1083 lines
64 KiB
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1083 lines
64 KiB
Plaintext
From LISTSERV@pucc.Princeton.EDU Thu Sep 24 15:38:01 1992
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Date: Thu, 24 Sep 1992 14:40:55 -0400
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From: WHITEJL@DUVM.BITNET
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To: RITA@EFF.ORG
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Subject: File "DARGONZ VOL05N02" being sent to you.
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Status: OR
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*--------------------------------- Cut here ----------------------------------*
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1 /
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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 5
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Issue 2
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- DargonZine Volume 5, Issue 2 09/24/92 Cir 1192 --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- Contents --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Sons of Gateway 5: Goren Jon Evans Janis 29 -
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Vibril 27, 1014
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Pact IV Max Khaytsus Yuli 15, 1014
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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1 Sons of Gateway, Part 5: Goren
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by Jon Evans
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(b.c.k.a. <ACSSJON@UBVMS.BITNET>)
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"Saren and Nehru be damned," cried Goren, as he dove through the
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snow towards the wood line of the forest. The riders were closing
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quickly, even with the snow to slow the horses, but his own feet
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weren't as light in the high drifts as he had hoped. "Finally, the
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suffering end you deserve," he said to no one. "Payback is a bitch,
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isn't it?"
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Bark splintered on the tree next to him, a quarrel burying its
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head into the wood. "Why in the name of Ol did I burn the bow?"
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Strangely, he answered himself: "Because it wasn't yours, usurper."
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In the woods, Goren knew the snow would be lighter. He had hunted
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here many times, in his youth as well as recently, and he knew the
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paths that would be hard to follow on a horse. There were times when
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he came hunting on his own, and he had missed the aelo with his first
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arrow. They aren't fierce animals, but when they're attacked, they
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know how to hurt the men that hunt them down.
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Another bolt, landing quietly and dangerously close in the snow,
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brought him out of these thoughts, and he hurried down a little used
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path towards a cabin his family had used for years. There would be
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weapons there, perhaps, and at least a place to defend himself from
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his attackers. He didn't know who these men were, or why they were
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chasing him down, and he didn't much care. All he cared about was
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staying alive. "Do you really think you deserve to live," he asked
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himself, "after you murdered your father in cold blood? Let the hand
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that serves the poison be cut off."
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Running through the woods, the horses losing ground slowly, he
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toppled over a mound of snow into a bank he hadn't remembered. The
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horses were too far behind to have seen him fall - he was safe, for
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the moment. He rested.
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"Haven't spent much time in the winter woods, have you?" Goren
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whirled to see another rider, wearing the same white armor of his
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followers. "Just because you're out of sight, doesn't mean we can't
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follow your trail." The man released his blade from its scabbard with
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the sharp, crisp scratch of steel on steel. Goren stood up, waist-deep
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in the snow covered gully, and turned to flee. Behind him stood three
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more riders, swords drawn and dismounted from their steeds, staring
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down at him from the bank of the pit.
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"Now you'll meet the suffering end you deserve," Goren said. The
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four were mildly amused, as the leader walked his horse closer to
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Winston.
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"I rather think you're wrong," the leader replied, pulling his
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blade back to swing.
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"No, wait! I didn't mean-" Blackness engulfed Goren as he landed
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in the cold, soft snow.
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"He burned the bow." Marcus stared silently, sadly, at the
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remains of a small fire someone had reported seeing under the dock at
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the south ford, two days past. Marcus had known who it was, and took
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his time investigating. The curved wood was charred beyond definite
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description, but Marcus knew no rotted plank would take that shape,
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and the blackened remains of six arrow heads were only just below the
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surface of the soot, when he scraped through it with his knife. "What
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idiocy has taken the boy? Bad enough I had to hit him... never had to
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take steps with Goren before... couldn't stop babbling... squirmin'
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mess, that boy is..."
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Marcus mounted his horse once more, noting the lack of tracks
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anywhere near the area. No one fords the Laraka in the winter, and the
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ripping wind covered well any traces Goren had left behind. Riding the
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rest of his nightly rounds, he thought he should have gone with Goren,
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but decided against it. "Who'd be left to take care of Kald's home,
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with Ne'on running the place? And besides, I'd probably have to kill
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the men following me, instead of just avoiding their opportunities.
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Ne'on needs a lesson in subtilty..."
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As the Castellan of Gateway trotted his horse away from the area,
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three dark figures crawled slowly over the ridge behind him,
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contrasting the white landscape with their black clothes and arms.
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They had been following him for the past day and a half. They had no
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idea that he had been keeping track of them, as well.
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Soft warmth, in the form of bear skins and female flesh, awoke
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Goren from his fevered haze. He had been sick with the Red Skull, his
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benefactors told him, and they were glad he was alive. Looking around
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him, he saw he was in a tent some twenty feet square, with about ten
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other men and women. He was also in chains, as were the others.
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"Where am I?" he asked of the woman looking down at him. He
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quickly thought of his clothes and checked to see if he was decent. He
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was; but not in the clothes with which he had left Gateway.
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As if sensing his thoughts, the woman - or girl, for she couldn't
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be older than 17 summers - blushed shyly, and began to answer, when
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she was interrupted by another voice.
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"Hell," it stated plainly, in a tone that was at once ancient and
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young, rough and gentle. Goren looked to see a woman of not more than
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five heads tall, with the eyes of an angel lined with more years than
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she had lived. "You can go, now, Vercona; the man appears to be well.
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Although I'd take it easy from now on, if I were you." This last was
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directed at Goren.
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"I'm not dead, and I can think of worse places to awaken than in
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the presence of beautiful women, so I think you might be mistaken."
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Goren looked around. The general populace didn't think the jest was
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very funny, and the woman wasn't smiling much, either.
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"Then perhaps you should stay here: women come and go every day,
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and the food isn't half bad. You have to pay dearly for it, though; or
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you will, as soon as you've been sold." With a cold stare, she added.
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"If you decide to live through the next two weeks, I'll be in the
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corner. Happy attitudes and light jokes aren't going to do you very
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much good."
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Goren decided he didn't like this woman.
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A white clothed figure, sitting tall in the saddle, rode his pale
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horse through the snow covered woods 100 leagues North West of Magnus.
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His mount's light, muffled hoofs echoed softly through the nearby
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trees causing small clouds of billowy white snow to fall gently to the
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cottony masses below. Pausing briefly, he reached down to his left
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boot, covered with the grey-white fur of winter wolves, and adjusted
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his stirrup. The howling wind passing through the trees blew open his
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light blue cloak, revealing his heavy suede protective vest beneath,
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and the short cropped blonde hair around the fair complexion and pale
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blue eyes common to most northerners. Pulling the cloak securely
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around his body, he huddled against the sharp wind biting through his
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too-thin clothing, and muttered a prayer to Stevene as he spurred his
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horse into a walk.
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"Stevene, keep her safe and whole, let her not feel the cold
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sting of winter, and may the Communers find more need for her in this
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life than myself."
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A light figure almost seemed to blend into the gentle snow of the
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plains as it emerged from the northern edge of the woods less than
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fifty leagues from Gateway Keep.
