Chapter 1: A New Face
When Marian awoke, she was in a wagon that was angrily bouncing around with every rock and root hit. She raised her head and heard a voice.
"Ahhh. So, you have awakened." a voice from outside of the front of the wagon spoke.
Marian looked around at the trees, the wagon, and the mules that were pulling the wagon. The trees were changing back from auburn and other various colors of autumn, some dead from the harsh winter, and some evergreens still as green as the first day of summer. The wagon was a brown carrier with a tan to white cover that looked as if it had been placed on rather recently.  The mules were solemn, quiet, and gentle,
"Where ... Who am I?"
Lightning flashed and thunder ensued several seconds later. The mules became, not so solemn, quiet, and gentle. The old man steering the wagon calmed the animals with minimal effort.
"From what I know, you are not far inside the edge of the Forbidden Forest. And you had some pretty bad wounds back there ... So you don't remember anything, including who you are?"
"Not as of now. How did you find me, and why are you in the forest if it's forbidden?"
"I just happened to be passing through the town for supplies when I noticed that it was trashed, burned to the ground, with you lying in the middle, unconscious. And about the forest...” The old man turns back to the mules just as another bolt of lightning strikes the ground in the distance ready to calm the animals after the inevitable thunder.  His eyes trail back toward Marian to finish his explanation.  “It is named the Forbidden forest because of how many merchants have disappeared in the forest while passing on to other towns. It is a somewhat dark forest, thick with brush; good for an ambush from raiders, and bandits. . . Not necessarily forbidden by a rulebook or law."
She loses track of the man's voice and it fades out of her consciousness, and Marian had something of a vision. Scattered images eventually give way to a small scene that seemed very familiar.  She was in the middle of a town, with bandits all around. Someone behind her was calling out to her. As she turned, she noticed it was a small girl and a man in his 30's. They were running away when a horseman came from behind and ran down the girl and slicing through the man with a large blade on the end of a pole, she couldn't recall what the weapon was or the man’s actual features, she must have been too shocked of the event of what seemed to be her family. She then saw herself running toward the two people who had fallen. She saw herself crying into the hair of the two who were now dead, and herself rising up in anger. Then, she was brought back
"Is something wrong?"
“No, no I'm fine."
"Sorta seemed like you were ignoring me for a minute there miss."
"I . . . Sorry." she said with an ashamed look.
"Don't be. I get that a lot." He said with a chuckle.  “People tend to shy away from the ranting old man.”
"Can you tell me what the town looked like?"
"Yes, I suppose I could tell you all I know. It was a little burnt, well, maybe not little, so I can't tell you much for colors. But I'll do as best 1 can. I`ll even draw it out for you."
The man stopped the cart, hopped down, and began to draw in the dirt depicting how big, or how small, each building was while pausing in the middle to see if he could recall all the details. Color aside; it was a picture perfect stack of well drawn out squares, a round circle, probably the mill, and a large rectangle, which was more than likely the church or the town hall.
Marian then lost herself, and had another vision. This time of someone calling her, "Marian." She saw her house, her farm, photos of people in her house, and the Dermuntreese. She saw that the slain people were her husband, and daughter. She saw herself getting up again, turning with hatred in her eyes towards the horseman. He had a disturbed look on his face from the demonic look she gave him. He began to charge. Her hatred boiled over, and she could remember the feeling of the demonic bone wings with tattered leather-like material between each wing bone sprouting from her back. She watched the horseman charge and just before he got to her she remembered the old man and came back to.
The way the town looked, her family's bodies, the dead knight, and the Dermuntreese, gave her everything that she needed to know. Who to kill, why, and which way to find them.
". . .Those dogs . . ." she whispered.
"Ma'am? Did you say something?"
"Hmm? Oh, no, just talking to myself."
"Startin' to worry me there."
"How far back is the town?"
"About 2 miles, but wh…?" the look on Marian's face answering his question, "You don't plan on going back there do you?"
"I must," Marian said with unquestionable certainty.
After a long moment of silence, "Ok then, but I insist that you wait for your wounds to heal." He saw the strong intentions behind her eyes. "If you're so sure about it then at least take this." The old man hands Marian a sword and a bag of gold that had 2,500 coins in it.
"I can't accept this; you've been kind enough to me as it is."
"Oh I assure you I have more where that came from.  I may be old, but I know how and where to do business." he taps the side of his head and chuckles.
She smiled, sighed, and then said, "Alright then . . . thank you for your kindness, sir." She then turned and began to walk off back towards the town.
