Cleansing Fire
Chapter 1: A Smell of Smoke

Marius stood up and knuckled the small of his back, grimacing at the aches and pains that a day in the sun had brought him. Perhaps Mistress Arfor would let him come in for a little while before he washed up for dinner. He sighed and bent down to pick up his basket. He knew he would have to at least finish the work that he’d started before trying to get inside. In the five years he’d been working at the farm, she had never been known to let anyone shirk their duties by even a small amount. Even a birthday only brought a firm pat on the back and a wish for a productive day.

He went about the business of piling more wood in - it certainly couldn’t be left lying about in the open. Rain would inevitably soak in and destroy the work he’d done today.

At least it wasn’t too hot - working in the sun always made him a little light headed and chopping, preparing and gathering the wood was a heavy day’s work at best. Now that the clouds were moving in, the wind that had seemed so pleasant while he worked began to bite at his skin. Perhaps this day’s work was over after all.

He hoisted the basket in both hands and set off for the farmhouse, being careful not to spill the last load of wood. Nine identical loads had already made their way to the house and with this latest added in there should be enough for a little while. The nights were drawing in and getting much colder and with walls and floors of stone, the farmhouse tended to keep the chill air in. Mistress Arfor had been on at Dean Tharin, the local mason, to shore up some of the bigger cracks but so far nothing had happened - except that Dean now took to his heels at the first sign that she was coming anywhere near him.

Marius chuckled at the thought of the huge woman chasing the mason through the village. Brufe hadn’t been there but he swore that Mikhail had seen it happen. Marius hated to be on the wrong side of Mistress Arfor’s temper but it would have been priceless to see her go at a man who was very nearly the same size as her.

The sun was disappearing behind the clouds and the wind was gusting by the time he got back to the path. Not too long now and he’d be back at the farmhouse. If anyone asked, he’d tell them it had started to rain out at the field – it sometimes did that; the weather could be strange around these parts. He settled the basket into a comfortable groove on his side and walked briskly, trying to return some heat to his arms and legs.

He hadn’t been on the path for more than a few minutes when he had the strangest feeling of being watched. A crawling, tingling sensation on the back of his neck was something he’d become perfectly familiar with when he was with the Guild. He swung his head slowly from side to side as he walked, being careful to look natural. Nobody around that he could see – either he was jumpy or whoever was watching him was being very careful. Well, nothing for it but to find out, he thought as he stopped where he was. In his experience, confronting someone who was following you was always preferable to letting them choose where they stopped you.

Lowering the basket, he swung about as quickly as he could, hand going to the small sling at his side; the only weapon Mistress Arfor would allow her lodgers to keep. In a moment a stone was in the pouch and the leather was whistling around and around in a tight arc. He kept his eyes steady on the ridge of trees to his left, certain that would be where someone would hide.

“Come out if you’re there! I can hit a rabbit at forty meters with this stone and I guarantee your head would be easier!”

When absolute stillness greeted his threat, he shook his head and dropped the sling to his side. He must be jumping at shadows.

As he was about to pick up the basket again, something slammed into his side, knocking him to the ground and sending his sling flying off to the side of the track. There was someone on top of his back, forcing his head onto the ground. He scrabbled for anything nearby, something solid. His hand found a piece of wood that had toppled from the basket. As soon as his fingers closed around the rough bark, the weight on his back disappeared and he sprang to his feet, whirling on his attacker.

“Whoa, whoa Mar. Just a joke, no need to get all tense,” Terril shouted from the cover of a small bush on the side of the road. Marius could see his stupid, grinning head poking out just above the leaves. He hefted the wood and threw it at the older man, getting only a grunt of exertion as Terril caught it in return.

“You bloody almost made me spill the wood Terril,” he shouted as he picked up the basket again, “Now bring that back and you can bloody help me carry it now.”

Terril grinned again and walked out from behind the bush, tossing the wood up and down in one hand.

“Or what squirt? No, no don’t go looking so upset now. I feel terrible for my joke, I’ll help you carry. You seem very comfortable with your load so I’ll just keep this one thanks,” he said, staggering past Marius, pretending the piece was too heavy for him.

“You might want to keep those breeches away from Mistress Arfor though – you seem to have torn them up something fierce.”

