Neleve was dexterous - his movement quick, agile, and vicious as he cut his way through the brigands. His goal, one he carried with a personal urgency, was to reach the men holding the woman captive. And as he neared the kidnappers, they glanced back with eyes of horrified surprise. Such befuddled faces would have made him laugh, were he not so irritated.

"I'm literally dragging her!" cried the man in whose arms Sencis slumped. "Is she asleep?"

"Just get rid of her!" said the leader.

Suddenly, Sencis slammed her foot on that of the man dragging her and—pressing her heels, head-butted him directly underneath his chin. The large brigand staggered with a groan. Then, purposing the acquired leverage, she tossed him on his back so that he fell with a loud clonk.

"Persistent bitch!" In a final attempt to kill her, the commander twisted his hips and swung his blade. But when he swung, she ducked. And with an open palm, she uppercut his chin with enough force to send him reeling backward.

Gravely fuming, the other brigand rose from his fall and drew his sword. Hither came Neleve, a surge, to strike the man's exposed lobe, that vulnerable area between head and upper neck. With such a strike, the man gasped before immediately falling unconscious.

It was upon seeing Neleve that the commander's cowardice revealed itself, coercing him to crawl away; henceforward, he appeared nothing more than a body wheezing and jittering on the ground. But as he attempted to flee, he felt a firm foot planted on his spine, causing his shrill cry. Then there was a grip, a grip on his collar that lifted him off the dirt and dropped him on his back so that he could clearly see his pursuer. He beheld Neleve leering at him in the dimness, a stalwart figure raising his peculiar blade to finish what was started.

"NO!" the commander pleaded.

Intervention.

Another hand fell over Neleve's arm, stopping the stroke of his weapon. Pure and serene confusion accompanied his gaze as it fell on the woman holding him.

"Do not!" commanded Sencis.

Neleve took his time, shifting his gaze between this peculiar woman and her would-be kidnapper. He felt no urgency as he relayed his next set of calm words. "What is he to you?"

"Nothing at all."

"Then wouldn't you prefer to be rid of this despicable thing?"

Though not obvious, Sencis could discern the frustration in Neleve's voice. "It is a life," she relayed somberly, "despite what I say, despite what you want."

Neleve hesitated, contemplatively shifting attention between her and the man whose life lay in his hands. "As you wish," he sighed.

The brigand leader, who now had Sencis to thank, breathed a sigh of relief. Nervously, tensely, he carefully crawled away. She, however, crouched down, turned him around, and punched his mug. He was still conscious, so she punched him again and again, then again, her fist unrelenting until it was bloody.

After recovering her breath, Sencis checked his pulse, making certain there was a pulse. The moment that followed was much-needed quiet as she peered upward at silent Neleve--alternating between him and those deadly blades he handled so deftly.

"You aren't capable of taking life," Neleve said suddenly.

Her return look was despondent. "I can lament death for the rest of my life and find folk, unlike me, who deliver it. The difference between myself and them is me."

A wet touch then fell from the sky. Rain to drown down the sorrows of a charred village, the rising flames slowly and wholly pacified.

"This place is little more than a ruin now," said Neleve, glancing in all directions.

Sencis gasped, lifting and darting her eyes. "The people!"

"Yonder, fleeing in the distance."

Sencis looked to the hills bathing under the drizzle of unlit skies, where many beleaguered specs now arduously trekked. Homeless as a result of the raid, their forlorn lives, at the very least, fell back in their hands. "When did they-"

"I was not expecting such a count of survivors," interrupted Neleve. "Then again, when I arrived, all those wretches seemed distracted by you."

At least they're still alive. From the hills, her eyes ventured to the windmill's spinning sails. One piece of the village that yet remained unscathed.

"Is there somewhere you need to be? Maybe family?" Neleve pursued. "A husband?"

Sencis met him with wary eyes. "For a long time, it's been me. Only me." Looking away, her mind carried her skyward as the rain cleared. It stopped as quickly as it had relinquished the flames. Thus, she could survey the remnants and wonder whether or not her actions altered the murky stream of events.

***

Dane sat in respite amongst the beleaguered and beaten bodies cluttering the town's road, waiting patiently. And to his relief, he beheld Neleve arriving with the female stranger, both carefully stepping over the defeated brigands.

On arriving, Sencis perused the littered ground for her father's sword until she saw Dane gripping it over his thigh.

"Sir," she started respectfully, "that is my father's keepsake, and I would very much like it back."

