'Duality'

[Yui-chan]

Hello, friends.

 

I've been pondering how to introduce this thread for a while, now, but it's more difficult than it sounds. What I'm going to share here has taken up a large part of my time and a inspired a lot of wishful thinking in me since October of 2003, when I first developed the concept and began writing, so as you can imagine it's probably disproportionately important to me. Because of that, I have trouble finding a way to introduce it that doesn't seem either a) understated or melodramatic.

 

So, I'm just going to give you the facts and let the story introduce itself.

 

'Duality' was created specifically for the serial fiction ezine called Keep It Coming and written on a contract with the editor there. I have since decided that it's in my best interests as a growing writer to withdraw from the young and not-terribly-successful business and instead use the story as an experience-builder so that I can share and get feedback freely. That is what I'm hoping for from you: Level 10, no-holds-barred feedback on every aspect of writing, story, plot development, pace and characters. Please feel free to be honest, even if that means telling me that you hate a certain character or the way I've treated certain elements of the story. At this point, as I start seriously dreaming of one day making a living as a writer, I need bald-faced realism.

 

I'll thank each and every one who comments in advance right now, because whatever you have to say, from the two-word exclamations to the 500-word essays, will help me. Don't hold back. I have a thick skin.

 

By the way, what I'm about to show you is still a work in progress. It's long, but I'll be posting it up here slowly and in small chunks so that it won't be intimidating right away. If you would be so kind, please put your comments in a separate thread simply to keep from making this one even more scary to anyone who might be keeping an eye on the size of the scrollbar. ;;;

 

Thank you,

~Yui

[Yui-chan]

Advertisement blurb (teaser and introduction):

(This is not technically part of the story, but an introduction similar to what might be found on the back of the book jacket. )

 

There has always been division. There has always been strife. There has always, always been hatred. For the people of the great continent of Eud, these are the certainties in life and perhaps the only similarities that span the towering mountain range that splits the land in half. The Guardians stand between them, straddling the deep chasm that holds the raging river called the Balud Gaeis, ‘The Blade of God’.

 

To the north, the mana-rich lands of the Kohlanmer are a great empire led by a duumvirate of the two most powerful of the magic masters. Theirs is a region of vast plains and rich minerals, booming industry and advancing technology. Under the firm grasp of Carisus Mezhor and Phime Jalkle, the Primes of the mage houses, information and education are the well-guarded keys to the upper echelons, and power – in whatever incarnation it can be obtained –is the most valuable resource. Theirs is a society that has been built on the sweating backs of the common-blooded, those for whom the knowledge of words and magic are forbidden by nature of their ancestry and breach of that restriction is cause for immediate execution. They are the ones who mine the precious ores that their government trades and who barely carve enough from the hostile land to feed and clothe themselves while their nobles live in luxury off the rich rewards of their toil. For these lowest castes, the only way to advance in life and in station is to climb over the bodies of rivals, whether through wiles, betrayal or crime. For the nobles, it is the expected and chosen method, made all the more dangerous by the power inherent in magic, money and politics. No matter one's birth, however, in Kohlanmer, the only duty is to oneself, and corruption is as common as air.

 

To the south, the tropical lands of the Toi and their council of Devoted have developed into a loose association of villages, a place nestled amongst dense jungles and verdant farmlands, swift-flowing rivers and teeming lakes. Under the guidance of their most pious elders, they live in harmony with nature and with each other, quietly observing the obscure rituals and ways of the past in order to gain forgiveness for the corruption of their ancestors, a crime whose details are long lost to the mists of millennia past. All that remains is the memory of sin and the fanatical desire to display piety, thus, their society has become one where anything is forgivable under the auspices of ritual, and every citizen is expected to devote his life fully, even if it means spending decades studying the ancient arcane arts only to never get further than the ability to generate a tiny spark in their mana-poor region. Self-mutilation, abuse, and even ritual human sacrifice have become the norm in a perversion of the long-ago worship of the god Hirensus, and if the Toi are aware that many of their practices are cruel and wasteful, they consider it the price required for the true repentance they must demonstrate in order to prove their worth. In their society, devotion is the only path, and neither life, nor love, nor family should stand before loyalty to the father of the gods and the old ways that are his legacy.

 

The only hints that Eud could ever have been different come from the unbelievable tales told by bards and jongleurs, tales that are received with skepticism at best, for the idea that the Kohlanmer and Toi could have been one race is laughable in light of three thousand years of conflict, death and envy. For each, hatred of the other has become a religion unto itself, and rationale, superstitions, and outright falsities abound to support and encourage that general rift between them. Those who know magic are bound to the land that cannot support it. Those who know hunger are bound to the land that cannot bear fruit. Those who hold tight to the reigns of power fear the knowledge of their enemies. Those who hold tight to the tatters of faith fear the truth that their rivals could expose. Their differences keep them at each other's throats, while the imposing boundary of the Guardian mountains keeps them from all-out war. Thus, the cycle is continued and perpetuated, and the two races travel along on parallel lines of vice, firm in their beliefs that there is no other path to take.

 

However, the past that they have forgotten is about to awaken, brought into the present by unwitting pawns. This is the tale of a firstborn daughter of the south sent into the lion's den and a firstborn son of the north nurtured by ambition and dreams of power. Fate and a god's promise will bring them together, but not before their pasts and the lies of a thousand generations threaten to drive them apart. Theirs is a struggle against each other, against themselves, and against the powerful figures of both the mortal and immortal worlds around them, for the stories say that the reluctant Two will become a mighty One and set off a chain of events that threatens everything that they have known. It is a tale about hatred so strong that it grows without roots and devotion so deep that the light of truth has become dimmed by distance. It is about a people’s struggle with prejudice and distrust. But most of all, this is the tale of a young man and a young woman who must find their way through the mysteries of a forgotten past and the deadly intent of a world that fears change to rediscover trust and the legacy to which they were born.

 

This is the curse of their duality, and in the end, it will bring them all to either eradication or an everlasting unity.

 

[Yui-chan]

Prologue - Shadow and Memory

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He walked in darkness. Head down, bare feet silent on the dark stones, he needed no light to guide him as he strode down the cramped, rough-hewn halls. That was how well he knew his path, how intimate he was with the damp corridors that led to his destination. He'd long ago lost track of how many times his fluid stride had carried him down into the darkness of his father's resting place.

 

In fact, it had become a ritual with him, a journey of regret that he took every year in order to hold a one-sided conversation with dust motes and tattered cobwebs. He liked to think that his sire heard him share his worries and fears in those long hours. He liked to imagine the old man would grin that knowing grin of his at the tales of his siblings' petty rivalries and silly pranks. He liked to dream that, if he talked enough or shared completely, he might somehow reach out across the impassable rift that separated them and pull his father back from the oblivion in which he rested.

 

Of course, the world did not revolve around what one grief-stricken son liked to think, and he invariably stepped back out into the light very much alone. Some boundaries couldn't be crossed.

 

As the floor changed slope beneath his step, the man shook his head sadly at the false finality in the thought. He told himself that he'd accepted the truth long ago. He knew very well the reality of the situation and the limitations imposed on him, however, no matter how many times he stated the facts to himself, he couldn't quite conquer some last bastion of stubborn refusal within him, some silly corner of himself that still believed his love could be enough. Almost torturously, the mutinous voice always ended up resurrecting irrational hope, that silly bubble of false promise that made him wonder if this visit could be the one, if some miracle would occur that would give him back the only person who had ever fully understood him and his ways. It was nothing short of masochistic, but it was as unavoidable as the tides.

 

That is the nature of love, he reminded himself calmly, running his sensitive fingertips lightly over the rough grit of the ancient walls around him as he walked. It makes us incapable of truly abandoning those we hold in our hearts, no matter what understanding our heads might weave. It is what makes the emotion beautiful and more powerful than anything in the mortal world or beyond.

 

They were words his sire had taught him, pearls of wisdom once fallen from the old man's whisker-circled lips. He smiled to think of the look in his father's eye when he'd said them, the twinkle of joy that had danced beneath his shaggy, white brows and lit the impossible color of his gaze. The light through the open windows had birthed silver sprites as it glinted of his carefully arranged curls, and they had danced with the golden ones born off the intricate circlet on his brow. The old king had never had a moment in which his glory didn't shine forth from his kind face like a beacon, and similarly, he had never shown anything but the love he spoke of to his cherished children. Memories of the days spent with his father were as fresh in the man's mind as yesterday, and yet it seemed like an eternity had passed since those carefree days in the beauty of the court, when he had basked in the love of an adoring parent.

 

The warm glow of that distant time struck him with a wave of regret, and he sighed as he fought against its unbalancing pull. Time flows like a river, he reminded himself, letting his azure gaze focus on the black distance. The horizon beckons it ever onward with a call that can never be denied. Even if I had the power to drop a mountain in its path, I could not save a beautiful moment, only watch it travel away on that relentless water's new path. He was intimately familiar with the concept, yet he often wished he could find a way to turn that river back on itself. Everything had been so much brighter, then...

 

Shadows layered on top of the darkness drew the man from his reverie, and he raised his face to where a massive stone door ended the unpolished length of the tunnel. Carved and gilded, the portal was a marked contrast to everything he had passed thus far, as ornate and beautiful as the cavern and the hallways had been rough and unrefined. Each figure was perfection in stone, each rapturous face carved so evocatively that to stare too long brought an inevitable flood of tearful joy. Eyes of silver and gold winked at him despite the lack of light, and tiny hands reached out in stunning bas-relief, outstretched in greeting and supplication with such poignancy that he could almost feel them reaching into his very soul to stroke it with their comfort. The animals that danced amongst the figures were no less captivating, though some affected him with their beauty and grace while others made his heart race with the passion of their rage and the wild abandon of the freedom apparent in their pose. Some even had the capacity to frighten him, a truth that never failed to amuse a man who would otherwise have known nothing of that base emotion. Even in oblivion, his father managed to teach him important lessons.

 

With a little smile, the man raised a hand to the magnificent door and touched the jade inlay that spanned the two halves, his thin fingers tracing the graceful lines of the symbol inscribed there. It was his father's, of course, an obscure sign of the man who lay beyond and a ward against those who had no right to visit his tomb. Especially in recent years, it would be as meaningless to most people as the meandering lines of erosion in the cliffs jutting from the surface far above. At times, it was a sad thought to the man, but at others it was a comfort, a reminder that he did not need to fear for the desecration of his father's resting place. Time had flowed a long way since the last time anyone else had found their way into those hallowed halls.

 

The thick doors swung inward without a sound, and he followed them into the stale air of the chamber beyond. Each step he took sent a whisper of liquid sound ahead of him to splash off the carved walls and pool at the base of a raised dais that dominated the space. His gaze followed the auditory droplets to the feet of the clawed throne there and traveled upwards until he met the dead eyes of the statue atop it. It was glorious. It was blasphemous. Life-sized and incredibly detailed, it was nothing more than a dull imitation of a radiant king, and despite the artistry of its creation, he hated it as much as he loved it, conflicted by the desire to see the sire he missed so much and the repulsion he felt at how little of the man was truly to be had there. In the end, it was an empty effigy, when what he wanted was the real man.

 

"Father..." The whisper danced with dustmotes and shadows, its steps heavy with grief. Oh, how he longed for an answer to his call, but all he got was silence and stillness, not even a cobweb stirring in reaction to his intrusion. It was, of course, just what he'd expected, but thanks to his traitorous hope, it still hurt.

 

"Father, I ... I think I finally understand," he continued, leaving no footprints to mar the thick dust as he made his way to the throne and knelt at its silver feet. "It took me a very long time, but I've finally seen what you spent so long trying to show me. I know why you did what you did, why you chose this path." Smiling sadly in the darkness, he reached up to his bare chest and rubbed at the ridged scar that drew a line from his right shoulder to the base of his ribcage. The ancient wound tingled in response, a shadow of a memory of the agony it had once caused him.

 

"They really are magnificent, even now, after they've fallen so far from what they were. Their hearts, their wills, their faults and fears and beautiful courage - taken apart, they seemed so trivial and meaningless, but when they are a whole, they create a fragile, breathtaking life that is unique beyond anything else in creation." His words were so softly spoken that they did not even stir the air. "I would never have believed it had I not seen it for myself, Father. I would never have suspected that two plants grown from the same seed could differ so greatly."

 

His handsome face split into a wondrous smile as he gazed up at the effigy of his sire and confided in a whisper, "I know, now, why you loved them so very much. I have come to love them just as you did, and I have decided to help them in your stead. I will not break our vow to you, Father, but I will do what I can to see that your faith in them is justified. The time is approaching when they cannot help but succeed, for the darkness is growing, tempering the youths into stronger steel and forging the long-lost bonds more tightly than ever.

 

"Of course, my kin are unknowingly helping in that," the man admitted with a little sigh, rubbing a hand down the course, stone robes of his father's monument. "You would be so disappointed in many of them, Father. Without you, they have lost all direction, forgetting those who need them in favor of selfishness and sloth, ennui turning them to idle games and cruel amusements or leaving them lethargic and buried in the past. How quickly they forget the lessons you tried to teach them."

 

"Bold words," a soft voice winged its way through the darkness from the doorway, chiding and yet warm at the same time, "from a brother who spends his time sitting at the feet of a memory."

 

With a little smile, he turned to watch his sister approach, taking some relief from the air that moved around him with her every step. "Would you begrudge me the right to the comfort these short visits give me, dear one?"

 

The woman smiled tenderly in response, scattering the thick dust as she knelt smoothly at his side. In a familiar gesture, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek and was drawn into the circle of his arms. "Of course not. In truth, you are too right. We have lost our way, and with the boiling poison our hot-tempered sister is starting to pour in the others' ears, I fear many will travel only further from what Father would have wanted." The lithe beauty rested her head against her brother's shoulder and looked up at the statue towering above them. "He would be the first to scold us for the dishonor we are bringing upon ourselves."

 

"Aye," he agreed, resting his chin on the cloud-soft mass of her silver hair, "but I would give a lot to receive that scolding if it meant having him here to give it. I miss you dearly, Father."

 

"As do I," she whispered in agreement, running a hand gently along his rough scar. They stayed there in silence for a long time, locked together in a comforting embrace as their thoughts swirled behind their gazes. Finally, she glanced up at his face, her expressive brows furrowing. "I can hear the plans forming in your heart, brother. What are you thinking?"

 

His answer was a happy smile, and he bestowed it on his youngest sibling with enough radiance to lend light to even that midnight place. "I am thinking that it is time to take a hand in destiny, little sister. I am going to fulfill Father's legacy."

