The gorge through which they marched was very steep and slippery. The almost impassable highlands that formed the foothills of the imposing Ansíen mountain range that rose majestically towards the north seemed to challenge them at every turn of the journey.

It had been three days since they had left the Oak Forest, and now they were heading resolutely towards what once had been the Castle of Alor. The inclement weather had made its appearance. The rain had been their constant companion for most of their journey, and the short time the rain ceased, a thick fog made it even more challenging to travel through those treacherous places.

"Did you hear that?" Brannan asked, getting his hand cup-shaped to his ear, listening to a distant sound of a waterfall he thought he had perceived.

"Yes, my lord," said a rather short man with a thick torso and rough talk. "It is the waterfall that serves as spillway of the Mud River to join its brother, the Charon River."

A pair of experienced hunters with extensive knowledge of the region accompanied Brannan, serving as his guide to take him to the border with the kingdom of Kersia. He had decided against the opinion of the villagers that had rescued and sheltered him during his short convalescence in the Oak forest, that he was to travel alone. He finally agreed to the company of this pair of men, because he did not have the faintest idea of ​​how to pass through the mountains to the north. He had never left the territory of Kaffre, much less wander alone through those unknown lands. The countries he was familiar with were far to the south, on the border with the rugged region of Arkadia. Vonegh had sent him there, always believing it had been for his training. Now he knew why.

The small party continued its way, while the roar of water falling into open space became more evident. The sound of the rushing water got so intense, that their mode of communication changed to screams and shortly after that, just to hand signals. Soon, the small party arrived at the edge of a very steep cliff, where the raging waters of the river dumped with violence to fall into the abyss.

One of the guides showed Brannan a narrow path, through which they would have to pass to get to the confluence of the two rivers. From his vantage lookout, Brannan could see two water channels merging down there in a violent embrace of waters, as the two rivers embraced each other to follow as one with even more fury towards the far north.

Suddenly, the young traveler noted with surprise that the taller but also the sullenest of his companions left at full career back through the path they just had come, passing by him without stopping. The other man, witnessing the action of his partner, decided to imitate him, perhaps following a basic survival instinct.

Left alone and certainly stunned for the incomprehensible action of his companions, and without knowing what had prompted them to flee in such haste, Brannan glanced toward the path through which his former companions had taken and already gone up the mountain.

A slight movement in the foliage to his right put him on guard. He was fully aware of his skills with the sword, as it had been proven many times in the countless struggles that he had held against the fierce inhabitants of the distant Arkadia. They were formidable warriors but poorly organized for the fight, which constantly beset the southern boundaries of the kingdom, killing peasants and looting the most remote villages.

He knew he could cope with full confidence against one or two opponents, but he wasn't even sure what it was that stalked him. Perhaps a wild animal that searched for food or in defense of its territory.

No sooner he had finished his inconsequential reflection, when he noticed a tall man standing in the middle of the path about ten paces away, threatening him with a heavy spear. He was of broad complexion, with short hair and boyish face. He wore a doublet too small for his enormous size, which was even odder considering the cold weather. By measuring his possibilities and calculating the likely strength of his opponent, Brannan realized that he simply wouldn't stand a chance to escape if that fellow decided to throw his formidable weapon at him.

Brannan perceives another slight movement behind him, which made him turn around instinctively, to meet a stout and busty woman with a strong and stern face that exhibited a scar that ran from the bottom of her ear down to her chin. She wore a coat covered with a breastplate of heavy leather and stood planted resolutely with a battle-ax in her left hand and a leather shield in her right hand, preventing him from running away by the slippery path that ran towards the meeting of the two rivers.

"Who are you?" Brannan yelled to the big woman, so she could hear him despite the roar of the waters that tumbled down the cliff just right beside him.

In answer, the woman moved decisively toward him. The young man, sensing an impending attack and unable to avoid it, readily withdrew his sword from the sheath that hung from his belt. He hadn't taken the first step in his defense when he felt something wrapping his ankle, then experienced a strong pull that threw him rather comically down the floor before the woman, who placed a heavy boot on his torso.

The big man proceeded to bound his feet with a heavy whip. He approached with a crooked and clumsy walk, and turning Brannan abruptly to one side, pulled him by his arms, entwining a vine around his wrists to tie his hands to his back.

