It was two weeks before Bataar reached the village of the Patch. Settling matters in his home and arranging travel had taken a day, travelling to the coast by foot and finding a boat heading to America had taken almost a week by itself, followed by several days of cross the ocean by steam boat and then finally another trek across the heartland of America to reach his destination.

Incredible.

Truly, the world was more connected now than it had ever been before. To cross half the globe in so short a time would have been unthinkable in his teacher’s day; hell, it had been unthinkable for him too until he had set out on what he had expected to be an arduous journey, only to find it far easier than expected. The world outside his home had advanced while they had been dragging their feet and being stuck in the past; that advance had brought wonders that awed and humbled him. They also worried him.

The journey had been eye opening in many ways. Bataar had seen things he had never imagined he would see on a scale that staggered him, but he also saw less than he had expected. Fewer spirits, fewer places where they could be, fewer people who knew of them and even fewer who cared. Many years ago, his teacher had told him that their way of life was dying out; their traditions and their spirituality. Snuffed out in some cases. Bataar had thought he understood. He did not, until now.

Arriving at the Patch village was like coming home, after all of that. A place where spirits and people lived together. A place where the old ways flourished. Approaching the village, Bataar waved to those he could see, catching the attention of the warriors on watch and waiting for them to come to him. As he did, he conversed with his Sülde.

“What do you think Khan? Do you have any idea why the Patch called us here?”

The spirit in question appeared at his shoulder; taller even than Bataar, broad shouldered and wearing the traditional armour and battle gear of the steppes, the man looked pensive as he considered Bataar’s question. “I do not know for certain, but I feel… something strange. I’ve felt it since the night we first saw the arrow. Something is amiss.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Bataar turned to regard the spirit who had accompanied him since childhood. “Amiss? More evil spirits?”

The Khan shook his head. “No, this is something else. As I said I do not know, but I am sure that this is part of the destiny that led me to you.”

“That so?” It was now Bataar’s turn to look troubled. “I thought we were already done with that business years ago. I can’t imagine anything being worse or more urgent than that night.”

The Patch warriors drew close enough to be within earshot and Khan faded away without another word. Bataar let them lead him into the village to where the other Darkstars were to meet with the one who had called them here; he was not the first to arrive, it would seem.