinking. "This one thought that Thelbane was still with the Mummers, not under someone else. In this case, a lot of the assumptions made are faulty- why was the Steward so concerned about others- that seems to make no sense to me. Was he planning to join up with someone else after Marshend?"

Gwendla looked at Hex without speaking, clearly crediting him with greater knowledge of Thelbane's likely plans.

Hex sighed in frustration. "I just don't know," he answered. "I tried to gain as much information as I could while we travelled together, but whenever I got close to learning something useful Thelbane would slide away. All I can say is that Thelbane told me he no longer was in the employ of the Mummers, a few of his men were former Mummers as well but not all."

"They wore a new sigil which I didn't recognize. He was tasked with finding a woman with wolves, though he would not tell me why or who was so interested in finding her they would pay a bounty." Hex continued. "They found me at an inn near the Neck, though whether they sought me out or stumbled across me I cannot say. Offered me silver to guide them, and also help track the wolf woman. I refused to track, frankly fearing to be alone with them too long and that I would make a convenient scapegoat if they couldn't find their quarry. But took their silver as he said if I did not they would follow me in any event."

"On our way north, Gwendla and her father offered us shelter from a storm brewing in the crannog lands. The next day Thelbane was determined to kill them as possible witnesses, perhaps, or just because that is his way."

"I convinced him, or at least told him, that the crannogs would be useful as guides in the Fens and the area around here." Hex paused, and then continued. "I also said that I could sell them as slaves once we were far enough North. Whether he believed that or simply brought them as hostages against my continued co-operation once we reached the Long Lake...well, I am now uncertain. At the time I thought I had him fooled, but I'm not sure if I can pass as a slave trader."

"I had planned to create a scene in Marshend sufficient to attract the attention of the town guards or constabulary, counting that Thelbane would abandon us rather than risk greater scrutiny. When we crossed your path, I moved the plan up as I thought it likely Thelbane would try to capture Aerin -- a shadowcat being as good as a wolf, or because the dogs could have grown to wolves in the re-telling."

Niko thought for a long moment, watching the scenery race by as they continued their journey. "So... Thelbane. He is not really the leader, or the threat. Huh."

After a moment he continued. "And the others- they were just a bad coincidence."

He looked askance at Hex. "So you- you knew Thelbane before. What is your part in this? And why do you risk so much- leaving your livelihood behind for the woman and her father?"

"I was bringing my wine north in any event, and I have not abandoned it only taken a slight detour." Hex answered. "Thelbane lead those men, and that was the threat that concerned me. Though if Catriona is the woman they seek, Thelbane is only the paw and not the cat itself."

"Thelbane had money to throw at me, far too much for a simple task. Which suggests his employer has even more. Did the group that attacked you earlier wear a common sigil?" Hex asked. "If not, I would be reluctant to dismiss two disparate groups seeking the same woman, or a woman of the same description, in such a small area as coincidence. Were your attackers local? Thelbane and his men came a great distance. Again suggesting an employer with wealth to extend his reach. But why neither group knew their target's name is a mystery."

"The description of the lady hunter suggests what? That the one who seeks her doesn't know her name, else why not reveal it and make the hunt all the easier. She is hunted not because of who she is, but something she has done." Hex was lost in the puzzle. "Something someone saw her do, someone who also does not know her name. Which suggests the observer was not local, as how many lady hunters who carry a brace of longswords and travel in the company of wolves can there be? Even in the north, a local would know her or of her."

"None of which, frankly, is my concern." Hex said with a smile that was half apology for his ramblings. "Neither, I suppose, was the well being of Gwendla and her father. But it cost me only breath to bargain for their safety, a small enough price to pay for additional time, Or so I thought at the time."

"Tell me truly, if you will, Niko of the Free Cities, what would you have done? Six armed men intent on murder, and the old man under the blade as you speak with Thelbane? I have dwelled on my actions many times on the long ride," Hex said. "And still I don't know what I would have done differently."

Niko looked off into the distance even as he considered Hex's words. "Truly, this one does not think that the problem has any easy answers. What can be said is the fact that the woman and her father were fortunate that you were the one that held their lives in your hand. I have always been taught it is better not to second-guess a man in a situation, for you never know what you would do until put in his place."

"A wise philosophy," Hex answered. "Though not particualrly helpful in the circumstances. Have you given any thoughts to how we will deal with Thelbane's men and rescue the old man? I tend to favour stealth over direct confrontation, however I do not have your skills with the sword."

Gwendla looked hopefully at Niko.

"Well," Niko began, thinking. "Superior intelligence is always preferable to superior skill at arms."

"In other words, it makes sense to see what we are facing before we attack. Any ideas how we make this happen?" he said.

"Only that we examine the camp from a distance before engaging, and I can likely come up with a trick or two for that." Hex answered. "We'll need to hold outside of sight, and likely approach covertly on foot."

Niko nodded mute agreement as they continued the ride in silence.

Distance multiplied by time equalled speed. Hex reflected on the lesson passed on to him by his cousin as he slid a few feet further along on his belly.

The trio of riders had reached a point just before they would be able to see the camp where Gwendla and Hex had last seen the Mummers and the girl's father. Hex had opted to proceed alone on foot, at least at first,.

