2389 lines
142 KiB
Plaintext
2389 lines
142 KiB
Plaintext
|
|
DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
|
|
D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
|
|
D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 9
|
|
-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
|
|
D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 2
|
|
DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
|
|
\\
|
|
\
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
DargonZine Distributed: 03/02/1996
|
|
Volume 9, Number 2 Circulation: 576
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Contents
|
|
|
|
Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
|
|
Shadowstone 1 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Naia 11-12, 1014
|
|
Friendships Bloody Tear 1 Mark A. Murray Yuli 1015
|
|
Knight of the Moon Jewel 2 Wendy Hennequin Sy, 1014
|
|
Intentions 1 Dan Granata Yule 1015
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
|
|
collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
|
|
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
|
|
Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
|
|
on the World Wide Web at http://www.shore.net/~dargon. Back issues
|
|
are available from ftp.etext.org in pub/Zines/DargonZine. Issues and
|
|
public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
|
|
|
|
DargonZine 9-2, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright March, 1996 by
|
|
the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>.
|
|
All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual
|
|
contributors. Stories may not be reproduced or redistributed without
|
|
the explicit permission of the author(s) involved, except in the case
|
|
of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
|
|
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Editorial
|
|
by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
|
|
<ornoth@shore.net>
|
|
|
|
One of the jobs of the editor is to take the stories available to
|
|
him and achieve a certain balance of tone between all the works which
|
|
appear in any given issue. It's difficult for readers to feel
|
|
comfortable with a magazine that prints just tragic stories, or just
|
|
stories that end "happiily ever after". Our goal is a healthy mix of
|
|
light and heavy, happy and tragic. However, depending upon the nature of
|
|
the stories that are finalized and printable at any given time, that may
|
|
not be possible.
|
|
I bring this up because a majority of our recent and upcoming
|
|
stories are dark and brooding, and new readers shouldn't take that as
|
|
evidence that the magazine is focused solely on printing stories with
|
|
unhappy endings. That's not the case at all, and if you stick with us,
|
|
you'll see otherwise. It's purely a function of what material I have on
|
|
hand when an issue gets assembled.
|
|
|
|
In Web news, we've added quite a few new features in the past
|
|
month. We now have all the back issues in ASCII format available at
|
|
ftp.shore.net/members/dargon/back_ish, and pages summarizing the
|
|
responses we've received to the user profile and questionnaire. There's
|
|
now a page with information designed to get new readers up to speed,
|
|
plus maps and a brief history of DargonZine. And a big new feature is
|
|
the addition of reference information to Glossary entries, so now if you
|
|
look up "Marcellon", you'll also see every story that he appears in!
|
|
We're really pleased at the popularity of the Web site, and plan to
|
|
continue providing new features and services through that medium.
|
|
|
|
This issue contains several items of note. Firstly, it marks
|
|
long-time project member Dafydd's return to writing. True to form,
|
|
Dafydd's "Shadowstone" is a wonderful story which I'm sure you'll find
|
|
interesting.
|
|
Our second story is the continuation of Mark Murray's story about
|
|
Raphael and Megan, and we finally learn some of the background behind
|
|
what's been going on in Mark's previous stories.
|
|
Wendy Hennequin's "Knight of the Moon Jewel" is completed in this
|
|
issue. Originally a four-part story, Wendy moved on before it could be
|
|
printed, and as plans for the war changed, parts 3 and 4 were obsoleted.
|
|
The group struggled for a long time with how to print this story, and
|
|
finally getting it printed is an achievement in itself and enables us to
|
|
move on and begin to close the long drawn-out war storyline.
|
|
And, finally, we have a new story by a new author: Dan Granata's
|
|
"Intentions". It's always a particular pleasure to print a first story
|
|
from a new author, and I'd like to congratulate Dan on seeing his first
|
|
story through to print. Seeing a story through our peer-review process
|
|
isn't easy (as Dan can attest -- Intentions 2 is on it's 6th draft!),
|
|
and seeing your name in our table of contents is an accomplishment that
|
|
any writer should be proud of.
|
|
With that, on to the stories!
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Shadowstone
|
|
Part I
|
|
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
|
|
<white@duvm.ocs.drexel.edu>
|
|
Naia 11-12, 1014
|
|
|
|
Naia 12, 1014.
|
|
3 bells after midnight.
|
|
Port Andestn, Duchy Monrodya.
|
|
|
|
Chandras looked over his shoulder briefly and saw that the three
|
|
town guards were still behind him. He continued to run, darting down an
|
|
alley, cutting quickly across a square and into another alley, trying to
|
|
elude his persistent pursuers.
|
|
He knew he shouldn't have done it. And he wouldn't have either, if
|
|
she hadn't made him. She had brought all of her considerable persuasive
|
|
talents to bear on the matter. When her simple explanation of how
|
|
Malkhas had insulted her hadn't been enough to get him to agree to her
|
|
demands, she had insulted his manhood, stayed out of his bed for a week,
|
|
and then threatened him with the ultimate -- she would leave him if he
|
|
didn't do as she wanted.
|
|
Perhaps that shouldn't have been enough to send him out on a spring
|
|
night to commit murder. Didn't he have any morals of his own? But
|
|
Delebye was definitely worth keeping -- at least, he didn't fancy his
|
|
chances of finding someone else as beautiful, as talented, as wonderful
|
|
as Delebye again. Of course, when it came right down to it, it was just
|
|
easier to give in than to stand up and leave her.
|
|
Privately, he was pretty sure that Malkhas probably hadn't done
|
|
half the things that Delebye had said he had -- Delebye was famous for
|
|
holding grudges and getting even in any way she could. But if the way
|
|
Delebye had thanked him in the bells between his finally agreeing to do
|
|
what she wanted and when he had left on his errand were any indication,
|
|
he had thought that doing what she wanted was definitely going to be
|
|
worth it. As it turned out, he just might have been wrong.
|
|
Chandras slipped into a gap between two buildings and held his
|
|
mouth firmly closed, breathing as slowly as he could force himself to
|
|
through his nose, which he further muffled with the palm of his hand. He
|
|
listened for his pursuers, and heard the boots stomp past the mouth of
|
|
the alley that his current hiding place opened off of. He let his mouth
|
|
open and started drawing in large -- but slow and quiet -- breaths,
|
|
trying to regain his composure as he thought back to about half a bell
|
|
ago and the reason he was running.
|
|
|
|
He had been crouching in the shadow of the chimney for a short
|
|
while, trying to decide whether or not to actually do what Delebye
|
|
wanted. Malkhas was young and just a little wild, like Chandras himself.
|
|
A chance comment, a disparaging remark in a tavern, perhaps even a
|
|
spurned advance could have been all that had set Delebye against the
|
|
baker's apprentice. Then again, maybe it had been something worse --
|
|
after all, to his knowledge, Delebye had never wanted someone dead
|
|
before.
|
|
Chandras pulled on his hood and stood up. Even out of the shadow of
|
|
the chimney he was hard to spot, since his black tunic, leggings, gloves
|
|
and boots blended well with the shadows. The hood masked his face
|
|
completely, and with the soot he wore around his eyes (so that the
|
|
eyeholes in the hood could be large enough not to restrict his vision),
|
|
the only thing that showed that wasn't the color of the night were the
|
|
light green and white of his eyes themselves.
|
|
Still not completely resolved to do exactly as Delebye had
|
|
demanded, he let his rooftopper skills take over as he moved towards the
|
|
eaves. He had done this much many times in the past: despite the
|
|
evidence, almost no one expected a thief to come from the roof and they
|
|
concentrated their defenses at ground level. Chandras' rooftopper skills
|
|
were well honed enough to have kept him in reasonable comfort for some
|
|
time now. So, as his body all but automatically went through the motions
|
|
of entering the window of Malkhas' room in the relatively defenseless
|
|
Bakers' House, he continued to steel his will to the ultimate task
|
|
before him.
|
|
Malkhas' room was small, and sparsely furnished. Chandras'
|
|
dark-adapted eyes took in the dresser with its pitcher and basin in one
|
|
corner, and the wardrobe in another. The bed was just to the side of the
|
|
window, with the door on the opposite wall. He heard Malkhas' deep,
|
|
steady breathing, and nothing else, which confirmed that the apprentice
|
|
was alone.
|
|
Turning to the bed, Chandras slowly drew the dagger he usually kept
|
|
sheathed under his tunic, habit keeping the blade in his own shadow so
|
|
that it wouldn't glint in the light from outside. He leaned over and
|
|
drew aside the sheet that Malkhas slept under to find that he slept
|
|
topless. Not particularly wanting to find out if he slept bottomless as
|
|
well, he let the sheet go when the apprentice's chest was fully exposed.
|
|
Chandras knelt and held his dagger carefully over Malkhas' chest. He
|
|
willed himself to forget what he was trying to do -- to concentrate on
|
|
the patch of skin between those two ribs right there, to make sure that
|
|
the dagger slid in exactly right to find the apprentice's heart, but to
|
|
ignore that that action was going to kill the man. Somewhere between
|
|
chimney and bed he had apparently decided to do Delebye's bidding. Maybe
|
|
only because it was easier than not doing Delebye's bidding.
|
|
He held his breath, steadied his arm, and lowered his hand until
|
|
the sharp point of the dagger was all but touching the skin. Then, with
|
|
his heartbeat thudding in his own ears, he stabbed downward decisively.
|
|
The dagger moved downward in what seemed to be slow motion, sinking
|
|
into Malkhas like a spoon into very thick porridge. Chandras realized
|
|
that it wasn't just a trick of his perceptions at this tense moment when
|
|
Malkhas' eyes flashed open and Chandras gasped -- both of these events
|
|
happened at normal speed, even while the dagger was still slowly sinking
|
|
into Malkhas' chest.
|
|
Malkhas grinned evilly as he locked eyes with Chandras. Chandras
|
|
felt the dagger grate against something, and when he tore his eyes away
|
|
from Malkhas' he very nearly screamed when he saw that half of his hand
|
|
had sunk into Malkhas' chest along with his dagger!
|
|
Chandras sprang to his feet without letting go of his dagger. As he
|
|
backed away from the man -- thing? -- on the bed, he noticed that there
|
|
was just a single drop of red on the blade. Malkhas sat up and swung his
|
|
legs out of bed, still grinning evilly. "You shouldn't have tried that,"
|
|
he said. He took a step forward into the light from the window and
|
|
Chandras noticed two things: that the wound in Malkhas' chest was slowly
|
|
closing up like it had never been, and that the whites of Malkhas' eyes
|
|
weren't white -- they were a disconcertingly dusky grey.
|
|
Malkhas took another step toward him, and Chandras finally realized
|
|
that he had better get away. Since Malkhas was by the window, he took
|
|
the only other way out available, and scrambled for the door.
|
|
Fortunately, it wasn't locked. Chandras paused a moment to find the
|
|
stairs, then took off running through the hall and down those stairs.
|
|
Orienting himself quickly in the large open room the stairs led into --
|
|
a valuable skill to a rooftopper thief -- he chose what he felt was the
|
|
front door and dashed toward it. He unlocked it quietly and opened it,
|
|
but he realized that he hadn't heard Malkhas following him down the
|
|
stairs. Then he found out why -- as he opened the door and slipped out,
|
|
he heard Malkhas shouting from his window to a trio of town guards who
|
|
assessed the situation, spotted him in the door to Bakers' House, and
|
|
started running toward him.
|
|
|
|
Boot heels clacking on cobbles brought Chandras back to the
|
|
present. He closed his mouth again -- he had regained his composure (and
|
|
his breath) while he was remembering -- and tried to determine where the
|
|
sound had come from and how many guards that clacking represented.
|
|
Another *clack* told him that there was one guard at the mouth of the
|
|
alley to his right. As he prepared to dash to his left, he heard two
|
|
pairs of boots clacking into the alley from that direction. He rolled
|
|
his eyes in despair, slumping against the back of the niche he was
|
|
hiding in, and noticed that the narrow opening was only about a floor's
|
|
height tall, with gently sloping slate roofs above that. Offering up a
|
|
silent 'thanks' to his luck, he braced his back against one side of the
|
|
niche, pulled his feet up one by one and planted their soles against the
|
|
other side, and began hitching himself up to the roofs.
|
|
Soon he was lying along the roof, looking down into the alley as
|
|
the three guards met right next to the niche he had hidden in. He lifted
|
|
his head to look over the rooftops around him, looking for a getaway
|
|
path, and when he looked back down he looked right into the eyes of one
|
|
of the guards, who was looking up. The woman was pretty, in a hard way,
|
|
with deep blue eyes -- that were surrounded by an eerie smokey grey.
|
|
Chandras gasped and lunged to his feet as the woman guard pointed
|
|
up to his position. He was running before he could hear anything she
|
|
might have said, running across the rooftops trying to think of
|
|
somewhere to hole up, and trying not to think about how Malkhas had
|
|
survived his assassination, or what the strange eye-color might mean.
|
|
|
|
Naia 11, 1014.
|
|
Castle Pentamorlo, Duchy Dargon.
|
|
|
|
Kimmentari completed her preparations for her journey, none of
|
|
which even remotely resembled the preparations her mate, Morion, had
|
|
undertaken for the journey he had just begun with the bulk of the
|
|
fighting men of the castle. He was going to help fight a war, and she
|
|
wished him luck. Despite the way she had reassured him less than a bell
|
|
ago, she really didn't know whether he would be returning from his
|
|
journey. While she had the ability to see a short way into the future,
|
|
she hadn't used it to foresee for her mate. It was a strange sensation
|
|
for her, but she didn't want to know. It ... it would hurt too much.
|
|
While Morion knew where and why he was journeying, Kimmentari's
|
|
journey didn't have as solid a foundation. Her journey had begun with a
|
|
dream -- really, two dreams. Two dreams that were variations on a theme.
|
|
Her journey was to find out what the dreams meant, how they related to
|
|
her, and most importantly, which of the two dreams was supposed to
|
|
happen.
|
|
The first of the two dreams began with a long, low, gore-spattered
|
|
stone room. The cries of innocents echoed in Kimmentari's ears. A glint
|
|
of torchlight on steel drew her attention to a figure moving among the
|
|
bodies. She threw back her head and screamed as a face of pure evil swam
|
|
out of the shadows and stared at her, mouthing the Araf word for 'you'
|
|
inflected with shock and surprise.
|
|
The second started with a man in black running down corridors
|
|
filled with death and the dead. The man entered a long, low stone room
|
|
where cowered the innocents caught up in a struggle for power. And the
|
|
man in black rescued these people without a drop of blood being shed.
|
|
So, two dreams, one good, one evil. And one Araf with a journey to
|
|
take. She checked a final time to make sure she was ready. With a deep
|
|
breath and a slight flash of her deep red eyes, she was off.
|
|
The acting seneschal knocked on Kimmentari's door to tell her her
|
|
horse was saddled and ready. But when he opened the door, the room was
|
|
empty.
|
|
|
|
Naia 12, 1014.
|
|
Dawn.
|
|
Port Andestn, Duchy Monrodya.
|
|
|
|
Chandras slipped into the small room and sank wearily into one of
|
|
the many chairs around the table in its center. The room was above
|
|
Jo'nass' Tavern, a somewhat seedy dive only a few streets from the
|
|
waterfront, and it was used by Chandras and his fellow rooftoppers to
|
|
meet with each other, and with clients. Right now, he was using it as a
|
|
safe place to hide: Jo'nass' Tavern was an unofficial neutral ground to
|
|
most, and he hoped that the guard wouldn't think to look for him here
|
|
for some time yet.
|
|
He had been running from those guards for bells, over rooftops and
|
|
through alleys, between stalls in the Market square and through
|
|
abandoned buildings. More guards had taken up the chase, and it was only
|
|
a matter of time before they started a systematic search.
|
|
He didn't understand why there was such an uproar, though. After
|
|
all, Malkhas wasn't dead, was he? An attack on an apprentice just
|
|
shouldn't warrant an all out search for the assailant! Unless ... unless
|
|
it had something to do with those eyes ...
|
|
He put his head down on his arms on the table and tried to think.
|
|
He had to do something, but what? Hide? Port Andestn wasn't large enough
|
|
for him to hide for any length of time. And he didn't know anyone with
|
|
enough influence to protect him from the guard. Unless Delebye could ...
|
|
but no, while she certainly had the ability to command nearly anything
|
|
from him, he didn't think she had that power over the guard. Then, his
|
|
only option seemed to be flight, but he was so tired, he just didn't
|
|
want to run any more ... at least not ... right ... now ... ...
|
|
|
|
He woke up with the sun hot on his back and the door to the room
|
|
opening. He sat up quickly and fumbled for his weapon as his friend
|
|
Haroned edged into the room, head turned to the corridor outside as if
|
|
making sure he wasn't being followed. Chandras lowered his knife to the
|
|
table top and relaxed a bit as his friend closed the door and turned a
|
|
smiling face to him. With a guilty pang, Chandras looked closely at
|
|
Haroned's eyes and breathed a little easier when he saw that there was
|
|
none of that smoke-grey in them.
|
|
Haroned said, "Easy, Chandi, easy! I'm not one of them's as out to
|
|
get you -- the reward ain't high enough yet!" The youth laughed
|
|
good-naturedly and took a seat across the table from Chandras.
|
|
"Reward?" asked Chandras.
|
|
Sobering up quickly, Haroned said, "One Mark, put up by the Bakers'
|
|
Guild for the capture of the person who attempted to kill Malkhas. Can
|
|
you believe it? They must think the underfolk of this town are pretty
|
|
low, to sell one of their own for such a meager price." He shook his
|
|
head. "And for such a thin crime ..."
