A Long Journey Home

"You have to understand, Stan." Marty pleaded with him as he plodded along behind them. He had not been hogtied, per say. But his hands were bound, his dagger removed, and he was more or less surrounded by his villagers, the damn traitors. "We're going to clear all this up when we get back to the village. Everything will be fine."

His ankles were not bound by rope. No, they were bound by the rustiest pair of shackles he had ever seen. Probably because they were the only pair of shackles in Dyssa. Yim had apologized, with both mind and mouth, as he had bound Stan.

The ironic part, to Stan at least, was that Mira walked free. Although she was as much a suspect as him in this bloodfever quest of the village, Mira was not seen as a threat. Little did they know, she was a much larger threat than he. The hounds, he suspected, knew. As they kept their distance from her, and showed submissiveness every chance they got. They could feel the dragon bubbling beneath the surface.

"Marty, you've known me since I was how old?" Stan asked as they plodded along. Stan wasn't sure how close Dyssa was to here, but he assumed he had a good hour to try and convince them to let him free. He would deal with Brenda, the conniving little fart-nugget, later.

"Since you were born, Stan. It was a great day when your father bore you up for all the village to see." A smile crossed Marty's face and then vanished. "Which is why we're going back to clear up this foolishness for once and for all.

"Marty, why do I need to be tied? I'm not going to hurt you."

"Aw, Stan." Yim spoke. "It's not that we think you'll hurt us. It's more that you're far more clever than we should ever hope to be. We don't want you to magic your way out of here."

"I can't translocate, Yim." Stan said dismissively. He realized as the words came out of his mouth that no one in the group, save Stan or Mira, knew what "translocate" meant. Probably.

"Better be safe than sorry." Marty said. "We'll be there in nigh under an hour and you and Mira can share a meal with us. In apology."

"Marty, you're leading us into a mob. Or at least, that's what it feels like. It feels like some evil spell has settled on the whole damn village, and it all started with Brenda. Don't you see? She's the ringleader of all of this. Marty, she drugged me!" Mira protested, waving her arms about to emphasize her point. "Where did she even get drugs like that?"

The men stopped walking to stare at Mira. Stan couldn't tell if they were angry with her, if they were in disbelief, or if they simply stopped to do something completely different.

"She drugged you?" Yim finally asked. He eyed Mira with suspicion. "That's now how Brenda told the story."

"She drugged me and started trying to get any dirt on Stan she could out of me." Mira told them. She was being honest, sure, but Stan could tell that she enjoyed the retelling. After all, these men didn't know that she had been -- more or less -- in control of the situation the entire time. "When that didn't work, she just let me there, tied up and half out of my mind. By the time I got free," She gulped, "You all were angry shouting and what not in the village square. I thought she was going to kill me -- with your blessing -- so I took off as soon as I could, with the clothes on my back and a little emergency pack that Stan always kept by the door."

Now she was definitely veering into half-truth territory, but it didn't matter much. At the end of the day, it was more important to have these men on their side than it was to get every little detail of the story one hundred percent right.

"Why should we believe you?" Grein asked. It was the first time he had spoken. Mira shot daggers at him with her eyes.

"What cause do I have to lie to you? Was she not going to run me out of town unless I did it myself, first?" Mira asked. "Dyssa seems less civilized than wolves, as of late."

Her last words were harsh, and the men felt them to their very souls. Grein actually reddened with embarrassment. Yim looked away, equally ashamed. Even one of the hounds whined an apology at her. Stan did his best to look unassuming and small, lest he distract them from their verbal tongue lashing.

"Come now, Mira." Yim started, but trailed off immediately. He found his words after a minute. "It's not like that."

"Oh, it's not? Then why are there hunting parties out? Surely you weren't concerned for my well being, with your hounds? Those are hunting hounds, not search and rescue."

"They look for the missing children sometimes…" Marty said, but his heart wasn't in his words. He knew that Mira was correct.

