Free Full Circle by Pamela Freeman

legs t’night,” Flax said. “Or you won’t be walking tomorrow.”
    Rowan grimaced and stared up the cliff, looking at Mud with doubt.
    “I’ll lead,” Flax said, grinning. Cam was happy to be led, Mud was happy to follow Cam.
    The climb was stiff but Flax found himself oddly happy. He had always wanted his life to be exciting, and since meeting Ash,
     it had been. Great things at stake — life and death, the future of the world. He began to sing without even thinking about
     it, as he often did, a wedding song from the South Domain.
A new day, a new day
    Seed and fruit
,
    Fruit and seed
    A new life, a new life
    Tree and root
    Root and tree
.
    Growing, growing, growing
…
    Rowan smiled. “Thinking of settling down?”
    Flax laughed, too pleased with himself to even be embarrassed, and they climbed in companionable silence.
    The road was deserted all afternoon. In the fields, the grapes were untended. They were not ripe, but there should have been
     workers out, checking for bugs and weeds. It was odd. Unchancy. As the day went on they both became increasingly nervous.
     The horses picked up on their anxiety and began to sidle and shy at blown leaves. Rowan had no hope of controlling Mud, so
     they dismounted and began walking along the empty track.
    “Usually like this?” Flax asked.
    Rowan shook his head. “No. No. There are usually Travellers, farmers, workers. There’s a village up ahead. Let’s go quietly,
     eh?”
    “Let’s mount up,” Flax said. Rowan looked at him and Flax shrugged. “Just in case.”
    The village was busy, at least. This was where everyone had gone — they were barricading their houses and the inn, nailing
     shutters closed, dragging barrels of water indoors, carrying food from sheds and barns into the houses. They had clearly heard
     news of the enchanter and his ghosts.
    No one paid them any attention at first, beyond a quick look to make sure it wasn’t the warlord’s men. Then one of the women,
     a skinny red-head with big hands, who was rolling a barrel towards one of the cottages, looked at them more closely.
    “Traveller!” she shouted. All over the village heads swivelled, and the hands that were nailing and sawing hefted their tools.
    “Go!” Flax said, kicking Cam into a trot and looking back to make sure Rowan had heard.
    Rowan wasn’t quick enough. A burly man in a butcher’s leather apron had grabbed Mud’s bridle and was trying to pull Rowan
     out of the saddle. Rowan kicked at his head, and the man fell back a moment, but came on again. Mud was spooked and lashing
     out with his back hooves. Flax reined Cam in, unsure of what to do.
    The other villagers were gathering, staying away from Mud’s hooves but preparing to rush in. Some of them ran towards Flax
     and for a moment he was gripped by the desire to run — to urge Cam into a gallop and race away, as he and Ash had raced from
     the warlord’s man in Golden Valley. He could hear Zel’s voice in his head, screaming,
Get out of there!
    But Rowan…
    Ash would never leave Rowan behind, even if Rowan were a stranger. Look how he’d rushed to save Bramble. Ash would
act
, even if it meant risking his own life.
    Flax pulled Cam’s head around and kicked her back towards the struggling group. They almost had Rowan out of the saddle, and
     then there would be no chance for him if they did. Flax noticed a boy with a hoe watching, dancing from foot to foot with
     excitement. He leant down and grabbed it, then used it to beat aside two women who were screeching and grabbing at Mud’s head.
    Cam didn’t like it. Her ears were flat on her head and the whites of her eyes were showing. She wanted to shy away, but he
     used every bit of skill he had to force her ahead, towards Rowan. “Come on, girl, come on, take the bastards down!” he called,
     and the sound of his voice steadied her.
    He put a foot in the face of the butcher and poked the hoe into the stomach of another man, who wrenched it out of his