Winter

Chapter Four: White Out

by Bill Smith

With each inhalation, gray tendrils of smoke crawled into Rinas' nose. Every breath stung; he had just added a fistful of Red Hane to the fire. It was one of the strongest herbs they had. Rinas was desperate. He had seen Arraka's Eternal Flame, and he needed to know why it was there. And there was where. Where was there?

Every breath of the stuff burned his lungs more, but he could feel it pulling him into an altered state. The Hane was taking place of valuable oxygen, and forcing him to breath in more, and move into the vision faster. That was the plan, anyway.

When Rinas was gasping for breath, and he couldn't tell up from down or think straight, his eyelids fluttered open. Tears blurred his already-hazy vision, then everything went black. For a moment, there was mere darkness, as though the burning coals had been replaced, then everything vanished. The heat disappeared from the air around him, and the stones he sat on disappeared. His next gasp of air yielded clean, pure air. Then Rinas popped into a void. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and his hollow breath. Nothing else stirred, and nothing could be seen. As though he were floating in Oblivion.

For a few minutes, Rinas floated like that, then he struggled to return to his body. It was harder than he anticipated, and when he finally returned to his body, sweat was rolling down his skin. Cursing, Rinas stumbled over to his clothes in the corner of the room. In his haste, he almost ran into another Dragon Knight, but side-stepped just in time.

Rinas tripped over his feet, and he fell against the wall. Everything flashed, and white strings sprouted up from the floor. They started waving around, and Rinas shook his head. That only increased the hallucinogenic effects, so Rinas waited until the lights and shapes moved away before clumsily pulling on his clothes.

The Dragon Knight walked slowly out of the meditation room, and looked down the three hallways that confronted him. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Rinas vaguely recalled that he should wait at least thirty minutes after the Hane took effect...

"Close the door," someone growled from inside.

Rinas moved into the hall and fumbled for the handle. He eventually found it, and pulled the door shut harder than he intended. Then Rinas remembered the way to the exit. He awkwardly moved down the corridor, hand on the wall, until he came to the front gate.

Temple guards stared at him, and he could almost see...no, he could see their eyes glowing red. Blood was seeping from their nostrils, and those that were dragons dripped fire from their ears. Mosquitos - bugs that didn't even live this high in the mountains - flitted in front of his vision: little streaks of brown lightning.

Arraka, this Hane was powerful.

Fortunately, his clumsiness was wearing off. The hallucinations were still there, but at least he wouldn't look like a drunk.

Rinas walked out of the temple more steadily, and walked along the side of the mountain, shaved into a flat wall, until he reached the War College. Inside, it was a tad darker, and full of falnorans - they only had a drop or two of dragon blood, so they looked primarily human. The ones who looked the most dragon-like had scales, but were human-shaped.

Rinas moved through the college quickly, but he was still walking in slow motion. Almost ten years later Rinas found the training gym. He looked at the different combatants, all beating the crap out of each other. This room's primary function was to vent the inborn rage of falnorans. Draconians had more of a rage, and dracorans had even more, but dragons themselves had almost none. Inborn rage, that is. And it was a good thing, because full dragons' wounds healed slowly.

When Rinas finally spotted Mal-Kar, he moved toward the opposite end of the room. As he was crossing through the center, someone shouted an insult to his mother. This was a courteous challenge to battle.

The Dragon Knight turned around and looked at his challenger...who was sprouting bunny ears. It was a Dragon Warrior: no real surprise. They had a common hate for the Dragon Knights, even though everyone lived in the same mountain. Just because the Knights rode dragons, and the Warriors didn't, the Warriors were envious. That envy grew into an animosity between the two groups, which eventually developed into an established caste system. Dragon Warriors were now looked down upon by practically every other warrior caste, except the populace.

So they often fought each other to keep their mutual hate from building up. Sadly, though, it was bad form to refuse, no matter what condition you were in. "Yes? Well, I sucked your mother's cock last night," Rinas replied, in Human Tongue. "She's impotent, just like your father." In this state, he wasn't too sure how insulting that was, but it would have to do. Apparently it pissed off the Dragon Warrior, who ripped off his sword belt without returning a jab.

Rinas unbuckled his sword belts and dropped them in a heap with his cloak.

The crowd had already started to form, and in a few moments it had surrounded them, creating a quasi-arena for the duel. Dragon Warriors and Dragon Knights populated the sides equally. The only way to tell them apart was the symbol emblazoned on their tunics. The Warriors' symbol was a sideways dragon head, holding a sword in its teeth. The Knights' was the same dragon head, but instead of the sword, wings sprouted from the head.

Rinas looked at his opponent. He was human, for the most part. His eyes were green, with slitted pupils, and a thin layer of scales covered his body. A glance at the Warrior's hands sent a shiver down Rinas' spine. The hands were clawed, and the claws had been sharpened into razors...which dripped goat milk.

"Ready?" growled the Warrior, getting in a battle stance.

Fortunately, Rinas still wore his armor; it was all right to wear armor if the opponent was the challenger, but not if you were the challenger. It was never all right to wear the sword. "Of course," Rinas replied calmly, hoping that the flying pigs wouldn't distract him.

The Warrior rushed across the short arena, and launched his fist out. It wasn't a subtle attack, but Rinas wasn't expecting one. This one wasn't a feinter. Rinas ducked and slammed his fist into the Warrior's stomach, then lunged forward. He brought his knee into the Warrior's knee, hoping to shatter it.

His opponent dodged just in time, and wrapped his arms around Rinas' shoulders. With a heave, the Warrior slung Rinas around, and threw him to the floor heavily.

This was the worst part about wearing armor. If you were down, you were dead. Rinas rolled with the throw and came up to his feet, to meet a punch. Fortunately, his nose blocked the scaled fist. With a spurt of blood, it absorbed the impact, but he was thrown back into the crowd. They shoved him back at the Warrior, who swung another punch.

Rinas ducked, then uppercutted the Warrior's chin, and slammed his knuckles into the Warrior. Bright purple sparkles flew from the falnoran's nose. A haymaker contacted with the side of the Warrior's head, and one more punch would have finished him.

But he leaned his head back just in time, and it missed him by inches. The Warrior landed another solid punch in Rinas' face, and he went down with shimmering tracers.

The Dragon Knight dropped, and just as the Warrior was going to finish him, a yell came from the crowd. The Warrior looked up, and a booted foot slammed into his face. His head snapped back, and he toppled away. For a moment, he was dazed, but then he struggled to his feet, furious at the intrustion.

When the Warrior looked up, he openly gaped.

In front of him, Doronar held his sword at the ready.

"Drop your sword, Doronar!" Boldar yelled.

"Huh?" Doronar glanced back at the Lienite.

Then the Warrior jumped forward, and tackled Doronar. They fell to the ground, Doronar underneath. He threw his sword aside, and swiftly brought his knee up into the Warrior's groin. As the Warrior started to sit up, Doronar's palm smashed open his opponent's nose.

In that moment of distraction, the human slipped away, then bounced up to his feet, fists at the ready. It took a few moments for the creature to recover, but it finally did, then glared at Doronar, obviously angry at his intrusion.

It lunged at him, and Doronar blocked with his vambrace. He could hear the third and fourth knuckles break. Doronar launched two swift punches, stunning the thing. His knee thudded into its groin again, and as it doubled over, Doronar slammed his fist into the back of its head.

Then it stopped moving.

Doronar stared at it for a few moments, then looked up at the surrounding falnorans. All of them were in shock, and most of them stared stupidly. Finally, one of them snarled at him and rushed across the open space. Doronar jumped back, bringing his fists into guard position, but another dragon leaped past him.

It grabbed the smaller one, and swung it in a complete circle, then hurled it back into its comrades.

The larger dragon's sword came out of its sheath immediately after, and it started yelling at the spectators in Draconian.

Boldar scampered over to Doronar, and handed the Dragon his sword.

"How did you find your way here?" Boldar whispered.

"I don't know," Doronar asked.

Then the dragon said something to the humans, and Doronar replied, "What?"

Rinas staggered to his feet, bleeding from ten different places, and said something.

"I think he wants to know who the fuck we are," Boldar replied.

"Who the fuck are they?" Doronar asked.

"I don't think that would be a polite-"

"I know that! Say something else then!"

Boldar spoke to Rinas, who spoke to the other dragon, and they conversed for a few moments. Rinas gestured at Doronar several times, and Boldar furrowed his brow. "He's seen you before? In the smoke?"

"Meditation," Doronar said. "We've met."

"What? Whe-oh yes, your vision. How convenient. At least we know one person here. I remember one time we were in-"

"What did he just say?" Doronar asked.

"Who?"

"Rinas?"

"Who?"

"That guy! What did he just say?" Doronar snapped.

"Oh, yes. Sorry." Boldar spoke to Rinas, who replied, and Boldar said, "I think they want us to go with them somewhere. To the 'high old'?"

"Let's go then," Doronar said.

Boldar communicated their desire to get away from the rest of these gawkers, and Rinas nodded. He and the bigger dragon led the way out.

Janisa's eyes closed as Shain's fingers traced her slit. His mouth covered hers, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She responded with equal vigor - enjoying it, for once.

She was sitting on the same table Laurel had been sitting on fifteen minutes earlier. The night air had cooled down in that time, but she ignored it. Shain's attentions were keeping her warm.

"Harnash prostitutes aren't common enough down here," the man murmured into her mouth. "Everyone feels a need for Althorian girls. Jealous, I suppose..."

Janisa didn't understand his last comment, but she didn't care. Not as though it would matter. Nothing mattered but him, now. He was the most attractive man she had ever been with, and she intended to enjoy her time with him.

The girl's hand slid into Shain's pants, and her small fist closed around his throbbing organ. There was no doubt he was ready. Janisa put her feet on either side of his hips, and pushed his pants down with them, keeping ahold of his cock.

Shain moved his hands to Janisa's buttocks and held her in place as he slid into her depths. Gods, this one was tight. Hito must have been small. After Shain thought about that stupid merchant, he forced all conscious thought from his mind, and concentrated on the heat building in his groin.

Janisa held onto the man's shoulders as he fucked her. His hands held her butt in place, keeping her from moving anywhere. Her legs were bent at the knees, and her heels were on the table. They fucked in this position for a few minutes, bringing steady waves of pleasure to the girl's brain. The pleasure was laced with sadness when she realized that Shain definitely wanted to sell her. Both of them, really. This was the only owner she actually enjoyed fucking (so far), and now he had to go and sell her. Damn.

That thought was wiped out by her orgasm, and she clawed his shoulders. Her back arched. A scream tore from her lungs as the heat exploded from between her legs and washed through her body. Janisa's feet slipped from the table, and she convulsed around Shain's member and squeezed his hips with her thighs.

