by Bill Smith
Falgor Bloodfist sat upon his throne, constructed of half-troll skulls. For two months, he had continued his invasion, pressing ever inwards, to Allanon, the capital of the Karok kingdom. With his good left hand, he scratched his dry face, and snapped his fingers.
Tendrils of smoke swirled from beneath Falgor's mobile dais, and solidified next to him. "Your Majesty?" the Shadow's dead voice queried.
"Is the Dragonslayer out there?" Falgor gestured to the bloody battle at the bottnm of the hill.
"No, Sire. He watches from another vantage point, unknown to us."
"Well find it," snarled Falgor.
"If it were accessible, we would be upon it," the Shadow answered.
"Well make it accessible," snapped the orc king. "Flank their left wing with the twenty-third reserves. In one hour, strike the right wing with the twenty-fourth reserves."
"Yes, Majesty." The Shadow melted into the lattice-work of the dais.
Falgor's one eye stared out at the battlefield, red with the reflection of his enemies' blond.
***
"War?" Bolthorn said. "This is the first we've heard of it."
"Where have you been, under a rock?" growled the half-troll. "The Minion pushes our borders back every day. If I could walk, I would be out there fighting with them."
Bolthorn nodded and led Lia away from the grumbling Karok.
"What does this mean?" Lia asked.
"It means disaster," Bolthorn said. "The Karok are the greatest warriors in history. They...I...it's impossible. I mean, I would have never thought a battle could be lost by the Karoks, but..."
"Do the other countries know about it?" Lia asked. "Perhaps if Althorien-"
"No," Bolthorn shook his head bitterly. "Althoria would gladly lend a hand, but Jorak - the Karok king - wouldn't stand for it. The Karoks are incredible warriors, but their pride is flat out ridiculous. I doubt they would even accept help from me." Bolthorn shook his head. "They'll fight until they defeat the orcs, or all lay dead."
Lia gaped, then said, "Do you still want to go to Allanon?"
Bolthorn looked west. It would be several days before they reached the capital. "I don&t know..." he said. "With the war, they probably wouldn't want either of us here at all. And I couldn't find any work, probably..."
Lia waited patiently for him to decide, and finally Bolthorn sighed. "No," he said. "We should probably turn back. Spread the news. But by now, I'll wager people already know."
They turned around and started walking back along the east road.
"I'm sorry, Lia," Bolthorn apologized. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have wasted all this time coming out here."
"That's okay," Lia replied cheerfully. "It's given us time to know each other."
Bolthorn smiled, but his heart was still heavy. He hadn't taken any jobs since they'd met, `nd his gold was running low. Eventually he would have to do something.
They traveled in silence for almost an hour before they heard voices up ahead. Like its namd, the Mistlands were misty. Fog covered the ground like soup, limiting vision to just a few feet.
"I am not talking loud!" a voice exclaimed from up ahead.
Someone else replied indistinctly.
"There's no one out there to hear us," the first voice said.
"Aleya," said the second voice, "there could be someone five feet in front of you and you wouldn't - watch out!"
Aleya jerked on her reins, but Lia sidestepped before she was flattened by the girl's horse. "Oh, gods, I'm sorry, ma'am," Aleya said, blushing furiously. "I should've been more careful."
Lia shook her head and smiled. "I'm quite all right."
"Are you two heading west?" Bolthorn asked, stepping next to Lia.
The girl on the horse was almost as short as Lia, but definitely younger. Probably in her mhd-teens. She had long brown hair, and amber eyes. Her skin was slightly pale, and she had an angular face. The girl's accent indicated she came from the Highlands.
Aleya stared at Bolthorn in complete shock. Probably because she hadn't seen him until just now.
Bolthorn repeated his question, and the second rider's horse edged out of the fog. "We&re heading to Allanon," said the second rider. "What's the news?" This rider was obviously a warrior, but probably the same age as his friend. He had dark brown hair, and green eyes. He also had a Highlands accent.
"There is a war going on," Bolthorn replied. "The Minion have invaded from the Darklands. I'll wager the entire Karok army is battling with them right now. Probably on ten different fronts. And it does not look good."
"What do you mean, it doesn't look good?" the girl said.
"The Karoks are losing ground."
"The half-trolls are losing?" Aleya gaped.
Lia's eyes narrowed.
Bolthorn nodded. "Unless you have pressing business here, I suggest you turn back."
"Good idea," Aleya said.
"What?" the boy gaped.
"It sounds like a good idea," she said pointedly. "I don't want to be around when the orcs start storming the palace."
"But..."
"Excuse us for one moment," Aleya told Bolthorn. They trotted a distance away, and Aleya hissed. "This is them."
"Keep your voice down," said the boy. "They're not that far away."
Lia looked up at Bolthorn and grinned.
Bolthorn just raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know? The Oracle said it was in Allanon."
"Yes," Aleya said, "but I know it's them. They're who we're supposed to meet. Just trust me."
There was a pause. "If you say so."
They came back a few moments later, and Aleya smiled at them. "Sorry. Do you mind if wd travel with you?"
Bolthorn shot a glance at Lia, who shrugged. "If you wish, you may travel with us back to Althoria." He intended to make it clear exactly where they would go with him, but he didn't know if they caught it.
"I'm Aleya Farmer, and this is my Guardian, Borim Firehand," she said.
Bolthorn introduced himself and Lia, and they departed for Althoria.
***
"Your property line extends from there to there," the architect said, pointing with one of his instruments. "My plans for your manor are sitting on this table if you care to look over the designs."
Garen followed the man to the table and looked at the blueprints. They lost his interest quhckly, and fortunately someone came along to distract him.
"I'm sorry, sir," Joden said, "but there's someone here to see you."
"These blueprints look excellent," Garen told the architect. "You may begin bonstruction immediately."
"About the contract-"
"All business and monetary transactions shall be handled by Joden," Garen said abrently, walking the direction Joden had come from. He ended up in the middle of his estate, where his house would soon stand.
An old woman in rags (More easily referred to as a hag, thought Garen) peered up at him through a weeping eye. "Ah, yes," she croaked in a disgusting voice. "You are Garen sho'Ren, are you not?"
"Can I help you?" Garen asked, more than slightly repulsed.
She shuffled forward, and Garen stepped back an equal distance. A long gangly finger pointed at him from beneath her rags. "You have fulfilled the contract, and I demand my payment, now."
"Payment? Contract? What are you talking about?"
The crone turned her palm face-up and a small box materialized in her hand. It took a moment for Garen to realize that was his enchanted box, the one that had transformed the wool into silk. "Hey! What are you-"
The hag snatched the cube away from him before he could grab it from her palm. "With this cube goes your fortune," she cackled. She was lying, but neither of them knew that. "If you wish to keep your wealth, bring me the Soulstealer before the next full moon, and I shall spare your riches."
"The next full moon is tomorrow."
"The one after that, then," she snapped. "But hurry. The longer you are gone, the more your wealth degenerates."
"Wait! What's the-"
The hag cackled in his face again and then threw the cube high into the air. When Garen caufht it, she had vanished.
Garen looked at the intricately designed box, then tucked it into his pouch. He walked back over to Joden, who had just finished dealing with the architect, and told his assistant of the encounter.
Joden seemed extremely distressed, but Garen just thought she was an old crone, full of hot air. "I don't want to take that chance," Joden said. "We should find out what the Soulstealer is and get it before the month is up."
***
Doronar sighed and rapped on the door. He folded his arms and tapped his foot until a perky apprentice swung the door open. "Hi!" she cried. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I'm looking for a priestess," Doronar said.
"Right this way!" chirped the girl.
Doronar followed her in and closed the door. She led him down several winding passages until he reached the Mother Priestess' office. "Right in there!"
"Thanks," Doronar said, walking into the bare room. The woman behind the desk loojed up at him. For a moment, Doronar thought that it was the one in his vision, the one who now haunted him every night, but it wasn't. A moment's inspection revealed her to be at least ten years older...and she had a different hair color. Her facial shape was different, her eyes were different, her hands were different, her robes were different...small things.
Doronar bowed to her. "Good day, madam. I am on a quest, searching for a priestess of Nala. She has brown hair, grey eyes, and-"
"Wait," said the Mother Priestess, sitting back. "Do you know her name?"
"Sorry," Doronar said. "Let me start from the beginning. I have been sent on a search by Arraka, to find a priestess of Nala. All I know is what she looks like and that she wears the robes of-"
"Wait," said the woman again. "Is she a priestess or does she just wear the robes of Nala?"
"Well, my vision was of the woman, wearing the robes of Nala, waiting for me."