Marius gritted his teeth and walked in silence behind Terril. It wasn’t that he was a bad person, he was just often irritating. Pranks like this were Terril’s forte and Marius knew the others were the object of ridicule just as often as he was. If anything, Terril had behaved more like an older brother in the five years since Marius had arrived at the farmhouse. When he’d arrived, he’d just come in from the city so he’d easily fallen in with someone more mature who was prepared to push him around every now and then. It took them another ten minutes of quick walking to get to the farmhouse and Marius could barely feel his arms by the time they got there.

Terril flipped his piece onto the pile and left Marius to finish with the rest of the basket. He grimaced at his friend’s departing back and started unpacking the basket, nearly filling all the space available on the stack. This had been a good load. As he was dusting out a few spiders that had managed to hang on to the wood, he felt the familiar tingling sensation on the back of his neck again. This time it can’t be Terril.

He stretched, using the opportunity to look around carefully. Seeing nothing, he turned around as casually as he could and there, standing on the path where he’d just been was a jet black wolf, sitting on its haunches and staring at him. He drew in his breath sharply as he saw how large it was, how dark its fur was. Had they been standing next to each other, he thought it would come up to his waist. As he looked up again, their eyes locked and he found he couldn’t look away; that he didn’t really want to. There was something about its eyes that seemed… different.

It bared its teeth at him, drawing back its lips in a snarl and stood up, walking slowly towards him. Now he could hear the growl, a bass rumble that seemed to quiver in his body. Without breaking eye contact, Marius felt his hand slide across the surface of the wall, searching for something to use as a weapon. If I can just get to the axe, I might stand a chance when it goes for me. No, this is madness! Who ever heard of a wolf coming this close to a house? Even in winter they keep far out into the forests.

His heart was hammering in his chest and as it moved closer still, he could have sworn in got bigger. Now he was unsure if it would stand closer to his chest or his neck. He abandoned the search for his axe and started to edge towards the kitchen door.

“Mar! What’re you doing? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Terril’s voice boomed down to him from the window above the kitchen.

“Elsa says if you’re done stacking the wood you’d better come in and wash up! Special dinner tonight!”

Marius looked up, seeing Terril looking down at him and wanted to shout a warning. Before he could, he realised he could no longer hear the wolf growling. He whipped his head back around and saw the path was empty. There was nothing there.

Ignoring Terril’s shouts of indignation at not being answered, he walked slowly back up the path to where he’d seen it. Something that big doesn’t just disappear. It just doesn’t. There’ll be tracks or something there.

When he reached the spot, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. No blade of grass was crushed on the sides and the ground only carried his and Terril’s footprints, their boots marked with Mistress Arfor’s sign clearly showing through. He leaned down and touched the ground, surprised at how soft it was.

I must be going crazy. There are no wolves around here, never have been. Only in the forests up north. For a moment the thought seemed wrong, strange but the feeling soon passed. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. The sun must have baked my head more than I thought today, that’s all.

He walked slowly back to the house, looking over his shoulder every now and then. Terril had long since given up on him and disappeared from the window. Marius was sure he would have said something if he’d seen the wolf. It really must have been in my mind. Again that feeling of something, not quite wrong but different.

Marius shook his head to clear it and jogged the rest of the way to door. He picked up the basket and, making sure there were no spiders still lodged in there, set it down outside the door. He shoved against the ancient wood and pushed it open, feeling the ache in his palms as the oak resisted the movement, years of swelling catching on the floor. One day they would need to take the door off and plane it down to fit but so far nobody had felt up to the job. The hinges would most likely need to be replaced as well and that could quickly grow into a terrible job.

Inside the kitchen the fire was burning and he could smell the mutton cooking gently in the huge iron pot hanging over the flames. It must be something of a special occasion if they were having the mutton now. That was supposed to be part of their supply for the winter. There was a lingering scent of newly baked bread that made his stomach growl in anticipation and he started looking around for the source. If Elsa wasn’t around he might be able to find a stray piece to tide him over till dinner. After all, he’d been out all day pulling in wood and what better way to reward him?

She made the most wonderful corn bread, just what a hard working person needed after a long day. He walked carefully toward the cooling rack and lifted the corner of one plaid cloth, glimpsing the perfectly crisped bread underneath.

He was about to reach under and snag a loose piece when a wooden spoon whistled down through the air and rapped him over the knuckles. Biting back an oath, he stuck his injured hand in his mouth and rounded on Elsa, who stood with a grin on her face.