"And speaking of missing children." Mira turned on Marty, glowering. "Where are Rufus and Freyja? That's how this whole thing started, right? Brenda spun some fanciful tale about Stan and I feasting on children, I'm sure. But have you found them yet? Because we've been out searching for them for days now."

Stan nodded his agreement, but didn't open his mouth to back her up. She had this one in the bag.

"Days. We went to Wissler -- no sign of you all there. And we just bypassed Hilldag to head further south because we figured you had scouted it already. Were we correct? Or were you so thirsty for our blood that you've forgotten about the children?"

"Think of the children." Struf hissed. Stan choked back a laugh, managing to turn it into more of a cough in the last split second before its release. Stan wasn't sure why, but when he heard the words, he imagined some ninny wailing about something that made her uncomfortable and using children as an excuse. He pushed the thoughts out of his head and straightened his face before it revealed too much.

"We haven't been out looking specifically for them, Mira." Yim admitted. He looked thoroughly ashamed at this point. "More like we were out primarily searching for you and Stan, because we thought that you would know where the children were."

"Or where their bodies were." Grein muttered. "Because Brenda told us you'd killed them."

"Why in the name of our ancestors and kin would we kill innocent children?" Stan sputtered at them. Struf looked at him blankly, as if he had totally forgotten that Stan was there.

"We… uh… witchcraft?" Marty sounded more and more confused by the syllable.

"Witchcraft?" Mira asked incredulously. "Do I look like a witch to you?"

Her question was met with silence, so she continued berating them. "Did I look like a witch when I brought you herbal tea to help you get over your cold last month, Miles?" She targeted one of the men of the group who hadn't spoken a word. He looked down. "And did I look like a witch when I helped deliver your baby boy, Marty?" She met his gaze levelly. He winced at her glare.

"Mira, we weren't…" Yim interjected before she could turn her wrath to him. "We weren't thinkin', that's all."

"Damn right you weren't." She said triumphantly. "Now for the love of all things good, untie Stan and stop this silliness."

"Will you still come to the village with us?" Marty asked, already reaching for Stan's wrists. Stan held out his arms eagerly. The rope was beginning to chafe. He was suffocating a grin, but Mira could see it in his eyes. She passed a wink to him, quick as a whistle.

"Yes, we'll come. Of course we'll come. We live there. But can we please consider going just a little farther south first?" She asked. "Stan's been scrying and we think they might have fled to Yummerskard, together. We think Freyja might be pregnant."

"They're expecting us home by nightfall." Struf interjected. "And we didn't bring any food or night rolls with us!" It was more a complaint than an objection. He knew that "think of the children" trumped pretty much every and any argument he could muster.

And there it was. "Think of the children, Struf." Grein responded. He looked mournful. "All alone out here in the wilderness, thinking that they only have each other? Why would they ever think that being with child would be a cause to run away?"

"It's probably because Freyja's father is a bit uptight and overprotective since they lost her mother." Stan re-entered the conversation gently. "We've all seen how Freyja and Rufus hang out together. It makes sense that they would run away together."

"I suppose so." Marty said. "What a shame though. To think that your own father would be so cold as to reject you for an act of love." Marty shook his head.

"What have those parents been doing, anyway?" Stan asked. "Have they joined this witch hunt, or are they out searching for their kids?"

"They've been gone almost as long as you have." Yim pointed to Mira. "No one could stop them."

"No news?" Mira asked, frowning, and Yim shrugged.

"They might have gone back to the village since we've been out today, but there's no way to tell."

"So you folks have pretty much wasted the last few days?" Stan asked and watched the shame spread across their faces. He honestly couldn't believe that it was this easy to get them going. "And now you want to go home and get supper instead of finding lost children?" He didn't say what he wanted to -- for shame -- but knew they all heard it in the silence.

"Okay. Here's what'll happen. Miles -- you go home and tell them that we've headed to Yummerskard. Do not mention Stan and Mira, lest the whole village tries to chase us. They may not yet see reason."

Miles nodded, and Mira stared him down.

