Chapter Seven

            The moon was out and nearly full.  As they rode, Galen concentrated and adjusted his implant eye, making it better for night vision.  Eus, as a Daere, should be able to see just fine. 

            They stopped well before Haeredowne, a high valley in the hills, carpeted by a meadow and dotted by caverns and canyons that twisted off into the steep rocks around.  Galen killed the engine and brought the bike down near one of those canyons, one carved by a thin stream. 

            “We’ll go up through here.  Is he still there, asleep?” Galen asked as he bent to his carry-all and began to dig things out.

            Eus paused, silent.  He was silent for too long, and Galen stood up to turn and look at him.  Finally Eus gave out a shuddering sigh.  “He’s there; he’s asleep.”  His voice shook. 

            Galen nodded.  “You ok?”

            Eus shook his head.  “I’ll not do that again,” he whispered.  “His mind is corrupt.”

            Galen considered the things he was getting together.  He really wasn’t sure what good any of them would do.  Most of his medical equipment depended on getting close enough to a cooperative patient to do any good.  Frustrated, he shook his head.  If he’d had more of the magical training, maybe he could pull some of this off – but his money had run out long before he reached that phase of his training.  Well, he’d try the best he could. 

            He handed Eus a small belt.  “Here, put this on.  It’ll protect you, at least a little.”

            Eus strapped it around his thin waist as Galen explained how to trigger it.  Eus triggered it easily, repeating the difficult words without stumbling over them like Galen did.  A thin shiny translucent film shot over him, then disappeared. 

            “And take this.”  Galen held out a small gun, smaller than his Threedee gun but just about as deadly. 

            Eus shook his head.  “No,” he said. 

            Galen was not surprised and Eus’ refusal did not slow him down.  “Then try this instead.”  He put the small gun back and handed Eus a complicated little device, a Devious brand wrist-bow. 

            “What is it?”  Eus asked as Galen strapped it onto his wrist. 

            “Little crossbow, aim like this, and fire here.  It’s magic, so with your psi you can tune into it and get the aim somewhere reasonable.”  Galen showed him the details of how to work it.  “I’m pretty much crap with it unless I practice with it a week first, but you might do ok.  Besides, you’ll have a big target.”

            “This little thing will do something against a dragon?”

            Galen nodded.  “Oh, yes.  Oh my yes.  Don’t let the size fool you, this was designed for demons; John would go down in a heap with this.  For God’s sake, though, don’t fire it unless you absolutely have to.”

            Eus looked at Galen carefully.  “And you own this thing?”

            “Aye.”  Galen returned his look. 

            Eus didn’t say anything else about it though, and bent his head to examine the weapon again.  Galen retrieved his Threedee gun from the carry-all and stuck it in his belt again.  He patted the pocket that he had the light-bead in.  He took out a wide band made of some stiff leathery material and had Eus help him strap it to his wrist, then he traced the complex design on the surface with one finger while he whispered the words for it.  He felt a warmth spread through his body and a brief glow before his eyes. 

            “All right, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” he said.  “You stay  here, Eus, I’ll go on ahead.  Keep an eye on me, if you like, you know.”  Meaning, follow my mind with yours. 

            Eus shook his head.  “I’ll come too.”

            “No, Eus.  I let you come this far, but I don’t need you there.  Like you said, it’s too dangerous.  Stay here.”

            Eus shrugged.  “I’m coming.  If you’re going, then I’m going with you.”

            “Absolutely not.”

            “Stop me.”

            Galen frowned.  He could probably stop Eus, force him to stay behind.  Eus was barely of age for a Daere, slender, maybe quicker than Galen but certainly not stronger.  Galen was a good foot taller and built like a brick wall.  But Galen wasn’t about to fight with him about it. 

            While Galen hesitated, Eus said, “I was told to go with you, Doctor Munro.  You have your duty, that you feel, to protect John?  I have a duty, a promise, to protect you.  My people cannot afford to lose you.”

            Galen was totally disarmed and his thoughts of forcing Eus to stay behind dissolved.  He did not know the Daere held him in such regard; they often kept themselves very distant from him, very formal.  They were always hard to read, the Daere, friendly as brothers one moment and stiffly formal the next.  That they would send Eus, who they already valued as one of the leaders in their community, meant a lot. 

            “All right.  I’ll go first.  Stay close behind me.”  Galen started carefully off down the canyon, staying close to the stream where it was worn a bit smoother.  Eus stayed close behind him, often putting out a hand on Galen’s back, a light touch that Galen could barely feel.  He supposed that Eus could tell, then, that he was scared.  Very scared. 

            The way was rocky and slow, even close to the stream.  Twice Galen slipped and stepped into the cold water of the stream with a splash and a muttered curse.  Finally the canyon opened up, the cliffs receded and the sky above them widened, showing a dust of stars and a bright moon.  In this world outside Juncture the moon was small, red, and looked a bit like an eye, looking at the world below, sideways.  The moon watched them askance as they carefully crept into the valley of Haeredowne. 

            Galen stopped, turned, and whispered in Eus’ ear, “Where is he?”

            Eus shook his head.  “I’m sorry.  I’m not seeking him again; it’s too much for me, and to be this close…”

            Galen nodded.  “Of course.  Sorry.”  Instead, then, he stood for several long moments, adjusting and readjusting the settings in his eye until he saw a difference in the terrain, a glow of warmth from the north side of the valley.  “Ok.  Over there,” he whispered, pointing.  “Pretty far, still.” 

            They made their careful way across the valley then, pausing now and then while Galen reassessed where they might find John.  Finally they rounded a broad rocky outcropping and were able to see into the branch of the valley that had been hidden. 

            “There he is,” whispered Galen.  By his eye, John was a bright infrared shape over by the cliff wall, half in a cavern entrance. 

Eus came up beside Galen and watched where he pointed, searching, then put a hand behind his elbow.  Finally he nodded.  “It is hard for me to see him,” he whispered.  Galen had to strain to hear him.  “He is not moving; all I see is a dark shadow.” 

Galen paused, gathering his courage.  Of the many foolish things he had done in his life, waking a sleeping and murderous dragon was going to have to rank right up there with the very best.  Finally he took a deep breath and let it go, and began walking over towards John, no longer bothering to be quiet or sneaky. 

Eus followed, after a short hesitation.  Galen heard him say something in Daere that he didn’t catch, a prayer or something.  Galen tried to pray, but couldn’t think of anything to say.  Finally he whispered a quick, “Don’t let me fuck this up,” and walked on. 

They only got about half way there.  John jerked his head up and swiveled it about.  His eyes glowed a little in the light of the moon, and they searched for the source of the noise that had awoken him.  

“Who dares?” he said, his voice quiet but harsh, carrying across the night to them.  He got to his feet and slowly slid out of the narrow cave he had been lying in.  Galen swallowed.  John seemed much bigger here than he ever had at his place.  And the tone of his voice was like nothing he had ever heard from him before, evil and quietly dangerous.   

“It’s Galen Munro, John.  Doc’s here.”  Galen forced himself to speak loudly, loud enough for John to hear even though he was still a good fifty or so yards away. 

John slid the rest of his long body out of the cave and turned toward where Galen stood.  “Doctor Munro,” he said, false cheer dripping from his voice, making him sound sinister and not at all friendly.  “What a pleasant surprise.”  He began to walk slowly towards them, his long sinuous body undulating across the tall grasses of the meadow, casting a faint shadow in the light of the moon.  His wings were folded tight to his body and his fiery little elaborations of fronds of scales, whiskers, and curling tufts of dragon spikes were hidden in the darkness, making him look sleek and snake-like.  “And who else do we have here?”  John breathed deeply, drawing air in through his nose in a hissing rush.  “Ah, Leire.  Oh, my mistake – Eus, not Leire.  How like your father you are.” 

Galen sensed rather than saw Eus take a step back as John approached them.  Galen put  a hand out behind him, trying to calm him, make him stay put. 

“John, I came to see if you were ok; there’s been some trouble out at your place.  Some around town, too.”  Galen planted his feet, willing himself not to run as John drew close.  His head towered above them, and then blocked out the moon, casting them in utter darkness. 

“Trouble?”  John bent his head to them and fixed Galen with one huge eye, not four feet from his face.  “I’ve had no trouble.”  He raised his head again, and the darkness fell.  “No trouble at all…  Doctor.”  He hissed the last word, and Galen had time only to crouch a bit before John swept at him with one giant forepaw, knocking him flying across the meadow.  He sailed through the air and landed twenty feet away, rolled, the breath knocked out of him.  On the back swing John slammed Eus into a boulder at the bottom of the cliff wall, where he hit solidly, cracking his head, and then rolled off to the side, limp, falling in a heap to the ground.  John rushed across the meadow toward Galen, who struggled to get to his feet. 

“No trouble at ALL, Doctor, oh, no,”  John laughed, and Galen was frozen with fear as John cackled above him.  The laughter was insane – demented, and filled with fury.  “They gave me no trouble at all,” whispered John, close to Galen, his breath hot, making him close his eyes and shield his face as the wind of it blew over him.   With a simple swift movement John knocked Galen over onto his back again.  John stood over him and pressed him to the ground with one foot.  “And neither will you.”  His toes spanned across Galen’s chest, and his talons dug into the ground on either side of Galen.  One long talon was stretched right next to his neck and shoulder, and he could feel the smooth hardness of it pressed against his skin. 

John stood over Galen for a long, long minute, staring down at him, but not moving.  Galen struggled to breath, giving everything he had just to draw in one breath, then another as he lay crushed and immobile under John’s foot.  His arm was caught between John’s foot and his hip and pelvis, and as John pressed he could feel the bones in his wrist and arm grind painfully.  He groaned out a breath as John crushed him.  He managed to hitch in one more breath.  “John, stop,” he whispered as that breath was squeezed out of him.  Then he couldn’t manage another, struggle as he might, and his sight began to darken. 

With a huge and sudden relief of pressure, John lifted his foot.  Galen couldn’t move, and just gasped in breath after breath of cool mountain air.  He sat up as John began to pace wildly in front of him, making long broad swaths through the meadow.  Galen sat kneeling, rubbing his wrist, catching his breath.  He did not understand why John had stopped, unless he was playing with him, like a cat with a mouse.  He tried to see where Eus was, and did not see him for a frightening moment, and then saw his body lying still at the base of the boulder they had stood by earlier.  By the infrared he still looked warm, but Galen could not tell if he still lived. 

“No trouble, no trouble, no troooouuuble,” said John in an eerie sing-song.  He halted in front of Galen again, and did an odd little shuffling dance.  “No trouble at all, not a’tall, not a’tall.  They die so easy, no trouble at all,”  Galen watched, puzzled and frightened. 

John stopped before him again, stared, and suddenly sank his claws into the earth and dragged through, tearing up huge furrows of dirt.  “Stop it,” he whispered, “stop it.”  He left off the scoring of the meadow and went back to pacing, walking in long sinuous loops, gazing hard at Galen the whole time. 

“John, what’s wrong with you?” Galen said.  “Stop, what’s wrong?  Can’t I help you?”

John stopped in front of him again, stared at him, but said nothing.  Galen got to his feet and began to limp over to Eus, but John knocked him down again, pushing him over with a short thrust from his foot, then went back to pacing.  Galen tried again with the same result, and finally Galen ended up crawling over towards Eus.

John let him get within ten feet before he hooked the back of Galen’s shirt and belt with his claws and dragged him back across the meadow.  “None of that, oh, no Doctor,” he hissed.  “No touchie the elfy.”