|
|
He looked up and said brightly, "So, what ya gonna do now, Chandi?
|
|
Much as I hate to say it, there *are* underfolk who'd sell ya for a
|
|
Round, even. And the whole of the guard is after ya. I heard that the
|
|
Guard Captain is going to make a speech in about a bell in an effort to
|
|
get the townfolk after you as well: some crap about patriotism, about
|
|
how, what with the bulk of the military off warring it up with the
|
|
Benosians down south, we need to keep things peaceful here at home.
|
|
Seems to me like a lot of nonsense over a rooftopper turned failed
|
|
killer, but maybe they think the town needs some kind of excitement
|
|
that's closer to home than the War ..."
|
|
Chandras listened with half an ear to his friend and fellow
|
|
rooftopper babble while he continued to ponder the question he had begun
|
|
before his little nap. He had already discarded the idea of hiding --
|
|
with the whole town being roused against him, for whatever reason, he
|
|
didn't have a mouse's chance in a room full of hungry cats of doing it
|
|
successfully. He briefly considered staying to fight it out, but that
|
|
was equally futile. After all, he *was* guilty of attempted murder and
|
|
the dispensation of justice rested solely in the hands of the Guard
|
|
Captain, at least while the Duke and his vassals were off at war. He had
|
|
no idea what to expect from Captain Merric, but he didn't think it wise
|
|
to trust to her mercy, considering what Haroned was saying about her
|
|
efforts to get him captured.
|
|
So, flight was really his only option. He had to get away from the
|
|
town, at least temporarily. But where could he go? He didn't relish the
|
|
idea of going all the way to another town, but then again, he wasn't
|
|
exactly thrilled by the idea of camping in the hills around Port Andestn
|
|
either. Unless ...
|
|
"Hey, Haroned," Chandras interrupted his friend. "You wouldn't
|
|
happen to know where the Raiders are holed up, would you?"
|
|
Haroned looked at Chandras oddly, and said, "Chandi, you been
|
|
listening to me? I was just saying how I was talking to one of the
|
|
Raiders last night downstairs and he told me which ravine the camp was
|
|
in this week, along with a lot of boasts I didn't believe about how rich
|
|
the Raiders were all getting from their banditry."
|
|
Chandras looked a little sheepish at having been caught ignoring
|
|
his friend, but he didn't wait for Haroned to launch into a detailed
|
|
description of what he thought about the nearly infamous bandits who
|
|
called themselves Thornodd's Raiders and how he thought their using the
|
|
war as an excuse to increase their rampaging was despicable if admirably
|
|
practical (he had heard it all before, after all). Interrupting again,
|
|
he asked, "So, where are they?"
|
|
Haroned gave him some concise, yet detailed and clear, directions,
|
|
then said, "So, you're gonna go hide with them? Good idea -- they won't
|
|
care about your 'crimes', and they've been hiding from the forces of
|
|
order for ages. Hey, buddy, good luck! I'm sure this uproar will die out
|
|
soon, and then you can come back to your friends and your job. See ya!"
|
|
He stood and slipped out of the room cautiously, leaving Chandras alone
|
|
again.
|
|
He just sat there for a moment, savoring the momentary peace he
|
|
felt. It would take a couple of bells to get to where the Raiders were
|
|
camped, so he knew he had to get going. He wondered whether he should
|
|
pay a visit to Delebye before he left, but discarded the idea. He had no
|
|
idea what to say to her. He was very nearly disgusted with himself for
|
|
actually attempting what she wanted. That Malkhas hadn't died didn't
|
|
change that. (He shuddered in the middle of his musings: how *had* the
|
|
man survived? No, he didn't want to think about that.) And now it seemed
|
|
that giving in to her demands was going to get him exiled from his own
|
|
city for quite some time. No, he didn't want to see Delebye right now.
|
|
Because he just might be tempted to do something violent to the person
|
|
who had gotten him into this fix in the first place!
|
|
|
|
Naia 12, 1014.
|
|
Noon.
|
|
The Kings' Road just outside Port Andestn, Duchy Monrodya.
|
|
|
|
The two knights rode at the head of a group of about 30 armed
|
|
people that was more of a mob than a military unit. Except for the
|
|
knights themselves, only the couple of them who had been militia trained
|
|
had any real idea of what to do with the weapons they held, but none of
|
|
them were worried. They had been sent to deal with the Raiders, and they
|
|
were well equipped by their Mistress to complete the task. Before dusk,
|
|
the Raiders would also be subject to their Mistress.
|
|
The knights had been present when the betrayer had been brought
|
|
before the Mistress. The man had been overheard in a dive of a tavern
|
|
boasting of his connection to the Raiders. The guard had had little
|
|
trouble bringing the very drunk man into custody, and the Mistress had
|
|
had no trouble liberating him from the guard. The knights had watched
|
|
the ceremony that had sealed the man to the Mistress' Shadowstone even
|
|
as he swore blood oaths that he would never betray his brethren. They
|
|
had watched and listened several bells later when the Mistress had
|
|
called forth the shade from her Shadowstone. It had hovered there before
|
|
her, looking like nothing more substantial than a wisp of smoke rising
|
|
from a single still-burning ember. She had commanded it, and it had
|
|
spoken, revealing all in a distant, soft voice that still sounded very
|
|
much like the blustering man who had sworn never to tell.
|
|
The knights rode, and as they turned off of the Kings' Road to head
|
|
into the hills themselves, they looked at each other. The one's
|
|
grey-surrounded brown eyes locked with the other's grey-surrounded blue
|
|
eyes, and they nodded to each other in satisfaction. Eyes forward again,
|
|
they continued on to finish their appointed task.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Friendships Bloody Tear
|
|
Part I
|
|
by Mark A. Murray
|
|
<mmurray@ionet.net>
|
|
Dargon, Yuli 1015
|
|
|
|
The day was bright and the forest was full of activity. Birds
|
|
seemed to be everywhere, chirping away. Raphael had scared a group of
|
|
deer menes ago. Following the deer came two rabbits, a brightly colored
|
|
bird that he recognized as a phinchet, and several tree rats that dove
|
|
down holes. Raphael stopped at a fallen log and sat on it while Megan
|
|
stood next to him and Anam lay at her feet. Looking up at her, he smiled
|
|
and took her hand.
|
|
"You're very beautiful," Raphael told her. "I still don't know if
|
|
you can hear me, but I won't stop hoping and looking for a cure. All
|
|
this time and I still don't understand why Kell did it?" He remembered a
|
|
time before he met Megan, when Kell and he had been the best of friends.
|
|
They were so young.
|
|
|
|
"Hey, Raph!" Kell yelled from the courtyard. Raph recognized the
|
|
voice and turned to look for Kell. Many people were moving about going
|
|
from one vendor to another and that made it hard to spot Kell. Moving
|
|
and looking around the people, Raphael saw his friend. Kell was small
|
|
and skinny with pale skin and light brown hair. His movement was unsure
|
|
and wobbly. Kell sometimes tripped over his own feet. Raphael ran to
|
|
greet him.
|
|
"How'd you get away?" Raph asked.
|
|
"Loth's gone for the day," Kell said quietly. "Let's not talk about
|
|
him? I think he can hear what we say even when he's not here."
|
|
"Alright. What do you want to do? I've got to be home by dark."
|
|
"Let's play war. I'll be the hero and you can be the evil
|
|
war-lord," Kell said as he thrust an imaginary sword toward Raph. Raph
|
|
took the hit on his shoulder and jumped back to avoid another blow. Kell
|
|
was swinging wildly with his invisible sword and Raph saw opening after
|
|
opening in Kell's defenses. He didn't take them though, as he continued
|
|
to be forced back. This was Kell's free time and Kell didn't get that
|
|
very often, so Raph let him win. He didn't make it easy for Kell,
|
|
however. After Raph's defeat by the great hero, the game changed. There
|
|
came another defeat and another change. This went on until the two were
|
|
exhausted and the day was nearly over. The two were on their way home
|
|
when a bird suddenly flew straight toward Raph.
|
|
|
|
Raphael jerked out of his dreaming as he realized that the bird was
|
|
real. The bird was even more surprised to find that its landing post was
|
|
alive and moving. Squawking loudly, it turned and flew away. Anam woke
|
|
from the squawking and lifted his head to look for the cause of the
|
|
disturbance. Seeing the bird, Anam relaxed and laid back down. Raphael
|
|
sat Megan beside him on the log. He brushed her hair from her face and
|
|
kissed her on the cheek. He watched as her hair fell back into place.
|
|
Her hair moved back and forth across her face. What lovely hair ...
|
|
|
|
... he thought. Raphael watched her as she moved through the crowd.
|
|
Her red hair seemed to cascade around her face and shoulders. With every
|
|
turn of her head, her hair swished one way or the other. Her light skin
|
|
stood out among the tanned peasant farmers as she browsed the shops
|
|
among them. He was too far away to get a good look at her face or see
|
|
what color her eyes were, but he thought she was beautiful anyway.
|
|
Watching her move, something stirred in his gut. "This is what love must
|
|
be or at least lust," he thought smiling. "She is beautiful. Maybe if I
|
|
accidentally bump into her? No, that's a stupid idea. How can I get to
|
|
know her?" He moved closer to her as she stopped and talked to a vendor.
|
|
He caught part of their conversation. She was new to the area. "Hmmmph,"
|
|
he thought, "I already knew that! What was that? She lives there?" It
|
|
wasn't too far from him. He would have to find an excuse to visit that
|
|
area. He hadn't realized how close he had gotten until she turned around
|
|
and almost knocked him down. He found himself looking into a pair of
|
|
lovely green eyes. The prettiest green eyes he had ever seen. "This is
|
|
definitely love," he thought as two circles of green engulfed and
|
|
caressed him in their soft light. green ...
|
|
|
|
What beautiful green eyes, he thought for the thousandth time. He
|
|
heard his name being called from far away. He knew that voice. Yes, it
|
|
was Megan's voice that called him. Raphael opened his eyes and saw Megan
|
|
on a blanket in a field of grass. She was older now and he realized that
|
|
his memories had shifted a few years in the future.
|
|
"Raph, let's go to the lake today," Megan said. "It's a beautiful
|
|
day and I'd like to go swimming."
|
|
"Kell and I are supposed to do something later today," Raphael
|
|
answered. "Look for certain kinds of plants, or something. I didn't
|
|
catch everything he said."
|
|
"What? You never do anything, really," she stated and then softened
|
|
her voice with "Please?"
|
|
"How about if he comes, too?" Raphael asked knowing the answer but
|
|
hoping he would be wrong.
|
|
"No! He scares me. And he looks at me weirdly, too."
|
|
"You two used to get along great. What happened?" Raphael asked.
|
|
"Nothing, I just don't want him along," Megan replied. "I wanted it
|
|
to be the two of us."
|
|
"Alright. I'll have to tell Kell I won't be able to meet him
|
|
later," Raphael said giving in. He knew Kell would take it badly and he
|
|
felt bad about it. He didn't understand why Megan and Kell couldn't get
|
|
along. Something had happened between them, but neither of them would
|
|
tell him what it was. He was going to have to drag it out of one or both
|
|
of them some day. For now, though, he was trying to figure out how to
|
|
tell Kell that he was spending the afternoon with Megan without
|
|
upsetting him too much.
|
|
He reached the alchemist's shop and went inside. There was a young
|
|
apprentice working and he told Raphael that Kell was upstairs in the
|
|
workshop. Knowing that Raphael was one of the few people allowed in the
|
|
workshop, the young apprentice unlocked the door leading to the stairs.
|
|
Raphael started up the stairs to Kell's workshop when everything became
|
|
blurry. He looked down at the wooden stairs and wondered how many times
|
|
he had climbed these stairs. Too many to count, he thought. His vision
|
|
narrowed as he concentrated on the stairs. "I don't want to remember
|
|
this!" he shouted. Raphael tried to escape his memories as time shifted
|
|
forward a few more years. Panicking, Raphael turned and started to run
|
|
down the stairs hoping that the door out would jolt him out of his
|
|
memories. Kell stood behind him, however, blocking the way. Kell's face
|
|
was filled with anger. His muscles were taut and his hands were clenched
|
|
into fists.
|
|
"You're going with her again, aren't you," Kell accused Raph. "It's
|
|
always her. She's coming between us and you don't care!"
|
|
"That's not true! Kell, what's wrong with you?" Raphael asked,
|
|
caught in the turn of events.
|
|
"Me? *Me!* It's always me, isn't it!" Kell yelled. "I'm tired of
|
|
all of it. I'm sick of her. It's either her or me. You decide," Kell
|
|
said.
|
|
"Kell, don't do that. Don't make me choose. I can't. You're my
|
|
friend ... "
|
|
"Yeah, we were really close once," Kell interrupted, "but she's
|
|
changed that. She's tearing our friendship apart!"
|
|
"It's not like that ... "
|
|
"Yes, it is! Now choose!" Kell screamed.
|
|
"I won't," Raphael said.
|
|
"Choose!" Kell said as he grabbed Raphael's tunic. "Choose now!"
|
|
"Let me go, Kell," Raphael said as he tried to break Kell's grip.
|
|
Kell wouldn't let go and the two of them struggled on the stairs.
|
|
Screaming again, Kell punched Raphael in the mouth. Blood trickled down
|
|
Raphael's chin. When Kell saw what he had done, he ran past Raphael up
|
|
the stairs into his lab. Raphael sat down on the stairs and slumped
|
|
against the wall. Tears ran down his face and mixed with the blood from
|
|
his mouth. One hand went to the wooden stair to support him and the
|
|
other to wipe the tears from his eyes. The stair seemed to be unusually
|
|
rough and when he looked down, the stair had bark covering it.
|
|
|
|
He slowly pulled his hand from the tree and found that the tears he
|
|
shed in his memory were real. Wiping the tears from his face, he saw
|
|
that it was late afternoon. Megan was still sitting beside him. Anam was
|
|
chasing whatever came across his path and looked to be having a great
|
|
time. "This isn't such a bad place to camp," Raphael thought, "even if
|
|
it is too early in the day." After taking care of Megan, Raphael joined
|
|
Anam in the fun. It was a much needed respite from his memories. The two
|
|
played until sunset and then had a small meal for supper.
|
|
"I wish Megan could play with us, Anam," Raphael told the wolf pup.
|
|
"I don't blame you for the tear in our friendship," he said to Megan as
|
|
they settled in for the night. "I don't even blame Kell. I should've
|
|
paid more attention to him, I guess."
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Knight of the Moon Jewel
|
|
Part II
|
|
by Wendy Hennequin
|
|
Sy, 1014
|
|
|
|
Marcellon Equiville, clad in the flowing red robes of his office,
|
|
climbed the hill slowly. Behind him, the morning sun set Magnus' city
|
|
walls aglow. From the northwest, Marcellon spied the Baranurian army,
|
|
led by Sir Luthias, Count Connall, pitching their pavilions.
|
|
Before him, on the crest of the hill, facing north, was
|
|
Mon-Taerleor.
|
|
The High Mage took a moment to look at his old friend, this man
|
|
with whom he had once trained. The golden hair had turned white as the
|
|
snows that muffled Dargon in winter; the once-gentle brown eyes were
|
|
shrewd and sharp. Mon-Taerleor did not look old, any more than Marcellon
|
|
himself did, but unlike the Baranurian mage, Mon-Taerleor had grown
|
|
withering thin. The merry face had turned hawk-like, and the gentle
|
|
hands which Marcellon had taught healing now looked more like claws.
|
|
And from Mon-Taerleor came such a shuddering aura of wickedness
|
|
that the High Mage himself felt instinctively like withdrawing.
|
|
Marcellon sensed the aura, strong and solid even at this distance, and
|
|
his hair stood on edge. He had only felt such evil in one other man, and
|
|
just as the evil had frightened him in Styles, so it did in
|
|
Mon-Taerleor. Immediately, Marcellon raised all his mental shields and
|
|
prepared the magic ones silently.
|
|
Still, the High Mage remained composed and impassive. Tucking his
|
|
hands within the flowing sleeves of his robes, Marcellon greeted the
|
|
Beinisonian High Mage: "It's been a long time, Alexander."
|
|
Mon-Taerleor inspected his old companion obviously. "You have not
|
|
changed."
|
|
The fact that Mon-Taerleor spoke as if they were merely old friends
|
|
meeting almost amused Marcellon. "You have."
|
|
Mon-Taerleor ignored the remark and its meaning. "Your wife, how is
|
|
she?"
|
|
Marcellon supressed his irritation; he was certain that
|
|
Mon-Taerleor knew full well how Eliza was. "She died six years ago of
|
|
the Red Plague. And your wife, Alexander?"
|
|
The Beinisonian High Mage cackled. "I killed her." Mon-Taerleor
|
|
appeared astonished at Marcellon's impassive look. "You need not be
|
|
shocked. It was accidental."
|
|
Marcellon doubted it, and to check, he reached out with his mind to
|
|
touch Mon-Taerleor's. As the High Mage suspected, there was a thick wall
|
|
around Mon-Taerleor's mind, a magic wall, not a psychic one. Marcellon
|
|
touched it briefly, assessing it; yes, he could breach it if need be,
|
|
but it would require energy and effort -- and risk.
|
|
"You see," Mon-Taerleor was saying, "I have not changed, but grown
|
|
in power."
|
|
"You have grown in power," Marcellon agreed. Twenty years ago,
|
|
Marcellon had been able to bust Mon-Taerleor's weak, magic, mental walls
|
|
with a single, almost casual thought. "You have changed, Alexander."