“You’ll not be having any of Mistress Arfor’s bread before dinner,” she said in a tone that brooked no disobedience, “Not if I have anything to do with it leastways.”

He weighed the possibility of arguing with her but catching the flinty look in her eye; he held his hands up in deference and turned to leave the kitchen before she could dole out any more punishment. She was nowhere near as large as Mistress Arfor yet but as it was, he was quite sure she would be able to take him if it came to it.

Elsa was fair by and large but she had been known to give out extraordinary amounts of chores to those she thought might be slacking. He’d almost reached the door when she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from going through into the living room.

“She’s with someone, Marius. He looks like he’s above board but I’d be careful if I was you,” she said, her lips pursed as if she tasted something bad, “You know how some folks are about you younglings. The Mistress has a heart of gold but there are those that assume the worst of your sort without thinking about it. Could be this gentleman just happens to be visiting but...”

He grimaced as he turned away from her again.

“I know Elsa. Once a thief.”

He pushed the door open with one hand and walked through into the living room, crouching down and hunching his shoulders. With luck, he’d be able to walk past them both before they really noticed him and head on up to his room to wash up. If he was especially lucky, Mistress Arfor wouldn’t notice that he’d destroyed his breeches again. She gave short shrift to anyone she thought might be purposefully destroying their clothes and this was the third set he’d gone through. Even though it was Terril’s fault he thought the chances of an easy forgiveness were small. She fought hard to get what she could from the people of Dunriver and she expected her charges to fight hard to keep what she got.

As he walked towards the stairs, he caught a glimpse of a wiry, brown-skinned man with curly black hair sitting opposite Mistress Arfor. He looked harmless enough, dressed in a stout brown robe tied with a wide leather belt; one of the priesthood it looked like – or one of the Initiates down from the Academy. They passed through here every now and then but this was the first he’d seen at the farm.

He was half tempted to stay and watch from the shadows where they couldn’t see him. He’d learned from others in the city to stay far away from both Priests and Initiates – they weren’t targets for thieves. Not unless you were fireproof anyway. He shook his head – where had this sudden curiosity come from? The Academy had nothing to do with him and nor did the priests. Both gods and magic could live without him perfectly well.

As he passed behind Mistress Arfor, being as quiet as possible, the man’s eyes swept up and caught him. They were shockingly dark, almost black, and he could feel the intensity of the man’s gaze as it settled on him. For a moment, he forgot about washing up for dinner, one foot on the first step; his mind gone blank.

Just as he was wondering if he should say something, if it would be rude to break away, the man looked down at his lap and took a sip of water. Relieved, Marius took the steps two at a time and rushed into his room, slamming the door behind him, not caring if anyone heard.

He leaned against the rough wood catching his breath - there had been something about the man that had unsettled him and it was more than just the gaze. He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that they knew each other. Something had passed between them but now, in the quiet of his room, he would be hard pressed to say what.

Pulling off his shirt, he sat down on the edge of the bed and brought himself under control again. He heard someone stamping around outside quickly calmed his breathing. Terril would never let him live it down if the older man caught him out of sorts just because of a stranger – he’d already had his fun for the day without throwing flights of fancy into the works.

Taking a deep breath, Marius changed into a clean shirt and breeches before going to have a quick wash in the basin. He grimaced as the icy water hit his face - Elsa hadn’t put warm water in his room yet. That meant she must be running late with the dinner as well - it also meant he couldn’t shave today.

He grinned into the mirror. Not that he would have anyway, not since Kaylee had said she liked a man with a little hair on his face. Moving his head from side to side, he eyed the russet fuzz of hair now prominently displayed on his chin and frowned uncertainly.

It was all very well having a beard to keep a girl happy but the thing itched and he longed to feel the smooth skin of his face again. Still, there was nothing for it - she’d said she liked it and as she was almost his betrothed, he felt he should give her some allowance. It wouldn’t do to have her angry with him for something as simple as not growing his beard.

“Hey squirt, you coming to dinner or not?” Terril demanded roughly from outside the door, “Elsa says she needs help setting it all out now we’ve got a guest. Brufe n I are going to give her a hand and it’d go a little faster if you helped.”

Marius knew very well that Terril would probably make an excuse and leave long before the dinner things were set up but he wouldn’t relent until he had the help he wanted. Perhaps this time he really would stick around and finish up.