John’s claws scraped his flesh as he dragged him, making him cry out.  John let him go and began to pace again, making a strange high whining sound as he did so. 

Suddenly John stopped and rushed back to Galen, standing over him.  Galen cowered under him, not knowing what to expect this time.  With one hand he groped for his gun, but it had been knocked off when John threw him the first time.  He felt for the light-bead, could feel it within his pocket, and he fumbled, trying to get his hand in to pull it out.  It was at an awkward angle though, and he had trouble with it.  The hand he needed to use was the one that had been crushed, and it wasn’t working well.  Nerve damage, he thought with calm dettachment. 

John thrust his face close to Galen, making him jump.  “Leave,” said John.  “Leave, and never return, or I will kill you then, Doctor.  Kill you dead, deady dead dead.”  He shook his head as if bees buzzed around it.  “Take your elf with you.  Take the people of Trent’s How and flee.  Flee.  Far.  Far away, yesssss.  For I will kill you all, I will kill you all, all, all.”  John’s voice was wavering in and out, high and low, from whispers to shouts, from sounding almost normal to sounding violently insane.  “You will all die, and my mountain will be mine again.  Tell your people.  Mine.  Not yours.  Mine.  So run, little Galen, run in your human fear, take your people and your creatures and your elves and leave.  Leave!”  John shouted the last word, screamed it in Galen’s face, and then trailed off into an increasingly high, shrill, and agonizingly loud screech.  Galen, already on his knees, bent his head to the ground and covered his ears in pain.   The echoes rang across the valley, screaming, screaming.   

Silence.  Galen sat up slowly, to find John’s eye in front of his, and his teeth, long white glistening fangs as long as his hand, inches from his face.  Galen froze. 

“Leave these mountains.  Leave this land,” John whispered.  He brought a foot up and poked Galen in the chest with one sharp claw, puncturing the skin, digging deep into muscle.  Galen folded over with a gasp, curling in on himself to protect what he could.  With each word John stabbed at him, knocking him back over again, stabbing at his legs, arms, chest, back, punctuating his words with his talon.  Galen gasped in pain, realizing John was now playing with him, and he was going to die – and it was going to take a long time. 

“Leave.”

Poke. 

“Or-“

Poke.

“I-“

Poke. 

“Will-“

Poke.

“Kill-“

Poke.

“You.”

Poke. 

            John paused.  Galen caught his breath, hitched it in in a painful sob, and said, “John, stop.  Stop, please.  It’s me, Galen.  I’ll leave, I’ll leave.  Let me be.  Please stop.”

            John hissed, a long slow exhalation that stirred Galen’s hair.  Without another sound, he suddenly turned in a rush and ran, then lifted up into the air.  Galen sat back up to watch him, wondering if he was truly leaving or if he was simply coming around to kill him, maybe lift him up high into the air and drop him screaming to the ground, like the sheep – leaving nothing but another soggy bag of fractured bones and pulped organs. 

            John wheeled about in the sky, darkening the stars in a winding path.  His form shrank with distance, though, and soon he was gone and did not return. 

            Galen watched the sky, though, for several long moments.  He sighed, a shuddering exhalation of tired fear.  That had gone much more badly than he had thought it would.  He closed his eyes, and savored breathing.  At least he had been left alive.  He looked down at himself and surveyed the damage – a lot of shallow stab wounds from John’s claws, bleeding a little.  His wrist was half crushed.  Bruises, a lot of them, and something badly strained in his knee from that first toss.  Not too bad.  He would live.  He’d had worse. 

            Galen got to his feet and limped over to where Eus lay.  Eus was out cold and had missed the whole thing.  Galen tried to wake him up, but he was out.  Galen tried to evaluate his neurologic function, worried that Eus had a severe brain injury, maybe more than just a little concussion.  His scalp was wet, and maybe there was a fracture there… Dammit.  He needed to get him back to town, back to the clinic.  He couldn’t do anything out here. 

            He ministered to Eus the best he could, bound his head, and then quickly scouted around the grass for his gun.  He found it and tucked it back in his belt, and began the long slow journey out of the valley through the narrow canyon, carefully and gently dragging Eus backwards by his armpits

            He watched the sky as he worked, but John did not return.  He wondered where he had gone, and prayed he had not gone off to cause more harm.  At least in the canyon, the top was narrow, and perhaps too narrow for John to fly in and find them. 

            Galen puzzled over how to carry Eus back on his bike, and finally ended up balancing him over his back, arms draped over and down his chest, head resting on one shoulder, loosely tying his hands and arms together across his chest to keep him on.  It was awkward, but he wanted to keep his head up, minimize the pressure.  He rode slowly to town, Eus on his back, limp.  Galen took him straight to Doctor Gunson’s clinic and commandeered it, letting himself in with the spare key he had.  Doc Gunson allowed Galen to use his facilities when he needed to, and Galen paid monthly for the priviledge. 

            Gunson was in back, waiting for patients he feared might come tonight, and walked out sleepily when he heard Galen banging around.  He woke up quickly when he saw what was going on.  “Holy crap, Munro, what happened to you?”  He looked Eus over and realized how serious it was.  “Oh my god.”

            “Blunt head trauma, Doc, I don’t know how serious, probably a fracture though, right there, right temporal.  He’s been out for a good hour or so by now.  Did John come by town at all?”

            Gunson jumped in and started working on Eus.  He normally didn’t treat the Daere, but was licensed for minor sentients and certainly could treat Daere in an emergency.  “Nae.  It’s been quiet.”  He didn’t say or ask anything else, but gave Galen a quick once over.  “Galen, you let me work on Eus, you go take care of yourself.”

            “I’m fine,” Galen insisted and continued to help with Eus. 

            “You’re a wreck, Galen, knock it off.  You can’t see it.  Stop bleeding on my goddamn floor and go take care of yourself.  You’re no good to anyone like that.”  And Gunson pushed him away. 

            Galen finally nodded tiredly, watched Gunson for another few moments, and then turned and began to take care of his injuries.  They were, indeed, worse than he’d first thought.  He spent many careful minutes cleaning himself up, cleaning the wounds, and patching them up with tissue patches.  Most of them should heal in a day or so, with the patches.  When Gunson was done with Eus, and he was settled in one of the three beds Gunson had, Gunson helped Galen with the long, deep scratches on his back. 

            Gunson shook his head as he stitched him up with the quick little auto-stitcher he had, and then applied the tissue patches.  “These are bad, Galen, but these are nothing compared to what I’m sure John could’ve done to you.  What happened?”

            “He was playing with me,” Galen said shortly.  “How is Eus?  How bad is he?”

            “Too soon to tell.  Tricky things, you know, brain injuries.  I don’t think he’s too bad, though.  A bad concussion, not too much bleeding, no edema, as far as I can tell.  Broke his clavicle, too, not a concern.  We’ll see how he does overnight.  I’ve got enough goodies on board that he should do fine.”

            “Will his psi ability be ok?”

            Doctor Gunson shrugged.  “I’ve no idea.  We’ll have to wait and see.”  But he did not look happy when he said it. 

            Gunson gave Galen a long look, once he was patched up and his knee wrapped.  “Go home, Galen.  Get some rest.  You’re a wreck.”

            Galen shook his head.  “I can’t.  I need to go talk to the mayor, and Stafford.  I don’t know where John went, and he…”  Gunson waited while Galen went over in his head the things that John had said and done.  Finally he just shook his head, not willing to say it yet.  “I don’t know.  I need to talk to them.  Tonight, not tomorrow.”

            Gunson nodded.  “Well, then, you’ll find Stafford at the town hall.  Put himself in charge of guarding the people that decided to stay there tonight, he did.  Mayor Tegidsown probably went home, though.”

            Galen nodded and turned to go, then walked back and bent next to Eus’ bed.  He held his shoulder, bound up because of his broken collarbone, and left his hand there for several seconds, thinking well-wishes and apologies at Eus and hoping he could somehow hear him. 

            At the town hall most everyone was asleep.  They woke up in excitement when Galen arrived.  Contrary to what Gunson had thought, Morvran was at the town hall with the others, and walked over to the back where Galen waited for him.  Galen was done walking; by then the pain in his knee had really kicked in and it was singing all twelve verses of the high holy hosannas, fortissimo. 

            “Well, what did you find?  I assume you found John,” said the Mayor, eyeing Galen’s wounds.  Galen noted wryly that the mayor made no effort to ask if he was alright. 

            “Oh, aye, we found him.”  The crowd shushed itself to listen to what Galen had to say.  “We found him all right, up in Haerdowne, though he’s not there anymore.”  He paused, wondering how to describe what had happened.  Finally he fell back on the blunt truth, man of few words that he was. 

            “John’s insane.  Murderously insane.  I think we’ll have to kill him to stop him.”

Chapter Eight

            Morvran smiled.  It was just a little one, but it infuriated Galen.  He didn’t have the energy to follow up on his anger, anger that even after all that Morvran would allow himself a little self-satisfaction that he had been right, and Galen dreadfully wrong.  Without a word, and knowing that he had probably better not smack the mayor in his smug face, Galen turned and left, his knee buckling a little as he turned. 

            He stopped to catch himself, and kept from falling by grabbing the door frame.  Questions kept him there, not about John, but about Eus.  He assured people that Eus was probably going to be just fine, and realized he’d better go out to the Daere settlement and let them know about Eus too.  He could call one of them on a connect, but so few of them had one, and didn’t leave hem on all the time – and besides, it was the kind of news he’d rather deliver in person.  The talk at the hall, though, turned to what they needed to do about John, and before he knew it Galen found himself in an argument with Stafford and the mayor about hiring outside contractors to come in and kill John. 

            “We need it done quick,” said Stafford.  “We can’t have people here try and do it, I’d form a posse but it’s just too tough a job.  We’ll need to bring in professionals.”

            “You really want to bring in that kind of person to Trent’s How?” asked Galen.

            “What I want is this problem taken care of.  I don’t want any more people hurt, or killed.  Especially any more of our people,” said the mayor.  “This needs to end, and end quickly.” 

            “How can we afford professionals?  Do you have any idea what a team of competent dragon hunters can cost to hire?  The town can’t afford that.”

            “I’ll donate the money myself if we need to,” said Morvran.  “We need to get this done.”

            Galen gave up and shrugged.  “All right then,” he said.  “How are we going to get them?”

            “I’ve asked a contact of mine inn Juncture to start looking for a team.  I hope to have an answer by morning.” 

            Galen gave the mayor a long, hard stare.  “You were looking for people to kill John even before I went out, weren’t you?”

            Morvran gave Galen a disgusted look.  “Of course I was.  I’ve got to plan ahead.  You want it should still be days before we get someone out here?  If things had worked out differently – I would not hire anyone.  But now, look, Doc, we do need someone after all, and I’ve got someone working on it.” 

            Galen glared at him a second more, then left, limping heavily out the door.  One of his neighbors lent him a staff to help him walk as he passed them by, and Galen thanked them, grateful and surprised. 

            Galen paused outside, glancing at Boot, who was forever staring off into the endless sky.  “Bastard,” he whispered as he started his bike.  But before he rode off, he couldn’t help but look in the same place Boot was, to see if there was a demented dragon winging out of the stars towards him. 

            The Daere came out when he roared into town, and he was not surprised to see that it looked like they had all stayed up, rather than go to bed.  They were dressed and alert, as if waiting for him. 

            Leire walked up to him as he got off his bike and planted the staff, cussing softly as he put weight on his knee again.  It was becoming even more bitchingly painful.  Galen forgot about the pain, though, when he looked up and met Leire’s eyes. 