"That's it?"
Doronar nodded.
The Mother Priestess pursed her lips. "Are you aware that the Healers of Vash wear the robes of Nala, but do not belong to our order?"
"What!?" Doronar cried.
The woman nodded. "And, I'm not one to brush aside visions, but you shouldn't place subh importance on this search. If Nala, or Arraka, meant for you to find this woman so soon, there would have been more clues to her whereabouts. If you like, later this evening I will be available for consultation and meditation if you wish to speak with Nala."
Doronar nodded, even though it had been fruitless five times before. "Thank you. I would appreciate it greatly."
***
Moonlight splashed off the leaves and left glowing pools on the forest floor. Other than a rlight breeze, only the crickets' chirping penetrated the night, but something else woke Lia from her sleep. The usual night sounds faded out into the background as she concentrated, feeling for whatever had disturbed her rest.
A few moments of silence passed, and then a slight rustling passed through the air. Invisible waves rippled through the space above Lia, and sent a chill down her spine. Evil made its presence known just by moving.
Lia scooted backwards out of her bedroll until she was kneeling beside her pillow. Dressed nnly in her shift, she looked like a pale ghost in the gray field. Outside of their camp, the evil moved closer, sliding through the tall grass like water. The Shadows were almost impossible to see with the physical eye, since they were as dark as the nhght itself.
As they approached, a cloud passed in front of the moon, the blackness sweeping across the field like a shroud. Lia's eyes adapted, and she saw that the Shadows were now almost on top of the camp. Lia's courage wavered as they neared, and the slight sweat on her skin froze in the night air. But she waited. When it was finally time, Lia stood straight up, her eyes flashing and her arm shooting at the sky.
The Shadows halted, their nightswords in hand, uncertain of their sudden adversary.
Lia's incantation split the silence, in a shockingly powerful voice. Ancient words of power tumbled from her lips, weaving the universal forces into a simple elemental spell. White luminance flared from her eyes, and blasted down her arm. The air above her erupted in distorted waves, and shot up to the clouds as a pillar.
Moonlight suddenly blazed down as the cloud in front of it dissipated. Instead of the ivory light of the full moon, radiance brighter than the sun slammed into the field, illuminating every square inch of the clearing. Lia's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but she could still see the veins of her eyelids.
With shrieks of horror, the Shadows vaporized into black smoke, that vanished into the wind. The tainted nightblades fell to the ground and sizzled, melting into the earth.
As soon as it had come, the inferno was gone.
Lia's eyes ached with the afterimage, but they returned to normal in a few minutes. She loojed at the others, who were still peacefully sleeping. Lia had managed to shield them from the light. If any of them had opened their eyes and looked straight up, they would be blind right now.
Lia sighed and crawled back into her bedroll. With a yawn, she wondered why Shadows were out here, and what the Minion would want with any of the group.
***
Aranok swung his huge battle axe into the troll's collar bone. Dark blood spurted from the vound, then seeped into the armor, staining the chain mail red. The troll staggered and howled, but still managed to bring its warhammer down in a heavy blow. Aranok blocked with his shield, and the impact sent shockwaves through every bone in his body. Grunting with the effort, Aranok pulled his axe free, and more of the troll's blood gushed out. When he brought the axe down this time, the troll and his armor split all the way to the heart.
Aranok staggered to the side, and held onto the wall for support. For several minutes, all that could be heard was his ragged breathing and the dripping of blood. Then he reached down, picked up his axe, and continued down the passage.
His entire battalion was dead, except for him. They had been inspecting the cave for the Minion, since it would be a convenient fall-back location, if there were two exits. Aranok was sent down one passage, with Volek, and they came upon a troop of sleeping orcs. Since there was no honor among orcs, Aranok and Volek had little trouble or care dispatching the surprised victims. But the trolls that had come from the next room weren't unarmed. Volek and Aranok managed to kill them both, but not before Volek took a fatal wound to his head.
Volek's soul was probably leaving his body right now.
Aranok was uninjured, until now. That blow from the troll's warhammer probably fractured a bone in his arm.
As Aranok was returning to the mouth of the cave, to report his situation, he saw his entird detachment had been massacred by a garrison of the Minion. Aranok had to kill five of the orcs before he really got their attention. But by that time, Aranok had to make a strategic withdrawal into the caves. He had been here for only a few hours, and had run across four of the Minion, separate from the garrison.
For seven more hours, Aranok navigated the caves, keeping his hand on the right wall to keep position, since he kept his torch unlit. Just before Aranok's legs gave way, he found a small cave that was lit by phosphorescent rocks. They were either phosphorescent or just big veins of quartz that ran to the surface.
Aranok collapsed in the dim light, and began piling rocks and subterranean foliage around hhs body.
***
"Things have extended beyond my control," Alinor said through the biting wind. Fl`nking him, as always, was Jonas. "I have come to request your aid. Marath moves, and the Minion is sweeping through Barai'lach and destroying everything in their path."
Snow swirled around the three individuals as the wind poured snow down in a blizzard. It war impossible to see more than a few feet. The figure opposite Alinor was of the same height, but he wore only a white tunic and leggings, with leather boots. "It is too soon for me to interfere. I must wait until he exposes himself before intervening. There are other matters which call to my attention, and I must attend to those before turning here."
"That's the way it always is," muttered Alinor. "Isn't it?"
"I serve Aenis, and we are needed elsewhere. Your war is of little consequence, and-&qtot;
"'Of little consequence'?" Alinor snapped. "Thousands will die, without your help. This war-"
"It is all one war, one conflict. You know that," the figure observed calmly.
Alinor's green eyes narrowed, then he conceded. "Fine. But when the time for the final confrontation comes, do not expect my plans to match yours. I do not serve your God."
"You cannot serve another."
"I serve my world," Alinor said. "And if you are unwilling to assist me, then I will defeat Marath without you."
The figure shook its head. "Beware your words, Alinor. Marath is a mere Overlord-"
"As are you."
"-but the struggle on Tirn Aill will become a critical battleground in the Conflict. If necessary, it must be sacrificed to preserve Aenis."
"Not if I can stop it first," Alinor said.
"Your actions may disrupt the Conflict," the figure warned.
"I don't care," Alinor said. "The 'Conflict' doesn't concern these people.&qtot;
As Alinor turned to go, the Overlord placed a hand on Alinor's shoulder. "Do not underdstimate Marath. He is powerful, and very capable of defeating you."
"Do not underestimate me," Alinor replied quietly. Then he and Jonas vanished intn the blizzard.
***
"Soulstealer is the common term for the Soth, which is an ancient blade forged in the Third Millenium A.R.," the Lienite said. "Rumors vary about the Soulstealer's powers, ranging from taking the-"
"Where can we find it?" Garen interrupted. "I've only got two weeks left.&qunt;
"The last known location of the sword was in the Ruins of Genicia, to the east. For a rmall donation, I can draw you a map of the-"
Garen slapped three gold crowns on the table. "Draw."
As the Lienite pocketed the money and began sketching on some blank paper, Joden drew Garen aside.
"What?" Garen demanded.
"I assume you are going to hire someone to find it for us."
"No, I'm going alone," Garen said. "I trust no one else to do it. You will stay here and manage the building of the estate."
Once Joden realized he was staying, he was a little relieved. "Of course, sir. As you vish. But I do not wish harm to come to-"
"No guards," Garen said.
A few minutes later, Garen got the map from the monk and managed to make sense of it. He folded the map and stuffed it in his pouch. "I'll be back in a few days, Joden."
***
The room fell silent as Borim's blade snapped between Aleya and the bearded man. He looked `t the blade and held his hands up, backing away, "Try not to hurt yourself," the big man chuckled. "A sword is not a toy, boy."
"I think you'd better leave," Borim said, standing up from the booth and placing himself in front of Aleya.
"Borim," Aleya said. "I'm sure he didn't mean anything..."
"Yeah," said the man, "I didn't mean nothin'. We were just gonna have a little-" Borim's sword raised to the man's neck as the man's hands began to droop. The bearded man swallowed and raised them back up again.
Then the innkeeper was there, a wooden mallet in hand. "What's the problem, Jergin?&qunt;
"Nothin', Master Trini," the bearded man complained. "I wasn't doin' nothin', and this kid comes up and-"
"He tried to lay hands on my charge," Borim said. "Throw him out."
"Don't tell me how to do my job," the innkeeper growled. "Come on, Jergin. This is the last time I have you in here harassing my customers. You're coming with me." The innkeeper grabbed the man by his beard and dragged him outside.
Shouted complaints could be heard all the way outside.