The girl's spasming vagina walls brought about Shain's orgasm. His balls burned and his cock started spew into the writhing girl. He grunted as each thrust poured seed into her pussy, coating her inner walls. When Shain was spent, he pulled his wet member from Janisa's pussy, and pulled up his pants.

"Yes," he grinned down at the girl, who was just regaining her senses. "I think Harnash slaves are far undervalued. You may return to your room now."

"Yes, Master," Janisa said.

"Call me Shain."

"Yes, Sh-Shain," Janisa stuttered, latching her gown above her shoulder again. She tied the sash about her waist, and got down from the table, a little unsteadily. Slightly dazed, the girl walked into the bedroom, and opened the door to the hall.

"Good night," Shain called from the balcony.

"Good night," Janisa replied. Gods, don't sell us! she thought.

Garen sat on his knees, straddling Aleya's waist. Next to her head, a long, jagged knife protruded from the table. Her ankles and wrists were secured to the four corners of the altar, keeping her spread like an X. She wore a brown outfit: winter pants and a long-sleeve shirt, plus her fur-lined boots. Her gloves and cloak were missing from this dream. But in most of her dreams she wasn't even wearing her winter clothes. In most of her dreams she couldn't even remember what she wore.

With a sigh, Garen hopped down from the altar and dusted his hands off. "You know, it's truly a pity we didn't stay together," Garen said. "Then Garen could have had you for real...for a while, anyways. Now, he'll just wake up in the morning with a vague recollection of the events. I can't help but feel sorry for him. There was nothing he could've done to stop me, you know." Garen had walked around to Aleya's feet. He pulled off her shoes as he talked. "See, this will be a much slower way to die, and it may not work in the way that I hope, but you've left me no choice. If you hadn't run..." he shook his head sadly. "There was an excellent trap waiting for them in that room. It would've been just too easy..." Garen trailed off. Then he shrugged. "Oh well. That's the way it goes, I suppose." He crawled back onto the altar and sat on her hips again. "Unfortunately, we have to do things the hard way."

Garen pulled the sacrificial knife from the altar, and traced the blade along Aleya's face. As she closed her eyes and whimpered silently, Garen said wistfully, "You really are a beautiful girl..." he trailed off.

With the knife he cut Aleya's shirt down the middle, and opened it up. The girl shuddered as she felt his hungry gaze crawling over her breasts. For a few moments, Garen did nothing but stare. His inactivity only increased Aleya's fear, and struggled to keep her eyes closed.

Grinning, Garen took the blade and carefully drew its edge between her breasts, along her sternum. He was careful not to break the skin, but when the blade skimmed her stomach, the boy said, "Don't shake too much; might poke a hole in your belly."

Aleya's breaths were coming erratically now. Her stomach was quivering so much she feared she would cut open her stomach. A few deep breaths calmed her somewhat, but she was still scared beyond belief.

Garen playfully moved the blade along her ribs, then to her breasts. He moved the tip around Aleya's flesh, watching as the fear played across her features. For a few minutes, he continued to toy with her, then he bent over and licked her nipple.

Aleya gasped, and her eyes flew open. "What are you-"

Garen licked her again, and Aleya groaned. The pleasure was much, much more than it should have been, even if someone she loved were doing it. Garen's controller was probably manipulating her emotions. This was not a situation she should be enjoying.

Garen's mouth covered her right breast, and he began sucking on it viciously. Almost as if she had been electrically shocked, Aleya's body jerked as the sensations collided with her brain. She vainly struggled against the bonds, trying to move her hands enough to shove him away. But the ropes wouldn't budge, and she was stuck. She could only unconsciously grind her breast into his face.

When Garen pulled away, Aleya gasped, gulping in lungfuls of air. Her nipple was erect. The boy's saliva gleamed on her breast and pebble-hard nipple. Aleya was ashamed to see herself aroused like this, but she had no control. She could do nothing. It was like a bad dream...

As that thought crossed her mind, a faint hope sprang up - if this was a dream, then she could end it! She could just wake up!

"Would that you could," sighed Garen, dragging his knife blade down her stomach again. "Unfortunately, you are fully under my control. I hold you within my grasp. You can do nothing."

A small cry of despair escaped Aleya's lips as she realized her true predicament. This was what Manjinar rescued her from, when she had chosen Aenis. Now, however, there would be no reason for the Overlord to protect her. The only one who could save her was...who? That was a true puzzle. Last time they had faced Garen, Bolthorn had turned into some kind of monster, and battled Garen. Lia had-

Garen's knife cut Aleya's pants down the middle, and he smiled as her legs tried to close. Garen finished slicing each pant leg, until her pants lay flat beneath her legs. He set the knife down and crouched between her knees, admiring the girl's brown-haired snatch.

Blood rushed to her face, and she stammered, "Wh-What are you doing to me?"

Garen looked into her eyes. Gold-brown, like the color of resin. Tears had created a stream of salt down her cheeks, and a couple had darkened the tablecloth beneath her. "You could be the savior of an entire world, but you're still just a girl."

That statement flew right past Aleya. Her fear had reduced the functionality of her mind to almost nothing. Cognitive functions had ceased, and emotions had taken hold. Emotions and Garen's possessor.

Garen took the palm of his hand and moved it down her stomach until he reached her pubic hair. Watching Aleya's face the whole time, Garen trailed his index finger down her nether lips, then began moving it up and down her slit.

Aleya swore and strained against the ropes again, even though she knew it was useless. The heat building between her legs was too much to handle, even though Garen was barely doing anything. Her lower lips inflamed quickly, and she was dripping wet by the time Garen sat back, just a few minutes later. He still hadn't inserted anything inside her.

Small whimpers sounded with her every breath, and she finally looked down at him. Garen was just smiling at her; it sent a chill down her spine. He undid his shirt, then pulled off his pants. When Aleya saw his erect penis, she looked up at the ceiling and prayed that this would end.

Still watching her face, Garen positioned his cock at her entrance. As it brushed against her, she shivered. With a low chuckle, Garen pushed the head in.

Aleya moaned, and bit her lip, trying to fight down the blatant desire rising between her legs. This was an awful feeling; though sex was something she wanted to experience, she didn't want it to be with Garen. And not forced. Not like this. She had no control whatsoever; it was like being beaten into heaven. Sort of.

Then Garen penetrated her.

Aleya's back arched. She grunted as the pleasure and pain blasted through her body, electrifying every nerve that could feel. The sensations seemed to press against her brain, almost forcing her to have an orgasm, but Aleya fought them down. If she climaxed, then that would be admitting defeat. That would give Garen's possessor control over her as well.

Garen stayed fully inside her, and waited until she had successfully resisted her orgasm. When her breathing returned to normal (relatively speaking), the boy began rocking his hips into hers. He began with leisurely strokes, building on both their pleasure. Of course, she attempted to ignore it, but that attempt was futile.

He fucked her slowly for a few minutes, and Aleya still managed to fight off Garen's intrusions to her sex responsiveness. But as their speed increased, Aleya began to crack. Though she'd never had sex before, this surely couldn't be how hard it was to resist the feelings. Because despite her fear, Aleya was succumbing to the demon's whims. His cock plunged in and out of her wetness, forcing her to come.

By the time she did climax, her mind was bursting at the seams, ready to fall apart from the ecstasy. Her scream echoed through the room. Aleya's orgasm literally wiped her mind clean of thoughts, and her entire universe was obliterated by bliss. Nothing existed but the indescribable rapture. For a timeless few moments, Aleya's body thrashed within the grip of her orgasm.

With a grunt of pure satisfaction, Garen came inside her. He grabbed her hips and held her in place. His cock pulsed and began spewing seed into the girl.

Aleya could practically feel the semen flooding her insides, and her eyes flew open. Her orgasm fell away, and she cried out as she realized she had given in. Garen's cum was like the flag of her surrender. The girl began to sob, and Garen chuckled.

This was only the beginning.

This room was slightly similar to the meditation room in Doronar's old temple. The walls were barely cut, and it looked like a cave. In the center of the room was a pool of water. At his old temple, instead of the water, there was just a fire pit. Doronar wasn't sure how the fire kept going, but it stayed alive every time he'd seen it. Fire was the ultimate element used in all Dragon rituals, meetings, and any other functions; how come they had water here?

Boldar, Doronar, Rinas, and the big dragon, Mal-kar, sat around the pool, and had been for a few minutes. Rinas and Mal-kar had been meditating for almost five minutes straight, leaving Boldar and Doronar uncomfortable in the silence.

Finally Doronar leaned over and whispered, "Boldar. What are they doing?"

"Wish I knew," Boldar said. "They might expect us to meditate, but this is a completely different meditation style than the one used by the Ahkran Dragon."

"I know," Doronar said. "Never heard of it."

"This is a-" Boldar cut off when Rinas opened his eyes.

The man had yellow eyes, with black slits, like a cat's. The man was wholly human, except for those eyes. It unnerved Doronar, and he doubted he'd ever get used to it.

Rinas spoke, and Boldar raised his eyebrows.

Boldar questioned Rinas, and the yellow-eyed man repeated his request.

Boldar pursed his lips, then said, "He said we need to 'fire the opposite,' or something like that."

"What?"

"Beats me." The Lienite turned back to Rinas and told him they didn't understand.

Rinas talked to Mal-kar for a moment, then gestured for them to watch.

Mal-kar was a dracoran, three-fourths dragon, so he looked almost entirely like a dragon. He had a snout, red eyes, black scales, and wings. He walked upright, but that was about as close as he got to being human. Mal-kar leaned forward and opened his mouth. A stream of fire suddenly erupted from his mouth, and hit the center of the pool with a blast of steam. The fire rippled along the surface of the water, until it hit the rock surrounding the water. After a moment, the dragon quit, and sat back.

"Well that was interesting," Boldar said.

Rinas moved, and Doronar half-expected him to shoot out a gout of flame as well. The Dragon Knight extended his hand until his fingertip touched the surface of the water. Flames burst up on the water around his finger, until the whole pool was burning. Then Rinas lifted his hand away, and the flames died down.

They looked at Boldar expectantly.

"Tell him you can't-" Doronar began, but stopped when he saw Boldar's grin.

The Lienite touched his hand to the surface of the water and concentrated for a few moments. Then he hissed, "Shit!" and yanked his hand back. No sooner than he'd done that, the water literally exploded. Both humans shielded their eyes, flinching. Flames billowed to the ceiling, then faded into the air.

"What are you trying to do?" Doronar demanded. "That was the-"

"They're waiting on you."

Doronar glanced at Rinas, who nodded.