            “Alone, Doc?” Leire said, in a whisper.  “Eus is dead, then.”

            Galen shook his head.  “Nae, he’s not dead.”  Disbelief swept across Leire’s face, then relief, and he bowed his head to hide his tears.  Galen said it louder so everyone could hear.  “Eus is not dead.  Hurt, unconscious, but not dead.  He’s under Gunson’s care and we think he’ll be fine.”  He nodded at Leire and spoke softly again.  “He was a great help to me.  We found John.”  He started to explain to the Daere what had happened, but they gently stopped him, made him come into one of their houses and sit down in a comfortable, cushioned chair before the fire.  Leire’s, in fact; he insisted on it.  They could see how badly he was hurting.  Leire’s wife and his shy daughter gave him tea and honeybread, and made him eat and drink before he told them anything else.  Grateful, Galen began to relax a little, starting to realize how wound up he was over the whole day.  When he was ready, then, he told the Daere what had happened in Haeredowne, leaving nothing out.

            “Eus was able to find John for you then?” asked Leire’s wife, Andunae. 

            “Oh, aye,” Galen said.  “He did right well, did it twice.  I could see it cost him; John was…”  He stopped, shaking his head.  “He said John was corrupt, that his mind was corrupt.  He tried to explain it.”

            Eus’ family was excited, though; Eus had not told them of this ability to sense a specific mind at a great distance.  They quietly and earnestly discussed it, debating whether this meant Eus was psi five or not.  Galen kept silent, uneasy in that he still didn’t know whether Eus’ psi ability had been damaged or changed by his injury.  As they talked, Galen thought about what had happened, trying to decide if he could’ve done anything different, anything to have prevented Eus from getting hurt.  Depressingly, he decided there were many stupid things he had done that day.  He considered his mistakes as Eus’ family and neigbors chatted and their little fire crackled. 

            And so Galen fell fast asleep in his chair about five minutes into their discussion.  Leire’s daughter covered him with a woven blanket and then they left him and went to another house, then another, the family splitting and going to all in the town, wandering visits in the manner of the Daere, letting everyone know what Galen had told them.  By dawn all the Daere knew exactly what had happened in Haeredowne, while the humans, subjected to Galen’s short temper and shorter account, knew only that John was insane. 

            Galen woke in the night while they were gone, and was momentarily disoriented.  The fire had died down and he had forgotten where he was.  It took getting up and looking out the window before he remembered. 

            He was going to leave, and go home, but then a cloud passed across the moon, chased by a high, fast wind.  It struck a chord of fear in the pit of his stomach – for a moment he thought it was John, come after him in the supposed safety of the Daere settlement. 

            He stared out the window for several long minutes, looking at the moon.  He wondered what else the eye of the moon was looking down on tonight, what else it saw with its sideways vision.  The clouds thickened and finally covered it. 

            He stoked the fire again and threw on more wood, then settled back into the chair, drawing the warm blanket about himself.  It was not the first time he had stayed at a Daere house; last summer he had stayed and tended while Hered’s young son had fought his way through a fever.  It was the first time he had been left alone, though, and he wondered at that, at the Daere’s trust in him, for all of another thirty seconds before he fell asleep again. 

            He woke later than he had wanted to in the morning, although with still far too few hours of sleep, and woke to a chorus of aches and pains.  He carefully stood, stretching.  His knee felt a lot better; that tension-speed heal wrap Gunson had put on was doing a good job, and the little stab wounds from John were healing nicely too, although they itched like the dickens.  All his bumps and bruises, though, were just starting to get warmed up.  Galen felt like twice-baked hell.  Leire and his family fed him a quick breakfast and then they all headed into town, in a grey, misty morning.  Galen gave Eus’ sister Merei a ride on his bike for part of the way, slow, although he could tell her parents did not approve.  She blushed and giggled, and tried to get him to go faster, higher. 

            When they arrived in town he took them to the clinic and went in with them to check on Eus.  To his relief he was awake, but he did not have time to speak with him.  Bened, one of Stafford’s reevesmen, came and got him, asking him to come to the town hall.  He tried to refuse.  “Dammit, I’ve still got people that need me to come out and see their flocks.”

            “Forget the sheep, Doc, the mayor wants to see you, soon as you can, now really.  We’ve got trouble.”

            Galen looked at him, mildly shocked.  For some reason, the use of the same word he had used with John, the night before, disturbed him, frightened him in fact.  “Trouble?” he finally said, quietly, so Leire and his family would not hear. 

            “Aye, and a lot of it.  Come on.”

            Galen followed him wordlessly out of the clinic, wondering briefly where Dr. Gunson was and figuring he was probably in back, or asleep. 

            They walked over to the mayor’s house, a white house that in Galen’s opinion was far too big for him.  Still pretty, though, set back in a glade by Ebon’s brook.  Bened and Galen approached by the walkway by the brook, and could hear Stafford and the mayor yelling at each other from across the yard.

            “You told me they would be able to come out by today!” That was the mayor, sounding uncharacteristically, uncontrollably furious. 

            “Well, that’s what they told me!  How many times do I have to tell you that’s what they fucking told me? What the fuck do you want me to do, go fetch them?”  That was Stafford, giving the mayor a hell of a lot more back-talk then Galen suspected he had in him.  Galen raised an eyebrow, surprised and curious. 

            “If that would get them out here today, fuck yes!” shouted Morvran.  “We need him fucking dead last week!”

            Bened looked embarrassed and knocked loudly on the door before they could shout any more.  “Mayor?  Stafford?  I got Doc Munro out here!”

            Morvran opened his door after a long moment, his face calm and pleasant but still a bit red.  “Doc.  Thanks for making it.”  He stepped aside and gestured them in. 

“Doc, thanks for coming over.  I’m calling another town meeting but I wanted to talk to you, and to Stafford and his men before I did.”

            “Where’s Kell then?” asked Galen.  Kell was Stafford’s other reevesman. 

            “He’s over at the Dale’s,” said Stafford, heavily. 

            “Are they ok?”

            Stafford shook his head. “Nae.  John destroyed their flock last night, tore down all their barns, their house, everything.  Even got their goddamned henhouse.  Killed Arven, but Mrs. Dale was able to hide in the cellar.  Hawthorn, that big oaf, ran over from down the lane to help them out and got himself killed.”  Stafford shook his head again while Galen listened in shock.  “Took some doing to get Mrs. Dale out of the cellar; he’d collapsed the whole house on her.  She’s all right though, mostly.”

            Bened spoke up then.  “This time they saw him, Doc.  It was John.”  Bened looked a little nauseous and a lot frightened.  “I guess he took Hawthorn and dropped him, like you said he was doing with the sheep and creela.”  He looked over at Stafford, who didn’t add anything.  “Then he… he…”  Bened couldn’t continue. 

            Stafford continued for him.  “Wedrein’s got a bag full of Hawthorn to deal with,” he said drily.  “Don’t let the Daere find out; they’ll be combing that lane and field for Hawthorn bits for the next three weeks.”  The Daere had some kind of weird religious thing about accounting for remains; Galen didn’t understand it. 

            Galen was silent for a while, digesting this information.  Wondering if he could have done anything different yesterday to have prevented it.  He supposed maybe if he had shot John and killed him outright… He shook that thought away.  He had done what he had thought was right.   That was all he could ever do. 

            “All right,” he said.  “That’s bad news, to be certain.  But why do you need me, here now?  I really need to get going to some of the farms and tending to the injured flocks they’ve got.” 

            Morvran glared at Bened.  “I thought Bened was going to tell you,” he said.  “Never mind.  I told you we were looking into finding professionals to take John down.  Well… we found them all right, good ones, good reputation, and relatively affordable.  Unfortunately, they can’t come out here for another three days.  Say they have to gather their personnel, gather their equipment.  They don’t seem to understand there are people dying here.” 

            Galen nodded.  “I’m not sure about what all they would need to do, but I’m not surprised.  People in Juncture move on their own time line.  So to speak.”

            “Well, we can’t wait.  We need to get this taken care of.  We’re going to have to form a posse, and get this taken care of.”  Morvran walked over to a side window, using his cane, and looked out over his garden.  “I want you to head up the posse, Galen.”

            “Me?”  Galen was incredulous.  “You’ve got to be kidding.  I’m not going to kill John.”

            “Then we’ll lose more people every night, maybe soon every day.  You’ll be paid; if John is killed you’ll receive the fee we would’ve paid the pros.”

            Galen jerked his head angrily over to Stafford and Bened.  “Here’s your Shirereeve right here.  Have him head up your damned posse.  Or have Bened do it.  Or Kell.”

            Stafford looked uncomfortable, but Morvran just looked disgusted.  “Be realistic, Doc.  Do you really think any of them have any chance of taking out a dragon, let alone a dragon like John?”

            “What, and you think I do?  You saw what I looked like after I went after him.”

            “Yes, I did.  You looked alive.”  Morvran stamped his cane against the hard stone of his floor.  “Dammit, Galen, do you think I’m stupid?  I want John dead and dead neatly and quickly.  I don’t want to lose anyone else doing it.  I don’t want anyone hurt.”  He paused.  “I honestly think you’re our best chance for getting it done.  You were in the War, and you lived through a demon attack.  Surely you can live through a dragon.  In fact, you already have.  I have every confidence that you can get him dead.”

            That brought Galen up short.  For a moment he was utterly speechless.  Thoughts raced through his mind, one after another, images from that awful day of the Feather Battle of East Armister.  It was not my fault I lived though that demon, he nearly said.  Not my fault.  Finally he blinked, closing his eyes against what his mind saw, blinking away the past.  “That was different.  That was…”  He couldn’t think of what to say.  The mayor had totally taken him off guard. 

            “Galen, think about it.  We need to get someone that a few others will be willing to follow, willing to go fight a dragon with.”  Morvran snorted.  “Do you really think I’ll get much of a posse if I tell them Stafford is leading it?”

            Stafford began to speak up, angrily, but Morvran told him calmly to shut up. 

            “I doubt you’ll get much of a posse, regardless,” said Galen, still shocked at the mayor bringing up the war.   He tried to shake himself out if it.  “No one will be willing to go out and kill John.  It’s just plain too dangerous.  He really is insane, unpredictable.  No one will go.  They’ll want to hide and wait for the professionals.  And honestly, that’s going to be safer.” 

            “Dammit, Galen, are we going to keep waiting for John to come to us or are we going to go out and get him?”

            “If you send a posse out after him they’ll die.”  There, he said it.  It was what he believed.  People would just plain die if they went out after John, in the state he was in. 

            Morvran stood, silent, considering Galen, looking at him.  Finally he spoke again, calmly and quietly.  “Doc, you still think of John as your patient?”

            “Aye.”

            “And your friend.”

            Galen shrugged.  “That’s not the same John out there.  I wouldn’t exactly say we’re on friendly terms anymore.”

            “Yes, yes.”  The mayor tried a slightly different track.  “When a dog goes mad, Doc, do you put them down?”

            “Don’t you use that argument on me.  John’s no dog, he’s no beast.  Dragon or no, he’s sentient, he’s a person.” 

            “Don’t you feel any responsibility to him, as your patient, to make sure he has an easy death?  He’s under sentence, now, of course, has to die.  Those professionals – no telling what they have in mind for him.”

            Galen frowned.  “What kind of people did you hire?”

            “Only the best Juncture has to offer.” 