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"Fine," he said, turning from the exit of the tent and sitting
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down on a red silk pillow. The pillow was soft, but it did little to
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comfort him from the frustration at his failure, especially with
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everyone in the tent staring at him with the mixed feelings of
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pessimistic knowledge and disappointment.
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"Goren," the angelic voice sighed, and he felt a firm hand grasp
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his shoulder, "I've tried everything already. You know that. You are
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feeling panic, now, and you have to let it go." Rho looked to the
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opening of the tent. "It's not strong magic, but it's enough."
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"I hate magic," he muttered, looking around him at the other
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trapped souls. "Even more, I hate being confined!" He stood up again,
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and began walking toward the flaps. "I'm going to break this damn
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force if I have to spend the rest of my life doing it."
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Rho grabbed him and spun him around. "You may well do that. That
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field doesn't wear down. It's there. Now sit down, and calm down, or
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I'll knock you down." She was tired of this stubborn man who wouldn't
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listen. She was tired of his ranting and raving. She was tired of his
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childish tirades. She didn't understand how a man could seem so
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rational, and act so immature. And, most of all, she was tired of
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being locked up, too. His words had struck a chord in her, but she
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wasn't going to allow them to disturb her thinking.
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Goren was tired, too. This woman had been demanding since the
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moment he met her. Who did she think she was, treating him like this?
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He was the Keeper of Gateway. He was the nephew of a respected, if
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minor, House of Magnus. And, she was a woman.
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"Get out of my way," he said, teeth clenched.
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"Sit down," she said coolly.
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He reached to move her. There was a blur of movement, the blunt
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sound of flesh hitting flesh, a gasp of air, and Goren flew several
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feet backward, landing not too softly on a pile of silk and pillows.
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Goren lay doubled over, his breath short and infrequent.
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"Don't come to me again unless you're in the mood to take
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orders."
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Hanlar moved his large bulk back into the trees, a narrow beam of
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energy burning a thin branch off the tree beside him. The trees were
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safe, he thought, just out of their distance. His commanding officer
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looked at him dazedly from behind the large boulder he was using for
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cover. They all looked at him, asking how they were expected to
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succeed where a man his size had failed. The cold winter snow mixed in
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with the dirt they were forced to sleep in, covering them all with a
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muddy complexion. They had quarreled on the way here, the poor
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travelling conditions and their bad temperaments mixing to aggravate
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their situation. Some of them had broken bones from fights, cuts where
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the fights had gotten out of control. Two of them were asked to leave
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the group. Ne'on would have to deal with them, if they lived to make
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it back.
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"Why didn't you keep going?" The commander looked desperate. He
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was only 21 years old, and most of his troops had more experience than
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he. Experience in what, Hanlar wondered. Most of these "troops", as
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Ne'on called his Black Arm, were cut-throats and thieves, muggers, men
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who hadn't worked an honest day in their lives, unless it was to stake
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out a prospective target.
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Their commanding officer was a man known in the Keep and the
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surrounding area. It had been a politically wise choice for Ne'on to
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put him in charge. It had been a tactically stupid move. He didn't
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want the position. He had joined the Arm for the sake of making some
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extra money for his family. Ne'on knew this, and asked if he would
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like to make even more. Needing it, he jumped at the chance. He hadn't
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known what he was doing.
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"Keep goin'?" Hanlar looked at his captain in amazement. "Are ye
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crazed, boy? Them wizards jist took out all me men, an' me near wi'
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'em. 'Ow would you like to be chargin' out there, eh?"
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"If I weren't the commanding officer, and in charge of bringing
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this damn precious stone back, I would be out there!" Damn this
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corporal, thought sergeant Howen, he shouldn't dare speak to me that
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way. As soon as this is over, I will discipline him.
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"Well, then, mister commandin' officer," Hanlar's face wrinkled
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with the sarcasm, "maybe you'd best be findin' a way tha' what's left
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of this troop kin git along into this devil's hole wi' out yuir help,
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eh?"
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"I'm working on it, corporal." The sergeant stared back at the
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cave entrance, wondering how he could fight the cold, his men, and the
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magicians holding Ne'on's stone, and still stay alive in the process.
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"I'm working on it."
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Marcus glanced behind him slowly, letting the men following him
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know he was turing, and giving them time to hide themselves. In the
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time it took for them to get out of his field of vision - one had
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jumped behind the rain barrel, he noted by the barrel's slight
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movement, and the other had stepped into the River Snake's Den - he
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was able to duck down the alley to the side before they could see
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where he had gone. It shouldn't take them long to figure it out, he
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thought, glancing at the snow on the ground.
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Looking down the alley, he noticed the back door to the fabric
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store, and made his way towards it. He wasn't sure if these men were
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still Ne'on's guard, or some of the ruffians the winter weather, and
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Ne'on's new policies, had attracted to Gateway. Before he could get to
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the door, he heard their muffled footfalls behind him. He turned, and
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saw the two men following him. They weren't dressed like men of the
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Arm, being clad mostly in winter hides and light cloaks. They paused,
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noting the exposed position in which both parties stood.
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"You're either thinking you should run away now," Marcus said to
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them, unclipping his sword belt, "while you're still out of the
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dungeons..." Marcus drew his sword slowly, letting it's scrape against
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the scabbard be heard quite plainly by the two men. "..or that it's
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time to draw your weapons, and face this keep's Castellan with steel."
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Pulling the cloak off his shoulders, he twirled it around his left
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forearm and hand, resulting in an effective defensive weapon against
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two opponents. "Me... I've already made my decision."
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The two men paused, looking at each other doubtfully. They're
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judging each other's value, Marcus thought. After two seconds, they
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turned and ran. The Castellan let them go.
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"They're getting brave," he mused. "Sooner or later, if those
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were Ne'on's men, they're going to have to do something."
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The tent was wrapped in a silence broken only by the sounds of
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deep slumber, and a body navigating across the pillows and sleeping
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forms. He crept closer in the darkness, making little noise and
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disturbing no one despite the sparse light cast by the hanging oil
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lamp. He didn't need to see where she lay sleeping; he knew as if by
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instinct. As he drew closer to her, he reached his hand to her, and
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gently touched her.
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"Rho," he whispered, not intending to wake her if she was truly
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asleep.
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"What is it, Goren," she replied. Her voice was clear and smooth
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- she had been awake for some time.
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"I, uh..." He wasn't expecting her to be awake. It would have
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been much easier if she was actually asleep. He knew he had intended
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to say something to her, on his way over, but now he fumbled for the
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words. He had a respect for her which he felt for few people. She had
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been able to knock him across the room. And, of course, she was
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beautiful. "I just wanted... I was stubborn... What I'm trying to
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say-"
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"Goren, forget it." Rho turned to her left side, resting her head
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up on her left hand. She looked at him seriously, gauging him,
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determining his value at what she had planned. She decided. "Can you
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fight? I mean, not hand to hand, but with weapons?"
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"Can't everyone?"
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"No, Goren, not everyone can. And I don't mean just carry them
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and know how to hold them - any mother's son can do that. I mean, if
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it comes down to it, could I count on your sword arm?"