“I’m coming. Just give me a second,” he said as he slipped the small mahogany box into his pocket. It had cost him more than a year’s wages but it’d be worth it to see Kaylee’s face when she opened it.

He opened the door and almost laughed before he could stop himself. Terril stood with his arms folded, muscles straining the fabric of the cloth and a scowl on his face. He’d be quite an imposing sight were it not for several small cuts on his face, each sporting a small spot of dried blood - evidence of his attempt at shaving. Since Marius had known him he’d had a full beard so this was something quite different. Marius assumed it was a combination of an apology for his prank and because of his own history with Kaylee. She’d probably liked beards then too.

Brufe stood next to his friend, his lanky hair uncombed and from the look of it, unwashed. Brufe had never been a street tough like Terril or a thief like Marius - his game had been tricking people out of their hard earned money. He bore the scars of having been caught once too many times; one eye was permanently closed by a jagged scar running from forehead to cheek and the little finger of his left hand was missing. He claimed he’d lost it escaping from one of the guard cells in Ebitene but Marius had his doubts – those cells were some of the better made ones he’d been in. It was more likely by far that he’d lost it to an angry customer who felt more than unduly cheated by the whole experience.

They started down the stairs and Marius saw with relief that the man had gone. He was about to say something to Terril about the stranger when he remembered that there would be a guest at dinner tonight. That had to mean the stranger was staying. It might not be the best idea to make comments for now, you never knew who was listening. They trooped into the kitchen and Brufe and Terril picked up a handful of napkins and cutlery each and took them out to the dining room. He counted quickly and grabbed a set for himself, following them out.

There was still no sign of Mistress Arfor or the man – perhaps they were outside somewhere, talking where they wouldn’t be overheard. Years of keeping his wits about him had made Marius cynical but it had saved his life more times than he cared to remember. If she was talking to the man about them and he was from the Academy or the temples… he tried to think of any jobs he might have done that could have irritated either set of people but nothing sprang to mind. Besides, that was some time ago now. He’d only been twelve when he’d left the city and he knew he looked quite different now – what were the chances of them tracking him down after five or so years?

He shook his head, smiling ruefully. That life’s over, has been for a few years. Don’t you think of Mistress Arfor had meant to hurt you she’d have done it already? She’s a good woman, she wouldn’t do anything to endanger the people here, he thought. Whoever this stranger was, he must just be passing through.

Laying the table was easy work and Marius let his mind wander. Kaylee should be here soon; she’d be coming from the neighbouring farm just as soon as Mr Tobea decided she was done with her chores. Tobea was normally quite fair - he’d become resigned to the idea that they were all but betrothed and usually let her go quite happily.

He flipped the last knife into place and went over to light the fire – it was always better when the room was a little warmer and if he got this going now, perhaps he could go meet Kaylee on her way in. Elsa had already stacked everything so it should be a simple matter of putting steel to flint and he’d have a good fire going.

He checked that the tinder was dry enough and brought out his flint and striker. A gift from a friend back in the city, it had served him well over the years. It was probably about time to get the striker replaced though; it was showing some wear from all the use.

Despite the age, it took only a few tries to get some smoke in the shavings and he blew gently to encourage the flame. Just as he was about to sit back and let the burgeoning fire take over, it snuffed out as if blown.

Glancing around for any open windows but seeing none, he felt at the tinder again. It was certainly dry enough and there had been a healthy flame for a moment. He struck a few sparks into the centre and again got smoke with little effort. This time when the flame started up, he cupped his hands around the tinder and watched it grow. Again, as soon as it was close to catching properly, it snuffed out.

Marius muttered under his breath and looked around. There was nobody around to blow, he’d certainly not done anything and yet it was as if the fire had been doused. He reached out a hand and gingerly touched the place where the flame had been. Not even warm. What could suck the heat out of a fire like that?

He sighed and brought out the flint again, moving around the block most of the fireplace with his body; this time making sure there was absolutely no way for the fire to be blown out.

He concentrated hard on the tinder, almost wishing for the fire to be strong this time, seeing it in his mind. Steel hit flint with a ringing sound and sparks flew into almost exactly the same place again. This time it would work if he had to nurture the flame until everything had caught. He saw the first bit of smoke and leaned in closer, blowing gently, staring at the tiny red point until his vision narrowed and the spark filled his mind. Come on, come one! Catch, you gods blinded flame! Kaylee would be here soon and he really didn’t want to miss her arriving. It’d be best if he could give her the ring without everyone crowding around. He had never been good at doing things in public and this was not something he wanted to share with anyone just yet.