            Well, that didn’t mean anything.  Galen thought about the wide range of things it could mean, and what kind of professionals they might have hired.  If the town could afford it, then they were probably crap.  Mean, but crap.  And the more he thought about it, and the kind of people these naïve idiots could accidently pull in from out of Juncture, the less he liked it. 

            Morvran watched him closely, and finally interrupted his reverie.  “Galen, think about it.  Step outside a bit and just think about it.  We know John has got to be stopped, and soon, before anyone else dies.  If you think about it, I really believe you’ll realize you’re our best chance to get it done.”  Morvran put a comforting hand on Galen’s shoulder.  “For his good, Galen.  And for the town’s.”  Morvran walked him out the door.  “Think on it for a few minutes, Doc.  Then we’ll come on out and we’ll all go to the town meeting.  But I really need to know if you’ll do this for the town, before we go.”           

            And so Galen stepped outside into the mayor’s garden and thought about it.  He walked down to the bank of the stream.  He stood by the water, deep in thought, and pulled a little loose branch off one of the mayor’s trees, slowly stripping the brittle leaves and sending them floating down the brook. 

             Before he got to the last leaf, he realized he was not thinking about whether he would do it, but how.  He threw the twig in the water and walked tiredly back up to the mayor’s house. 

Chapter Nine

            He went back up to the house and leaned in the door.  “I’m going home.  I’ll meet you at the town hall.  You get whatever posse you can together… and I’ll lead it for you.”

            The mayor looked relieved.  Stafford looked a little put out, and Galen didn’t bother to look and see what Bened thought about the whole thing.  He ducked back out and walked back to the clinic. 

            Eus’ family was still in with him; Eus was still flat out in bed, but awake.  Eus smiled at Galen when he came in, but it was a weak smile.  His face was pale and he looked tired.  Leire and his family greeted him warmly and gave him room to sit next to Eus. 

            “I’m glad to see you’re back, Eus.”  Galen bent and put his hand on Eus’ arm.  “I was frightened for you.”  He started to say something else, but Eus frowned, and brought his head up.  He started to say something to Galen, then looked over at his father.

            “Some time alone, please,” he whispered, and Leire nodded and took Andunae and Merei out.  Eus gave Galen another long look when they were alone.  “What has happened?”

            Galen started to tell him what happened with John after Eus was knocked out, but Eus shook his head impatiently.  “No, no.  What just happened?”

            Galen shook his head a little, puzzled.  “When?”

            “You’re upset.”

            Galen shrugged, and hesitated.  He was unwilling to admit what he was going to do.  “I… I’ll be going after John,” he said quietly.  “They’re getting a posse together.  I’ll lead it.”

            Eus nodded.  “Good,” he said, suprising Galen.  “John needs to die, Galen.”  He set his head back on the pillow.  “He’s not who he was.  Whatever has happened to him  - “ Eus looked away.  “He’s completely changed.  He’s so… “ Eus searched for words, but could not find a way to describe what he had felt when John had woken up, when his mind had touched his…  Eus shuddered with the memory.  He didn’t remember being hit at all; he had already been taken out of action by the corruption he felt in John’s mind, thrust into some kind of horrible trance.   “He’s not who he was,” he finished.  “He’s evil, Galen, he’s been touched and taken by evil; I don’t know how else to describe it.”  Eus tried to sit up, and took Galen by the hand.  “You need to do this; I know you don’t want to.  But you can do it, you can do it so he isn’t tortured any more.  He needs to go, Galen, for his good.  For ours.  For yours.”  Eus laid back down, clearly exhausted, and let go of Galen’s hand. 

            Galen felt like he’d been unplugged, like half his energy left when Eus let him go.  Well, at least Eus hadn’t lost his ability – anything but.  “All right, Eus, no need to get worked up.  I’ll take care of it.”  Galen paused, then nodded.  “I’ll take care of it.”  Eus nodded and closed his eyes.  “Eus,” said Galen, and he opened them again.  ‘Did someone do this to John?”

            Eus held Galen’s gaze for a few seconds.  “I don’t know,” he finally said.  “I can’t tell.  When I touched his waking mind… it was such a confusion.  I don’t know.”

            Galen nodded thoughtfully.  “If someone has done this to him…”  He couldn’t even think of what he might do.  “Will you help me, if you can, find out if someone has done this to him?”

            Eus nodded grimly.  “Yes. I swear it.”

            “We’ll worry about that later.”  Galen gave Eus another pat on the shoulder and stood.  As he stood something in him remembered what he was heading out to do, and the fear began to grow again in him. 

            “You’ll be ok, Galen,” said Eus. 

“Where is he today, Eus?  Do you dare try and find out for me?”

Eus closed his eyes, and in a distant voice said, “He is in his home.  He feels he is safe.  He mocks you and the entire town in his tortured mind.  He…” and Eus trailed off into a whisper Galen didn’t catch.  Eus opened his eyes again; they focused past Galen’s shoulder.  He blinked and his eyes cleared; he focused on Galen again. 

            “What was that last bit, Eus?” Galen asked.

Eus shook his head.  “Nothing.  Wait,”  and he gestured at a dresser by the wall.  “The belt you gave me, it’s over there.  You’d better take it, for your posse.”  Galen had taken the Devious bow off Eus’ wrist in Haeredowne.  He took the belt off the dresser. 

            “Thanks, Eus.  I’ll… uh… I’ll see you later.”

            “Yes, you will.  You’ll be fine, Galen,” he repeated.

            Galen made a side trip to his home to change clothes, since his clothes had been pretty well tattered by John, and he fed the increasingly neurotic dogs.  As an afterthought he made a stop by his neighbor to ask if they’d look after the dogs if he didn’t come back that day, but no one was home.  At the meeting, he supposed. 

            It seemed like everyone was at this meeting.  More people were seeking the safety of town.  He wasn’t going to bother coming in quietly, and was just going to ride up close before he killed the motor, but then he changed his mind.  He decided he had something he had to say to Boot.   He coasted in and landed on the far street, and rolled his bike across the stones, parking it by Boot’s pedestal.  There were so many people at the town hall that they had spilled outside, and first one then all of them turned to stare at him.  He ignored them and paused in front of Boot.

            Boot, you fucker, he thought.  You’d be laughing your ass off, to see what a pile of shit I’ve landed myself into.  Well, fuck you.  You oughtta be here with me.  You and me, we could take him out, just the two of us.  Galen shook his head and walked into the town hall.  People parted for him and he could hear them shouting inside that Doc Munro had arrived. 

            They cleared a path for him to the front, where the mayor and Stafford and his reevesmen were waiting for him.  They welcomed him, but the crowd was less than enthusiastic.  Galen waited while they argued over sending him, over waiting until the professionals came into town, over whether the town could hide and ride out this attack from John without having to send anyone after him.  Some people suggested fetching a mage or two from the baron, but that was shot down as a bad idea too, too expensive, not in cash but in loyalty-debt to Medwyr Holten and his people.  Galen gave them one hour to hash it out, checking his watch frequently, and sometimes, when bored and frustrated with the arguments he had already heard and decided on, he would fiddle with his watch, flipping it between Juncture phase and Holten phase. 

            In Holten phase, it reassuringly gave the hour of the day and a little plump bar at the top was settled comfortably in “normal”.  In Juncture mode, the time bar read “out of range” and the plump bar was way over at the left, lit in red, blinking “outskirts”. 

            The mayor spoke up and interrupted his thoughts.  “All right, Doc, we’re decided, you and your posse will go out as soon as you are ready?”

            Galen nodded. 

            “Then who wants to be on the posse?  Doctor Munro will lead.”

            Before there could be an uncomfortable silence, Galen stood up and took charge.  If he was going to have to lead this disaster, he was going to try and do it right.

            “Now, what just a minute.  I’m not opening the posse up to everyone.  I’m taking only three or four other people besides myself; I need an elite crew for this thing.  We’re not going to take John out with strength of numbers; John could kill the whole town twice over if he had enough mind left to set to that.  I need just a few good people that can help me get this done quickly and quietly.  I’ll be picking them; if you don’t want to go then just say so, straight away, there’ll be no shame in it.”

            And with that Galen reversed how most of the town was thinking about the posse.  They went in a few words from thinking it would be something they would hate to be on, would not volunteer for, to something that would shame them if they were picked, only one of four or so, and then refused.  Elite crew.  The more perceptive of them realized Galen was manipulating them, but realized they’d be ashamed to refuse now, anyway. 

            Galen considered the crowd,  He needed people that could hold their head under fire, that would not break and run, and that would obey his commands without question.  He wanted people without children; he didn’t want to orphan anyone today.  He scanned the faces, faces of his neighbors and friends, mostly people he and his own family had known for years, knowing whoever he picked stood a good chance of dying for his choice.  He watched people’s faces, watched them either meet his eyes, or watched them look anywhere but at him. 

            “All right.  Geraint, will you come?”

            Geraint, who had been meeting Galen’s gaze steadily, with a small wry smile on his face, nodded and stood.  “Aye, willingly.  And honored, Doc.”

            Galen knew he could count on Geraint to make it seem like an honor rather than a death sentence.  He gave him a quick small smile.  “I thank you, Geraint.  Come up and stand with me.”  Geraint picked his way through the crowd while Galen considered the rest.  To his dismay a lot of the Daere had not made it here this morning.  He had been hoping to at least be able to consider one or two of them.  Ederyn was in back, though, standing on a chair to see above the crowd, and as Galen looked his way again he unfolded one of his hands, where he had his arms crossed over his chest, and lifted it a little, just barely bringing it above his other arm, giving Galen a tiny wave that only he saw.  Galen had to suppress a smile.  He surveyed the crowd one more time.  “Ederyn.  Will you come?”

            “Oh, aye, right gladly, Doc.”  Ederyn grinned and put his hands on his neighbors shoulders to jump down.  He weaved his way to the front until he also stood next to Galen. 

            He picked Bened and then Kell; although their shirereeve had none of Galen’s confidence, his reevesmen usually were level-headed and competent.  Galen looked Stafford over and then very pointedly did not choose him. 

            Stafford protested.  “As Shirereeve I should be on this posse; you can’t have a posse without the Shirereeve!”

            Galen answered mildly, keeping his temper in check, “Now, you and the mayor asked me to lead this thing.  That means I’m going to choose who I want.  You want to be on this posse, then you can lead it yourself, without me.  I’ll spend the next two or three days waiting for your pros and stitching up sheep.” 

            “Well, I can’t afford to have you take both my reevesmen.  We’ll need one here to guard the folks in town.”  Bened and Kell both looked embarrassed, knowing they weren’t needed much in town and Stafford was just being a jerk.  Stafford and Galen began to argue about it but Morvran cut them off short. 

            “Pick one to stay and then pick someone else to replace them.  Let’s get this over with,” he said tiredly. 

            Stafford hesitated.  “Kell, you stay.”  Kell’s face fell.  Bened looked jubilant for a second, then looked a little shocked, and he fixed his eyes on the ground and didn’t look up again. 

            “I’ll take one more then,” said Galen.  He scanned the crowd, trying to remember who had good aim with a bow, who was steady handed and steady hearted.  His eyes fixed on Nwyvre and her friend Moern, off to the side.  Both met his gaze and smiled, Moern even bouncing a little on her feet, trying to attract his attention.  Both were wicked good with the bow, won the archery competitions every time, trading trophies back and forth regularly.  Both had been steady when they went to John’s place the first time.  Nwyvre was perhaps a little better at minor magics, and Moern was maybe a little more agile and strong. 