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Goren smiled. "No." Rho gave him a dissapointed look, but he
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stopped her before she could reply. "You'd get your head chopped off,
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if you had to rely on my sword arm. But, give me a bow and I can show
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you some magic." He tried not to sound too proud of his next
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statement, but he wanted to impress her. "I won the Keep's Silver
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Arrow the last five years in a row. Of course, Marcus and my father
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weren't competing, but..." At the thought of his father, he became
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quiet and sober. For the first time in over a fortnight, he remembered
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his father laying on the ground, twisted in pain. Rho's voice brought
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him back.
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"Good," she said. "Gather all the clothing you can, we're leaving
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here tonight." Throwing off the blankets she was resting under, she
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stood up fully clothed, and removed a bundle from beneath her pillows.
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Goren ran for his own possessions, waking several people in the
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process as he stumbled over their sleeping forms.
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A flickering yellow light began emanating from outside the tent
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near Rho's bed. It grew brighter, turned orange, and darkened.
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Suddenly, the tent material peeled away under the heat of the
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red-orange flames. The inhabitants of the tent were in chaos, shouting
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their surprise and fear, as a white-clad warrior entered the tent.
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"Come on!" Rho called, grabbing the bundle and running through
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the opening. Goren ran close behind, clasping a bundle of his own
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close to his chest.
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Sorya waited in the gathered silence, her brothers and sisters of
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the order huddling about the rocky entrance to their habitat. Her
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light green robe, signifying her status as Leaf, stood out among the
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browns and greys - the Branches and Barks - of the rest of the group.
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The cold winter wind did not reach into the cave, whose enchanted
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opening permitted only gentle breezes to pass through. Sorya lowered
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her blonde-capped head and rubbed the short bristles of her hair with
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her left hand... for luck, she smiled. Glancing up, her keen brown
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eyes sensed something in the distance. Her jaw set.
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"Prepare," Sorya's soft, raspy voice called out.
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"No, wait..." Haren, one of the Barks, called. "I don't think
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it's an offensive attack. Not a direct one..."
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Haren was the sensitive of the group. He could feel things of
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this nature, sometimes, but Sorya wanted to be sure. Any mistake, and
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the Crystal might be forfeit. No one was going to take it while she
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was acting leader of the Nar-Enthruen. "Explain," she commanded.
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"It's movement, that's all. Not necessarily an attack, but...
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part of one."
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"Where to?" He was nervous, she noted. So was she. These men,
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from out of no where, had staged an attack on the Guild. Normal men,
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without even a magician to help them discover the illusion cast over
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the cave's entrance. Another effect of the Crystal, she noted. She
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wondered if it was losing its power.
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"I can't say... around... I don't know." He dropped his head,
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shamefully, wishing he could have told the group. It would have been a
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great deal of help. "Look!"
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In front of the cave, about thirty yards away, stood a large man,
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looking battered and tired from the siege. The leader of the last
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group that had attacked the cave, Sorya noted. As he stepped forward,
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he drew his sword, intending to attack. Easily defeated, she thought.
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"Karin," she called, and the Bark stepped out of the cave to meet
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him. The worst aspect of the Crystal, Sorya thought, was that no magic
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within fifty feet of it was functional, unless it was a powerful
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conglomeration of magi, and that only happened during a Draining.
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Karin stepped out of the cave, and greeted her combatant with a
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nod. She expected to have little time to cast her spell before he
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swung his great sword in her direction - her first spell would have to
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be a protective one. She called on the magic, feeling it enter her,
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shaping its form about her.
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Sharp pain, in the form of an arrow, entered her side. A warmth
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spread about her left hip, and she could feel wetness running down her
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legs. The energy she was summoning began slipping away, she could feel
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the spell dissipating. Concentrate, damnit, she thought, focusing her
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mind once again.
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A new warmth, pleasurable, gathered at her side, and she glanced
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over to see Haren sitting next to her, his hands glowing a light blue
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as they touched her wound, the arrow easing out slowly and painlessly.
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Another shaft flew through the air, striking the ground next to her.
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She knew she had to finish the spell, but there were so many
|
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distractions.
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Haren, run back inside,she thought. He was risking his life to
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save hers; there was no way he could have covered himself with a
|
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protective spell before he began healing her. Another idea occurred to
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her, and she began expanding the spell to include him. It would take
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only a moment longer...
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|
Hanlar's long sword came down on her shoulder blade with a note
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of finality, splitting her torso half way. Karin cried faintly, and
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slumped onto the magus sitting next to her. Haren looked up,
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surprised, and shouted something incomprehensible to Hanlar, and
|
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Hanlar was sent sprawling backward, a gash opening in his chest. Two
|
|
more arrows were fired, and these hit their mark. Haren slumped
|
|
forward over the body of his dead friend.
|
|
|
|
"Gods, it worked!" Sergeant Howen ran forward, his troops staring
|
|
at him in wonder. "Corporal, get up here, we've got a man down, and
|
|
I'm not losing any more men. McCullen! Braddock! Hold your positions!
|
|
If another one of those robed freaks comes out of that cave, I want it
|
|
looking like my grandmother's pin cushion!"
|
|
The sudden victory where defeat had seemed so imminent struck the
|
|
men dumb, but they followed the new strength they saw in their leader.
|
|
They didn't like him, they had thought he was weak, but he showed them
|
|
that a good plan could go a long way. As one of the men began
|
|
bandaging Hanlar, Hanlar looked up at his commander, twisted his
|
|
craggy face into an exaggerated wink of his left eye, and slumped back
|
|
down.
|
|
"Will he be alright, corporal?" Howen was worried. Out of all the
|
|
men he had the dubious pleasure to lead, this man was his favorite. He
|
|
wasn't particularly nice to the sergeant, but he treated him fairly,
|
|
and gave him a chance when most of the troops would not have.
|
|
"'E'll be fine, comman'er. Jist a bit o' a scrape... 'e's 'ad
|
|
worse, I can tell you that." The corporal continued wrapping the
|
|
bandage around Hanlar's newly exposed chest, the blood already
|
|
beginning to coagulate.
|
|
"Well, just make sure that wound is kept clean. And keep him
|
|
warm, I'm not losing anyone for any reason." Howen turned to the rest
|
|
of his gathered troop. "The rest of you, form ranks, two rows, bows in
|
|
the back, swords up front. We're going into that cave and bring out
|
|
that bloody stone."
|
|
|
|
"Sorya, they're coming! How are we going to stop them?" The young
|
|
Bark, new to magic itself let alone battle, cried desperately to
|
|
Sorya. They all look desperate, she thought. "They killed Karin and
|
|
Haren, Sorya. How can we stop their arrows if we can't even cast any
|
|
spells? There's only twelve of us left!"
|
|
Twelve of us and twenty of them, Sorya thought, looking at the
|
|
massed robes around her. Twelve hysterical, panicking beginners,
|
|
against twenty trained men. She thought about the cave, their
|
|
advantages, what few weapons they had, and the men who were coming
|
|
towards the entrance. She began to feel the uneasy turning in her
|
|
stomach which precluded her own panic, and had to force herself not to
|
|
lose control. If she lost command of herself, the entire group would
|
|
be cut down like lambs for the slaughter. Then she thought of a
|
|
chance.
