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  "Dai!" Someone shouted on his right. Dion opened his eyes and then he saw it. A huge shrieker was crouching on his left, three lengths of his battle standard away.

  "It's going to jump," thought Dion, but he had no time to plan ahead. The shrieker roared and attacked.

  Dion jumped aside to avoid it but managed to keep the tip of the battle standard pointed at the incoming beast. The shrieker struck it and the battle standard slid below its jaw and bore deep into its neck. The force of its attack pulled the battle standard out of Dion's hands and threw both him and the shrieker onto the ground.

  The shrieker growled and coughed heavily as its blood poured over the standard, but Dion was unaware of the beast's wounds. He nervously searched for and then grabbed hold of the standard. He helped himself onto his knees and pulled himself closer to the beast planning to end it, but it had already perished from its wound.

  He tried to pull the standard out of the shrieker but his first attempt failed. The body of the shrieker twitched but the standard was still stuck in its meat and bones so Dion slid his left arm deep inside the wound.

  "The ties have loosened," he understood when he grabbed the standard inside the warm wound. Slowly he gathered the cloth in his hand, pressed it against the standard and started pulling it out of the wound. He was almost done when he heard a baby's cry not too far away. He stopped what he was doing just in time to hear someone swear in the old language.

  "Smrad!" shouted someone in the darkness. "Filth!" understood Dion, and when he heard footsteps coming closer he knew they were coming for him.

  He pulled the standard out of the wound when the horned shadow was almost upon him.

  "Plamen!" shouted the horned creature in the last moments of its attack before Dion could even stand up straight and get a foothold.

  "Flame. A spell!"

  Dion panicked when a live, burning fire appeared in the air between him and the horned creature. It looked like Malen's flame that had burned the Eater on Echa's walls as it illuminated the creature's large face. The sick gray skin of its face was moist and hairless, and the dark, round eyes were surrounded by rings of sagging skin. Its mouth, filled with needle-thin large teeth, again spouted obscenities at Dion.

  The flame grew brighter and the creature raised the arm that held the ball of flame, meaning to attack. Dion watched the flame in horror, expecting it to engulf him in agony and end him.

  "Bag!"

  Dion slid the bag off his left shoulder, threw the battle standard to the ground, grabbed the strap that was still on his right shoulder and swung the bag towards the creature. As soon as the bag left his hand he threw himself to the ground after it.

  His chest ached when he landed. He covered his head with his hands to protect it from the fire but then he heard a thud and the deep sigh of a fire that had just engulfed something. The bag had hit the creature directly in its stomach and it dropped the flame to the ground that then grabbed hold of him and Dion's bag. With a painful cry the creature collapsed to the ground and started rolling around and patting its burning legs, desperate to put out the fire.

  "Not again!" Dion shouted angrily and got up when he realized he was again about to destroy something of his family's heirloom. He picked the bag up by the side that wasn't burning and started putting out the bag's fire by bashing the creature with it.

  "Smrad?" yelled Dion angrily in the old language.

  The creature was unconscious by the time the bag's fire and the fire that burned on its legs were put out.

  "It's all right," Dion shouted into the darkness after a baby's cry once more rang through the night. He picked up the blood-soaked battle standard as well as his half-burnt bag and ran towards the cry.

  "I'm coming," he heard Kerkio from close by.

  "Be careful not to step on the baby. It's there," Dion shouted back and pointed at the ground between them, toward a small shadow under some thin tree.

  The tiny shadow moaned on the cold earth as it kept trying to roll itself over on its side to no avail. Its hands were free but its legs were wrapped tightly along with its body in sleeping cloth. The baby started crying again when Dion knelt next to it. He was too hasty and too nervous, and he frightened the baby. It cried even louder and struggled fruitlessly to turn away or move. He put aside the bag and the battle standard as the words of caution passed through his mind: "Make sure you hold the baby's neck when you lift it."