|
|
Mon-Taerleor laughed. "How is that? I have called you here to make
|
|
peace."
|
|
"You have called me here to kill me," Marcellon replied, and his
|
|
old friend shut his mouth. A smile brushed across Marcellon's lips. Even
|
|
through the thick wall, Marcellon read Mon-Taerleor's strongest emotion
|
|
as easily as a neat scribe's book. "I felt it on your letter."
|
|
"And you came," Mon-Taerleor scoffed contemptuously, and he
|
|
laughed. "You fool."
|
|
"I am not as much a fool as you think," Marcellon replied cooly. "I
|
|
am not unprepared. I know what you are and what you have become, and I
|
|
am ready to face that."
|
|
The brown eyes of his opponent narrowed angrily. "And tell me,
|
|
Marcellon, what am I? What have I become?"
|
|
The Baranurian High Mage stared at Mon-Taerleor with composure.
|
|
"Twenty years ago, we vowed to use our power for good, and never to
|
|
abuse it, for we did not want to become as Styles was." Marcellon shook
|
|
his head, and for a moment, he almost felt sad. "You have become
|
|
Styles."
|
|
"Have I?" A smile slithered onto Mon-Taerleor's lips.
|
|
Anger welled in Marcellon's heart when he remembered all the evil
|
|
things that made Mon-Taerleor like Styles. "You have abused your power
|
|
and your abilities, Alexander. You have used your power for evil, not
|
|
good, and for harm, not healing."
|
|
"I told you that my wife's death was an accident," Mon-Taerleor
|
|
insisted tightly.
|
|
"Indeed?" Marcellon replied icily. With angry precision, the High
|
|
Mage counted off what he knew of Mon-Taerleor's evil. "Was your murder
|
|
of Styles accidental? The execution of the Duke of the Sun for treason
|
|
he didn't commit? The earthquake which destroyed the city of Jaliri
|
|
during the rebellion? What about the outbreak of the Red Plague in
|
|
Cabildo and Carrerra that killed six thousand four years ago? The
|
|
raising of the demon Ha'ra'kor, and the experiment that razed the city
|
|
of Salavencia?" Marcellon's voice rose with anger and pain as he added
|
|
the latest crimes. "Was your replica of Luthias Connall's head
|
|
accidental? Was his torture? His addiction to magicked ardon?"
|
|
Mon-Taerleor's eyes narrowed angrily; Marcellon felt his
|
|
displeasure. I know my enemy, the High Mage thought, but he does not
|
|
know me. I knew he was evil, but he thought me a fool.
|
|
I am no fool.
|
|
After a long moment, Mon-Taerleor laughed maliciously. "And to
|
|
think they made him Knight Captain!"
|
|
This time, Marcellon smiled completely. "Why not? I cured him."
|
|
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Marcellon allowed himself this
|
|
small bit of satisfaction. Let him absorb that!
|
|
The High Mage felt the surprise rock his enemy, but Mon-Taerleor
|
|
regained equilibrium quickly. "Tell me," he whispered, his eyes
|
|
predatory.
|
|
"I will not give you that power." Mon-Taerleor bared his teeth and
|
|
advanced, as if he could take the information by force. Marcellon held
|
|
up a staying hand, ready to call forth a magical shield if necessary. "I
|
|
know what you would do with it. As I said, Alexander, you have changed."
|
|
"And you have not," the Beinisonian admitted scornfully. "You were
|
|
fool enough to come. You knew I called you here to kill you, and yet you
|
|
still came."
|
|
The High Mage smiled again, but the smile was hard and cold. "And
|
|
what makes you think you will succeed? Try as you have, you have not
|
|
destroyed Luthias Connall, and he has no magic about him."
|
|
Again, the scornful laugh sounded clearly in the dawn. "I just have
|
|
not used the right weapon, my friend. It took me quite a while to find
|
|
it, but I have, and I assure you that by noon this day, you will have
|
|
lost your Knight Captain of the North."
|
|
|
|
Sir Luthias, Count Connall, Knight Captain of the Northern Marche,
|
|
pounded a stake into the stubborn ground. "All right, let's raise it,"
|
|
he ordered, and together, he, Derrio, and Ittosai Michiya lifted the
|
|
pavilion into shape. Derrio slipped inside to straighten the interior
|
|
wooden poles.
|
|
"I do not know why you do this, Luthias-sama," Michiya commented,
|
|
following Luthias around the tent. "You will sleep in Magnus, will you
|
|
not?"
|
|
Luthias grimaced. "As much as I hate to, Michiya, I'm sleeping
|
|
here. I would be an unjust commander if I didn't stay with the men."
|
|
"What about Myrande?"
|
|
Connall grinned at his wife's name. "I'm not giving her up,
|
|
Michiya."
|
|
"I did not think so," the Bichanese agreed, smiling in return. "But
|
|
is it -- what is that word? -- chivalric to make a lady sleep in a
|
|
tent?"
|
|
Sir Luthias shrugged and then laughed loudly and clearly. "Do you
|
|
think we could keep her away from me?"
|
|
Michiya chuckled. "Then there is another problem. Where am I and
|
|
the squire to sleep, if not in your pavilion that we share? I do not
|
|
think our presence shall be wanted."
|
|
"You can sleep in the town house in Magnus. It'll do you good." The
|
|
Knight Captain turned to his friend. "Are you hungry? I could use some
|
|
breakfast."
|
|
"Yes, I am hungry." Michiya fell in beside his Knight, and they
|
|
began to walk away from the tent. "Might I have some time to myself to
|
|
spend in Magnus?"
|
|
Luthias considered; then he looked at his friend. "What's her
|
|
name?"
|
|
"Yes, Fionna. I must find her and take her from the city. It is too
|
|
dangerous there now for an undefended person."
|
|
"I'll second that," Luthias agreed grimly. Well did he know the
|
|
size and the power of the Beinison army. "I'll tell you what, Michiya.
|
|
If we can manage it, we'll send your Fionna out of the city with Sable."
|
|
The Count of Connall frowned. "Although getting her out of the city is
|
|
going to be a problem, Beinison notwithstanding."
|
|
"Why is that?"
|
|
Luthias gave a cock-eyed, cocky smile. "She won't want to leave
|
|
me." He frowned again and ran his hands through his lengthening hair.
|
|
"I've got to get her out, Michiya. There are going to be massive battles
|
|
here, and I won't have her risking herself for me."
|
|
"It would be unwise. The children should not be without mother and
|
|
father."
|
|
Luthias paused at his pack and knelt. As he withdrew the dried beef
|
|
and the wine skin, he laughed. "Children. That's right. I keep
|
|
forgetting I'm a father." The Count chuckled. "I say it, and still, I
|
|
can't believe it."
|
|
"I bet Myrande believes it."
|
|
"It wasn't very real to me, Michiya," Luthias confessed. "I didn't
|
|
know she was going to have babies. Then I left so soon ..." Luthias'
|
|
hands dropped, and he looked away. "God, I miss her."
|
|
The Bichanese samurai knelt opposite his lord and took the food. "I
|
|
do understand, Luthias-sama." The castellan grinned. "But you will see
|
|
her today, will you not?"
|
|
"I'd better." The Count gave a wicked smile. "Remember what
|
|
happened to the last man who kept her away from me." Luthias' smile
|
|
collapsed. "What is it, Michiya?"
|
|
The samurai was staring into the distance. "Who is that, I wonder,
|
|
on the hill? Should we send scouts?"
|
|
Immediately alert, Luthias stood, turned, and squinted toward the
|
|
sunrise. Connall reached into his pack for a spy glass, a gift from the
|
|
High Mage. A pair of figures in blood red robes became somewhat clear.
|
|
"It's Marcellon," Luthias concluded from the robes, the hair, and the
|
|
height of one of the men. Luthias' stomach knotted. Who was the other?
|
|
"I think something is wrong."
|
|
"Wrong? Why is he here?"
|
|
"I don't know," Luthias answered, "but I think I'll find out."
|
|
Luthias marched to the tent and donned his sword and helmet.
|
|
"I shall go with you," Michiya decided.
|
|
"No, stay here," the Knight Captain commanded. He faced his aide.
|
|
"I don't know who -- or what -- he's fighting -- or even if he is
|
|
fighting -- but he may need my help. Take care of things, Michiya."
|
|
"Luthias-sama --"
|
|
"Don't worry," Luthias ordered. "I'll be right back."
|
|
Frowning, Connall's aide watched his liege run for the hill outside
|
|
Magnus. Such parting words worried him. After a moment's consideration,
|
|
Michiya grabbed his own helmet and katana and went to seek his brother.
|
|
|
|
A cold tremor rippled through Marcellon's heart. "What do you mean?
|
|
How will Connall soon die?"
|
|
"I have sent agents to procure his pretty wife's death." Marcellon
|
|
controlled his face and his fear strictly. "It was easy enough to find
|
|
her, thanks to the portrait Luthias Connall gave us. When your Knight
|
|
Captain finds his lady love dead --"
|
|
"I think Connall is hardier than you know," Marcellon interrupted.
|
|
He hoped so. Marcellon wanted to send out a warning to Myrande, to
|
|
Luthias, to Sir Edward, but he knew he could not lose his concentration.
|
|
One slip, and Mon-Taerleor would no longer be boasting of his power; he
|
|
would be gloating of his conquest.
|
|
That is why he ignored the movement behind Mon-Taerleor.
|
|
Still, the High Mage could think within himself. If ought were
|
|
wrong with Lady Sable, Marcellon surely would have heard of it, known of
|
|
it, by now. The deed was not done -- or at least, Luthias didn't know
|
|
about it; if it had, Luthias' pain would have blown through Marcellon's
|
|
defenses and rocked the High Mage already. The King surely would have
|
|
sent a messenger if --
|
|
And now Marcellon knew Mon-Taerleor's intentions, and the High Mage
|
|
nearly laughed. I am no fool, Alexander, but you are.
|
|
"I shall do away with that boy," Mon-Taerleor claimed as Marcellon
|
|
returned his thoughts to the immediate, present situation, "and with
|
|
you. Then Baranur will be easy to destroy, and I will have it!"
|
|
"You will have it?" Marcellon questioned, his eyebrow raised in
|
|
amusement. "What about your Emperor?"
|
|
"That beardless babe? Do you think he has any wisdom or power?"
|
|
Mon-Taerleor grunted. "No, Marcellon, you know better."
|
|
"He has managed to lead the Empire for a year," Marcellon reminded
|
|
him. The High Mage strenthened his shield and ignored the helmeted man
|
|
behind Mon-Taerleor. Hopefully, the idiot would have enough sense to
|
|
leave the mages to their own combat. This soon would be no battlefield
|
|
for warriors. "Do not underestimate the young, Alexander. Our Luthias
|
|
Connall is not that much older than your Emperor, and he has defeated
|
|
your army."
|
|
"He will soon die," Mon-Taerleor insisted. "I have seen to it. His
|
|
soul will expire as soon as his wife's body is brought."
|
|
"Connall is not dead yet," Marcellon repeated, "and neither am I."
|
|
"You will be!" And Mon-Taerleor raised his arms and began chanting.
|
|
Marcellon quickly uttered the words that added magical shields to
|
|
his mental ones. His spell blotted out Mon-Taerleor's words; Marcellon
|
|
hoped he had chosen the right defenses. He would have no further time to
|
|
waste on them.
|
|
Mon-Taerleor uttered a final, malicious word, and a stream of
|
|
lightning coalesced on his hands. Marcellon ignored the distraction and,
|
|
ignoring the danger as well, immediately pushed through Mon-Taerleor's
|
|
mental shields with his own.
|
|
Unfortunately, the disturbance failed to disrupt Mon-Taerleor's
|
|
spell. The magical lightning left Mon-Taerleor's hands, rocked
|
|
Marcellon's magic shell, and ricocheted across the Magnus plain. Two
|
|
pavilions in Luthias Connall's armies exploded, and several others
|
|
enflamed. The voice of the army rose in terror and urgency.
|
|
Mon-Taerleor's laugh rang triumphantly across the field.
|
|
Marcellon closed his eyes, and Mon-Taerleor's laugh turned to a
|
|
furious roar. Marcellon smiled at his success; five spells had, with a
|
|
single thought, been wiped from Mon-Taerleor's memory.
|
|
"Have you learned no new tricks?" Mon-Taerleor taunted.
|
|
"Why should I waste the time, when the old ones work so well?"
|
|
Marcellon returned calmly.
|
|
The Beinisonian High Mage screamed a word in frustration, and a
|
|
sword of flame materialized in his upraised hand. Crying words of
|
|
destruction, he hurled it at the High Mage.
|
|
Marcellon wasted no time in thinking. He reached out, caught the
|
|
flame-sword, and flung it back at Mon-Taerleor. The Beinisonian's arms
|
|
crossed quickly before his face; the flame sword bounced against an
|
|
invisible barrier and landed, point first, on the dry ground. The grass
|
|
began to smoulder.
|
|
Mon-Taerleor began to chant ominously; Marcellon recognized the
|
|
spell and blanched. As the ground began to shake beneath him, Marcellon
|
|
concentrated until his hands held moon-white power. Shouting, Marcellon
|
|
flung it toward Mon-Taerleor as he spoke the final word of the summons.
|
|
The white force impacted just as the demon began to materialize.
|
|
Mon-Taeleor and the demon emitted identical protests. Marcellon took the
|
|
opportunity to push through Mon-Taerleor's walls again. The Beinison
|
|
cursed in rage when he lost three more spells, and Marcellon reached for
|
|
more.
|
|
Then Mon-Taerleor spoke again; Marcellon didn't know the word, but
|
|
he felt the danger -- he had to close his mind's shields again --
|
|
The world went white. All Marcellon's careful shields -- extended
|
|
to invade Mon-Taerleor's mind -- collapsed like card houses. With no
|
|
warning, his consciouness shattered.
|
|
Mon-Taerleor laughed.
|
|
The blinding pieces of Marcellon's mind sped around him like a
|
|
mocking blizzard. But they were all there -- all the pieces were there.
|
|
Dizzy and desperate, the High Mage staggered and fought against the
|
|
whirling universe. The pieces of his mind, memory, concentration,
|
|
spells, psychic power, danced in the dark vacuum on the edge of
|
|
Marcellon's consciouness. Shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath,
|
|
Marcellon lunged for a spell, one that would silence Mon-Taerleor -- for
|
|
a little while.
|
|
Marcellon snatched the spell desperately and clutched close to his
|
|
mind as the rest of his thoughts spun around him. Staggering still,
|
|
Marcellon began to sputter the words. Finding strength in the
|
|
concentration, the High Mage opened his eyes to a blurry world.
|
|
Mon-Taerleor growled, but chanted again. His hands turned a sick,
|
|
whitish pink.
|
|
Suddenly, the Beinisonian spun. Marcellon saw a silver gleam
|
|
protrude from Mon-Taerleor's back and jerk toward the collar bone. The
|
|
High Mage heard Mon-Taerleor's final curse -- a magic word -- then the
|
|
scream of pain.
|
|
And then -- the pain! The horrible -- excrutiating -- blinding
|
|
pain!
|
|
Frightened, Marcellon stumbled forward, falling onto the burning
|
|
grass. Clumsy, the High Mage struggled to regain his feet and crawled on
|
|
the flames when he failed. The earth swayed beneath him; his mind
|
|
whirled in splinters around him still. And the utter agony -- not
|
|
Marcellon's agony -- filled his shattered mind as the tormented scream
|
|
filled his ears. He could barely think, but Marcellon knew he had to
|
|
stop it. Struggling against the shattered pieces of his mind and the
|
|
other man's agony, Marcellon continued forward.
|
|
The small hill seemed as long as a mountain range, as wide as the
|
|
unsteady Valenfaer Ocean, but Marcellon crossed it to the sounds of
|
|
whirling thoughts and tortured men. His eyesight still bleary, Marcellon
|
|
collided with something solid -- something dead.
|
|
Mon-Taerleor, with a sword in his chest.
|
|
The scream continued, thunderous and agonized. Fighting his ripped
|
|
mind and the pain that was not his own, Marcellon looked for the source.
|
|
In a fetal curl at the feet of the man he slew was Luthias Connall,
|
|
screaming. "My God!" the High Mage whispered, half-crawling and
|
|
half-falling toward the younger man.
|
|
Marcellon had to help Luthias -- he knew he had to help him -- but
|
|
his mind was being tossed in a hurricane wind and things flew by so
|
|
fast, so fast, and the pain, the pain, *the pain!* He could not think.
|
|
He must think. Frustrated, Marcellon found enough wits to curse his
|
|
tattered mind and the man who had rent it.
|
|
With nothing else to use, Marcellon scanned Luthias' body with
|
|
undependable and blurry eyes. Connall was clean -- no blood, no wounds
|
|
-- just the scream, the horrible scream, and nothing causing the pain --
|
|
Marcellon frantically searched the fleeing pieces of his mind for
|
|
something -- anything -- to stop Luthias' pain. There was no source --
|
|
good God, anything could be wrong with him! -- and Marcellon snatched
|
|
one flying spell and, concentrating with a difficulty he had not
|
|
experienced in thirty years, Marcellon spoke.
|
|
Suddenly, Luthias was completely still.
|
|
The pain vanished as if it had never existed, but the complete fear
|
|
which gripped Marcellon only contributed to the wildness of his mind. My
|
|
God, Marcellon thought, staring with horror at the inert body, I have
|
|
killed him. I have killed him! *I have killed him!*
|
|
Terrified, Marcellon staggered to his feet, and only fell again
|
|
when he stumbled over the corpse behind him. Head reeling not only from
|
|
the spell but from the fall, Marcellon rolled sluggishly in his old
|
|
friend's blood and tried to regain his feet, his mind.