            But he just couldn’t make himself choose Nwyvre.  He looked from one to the other, but all he could think of was the slaughter they had seen at John’s, and the sharp pain of John jabbing at him with his talon.  That cold, evil voice, telling him he would die. 

            “Moern,” he finally said, but his throat was dry and it came out too quietly.  “Moern,” he said louder.  “Will you come?”

            Nwyvre’s face fell while Moern jumped up and down twice.  “Aye, willingly, Doctor,” Moern said gaily, and came up front as well, remembering about halfway up to act dignified, but still not able to stop smiling proudly.

            “I’d willingly come as well, Galen,” said Nwyvre, her face suddenly flushed.

            He hesitated, knowing whatever he said, it would be wrong.  “I thank ye, Nwyvre.  But I have my posse.” 

            She ducked her head, her face scarlet, but she didn’t protest any more. 

            Morvran made a short speech about heroism and bravery and some other crap that Galen didn’t hear.  He was watching Nwyvre make her way through the crowd and out the back door.  She gave him one last look before she walked out, angry tears on her face. 

            Geraint whispered in his ear, grinning, “Well you buggered that one up, now, didn’t you?” 

Galen gave him a scowl, then a wry shrug.  “What the hell was I supposed to do?” he whispered back.

“Oh, I don’t know.  Let her come along?”

“How could I do that?  I don’t want her to go, it’s too dangerous.  I’m just trying to protect her.”

“Oh, aye, that sounds reasonable.  And she doesn’t want you to go, it’s too dangerous.  She was just trying to protect you.” 

Galen turned his head and gave him a look, while Geraint smiled innocently back at him. 

“Ahem,” coughed the mayor, and they both jumped and turned to him like kids caught talking in class.  “And in conclusion, I know we all wish our brave heroes the very best of luck.  May the blessed eyes of our Saint Ksantae watch over them, and may they have the strength and courage of one of their members’ namesake, of Saint Bened.”  There was a mixed chorus of amens and light clapping from the crowd, and Galen scowled and led his posse through the hall to the town square without saying a word.  Every time someone mentioned ‘Saint Ksantae’, he always could come up with some very human memory of Boot.  In life he had been no saint, and no one knew that better than Galen. 

Galen gathered the posse on the far side of the square, around his bike.  “I’ll get you geared up and ready here, and then we’ll head up to John’s place.  Eus told me earlier he is up there today; I hope we can surprise him there while he sleeps.  We’ll go up quiet.  I’ll lead and scout, but I want all of you prepared.”  He looked at each of them in turn.  “I thank you for being here, all of you.  I’ll ask you all one more time if you willingly come.  It might go badly.  We might die.  If you want to back out there will be no shame in it; I’ll think up a good story for letting you forego this.  Do you understand?”

They all agreed they understood, and they all seemed maybe just a bit insulted that he would bother asking again. 

“Aye, Doc, we’re all decided,” said Ederyn.  “I even talked to Eus this morning, and he…he said…” Ederyn stopped abruptly, not saying anything more about what Eus had told him.  He shook his head and looked down, obviously upset. 

“We said we’d come.  We’ve all seen what John has done, Doc.  You’re not hiding anything from any of us; we know what to expect,” said Geraint. 

“Oh do ye?  Godsakes, I wish you’d let me know,” he muttered.  He bent and unlocked his bike’s carry-all, and started digging around inside it. He started handing out gear, protective belts, rings, an amulet.  To Ederyn he gave the wrist-bow he had first given to Eus; Ederyn also had the sword he had carried in the first posse.  To Moern he gave a bow and three silver arrows.  “Make it count, shoot for an eye, Moern,” he said quietly as he handed it over.  To Geraint he gave the small Threedee handgun he had, and for himself he took the same larger gun he had carried before.  To Bened he gave a type of magically enhanced bolo The Pla used; it was used to tangle the feet of the dinosaurs they had on their world and he figured it might work a bit for a dragon too.  For the benefit of the crowd that gathered and the people who carefully watched all the crap he hauled out of his carry-all, he pretended to grab some things by accident, and half pulled out a writhing tentacle, a small snake-croc, and an unidentifiable something that shrieked loud enough to make people cover their ears and holler a bit themselves.  He’d mutter a small “oops” after each of these, and by the last one was pretty convinced no one would be trying their own hand at pulling things out of his bike. 

“Doc,” said Ederyn non-chalantly as Galen handed him over a St. Queran ring, “how long have you had these things?”

Galen shrugged.  “Since Juncture.”  Ederyn nodded as he put the ring on, then pressed the emblem on it to his heart.  A blue-green glow spread slowly over his skin and sank in, disappeared. 

“Here comes Nwyvre,” said Geraint quietly, as Galen was stuffing a crystal-tipped staff back in the bike as being too bulky to bring.

Galen straightened up and watched her approach, readying himself to gently refuse her again.  She looked much more composed, though. 

“Doctor,” she said, her voice even.  “I know you do not want me to join you.  I’d still like to offer you what I can before you go.”

Galen raised an eyebrow.  He had no idea what she was talking about.  “What do you mean?”

“I’ll show you.  You know I have some small magics; I’ve fetched my grandfather’s wand and can cast spells upon you, to help protect you today.” 

“Oh.  Uh, sure.  Thank you, Nwyvre.”  Galen was surprised; usually Nwyvre held grudges pretty hard.  Maybe it was a measure of just how worried she was for them.  Or him, he thought, and his heart lifted a little. 

Nwyvre nodded, cordial and distantly professional, and began to weave spells around each member of the posse.  She traced complex patterns of light over each of them, weaving it around their arms, heart, and head, letting the spells sink into them, giving them strength and courage.  She ended with Galen, and as she cast the spells on him he felt his arms lighten and strengthen, his heart lift with courage, and his head clear from all the doubts and fear.  She ended by placing the tip of the wand on the center of his forehead, and he felt a pleasant warmth from it that sank through him and reach down to his toes, and then she brought the wand down and placed a hand over his heart and whispered a few more words.  It was the language of magic and he did not understand it.   

“There,” she said, lifting her eyes to his face.  “It’s not much, really, but it might help you a little today.”

“Thank you, Nwyvre,” said Galen, and the others echoed him.  “But what was that last spell; you didn’t cast it on the others?  Was it because I’m leading?”  Maybe some some kind of spell to make him a better leader, or scout, or something, he thought. 

She shook her head.  “No, it was just because you’re Galen.”  She pulled him down close and kissed him then, a fierce kiss that after a moments surprise he returned, not caring that the whole town saw.  She let him go, then, her hand on his cheek, and said, “You take care of yourself, Galen Munro.  And if you get yourself hurt I will kill you.”  She smiled at him, frightened and sad, and then turned and walked away before she started to cry. 

Galen watched her go, and was silent.  He couldn’t think of anything to say.  The posse waited for him.  Finally he turned to them, completely non-plussed.  “Uh… let’s go,” he finally said, quietly. 

Chapter Ten

            They took a different route up the mountain, since they were nearer town than Cahl’s place this time.  The path still curved around and joined up with the way they had taken before.  Galen stopped them long before they got anywhere near John’s place and coached them on what to do, how to do it.  He tried to prepare them for whatever might come, from them finding John asleep in his home to them being set upon from John while still climbing the path.  They watched the skies nervously as he went over this last plan.  The skies were overcast, and the day was misty with a few sprinkles of rain now and then.  They were all a bit damp, and the weather made Galen nervous.  With the mist they could not see very far. 

            “All right, I’m going to scout ahead, and see if he’s asleep.  This will take a while, so don’t freak out if I don’t come back right away.  I’ll be going very slowly.  If John is asleep and I can reach him, I’ll just try and kill him myself.  If not – well, then I’ll come and get you, and we’ll go from there, depending on what he’s doing.”  He paused.  “And if you hear a lot of noise, well, get ready for John to come down here.  Follow our last plan, without me.  Got it?”

            Everyone nodded.  Bened looked scared but determined.  Ederyn looked somehow nervous and mildly amused simultaneously, and Geraint and Moern looked serious and intent, focused.  “Who’s leading if we lose you, Galen?” asked Ederyn. 

            Galen stared at him.  “Uh… Bened.”

            Bened shook his head.  “Uh-uh.  No way.  I’m scared shitless.  I’d be no good; hell, you’ve already thought of a dozen things I hadn’t thought of, with your plans, Doc.  I’m no good for this sort of thing.”

            Galen thought Bened would probably do fine if he had to, but didn’t waste time on it.  He considered each of them for a moment.  “Moern, then.”  She’d be able to keep her head straight, and get them through it.  Moern nodded, surprised. 

            Galen nodded at them again, and then turned and left, heading carefully up the path.  He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. 

            He slipped easily into scout mode, reverting readily to the skills he had in the war, moving silently and cautiously up the rocky, grass-lined trail.  In one hand he held the Threedee gun, and he left the other hand free to help him climb.  He favored his sore knee; it was much improved from the day before but even a tension-speed wrap took a while to heal things up.  If he lived, he thought to himself, his knee would be back to normal in a week.  For now, though, it was sore and once in a while gave him a twinge of sharp pain.  The climb up the mountain was not what it had needed. 

            The morning had crept into early afternoon, with the town meeting, and the long walk to and up the mountain.  It was quiet, eerily quiet, and the mist and light rain dampened him and dampened all the sounds he was normally used to on this climb.  As he got closer, he slowed down, until he was crawling along, inching his careful way towards John’s yard.  He crept off the path and approached from up one of the slopes. 

            John’s yard looked about the same.  Many of the sheep were bloated, legs sticking stiffly out.  The smell of death lay heavy on the yard, wafted up to him.  Accustomed to it through his work, it did not bother him that much. 

            There was no sign of John.  The sheep and creela that were there all looked like what had already been there before, as if John had not added any in his adventures of the night before.  There were untidy piles of them around John’s front door, as if he had thrown out all the ones that had been inside.  Galen noted that many of the flags that had flown from John’s place were ripped down, scattered, and lay limply and wetly on the stone.  There was little wind, and the place was silent. 

            So.  No John.  Maybe he was inside. 

            This was what Galen had dreaded, having to see if John was deep inside his lair, maybe waiting for him, maybe not asleep at all.  Again he wished for the meese. 

            But the meese weren’t there.  He hadn’t seen meese in years.  He sighed, and looked back down where the path led, briefly wondering if he should just go back and get the others.  He didn’t think about that very long.  His job was scout, and he’d damned well better scout.  He could almost hear Sergeant Hessel yelling it at him. 

            He crept around the side of John’s yard, always listening, always watching.  He had his implant eye cranked on high, about as sensitive as he could get it, and it made everything take on a shimmering vividness.  He could see a little ways into the dark of John’s lair, but not too far, the angle was all wrong, and he crept closer to see in farther.  The entrance hall looked empty, even cleared of sheep carcasses, which were strewn around the outside of his front door.

            He heard John rather than saw him.  A thin hissing whisper, and he froze, holding his breath.  The hiss faded, then began again.  After a minute of listening, frozen still as a statue, Galen realized it was just John breathing – and breathing as if asleep. 

            As he listened he began to crawl forward again, timing his movements with the tiny bit of sound that John was making. 

            Even near the entrance, he wasn’t able to see John.  He did not want to go inside.  It was way too risky; he had a plan for attacking him inside with the whole group, but alone?  It would take all the stealth and luck that he ever had.  John would more than likely wake up with Galen halfway down his entrance hall, and Galen knew he had no chance with that sort of situation.  None at all. 

            So Galen listened at the entrance, trying to judge how far inside John was, trying to remember the acoustics of his place, and using his memories and what he heard to place John exactly where he was within his halls.  He wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty good idea of where he was. 

