They had traveled ceaselessly for a night and day now. The sands gave way to rocky bluffs topped with brittle brush and gray grass. The bluffs gave way to the badlands, their soil rank and infected. Nothing grew there, and beyond a brackish haze hung over the visible marshlands of Wormwood. At this crossroads, Gerdane stopped. His wilders stopped, and they stepped away from Drake and his Legionaires. As they did, twelve of the tribesmen tossed out their longs pears, clattering together in a pile before the Draconian and his soldiers.
"You are free to go. Do not come back." Was all Gerdane said, and with a flick of his fingers he and his wilders began the long trek home.
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