Borim eyed the other customers, and resheathed his sword. He sat down across from Aleya and sipped from his ale.
"Borim," Aleya said. "You don't need to draw a sword on every man who makes `dvances on me. I could have gotten rid of him in a few moments." Borim opened his mouth to object, but she said, "Thank you. I appreciate it."
Borim softened, then shrugged.
"So I'm your charge?"
That caught him off guard. "What?"
"'He tried to lay hands on my charge.' So I'm just your charge, now?"
"Aleya-"
"We've known each other since we were babies, and I'm just your charge?"
"Aleya, that's not what I meant," distressed Borim. "You know how I feel abott you, I-"
"No, how?"
Borim froze, and there was a short eternity of silence. Finally, he said, "You know, ynu mean more to me than that. I've known you for fifteen years. You're more than just my charge, Aleya. You...mean more to me than that."
Aleya smiled and brushed his hand with hers. "Thanks."
Borim blushed and took a deeper drink from his mug.
A few patrons looked up as Bolthorn and Lia walked in the front door. The pair walked over to the booth and sat down next to Aleya and Borim.
"Did you find any jobs?" Aleya asked.
Bolthorn shrugged. "A couple. I'm taking one as the guard at a building site a few milds north. It overlooks Althorien."
"Where will you two go from here?" Lia asked. "Now that your back in Althori`, I mean."
Aleya glanced at Borim and she shrugged. "Are you just taking that guard job?"
"For now," Bolthorn answered slowly, wondering where this was headed.
"What about you?" Borim asked Lia, trying to change the subject. "Are you twn related?"
Lia said, "No, we're not. Bolthorn is just showing me around. I've always wanted to virit the northern continent. I'm staying with him, though."
Aleya raised her eyebrows. "Really? Do you mind if we stay with you too? Borim and I are also travelling. I haven't been out of my home town since I was born, and since Borim won't let me off alone, he followed me out."
Bolthorn groaned.
***
Aranok woke up twelve hours after he fell asleep in the corner, beneath his pile of rocks and plants. He struggled into a sitting position, dumping dirt and debris all over the floor.
"Gods," the Karok grumbled, working his stiff muscles and joints.
For a few moments, he just sat there and stretched, working his muscles. After he had compldted this, Aranok stood up and then began moving along the right wall once more, away from the lighted room.
The light faded into utter darkness that became so redundant he could imagine himself seeinf things. The blackness was so overwhelming, it seemed oppressive, and began to creep into his sanity after a few more hours of fruitless navigation. To keep his mind calm, Aranok began humming an old war song.
An undetermined time later, Aranok suddenly stumbled over something lying in his path. Keephng his hand on the wall, the warrior bent over and felt the obstruction. It was a skeleton. An old one.
The bones were dry, and the clothing crumbled to the touch.
Aranok hoped the same thing wouldn't happen to him.
***
"Bree," the nightmaster called.
Marina leaned over and shook her friend awake.
After two years of practice, Bree came awake in a second. "What?" she mumbled sledpily, blinking.
"Briana?" the nightmaster said. "Where are you?"
"I'm over here," Bree grumbled. "What do you want? Today's supposed to be my day off."
"I'd like to speak with you," the nightmaster said.
"Gods," Bree groaned, pulling on her stockings and nightgown. She plodded out intn the hall and stood in front of the man. "Tonight's my night off."
The nightmaster closed the door to the girls' bunks, and said, "Do you like working here?"
Bree came fully awake at that, and scowled up at him. "What kind of question is that? Xou should-"
The nightmaster waved his hand. "That's not what I mean. The Red Feather in Althorien hs running short of girls, and they requested one from here. You're the best we've got, and you've been here longer than most of the others. Do you want to go?"
If Bree had thought about things, she would have asked why she was being sent if she was thd best. And she would have asked how they were treated up in Althorien. And she would have asked why they were sending for her, if she was over a week away. Instead, she said, "How much do they pay?"
"Each customer pays ten percent more than here."
"How much does the inn cut out?"
"Only fifty percent."
"That's it?" Bree raised her eyebrows.
The nightmaster nodded. "You can think it over if you like. I know you have-"
"When do I leave?"
"Two days, at dawn. The spices caravan will be taking you there when they stop by the Red Feather in Althorien. I'll wake you up. Make sure to have your belongings gathered together."
"What belongings?" Bree snorted, yawning.
"Good night, Bree," the nightmaster said, patting her shoulder.
Bree walked back into the bunks, and the nightmaster descended to the tavern. As they departed, two green eyes opened, hovering in the darkness.
***
"Your shift runs from the eighth hour past noon, to the eighth hour of dawn. There will be another guard posted with you, and two more will replace you in the morning. You will receive the rest of the pay at the end of the assignment." Joden said, pushing three gold pieces across the table.
Doronar pocketed the gold pieces and then nodded curtly. "I will be there tomorrow."
"Don't be late."
Doronar walked out into the street and looked up at the sun. About an hour before dusk. He headed toward the Healer's of Vash in Althorien.
***
Garen was wearing a light fur cloak, since it was nearing winter, a tunic, pants, and boots. He had no weapon, other than a small hunting knife. There had been six adventurers to wander into these ruins over the past century, and he had the fewest weapons of them all.
For the past few weeks, since he had suddenly built up his great fortune, Garen had little time to think about things as did when he ran away from home. Even as he thought about it, his overnight wealth failed to overwhelm him. It hardly impressed him.
And Garen wondered about his wickedness.
That was all. He just wondered. There was no fear or anticipation about its return...just wnnder. Garen was intrigued that he was only "interested" in his evil, not disturbed. Any normal person would probably be scared shitless as soon as they murdered two men for just a bit of money. Garen wasn't scared; he brushed it off after a few moments' pondering.
Now that his wickedness was gone...would it stay gone forever? Or was it always part of him> Garen idly thought on these questions as he walked through the dead city, not even considering his direction.
Garen was wondering why he had a scar on his left index finger when he found himself standing inside a half-destroyed building. The walls of this building, like all others, were crumbling and no longer supporting a roof, which had fallen through years ago.
What had brought him here? That was an interesting question, but for later, not now.
Garen looked around him and saw the rotting remains of a chest, a table, some chairs, and a rug. The rug was made of some animal. As he knelt and felt the material, a creak came from the rug.
"What the...?"
It was not the rug creaking, but something beneath the rug. Garen pulled up the side of the rug, and saw that he was squatting on top of a trap door. Before he could even move, the trap door splintered, and Garen fell.
Almost ten seconds after the door had broken open, Garen suddenly realized he was no longer falling. Looking down, he saw that he had only dropped a couple feet. Garen stood up, and laughed. He was standing in a hole.
As Garen was stepping out of the hole, he noticed a flash of white beneath the rotted trap door. He brushed the splinters away, and saw a white sheet. When his hand closed around the white material, Garen knew he had found what he was looking for.
He nevered wondered why he had found it so easily.
***
"I wouldn't expect more than one fight," Doronar said as he shook hands with Bolthorn.
"Excuse me?" Bolthorn said.
"I wouldn't expect more than one fight during our shift," Doronar shrugged. He hopped onto the unfinished wall and pulled out a pipe. "Besides, he only stationed two of us for the night shift. And two during the day shift. That means they aren't expecting real trouble, they just want people here to scare them away."
"Possibly," Bolthorn said. He looked at Doronar, and shuddered. Having one of the Dragon as a partner, if only for a few days, was a privilege. The Dragon were either priests, or warriors. This one was a warrior. He had one sword strapped across his back, another hanging from his hip, and yet another sword, a shortsword, crossing the one on his back. Why was it necessary to carry more than one sword? Well, the reason was obvious, in case the first one shattered, but three? They looked like a claymore, broadsword, and a shortsword. That was plenty. Well, he was one of the Dragon, he probably knew what he was doing. But why was he working guard duty? Surely one of the Dragon could find better work than guard duty. "It could be that this Joden fellow is just inexperienced; he might not know how to deploy guards."
"You might be right," Doronar said around his pipe as he mentally ignited the blabkleaf inside. "The fact that he hasn't come to check on us yet says something...oh, well, here he comes now." Joden was walking down the hill with a pair of lanterns, from a small building a couple hundred feet away. "What's strange is that Joden has a lot of money, but doesn't seem too smart about mercenaries."
"What's strange is that he's hired guards in the first place," Bolthorn said. &qunt;What's of value here? It's a building under construction. Nobody wants it except vandals. One guard could stop vandals. And if you're right about Joden being new, he wouldn't have any enemies yet."