"Gods," Doronar muttered. As a Dragon, he was trained in the arts of fire magic. He was an acolyte, so he'd received only a little training. Most of the battle magic wouldn't be taught until he was a priest. As a priest he'd never use it, but when he became a full-fledged warrior, he would.

Doronar's fire wasn't as spectacular as the others, but it was good enough.

When he'd finished, Rinas hesitated, then looked at the water again. Doronar detected the outflow of energies, and the water flamed up again. This time it stayed lit.

Rinas spoke to Boldar, and they conversed for a few minutes, until the little man turned to Doronar. "Well, now that we're here, it would be good to find out what we're doing here. I've told them why I'm here, but what should I tell them about you?"

Rinas spoke again. He held up his hand, then dipped it into the fiery pool.

Boldar raised his eyebrows. "He wants you to put your hand in there, I think."

Doronar hesitated only slightly, then put his hand in the flames as well. Pain shot up his arm, but it vanished momentarily, and he looked back at Rinas. The man's eyes had changed from yellow, cat-eyes to normal human eyes.

Mal-kar and Boldar seemed to fade away, until they were both just sitting in a gray mist.

"Doronar," Rinas said at last. "You've found your way to your homeland."

"My what?"

"Your homeland."

"Is Draconia my homeland?"

"Wouldn't you think so?" Rinas asked.

"Not unless Arraka revealed it to me."

Rinas looked uncomfortable for a moment, then said, "What has he revealed to you?"

"Nothing much except you and Lily."

"What's a lily?"

"It's a person. She was a healer, in the northern continent. Arraka showed her to me in a vision, but when I found her...she had no calling, and I really saw no reason to pursue her. After I saw you I decided to come here."

Rinas nodded. "So you have no other knowledge of why you've come?"

Doronar shook his head.

For a moment there was silence, then Rinas said, "I had an amazing vision the other evening as I was riding home on Tal. Perhaps it can shed some light. We were flying on our way back to Shorlarai, and we appeared over a temple. Arraka's Flame...it's not just a myth. I saw it, and-"

"A myth? No, it's not. It's up in the Highlands."

"What?" Rinas' cheeck twitched.

"Arraka's Flame is up in the Highlands...near my temple."

Rinas' jaw dropped. "W-What?"

Doronar said carefully, "Arraka's Flame is in the Highlands. You can see it at night from many leagues away. It's a big pyramid with the statues of the Four surrounding it-"

"I saw it in my vision!" Rinas said. "But you know it exists? You've seen it in person?"

Doronar nodded. "Yes, I-"

"We have to go there! I have to see it myself!"

"All right, but Arraka's sent me here for a reason. He has a purpose in mind for sending me to Draconia, and I want to find out-"

"But there is a war going on! In my vision, I saw a battle near the temple. And..." Rinas looked at Doronar for a moment, then said, "You were there. Walking up the steps of the pyramid."

"I was?"

"Toward the Flame."

That stopped him. "Anything else?"

Rinas shook his head. "No, Tal flew straight into the fire and I lost the vision."

"Oh."

"I want to go up to Arraka's Flame. No one in Draconia has seen it. We thought it was destroyed, or lost, or something."

Doronar shook his head. "No. It's always been there."

Rinas looked amazed. For a few moments, he just stared into space, absorbing the news.

Doronar tried to imagine how shocking the news must be. He had always known Arraka's Flame existed, but he had never been there. It was considered a sacred journey to go there, so he had never attempted it. Never attempted it because he hadn't seen Arraka. Seeing Arraka was the delimiter for Doronar; once you've seen the god, then you have been accepted by him. As soon as he was accepted by Arraka, then he would travel to the temple, and worship there for a week or two. That would be his real initiation, because the temple contained Arraka's true essence. The Dragon God resided within the pyramid, according to all known texts.

"I have to go there," Rinas said, as if it were a mandate.

"Yes, but are you sure that's wise now? Since we are able to communicate through the flame, Arraka obviously has some purpose for me. Are you sure it was to send me here to bring you back?"

Rinas thought for a moment. "It seems sound...we met each other, I saw a vision of the temple...but there was a war going on, I don't know-"

"War? What war?"

"There was an army at Arraka's Flame. Maybe more than one. But it looked like an army of evil. How long have you been away from Arraka's Flame?"

"I've been away from Althoria for a few months. When I left, there was rumor of a war, but nothing substantial. Perhaps something is happening over there."

"Then Arraka's temple is in danger!" Rinas cried. He yanked his hand out of the flame before Doronar could protest.

As soon as the Dragon Knight's hand was free, the heat penetrated into Doronar's nerves, and he cursed. Doronar pulled his hand free, and looked at it. Amazingly, it was only slightly red, from after Rinas withdrew from the fire.

Rinas was speaking rapidly to Mal-kar, who listened seriously. After a moment, Mal-kar nodded his dragon-like head, and said something to Rinas. Rinas translated for Boldar, who translated for Doronar.

"'Ignorance of an ancient past has left us,'" Boldar said.

"What?"

"Literally, that's what he said...according to the book I was learning from. It obviously wasn't very well done. I think I'll write a new one, as soon as I learn the language."

"Good for you, but find out what he just said to you, stupid."

Boldar and Rinas talked for a few minutes, then Boldar nodded. "That makes more sense. I think they want to get us sleeping quarters in the palace. We're going to be royal guests."

"How did you get that from 'ancient past'?"

"Huh? Oh. That was the previous statement. That translated to something like, 'Let's be friends even though we weren't before.'"

Bree walked down the hall and opened a door. "This is your room," she said. "Bed, fireplace, washbasin, everything. The private bath is at the end of the hall, I think. I know there's a huge public bath somewhere that way," she pointed to the other end of the mansion.

"Wait, I don't stay with you guys?" Alyssa asked.

"This isn't a brothel," Bree said. "We all have separate rooms."

"Neat," Alyssa grinned and admired her room. It was almost the same size as the rooms at the Red Feather, minus the bath. "Do we have any servants?"

"Nor and Jalla. She just started today, but I don't know how good she is. Her clothes are decent, and she has nice hair, so I guess she's all right."

Alyssa walked around the room and said, "Can one of them start a fire for me?"

Bree giggled. "Alyssa, you'll have to learn to do some things for yourself. I'm going to sleep now. Me and Galnor are next door to you, so if you need anything, just knock."

Alyssa nodded, then scowled when Bree closed the door. Galnor and Bree together? For a few moments, she pondered it, then shrugged. Both of them were nice people -- it couldn't hurt.

The girl wandered around the room for a few minutes, looking for a tinder box. She finally found one and managed to light a lantern, mimicking the way she'd seen Red Feather servants do it. When the lantern was lit, she used it to light another couple candles, then she puzzled over how to start a fire.

It took her nearly an hour of trial-and-error and sailor oaths, but she finally managed to get a small blaze going. When the two logs were crackling, Alyssa tried to remember if she should put more in there or not.

After a minute of nonexistent recollection, Alyssa just stuffed as many logs as she could into the fireplace, and hoped that would work. She went over to the enormous covered bed, and stripped off her clothes, then slid under the covers. They were soft, much softer than the ones in her bunkroom. And pillows. There were four pillows on this bed.

Grinning like a little kid, Alyssa piled the pillows up around her, so they formed walls. Overwhelmed with her suddenly good fortune, Alyssa began giggling, then laughing out loud. It only lasted for a few moments, though, since she was so tired.

A half-hour later, Alyssa drifted asleep, thinking about the other whores at the Red Feather. Gods, she'd miss them.

Alyssa's dreams were quick and strange, in the beginning. She frollicked through fields of mushrooms, then swam in an ocean of stale bathwater, and thoroughly enjoyed her trip to the moon. When she came down from the moon (a very strange place), Alyssa fell in a different field. All the wheat was black, and the color rubbed off on her servant gown.

"Why is this wheat black?" Alyssa asked.

A bird landed on her shoulder and said in Balan's voice, "You'd better beware the Black Harvest." It pointed with its beak, and Alyssa blanched.

Two hundred twenty-three feet away, a line of soot-covered farmers were hacking down the wheat with scythes. Alyssa stood paralyzed for a moment, and turned to run. She stopped in her tracks when she saw an army of the Minion bearing down on her from the opposite direction.

"Shit! What's going on?" Alyssa cried.

".hguone dah sah DoG kniht I" said the bird.

",thgir ylbaborP" agreed Alyssa. "Let's get out of here."

She turned to run, but her foot caught in a hunter's snare and she fell into a mud puddle. As she fell, the bird was impaled on a blade of wheat. With a curse, the girl struggled to get to her feet, but the farmers had already arrived with their swinging scythes.

Alyssa screamed and jerked up in her bed. Her skin was clammy and cold. She didn't even have to look to see that the fire was out. Maybe she'd put too much wood in it.

Or something.

With a sigh, Alyssa slumped back into her pillows, and fluffed up the other three around her. What a strange dream. She wondered if it meant anything. Marian used to say that dreams reflected real life.

Whatever sleep Daren had been clinging to was whisked away by the cold air in the courtyard. He wrapped his cloak around his body and looked around. Jerik was just mounting his horse outside of the stables. When Jerik saw the prince, he waved for him to come over.

Daren walked over to the general, and said, "What did the servant wake me up for? It's dawn!"

"You should have been told, sire," Jerik said.

"I wasn't. Told what?"

A stableboy brought a horse for Daren, and he took the reins. At a gesture from Jerik, Daren mounted the horse and followed the general through the courtyard to the gates.

"A servant was dispatched to your room last night to give you the news."

Daren tried to remember, but couldn't. It was probably during his happy hour. Servants knew better than to interrupt his Royal Fuck. "He never got there."

Jerik shrugged. "Well, you and I are leaving for a while."

Their horses clopped out into the city, and Daren's mouth went dry. Waiting for them were thousands of the Althorian Legion. They were standing in a fair disarray, but when Jerik appeared they magically formed into neat rows, bristling with spears.

"You, me, and 5000 of the Legion will be meeting the Minion at Orange River Valley. It should take about a week to get there, then we hope to delay them another week. That should give the refugees and the city time to return-"

"Delay them a week?" Daren cried. "Are you kidding? There are hundreds of thousands of Minion, and you expect to delay them a whole week?"

"The Orange River Valley is an ideal place to set up defense. Our sources report that they will move through the valley, so we'll stop them there. If they chose to flank us, the surrounding terrain is so hostile that it would take them about a week to come around from the back."

"But this is suicide!"

The Legion was now following them down main street, like a marching stampede. Heralds and flagbearers and guards rode ahead, clearing the townsfolk out of the street. A couple heads turned at that comment.