            Time to go get the others, and hope madly that John didn’t wake up in the meantime.  Galen made sure to use extra caution on the way out, knowing his own tendency to be more careless when wrapping up a scouting job. 

            The others were beside themselves by the time he got back, going crazy with worry and uncertainty.  It had taken him nearly three hours. 

            “What? I told you I’d be a while.  Now, listen up.  John’s asleep in the first hall off to the left, I think.  Now, Bened, and Moern, I don’t think you’ve ever been inside, right?”  They both nodded.  Geraint had been there once or twice, and Galen knew Ederyn used to visit John regularly.  They used to play dacni together on John’s oversized gameboard.  And of course Galen had been there plenty, not only for visits as John’s doctor, but sometimes just as John’s friend, listening to John’s stories and discussing everything from matters in the town to the history of Juncture. 

            Galen explained to them what the inside of John’s place was like.  “When I say ‘hall’, I’m not talking about a narrow corridor, I’m talking about big fucking rooms, long, with high ceilings, really high.  Big enough for John to get around comfortably in, and then some.”  Galen sketched a rough map of the place in a bit of dirt on the trail.  “Here’s what he calls the north hall, going straight in from the east entrance; this hall goes way, way back before it bends around and heads north.  But only about 50-60 feet in, there’s a big hall off to the left and it jogs around to the south and west.  He’s in here, in that first hall, I think, from what I can hear.  Couldn’t see him without going in.”  Galen tapped on the first hall off to the left, in the corner nearest the door.  “I might be wrong, though, the place echoes, and he wasn’t making much noise, really – just his breath was all I could hear.  Or he might have moved, or woken up since I left.  But that was where he was.”  Everyone nodded. 

            “So – here’s the plan.”  Galen explained their roles to each of them and went over possible outcomes, what to do if John awoke before they got there, what to do if they found him asleep, or gone, or if he attacked them on the way.  Then he pointed out the ways they would have to change the plan if he awoke, based on exactly where they would be when he attacked.  Galen emphasized that his plans were only basics, that they would have to adjust based on what John did.  Finally he was satisfied that everyone understood their role, and had a good idea how to adjust to some of the more likely outcomes.  He grimly included outcomes where he died, or where one or some of the others were injured or killed.   

            “Why go over all this, Galen?” asked Geraint.  “Why all this detail, I don’t get it.  Let’s just get going and kill him.  We should be able to wing it.”

            “Right, we should.  I bet we could.  But this is the first time that the five of us have worked together as a team.  We’d better have our fucking act together and know what we’re doing.  We get one chance at this, and I guarantee when it’s over there will be at least one person dead.  And that person had goddamned better be John.  Got it?”  They got it. 

            It was all a bit surreal, Galen thought as he guided them back up the trail, carefully, slowly.  So weird to be creeping up this familiar path, his nerves completely strung out by then, heading up to kill his old friend.  When they reached the yard Galen fiddled with his gun one more time, setting it to nether, a deadly setting that replaced everything in its path with nothing at all.  He helped Geraint set his, and Geraint chose concuss-force for his.  Ederyn’s little wrist bow was set for explosive force, and Moern’s arrows were simply killing magic.  Bened’s bolos wouldn’t kill, but were perhaps going to be the most important weapon of all. 

            They got across the yard and about fifty feet down his entrance hall before John woke up.  Galen was having them come in along the far right wall, since he wasn’t sure how far down the left hall John was.  He had just cleared the wall that stretched off to the left and spotted John, down at the far corner.  He put up a hand to stop the others and John’s head whipped up suddenly, and the glow of his eyes pierced the darkness. 

            Everything after that happened quickly.  John lept to his feet, and, screaming, rushed Galen.  Galen took off down the north hall, straight back into John’s lair, running as hard as he could.  John swerved down the hall to intercept him.  As he cleared the corner of the entrance hall, all the others shot at him.  They were all rattled, and Ederyn and Geraint both missed, their shots going high and wide.  Bened threw his first bolo ahead of John, letting it go too soon, sending it spinning off down the hall, skittering off the south wall of it, missing John by a good twenty feet.  He cursed and started to whip out another.  Galen was too busy running to turn and try to fire.  Moern, however, kept her head and her hand was steady.  She followed John as he came into sight and loosed an arrow at him, aiming for his eye, meaning to kill. 

            The arrow missed his eye but sank into the flesh just above it, into the muscles of his head.  It caught his attention, and he spun, enraged.  Galen turned just in time to see John rush over to Moern in a screaming fury.  He swiped at her with one viciously clawed hand and spun her in a circle, spraying blood in a wide arc as she whirled about.  Before she fell he batted her again, slamming her into the stone wall, where she hung for one everlasting moment and then fell. 

            Ederyn had dodged out of the way of John’s long body, and brought his wrist bow up again, firing and this time hitting John solidly in the shoulder.  John staggered to the side, pushed by the blow.  At nearly the same moment Geraint fired the little 3D gun, and hit John a glancing blow in the head.  John paused in his screaming for a moment and wobbled, then shook his head and rounded again on Galen, shrieking.  Galen fired off a single shot at John and then turned to run again, trying to stick to the plan in spite of Moern’s loss.  His shot went wide and high, and silently punched a hole the size of a fist through the stone of John’s home, clean through the walls and out the mosaic tile of his façade.  A faint beam of daylight shone through. 

            John began to chase Galen down the north hall again.  Galen was not going very fast by then; his first burst of speed had blown something in his injured knee.  He limped along as fast as he could, praying for Bened to come through for him. 

            Bened did, flinging his second bolo down the hall and entangling John neatly.  John tripped and fell, his chin hitting the ground.  He slid, rolled, and knocked Galen down.  Galen’s gun was knocked from his hand and he scrambled for it. 

            John was enraged, furious, screaming and cursing.  He flipped up to his feet and with a violent movement ripped the bonds of Bened’s bolo away, tearing through them easily.  He spun around, throwing his body in a wide arc up into the air, flaring his wings for a moment, and when he came down it was directly on Bened.  He snapped him up in his mouth and crushed him, then spat him against the wall. 

            Galen, on one knee on the ground with his bad leg off to the side, brought the 3D gun up and aimed, waiting for John to turn.  John whirled around and rushed him again. 

            Ederyn and Geraint, off to each side of the hall, aimed and fired.  Ederyn got John in his long body, pushing him to the side.  Geraint hit him in the neck, and his screams abruptly stopped as his head jerked.  Together the blows slowed him down, but didn’t kill him outright, and John continued on his deadly path towards Galen. 

            Galen aimed and fired, pulling the trigger with the full knowledge that it was either him or John.  He couldn’t escape this; he wasn’t even able to stand anymore. 

            Galen shot a beam of nether through John’s forehead, between his eyes, maybe off a bit to the right.  It was a long, surreal moment, as Galen found himself calmly criticizing his aim, looking through John’s head to the walls beyond, as John’s body, driven by inertia, hurtled towards him.  He threw himself off to the side, but was still clipped and rolled violently by John’s body.  In the tumble he banged his head on the stone floor.  A flash of light before his eyes, and then darkness. 

Chapter Eleven

            Ederyn shook him awake.   “Galen, c’mon, c’mon Doc, wake up!”  He was frantic.  “Goddamit, wake up Galen!” 

            Galen blinked and tried to focus, his vision swimming.  He tried to move and couldn’t; his legs hurt like hell and he looked down to see them trapped under John.  He tried to push himself out and couldn’t budge.  He felt sleepy and weak, and was chilled, drenched with sweat and the damp of the rain. 

            “Hurry up, Ed!” cried out Geraint from down the hall.  He sounded panicky too.  Galen couldn’t see him. 

            “I told you, he’s stuck!  He’s waking up though, I think!”

            “I’m awake, I’m awake,” he muttered. 

            ‘Doc, you need to look at Moern, right away, c’mon,” said Ederyn.

            “I’m stuck.  Can’t move, John’s too heavy.  Give me a hand here,” he said.  Ederyn tried to pull Galen out, and tried to push against John to roll him away.  It was no use; John was huge and his body was solidly on Galen’s legs.  “Get Geraint over here,” he gasped.  He couldn’t believe how much pain shot through him every time he moved, even just a little tiny bit. 

            “Geraint!  Get over here, we need you to help get him out!”

            “I can’t leave her!”

            “Well goddamit he’d better if you want me out of here,” gasped Galen.  “I can’t fucking do anything for her from here.”

            “Geraint, get your fucking ass over here!”

            Geraint ran over then, cursing in quiet sobs.  He saw what Ederyn and Galen were trying to do and pointed at Galen.  “Get him by his arms, Ederyn.  Keep pulling.  Pull in little jerks, use your legs.”  Geraint got his back up against John and bent down with his knees and pushed, trying to lever him up a little.  “Pull when I push him up.”

            John was too heavy.  Geraint had to rock him, and Ederyn had to pull at just the right time.  Galen tried to push, but passed out from the pain after a minute or so.  Every time Geraint rocked John, he thought he would scream. 

            They stopped to rest and waited for Galen to wake up again.  It wasn’t working; they needed him to help too.  When he did wake up again, shaken by Ederyn, they had him pull with his hands on one leg, the leg that hand’t been injured before.  Once he got one leg freed, he was able to push with it and after a long time they were able to free him. 

            Galen passed out again as the blood rushed back in to his crushed leg.  Ederyn stubbornly roused him again and helped him crawl over to where Moern lay, crumpled by the north wall. 

            “Where’s Bened?” asked Galen as they made their slow painful way over.  Geraint was already back at Moern’s side, urging them to hurry.

            “He’s… he’s dead, Galen,” said Ederyn softly, his voice breaking.  “He’s gone.”  John had bitten Bened, viciously.  His chest had been crushed, his legs nearly severed. 

            Galen reached Moern.  He instantly saw that she would not take much longer to follow Bened.  She lay twisted; Geraint had not moved her, afraid to injure her more.  Blood lay pooled around her.  Galen was amazed she had lived as long as she did, though really only about fifteen minutes had passed.  It seemed much longer to Galen because he had kept passing in and out of consciousness.  He stared at her.  She was completely beyond his ability to help.  He didn’t have the medical equipment or hardly anything he needed to help her – not that anything could save her at this point. 

            Ederyn and Geraint thought he’d be able to, though, and insisted on his trying.  He humored them, examining her the best he could without the use of his legs, half laying down, half sitting.  She had horrible injuries, from when John had clawed her, and was unconscious, with her face bashed from hitting the wall, blood coming from her ears.  “She’s not going to make it,” he told them, but they would have none of that.

            “Goddammit Galen, you fucking do what you can for her,” hissed Geraint, and so Galen did. 

            It wasn’t enough, and after an hour she died, quietly, her breath just getting more and more shallow until it faded away.  “She’s gone,” whispered Galen.  Ederyn abruptly got up and walked outside, silent.  Geraint collapsed, kneeling on the ground and sobbing, hands over his head, grabbing his hair as if trying to hold on to something, anything. 

            Galen rolled over onto his back and stared at John’s ceiling, carved in sweeping graceful arcs and curves, painted with clouds at dawn.  No one had been able to do them for John, that high, so he had done it himself, long ago.  Dawn here in the east entrance, brilliant sunset over in his west hall.  Galen felt tears roll down his temples.  This was not what he had planned for.  He had known some of them might die, and that John would die, but now here he was on the other side of it all, and he wasn’t ready.  He wasn’t ready for it to have happened.  I take it back, he thought uselessly to himself.  Can’t I take it back?

