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hexagonal
fields, the rapid stream that rushed along the hex-line.
    A double-walled
stockade surrounded the main buildings, defenses that had withstood many
attacks and fell only once, to Gairoth the ogre.
    Vailret stretched
his arms back, felt the warmth of his jerkin and the woollen sweater wrapped
around it. He had not gotten much sleep, and his muscles ached ― but it felt good. Vailret ran his fingers through straw-colored hair, tangled
from tossing and turning all night.
    Delrael moved about
with energy and excitement, obviously eager to be off again. He was a character
of action who hated to ponder things until all spontaneity was gone. Of course,
he often got himself into trouble because he never thought about what he was
doing. He bore a sturdy sword from the weapons storehouse and left the bow and
arrows behind this time.
    Tareah waited with
Vailret's mother Siya at the main gates to see them off. Beside them stood the
old bald veteran Tarne, awake and alert with bright eyes.
    When Sardun's
daughter waved good-bye, Vailret felt amazed at how she changed in the month he
had known her. They spent a lot of time together, exchanging legends and
stories they unearthed, clarifying historical details that Tareah had learned
from her father.
    But Vailret could
see the stars in Delrael's eyes when he looked at her, and he cared for his
cousin too much to risk a potentially difficult situation. And fighter
characters spent much more time impressing women than nearsighted scholars did
anyway.
    Tareah still looked
disappointed that she would not be accompanying them, but she drew herself up,
proud to have the responsibility of guarding the Stronghold.
    Beside her, the big
veteran Tarne appeared grim and ready. He had kept the villagers protected in
the forests during the months when they needed to hide from Gairoth and his
ogres. Now Tarne crossed his arms over his chest and nodded farewell to them.
    Siya, though,
looked devastated and afraid for them. Her husband Cayon had been killed in a
senseless quest. He had been the typical Gamearth fighter character: cocky,
talented, living for the moment and adventuring for the fun of it. But Cayon
was slain by an ogre on one of his "fun" adventures. It had destroyed
Siya.
    She was a new type
of character on Gamearth. She wanted an end to all of the tedious questing. It
was time to settle down and establish their lives, support themselves, grow
their crops, take care of the villagers and the other characters. But while she
ran the domestic affairs of the Stronghold, she still felt left out, not
treated with respect. She was overprotective of Vailret. She tried to do the
same to Delrael, but he ignored her.
    Vailret knew
everything she was thinking ― he could see the emotions ripple
like changing waves on her face. But Siya held her tongue because she realized
how much was at stake this time. Vailret greatly respected her for that.
    As they departed,
Siya said only, "Luck." Vailret smiled. The three of them started
down the path into the darkness.
    The lights in the
village below had been doused for the night. Only a dull glow came from the
blacksmith's workshop, where Derow always kept the fires banked. Before dawn
seeped into the eastern sky, the questers left the village behind and crossed
the first line of hexagonal fields bounding the forest terrain.
    Bryl mumbled,
"If characters have stopped questing so much, why do I always find myself
walking back and forth across the map?"
    Vailret's hands
were numb from the chill; he crossed his arms and kept his fingertips under
them. He turned to look at Delrael. His cousin's face was grim, concentrating
on the journey.
    Delrael's lost
father Drodanis had sent them a spectral message from the Rulewoman Melanie,
describing the threat of Scartaris and commanding them to find some way to stop
the end of the Game. The three of them had created the Barrier River to protect
them for a time.
    But Drodanis had
sent no other message, provided them