Before dropping to the ground and advancing at a crawl he had taken the time to roll his cloak in mud and fix some small leaves and twigs to the back.He had left the sword he liberated from one of Thelbane's men back with te horses, along with his shield.

His bow and quiver were as much a part of his body as his hands and remained. The bow now held in front of him string slightly elevated to avoid any dampness in the ground, the quiver slung low on his back and fixed to his belt. Hex had considered briefly, and then left a dagger tucked in to his high riding boots.

Years on the battlefield had taught the dornishman that sharp edges and bow strings were a bad combination. But the bow would be litle help if he stumbled across a far ranging guard.

Hex had positioned himself so the sun was to his back, and he came to a slow stop as he reached a mid-sized puddle. Distance multiplied by time equals speed. His cousin Rhys had used the formula to explain some obscure point about the efficiencies of sending letters by raven.

But Hex had taken a different lesson. The distance between you and your goal dictated how quickly one could move and still appear motionless. Separated from his rangers Hex had once spent a day and a half crossing a field to to reach an enemy camp.

After pausing to allow himself to blend in with the ground around him, Hex slowly reached a hand down to a belt pouch and slowly brought up what appeared to be a number of leather cups, each slighly smaller than the next, some holow, some capped.

Hex looked again towards the campsite and estimated the distance. He removed the leather caps from the base of two of the cups, revealing the polished glass lenses gifted by Rhys. The pieces fit together snugly, and Hex spent a moment sliding two of the segments with lenses into either side of a hollow tube.

Hex raised the tube slightly above ground level and used both hands to adjust the distance between the lenses by moving the "cups' further in or out of the hollow tube until the site of the camp came into focus. He hoped the sun at his back would reduce the likelihood of reflections from the glass lens, or that any such gleam would be pased off as light reflecting from the water in front of him.

As he studied the campsite, he again marvelled at his cleverness of his cousin's wisdom.

He could see a small camp. There seemed to be two men there - an older man, who appeared to be peeling a root vegetable, and a younger man, a bow by his knee, who was carefully checking the fletching of his arrows.

Hex paused a moment to see if any other figures came in to view, and to scan the remainder of the camp for additional blankets, kits, weapons, or food that would suggest additional occupants. He took a further moment to check for weapns beyond the bow near the young man, and to note any distinctive markings or movements in either man to describe to Niko and Gwendla on his return.

He then began the slow process of returning the far eyes to his belt pouch and withdrawing back to his companions.

In response to Niko's query about information, Hex had rejoined that he would go scout. It was quite possible that he expected objections- after all, Niko was young, and wanted to be in the action, not sitting, waiting for someone else to return. But the calm, rational way that Niko enumerated the reasons that both should go was most likely not what he expected. Niko had been a soldier for almost half of his life. Which at the ripe old age of seventeen was saying something.

His first objection was that he was there to scout for Steward Thorne. Not as a bodyguard, nor in a fighting capacity, unless it became necessary.

His second objection was a maxim that the Wall had taught him- that two groups approaching a problem were more likely to be successful than one.

The third objection, however, came from Gwendla. Though she was female, she was not shy and retiring. Perhaps not of Catriona's mettle, but she was no victim. And she didn't need someone guarding her.

So it was that Niko circled the camp, looking for guards, outriders, or anything unwelcome, even while Hex moved in directly to get a better look at the camp itself. Though he had more ground to cover, he would be at a distance from the camp, so could move faster. He almost silently took off into the underbrush, his ambient noise almost nil as he raced through the vegetation around the camp. It appeared that whatever Hex found in the camp would be all that they had to deal with, for the area was as silent as he was, only broken up by the sounds of nature.

So it was that he returned before his counterpart, stepping from the brush with such stealth that he saw Gwendla was startled by his appearance.

"Sorry," he said, grudging in his words as he drew closer, not wanting to have to explain his circuit twice. He knelt beside the horses, watching, waiting for Hex to return.

Shaking the worst of the camoflauge off his cloak, Hex walked back to his companions. On arrival he advised Gwendla and Niko of all that he had observed.

"It appears that Thelbane considered the continued search more important than this location, for no guards patrolled the surrounding area," Niko said. "What awaits us at the camp?"

"I only saw two men, the youner working on fletching for arrows with the bow near to hand. " Hex replied. "I could not discern whether the older man was your father, Gwendla. No sign of the others we left behind, though they may have been on patrol."

"But why such a far ranging patrol," Niko asked, "leaving only the two? No, I think that no more are in the area." He cocked his head, looking at Hex. "Are you any good with that bow? If so, I'd recommend that I circle around. Then you fire a few arrows to pin them down, while I take them unawares from the rear. That is, unless you had a better plan."

"If I am to loose from the front, I'd suggest you approach from a flank." Hex replied. "The arrows tend to fly where I aim, but I'd as soon not risk it provided you would still have adequate cover on your approach. If Gwendla can rig a sling, we would have the camp crossed between our fire."

Niko nodded. "Right rear flank then," he said.

"If they've not heard from Thelbane, one or the other of us may be able to ride straight into camp. Though either way Gwendla shoud stay with you, as Thelbane would not send me back unescorted with one hostage to retrieve the other." The dornish continued with a rueful smile. "But perhaps that would add a needless complication. I fear after spending so much time with those rogues travelling north that I find it difficult to think in a straight line."

Niko again nodded, but slower this time as he was deep in thought. "One more thing- did you *see* the hostages?"

