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 --   DargonZine Volume 2, Issue 2        05/06/89          Cir 801    --
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 --                            Contents                                --
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   DAG                        Dafydd                 Editorial
   Backtrail                  Michelle               17 Naia, 1013
   Dragon Hunt, Part 1        Max Khaytsus           19-23 Naia, 1013
   Dragon Hunt, Part 2        Max Khaytsus           20-23 Naia, 1013
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                           Dafydd's Amber Glow

      First, I  would like to  reassure those  of you who  might actually
 look at the subscription numbers on  the masthead: we did not loose over
 70  readers  since  last  issue  - I  cannot  add.  Sorry.  The  present
 circulation number is correct.
      Second, as  I have a  little more time and  space, I would  like to
 explain  the dates  that  appear next  to  each story  in  the Table  of
 Contents. When I took  over the Dargon Project, I thought  it would be a
 good idea to  try to give the  stories some kind of  common reference to
 help the reader understand what  was happening when. (This should become
 very useful  in a few months  when some very interesting  things will be
 happening  in Baranur,  and you  will all  want to  keep the  stories as
 straight as possible...) Of course, the best  way to do this would be to
 have all  of the stories cross-reference  each other - but that  takes a
 lot more time and coordination than we as a group of authors are capable
 of supplying at this time. So, I decided that it would be a good idea to
 date each  story and to  tell the readers what  the date was.  Hence the
 date column in the TOC.
      Now, to  explain what the dates  mean. In Baranur, there  are 12 30
 day months and a 5 day (or 6  in the case of leap years) spring festival
 stuck in the middle. The month  names and their Earth equivalents are as
 follows:

     Janis - January      Vibril - February    Mertz  - March
     Firil - April        Naia   - May         Melrin - *Spring Festival
     Yule  - June         Yuli   - July        Sy     - August
     Seber - September    Ober   - October     Nober  - November
     Deber - December

 Thus,  for example,  the three stories  in this issue  are occurring  in
 mid-to-late May, in Earth terms (more or less...).
      Well, that's about it for this issue. Next time (with luck, no more
 than a month or so away), we  will continue Ms Henniquin's Trial by Fire
 and begin a story  by a new author to the project. Feel  free to send me
 mail  if you  have any  questions, or  mail the  authors or  myself with
 comments about the stories.
      And until next time I remain,
           Dafydd, Editor DargonZine (b.c.k.a. White@BUVM.bitnet)
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                              Backtrail
                          by Michelle Brothers
             (b.c.k.a. brothers%tramp@boulder.colorado.edu)

     The heavy rainstorm  that had broken yesterday had  begun to slack
 off by mid-morning a day later,  spending its fury as it moved inland.
 A gentle rain continued to fall, however, and Teran muttered irritably
 as droplets splattered his face. Rain was his least favorite of Mother
 Natures manifestations; sun was never a  problem and snow was at least
 easy to deal with.
     His horse,  a large, heavyset  bay, didn't  seem to have  the same
 problems with the weather that his  rider did. He walked with his head
 held high,  delicately stepping over the  mud puddles in the  road and
 prancing impatiently every time Teran stopped to dismount.
     Teran didn't  know why he  bothered trying to find  Eliowy's trail
 anymore. Last night's rain had  probably obliterated any track, always
 providing that  she hadn't decided to  take shelter along the  way. If
 she had, he would have to go  back along the road to Tench, find where
 Eliowy had taken refuge, and pick up her trail. Again.
     Eliowy  had  proven to  be  very  elusive  quarry, the  blond  man
 admitted grudgingly. Not at all as easy to track and capture as he had
 assumed at the  start of the chase. She had  managed to put additional
 time   between  herself  and   her  pursuer  after  disembarking  from
 Dolphins Anchor by buying a horse.  Teran took a certain grim pleasure
 in the knowledge that the price  of the beast had probably shocked the
 girl into a near faint. He, himself, had choked when the dealer quoted
 his price.
     Since  leaving the  coastal city  of Foroni  the chase  had become
 almost a  game; Eliowy trying to  get lost enough that  Teran couldn't
 find her and Teran trying to get close enough to Eliowy to catch her.
     Thus far,  the 'game' had been  a draw. Eliowy stayed  just out of
 Teran's reach,  but couldn't shake him  off her tail. After  well over
 six months of  running after Eliowy, Teran had gained  a great measure
 of respect  f for  the girl's resourcefulness.  She was  using tactics
 that he hadn't  expected her to be  able to come up  with; like having
 someone leave a false trail for him while she left the city in another
 direction.
     Teran scowled at the memory.  He had nearly lost Eliowy completely
 that  time.  If  she hadn't gotten rid of her  horse when she had...It
 was the one move that Teran  thought was foolish on her part, although
 she'd probably sold the animal to pay the young man to leave her false
 trail. Teran thanked the gods that she hadn't paid him enough.
     The morning  mist had  cleared and  the blonde  man could  see the
 battlements of a  keep in the distance. Allowing his  stallion to plod
 along without guidance,  Teran pulled a carefully rolled  map from one
 saddle bag.  After a little searching,  he was able to  find Tench and
 from there he traced his path to the city he was headed for.
     "Dargon," said  Teran wearily. "Well,  I certainly hope  that they
 have better accommodations  than Tench." He stowed the  map away again
 and slapped the horse's neck. "Let's  go," and urged the animal into a
 cantor.
     A short  hour later Teran  found himself  on the main  street into
 Dargon. Rain had washed the streets clean and had finally slackened to
 a barely  noticeable drizzle. He  glanced around  as he rode  into the
 city, noting the people hurrying about their morning business.
     As was usual  when presented with a new city  to search, Teran was
 uncertain where to begin. Eliowy  had become increasingly clever as to
 her  hiding  places and Teran knew he could no longer simply go to the
 most  inexpensive inn  around  to  get news  of  her.  Finding an  inn
 wouldn't be  such a  bad idea  however, his  stomach pointed  out. The
1search could begin and breakfast  gotten in the bargain. Trail rations
 did not a meal make.
     Teran agreed.
     This decided, Teran started searching for a respectable inn.