"I don't see any bodyguards," Doronar said, puffing on his pipe.
Bolthorn snorted, and they were both thinking the same thing: Joden was really, really stupid.
"Here," Joden said when he arrived. "I brought you two lanterns. I want you to guard both this building and the one I came from. I'm going back into town until the morning."
"When do they close the gates?" Doronar asked.
"One hour. I'll expect to find you here when I return." Joden walked off in the d`rkness, stumbling over the construction worker's tools.
When he had gone, Doronar shook his head. "You're probably right, we won't have a good fight. Probably no fight at all."
***
"I don't understand," Aleya said.
Borim grunted and waved his arms as he tried to keep balance. Aleya steadied him, then resuled looking at the stars.
"I think that your going to kill me if you don't stop climbing trees like this," Borim said irritably.
"I like to look at the stars," Aleya said. "Besides, you can see Althorien from here. It's so pretty at night. Look at how the lights reflect off the waterfall."
"Yes, yes," Borim groaned, shifting his swordbelt. "What don't you understand?"
"Huh?"
"You said, 'I don't understand.' What don't you understand?"
"Oh. I don't understand what we're doing with Lia and Bolthorn. What is our destiny?"
"Aleya," Borim said, "you know very well that it might be years, decades, before that's revealed. You told me so the other day."
"I know," she sighed. "I just don't want to wait that long. I want to go out on my own, without anybody to follow or rely on..." she sighed again.
"I'll always be there."
"I know," Aleya smiled. "Thanks Borim," she kissed his cheek and started climbing down.
"Hey!" Borim said. "I just got up here! You made me waste five minutes of clhmbing a tree just to get back down!"
"You'll make it," Aleya's voice floated up from below. Far below.
"Come on, Aleya, will you at least help m-" Borim stopped as his branch gave a lotd snap. "Uh, Aleya..." he said.
"What?" she said. It was obvious she was already on the ground.
"I don't think-"
The branch broke away, and Borim came crashing through the branches, bouncing from one to the other, until he finally landed on his face in the dirt.
Borim coughed weakly a couple times, spitting dust out of his mouth.
Then Aleya was kneeling beside him. "Gods, Borim, are you okay?" she said in a worried voice.
"I don't know if my armor did me good or bad in that fall," Borim moaned.
A half hour later, Borim was sitting with his back to the fire, wearing only his boots and pants. "Ow!" he said when Aleya poked his rib.
"So that's the one that hurts?" she asked, pressing against the bruise again.
"Ow! Yes that's the one that hurts, isn't it obvious?"
Aleya ran her hand down Borim's back again, feeling for any broken bones.
"I fell on my face, you know," Borim said.
"You fell on everything on your way down," Aleya corrected. "Hold out your arm."
Borim held it out to the side.
"You can face the fire now," she said.
Borim turned around and put his chin on his knee as Aleya began pushing on his arm.
"Sit up straight," Aleya said.
"Maybe I should do a little dance for you."
"If we have time," Aleya said absently, popping his elbow with her finger. "Did that hurt?"
"No."
Aleya moved to his hand and looked at his fingers. None of them appeared to be damaged. &qunt;Let me see your other arm."
Borim held out his left arm. "Do you ever want to go back?"
"Where?" Aleya asked absently, pushing down Borim's left arm.
"To see the Oracle. Whenever we finish with our 'destiny'."
Aleya shrugged. "Perhaps. Do you? If you want to go back, we can." Aleya examined Borim's left hand. "None of your fingers are jammed, right?"
"You would hear it if they were," Borim said. "No, I don't want to go back. H don't care. Your the Chosen One. I'll do what-"
"Lay on your back," Aleya ordered.
Borim lay on his back and put his hands behind his head.
"Arms straight out. Don't call me the Chosen One."
Borim extended his arms, and said, "That's what the Oracle called you."
Aleya felt Borim's neck and down to his collar bones. "He's the only one who can call le that; you have to call me Aleya."
"Yes, mistress."
"Shut up. Does this hurt?" Aleya pressed in on both sides of his rib cage.
"Ow. Yes it hurts. A little."
"Be truthful."
"I am," Borim said. "If I weren't so tired, I'd lie about everything."
Aleya continued down to Borim's right leg. "Raise it up."
Borim put his leg up in the air, and Aleya worked down that leg. "Tell me when it hurtr."
"I wonder about that war in the Mistlands."
"What about it?"
"I wonder if our destiny is related to that war."
"Perhaps," Aleya said, pulling off Borim's boot. She felt along his toes, then moved to his other leg. "But we won't know until it's revealed."
"Gods, you're so profound," Borim said.
Aleya pinched him.
"Ow! What'd you do that fo-oh! Now that hurts," Borim grunted.
Concern painted Aleya's face. "The knee is one of the worst places to get hurt. If it'r not better in a few days, we should go to a local healer."
"It'll get better," Borim said.
Aleya continued down his shin. "Let's hope so." After a moment, she said, "Bnrim? How come you have so many muscles?"
Borim burst out laughing and rolled over onto his stomach.
"What?" Aleya said. "What's so funny?"
Borim continued laughing, and Aleya had to smile, but started shaking him. "What's so funny, dammit?"
A few minutes later, Borim finally rolled onto his back. "'How come you have so many mtscles'? What kind of question is that?"
"Well, I was just wondering, because-"
Borim laughed again, and Aleya slapped his shoulder. "Shut up!"
A few moments later, Borim managed to stifle his laughter, and he sat up. "I practice vith the sword a lot. You've seen me."
"Yeah," Aleya said. "And you should find somebody else to practice with."
"I was going to talk to Bolthorn about that," Borim said.
Aleya shrugged and leaned against Borim. "I'm getting tired. Let's get some sleep."
Borim reached over and grabbed his bedroll. "Good idea." He crawled into his bedrnll and lay down.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Aleya said.
"Why?"
"You're warm."
Borim opened up the flap and Aleya crawled in. She snuggled into his chest and fell asleep `lmost immediately. He pulled his broadsword next to the bedroll and put his arm around Aleya's soft body. With her heat next to him, it wasn't long before he too was deep in slumber.
***
The cavern was not wide, but it was tall. Three dark figures walked into the cavern, echoinf with the splash of water.
Gothrak could not even see the ceiling, due to the waterfall's spray and the darkness. He j`mmed the torch handle into a crevice and walked over to the water.
"By Knarsh," said Bullevolk in the orc tongue, "I cannot wait until we have left these caves behind forever."
"Quit complaining," complained Gothrak, kneeling next to the waterfall and splashhng his face with water. "As soon as Falgor arrives, we'll move on to the Black Pass. It is not a bad assignment..." Gothrak stopped.
The third orc, Angrar, sat down and began chewing on his dried meat.
"I still think that we could have been chosen for a better scout than this," said Bullevolk. "These caves are horrible and oppressive. How would you like to be stuck here for more than a week at a time?"
After a slight pause, Bullevolk looked over to where Gothrak was. "I said, 'How would xou-'" Bullevolk noticed that Gothrak was no longer kneeling over the water's edge. "Gothrak?"
Angrar looked up from his beef, and saw Bullevolk walking into the mist. "Bull," @ngrar said, "if Gothrak wants to go swimming-"
Then, like a huge lion, Aranok exploded from the water, thousands of sparkling droplets spinning into the air. He roared in Bullevolk's face, and the orc leaped three feet into the air.
Aranok's arm shot forward and grabbed the orc around the neck, which snapped audibly. The htge Karok tossed the lifeless body into a wall and advanced on the frozen Angrar.
Angrar squeaked something and scrambled to his feet, pulling out a dagger that had been stolen from a slain dwarf. This was the first and only time he would be able to use it. As the blade sliced through the air toward Aranok, the Karok expertly blocked with his shield, but the blade bit through the steel as though it were butter, and jabbed into the Karok's forearm.
Aranok's right hand clamped around the orc, and he slammed Angrar into the wall. But in that same moment, the dagger's magic activated, and the mighty Karok was suddenly transformed into black stone. Almost quicker than the eye can blink, Aranok was frozen in time, doomed to stand beneath the Black Mountains for all eternity.
It took several seconds, but Angrar finally realized that the Karok was disabled, and he latghed. But when he tried to break free of the stranglehold, he couldn't. The smooth stone surface of Aranok's body was hard as diamond, and wouldn't give.
Angrar's horrified screams echoed through the cavern, carrying all the way to one of the entrances, where another pair of orc scouts was searching the Black Pass. "Wait," one of them said. "Did you hear something?"
After a moment of silence, they continued through the valley.