"Not for you or me. We're the only non-expendibles on this trip. Everyone else knows that it's suicide. We're doing this to save others, who haven't had enough time to get out of the Minion's way. They're cutting a path straight for the city, and we have to give the city enough time to prepare for them. Don't worry, as soon as we're down to 500 men, we're leaving."

"Why am I coming?" Daren had calmed down a bit, but was still scared.

"Because the people think the king isn't doing anything about the war. There's a terrible amount of public unrest. In case you haven't noticed, the population of Althorien has increased by nearly 25% in the past two weeks alone. By sending out the Legion, and you, he's showing faith in this expedition. After all, you're a public icon, a powerful one, and he won't just send you off to die. Shows hope for the war."

Daren had a slightly disgusted look on his face. "Glad my father told me to my face."

"He expects to see you again."

"Whatever."

"It's barely past dawn," Alyssa yawned, looking around the crowded bank. Merchants and commonfolk bustled about like big ants. It was quite noisy, and there was barely breathing room, but Alyssa was too tired to notice. "Why did you make me come with you?"

"Because you're good with money, and I might want you to help me later on. You need to learn more."

"We've been waiting in line for thirty minutes, I don't want to-"

Galnor grabbed her wrist and pulled her through a mob of people, then they were standing in front of the table. Across the table was a middle-aged man, wearing a black hat with three tassels. "Sit down," he gestured to a pair of chairs.

Galnor and Alyssa sat down, and Galnor leaned forward. "I need to purchase a security for my basement."

"For your basement?"

Galnor nodded and extracted a wad of papers from his portfolio. "Yes. It's for the Windy Cliffs Weapons Company. We're building a storage facility in our basement. All the proper licenses are there, including my account status."

"You mean Garen's account status," the banker said, reading off the paper.

"Yes. I have proper authority through the-"

"Of course, of course," said the banker impatiently. "That's fine. What type of security will you be purchasing?"

"Royal."

The banker's jaw dropped. "Royal security? For your basement?"

"Yes," Galnor said.

For a moment the banker looked at him, then shrugged. "Whatever you say. This will have to be approved by the Secondary Board of Commerce."

"How long will that take?" Galnor asked.

"It's early in the morning still, so I'll wager...by dusk. But we're crowded then, so just come by tomorrow and pick it up. Since you're just securing your basement, I don't foresee any problems."

"Good," Galnor stood up.

"Thank you," the banker said. "See you tomorrow."

Alyssa followed Galnor back into the throng, and they walked back out into the city. When they stood outside the bank, Alyssa said, "What's a royal security?"

"A security policy that practically guarantees the safety of our basement. If the bank can't pay for it, the money comes directly from the royal treasury."

"Why in-"

"We're going to withdraw everything from our bank accounts and put it in the basement, along with a couple other peoples' money."

"Who else's?"

"People who've paid me to store it."

Garen crawled next to Aleya's head, and looked down at her tear-stained face. It had been several hours, and Garen doubted any more sex would affect her.

Tonight, anyway.

Instead, he crouched above her head with a quill pen, and brushed the hair away from her sweaty forehead.

"What are you doing?" Aleya said hoarsely, numb from the rape.

"Have you ever heard of the Black Moon?" Garen asked, wiping her forehead with a dry cloth.

Aleya shook her head.

"Don't move, or this will hurt," he said. Garen took the pen and touched it to her forehead.

The tip was sharp, and stung, but it didn't feel like it was drawing blood. Garen sketched in the center of her forehead for a few minutes, and then he sat back, satisfied.

"What did you put on my face?" Aleya asked.

"A black dot. It'll be there for a while," he chuckled. Garen reached over to her wrists and freed them, then walked to the bottom of the altar and freed her ankles.

"What are you doing?" Aleya asked, unwilling to believe he was letting her go.

"I'm not letting you go, if that's what you're thinking. This is just the continuation. Sit up."

Aleya hesitated, but she had no choice. Her sore muscles complained when she struggled into a sitting position. "Garen, I don't understand what-"

"Shhhh," Garen said softly, moving behind her. "Lay on your stomach."

Aleya did as she was told. Garen grinned at her, then walked out of her vision. He secured her wrists again. The hairs on her neck rose when she heard him pick up the sacrificial knife. "G-Garen," she asked. "What are you doing?"

"Just relax," he said. "This won't hurt a bit." He sat on the small of her back, pinning her lower body down. "Try not to move."

Aleya gripped the edge of the altar, and prepared to experience pain.

And she did.

Garen touched the knife to her smooth back, and before the blade even penetrated the skin, Aleya felt pain. She screamed, and tried to pull away, but Garen planted his feet on her shoulders. "Don't move," he ordered.

"What-What are you doing?" she cried.

"I've heated the blade, so it will cauterize the incisions." Garen drew the blade across her skin.

Pain jabbed into her torso, as if her were sticking needles through the skin, into her rib cage. Aleya's knuckles whitened as she gripped the table. This pain was worse than anything she had ever experienced, and practically tore apart her consciousness.

Garen ignored the girl's screams, and continued etching in her back. The knife never seemed to lose its heat. It was as if the knife itself were pouring fire into her body, filling her up with its inferno.

Nothing she did could stop its intrusion to her sanity. Pain had driven many people mad before, and she knew that she would be devoured by it, soon enough. Why was she so helpless against it though? How come Garen had been able to control her dreams so easily?

Those were the last of her conscious thoughts before the pain shattered her spirit. The universe broke apart like glass, and she could see all the different colors flying apart, like a million little stars. For a few moments, she was just in the void of shattered realities, and then she woke up screaming.

Instead of echoing back from the walls of the temple room, her scream fled into a wintery dawn, dampened by the snow. The scream died in her throat a moment later, and Aleya was left gasping.

Borim suddenly appeared in front of her, sword in hand. He quickly scanned the valley quickly, and then looked back into the cave. Both were empty, so he dropped next to Aleya and grabbed her shoulders. "Aleya, what's wrong?" he asked.

She looked at him emptily.

Lia and Bolthorn ran in front of the cave entrance.

"What's going on?" Lia demanded.

"Are you all right?" Bolthorn asked.

"I-I'm fine," Aleya replied, shaking her head. "J-Just a nightmare."

It was obvious by her tone that she didn't want them around, so Lia nodded her head back toward the cookfire, a few yards west. Bolthorn hesitantly followed the elf away.

"What happened?" Borim asked.

Aleya pushed her fingers up through her hair, and as she did, she pulled hair away from her forehead.

Borim gasped, and held her hair up. "What happened to your forehead?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Aleya's heart skipped a beat.

"Where did you get this?" Borim licked his thumb and rubbed it across her forehead vigorously, but nothing came off. "You have a big dot on your face."

"What kind of dot?"

"A black one. What happened to you?"

Aleya paused, unwilling to tell Borim of her experience.

"What happened?" he repeated.

"G-Garen visited my d-dreams last night," she said haltingly. Dreams tended to fade away within the first few minutes of waking, but this one wasn't fading at all. She vividly remembered every single second of her encounter with the demon-possessed boy. With a guilty start, she noticed that she was wet between her legs.

Very wet.

Borim digested the information, and said, "What did he do to you?" Borim rubbed at the mark on her forehead. "Did he do this to you?"

"Yes," Aleya said, pushing her Guardian's hand away. "He did. But it's just a mark, don't worry about it." Aleya struggled to her feet, then gasped when pain shot down her back.

"What is it?" Borim asked.

"N-Nothing," Aleya lied. "I'm just a little sore from sleeping on the cave floor."

Borim put his arm around her waist to help her up, but she bit her lip as his hand touched her back. He looked back, and swore. "Aleya! You're bleeding!"

"What?" That was almost a surprise.

Borim grabbed the hem of her nightgown and lifted it up to the base of her neck.

Aleya instantly reddened; not because he would see her bare bottom, but because he might notice that she was dripping fluids. Borim didn't even look down there, though. He was staring at the intricate patterns on her back. All of them were drawn in her own blood.

Borim let the gown drop, and spun her to face him. "Aleya, what did he do to you?"

Aleya cringed, and said, "Borim, if you really respect me, then you'll let me stay silent."

For a moment, Borim just stared at her angrily. Then he regained his composure and said, "Then talk to Lia about it. She's can help you."

Aleya nodded.

"Go talk to her now."

"Let me get dressed first."

Borim nodded and walked to the cave entrance. He stood outside it and just waited.

With a sigh, Aleya began pulling on her clothes. She was dying more than anything to know what was on her back and forehead, and Lia was the only person she could talk to.

A cold blast of wind almost slammed the stable door shut, squishing Ranon, but he managed to push inside. The door banged closed, and Ranon looked around the stables.

They were cold and empty. The horses' noses looked like chimneys; cold plumes of steam rose from their nostrils, and floated through the holes in the ceiling.

"Jesher?" Ranon called. "Wren?"

"Up here," Jesher answered, poking his head out from the loft. "Finn isn't down there is he?"

Wren crawled next to him, and said, "He wasn't there five minutes ago, I don't think he will be now."

"We've been here for thirty minutes," Jesher said. "What took you so long?"

"I got lost."

Jesher climbed down from the loft. "You'd better find a better excuse than that."

"I'm serious! It got so white out there I couldn't see anything! I just saw the edge of the town hall."

Wren jumped down from the loft and looked through the wooden slats of the doors. "Oh shit!" he cried. "You can't see anything out there! It's a blizzard!"

Jesher pushed his eye up to another crack and gaped. "We can't stay here," he said. "We'll freeze to death."

"You want to go out in that?" Wren retorted. "Bye. See you at your funeral."

"Ranon made it."

"Barely," Ranon said.

"If we stay here-"

A loud crash interrupted him, and they looked toward the noise. A portion of the roof had collapsed from the weight of the snow.

"We should leave," Ranon said. "Finn isn't coming, that's for sure. Let's feed the horses and get outta here."

"Feed the horses?" Jesher said. "They're gonna die anyway."

"Probably, but we should still do it."

"Why?" challenged Jesher.

"It'll ease Ranon's conscience," Wren said. "Come on. Five minutes at most." The boy scampered off to the storage barrels, and the other two followed.

Work proceeded faster than it ever had before, and they were ready to leave in just a couple minutes.

"We'll have to repair the roof when we get back," Wren muttered when they had gathered by the front doors.

"I'll bet you ten coppers we'll have to rebuild the whole fucking building," Jesher snorted. "Now are you girls ready to get outta here?"

Ranon peeked through the crack. "You still can't see anything. The snow is coming down so hard..." he trailed off.

"Maybe we should wait until it slows down," Wren said.

"How long will that be?" Jesher asked. "It's been snowing harder every single day for more than a week. It'll be up to our waists if we wait any longer."