     Eliowy stared at  the grey stone ceiling through  slitted eyes and
 decided  that this  time  she  was in  real  trouble.  Despite have  a
 terrible   headache,  she  still  remembered  being  captured  by  the
 Lieutenant of the Guard and it didn't  take much to guess that she was
 now in a  guardhouse. Voices in the room prevented  Eliowy from making
 an  immediate escape,  so she  simply lay  still and  listened to  the
 conversation.
     "I just don't understand why you  brought her here, Kalen," a deep
 voice was saying tiredly.
     "Her reaction was odd,  Captain," replied Kalen. Eliowy identified
 him as  the guard she  had literally run  into earlier. "I  didn't say
 much of anything to her and she  took off running; like I'd caught her
 stealing or something."
     "Stolen something. Like  the sword? Or the  harp?" queried Kalen's
 captain.
     "Well, yes,"  said Kalen.  "The  thought  had  crossed my  mind. I
 mean, the workmanship of the blade is excellent and the harp is nearly
 an antique. They'd be worth quite a bit on the black market."
     Eliowy  tensed  angrily,  reminding  herself that  she  was  still
 supposed to  be unconscious. The sword  was one of her  most treasured
 possessions; a  gift from Teran when  he finally decided that  she had
 learned all he could  teach her. And as for the harp,  well. So far as
 Eliowy was concerned,  the instrument was priceless, all  that she had
 left of her mother.
     "Kalen, the instrument is too well cared for to have been stolen,"
 said the captain patiently. "It's also not pretty enough to bring gold
 on the market. And as for the blade," The silky sound of a sword being
 drawn from a sheath rang through the room. "It is very finely crafted,
 I grant  you, but feel how  lightweight it is," Eliowy  could invision
 her weapon  being handed  to Kalen.  "It wouldn't be  of much  use for
 either of  us, but I'll wager  my next months bonus  that it's perfect
 for her. A smith would make  something like this on commission because
 it's useless except for the one that it was made for."
     "You've made your point, Captain," sighed Kalen, sliding the blade
 back into  it's sheath.  "She's not a  thief and it  was a  mistake to
 bring her in."
     "Your  thinking  was  good--"  began   the  captain,  only  to  be
 interrupted by the  clash of steel and excited  young voices clamoring
 outside.
     "What in the  name of every god--" The captain  swore, rushing out
 the door with Kalen hot on his heels.
     As soon  as she heard  the man  shouting in the  courtyard, Eliowy
 rolled  off the  wooden bench and hurried to the table. She pulled the
 baldric over her head like a sash so that the sheathed sword hung down
 her back and pulled her backpack closer. One swift thrust and the harp
 was  stuffed into  the bottom  of the  bag. Another  grab and  the her
 clothes followed in an untidy mass.
     She  rushed the  door without  bothering  to close  the pack.  And
 completely  ignoring the  silver piece  laying  in the  middle of  the
 table.
     Outside, the  captain had  two young  men by  the collars  and was
 shaking them both  vigorously while an impassive Kalen  looked on. His
 angry voice easily reached Eliowy by the door.
     "You young  fools can either explain  to me why you  drew steel on
 one another OR you can explain it to the Duke!" another vigorous shake
1punctuated his  words. The threat  had the  desired effect as  the two
 youths  tried to  talk over  one  another to  make their  case to  the
 captain.
     Stifling a smile, Eliowy slipped around the rear of the guardhouse
 and paused in  its shadow to close  her pack and to  get her bearings.
 The rain  had slacked enough so  that she was no  longer worried about
 getting  soaked,  although the  constant  drizzle  was proving  to  be
 annoying. Through the dim haze of  rain Eliowy could see a small group
 of carts being unloaded by what seemed  to be the back entrance to the
 Keep. There was not, however, any sign of a rear gate.
     The captain's voice  could no longer be heard  shouting and Eliowy
 decided that, where ever she went, moving might be a very good idea.
     "The fastest way  out of here," thought Eliowy,  eyes scanning the
 courtyard, "would be to go around the castle and out the front gate or
 over the  wall. But that's the  most obvious way too..."  The sound of
 footsteps on the flagstones  cut Eliowy's contemplation short. Without
 pausing to  make a  conscious decision,  she headed  for the  group of
 wagons by the servants entrance.
     As she walked,  Eliowy pulled her cloak and sword  off of her back
 and arranged the  cloth so that it  hid both her weapons  belt and the
 pack. Carrying the unwieldy mass like a box, held in front of her, the
 girl joined the end of the line of people entering the Keep.
     "Is that  the last of it?"  someone demanded in Eliowy's  ear, the
 second she stepped through the doorway.
     "Uh, yes, ma'am!" Eliowy looked up at the speaker, a tall woman in
 a grey apron that looked very official. "Last load."
     "Well, what is it?" The woman asked the woman impatiently.
     "Linens."
     "Take  them up  to the  sewing room,  then," She  looked over  her
 shoulder at a pair of boys who were heading for a large cabinet by the
 fireplace. "And you two stay out of the pantry!"
     While the  woman was occupied, Eliowy  headed for the door  at the
 far end of the room.
     "Girl!"
     Eliowy stopped dead in her  tracks and turned slowly around, heart
 dropping to her boots.
     "Ma'am?"
     "You're new here?"
     "Yes, ma'am."
     A gentler expression covered the woman's tired face.
     "Get those up  to the sewing room, first door  on the second floor
 up the back staircase, and then come down and get your breakfast."
     "Yes, ma'am.  Thank you!"  Eliowy stifled her  sigh of  relief and
 hurried out of the kitchen.
     Once  clear of  the people  hurrying in  and out  of the  kitchens
 entrance, Eliowy  slung her sword back  over her shoulder and  put her
 cloak on over  it, arranging the hilt  so that it stuck  out under the
 hood. Hoping that she looked more  like she belonged here, Eliowy went
 up the nearest staircase, so as to avoid as many people as possible.
     The second floor  of the Keep was almost tomblike  in it's silence
 compared to the bustle of the lower floor, additional noise being kept
 out by a heavy wooden door at the  bottom and the top of the stairs. A
 long hall  stretched to the  left, right,  and straight ahead  and was
 hung with tapestries.  Rich carpet ran down the center  of each of the
 corridors and light let in by  long, narrow windows with carved wooden
 shutters. Doors lined the hall directly forward.
     Cautiously Eliowy walked down the middle hall, knowing that it had
 to lead to the Keep's main  entrance. Even though it was unlikely, she
 still  did not  want  to risk  running unawares  into  any of  Kalen's
 soldiers. She  stayed close to the  wall, ready to dodge  into a room,
1should the need arise.
     She came to  an intersection that had small tables  at each of the
 walls corners, all  with full vases on them. Sweet  perfume filled the
 small area and Eliowy paused to  inhale the fresh fragrance. The sound
 of  laughing voices  coming towards  her  from the  direction she  was
 heading in broke off her reverie.
     Cursing herself for a fool, Eliowy ran down the left hand corridor
 looking for a place to hide.
     The sound  of the voices  drew closer and, panicked,  Eliowy began
 trying doors to see if any were unlocked. Her second frantic turn of a
 door handle proved  to be the lucky one and  she breathed a  prayer of
 thanks to the gods as she ducked inside.
     As quickly and as quietly as  possible, she closed the door behind
 her and put her  back to the door, only to nearly  have a heart attack
 because  the room  she had  chosen to  hide in  was occupied.  She had
 interrupted someone in the middle of their breakfast.
     The  man  stared  at  her,  fork  poised  halfway  to  his  mouth,
 surprised, but not alarmed, as if  he had unknown people bursting into
 his room all the time.
     Frantically, Eliowy put  her finger to her lips  and made shushing
 motions at  the man as  the voices she had  heard out in  the corridor
 sounded directly outside her chosen hiding place.
     The voices in the hall weren't clear enough for Eliowy to make out
 the conversation, but she kept one  ear tuned to the murmuring outside
 and both both  eyes fastened on the  man at the table.  He had finally
 put his fork down and was hiding  a smile behind the act of wiping his
 mouth.
     "I don't  think they'll  find you  in here,  girl," the  man said,
 finally  able to  keep  a  straight face,  brown  eyes sparkling  with
 suppressed laughter. "I promise that I won't give you away."
     Eliowy's heart  nearly stopped  when the man  spoke, but  his last
 statement coupled  the fact  that he  made no move  to rise  or shout,
 assured her that he would, indeed say nothing. In fact, she thought as
 the  voices in  the  hall faded  past  her hearing,  he  seemed to  be
 enjoying the entire episode immensely.
     "Sorry to disturb your repast," she said softly, deciding that the
 passage way  had to be  clear by now. She  fumbled behind her  for the
 door handle still keeping puzzled eyes on the man. She bobbed her head
 to him in thanks and slipped out the door.
     Clifton Dargon, Lord of Dargon Keep,  leaned back in his chair and
 laughed, a little ruefully, at the freedom of youth.

