Winter

Chapter Two: The Choice

by Bill Smith

Rinas, Dragon Knight of Joshar, gritted his teeth as he ran after the winged Draconian.

They were in the Canyons of Seti, just south of Arraka's Teeth, the largest mountain range in Draconia. But since Draconia was so small, Arraka's Teeth, probably the highest mountains in the world, took up most of the country. Almost all Draconia's population lived in the mountains; only a few lived here, in the canyons.

Rinas and Tal had chased a pair of fugitives all the way from Sharlorai, the capital of Draconia, into the canyons. The Draconians, probably straight Draconians - half human, half dragon - had poisoned Prince Sorasa. Rinas and Tal were the only ones who had tracked the murderers into the Canyons of Seti. It was only pure luck that they had followed them this far. Mal-kar had led his entire phalanx after the Draconians.

It had been a swift chase through the city. The Draconians stayed below the buildings, so they would be harder to follow. As soon as the murderers neared the edge of the city, they flew off the cliff, and dove down into the valleys. Once spotted, Mal-kar sounded the call, and a hundred Dragon Knights followed down. They were led through the valleys at an insane speed, far faster than a dragon should fly, until the pair flew into a cave. The cave itself was massive, and broke into dozens of tunnels.

All the Dragon Knights split up, and searched for the assassins. After about a half hour, Rinas popped out of the mouth of the cave, accidentally, and noticed them flying out from another cave entrance, below. He and Tal flew after, calling the others, but the entire phalanx was still inside the maze. It would be a while before they found their way out.

Rinas and Tal followed after, and stayed close behind, but the Draconians always managed to stay ahead, somehow. They would fly through crevices and passes that Tal was too large to fit through, and they would drop into the forest and fly out, then split up.

The Draconians continued this chase for hours, flying south, into the canyons. Tal had the brilliant idea to stay out of sight, so he flew up in the clouds, and followed them. Finally, the assassins came to rest on a huge spire of rock in the Seti Canyons. The canyons were full of plateaus, mesas, and towering pillars of rock. The killers rested on a small ledge, just near the top of the spire.

Tal and Rinas flew around the rear, so they couldn't be seen, and then attacked from above. Both assassins had avoided Tal's blast of fire, and one of them flew away, immediately.

The other rolled onto its wing, and Rinas jumped from Tal's back, onto that one. Just as he attacked, the assassin scrambled away, and broke for the edge. Tal flew after the first assassin.

Rinas chased him to the edge, and the Draconian leaped off, then dove straight down. It folded its wings around its body, and straightened its legs. As soon as it vanished from sight, Rinas leaped over the edge after it, and straightened his body out.

Air rushed past him rapidly, and his ears popped. If Rinas were fully human, his eyes should have dried out, but he had some dragon blood in him. Not much, but enough. Only his eyes, and some of his bone structure, appeared dragonish. His eyes were yellow, and had black slits for pupils, similar to a cat's. Aside from that, Rinas looked like a human.

Both of them cut through the air like blades. About halfway down the rock spire, the Draconian unfolded his wings, and looked back to see if Tal was following. It hadn't occurred to the Draconian that Rinas, the wingless rider, would jump off the edge.

As soon as the assassin's wings opened, his downward descent nearly ceased. Rinas caught a surprised look on the Draconian's face as he plummeted down, into it. Rinas's arms came out, and each hand clamped around a wing base.

Rinas's momentum carried him down, but the assassin had just begun to move sideways. So when the Dragon Knight grabbed its wings, his downward momentum jerked the Draconian down. And since he was moving so fast, both wings snapped, as the bones came free of their sockets.

Both went tumbling down to the forest below, spinning crazily.

Then two clawed feet clasped Rinas's shoulders, and he was pulled up. The Draconian's wings ripped from his grasp, and it continued its plunge downwards. Now, its wings were useless, and a fall from this height would surely kill it.

It's dead, Rinas said.

Break his wings? Tal inquired emotionlessly.

Yes.

Good. Up here.

Tal's fore claws came down and lifted his rider up to the dragon's saddle. Did you get the other one?

Yes. Ripped his head off.

Don't be subtle about it, Rinas thought sarcastically.

Don't talk, the dragon replied with a snort of flame. Now let's go.

They flew north, back to Arraka's Teeth.

***

In the side of the canyon, at the bottom, was a large skull. Its mouth was gaping, and the eyes were black. A large fracture ran down the center of the skull, and stopped, just above the eye sockets. The skull's mouth was the doorway into an ancient temple.

"What is this place?" Aleya asked. As she passed beneath the skull's teeth, her skin prickled.

"An old temple," Garen replied. "To Kra." The God of Destruction.

"Why here?" she asked nervously.

"I'm hoping your friends will have a harder time finding us here."

"They'll find us," Aleya said without thinking, then hoped she was right.

"Eventually, I'm sure, but not before I explain a few things to you."

Garen lit a torch and continued deeper into the dark temple. It was obvious, as always, that he knew where he was going. After a while, he came to a closed door, and pushed it open.

The room inside was cavernous, with an altar positioned at the opposite end of the room. The wall behind the altar glowed orange. Along the side walls, several torches burned crimson flames, that only gave off waves of heat; no smoke. Despite the large torches, the room was dark.

There was an imminent sense of death, that seemed to permeate every stone. But it was ancient...thousands of years old. Aleya knew that this room hadn't been used for millenia. Whatever foul acts had been committed in this room, she didn't want to know.

The altar was basic; it was completely flat, and had several cracks in its surface. Brown stains blotched the surface - blood from thousands of age-old sacrifices. Lying in the midst of the blood was a skeleton. The legs had fallen to the floor, but the head, torso, and pelvis were still on top of the table. A sacrificial knife protruded from its chest, sticking all the way into the altar.