"Fuck!" Ranon swore, rubbing his hands together. His nose and feet were already numb, and his hands were almost numb as well. "We'll freeze to death if we go out there in that snow," he said. "I almost did."

"So did we," Jesher said.

"Here's what we need to do," Ranon said. "Wren's house is the closest, and we should go there. But it's going to be impossible to get there because it's so white out."

The three boys lapsed into thought for a few moments, and Jesher muttered that he never should have come in the first place. Why should they kill themselves just to get to the stables?

When Ranon's thoughts wandered to them freezing to death, a trio of icicles inside the stables, with a bunch of steam-breathing horses, he realized they needed to leave.

"There's no way we can stay here," Ranon said. "The roof will collapse, and we'll freeze to death."

"Haven't we been saying that the whole time?" Jesher said.

Ranon looked at the horses and said, "We'll take the horses out."

"Can they survive the cold out there?" Wren asked.

"Not much colder in here than out there," Jesher replied. "Let's do it."

In about fifteen minutes, they had the three sturdiest horses saddled up and ready to go. Wren said, "It's still almost impossible to see, but we should be able to follow main street until we get to Arlan's fruit stand. From there, we can go into the forest and-yes! The woods! We'll be able to see the trees, and I know a path through the woods that ends up near my house."

"Good," Ranon sighed.

"Hurry up," Jesher snapped.

Wren led them out into the raging blizzard, and they stayed in single file, trotting down the street. They stayed close to the buildings, which were all shuttered and closed. Only the walls were visible, since snow didn't stick to them.

They trudged through the biting winds for almost ten minutes before they reached the edge of town. Even though main street curved northwest after the fruit stand, Wren continued straight, and they passed through a field. Probably somebody's garden, but they wouldn't notice, or care.

Another five minutes passed before they reached the edge of the forest. The wind was less severe in the woods, but Ranon started watching the trees anxiously. Each tree had over a dozen icicles hanging from its branches, and occasionally one would fall.

They looked sharp.

An explosion sounded from nearby, and Ranon jumped. "What was that?" he said.

"Tree exploded from the cold," Jesher said. "Happens all the time."

"Exploded?"

"I'll tell you later," Jesher said. "It's a fun thing to watch."

A few minutes later, they came to the edge of the woods, and Wren stopped. "We should go forward spread out, so we have a wider field of vision. We'll have a better chance of seeing the house."

"We'll find it eventually," Ranon said.

"Not if we're not careful," Jesher said. "A man died last winter, walking around in circles, just a few yards from his house. Snow is a dangerous thing."

"Really?"

"Come on," Wren said. "I'll go down the middle. Jesher, you go on my left, Ranon stay on my right."

"Fuckin' it's cold!" Jesher stuffed his gloved hands under his armpits.

They trotted forward and spread out, staying within the edge of vision. It wasn't long before Wren spotted the house, and they rode up to the front porch.

As Jesher dismounted, Wren said, "What about the horses?"

"Forget 'em," Jesher said. "Your barn is a hundred feet away. Too far."

"We made it all the way here," Wren said.

"Dumbass! Just get inside!" Jesher snapped. "It's a damn horse! Gods willing, they'll survive. Now come on, you'll die if you stay out here much longer!"

Ranon hopped off his horse and joined Jesher on the porch.

Wren grumbled and stumbled up to his front door. He pulled on the latch, but it wouldn't move, so he pounded on it a couple times. Wren's mother opened the door and she gasped at them.

"Mornin' ma'am," Jesher said. "Mind if we come in?"

"Wren!" she growled, her face clouding up. "We're going to have a talk in the kitchen right now."

They walked into the living room, shaking off globs of snow beforehand. Inside was like a furnace compared to the blizzard.

Ranon and Jesher immediately began discarding their outer layers of clothing, while Wren followed his mother into the kitchen.

"He's a dead man," Jesher said absently.

Ranon nodded and they walked over to the fireplace.

As they sat down in front of it, Gwen came downstairs, yawning. Her hair was all mussed up, but that only made her cuter. Ranon saw that she was only wearing her nightgown.

"Oh!" she said when she reached the bottom of the stairs. "What are you two doing here?"

"Not being at the stables," Jesher answered. "Never should've gone in the first place."

"Morning Ranon," Gwen said.

Ranon nodded and smiled. She made his stomach do flip-flops; Alleria had never been able to do that. As he thought that, Ranon wondered why he was comparing them by how well they could move his bowels.

Aleya and Lia trudged about fifty feet behind the two warriors. Bolthorn seemed to know where Midgard was, so Lia let him lead the way. It hadn't snowed for the past couple days, but a gray cloud-cover hung below the mountain tops. Since the previous snow hadn't melted at all, they were forced to trudge through a meter-high layer of the crap. It hindered their travel quite a bit, forcing them to move at less than half the speed they could have been.

This really pissed off Lia, who knew just how precious their time was. She knew that the next couple weeks would put her on edge, because their situation wouldn't improve much.

After she finished hearing Aleya's recounting of her dream, Lia knew that things could only get worse. If Garen had entered Aleya's dream so easily, penetrated her dreamscape, and overpowered her subconscious, then he was a lot stronger than she had anticipated. That must mean Garen was an Overlord.

"As soon as we stop, I want to see those marks on your back. My guess is that the black circle is a marker of the Black Moon."

"What's that?" Aleya asked.

"It's an astrological event where Kaltin, Tirn Aill, and the moon line up in such a way that the moon vanishes from sight." Lia wasn't referring to Kaltin the God of War, but the planet Kaltin. There was one other planet between Tirn Aill and the sun, which had been named after Kaltin, for some long-forgotten reason. Normally, during the new moon phase of the lunar cycle, the moon did not disappear. One of the few times when it did was during the Black Moon. Tirn Aill's shadow blacked out the majority of the moon, then Kaltin's shadow covered up the remaining sliver. In all, the Black Moon lasted for only a couple minutes, but during those two minutes, the powers of Tir multiplied exponentially. Temples pulled double shifts during the Black Moon, because many evil rituals took place during those two minutes. Priests prayed many prayers against the rituals. "Not surprisingly," Lia said, "it's coming up pretty soon."

"What's it doing on my forehead then?"

"I, ah, I'm not sure. I'd have to examine it in more detail."

Aleya nodded. "All right."

Lia sighed. "I'm so very pissed that Garen isn't leaving us alone," she mused aloud. "I'd tear that bastard limb from limb if we weren't in such a hurry."

A few moments passed, and Aleya looked uncomfortable. For some reason, she was thinking about that instance on the bridge, when Lia passed out. And she couldn't get it out of her mind. "Lia?" she asked tentatively.

"What?" Lia said, thinking of other things.

"Why did you faint the other day on the bridge? When Garen and Bolthorn started fighting?"

Lia raised her eyebrows, and it took her a moment to recall. "Oh," she said. Her response was slow and careful. "I...have had difficulties dealing with Kra before. He's the God of Destruction, you know. Kra lashed out at Bolthorn, through the sword, and since he and I are bonded, Kra confronted both of us."

Aleya didn't ask what bond Lia was talking about.

"I took most of the damage, so Bolthorn would be able to fight Garen. It wasn't very easy for either of us."

"Oh."

Lia looked up suddenly, and furrowed her brow. "Hey Borim! Bolthorn!" she called. "Stop for a second!"

They turned around.

"Why?" Bolthorn called back.

They were following a frozen stream, deeper into the Dwarven Mountains, toward Midgard. A forest covered the surrounding hills, which led into the actual mountains. The trees were bare besides ice and snow, so they provided little cover, but Lia was staring at them intently. She looked at the trees for a long minute, until Borim and Bolthorn came over.

"What is it?" Bolthorn asked.

Then Lia's face broke into a relieved grin. "It's all right," she sighed. Then she cupped a hand to her mouth and shouted something in a foreign language. In the following silence, a tree exploded nearby, probably causing an avalanche somewhere else.

"What are you doing?" Bolthorn scowled.

Two figures came out of the trees, wearing white and brown cloaks, that matched perfectly with the trees. Snow-covered beards stuck out of the hoods, tied with leather strings and decorative laces.

Borim's hand flew to his sword hilt, and Aleya smacked him. "They're dwarves, stupid," she scolded.

Gwen tip-toed out of the kitchen with three glasses of juice. Loud commotion echoed through the open door; Wren and his parents were in a loud argument.

Gwen handed one glass to Ranon and another to Jesher, then sat down in front of the fireplace with them. Still she hadn't changed out of her nightgown.

"You guys shouldn't have gone out today. The weather was really bad. That's what Ma and Dad are yelling at Wren for."

"We shouldn't have gone out?" Ranon raised an eyebrow.

"It's impossible to see anything out there!" Gwen cried. "You could freeze to death!"

Jesher snorted. "Finn doesn't really care what the weather's like, he wants us there every day."

"You're stableboys," Gwen stated, like the reason should be obvious.

"It pays," Ranon countered.

"A silver a day!"

"More money than you're making," Jesher argued. "Some of us need the money. We don't sit around on our asses all day."

"What? Are you saying that-"

"What else would you have to do besides knit quilts?"

"You think I knit quilts all day?" Gwen was frowning deeply.

"Be quiet, Jesher," Ranon said. "Gwen has more things to do than just quilt. She could bake pies, for example."

Gwen stuck out her lower lip. "You guys are making fun of me!" she pouted.

"Very good!" Jesher patted her shoulder.

The girl turned her back to them and folded her arms resolutely. "I don't even know why I talk to you two."

"I think she loves us," Jesher whispered.

"Shut up!" Gwen snapped without turning.

Midgard was huge.

For some reason, Aleya had expected it to be short, with short houses, squat buildings, and low doorways. To an extent that was true, but for the most part, it wasn't. Everything in Midgard was similar to the human style of building, but just...thicker, it seemed. The rooms and halls were smaller, but they weren't cramped. Human architecture contained a lot of extraneous space that was empty. Tall ceilings, wide corridors, expansive rooms...but in the dwarven style, any unused space was eliminated. Because of this, Midgard appeared larger than it actually was.

They had traveled with their dwarven guides for about a day before arriving at the city. Neither of the dwarves talked much, but when they did, they did so only with Lia, because they couldn't speak Common Tongue, and Lia could speak Dwarven. They drew quite a few stares from the cityfolk, but the dwarves didn't seem offended by their presence.

The dwarves led them into the castle, and showed them to a suite with three bedrooms, a bathing room, and a living room. After the dwarves left, they silently stood in the living room for a few moments.