|
|
But Marcellon's memories whirled incoherently around him still,
|
|
with spells and fear to drive them. Oh, God, he had killed Luthias
|
|
Connall!
|
|
Where is Luthias-sama? Marcellon thought, and the thought was not
|
|
his. Neither was the fear of the fire, though the grass sputtered
|
|
beneath him. The many pictures he could see were not his own memories or
|
|
his own thoughts. Thoughts were crowding his mind, thoughts not his own,
|
|
but more coherent than his own mind which screamed with fury and
|
|
Mon-Taerleor's laughter.
|
|
The world rocked beneath Marcellon, and he fell, vomiting, until
|
|
the world went black.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Intentions
|
|
Part I
|
|
by Dan Granata
|
|
<dgranata@glasscity.net>
|
|
Dargon, Yule 1015
|
|
|
|
I hopped up onto a rock along the road and squinted up at the sun.
|
|
Someone once told me you could tell the time by the position of the sun.
|
|
Of course, I had no idea how to do this, but I tried anyway. I could
|
|
tell it was near midday, but whether it was before or after was beyond
|
|
me. The time I had spent on the road offered me no reference, as these
|
|
days had all run together like a dusty stew. A horrible analogy, I know,
|
|
but what could you expect from an amateur storyteller with no formal
|
|
training? Make that an amateur storyteller, performer, poet, dancer,
|
|
flipper and countless other things with no formal training. I sighed and
|
|
set down my pack. I looked at it for a moment, wondering how I ever fit
|
|
my entire life into that worn and patched-up bag. As I undid the straps
|
|
I tried to remember where in the Kingdoms I had acquired this sack. Not
|
|
a gift, since no one I have ever known could locate me. It couldn't have
|
|
survived all of ten years ... I stopped. *Ten years*. I couldn't believe
|
|
I had been wandering and doing this gods-be-damned show for ten years.
|
|
Why didn't I listen to my mother ...
|
|
I shook my head. No, I loved doing the show, and I knew it. Lately
|
|
however, I'd found it hard to keep my spirits up, as well as my
|
|
strength.
|
|
You see, my partner, Nessis, decided to terminate our partnership
|
|
nearly two weeks ago, just prior to my departure for Dargon. Actually,
|
|
"ran off" would probably be a better phrase. Nessis was a boss of sorts,
|
|
although he constantly insisted that we were equal. He performed a
|
|
little so I could rest, and took care of publicity and managed our
|
|
funds, which always seemed to be smaller than what I had collected from
|
|
the performances. In fact, that was what I confronted Nessis about the
|
|
night before he left. I told him I remembered specifically that there
|
|
had been more than twenty copper in the plate when I had closed the
|
|
show, and yet he still told me I hadn't made enough for a meal that
|
|
night. "Balor," he said. "Balor, I love ya like ya was me own son. I
|
|
would never lie ta ya. Trust me." I told him I did. Maybe it was his
|
|
sentiment that made me overlook the smell of roasted meat on his breath.
|
|
Lost in the past, I didn't notice when the pack finally opened. To
|
|
my surprise the bottom of it fell out, scattering my belongings out onto
|
|
the dust. I paused a moment, a little stunned, but I noticed that the
|
|
wind was gathering speed. I grabbed a few costumes and noticed, to my
|
|
dismay, that my signs were skipping down the road like a ... well -- I
|
|
don't know. The stiff parchment offered no ballast, and the wind tossed
|
|
them about; scattering them everywhere. I ran as fast as my legs could
|
|
carry me, grabbing the signs I passed and trying to keep up with the
|
|
ones still ahead.
|
|
When I had gathered them all up, I carried them back to the rock
|
|
and the rest of my things. I laid the signs on the ground and stacked a
|
|
few costumes on top of them, to make sure I wouldn't have to hunt them
|
|
down again.
|
|
I picked up my pack and surveyed the damage. The bottom had simply
|
|
ripped from its lining. A quick fix was all that was required. Grabbing
|
|
a few old costumes, I made the patches I would need. I hated to do it,
|
|
as I couldn't replace them, having no money. But what's the use of
|
|
having a load of costumes with nothing to carry them in? I dropped to my
|
|
hands and knees to find my needle. Looking for a needle on a dirt road
|
|
was harder than it seems. 'Needle on a dirt road'
|
|
... say, that's one I should write down.
|
|
I found what I was looking for, patched up my pack, and started to
|
|
stuff my meager belongings back in. The costumes went first, and seeing
|
|
each one reminded me of a different time in my life, whether I wanted to
|
|
or not. The frilled red one brought back memories of being thrown out of
|
|
the finest palaces and castles in Baranur. And the wolves' fur coat made
|
|
me recall the cold nights I had spent sleeping in doorways. I picked up
|
|
a leather jerkin, and as I did I could feel my blood run cold. I stuffed
|
|
it into the sack, my hand getting caught on one of the many hidden
|
|
pockets it held. I tried not to think too much on the memories that this
|
|
costume had; how I was forced to make it and use it just so I could eat.
|
|
I wanted to toss away that jerkin right then and there, but I knew that
|
|
would be foolish. I had to eat, and if -- I hated to even think it --
|
|
stealing was the only way, so be it.
|
|
I finished packing and bitterly continued down the road. Why, *why*
|
|
did my life have to be like this ...
|
|
|
|
The sun had nearly reached its peak when I entered Dargon. The
|
|
number of people there raised my hopes of actually eating that night. My
|
|
musings were cut short when I was shoved forward by the incoming tide of
|
|
people through the gates. "Best be getting started," I thought, and
|
|
moved into a doorway. In that niche I opened my pack, minding the newly
|
|
repaired bottom, and withdrew the ten signs that advertised my show. I
|
|
stared at them for a moment, scrutinizing them, but I found it was hard
|
|
to scrutinize your own work. I had had to redo the signs after Nessis
|
|
ran off, and none too well, since he took all of our funds and supplies.
|
|
Still, I liked them.
|
|
Closing and securing my pack again, and clutching the signs close
|
|
to my chest, I rushed out into the crowd. "So many people," my mind
|
|
repeated, "but how many of them will pay?" Best not to dwell on that, I
|
|
had found out a long time ago. That was back when I was younger and
|
|
would throw myself into my performances, receiving nothing for my work.
|
|
I was wading through the crowd, looking for places to post my
|
|
signs, when I realized that I had no idea what to look for. Actually, I
|
|
did. It was fairly simple, really. Put them where everyone will see
|
|
them. But the problem was, I couldn't find anyplace where I wanted to
|
|
leave them, for fear they would be vandalized or stolen. They were all I
|
|
had; They were my work. Eventually, I convinced myself that I had to get
|
|
over that maternal feeling for my signs. Something I just realized,
|
|
though, about being alone: you have to be your own antagonist.
|
|
|
|
Later that evening I posted my last sign on the side of a building.
|
|
Stepping back, I had to admire my own work. It read: 'Balor Hardwin's
|
|
One Man Amazement' followed by pictures of dancing and flipping figures.
|
|
Lots of color, to attract the eye. I hated the title, but you need a
|
|
gimmick to get the big crowds, right? At least that's what Nessis had
|
|
told me.
|
|
I stepped back a few more paces, trying to see if the light fell
|
|
right upon the sign. Something caught my foot, and I stumbled to the
|
|
street. My fall was cushioned and I just sat there in my newfound seat,
|
|
admiring my work once again. It really was a great piece of work.
|
|
Suddenly, two things happened, the first right on the tail of the
|
|
second. First, I caught the stench of what I was sitting in. Then, I
|
|
felt something brush against me. One or both of these things prompted me
|
|
to leap up, this action causing bits of garbage and a small, dark,
|
|
squeaking object to fly through the air.
|
|
I reminded myself where I was, and surveyed the stain left on my
|
|
clothing. Despite the reek and the circular, brown colored mark on my
|
|
posterior, I was none the worse for the experience. My eye caught
|
|
movement from the heap that I had been sitting in, so I looked directly
|
|
at it.
|
|
Two rats, almost identical to one another, (not that I know much
|
|
about rats, mind you,) were running along the heap. One was on top of
|
|
the pile, obviously shadowing the other. The Top Rat suddenly pounced on
|
|
the other, killing it quickly, and began feasting. I felt sick.
|
|
As I turned away, the episode reminded me that I might have to
|
|
resort to similar measures if I didn't perform that night. That thought
|
|
made me sick again, this time giving way for my meager lunch to take a
|
|
second bow. Giving one last glance back at the rat, who was now covered
|
|
in blood and seemed to be very much enjoying itself, I snatched up my
|
|
pack and walked off to select a site for my show.
|
|
|
|
That evening's performance was truly a memorable one. I had
|
|
selected my "stage", a busy market-area, and begun my show. My hopes
|
|
were being realized as a crowd slowly formed. As my performance
|
|
progressed, I realized how hard it was to try to keep up high energy for
|
|
long periods of time. Maybe having Nessis wasn't all bad. I thought it
|
|
would be just as easy to do the same show as always, except I would do
|
|
both of the parts. I found out how wrong I was. Still, the feeling of
|
|
being the center of attention was exciting. In fact, the exhilaration
|
|
made me want to do my show-stopper, a high leap into the air followed by
|
|
two half turns and a near fatal fall, right then and there. No, I
|
|
corrected myself, save it for the bigger crowds.
|
|
Instead, I did a few backflips and stopped near my pack. Quickly, I
|
|
flipped through my things and withdrew my panpipe. I began playing a
|
|
simple travelers song, and added a few tumbles for the effect. Then,
|
|
when I was right at the height of the song, I was smacked in the head by
|
|
something small and hard. Needless to say, my song ended there. I
|
|
whirled around, just then beginning to notice the snickers from the
|
|
crowd. Out of the corner of my eye I caught swift movement. Not stopping
|
|
to think, I tumbled to the ground, hearing something fly over my head. I
|
|
winced as the thud and cry that followed told me that the projectile had
|
|
found a new target. Obviously that was what caused the fight that
|
|
ensued. Swiftly gathering my things and retreating through the milieu, I
|
|
wondered who had cast the first stone ...
|
|
|
|
After the failure of my show, I tried to sleep in the stalls of one
|
|
of the inns in town, in order to forget my hunger and embarrassment.
|
|
M'Kivar, help me, I thought. Without Nessis I was lost, running around
|
|
like a shoruck with its head cut off. Gradually, my hunger replaced all
|
|
other thoughts, and I reluctantly grabbed my pack and sifted through it.
|
|
Finally I found the leather jerkin, and for a fleeting moment I wondered
|
|
how people who called thievery their "profession" lived with themselves.
|
|
I pulled on that cursed garment and readied myself for what I had to do.
|
|
By M'Kivar, I hated to do it, but I guess a person just has certain
|
|
natural tendencies, like hunger, and must obey them. Shoving my
|
|
belongings under some straw, I slipped silently out of the stables.
|
|
|
|
It's a strange thing, when you're an "aquirer". You have to look at
|
|
people not as people, but as things that must be rated and gauged,
|
|
tested and preyed upon. You may wonder where I learned this from. My
|
|
only teacher has been necessity. Well, actually, necessity and two
|
|
guard-house terms for theft. I hated it. I was good at it, but I hated
|
|
it.
|
|
So there I was, leaning back against a wall, and feeling like a
|
|
vulture. I stood there, trying to blend as best I could while still
|
|
allowing my eyes to roam. Like I said before, when you have to steal,
|
|
you learn to notice the good targets, and I found mine. A richly clad,
|
|
noble looking man was wandering through the streets, his purse in full
|
|
view. My last thoughts of restraint faded as the image of food -- real
|
|
food -- took their place.
|
|
So I closed in, my head was up but my eyes were always on that
|
|
purse. Twice I was bumped and pushed aside by a passer-by, but I still
|
|
had my eyes on my target. Side-stepping a rather large woman, I found
|
|
myself behind the noble. I felt my fingers tingle. It was an odd
|
|
sensation, one that I never really got used to. I just counted it as
|
|
anticipation.
|
|
My fingers, which had been trained to toss knives and any number of
|
|
other things with great precision, barely twitched as they silently
|
|
edged toward the stuffed purse. Time slowed to the speed at which the
|
|
grass grows, and my face flushed from a mix of excitement and fear.
|
|
First one finger touched it, then two, then the rest. Anxiety crept in,
|
|
and I fought to control it. Then everything came crashing down around
|
|
me.
|
|
I heard it initially as a far off cry, echoing outside of my head.
|
|
Then, as I became aware of it, it grew louder and louder, until it was
|
|
everything I could hear or think. It was like those dreams you have as a
|
|
child, when the benda-wolf is chasing you, and you suddenly realize you
|
|
can't escape. Terror gripped me as I realized what was happening.
|
|
Someone was calling my name.
|
|
Things began to run through my head. Who was it? Did they really
|
|
know me? Maybe it wasn't me, just someone else. Did someone see what I
|
|
was doing?
|
|
Suddenly I jerked back to reality, and noticed, all too late, that
|
|
my hand was still on the man's pouch. I tried to do something, but my
|
|
body was numb. The man continued forward as I stopped. I had thought at
|
|
first that maybe he wouldn't notice, that maybe his pouch would fall off
|
|
and I would be fine. That idea came to a crashing halt as I realized my
|
|
grip had tightened on the purse and the man was pulled to a stop. He
|
|
looked to his belt and whirled around, sending me straight onto the
|
|
street. The man's eyes opened wide as he raised his booted foot,
|
|
preparing to crush me. Instinct took over and I rolled away. Pushing and
|
|
stumbling through the crowd I ran as fast as I could towards the nearest
|
|
alley, the cries for the town guard fading behind me.
|
|
|
|
As I ran through the alleys, I found myself thinking about what
|
|
would happen if I were to be caught. These thoughts were accompanied by
|
|
a feeling that my mind wasn't part of my body. No, not in a spiritual
|
|
sense, like a near-death experience, just a feeling that my body and my
|
|
mind each didn't know what the other was doing. I really couldn't
|
|
explain it. But then, I didn't have much time to think, because I was
|
|
interrupted by an irregularity in the ground beneath my feet.
|
|
Like I said, my body and mind weren't in mutual contact at the
|
|
time, so it wasn't until I was flying through the air that I realized
|
|
something was wrong. To tell the truth, I really don't remember
|
|
tripping, either.
|
|
Either way, I ended up in mid-air, but that, too, ended with a
|
|
painful thud that was the product of my abrupt and intimate meeting with
|
|
a wall. For a second, I couldn't think or feel anything, save for the
|
|
pain that coursed through every region of my body. I might have lost
|
|
consciousness at that point, but I can't really recall that as well. The
|
|
next thing I *do* remember is the sound of footsteps advancing quickly
|
|
in my direction.
|
|
I resigned myself to whatever consequences that might befall me,
|
|
partially due to the fact that I could no longer move. The footsteps
|
|
came closer and closer, until they slowed and finally stopped directly
|
|
next to me. I started to pray, and ended up wondering why people become
|
|
so religious when they're in trouble.
|
|
"By the gods!" a voice said, "Are you all right?"
|
|
I tried to answer but the only thing that came from me was a low,
|
|
rumbling moan. I released my eyes from their clenched state and thought
|
|
for a fleeting moment that I had done severe damage to my head. It took
|
|
me a few seconds more to realize that I had landed upside down.
|
|
I shifted myself as best I could and flipped over with help from my
|
|
newfound benefactor. There was no little pain involved in the process,
|
|
believe me. My pleas to the gods for a quick death went unanswered.
|
|
When the pain reduced itself to a numbness and dull stinging, I
|
|
looked up at my mysterious savior, the obvious questions in my mind.
|
|
"Thanks. For the help, I mean," I said. I winced as I thought about
|
|
my words. I always had performed and written far better than I spoke.
|
|
"Who *are* you?" Stupid, Balor, stupid! I decided it best to limit my
|
|
monologue to that. As I mentioned, my mouth tends to get me in quite a
|
|
bit of trouble, and loses me more friends than I care to mention. I
|
|
thought of Nessis, but he wasn't a friend, was he?
|
|
"'Who am I'? You really don't recognize me?" The man asked.
|
|
"Not with that damned hood pulled over your face, I don't."
|
|
M'Kivar! I was beginning to wish I was mute.
|
|
The "stranger" withdrew his hood, revealing a face I hadn't seen in
|
|
years, nor ever expected to see again.
|
|
"Dalis!" I exclaimed.
|
|
The smile that found its way across the man's face told me I was
|
|
correct. Dalis Benn, by M'Kivar! My childhood friend reached his hand
|
|
out to me, as a gesture of greeting. I grabbed it and used him to pull
|
|
myself up, clutching his shoulder and stumbling over words to describe
|
|
how I felt. He had changed, which can only be expected, but he somehow
|
|
seemed the same. Same hair color, same eyes, same quiet voice, same ...
|
|
"Whoa! Balor!" Dalis said, stopping my torrent of mixed greetings
|
|
and questions. "A moment ago you were running like the demon of
|
|
Gil-Pe'en was after you. Why?"
|
|
"Huh?" I said, this time not pausing to reprimand myself on bad
|
|
grammar. I remembered suddenly why I *was* running.
|
|
"Oh, damn all! Come on, Dalis! I'll explain later. Right now we
|
|
have to go!" I started off toward one end of the alley.
|
|
"Balor, wait! This way! I have a room at an inn near here."