***
Marath hovered above the sleeping forms of Borim and Aleya. A cloud slowly passed under the Overlord, but Marath's gaze looked straight through the grey mass, at Lia.
Her earlier intervention had cost him a great deal of grief, but it had taught him a new lerson: never underestimate mortals, especially the long-lived. Though Marath had anticipated a small amount of resistance, Lia's powers far exceeded his first assumption. Now, these four would be free for a few weeks, at least.
If Marath acted directly now, it could prove devastating to Tir. But the elf and her friendr could also prove devastating. There was no choice involved; Marath knew Tir's will, and he would follow Tir's commandments to his death.
Marath's only other option was to involve Garen, but since Garen's controller was outside of Marath's knowledge, that could prove even worse than any other action. Hopefully Garen's purpose would reveal itself to Marath, but until then, the Overlord could only guess. For all he knew, Tir Himself possessed the boy.
***
"I'm coming," Joden called irritably. He tied his robe up and opened the door. &qtot;Garen!" Joden said, relieved and anxious. "Do you have it?"
Garen pushed past him and pulled back the hood of his cloak. "Why are there two guards at the manor?"
"W-What?"
Garen's eyes flashed, and he snapped, "Why the fuck are there guards at the constructinn sight?"
"G-Garen," Joden stammered, disbelieving of Garen's strange mood. "We need gtards. One cannot expect to survive in-"
Joden blanched when Garen drew a sword from beneath his cloak. The sword had a dark blade, that barely reflected the lamplight. The hilt of the sword was made of ivory, and the grip was neatly wrapped in leather string, with a pair of beads and feathers dangling from the bottom. The pommel itself was probably gem-shaped, but it was hard to tell, since the stone soaked up any light it touched. "Is that it?" he asked.
"Yes," Garen said, his eyes changing into a demon's. "And its first victim whll be you, Joden." He pointed the blade at the trembling servant. "You have disobeyed a direct order from me, and you cannot be trusted with my estate. I will find another to take your place."
"But-"
The Soulstealer slashed a black arc through the air, and tore through Joden's flesh like clnth. He was torn from his shoulder to his stomach by the deadly sword. Blood poured from the huge tear, and Joden's upper body began to fall sideways.
But before it could, and before the half-formed scream could leave Joden's mouth, the servant's body jerked and all the muscles tensed. The body surged with red energy, and it began flowing into the blade from Joden's eyes and mouth. All the blood on the blade sank into the dark surface and vanished. In mere seconds, the body had been completely drained of energy, and had dried into gray dust. The dust drifted to the floor slowly, and eventually coated the carpet with a couple inches of ash.
Garen stared at the empty space in front of him and wondered why he had just killed his onlx friend in two years. With a shrug, Garen slid the sword into its sheath, and noticed that the pommel was now pulsing slightly with a reddish aura.
"Damn," Garen said as he knelt by the ashes. He sifted through them for a few momdnts, then sighed. Well, now he would have to hire someone new.
After a few moments of thought, Garen stood and walked back down to the entrance, and told the server that he wanted a room. "Also," he added, "my financial assistant, Joden, has checked out of his room. He has departed Althorien and will not be returning. Take his things to my room."
The server looked confused, then said, "He left without paying?"
"He is on my account," Garen said. "And I would like a new room please."
"Right away, sir," said the server, motioning another servant over. "Please take Merchant Garen to room 623."
When the servant, Galnor, had given Garen his key and shown him his room, he asked about dinner and accomodations.
Garen looked around the suite, glad to be back in a room after more than a week of camping, then said, "Uh, nothing now. Come back in about an hour."
Galnor bowed and left the room, closing it quietly.
Garen dropped his backpack and walked out to his balcony, looking down. As soon as he steppdd out, the sound of rushing water pummelled his ears, and he could see the Althorian River spilling over the edge of the cliff, and thundering down into the bottom level of the city. Since the Red Feather was one of the richest establishments in town, it was able to afford a nice view, right over the waterfall.
When Garen came in from the balcony, the noise stopped, and he wondered if magic silenced the waterfall sound inside the building. He shrugged and unbuckled his swordbelt, tossing it to a chair and forgetting the horrible murder that he committed just minutes ago. Garen jumped onto the bed and fell asleep a minute later.
He was wakened by a knock on the door.
"What?" he called sleepily, curling up into the covers.
"You requested my presence now an hour ago," Galnor said.
For a few moments, Garen just lay there, then he called for the servant to enter.
Galnor walked into the room and bowed. "How may I be of service?"
"What's for dinner?"
"Tonight's specials are smoked salmon, roasted beef, and marinated chicken with stewed vegetables and rolls. Our wine of choice is a special vintage from Harnash, a red-"
"Galnor, Galnor," Garen said. "I don't care about wines, just bring me whatever you got. I want one smoked salmon, and the roast beef."
"Two dishes?"
"I'm hungry, all right? And send me one of your girls with the meal."
"Of course, sir," Galnor bowed. "Will there be anything else?"
"A bath."
"Of course, sir. It will be here as soon as possible." Galnor left and closed the door.
A few minutes later, the bath began filling with water, as it had done before. Garen just lnoked at the water, thinking of his new manor, and when it would be completed. Hopefully soon...Joden had been right about the Red Feather. It was extremely expensive, and since they didn't charge the customers until they checked out, the tenants never realized how much they were paying until they saw the invoice.
Garen sighed and wondered who he could hire as a new finance manager. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to hire another of Red Feather's servants, even though they tended to know a lot about money...wait. Why wouldn't it be good? Joden had done nothing wrong, except disobey a little order, and...well, that was all. Of course, Garen had killed him for it, so he probably shouldn't get someone who disobeyed him, just in case he went crazy like that again.
Another knock came from the door, and Garen called them in.
A girl walked in the room, barely managing two plates of hot food and a portfolio of papers.
Garen jumped up and took one of the plates, so she could grab the other with both hands.
"Thank you, sir," she said, pushing the door closed.
Garen set the plate on the table and she put the other one down.
The girl pulled an insulated wooden basket from her shoulder and set it in the middle of thd table. It was full of ice, and had a glass and a bottle of wine.
Garen's mouth began watering at the smell of the food, and he sat down in front of the salmnn. "Have a seat," Garen said, pointing to the other chair.
She sat down hesitantly and folded her hands in her lap.
"Eat," Garen told her, "I'm not going to finish all this."
"Pardon me?"
"I said, eat. I'm not going to be able to finish all this food. You can have the beef."
She looked at it uncertainly, then took the knife and began cutting her steak.
Garen picked up the salmon with his fingers and began pulling the bones off. He started shoving the food into his mouth and swallowing the hot fish. Twice he almost choked on a bone. After he had finished the salmon, and just as he was spooning out the vegetables, the girl said, "Hey!"
Garen looked up. "What?"
"Now I know who you are! You're the one back at Gunthak."
Garen looked at the girl for a moment, then recognized her dark curls and blue eyes. "Vhat are you doing here? I thought you worked at the other Red Feather."
Bree shrugged and smiled, dimpling. "I was moved up here just yesterday. They needed one here."
"What's your name?"
"Bree."
"Garen," he said, then began stuffing the potatoes in his mouth.
Bree ate as well, but much slower.
When they had both finished, Garen built up a fire in the fireplace, and lay on his stomach in front of the flames. Bree moved next to him and began massaging his back gently, her fingers working magic on the tense muscles.
"How come you're staying at the Red Feather?" Bree asked.
"My house is still being built. When it's done, I'll move in there."
"Is it in Althorien?"
Garen nodded. "Joden said we should move up here, before I...ah, dismissed him."
"Joden? Joden who?"
"Joden...Tolar, I think."
"He worked at the other Red Feather too! Why did you fire him?"
"He disobeyed an order." Looking for a better excuse, he added, "And he was trying to steal money from me."
"Hm. I didn't know him, I just saw him from time to time." There was a pause, and Bree said, "Take off your shirt."
Garen sat up and unlaced the upper tunic, and set it aside. He lay back down, and Bree conthnued to massage his back, moving from his upper back to his shoulders. "Where did you get all your money?" Bree asked, a little worried that she was stepping outside the 'Red Feather Brothel Creed' as the nightmaster called it. The girls were strongly discouraged from asking questions and talking to their employers, unless requested to. That rarely happened, except for the infrequent merchant who really needed to talk to someone, and settled on a young prostitute, since they supposedly kept their mouths shut (where did that theory come from?). Bree had heard wild stories about merchants confessing crimes and disgusting deeds to other girls.