"All right," Lia then said. "Borim and Aleya can sleep in there, I'll sleep in there-" she pointed, "and you can sleep in there. Aleya and I will be in my room for a while. If dwarves come while we're in there, just say Noc ben'tor."

"How long is a while?" Borim asked.

"Suspicious to the end," Bolthorn chuckled.

"I don't know," Lia replied, pushing Aleya into the bedroom. "You men entertain yourselves, and don't knock."

Once Aleya and Lia were alone in the bedroom, Lia mentally lit the oil lamps and candles. Aleya started, and said, "L-Lia, I know that now may not be the time-"

"You're right," Lia agreed. "It's not. Sit in that chair - no, sit backwards, so I can see your back. And take off your shirt."

Aleya did as she was told, and stripped off her cloak, coat, and shirt. They were in the Midgard castle, which was lodged deep in a mountain. The heat was kept well in here, so Aleya didn't have to worry about freezing. She folded her arms and leaned forward against the chair back.

Lia furrowed her brow and bent over the strange markings. They were dark crimson, almost black in places, and were drawn in an intricate pattern down the girl's back, from her shoulder blades to the base of her rib cage. "Interesting," Lia said. "All of these were burnt into your skin. They're composed entirely of burn scars, kinda. You said he used a hot knife?"

Aleya nodded, wincing at the memory.

"So he broke the skin, but cauterized it at the same time. But this pattern..." she traced her finger along one of the dark red lines. "Does that hurt?"

"Not too bad."

"Hm. Well, it's too hard for me to know what this is that he was etching into you. You were probably going to be some type of living rune. I've seen this before, but never so complex. Lucky for you, he didn't finish."

"Huh?"

"Garen never finished the design. You broke free before he could."

"But you don't recognize it?"

"Nuh-uh."

"How do you know he didn't finish then?"

"Because I'm not stupid, girl," Lia said, tracing her fingers along the lines. "But I'm not going to heal them, either. I don't know what's been activated through these lines. Probably nothing, but we can't take that chance. Of course, there's always a chance they will activate by doing nothing, but it's always better to leave them alone until we know more."

"But the next time I go to sleep..." Aleya said.

Lia pursed her lips. She remained silent for quite a while, so Aleya said, "What if Garen-"

"I'm thinking please," Lia said. She continued to think for several minutes before replying, "This is a difficult decision, Aleya. I'll have to get back to you on that." She stood up and held out her hand, palm facing the floor. A few words of power flowed from her lips, and a large nonegram appeared in the floor. Lines connected the points of the nonegram, into a circle. It flared blue, and stayed glowing. "Sleep inside that, and you'll be safe, but it's difficult for you to wake up on your own, and it's quite disorienting. This circle will protect you from all Garen's intrusions however."

"Why didn't you draw it on the bed?" Aleya asked, pulling on her shirt.

"Oops. Uh, drag the mattress into the circle. I have a lot of work to do." She turned to go, then said, "Oh, are you bonded with Borim?"

"Bonded? What do you mean?"

"A primal bond. Life force bond. Love bond? Usually magical."

Aleya shook her head.

"Didn't think so. I'm going to look for Olrick now. Don't fall asleep outside of that circle."

Alyssa, Bree, and Galnor were talking to Balan in a lounge in the Red Feather. Galnor was obtaining more financial advice. It was six hours past noon, so Balan's shift hadn't started yet. Normally those conversations fascinated Alyssa, but today she was thinking more about her own future.

Living with Galnor and Bree had been great (for all of two days) but it wasn't feasible for her to live there for the rest of her life. At some point, she would need to get her own life.

"I'm going to get a drink," Alyssa sighed. "Do you want me to bring anything back?"

When the others declined by ignoring her and continuing their conversation (except Bree, who was dozing in the corner), Alyssa walked out onto the mezzanine. The second level, where she was at, and the lower level of the restaraunt was abuzz with activity; merchants and nobles argued heatedly over the lingering monetary exploits in Althorien. Servants and wait-persons scurried from table to table with food and drinks to sustain the last wealthy customers. Alyssa wasn't sure how busy it would be during the war.

She made her way to the kitchen, and saw Colin standing at the rear door again, watching the clouds. "Evening," he said when he saw her. "You haven't been around for a while."

"I'm not attached to the inn anymore," Alyssa said.

"I probably won't be either." He gestured to the other end of the kitchen. Oshram Mallor and the head cook were deep in discussion. "Mallor's talking to him about who to get rid of for the war. I'll be one of them."

"Why?"

"I'm slack," he shrugged.

"Oh. Well, I want something to drink."

"What?"

"I don't know. Something that tastes good."

"Be a little more specific."

Mallor finished his conversation and headed over to the stairway.

Alyssa shrugged. "Show me where your drinks are and I'll look at them."

"We keep our drinks in several different places."

Mallor stopped next to them and looked at Alyssa. "They told me you were sold," he said.

"Hey!" one of the cooks yelled. "Where's the blackroot?"

That shout linked together a strangely unrelated set of clues within Alyssa's mind. She suddenly remembered Balan and Galnor's conversation about the Black Harvest, the tattooed scythes, her dream, and the scythe on the inside of Mallor's bicep.

Oshram Mallor was a member of the Black Harvest.

Even as she put those pieces together, she reprimanded herself for even thinking that. Just because Mallor had a scythe on the inside of his arm, he was a member of the Black Harvest? Unlikely. Unlikely, but possible. Black scythes weren't very popular tattoos. Tattoos weren't very popular.

"I sort of was," Alyssa hedged.

"You're a very pleasing young girl," Mallor said thoughtfully. "I will pay you twice your normal salary if you consider staying with me tonight, before I leave for Arangrad in a few days."

Alyssa's mind raced, and she considered the money. "Of course," popped out of her mouth before she even finished thinking.

"Excellent," Mallor smiled. "Meet me up in my room in an hour."

Alyssa bowed her head in acknowledgement and waited until the man and his bodyguard were gone.

"Why did you do that?" Colin asked. "You're free of this place."

Alyssa was busy thinking. A moment later she replied, "He wants me in his room in an hour. I want you to bring a bottle of wine up there in an hour and ten minutes."

"Huh?"

"I know we don't know each other very well, but can you please do me this favor?" Alyssa pleaded. "It's so important."

"S-Sure," Colin stammered. "Whatever you want."

"Great!" Alyssa kissed him and ran up the stairs, back to the lounge. She bumped into Azrim, the manager of the Althorien Red Feather, on her way into the lounge, and wondered why he was in there.

Alyssa closed the lounge door and leaned against it, staring at Balan.

He noticed her and said, "What do you want?"

"Em, Balan? Tell me everything you know about the Black Harvest."

Balan furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Tell me everything you know about the Black Harvest."

"Why?"

"Just do it! I wanna know!" Alyssa bounced over to the couch and sat next to him.

"Well, the Black Harvest is the name of a group of merchants who are selling false government insurance. They're doing it to people all across Althoria, and making a shitload of money. Why do you want to know?"

"Didn't you say something about a tattoo before?"

"Well, yes. It's a tattoo of a scythe, and we used to think it was on the chest, it's on the arm. The merchant caught by the Hawks proved that."

"Who caught?"

"Some local merchant was sending out a bunch of men to northwestern Althoria, and they were selling the false insurance, and bringing the money back to him. They kept 10%, and he got some, then the rest went to the Black Harvest ring. There was evidence that his money was being transferred to other accounts, but we don't know which ones. The Board thinks some of them are inside the banks, because the documents they use are authentic, as are the stamps of government approval."

Alyssa's eyes were gleaming with anticipation. "Tell me more," she urged.

"That's really all I know," Balan shrugged. "They arrested the merchant and his salesmen today, so he hasn't been interrogated yet. That I know of."

"What kind of evidence?" Galnor asked.

"About the accounts? Well, there are records of transactions, but the target account doesn't seem to exist. It never existed, really."

"How do you know all this?" Alyssa asked.

"One of my friends works at the bank," Balan said.

Lia quickly walked through the streets of Midgard, until she found the Constructor's Guild. It was one of the larger, more extravagant buildings in the open city (not in the mountain). A huge archway gave entrance to the foyer, a gaping room with models on tables and building plans nailed to the wall. It was almost impressive.

At the end of the first room was a group of dwarves sitting on a table. They were debating which area of the mountain the king should excavate next. When Lia approached them, they all stopped and stared at her in undisguised interest.

Humans were uncommon, but elves were rare.

"I'm looking for someone," Lia said in Dwarven.

"That would be me," one of the dwarves raised his hand.

A couple laughs, and nasty remarks.

"His name is Olrick Mahr," Lia said. "He's a-"

"Mahr?" one of the dwarves spat. "That bastard! I'll take you there if you're gonna kill him."

"Drenok says Mahr stole one of his designs," explained another dwarf. "Why do you want to see him?"

"I need his help."

"He doesn't live in Midgard anymore," said the second dwarf. "I'm not sure where he lives. You might want to ask the guildmaster. He keeps a close eye on all the competition."

"Show me to him," Lia said.

An hour later, Alyssa knocked on Oshram Mallor's door. She was nervous as shit, and hoped that the gods would favor her in this little escapade. If her suspicions were right, Mallor was a member of the Black Harvest. Alyssa just hoped he didn't decide to kill her. She made sure that the others knew exactly where she was going, so they would at least grow suspicious if she disappeared. And Alyssa hoped that Colin would remember the wine.

The door opened, and Alyssa forgot to breathe momentarily. The man in front of her wasn't Mallor or the bodyguard. Her first impulse was that it would be a two-on-one, until the man cleared his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Alyssa said, stepping aside. She breathed again.

As the man passed her and moved down the hall, she saw three black tassels dangling behind his head. That was when she remembered him from the bank. He was the banker who had sold Galnor the security.

He was the banker who sold insurance policies.

Another piece to her circumstantial puzzle.

"You may enter," Mallor's voice came from the room.

Alyssa walked into the room. Her breath was coming quickly, and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Everything seemed to move differently, as if she were walking on air. A barely-restrained fear was hovering just over her shoulder, ready to take hold if anything went wrong.

It was quite a head rush.

"Good evening," Mallor said.

Seven hours and one minute past noon, Alyssa noted, looking at the water clock on the mantle. Nine minutes till Colin comes.

"Good evening sir," Alyssa replied cordially. She stood next to the coffee table with her hands folded in submission, waiting for his order.

Mallor looked her up and down. "Where are you living now?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Where are you living now?"

"I'm living with - I'm living with a friend in the northern section of town."

"On the upper level?"

"Yes sir." The top level of the city; same as the Red Feather. For the most part, the higher on the cliff, the higher the class. Most farmers lived on the lower level, most local businessmen on the middle level, and most high-class merchants and nobles lived up here.