|
|
So, just like that, I was reunited with a long-lost friend and was
|
|
changing seasons, so to speak. Yes, another bad analogy, and I
|
|
apologize, but it is appropriate. My life, until this point, had been
|
|
what some, in fact most, would call mediocre. But that one day started
|
|
something bigger than I would have expected; so big that now I long for
|
|
mediocre.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
From dargon@SHORE.NET Sun Apr 7 16:34:38 1996
|
|
Received: from listserv.brown.edu (listserv.brown.edu [128.148.128.155]) by locust.cic.net (8.7.4/8.7.3) with SMTP id QAA03836 for <rita@locust.CIC.NET>; Sun, 7 Apr 1996 16:34:34 -0400 (EDT)
|
|
Received: from stanley.cis.Brown.EDU (stanley.cis.brown.edu [128.148.128.155]) by listserv.brown.edu (8.6.10/8.6.10) with SMTP id QAA06630 for <rita@FIR.CIC.NET>; Sun, 7 Apr 1996 16:35:18 -0400
|
|
Message-Id: <199604072035.QAA06630@listserv.brown.edu>
|
|
From: DargonZine Staff <dargon@SHORE.NET>
|
|
Subject: DargonZine Volume 9, Number 2 (long)
|
|
Organization: the Dargon Project
|
|
Date: Sun, 07 Apr 1996 15:16:00 -0500
|
|
To: archive site <rita@locust.CIC.NET>
|
|
Status: O
|
|
|
|
DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
|
|
D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
|
|
D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 9
|
|
-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
|
|
D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 3
|
|
DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
|
|
\\
|
|
\
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
DargonZine Distributed: 04/07/1996
|
|
Volume 9, Number 3 Circulation: 588
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Contents
|
|
|
|
Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
|
|
Intentions 2 Dan Granata Yule 1015
|
|
Shadowstone 2 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Naia 12, 1014
|
|
Friendships Bloody Tear 2 Mark A. Murray Yuli 1015
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
|
|
collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
|
|
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
|
|
Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
|
|
on the World Wide Web at http://www.shore.net/~dargon. Back issues
|
|
are available from ftp.etext.org in pub/Zines/DargonZine. Issues and
|
|
public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
|
|
|
|
DargonZine 9-3, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright April, 1996 by
|
|
the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>.
|
|
All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual
|
|
contributors. Stories may not be reproduced or redistributed without
|
|
the explicit permission of the author(s) involved, except in the case
|
|
of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
|
|
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Editorial
|
|
by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
|
|
<ornoth@shore.net>
|
|
|
|
If you've visited the DargonZine Web page yet, you've experienced
|
|
our design aesthetic firsthand. While the Web gives us the ability to
|
|
really go nuts with our graphic presentation, we've gone with a very
|
|
basic parchment design with sparse graphics.
|
|
We've done this for a few reasons. One of our principles was to
|
|
make the site both usable and appealling, even over a 14.4 Kb modem
|
|
line. We've accomplished this by using images sparsely, using them
|
|
repeatedly (to take advantage of local caching), and designing our
|
|
graphics to take up minimal storage space. Another principle is
|
|
simplicity -- our use of black text on a parchment background maximizes
|
|
readibility, without sacrificing the medieval "feel" of the
|
|
presentation. We'll leave the funky, hard-to-read, graphically intense
|
|
design to others.
|
|
Which brings me to our most important principle. The Dargon Project
|
|
is all about text, and those of us who write for the magazine are very
|
|
focused on its textual contents. The fact that the site is visually
|
|
appealling is due in great part to one or two of our writers (most
|
|
notably, Carlo Samson and myself) contributing even more of their free
|
|
time. But although spending hours developing slick graphics for the Web
|
|
site may be fun, it's also a distraction from our real job: writing
|
|
stories.
|
|
And so we're putting the word out that we need graphic artists who
|
|
are willing to volunteer their work to be used on the Web site. Typical
|
|
work would include illustrations for stories and the rest of the site
|
|
(browse around to see examples of what we've done so far). If you are
|
|
interested, or know someone who might be, please drop me email at
|
|
<dargon@shore.net>.
|
|
Since day one, back in late 1984, this magazine has survived and
|
|
prospered because of the contributions of its readers. It'd be really
|
|
great to have someone step up and help us make the magazine that much
|
|
better than it is today.
|
|
|
|
This issue could well be subtitled "DargonZine 9-2, Part 2", since
|
|
all the stories are second chapters to storylines which were begun in
|
|
our last issue. So I'd encourage you to go back and read DargonZine 9-2,
|
|
if you haven't already. Here's a quick reminder...
|
|
In Dan Granata's "Intentions", Balor the entertainer arrived in
|
|
Dargon and was reunited with his childhood friend, Dalis.
|
|
Dafydd's "Shadowstone" series brought an unexplained fateful
|
|
mission to a thief named Chandras, leaving him trailing the victors in a
|
|
battle between his brigand friends and an unknown group of horsemen.
|
|
And we continue to learn more about the main characters in Mark
|
|
Murray's series: Raphael, a jaded wanderer, and Megan, his seemingly
|
|
catatonic charge.
|
|
|
|
As ever, feedback is welcome, keep spreading the word, and thanks
|
|
for your continued interest!
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Intentions
|
|
Part II
|
|
by Dan Granata
|
|
<dgranata@glasscity.net>
|
|
Dargon, Yule 1015
|
|
|
|
The sun had long since set on the strangest day of my life. Well,
|
|
the strangest day of my life *so far*, I corrected myself. I was
|
|
beginning to realize that things change very quickly sometimes, and this
|
|
was one of those times. I am beginning to sound redundant even to
|
|
myself, but these things happen when you're lying on a bed late at
|
|
night, with nothing to do but think.
|
|
I sat up, the rustling of the covers sounding like thunder in the
|
|
silence. That is another one of the signs of boredom, when you notice
|
|
meaningless occurrences. I guessed that my boredom was a direct result
|
|
of the excitement earlier that day. I had entered Dargon, embarrassed
|
|
myself several times, tried to steal a noble's purse and nearly got
|
|
myself arrested, only to be reunited with a childhood friend.
|
|
And now I am sitting on a bed in an inn that I couldn't even recall
|
|
the name of, tossing and turning while my dear friend Dalis sleeps like
|
|
a child. I shrugged my shoulders and set my elbows on my knees. With a
|
|
sigh, I put my head in my hands. Trying to make sense of things only
|
|
made my head hurt.
|
|
Standing up, which is not an easy task for a fatigued person, I
|
|
walked over to the window. Looking out, I couldn't keep myself from
|
|
laughing. "An alley," I thought. Perfect scenery.
|
|
Strength returning to my weary body, I tried to figure out what I
|
|
wanted to do. So I stood in the middle of the room for a moment,
|
|
weighing sleep against insomnia. Logic left and insomnia won. I shuffled
|
|
over to the small basin of water that was in a corner of the room.
|
|
Dipping my hands in, I splashed the lukewarm liquid onto my
|
|
sleep-deprived face. Staring into the wall, I thought: "Balor, Balor.
|
|
How did you get here? What went wrong?"
|
|
I decided that I'd rearrange my things. It's a strange habit that I
|
|
have, when I'm bored I sort my belongings.
|
|
My pack opened easily and I laid everything I owned out onto the
|
|
bed. As I did so, I couldn't help but wonder what had become of my
|
|
pursuers. They had followed me closely for quite some time, then
|
|
suddenly they were gone. Was that how the guard operated in Dargon?
|
|
"Strange," I thought again. I shrugged off the ideas and went about my
|
|
chore.
|
|
|
|
What had to be several bells later, I woke. This startled me
|
|
because I hadn't remember falling asleep. I started to pull myself up,
|
|
and it was then that I noticed the weight on my chest. Looking down, I
|
|
saw the source. A large, leather bound book was lying on my chest. Still
|
|
half asleep, I was puzzled as to where the book came from. Suddenly, I
|
|
remembered. Before I fell asleep, I had found the large book in my pack.
|
|
I thought it strange because it hadn't been there the last time I
|
|
checked, which was only that morning. Maybe someone slipped it in during
|
|
my performance, I thought, or maybe it was Dalis's.
|
|
I picked up the book and studied its cover. I tried to draw upon my
|
|
experience with the formal texts, no matter how small. No, I'm literate;
|
|
it's just that books are hard to come by. Thinking of that fact made me
|
|
wonder more about how this volume just appeared in my pack. I examined
|
|
it more closely. It appeared to be well-bound, and a title was on the
|
|
outer cover. "Personas Remedian". I sat back, trying to remember my
|
|
ancient texts. My memory seemed to be hazy here, although the fact that
|
|
I had very little training in the language didn't help, either.
|
|
"Personas", I remembered, had to do with "self or "personal". "Remedian"
|
|
didn't stir the stew, so to speak.
|
|
I opened the book to the first page. I sighed when I noticed it was
|
|
completely in ancient form. Translation restricted my reading
|
|
considerably. I began.
|
|
"Personal worth, above all else, should be recognized by an
|
|
individual who wishes to do well. To achieve ... "
|
|
I had to stop. After that the words ceased to make sense. Well, I
|
|
thought, I found the title. I wondered again who gave me the book.
|
|
A stirring from the direction of Dalis's bed brought me out of my
|
|
thoughts. It seemed that my friend was waking. I closed the book and
|
|
tossed it onto the bed, next to me, giving it no more thought.
|
|
|
|
That morning Dalis and I decided, although I should have been the
|
|
wiser, to skip breakfast. "The guard might still be about," he had
|
|
rationalized. My head agreed but my stomach hated him.
|
|
To take my mind off food, we resolved to continue the conversation
|
|
that we had begun last night, a conversation that was cut short by
|
|
fatigue; to catch up on each others' lives. A lot can happen in ten
|
|
years.
|
|
"So you've been traveling all this time?" Dalis said, marveling at
|
|
my stamina, or possibly my stupidity.
|
|
"For all of ten years. I have to admit though, it isn't as easy as
|
|
I thought it would be," I said shaking my head slowly, remembering.
|
|
"You thought it would be *easy*!" Dalis exclaimed. "What were you
|
|
thinking?"
|
|
"I was young and stupid. You knew me then; you remember how I was.
|
|
A fool's fool."
|
|
Dalis just laughed. I couldn't help but see the humor in it too. I
|
|
could recall the time when Dalis and I were fishing, and I fell in the
|
|
Coldwell trying to leap it. I had thought *that* would be easy too. It's
|
|
strange how things seem more impossible the older you get. I longed for
|
|
those younger days ...
|
|
"Dalis, let's go fishing," I said, leaping from my seat.
|
|
"What?"
|
|
I started over toward him. "Fishing, just like we used to. We could
|
|
set up a camp and make a day of it. Just like we used to. What do you
|
|
think?" I could barely contain myself.
|
|
"I suppose we could, but not now. Now, duty calls."
|
|
I didn't understand what he meant, and I told him. He silently
|
|
revealed his left hand. On it was a ring.
|
|
My first thought was that my friend had gone and got himself
|
|
married. Duty, my right foot. But that idea was banished in seconds when
|
|
I examined the ring more closely. On it were several symbols. A book, a
|
|
quill pen, the words Mae Gwybodaeth Gallu, meaning "Knowledge is Power".
|
|
I couldn't believe it.
|
|
"You're a member of the Guild!"
|
|
Dalis merely smiled and nodded. I couldn't contain my joy. I
|
|
started to spout off every congratulatory phrase I could think of. But
|
|
deep inside, I couldn't help but feel that twinge of regret and envy. I
|
|
should be a member of the Guild, too. But then I stopped myself. No, I
|
|
didn't have the patience, the determination to spend years in study to
|
|
become a member of the College of Bards. I knew that when I left. The
|
|
pauper and the merchant.
|
|
"So what's your 'duty'?" I asked, allowing no hint of my secret
|
|
thoughts leaking into my voice.
|
|
"I'm here doing research on a particular ancient text that we have
|
|
just discovered. It was found in the area and the Guild likes to know a
|
|
history of the works it holds. I have a meeting with a local named
|
|
Corambis Desaavu. It's been said he knows quite a bit."
|
|
I tried to act as if I cared, out of politeness and courtesy,
|
|
adding over-exaggerated "Is that so!" and wide-eyed stares of surprise.
|
|
However, my patience wore thin rather quickly, and I managed, only under
|
|
great restraint, to stifle a few yawns. Finally, with the risk of
|
|
unconsciousness seemingly looming about, I decided to change the
|
|
subject. "Dalis, do you ever have fun?" I asked, a twinge of sarcasm
|
|
entering my voice.
|
|
"Excuse me?"
|
|
"Do you ever do anything besides research? I bet you don't. You
|
|
didn't when we were kids, either. I had to force you to go fishing,
|
|
although you admitted you liked it. I'll bet you're still shy, too. When
|
|
is the last time you saw a girl? Socially, I mean."
|
|
Dalis was silent. I knew it. Then an idea hit me. I picked up the
|
|
book that lay next to me.
|
|
"Here, read this," I handed the book to him. "I don't need it, and
|
|
you seem interested enough in ancient texts. Besides, I can't read it."
|
|
I stopped and shot him a glance. "Who knows, it may even do you some
|
|
good."
|
|
He read the title, looked at me, and smiled. "Maybe," he said, and
|
|
he started to laugh.
|
|
|
|
The rest of that day I spent sleeping, because there wasn't much to
|
|
do. Dalis had told me that he would be back within a bell or so, so I
|
|
thought I could make up for the rest I missed the night before.
|
|
Dalis didn't return until well after dusk. He seemed very excited,
|
|
and most of that evening I spent in forced anxiety, listening to him as
|
|
he rattled off some odd facts about history. While I admit history does
|
|
interest me somewhat, I believe Dalis passed my boundary. M'Kivar, I
|
|
thought, I hope that book does something for his personality. I would
|
|
better enjoy a hearthstone!
|
|
It seemed like days had passed; finally Dalis decided to turn in
|
|
for the night, I eagerly agreed.
|
|
|
|
The next few days were spent similarly, I would waste the day in
|
|
our room while Dalis would go out chasing after some bit of history. At
|
|
first I took the opportunity to practice my act. This stopped when the
|
|
proprietor of the inn complained, rather loudly, too.
|
|
I really began to wonder about Dalis. How could he exist solely on
|
|
research?
|
|
Finally one day, Dalis was home a little before dusk. We decided
|
|
that we would spend the evening in the tavern below, quite convinced
|
|
that it was safe.
|
|
"How's the research coming?" I asked after we ordered our meals.
|
|
The moment I said it I regretted it, and steeled myself for another
|
|
history lecture. To my surprise, Dalis wasn't even listening. He was
|
|
staring off somewhere behind me, in the direction of the bar.
|
|
I followed his gaze, and what I saw surprised me. It did seem that
|
|
my good friend had an interest in one of the barmaids!
|
|
"Talk to her," I said, trying to coax him out of his shell.
|
|
"What?" he said, obviously not hearing me fully.
|
|
"Talk to her."
|
|
"I couldn't."
|
|
"You mean you won't," I said as I threw a piece of bread at him.
|
|
"Well," he started, staring at her with a bit of longing. I felt
|
|
sorry for him at that moment.
|
|
The rest of the meal lacked for conversation, as I was starved and
|
|
Dalis was infatuated. Afterward, as we adjourned to our room, I noticed
|
|
my friend was looking depressed, or at least ill. I asked him about it.
|
|
"Oh, I'm fine," he said. He always was a horrible liar.
|
|
I asked him again, and this time he confided to me that it was the
|
|
barmaid from the tavern. I couldn't help but smile.
|
|
"I *told* you to talk to her, but *you* wouldn't listen!"
|
|
"I know, I know," he said, shaking his head. He looked as if he was
|
|
going to say something, then thought better of it. He simply rolled over
|
|
onto his side.
|
|
I watched him for a few more moments, then I laid down as well. As
|
|
my mind drifted, (I was drowsy from so much food), I swore I heard
|
|
rustling pages. I smiled a bit to myself. Now, he'll get somewhere ...
|
|
|
|
The next morning I saw quite a change in my old friend. Aside from
|
|
the bloodshot eyes and withdrawn face that displayed a lack of sleep, I
|
|
saw what could only be described as determination. That's what it was,
|
|
because the first words out of his mouth were: "Balor, let's go get
|
|
breakfast!"
|
|
Now, don't get me wrong; Dalis wasn't in the mood for eating. His
|
|
mind was on other things -- people, actually. I convinced him to at
|
|
least make himself more presentable -- splash some water on his face,
|
|
change clothes, anything so as not to embarrass himself. He reluctantly
|
|
agreed.
|
|
|
|
Down in the tavern I saw my old friend as I had never seen him
|
|
before. He strode straight up to the barmaid, who's name I later found
|
|
out was Kessia. She seemed surprised at his boldness at first, then
|
|
relaxed. Of course, I was viewing this all from across the room at my
|
|
table.
|
|
Their conversation soon escalated to the point were they sat down
|
|
at a nearby table. I was surprised at myself for not feeling even a
|
|
twinge of jealousy -- Kessia was rather fetching. I credited it to
|
|
elation for Dalis's newfound confidence.
|
|
|
|
All that morning and a good part of that afternoon was spent in
|
|
that tavern, Dalis talking to Kessia while I ate like a wharfman. It
|
|
wasn't until about the seventh bell that the barmaid was called back to
|
|
work and the conversation ended. A good thing, too; I was beginning to
|
|
swell with indigestion.
|
|
"Well," I said to Dalis as we headed back up to our room, "what
|
|
caused this sudden burst of confidence?"