[Yui-chan]

(1) Stealing Refuge

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There was only one place in the bustling tavern that was quiet and still that night, only one nook in the time-worn wooden building that didn’t ring with laughter and the click of wooden mugs. Nestled behind the chimney, it was a forgotten space filled with close, stale air and years of dust and cobwebs. Burnished gold light slanted through the hazy atmosphere from gaps in the planks that formed the meager interior wall, slicing the darkness with ragged, horizontal lines that scored the surface like the claw marks of a great, wild beast. The floor was rough and indistinct in the meager glow, and now and then a heavy step on the second story would loose a hail of dirt, grime and insect remains from the low ceiling. Still, it was blessedly warm and relatively safe, and the rotting blankets that littered the dirt floor made it pleasantly comfortable.

 

The woman who huddled in the darkness there snuggled deeper into the corner and reflected with grim cynicism that it was probably the most pleasant place she’d managed to stay for months. Her mind conjured images of hard, half-frozen ground and precarious perches in the gnarled branches of strange, stunted trees. She had spent her share of nights with each, shivering from both fear and doubt under the intimidating expanse of the northern sky. Those shelters, such as they were, had possessed the safety of solitude that her current one lacked, but they had also exposed her to the agony of a relentless cold that had deepened and bit at her until she had thought she'd go mad with the misery. In fact, she probably had for a while, because she could barely remember the stumbling path she’d taken to find the homely inn, nor what had led her to the loose boards in the back wall or inspired her to slide them aside and reveal the forgotten storage space beyond. All she really recalled was the blinding pain from her frozen fingers and the ache left in her jaw once her teeth had stopped chattering, but the memory was enough to make her truly grateful for the tiny, dirty place in which she crouched.

 

If it wasn’t the most luxurious ‘room’ in the inn, at least her secret haven kept her cocooned in warmth from the residual heat of the fire and sheltered from the wind and snow by the four walls around her. Sure, she slept in the dirt with mice and bugs for company, and she wasn’t able to eat quite as well as she had in the open lands (the owner of the inn had two dogs who often got to the scraps before she could), but she was enjoying the chance for some restful sleep, feeling safe and comfortable enough to relax for the first time since the day she had left home.

 

Home.

 

Adreina closed her eyes against the stab of longing she felt at the word, unable to deny the images that flashed across her mind’s eye. Mist-riddled jungles and tangled paths filled her thoughts, and the memories were so vivid that she could smell the sweet tang of the trees, feel the weight of the humid air on her skin. The music of the colorful birds and chattering tree-dwellers hummed so loudly in her ears that she snapped her eyes open, alarm making her heart thud against her chest as she wondered if the cacophony had become real. Luckily, only the normal muffled din of the tavern beyond the thin wall sounded in the dark space, and the young woman shook her head, chiding herself for letting her thoughts drift backwards yet again.

 

There is no purpose to such musings, she sighed to herself, shifting around to sit on her knees in the dirt. This is home, now… this godless wasteland and all the places like this that you can hide in, every one a cozy little coffin for you and the other vermin.

 

The thought seemed especially appropriate as her eyes dropped to the tiny, twisted skeleton that gleamed in the meager light. The brittle jumble of yellowed twigs and stiff, grey-brown fuzz had probably been a mouse once, but now it was barely recognizable as anything, just like the dirty, thin creature that prodded it with a roughened finger. She lifted her hand up into a ray of light, staring at the dirty crests of her fingernails, the dark smudges of bruises and cuts dotting her palms. Her feet were worse, still sore and prone to bleed from their brush with frostbite two weeks earlier. Her hair, her clothes, her dirty face – she touched each in turn, feeling her already-low spirits plummeting. Adreina had never been particularly vain, but each was a shocking reminder of all that was different from what it would have been three months ago. She had always been fastidious; she hated to be dirty, and in that life that was over now, she had washed so often that it had become a popular game among the villagers to be the first to chide her on the rare occasions that her hands or clothes were soiled. Now, she had been filthy for so long that she wondered if she could still remember what it was like to be clean. Scented soap and the warm waterfalls of her home seemed like nothing more than impossible luxuries, old dreams she’d long since woken up from.

 

Father would be so ashamed to see me like this. She regretted the thought before it had even fully formed, shying away from it like a frightened colt. It was too soon to think about that man and all her jumbled feelings about him and what he had done. There was too much to puzzle over, too much uncertainty waiting there to attack the things she believed in. His stern face swam in the darkness before her, showing clearly those grey eyes that were so much darker than the silver ones he had given her, the thin lips that he had always held pinched with stress or anger or pious severity. The image was so clear that she could see the silvered strands that were just starting to pepper his black hair and the little scar that nibbled at the tip of his chin. With great effort, she snapped a wall of ice around her feelings and waved at the empty air, banishing him from her mind far too late to avoid an ache in the region of her heart. She sighed softly and rested her head on her knees.

 

After a moment, Adreina gave herself a mental shake. She could not afford to be miserable and self-pitying, not if she wanted to survive; she simply didn’t have the energy to spare.

 

Instead, she leaned forward in her little hiding place, her eyes glinting in the ruddy light coming through the gaps between the slats. Shifting around a bit more in the dirt, she peered out into the tavern, concentrating her wandering attention on the foreign people, language and customs that were plentiful in the room beyond. Information might not fill her empty belly, but it was the only resource she had in abundance, and with a grim twist of her lips, she vowed to use it to the best of her ability.

[Yui-chan]

(2) Voyeur

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Elvigar leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table before him. He scratched his belly and let out a massive belch that had another table of men laughing and cheering at his prowess while he bellowed for the barmaid, Winelda. From her hiding place across the room, Adreina watched him through the thin gaps in the slatted wall, her eyes traveling from the top of a half-balding pate of oily hair down his dirty, barrel-shaped body to the well-worn soles of his dusty boots. He was a large man all around, tall and broad in both shoulder and gut, the kind of massive bully that was a leader among men not for his charm or ability, but for his simple, hot temper and boulder-sized fists. There weren’t many like him among her more-diminutive race, and she was very glad. She’d had the chance to watch him ‘settle a dispute’ with another patron last week, and she didn’t like to remember what the miner’s power had done to the man’s face.

 

“Getcher scrawny little arse over here with my booze, Winnie. I ain’t gonna wait fer Shortday fer ya,” he roared even as the harried, middle-aged serving woman was rushing to his side with a frothing mug of ale. Despite his atrocious manners, Adreina found herself pleased as she watched the interaction. After an initial few days of frustration and confusion, she had finally come to a point where she could understand the strange language of the north, and not for the first time, she thanked the great god for her innate affinity for patterns. It hadn’t been as hard as she’d feared to comprehend their speech, and she had even started practicing speaking it for herself. She sincerely hoped she’d never be near enough to a native to have to use what she’d learned, but if she were, at least she would be ready.

 

Winelda set the wooden mug on the table with a loud rap, staring her tight-mouthed disapproval at Elvigar’s attitude. “That’s fifteen copper ye owes us, Elvigar Meksim. Fergal says ye’d better pay up by week’s end, or ye won’t be suppin’ here anytime soon.” The rotund little woman accentuated her words with a shake of her head and folded her arms under her ample bosom.

 

The miner scowled back, looking significantly more threatening. “Izzat so? Well, you just tell that little weasel husband o’ yers that I’m good fer it, an’ if he’s lucky, I may just pay him fer this swine piss he serves ‘round here.”

 

A boisterous laugh from the backroom cut off the witty retort that Winnie had opened her mouth to give him, and they both turned their heads to the far right of the building, beyond the thin strip of room that Adreina could see. She could imagine, though, and she knew that deep, bellyful sound to herald the arrival of the tavern’s portly owner, a man she only knew as Fergal. He was a short, messy-haired little man, one with a round belly and at least three chins. She could just imagine him, striding out from the cookroom, or perhaps from behind the bar, wiping his meaty hands on a threadbare towel. His cheeks were always a jolly, ruddy red, and he unfailingly had grease on his partially-singed chin hair. It was a little hard to comprehend how it had happened, but sometime in the past few weeks, Adreina had decided that she rather liked Fergal. He smiled a lot when he was within her line of sight and had a tendency to hug people when he was greeting in the main room. It was a strange custom, true, but his young observer thought it looked rather… pleasant. It wasn’t a practice with which she was familiar.

 

“Elvie, you big, dumb brute! Don’t you be talkin’ such big words when we both know you’ll be paying ‘afore you leave tonight.” His voice came closer until he stepped into view from her left. Sure enough, he was just finishing the process of slinging his kitchen rag back over his shoulder. “You’re a powerhouse and a handy man with that pickaxe, but you got too much honor to steal a bit o’ rotgut from me, an’ we both know it. You’re just after rilin’ my Winnie.” His brilliant smile didn’t seem to be the least bit tarnished by the angry glare his massive guest shot at him, and he only chuckled again when Elvigar couldn’t think up a suitably grumpy reply. The ox wasn’t sure whether he’d just been insulted or complimented, and his mouth opened and closed again impotently. His face flushed red with embarrassment as the rest of the tavern’s half-dozen patrons joined in the laughter.

 

As the noise died back down to the normal chatter and Winelda and Fergal returned to their duties, Adreina continued to watch quietly, listening to the snippets of conversation that reached her through the comforting crackle of the fire. She knew the pattern; soon the evening visitors would start crowding in, many of them travelers and local workers looking for some good conversation and the pleasant haze of alcohol. There were a few regulars who would come in late, drink for an hour, complain about something called ‘themissus’ and leave again with a sense of satisfaction. She’d been a little disappointed to learn that most of the tavern’s patrons were men; her education on northern women was limited to Winelda, and she got the impression that the tavern’s mistress was a little out of the ordinary. The woman got some strange looks, especially when she stood up to Elvigar.

 

With a shrug, she shifted around to give her legs a stretch and watched as the tavern door opened to admit the evening’s first guest. She noted with idle curiosity that this man, whoever he was, wore clothing that was slightly different from the local style, a bit sharper and more plainly decorated. He was a traveler of course, probably from some city or distant part of the republic. She had heard vague references to a region further north called Verives and a city somewhere or other that they called Sorin. Perhaps he was from one of those places, and she could learn more about them from him. She nodded to herself, making a mental note to be sure to pay attention to his conversation through the evening, but even as she thought it, she was disappointed to see him walk out of sight to her left, probably going to sit at the bar.

 

Adreina frowned but could only shrug as she watched the next few people to enter, recognizing each as occasional patrons. Soon, the bustling tavern was downright crowded, and the hidden voyeur struggled to make out any one conversation amongst the hubbub. She did her best, resting her forehead against the splintering wood as she peeped out at them, and over the course of the evening, she managed to learn a few new words -- most of them curses -- and a few new facts.

 

By the time the tavern had started to empty, it was nearly midnight, and Adreina was drooping, dozing where she’d leaned back against the stone blocks of the outer wall. The relative quiet and the pleasant heat of the fireplace wrapped around her like a cozy blanket, lulling her towards sleep.

 

It was then that the wooden wall in front of her burst inward with a groan and the snap of breaking wood. Adreina shrieked and shoved herself tighter against the outside wall, instinctively shielding her face from the flying splinters of wood that filled the tiny space, too surprised to even wonder what was happening. She felt something slam into her chest, knocking the wind from her, and before she could struggle, she was being hauled through the gaping hole in the wall by the front of her filthy tunic. The jagged edges of the wood bit into her, cutting and scraping her arms and legs, and she was thrown to the tavern floor with bruising force.

 

Stunned and hurting, blinded by the sudden light in the bright main room of the tavern, Adreina Pelin gasped for breath and squinted up her attacker, all the while praying to her god that hers would be a quick and painless death.

[Yui-chan]

(3) Victory and Defeat

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"Well, hello there, princess! How nice of you to join us. We were so hoping you'd be sociable." The man’s dry words rang clearly in the sudden silence of the tavern, his smooth, tenor tones very carefully modulated to sound wholeheartedly sincere instead of dripping with the sarcasm that the situation warranted. The figure at his feet squinted and blinked, trying to clear her vision, confusion flickering across her dirt-streaked oval face, and he couldn’t help but smile, a threatening and predatory expression filled with that all-too-male satisfaction over a victory. After six weeks of searching and tracking, the prey was finally his.

 

Ah, and what a docile little prey she was, half-laying there on the floor, her legs curled into her body protectively. Her Toi heritage was given away by the upward tilt of her eyes and the olive tones of her skin, apparent even under weeks of dirt. Her features were softer than anything his race bred, her nose small and dainty, her lips thinner and darker than the lush crescents he was used to. Even her body, evident enough under her ragged tunic and patched trousers, was thin and angular instead of curvaceous and soft as it should have been.

 

Apparently, even their women are designed to deny them any pleasures, the young man noted wryly to himself, his lips twisting.

 

He leaned down closer, taking hold of the Toi’s chin despite her attempt to cringe away from him. She didn’t resist much as he raised her face to his inspection, instead fixing him with a gaze as incriminating as the rest of her features. Her eyes, clear now in the reflected firelight, were an unnatural shade of grey, a bewitching non-color as light as her ragged hair was dark. He lifted a pitch-black strand from where it fell across her forehead, noting with clinical detachment that it wanted to curl around his finger at its end - again, a trait reserved for those religious zealots from south of the Guardians and damning evidence of her guilt.

 

Djaz knew the inevitable outcome of the woman’s situation, and after reading the expression in those pale eyes, he knew that she did as well. She covered it admirably, but he could see the slight tremble in her limbs, the fear dancing across her face. He was calmly waiting for her to make her attempt to run, as they all did, but for now she seemed content to simply return his gaze, submitting to his perusal of her person without resistance. When he realized she wasn’t going to launch into anything amusing, like hysterics or groveling for her misbegotten life, he released her, roughly shoving her chin away to disrupt that disconcerting stare.

 

“Bright Sun!” came the gasped exclamation that finally broke the veil of silence in the room, and Djaz straightened, glancing over his shoulder at the tavern owner’s wife where she stood near the bar. Winelda Chaelsen stared at the dirty girl with saucer-shaped eyes, her round face red enough to make her look as if she was about to fall into an apoplectic fit. Beside her, her husband patted her hand in an absent attempt to comfort her, though he looked as dumbstruck and horrified as she did. The Toi glanced at them as well, and they both stiffened in alarm, habitually making the sign against evil over their hearts.

 

“Fergal, ya poxed wart-hog! You been hidin’ a scrubbin’ Toi in ‘ere, have ya?!” The outraged bellow came from the man-mountain standing by the door, a red-faced miner who looked like he could butcher meat with his bare hands. He turned on the tavern’s portly owner with nothing less than murder in his beady blue eyes.