     Eliowy  hurried down  the  main  staircase as  fast  as she  could
 without attracting too  much attention. She encountered no  one on her
 way down  but as  she neared  the bottom of  the stairs,  the everyday
 sounds of  the Keep  grew louder  and people  could be heard  hurrying
 about their business.
     Pausing at  the bottom of the  stairs and trying to  be invisible,
 Eliowy waited until there was a  break in the stream of people, before
 slipping across the main hallway and out the door into the main yard.
     The wide, open courtyard spread out  in front of the auburn haired
 girl, as she stepped out into the  slowly clearing day. It was just as
 busy with hurrying  people as the kitchen entrance and  the main keep.
 From where she  stood, Eliowy could see the main  gates, heavy looking
 wood and  iron affairs,  wide open.  A pair of  guards stood  at post,
 seeming to ignore the occasional cart that came through.
     Taking a  deep breath,  Eliowy started  out across  the courtyard.
 None of the people she passed payed much attention to her and she made
 it to the gates with no difficulties.
     "I'm going to  make it," she thought confidently.  "Just walk past
1the guards and I'm free...just a few feet more..."
     "Here, girl. Where do you think you're going?"
     Eliowy halted, heart pounding, and  turned reluctantly to face the
 younger of the two gate guards.
     "Cook needs some herbs from  the market," she lied hastily, trying
 to  sound disgusted.  "Decided, all  of  a sudden,  to make  something
 special for the evening meal."
     "But why are  you leaving by the main gate?"  pressed  the  guard,
 stepping closer. Eliowy  thought frantically for a reply  as the young
 man added, "The secondary gate is much close to the market."
     "I'm  new here,"  began  Eliowy,  looking up  at  him, amber  eyes
 guileless and  a little confused. "I  get my bearings better  from the
 main gate."
     "But--"
     "Let up, Jaron,"  advised the other guard, coming  to stand behind
 Eliowy. Let the poor  girl get on with her errand  so the cook doesn't
 get angry with her. Someone can show her a faster route later."
     "Thank  you, sir,"  said Eliowy  on the  heels of  his words.  She
 ducked out of the main gate  before any more protests could be raised,
 and ignored the younger man's command to wait.

     Teran leaned back in his seat  and calmly surveyed the common room
 of Belisandra's. Late morning breakfasters lingered comfortably around
 scarred  wooden  tables  and  sunlight, poking  abound  ragged  clouds
 brightened the  room. A  stout woman stood  behind the  bar, carefully
 wiping glasses while chatting amiably with the serving girl.
     A faint  smile flickered across  Teran's lips. He  quietly enjoyed
 the  wine  and  his  few  hours rest.  Renewing  his chase  could come
 later, after  his spirit had been  refreshed. He drained his  glass of
 its fruity wine and signalled the bar-maid for another.
     The inn's main  door was pushed open with a  breath of fresh, rain
 washed air and Teran's eyes were automatically drawn to the intrusion,
 wariness not relaxed  even in such a safe  seeming environment. Seeing
 the person  framed in the doorway,  Teran was glad for  his ever alert
 vigilance, even as surprise nearly made him drop his empty wine glass.
     Eliowy's eyes flickered over the  room, noting, Teran assumed, how
 many  people  were  present,  wether  or not  any  of  them  might  be
 dangerous, and where the alternate exits were  in the room. It was not
 a skill he had taught her, but he  still felt a glow of pride that she
 had learned it.
     Their eyes  locked as Eliowy's gaze  slid to the corner  Teran had
 seated  himself in,  and the  wariness  in Eliowy's  face melted  into
 horror.  She took  a  hesitant  step backwards,  shaking  her head  in
 denial.
     Teran rose slowly as she took another backwards step.
     "Eliowy," he  said softly, all  plans of grabbing her  and telling
 her  that she  hadn't a  chance of  escaping him,  fading away  at the
 pained look in her face.
     The fear  in Eliowy's amber  eyes hardened to defiance.  Her third
 backwards  step  was confidently taken  and she  was out  the door and
 running, even as Teran shouted for her to wait.

     Eliowy ran straight down the street, trying to lose herself in the
 crowd,  not bothering  to use  the dark,  inviting recesses  of nearby
 alleys  to secret  herself in.  Lythly  she dodged  around people  and
 horses and listened intently for  the sounds of pursuit. Teran's pleas
 for her  to wait  faded in the  distance as the  voices of  the people
 drowned him out.
     Certain, now,  that she would  again lose him, Eliowy  ducked into
 the nearest open shop,  to put herself completely out of Teran's sight.
1    The smell  of dye and  cloth surrounded her  and the three  men in
 front of the counter turned from  their observation of a bolt of cloth
 held by a fourth man to stare at Eliowy as she stood in the portal.
     "Well," said the dark haired man at the center of the group. Sharp
 brown eyes studied the girl in  the doorway. "It appears that you have
 another customer, Kelmin. Perhaps you should see to her needs first."
     "No  need," said  Eliowy hastily,  as the  slender man  behind the
 counter set  down the bolt  of cloth and  started to move  out towards
 her. "I, uh,  just stepped into the wrong shop."  She glanced over her
 shoulder. No sign of Teran. She hadn't  heard his shout going by so he
 either took another path or...
     "Are you having  difficulties, my dear?" inquired  the dark haired
 man, leaning casually  against the counter. The taller of  the two men
 at his side jerked in surprise.
     "Ah--"
     "I'll be glad to help you out of your trouble," the man continued,
 before she  could come up with  a plausible lie. "Mentis,"  The fourth
 man stepped forward briskly. "Why don't  you take the young lady to my
 office so that we can discuss her  problems at our leisure in a little
 more private surroundings."
     "Of course, my lord." He gave Eliowy the slightest of bows. "Lady,
 this way." He grasped her upper arm and led her outside. Completely at
 a loss, Eliowy didn't even thing to struggle or protest.
     As they disappeared down the street, the brown haired man chuckled
 deep in his throat.
     "You're  going  to use  her  to  replace  Kera, aren't  you,  Lord
 Liriss," said the tall man matter of factly.
     "Yes," The  smile deepened  around the  corners of  Liriss's lips.
 "She'll do nicely, don't you think, Kesrin?"
     "I think  you're moving prematurely," retorted Kesrin. "Cril might
 just manage to bring Kera back.  And," he added quickly, before Liriss
 could comment on that. "You caught the girl by surprise. She might not
 want  to  cooperate.  She  might   not  even  have  any  skills  worth
 utilizing."
     Liriss shrugged.
     "Every  woman has skills,  Kesrin.  And if she  doesn't accept  my
 extremely generous offer,  I'll kill her, just as I  plan to kill that
 bitch  Kera if  Cril manages  to bring  her back  to me  alive. What's
 Dargon with one less street urchin? No one will even notice that she's
 gone."
     "Except whoever she's running from," muttered Kesrin too softly to
 be heard  while Liriss ordered  a new summer  cloak from the  rich red
 material he had been fingering.
     "What was that, Kesrin?"
     "Nothing, my lord. Shall we go talk to your new recruit?"
     "By all means, let's."
     Liriss's laughter was drowned out by  the crowd as he followed the
 path his bodyguard and most recent captive had taken.
     Less  than  twenty  feet  away,  a  tall,  blond  man  desperately
 questioned passersby  as to whether or not they  had seen a  young red
 haired girl come running this way.
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                             Dragon Hunt
                                Part 1
                            by Max Khaytsus
              (b.c.k.a kaytsus%tramp@boulder.colorado.edu)

     The young mage released his most powerful spell, but it did little
 good. The  glowing sphere engulfed the  old woman and just  as quickly
 faded.
     The witch hesitated a moment, recovering from the attack. The mage
 started backing across the clearing, looking for an escape.
     "No farther,"  the witch  said, drawing  a symbol  on air.  A tree
 behind  the mage  shook and  and with  a splintering  sound bent,  its
 branches gripping him, raising him into the air.
     "Tell them to leave my work  alone!" the witch hissed and the tree
 threw its captive up. "Alone!"
     Moments  passed before  the  witch approached  the unmoving  body,
 nudging it with her foot. There was no motion. From a pouch on her red
 belt she  produced a  handful of  white powder.  "Go home,"  she said,
 sprinkling it over the mage. The body disappeared from sight.