            It took them another full hour to convince Ederyn they could come back for Bened and Moern, they could leave them for a little while, and that they needed to get Galen down the mountain.  Nothing was broken, as far as Galen could tell, but his knee was completely blown and badly swollen, and his legs were badly bruised.  ‘Bruised’ was not even a good word for it; his legs were swollen and purple from all the bleeding, under the skin, in his muscles, agonizingly painful.  He couldn’t walk, let alone make the difficult trail down the mountain again.  They argued over whether to send one of them down the mountain to get help or to try and carry Galen down somehow. 

            Finally Geraint said, kneeling next to Galen, “I know you don’t want to split us up, but I’m not carrying your fat ass down that trail.”  He grinned, his eyes still red from weeping, and Galen, after a moment, grinned back.  It didn’t erase any of the pain, but with that they were able to go on. 

            Ederyn ran down the mountain and fetched help, and he and Kell and Stafford, and a few others, came up with a wagon and hauled Galen down.  He was in bad shape by the time they got there, long after dark.  He was cold, chilled through by the damp, and having a hard time staying awake above the pain.  He rode in the wagon next to the blanket-wrapped bodies of Bened and Moern.  The ride was rough, and every jolt made him gasp or cry out, until finally Doctor Gunson made it to them and gave him something for the pain.  He hazed out then, letting one hand rest on the cold shape that had once been Moern, drifting off into dim dreams.  Before he faded too much, though, he asked for Ederyn and grabbed his hand, telling him, “You make sure they leave John alone.  Keep the vultures away; I want to take a look at him, see if there was something wrong.” 

Ederyn nodded, knowing Galen meant more than just the scavenger birds.  “I promise,” he said. 

            Once at the clinic Doctor Gunson took over his care, treated his bruises and the knee, gave him an intravenous injection of Bidcom tissue healer to hurry it up, and kept him sedated to keep him still.  He kept Galen overnight in the clinic and fitted him in the morning with a brace for his knee, a thin metal scaffold that Galen thought looked a bit delicate; Galen was a big guy.  He glanced at the specs Gunson had placed on his table and realized it was the same type he’d use for Pla, which would be plenty strong enough for him.  He tossed the specs aside as Gunson walked in to his room.  “Good enough for you, Galen?” he asked drily. 

            “Plenty good, Doc, thanks.”

            “Glad to hear it.  You need to stay off your feet for about a week.  You had a bad crushing injury, Galen, both legs, and came about this close to having to have surgery, fasciotomies to releave the pressure.  The tissue healer seems to have taken over, though; I think your legs will be ok.”

            “And my knee?” 

            “About as screwed up as you can get without me sending you to Juncture or over to Holten Towen to get a new one.  You’d need a magic healing, like as not, if it was any worse.”  He patted Galen on his leg, as he sat next to his bed.  “You’ll be fine, though, the tension-speed wrap should get the job done, and tissue healer will only help more.  Keep the brace on for a week, keep off of it, and it’ll be fine.  I’ve got some crutches for you, if you remember how to use those.”

            “Oh, aye.”  Between the bike and his occasional mountain climbing, Galen was extremely familiar with crutches. 

            “Mm-hm.  And I’ve also set up the brace to protect your damned knee, since I know you and how well you use crutches.”  Gunson gave him a glare. “And if you screw up your knee even with that, then I will send you to Holten.  Got it?”

            “I got it.”  The healing would be quick and easy in Holten, but everything else would be hard.  “When can I get out of here, Doc?”

            I’ll let you go now, if you promise to go home and sit in bed.”

            Galen just looked at him.

            Gunson sighed.  “I’ll let you go this afternoon, then.  Give the tissue healer a little time, at least, Galen, can you do that?”

            Galen nodded thoughtfully.  “Aye, I can do that, if you can tell me what’s going on today.  I’d like to go up and do a necropsy on John; I want some answers about what happened to him, why he snapped.” 

            “I’d rather you not climb that mountain, Galen.  Your knee can’t take it, I’ll promise you that.”

            “I’ll take the bike.  John’s not there to bitch about it anymore.”

            Gunson rolled his eyes.  “Oh, for – all right, Galen, take the bike and take plenty of people to help you; that’ll be a tough job.  You need to supervise it; I don’t want you doing the heavy work, so take some people you can trust to take direction with that kind of nasty job.”

            “I’ll take whoever I can get.  I’d welcome your help, Doc, if you’d come.”

            Gunson shook his head.  “Sorry, Galen, no.”  He didn’t explain why, though, and Galen assumed he had patients to care for.  “I can tell you what is going on, though.”  But he paused, and was silent, gathering his thoughts.  “They’ll have a service and bury Bened and Moern in two days.  Arven Dale is being settled down tomorrow, in the morning, and Hawthorn in the afternoon.” 

            Galen nodded soberly. 

            “They’re talking of having a celebration for you and the rest of the posse at the end of the week.”

            “What?” 

            Gunson nodded.  “Aye, the mayor’s idea, wants to put some kind of positive light on this disaster, he says, wants to honor the heroes that saved us.”

            “That’s daft.”

            Gunson shrugged.  “Daft or not, Galen, we’ve had a dragon go insane and on a rampage and we lost four people.  Only four people, Doc, and that’s thanks to you and your posse.”

            Galen shook his head.  “I’ll not go.  There’s nothing to celebrate; this was a massive pile of shit from the beginning.  Sorry, but I can’t manage to pull a fucking party out of that.”

            Gunson shrugged again.  “I’m not making you go, don’t get all bent out of shape with me.  You asked me what was going on, I’m telling you.”

            “Sorry.” Galen thought for a bit, trying to let his anger simmer down.  “Hey, you didn’t mention any service for John.”

            Gunson shook his head.  “No service is planned for John, Galen.  You mention that and you won’t be invited to your own hero party.” 

            “Fuck the hero party, that’s asinine.  You let people know I’ll hold a service for John before the necropsy, this afternoon.”

            Gunson stared at him, eyebrows raised a little.  “All right, Galen.  I’ll pass the word to those I think might want to hear it.”

            “Tell everyone; I don’t care.  John was an outstanding member of this community for ages, and a damned good friend of mine and a lot of other people too; I don’t care what people think if I go ahead and honor that memory.”

            Gunson nodded.  “I’ll let people know, Galen.”

            “Tell the Daere.”

            “I will.”

             Galen looked up just then to see Nwyvre standing in the door, watching.  He smiled, couldn’t help it.  Gunson saw her too and stood to leave.  “I’ll talk to you later then, Galen, get some rest and stay in bed as long as you can bear it, all right?”  He winked and left, sliding the door closed behind him. 

            Galen and Nwyvre just looked at each other for a moment, and Galen wasn’t sure what to expect.  “I guess you’re here to kill me, then?” he finally said, smiling a little.  “Since I went and got myself hurt?”

            “Oh…” Nwyvre’s face went through exasperation, anger, and sorrow, and a dozen other anguished emotions, before she walked unsteadily over to Galen and sank down on the bed next to him.  “Oh, Galen…I really ought to, you know.”  But she couldn’t bring herself to smile back, didn’t have the spirit left to banter with him.  She leaned down and hugged him, holding him close, as best she could with him in bed.  “I was so frightened for you.  You were gone so long.  You looked so terrible when you came back.  And Moern…”    

            She buried her face in his shoulder and cried, clinging to him.  He held her, until she stopped, then held her some more.  “Galen, don’t ever leave me again,” she whispered to him. 

He felt his heart take this amazing leap, leaving him a bit stunned for a moment.  After a few seconds he found his voice.  “Never,” he whispered back.  She hugged him tight again, and held him close, her head on his shoulder, hand over his chest, rising and falling with his breath.  She fell asleep there, having been up all night, waiting for him, waiting for Doctor Gunson to decide whether his legs needed surgery or not, waiting for him to finally wake up.  Holding her close, Galen struggled with his bizarre mix of emotion, and finally just took the moment and savored his joy, kissing her lightly on her head as she slept, breathing the scent of her hair. 

            Ederyn found them like that, and although he hated to do it he woke up Galen, shaking his free shoulder lightly and whispering in his ear.  Galen’s eyes flew open but he didn’t budge, didn’t disturb Nwyvre. 

            “Galen, I’ve been up at John’s all day.  I left Geraint up there; he relieved me.  The mayor and his men have been up there sniffing around, looking through John’s halls.  I made them stay away from John, though, let them know you were going to do an autopsy.” 

            “What did the mayor say to that?” he whispered back.

            “Wasn’t happy about it.  Tried to tell me how much a dragon hide, teeth, claws, would fetch on the Juncture market.  Me!  He told me that!  Can you believe it?”  Ederyn’s fury was impossible for him to conceal.  As a close friend of John’s, and a half-blood Daere, the mayor could not have been more insulting to Ederyn.    “I think I made it clear he would have trouble with the Daere if he sold John’s body.”

            “They don’t have a problem with the necropsy?” 

            “Of course not.”

            Galen nodded, grateful, but honestly didn’t understand the Daere and their religious beliefs about the body and just what could and couldn’t be done with it after death.  He understood it a hair more than he understood their attitude about sex. 

            Nwyvre stirred, as if in the fleeting instant he thought about sex he managed to awaken her.  He grinned at her as she lifted her head, and she moved up a bit to kiss him warmly.  He returned the kiss, lingering, and then looked back behind her at Ederyn when she broke it off.  He watched unashamedly.  Nwyvre whirled her head and gasped in surprise.  “Oh!  I didn’t know…”  She whirled back on Galen then, indignant and laughing.  “Oh, you knew he was there!”  She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. 

            Galen laughed.  “I don’t care if the whole barony’s watching, I’m not about to stop ye from kissing me.”  She eased off of him and stretched.  Galen and Ederyn both watched, until Galen gave Ederyn a scowl, and he turned away, grinning. 

            “What do you want me to do, then, Doc?” he said.

            “I’ll be getting a crew together to help with the necropsy.  Round up whoever you think might help.  See if Wedrein is free.  Tell them to be prepared to get pretty messy, wear old clothes they can discard afterwards.  I’ll stop by my place and get some supplies.”

            “Ah, that reminds me, I threw all the gear you gave us back in your carry-all.  Didn’t want any of it walking away, you know.”

            “Thanks.  I’m also going to have a little service for John before we start, no one else is doing anything nor are they likely to.  Let his friends know, if you could, Ederyn.” 

            “Where will you have that?”

            Galen thought.  “I’ll have it up at his place.  I know it’s a mess, but I don’t fancy trying to hold it in town.  People who care will make the trip.”

            Ederyn nodded.

            “I think I’m going to try and sneak out of here, go home for a bit and get my stuff.  Meet you at the town square in an hour?”

            “Right.  See you there.”  Ederyn waved and left the room.

            Galen eased himself out of bed and began to look around the room for the crutches Dr. Gunson had promised him.  He tested the brace; he could put a little weight on his leg with it.  Still hurt like bloody hell though. 

            “You’ve got to be kidding me.  You’re not going to be getting out of bed,” said Nwyvre.  “Doctor Gunson was talking about surgery not twelve hours ago, you can’t walk on those.”

            “Oh, aye, I can and I will.  I’ve got to get to John and take a look at him, and I’d much rather do it today before he gets any deader.  The tissue healer’s kicked in just fine, goes very fast after that, you know.” 

            ‘Why do you need to do this?  We know what killed him, Galen.”

            “I need to find out if something else was going on.  Was he sick?  What could make him go insane like that?  I owe it to him to find out.”