"The old man must be my father," said Gwendla. "There were no others with the guards."

"So... Wait," Niko said. "This one is very confused at this point. We have one guard- a boy, barely blooded by the sound of him," he said, unaware of how strange this seemed coming from his mouth, "and the hostage." He looked from Gwendla to Hex. "For all that Thelbane is, he did not seem the buffoon- would he have truly left him guarded so?"

Gwendla shook her head, perplexed. "We did not leave them so. Something must have happened ... "

"Something may have happened to them while we were at the cottage," Hex replied. "Though Thelbane is normally the sort of thing that happens to other people."

"An arrow loosed by a boy will kill as easily as one from a veteran," Hex offered to Niko. "Though I'll grant that the boy may hesitate." Turning to Gwendla, Hex asked. "Would your father try to overpower the guard if he was just a boy, or would he remain bound by the threat that hung over you when we left?"

Gwendla shook her head. "He would be too afraid of risking my life," she said firmly.

"So," Niko responded, "perhaps we need him ... Alive? To question about the forces in the area, and any instructions he had been given?"

"I'd not risk harm to the old man, Niko," Hex replied. "Thelbane gave those instructions, and your steward may have the truth from him. I would not see the old man cut only to learn from the boy that he was told to stay here and wait for further orders. But if you can capture the youth, I'll not go out of my way to end him."

"Oh, no. I did not mean for the sake of information we should spare him, but intelligence on the forces in the area. I would hate to be caught unawares by troops on our way back. But, as you will," Niko conceded easily enough.

Gwendla listened intently, and then looked up at Hex.

"And so, we split our forces once again. One a distraction, the other ready to assault from concealment?" Hex asked.

"Yes," Niko said, "and with further thought on it, I will be the distraction. You stand out of sight with Gwendla and your bow. As I draw the boy out, you take him down with your bow. If you can take him alive, do it. If not, so be it. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Hex replied. "Give us time to circle around and get in place, I can signal you with a flash when we're ready. I should say, a cloth yard arrow and broad head tip are more likely to kill than not. I can try to wound, but I'll not risk a miss to be clever."

Hex thought for a moment, and then added. "Perhaps if you are close enough to him you should try to knock the guard out and if you cannot, or judge it unwise, signal me to loose. Removing your helmet, or holding your arm up could stand as a signal and not appear too threatening to the boy."

Niko winced. "I can see ways that can go wrong. If I do not approach him, but stand off, he is yours. If I close on him, I am taking him."

"And what shall I do?" asked Gwendla. "He is my father."

"For that, I leave you in the hands of Hex- he will tell you what he needs," Niko said, nodding to the merchant. And then he was off into the woods.

As Niko disappeared, Hex replied to Gwendla. "Your father will need to see and hear you to know it is alright to abandon his guard. Once we're in position, the two of us should separate a bit so that your father can see you are no longer a prisoner and also to give your sling a slightly different angle than my arrows."

"We should start moving now. We can still speak for awhile, try to speak in low tones but don't whisper." Hex finished. "Nothing stands out more than a whisper."

Gwendla nodded - her own experience of life in the marshes having no doubt taught her the truth of this. She twisted up her skirt so it should not impede her, and then followed him silently.

"In the forest, there's always a sound to betray you. In the city, always a reflection." Hex said conversationaly. He hoped to keep the crannog as relaxed as possible. the dornish had said, and believed, that fear could be your greatest friend. but nervous energy lead to error.

"Once we are in place, and Niko has made his move you will need to call your grandfather to you. When we first met, or best to say immediately before, I thought the two of you used animal calls to signal one another. Is there one that would bring him immediately?" Hex asked. "It might buy us an extra second or two. "

Gwendla looked at him, and smiled slightly. "I have a way," she said. "A way that will be safe for both of us."

Once the pair reached the point the Dornish believed their voices could carry to the archer and his prisoner, Hex and Gwendla continued in silence. Step by step they traveled to within easy bow range of the camp. Hex stopped from time to time to consider their position. Finally satisfied, he turned to Gwendla and with a series of hand gestures indicated that she should stay in place and keep her eyes on the camp. When he was sure that she understood, he then indicated that he would would move to a flanking position. With a slow pantomime he communicated that they should both stay put until Hex stood with his bow in hand.

Certain that Gwendla understood, though less certain that she would restrain herself if the older crannog was threatened, Hex continued slowly to his own position, moving in a half crouch when possible, crawling when it was not.

It is the strangest of skills, to appear benign, but hold lethal action so close to the surface that it can be called with only a moment's notice. Niko knew that the best chance of making sure that there were no surprises from Thelbane in store for them lay in taking the young man alive, with as little danger to the hostage as possible. But to get close enough to do so, he was going to have to appear not to be a threat, and he couldn't do that without letting down his defenses somewhat- or at least appearing to. And that he was neither used to or comfortable with.

But now, after taking almost half an hour to circle away from Hex and Gwendla, he was on the cusp of having to do so. He had taken position just in visual range of where he knew that his compatriots stood, amd waited within cover for them to signal him, both anticipating and dreading it...

Suddenly, a crow rose from the marsh and flew up, cawing. The old man dropped the vegetable he was peeling, and the young man guarding him leapt to his feet, startled, gazing up after the crow.