  He placed one of his hands under the baby's neck and held its head with his fingers and the baby's shoulders with the bottom of his palm. He placed the other hand under the baby and felt the cold and wet sleeping cloth.

  "Hand me my shirts from the bag," he asked Kerkio. "Be careful with them," he added. He wasn't worried about Kerkio seeing his acorns, he was only worried about losing one of them.

  Dion lifted the baby in his arms and it stopped crying. He turned on his knees to face Kerkio and Kerkio took out one of the shirts. If he did notice the acorns Dion could not tell from his face.

  "Open the shirt and place it across my knees. The baby's arms and back are completely cold."

  "Galinos's son?" asked Kerkio as he stretched the shirt across Dion's legs.

  "No," Dion answered and began taking the wet sleeping cloth off the baby.

  "I'll get one more shirt for it," said Kerkio after he touched the baby's arm. "Make sure it can breathe but wrap it tightly. Legs, arms, everything. It's really cold."

  "Galinos! Quickly here!" shouted Kerkio. The baby shook and Dion almost dropped it. A moment later it was crying again.

  Galinos ran to them and they could see hope and fear on his face when he saw Dion.

  "Not yours," Kerkio told him at once with honest sorrow in his voice but Galinos could not stop looking at Dion's arms, wanting to make sure for himself.

  "Come," Dion called him and placed the now warmer and calmer baby into Galinos's hands. "Find whose baby it is. We are off to find yours."

  Dion looked at man who had given him shelter as though they were family and feared that he had promised the impossible.

  "Wake up!"

  New shouts came from the village.

  "Wake up! The enemy is among us!" cried a lone male voice and then a lit torch came flying from the direction of the river and landed on the roof of one of the houses.

  The straw roof caught fire so quickly that it looked as if some magic was fueling the fire.

  "Go now!" Dion ordered himself and Kerkio with a mercilessly cold voice as even more houses were set afire.

  "Kerkio, take my bag," he said and picked up his battle standard.

  "Have everything?" asked Kerkio with Dion's bag already firmly on his shoulders.

  "Galinos," said Dion with a nod and meant it as goodbye.

  He had to start running. A strange mixture of fear, unnatural rage and helplessness set in his stomach. He no cared longer about his aching feet or muscles that felt wooden from yesterday's journey.

  "Running will help me gather my thoughts."

  The village road swerved from house to burning house. Nervous arms and shocked silent faces pointed to where the creatures had gone, but there were strong voices in the village as well.

  "Save that house," some woman ordered. "Bring water," a man shouted.

  "Moo," cried the frightened cows from a barn engulfed in flames on their right, and they saw a man heedlessly storm into it to save them.

  They continued north as the cries of the shriekers continued grating their ears.

  "What are those things?" the villagers cried but they received no answer.

  "Where are they!?" Dion roared his question hoping someone will hear him.

  "On the bridge!" a man's cry came as an answer and it was followed by more shrieks and a loud splash of water.

  Kerkio followed Dion to the wooden bridge that tamed the narrowest section of the Naumona and from it saw the group of shriekers following the river north.

  "They screamed at me," said the man from under the bridge. "I jumped s
o they wouldn't run me over or bite me," he added in a quieter voice. "There were ten of them, maybe more - those things with buggy eyes and their nasty dogs."

  Dion moved the battle standard from one hand to the other so the man could see it more clearly.

  "Find Galinos! Have him come to Aquia with anyone he can convince and as quickly as possible." Dion ordered the man with a voice he did not even know he possessed, looking down at the old man from the high bridge. "You are called to serve the kingdom! Answer me!"

  The old man scrambled out of the river and ran into the village. His every step squeaked and pushed water out of his wet boots.

  "Galinos!" the man's voice filled the village. "Who knows Galinos? Where do I find Galinos?"

  Dion and Kerkio continued after the shriekers. They crossed the bridge and turned left onto a well trodden dirt path that connected Mara and Aquia.

  "Well, you certainly frightened that man," said Kerkio. "He'll find Galinos even if he has to turn every stone in the village."