"Are you sure you can handle not telling them about us?" She asked him, and he looked away as if gathering his strength. It had always been hard to face down Mira in an argument, and now, Stan was well aware of the reason why. Or so he could assume.

"I won't tell no one." Miles said, seeming overconfident, but at least, honest. He wouldn't tell anyone unless they suspected and dragged it out of them.

"Great." Mira nodded approvingly. Yim stepped forward and pointed ahead.

"That's the way home, Miles. You should know it. We'll be home tomorrow morning, children or no children, so we can settle this whole thing and put the world to rights."

"See you soon." Miles nodded, hoisted his small backpack over his shoulder, and started down the trail at a brisk pace.

"Which way to Yummerskard?" Marty asked. "The dogs certainly don't know."

The group ambled southward until dark. As the sun set, Yim called a halt to the procession.

"Stan, are you sure that Yummerskard is this direction? Have we stepped off the path on accident?" He asked and Stan frowned.

"By my estimation, we should be right on top of it." Stan shrugged. "Maybe we could've gotten turned around? But I don't see lights anywhere, and you'd think we'd see a fire or two going for dinners."

"Let's stop for the night." Mira suggested. Stan read worry on her face. "We have some extra food, and blankets, that we can share with the group. It's not much, but it'll hold us over until the morning, when we can make our way to Yummerskard, or home. Whichever is closer."

As the men split up night time duties, Stan pulled Mira aside and out of the group's earshot.

"We should be right on top of Yummerskard." He whispered to her. "Do you think it's been destroyed?"

"I've never been to it, so we could just be lost, like Yim said. But I have a feeling it's probably something more than that. We'll wait until the camp settles down, and then I'll scry to see."

"Are we going to be safe here?" Stan asked her. "What if it was the draag?"

"I don't know." Mira admitted. "But I don't think it'd be interested in a measly half dozen travelers after murdering an entire village."

"What would a village do to incur the wrath of such a thing?" Stan asked, more wondering than expecting an answer.

"Some would say that this witch hunt that your village has been on, despite its somewhat happy ending now, would be cause for a draag to come close."

"Who? Who would say that?" He asked her and she smiled.

"No one or thing that you would know or understand. Come, let's get back to camp before they start to suspect that we've made them for fools and run off." Mira said, glancing furtively around them. "Listening ears can hear much, even from a distance."

"Good idea." Stan said, wondering who would possibly be listening. The villagers seemed to trust them fully again, for whatever reason. Then again, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And all that jazz.

They returned with little scraps of wood for kindling, but a small fire had already been started. Yim looked up at them with a smile.

"So what's on the menu for the evening?" He asked pleasantly and Stan shrugged.

"Rice, beans, and some hard cheese, of course. The best meal you can get on the road." Stan bent over his pack and reached in to find the pot and food. They, of course, were tucked into the bottom. A few minutes later, with all of his bedding and dirty clothes pulled out, he had found the food.

"Does anyone have water?" He asked and a few of the men called out in the affirmative to him. He brought the pot over to the fire, which was glowing nicely.

"I'll take it from here." Marty offered, accepting the pan and food. He took a final swing from his water bladder before pouring the rest into the pot, readying to boil. "Do you have any spices?"

"Should be in the bottom of the rice pouch. Tends to settle by the end of the day." Stan smiled at him. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"This is a lot of food." Marty responded. "So thank you. It should be more than enough to keep us satisfied til morning."

"What a crazy world, as of late." Yim said as he patted the log to his left. "Come, Stan. Tell us of the news since you've been gone."

Stan realized that they hadn't really talked much about what he had been doing when the village decided to go crazy. He took a seat and picked up a small stick to carve with his idle fingers. And a knife, of course. He was not his dragon of a wife.

"Well, it seems that there has been a rash of disappearances across the region." Stan said. "It's not really happy news, I'm afraid."

"May as well hear it, then." Yim said. The other men stopped their small tasks around the haphazard campsite to listen to Stan speak.