He groaned inwardly as the smoke started to lessen, the spark growing slightly dimmer. He started gently blowing again, letting the flame fill his whole mind to the exclusion of everything around him.

Suddenly, the spark burst into flame, heat exploding out at him. He fell back with a curse and landed hard on the floor, staring at the fire now burning merrily in the grate. It was as if it had suddenly come to life. Must have been something on the wood, perhaps someone spilled oil or something else. He let his breath out in one long sigh; he was lucky to have escaped unburned. He shook his head and dusted his hands off as he stood up to go to the kitchen. It was a strange enough day today without his jumping at everything. Kaylee would think he’d gone mad at this rate. I can’t say I’d blame her with the way I’m acting.

Terril and Brufe were already gathering plates for dinner when he walked into the kitchen. He was about to follow their lead when Elsa grabbed his arm.

“Marius, you were out chopping wood today weren’t you?”

“Yes,” he replied absentmindedly, trying to count the number of knives he would need.

“I went outside to get some wood and I noticed the axe wasn’t there. Did you put it somewhere else?”

He realised his face must have drained of blood when her face split with a grin. He’d forgotten the axe! With Terril and thinking he’d seen a wolf; it’d gone clean out of his mind. Lucky the wolf wasn’t really there. He shuddered as he remembered his hand, moving along the wall, trying to find the axe.

He’d have to go out and fetch it - it’d have been dewed on by now and this was the second one he’d left outside. Mistress Arfor would have his head if he didn’t bring it back and store it properly. He’d have to get out to the field and back again before Mistress Arfor noticed he was gone. Terril and Brufe would just have to handle setting up by themselves. It would take them a few minutes to be done at least; he thought he could make it in time if he ran.

He looked a question at her and her grin grew a little. He was surprised she wasn’t openly laughing at him. She patted him on the back and leaned in conspiratorially.

“Yuda said she’d distract them for now, give you some time to get back. I’d have mentioned it to Mistress Arfor myself but Kaylee does so want a husband with a whole skin.

He stared at her in consternation for a moment. Yuda knew he’d left the axe out again? And she was going to help? Elsa must have asked her – she was usually nothing if not spiteful when it came to Marius.

Elsa looked up at him, the smile gone from her face.

“You don’t have to fetch it you know. You could just leave it out there and hope she doesn’t notice.”

There was small chance of that. Mistress Arfor was a smart woman and knew well the value of the tools and other miscellaneous items she kept around the farm. She did a quick stock take of everything that had been used during the day and she made sure that those who were responsible for losses paid.

In the case of theft, she made sure that those who did the thieving had packed their bags within the next hour and were well on their way from the farm within two. She might not hold the same views that the people of Dunriver did but she made certain that all her lodgers understood the rules of the house well.

Elsa was already holding the door open for him; she knew as well as he did that he would be running out to fetch the axe. Leaving it out for the night would not only be bad for it but would end up with him losing a month or so of pay to get a new one if it was too badly damaged; he couldn’t take the risk. He grabbed his cloak from one of the hooks next to the door and bolted out into the night, narrowly missing the low wall just outside as he sped off towards the field. He felt a chill as he ran through where the gigantic wolf had stood but forced himself onward. There is no wolf fool. Nothing but shadows and your own stupid brain. As he ran through the darkness, he saw light spill out into the night as Kaylee came in through the front gate. Someone must have opened the door for her. He grimaced and picked up his pace. So much for meeting her on her way in.

It was quite a distance to the field and he’d have to run the whole way to make it. The ground was uneven in most places and there were several fairly treacherous places between here and the place where the axe should be. He silently prayed that nobody had ventured past and decided to steal the thing. That would truly seal his fate - late for dinner and without the axe.

In truth, it was unlikely that anyone had stumbled on it. People hardly ever came up to the farm and they were even less likely to wander around the fields after dark. There were too many stories about the sort of people Mistress Arfor let lodge with her for too many adventurers.

Of course, there were the occasional bandits that had come in from outside the area that might venture out to the farm. It was unlikely there any around though - the guards had been quite active over the last few months. Still, ran a little faster as he dodged around the various small bushes that were spotted all over this part of the land. At least there was a full moon - the land was bathed in a silvery light that lent depth to shadows but at least clearly defined the places that it would be fatal to fall.