The old man cried out, "Gwendla!" and the youth swung, startled, to look at him.

With an almost silent curse, Niko began to pick up his pace, loping in a tightening arc towards the youth's back, attempting to stay low and out of his line of sight as he approached the camp.

As the crow leapt up, Hex froze in place half crouched over. His bow was held low and parallel to the ground. The old man would be looking for his granddaughter's shape, the youth searching for a threat. Hex hoped his sillhouette resembled neither. He slowly shifted his eyes away from the camp, keeping them in his periperhal vision. Hex was not a superstitious man, but he had felt the eyes of innumerable sentries pass over him as surely as if they had reached out and physically touched him.

As Niko suggested, the youth might not be an experienced soldier. But Hex had recruited a hundred like him for his rangers, farm boys hunting to feed the family experienced enough to keep hidden from prey and competing with the other predators in the forest.

But the boy at the camp seemed to be the only one, judging by the panicked look he shot around. Then his eye fell on the old man and he raced towards him, clearly alarmed enough to intend to grab and hold him as a hostage.

Hex kept his bow down and parallel to the ground, but added some tension to the nocked arrow. The dornish intended to allow Niko time to make a move, but would loose his arrow to take down the young guard before he layed hands on the old man.

Niko picked up speed, running as fast as he was able over the broken ground, intending to intercept the youth if Hex wasn't able to feather him first.

Niko was closing the ground rapidly - and it seemed he would catch the boy before he reached the old man.

Gwendla had risen to her feet, perhaps the better to see. But then she let out a cry of warning, and dived down again.

On the skyline, on the road that led from Marshend, five men were riding - towards the small camp.

Niko noticed the men almost as soon as Gwendla let out her cry, and his mind instantly began to work, even as he kept on a vector towards the boy. Finally, realizing that they needed to get out of the area as fast as possible, he yelled to Hex, "Cover the riders!" Even as he prepared to take the boy down more fiercely than he had planned, using the edge of his blade rather than the flat, then get the old man out of the camp.

Hex stood and turned to face the oncoming riders. He raised his bow to a ready position and calculated the distance.

"We have the answer to your question," Hex called back to Niko. "Finish up, I'll try to draw them to me." The dornishman drew the string on his bow back until the arrow's fletching touched his ear. He lifted the bow until the arrow was at a forthy five degree angle to the marshy ground, pushed the bow away from his body, and held aim to give Niko time to work.

Hex exhaled, and in the heartbeat before the next breath loosed the arrow. The dornish drew a second arrow from his quiver, nocked and let fly before the first had dropped into the riders.

Drawing a third, he called out towards mounted men. "Hey, you w horesons! Come to find old Hex, have you? Did Darcy send you lovely boys? Bit hard to understand with an arrow through his throat, hey?"

Hex lowered the bow a few degrees and noted the results of his last volley before pushing the bow away from his body and loosing yet again.

The boy heard the shout - glanced to one side and then the other - and then sprinted off towards the riders.

Knowing he'd have to face the boy at some time or another, Niko ran him down without mercy, and though he swung at him with the flat of the blade, did so hard enough that he wasn't sure if he would survive.

The boy went down with a scream that stopped short.

And he stayed down.

"Take the shot! We need to thin them out before they get here!" Niko said, turning back towards Hex.

This was not good, Niko thought, looking around. No cover, and he and Hex were pretty much split up. Hopefully Hex could get off two shots, at the least. And not just shots, but telling hits. Only then was Niko decently confident of victory.

Not really wanting to leave the man, and knowing that if he didn't, his chances of survival were much less, Niko had a hard decision to make. But make it he did, planning to run as fast as he could towards Hex and Gwendla... and the riders.

Hex exhaled, and in the heartbeat before the next breath loosed the arrow. The dornish drew a second arrow from his quiver, nocked and let fly before the first had dropped into the riders.

Hex lowered the bow a few degrees and noted the results of his last volley before pushing the bow away from his body and loosing yet again.

Hex's first two shots flew true - and what was more, he aimed them carefully so that they struck those riders whose fall did most damage to the untidy bunch they were riding in.

Indeed, seeing his intention, they had already endeavoured to divide ... but his arrows caught them too soon (at least, as far as they were concerned, for the arrows brought down two, and their own riding brought down two more.

Niko smiled grimly, raising his sword in salute to Hex even as he raced past him, towards the other rider. He pulled up short, waiting the rider calmly, his second sword out, his shield swung onto his back while running. Breathing slowly, he regarded the rider, and if the man did indeed ride towards him, planned to jump out the way at the last moment, parrying with one blade while cutting the horse down with the other.

Hex shifted the bow yet again and methodically loosed arrows into the fallen riders. The dornish had seen enough of the Steward's captain to trust that Niko would quickly dispatch the sole remaining mount and further loath to loose into a melee unless his young companion was hard pressed.

The rider tried to swerve, but Niko was too fast for him, swerving as the rider had swerved, and then leaping to bring the man from his saddle.

Gwendla had risen and raced forward too - but her target had been the old man. Now she knelt beside him in the dirt, her arms around him as she watched Niko and Hex finishing off their foes.

Seeing that Hex had killed all the rest of their opponents, and wanting to know more about the circumstances of their arrival, Niko pounded the man with the pommel of his blade until unconsciousness set in.