Making swift reasoning, Brannan decided it was pointless to continue struggling. If they had wanted to kill him, he wouldn't be entertaining any thoughts at all by now.

The big guy pulled Brannan by the bonds of the leather breastplate that protected his chest, lifting him from the ground. Then he was lowered down to pose his feet on the floor. The big fellow pointed with his finger, signaling Brannan that he was to follow the woman who had already started her march.

It was getting dark when the woman finally decided to stop and set up camp. Brannan was tied up by his feet to the thick trunk of a tree, with the tying knots of the rope on its opposite side, so that he couldn't reach them. Then, they loosened the bonds of his hands, thus allowing him some freedom of movement, but at the same time preventing him from being able to reach the knots and escape.

"Where is your company of soldiers?" rebuked the woman, uttering words for the first time since their unfortunate encounter.

"I have not such company," replied Brannan.

"It is so?" the woman answered in a rather challenging way. "And those we tracked further south, who were they?"

Brannan immediately deduced that maybe those soldiers belonged to the hunting parties that Vonegh had probably sent after his capture.

"Do you think that if I had had soldiers at my disposal, you'd caught me in the sole company of a couple of useless villagers unable to wield a sword?" snapped Brannan.

He knew that when a warrior encountered himself in a disadvantageous position, the least he should do was to show the weakness of either strength or character.

This comment seemed convincing to the portentous woman. She ordered the big fellow to go and pick firewood to start a fire, while she went for a hunt.

Early the next day, they broke camp to continue their march. The next few days passed routinely, walking under a persistent drizzle that made even the bones stiff with cold. Brannan walked all the time with his hands tied behind his back, always with the woman upfront him and the big fellow following at his heels. They spoke little except when the woman said something to the strongman, who started swiftly in either direction.

"It looks like we've finally lost your escorts," remarked the woman cynically. "Who are you?" she asked.

Brannan thought it unwise to reveal his identity. Now that he had, in theory, the right to claim not one but two kingdoms, he would probably have his share of earned and unearned enemies.

"I'm a captain of King Vonegh's guard, who unfortunately fell into the disgrace of his wrath," replied the young, avoiding the gaze of the women.

"Much and bad you might have done to earn such goodwill" contested the woman with sarcasm. She was an expert in the arts of getting to know people by their poses and knew for sure that Brannan was lying.

"What could have been the cause of such anger? She asked, again holding his sight.

"I tried to seduce one of his concubines," Brannan said, thinking quickly that this was an excellent way of earning the enmity of any man worthy of his name.

"Uhmm," the woman uttered.

After a few days of a tiresome, quiet and wet walk, they stopped in a field that opened onto a small terrace. The curvature that made the Charon River on its way to its final destination allowed them to see Lake Azcara at a distance. She had decided to march straight toward the north, to reach the forested mountains where she lived as soon as possible.

Brannan noticed that every time they stopped for the night, they did it near a big tree to bind him to it. As in previous occasions, the big fellow tied him by his feet to a trunk located right on the edge of the forest, leaving as always, his hands-free. They proceeded as usual to make a fire and began to prepare for a quick hunt. The woman came to verify the young's bonds before leaving. The moment she crouched to check the strings, a swift and furtive arrow stuck with violence into the tree trunk, just above her. The big woman quickly turned around only to be stung by another arrow, which penetrated her left shoulder, getting out on her other side and stapling her into the broad tree trunk.

She tried desperately to remove the shaft that held her to the tree. Five warriors dressed in overalls made of thick elaborated leather straps and wearing tanned helmets of the same material on their heads, attacked them with some sort of short iron-tipped halberds.

Brannan swiftly grabbed her ax, and with a violent and rapid motion, cut the rope that bounded him to the trunk right on time to stand up to an attacker that came over him. He managed to launch a sharp blow with the ax, getting right into the skull of his opponent, cracking it by half. He sat up quickly to see the big fellow throwing his heavy spear against two of the warriors with such good fortune that it skewered them both. Bewilderment briefly seized the two remaining soldiers, giving enough time for Brannan to unsheathe the sword of the man lying dead at his feet, pouncing on the warriors. The confusion of the men and Brannan's swift action allowed him to confront them both. The halberds that served the soldiers as weapons were not well suited as a defense against a skilled swordsman, so they soon succumbed to the fierce onslaught of Brannan. Within a couple of minutes, the fighting was over.