     Gerim glanced at the three men  before him. "I am not an assassin.
 I refuse to kill for you."
     "But she  has to die.  You know  that as well  as we," one  of the
 sitting elders answered.
     "We can force you," another man  said. "...but we would rather not
 have to."
     "Gentlemen, I  am no longer  a rookie mage. I  can opt for  one of
 your  positions,  if I  so  chose,"  Gerim  responded to  the  threat.
 "Please, don't ask me to do this."
     "Gerim, understand," the first wizard spoke again. "Maari has been
 responsible for  the deaths of three  dragons in the last  year alone.
 Two others died the year before. At  this rate there will be none left
 within the decade. It's our duty to stop her. Your duty."
     A negative shake of the head was the only answer.
     "Don't  you understand?"  the wizard  insisted. "An  inexperienced
 mage just can not do it. We already lost two."
     "No," Gerim stated again. "I refuse to kill."
     "You're leaving us no choice," the third man warned.
     "Either you go  or we will order your daughter  to do it instead,"
 Nagje', the second wizard finished the threat.
     Gerim clenched his fists in defeat. "I never expected this of you.
 I will go, but I shall challenge your post when I return. Be ready."
     "You're  one of  the few  strong enough  to stop  her," the  first
 wizard spoke up. "Don't leave us as  an enemy; do it to save Makdiar's
 past. Good luck, my friend."
     Gerim walked out of the great chamber in disgust.

     A  cloud of  dust appeared  on  a deserted  road, quickly  molding
 itself  into a  man and  a horse.  Swinging into  the saddle,  the man
 surveyed the  region, to be certain  that no one had  seen him appear.
 Not a soul was around. "Come  on," he slapped the horse's neck, "let's
 find Tench," and the steed obediently broke into a trot.

     Gerim entered the mostly empty  inn lobby and approached the desk.
 "I'd like two adjoining rooms," he told the bald man on the other side
 of the desk.
     The man shuffled through a drawer, pulling out two keys.
     "One will have to be large," Gerim hurried to add.
     The man again shuffled through the desk again and put two new keys
 before him. "It costs double," he said.
1    Gerim picked  up the  second set  of keys. "I'll  take it.  Put my
 horse in the stables. I will bring my bags in later."

     Gerim  looked out  from  the window  of the  larger  room. It  was
 located on the corner of the inn's second story, overlooking the backs
 of a few  houses on the north  and the lightly forested  fields to the
 east. "This'll never  do," the mage considered the bright  rays of the
 morning  sun.  The   power  of  his  magic   always  seemed  inversely
 proportional to  the brightness of  the light.  He spent the  next few
 hours  setting up  his work  space  in the  larger room.  A table  for
 enchantment in the  far corner, a crystal ball in  the other. The rest
 of the equipment spread here and there and a couple of black sheets on
 the windows.
     Gerim was from the old school of wizards; the days when "black and
 white"  was not  "punk and  punker". He  practiced a  unique style  of
 magic, wrote in  a self designed script and unlike  the new generation
 of mages, knew  magic theory and its  rivals. He was proud  of his art
 and  angry  that  some  used  it  for  fun  and  profit.  He  recalled
 overhearing one young mage, talking to  a friend, bragging that now he
 can "amaze and  startle his friends". Gerim's eyes  burned with anger.
 In  the days  before...his days,  individuality was  the focus  of all
 mages and whether  working for purposes (considered) good  or bad, one
 thing remained true - the quest  for knowledge. He remembered that his
 own generation  was also considered  renegade. Could it be  that magic
 was dying out? Weaker and looser as time went on.
     He let  the crystal ball  roll from his hand  and unscientifically
 stop in the middle of the  table, almost making a statement. The glass
 clouded  and displayed  the street  outside the  inn. Two  armored men
 could be  seen, dragging a  third, quite possibly  unconscious, across
 the road.
     "Lovely neighborhood," Gerim scowled, watching the two individuals
 make their  deposit in  the alley  and leave.  The crystal  ball still
 focused on  the body. "No, no!  The other way!" Gerim  instructed, but
 the image stubbornly remained on the  closeup of the man. "So he's not
 just unconscious. He's dead."
     The image did not move. "So what do you want me to do? Stop them?"
 No response.  "All right, all right,"  Gerim gave in. "Where  did they
 go?"
     The picture  changed to  the two men  entering a  different alley.
 Gerim  watched  for  a  moment,  then stood  up.  "Find  me  something
 interesting to look at by the time I get back," he instructed.
     The crystal ball, though efficient in  all its other jobs, had one
 kink: every so  often it would require  the user to preform  a task of
 some sort.  Whether as  a required duty  or as a  part of  the magical
 link, Gerim did  not know. The crystal  ball had been a  gift from his
 old master, a puzzle he had yet to solve before passing it down to one
 of his own students.
     He walked out into the street.  Sunset was in full swing, throwing
 murky  shadows into  the  street.  Gerim found  the  proper alley  and
 cautiously entered. Dark shadows hid the walls of buildings. He cast a
 spell,  coating the  inside  of his  cloak  with a  dim  red glow  and
 carefully stepped deeper in.
     "...not enough," he heard a voice about half way down the alley.
     "This place is crawling with vagabonds," a second voice responded.
 "Let's find another."
     'Cutthroats? Highwaymen?' Gerim cautiously moved forward.
     "I think three in one night is  plenty, even in a town like this,"
 the first voice said. "I don't want to attract attention."
     "I've seen no evidence of guards," the second man answered.
     "There's a damned army camp just over the hill!"
1    Gerim smiled. An army would definitely  be too much for a job like
 this. He stepped out  into the dim light of the  fire the thieves were
 sitting at. The two men, noticing him, eyed him, wondering how long he
 has been  standing there and listening.  Then one got up,  drawing his
 sword. "Tonight it be four."
     Gerim  did not  move  a  muscle and  his  assailant paused  before
 swinging. Why  was this man,  in view of  certain death, not  making a
 defensive  stand? The  sword  made contact  with  the cloak,  stopping
 abruptly, as if hitting solid steel. The man was so stunned, he didn't
 even resist Gerim taking his sword from him.
     The second man got up and slowly approached, drawing his weapon.
     "It won't be any different," Gerim warned.
     The man  swung, making solid  contact with Gerim. Again  the sword
 stopped dead against the cloak.
     Gerim  patiently waited  as  the  man swung  a  second time,  with
 identical results,  then raised his  hand. A glow of  light surrounded
 his  assailants  and  they  disappeared.   "I  hope  this  taught  you
 something," the wizard's voice followed the fading figures into a dark
 forest, echoing like the wind in the trees.