 

Fergal jumped, utterly shocked by the accusation as much as by the sudden looks from those around him. “It ain’t anythin’ like that, Elvigar! We didn’t know she was there any more’n you lot did! I swear on my honor an’ my tavern!” He practically begged them to believe him with his voice, spreading his arms wide as if to show them his innocence.

 

“Oh, izzat so?” Elvigar stomped towards him, his eyes narrowed to slits. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to buy the other man’s story, having had a few too many ales to over the course of the night that had fed his temper. "Well, what I think izzat yer nuthin' but a swippin' southie-lover. Ya got some o' them earth-forsaken witchy artifacts o' theirs in the back room, do ya?! Setcherself up with an altar ta that black-hearted god o' theirs? HMM?!"

 

"By the deep waters! No!" As if poor Fergal didn’t have enough on his mind with his impending pummeling, his wife chose that moment to heave a great sigh and faint dead away into his arms. He had to stumble around a bit before he could find a neutral resting place for her not-inconsequential weight against his massive belly, all the while watching the man who’d been a friend just five minutes ago contemplate the best way to murder him, the few patrons left in the bar forming up behind him. It was relatively small, but it was definitely a wanna-be mob.

 

Still standing over the huddled form of the young woman, Djaz sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. “That’s enough!” His voice cut through the room like a sword, the command in his tone instantly stopping the drunken miner and his violent friends. Turning towards him, they were all surprised to see a friendly grin on his face. “There's no need to get pissy, friends. Fergal didn’t know the first thing about his little guest, here. Hell, I had a hard time finding her out, myself.”

 

The portly tavern's owner released the breath he’d been holding and thanked the wind god for the young man’s intervention, turning his attention to his swooning wife.

 

Elvigar stared at Djaz, transferring his scowl to a new target. “An’ jes who are ya, anyway, stranger, that we should believe ya. Huh? Ya come draggin’ on in here an’ yank a filthy southerner outta the wall like it ain’t nothin’. Iz you a Hunter or somethin’?”

 

“Yep. I’m a Hunter ‘or somethin’,” the younger man replied with a mocking smile and a slight bow. His eyes, however, stayed hard as he stared challengingly across the room at the miner. “Now, if you good citizens will kindly go about your business, I’ll have this little ‘infestation’ of yours taken care of in no time.”

 

Djaz drew a chord of rope from a pocket in his overshirt, his eyes never leaving Elvigar’s as the brute glanced down at the Toi still curled at his feet. There was the expected hatred in the other man’s gaze, but there was also something more - the kind of drunken courage and self-righteousness that meant trouble. The Hunter stretched out the rope, his senses alert; he wasn’t about to be caught unawares by any one of these country backbreakers.

 

Sure enough, Elvigar decided not to leave well enough alone.

 

“Ya don’t need ta trouble yerself, mister fancy Hunter. Jes give’er to us, an’ we’ll make sure she ain’t no trouble fer no decent folk no more. Right boys?” He turned to the other patrons with a feral grin, buoyed by a rousing chorus of gruff ‘yeah’s from his mates. One meaty fist pounded into the other as his fevered eyes returned to the woman huddled on the floor, and his grin widened threateningly as she blanched and shrank away.

 

Djaz glanced down at her, but this time he didn’t find anything in her alarm amusing. Nobody, not even a southerner stupid enough to cross into the north, deserved to be beaten and tortured in the ways that ignorant miner had in mind. Besides, making her dead wasn't compatible with his mission to return her to the Collectors at Devonswyrd. He pressed his lips together, his temper starting a slow rise, and leaned down to grab a handful of the girl’s tunic and drag her to her feet. The look she shot him as she stood up made it clear that she thought he was going to throw her to the wolves, and for some reason, it only added to his annoyance. From between gritted teeth, he ground out a simple, “That won’t be necessary.”

 

He should have known the ox wouldn’t be smart enough to let it go at that. In two thumping steps Elvigar was beside him, his shadow looming over the young Hunter and his captive.

 

"Now, ya lissen to me -- " A roundhouse punch to the jaw shut the man up very effectively.

 

Elvigar never saw the blow coming. One moment, he was clapping a meaty hand against Djaz' shoulder, and the next, he was dropping to the floor like a lead weight, his eyes rolled up into his head. The entire tavern went dead-still as the rafters shook with the impact, their eyes going first to the fallen Goliath and then to the young man who'd just become the first person ever to take him down.

 

For his part, Djaz didn't seem to care a whit, intent instead on gathering and binding Adreina's wrists with his usual efficiency. In only a few seconds, she was secured tightly, her hands locked in front of her and tethered to a longer piece of rope that Djaz looped around his own wrist. He turned towards the tavern's patrons, his face breaking into a smile that never reached his eyes.

 

"Well, it's been a pleasant visit. Let's hope I don't ever have to make it again. Good night, citizens," he said, his voice as calm and jovial as if he'd just gotten up from his barstool. With a little wave and a tug on the rope, he led the way through the bewildered crowd and out into the cold, moonlit night.

 

... It wasn't until they were well away from the tavern that Djaz let himself curse and shake out his aching hand.

[Yui-chan]

(4) In Anticipation of the Prize

___________________________

 

He stared down at the mirror surface of the oil, watching with no small amount of pleasure as the two figures melted into the dark night. It was all going according to plan, and as the moment drew nearer and nearer, his excitement grew. With a sharp laugh, he lifted his fingers from the carved symbols on the rim of the scrying pool, allowing the spell to dissolve into the scented air.

 

"Good news, I take it?" His compatriot lifted his wine glass, reclining in his chair at the long, grand table that occupied the center of the room.

 

"Yes," he nodded, moving to take his place at the head of the table. His gaze traveled the length of the board, taking in all five of the men seated around him, and his grin was as dark and dangerous as the look in his ice-pale eyes. "The Hunter and his team have secured our treasure for us, gentlemen. They are headed for the Collections Office in Devonswyrd."

 

"Excellent," came the rumbling reply from the other end of the table.

 

"Well, the Hunter may have it, but that doesn't mean that we do." The tall, thin man to the left of the speaker frowned, idly tapping a ruby ring against his wine goblet. "Can these plebeians be trusted to bypass the official channels and deliver it to us?" He raised his head, gazing up at the head seat.

 

"Probably," the leader replied with that cold smile, indicating a few sheets of vellum spread on the table in front of him. "Our esteemed Hunter is an ambitious man in addition to being a capable one. If the deal were sweet enough, I'm quite sure he'd do as we asked."

 

"Well, then--"

 

"Ah, ah!" He stopped the interruption with a raise of his finger, his rapier-sharp gaze cutting into the other man. "I never deal in 'probably's. I have already dispatched a team of our own men to ... 'liberate'... the prize from this Hunter and his men. Why bargain when we can just eliminate anyone who might know of its disappearance from the system, hm?"

 

To his right, the firelight glinted off crushed blue velvet as his peer shifted in his seat, laughing. The others joined in the mirth, some more enthusiastically than others. For his part, their leader just smiled that same darkling smile and let them enjoy the moment. His keen mind assessed and observed, taking note of the smallest details about his company and filing all the knowledge away for future use. One could never be too careful.

 

"Ah, my lord," the jovial man beside him sucked in a deep breath, his bearded face split into a blinding smile. "Yours is a ruthless mind and a terribly efficient method. I commend you." He raised his glass in a toast, bowing his head with appropriate humility. The others quickly followed suit, their pleasure readily apparent.

 

The man at the head of the table merely nodded, taking a sip of his own drink. He left the response carefully neutral, unwilling to encourage that kind of empty flattery. His suddenly-ardent 'admirer' dropped a notch in his estimation, and he made a mental note to watch him all the more carefully from now on.

 

"Well, then. We'll have our little treasure in a few days." The barrel-chested man at the far end of the table spoke up, his voice rumbling like thunder through the room. "What methods will we employ to ensure that we get what we want of it without destroying it? Have you gained the intelligence you were looking for, Lord?"

 

The leader nodded, his blonde hair glinting red in the firelight. "Yes. I have seen enough to be confident that we have isolated the flaws in the methods we've used in the past. This one is fearful and raw, and it will prove absolutely susceptible to the Bending. I'm quite confident."

 

"And if it doesn't?" For the first time, the figure to the left of the table's head spoke up, his arms folding across his silk-clad chest.

 

The ice-eyed leader frowned, fixing the man with a dangerous glare. "Surely you don't doubt me." It wasn't a question.

 

The room went still as the two men regarded each other, the nay-sayer overly confident about his own worth. He thought hard about how far he could push, but in the end he acquiesced most wisely. "Of course not, my lord. I only meant to ask how much longer we could afford to wait if this one breaks as well. They aren't exactly a common resource."

 

"This one will not break before it's given us the information we need, lad." He snapped from his place at the head of the table, his tone and the degrading form of address making his displeasure unavoidably clear. The other figures around the room went quiet and still, recognizing the danger. The youngest of them, stung by the insult, bit his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret. Instead, he merely nodded humbly and raised his glass to his lips, using it to hide his angry sneer.

 

The silence strung out, shrouding the room as their leader's eyes traveled once more over the table of his peers, looking to see whose sympathies might lie with his young enemy. He marked two names in his head, adding to a growing list of discrepancies.

 

When enough time had passed to have them all sweating in their seats, he spoke up. "We'll reconvene in five days' time. By then, our prize will be secure, and we can begin the process of completing our plans. The rewards are great, gentlemen, so I will expect a sizeable investment from each of you."

 

He was answered with grave nods from around the table, and he stood significantly, dismissing them from his presence. The five men rose from their chairs and quickly, but quietly, made their way through the grand, oaken doors, leaving their leader to stare out the room's magnificent windows at the night and the city below.

 

"Urathiel is going to be a problem." He didn't react to the dulcet tones from behind him, choosing instead to lift his glass of wine once more to his lips. "Shall I arrange for an accident?"

 

"No. I already have a noose about Sir Enric's arrogant, young neck. If he pulls any harder, he will hang himself for me."

 

"I understand. And the others?" The woman was a blur in the smooth glass, a shadow among shadows kneeling on one knee behind him.

 

"Mmm..." He made her wait for his response as he took another leisurely sip of his drink. "Once we see how things stand with the quarry, I may reassess their usefulness, but they continue to serve me ably for now. You need not concern yourself just yet."

 

"Very well. If there is nothing else, I will travel to meet the retrieval team in the morning."

 

He nodded at her reflection, not bothering to turn. "Go get my prize for me, Xelis. I have so many, many plans for her..."

[Yui-chan]

(5) Rendezvous

________________

 

Djaz trudged along purposefully, his booted feet crunching on the half-frozen grass as he walked. Around him, the night was dark and brittle with cold, the moons Dor and Fiya little more than thin slivers of weak, silver light in the sky; and the plains stretched flat and featureless on either side of the dirt track. Only a shadowy copse of low trees broke the line of the horizon, and he watched them grow nearer with tangible anticipation, his thoughts on a warm fire and a good night's sleep. Of course, with his captive in tow, he knew better than to hope for the latter. He never slept well with enemies nearby.

 

He slanted a glance over his shoulder at the acquiescent little woman shuffling along behind him, grimacing in the darkness. She hadn't said a word, yet, not in the tavern and not in the short while they'd been walking, keeping her eyes mostly downcast, but that didn't reassure him in any way. In fact, it made him more wary and nervous; he could practically feel her mind buzzing, feel the intense thought and reflection hidden behind that humble demeanor. Though he wished fervently that he could read what she was contemplating, he'd discovered already that her strange, silvery eyes were utterly unreadable, even to his experienced eye. Whatever she felt now, it was locked tight behind a surface of utter calm and quiet acceptance that he trusted only as a dangerous illusion. The woman was closed, and Djaz didn't like it one little bit.

 

With a frown, he gripped the rope tying her to his wrist tighter and forced his eyes back to the path. He'd have to work at her, chip away at the implacable defense she'd adopted, before he could get any information, but there wasn't much time. The trip to Devonswyrd would take three days - four, if he made sure they traveled slowly. That wasn't much time to mount a mental offensive, but he found himself looking forward to the challenge. It kept life interesting. After all, victory was only sweet when he had to earn it. A part of him hoped she'd be up to the challenge.

 

Djaz' musings were cut off as they stepped into the deeper shadows beneath the small stand of trees.

 

"Hey, honey. I'm home," he whispered, a mischievous glint joining the moonlight in his eyes.

 

"May the Land Spirit 'ave mercy on me," answered a familiar voice from the darkness nearby, a sound that caused the woman behind him to jump nervously, "If you were my wife, Djaz, I'd 'ave to pray that 'e opens up and swallows me whole, I would!"

 

Djaz laughed, watching the hulking silhouette of his partner step out from behind a tree trunk. "I'd be pretty upset to find you in my bed, too, Pel. The others?"

 

"I'm sure they saw ya approachin'," the bigger man shrugged, leaning his back against the tree. "They'll be back in two shakes." His gaze was on the indistinct form behind Djaz.

 

"So, this is the 'igh-and-mighty southerner we been after, then?"

 

The Hunter glanced back to his charge, nodding in the dark. "Yep. This is her."

 

She was watching them both openly, her eyes liquid silver in the ray of moonlight that slanted across her face from a gap in the leaves. He pondered for a moment, calculating what it was she would see of them in the sparse light beneath the trees, but as he glanced over at the man beside him, he decided that it would be preciously little. Even from this close, Pel was little more than a shadow among shadows, his face and features completely obscured. Djaz smirked to himself, quite certain that the lack of information was only adding to the woman's apprehension. Keeping a prey off-balance had never been so easy.

 

Pellorin looked Adreina up and down before turning back to Djaz with a raised a brow and a skeptical frown. "She's a mite small, ain't she?"

 

The younger man laughed, giving a tug on the rope that connected them. Adreina was forced to step forward into a brighter patch of light, her cheeks burning at the other man's words. "She's not a fish, Pel. I don't think it's size that matters in their case."

 

"Well, it seems not, since this little'un gave us such a merry chase. I think I'm forgettin' what it feels like to sleep in a decent bed, we been after 'er for so long."

 

"Bah." Djaz snorted, pulling his eyes off his charge to regard his friend. "Suffering builds character, old man. Besides, I'm sure your wife'll be real happy to remind you once we get home."

 

This time it was Pellorin's turn to chuckle, the sound a deep rumble. "Oh, I'm sure hopin' so, Djaz. Make no mistake about that." He winked and clapped a hand on the Hunter's shoulder, his smile bright against the darkness around him.

 

"D'ye think ye're makin' enough noise, ye pair 'o lackwits?" Another voice hissed out of the night, again making Adreina jump. She edged closer to Djaz, a move that left the young man frowning in puzzlement.

 

"Yeah. I could'a found you two with my eyes shut tight, chattering away like a pair of wenches on washing day." Two more men melted out of the night to be met by smiles from Djaz and Pellorin.