He knew the lay of the land well enough that he didn’t really need to worry about most of the larger problems - but the odd rabbit hole that had sprung up overnight could be a real problem if he didn’t see it in time.

Finally, he could see the place he’d been chopping wood and blessings above, he could see the handle of the axe just jutting up above the huge stump that he’d been using as a chopping block. He grabbed the handle and hoisted the axe onto his shoulder, being careful to keep the bladed edge facing down towards his feet. There had been quite a few accidents over time at the farm and one of the first things you learned was to keep dangerous edges well away from any part of yourself that you wanted to keep.

Satisfied, he started off towards the distant light of the house, trying to figure out if he’d be in time or not.

He’d gone almost halfway when he suddenly gave a start and stopped dead in his tracks. He felt frantically around his breeches, emptied out his pockets and patted down his shirt. The box was gone! It must have dropped out while he was running to fetch the cursed axe! It could be anywhere from here to the house and would be almost impossible to spot in the night. For the first time, he regretted having used the dark Mahogany rather than the brighter Pine. He had to find the box; it must be along his path somewhere. He glanced longingly towards the farmhouse. Being late for dinner was almost as bad as leaving a tool out to the ravages of the elements. He would have to be quick or no amount of distractions from Yuda would save him.

He made his slow and careful way back to the stump, bending down and turning over the odd dark rock that caught his eye and attempting to scan the ground as much as he could while he walked. Once he’d reached the stump, he retraced his steps back towards the house. It couldn’t have gone far but the problem was that it could be anywhere along the stretch and with no way to know when he’d lost the box; it would take time to find. He cringed a little as his hand brushed against some of the mud left over from rains earlier that day.

An extra piece of trouble - he’d have to wash his hands again before going to dinner. He hoped Yuda was up to providing this much distraction; he would have to repay her handsomely for this. He slowly made his way back along the path, occasionally running his hands over the surface of the land in case the box had bounced a little when falling.

His hand brushed against something and he frantically felt for the edge again, hoping this was the box at last. It took him a little while to find it again in the dark but his hand finally closed around the precious gift. He clasped it in one hand and, setting the axe against his shoulder again, started running, if he was lucky, he’d still be able to make it more or less on time. Or at least not late enough for Mistress Arfor to actually kill him.

If I take a shortcut, I’ll get there much faster. There was an edge to the thought and he felt that strange disconnection again, as if it wasn’t his own. He shook his head to clear it again – he really must be going mad. Still, a shortcut would make sense. The moon was still quite bright and he knew his way around. He should be able to see everything easily. Taking a deep breath, he started running directly towards where the farmhouse was, jumping over the low dirt walls that separated the fields. His boors would be full of mud when he returned but that would be much easier to hide – he could just leave them outside and wear the ones he’d left in the shed this morning.

If I just go a little faster, I’ll make it. They won’t have started dinner yet. He allowed his stride to lengthen, eating up the ground as he sped towards the house.

Without warning, the ground rose up to beneath him and his forehead slammed into the mud, glancing off a rock just beneath the surface. Dizzy and with a splitting headache, it took him a moment to realise that he’d tripped over something. He looked back and saw the dark bundle lying on the ground. His hand reached out, shaking, and touched wetness.

Confused, he drew his fingers towards his face and almost gagged as the overpowering coppery scent of blood reached his nose. He’d seen his fair share of corpses in his lifetime but he’d never had a head for blood.

He crawled slowly closer, trying to fight the slow approach of unconsciousness and carefully rolled the body over. The green, glazed eyes of the stranger stared up at him, a look of horror permanently fixed in their depths. His mouth was open in an expression of surprise and the fan of blood over his face made him seem even stranger than he had looked alive. His head had almost been caved in by the strength of the blow that had killed him. Marius gagged as he realised his axe was buried in the man’s chest. It was a second before he realised that the man had been dead long before the blade bit into his flesh. His head had almost been caved in by the strength of the blow that had killed him.