     Gerim bent down over a body lying in the tall grass. He recognized
 the young  man as a  guild apprentice. Removing  a ring and  a pendant
 from  the body,  he placed  these  symbols of  rank and  guild in  his
 pocket. Deciding  that the  body, already damaged  by animals  and the
 elements need  not be  retrieved, got  up to leave.  Before him  was a
 path, leading to the home of the  witch he had been sent to challenge.
 He took a deep breath and continued down the pathway. He and Maari met
 before on a number of occasions,  sometimes as friends, but more often
 as enemies.
     One particular meeting stood out in his mind, when five years past
 he ran into Maari  in Conca, in Duurom. She was  after a mystical herb
 that was rumored to bring youth to the aged and was more than prepared
 to take on a village of over  a hundred, all of whom willingly died to
 protect their treasure. Maari got the herb and a number of subjects to
 use in  her magic and  Gerim felt pain  for the scorched  country side
 left behind.
     That was the first time Gerim's  guild took a real interest in the
 old  witch. It  was  a battle  in  which he  lost  two close  friends.
 Sometimes Gerim believed he could  strangle Maari with his bare hands,
 given the  opportunity, but each  time he remembered his  old master's
 dying words, urging  him to respect life above  all other possessions.
 It was the turn of events and not the direct action that was to decide
 fate.  He wondered  how the  two  thieves he  dispatched the  previous
 evening were doing.  He sent them off  to the region up  north, near a
 frontier town he heard off; a city  by the name of Dargon. The thieves
 were sent there to die.
     Gerim felt that the punishment offered was enough. Perhaps the two
 men would  change their ways after  meeting a wizard, or  perhaps they
 would  be caught  at  their own  game. Justice  was  usually harsh  in
 frontier  towns, even  when administrated  by the  local law.  If they
 died, it  certainly would  not be  by his hand  and he  felt as  if he
 definitely gave  them an opportunity  to change  their lives in  a new
 place. Hopefully new to  them, anyway. It would be new  to Gerim if he
 ever chose to go that far north on Cherisk.
     Gerim  glanced at  the morning  sun and  judging by  its position,
 turned sharply east.  His crystal ball had given  him solid directions
 earlier in  the morning and  Gerim was confident  he was on  the right
 path. His confidence,  however, lasted only so far  as finding Maari's
 home. He had  no idea of what to  do once he got there.  He stopped in
 mid stride and with a sigh leaned  on a tree, trying to reason out his
1plans. He wasn't  going to kill Maari. He knew  that. Perhaps he could
 make a deal  or trick her into a compromise.  Then he remembered Conca
 and sadly shook  his head. Maari did not listen  to reason. There's no
 hope that she would start now.
     Gerim stomped around the tree,  observing an unnatural bend in the
 trunk. He noticed a hard crack in  the bark, with sap hardening in it,
 nature  providing  its  own  cure.   He  touched  it,  wondering  what
 catastrophe would cause  this damage to a tree easily  three times his
 waist span  around and at  least five times  his age. Seeing  that the
 tree would soon die from the loss  of sap it was sustaining, he cast a
 spell,  pulling  the splintered  bark  together.  The wound  lessened,
 hopefully giving the ancient tree a chance to survive.
     An  animal cry  not far  away  attracted his  attention and  Gerim
 looked up from  his work. A laska stood a  hundred feet away, watching
 him hungrily.  Gerim wondered why  the animal  bothered to give  him a
 warning, but wasted no time casting  a ward around himself. The animal
 paused, still  looking at him with  hunger, but dared not  to come any
 closer to  the unnatural  light. These  large cat-like  creatures were
 never known to be free roaming and Gerim assumed he was getting closer
 to Maari. No one but a witch would keep a laska around, roaming free.
     He  confidently turned  his back  on the  beast and  continued his
 journey. A  brown roof soon  appeared through  the dense cover  of the
 leaves and moments later he came out in a small clearing, facing a mud
 colored hut. It took Gerim a few  seconds to size up the area. The hut
 was weather-worn, as if it has  gone unattended for months on end. The
 clearing was somewhat  more hospitable. It was filled end  to end with
 short green  grass, still sparkling with  the morning dew. A  few well
 worn trails  appeared to cross the  clearing, leading to and  from the
 woods.  A large  black  cauldron  stood supported  on  a structure  of
 bricks, on  the left  side of the  house. On the  other corner  of the
 house he saw  a table with grasses  and herbs laid out  for drying. It
 took him a little longer, but  Gerim finally spotted a plainly dressed
 old  woman  standing   before  the  hut,  almost   blending  into  the
 background.  Her  hair was  grey  and  face  wrinkled. Her  right  arm
 quivered  with the  twitching of  old age.  Could this  be Maari?  She
 should have been younger after her attack on Conca.
     The old  woman in turn  eyed the  newcomer with suspicion.  He was
 tall, conservatively dressed and for some reason made her feel uneasy.
 "What is your business?" she finally demanded.
     Gerim  eyed  the  surroundings  again.   This  had  to  be  Maari.
 Everything was her.  He took the risk, drawing himself  up to his full
 height. "I  am here  to give  you an ultimatum,  Maari. Your  magic is
 damaging this world. It must stop."
     Maari's lip twitched.  "Who are you?" her senile  voice asked him.
 She still  did not recognize  her old  enemy, although the  man looked
 familiar. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"
     Gerim  stepped closer  to Maari.  His footsteps  fell sure  in the
 moist spring grass. "I was sent..."
     "Marat!" the  witch exclaimed, recognizing  him at last.  "So they
 finally sent a  man to fight me.  Well, let me tell you,  I killed two
 sucklings and if I have to, I'll kill you."
     Gerim did  not back down.  "I was sent here  to warn you.  Let the
 dragons be and the Guild will overlook you."
     Maari's grey  skin turned red.  "You haven't learned, have  you? I
 don't fear your Guild. I can take all of you on!"
     "Maari," Gerim continued  calmly, "I am not here  to question your
 talents.  I am  telling  you  to stop  killing  the  dragons. You  are
 upsetting the balance of nature."
     "Go tell your masters the answer is no!"
     "That answer is not acceptable,"  he stated again. "By killing the
1dragons you are undermining your own efforts. If not for Makdiar, then
 for yourself, don't kill them. At  this rate they won't last a decade.
 Then what will you do?"
     "I won't need them after that," she insisted.
     Gerim  paused. Something,  somewhere clicked  and it  all suddenly
 made  sense. The  herb, the  dragons. Maari  was on  a quest  herself!
 "You're  after  immortality!"  he  accused her,  taking  a  bold  step
 forward. "You're after dra..."
     Maari's hands came  up. "Let me be!" she hissed.  "Let my research
 be!"
     Gerim smiled,  though lacking  the confidence  he felt  he needed.
 "I'll let you  be. But I won't let  you ruin the world I  live in." He
 quickly turned and walked to the  glen he came from, stopping a little
 short  of the  tree line.  "That  legend is  only a  myth, Maari,"  he
 hesitated before entering the cover of the trees, "and if it's true, I
 won't let you prove it." He  entered the forest, hurrying to leave the
 crazy old woman behind. It wasn't only youth she wanted. The old witch
 was after  immortality itself and  she was slowly putting  the magical
 puzzle together.
     Gerim rushed  blindly into the  forest, turning over plans  in his
 mind, trying to think of a way  to insure a swift victory, but nothing
 stood out as a miracle solution. Yet, he could not let the witch live;
 he knew that now.
     He stopped in a small  grassy clearing, taking in the environment.
 His  mind relaxed.  He had  a  laboratory set  up in  Tench. That  was
 enough. Maari would not do much harm in the next few days. He'd find a
 method to stop her soon enough.
     Gerim prepared  to cast a  spell, when from  deep in the  trees he
 heard voices.
     "Where are you going?" a female voice asked.
     Then the same voice called out. "Hey!"
     Gerim quickly moved through the brush to see what was up.
     "There!" he finally saw an armored man pointing into the knee deep
 grass. Stepping behind a tree, he observed a young woman, also clad in
 armor, following the man.
     Gerim was about to step out of his cover, when a muffled hiss made
 his  hair stand  on end.  He  glanced up,  only  to see  the laska  he
 encountered on the trail not long ago.
     The laska  sat on  a branch,  some twenty  feet above  the wizard,
 hungrily looking  down. Gerim  quickly produced his  pendant, stepping
 away from the tree. A barely audible incantation coated the ground and
 lower trunk with a musty green glow. The laska quickly jerked back.
     "If not  for the trail ending,  we'd miss this all  together," the
 man's voice sounded from beyond the trees again.
     The wizard  smiled. 'I  hope you  appreciate what  I just  did for
 you.'
     "Why does  the trail keep going  past here, if it  leads nowhere?"
 the girl wondered  aloud, looking in the direction from  which she had
 come.
     "Perhaps Maari  is a  recluse," the man  shrugged in  response and
 Gerim's smile deepened. 'How will you pay me?'
     "Not knowing  to find  anything, most  people would  probably turn
 back," the  man added.  He was carefully  studying what  began seeming
 like a path to Gerim.
     "You think this leads to the place?" the girl asked.
     "It leads somewhere," her  companion answered, finally deciding to
 try the path.
     Gerim  stepped behind  the tree,  making a  shushing noise  to the
 laska above him, as the two travelers passed not ten yards away.
     'Perhaps  we'll meet  again one  day, so  you can  repay me,'  the
1wizard's  thoughts trailed  the  couple, as  they  disappeared in  the
 trees. He turned to the tree and looked up at the laska. "And you... a
 few hours up there and you'll love ground like you never have before!"
     The wizards merry  laughter echoed through the  forest, even after
 he  disappeared in  a flash  of light,  leaving the  bewildered animal
 staring at the glowing ground below.
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                             Dragon Hunt
                                Part 2
                            by Max Khaytsus
              (b.c.k.a kaytsus%tramp@boulder.colorado.edu)