After checking to make sure the man was indeed alive, he got to his feet and dragged the body over towards the merchant. "This one is still alive- we can question him about why exactly they were sent," he said.

Hex had lowered the bow to port arms, but kept watch on the downed riders for any sign of movement. He shifted his eyes to Niko and said. "How exactly they were meant to kill us, you mean?"

The dornishman sighed, and then continued. "Thelbane will be gone by now, and he would not have shared much with the likes of these. Still, I suppose, your Steward may appreciate the opportunity to ask some questions. Bound, gagged, blindfolded and strapped across the back of one of these horses, the ride back will soften him up a bit and time to wonder what awaits him."

Hex kept his eyes on the fallen riders as he called out. "Gwendla, how fares your man?"

"I'm well enough," returned the man, with more vigour than he had shown throughout the journey - it seemed that his decrepitude had been largely assumed for protective reasons. "How did you get free - and free Gwendla? And where's that b@stard Thelbane?"

Tying up their captive, Niko left it to Hex to respond to the Old Man's query. After tying up the bandit he knew was alive, Niko checked on the boy, to see if he had any hope of recovery.

"Deception and violence led to our freedom," Hex answered. "I'd wager at least one of whom is no stranger to you, 'old man.' We left Thelbane near Marshend under the guard of the local steward. By now he's either escaped or been killed in the attempt. And what news do you have since last we met?"

"Shortly after you left, some others rode up," said the older man. "They were looking for Thelbane - they felt it was urgent enough to ride to Marshend to find him. The others here went with them - all but the boy trhat they left to guard me."

"How many men?" Hex asked. "And how soon after? I did not notice anyone following us on the journey north. Did it seem this was a prearranged meeting? That their arrival was expected?"

"There were five of them," said the old man. "From the way they spoke, I think there were more close at hand - or expected. I'm not sure if they followed us notrh ... there were several parties who went north before you - but they could have landed at White Harbour ...

"And they all seemed surprised to see one another - but several of each group were known to one another - they mentioned the King's Wars ... "

Hex had been uncharacteristically silent as the old man's words sank in. Five man squads, travelling separately but with enough organization behind them to arrive nearly simulaneously.

Hex himself had used a similar structure with his own raiders when tasked by the Companions on deep strikes into enemy territory to disrupt supplies and sap the foe's morale. Hex had set a captain to each squad who would memorize maps, or at least the portions relevant to their own task. He further briefed them with only enough information to complete their assignment, limiting the damage that could be done if one or more was captured. As often as not, Hex would include erroneous or contradictory elements in the captains' briefings to further confuse an enemy interrogator.

The men they had faced at the cottage and here on the fens were disciplined, a factor often more important in troops than raw talent or skill. Particularly in a large campaign. They had fallen easily enough to Hex's arrows and the young Niko's swords, but that told Hex little. He had rarely seen a man as deadly with the sword as Niko, and the arrows would have felled an experienced soldier or rookie farmhand equally. What was most telling, the dornishman felt, was that their enemy had continued to advance even after their companions fell dead at their feet.

Hex had aimed his shafts with deliberation, seeking to drop the centre of the advancing force. Erasing the centre of the column created two unconnected units, reducing the numeric superiority of force on force. With unexperienced or undisciplined troops the tactic usually induced panic, the tailing group would freeze in place or turn aside.

Not so today.

It seemed each of the squads had moved north, likely organized from a central point in the south. But that told him little enough. Like Hex's own tactics, it could simply be a way to introduce disinformation. A northern lord or other master would be wise to recruit from the south to divert suspicion. As, perhaps, Thelbane had reruited a dornish.

If Hex was correct, the farm boy would yield little useful information. Thelbane's seeming coyness might have cloaked only actual ignorance, and anything he surrendered under blade or cudgel could have been planted solely to confuse or mislead the interrogator.

Niko had been as silent as Hex, though for different reasons. As he saw to the boy, it was obvious that he was near enough to his own age, and it was the first time he had seen death in such since his dream quest so long ago. That face had been his, and it was his that he saw superimposed over the boy. The deaths of adults he dealt with better- after all, he had little enough in common with them as to remind him that the spectre lurked so closely to him. But the boy... though he was not dead, he was near enough. Niko had used the flat of the blade, but had not pulled the blow, leading the boy to fall hard to the ground. That would have been bad enough, but turning him over, the blood at his temple told the tale of just how roughly he had come into contact with a rock on the ground. Heads were not made for such treatment, and Niko doubted the boy would survive. If he did... well, Niko had seen enough that survived such a trauma to know that he wouldn't want to live if such happened to him.

He shivered, and not from the cold.

He had given the mercy stroke to many a man in his few years- friend and foe alike. He had just done so with one of the bandits in Marshend. But pulling his knife from it's sheath, he felt the caress of the steel as vividly as if the blade was on his own chest.

He remembered the first time. The Wall had made him do it. "Easy enough to kill a man when the heat of battle is upon you. But to grant mercy afterwards- that's where the real warrior comes out. Some would say it's cold blooded, but if a man's pricked in the bowels, or worse- it's mercy that he'll see your steel as."

His vision blurred, and he realized that tears were on his face, warm and wet. He'd not cried since...

He shook his head angrily. What was this? He'd have killed the old man. That's why he was there. But in his heart he knew that wasn't why the tears had come.