"As what?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you a contracted servant there?"

Contracted servant equals slave, Alyssa thought, repeating a phrase she'd heard someone use before. "Contract servant" was one term Alyssa didn't like. Though slavery was illegal in Althoria, it was practiced under the name of contracted servants. There was no difference between a contracted servant and a slave. Not much, anyway. As a contracted servant, all her rights belonged to her "employer" and she could do nothing if the contract was properly written. Fortunately the Red Feather contracts allowed the whores to buy themselves out when they gained enough money.

"No sir, I'm free."

"Then how come you decided to come here tonight?"

Alyssa groped for an answer. She looked back at the clock. Just over a minute had passed. Not enough time. "I needed the money," she replied. "With the war, G...my friend said that prices would rise."

"I believe your friend is right," Mallor said. "That's why I'm taking my business to Arangrad."

"Really?" Alyssa asked. Her mouth was dry. "What will you do when the war is over?"

"Stay up there."

"Althorien still has the largest economy on the continent, though," Alyssa said. She rarely revealed the fact that she had a brain to clients, but this would stall him until the fateful minute arrived.

"Correct, my dear, but after the war, it will be living in debt. Probably for eternity, if the war goes as is predicted."

"Aren't you at all optimistic about the possibility of victory?"

"Of course. But if predictions are anywhere near correct, the war will at least cripple Althoria. Harnash will most likely become the dominant economy on Ahkran."

"Then why are you moving to Arangrad instead of Harnash?"

Mallor raised his eyebrows. Probably wondering why Alyssa was talking so much. Nevertheless, he continued, "Harnash is too much in the grip of its own merchants. Any efforts I made in penetrating their economy would only be mildly successful, at best. There are no Red Feathers in Harnash; its equivalent is a merchant inn called the Sign of Irakeno. I'd have little hope of competing with that, so I'll move up to Arangrad until the war is over, and set up my slave trade."

"Slave trade?" Alyssa swallowed. "You're going to take a bunch of slaves out of Althoria?"

"Perhaps. Slaves are becoming a hot commodity in Harnash and Kachara. It will be most profitable. The Red Feather will remain, primarily for visiting merchants, since Althorian merchants won't have any great effect."

"Isn't Arangrad too distant to conduct business with Harnash?"

"Oh yes, but I'll be moving back here as soon as the war's done."

With all the money Mallor would be making, he'd have a lot of sway in the post-war Althorien. In fact, Mallor could use his money to gain political sway. Loan some money to the king, get some favors done, become the next heir to the throne...if he lived that long.

"Are you worried that others will compete with you?" Alyssa asked. "After all, if you can think of these business exploits, I'm sure others can as well. How will you deal with them?"

"You know a lot, for a slave," Mallor said. "Where did you become so smart?"

"I listen."

"So I see. Do you usually talk this much?"

"No sir."

"I suppose freedom has its rewards. Now that you've been freed of the Red Feather contract, you're free to talk about any information revealed by merchants. Do you know anything interesting about commercial activity I should be aware of before I leave?"

Alyssa looked at the water clock. Seven minutes after seven. She looked at the bodyguard, who was unobtrusively lounging in the corner. This was as good a time as any. "Of course, sir. I know, for example, that you are involved with the Black Harvest." As she said it, she almost fainted. Now, she could feel the blood pumping through her entire body; slammed into the end of her fingers and toes, through her neck, in her stomach, in her chest. For some reason, the air had thinned.

"What?" Mallor said. His expression had changed only subtly, but she knew she hit the mark.

"Much of the evidence is circumstantial," Alyssa said. She clasped her hands together, because they were shaking like leaves. "But I'm sure it's enough to warrant investigation by the Hawks. They would surely be able to find more than I have."

"And what have you found?" Mallor's voice was quieter. More deadly.

"I know that banker who was just in here. He writes off securities and insurance policies, the same kind that are forged by the Black Harvest. He would also have access to the records that were falsified at the bank, to prevent your ring from being uncovered by that man caught today. The man who has a black scythe on the inside of his arm, just like you do. I've slept with two other members of the Black Harvest," she lied. "I don't know their names, but the records could easily recall them. There is other evidence of course, but I can't go into it. It would reveal people who know too much about your little group."

Lord Mallor stared at her for a few moments, then said, "You're very bright, but no one will believe you."

"The friend I'm staying with will, and he's got sway."

"I'll kill you both then," Mallor shrugged.

"You can't. I've told five different people where I am. If I disappear-"

"No one will notice, or care. You are just a little whore," Mallor said. "Even if you could bring enough evidence against me, no one would give you any credit. But I'm not even going to give you that chance." Mallor stood up.

Alyssa began backing up, but she hit a wall. With a gasp, she turned to look, and saw the bodyguard standing right behind her. He put a firm hand on her shoulder.

If she'd been scared before, now she was terrified.

Mallor walked around the foot table and stood in front of her. "It's quite sad that you're such a little bitch. I thought you were smart, but obviously not. You shouldn't have come here to tell me this just before you turn me in. Now you'll die before-"

"That was never my goal," Alyssa said around her nonfunctional tongue.

"What was?"

"It won't be easy for you to kill me and all five of my friends before people find out about it. The Money Watchers will be all over you, not to mention the king's investigators. All I want is a third of your earnings from the Black Harvest, and your life won't be ruined over a trite whore like me."

Mallor stopped for a moment, then laughed. "You're better than I thought. I'm beginning to like you, but not enough to let you live. If you were a male, you'd make a good merchant."

Alyssa blanched when she realized that her plan had failed. You're way out of your class, girl, a little voice whispered inside her head.

Mallor gestured to his bodyguard, and the man placed his hands on her head, probably aiming to break her neck.

Then someone knocked at the door.

The bodyguard hesitated, and Mallor scowled.

"Come in!" Alyssa called desperately.

The door opened and someone walked in. Her back was to the door, so she couldn't see.

The bodyguard's hands dropped to her shoulders.

"Hello sir," Colin said. "I was told to deliver this wine to-"

"Wrong room," Mallor said curtly. "Now get out."

"Is this room 420?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well this bottle has been charged to your account. I'll need you to come with me and verify that you didn't-"

Alyssa bit the bodyguard's hand, and he jerked away. She scrambled away from them, toward the fireplace.

"Close the door!" Mallor snapped.

The bodyguard grabbed Colin and literally threw him into the room and slammed the door.

This wasn't going as planned.

"Hey!" Colin protested, crawling to his feet. "What do you think you're-"

"Is this your friend?" Mallor sneered to Alyssa, stalking toward her.

"No! He doesn't know anything!" Alyssa jumped to her feet.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Colin demanded.

"We can claim self-defense on this one," the bodyguard grabbed Colin's shirt and hoisted him up. "The girl will never be identified if she shows up in the moat at the bottom of the city."

"Good idea," Mallor growled, now close to Alyssa. He'd backed her up against the wall next to the fireplace. He grabbed her arm. He dragged her over to the balcony and opened the doors.

She struggled the entire time, but that old man was a lot stronger than he looked.

Behind her, the bodyguard slammed his knee into Colin's groin, then dropped him to the floor. "Let's kill her first," the bodyguard suggested, walking around the couch. "She might survive the fall."

"Not in this weather," snorted Mallor.

Now the fear was almost like liquid in her veins, and she was desperate to get away from that bodyguard. Nothing else really mattered. Alyssa's brain had shut down, and only her emotions were working properly. Unfortunately, they were all the wrong emotions.

Alyssa wasn't quite sure how, but in her struggle, she escaped Mallor's grasp, and she fell. The inn rushed past her in just a second, and then she was next to the waterfall, plummeting with the tons of white foam. Down below, the silvery water crashed into the mist. The further down she got, the foggier it became, and soon she couldn't see anything.

Alyssa was unconscious before she hit the water.

Laurel walked into the room quietly and the balcony doors were once more open. Rain was blowing in through the open doors, splattering on the floor. Shain was seated on the floor in front of the fireplace. He had a book in his lap and a glass of wine in his hand. He only wore a vest and a pair of baggy pants.

Uncertainty was a constant whenever she was around him; Shain rarely revealed his emotions, though he talked a lot. The man just looked like a statue sometimes...a really attractive statue.

So she stood there and waited for him to say something. After a few moments, Shain closed his book and set it aside. He looked up at her and gestured to the carpet he sat on. "Sit down."

Laurel walked over and sat cross-legged across from her owner.

"Pour yourself a glass of wine," Shain said. "There's plenty left."

Laurel noticed the red bottle next to her, and she took it. "Ah," she said in surprise. "I-It's cold."

Shain nodded and drank from his goblet. "One of my grandfather's magicians had nothing better to do with his time than enchant this bottle; it won't break, and it keeps liquid cold. A pointless luxury."

When her silver goblet was almost full, Laurel set the bottle aside and lifted the cup to her lips. The liquid drained into her mouth and down her throat, and she almost coughed it up. Laurel leaned forward and held a hand to her mouth. Whatever alcohol was in this wine, it was sure strong. When Laurel looked up again, she caught a glimmer of a smile on Shain's face.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Laurel nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Grollenik wine can be strong the first time you try it. It's an acquired taste for some."

Laurel nodded again and set her goblet aside.

Shain thought for a moment, then said, "Tonight is your last night here. You and Janisa will be leaving on board the Black Horizon tomorrow morning. I believe you'll arrive in Kachara in three or four weeks. Perhaps less."

The news hit hard; they'd only been here a few days, but it was already the nicest place yet. No one here was mean, and Shain seemed about the only other person to exist. Everyone else was either quiet or holed up in their rooms forever.

Laurel looked down. She wanted to ask him if she and Janisa could stay, but it took more guts than she had, so she stayed silent.

"I'm sorry," Shain said, reading her downcast face. "I wish you could stay as well, but a pair of girls like you is very valuable, and you'll bring good will from the southern continent. We need relations with them; a pair of girls like yourselves is ideal to set up good beginning relations with foreign countries."

Laurel nodded. She didn't quite grasp his whole explanation, but she got the gist of it. They were being used as gifts. What an honor.

"Come here," Shain said, holding out his hand.

Laurel scooted over to him and he turned her around, so her back was facing him. She still felt dejected, so she didn't enjoy his touch as much as she normally would have.

Shain pulled her hair behind her ears and began massaging her temples and forehead. "I apologize again, Laurel. There's no way for me to know what kind of life you'll have down in Kachara. I'm not sure how slaves are treated; one thing I do know is that you'll have to accept their customs. That's the only request I make of you. It's very important that you be flexible, because they will treat you differently than I do."

"You treat me differently than every master I've known," Laurel said softly.