|
|
"Twelve will be enough," she announced to the robed figures
|
|
around her. "They can't fire their arrows into the illusion covering
|
|
the cave, and the few magical traps on the path should slow them down
|
|
a bit. Falen, take two men and go to the chamber. I want you to bring
|
|
the Crystal up here."
|
|
Her words echoed off the walls, taking time to sink into the
|
|
minds of the magi around her. Falen rose, picked two Barks nearest
|
|
him, and left. The others still looked at her, wondering. They didn't
|
|
understand.
|
|
"You all know the Crystal can be used to drain latent ability
|
|
from... incompetent... students. Well, there's another function of the
|
|
Crystal that isn't discussed very often-"
|
|
A scream filled the cavern as a man crumbled to the ground
|
|
outside the cave. About twenty feet from the entrance, the center man
|
|
in the front line grasped at where his left leg used to be, a small,
|
|
fiery explosion burning it completely from his hip. The advancing men
|
|
halted, looking about them carefully. Someone hesitantly stepped up to
|
|
help the now unconscious soldier whose wound - mercifully - had
|
|
cauterized with the injury. A few others began to back away, until a
|
|
yell from their commanding officer stopped them. Sorya wished that he
|
|
had been the one to suffer the injury - the entire assault might have
|
|
been halted right there.
|
|
"As I was saying, there is another function." Falen and the two
|
|
Barks arrived with the large stone, its mass being carried by the
|
|
three of them between two large, wooden poles. The purple, oblong
|
|
stone pulsed slightly, slowly, in the presence of the magi. "That
|
|
function is to drain life."
|
|
There was a subtle change in the expressions of the massed
|
|
magicians; the change from confused wonder to fearful awe. One of them
|
|
spoke the thoughts of all the young, inexperienced magi, "We can't
|
|
manage the Crystal.. it's too powerful... there's not many of us
|
|
here..."
|
|
The time they had left was drawing short. The men had begun
|
|
advancing, again, this time prodding the ground in front of them with
|
|
spears, branches, anything they could find to trigger the traps
|
|
without being caught in them. They would be entering the cave in
|
|
another minute, and then the slaughter would begin. Sorya realized
|
|
there was a second time constraint: the Crystal was pulsing slightly
|
|
faster, a little brighter, it's dweomer causing it to drink the
|
|
plentiful magic potential gathered in the room so close to it. The
|
|
incantation must begin immediately.
|
|
"I tell you, twelve will be enough! Am I not a Leaf of the Nar-
|
|
Enthruen? Do I not know of what I speak? Or would you wait for the
|
|
soldiers to cut you to pieces? Look outside, and tell me we are still
|
|
not enough to use the Crystal." The magi glanced about themselves, saw
|
|
the first man coming near to entering the cave, and quickly formed a
|
|
circle around the Crystal. Sorya stepped into her place, and began the
|
|
spell.
|
|
|
|
"Are we sure this is the exact entrance?" The corporal next to
|
|
Howen looked at him with the question. The entrance was difficult to
|
|
detect, at best, with the illusion cast over the cave. It was only
|
|
Ne'on's instructions that had allowed them to find the cave in the
|
|
first place. The closer you got to it, somehow, the more defined the
|
|
illusion appeared.
|
|
"I'm sure, damnit, now let's get in there. We don't know what
|
|
else they might have planned for us, and we're running low on man
|
|
power." He yelled loudly to his men to pick up their spirits, "Let's
|
|
go, men! Give these demon wizards a piece of steel to take with them
|
|
to Risseer!"
|
|
As they passed through the illusion, they could see the cave
|
|
entirely, including the circle of magi around a huge, purple stone.
|
|
They charged, fearing the possible attack by the conclave, but no
|
|
wizards turned to meet their steel. Suddenly, a man screamed out in
|
|
pain, and dropped to the ground. Then, another man fell, and another,
|
|
writhing in agony for a moment, and laying still.
|
|
"Magic!" cried one of the men. And the charge stopped yet again.
|
|
The bowmen worked their way forward and nocked their arrows.
|
|
"Aim, and fire at will," Howen commanded, and the arrows flew
|
|
out, striking their targets.
|
|
A feeling of sickness came over Howen; his insides started
|
|
turning, and a pain crawled up his left arm, working towards his
|
|
heart.
|
|
"Get the green-robed one," he gasped, clutching at his chest.
|
|
Several other men also stopped their attack, clutching at their
|
|
chests. One fell to the ground, dead.
|
|
More arrows flew through the air, some striking their targets,
|
|
most missing completely. There were only six more standing, damnit,
|
|
Howen thought. And thirteen of us. The odds are still in our favor.
|
|
Blackness closed in around his vision, his heart rate jumping faster.
|
|
The green robe called something out, and another man collapsed behind
|
|
him. Still, he fought the desire to give up, to let the life spill out
|
|
of him; he had something to live for, a job to finish, a family to
|
|
support.
|
|
Another magus felt the bite of an arrow and the men of the Arm
|
|
closed with their enemy. Swords were drawn, steel bit into cloth, and
|
|
screams reached Howen's ears as he felt Celine's tranquil pull.
|
|
Another cry, the sound of rusted metal hitting stone, feet moving
|
|
around him. Someone gasped for air.
|
|
Air began making its way into his own lungs. His heart beat
|
|
slowly, steadily. His vision cleared, and when he focussed, he saw
|
|
several silhouettes leaning over him.
|
|
"Is he dead?" one asked.
|
|
Then he heard a familiar voice - a voice he was growing to love -
|
|
the voice of Hanlar. "He's lookin' you square in the face, lad, and ye
|
|
think he's dead?" Hands reached out to grasp him, and pull him up, and
|
|
he saw the green robed magus laying in a pool of blood by the stone,
|
|
Hanlar's own sword sticking out of the woman's chest like a monument.
|
|
Nehru forgive us, he thought, we were fighting women.
|
|
"We'll take some time 'ere, lads, to rest. We'll not be goin'
|
|
any- where, for a scant bit 'o time."
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 Pact, part IV
|
|
by Max Khaytsus
|
|
(b.c.k.a. <khaytsus@alumni.cs.colorado.edu>)
|
|
|
|
The only instruction in the letter that Ilona Milnor followed was
|
|
to come alone and that was only because she had plenty of confidence
|
|
in herself. She ignored the lines about not carrying weapons or light.
|
|
She needed those, especially in the middle of the night around the
|
|
docks, outside the protective city wall. She received her instructions
|
|
to come here just after she reported for duty at sunset. She had no
|
|
idea who the note was from, but it was delivered by a young blond
|
|
woman, perhaps in her early twenties. She was obviously upper class
|
|
and very polite.
|
|
"Who is this from?" Ilona asked, re-folding the message.
|
|
"I can't say," the woman answered, as if she did not know
|
|
herself.
|
|
"And who are you?"
|
|
The woman shrugged. "I'm just a messenger."
|
|
"That's not how I do business," Ilona warned her.
|
|
"Then you'll have to adjust."
|
|
"I could have you locked up," the lieutenant threatened. She had
|
|
no patience for games.
|
|
"Aren't we past the time when they killed the bearer of bad
|
|
news?" the woman continued in her calm voice. "I told you, it came
|
|
into my hands with intent of being passed into yours. Take it and
|
|
follow the instructions." With those words she turned and walked out
|
|
of the guard house.