|
|
"It was that book, Balor! I picked it up last night, in order to
|
|
get my mind off Kessia -- that's her name, by the way -- and I started
|
|
reading. It really made sense to me. I think you may have changed my
|
|
life!" The last he said with a smile. I couldn't help but share his
|
|
enthusiasm.
|
|
"So," I said, "now that you have all this confidence, I suppose you
|
|
wouldn't mind taking off a little research time to go fishing, would
|
|
you?"
|
|
"No, I wouldn't mind."
|
|
"*Finally*," I thought. Then he added: "Not today, though, all
|
|
right? I'm going with Kessia for dinner tonight."
|
|
"You're seeing her again?!" I reeled. This was amazing! Dalis
|
|
barely ever talked to his mother when I saw him last, let alone seeing a
|
|
girl steadily. I stopped myself, realizing that I was a little ahead of
|
|
things.
|
|
"Well, of course! Go! It'll be good for you!" I remarked, smacking
|
|
Dalis on the back.
|
|
"Thanks again, Balor," he said, and bounded up the staircase to
|
|
prepare for his outing, still bells away. I started to follow, but then
|
|
I realized that Dalis would probably want to be alone.
|
|
"Back to the tavern," I sighed, as I walked back down the stairs.
|
|
The whole rest of the day I was trying to suppress nagging thoughts
|
|
about Dalis's sudden change.
|
|
|
|
I took up cleaning the room as a hobby to pass the time over my
|
|
next few days of solitude. Dalis was now spending most of his time with
|
|
Kessia and some new friends, whom he never wanted to introduce me to. I
|
|
dismissed that thought. I had been dismissing thoughts quite a bit the
|
|
last few days, regarding Dalis's behavior.
|
|
You might wonder why I was still cooped up in that room. That is on
|
|
the account of Dalis overhearing something on one of his increasingly
|
|
frequent outings.
|
|
"I swear to you, Balor, I heard the guards talking. They said 'So,
|
|
we start the sweep tomorrow?' and the other one said 'Yeah, we'll find
|
|
that thief.' So you see, Balor, I'm just protecting you. It's not safe."
|
|
You might think I'm a moron for believing him, but I figure if
|
|
Dalis wants me here so badly, he must have good cause, right? He's never
|
|
lied to me before. And yet ...
|
|
My thoughts were cut short by a sound in the alley below. I was
|
|
moving to investigate when suddenly something flew through the window,
|
|
the sheer surprise knocking me to the ground. The sound of my body
|
|
hitting the ground mixed with the sound of something else embedding
|
|
itself elsewhere.
|
|
As I lay there, I heard the scuffling in the alley, again. This
|
|
time it moved away. I lay on the floor for a few moments more, trying to
|
|
discern exactly what had just happened.
|
|
Thoughts secured, I picked myself up. I looked around for the
|
|
projectile that had invaded my room. It didn't take me long to find the
|
|
arrow that jutted out of the ceiling. I pushed a chair over, climbed on
|
|
top of it, and removed the arrow, which was no little task. It only took
|
|
me another moment to notice the note tied onto the shaft. I undid the
|
|
note, thinking all the while who would go to all this trouble just to
|
|
send me a message. Maybe, I thought, it wasn't for me. Visions of death
|
|
threats, written in blood, demanding payments from Dalis entered my
|
|
mind. These were dispelled when I read the note, written in the artistic
|
|
hand of a scribe:
|
|
|
|
Balor,
|
|
I know this is a strange way to inform you, but I am pressed
|
|
for time. I have a free moment, meet me down at our old spot.
|
|
Dalis
|
|
|
|
The note caused a cascade of pleasant memories. Sunny days spent on
|
|
the banks of the Coldwell, laughing, swimming, and skipping stones. I
|
|
couldn't help but smile. Memories of our "border wars" with other
|
|
children in the neighborhood for "rights" to the spot. It was even the
|
|
spot where I had first told Dalis that I was leaving. He tried to be
|
|
supportive, but I could see that he was upset ...
|
|
I packed up a few things and left for the spot that Dalis and I had
|
|
frequented as children. I still found myself having to disperse
|
|
apprehensions about my old friend. I just couldn't help but wonder where
|
|
he got the arrow.
|
|
|
|
It seemed like no time at all had passed when I arrived at the
|
|
banks of the Coldwell, although the sun was nearly down. The fact that
|
|
it was an awkward time for fishing didn't enter my mind. I should have
|
|
known then. My mind was clouded when I ran over the hill and saw a sight
|
|
I hadn't seen in years, the second in nearly a week. There was Dalis,
|
|
busy putting the finalized touches to a makeshift camp, a camp exactly
|
|
like the ones we built ten years ago. I don't mind saying I was near
|
|
tears.
|
|
Dalis noticed me and waved. I waved back and ran down to meet him.
|
|
"It looks great," I said when I reached him.
|
|
"I know," he said with a smile, and we both set to work, preparing
|
|
fishing poles and bait.
|
|
|
|
We fished for what seemed like forever, but in reality was about a
|
|
bell. It was then that Dalis told me.
|
|
"Balor, I think I'm in trouble."
|
|
I asked what he meant; what kind of trouble?
|
|
Then came the shock. Dalis had been with Kessia when they got into
|
|
an argument over "nothing" so Dalis had said. The argument got worse and
|
|
Kessia threw something at Dalis "like a mad woman." Dalis had "defended
|
|
himself" when Kessia "threw herself at him" and the barmaid was injured.
|
|
"It all happened so fast," Dalis whined. "Suddenly my knife was out
|
|
and Kessia ..."
|
|
I was appalled. How could this have happened? Nothing made sense to
|
|
me, and then everything was perfectly clear. I told Dalis he had to turn
|
|
himself in.
|
|
"Are you insane? Are you *mad*?" he screamed. "Do you know what
|
|
they do to murderers?"
|
|
"Murder?!!" I screamed back. "You said she was injured!"
|
|
"Injured, dead, what's the difference? C'mon, Balor, I need your
|
|
help!"
|
|
"What's the difference? *What's the difference!?*" I screamed, "One
|
|
is hurt, the other is *dead*, Dalis! I can't help you then, *friend*.
|
|
Since when did you start carrying a knife anyway? And what threat could
|
|
that girl have posed to you that you felt you had to run her through?!"
|
|
He remained silent. M'Kivar! "Answer me!" I heard my voice echo off the
|
|
water.
|
|
"By the gods, Balor! I come here for your help, thinking you'd be a
|
|
friend. Now you've already got me put away!"
|
|
With that, he stormed off.
|
|
My mind reeled. I couldn't believe this at all. My life had been
|
|
relatively normal until I returned to Dargon, and suddenly my oldest
|
|
friend was a murderer. I couldn't help myself. I sank to the ground and
|
|
cried. Partially from exhaustion, the rest from agony and confusion.
|
|
|
|
I woke the next morning to a crackling fire and the smell of
|
|
roasting fish. I knew without having to look. Dalis was back.
|
|
I got up and went over to a corner of the camp to relieve myself.
|
|
When I went back the fish was done, so I ate some, all while keeping
|
|
silent.
|
|
"I'm turning myself in, Balor," he said simply.
|
|
I couldn't believe it. This was more like the old Dalis. I supposed
|
|
that he was still the same man inside.
|
|
"That's great. You know, when it comes time, I'll vouch for you,
|
|
Dalis," I told him sincerely. I still don't know why.
|
|
"I knew you would," he said. "Right now we have to get going. I
|
|
don't want them looking for me for longer than they have to. It will
|
|
only make me look worse. Here's what I need you to do. I'm going to go
|
|
ahead to the guardhouse and turn myself in. You clean up here and then
|
|
go collect my things from the inn. Will you do that?"
|
|
I said "of course," and began right away. Dalis left in the
|
|
direction of Dargon City.
|
|
|
|
I paced back and forth across the room, anxiety causing me to
|
|
shudder every so often. Why had Dalis told me to wait? Wouldn't he need
|
|
me there to testify on his behalf? And should things go wrong, wouldn't
|
|
he need his things? Why not beat the flood and bring them to him now?
|
|
I was so preoccupied that I barely noticed when Dalis returned. At
|
|
first I was overjoyed to see him, the curiousness of the situation not
|
|
striking me until moments later.
|
|
"Dalis," I started, "why are you here?" Reasons for his presence
|
|
began to form in my mind, and I felt anger swell up. "I thought you were
|
|
going to the guardhouse. If you are lying to me -- " I was cut short by
|
|
my friend's shaking head.
|
|
"Balor, Balor ... You have to trust me more." He smiled. It was a
|
|
very disarming smile. "I went to the guardhouse. They allowed me to come
|
|
back to collect my things. Everything's fine."
|
|
Relief washed over me. "Oh good, " I sighed, walking slowly to the
|
|
window, for a breath of fresh air. "I'm glad ... " Then it struck me
|
|
like the wrath of the gods. "Dalis, why would the guards let you return
|
|
alo -- " I stopped short as my gaze rested on an approaching contingent
|
|
of guards. I had hoped for a moment that they would pass us by, that
|
|
perhaps they were only on a night patrol. This hope buckled as the man
|
|
who appeared to be the leader pointed at the inn and started to issue
|
|
orders.
|
|
"Oh no," I thought, "Dalis, why?" I whirled around to face my
|
|
friend, who seemed remarkably calm.
|
|
"Dalis, what's going on? Why didn't you turn yourself in? You swore
|
|
to me ... M'Kivar! What are you doing?" I watched, stunned, as Dalis
|
|
Benn, my closest friend, calmly walked to a chair, and sat down.
|
|
I looked fleetingly out the window again, seeing the guardsmen
|
|
talking to the innkeeper. I slowly began to understand what was
|
|
happening. I looked to Dalis, and his face confirmed my fears.
|
|
"Dalis, I don't ... Why?
|
|
"Come now, Balor. Don't be an imbecile! You must have known that I
|
|
wouldn't really turn myself in? You *must* have!" His smiling face
|
|
seemed to turn sinister, though his expression never changed. The he
|
|
laughed. The wind rushed out of me, and I suddenly felt very sick. No,
|
|
no, no, no, my mind repeated it. This couldn't be happening. I was
|
|
verging on hysterics. It was a joke! That was it! Sweat poured over my
|
|
face, and I suddenly felt very weak.
|
|
"You didn't know! By the gods Balor, you should be glad the guard
|
|
is here for you. You never would have survived on your own, as naive as
|
|
you are!"
|
|
His words drowned out in a swirl of sound. My reality seemed to
|
|
fall apart before my eyes. And then, as it often does, everything became
|
|
painfully, horribly clear. "How could I have been so stupid," I
|
|
whispered to myself, "So blind, to see what Dalis has become; what he
|
|
*is*?" The events of the previous days made sense now. Keeping me in my
|
|
room, the unexpected outing, everything. "He *used* me!" I wanted to
|
|
scream. Anger swelled in my gut. The guards' footsteps grew louder as
|
|
they approached. I had to act. I ran toward Dalis, full force.
|
|
"Balor, what are you *doing*?!" he shrieked as he jumped to his
|
|
feet, just before my shoulder slammed into his gut. I felt him double
|
|
over onto my back. Using my momentum, I picked up Dalis and threw him
|
|
behind me. As he hit the ground, I noticed a knife clatter away from his
|
|
tumbling figure. Moving with speed that was fueled by anger, I snatched
|
|
up the knife and pounced upon Dalis, holding his now-prone body down
|
|
with my knee. "I'm going to kill you," I growled, and I saw fear --
|
|
genuine fear -- in his eyes.
|
|
"Balor!" he squeaked, "don't do it! Please! Gods Balor! Don't kill
|
|
me!" His voice gradually worked it's way up into shrieks or terror, but
|
|
I didn't care. "Good-bye, you bastard ... " I growled again as I brought
|
|
the knife slowly down toward his skull. And then, something unexpected
|
|
happened: I smelled flowers.
|
|
I later recalled that the sensation was in my head, but that was
|
|
after the fact. I knelt there, pinning Dalis's screaming and wriggling
|
|
form, recalling a decade before, when Dalis and I were boys, wrestling
|
|
in the fields outside of Dargon. I remembered how I had beat him and
|
|
pinned him down, just like now, and how he looked up at me and told me
|
|
we'd be friends forever. As I recalled all of this, I felt tears well up
|
|
in my eyes, and I looked down at Dalis. He was trying to wriggle his
|
|
hand free, toward the knife in my hand. All memories faded.
|
|
I raised the knife again, but as I did, there was a pounding
|
|
outside the door, and I knew the guard was there. I took one final look
|
|
at my "friend", then slammed fist and hilt full force into his head. A
|
|
small trickle of blood seeped out of his nose as his body went limp.
|
|
I figured that I had a few minutes before the guard found my
|
|
whereabouts and even then the doors to the room seemed sturdy enough. I
|
|
jumped up, leaving Dalis where he lie and began a hasty search of the
|
|
room. "I'm going to find it," I repeated to myself. Then, as I searched
|
|
Dalis's bed, I saw it: a large, leather bound book. Gathering the flint
|
|
and tinder that was in my bag, I moved quickly to start a fire in the
|
|
hearth. It caught quickly enough, and the good quality of the wood there
|
|
coaxed the flame even higher. I wasted no time offering my sacrifice,
|
|
and tossed the book into the heart of the fire. Smoke rose and a strange
|
|
scent filled the room. As I waved my arms to fend off the onslaught, I
|
|
heard footfalls in the hallway, and voices approaching my door. I took a
|
|
last look at the fire, and I nearly fell dead on the spot. The book had
|
|
not caught! The flames raged all around it, but the leather-bound tome
|
|
was unscathed. I frantically tried to push some of the burning embers
|
|
onto the cover, but it was no use. The embers burnt but the book would
|
|
not catch. My fear and anxiety peaked as pounding emanated from the
|
|
door. I tried to figure out what was wrong; what I could do. The banging
|
|
on the door became more intense, and it didn't take me long to realize
|
|
that the Guard were trying to force their way in. I looked at the book
|
|
once more, stuck the knife into my belt, grabbed a few of my things, and
|
|
hopped out the window, landing on the roof below just as the door
|
|
splintered and caved in with a crash.
|
|
"Nehru's blood!" a gruff voice shouted from inside, "What happened
|
|
here? DeBec, search the room; Jyphis, I want you to get the others
|
|
around the building. Tell them to stop anyone who wants to leave the
|
|
area, and to retain them. This Hardwin won't get far."
|
|
I rolled down the slanted surface of the roof pushing my arm out at
|
|
the last second I pushed my arm out to give myself lift. I performed two
|
|
complete tumbles before landing squarely on the ground, much to my
|
|
discomfort.
|
|
I looked up and down the alley I now stood in, and decided on a
|
|
direction. The alleys flew by as I made my way toward the gates of
|
|
Dargon. I wondered where I would go. I saw something on a building that
|
|
caught my eye. It was one of my signs. Barely stopping, I grabbed the
|
|
sign and stuffed it in my pack. Then I ran again, this time not stopping
|
|
until I was out of town.
|
|
It was then that I wondered what makes things happen in this world.
|
|
I thought, isn't it strange how the biggest events of our lives can
|
|
start with the most incidental of things, with no foresight or intention
|
|
from us. I still haven't gotten over that.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Shadowstone
|
|
Part II
|
|
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
|
|
<white@duvm.ocs.drexel.edu>
|
|
Naia 12, 1014
|
|
|
|
Naia 12, 1014.
|
|
Mid day.
|
|
The Hills outside of Port Andestn, Duchy Monrodya.
|
|
|
|
Kimmentari appeared high on the hillside she had been aiming for,
|
|
next to a large tree whose shadow served to disguise the blue-violet
|
|
scatter of light that normally accompanied her departure from the travel
|
|
spaces. She looked around briefly, noting the large camp in the valley
|
|
below, then closed her eyes and hummed quietly to herself to confirm her
|
|
position in space and time. She opened her eyes and nodded: she was
|
|
where she needed to be.
|
|
Her journey had been swift, but not instantaneous. She had, as was
|
|
common among her people, used the travel spaces, which her race called
|
|
the Merstaln. These were a set of dimensions, or orders of form, that
|
|
facilitated rapid travel because of the way that short distances within
|
|
the Merstaln translated into much greater distances in the normal
|
|
physical dimension, or first order of form. But the Merstaln weren't a
|
|
friendly or healthy environment, which discouraged long exposure. And
|
|
the topography (if it could be called that) of the Merstaln only
|
|
permitted certain distances to be traveled in specific directions from
|
|
any entry point. Which meant that she was not able to step into the
|
|
Merstaln in Castle Pentamorlo and step out on this hillside as one trip.
|
|
And so her trip had taken almost a full day, and many passages into and
|
|
out of the Merstaln. But it hadn't only been the physical realities of
|
|
the Merstaln that had forced her journey into stages: from within the
|
|
travel spaces, she couldn't sense the Dance well enough to follow the
|
|
threads of her Dream and she hadn't known her path would lead her to
|
|
this hillside until the raveling threads' Dance had revealed it to her.
|
|
As her path had taken her somewhat erratically away from Castle
|
|
Pentamorlo generally but not always south and a little east, the threads
|
|
guiding her had begun to make themselves clear within the larger weave
|
|
of the Dance. As yesterday had become today in the reckoning of the
|
|
humans, she had seen the first nexus point of her quest: here, on this
|
|
hillside. As she had approached that nexus in both space and time, she
|
|
had been able to see further and further beyond the nexus in the several
|
|
directions the quest could take. It had startled her to realize that the
|
|
quest wasn't primarily hers, though. Since the dream had been so vivid,
|
|
calling to her and all but forcing her out upon the quest, she had
|
|
imagined that she would have a larger part than message bearer in it.