     Rien paced the dark forest clearing, being careful not to make too
 much noise.
     The  first three  days through  the forest  went quietly  with the
 exception of an encounter with a bear that the spooked horses tried to
 make as short as possible.
     Looking for  a nameless witch  amidst a  dense forest was  not the
 easiest affair to undertake, but it  seemed much safer than facing the
 unknown dangers Dargon  had to offer. The last time  Rien had both the
 town guard and the town mob after  him was because each thought he was
 a member of  the other. Naturally, being alone and  a lot healthier at
 the time, the problem was a lot easier to solve.
     Circling the  clearing one  more time,  Rien made  his way  to the
 center and gently shook Kera.
     "Go away." Her sleepy voice sounded with a certain finality.
     Rien shook her again. "It will be light soon. We need to go."
     Kera moaned  and sat up.  Her hands crept up  to her face  and she
 rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "It's too dark. I can't see a thing."
     "You don't have to," Rien answered. "Get up."
     Kera's hands paused at her face.
     "Grow new body hair?" he smirked, pulling Kera to her feet.
     "Why don't  you check?" she asked  and with one hand  unstrung the
 front of her tunic.
     Rien resisted looking down. "I think I'd better not."
     "I don't,"  Kera pulled herself  to him and instantly  pushed away
 from the cold steel armor.
     Rien  hesitated for  a moment,  then turned  away. "If  you're not
 ready by  the time it's light  enough to travel, I  am leaving without
 you," and with those words left to prepare the horses.
     A few moments later Kera approached him. "I need some help with my
 armor," she said solemnly.
     Rien assisted her  with the task and they were  ready to go before
 the sun broke the horizon.
     They travelled  the forest path  until late morning, the  way they
 had for the last three days, then  ate a late breakfast and while Rien
 rested in the shade of a great oak, a few hundred feet from the trail,
 Kera stood watch.
     This monotonous  routine continued  day after  day, with  Rien and
 Kera traveling  morning and evening,  when the light was  passable and
 the heat would not burn them in their armor.
     Kera found Rien's habit of sleeping  propped up against a tree and
 his uncanny timing of when to get  up a bit strange, but attributed it
 to his being a trained warrior.
     This afternoon  when he  opened his eyes,  she was  sitting across
 from  him.  A  fresh rabbit  hung  on  a  spit  over a  smoking  fire,
 distorting the air between them.
     "Explain your actions this morning," Rien said.
     "It seemed like the thing to do," Kera answered.
     "Why?" Rien demanded.
     "Because it's  a lot  better than  this iron  trap!" Kera  hit the
 breast plate of her armor.
     "I think you're confused," Rien shook his head.
     "And would it really be that unpleasant?"
     "Would it?"
     "No!" Kera exclaimed,  instantly realizing that she  was too loud.
 "It seemed so last night and even  more so this morning," she added in
1half voice.  "Look, perhaps I  am confused,  but I certainly  know the
 difference between a human body and steel plating."
     "Give  it another  day,"  Rien said.  "If you  feel  the same  way
 tomorrow, we'll discuss it further."
     After dinner they mounted their  horses and continued their search
 through the forest.

     "Tilden?"
     The man  looked up at Cril.  "Two people, two horses.  Camped here
 maybe a day ago."
     "Was it them?"
     Tilden walked around the remains of a half covered campfire. "They
 were very heavy. Either large men or armored individuals."
     "They went  pretty far off the  trail to eat," Falgien,  the third
 man, noted.
     "I'd  guess they  camped here  over night,"  Tilden corrected  his
 companion.
     "There's  nothing  more  here,"  Cril  said,  walking  across  the
 clearing. "Let's go before that bear shows up again."
     Wearily  the three  men recalled  that the  bear they  encountered
 while breaking camp two nights ago,  shredded the fourth member of the
 group  and had  been stalking  them ever  since; day  and night.  They
 quickly returned to the trail,  mounted their horses and looking back,
 continued their journey.
     "Tilden?" Cril called  back a few minutes later.  "Could they have
 been stupid enough to travel the woods instead of the trail?"
     "I doubt  it," the man answered.  "It's too dense for  the horses.
 They wouldn't get far."
     "The camps  are too close  together," Cril said. "They  are making
 frequent stops...or perhaps even taking two breaks a day."
     "If they are  still in that armor, they'd have  to," Falgien said.
 "It traps heat like an oven."
     "Those  who made  that camp  fire were  heavy..." Tilden  reminded
 everyone.
     "Then  more than  likely we're  gaining on  them," Cril  whispered
 almost to himself.

     Rien and Kera  came across the old hermit Tristin  and his hunting
 dogs mid morning, the next day.
     While surprised by the intrusion, the  old man invited them in for
 breakfast and to  satisfy his own curiosity.  The horses, apprehensive
 of the four barking dogs went less willingly than they were commanded.
     "What brings you so deep  into the forest?" Tristin asked, waiting
 for Rien and Kera to secure their horses to a tree.
     "A quest," Rien answered simply.
     "Young  people are  so  brash,"  said the  hermit.  "What sort  of
 quest?"
     "Perhaps you could help us," Rien  said, as the hermit showed them
 into his cabin.
     "Sit,  sit  down,"  Tristin  waved  his arm.  "I  have  some  stew
 somewhere here." He momentarily left the room.
     "Somewhere?"  Kera looked  at Rien.  "I'm getting  the feeling  he
 hasn't seen it himself for a month or two."
     Rien only  smiled, saying nothing,  as the hermit returned  with a
 pot.
     "So what is it you want to ask me?" the old man questioned.
     "We're searching for  an old woman, said to be  a witch, who lives
 in these parts," Rien answered.
     A large  grin spread on the  hermit's face as he  filled two bowls
 with stew. "A knight on a quest  to kill an old hag," he laughed. "You
1are a knight?"
     "I am," Rien hesitated in  answering, slightly displeased with the
 title. "But I am in search of the woman to ask her for help."
     The  hermit placed  the bowls  before  his guests.  "Eat up,  it's
 otter. Very fresh."
     Kera threw a  paranoid glance from her bowl to  Rien, but followed
 his example and picked up her spoon.
     "And  you?  A knight  too?"  Tristin  asked  Kera. "You  say  very
 little."
     "Only a squire," she smiled, swallowing the stew and was surprised
 at the taste - it wasn't bad at all. When the old man turned away, she
 glared at Rien. "Just a squire," she repeated.
     "Well, so what is it you dare come all this way to ask old Maari?"
 Tristin asked, missing Kera's remark.
     "Old Maari," Rien  repeated the name, "we are  told, has knowledge
 of how  to cure a certain  disease, but I'm  afraid this is all  I can
 tell you."
     "I  quite understand,"  the hermit  said. "She  lives a  ways from
 here, down the  trail you were on.  Follow it to where  a second trail
 intersects your path and  turn west, then a two day walk  to a fork in
 the road, take  the right one. Two  more days will bring  you to where
 you are headed. Perhaps only half the time on horse back."
     "Is  there  a  particular  mode  of  etiquette  you  recommend  we
 practice?"
     "No,  no, nothing  special. Just  be ready  for anything.  Being a
 witch, she possesses magic  and some of it is black.  Be sure you know
 her price before she assists you."
     Rien finished  with his  stew and  stood up.  "Thank you  for your
 assistance, sir. We should be going now. Our time is very limited."
     "I wish you  could stay, but I quite  understand," Tristin smiled.
 "A pleasant change it  is to see someone all the way  out here. I feel
 bad about having to cast you out like this. Perhaps you can stop by on
 your return trip, if it takes you past here."
     "If it  takes us past  here," Rien promised. After  another 'thank
 you' and 'goodbye', he and Kera took their leave.
     After a few minutes, Kera pulled her horse up to Rien's. "You're a
 real knight?" she asked.
     "Worse than that," Rien answered. "A landed knight."
     "You  are?"  Kera's eyes  sparkled  with  excitement. "Where?  Are
 you...nobility...?"
     "No," Rien said.  "I'm not nobility. Both  nobility and knighthood
 are status  symbols I do  not find  of great importance.  They require
 giving respect to people who often do not deserve it."
     "You'd make a hard follower for any lord."
     "I have no  master. I do not  follow a banner. What in  my land is
 considered land  ownership is treated  as lordship here. When  I first
 crossed the mountains, I had no real knowledge or understanding of the
 society I faced and in due  time realized that here survival depends a
 lot more on  the ability to fight and win.  Naturally I apprenticed in
 the craft, was knighted  in the field and in due time  got where I am.
 The  combination  of these  two  make  me a  minor  lord  - a  foreign
 dignitary. I am neither."
     "Your title is still 'Lord'," Kera said. "Why didn't you tell me?"
     "I wish you would ignore it, now  that you do know," Rien said. "I
 prefer not attracting too much attention. It holds no value to me."
     "Yes, my  Lord," Kera laughed.  "And where  did you learn  to pick
 pockets?" she  reminded him of a  past event. "Same place  as the real
 nobles?"
     "That I learned where I was born."
     "Not only are you a knight, but you used to be..." Kera started.
1    "A practical joker," Rien interrupted her. "Nothing more."
     "Of course," Kera said, somewhat mockingly. "And listen, it's well
 past your bed time."
     Rien looked up at  the sun, higher in the sky than  he has seen in
 the last few days  of travel and turned his horse  off the trail. Kera
 followed him  until the  forest path  they were on  was out  of sight.
 There, in a small clearing, they made camp.
     "I take  it you have a  castle," Kera asked Rien  after he secured
 the horses.
     "A small keep," he answered. "Why?"
     "And a lady waiting for you?" she continued.
     "No," Rien said. "My  wife and I learned a long  time ago that our
 life styles are too conflicting. She doesn't wait for me any longer. I
 haven't seen her in quite some time."
     Kera cast  her eyes down.  "I'm sorry.  I thought that's  what was
 holding you back."
     "It's a  decision both she  and I  agreed on," Rien  said. "You've
 done no harm by asking."
     "That still  doesn't tell  me why  those plates  are so  much more
 comfortable for you," Kera looked up.
     "Perhaps I'm afraid to admit you're right."
     "You know I am," she answered, removing the plates of her armor.
     Astonished, Rien simply watched.