|
|
Ilona could have had her arrested, but the woman was right. The
|
|
days of killing the messenger were long gone. Besides, she was
|
|
obviously a member of the local mob and Ilona did not want to be the
|
|
one to cast the first stone. It seemed she was on her way to being one
|
|
of the organization's members and the means to that end seemed more
|
|
important. If she were to succeed in infiltrating the mob, a lot more
|
|
than one criminal would be her prize.
|
|
Ilona shone the light of the lantern down the length of the
|
|
docks, watching for movement and examining the rebuilding of the
|
|
piers. Large portions of the dock were covered with fresh wood, while
|
|
other sections were completely torn down. Most remained in the same
|
|
bad condition that the war had left them in.
|
|
There were two large merchant ships that had come in over the
|
|
last few days to sell their wares in town, braving their way past the
|
|
enemy fleet and the pirates. She shuddered to think how many others
|
|
failed to make it through. The ocean floor must have been littered
|
|
with greedy merchants wanting to make a profit on the war.
|
|
Since most of the pier markers were lost in the fighting and the
|
|
subsequent fires, Ilona had to count the piers before locating the
|
|
proper one. Like the rest, it appeared to have been damaged in the
|
|
fighting and was patched up in some places. She shone the lantern down
|
|
the pier, then at the small clipper ship docked at it. By some
|
|
miracle, some of the ships in Dargon's harbor managed to survive. Many
|
|
were only lightly damaged and repair and raising work had started the
|
|
same day the Beinison fleet moved on.
|
|
"I told you no lights!" a harsh male voice floated down from
|
|
above and Ilona shone her light up to the deck of the ship. Liriss,
|
|
the crime lord of Dargon stood on deck, dressed in a black cloak,
|
|
shielding his eyes from the light. "Come up here."
|
|
Ilona made her way to the boarding plank and walked up on deck.
|
|
Liriss was alone as far as she could tell.
|
|
"Kill the light," he asked in a quiet voice. "Please."
|
|
Ilona did so. She never imagined he could be polite.
|
|
"Please, sit down," Liriss told her, standing before her
|
|
nervously. He was not armed and there did not seem to be a weapon near
|
|
by.
|
|
"Why am I here?" Ilona asked.
|
|
"Your first assignment."
|
|
She sat on the second step of the ladder leading to the upper
|
|
deck. "What do you need?"
|
|
"Your help. You're one of the very few I can trust."
|
|
"Me?" She was ready for anything but that.
|
|
"Yes, you. Not even any of my lieutenants. Not one of the three.
|
|
You see, I was framed. I never gave the order to have your Captain
|
|
killed and I'm already being blamed..." He did not often let his
|
|
speech trail, but he was obviously deep in thought.
|
|
"What?" Ilona stood up. She was even worse prepared to hear that.
|
|
"I never gave the order," Liriss repeated. "Someone else did and
|
|
used my name. I suspect that one of my aides did this."
|
|
"But the man said you ordered it. I was there!" She bit her lip,
|
|
realizing she had given vital information away. In the official story,
|
|
the assassin was killed long before she ever arrived at the castle.
|
|
"And that note from you..." she hurried to mask her slip.
|
|
"Note? What note?"
|
|
"The note you sent last night, with the gem."
|
|
"I never sent you a gem," Liriss protested. "I wouldn't dare
|
|
leave evidence like that around. And I sent no note. What did it say?
|
|
I must see it!"
|
|
"It said `You're well on your way,' and was signed by you."
|
|
"You must believe me," Liriss insisted. "I didn't send you
|
|
anything and I did not order Koren's death."
|
|
"Kesrin told Kalen that Koren's death was a part of the deal,"
|
|
Ilona said. She intended to corner the rat.
|
|
"For Darklen, not for you! I would have told you up front! I
|
|
can't afford the risk so soon after trying to make this deal with
|
|
Darklen. Besides, Koren was too well guarded for me to send my men on
|
|
a suicide mission. I have too few people now as it is. I would wait
|
|
until he was home, alone, before acting."
|
|
"You expect me to believe that?"
|
|
"Yes! You must!" Liriss took a deep breath. "I did NOT have him
|
|
killed. You have access to Darklen and that's all I need for now. I've
|
|
learned to be patient rising to where I am. And believe me that I sent
|
|
no gem. If I wanted to pay you off, it would have been done with Rand
|
|
gold, just like the Duke pays."
|
|
"Liriss, you're a thief, a liar, and a murderer. Why should I
|
|
believe you?"
|
|
"You have to." He shifted uncomfortably. "You must believe me.
|
|
You're an outsider to my organization. You're one of the very few I
|
|
can trust. Help me and I'll help you."
|
|
"How?" she sighed. The song was not going to change.
|
|
"You must prove that someone is trying to set me up. And you must
|
|
find that person. I know that he or she is one of my people. If you
|
|
find out who it is, I will gladly give them up to you, along with any
|
|
evidence you will need to put them away."
|
|
"All right," Ilona sighed, "but you must tell me everything you
|
|
know."
|
|
* * *
|
|
It has been a whole month since Aimee Taishent moved to the
|
|
Duke's castle to live with her father, Jerid, who worked for the Duke.
|
|
The Duke and all his soldiers were gone, even Captain Bartol, who
|
|
always told wonderful stories, and her father was in charge of the
|
|
whole castle. But he was also very busy and could not spend any time
|
|
with her.
|
|
Once Aimee snuck away and went to her grandfather's house in the
|
|
new part of the city, beyond the old city's walls. There were other
|
|
kids where her grandfather lived and he always talked about magic and
|
|
showed her interesting things. But then two castle guards came looking
|
|
for her and took her home.
|
|
Her father was furious. He said he did not want her going outside
|
|
the castle alone any more and told her stories about bad Beinisons and
|
|
that they were still out in the new city, stealing little children and
|
|
that is why so many of her friends were gone.
|
|
She cried and cried, until he took her into the city to show her
|
|
that the Beinisons had gone far away, but told her not to go alone
|
|
anywhere anyway. And then the guards would not let her out of the
|
|
castle by herself. Her father bought her some new toys that she could
|
|
play with, but all alone she could not keep her interest in the games.
|
|
Aimee had prowled the entire castle by now. She had been in all
|
|
the corridors and halls and in many of the rooms. She checked the
|
|
kitchen and the stables and the gardens. She had even been in all
|
|
three spires of the keep and up on the wall that went around the
|
|
castle. All the buildings on the other side looked small and the
|
|
people even smaller.
|
|
But a month was more than enough time to see all of that and
|
|
Aimee was once again getting bored. She had been sulking around the
|
|
castle all morning when she found a large wooden door that had always
|
|
been locked in the past, slightly ajar. She peeked through the crack
|
|
and saw a long hallway with flickering torches and stairs at the other
|
|
end.
|
|
Aimee wondered if she should get her puppy, Karl, from the
|
|
kitchen, where he was begging and stealing scraps from the cook, but
|
|
decided that he would bark and make too much noise and instead pulled
|
|
the heavy door open and went inside.