 

"Mf. Consider us 'wenches' properly chastened." The Hunter was non-plussed, his eyes going from one newcomer to the other. They, too, were rendered two-dimensional by the darkness, one a stick-thin shadow of average height and the other slightly taller and sporting the fine lines of a lithe and muscular male body. "Anything to report?"

 

"Nah," the skinny man on the left shrugged, brushing a hand through his wild hair. "The tavern stayed quiet after ye left, lad. They didn't know what to make o' someone takin' the bruiser down like that."

 

"Speakin' of which, did you break your hand, again?" The fourth man, similar in size and shape to Djaz, found himself fixed with a dead-eyed glare and grinned good-naturedly in defense.

 

"My hand's fine, Thom. D'you want a demonstration?" The young man smirked and waved a fist threateningly at his subordinate, earning a chuckle and a quick step back from the other man.

 

"I'll take your word for it, boss." The others joined in a moment of quiet laughter, carefully oblivious of the woman who stood silently among them. Only Djaz slanted a glance her way; watching her as she observed them all. Once again, he was sure he could see her thoughts whirling behind her eyes, and it made his brow crease speculatively.

 

He sobered, his expression all-business suddenly. "Let's put some more distance between us and the town, then we'll get some shut-eye for the night. Thom, Pellorin, you two take the scout slots. Craedi, you're my backup. You all know what to do if you hear or see something."

 

They each nodded as he looked at them, their expressions intent. "We'll keep any citizens well away from you and 'er, Djaz. You just keep 'er under control an' watch your back." Pel tilted his head at their captive, his eyes hard. Despite his words earlier, he knew better than to underestimate any prey, no matter how small.

 

Djaz nodded back, his face breaking into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If she tries anything, I'll just charm her back in line. She's a woman, after all."

 

"Aye. Sure, sure." Craedi rolled his eyes, the thin man stepping up beside Adreina. He looked her over in a way that was designed to make her very self-conscious, and it worked. She edged away from him to the limits of her tether, earning herself a wolfish smile. "I'm doubtin' she'd be susceptible to ye're wiles, Djaz. Seriously doubtin'."

 

The younger man smirked and muttered, "Oh, ye of little faith." He then gestured with his free hand. "Let's go, gents. The longer we wait, the less beauty rest I'll get tonight."

 

"Oh, now there's something you don't need to be skimpin' on, sure 'nough," Pellorin observed with a dry chuckle. "Let's bugger off, Thom, an' the sooner, the better." With his usual deceptive grace, the big man faded off into the night, followed by his grinning companion.

 

Djaz watched them go with a roll of his eyes and a mumbled, "Your momma didn't have many complaints about my looks, you old goat," that had Craedi beside him biting his lip to keep from laughing. Luckily, Pel didn't quite catch his witty retort.

 

With a self-satisfied grin and a tug of the rope, Djaz turned and set off towards the north, leading his teammate and his young captive back out onto the brittle plains.

[Yui-chan]

(6) Pieces of the Puzzle

____________________

 

By the time the man called Djaz ordered a halt for the night, Adreina was shivering uncontrollably, her bound wrists folded up against her chin in an attempt to wrap her arms around herself. It was no more effective now than it had been weeks ago, when she'd been traveling alone from the Guardians to that tavern, and her spirits plummeted at the idea of who-knew-how-many days of that kind of misery. Of all the enemies in the north, the cold was quickly becoming the one she feared and hated the most. Next to that, the ropes chafing her wrists and the incessant chatter of the two men in front of her were nothing more than annoyances.

 

When they paused to scout around a jumble of boulders that protruded from the smooth ground, she followed silently, listening and watching as they verified that the area was safe and relatively well-protected from prying eyes. The men seemed to find it very important to keep commoners from seeing her, though the young woman didn't really understand why. They'd already taken a couple of ... creative detours away from late-night travelers and a small settlement.

 

She had spent a considerable amount of time pondering why they might not want her seen, but thus far she had only come up with reasons that couldn't be right. They'd bound her hands, so of course they couldn't be worried that she would use magic against their citizens; they undoubtedly knew that there was no way to cast without using the gestures. Similarly, it couldn't be that they feared citizens might try to help free her; that the Kohlanmer commoners hated her people was made undeniably clear by the reactions of the citizens in the tavern. Why, then? Adreina shook her head, still unable to come up with a reasonable answer.

 

"Come here." The voice broke her from her reverie, and she raised her silver gaze towards her captor. When she didn't move immediately, he gave the tether an ungentle yank, forcing her to stumble the few steps towards him. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment as she struggled to regain her balance, feeling clumsy and awkward. It was such an uncomfortable and unaccustomed feeling, this stiff, half-frozen gracelessness that had come over her, and she was ashamed that she could no longer seem to make her body demonstrate the Toi fluidity that she was so proud of.

 

When she finally got up the courage to raise her eyes once more, Djaz was staring at her intently, his face deeply shadowed by the younger moon hanging low on the horizon behind him. She stared back, puzzled by his silent regard, but her attempts to see any details in his expression were frustrated by the night. She had yet to get a chance to view her captor clearly, too overwhelmed in the tavern to take advantage of the light and too blinded by the darkness since. All she could remember were flashes of impossible, violet eyes and an angry, square jaw, both of which she imagined were set towards her at that moment.

 

The man stared at her so long that she started to wonder what the moonlight revealed, shifting self-consciously. Adreina could feel her shoulder-length hair curling riotously around her head, a stubborn lock tickling her cheek. It was dirty, she knew, matted and oily and coated with the grime of months, just as the rest of her was. Her stolen tunic was also ripped and frayed around the hem and sleeves and fit her poorly, too long and too wide by half. She'd been constantly rolling and re-rolling the long sleeves before tonight, but now the tight ropes that bound her wrists were holding them up and away from her hands. It was something of a bright side, if a pathetic one. She sighed and looked down at the strange, loose breeches that she'd taken for her legs and the stiff shoes that were tearing away at her feet, accepting the truth. There really were no meaningful bright sides.

 

"Feeling sorry for yourself, princess?" Djaz sneered, turning away from his examination of her to lash her tether through a water-worn hole in the boulder beside him. She glanced up in surprise, his words echoing her own stern thoughts. "Yeah, I noticed. It's kinda hard to miss when those freakish eyes of yours go all sad and flashy. Don't expect sympathy from us, though. You should have stayed on your own side of the mountains, and that's all there is to it."

 

For one, brief moment, Adreina considered speaking up, considered telling him about how little he truly knew, but she knew better than to try. Even if her limited mastery of his language was enough for her to convey her thoughts, he would not care. He'd told her not to expect sympathy, and she most definitely did not intend to. She wasn't that foolish. The young Toi simply watched his back as he worked, distracting herself by watching the flex of his shoulders beneath his course tunic.

 

When the man turned back towards her, he reached out, grabbing her elbow in a firm grip.

 

"Sit here. Don't get up, and we won't have any problems," he growled, pulling her up against the cold stone. She shivered more violently at its touch, trying to edge away from the heat-leaching surface, but he pinned her against it despite her resistance. She couldn't even hope to compete with his strength on a good day, let alone when she was hungry, weak and half-frozen.

 

The moonlight shone on his face as he stepped to the side, and she watched his frown darken, noting absently that his eyes were, indeed, violet. "I said sit!" He pulled, and his strength threatened to pull her over if she didn't fold her knees, crouching down onto the cold ground. More of her precious heat leached away at the touch of the dirt, and the tether pulled her hands up against her cheek. It wasn't long enough to let her sit with her arms in her lap. She should have guessed.

 

Adreina sighed miserably as the northerner turned away, curling her legs up to try to warm her core. She was getting very tired, so she rested her head against her bindings, watching listlessly as Djaz rummaged around in a pack that the other man had left on the ground. Craedi had gone off somewhere or other almost as soon as they'd stopped, mumbling something to her captor that she hadn't heard. She let herself spend a moment spitefully hoping that the lecherous man got himself eaten by something before chastising herself for the unworthy thought.

 

Spite and vengeance are two of the obstacles on the path to Redemption, she reminded herself, quoting the strictures she'd had ingrained in her from infancy. The faithful will not succumb to their lures.

 

Taking comfort from the fact that she was clinging to her ideals despite her current trial, Adreina nodded to herself and rested her head back against the boulder. No matter what the Kohlanmer tried to put her through, her strength came from the great god and His righteous teachings. If she stayed true to Him, held tight to the belief that He would do His will through her, she knew that she would have the courage to face anything. This nightmarish journey could not truly destroy her as long as she remembered her faith...

 

The little Toi nodded to herself, fighting off another fit of violent shivers as the man who had traveled with them returned around the edge of the boulder, his arms full of sticks and twigs to use as firewood. She found herself leaning forward, anticipating warmth as he crouched down and started to arrange the wood into a pile on top of a flat stone off to one side of the little sheltered area. He was disappointingly far away, but the young woman figured that any heat would be a blessing compared to none. As the tinder caught and brightened, she scooted sideways along her boulder, stretching the tether to get as close to the fire as possible, absorbed by watching the hiss and flicker as the flames grew.

 

The other two men returned soon after, just as the outer reaches of the warm area around the campfire had started to expand enough to touch her icy skin. They'd caught some sort of creature and skinned it, and now the big one, Pel, was spitting it on a sharpened stick. The men must have been tired, for their earlier banter was gone, replaced by one-word answers and grunts when they bothered to speak at all. Most of their conversation was in such hushed tones that she couldn't make out what they said, but she heard that place name, Devonswyrd, a few more times as they all watched the meat brown in the fire.

 

Adreina strained closer to the fleeting warmth, glad for the golden light that glowed off the tall boulders that ringed their campsite. She was still left shivering and in the relative dark, but for the first time, she was able to catch a glimpse of the men who held her.

[Yui-chan]

(7) The Face of the Enemy

________________________

 

The four men huddled around the fire, their eyes fixed on the cooking beast held between them. In another time and situation, Adreina would have found the wolfish looks in their eyes quite amusing, but as it was, she was too distracted by the painful cramping of her stomach as the scent of food carried to her on the cold, night air. The Hunter's party was clearly hungry in that obsessive way that only men can be, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in the Toi's gut, the one that spoke very eloquently about how many days it had been since she'd had more than a few scraps stolen from Fergal's dogs.

 

Ignore the hunger, she told herself, biting her lip, Concentrate on something else, on the faces of these foreigners who control your life.

 

The young woman nodded to herself, raising her gaze determinedly. The pain subsided, though whether it was the cramps stopping or her will forcing the sensations down, she couldn't be sure. She didn't reflect on it, though, instead gazing into the ring of light around the campfire.

 

Her eyes settled on the man facing her, the skinny one, and she bit her lip, trying to remember what he was called. Craedi. The strange name came to her in the smooth tones of Djaz' voice, complete with the stuttering roll of the 'r'. He was a relatively small figure, stickish and short with a shock of grey-white hair that was short and badly cut. It prickled out every which way, making him look wild and unruly as his blue eyes darted around the faces of his companions. He was clearly rather elderly, his face deeply lined and sagging slightly as if his skin had grown too big for his bones. It gave him a dour, angry look until he broke out into a big smile at something one of the others had said and his entire countenance lit up. He leaned over, mumbling something to the man on his right.

 

That one was Thom, Adreina recalled, the man who'd gone to 'scout' - whatever that was. He was much younger than Craedi and taller as well, adding at least another head's length to the elder's height. His eyes were blue as well, though even in the colored light from the fire, it was clear that they were a darker, less intense hue. He had a long, straight nose and a jutting brow that gave him a hawkish look, an effect made only stronger by the sandy-brown hair that swept back behind his ears and the contour of his receding hairline. The man was clearly strong, his shoulders too broad to not have the added weight of muscle on them, but he wasn't the kind of hulking brute that Elvigar had been, nor even of the same evident power as the man who sat opposite him.

 

Pel. Or was it Pellorin? Adreina had been confused by the fact that Djaz had called him both over the course of the conversation. She saw no sense in addressing him by something other than the soul-mark name his parents had given him. Whatever he was called, though, he was a hulk compared to his companions, taller and broader in every dimension. His eyes looked orange in the firelight, and the young woman accepted that at face value. The northerners were very different from her own people, and so it was entirely possible that such an odd color was commonplace among their kind. His hair, though, was slightly more familiar, a color so dark even in the well-lit campsite that it could only be purest black, like hers. Unlike hers, however, his was stick-straight, and here and there it looked like bits of stone or beads had been woven into half-buried braids that fell far longer than the rest, carrying on past his shoulders to the middle of his back. Metal glinted on the ends of those braids when he moved, but she couldn't see the reason why in the shadows, no matter how she shifted.

 

Pellorin foiled her even more as he leaned forward to poke the skewer closer to the flames. His shadow fell across her, then, and cut off the light as well as part of the warmth. Adreina frowned and squirmed, pulling on her tether as she tried to stretch into a nearby patch of light, but it was frustratingly far away, and she was inhibited as much by her own stiff joints and shivering muscles as by the ropes.

 

"All right. That's enough of that." She jumped at the sudden sound, glancing up from her efforts to see the Hunter, Djaz, stalking towards her, a threatening silhouette against the fire's glow behind him. The little woman scrambled back, seeing anger in his gait and the set of his shoulders. "I told you to sit still, didn't I?"

 

She stared at him quietly, purposefully not indicating whether she understood his words or not; she hoped if she didn't provoke him further, he'd just go back to his fire and leave her be. Instead, he stopped a half-step away and stared down at her, his hands planted on his hips. Adreina lowered her eyes and fought to control the shivers that skittered across her body constantly; his gaze made her feel so self-conscious, as if everything he saw when he looked at her was wrong. She had no idea why that should bother her, but it undeniably did.

 

Just leave me alone, she thought with a tinge of annoyance, feeling the weight of his attention as a physical thing. Go back to your warm campfire and your heathen friends. His hand darted out, then, and she cringed back, bracing herself for a blow. Could he have somehow heard her vindictive thoughts?

 

The young man did touch her face, but not with the violence she'd expected, instead laying the back of his hand across her cheek with surprising gentleness. He held it there for a heartbeat before he straightened, the shadows hiding his frown. "Just as I thought; you're freezing cold."

 

As if her body temperature existed just to vex him, he exhaled a long-suffering sigh, leaning over her to untie the knot that bound her to the boulder. She barely had time to stumble to her feet before he was tugging on the line, drawing her towards the lovely, warm and bright fire. Adreina was so surprised and relieved that she didn't even notice when he shoved her a bit roughly to her knees; she sat obediently, absorbed in the pure pleasure that radiated from the fire. After a few seconds, she even skittered closer, pride be damned, feeling her frozen blood start to flow once more.