The mud almost covered his nakedness – someone had stolen his robes. He touched an arm and felt the cold that told him the stranger had been dead for hours now. That was impossible… he’d been at the farmhouse barely half an hour ago. Unless this isn’t the man who was in the farmhouse. Wait, green eyes? He struggled to think, trying desperately to remember what the stranger had looked like. Everything else was right but the yes! Unbidden, the image of the man staring up at him over Mistress Arfor’s head came to him. Dark eyes, so dark they’d seemed almost black. The thought sent a chill through him as he thought about it. He tried to clear his head, struggling to get up. A wave of dizziness threw him to the ground. He must have hit harder than he thought – it wouldn’t be long till he passed out.

Numb, Marius closed the man’s eyes and sat on his heels, unable to move. If whoever had killed the man stepped up behind him in that moment, he wouldn’t have noticed. He struggled to hold on to the light and his last thought as the darkness took him was to wonder who the stranger in the house was, and what he wanted.

He woke with a splitting headache and the early morning sun shining on his face. It took him a while to remember where he was and what had happened. Oh gods, I’ve been out the whole night. The farmhouse! Kaylee and the others! I’ve got to get to them, tell them he’s not who he seems. He looked over at the body and shuddered. It had rained during the night and the mud had been washed off the stranger’s corpse, revealing some stab wounds. He looked closely at them, trying to figure out what manner of weapon had made them. They looked a little like dagger wounds but were very wide – the blade would have to be at least as wide as his hand.

He stood up, clutching his head as nausea gripped him. It would be good to get back to the farmhouse and sit down out of the sun. The combination of heat and the lump on his head was upsetting his stomach. He grimaced as he looked at the corpse, his axe still lodged in the man’s chest. Feeling sick, he gripped the handle and wrenched it out. He felt like he was being disrespectful but the axe might come in handy if the man at the farmhouse didn’t feel like answering questions. He tightened his grip, his eyes hardening. He’s chosen the wrong people to play with. We’ll make him talk, one way or the other. The violence of his thought startled him; he’d always avoided fighting, using it only as a last resort when there was no other avenue available to him. There was a far cry between a thief and a murderer. Still, if someone were threatening Kaylee? The others?

He left the thought unfinished and started off at a run. The house shouldn’t be too far away from here and he could certainly see everything now. No tripping over anything in the dark. Even so, he kept his eyes on the ground, cautious of repeating his earlier mistake. Who knows what the stranger has been doing while I was away? He couldn’t help images flying through his head; the stranger hurting the people he loved, causing them pain. He started to run faster, the ground seeming to fly underneath him. Have to be faster. Have to tell Mistress Arfor about him – she’ll know what to do. He won’t have even woken up yet, dawn’s not that far gone. In his mind, he saw himself standing over the man, Terril holding him down in the spare room as they demanded to know who he was. He’d be bewildered at first, denying the evidence of his own face but eventually he’d break down. For once, the guard would be on Marius’ side and he could prove to Kaylee that he was a changed man. The smell of the farmhouse fires met his nose. Everyone must be awake already. I’m going to catch hell from Mistress Arfor for staying out all night. Just as long as she lets me get a word in edgewise, I should be fine.

Abruptly, he realised he should be able to see the farmhouse by now, the two storeys of building rose higher than any of the hills around here. His brow knitted with confusion and he slowed. The smell of fire was too strong – they’d have to be using every fireplace in the building, something they wouldn’t do on this warm morning. As if propelled by themselves, his feet took him forward, moving into a run once more. He crested the hill and was greeted with a scene out of madness.

There wasn’t much left of the second storey, nothing but blackened walls and some broken stone where the roof had caved in, charred beyond recognition. He could see some of the master beams sticking out, their broken fingers pointing at the sky. Rain had obviously put out the fire but there was still quite a lot of smoke still billowing out. The fire had obviously burned hot and fast, tearing down the roof and buckling some of the walls. The others would be somewhere around the back, near the woods. Terril would need help organising to carry what was left out of the house – Brufe had never been very useful in an emergency. The animals would need corralling as well; they’d be scared and disorientated. There wasn’t much more left of the barn and shed. He hoped they’d managed to get the cow out at least – she was a good animal and had many years left in her. He dropped the axe where he stood and ran towards the house, shouting their names.

There was no answer to his shouts, not a sound besides the settling of timbers and the quiet burning of some flame inside the building. Stupid of them to let it keep burning but he supposed enough damage had been done. Perhaps they were some way into the woods, too far to hear him. The stranger is to blame for this. He must have set the house alight. Someone must have discovered he was a fake!