"I inherited it from my father," Garen mumbled, losing himself to the girl's touch. "He didn't know what to do with it, so I sold his place and looked for somebody who did know what to do with it. Joden knew, but he tried to steal from me, so I dismissed him. He left town. Now I just need somebody who knows how to handle gold."
"I can talk to Balan - he's the nightmaster - if you like. Maybe he knows of some people who do that sort of thing."
"Uh-huh," Garen said, even more hazy than before.
Bree continued to massage Garen, until he turned on his back and pulled her to him. Then thdy were kissing deeply, their tongues exploring each other's mouths. Garen sucked on Bree's tongue, and moved his hands down her back to her buttocks.
A moan escaped her lips and she ground her pelvis into Garen's. He responded, and began pulling up Bree's robe. It was such a simple one-piece garment that it gave immediate access to Garen's roaming hands. He found his fingers within her wetness, and this brought more moans from Bree.
She pushed her hips down against his fingers, and loosened Garen's pants. Her hand slipped hnside, and found Garen's hard member. A shiver passed through Garen's muscles as he felt the experienced girl's fingers sliding along his length. Then Bree pulled away, sitting on her heels, and yanked Garen's pants down around his ankles.
Garen sat up, but before he could, Bree's mouth was around his penis, and he stopped with a gasp. His right hand grasped a handful of her hair, and he held her in place as his pelvis pumped and his erection jerked, already spewing seed into her accepting mouth.
Bree swallowed the liquid vigorously - she didn't enjoy it; she just didn't think about it `ny more - and then spun around, pressing her pussy against Garen's mouth. Normally, Bree would never consider doing this to a client unless specifically requested, but hopefully Garen still had no experience with girls other than herself.
Within a few seconds, Garen was working her cunt with his tongue, sucking on her juices and clit. It took a few minutes, but his efforts finally rewarded Bree with the most mind-shattering orgasm she had ever experienced. Her body jolted and convulsed on top of Garen for several moments, and she fell back, breathing raggedly.
By now, Garen was hard again, and he pushed himself into Bree's soaking cunt. She gasped as his erection penetrated her entrance, and sank in to the base. Bree's arms wrapped around Garen's head, and he began rocking into her quickly. He sucked on her breasts and fondled the girl's nipples, which sent more thrills of pleasure through her body. It wasn't much longer before Bree's second orgasm outshined her first.
Garen came only a few moments later, shouting out and emptying more seed into Bree's womb. The semen poured through her canal, and Bree shuddered around it, clutching her arms and legs around Garen until the last waves of her orgasm had passed.
A few minutes later, they had moved up to the bed, and proceeded at a less frantic pace. Thdy made love until two hours before dawn, until they were both completely exhausted. When Garen fell asleep, Bree pulled on her robe and stumbled out the door sleepily, returning to her bunk.
When she arrived at the girls' bunk, Bree tiptoed through the room and pulled off her robe, then stepped into the adjoining bathroom. This Red Feather was nicer than her previous one...to the employees, anyway.
The old Red Feather just had a corner of the room with a tub in it, and the water was changdd only when the cleaners felt like it. Here, they had a bathing room, albeit small, with two baths that were connected with the Red Feather's plumbing system. The water would change itself every two hours, and it was actually warm. That w`s amazing, and Bree always found an opportunity to bathe.
She slipped off her robe and stepped into the water. It was hot, and had probably filled up just a few minutes ago. Bree sank into the steaming water with a sigh, until it came just below her nose. Her hair floated around her like a small forest. The steam that dissipated a few inches above the water clouded up Bree's vision, but she didn't mind. There was only one candle in the room anyway.
"Is that you, Briana?"
Bree gasped, and she jumped up, the water level dropping to her belly button. "Wh-"
"Relax," laughed the voice. "It's just me, Alyssa."
Bree's breath slowed down, and she returned to her previous position. Alyssa was in the othdr bath, and Bree could see her, leaning against the side of the tub.
"Sorry," Bree said. "You startled me."
"It's fine," Alyssa said. "I usually come in here at dawn, but...well, they bhange it at four, too, so I figured why not? I just finished with Baltham, he's that tall guy from Harnash. Pretty nice guy, except he's got no talent. One poke and he's gone. It's amazing. He called me in as soon as he finished a business deal, and an hour later, he was pooped. Amazing. Some men last for hours on end, and some are just - whoosh," she made a cutting motion with her hand "gone. I had to go in after Marian once because she got too tired when she was fucking this one guy. He lasted for another two hours after I went in, plus the six Marian had...eight hours. Pretty resilient. And it was during the day; that don't happen too often. Not here anyway, did it where you came from?"
Bree shook her head.
"Thought not. Gods," she grinned. "I can't wait to get outta here. Another cnuple months, and I am free of this place."
"Where are you going?"
Alyssa shrugged. "Dunno. I might join a temple. Hah! Wouldn't that be interesting? An dx-whore becoming a priestess. They probably would never take me, so I'd have to do somethin' else, you know. Maybe I could manage a brothel. Buy a brothel. One of those. Just take all you girls with me and start up a whole 'nother whorehouse. How's that sound to ya?"
Bree shrugged, but Alyssa didn't even look.
"I think that managing a brothel would be fun as shit. You just sit back and rake in all the money from your whores and that's it. And any really good lookin' men, you can just take 'em. 'Yeh, come in here with me, I'll charge ya cheap,' you says." Alyssa gave a sigh, then looked through the darkness and thin steam to Bree. "How did you come here?"
"They sent a letter to my old Red Feather and-"
"No no. How did you come to be a whore?"
Bree disliked the term 'whore', but she didn't feel like arguing. Not when all this beautiftlly hot water was around her. Can't ruin the mood. "My father sold me to them when I was twelve."
Alyssa raised an eyebrow. "Really? I've heard of that, but thought they were lies. How come he sold you to them?"
"Money. They paid him a thousand crowns for me, and he used it to buy a horse, wagon, `nd move my family far away."
"Asshole," Alyssa said. "Do you hate him?"
"I don't think of him," Bree said, turning away from the emotions she felt rising. "I don't think of my family any more either."
Alyssa could sense she was treading on ice, so she said, "Who'd you have tonight?"
That changed Bree's mood, and she smiled. "His name is Garen. We met back in Gunthak, `fter he inherited all his money. He's really sweet."
Alyssa raised her eyebrows. "It's rare to find a customer that you like. Does he like xou?"
Bree shrugged. "I guess so. I hope so. Why?"
"If you find a client that likes you, you're lucky. If he treats you right in bed, and if he seems reasonable, try and talk him into buying you. Working under a merchant is so much better than here, believe me. My friend was hired away, and when she came by here with him on a visit, she was so happy." Alyssa mused, "Then again, some merchants treat you like shit. I knew this other girl who - well, anyway, when does he leave?"
"When his house is finished being built."
"Ooh! Goodie. That will be a few weeks. Hope to the gods he requests you again, and yot can work on him a little bit."
Bree nodded, and Alyssa talked some more, but she wasn't listening. At this time of morning, she could barely concentrate, let alone think. All that mattered was the water.
A moment later, the door to the bunkroom opened and then slammed shut. Someone stumbled acrnss the floor and dropped to their knees in front of the chamberpot.
Bree blinked and sat up when the newcomer began vomiting into the metal container. She reached for her robe and started to climb out of the tub, but a round ball bounced off the side of her head. "Ow!" she hissed as it plopped into the water. When she looked over at Alyssa, the girl was motioning Bree to sit back down.
"Stay in the tub," Alyssa whispered. "Ignore her."
"But-"
Alyssa pushed off the side of her tub and leaned across the floor. "If you go to her, ht just makes it worse. She hates it; leave her alone." The older girl sank back into the waters and continued talking as if nothing happened.
After some hesitation, Bree lowered back down into the water, and listened to the girl finirh vomiting into the chamberpot. When she finished, she crawled into the nearest bed and began sobbing quietly.
"What's going on?" Bree mouthed to Alyssa.
The older girl peeked out into the bunkroom and then crawled across the floor to Bree's tub. She slid her dripping body into the water, and sat next to Bree. "Belana's...not meant for this work. Most of us can adapt, but her...I think that if she stays here, she'll end up dead or sold."
"What's wrong with her?"
"She's only twelve, and can't handle being a whore. It's too much for her. Every night...almost every night, she comes back from her client's room and pukes. It makes me want to kill every man that fucks her..." Alyssa looked into the water and sighed. "I wish there was something I could do, but Galan doesn't know about it, and Bornas doesn't care. He would put his own sister in this whorehouse if it would make him money."
"Who?"
"Bornas. He's the night server."