 

The other men stared at Djaz in something akin to shock, paused in the act of dividing up the meat they'd cooked.

 

"What?" the Hunter growled, folding his arms across his chest and fixing them with his most fearsome scowl.

 

"We just weren't expectin' you to be that kind. I don't remember you ever sharin' the fire with a prey, let alone a Toi one an' all." The woman glanced up at Pellorin as he spoke, noticing for the first time how much darker his skin was than that of his companions. His eyes met hers, and she turned her face away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

 

"Don't even start thinking it, you three." The young leader seemed a bit out-of-sorts. "She was verging on hypothermic, and I can't exactly turn in dead prey to the collectors. Maybe you perverts want to lie in your skivvies on a cold night with a frozen Toi wench to keep her alive, but me, I'd rather just let her share my fire than have to get that close. Unless I have a volunteer to save her from the icy death?" He smiled at his companions, an expression that opposed the annoyance in his eyes, and they all took the cue to let it be.

 

Even Adreina dropped her eyes from his for a time, but in the end, curiosity gave her the courage to look back up and examine him as he ate his dinner. Here was the first and last man of the group and probably the youngest of them all. Djaz. She'd already seen his violet eyes, but now they settled into the context of his pleasing face, enhancing his high brow and slightly bent nose. His hair was a gleaming golden-brown, too dark to be labeled as blonde, but too brilliant with fire-streaked highlights to be anything as mundane as brown. He kept it long on top and short at the nape of his neck, so that it brushed his ears but didn't reach his collar except at the back of his head, where one thin section had been allowed to grow far longer than the rest similar to the braids in Pellorin's mane. Unlike his friend, however, Djaz kept his lock simply tied back in an unadorned queue that ended between his shoulder blades. She stared, wondering if there was some significance to the style - until she looked up to find him glaring at her. The young woman quickly dropped her gaze, her cheeks flaming. It was time to find something else to think about.

 

Within a few short minutes, the men had all finished their meal and started to settle down for the few hours that remained of the night. Adreina was firmly bound to Djaz' wrist, again, but she considered that a gift compared to being dragged back out to the cold stone on the edge of the campsite. The frigid weather ate at her so much that she was beginning to thing she'd do anything if only she could stay close to the fire.

 

"Look 'ere," a deep, soft voice interrupted her musings, and she turned her head to find a dark hand holding a chunk of meat out towards her. She raised wide eyes to Pellorin's face, surprised beyond thought. He smiled - actually smiled! - at her, and nodded. "You're small enough as it is, mite. 'Avin' some o' this will 'elp with the cold tomorrow. Take."

 

The woman lifted her hand as if mesmerized, stuck in something akin to awe at the unexpected kindness, and Pellorin pressed the food into her palm, nodding again to make sure she could understand through the language barrier. Adreina closed her hand around the treasure he'd given her, and fought to get her tired mind around his actions. The Hunter bringing her to the fire could be explained by the danger of the cold, but this... There was true kindness in the northerner's eyes, a kindness that everything she knew told her was impossible, yet there it was. The only explanation was that it couldn't be selfless; he must want something from her.

 

What will be the price for this later? she asked herself, glancing down at the food. Do I even care? Does it even matter? Her stomach answered for her, and she lifted it to her mouth.

 

Pellorin nodded yet again and flashed her a smile before turning away to seek his blanket. She paused, considered, and then reached out to catch his sleeve before he could get too far. Her touch halted him just long enough for him to catch the word she whispered breathlessly at his back, and the big man glanced over his shoulder in surprise.

 

The Kohlanmer and the Toi shared a little smile, and he chuckled to himself as he whispered back, "You're welcome, mite."

[Yui-chan]

( Metal Dances Where There Is No Moon

_____________________________________

 

Night deepened past its zenith, and the twin moons set, leaving the plains at the tender mercies of the dim stars that dotted the sky. Darkness wanted to smother the land, but the quiet light of the fire that still burned steadily within the protective ring of boulders held it at bay. The shadows that danced on the ground in silent conflict were the only motion, and the crack and rustle of the flames themselves provided the only sound. Outside of the space where the light ruled, it was as if the entire world held its breath, waiting forever for a mysterious moment that would never come.

 

Thom yawned and reached up to rub the back of his neck, gathering his blanket closer around his shoulders with his free hand. Serving as watch was the single most unpleasant thing he could think of, too easy and boring to be fun and way too cold to be comfortable. He felt quite certain that Djaz knew he hated the job and that it was exactly for that reason that the little twit always gave it to him. The young man appreciated his cousin's efforts on his behalf, but there were times when he just wanted to grab the man and shove some of his precious 'character building' duties right up his hairy, white --

 

Ugh. The tracker paused his thought right there, grimacing at the particularly repulsive mental image it invoked. Now, there's somethin' I don't ever need to think about again. Ever.

 

He glanced back into the campsite behind him, searching for anything to think about other than Djaz' naked posterior, and his eyes came to rest on the huddled form of their captive, laying there asleep like nothing more than a ridiculous-looking bundle of baggy, ragged clothes and dirty black curls. There was a lot to wonder about there - after all, she was Toi, and that said both everything and nothing about her. They were supposed to be true evil, the pawns of a demon god who demanded children as sacrifice and maimed its faithful with scars and damning runes. Some even said that their god taught them the forbidden talents, like magic and symbology, and that their entire culture was devoted to someday enslaving the Kohlanmer. The Toi lived in a realm of unending heat and created abominations by giving their virgin daughters to lustful demons, if one believed the words of the Clergy of the Four Spires. Frankly, he'd always scoffed at such horrific tales, but having seen this woman's tilted, silver eyes and golden skin, the whole idea seemed suddenly more believable. She almost looked as if she could share blood with demons.

 

Thom frowned, shaking his head as he watched their captive shift in her sleep. He was no country innocent, no superstitious miner to bow before everything the powers-that-be told him, but he couldn't help but wonder what flowed in the veins and soul of this meek little captive. If her hands were freed, could she turn them all into slaves with her magic? Could she call demons into Kohlanmer? Would she --

 

The man froze, his eyes widening, as the object of his attention sat up and turned her head, meeting his eyes. He hadn't made a sound, leaving nothing but his thoughts to wake her. His heart pounded in his throat, and he felt suddenly certain that her quicksilver gaze was trying to suck the soul right out of his body. The young Kohlani shuddered and leapt to his feet, drawing his sword with every intention of crossing the distance between them and running her through. He'd be damned before he'd just sit there and let some dark Toi witch eat his essence as a midnight snack!

 

Adreina blinked at the man, more asleep than awake, and he stepped down from the rock he'd been sitting on, his eyes narrowed at her. She registered the sword in his hand, the fear and hate in his eyes, and she registered, too, the golden mask that hovered in the air behind him. Were there more allies? More men in the team? She glanced over his shoulder, her brow drawing together in muddled confusion.

 

Thom turned, then, noting the shift in her gaze, and there was a flurry of motion that she couldn't quite make out in the darkness. The face moved. Thom moved. The sword he'd drawn made an abortive attempt to swing around to his front, but only clattered to the ground halfway through its arc. He stiffened, then, and stepped back as the strange, floating mask watched impassively, his face going so pale that the woman could see the change, even in the dim light. Still sleepy and uncertain what had woken her, she didn't realize what was happening until Thom half-turned, revealing the hilt of the dagger that jutted out from between his ribs.

 

There was no scream, not enough breath left in her lungs to fuel it after his dead gaze slammed into her gut like a fist. She wrenched backward convulsively, horrified to watch the man topple over dead, but even after he was still, she could not look away, pinned for what seemed like an eternity by the reflection of firelight in the bronze dagger's hilt. Her lungs struggled to draw breath, and finally she managed a gasp, pressing her hands over her lips.

 

Movement in the darkness freed her from the echoes of Thom's sudden death, and she raised her eyes to find the demon face staring at her. Panic loosed the locks on her voice.

 

"Nai!" Adreina screamed, skittering back from the fire as best she could with bound wrists. The sound was a clarion call to the men sleeping around her, and they bolted awake, blades drawn and ready.

 

Terror told the woman to run, but as she kicked herself away from the demon that watched her, her back hit something solid. Heart pounding, she turned to scramble around it, only to find herself suddenly held by the shoulders in an iron grip and yanked off her feet. The world spun for a moment, and then she slammed back-first into a boulder, her breath whooshing out of her once more. Black dots danced in her vision, and her ears rang. If not for the hands that held her, she would have slid to the ground.

 

"Stay!" came the terse command, and she regained her senses just in time to see Djaz turn away and meet the blow of a black-clad figure. His blade rang musically into the sudden chaos, all silver lines and deadly edges. The other had a sword that gleamed as golden as its mask, and it wielded it like a wraith, its body all but invisible in the darkness. Adreina shivered from far more than just the cold, watching her captor fight what appeared to be nothing more than a face and a blade, both dancing in the starlit night.

 

A scream of pain from her right was cut off by the sickening squelch of evisceration, and she turned to watch the little man, Craedi, finish drawing his strange dagger-looking blades out of an assassin's belly. Luckily, the light over there wasn't strong enough to show her the entrails that poured out after them, but it was enough to highlight the new demon-mask leaping out of the darkness at him. The Toi gasped, but whatever warning she might have managed was unneeded. Craedi had already felt the danger and dropped to his knees, stabbing upwards as his attacker's momentum carried him one step too far. The man shrieked and wrenched himself backwards, but not before his intended victim's weapon bit deep into his stomach. He clutched at his lacerated gut, his assassin's mask showing nothing of his agony, and brought his sword up to face off against his unassuming opponent. Watching them, seeing the confident sneer in the older man's face, Adreina couldn't help but count the masked man's life as over.

 

The flash of a blade before her face yanked the young woman's attention back to her own vicinity, however, and she shied away as Djaz stepped close to catch an overhand swing from another of the killers. He had a new cut on his upper arm, but he more than made up for it with a feinted slash that bit deeply into the other man's sword hand. The tendons severed, his grip went dead, and that eerie, golden blade went flying off across the campsite. As her captor raised his blade to press his advantage, the young woman turned her face away and squeezed her eyes shut. She did not have to see the demon-man die, but she cringed to hear his scream rattle into silence.

 

As his body hit the ground, she felt Djaz' hand on her arm and found herself being hauled away.

 

"How many more?"

 

Craedi glanced up from his second kill, looking first to Djaz and then out into the darkness outside of the boulders. "Pel had two more of 'em. I ain't seen him in a while, but they was headin' out of the firelight, there." He pointed with a blade that dripped ichor, and Adreina had to fight a wave of nausea.

 

The Hunter responded with a string of words that his captive didn't recognize, though she was pretty certain that they couldn't have been anything less than especially profane curses. Without pausing in his litany, he raised his sword in an angry motion and brought it swinging down, spinning suddenly so that the arc of the blade pointed straight at Adreina. She gasped and stepped back, pulling the chord between them taught. Even after she watched the bloodied blade slice through nothing more than the rope that bound his wrist to hers, her heart pounded in fear. At any time, that strike might be in earnest, and her mind was suddenly filled with the images of her own body maimed by the same injuries as those on the attackers laying dead around them. Adreina hugged her arms close to herself, fighting a wave of dizziness that the horrible thought inspired.

 

"Keep an eye on her. I'll be back," Djaz growled, his gaze glancing off Craedi before he turned and ran off into the darkness.

 

The old man grabbed her arm, fixing her with a fierce glare. She didn't know what was going on, didn't understand why they'd been attacked or by whom, but from the hatred clear in his expression, Craedi, at least, was blaming it all on her. She wondered idly if she deserved it.

 

Adreina turned back to the darkness as she was shoved once more to her rest against the large boulder. She did not know who the 'good guys' in that battle were, but when she found herself hoping that it would be Djaz and Pellorin who would return, she decided that her heart probably understood far more than her head did.

[Yui-chan]

(9) Weighing Evils

_________________

 

"So, who're ye lookin' for, then, I wonder? Does he wear a golden mask?" The sudden questions splintered the silence that had frozen in the air around them, jarring Adreina from her thoughts. She turned her attention back to her current guard, boldly meeting his intense stare for only a moment before she lowered her eyes. The simple action earned her a snarl and Craedi's bruising grip on her jaw. He lifted her chin until she was forced to look at him. "Don't ye be playin' that game with me, lass. I heard ye speak to Pel, an' I've got a dead friend over there inspirin' me ta get the same kindness. Ye can speak our language, cain't ye? Ye know precisely what we been sayin' all along."

 

The young woman stared at him silently for a moment, and his grip tightened, bringing tears to her eyes. He felt her attempt to nod, though his hand on her chin made the motion all but invisible, however it wasn't what he wanted. His lip curled menacingly.

 

"Say it!"

 

Adreina gasped as he released her face and grabbed her slender neck in one fluid motion, pinning her tightly against the boulder even as he cut off her windpipe. She struggled weakly and brought her hands up to grip his wrist, trying to ease the pressure enough to take a breath. There was murder in his eyes, and though she had long ago resigned herself to death, she found that at the moment, she was far more interested in staying alive.

 

As soon as the young woman could manage, she choked out, "Y... Yes. I know yer words..."

 

The man released her with a suddenness that left her staggering, and she doubled over, sucking in two lungfuls of the frigid air. Craedi waited all of two seconds for her to compose herself before he was hauling on the neckline of her tunic to force her to stand fully once more. "Now that we've established that... I'll be wantin' to know what ye have to do with this attack, Toi. Would these be some'o your friends comin' to try to help ye out?"

 

"Nai... no," Adreina shook her head adamantly, trying to remember how to say what she wanted. "I dunno know tha dancin' faces, 'cept when I woke up ta see one o' them."

 

The old man frowned at her, trying to hide his surprise at her slurred, country dialect. The way she spoke and the fact that she knew Kohlani at all begged a whole host of questions, but his purpose at the moment superceded them all, no matter how tempting they were.

 

"An' jes' what was it that woke ye up, lass?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion, especially when his question drew a worried frown from his captive's face.

 

"I dunno. I jus'... woke up."

 

"Don't ye be lyin' to me!" His hand slipped around her neck again, though he only squeezed enough to be threatening.

 

The Toi sucked in a breath, her silver eyes widening with fear. "Nai! ...nai... I swear it's truth. Burned on tha heart an' soul of me."

 

Silence descended while he searched her face with those cornflower-blue eyes, looking for some flicker of guilt. Spirits knew, he wanted to find something there, wanted an excuse to wring the filthy Toi wench's thin, golden-skinned neck and offer her dead body to the fire spirit as tribute to Thom's importance, but Craedi couldn't lie to himself, not even for the sake of honoring the dead. There was no lie to find in her alien features. He slanted a glance towards the fire and the body of his young companion, his jaw tightening with rage and frustration.