One quick thrust, up through the heart, and it was done.

The tears weren't for the boy. They were for him.

But the boy was who they had. "How is the boy?" Hex called to Niko. Turning towards the crannogs, Hex asked. "Gwendla, can you spare a moment to see to his wounds? I know you'll have little sympathy, and fairly so, but I'd as soon the boy liv..." Hex stopped, and changed course in mid-stream. "Be healthy enough to tell us his tale. After months on the road with himself we know little enough about their purpose."

Wiping his nose and eyes, Niko finished by wiping the blade on the boy's clothes. "He is done," Niko called back. Then in a softer voice said, "This one is done," as he dragged himself to his feet, walking back towards Hex and the others.

"And if your man is still spry enough after an afternoon sitting on a log thinking deep thoughts," Hex continued. "He can lend a hand securing these horses and disposing of the..."

"And with the disposal," Hex finished awkwardly.

Hex had noted the knife, and Niko reaction, but held his tongue. The boy was salty enough, and Hex wouldn't second guess his decision. "Then perhaps, Gwendla, you two can calm the horses. Check their legs, I wouldn't be surprised if there's a few sprains. Niko and I will attend to the others." Hex's eyes scanned the camp and the horses tack looking for a spade or some other tool that would do the work in a pinch.

"What about the other one?" he asked. "If you want to put him to the question immediately, this one is more than sure he could wake him..."

"Bind him first," Hex replied. "And we'll drag him along with the others. Waking up in such circumstances may focus his mind." Hex left unsaid that he would rather put the question away from the eyes of the crannogs. If Niko had spent time among the dothraki, and Hex had no reason to doubt the boy's word on that point, he'd not shy away if things got bloody.

The dornish thought he had left such things far behind him, but it came back readily enough in Marshend. Hex had ridden North with Thelbane, and loosed the arrows to save the crannogs. Perhaps a colder Hex than he had seen in many years, but when the steel came out a man needed some ice in his veins.

But it had been the Beast that asked the Steward for his hammer with Thelbane bound at his feet. And it was the Beast that would be bloody to his elbows if the survivor had anything to say worth hearing.

Gwendla looked at Hex and started to speak. But perhaps she saw something in his face that gave her pause, for she suddenly turned away and moved to her father instead.

"Come," she said. "Let's see to the horses."

As they went, she looked back over her shoulder at Hex and Niko - but primarily at Hex. Her expression was hard to read.

Their prisoner was still deeply unconscious.

Niko busied himself with tying the prisoner up with the corpses, arraying them in a row and binding their legs together so that they laid five across, the prisoner the second rather than being in the middle. That done, he laid their arms above them, binding them tight, and searched them for any extraneous objects... money, weapons, orders... anything that would be of use.

That done, he laid them in the middle of the path, a horse bound about 10 feet from their feet, and tied rope from their feet to the horse's harness. After placing a rock beneath the man furthest from them, he placed a stick un the rock, creating a rude fulcrum, out of sight of the prisoner's line of vision. He then checked his bindings again, and after he was certain that the prisoner and the corpses were firmly held, crouched over the prisoner, and placed his hand over the man's face, his middle finger held as tautly as a bowstring by his thumb. Lowering it to the prisoner's eye, he thumped him in the eye with all of the force he could muster, careful not to do any permanent damage, but hard enough to rouse him from any unconsciousness his beating had sent him to. If a man was ever going to come back from the dark, this was a certain way to make him do it immediately in Niko's experience.

The man came awake with a bloodcurdling scream - loud enough to set the horses in a panic.

Quickly bringing the knife to play, Niko held it in the place where his finger had been- right above his captive's eye. Bringing his other finger to his lips, he said, "Shhhh... the others are sleeping."

 And then he moved out of the way, so that the man could see that he

was among his comrades.

"Someone will be along in a moment. He will ask you some questions. You will answer."

He paused, allowing what he had said to sink in.

"Or. This one will return. With his knife. And drag all of the corpses into the woods."

With that, he turned away, to move to where Hex was.

The man watched him go, terror in his face.

Hex spoke softly, Niko standing beside him. "I care only if the crannogs are safe and that I may continue about my business without concern over further assault." Hex said. "But I will need to be certain that he has told me the truth. If he is deceitful, or tries to delay, the questions will need to be put with..." Hex paused. "Great vigour."

"Will your steward want to know more?" He asked the younger man. "We may not have the opportunity to ask them later. Once I begin, it's important he see only one face and hear one voice." Hex glanced at Niko. "That's why Thelbane didn't talk, too many voices. Too many distractions, he thought one of us ... them ... would save him. Or to turn us against one another."

The dornish pointed with his chin. "That one must know in his heart that there is only me alone that can save him."

"This is already the impression this one has given unto him," Niko said gravely. "Any information that you can retrieve from him would be helpful to the Steward, this one is sure. As he plans to leave the Draupaud son there in relative anonymity, it would be meet to find out if Marshend is in any immediate danger."

Hex walked slowly towards the bound man. The dornish dropped to his haunches beside the man, looking into his eyes. Hex slowly pulled a leather riding glove from his hand and touched a finger to his lips. "Shhh, now. First you listen. You are nothing to me. I can leave you here in a shallow grave with the other bodies, or cut those ropes and leave you loose on the road. It means nothing to me, I will forget you before I've travelled half a mile."