|
|
But she reminded herself that each strand in the Weave was equally
|
|
important. And somewhat later, she had seen some of the possibilities
|
|
the Dance was taking, and she knew there could well be more for her to
|
|
do.
|
|
She looked around again. Down in the valley, the camp seemed to be
|
|
going about its daily business normally. A little way to the east,
|
|
around two bends and a high peak, she could see a small dust cloud
|
|
approaching the camp. Things were moving along as they should. She moved
|
|
a little higher up the hillside, into the shade of another tree, and
|
|
turned to the south to await the nexus.
|
|
|
|
Chandras walked easily along the faint trail, following Haroned's
|
|
verbal instructions to the letter. He paused and looked around, and
|
|
figured that the Raider camp would be just over the hill in front of
|
|
him. As he resumed his journey, he wondered if the Raiders had people on
|
|
watch around the camp, and what kind of response he would need to give
|
|
in order to convince them that he sincerely wanted to join them, and
|
|
wasn't some kind of spy.
|
|
He was just coming over the crest of the hill when he heard shouts
|
|
and the clash of arms from the other side. He hurried toward the sound
|
|
until he could see the camp laid out in the valley, and the body of
|
|
mounted people riding into the camp from one side, weapons flashing,
|
|
shouting, some splitting off the group to go after those in the camp who
|
|
were trying to run away.
|
|
Chandras gasped as he watched the Raiders' camp being attacked. His
|
|
only chance of refuge was being very efficiently destroyed, right before
|
|
his eyes. His hand went to his dagger and he thought seriously about
|
|
charging down there and getting involved -- after all, he had more in
|
|
common with the Raiders than with anyone who would attack them. But he
|
|
reconsidered as he saw each and every one of the riders wielding their
|
|
swords, maces, and axes with what seemed like deadly accuracy and ease.
|
|
Each slashing motion seemed to fell at least one of the Raiders, and
|
|
even though they fought back fiercely, not one of the riders had so much
|
|
as been pulled from their horse.
|
|
Suddenly, he detected movement under a nearby tree, and he drew his
|
|
dagger and went into a crouch as he turned his attention from the
|
|
slaughter below to the potential danger right here. He expected either a
|
|
Raider sentry, or one of the attackers patrolling the perimeter of the
|
|
camp to make sure that no one got away. What walked out of the shadow of
|
|
the tree was very definitely neither.
|
|
The woman was tall and thin and beautiful, and unhuman. Her pale
|
|
green clothing looked normal enough, but her long hair was pale blue.
|
|
And her most arresting feature was the color of her eyes: deep, ruby
|
|
red!
|
|
When she spoke, her words, while perfectly understandable, seemed
|
|
to be accompanied by music that didn't have a source yet added meanings
|
|
to her speech as if she somehow made the music just for that purpose.
|
|
She said, "My name is Kimmentari, and I have been bidden to come here to
|
|
give you a choice, Chandras."
|
|
Almost unbidden, Chandras said, "That would be a change." He was
|
|
surprised at the bitterness he heard there.
|
|
The woman had paused for his outburst, and resumed without comment,
|
|
"The choice before you is thus. You will find a horse back over the
|
|
crest of the hill. You can capture it and use it for one of two things:
|
|
either ride after those who attack the camp below, those who are called
|
|
the Minions, when they leave, and find out where the one who controls
|
|
them resides, or take yourself away from this area and forget about your
|
|
home and friends."
|
|
Chandras frowned, and stood up out of his fighting crouch. He slid
|
|
his knife back into its sheath and said, "That's it? I mean, that's not
|
|
exactly a lot of information to base a decision on, don't you think?
|
|
"The smart thing would be to leave. Obviously. Why should I follow
|
|
those people? I don't know anyone down there, Raiders or Minions. Maybe
|
|
I don't care who the Minions are, who 'controls' them, or why they're
|
|
attacking the Raiders. Why shouldn't I just leave?"
|
|
The woman had an answer ready, as if she had expected his questions
|
|
and objections. "This is a nexus point, a place where the Dance has two
|
|
basic directions it could go. The result of your taking the horse and
|
|
leaving is that the Dance turns toward its worst resolution, which is
|
|
why I say you should forget about your home and friends. While what I
|
|
can see of the Dance suggests that this worst resolution might be
|
|
ultimately prevented in either case, your leaving now will doom Port
|
|
Andestn."
|
|
Chandras was stunned by her words. On the face of it, she was
|
|
spouting nonsense: Doom, indeed! She sounded like some kind of
|
|
market-place soothsayer but without the props that tended to influence
|
|
people to believe such ravings -- no cards, no Wheel, nothing. Except
|
|
for the music.
|
|
That music penetrated into Chandras, seeming to bypass his ears and
|
|
touch his soul directly. It was almost a physical sensation, starting in
|
|
his right hand and tingling right into the center of his being. And the
|
|
music, once there, added layers and layers of meaning to her simple
|
|
words. The music built in Chandras' mind's eye a picture of the Dance
|
|
she spoke of -- a tapestry composed of threads coming together and
|
|
weaving themselves into a tale that was not just a story. He could see
|
|
the part of the Dance that was the past, what had already happened, and
|
|
he could see the strands of the future forming, getting ready to take
|
|
their place in the Dance. He saw the choice point: a place very close to
|
|
'now' in the tapestry, where two very distinct groupings of threads
|
|
waited to join the Dance. One group, one direction the Dance could flow
|
|
from the nexus, did indeed foreshadow a doom of some kind for the area
|
|
around the Port -- a darkness that suggested an ending, not just for the
|
|
Port but for far more. The music didn't clarify further for him what the
|
|
threads actually represented -- he couldn't tell which was him, which
|
|
was the unhuman woman, which was the Minions, for example -- but in
|
|
general terms it was clear. One choice was clearly worse than than the
|
|
other, if he could accept that that darkness was really some kind of
|
|
doom.
|
|
In the other direction from the nexus there was no such clear path.
|
|
He could see further branches, further choices, the webbing getting more
|
|
and more complicated the further he went from this choice. And while
|
|
there were branches from most of these future choices that led to the
|
|
same kind of doom for the Port, he also could see that making the right
|
|
choices in the future would save his home.
|
|
As he digested this non-verbal information, questions flooded him.
|
|
Were those future decisions also his? Would he have her to help him see
|
|
these choices so clearly when it came time to make them? (If he had had
|
|
this kind of laying out of his options when he decided to do what
|
|
Delebye told him to, would he have still done it?) And what form would
|
|
this doom take? Was it escapable or resistible, say, an attack like the
|
|
one going on in the valley below him? Or was it inevitable, like a
|
|
plague, a sickness that couldn't be hidden from or ridden away from? (Or
|
|
was that really necessary for him to know to make his decision?)
|
|
He shook himself, and his vision cleared, the music fading away,
|
|
taking the myriad threads of the dance with it. He opened his mouth to
|
|
ask the mysterious woman his questions (not really expecting an answer),
|
|
only to see that she was gone. A flash of violet light from under that
|
|
tree startled him, but when he went to look, there was nothing there.
|
|
While she had been standing there, the music and her words still in
|
|
his ears, he hadn't had any doubts. Now, as he looked down into the
|
|
valley and watched as the Minions rode down the last Raiders in the
|
|
camp, while their fellows tied previously downed Raiders hand and foot
|
|
and tossed them over the saddles of the Raiders' own horses, he began to
|
|
wonder again. Stories were just stories, no matter how convincingly
|
|
told. And how could Port Andestn be doomed?
|
|
He turned and walked back over the crest of the hill, and sure
|
|
enough there was a horse standing there, cropping grass. Probably one of
|
|
the Raiders' horses that got loose, he figured. The horse didn't shy
|
|
away from him as he walked up to it and stroked its neck. His eyes
|
|
unfocused, still considering, he lifted himself into the saddle and took
|
|
up the reins. Suddenly coming to a decision, he turned the horse and
|
|
rode to the top of the hill. Looking down, he noted where the main
|
|
pathway that entered the valley ran, and also traced a way for him to
|
|
join up with it from here. Then he walked his new horse down and waited
|
|
for his chance to follow the Minions.
|
|
|
|
Chandras wasn't used to tracking on a horse, or in the wilderness
|
|
-- he was much more used to city streets and rooftops, and in fact
|
|
hadn't ridden a horse since he was a child (thankfully, he hadn't
|
|
forgotten too much since then). Fortunately, the Minions were very easy
|
|
to track. In fact, they didn't take any precautions at all to avoid
|
|
detection, and that worried Chandras. He wondered how powerful they
|
|
were, that they didn't fear being tracked? At the very least, what if
|
|
some of the Raiders had survived?
|
|
But he kept with it. And after what had to be at least a two bell
|
|
ride, they arrived at their destination which turned out to be a walled
|
|
enclosure at the end of a box canyon. Chandras realized that it must be
|
|
one of the old silver mines that Port Andestn had been founded to
|
|
supply. It made a better base of operations than the Raiders' camp had,
|
|
thought Chandras. The compound had a wall, complete with fancy gatehouse
|
|
and watch towers, and was built in an angle where two cliffs came
|
|
together, which meant that they only had to guard on two sides because
|
|
the cliffs guarded the other two sides, not to mention that the box
|
|
canyon, by definition, only had one entrance. And there were buildings
|
|
inside the wall, so that the inhabitants didn't have to sleep in tents.
|
|
Chandras had left his borrowed horse in a little side canyon when
|
|
he had first sighted the compound's walls. He had then crept back to
|
|
survey the end of the box canyon more closely. And now he was hiding
|
|
behind some rocks in the broad, open area in front of the compound's
|
|
walls, and wondering what he was supposed to do now. He tried to recall
|
|
the Dance he had been shown, but as time passed, the complicated image
|
|
was fading from his memory. Was this the next nexus point in the Dance?
|
|
Had one of those branchings of threads represented the choices he
|
|
thought he had now: to go find help, to work his way inside the compound
|
|
and find out what was going on, or to sneak as close as he dared and
|
|
just watch? He basically had no idea.
|
|
He was half waiting for Kimmentari to reappear and tell him what to
|
|
do next. Or at least show him the consequences of the choices he had.
|
|
What a wonderful ability to have, to be able to see consequences like
|
|
that, so completely. It had to make choosing so much easier, he thought.
|
|
And as he found himself unable to make a choice now for worrying about
|
|
consequences he couldn't possibly see the sources of, he began to wish
|
|
that she had never appeared to him on that hill in the first place. Then
|
|
at least if he had chosen of his own accord to take that horse and ride
|
|
away, he wouldn't have known enough to feel responsible for the 'doom'
|
|
of Port Andestyn.
|
|
Finally, as the sun sank slowly behind the cliffs behind the
|
|
compound, he left the lengthening shadows of the boulder and crept
|
|
carefully up to the compound wall. He saw the glints of the last rays of
|
|
the sun on weapons on the tops of each of the gatehouse towers, but he
|
|
knew he could easily get right up to the wall through the shadows. Where
|
|
the wall met the cliff, he found easy hand and foot holds, and was soon
|
|
peeking through the crenelations on the top of the compound's wall.
|
|
Still unseen, he slipped onto the walkway atop the wall, and from there
|
|
onto the roof of a building that abutted the wall and cliff. Peeking
|
|
over the edge of the parapet that ran around the flat roof of the
|
|
building, he changed his mind about trying to infiltrate because of the
|
|
ceremony he saw going on.
|
|
The center of the compound was completely open, the buildings of
|
|
the compound having been built against the walls and the cliffs. A large
|
|
round dais had been built a little back from center with a strange,
|
|
intricate pattern painted onto its surface. Around the dais stood about
|
|
50 people, men, women and children, each carrying a torch and
|
|
illuminating the compound quite well. At the back of the dais was an
|
|
ornate chair, and sitting in it was a person who looked almost familiar.
|
|
Chandras stared hard, and found himself reminded of Kimmentari. Her
|
|
features were different -- rounder, shorter, her mouth larger than
|
|
Kimmentari's had been. He couldn't see her eyes well enough to be sure
|
|
but he didn't think they were the red of Kimmentari's, and they seemed
|
|
to be shaped differently too, rounder to Kimmentari's lozenge-shaped
|
|
eyes. And her hair seemed almost green, but maybe that was the
|
|
torchlight.
|
|
In the center of the dais was a carved wooden stand supporting a
|
|
strange object. Chandras couldn't tell if it was a gem of some kind, or
|
|
just a stone that had been irregularly faceted, maybe even broken off of
|
|
a larger piece of material. It was dark, and from what he could tell,
|
|
opaque, but he thought he could see a faint light glowing inside of it
|
|
anyway, and there was a gash in the uppermost facet of the stone that
|
|
looked as if it was a wound in flesh and that pulsed in a deeply
|
|
disturbing way.
|
|
There was purposeful movement then, and Chandras saw two people who
|
|
seemed to be dressed in ceremonial armor leading a bedraggled and
|
|
injured man from one of the buildings behind the dais. The knights
|
|
brought the man to the stone at the center of the dais and forced him
|
|
none too gently to his knees next to it, taking his hand and placing it
|
|
over the top of the stone. The woman sat up straight and said some words
|
|
not quite loud enough for Chandras to understand, but he could detect a
|
|
hint of the music behind the words, not as clear or as full of meaning
|
|
as Kimmentari's but that might have been a factor of the distance.
|
|
A third person, a woman this time, in the same kind of ceremonial
|
|
armor stepped up next to the seated woman and took a dagger from her.
|
|
She walked over to the ensemble at the center of the dais, and as the
|
|
seated woman's voice rose in volume and Chandras heard the words, "...
|
|
and join the ranks of my Shadow Army!" she plunged the knife through the
|
|
bedraggled man's hand and into the stone.
|
|
Oddly enough, the man didn't cry out at all. He didn't even seem to
|
|
notice what had been done to him. He seemed to be trying to say
|
|
something to the woman in the chair, but his words were too faint to
|
|
carry to where Chandras was lying. The rooftopper had expected there to
|
|
be blood everywhere, but he didn't see a single drop come from the
|
|
wound.
|
|
Yet, something was happening. The glow he hadn't been sure about
|
|
earlier began to grow stronger (it couldn't quite be called 'brighter'
|
|
after all), and the man's hand began to glow as well, a reddish glow
|
|
that slowly faded to the same grey as that of the stone's light. As the
|
|
glow changed shade, the man seemed to get weaker and weaker, until he
|
|
finally slumped down, head lolling to the side and he would have fallen
|
|
on his face if the first two knights weren't still holding his arms.
|
|
The female knight removed the knife, and the glow of the stone and
|
|
hand faded slowly away. The man was carried to the edge of the dais and
|
|
handed to two of the people standing there. They carried the limp form
|
|
toward an opening in the cliff face opposite the building where Chandras
|
|
hid, while the two knights went back to the building he had first seen
|
|
them come out of. He wasn't really surprised to see that when they came
|
|
out again, they had another bedraggled person between them.
|
|
Chandras watched while this person was led to the dais and wondered
|
|
if he had seen enough. He certainly didn't know exactly what was going
|
|
on, or who these people were, but he at least knew that something was
|
|
amiss. He didn't think he had quite enough details to convince any one
|
|
of the danger in the hills, but he also didn't expect to get many more
|
|
details from this roof, and he had no desire to get any closer. And
|
|
then, there was the problem of who to take these details to ...
|
|
As he mused on that difficulty, watching the second person going
|
|
through what the first had, he heard a voice behind him sneer, "So, what
|
|
have we here? A sneaking little rat, huh? Well, looks like the Mistress
|
|
will have another convert before long. You won't even have to wait,
|
|
since the ceremony is already set up for the Raiders we captured."
|
|
Chandras rolled over as the voice laughed, and he saw another
|
|
knight standing between him and the wall, holding his sword casually,
|
|
but pointed at Chandras' middle. The thief considered his chances of
|
|
darting around the knight, but knew that it would be next to impossible.
|
|
"Stand up, little rat. Good. Now walk slowly back to the wall, and
|
|
then go toward the gatehouse; that's where the stairs are. And don't try
|
|
anything -- my sword and I will be right behind you. In fact, I should
|
|
just hamstring you right now -- you only need to be alive for the
|
|
Mistress to claim you -- but I don't feel like carrying you all the way
|
|
to the platform. So, move!"
|
|
When Chandras had gained his feet and could see the knight a little
|
|
better, he was shocked to see that the man's irises were surrounded by
|
|
that same smoky grey as Malkhas' and the people chasing him had been.
|
|
Were they connected with these people? Come to think of it, that grey
|
|
was awfully close to the color that that strange stone had glowed,
|
|
wasn't it?
|
|
He followed the directions of the knight, and followed the wall
|
|
walk to the stairs that led down into the compound just before the
|
|
gatehouse tower's door. He could almost feel that sword poking into him,
|
|
so he moved steadily toward the dais, but he did keep his eyes open,
|
|
hoping for a chance to get away.
|
|
As he neared the ring of people around the dais, the knight
|
|
escorting him said, "Make way, make way! I've got another one for the
|
|
Mistress!" The people moved aside and looked at him, and Chandras saw
|
|
that every single person standing there had smoke-grey eyes. As the way
|
|
to the dais cleared, he could see that a new person, a woman this time,
|
|
was just being forced down next to the stone. All three knights on the
|
|
dais had grey eyes, but the woman in the chair didn't -- her eyes, now
|
|
that he could finally see them clearly, were actually very blue, though
|
|
as she began her speech, he thought he could see flashes of ruby red in
|
|
them.