His eyes skipped over the bodies of sheep and donkeys, searching for the people. Something deep inside him saw them, made a note of them and moved on, his eyes searching, always searching.

“Kaylee! Elsa, Mistress Arfor! Is anyone there?” he called desperately, running along what used to be the sitting room wall. He heard a faint voice somewhere above him and looked up to where it had come from.

“Raahk. Burning! Help me,” the sound came from the beak of a large Raven sitting on something, staring down. It took him some time to make out Brufe’s shock of hair dangling from the window, one side of his face horribly burned. The filthy bird was sitting on his friend, its beak wet with gore.

“Get away from him you disgusting creature!” he shouted, his voice cracking with anger. The bird cocked its head at him and took one lurching step to the side. In moments, he had a stone whistling towards its head. He could feel his mouth fall open as it calmly watched the stone approaching and moved aside, croaking reproachfully.

It turned to regard him with its beady eye once again and, seeming to find some threat, took off to perch on the broken chimney stack.

There’s still time, someone could still be here. Oh gods, Brufe!

“Elsa! Mistress Arfor! Please, answer if you can hear me!” he shouted, eyes searching the burned house again and again. There were still no signs of life and he couldn’t hear anything. His eyes were burning from the smoke and, as he scrubbed a hand across his face, he realised his cheeks were wet. Had it started raining again? He glanced up at the sky but saw no clouds that looked like they could hold rain. The weather had better hold - we’ll need to get things to shelter. Mr Tobea perhaps.

Stumbling around the outside of the house, he reached the back wall and had to look twice to really register what he was seeing. Someone had wedged the door shut with a pry bar, jamming the end under the swollen oak. The door stood slightly ajar and had obviously been pushed quite hard for the bar to have moved even that far. It had scraped a white line across the sooty flagstones, grooving the hard rock slightly. A partially burned hand stood out from the door, reaching out from the kitchen. The slim hand could only be Elsa’s. He shuddered as he thought briefly of Elsa trying desperately to force her way out and finding the way blocked. The windows in the kitchen had been all but impossible to open but it had also just seemed like one of the jobs that nobody wanted to claim. With them unable to be opened, the door had been her only hope. Someone had known that, had made sure there was no way out. She would never scold him again, would never give him chores to do. That hurt more than he expected it to.

These people had been all he’d known for five years. They might not be family but they were as close as he had ever had. Dimly, he was aware that he was in shock, that he wouldn’t be able to function like this for much longer but he had to find out if anyone had survived. Kaylee. Kaylee must have made it out, gone to fetch help from the neighbours. I’ll bet she’s with Mr Tobea now, trying to get him to bring more workers from the farm.

He walked around the front of the house and saw that the front door had had the same treatment as the back. Another bar from the barn had been shoved into the small gap between flagstones and wood, sealing the entrance shut. Something stung his hand and he looked down in surprise. At some point he’d walked to the door and had been trying to wrench it open. A thick splinter from the wood had stabbed into the soft flesh between thumb and forefinger and he could see a bright bead of blood welling up. He pulled the splinter from his blackened hand and let it drop to the floor. Somehow, that was what brought everything crashing down on him.

Dead. They’re all dead, he thought. He turned from the smouldering building that had been his home and stumbled towards the woods. He kept going over everything in his mind, thinking about the last few days, trying in vain to find some pattern, some reason for all this to have happened. Who was the stranger? Why would he want to hurt everyone? Only the priests and Initiates could have taken someone’s form. What would they want with simple folk like us?

It was impossible to think straight with images of Elsa and Kaylee burning in the house running through his mind. No, Kaylee made it out. She’s safe at the next farm. He held on to that thought as he staggered into the shade of the trees. When had it gotten so warm? He shrugged out of his cloak and let it drop as he walked, not noticing as he walked it into the mud. He found himself at the trunk of one of the thin Elders that made a windbreak around the house.

Leaning back, he laid his head on the rough bark of the tree and closed his eyes, resting them for a moment. I’ll just rest here and then I’ll go find Kaylee. The day really had turned very hot all of a sudden. He let his eyes flicker open and wiped his hand across his head to get rid of some of the sweat. He was only mildly surprised when it came back dry. I’m in shock and have some fever. I need to rest. I’ll close my eyes now. He barely noticed the discordant note of the thought as his eyes closed again, sinking him into oblivion.

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