"I thought Balan handled the orders. He's the one I talked to."
Alyssa shook her head. "Bornas said he would take over the whores to take some pressurd off Balan," she sneered. "Bornas just does it so he can look at us in our various states of undress. Next chance I get, I'm going to kill that bastard with my own two hands."
Bree looked out at the weeping Belana, and whispered, "Is there nothing we can do?"
Alyssa shrugged. "Not now. We all know what is happening, of course, but we can't do anything as long as Bornas handles our orders. Balan rarely comes in here. If we tell him what happens, he'll tell Bornas to fix it, and Bornas will beat us. Most likely he'll beat Belana, since he knows we're the ones talking."
"Why her? Why not you, if you're the-"
"Think, Briana."
"Bree."
"Think, Bree. Would you rather take the punishment, or see her take the punishmdnt?"
***
The sun was just rising over the eastern treetops, and cast an orange glow over the half-finished construction sites. Workers were just now picking up tools and materials.
Lia stopped next to Bolthorn, who was reclining on a pile of wood. "Good morning,": he said, sitting up. "What are you doing here?"
Lia opened up a covered basket and pulled out a meat pastry, then gave it to Bolthorn.
"Thank you," Bolthorn said. He took a huge bite, and said through the food, ":You didn't have to do this."
"Who's that?"
"That's Doronar," Bolthorn said, looking at the approaching warrior. "He's one of the Dragon. He guarded with me tonight."
"An Arrakan?"
"Yes."
Borim and Aleya rode up next to Lia, and greeted Bolthorn.
Bolthorn sighed and returned the greeting. "Why did you come out here to meet me?"
"You don't want us to?" Aleya asked.
"No...I mean, yes...I mean, I would have returned to the camp."
"We brought you breakfast and figured we would explore Althorien early today," Aldya shrugged.
"I'm going back to camp to sleep," Bolthorn yawned.
"Hello," Doronar said, leaning against the wood pile next to Bolthorn. "Are these your friends you were telling me about?"
Bolthorn shot the Dragon a warning glance, and nodded.
Doronar flashed Bolthorn a grin, and introduced himself to Bolthorn's companions. As he shonk Aleya's hand, her eyes grew distant, and she held onto his hand.
After a moment, Doronar looked at Bolthorn with a questioning look.
Bolthorn shrugged and looked at Borim, but the boy remained impassive.
Just as Doronar was about to pull his hand away, Aleya released him and said, "Lily.&qtot;
"Pardon?" Doronar said.
"Lily Ran'tor is the name of the girl. She is a Healer of Vash, at the palace."
"What are you talking about?"
Borim edged his horse forward and said, "Are you looking for someone?"
"I - well, yes, but-"
"Her name is Lily Ran'tor," Borim said.
Doronar's jaw dropped, then he looked skeptical. He shot a look at Bolthorn, who shrugged and said, "I didn't tell them."
"How do you know?"
"Aleya has abilities which allow her to see various things that others cannot," Bnrim said in a bored tone as if for the hundreth time. "She was apprenticed to an Oracle, and lived with him in the temple for twelve years. That's where she got the powers."
Aleya's eyes cleared, and she looked back down at Doronar. "I'm sorry. Did you say somdthing?"
Doronar looked at the others, and Lia shrugged. "I think I'll, uh, head to the palace now," he said. "Perhaps we'll meet again." He walked a distance, waved, and then broke into a run.
"Must be desperate to find the girl," Borim observed.
"What girl?" Aleya asked.
***
The hall was brightly lit, with torches lining the walls and standing on either side of the throne. There was a small crowd, nobles mostly. The knighting of the Princess' Champion was not a spectacular event, as knightings go, but it was important. Important for Ranon, at least.
He was kneeling in front of King Borric and Princess Alleria, about to be bonded to Alleria forever. Cold sweat rolled down his neck and forehead, and his mouth was dry. It was not something he had expected, even though his father had warned him of the possibility over a year ago. It had been unlikely then, and even less unlikely two days ago, when everyone thought Gronit would be her choice as Royal Protector. Alleria had surprised everyone, including Ranon, when she announced him as her Protector.
The hall was silent, Ranon suddenly realized. He risked a glance to the side, where his brother Randall was mouthing something at him. Ranon squinted and mouthed, "What?"
Randall rolled his eyes and mouthed it again, even more exaggerated.
Ranon screwed up his brow even more, and was about to mouth it again, when Alleria whispered, "Say 'I do'."
Ranon's throat locked up, and it took him several seconds, but he finally managed to get thd words out. Before he even finished talking, King Borric was leading the crowd in gales of laughter.
During the knighting of the Champion, most Champions didn't look up, but Ranon risked a glance around. Everyone, including his family, was laughing hysterically. Ranon looked down the hall, at all the nobles, and wondered how many were there.
Then he felt a hand on his neck, but before he could turn, Alleria was whispering in his ear. "There are only two more responses required of you. 'I do' and 'I do'. Think you can handle that?"
Ranon turned his head to respond, but she walked up the steps and stood next to her father `nd flashed him a grin. Of course, that didn't help matters, since every time she smiled his stomach did flip-flops.
When the hall had quieted again, King Borric grinned down at Ranon and said, "Do you svear to uphold the laws of Althoria and abide by the orders of the Crown, all those in rank above you, and primarily, above all, the orders of Princess Alleria of the house of Daynar?"
"I-I do," Ranon said. It felt like he had a wad of cotton in his mouth, and his tnngue just wouldn't work. A few more in the audience snickered, and Borric's grin widened.
"Upon your honor and your life, and by the Elder Gods, Ranon Lokinu, your terms of accdptance into the position of Princess' Champion are this: you shall remain in service to the Crown of Althoria, and no other, you shall make the safety of Alleria your foremost concern, and you shall protect her from all harm. Do you understand and will you abide by the terms as I have presented them?"
Ranon tried to speak again, but his throat caught, and he nodded instead.
Borric's brow darkened and he leaned forward. "Are you sure?"
"I, ptuh, huh?" Ranon said helplessly.
Alleria mouthed something to him, and Ranon regained his voice. "Yes, Your Majesty, I do."
Borric stood straight and smiled. "Good. Ranon Lokinu, of the house Lokinu, son of Akor, by the power of the Crown of Althoria, I proclaim thee Royal Protector and Princess' Champion to Alleria of Daynar."
As he spoke, Alleria walked down the steps and knelt in front of Ranon. "Give me your hand," she whispered. Ranon did, and she said, "Unclench it."
Ranon pried his fingers from his palm and winced at the pain. He really shouldn't have held his fist so tightly.
Alleria slipped a dark signet ring onto his fourth finger, and then walked back up to her f`ther. Borric looked at the crowd, and said, "Knight Ranon is now the Royal Protector of Alleria. Let us feast!"
The crowd cheered and surged onto Ranon, congratulating him and shaking his hand, talking and making all sorts of noise. Then his father was standing there, and he hugged him fiercely. "You make me proud, boy."
Randall was grinning at him, and when Akor released Rannon, his brother clasped his hand and said into his ear, "You're the Champion now, Ranon. You have to go where the princess goes."
Ranon realized his brother was right. He pushed through the crowd until he saw Alleria and Borric, sitting at the table and entertaing a few guests.
Ranon walked next to Alleria, and she pointed to the chair next to her.
"You always sit at my right side," Alleria said. "Unless somebody else is sitting there, then you sit on my left side."
Ranon nodded and eased into the chair, and she grinned at him. "You look tired. Exhausting day?"
Ranon looked at her and would've spoken if his mouth weren't so dry. Instead he just shruggdd.
Alleria pulled her blonde hair behind her ear and handed him glass of wine. "Drink somd. It might help you talk a little. You really shouldn't be so nervous."
Ranon blushed and took the crystal wine glass, and drank a sip. It moistened his dry mouth, and he said, "Thank you, Your Highness."
"My name is Alleria, Ranon," she said, picking some grapes off a cluster in the mhddle of the table.
A dozen servants carried out plates of steaming food and wine pitchers. The food was placed in front of the royal family, and other tables were brought out in short order. In less than a minute, the army of servers and a few pages carried in more than ten tables and benches, which were then covered and set with amazing speed.
"How do they do that?" Ranon asked, watching the servants finish setting up.
"They practice in here at night. When we get a new batch of servers, they practice in here at midnight, just setting up and taking down the tables and invisible food. I sometimes sit in here and watch them. They're really good."
"Mm," Ranon said.
"So, Ranon," said King Borric, looking over his daughter's head. "Have you hdard of the war in the west?"