|
|
The knight who had captured him pushed him right to the edge of the
|
|
dais, so that Chandras had a very clear view as the knife pierced the
|
|
woman's hand and slid into the stone beneath it with ease. Once again,
|
|
the victim didn't seem to feel the knife, or realize that something
|
|
strange was going on. She was babbling about how she shouldn't have been
|
|
captured with the Raiders, that she wasn't one of them and she shouldn't
|
|
be punished with them. The female knight said quietly, "My dear, you are
|
|
not being punished. The Raiders were a target, but not for retribution.
|
|
You are being inducted into the service of the Mistress: you are being
|
|
rewarded for being captured by us. You may not rejoice now, but once the
|
|
Stone has fully claimed you, you will be one of us. By this time
|
|
tomorrow, you will be able to form a shadow body, like the one each of
|
|
us wears, and you will know the reward you have received."
|
|
By that time, the Stone had done its work and the woman was
|
|
unconscious. The female knight removed the knife and the other two
|
|
knights carried the woman away. Both women on the dais turned toward him
|
|
then, and after she had returned the knife to the Mistress (or so
|
|
Chandras presumed the woman in the chair to be) the knight walked toward
|
|
them and said, "So, Ehrve, what is this you have brought us?"
|
|
Chandras' captor, Ehrve it seemed, got only as far as, "Mistress
|
|
Olmehri, he's just this sneaking rat I ..." before the sound of a large
|
|
explosion turned everyone's attention back toward the gatehouse.
|
|
Chandras turned in time to see fire engulfing the top of the left
|
|
hand gate tower, and its rear parapet falling into the compound.
|
|
Everyone around the dais reacted exactly the same way -- they all dashed
|
|
for the wall, totally forgetting about Chandras; the two knights who
|
|
were escorting the next Raider victim to the dais dropped him and
|
|
likewise ran toward the wall to defend the compound from the obviously
|
|
impending invasion.
|
|
Chandras ran in the opposite direction, toward the cliffs. Once
|
|
there, he looked around and saw that everyone's attention really was
|
|
focused outward. So, he slipped along the cliff to where the wall
|
|
connected with it, again scaled it easily, and soon found himself atop
|
|
the wall at one of its ends.
|
|
He looked out across the area in front of the compound and saw that
|
|
no one had yet left the compound. He couldn't see any signs of whomever
|
|
had caused the explosion on the tower, either. No charging hordes, no
|
|
flights of arrows, no siege equipment. He wondered if there really was
|
|
an attack in progress, but he knew that there was only one way into or
|
|
out of this box canyon and one way or another, once those Minions got
|
|
organized and came through the gates, they wouldn't have to make any
|
|
choices about which direction to search for attackers or escaped
|
|
'sneaking rats'. So he decided he needed to get as much of a lead on
|
|
them as possible.
|
|
Chandras climbed down the wall and ran cautiously along the edge of
|
|
the canyon until he reached the exit point. Checking the compound, he
|
|
could see that the gates were beginning to open, and the tower fire was
|
|
almost out. Checking the exit valley, he didn't see anyone, so he raced
|
|
away. But he had barely turned a corner out of direct sight of the
|
|
compound before a shape loomed up out of the shadows in front of him. He
|
|
tried to dart around it, tripped, and hit the ground, knocking himself
|
|
unconscious.
|
|
|
|
Twenty people gathered around the unconscious form. All were
|
|
dressed in darkened armor and their weapons had been rubbed with dirt to
|
|
cut down on stray flashes of light. One woman, tall, thin, hard, but
|
|
handsome, said quietly, "Who could this be? Why was he running away from
|
|
the camp, and what should we do with him?"
|
|
"Whoever he is, our attack is ruined," said another of the score.
|
|
"We need to get away from here. Let's take him with us, and we can
|
|
question him later. Maybe he knows something about what's going on."
|
|
"That seems reasonable," said a third. "What do you say, Thornodd?"
|
|
The first woman said, "All right. You two pick him up, and we'll
|
|
put him on your horse, Jerek, since you're the lightest. We may be the
|
|
only Raiders left, but I think we can deal with one runaway between us.
|
|
Lets go!"
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Friendships Bloody Tear
|
|
Part II
|
|
by Mark A. Murray
|
|
<mmurray@uoknor.edu>
|
|
Dargon, Yuli 1015
|
|
|
|
The day was beautiful and Raphael had taken Megan's cape off to let
|
|
her enjoy the sun. He wasn't sure if she was aware of her surroundings,
|
|
but the episode when they had first found Anam gave him hope. They were
|
|
strolling through the woods while Anam was chasing anything that moved.
|
|
Raphael stopped and watched as the wolf pup flushed a hare. Anam gave
|
|
chase and Raphael laughed as he watched the rabbit lead the wolf. It was
|
|
a game of how fast can one go and still make sharp turns. Anam soon
|
|
realized he was outmatched in this game and decided to change the rules.
|
|
He tried to predict when the rabbit would turn and where so that he
|
|
could get there first. The rabbit started to turn to the right and when
|
|
Anam cut sharply to the right, the rabbit bolted to the left leaving
|
|
Anam behind. Anam stopped and watched the rabbit disappear from sight
|
|
before he returned to where Raphael stood. The pup gave a huff and
|
|
plopped down at Raphael's feet.
|
|
"I guess here is as good a place as any for camp, eh Anam?" Raphael
|
|
asked but the pup gave no indication that he heard. After building a
|
|
small hearth for the fire, Raphael cleared an area for the bed-roll.
|
|
Before he could unpack it, Anam was sitting by the cleared area waiting.
|
|
"I thought you were too tired to go on," Raphael said as he
|
|
unrolled the bed-roll. Anam jumped onto it before Raphael could get it
|
|
all the way undone. A struggle ensued when Raphael tried to get Anam off
|
|
of it. Rolling and playing with Anam, Raphael managed to get the
|
|
bed-roll undone but not quite the way he wanted. Working around Anam,
|
|
Raphael straightened the blankets as best he could. With that finally
|
|
done, Raphael put a pot of water on the fire and went to Megan. He led
|
|
her over to the blankets and sat her down next to Anam. Anam curled up
|
|
next to her while Raphael fixed their meal. Night came quickly and it
|
|
was late when Raphael finished washing Megan. He laid her down and told
|
|
her to sleep. Anam moved closer to her and Raphael got as comfortable as
|
|
he could with Anam between them. "If he gets much bigger," Raphael
|
|
thought, "one of us is going to have to sleep somewhere else."
|
|
|
|
Raphael and Anam watched as the sun rose over the horizon and
|
|
brought the new day with it.
|
|
"It's always beautiful, Anam. It gives me hope. No matter how dark
|
|
the night gets, the sun always rises and brightens the world. Always. It
|
|
makes me feel that no matter how long Megan and I endure this, there
|
|
will be a dawn to brighten our lives."
|
|
After a quick morning meal of bread and smoked meat, the three of
|
|
them were on their way. Raphael had no idea where he was going, except
|
|
that it was in the general direction of Magnus. He had heard that
|
|
anything could be found there as it was *the* largest town anywhere. He
|
|
was lost in thoughts of Magnus when he stumbled into an open grove in
|
|
the forest. In the center of the grove stood a wooden cabin. It was
|
|
ringed by a small stone fence, that was not completely finished. A
|
|
stream of smoke drifted upwards from the chimney and through the open
|
|
window Raphael saw a figure inside. As Raphael made his way down to the
|
|
opening in the stone fence, the figure opened the door and came out. The
|
|
figure turned out to be an old man. His face was wrinkled and weathered
|
|
from many days in the sun. His hair was grey and unkempt and he walked
|
|
with a limp.
|
|
"Come in, come in," the old man said. His voice was ragged and
|
|
hoarse. "I've been waiting for you. You're late, you know. Should've
|
|
been here hours ago," the old man said, but when he saw the wolf pup he
|
|
laughed. "So you've taken in another charge," he mumbled as he went back
|
|
inside.
|
|
"How ... " Raphael started to reply, but the old man was already
|
|
inside. "How did he know?" he wondered. "I'm not getting any answers
|
|
standing here." Raphael followed him into a one room cabin. Looking
|
|
around, he saw nothing hanging on the walls to decorate it. The inside
|
|
of the cabin looked much like the outside -- bare log walls. A small cot
|
|
was in one corner next to a table with a wash basin on it. A bucket was
|
|
sitting underneath the table. A simple cupboard stood in the middle of
|
|
one wall. In it were jars, bottles, plates, cups and pouches with
|
|
various amounts of stuff in them. Across the room from the cupboard was
|
|
a writing desk and chair. Scattered across the desk were scrolls, maps
|
|
and books.
|
|
"I've heard that you're looking for help," the old man said. "That
|
|
you're trying to remove a curse of some sort. Am I right?"
|
|
"Who told you that? Who are you?" Raphael asked defensively. "How
|
|
do you know so much about me?"
|
|
"I have friends in various places and they tell me many things. My
|
|
name is Emmet, and how I know what I know isn't really important, is it?
|
|
You have a problem with a curse and I think that I can help," Emmet
|
|
rasped.
|
|
"You can help?" Raphael asked. He didn't like to be in anyone's
|
|
debt, but he had reached a point where having Megan cured meant
|
|
everything to him. When Emmet nodded yes, warnings and hesitations
|
|
flared in his mind, but the thought of having Megan back overcame them.
|
|
"If I can help you, then you must do me one favor," Emmet added.
|
|
"Agreed," Raphael said without ever asking about the boundaries of
|
|
the favor, "if you can make her whole." Warnings were still echoing in
|
|
his mind. "This is for Megan," he thought as he stilled them. The old
|
|
man went to the cupboard and brought down a jar of dark liquid.
|
|
"Herbal tea for afterwards," he said and set the jar next to the
|
|
cot. He showed Raphael where to sit Megan and then told him to sit
|
|
opposite her. After Raphael had Megan sitting, Anam trotted over and
|
|
plopped down into her lap. Raphael took a seat opposite her just out of
|
|
arms reach. The old man shooed him back further before setting a device
|
|
between them. It was an odd looking thing made mostly out of metal wire
|
|
with a thin, flat base. It had four triangular sides which came to a
|
|
point on the top of it. The triangles only had metal wire as their
|
|
outlines, though, and one could see into the center of it. At the top,
|
|
there were two circular wires. They were balanced carefully on the top
|
|
and intersected each other to form a rough outline of a sphere. Inside
|
|
this sphere was a crystal cut with many facets. The old man lit a candle
|
|
and set it inside the device. The two circular wires slowly started to
|
|
rotate. The inner sphere reflected a myriad of colors from the candle.
|
|
"Amazing, isn't it?" Emmet asked Raphael. Done inspecting the
|
|
device, the old man drew a circle on the floor around all of them with
|
|
chalk. He inscribed different signs around the circle. Raphael
|
|
recognized a few of the runes from his earlier days. Anger and fear
|
|
coursed through him as one word overtook his mind -- Kell. He started to
|
|
rise, but his eyes focused on Megan. He would have to trust this old man
|
|
and see what happened. Yes, he would trust him but he would still be
|
|
wary.
|
|
"Now, look at the crystal in the sphere," the old man instructed.
|
|
"Let it fill your world." Raphael found himself drawn into the
|
|
glittering light. Megan was his last coherent thought for awhile.
|
|
|
|
Something snapped him back to consciousness. A movement, he
|
|
thought. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he watched as the world
|
|
began to focus. Megan was still sitting across from him with Anam in her
|
|
lap. Raphael looked to his right and saw that the old man was in some
|
|
kind of trance. Although the old man's eyes were open, Raphael noticed
|
|
that they weren't focused on anything in the room. Then he caught
|
|
movement out of the corner of his eye. Anam must be moving, he thought.
|
|
Turning his head he saw that Anam had not moved, but that Megan's hand
|
|
was on top of the pup's head. Raphael froze and waited. When Megan's
|
|
hand started to caress the pup's head, he didn't know what to do and
|
|
before he could move, Megan's body jerked and spasmed. Her head tilted
|
|
back and she drew in a large breath. With another spasm, she let the
|
|
breath out. She bent forward and her free hand closed into a tight fist.
|
|
When she sat upright again, there were tears in her eyes. Raphael
|
|
watched through her tears as her eyes changed from the dull grey to
|
|
sparkling green. She opened her mouth and only a whisper escaped, but it
|
|
was enough for him to hear. The first word she had said in years had
|
|
been his name. He found himself beside her without knowing he had moved.
|
|
She flung her arms around him and collapsed into his chest. Anam gave a
|
|
yelp and squirmed out of her lap. Megan moved back from his chest to let
|
|
the pup go. A smile crossed her lips and she looked into his eyes.
|
|
"I love you," she whispered. Raphael looked into the loveliest face
|
|
he had ever seen and echoed her words. She leaned in and started to kiss
|
|
him when a spasm racked her body. She clutched his arms and another
|
|
spasm swept through her. Her movements stopped and her body went
|
|
dormant.
|
|
"I can not give you much more," the old man coughed. Raphael turned
|
|
to the old man.
|
|
"Just a little longer. Please, I beg you," Raphael implored. The
|
|
old man just nodded. Megan jerked.
|
|
"No!" she spat. "I don't want to go back! Please, Raph. It's a
|
|
never ending nightmare. I can see everything but I can't do anything.
|
|
Help me," she pleaded. Raphael wrapped his arms around her and pulled
|
|
her closer. Megan broke the embrace and tears flowed down her face. She
|
|
reached up and caressed his cheek. "I'll always love you," she said as
|
|
she slipped away. A single tear escaped his eye and ran down his cheek
|
|
to land softly on her hand. He slumped back and spasms wracked his body
|
|
now as he fought for control of his emotions. Despair raged while anger
|
|
and fear built up. I don't want to lose you. Sadness crept in to replace
|
|
despair as he realized that he had lost her again. He was finally able
|
|
to throw his emotions into a room in his mind and bolt the door.
|
|
Opening his eyes, he caught movement from the old man. Looking
|
|
over, he saw tears of blood running down the mage's face. Raphael
|
|
watched as the old man wiped the tears away and then bent forward to
|
|
blow the candle out. Only when the old man had painfully moved to the
|
|
cot did Raphael shift his focus. He turned and looked at Megan. She was
|
|
still sitting there with her hand in the air where it had lain against
|
|
his cheek.
|
|
"I am sorry," rasped the old man. "It is too great a task for me.
|
|
There is more than one hand in the curse that binds her." Raphael jerked
|
|
his head to the old man.
|
|
"More than one?" Raphael echoed.
|
|
"Yes. There is a predominant trace of someone and there is a slight
|
|
overlay of another presence, a stronger one. Then there is a presence
|
|
that is throughout the whole curse. It's as if the curse has a life of
|
|
its own," the old man explained.
|
|
"If you can't break it, do you know who can?"
|
|
"There are no sureties in life, but I think that by killing the
|
|
person with either the predominant trace or the stronger presence, you
|
|
may gain enough to break the curse. If she's strong enough, that is,"
|
|
the old man answered. "If she isn't, then your best chance would be to
|
|
kill the stronger presence. Now go, I am weary and have done all I can."
|
|
Traces of the tears of blood he had shed still lingered on his face.
|
|
Sitting on the cot, he poured some tea.
|
|
Raphael went to Megan. He took her arm and stood her up.
|
|
"What do I owe ... ," he started to ask the old man but was
|
|
interrupted.
|
|
"I said go! I did nothing for her and you owe me nothing," the old
|
|
man rasped as he lay on the cot.
|
|
Raphael led Megan out the door with the pup silently trailing
|
|
behind. The old man had given him some small glimmer of hope and Raphael
|
|
had decided to grab for it. Up until now he had feared that with the
|
|
death of Kell, Megan's fate would be sealed forever, but the old man had
|
|
shaken that fear. There were no sureties in life, he had said, but by
|
|
killing Kell, Megan could return to normal. "I can't kill Kell," he
|
|
thought in anguish. "For all that he's done, we were friends. That meant
|
|
something to both of us at one time. Oh, Kell, why?"
|
|
He had also said there was another's hand in Megan's imprisonment
|
|
besides Kell's. Someone who was stronger than Kell. Killing this person
|
|
could also free Megan, and it might be her best chance. Raphael could
|
|
only think of one person who fit the description -- Kell's mentor, Loth.
|
|
|
|
The old man watched as Raphael and Megan left. Once they were out
|
|
of sight, he sat down on the cot and sighed. He reached up and fumbled
|
|
with something at the nape of his neck. Scratching and digging at his
|
|
neck, the old man finally managed to tear his skin. He pulled the skin
|
|
around to the front of his face where it tore. Setting a mirror up, he
|
|
cleaned the rest of the false skin off of his face and neck. Next came
|
|
the wig. It came off only after pulling out some of his original hair.
|
|
Where there was once an old man, now stood a younger man in his late
|
|
twenties. The only real thing left were the stains of blood left by his
|
|
tears.
|
|
"What a mess I've made of things my old friend," Kell said to
|
|
himself. "I've cursed you and Megan for years and now I've probably
|
|
sealed my doom, but it's my only hope in being free of Loth. He'll find
|
|
me soon, I can feel it. Back I go to being slave and subject for his
|
|
experiments. I've done you many wrongs my old friend, but maybe together
|
|
we can fix one of them and free Megan. And just maybe, with your
|
|
unwitting help, I can break free of Loth." Kell settled back onto the
|
|
cot, closed his eyes and waited for his master to find him. He knew his
|
|
punishment would be great, but it was worth it. Even though his chances
|
|
of success were small, it was worth it.
|
|
Thinking of Raphael and himself when they were younger, Kell cried
|
|
himself to sleep.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|