     Cril and his companions dismounted  their horses at a small wooden
 cottage. Four  dogs on long  leashes barked wildly as  they approached
 the door.
     Cril swung it open, startling the old man who was about to open it
 from the inside.
     "Can I help  you, sir?" Tristin asked, wary of  Cril's drawn sword
 and his two companions.
     Cril placed the tip of his weapon against the base of the hermit's
 neck and backed him  into a wall. "I will give you  only one chance to
 answer my question. I have reason  to believe that two travelers, male
 and female, dressed  in field armor, passed by here.  How long ago was
 it and which way did they head from the crossroads up the trail?"
     Tristin stammered, unable to confront the danger he was in.
     "Now!" Cril yelled, applying pressure on his weapon.
     "They were here  late this morning!" Tristin  panicked. "They took
 the west path!"
     "Very good,  old man,"  Cril said  with a sneer,  "but that  was a
 chance too late." With a quick thrust, he shoved the sword through the
 hermit's throat.
     "The west trail!" Cril commanded  his companions. "We're less than
 half a day behind."

     Rien turned over  to the touch of something cold  on his shoulder.
 Standing above him  was a man with a sword,  dressed in heavy leather.
 Behind and next to him, stood two more.
     "I doubt  you could have  caught us at  a worse time,"  Rien said.
 Next to him Kera stirred and tried sitting up.
     "It's very nice of you to wait for us, Kera," one of the men, whom
 she recognized as Cril, said. "Liriss wants to see you...DEAD."
     Just then Rien thrust his feet  out, causing the man standing over
 him to  fall backwards and drop  his sword. Grabbing the  weapon, Rien
 rolled over, just  in time to parry the second  man's swing. He struck
 back  with the  sword, blade  bouncing off  his opponent's  weapon and
 digging into  his lower arm. The  brigand jumped back, his  weapon arm
 obviously useless.
     Parrying Cril's blow,  Rien backed up to a tree,  trying to gain a
1perspective on the field of combat.
     Kera, with her stiletto, was taking  on the wounded man, who still
 tried to lead an offensive, using his off hand to wield his weapon. On
 the  far side  of the  clearing was  the man  Rien tripped.  He seemed
 indecisive  without a  weapon, torn  between running  and helping  his
 friends.
     Instinctively Rien blocked a glint of steel aimed at his torso and
 counter struck. His  sword broke the surface of Cril's  armor, but did
 no real  damage. In  turn, Cril  thrust his  sword forward,  leaving a
 scratch in Rien's side and getting the blade stuck in the tree.
     Rien swung  his sword down,  smashing it  across the blade  of his
 opponent and breaking Cril's grip on the hilt. Cril dodged a follow-up
 swing  by moving  back and  fumbled with  a dagger  on his  belt. Rien
 attempted another strike,  but stopped when he saw  Cril sinking down.
 Behind him stood Kera, holding her blood covered knife. A quick glance
 about the clearing indicated that she  had won her fight and the third
 man had fled the battlefield.
     Wearily Rien dropped the sword and  embraced Kera. The grey in his
 eyes slowly reverted to blue.
     "This is  what I was afraid  of," Rien finally said,  casting Kera
 away. "Get dressed. We have no time to waste."
     Obediently Kera walked over to her bundle of clothes. "One man got
 away," she pointed out.
     "Without a  weapon I doubt he  will try anything. He's  probably a
 long way from here by now."
     "You think there will be any more coming after us?"
     Rien looked up at Kera and  noticing the blood on her arm, grabbed
 it. The wound was only superficial and he let her go. "You know Liriss
 better than I. Will there be more?"
     "Yes," Kera answered after a moment of thought. "He hates losing."
     "So do I," Rien said.
     "I am glad we took this break," Kera told Rien.
     "And only  luck kept us  alive," he answered. "It  was negligence.
 Don't expect it to happen again soon."
     "Not soon?" Kera asked. "Then it will later?"
     Too many things  had been happening for Rien to  consider that. "I
 need to give it some thought."
     Kera stopped him  with her bloody arm. "What's wrong?  What do you
 need to think about? Three hours ago you looked like you were enjoying
 yourself."
     "This is wrong!"  Rien said, holding Kera's bloody  arm before her
 face. "That is wrong!" he thrust his arm out, pointing to the two dead
 bodies.
     "I see  I'm the root  of all your  troubles!" Kera pulled  her arm
 free. "Should I find my own way home?"
     "No," Rien said. "Too much has  been done already. No matter where
 you are,  there will  be people  after you and  me. There's  safety in
 numbers."
     Kera put her tunic on and  started on the armor. "I honestly think
 you're more confused than I am."
     "Could very well be," Rien answered.
     When the  two were ready,  they set their assailants'  horses free
 and mounting their own, took to  the west path at the crossroads. They
 travelled  five miles  before it  became too  dark to  go on  and then
 stopped to make camp. As at all other night stops, no fire was lit, so
 not to attract unwanted attention.

     Rien restlessly  paced the  clearing, desperately hoping  that for
 the time  being, no one else  was following them. The  surprise he and
 Kera had received  that afternoon was very  sobering, considering that
1Dargon was a long way away.
     It would be wise  to assume that the man who  got away headed back
 to Dargon. With the horses no longer in his possession, the trip would
 take more than two weeks. If this  was the only group Liriss sent, the
 next few days would not bring trouble.
     Of greatest importance  now was finding the old  witch, Maari, who
 hopefully  was the  same individual  Taishent had  mentioned. Was  she
 going to help? More importantly,  could she? Rien remembered Tristin's
 warning about  the price. What would  a witch want? Money  would do no
 good in the forest...
     Rien continued  pacing, wishing it  were light, so he  could relax
 his mind through hunting. Finally giving up, he sat down under a tree,
 sword  across his  lap and  sat out  the rest  of the  night with  the
 impression of being the only one awake in the entire forest.