"I would not have guessed," Dane casually remarked, unsheathing to inspect the metal. "This is no common soldier's blade... Then again, neither is your armor." After admiring her suit, he willingly and ceremoniously presented the sword to her.

She breathed a late sigh of relief as the touch of her father's weapon returned, holding it close, surprisingly close—as Neleve saw it—for someone who just refused to kill a man. "Thank you, both, for arriving when you did," she told them.

"You need not think of it," said Dane. "I did not think on it."

"And you?" asked Sencis, turning to Neleve with critical eyes. He was already staring at her, a wide grin running across his suave features. "Why are you smiling?"

Neleve covered his mouth. "Apologies."

"What brought you here?"

"Well, the world guides me, and I do the rest."

Momentary silence. Loud winds prevailed an air of calm between the trio, a moment to quietly relish. "My name is Sencis."

"I am Neleve!"

"My name is Dane." And Dane stood up at that moment, presenting the fullness of his figure: lean, strong-armed, an uncompromising demeanor, and naturally upright. However, his eyes could not focus; not once did they fall on her, not even when he returned her sword. They veered away as if he did not care to look.

Is there nothing else to him? She wondered.

He put his hat on and wrapped his cloak before walking down the road of the burnt village. "Are you coming, Neleve?"

"I suppose," he said, fastening his cloak. But before following, he purposefully returned his wondrous gaze to Sencis, waiting until she naturally careened and their eyes met. "You know..." he started shyly. "If there is no other sanctuary in your path, no obligation of thine to anyone or any thing, I don't suppose it unbecoming to invite you to travel with us. And I don't suppose it odd... My invitation? Adventure's more a certainty than a destination."

Wondrous and wide-eyed, Sencis beamed against his offer. She stared at him, feeling mildly inspired by his childish charm, but then caressed her chin in careful reflection. What would you do, father? "A tempting offer," she said. "Tempting because it makes me think; we have only just met, Neleve, and I have not heard your friend's opinion on this matter."

"I have none," answered Dane.

"Nonetheless... So happens, it is not my tendency to depart with men whom I've only just met. Moreover, I don't simply enter the company of thrill seekers. Though I am grateful for what you have done, make no mistake, but may this night fare thee well, without me but with my gratitude."

"Thy path is as you will it," replied Dane, and as he resumed his walk down the lane, his companion hesitated.

Something dreary about their situation left Neleve unwilling to relent. Thus, setting one foot closer, he blurted, "We don't have to!"

Sencis's response was a tilt of the head and cock of the eye.

"If you come with us, we shall avoid fighting. As a matter of fact, we shall avoid any inclination towards violence. Your presence could serve as a reminder of this vow. Come on, Dane!"

"What ails you?" questioned Dane.

"Thy sword is an instrument of circumstance and not intent, correct? Pledge with me here, that we'll avoid a destiny of barbarism so long as Sencis travels with us." And Neleve proceeded to kneel.

Dane seemed taken aback by Neleve's proclamation, but not against it. Seeing his companion make this humble pledge before Sencis seemingly stirred his inner nobility. Therefore, he kneeled alongside his princely companion and gripped his scabbard—tip to the ground like a knight in prayer, and awaited his friend's lyrics.

"Come forth with us," started Neleve, "humble adventurers, she to whom we vow with Almighty's blessing to ..."

What Sencis presumed to be a dramatic pause on Neleve's part had lengthened into awkward silence. After several seconds, Dane filled in the rest, "...To keep our swords sheathed in the presence of our Lady, that she may know peace in our presence for the interim of our union spent."

"You sound like you've done this before," whispered Neleve.

Silent, still, and mystified, Sencis felt strangely invigorated, therefore thought more on the matter. Additionally, she sensed earnestness resonating from the two men. When her awe succumbed to the silent solemnity of their surroundings, she found her response. "Promise you won't kneel before me if we travel together."

Neleve sprung to his feet. "Then you're coming!"

"Yes. Considering what's left-look at my home! I can see myself leaving, now. Maybe, I don't even have a choice. Yet when all is said and done, alas, knightly men don't make for the worst company."

"Good. This is good," Neleve mused, optimistically glancing between Dane and Sencis.

"Now," she resumed, pausing for a breath of newfound air, "there is a faithful steed I must claim."

"Oh, you have a horse with which to travel?

Surveying the dirt road, Sencis observed the horses left by the pitiful raiders. "I think we all do."

Neleve peeked beyond her sanguine visage and beheld the idle horses, a sight that forged a smirk on his face. "We are spared from walking, Dane!"