Shain didn't respond. He moved his hands from her temples to her shoulders, and Laurel finally felt stirrings within her belly. Tonight was the last night she'd have a chance to be with him, and she wanted him more than anyone she'd ever wanted in her life.

Though Laurel knew it was a silly infatuation, that didn't change matters. She still wanted him. Badly. For some reason he'd rejected her the other night, in favor of Janisa. Jealousy wasn't something Laurel felt; she just felt confused. What did Janisa have that she didn't? There was no animosity between the girls because of that, just the confusion. He liked Janisa more.

Tonight, Laurel planned to change that.

Andras checked his gear. He wore two layers of winter clothes, under a bodysuit of oiled othskin, tied to him with braided sinew strands. This would protect him against the cold and the water. A oth-leather brace was tight against his torso, and that was tied to a crank pulley. It would lower him down the outside of the city wall, and he would replace the old grating with new; the new grates were fitted with spikes and barbs, to prevent the Minion from gaining access to the river beneath the city.

He looked back at Jordak, who nodded. Andras stepped up between the two merlons, and began rapelling down the outside of the city wall, as fast as Jordak would let him. This would be the last grate for tonight.

When Andras reached the old grate, the water was rushing by rather quickly, but it stayed just below his shoulders. He pulled out his tools and set to work. Since these grates weren't meant to come free, it was quite a while before he had loosened it sufficiently to where he could pull it free. Just as he did, though, something beneath the water struck him in the back.

Before he could turn his head to look, it was gone. Instinctively, Andras' hand plunged beneath the water and he groped for the object. His hand found something solid, and he grabbed ahold of it.

It was soft.

A gust of wind blew droplets of rain all the way across the room and into the fire.

"Excuse me a moment," Shain said. He stood up and went to the doors and closed them. When they were closed, he drew the curtains shut and walked over to his dresser. "Unless you have anything you want to say, you may go get Janisa."

Laurel stood up. She was nervous, but at least she could know the truth. "I'm sorry, sir, but-"

"Shain."

"I'm sorry, Sh-Shain, but why did you sleep with Janisa the other night?"

That threw him off guard. He had been about to light a candle, but he set it down. The man turned around. "What did you say?"

Laurel walked over to him and found that it was a lot colder away from the fire. "How come you slept with Janisa the other night, and not me?" And how come you always want to see us separately, instead of together?

Shain looked at her for a moment, then he motioned for her to sit on the bed. She did and he sat next to her. "You're only two years younger, but that seems too young for me. I would feel like I was taking advantage of you if-"

"But I've had just as much experience as Janisa!" she protested.

Shain stopped, trying to figure out where this was coming from. It wasn't common for prostitutes to want to fuck their masters. "I know, but I don't want to hurt you, and you are too young for me. It isn't that I don't find you attractive -- you are one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen -- it's just that you're too young. I would feel guilty if I slept with you."

"But not Janisa," Laurel said bitterly.

"Listen," Shain put his hand on her shoulder, "you should take every opportunity you can to gain just a day of celibacy. Sex will be a part of your life until..." until you're too old...then he remembered she was a half-elf. She wouldn't begin to age beyond puberty for another two centuries, at least. "Sex will be a part of your life for a long time, and you'll be sick of it soon, I'm sure."

"Before I go down there, I want to at least do it with one person that I want to do it with," Laurel pleaded.

Shain started again, then shook his head. "Laurel, I'm sorry, but-"

Laurel's eyes filled with tears, and she wondered why she was getting so worked up about this. This had never happened to her before. Her small hands closed around the hand on her shoulder, which was what stopped him. Laurel could feel his pulse, the blood pouring through his veins.

Laurel got up to her knees and crawled across the foot that separated them. She leaned forward and placed her lips on Shain's. Their hot breath mingled, and Laurel felt the same rush she did when she'd been with Janisa those first few times. A river of carnal desire, flowing around inside her head. It was as though she were being toyed with by some other forces. The God of Lust, perhaps.

When their mouths mashed firmly together, and their tongues touched, Laurel felt the desire cascade into Shain. He buckled under its pressure, and grabbed her waist firmly. When his strong hands gripped her pelvis, Laurel's heart leaped.

She threw her arms about his neck, and they tumbled onto the bed in a passionate embrace. Their mouths stayed locked and their tongues practically battled each other. They rolled once more and Shain ended up on top. For almost a minute, they kissed deeply. Laurel let the man dominate her; she knew that this was a result of her miniscule seduction.

Shain moved down to her neck, and began sucking on her sweet flesh, running his tongue and lips over the smooth skin. His hands slid up the side of her thigh, to her waist.

Laurel grinned and bit her lip. She wasn't thinking about it now, but so far, this was the only time in her life she'd ever been excited about having sex with a male. Her legs wrapped around Shain's waist, and she groaned and thrust her hips against his. The noble (Laurel knew he was one, but she couldn't remember what rank he held) responded by grinding his hips against hers. Shain's erection pressed against her mound, and she gasped at the pleasure.

Though she'd felt these sensations a hundred times before, this was the first time she'd ever felt pleasure from them. And although these sensations were familiar, there was something else. A fire raged in her groin and the white-hot river of lust gushed through her mind.

Laurel's hands dropped down to Shain's waist, and she grabbed ahold of his pants. He offered no resistance when she pulled them down around his thighs. A thrill of anticipation shot up Laurel's body when his erection was freed.

Her shaking hands moved up to his chest, then around his back. Shain's muscles rippled beneath her touch. Laurel could feel the strength pulsing through his body, like the strength of a lion.

Shain ripped away the front of Laurel's gown and devoured her breasts, one at a time. Her skin burned beneath his saliva, adding to the heat in her abdomen. The pleasure swelled until it threatened to overwhelm her. Laurel could no longer stand it.

"Please," she whimpered in his ear, "put it in me."

Her partner hesitated for just a moment, but then he pushed her gown up above her waist, then gripped her tight buttocks. Shain positioned his swollen cockhead at the entrance to Laurel's chestnut-colored snatch. Then he forged into the girl's canal as far as he could go.

With his penetration came a great deal of pain, but that was drowned out by Laurel's orgasm. The fire that had been growing within her groin and breasts suddenly exploded, and she arched her back. "FUCK!!" she screamed, digging her fingernails into Shain's back, and clenching her legs around his waist. Her head snapped back and she thrashed beneath him as her young body convulsed.

Shain didn't stop to let her finish coming; he drove into her soaking cunt with all his strength. This only prolonged Laurel's orgasm, and by the time her first one was over, it was too confusing to tell who came when. The girl was screaming her second orgasm out to the gods just as Shain shuddered and emptied his seed into her womb.

When Shain finished unloading into Laurel, he collapsed on top of her, then rolled aside. For a few moments, they panted heavily, letting the passion drain out of them.

With a smile and a content sigh, Laurel curled up next to the man and laid her head on his chest. As soon as Shain realized what he'd done, he groaned and reluctantly put an arm around her back. Too late to protect her now.

Lia returned to their suite a few minutes past midnight. The main room was quiet, and the fire was reduced to embers. A lone candle burned on a nightstand in the corner. Other than that, there was no light.

Bolthorn sat at the table, hands folded in front of him. His armor had been discarded for his casual clothes. His dark hair was unkempt and greasy, flattened against his head from days of wearing a helmet. Obviously he hadn't bathed yet, but neither had Lia.

Again, Lia noticed how quiet the room was.

She felt obliged to say something to him, since he was just sitting there staring at her. "What are you doing up so late, Bolthorn?" she asked.

"May we talk?" Bolthorn asked.

Something was wrong. He was being too polite.

Lia carefully sat across the table from him. "What is it?"

"Lia," Bolthorn sighed. He was about to launch into a prepared speech. Something was really wrong. "When we first came together, all of you were following me, and now that you've revealed yourself as an omnipotent sorceress, we're all following you. I have no problem with that, but I want to know why in Tir we are doing this. I mean, why is Aleya being kidnapped by some strange boy? Why does she see the future? And who are you? Don't you think I would have raised some questions about the purpose of this? We've all been thrown together on this stupid, wild adventure and we're tromping through the Highlands to find a fucking engineer. Is that not a little strange?"

"Bolthorn, I-"

"And don't you think it's a bit curious that I've suddenly got this sword that spits out purple fire and transforms me into some sort of ogre in the middle of this chasm, to fight the strange boy that keeps stealing Aleya? You said that she's the saviour of the world, but when's that gonna happen? I'm just kinda fucking curious about this whole episode. There's no real reason for me to come with you guys on this absurd quest to find the engineer. Oh sure, there's the occasional gratuitous, forced midnight fuck thrown in by our thousand-year-old elf, but sex can be found anywhere for the right price. I'm not sure that gallavanting off through the Highlands in the dead of winter is worth it. But we have to save the world, right?"

Big vocabulary for a mercenary, Lia noted to herself. After a silence, Lia said, "Bolthorn, I understand everything you're going through. I know how hard it must be to just accept what an elf girl says, just by her word and mysterious powers. I know I haven't told you who I am, really. I understand all of your concerns, and they're valid." Relate to them. Put yourself in their shoes and let them know.

"There are reasons for what I do, though," Lia continued. "This conflict we're fighting is larger than any battle or war that could be fought on one world. It is the ultimate Conflict between Aenis and Tir. This Conflict decides the fate of the universe, and sacrifices must be made in order to preserve the balance between good and evil. We are here to help save Althorien; in the next few weeks, they will be hit with the full force of the Minion, and without our help, they won't stand a chance. Olrick Mahr is an engineer that specializes in tactical warfare. He could mean thousands of lives in this war.

"Who am I? I'm a woman older than you can conceive. I've seen ages come and go, and I've seen the birth and death of nations. I've seen empires begin from a farming town, rise to continent-wide superpowers, and fall to a state of anarchy. I'm here to prevent Tir from destroying this world, and I'm here to prevent Aenis from giving up on it." That may have been too dramatic, but the triteness of Bolthorn's vision was annoying. "And the reason I fucked you is because I like you," she said. Lia stood up and gazed down at the warrior for a moment. "My door is always open."

She walked into her room.

Three days later, just before his departure, Oshram Mallor discovered a note nailed to the inside door of room 420.

Dear Oshram Mallor,

You fucking asshole. I know I'm only 16. I'm probably 40 years younger than you, but you tried to kill me, and I hope you die a horrible death. Until then, you will now give me 50% of your B.H. profits, or I will ruin you. Everything you own will be possessed, and. . .you probably know what will happen, so you'd better pay up.

- Alyssa

P.S. If you try to harm me or my friends, everyone will find out about you.

END OF WINTER 04

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©1997 by Bill Smith (micro@oz.net)