"I want you to tell me some things, but there are dozens that know the answers and my friends and I can take one of them as easily as we took you." Hex pulled a short knife from his boot and examined the blade. "You are nothing to me, and I'll not waste this day while you stammer and stutter your way through transparent lies" The dornish tested the blade with his thumb. "There are graves to be dug and I've not yet broke my fast."

Hex looked to the blade, as if uncertain of the edge. "Now listen. This is no game, I'll not trick the truth from you nor do you walk free when the music stops. I will only ask you two times. The first time you try to deceive me, I will stop talking."

Hex tested the blade again with his thumb, then slowly drew the blade down his own forearm. Blood seeped out of the dornish's arm, the path of the blade traced in crimson. Hex's face kept the same look of disinterest it had since he began speaking, his eyes stared unblinking into those of the bound man. "I will stop talking, and I will begin to work on you. First I'll gag you, and then the knife until I tire of it."

Hex placed the flat of the blade on the man's lips, now wet with blood. "And then I will loose the gag and ask you a second time. Lie to me again, the gag goes on. And I go back to work. But this time, son, this time I will not stop. You will beg to tell me all you know, but it will be too late."

"You are nothing to me."

Hex plucked the sigil from the man's cloak. He held it before the man's eyes, then slid the blade off the man's lips. "Let us start with something easy. Something I may have heard from a hundred whores or bar keeps. What is this symbol?"

Hex leaned in such that he was almost whispering to the bound soldier. From the vantage of Niko and the crannogs the conversation between the two men appeared intimate. At one point, Hex's hand rested on the bound man's abdomen eliciting a scream shocking in the silent fen.

The conversation continued, interrupted only one further time as the dornishman rocked back on his heels. Ignoring the soldier, he cut a strip of cloth from one of the dead men's cloaks, tying a knot in the middle of the cloth. Turning back to the bound man, Hex made to fasten the make shift gag over the struggling man's mouth only to relent and allow the conversation to continue.

Finally, Hex held up a hand and quickly fastened the gag. Standing, he returned to Niko. The dornish cleared his throat, spitting at the ground to try and clear the acidic taste from his mouth. "If you have no objections, I'd just as soon tell my story once. Let's join the crannogs."

Niko nodded, following Hex as they joined the others.

Once Niko and Hex had joined the other two, Hex began speaking. "His name is Vine," Hex reported. "And he is much as he appears, a farm boy from the Barrows. He was employed by a minor offshoot of the Freys to help a group of men who called themselves the Stranger's Lost Hounds."

Hex paused to see if the name meant anything to his companions before continuing.

Gwendla hook her head. The old man looked blank.

"He was hired directly by Temmet Frey. Along with a group of about twenty - they're camped two miles to the South of here. Vine rode up to the the inn at the southern end of Marshend with three of the others. Once there they met some of the Brave Companions looking for Thelbane, who does seem to be the master of that group. Under the guise of helping, two of the Companions rode with Vine here."

Hex looked to Niko as he said. "It would seem they have no particular interest in Marshend, and as far as Vine knows neither do the Companions. They were heading for the Ghost Fens to meet someone. The Companions told Vine they'd pay him and let him on his way before they reached the Fens. The Companions seem to be well paid, with silver readily available to them."

Looking back to the crannogs, Hex continued. "He knows nothing of Gwendla or I, only that the Companions told him they had hostages."

"Well," Niko said, slowly, "it would appear that our business here is finished, and this one should be back to inform the Steward." He looked back towards the bound man. "After certain things are taken care of." Looking back towards the assembled three, he said frankly, "It would be better if none returned, than one with a story of being captured. And this one has no inclination to trust one that rode with the Brave Companions- knowingly or not."

"It would also seem to place you two," he said indicating Gwendla and her father, "in undue danger. But I will leave it to all to decide- do we end him now? Or let him free?"

"End him now," said the old man hoarsely. The more of the vermin wiped out, the better."

Gwendla simply looked to Hex.

"Which vermin?" Hex replied. "Men with swords? Farm boys? Tis true you're safer if he's dead. And also true it's of little consequence to me." The dornish looked to Niko. "Your man Thorne did not seem one to shrink from a difficult task. It's a short ride to bring him back for trial."

"One for summary execution," Hex nodded to the old man. "And one abstention," the dornish nodded to Niko. "I'd hear your thoughts, Gwendla, before I cast my lot."

Gwendla was silent for a moment, and then she looked straight up at Hex.

"Steward Thorne saved our lives by believing and trusting us. I say we trust him to decide what to do with this one."

"Steward Thorne did his best to leave us at the ford," Hex answered. 'No offense meant, friend Niko. And the vote stands two for trial, one for death to vermin with your own to decide the matter, as should you vote for death I'll hardly cross swords to dissuade you."

Hex's eyes met Gwendla's, then dropped to the short knife still bare in his hand. Gesturing with the blade, he said. "Not to worry, the blood is all mine."

She bit her lip. "Your blood, or blood on your hands?" she said quietly.

Then she looked at Niko, waiting for his answer.