|
|
Behind the door the corridor smelled like the ditch out by the
|
|
docks and remembering the loud and rough sailors she had seen, Aimee
|
|
thought about going back, but at the same time she desperately wanted
|
|
to see what was at the bottom of the stairs, behind the door that has
|
|
been locked for the last month.
|
|
The stairs were narrow and dark because the row of torches ended
|
|
in the corridor above, but light shone in from the bottom of the
|
|
stairs. Aimee carefully made her way down to where there was more
|
|
light. The walls here looked grayer and were much older, dusty and
|
|
cracked and the ceiling had arches and was rounded, unlike the
|
|
ceilings in the castle.
|
|
There were many doors and cross passages everywhere Aimee looked,
|
|
but the torches marked a single path, twisting and turning in the
|
|
maze. Before Aimee could go too far, she heard running footsteps
|
|
behind her and hid in a dark corridor. A moment later a castle guard,
|
|
carrying something in his hands, ran by, his sword loudly bouncing up
|
|
and down on his belt. As soon as he was out of sight, Aimee turned and
|
|
ran back up the stairs.
|
|
To her dismay, the heavy oak door was locked.
|
|
* * *
|
|
Rish hid his hands in the folds of his robe, glad that he managed
|
|
to get all three letters off by different messengers. He had spent the
|
|
entire morning out at the market, taking his time, making sure no one
|
|
knew what he was doing. He was charged an exorbitant price for two of
|
|
the messages, due to their destination and the course of the war, but
|
|
he knew the people taking them were reliable and the messages would
|
|
arrive in less than a month. The third message was not going very far
|
|
and Rish expected to get the most use out of it.
|
|
He made his way down one of the keep's main corridors, trying not
|
|
to look as satisfied as he felt.
|
|
"Good morning, Lord Chronicler," a maid greeted him.
|
|
"Good morning," Rish smiled back. He felt as if the weight of the
|
|
world was lifted off his shoulders as the letters left his hands and
|
|
felt more personable than usual as a result.
|
|
"You have not seen Sir Taishent's young daughter, by chance?"
|
|
"Of course not," Rish muttered. The child was always lost.
|
|
"The girl has been missing all morning."
|
|
"I..." Rish began when an armored man ran into the hall.
|
|
"Hildy!"
|
|
"Excuse me, Lord Chronicler," the maid hurried towards the
|
|
soldier.
|
|
Rish proceeded out of the hall, thinking about the Lieutenant's
|
|
young daughter. She was a curious child, always underfoot. Once she
|
|
saw him writing and asked for a bottle of ink, which he gave her. By
|
|
the following day she had stained half the castle. He heard back from
|
|
Jerid Taishent about that. Heard so much in fact, that he was not
|
|
going to give Aimee anything ever again. To this day, almost a full
|
|
month later, the servants still found ink stains here and there and
|
|
had to spend hours scrubbing them away. And the ink bottle was still
|
|
missing, the girl claiming she had lost it.
|
|
He hoped she had not gotten into any trouble or found the ink
|
|
bottles he stashed away in the the library behind the old books on the
|
|
far shelves.
|
|
For now, if he were to see her, he would bring her to someone's
|
|
attention, but he would not go searching for her on his own. He had
|
|
plenty of things to do and being as busy as he was with his research
|
|
into Captain Koren's death, he had neglected to maintain the detailed
|
|
records he usually made.
|
|
* * *
|
|
"Shut up!" Kalen shouted at the youth. "I don't want to hear it!"
|
|
The young man fell silent.
|
|
"Now," Kalen went on to one of the guards, "you throw him in a
|
|
cell and keep him there and you find that merchant and ask what's
|
|
missing. If it matches, bring him here to talk to me. If not, tell him
|
|
to go home and wait. Now get out of here, all of you!"
|
|
"But I didn't do anything!" the boy wailed again as the guard
|
|
turned him to lead him away.
|
|
"Shut up!" Kalen shouted again. "If I hear your voice one more
|
|
time, you're not getting out of that cell until you're forty!"
|
|
The teen fell silent with a whimper and the guard led him away to
|
|
the back of the guard house.
|
|
"Rough day?" Jerid asked from the doorway.
|
|
"Yeah," Kalen sighed, turning, "but if that brat was just a year
|
|
older, I'd backhand him so hard... Just look at me, threatening
|
|
violence on kids..."
|
|
"If he stole something, the least he deserves is a good
|
|
whipping," Jerid noted.
|
|
"You know me. I'd just as soon let their parents thrash them.
|
|
Come on, we can talk in my office now."
|
|
Jerid nodded. "You know what this is about?"
|
|
"I have a good idea. Some of your men dropped by this morning."
|
|
They walked up the stairs and into Captain Koren's office,
|
|
shutting the door so they would not be disturbed. Jerid paused at the
|
|
door for a moment, looking about the room. It has been months since he
|
|
stood here talking with Adrunian Koren. The normally spotless office
|
|
was a mess with papers and boxes and a pair of crates of merchandise
|
|
in the corner.
|
|
"What happened?" Kalen asked.
|
|
Jerid had to force himself away from looking at the mess around
|
|
the room. "Aimee's missing. I saw her at breakfast, but she didn't
|
|
show up for lunch and her mutt has spent the whole morning in the
|
|
kitchen. The staff has been searching for her all day. No one saw her
|
|
leave the castle. My father hasn't seen her. No one."
|
|
"No one..?"
|
|
Jerid shook his head. "The cook, the castellan, the physician.
|
|
She hadn't even gone to the stables today."
|
|
"Do you think she was kidnapped?"
|
|
"What else is there to think?" Jerid said bitterly, "but why
|
|
would someone go to all this trouble and how would they ever get her
|
|
out of the castle?"
|
|
"Would Liriss try to use her to blackmail you?"
|
|
"What for? I'm not the one who deals with the grief he causes."
|
|
"I don't know," Kalen said. "It's just a thought."
|
|
"I'd rather someone kidnapped her than anything else," Jerid
|
|
admitted. "If they took her, she'll be okay. I'm worried about the
|
|
alternatives."
|
|
"Do you need more people to look?" Kalen asked. He had none to
|
|
spare, but he would gladly give some up for a task such as this.
|
|
"I just want you and your people to watch out for her. She
|
|
probably just wandered off on her own like she always does, but I want
|
|
to be sure. I'm amazed the guards didn't see her leave the castle."
|
|
"I'll let Ilona and Caisy know," Kalen promised, "and we'll let
|
|
you know if we find anything. Aimee will be fine."
|
|
* * *
|
|
Unable to open the dungeon door, Aimee followed the lit corridor
|
|
to where the guard disappeared. She reasoned that it was only a guard
|
|
and she should not have gotten scared just because it was her first
|
|
time down here. Her father would probably yell at her for coming here,
|
|
but at least the guard would let her out.
|
|
She followed the lit torches to another staircase and down again,
|
|
deeper into the dungeon. The walls became darker and the passages
|
|
narrower. The shadows from the torch light cast frightening shapes on
|
|
the walls. Aimee lost her courage many times, but each time she would
|
|
remind herself that there are no such things as monsters, just like
|
|
her father told her when tucking her in after nightmares. Shadows were
|
|
just dark spots made by things standing in front of the light.