 

That his hand tightened as well seemed to escape the grey-haired man's attention, and Adreina was forced once more to grip his wrist in an attempt to keep air flowing into her body. She could only assume that he hadn't believed her, so she struggled to rasp out a single word, forcing what little breath she had into the foreign syllables.

 

"...s ... swear..."

 

The world started to darken at the edges, and it occurred to the Toi that perhaps he'd simply decided to kill her anyway. She struggled harder, pulling on his hand desperately, and it brought his attention back to her face. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but with a little jolt that his captive didn't understand, he simply froze instead, the rage in his eyes shifting to puzzlement. When his grip loosened and his hand slipped down to her shoulder, she gasped for breath, uncertain what had come over him.

 

Craedi lowered his eyes, looking down at his chest. Brow furrowed, Adreina did the same and screamed in surprise at the sight of fresh blood dripping from the point of a golden blade. Even as she stared at the symbols carved in the metal, it disappeared back into his chest, leaving a gaping hole that bled profusely. The man staggered against her, his weight suddenly bourn entirely by the hand on her shoulder and her own two-fisted grip on his tunic. It was far too much for her, and she could do little more than try to control his fall to the frozen ground, all the while watching the life flow out of his eyes. Again. Just as she had with Thom. She suddenly felt as cold as the night, as hollow as the corpses that littered the ground around them.

 

The young woman's shudder coincided with Craedi's hand snaking around behind her head.

 

"... betrayed..." he whispered on a choking exhalation, pulling her close so that his last breaths were hot on her ear. "... tell... Djaz... ... Elite..."

 

Adreina pulled back just in time to watch his eyes drift closed for the last time, and she felt tears come to her eyes. Why she should cry for the man who had, only moments before, been choking the life out of her was beyond her, but she couldn't deny that her heart mourned as his body released its soul into the great god's care. Once again, she trusted that the mysterious organ knew something she didn't, and she bowed her head over his, whispering back in the hopes that Craedi's spirit might hear her. "I'll tell him... Hidaelu carros gi romna."

 

The young woman might have offered more prayers for the peace of his soul if she hadn't been interrupted by a hand that clamped onto her arm and yanked her to her feet. She raised her face to the golden mask that stared at her, surprised only that the murderer had given her so much time to witness Craedi's last words. More than likely, it was her turn next, so she braced herself for the stab of pain. If god willed that she should die here, then she promised herself that she would do so bravely and without tears. The young woman fixed her narrowed eyes on the mask, pressing her lips together in a determined line.

 

"Speak again, bitch, and I will knock you out." the man's voice hissed from behind his disguise, a gravely sound filled with raw malice. "Come."

 

Adreina blinked as the murderer turned away without running her through. He didn't mean to kill her? It was such an inconceivable idea that she stumbled along numbly at first, following the grip on her arm that pulled her away from the boulder and Craedi's body. It took a few extra seconds for her to register the fact that she was being abducted for the second time that night, but when the realization came, it brought a panic that easily dwarfed anything she'd felt back at the tavern. The little woman balked, pulling back against the assassin's iron grip while her instincts screamed at the back of her mind. In this hostile land, her life was reduced to choices between the lesser of evils, and she was filled with the certainty that this man was a part of the greatest evil of them all.

 

"Nai! Nai!" she screamed, trying desperately to twist her arm out of his hold as he turned back towards her. Her eyes darted into the darkness, searching for hope or help. "Tauska ve! Hel--Oof!"

 

She doubled around the fist that slammed into her stomach, her breath rushing from her so quickly that Adreina felt as if her lungs meant to follow. They certainly seemed broken, at the least, as she couldn't do anything to make them draw in the air she so desperately needed. Pain washed her vision in red for the short time it took for everything to begin the fade to black...

[Yui-chan]

(10) When All Else Fails...

________________________

 

Djaz and Pellorin rushed towards the ring of boulders as Adreina's cut-off scream escaped out across the cold plain, their boots beating a staccato tattoo on the ground. They barely glanced at each other before they suddenly split directions, circling around the campsite to approach from two sides. The older of the two drew up first, and he found himself watching yet another of the mysterious assailants grab at their raggedy captive as she staggered back, her knees crumpling beneath her. One look at the Toi's pale, pain-filled expression had the big man gritting his teeth in rage. He waited only long enough to be sure that Djaz was in position.

 

"'Scuse me, but I think that'd be ours." Pellorin's deep voice preceded the man's beefy form into the ring of light around the fire, its tone thick with menace. His bloodied sword glinted fitfully as he raised it, the point staring hungrily at the black fabric over the assassin's heart.

 

The enemy started, releasing his hold on Adreina in favor of turning to face his newest opponent. The metallic face he wore may have hidden the expression on his face, but the fear he felt upon seeing the hulking man across the fire was clear in the sudden tension in his shoulders, the slight tremor at the tip of his sword. In another situation, it would have earned him a mocking grin from the Hunter's teammate, but at that moment, Pellorin was too busy watching their fragile captive struggle to draw a breath to enjoy his enemy's discomfort.

 

His eyes narrowed further, and he snarled, "You shouldn't be mistreatin' other people's property, boy. I'm gonna 'ave to question the quality of your upbringin'."

 

Djaz stepped into the ring of stones from closer behind the assassin, then, the sardonic smirk on his face utterly at odds with the icy hatred in his eyes. "Oh, now you've done it. He's not very tolerant of bad manners."

 

The golden mask whipped towards him, the matching sword following it in a graceless and desperate arc. Djaz laughed mockingly and parried, stepping to the side to put himself on more firm footing. The Hunter's counterswing scored a deep line across his opponent's mask, and the shock of it sent him stumbling back over the body of one of his comrades. The assassin landed hard and rolled immediately, narrowly missing the point of the sword that was aiming for his heart once more. Djaz cursed softly as he pulled his blade free from the ground and danced away, watching the assassin regain his feet. He'd managed to put the fire between them, but it didn't present nearly as much of a challenge as Thom's cold body did. The other man obviously knew that Djaz wasn't about to trample over his cousin's corpse to get to him.

 

But then, he didn't have to. Pellorin stepped into the fray from the left, his sword coming down in a powerful overhead blow. The assassin barely saw it in time to raise his own blade, and he was driven to one knee by Pel's strength. He rolled to the side, teasing the campfire's hungry flames with the fabric of his cloak, and came upright again with his sword flying, cutting a line towards the big man's shins. Pel blocked by stabbing his blade deep into the frozen dirt by his foot, and the unexpected impact with the firmly-planted steel snapped the tip off of his opponent's pretty sword. The big man's braid charms clinked together as he lifted his booted foot and landed a swift kick to the side of the assassin's head. He staggered, catching himself against a smaller boulder on the edge of the campsite, and there he stayed for a long moment, dazed so badly that his sword dropped from his nerveless fingers. Pellorin's kick had snapped the assassin's mask along the line Djaz had scored into it, and now half of his face was exposed by the firelight. Both men stared open-mouthedly at what they had revealed.

 

Their enemy's face was every bit as black as his clothing, his skin smooth and slightly reflective, as if it were wet or covered in oil. His exposed eye was an oval of bloodshot white with an island of black at the center, its pupil abnormally tall and narrow as if it were more slitted than round. Milk-white tattoos of unrecognizable symbols literally danced across his skin, writhing and twisting in what looked like a random chaos of lines and dots. Djaz wondered if perhaps these were some of the forbidden forms of symbology, but he had no way of knowing unless they subdued this one and managed to ask.

 

He was pondering that possibility when the confusion left the half-masked man's face. That pitch-black gaze swung across the campsite to where Adreina lay, and Djaz could see the calculation there, the gauging glances that slanted at both him and Pellorin. The two companions side-stepped towards each other as if they'd shared the same thought, putting themselves that much more firmly between their assailant and their captive. They could both see the moment that the man judged the move to be impossible, but whatever pleasure they might have taken in that little successful deterrence was overshadowed by shock and fear as the tattoos on the man's face suddenly froze in place, their lines and curves precisely arrayed. As one, they shied back when the assassin raised his hands and began to chant in a low, garbled voice.

 

"Magic!" Djaz gasped, his blood running cold.

 

He turned and sheathed his sword in one motion, relieved to see Pel doing the same thing. There was only one defense against a noble-born's magic, and that involved a lot more leg action than blade action. They both ran for the darkness beyond the boulders, stopping only long enough for the Hunter to scoop Adreina into his arms. The light of the campsite fell away behind them, but they continued to sprint across the open plains, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the sorcerer. Who knew how far his spell would reach?

 

Djaz tried hard not to listen to the gravely voice that droned on behind them, but he could not ignore it as it grew in volume and pitch. Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting shriek of inhuman sound that had them all wincing for a few seconds before it ended in a strangely anticlimactic pop. A sudden wind blasted the trio, rushing back towards the stand of stones, and then the brightening pre-dawn air fell back to its natural stillness and silence.

 

The men stopped after a few more paces, glancing at each other questioningly. Each nodded once. Decision made, they turned in unison, staring at the dark shapes of the boulders that marked where they had come from. The lightening sky made it easier to see than it had been at the start of the battle, but the only thing that was immediately clear was the fact that the fire had been extinguished. The orange glow that should have been like a beacon on the grey plain was gone.

 

Djaz glanced at Pellorin, speculating on what that might mean, but in the end, he didn't have a clue. "What do you think?" he whispered, wary of the silence around them.

 

His big companion frowned, hand gripping the hilt of his sword. "I think there ain't much for it but to go back an' find out. Craedi and Thom deserve a burial, magic or no. An' besides, our packs were by the fire." He met Djaz' eyes, his own worry and fear plain enough to see. "I don't think we're 'avin' much choice but to at least look."

 

The Hunter smirked, his gaze going back to the silhouetted campsite. It was yet another facial expression that didn't match the somber emotions in his eyes. "I was afraid you'd say that. Here." He stepped over to his friend, handing him the black-haired bundle of rags in his arms.

 

Pellorin took Adreina without a word, settling her comfortably against his massive chest. She was still semi-conscious, her lashes fluttering against her cheek as she stirred weakly. The Hunter watched her for a moment, all too aware of how small she was, how much she looked like a child compared to the big Kohlani man who held her. With her hair and too-dark skin, it wouldn't have been hard to believe that she was his daughter. Djaz looked at the pair of them and came to that realization with no small amount of discomfort. It felt like he'd insulted his friend with such an unflattering thought - comparing him to the Toi - but worse, it was an idea that was now stuck in his head. The attack undoubtedly bespoke some troubling mysteries that he would have to solve, and he now had a way to disguise his captive if it became necessary.

 

"Keep them eyes open, Djaz." His partner's quiet warning broke the young man out of his thoughts, and Djaz pulled his gaze back up from where he studied the woman's restless features.

 

He nodded to his friend, answering with the kind of eloquence that only men understand, and Pel grinned, reassured, as his companion turned back towards the campsite and drew his sword. The younger man thought about leaving it a serious moment, but he just couldn't resist a final, sidelong glance and a parting quip.

 

"Have fun babysitting, pops," he mumbled with a smirk before he stalked off to face whatever monstrosity magic had wrought.

[Yui-chan]

(11) Left With Nothing but Questions

_______________________________

 

The sun was on the verge of peeking over the horizon for the first time as Djaz crept up to the silent boulders, its burgeoning light revealing the rough, grey masses that had looked so utterly black by night. Unnatural heat shimmered in the air above the tall stones, motivating the young man to grip his sword just a bit tighter, to hold it at the ready. Magic was a dangerous and unpredictable force, and he knew from rumor as well as experience that whatever that man had cast could have created anything from a mind-numbing horror to an invisible specter. He was having a bit of trouble deciding which would be preferable as he sidled up to the outward face of one of the boulders. It was time to take a peek.

 

The Hunter spun around the edge of the boulder, stepping into the open space with his sword at the ready... only to find himself staring at nothing. A lot of it, in fact. Where the campfire had been, where the bodies of his cousin, his friend, and the assassins they'd killed had all lain was now nothing more than a carved-out, shallow crater ringed by sliced rock. Even as he stared, two of the split stones on the other side of the clearing teetered in the rising wind and toppled over backwards onto the plain. The thud of their impact with the earth echoed strangely in Djaz' ears.

 

"What in the name of--" He couldn't even think of a strong enough element to invoke in the utter disappearance of everything that should have been there, so he could do nothing but shove a hand through his hair in frustration. With a curse, he sheathed his sword and leaned down to touch the blackened ground in the bowl of the crater. The dirt very nearly burnt his fingers, and he yanked them back, setting them against the still-icy outward surface of the rock on his right. Whatever spell had been used here, it had stolen or unmade or somehow destroyed everything within a certain radius of the caster. From the residual heat, it was possible that it had all been vaporized.

 

Thom and Craedi would never get the burials and the honors they deserved.

 

Djaz growled and struck his fist against the ground, rage darkening his vision. He didn't know what the things were that had attacked them - had never heard of a cult of golden-masked killers or fanatics - but he had every intention of finding out and hunting down whomever had sent them. Those assassins had been after his prey, and they had been willing - no, had intended - to kill every last man on his team to have her. That made them most likely to be religious nuts, vigilante types who believed it was their sacred duty to the elements to eradicate every last southerner. That wouldn't have been much of a problem, except that they apparently didn't have much compunction about killing the law-abiding citizens that were seeing her delivered to justice, either. The Hunter spit in disgust, closing his eyes. The little chit wasn't worth even half of one of the two lives that had been lost that night, and he was sickened to think that they had died because of her... because of a Toi who didn't know enough to stay on her own damn side of the Guardians.

 

Hatred warmed his blood as he stalked back towards where he had left Pellorin and their little charge. The big man was just helping her to her feet, supporting her with a hand on her arm as she staggered a bit. It was really all too pathetic, and for some reason it only made Djaz more angry, made his hands want to tighten around the wench's neck until those big, silver-grey eyes of hers popped from a blue face. He ground his teeth, trying to reign in his temper with rationality. After all, he couldn't kill his prey, no matter his personal feelings; he'd ruin his career and set back years of power plays and planning.

 

It was only by reminding himself of his grander designs that Djaz managed to not slap the little raggamuffin as he walked up to her, watching her tilted eyes fix on his face and widen. His rage, the hatred and blame he placed on her head for the events of the past hour, had been confined to his eyes, but it shone from those violet depths like the flash of lightning in a midnight sky. Both she and Pellorin saw and feared what was in that gaze, despite the bland expression he had fixed firmly on his face. She cringed back as his hands tangled in her tunic, her fearful glance going to Pel, but the big man beside her held his place, his hands fisting at his sides to keep them from reaching out to stop the Hunter. He might be willing to believe that there was more than just evil to the girl, but he would never dream of raising a hand against his leader in her defense. It was half his own sense of self-preservation and half a gut-born certainty that Djaz' good heart and relentless ambition would stop him from doing serious harm to their prey.