  "Men carried this flag into battles that made kingdoms and alliances," Dion replied with a sorrowful voice. "I got it from my father so that it might help save my skin while I escape to safety and then I use it for the first time to scare a villager into action."

  He sighed deeply.

  "You used it to get needed help, and that is precisely one of its purposes. Don't talk nonsense. Leut needs us."

  They ran until morning woke. The road followed the river through the Mara lowlands and was now taking them higher into the hills that rose around the Naumona and the village of Aquia.

  "We are close," said Kerkio when they reached the first stream that flowed westward to the edge of the hill where it became a small waterfall that fed the Naumona far below.

  That was only the first of nine streams of the river Aquia that flowed through and gave name to the village. There were numerous watermills on each of the streams, many big but some so small that only one person could fit inside.

  Two heavy planks bridged the narrow stream in front of them. On the left of the planks was a flimsy hip-high wooden construction, meant to be a handle, but they had no use for it. They crossed the stream over the planks and then found and crossed over a few more similar bridges as they went towards the center of the village. They passed by ponds and small lakes where the streams grew fatter and through small gardens occupying every inch of fertile ground between rocks, waters, and houses of the village. They walked carefully at first, taking care to use whatever cover or shadow they came close to. They checked every window and door on all the houses but in time it became clear that there were no other sounds in the village except for the hum of water and the occasional quack of some irritated duck. The village was empty.

  "The shriekers aren't here," said Dion when they climbed into a grove and he saw the empty village center and the bridge over the Naumona that connected Aquia with Tialoch. There were two large water mills built next to the bridge, one on each side of it, and each was fed by its own small that ran through the village.

  "They probably were here. The village is too quiet," Kerkio answered him and in that moment they heard voices and cries of babies in the distance. The sounds came from their left and they carried with them a weird roasted smell.

  They followed the voices and the smell downhill to the western edge of the grove and found themselves behind a small water mill turning steadily in a stream that flowed into a large open clearing bordered on the north and west by rocks through which the stream pushed itself and transformed into one more waterfall that joined the river below.

  A few open fires burned on the clearing. Behind the largest of the fires were two carriages made of some dark wood that were adorned with many shapes cut into their sides. A hen-like bird larger than a work horse was tethered to each of them.

  A group of small demons like the one they saw in Galinos's house were gathered around each of the fires, but there were also shriekers there and their horned riders. More than a dozen of them altogether sat around the fires, and a few more were behind them, carefully placing several babies onto the grass in front of the two carriages.

  "Babies," Dion whispered to Kerkio. "Leut must be here," he added but then grew silent when he looked around and his gaze fell upon the food that the shriekers were eating. He was at first unsure of what exactly he was seeing but then he felt sick and he had to kneel down on the ground.

  "You noticed," said Kerkio. Dion tried his best to vomit as quietly as possible on the grass beneath his feet. He didn't want them to be caught.

  The shrieker-riders were busy feeding the shriekers and the small hairy demons with meat, and the bones that were gnawed clean were fed to the fire. The bones belonged to the villagers of Aquia.

  "Dion! Get up! Get up now!" Kerkio whispered nervously when the door of one of the carriages opened. "Look inside the carriage!"

  Dion wiped away the tears pushed out by vomiting, blew away the acid stench from his nostrils and then looked over the fires into the carriage. The queasiness returned but this time from tingles brought on by a wave of disbelief.

  A small dragon lay inside the carriage and the reflection of the fires illuminated his scales.

  "A dragon? A dragon is stealing the children?" asked Dion on the verge of tears and looked at the battle standard of his kingdom that lay in the grass next to his vomit.

  "Dragons don't exist," said Dion and looked at Kerkio, trying to find some sort of confirmation in Kerkio's eyes that he was right . "They are creatures from the stories of old. They are a symbol of the strength of our kingdom, not thieves."

  "It seems that they do exist, just like the shriekers exist," answered Kerkio who paid attention to everything that was happening in the meadow, "but it seems that they are not thieves of children."