|
|
She made it very far into the dungeon before she could hear
|
|
voices.
|
|
"The chiurgeon's due soon," a man said somewhere up ahead and
|
|
Aimee carefully crept forward.
|
|
"Should I hide the mead?" a second voice laughed.
|
|
"After begging the cook for some?" yet a third male voice
|
|
queried.
|
|
Aimee crawled up to a doorway and peered inside. In the room sat
|
|
three men and a woman. Two wore blue jackets that identified them as
|
|
city guards. The other two wore the Duke's crest, making them a part
|
|
of the castle guard. They all sat around an old wooden table, playing
|
|
cards. Every so often one or another would take a sip from their
|
|
goblet.
|
|
"You know, Elizabeth is really pesky," the blond man with his
|
|
back to Aimee said. "She always complains that we're doing something
|
|
wrong. At least old Griswald let us be."
|
|
"He sold out, Tesky," the man on his right said. This one seemed
|
|
to be in charge. He was older and wore sergeant insignia and spoke
|
|
with a deep, strong voice.
|
|
"And now we've got the war because of him," the last man said.
|
|
"It wasn't just him," the sergeant corrected. "It was all the
|
|
greedy people willing to sell out to Beinison."
|
|
They finished the hand and moved something about on the table.
|
|
"I'll hide this," Tesky got a jug and got up. Aimee shrank back
|
|
as he turned around, but he did not notice her.
|
|
"Let's go check on the Great One, Altura," the sergeant said to
|
|
the woman. "Arellano, see that the torches are still burning."
|
|
They all got up and left in different directions. Aimee hid in an
|
|
alcove as Arellano passed by, followed by the man who took the jug.
|
|
Sergeant Guralnik and Altura went into an adjoining chamber. Aimee
|
|
held her breath until the two men that passed her were out of sight,
|
|
then snuck into the room where the four guards had sat. The cards were
|
|
still lying on the table, with some coins and mugs and two daggers. In
|
|
the corner across from the second door lay sleeping bags, packs,
|
|
weapon belts and some food. Feeling hungry, Aimee picked up a piece of
|
|
dried meat, a large slice of cheese and a skin of water. She retreated
|
|
into the corridor without checking what was in the next room and hid
|
|
the meal up the corridor, then waited for the guards to pass back,
|
|
nibbling on the cheese that she had stolen.
|
|
Aimee had no idea what the guards were doing here or why the
|
|
Duke's physician was coming to visit them or who the `Great One' was.
|
|
All this became an interesting mystery she felt she needed to solve.
|
|
She picked contentedly at the cheese, waiting for her opportunity to
|
|
arise.
|
|
"...be fine," voices sounded in the corridor again. "Two or three
|
|
days and we'll be out of here. I doubt there's a reason to be hiding
|
|
for weeks. It's not like we killed the Duke or anything."
|
|
Aimee hid in the shadows of her room as the two men passed by.
|
|
She wondered what they were talking about. Hiding? Killing?
|
|
"Well, I want to see my wife before I become a part of this
|
|
place," the other man complained. "I'm already beginning to forget
|
|
what she looks like."
|
|
They entered the lit room and Aimee snuck out into the corridor,
|
|
still holding the cheese, and listened in at the door.
|
|
"We'll need to replace the torches at the bottom of the stairs in
|
|
an hour or so," Arellano reported.
|
|
"Get 'em when Elizabeth leaves," the sergeant said.
|
|
A chair creaked.
|
|
Footsteps.
|
|
"What happened here?" someone complained.
|
|
"Where?" Altura asked.
|
|
More footsteps. Aimee peeked in.
|
|
"Damn rats!" the man who carried the jug examined the pack that
|
|
held the food.
|
|
"Put it up on the chair, Tesky," the sergeant told him. "We can
|
|
live with these rats. It's the ones up above that I worry about."
|
|
Arellano dug into his pack and pulled out a slingshot. "Just wait
|
|
'till I see one!"
|
|
Aimee shrank back from the door in fear, realizing that the
|
|
slingshot was really meant for her.
|
|
* * *
|
|
"My Lord?" a man bowed before Kesrin. "I have news for you."
|
|
"What is it?" Kesrin asked without turning to look. People had
|
|
been having news for him all morning long and he now wanted some time
|
|
to think about the unrest in the ranks of the mob.
|
|
"A letter, Sir. It was carried by that merchant who refused to
|
|
pay for protection. The boys and I got him outside of the town wall
|
|
just after lunch. He was leaving a day early."
|
|
"Let me see it," Kesrin put out his hand.
|
|
The scroll was handed to him.
|
|
"Did you break the seal?"
|
|
"No, my Lord, of course not! It was broken by the merchant."
|
|
Kesrin's eyes narrowed and the brigand took a fearful step back.
|
|
"You have read it?"
|
|
"Uh... Yes, my Lord. I read it to see if it was important."
|
|
Kesrin unrolled the parchment and slowly read it, not dismissing
|
|
the man.
|
|
"I didn't tell anyone else, Sir. I was the only one sorting the
|
|
loot."
|
|
Lines appeared in Kesrin's brow as he read on, but he did not
|
|
respond to the man.
|
|
"And, of course, I thought you might want to bring this to Lord
|
|
Liriss' attention yourself, Sir," the brigand went on.
|
|
"You did well, Misgen," Kesrin said. "Remember not to discuss
|
|
this with anyone. Come, we'll show this to Liriss together."
|
|
They walked out the door and down the corridor leading to the
|
|
stairs side by side. As they approached the stairs, Kesrin drew his
|
|
dagger and sank it into Misgen's back.
|
|
"Are you sure you're the only one who saw the letter?" he
|
|
demanded.
|
|
"Yes," the brigand gasped. "I was the only one."
|
|
"My Lord won't appreciate others knowing his grief," Kesrin said,
|
|
twisting the blade and pulling it out. He let the man fall down the
|
|
stairs with a second thrust and continued on his way up.
|
|
* * *
|
|
Aimee recognized the sound of the physician's soft sandals long
|
|
before the woman appeared in the hallway. Aimee hid while Elizabeth
|
|
passed by, then carefully followed her down the corridor towards the
|
|
room where the guards were staying.
|
|
Maybe now that the physician had come down, she would hear why
|
|
the guards were playing cards in the dungeon and who the `Great One'
|
|
was.
|
|
Waiting for the physician to show, Aimee ate some of the food she
|
|
had stolen and thought about what she might tell her father about
|
|
where she had been. She probably should have told the guards that she
|
|
got locked in by accident and asked to be let out instead of sneaking
|
|
around, and spying on them. It was an honest mistake on her part after
|
|
all, but having heard the guards talking, Aimee's curiosity grew and
|
|
she wondered about just who was in the next room and why he would not
|
|
come out.
|
|
Now that the physician was here, she could just wait and see and
|
|
then sneak out before the others finished talking and simply tell her
|
|
father that she was out on the castle wall and forgot to come back to
|
|
eat lunch.
|
|
Elizabeth entered the room where the guards were sitting and
|
|
greetings were exchanged, then she asked how `he' is and one of the
|
|
men said `he' was the same as they had left him.