 

"Two lives, princess," the young man barked in a clipped voice, lifting her to her tiptoes by the thin fabric of her shirt, "That's two lives you owe me an' two souls that you can damn well bet you'll be seeing in your dreams."

 

He watched the fear in her eyes change to a haunted kind of grief, ignorant of the fact that his words had recalled the all-too-recent images of both men's faces as they died, and even more ignorant of just how much pain she herself felt for their loss. Tears misted her eyes, and Djaz snorted in disgust, tossing her roughly to the ground. Her parody of grief offended him anew, and he felt the rage he'd struggled so hard to contain burst free of its cage. His false smile faltered as he leaned down over her. That true expression of his hatred burned itself into her mind's eye beside the dying faces of both Thom and Craedi; it was an equally horrible thing to behold. His hand rose of its own volition, and Adreina closed her eyes, bracing herself for the blow.

 

"Djaz." Pellorin's deep voice interrupted the moment with its utter calm, giving the young man the time he needed to get his temper back under control. He lowered his arm, sucking in a deep breath and ripping his eyes away from the cringing woman, and his companion continued, "What did you find at the stones, then?"

 

Djaz turned towards his friend, his gaze conveying his understanding and gratitude. He forced his mind to more rational thoughts, pushing away the anger that masked his grief. "The entire place is gone, Pel. Completely. Whatever cursed spell he used, the killer took half of the rocks and a good handspan of dirt with him, as well as all of the bodies and our packs." The Hunter smirked unhappily, shaking his head. "There's not even a single clue left."

 

The dark giant frowned, his brows drawing together over his eyes. "There might be. I took one down a bit outside o' the campsite, over attaway," he intoned, turning towards the east, where the rising sun was a blinding disk on the horizon. They both searched the ground in the distance, shielding their eyes against the glare until Pel grunted. "Oh, there 'e is."

 

Fully in control of himself once more, Djaz grinned and patted his large colleague on the shoulder. "Trust you to leave me a present in the middle of battle, Pel. I'll be right back."

 

It took only five minutes of searching to know that the blasted man had absolutely nothing on him except for the sword, mask, and his black tunic and trousers and cloak. To the limits of Djaz' desire to explore his body, it was all covered with the strange, rubbery skin they'd seen on his peer, though this one was lacking in the white tattoos. He wondered whether that was a function of rank or was in some way related to his current state of health. Did the spell that created and animated those tattoos dissolve upon death, or was the man who'd destroyed the campsite the only one who'd borne them? The young man sighed and set about gathering the assassin's cloak, sword and mask. He might not have given them any answers, but his golden equipment was both good evidence and a possible way to make back the cost of the lost packs. The cloak would be useful for giving him an excuse to never invite the Toi wench close to the fire again.

 

The Hunter returned to where the others waited for him, his eyes narrowing speculatively as he saw their heads bent together. The woman glanced up first and started, stepping quickly away from Pellorin; the blush was still darkening her golden skin when Djaz stopped a few paces away from them, his eyes on his friend. The other man stared at their captive expectantly while she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ground.

 

"Tell 'im, mite," he boomed, prompting her as the silence mounted. "He won't 'urt you again. Will you, Djaz?" The larger man sent his friend a meaningful look, the kind of order that he could only get away with once in a great while.

 

"Yep." Djaz replied, raising a brow at Pellorin before he turned to look at Adreina's bent head. He'd calmed down enough that looking at her didn't rouse his temper, so he felt relatively well-accomplished for the morning. It made him charitable. "I won't lay a finger on you, highness. I promise."

 

She glanced up, then, gauging his sincerity. So, she did understand the Kohlani language after all. Djaz supposed he should be more annoyed than he was to learn that she'd been playing dumb all along, but all he felt was numb. The emotional outburst earlier had taken all his pain and anger away, leaving him left with nothing but impatience.

 

When she still didn't respond right away, he raised his brows and prompted, "Well?"

 

Adreina drew a deep breath, and he could see her gathering her courage. "Yer... um... yer friend, Curaedi... he wanted ta tell ye that... that ye were betrayed. He said to tell ye... um... 'Elite'?"

 

The Toi ended with a puzzled look, clearly not familiar with the word, but Djaz barely noticed, his breath catching in his throat. He glanced over at Pellorin and saw his own emotion mirrored in the big man's dark eyes. There could be only one reaction to the Elite, and that was cold, healthy fear.

[Yui-chan]

(12) Trust No One

__________________

 

The younger man turned to look at his companion, his eyes going wide. "The Elite? Do you think it's possible?"

 

Pel frowned and shrugged, his face a mask of uncertainty. "Could be, Djaz. I ain't 'eard nothing about them beyond that they use magic and work exclusively for the 'ighest levels of the government. It might well be true..."

 

The Hunter cursed and set his bundle of loot on the ground, wracking his brain for anything he'd ever heard about the Noble-born Elite. There wasn't much to go on; they were largely considered a myth, a story made up by angry fathers to keep their headstrong young boys in line. After all, it was hard to believe that the guilds would make a practice of taking in unruly children with the intention of turning them into man-magic hybrids, even if it was supposedly to serve the best interests of the Kohlanmer Republic. Trading their souls for the most powerful spells, sneaking into the homes of the disloyal and turning them to stone, assassinating foreign ministers and leaders of the island nations - those were the kinds of intrigues and fanciful stories that made for a good evening around a bard's campfire but fit poorly within the boundaries of reality. However, Djaz had never been the type to ignore the evidence of his own senses, and slit-pupiled, magic-tattooed assassins who could blend into the darkness and make an entire area disappear in an instant fit just a little too well into the myth for his tastes.

 

Still, whether they'd been members of the Elite or not, the men that he and his companions had faced had been real and very dangerous. They had known precisely where and when to strike, catching his team at its weakest. He was still puzzling over how they'd taken out Thom, the best lookout among them, without giving him a chance to make even the slightest sound. Nothing had ever gotten past his cousin's keen eyes and sharp hearing before. Most alarming, though, was that they'd come for the captive that no one should have known he'd had, government or cult alike. It hadn't been long enough for anyone to have interviewed the tavern patrons and tracked them down, so how had they known when and where to come for her? Had that been the work of their magic? If so, if their spells could make them that close to omniscient, what chance did he have of ever keeping his friend and his Toi safe from them?

 

Djaz growled, shoving a hand through his hair in frustration, and mumbled aloud, "You've got no stinkin' chance, that's what. Damned mages."

 

"What's that?" came the response from his big friend, and Djaz remembered himself, flashing a lighthearted smirk.

 

"Ah, it's nothing, Pel. Just thinking aloud." He turned to the black-haired woman, regarding her through narrowed eyes. "You haven't lied to us, have you, Toi? Did Craedi really tell you that? Are you sure you got the word right?"

 

Adreina nodded enthusiastically. "Tha word is good. I swear this to ye."

 

There were long heartbeats where he just stared at her, like Craedi had minutes before, gauging the truth in those almondine eyes. He almost would have preferred a lie to the disturbing implications that the truth held, but she wasn't offering him any reason to disbelieve her.

 

Except that she's a southerner, he reminded himself sternly, his eyes narrowing on her face, and therefore a mystery.

 

Who knew what was driving her, given her situation? She was a captive being taken to the Collectors, where she would be tried and executed as a spy; Djaz had seen in her face that the little woman knew this, understood the finality of her situation. Surely that couldn't be a good motivation to want to stay with them, and yet she had screamed for help when faced with capture by the golden-masked men. She had screamed for him and Pellorin, had chosen to stay their captive rather than face whatever the black-clad figure had in store for her. It made no sense... unless she knew something that they didn't.

 

The thought clicked, and Djaz was suddenly very, very curious about what was going on in that foreign mind of hers. His gaze danced her face, and he found that her expression, her soft little dirt-streaked face and slightly-parted lips, was too guileless to be true. Those big, gray eyes looked innocent and clear, but behind that he could see the caution, the wall guarding her innermost feelings from him. The young man smirked. She was a damned good actress, but she wasn't quite good enough to slip past him. All he needed was to shake her up a bit.

 

The Hunter devised his strategy in an instant, his face slipping easily into reluctant acceptance. He shrugged and turned back to Pel, "Whether they're Elite or not, we're not just going to hand over our lives. We need to figure out precisely what's going on so that we can find a way to defend ourselves."

 

"Well, there's the problem, ain't it?" Pellorin responded, his frown dark and pessimistic. "If there were a way to defend against Noble-born magic, I figure someone with common blood woulda started usin' it a long time ago. We may be up a creek without a paddle, 'ere, an' I'm doubtin' they'd offer us a clear road out even if we 'anded the little mite over right now."

 

"It's an option, though." Djaz pretended to consider it seriously, watching the woman from the corner of his eye. "We could leave her somewhere for them and be well away by the time they found her. They probably wouldn't bother to hunt us if they had the Toi."

 

Neither of the men missed the fact that all color drained from their captive's face at that idea, and Djaz smirked in triumph. Her mask had cracked thoroughly.

 

"Now, that bothers you, doesn't it, princess?" he muttered, watching her carefully. "What do you know about those killers that makes you so nervous, hm?"

 

"I... I dunna know about tha masked demons," the little woman responded, meeting his gaze hesitantly. There was the fear that had been hidden before, and he could see her trying to wall it up once more. "... my heart jus' says they are more evil than ye. Lotta more."

 

Djaz raised a brow, considering it quite likely that her instincts were right, but he wasn't going to let her off that easily. "Your heart, eh? Do you always listen to your heart that way?"

 

She hesitated, her eyes dropping to the ground, but after a few heartbeats, she nodded. "'Tis usually right, tha feelin' in here." Her chest thumped hollowly as she tapped it, and when she raised her eyes once more, there was such unguarded honesty and uncertainty in them that it took both of the men aback. "Not always ... um... unnerstood, but right."

 

After pondering that for a moment, Djaz lifted his foot, dragging the pitch-black cloak he'd salvaged from the last assassin's well-gutted corpse up from where he'd laid it on the ground. He couldn't think of anything to say and felt vaguely uncomfortable with the raw vulnerability of her expression. She was clearly as troubled and confused by the choices she'd made as he was, and that more than anything else, left him unsettled. Leave it to a woman to be not only incomprehensible to men, but also to herself.

 

The young man shook his head, snapping the cloak once to open it before he stepped forward and draped it over his puzzling little captive's narrow shoulders. He rather enjoyed the way wariness and surprise mingled in her eyes, and he offered her a charming grin just to make her more nervous as he bent over to close the three buttons at the collar.

 

It worked perfectly, and she tried to pull back, her brow furrowing. "Wha's this?"

 

"It's a cloak, princess," the young man replied in a matter-of-fact tone, holding her still with a firm grip on the edges of the cape. "The man who used to wear it doesn't need it any more, and you do." When she shuddered in revulsion, he ignored it, instead tucking the generous material tightly around her as she stared up at his face. Inches separated them, and he could feel the slight heat radiating from her skin. It could almost have been a tender moment, if the two people involved didn't view each other in much the same light as mortal enemies.

 

The thought turned the young man's lips down, and he pulled away wondering if he was starting to go soft on his fragile prey. When he turned back to Pellorin to see the amusement in his eyes, the frown only deepened. The Hunter switched his mind back to the issue at hand, daring his friend to say anything with his eyes. The other man was wise enough to keep his own counsel.

 

"So what's the real plan, then? I know ya wouldn' really be handin' over yer prey to the likes o' no one," said Pellorin, changing the subject. His eyes were on Adreina, and he flashed her a slight, reassuring smile that had Djaz raising a brow speculatively. It seemed like he wasn't the only one who needed to worry about going soft on their little Toi.

 

"Well, whether they're Elite or not, we know what they're after, and I don't think that just includes taking our captive from us. They want us dead, probably because we're the only ones who would know what happened to her," the young man answered, regarding his partner thoughtfully. "We're going to have to be careful who we trust from now on, Pel. There's a lot of the government's stink on this, and until we have more information, we can't be sure we haven't been betrayed by someone within our own organization."

 

The big man raised a brow at that, peering at his leader. "Do ya think someone's after 'er jus' ta discredit ya, then?"

 

"No," Djaz shook his head, "though I had considered it. If this were about ruining my career or sabotaging some of my plans, they wouldn't be trying to kill us. Anyone who wanted to get at me that way would want me very much alive to suffer the humiliation of being defeated."

 

Rather than reassure Pellorin, that statement seemed to worry him. He glanced over at the young woman who watched them, his eyes darkening worriedly. "They'd be after the mite, then, fer certain."

 

"Right. Which gives us a distinct advantage." The young man flashed his friend a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, stepping back over to take a hold of the Toi's elbow through the fabric of her new cloak. "We have something they want."

 

"'Ow's that gonna 'elp us?" the other man queried, peering at his friend.

 

"Simple. They want her alive, Pel, and that gives us a foolproof bargaining chip." Djaz' smiled darkened, his eyes narrowing with the self-satisfaction of a man who knows he has the upper hand. His grip tightened fractionally on her arm, and she looked up at him, worried about the track of his thoughts. "If they threaten us again, all we have to do is put a blade to her neck."

[Yui-chan]

(13) Foot In Front of Foot

_______________________

 

Adreina tensed at the Hunter's words, fighting the urge to pull away, to finally give in to the temptation to try to run from him and his big, dark companion. The bloodshed she'd just witnessed made it a little to easy to call to mind an image of Djaz' dagger slicing the tender flesh of her neck, of her blood pouring down her shoulder and chest to join the red-black stain on her tunic from when she'd held the old man, Craedi. The vigor of her imagination chilled her to the bone far more effectively than the cold air of the burgeoning morning, but she fought back the shudder that threatened to skitter across her shoulder blades. The two men with her had already seen enough of her vulnerability; she was determined not to show them any more.

 

That promised to be a sizeable challenge, though, as she was tired and shaky, exhausted as much by the short night's sleep as by the challenge of the mental games the purple-eyed man seemed to constantly play with her. Undoubtedly, half of the reason he'd spoken so coldly of putting a knife to her neck was because he knew it would alarm her. It hadn't escaped her notice that he liked to keep her off-balance, unsettled, and generally confused - smiling one moment, violent the next, and then bouncing between coldness and caring. Given the windstorm of chaos that he left in her mind and heart, she was very proud that she ever managed to keep her face impassive. She just needed to work a little harder to ignore the strange tingle that she felt where he held her elbow.