A moment after Marian began to walk off. "Wait ... Wait please ..." panting, the old man caught up with Marian.
"Yes?”
"I never got your name missy."
Marian gave a smile and told him, "Marian," and walked off knowing she would see the old man again.
The old man muttered to himself on the way back to his wagon, "Marian . . . Marian . . . think that was my mother's name too.” He checked to make sure the mules’ harnesses were still firmly in place and hopped back onto the coachman’s seat. “Very familiar name. Very pretty name. Oh!”  He jerked his head around as it seemed to click in his mind. “Could she be the one in the bard's songs? Hmm..."
The man turned around and got back in his wagon, took a last look in Marian's direction, and rode off towards the next town of Dalmondar.
About a mile down the road Marian spoke to herself silently, "I must find out where they might be hiding.” Emotion got the best of her and her thoughts were spoken out loud.  “Those dogs, those . . . Gah!  I swear I will find you Dermon Gregor!" She had remembered, and now there was a pain only a woman could dish out about to be driven into those who crossed her.  Dermon Gregor, being first on the list.
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It was midmorning. Dalmondar was a peaceful place without a weapon, even a wooden club, within 20 miles of it. All of the houses being made of wood or brick, were very colorfully painted, reds, blues, and a variety of other colors of the spectrum. The city was rather large, but this side of the town was open and had few houses being deceptive to those who have not seen the rest of it which was blocked from view by about forty yards of trees.
Everyone in Dalmondar was still asleep, dreaming of the day to come.  The trees, the fresh scent of new leaves and grass, the flowers blooming, the insects chirping, and not a clue of the company of the Dermuntreese.
These brigands have been traveling eight of the nine continents of Meruntor, attacking and salvaging all the treasure that could be found. I say eight of the nine because one of the continents is dirt poor. I leave an emphasis on the word "dirt" because that is all the people of Shutamar have to live by. You see, most of the people that live on Shutamar are monks that have given up their wealth and lives to be more like the people suffering in the lower classes of the world, cultivating for vegetables, and taking care of farm animals for meat.
The Dermuntreese now raid the town of Dalmondar to take and plunder what riches they might acquire. The first bandit snuck in to scout ahead for possible threats. When he entered the town he only saw the one town center that had nine guards and a sheriff of sorts. Making his way back to the group he noticed that his partners were not where he thought he had left them. Doing a quick visual search of the area, he found nothing. Then, a rustling in a bush not but ten yards away. As he approached the suspicious bush, a large wolf sprang from its post and began to move for its death clamp upon the scout's throat. Luckily, the scout was able to catch the wolf’s jaws. Then, he thought he remembered something while fighting off the instruments of death. (Don't wolves hunt in packs?)
A high pitched scream turned into one of a fading drowning sound.  The scream still echoed through the trees of the small area, alerting the guards in the town and the comrades of the scout. The bandits raced in and were at the scene first, being just outside of town, as opposed to the guards that were sitting within. The bandits on the scene noticed his dead partner and then two yards past . . . a large gray wolf with four others, one of which had a bloody muzzle, moving up slowly to either side of a larger wolf slightly baring their teeth.  The larger of them, who seemed to be the leader with the dominant size and different color of a total white, took a single step forward before jerking its head toward the town and then darting to a bush behind it closely followed by the others.
They began to back away as the guards came onto the scene seeing and scattering the bandits in all different directions and not noticing the wolves that vanished behind the group of bushes. While the guards had their hands busy, Dermon Gregor making no more noise than a fox, artfully snuck around toward the wolves' hiding place, and, with caution, decided to try and coax the large wolf’s pack into a truce. Dermon knelt inches from a nearby tree, his back facing it for some added defense, but cautiously watching where he had last seen the wolves. He pulled two large chunks of meat out of his backpack, and laid them before him. The experienced white wolf knew of some human customs and saw this as surrender or befriending.  Dermon Gregor didn’t know that the wolves had already moved during the commotion and the white wolf steadily walked past him on his left startling him briefly.  This encounter would normally have made most men take flight, although he knew better than to move.  Dermon began subtly sweating only a bead’s worth or so. The wolf walked to the other side of the small clearing and inhaled a deep breath of midmorning air catching misty scents of pine, animal trails, blood, and . . . fear. Then, finally, the wolf stepped forward grasping the meat in his jaws and threw it back to his companions that eagerly gobbled up the tasty rations, and took a few steps back itself as if to allow Dermon to stand. Dermon chose to take this opportunity. As he stood, he tried to talk to the wolf.