     The next day  passed quietly, with Rien and Kera  making their way
 to the fork in the road and starting on the last leg of their journey.
 They made  good progress before  darkness finally forced them  to stop
 for the night, but excited about  the nearing end of their quest, they
 resumed the journey well before sunrise.
     Halfway into  the morning, the trail  abruptly came to an  end. It
 was well  worn only up to  a patch of grass  that looked as if  it had
 never been walked  on. Rien and Kera exchanged  bewildered glances and
 dismounted.
     "Maybe we took a wrong turn," Kera offered.
     Rien did not answer.
     "Maybe we went too far..." she tried again.
     Tying  his horse  to  a tree,  Rien walked  back  down the  trail,
 examining  the grass  and shrubs  on both  sides. "There!"  he finally
 pointed to a barely visible trail in the spring grass. "If not for the
 trail ending, we'd have missed this all together."
     "Why does the trail keep going past here, if it leads to nothing?"
 Kera wondered.
     "Perhaps Maari is a recluse," Rien suggested. "Not knowing to find
 anything here, most people would probably turn back."
     "You think this leads to the place?"
     Rien  solidly  put  his  foot   on  the  fresh  grass.  "It  leads
 somewhere."
     After a few  hundred feet, the light trail once  again turned to a
 well worn path, indicating that security was indeed the reason for the
 confusing trails.  A while longer  and a  small cottage appeared  in a
 clearing. It looked lived in, but not overly used.
     Rien and Kera approached the hut with caution, pausing at a wooden
 stand next to a wall. A large collection of herbs and dried roots were
 spread on it.
     "Look," Kera picked  up a pair of gloves. "This  doesn't look like
 leather."
     Rien took one of the gloves from Kera to examine it. Soft texture,
 much softer than leather, covered the outside and the inside consisted
 of short white fur. "This used to  be a cat," he finally said, tossing
 the glove down.
     Kera almost dropped the glove she was holding. "Cat?"
     "What's  so surprising?"  Rien  asked. "They  make  gloves of  cow
 hide."
     "Cow  hide, fine,  but not  cat," Kera  insisted, laying  down the
 other glove.
     "Cats are usually associated with daemons," Rien explained. "Thus,
 their coat can be  assumed to be the power of  a particular daemon. In
 this case, probably an old familiar."
     "Doesn't white represent purity?" Kera asked.
1    "Sometimes,"  Rien  nodded.  "That's  why  virgins  are  so  often
 portrayed wearing white.  It can also represent power, such  as a bolt
 of lightning. Purple is another  common display of strength, though it
 is not a common color for  cats." He smiled. "Almost any attribute can
 be assigned to any color, if you do enough research."
     "What'cha two doing?" a female voice stopped Rien's explanation.
     Both he  and Kera turned to  face an old woman.  "We are searching
 for a woman named Maari," Rien said innocently enough.
     "You won't find her on the table," the woman grunted. "What do you
 want?"
     "We came in search of help."
     "Did you now?"
     "Are you Maari?" Kera asked cautiously.
     "I am!" the old woman declared and  moved to the other side of the
 table. She  approached suspiciously,  squinting. "Lift up  your hair,"
 she told Rien.
     He shifted uncomfortably. "Is there something wrong?"
     "Lift it up or leave," Maari insisted.
     Unwillingly Rien lifted his longer  than average hair, revealing a
 pair of pointed ears.
     "Just like I thought!" Maari snapped. "An elf!"
     "Ljosalfar." Rien corrected with anger in his voice.
     "Ljosalfar, Dopkalfar. All  elf to me," Maari said,  pacing on the
 other side of the table with herbs.
     "If you  are so knowlegable, then  you should know that  for me it
 does make a difference," Rien answered.
     "What sort of help do you need, Elf?" Maari ignored his statement.
     "A cure for lycanthropy."
     Maari paced the length of the table again. "That I can do."
     "In exchange for what?" Rien remembered Tristin's warning.
     "Go!" the witch looked at Kera.
     "Wait for  me by  those trees,"  Rien pointed to  the edge  of the
 clearing. "This won't take long."
     "I'm not..." Kera  started to protest, but  Rien's grim expression
 suggested for her to leave.
     She turned  to go  and Maari  studied Rien until  Kera was  out of
 hearing range. "You're  an elf. You have nothing of  value for my type
 of magic, but she does."
     Rien glanced in Kera's direction. It was obvious what was coming.
     "She has a soul," the witch stressed. "I can use her life force to
 channel my magic!"
     "Her soul is not  mine to give you," Rien said.  "You will have to
 name a different price."
     "Any young life!"
     Rien set his jaw.
     "Don't look  that way at me!"  Maari warned. "I am  offering you a
 cure.  You  will  die  without   it!  Only  pure  humans  can  survive
 lycanthropy!"
     "A young  life..." Rien hesitated. To  Maari, it might be  just so
 easy, but he did not approve of  magic such as hers. Perhaps she could
 be tricked. If nothing else, there  was still time to stall for. "That
 may take time," he finally said.
     The old woman  smiled and picked up a chalice  from the table. "To
 seal the deal," she offered it to him.
     Accepting  the drinking  horn, Rien  spilled its  contents on  the
 ground. "I seal  deals with people, not daemons."  Placing the chalice
 on the table, he extended his hand and the witch reluctantly shook it.
     "Now leave and  bring me a dragon  egg, to make you  a cure. Don't
 come back without it!"
     "Dragon egg?" Rien cocked his head.
1    "Big lizards, with wings. They lay eggs."
     "I thought they were all dead," Rien said.
     "I'm sure you'll find one,"  Maari answered. "Your life depends on
 it."
     Gathering up some of the herbs on the table, Maari returned to the
 house.  Rien  watched her  go,  then  picking  up some  blue  flowers,
 rejoined Kera.
     "What's that?" she asked him.
     "Wolfsbane,  Monkshood, Friar's  Cap...depends  on  stem, leaf  or
 flower. A poison, in any case."
     "What will you do with it?"
     "Fight a dragon."
     Kera's jaw dropped open. "Is that what she was telling you?"
     "She told me a lot," Rien said.  "I'll tell you on the way back to
 the horses."
     Kera looked back to the cottage once more and accepted Rien's hand
 for  the trip  back. "Your  ears are  pointed," she  suddenly reminded
 herself and him.
     "They are in most of my species."
     "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.
     "I assumed you knew that about elves."
     "Rien!"
     He stopped,  pulling his  arm back. "My  mother was  Ljosalfar. My
 father human. Are you going to judge me?"
     "You can't help where or who you are born. No one has the right to
 hold that  against you."  Kera took  his hands  in hers.  "I suspected
 something two days ago - it was hard not to notice, but...you're flesh
 and blood, like the rest of us."
     Reluctantly Rien permitted Kera to  keep hold of him. "Yours isn't
 a typical human reaction."
     "I never considered  myself typical," Kera said.  "Did Maari agree
 to help us?"
     "She agreed," Rien  answered, "but as payment she  wants a subject
 to cast spells through. Necromancy, I assume."
     "Are you going to get her one?" Kera asked.
     "No. Life belongs  to the person living it. Neither  I, nor Maari,
 nor anyone else  has the right to take another's  life, except in self
 defence."
     "So she asked you for a dragon?"
     "That's  a  different story,"  Rien  said.  "She still  expects  a
 donation of life, but  to cure us she wants a dragon  egg. What do you
 know about dragons?"
     "They're large, breath fire and live in caves," Kera said.
     "Sounds like  we know about the  same," Rien sighed. "I  wonder if
 Bistra wrote anything about it in his book."
     "We can check when we get back to the horses," Kera suggested.
     Rien nodded thoughtfully.
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   (C) Copyright May, 1989, DargonZine. All rights revert to the authors.
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