"Well, I went to Wissler and Renya by myself, and was returning to the village when Mira intercepted me. Since then, we've mostly been in the wilderness, searching for Rufus and Freyja. What would you like to hear of first?"

"Why not start at the beginning?" Mira asked. She had joined the fire from the other side, her face flickering red with its light. "It'll make more sense that way."

"Sure." Stan said. That made it easy. The men didn't seem to object. He wondered idly if now was the time to let them in on the whole no one is actually a fucking hero thing, but decided to pass on it. For now.

"Well, as you may know, I left to try and find out more about my father's death. It was rather gruesome, and I felt like there might be more out there than just the dragon that Kutak and I encountered."

"The one that he rescued you from?" Grein asked, and Stan suppressed the urge to slap him.

"Yes, the dragon we encountered." Stan repeated himself. He absolutely hated the fact that Kutak, that little weasel, had turned it into something that it was not. Hero culture needed to die. "So I decided to go to Wissler and ask if anyone had seen him. I was trying to figure out how long ago he had died, if he had made it into Wissler, what he was doing out and about, that sort of thing."

This next part wasn't tricky, per say. Other than the fact that Kreev was a goddamn unicorn. "So I stopped into Wissler, and found that their shaman was also dead. Well, he disappeared -- no one ever found his body."

The men exchanged worried looks as Stan continued. "There was but a boy in the shaman's hut. His name is Kreev, and he, apparently, was a fresh apprentice of Horatio, the shaman. So I helped him a little, and agreed that I would return frequently to guide him as he… accepts the mantle of shamanhood." And doesn't eat any fucking virgins in the region. His mind whispered at him. He paid it no mind.

The men waited for him to continue. In a way, Stan had expected questions at this moment. But he supposed that in this instant, he was shaman, and they, villagers, and so, no questions were necessary until the end of the story.

"So after I left Wissler, I traveled down to Renya." Now was the time to begin choosing his words carefully. "In Renya, there is a place… a place where shamans from the region gather yearly. But it's also open during the rest of the time so that shamans can report unusual happening, get advice, or access the library of rare books. So I headed over that way, and stopped in to pay them a visit. There, I met someone named Annica who told me that Aurelius and Horatio weren't the only two people that had disappeared as of late." He sighed.

"She  said there were at least five other people from small towns like ours who have more or less vanished in the night. She pulled out a book and showed me all of the different types of dragons there are." He passed a moment in silence. "She told me about one called the deatheater."

Yim grew pale. Apparently he had heard of the deatheater. Stan waited for him to speak up, but he stayed silent, so Stan went on.

"Annica thinks that this deatheater dragon is ravaging the entire region, and not just our small town. She thinks that Aurelius and Horatio may have fallen victim to it."

"Is that what you killed up on Grokum mountain?" Grein asked and Stan sighed.

"Kutak's act of heroism, for the last time, was not killing a dragon. It was rescuing me from where I had fallen. Although I commend the boy for his creativity, do not be mistaken: there was no dragon on Grokum mountain when we were there."

"I hear Deatheaters only go after those who deserve it." Yim said quietly, and the men turned their attention to him. "Last time a deatheater came 'round, I was but a boy. It snatched old man Lira, who had a penchant for beating his wife and getting handsy with the bar staff."

The men passed an awkward silence before Marty scoffed into the silence.

"Aurelius was a good man, so that must be bullshit."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Yim said quietly. "For me, though, I'll be watching my back til this dragon goes away. After all, we don't know what sins count as mortal in the dragon's eyes. Could be that the time I lied to my mama about her pie is enough for that thing."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much." Mira said from across the fire. "You all are good folks. If we can see that, certainly some myth of a dragon can."

Stan looked at her incredulously. She winked at him.

"Don't get me wrong," She continued, "I believe in dragons. Hell, I was almost eaten by one. But this whole dragon as judge and jury thing seems a little farfetched to me."

"Aye, to me too." Grein shifted uncomfortably. "Is our dinner ready yet there, Marty?"

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