            Nwyvre hesitated, wanting to make him stay in bed, safe, still trying to figure out how to love him without controlling him.  Trying to figure out what he needed.  She decided to take the direct route.  “What can I do for you, Galen?  How can I help?”

            “Um.. help me find those damned crutches.  Dr. Gunson must’ve hidden them.”

            “May I come with you?”

            Galen stopped and looked at her, and saw that she was trying hard not to yell at him to get the hell back in bed you damned fool.  “Of course.  I’d… I’d like that, Nwyvre.  But you might not want to stay around for the necropsy.  It’ll be… uh… a tough job.”

            “I’ll come, Galen, that doesn’t bother me.  I’ll help; you know you’ll need as many hands as you can get.” 

            That was unexpected.  He grinned at her.  “All right.  Let’s get me out of here and get over to my place.”

            Doctor Gunson’s distant voice shouted at them.  “Aye, Galen, if you’re trying to sneak out, your crutches are in the closet there, against the wall!”

            Galen yelled back.  “Thanks, Doc, we’ll be sneaking out now then!”

Chapter Twelve

            Nwyre had to fetch Galen’s bike from the town square where he had left it the day before.  She rode it back slowly to the clinic, keeping it firmly on the ground the whole time.  He drove it to his home, then, with Nwyvre holding onto the crutches laid across his lap. 

            No less than a dozen people stopped to thank him as he sat outside Gunson’s clinic, shaking his hand and telling him what a great thing he had done.  He accepted their thanks quietly, telling them the people they really needed to be thankful to were Bened and Moern.  Then he’d tell them he was holding a little service for John that afternoon, and the people would drop their hands, give him a strange, incredulous look, and leave him alone. 

            They drove into Galen’s small yard and stopped the engine; the dogs were hollering inside the house.  As Galen fought with the crutches, Arrol from next door came out, walking over slowly.  “Doc, welcome back. I looked after your dogs, while you were gone.”

            Galen was surprised.  “Did you now?  Well, thank you, Arrol, I hope they weren’t too much trouble. “

            “Nae, nae trouble at’all.  Kept ‘em over at my place last night, to shut ‘em up, you know.”  Arrol stared at Galen as he finally got the crutches under him and began to warm up to their use again.  “I heard you killed John, Doc.”

            “Oh, aye,” Galen said quietly. 

            Arrol nodded.  “Good.”  He turned his eyes to Nwyvre, but didn’t say anything or even smile. 

            “There’ll be a service for him this afternoon, Arrol, as soon as we can get up to his place.  You’d be welcome to come.”

            Arrol just looked at him, staring, eyes narrowed. 

            “Well… thanks for looking after the dogs, Arrol.”  Galen turned and crutched up the narrow walk to his house, and around to the side door.  The dogs were going nuts, jumping and pounding on the door, baying their fool heads off. 

            “This might be a bit rough,” said Galen, and opened the door, stepping back out of the way.  The dogs poured out, three massive staghounds of indeterminate color, brownish greyish mud-colored things.  They began to knock against Galen and Nwyvre, wagging their tails so vigorously they wagged the entire dog, but when Tash banged his leg Galen roared at them to settle down and shut up.

            They did, quieting down instantly, but all three of them still quivering with doggy joy.  “Bad dogs,” Galen told them conversationally, and pointed them out to the yard. 

            “Aw, they’re not bad dogs,” said Nwyvre.  “They’re just glad to see you.”

            “Eh, it’s all in how you tell them.  Like so,” and Galen yelled in a fierce, angry voice at the dogs, “Good dogs!  GOOD dogs!  Come here for your LOVE!” 

            The dogs cowered in frightened circles in the yard.

            Galen winked at Nwyvre.  “See?  Watch this.”  In a friendly shout, he hollered at the dogs, “Bad dogs!  Awful, bad, horrible dogs!  Come here and let me beat you!” and the dogs came over in bounding leaps to lick his hands and let him scratch their ears.  “Aw.  That’s a bad dog.”

            “You’re mean! Poor confused dogs.”

            “They’re not a bit confused; they know I likes ‘em.  Just gotta remember – they don’t speak human.  Now – this one with the one ear, that’s Tash.  This one with the scarred nose, that’s Lucus, and that’s his official badge of stupidity, and this other little wee one is Ferus.  And they’re all damned ugly, and I know it already.”

            ‘Ferus is about as big as I am, Galen.  Bigger.  That’s in no way a ‘little wee’ dog.”

            “Aye, she’s the little one, a delicate flower.”  Galen gave them all a good scritching and then sent them back out to the yard.  “They’re good dogs, but watch them, they’ll walk all over you if you let them.”

            Galen gestured Nwyvre in, trying to remember what kind of shape he had left his house in.  He’d been a bit distracted last time he’d been home, and the place was a wreck.  He’d left the clothes that John had ruined thrown on the floor, and had ransacked the place for his items.  The dogs had created their own little pockets of chaos in the house too, it looked like.  “Guess the maid didn’t show up,” he said.  “Sorry about that.”

            Nwyvre picked up the shirt that was on the floor and held it out to look at it.  The back was in strips, long tatters, and was stiff with dark dried blood.  She turned to Galen.  “John did this to you?” she asked quietly.

            Galen nodded and shrugged.  “Aye, up in Haeredowne.”

            She didn’t say anything, just turned and laid the shirt over the nearest chair.  She sighed and paused, composing herself, then turned back.  “What can I help you with here, Galen?”

            “Nothing much.  I’ll pick up a few supplies for the necropsy, and I wanted to give Issa a quick call.  We’ll head out in a few minutes, I hope.  Make yourself at home.”  He watched as she began to wander over by his bookshelves, and then went through the back to his clinic to gather his supplies.  He piled up as much stuff that he could think of, then went back in to see if he could get a hold of Issa on the connect. 

            Nwyvre was thumbing through one of his books, and looked up when he crutched back in.  “Galen, why do you have all these books on magical healing?” she asked.

            He shrugged.  “I got them before I left Juncture.  I was going into phase two when I ran out of money, lost a scholarship.  So I never got to the magic.” 

            “I didn’t know you had the talent.”

            He nodded.  “They said I was supposed to.  I guess I passed the entrance test.  But it just never got any further than that.” 

            “You should have asked for training around here, in Holten; someone would have taken you on, I’m sure.”

            “Naw.  That’s not what I wanted, then.  I just wanted to get on with it, by then.  Make some money, get settled into the job.  Thinking about looking at another seven years as a prentice – just made me sick.  Couldn’t do it.  If I couldn’t afford the two years in Juncture, then I just didn’t want to do it the long way.”  He shrugged.  “Dunno if that was the right choice, but oh well.  I’ve liked how it’s gone so far, I guess.  Mostly I can muddle through without the magic.”

            “Gotcha.  Anything I can help you with, Galen?”

            “Sure.  I left a pile of stuff in the clinic, on the surgery table.  If you could take it out and stick it in the carry-all I’d sure appreciate it.  I’m going to try and connect to Issa.”

            “Sure, I can do that.”  She put the book carefully back and walked past him, giving him a quick kiss on the way. 

            He made sure to lose the goofy grin on his face before he called Issa.  She was not surprised to hear from him and answered right away.  “Galen, dear, why did you take so long to get back to me?  You knew I was waiting.”

            “I just got home from the hospital, that’s why.”

            “Oh!  Oh, heavens, Galen, are those crutches again?  How’s John, did you find out what was wrong?”

            “Yes, these are crutches again.  No, I didn’t find out what was wrong with John.  We put him down yesterday.”

            Issa was silent, watching him.  He waited.  Finally she spoke, and it really wasn’t what he expected to hear.  “I’m so sorry, Galen.”

            He ducked his head.  Tears came to his eyes and he blinked them back angrily.  Issa was the first person to realize what John’s death had cost him, the first person to acknowledge his loss. 

            She gave him some time, then asked gently, “Galen, was that what John needed?”

            He nodded.  “He attacked the Dales, killed Arven Dale, killed Hawthorn, destroyed their place.  I took a posse up yesterday.  He took Bened and Moern with him.”

            “And nearly took you too?”

            “No, no, not that bad.  Issa, I need your advice.  I’m heading up to post him.  I need to find out why he lost it, what turned him into a killer.  Suggestions?”

             She silently thought about it, staring at him.  “Well, hun, we talked about the differentials a little.  You need to rule out organic brain disease, mind parasites, possession, curses, poisons and drugs, psi control, and plain old-fashioned insanity.”

            “I took Eus out to find him after I talked to you last.  He said there was no possession, no psi control, as far as he could tell.  He said, um… “There’s no one in there but John.””

            “Good for you, hun.  You’d have a devil of a time trying to eliminate those at this point.  What else did he feel?”

“He described some kind of corruption.  He couldn’t make it any more clear to me than that.”

“He couldn’t pass what he felt on to you?”

            Galen paused.  “Er… neither of us thought of that.  I don’t know if he can do that.  Besides, John took him out of action pretty early.”  Galen described what had happened in Haeredown, and then what had happened at John’s place the day before.

            She pondered, gazing at Galen’s face.  “Why didn’t he kill you then, Galen?  In Haeredowne?”

            “I’ve no idea.  None at all.”

            “You said that he said, “Stop it, stop it?””

            “Yes, he did, at one point.” 

            “What did that mean?  Stop what?”

            “I don’t know.  Stop bothering him?  Leave?  I honestly don’t know.  He wasn’t making much sense.”

            “Hm.  All very strange.  Did he talk at all at his place, yesterday?”

            “Just some cussing.  Nothing else.” 

            She silently considered for another minute, then started giving Galen suggestions for sample collection and storage, some technical pointers and several magical tips as well.  “You can send the samples on in to me and I can forward them to the xenopathologists at the U of J.  I’ll start asking around which one might have some familiarity with dragons.  Will you be able to examine his brain, Galen?”

            “I don’t know.  I put a pretty damned big hole through it.”

            “Ah.  Well, do what you can.  Check for rabies.”

            Galen raised an eyebrow.  “Dragons can get rabies?”

            “You never know, dear.  He might be the first.” 

            “Heh.  All right.  Any suggestions on what to do about the scavengers?  Morvran already hassled Ederyn about John’s body, wanting to sell the bits.”

            Issa gasped.  “He wouldn’t!  He didn’t!”

            “Er… sure he would.”

            “No, not the selling, that I’m not surprised about.  But to talk like that to Ederyn, of all people?  That man has no soul.  How could he?  After all these years, you think he understands the Daere that live in his township at least a little, and then he goes and does something as collosally idiotic as this…”  Issa was off and running, and gave a very surprised Galen a vehement rant for about five minutes. 

            Finally he cut in.  “Issa, calm down.  Tell me what to do about it.”

            “Oh!  Oh.  Of course, Galen, I’m sorry.  Just make sure you dispose of the body when you’re done.  Have Ederyn council you how, I imagine the poor boy will be there.” 

            “All right, I’ll do that.  Anything else?”

            “Yes.  You stay on those crutches this time, Galen.  I don’t care if Gunson gave you a Pla brace for that knee, it’s never enough.”

            Galen laughed.  “Yes ma’am.” 

            “Don’t you ma’am me.  You take care of yourself, Galen, and I’m not just saying that.  Take it easy posting John.  Sit back and supervise.  It’ll be too hard on you otherwise.”

            “All right, all right.  Thank you Issa.  I’ll get back to you when I’m done, or tomorrow.”

            “I can wait until tomorrow, hun.  When you get done you won’t want to do anything except sleep.  For a year.”  She smiled at him and they disconnected.