  Dion looked again towards the dragon and saw four shrieker-riders tugging at two chains that were wrapped around the dragon's neck.

  "Smrad vatreny," they shouted at the dragon in the old language. "Sidyi."

  "What are they saying?" asked Kerkio.

  "They called the dragon a fiery bastard and are forcing it to step out of the carriage," said Dion in a calmer voice.

  "We have to save it," said Dion suddenly and decisively, counting the enemies while the bound dragon was trying to climb down the stairs of the carriage. The dragon was slow and carefully tried his every step until they yanked the chains. The dragon fell on his head and his body pressed on his head and neck before he fell down to the ground on one side. His mouth was covered by a leather bag that had a hole cut in it to allow the dragon to breathe. His wings were tied with ropes to his body in such a manner that it looked painful even at first sight, and his tail was tied to one of his legs.

  "No," Dion whispered as Kerkio gritted his teeth. "It looks broken and sick."

  "Roga! Zmai spreman," loudly exclaimed one of the shrieker-riders who held the chains.

  "Did he say Roga? Roga, like the witch from the old stories?" asked Kerkio.

  "Yes." Dion was as surprised as Kerkio was. "He said to Roga that the dragon is ready, but I do not know for what."

  From the other carriage that was to the right of the dragon's carriage came a tall and slender old woman dressed in all black. Her hair was white and long, and on her forehead were two small horns.

  "Do you see..." whispered Dion.

  "Yes."

  She passed by the babies on her way towards the dragon and she smiled widely when she saw the little ones.

  "The letter R on the shrieker from River Mara," understood Dion. "It was Roga's shrieker that Firinor and Vitelus had caught."

  Roga appeared next to the dragon much more quickly than Dion expected from such an old woman. She bent slightly and without hesitation struck a small knife under a scale on the dragon's neck. The dragon closed his amber-colored eyes in pain, but uttered no sound, unlike Dion whose blood now boiled. He felt as though he himself was stabbed.

  Roga kept the knife in the dragon until a shrieker-ri
der submissively handed her a small metal cauldron. She placed it under the knife and then pulled it out of the wound. Smoke rose from the blade as if it was melting and Roga threw it into the cauldron and spilled a few drops of some liquid that was already inside it. She turned away from the dragon and hanged the cauldron over the largest fire. She protracted her left index finger slowly - an incredibly long, thin and dry-looking finger, similar to a dead branch of a tree, and then began stirring the contents of the cauldron.

  "Rogichi, ustah otvorit dieci," she said in the old language and the small hairy creatures immediately ran to the babies from Mara and opened the mouths of the ones not already weeping.

  "Kerkio!" Dion whispered through his teeth and stepped out of the cover. "I don't know what she's planning to do with them, but we need to stop it."

  "There's too many of them, but we can at least try to buy the babies some time," said Kerkio and then stepped out of the cover.

  "I'll draw them here. Stay behind me and behind the stream. We fall back the same way we came when things go bad," ordered Kerkio and moved forward onto the planks that bridged the chest-deep, slow-flowing stream, abundant with water plants. He calculated the distance and aimed while Dion was busy rummaging inside his bag, and then the spear flew out of Kerkio's hand. The spear struck the cauldron and the clash of metals rang loudly. The cauldron turned over and spilled everything it held onto the fire that devoured it and burped a large pillar of vapor into the air.

  As Roga screamed and jumped away from the fire all eyes and fangs turned to face Kerkio.

  "I am Kerkio Salis, legionary of the king," he roared across the meadow. "Return the children and other prisoners to us and surrender. You will be spared," he commanded but saw at once that he would not be listened to. He slowly unsheathed his sword in a wide arc and prepared himself to defend the bridge but then decided to cast one last look behind him to note Dion's position.

  "Dion?" he asked, completely surprised by what he saw, but the shriekers began screaming and he could no longer afford to watch Dion who was kneeling on the ground, bent over the stream, with his head and both arms submerged under water.