"Greetings."
He received no answer in return except a stare from its golden yellow eyes. 	"I wish to call a truce of both sides for the moment."
An odd voice entered his head, echoic and thoughtful. <We wolves know of your human trickery.>
"I wish not to trick you, but for you to help me; unlike Kaliph a moment ago."
<My packmate will be reprimanded for his hasty actions although not for you.  Prove to me human, that your intentions are genuine.> A growl from the smaller wolves could be heard from where Dermon was standing a few yards away.
"I thought that allowing you the upper hand did." Dermon was getting more worried of the position he let himself get into.
<I see.  One on five, your friends gone, and you on your knees.  Is that what you thought?>
"To a sense, yes, I thought that would do it."
The wolf withdrew from Dermon’s mind for a moment contemplating Dermon’s actions, then it projected its voice once again.
<You were too hasty as well. . . and too trusting.  However, your fear now concerns me, though I will think upon this. For now you may follow us to our raid upon this deceptive human village that has cut down part of our forest for no apparent reason. The way you prove your loyalty in the raid will help me decide.>
The wolves turned their backs and start walking.
"As you wish, but can we first help get rid of the guards chasing my companions?"
The smaller wolves without a word, turned and looked at the elder as it nodded. The wolves immediately turned and bounded off without a sound into the, one toward the left, three to the right, leaving the alpha there who started walking slowly toward the town. Dermon stood quiet and stunned believing that they had no intention to aide his men. As he stood there a sneer began to cross his face in disgust and then he heard a girly scream from some brush a distance away. Then he heard a being crashing through the woods in a mighty big hurry running towards him. He then jumped into the tree he was sitting next to and waited for a guard to pass by. Dropping out of the tree, he noticed his friends were being chased by the wolves, nay, "escorted" into the small clearing that he was standing in. However, they were in fear of their lives and backing into the open a few tripping on some uncovered roots even though the wolves weren’t snarling the least bit at this point.
Dermon, with a slight tone of amusement in his voice, then questioned the larger wolf walking toward the town. "Off to the raid then?"
The wolf turned his head to the side looking at Dermon with one eye, <Yes, yes indeed, off to the raid.> Returning its gaze back to the edge of the forest, and at the town, the wolves bounded off leaving the bandits behind.
When the wolves were well out of earshot, Demon's third in command approached.
"Dermon! Are you crazy!" he said with a raspy, whispery voice.
"Only you would think a man crazy after finding a valuable ally.  He even got rid of the guards for us."  He gave a mild chuckle at this.
"They are wolves, Dermon! They would rather have us for lunch! Just look what they did to Kaliph!"
"There's nothing to worry about. I've made a truce with them. Basically, if we scratch their backs," trying to lighten their moods, "which they probably would like considering how many fleas they have, and I swear, I could see those things from here," his men gave a light laugh at this, “then they would scratch ours; Meaning possible gold and treasure to plunder.  And as for Kaliph . . ."
Dermon began again in a whisper, "That was a partial "mistake" that I kept hidden from them. They think this village has chopped down their trees and suspected him a culprit."
"I don't like this Dermon; I don't like this at all. Even if they don't know the truth," Dermon grabbed the insubordinate man by his shirt collar and yanked him in close,
"Be a coward for all I care, but I'm headed off to help them. For once if you helped me with something then things might turn out for the better.” Dermon released the man and turned back toward the others, “Whoever believes in my judgment follow me." With this, he sprinted off to go help the wolves already inside the town. Three bandits began to trail him still partially trusting and loyal to him.
"Wait." Pleaded the third in command, just loud enough for the three following Dermon to hear.  "He will lead us to ruin. He already did so leading us to the last town.  Many of our friends died in a single woman's rage, which was replied with that destructive magic power we all saw.  I will never forget those god-awful wings.  I'd kill him before he gets the rest of us killed off."  He turns towards where Dermon walked away and sighed.  "No. No, he originally did well for us and I shouldn’t say that. . .” He paused briefly, “I wouldn't suggest following him. I'm going as far away as possible. I won't join our friends in death, especially being done in by some accursed woman."
"The wolves helped us, and I trust his judgment." said a bandit in the back of the group.
The third in command turned toward the one that spoke. "We can get more gold elsewhere, and he would want some just because he is part of the Dermuntreese.  My thoughts still sting inside if we may have to remove him.  But as well as he’s done for us in the past I’ll forbid them from taking place so long as he stays with the wolves and out of the way."
With this, two large wolves moved into position behind them quietly to where not one of them noticed.