"This one has seen many men like that one," Niko began, looking back towards the one on the ground, nodding towards him. He looked back towards the trio before him, his eyes older than his years, but his voice filled with the assurance of youth. "What makes them good or bad as this one has seen is not choice, but circumstance. He doesn't seem a bad sort, not to this one, but his circumstances made him such, with him choosing nothing to distinguish himself from them. Such is his life and death. That one is alive because of circumstance- not providence or justice. If he had been positioned differently, Hex would have feathered him, and there would be another in his place. If we had not needed him alive, this one would not have taken the chance to leave him so. He has left his life in the hands of others, and is not likely to change that in the future."

"As for Steward Thorne, he will have little but hearsay for evidence, and out of combat, little for authority for summary execution. It would be no boon we would be doing for him, bringing this one back." He shrugged, thinking of Derron's response, and not really knowing what to make of it.

"But I said nothing on the matter for a reason," he said at last. "Four is likely to make a stalemate, no matter what else it is called, three makes a decision one way or another. And it has been made. Two for trial, one for death." He nodded to the three. "This one will bind him over."

Turning, he went to begin to separate the fellow from his mates, and prepare him on one of the remaining horses for the road back to Marshend, adding a blindfold and gag in the process.

Hex turned to join Niko, and paused. Without looking back to Gwendla, he said. "Blood enough. Of both kind. And with your pardon, mi'lady, I'll see to the bodies."

The dornish joined Niko and began to strip the saddles from any mounts that would travel without a rider. One horse might pass as another, pack animals or spares for riders on a long journey. But a small group travelling with a string of saddled mounts would linger in an observer's memory.

Hex made a flicking motion with his hand, the short handled knife stuck deep in the turf. Crouching down, he retrieved it and wiped the blade clean against his leather trews. He drew a short handled spade from one of the soldier's saddle bags, and gestured. "I'll leave them yonder, buried deep. Sing out if you see any one on the road before I'm done."

Never one to shirk hard work, Niko nodded, but added, "This one can spell you when the job is half-done." As he watched the road, he said to Hex, "Would you want to offer them at least one of the horses? It would seem that they could use it for a pack animal if nothing else, since we must take the one the woman used back to the Septa."

"The horses?" Hex asked, and the glanced back quickly at Gwendla and the old man. Turning back to Niko, the dornishman continued. "Yes, of course. I suppose I just assumed ... I think I will be more focussed on retrieving my cart than troubled with horses. The boy said the soldiers were well coined. Did you find any on the bodies?"

Hex held up his hands in a placating gesture, not wanting to offend the younger man, and concluded. "I make no claim if there is, only the markings one the coins or any papers they carried may provide more information."

Gwendla and her father were listening without speaking. The mention of the horses seemed more interesting to them than the money.

Niko merely pointed to the small pile of things to the side. He had apparently just piled the belongings together without looking through them, though he carefully separated the weapons, and they lay arrayed in a neat pattern near the other belongings. After a quick frown, Niko understood what Hex meant. "No offense taken, friend Hex," he said, nodding, "and you- and they- can make whatever claims you wish. Just that the horses of the Septa need to be returned to her. And the coin might go a ways toward recompensing yourself for your losses if there is any- and perhaps to help the woman and her father rebuild. I leave that to you to decide."

"Coin is of little use to crannogs," said the old man (although something in Gwendla's expression suggested that she disagreed). "And leather rots in the watery air. I'll see if we can make use of anything else."

He went over to investigate. Gwendla glanced at Hex.

Instinctively Hex moved to intercept the older man. "Coin is of use to all men, even in your hollow. But if you're well enough to haggle, you're fit enough to help dispose of the bodies. Niko can keep watch, and spell us if our old bones can't take the spade work."

The old man frowned at him for a moment, and then gave a curt nod, before moving to get a spade from the cart.

Gwendla looked at Hex, a little frown between her brows.

"What do you mean to do, merchant?" she asked - and he was aware that she was placing a distance between them - perhaps in response to his words to the old man.

Hex ran his fingers through his hair. "I mean to see these bodies buried, and see Vine delivered to the charge of Steward Thorne."

The dornish tied his hair in a loose braid, and continued. "I mean to see what these men carried with them before anything goes missing. Horses, coin and dried fruit can go to those who want them for all it matters to me."

Looking at the crannog woman, he concluded. "I mean to see you safe. And free to choose your own course, whatever that may be."

For his part, Niko kept watch, looking both ways down the road. He was more than ready to be gone, and leave these people to whatever life they had here.

After that was said, there was little business between them. For all of the bluster, most of the ounty was left for the crannogs. As he mounted his horse, he looked bck towards Hex, expectantly. As the mood had cooled with the mention of money and work, Niko had had enough of the pair and their seeming ungratefulness, and so simply said, "Are we ready to leave?"

Gwendla nodded.

"Father," she said, "you will need to ride, for we have no carriage."

The old man looked appalled at the prospect - and Gwendla looked at Hex and Niko.

"He has never ridden in his life," she said. "Please - help him."

Niko merely looked to Hex, wordlessly. Though he said nothing, his expression, and his glance towards the horses that the old man had haggled like a fishwife over, said it all- not exactly disdain for the man's position, but an unwillingness to go further than he had already done.

"You can ride with me, old man." Hex offered. "Swing on up in front of me. You can use the long ride to tell me all about vermin with swords. And I'm sure there are some adorably embarrasing stories about young Gwendla."

(Events continue with Gathering at Marshend)

Marshend - Preparing to Ride: Hex and Niko