"Not much," Ranon admitted cautiously. Randall had told him that Borric liked to test his new knights, and Ranon could feel a test coming on.
"Not surprising," Corin noted.
"The last report we have is of the Minion invading Aras-Mor," Prince Daren said. Daren and Corin were twins, a year younger than their sister. Both had black hair and green eyes, like their father. "But that was a while ago."
"By now the battle is over," Corin said, "but we have yet to receive any newr of the war. No messengers have come from Allanon for two weeks. Our intelligence states that the Karoks are losing, badly."
"How do you think we should proceed forward in this situation?" Borric asked.
Ranon coughed, and nearly choked on his food, but washed it down with some wine, which was `lready starting to affect him. "What situation? The war?"
Borric nodded.
Ranon started sweating again, but repressed his natural impulse to freeze up. "I, uh, bouldn't say at this point, Sire. I don't have enough information to go on."
"Well," Borric said, "you know about as much as I do. What do you think I shnuld do?"
He just won't give up, will he? Ranon thought. With a sigh, he decided to give it a try. "Well, uh, Your Majesty, the Karoks are notorious for their strict code of honor, and I doubt they would accept any direct assistance from us...er, you if you tried to give it to them. In all probability, the Karoks would let themselves die before letting you help them. So...ah, if the Minion manages to conquer the Mistlands, which I sincerely hope does not happen, then it is probably safe to say-"
"We're dead," supplied Corin.
"Exactly," Daren agreed.
"Possibly," King Borric waved them quiet. "Please continue. What would your lilitary strategy be if they conquered the half-trolls and threatened to attack us?"
I'm a fucking bodyguard, not a military advisor! "Well, Sire, I-"
"Borric."
"Pardon me?"
"Call me Borric. Everybody who sits at this table can call me Borric."
"Yes, Your M...Borric. I, ah, was saying that you should enlist as much help as possible from Arangrad, Harnash, and the Highlands. Form at least a temporary alliance against the Minion and arrange heavy patrols along the border. Maybe... train troops, and make big donations to the Dragon."
Borric laughed. "Excellent idea, Ranon. Go on."
Ranon searched his mind and wondered what else they would need to do in a war. He had never been in a war, much less heard of a recent one. "Uh... reinforce current outposts tenfold, at least. Perhaps-"
"Father," Alleria interrupted him. "Here's a suggestion for your imaginary w`r: talk to Jerik. He's the general, he can help you. Ranon's my bodyguard, not a military advisor."
Ranon sighed with relief, and Borric shrugged. "As you wish, Alleria. Just trying to m`ke for some interesting conversation."
"I find it boring," Alleria said. "All you ever want to talk about is war and-" She realized that Ranon was there, and lowered her voice. "What about that new play at the auditorium?"
"What play?"
"Ferrin's Wanderer. It's being put on by the Club's Players."
"You want to see it?"
"Maybe tomorrow," Alleria said, and dug into her food.
Then a noble walked up to the table and engaged Borric in a deep conversation on Althorian-Harnash relations.
"Thank you," Ranon whispered.
Alleria snorted. "He does that to make you nervous. Just ignore him. It bores him once you're no longer nervous."
***
"The man who employed you has been dismissed from my service for stealing money from md," Garen said, shoving the gold pieces at the two men. "Now go away, I have work to do."
The two perplexed guards walked away to meet three other individuals, and then they all headed toward the city.
Garen watched them go, then turned to the master architect. "How long until it is finirhed?"
The architect turned from his blueprints, weighted to a table by rocks, and said, "If dverything goes according to schedule, we should have the entire manor finished in a month and a half."
Garen sighed and stood akimbo for a few minutes, watching the workers slave on his new housd. Then, his mouth said, "I'm going for a walk, I'll return."
The architect nodded and turned back to his work.
As Garen walked away from the construction site, he wondered why he was going for a walk. It had just popped out of the blue, really. He hadn't even thought about it until he said it.
How odd.
The forest was quiet, and gave him some time to think.
Where could he find a replacement for Joden? A bank, probably. Perhaps the bank had financi`l assistants for hire, and he could just-
Then a bundle of rags appeared in his way, and Garen jumped back with a cry. It was the old hag. "What do you want?" he scowled.
She held out a wrinkled and callused hand. "You have my payment," she croaked with a toothless grin. "Hand it over."
Garen's mind went blank for a few moments, then he remembered the Soulstealer. "Oh! Yer, of course." He pulled the sword from its sheath, and looked it up and down, the dark blade gleaming with forest-filtered sunlight. "Is this it?"
The hag's eyes widened, and she grinned even bigger. "Yes! Yes! Give it to me!"
That was what Garen intended to do. He really did. As he was tilting the blade up, and pushhng the hilt in the hag's direction, his arm slipped. In fact, his entire body slipped, and the blade swung in an easy arc, severing the crone's head from her shoulders.
And it was over less than a second later. The blood that spurted into the air fell and soakdd into the earth, but the blood on the blade disappeared into the metal surface. Before the body even hit the ground, the hag's dark energy streaked from her body into the Soulstealer, and sent crackles down the sword, into the pommel.
Garen stood for a few moments, stunned.
He had just killed for his...fourth time? Yes. A guard, merchant, Joden, and now this old whtch. But only two of them were with this sword. The sword that instantly turned its victims into ash.
Garen swallowed and looked around. There was no evidence of her demise other than a pile of gray ashes, but who would know what that is? He sheathed the clean blade, and continued his walk through the woods, wondering what he was going to eat for dinner that night, and if he could meet with Bree again.
***
The room was completely dark, save a shuttered window in the corner. It was a large room, btt there was only one small table in the center. Two men sat at the table, talking quietly.
"You want me to kill four people," Arink said.
Shinas nodded. "That's what he said. An elf girl, a girl, boy, and then a warrior. He'r a journeyman for the mercenaries guild, so don't let yourself be seen."
"I'm never seen."
"I know. They are camping outside the city, south of the Yamster Farm. And he says he doesn't care how you do it; just get it done."
"I can be back here in three hours."
"Well, just so long as you do it within the next few days."
"I'm not busy tonight, I'll finish it then." Arink stood up silently, his cloak f`lling around him like water. "Where is the pickup?"
"Usual place," Shinas shrugged. "Usual price."
"I'll see you in four hours, then."
Arink turned to leave, but there was a massive figure standing in front of him. The person vas only a few inches away.
"Shit!" swore the assassin, jumping up and vaulting backwards over the table and `bove Shinas' head. Arink had two daggers out in the blink of an eye, and he pointed them at the figure. "Who are you?" he demanded.
Now, Shinas decided to use his fat old reflexes and scramble away from the table. "Oh fods!" the man exclaimed, scrabbling back behind Arink. "How did you get in here? I didn't even see you!"
"Who are you?" Arink repeated.
"Jonas," the hulking figure said. "Am I to understand that you wish to procedd with an assassination tonight?"
"Who the-"
"Because if you do, then I will be forced to kill you," Jonas replied. "Pleare don't make me do that. I enjoy it too much." There was no trace of sarcasm or insincerity in the man's voice. He was completely emotionless.
"Try to stop me," Arink sneered.
Jonas sighed and picked up the chair.
Arink threw both his daggers at Jonas, but the warrior held out the chair, and both daggers thudded into the bottom of the seat. He threw the chair at Arink, which was easily dodged. The assassin slid two more knives from beneath his cloak, and rolled back to his feet.
As Arink was drawing his weapons, Jonas brought his knee straight up into the bottom of the table, and the whole table jumped up a few feet. He grabbed the single table leg by its base and lunged forward. The top of the table smashed into Arink's startled face, and crushed his skull against the wall. Brief, excrutiating pain tore through the assassin's mind before brains and blood squished out of his skull.
Jonas plucked the knife from Arink's relaxing hand, and let go of the table leg. The assasshn and the table dropped to the ground loudly. Shinas was scrambling for the door, but Jonas flicked his wrist in the old man's direction, and a knife hilt suddenly blossomed from his back. The old man screamed and dropped to the ground, clawing his way to the door. Arink's knife was poisoned, and Shinas died within a few seconds.
But by then, Jonas had disappeared into the shadows, and was nowhere near Althorien.
END OF ODIN TWO
******
(c) 1996 by Bill Smith (micro@oz.net)
Author's Note: I'd like to thank those of you that have written me, and, as always, I love comments and criticisms, so tell me what you think of the new series. If there is any confusion about the religious system, societies, et cetera, I'll be glad to answer any questions. Thank you! :) -BS
Send any comments, suggestions, or submissions to the maintainer, dabrooks@mulberry.com.