 

The young woman turned her attention purposefully away from Djaz and watched his bigger companion. Pellorin stood a few paces away, his leonine eyes narrowed as he considered his young friend's words, pondering the implications and possibilities. She knew the direction his thoughts had probably taken and followed it, wondering if threatening her own life would truly safeguard theirs. After all, it was true that the assassin hadn't killed her when he'd had the chance, though there had been more than enough time to run her through a few times over. Still, there was a big difference between saying that he wanted her alive and saying that he needed her alive. If it was merely a case of preference, then the Hunter and his man would have no leverage when they found themselves facing the next squad of killers. They would die before they could even realize their mistake.

 

"It's a start, at least." Pellorin spoke up, interrupting her musings. Apparently, he thought it was a risk worth considering. She ignored the sinking sensation from somewhere near her heart, forcing herself to remember that he, too, was Kohlani. It explained away a lot of things that might otherwise have been hurtful.

 

"Now, all we need is to find out who's after us, why they're wantin' us dead, and 'ow we can protect ourselves from their magic long enough to get the mite to the Collectors. If the Collectors don't turn out ta be the ones who want us dead, after all. Piece 'o cake," he mumbled, failing to keep the cynicism out of his deep voice.

 

"You make it all sound so easy, Pel," came the predictable response, complete with a cocky grin and a twinkle that lit the Hunter's bright eyes.

 

He earned himself a very unsavory snort and a roll of the eyes. "It's a gift I 'ave, that's for sure. I can make anythin' that's damned well bleedin' impossible sound like a dance through the daisies. Where you come in is makin' it 'appen despite the monumental odds against us."

 

"That's why they pay me the big wages while you get nothing but peanuts. Just wait and see," he promised with a mischievous wink.

 

Pellorin actually grinned at that one, and Adreina could see some of the tension flow out of his broad shoulders. Had she known the source of his confidence, she might well have shared in his comfort, but as it was, she could do little more than peer up at the young man's brash smile and worry.

 

++++++

 

Five hours later, the young Toi had forgone worrying in the face of the need to put foot in front of foot, a process that was becoming increasingly challenging. The men had not stopped walking since the morning, when Djaz had suddenly chosen a direction and grabbed hold of her arm, tugging her off across the frozen tundra as Pellorin followed, and they most certainly hadn't bothered to inquire as to her comfort. Not that she'd have told them her woes even if they'd asked.

 

No, exhaustion was a state she could live with, as were the aches and pains of her abused body: the bruise across her shoulders that pulled miserably every time Djaz jostled her arm and the stinging blue-black welts that poor, dead Craedi had left on her neck. Her stomach, which was still tight with cramped muscles and tender to the touch, was a little harder to take silently, but she kept her peace by biting her lip whenever it stabbed her especially hard.

 

The real challenge lay in walking without a limp, as her feet had become more and more tender, having progressed from pain, through agony and numbness, and on to excruciating torture. She had never walked so far in one day, before, let alone on hard, often icy land and in boots that were a size too big and stolen from a farmstead near the mountains. Adreina found herself nearing despair as she reflected on the fact that the sun had not even quite reached its zenith, yet. By the time the day was over, her feet would be bleeding, if they weren't already. She refused to glance down and find out.

 

But more stubbornly, she refused to tell any of this to her Kohlanmer captors, simply walking along as best she could, keeping her silence while they chattered back and forth, droning on and on about things she neither knew nor cared about. There were cities she'd never heard of and taverns she'd never set foot in. Pellorin told a few tales about his wife and children, none of whom she would ever see; and Djaz laughed over some bawdy jokes that she couldn't quite understand. She rather imagined that the words she didn't recognize were anatomical references, but she didn't care enough to ask. Instead, she just watched the ground and willed one foot in front of the other, continuing on that way for what seemed like an eternity.

 

"You realize that you’re weaving about like a drunkard, don’t you?" Adreina blinked, noting the change in Djaz' tone that heralded his attention had swung to her. She lifted her head for the first time in hours, staring at him as she took a few seconds to recall his words and then a few more to properly translate them. Her thoughts were alarmingly sluggish.

 

"Gi haivem 'darunkard' arut’ord souvharen?" She didn’t realize she’d failed to translate her thoughts until he frowned. "Um... What is it - a 'drunkard'?"

 

He shook his head. "You really are quite out of your league hereabouts, huh? I’ll never understand how you made it all the way to Madorif as you are." She may not have spoken his language all that clearly, but she certainly understood his tone and the derisive snort that followed. His scorn stung, strangely enough, and the young woman found herself looking away from his cool eyes. "A drunkard is someone who’s had too much booze, princess. And you’re looking as unable to walk a straight line as the worst of them. What’s wrong with you, hm?"

 

Adreina didn't know how to answer that question, so she glanced over at Pellorin where he walked a few paces away. He, too, was watching her, though his expression held far less scorn and even a hint of concern. It was such a welcome sentiment that she had to struggle with her face to keep it from breaking into a smile. Of course, she'd already lost the battle to keep herself from recognizing and appreciating the kindness that the big, dark man showed her. It was going to be hard to avoid trusting him.

 

"Hey!" Fingers snapping in her face drew her attention back to the man at her side, who was staring down at her with a frown drawn across his thin lips. "I asked a question, highness."

 

The only answer she gave him was a noncommittal shrug that darkened his violet eyes with anger. She wasn’t about to tell him that she was surely dying from exhaustion, or that she was pretty certain her feet were bleeding in preparation for falling off if they walked another pace. She may not have had much, any more, but she still had far too much pride to mention to this ruffian just how much she was suffering. Then again, if either he or Pellorin realized it for themselves, she probably wouldn't argue.

 

Unfortunately for Adreina, the men weren't the most observant of creatures.

 

Djaz stared at the young woman for a moment, then raised his brows in the classic 'suit yourself' expression, shrugged, and turned back to the plains, dragging her after him. Adreina didn’t have much choice but to hurry on his heels, swallowing a grimace as her body protested. Pellorin's boots crunched on the ground behind them, and she could feel his dark-gold eyes on her back, leaving her to hope that her limp wasn't too pronounced.

[Yui-chan]

(14) Inquisition

______________

 

"I'm thinkin' that stand o' trees over the ridge might be a good place to take a break an' find somethin' ta eat, Djaz. There's a stream runs by there, an' we 'aven't 'ad a drink since last night. Whadda ya say?" came the deep but quiet voice from Adreina's left, breaking into the haze that had closed in around her. She licked her lips with a dry tongue and tried not to think how nice a cool mouthful of water sounded.

 

"You read my mind, Pel. Think you can find us something tasty for our lunch?" Djaz answered, drawing them both to a halt so that he could look at his friend.

 

The big man looked slightly affronted. "O' course. I saw a kevitch trail jus' a few minutes back that looked nice an' fresh. I'll meet you two over there, then?"

 

Djaz nodded, his expression falsely light, and intoned, "Sure. Just watch your back."

 

"Always, kid," came the response, and Pellorin clapped a reassuring hand on his young leader's shoulder. He ignored the other man's raised brow at the invective, countering it with a warm grin. "You just keep an eye out for yourself an' the mite, 'ere. You're 'oldin' onto what they want, after all."

 

"Pssh." The Hunter answered with a snort, rolling his eyes. "Get going, you big lug. I'm damned hungry!"

 

As am I, Adreina thought, keeping her eyes on the ground lest her anticipation show. She wasn't sure whether they'd even bother to give her some food, but her knotting stomach relaxed somewhat at the very idea. In fact, every part of her weary body was looking forward to a rest, no matter how short it turned out to be.

 

Pellorin left them, then, heading back the way they'd come while they continued on towards the scraggily trees that were just peeking over a low hill in the near distance. The young woman would have been very glad to make the trip in the same silent misery she'd been traveling in for hours, but it turned out that Djaz needed a new chatting partner in his friend's absence. Regardless of whether she wanted that honor or not, Adreina found herself firmly volunteered for the position.

 

After only a few heartbeats of peace, his voice broke into the cold plain's silence. "Just for the record, it was the dustbunnies that gave you away."

 

She blinked, lifting her gaze from the frozen grass at her feet to squint in puzzlement at the man walking beside her. "Huh?"

 

The young man smirked, glancing down at her. "Dustbunnies. You know, the little fuzzy balls of fluff that gather under tables and in the unused corners of a room? They look like little miniature rabbits, all hairy and such..."

 

When she simply shook her head, Djaz rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "Southerners." He said it as if that one word encompassed all that was wrong with the girl, but she imagined that he probably could have provided a longer list if asked.

 

The silence stretched out a few paces before he groaned and turned an annoyed glare down at her. "Well? Aren’t you going to ask?"

 

Adreina grimaced and closed her eyes for one brief moment, wondering if the man would ever just be silent. She knew better, really, but in the end she just met his gaze coolly and shook her head. It was a very deliberate and probably foolish gesture, but she really didn’t care a whit about his dustbunnies.

 

Of course, he wasn’t overly interested in her opinion, so it didn’t hold much sway over his next words. "They’d moved, you see."

 

She wondered why he acted as if that explained everything, but she wasn’t about to ask.

 

"Oh, for the love of the Spirits," he exclaimed, stopping short. She nearly ran right into him, but his grip on her arm forced her protesting legs to stop just in time. The sudden change made her grimace as a muscle in her calf stabbed at her, but Djaz didn't seem to notice her discomfort, turning to her with another roll of those violet eyes. "Would you just try to think for one second? Your little nook was a damn good hiding spot, but you didn't know that Fergal never bothered to clean that corner. Every time you moved, the wind blew those little dirtballs around. Geez. Just think about that, wouldja? You owe all this to a few piles of fluff and some careless fidgeting."

 

Adreina sighed heavily. She didn’t want to think about it at all, so instead she dropped her gaze once more to the frozen grass at her feet, the weight of inevitability heavy on her frail shoulders. She could feel the young Hunter staring at her, but she didn’t want to encourage him by looking up. She just wanted to be left alone.

 

"By the—" He cut off the curse, flopping his free hand helplessly against his side. "You’re terrible company. Come on." A quick tug on her arm had them both moving again, and none too soon for her tastes. She was rather surprised that it'd been so easy to escape his desire for conversation, but it proved a short-lived respite as he tried again after only a few minutes.

 

"So, how did you make it in this far, anyway, princess? Did you have contacts along the way?" Djaz tossed the questions casually over his shoulder as they climbed the low swell that would end at the trees, but Adreina wasn’t fool enough to miss the weight behind them. Here was a dangerous subject and a man looking for conspiracy.

 

"Nai," she muttered, keeping her eyes cool as she stared straight ahead. She didn’t need to translate, nor did she intend to elaborate.

 

Her recalcitrance earned her a skeptical snort. "I seriously doubt that. You’re not exactly built for the kind of journey it must have been." He stopped once again, turning the full measure of his gaze on her as if he could bore the truth out of her head with his eyes. Staring into those violet depths, she wasn’t entirely certain that he couldn’t. "Did you find some way to ride to Madorif? You can barely walk three hours without starting to limp."

 

Perhaps he wasn't as unobservant as he seemed. Adreina fought the blush that threatened to rise into her cheeks, dropping her gaze to her boots. Even flexing her toes was enough to tighten her lips against stabs of pain in her feet. He didn't need to know that she'd used frequent breaks and light healing cantrips to enable herself to travel before she'd taken to hiding at Fergal's tavern; he'd either assume she was lying or probably hit her for daring to mention her magic.

 

Clearly, it made him and his companion nervous to think about spellcrafting. Besides, she may have given away the secret of her ability to speak their language, but she still needed to keep whatever advantages she could. Magic was about the only potential weapon she had left, and even that was weakened by the ropes around her wrist and the unending hunger sapping her energy. Of course, he wasn't going to let her just not answer.

 

Djaz slipped his fingers around her chin, raising her face to his inspection. She was surprised to find that the anger and derision were gone from his expression, leaving confusion and something akin to ... pity? "Why are you here, princess? What on earth would have motivated a young, soft woman like you to come into these lands, knowing you wouldn't be welcomed? You're going to die here."

 

The warmth in his tone nearly undid her, leaving Adreina blinking back the tears that sprang into her eyes. Put so bluntly, his pronouncement of her inevitable demise was like a punch to the gut, and she trembled in reaction to her own fear. It was terribly embarrassing, not only because of the discerning gaze her captor kept on her, but also because of what it meant about her nature, what it said about her lack of faith. She closed her eyes because he would not let her turn her head away and fought to control her reaction, reminding herself that she had been set upon this path by her god. It had been his will that had sent her across the Guardian mountains, and she now served his divine purposes, knowing that her mortal punishment would be execution. She should have been able to take joy in her duty. She should have been able to look forward to death, knowing that she would be rewarded with eternal favor in his arms because of her sacrifice.

 

Ah, but you're so weak, she thought sadly, feeling the wash of shame that reddened her cheeks. She knew it to be so because, since coming to the cold north, she had become filled with dread, fear and doubt. Given the situation, they could be forgiven in small amounts, but for the past few weeks, they had threatened to consume her. She knew that the great god granted comfort to those who were strong in their faith, but she had none; it was undoubtedly a punishment for the flaws in her soul, for her stubborn insistence on fighting death when it came for her, for her abominable lack of acquiescence to his will acting on her life. He knew her heart. He knew how unworthy she was, how badly she wanted someone to save her from the destiny he had given her. She was being tested, and as she stood there on the frozen plains, trembling like a kitten under the scrutiny of Djaz' violet eyes, she knew with heart-breaking certainty that she was failing.

 

"You're not going to answer, are you?" The young man broke into her reverie of despair, his voice surprisingly soft.

 

Adreina opened her eyes reluctantly. There he stood, his gaze intense, willing her to tell him her secrets. She felt the tug as a nearly physical thing, as if every part of him was pulling at every part of her, starting with the tingling place where his fingers held her chin. It was a strange feeling, though not quite unpleasant, and one so weak that she couldn't quite be certain whether she was imagining it or whether it was real. Was he even then working on her mind with some obscure Kohlanmer talent? She couldn't have said it was impossible, but her heart refused to be afraid of the sensation, whatever it was.

 

"Nai," she whispered after a few heartbeats, watching his eyes harden at the rejection. "It... does'n matter any more..." For some reason, she found it uncomfortably painful to watch the candid warmth in his face die away, replaced with that old disdain and no small amount of anger.

 

"As you wish, princess," he muttered, releasing her chin to offer her a mocking little bow. His voice was so cold that she shivered as he turned and swept away with a purposefully long stride, dragging her after him.

 

For her part, she was too busy struggling to keep up and biting her lip against the protests of her tender feet to notice that he rubbed his free hand against his jacket, trying to rid himself of the strange tingling he felt there.