|
|
"Some doctor you are," Elizabeth frowned and continued into the
|
|
next room.
|
|
"Told you," Tesky said to the sergeant, who smiled joyfully.
|
|
"At least she means well."
|
|
Arellano picked up his slingshot off the table and followed the
|
|
physician. "Better watch her, lest the rats get her."
|
|
"Just shoot her once," Tesky followed him in.
|
|
A moment later Sergeant Guralnik and Altura went in after them.
|
|
Aimee waited a while, making sure none of them were coming back,
|
|
then entered the room and went to the doorway through which all five
|
|
disappeared.
|
|
She could hear muffled talking as she reached the door, then saw
|
|
the backs of the people before her. They were all looking at
|
|
something, but she could not tell what. A moment later one of the
|
|
guards moved and Aimee realized that lying on a bed was a large man.
|
|
The man's hand slipped off the cot and swung limply down to the floor.
|
|
Aimee's eyes grew wide and she bit her lip. The man was not moving! He
|
|
was dead!
|
|
Then the physician also stepped away from the bed, revealing the
|
|
man's face and Aimee instantly recognized Captain Koren, the Captain
|
|
of the Dargon Town Guard. She heard the servants talking the past few
|
|
days about his murder and now, having finally seen his body, she knew
|
|
that these guards and the doctor were involved.
|
|
Trying to be as quiet as possible, Aimee backed out of the room
|
|
and into one of the unlit corridors of the underground maze, hoping no
|
|
one realized that she was there and what she had seen.
|
|
* * *
|
|
"My Lord?" Kesrin entered Liriss' office almost without knocking.
|
|
"I said I didn't want to be disturbed!" Liriss snapped.
|
|
"My Lord, this information is of great importance," Kesrin forced
|
|
himself to remain pleasant, always his most difficult task when
|
|
dealing with his boss. He had no idea that Liriss was troubled to
|
|
start with, but he was not sorry to interrupt.
|
|
"Let me have it," Liriss ordered sharply.
|
|
Kesrin delivered the rolled up parchment into the crime lord's
|
|
grasp, then stepped back expectantly.
|
|
"Now leave."
|
|
"My Lord?"
|
|
"Leave and close the door behind you!"
|
|
"Of course, my Lord," Kesrin smiled uneasily and backed out of
|
|
the room. If Liriss was in a bad mood now, it was bound to get worse
|
|
as soon as he read the letter and violent mood swings often caused
|
|
violent reactions. As he stepped out into the hall, Kesrin made hasty
|
|
plans to find something to do in the city, to avoid being underfoot.
|
|
He shut the door firmly behind himself and went.
|
|
As the door closed, Liriss examined the roll Kesrin had given
|
|
him. What could be so important that he would have to be disturbed?
|
|
Usually Kesrin was bright enough not to disobey a direct order. He
|
|
unrolled the scroll and read.
|
|
|
|
My Dear Captain Bartol,
|
|
|
|
I write you this letter in fear for my life and the future
|
|
of the Duchy of Dargon and our Lord Clifton's rule. Three
|
|
days ago Captain Adrunian Koren was found dead in his room,
|
|
poisoned by an assassin. Action was taken immediately to
|
|
find out who sent his killer, but as time went on, I began
|
|
to notice severe inconsistencies in the stories told and the
|
|
actions taken. Please consider the following factors that
|
|
have forced me to write you this dispatch and plea for
|
|
immediate assistance.
|
|
|
|
When I personally had a chance to examine the room where the
|
|
Captain was resting, I found that the supposed struggle that
|
|
took place between the guard and the assassin could not
|
|
possibly have left the room in the fine condition in which I
|
|
found it.
|
|
|
|
More surprisingly, having locked myself in the room, I had
|
|
learned that no one outside the door was able to hear me or
|
|
see the light of the candle that I had lit. Based on this, I
|
|
refuse to believe that a guard making rounds found the
|
|
assassin in the room by accident. You see, the only keys
|
|
were held by your aide, Lieutenant Jerid Taishent, the
|
|
Physician, Elizabeth of the Pass, and the castle Castellan
|
|
Molinar. A guard would be unable to enter this room, locked
|
|
from the inside, by any legitimate means.
|
|
|
|
Even more astonishingly yet, the guard that apprehended the
|
|
assassin was reassigned the following day and made
|
|
unavailable to my inquires. In addition, while the body of
|
|
the assassin has been returned to his family, the body of
|
|
Captain Koren has effectively disappeared.
|
|
|
|
The final factor in my decision to write to you was
|
|
information delivered to my attention by Tara n'ha Sansela,
|
|
the Captain's niece. In the possession of Lieutenant Ilona
|
|
Milnor, of the Town Guard, she had found a valuable gem
|
|
stone together with a note from the crime lord of the city's
|
|
underground, thanking her for her work and making a promise
|
|
of things yet to come.
|
|
|
|
In the past three days I have also noticed a newly developed
|
|
comradery between Town Guard Lieutenants Ilona Milnor and
|
|
Kalen Darklen and your own aide, Lieutenant Jerid Taishent.
|
|
The three of them have been instrumental in blocking
|
|
information and dragging out the facts of the investigation.
|
|
I believe that their involvement with the assassination goes
|
|
much further than it first appears and sincerely believe the
|
|
Ducal seat to be in jeopardy. Once again, I beg you to
|
|
return to the capital to relieve the developing problems.
|
|
|
|
< Signed, >
|
|
Your humble servant,
|
|
Rish Vogel,
|
|
Dargon archivist, chronicler and historian
|
|
|
|
"Damn them!" Liriss slammed his fist on the table, flinging the
|
|
scroll across the room. The silver wine goblet that stood on his desk
|
|
tipped over, spilling the rich red wine on the table. "The bitch
|
|
tricked me!"
|
|
He shoved his chair back, furious. Then, after a moment, a calm
|
|
smile spread across his face. "Just as well. It always works out in
|
|
the end."
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 **
|
|
****** ****
|
|
** ** **
|
|
**** ** ** **
|
|
**** **** ** ** ** *****
|
|
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
|
|
** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
|
|
** ** ** ** *****
|
|
** ** ***
|
|
****
|
|
**
|
|
|
|
Quanta is the electronically distributed journal of Science Fiction
|
|
and Fantasy. As such, each issue contains fiction by amateur authors
|
|
as well as articles, reviews etc... Quanta is published in two
|
|
formats, Ascii and PostScript* (for PostScript compatible
|
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Requests to be added to the distribution list should be sent to one of
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or
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quanta+requests-postscript@andrew.BITNET
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Send mail only- no interactive messages or files please. Note that if
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server and would therefore only want to be notified when a new issues
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has been released, please specify this in your request.
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Quanta now reaches an international audience of over 1000 subscribers.
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It is produced bi-monthly by Daniel Appelquist (da1n+@andrew.cmu.edu).
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* PostScript is a registered trademark of Adobe Systems Incorporated.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
(C) Copyright September, 1992, DargonZine, Editor Dafydd
|
|
<White@DUVM.BitNet>. All rights revert to the authors. These stories may
|
|
not be reproduced or redistributed (save in the case of reproducing the
|
|
whole 'zine for further distribution) without the express permission of
|
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the author involved.
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