Brannan turned his gaze to ascertain the status of the big fellow, noting that he stood undecided as to what to do. The woman was still struggling to take off the arrow that embedded her shoulder and kept her attached to the tree.

"Every move you make will only worsen the open wound," Brannan pointed out. "Would you let me?" he said, approaching the woman.

The woman, seeing that the young man still carried the sword with which he had defeated his two opponents, and realizing that he now had control of the situation, agreed with a nod of her head to let be examined.

Brannan noted that the arrow had penetrated cleanly and directly through the women, threading deep into the trunk. He saw that it would be counterproductive to try to pull it off, as this would cause a severe tear of the shoulder of the wounded woman.

"I think it would be best to cut the plume of the arrow and then pull you out so that your body will slide along the pole and get freed," said the young man.

"Uhmm," was all she said, agreeing again with a flick of her head.

Meanwhile, the big guy had approached and observed the work performed by his former prisoner. Brannan, in turn, proceeded to cut the plume of the arrow. Then, surrounding the woman with both arms as in a big hug, and supporting one foot against the trunk of the tree, pulled hard towards him. He could sense her strength while her body gently slid over the arrow's staff until it got free. A small stream of blood spilled as a result of the unplugging of the wound.

A section of the tunic that covered the torso of the woman, frayed by its prolonged use coupled with the tear caused by the arrow and the grip that the young man applied to her, eventually tore releasing a large breast, which rested on Brannan's arm. Instinctively, he held it to put it back into the tunic, when it dawned on the embarrassing situation in which he found himself. She gave him a penetrating look that made him withdraw his hand from her breast like if it were a piece of burning charcoal.

"I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I didn't mean," he insisted.

The woman simply covered her chest as she slumped back on the tree trunk.

"Hand me the bag!" she gestured to the big guy, "and you," she said, addressing Brannan "could you boil some water? I need it to make an antiseptic tea and a poultice of evergreens to help heal the wound," she added as an explanation.

Brannan diligently went to light the unfinished fire. He had recognized the clothing of the attackers as members of Alarigo's phalanges.

"Gertrudis," the woman said suddenly.

"Huh?" said Brannan altogether absent, being lost in his thoughts.

"That I am Gertrudis!" she repeated. "And he is my nephew Krieg," she said, pointing to the fellow with the childish face, "but only responds to the name of Toto. He is somewhat retarded, but the most faithful of companions," she added with evident pride.

Brannan knew that it was his turn to introduce himself.

"Bran... Brandon," promptly replied, the young man looking down to avoid the woman sensing his momentary doubt. He quickly thought it was an appropriate name.

"Uhmm... right, Brando," replied somewhat skeptical Gertrudis.

Once the potion was ready, Gertrudis anointed the disinfectant over her chest, before applying a poultice of cooked evergreen leaves. The woman asked Brannan to smear her preparation onto the wound on her back, where the arrow had come out. Then, tearing a piece of a tunic, she prepared a bandage to cover the injury. Brannan could see she knew what she was doing.

"I was a servant to my Lord Berien," she said, noting his interest in her work. "I was the only person allowed to bathe and heal him," highlighted the woman with some melancholy. "You know, the deposed king of Kersia," she pointed out.

"So, this woman comes from Berien's Castle," Brannan thought. "She was the servant of my grandfather. Is it a coincidence, or is it fate that is at work? Would had she known my mother?" he asked himself again.

"I have myself a recent injury product of my stormy flight," Brannan said. "Could I spread some of your ointment over it?"

"Go and help yourself," replied Gertrudis. "You'll find out how effective it is."

Brannan took the leather off his chest and unbound the doublet he wore underneath his leather armor. He revised the wound his father had inflicted on him. The feeling of anger rekindled within him, as the thought of what Vonegh had done to his mother, came back to his mind, even more than the vileness and betrayal he had suffered from his wife.

"Come closer," Gertrudis offered to help while watching dumbfounded where Brannan had the wound. She noted that it was recent and still in the process of healing.

"And what is this?" the woman asked, gently running her hand over a stain on the skin that somehow resembled a snail shell.

"I don't know," said the young man. "It's perhaps a birthmark."

"So, Brando, huh? Maybe not everything is lost after all," Gertrudis couldn't help thinking it would be much of a coincidence that the same birthmark that both Princess Lujana and her father King Berién had on their shoulder, was on this young man's shoulder too.