Aleya averted her eyes, and Garen glanced at her. He walked over to the altar and looked behind it. Heat washed up past him, and he squinted. A wide hole had been cut into the ground, and a pool of fire burned a few inches beneath the rim.

Garen pushed the bones into the fire, then walked back to Aleya, who was standing in the middle of the room. "Sit over here," he said, pointing to a fallen pillar.

Aleya walked over to the black stone, and sat down on it.

Garen sat a few feet away, and jammed his torch in one of the floor's cracks. He crossed his legs, and faced her. "I've delayed this as long as I can..." he said, "but you know we can't wait too long. There are two forces in the universe, and, you have to choose."

"Choose what?" A lump rose in her throat.

"Your master."

Aleya blinked. "My what?"

Garen stood up and began pacing. "You know what I'm talking about, Aleya. This is your choice." When he looked back at the girl, she was gaping. "This is the choice, Aleya. You know what I'm talking..." Aleya still showed no sign of recognition, and Garen shook his head in amazement. "You don't know?"

Aleya shook her head.

"You have to choose who you serve," he said levelly. "Aenis or Tir?"

Everything froze. For a moment, there was silence. Her tongue seemed thick in her mouth. "What?"

"Which God do you serve? Aenis, or Tir?"

"W-What do you m-mean?" she stammered.

"It's a very simple question," Garen said patiently. "Who do you serve?"

For several seconds, Aleya struggled to speak. Finally, she managed, "I don't...understand." She was looking down, avoiding his gaze.

Garen grinned and sat right in front of her. "Yes, I think you do."

"B-But why? Why didn't I see this..."

"Why didn't you see it coming?" Garen asked. "That's a good question. I thought you knew why I brought you."

Aleya shook her head. "B-But I did. I knew...but...not like this..."

"Like how?"

"I thought..." Aleya shivered. "I don't know. I knew, but didn't know how. I didn't think it would be so..."

"Straightforward?"

She nodded mutely.

Garen gently cupped her chin in his hand, and pulled her gaze up to his. As their eyes met, a shiver ran through his system. Gods, she was beautiful. "Aleya, you're a seeress. The gods tell you things. A God tells you things. But which one?"

"You want me to decide which one?" she mumbled.

Garen shook his head. "You can't really avoid this. You have been your whole life. You've been couped up in the temple with your stupid oracle, and your stupid Guardian. What need was there to choose a master? Just exist. That's all you needed to do. But you can't do that anymore, Aleya. You have to choose who has shown you your visions. Aenis, or Tir?"

Aleya shook her head again, and squeezed her eyes shut. A tear slipped out from each eye. "I-I can't."

"Why not?" Garen asked. "Why do you think that it could be anyone other than Aenis? After all, you're a good person, right? You're a human. Humans are good. If you're good, why is there a chance that it could be Tir? Why are you even worried?"

Aleya tried to speak, but failed.

"Because you know that I'll kill you if your master is Aenis."

"No," Aleya croaked. That wasn't the reason she was worried.

Garen smiled. "Of course not. Why? Humans are as good as they are evil. The Minion are creatures of pure evil, nothing else. Humans are creatures of both. There is a balance between good and evil. It is equal within humans. There is an equal chance that your master is Aenis or Tir."

"No," Aleya repeated.

"Yes."

Garen watched her for a few minutes, as she trembled quietly. Finally, she said shakily, "But...why don't I know? All these years, I should know who talks to me."

"Talks through you, yes. You should know." Garen sat down next to her again. "But Aleya, your power is beyond conception. Your power molds everything around you. You are the one who chooses who speaks through you. That is why it is your choice."

Aleya blinked. "What?"

"Right now, the Gods don't control you. You are outside of their realm, until you choose your God. Aenis, or Tir. One of them has been speaking through you, and you have to decide which one it is. One of the Elder Gods has chosen you, but you choose which one."

"I choose which one chose me. How? How can I control the Gods?"

"You don't control the Gods, Aleya, you control your fate. Your life. In the past. Has your oracle ever mentioned what God spoke through him? No. It hasn't been decided yet. You decide what life you have led, and will lead."

"B-But I don't understand."

Garen sighed, then looked toward the entrance, as if he expected someone to enter. Then he looked back at her. "It cannot all be explained now, but you may know the differences. If you choose Aenis, then you will side with Alinor, Lia, Borim, and most other humans. But you cannot win. Aenis has declared this dimension forfeit, and everything here will be destroyed by us. The God of Destruction is your enemy. This will be his home. You can do nothing to stop him. If you choose Tir, then this will be your domain. Kra will reward you with Tirn Aill, and you will possess every kingdom, every creature, everything. All will be yours. Do you understand?"

Aleya stared at him blankly.

Garen sighed and leaned forward. "Aleya, they will arrive soon. They are your enemies, and if you do not decide now, then I will be forced to kill you."

"What if I choose Aenis?" Aleya asked quietly.

"Then I will kill you."

"What if you were Alinor, and I chose Tir?"

"He would kill you."

"So, Good and Evil are entirely subjective. No matter who I choose, somebody will want me dead."

"Yes, it's just a matter of who can kill you. Who's got the opportunity? Me, or Alinor." Garen held out his hand. "Aleya, please. Come with me. I want you. I need you to be with me."

Aleya closed her eyes.

A howling wind rushed past her; the breath of the universe brushed her face, and Aleya felt fear. The salvation of a world lay on her shoulders, and hers alone. The eternal Conflict between Good and Evil came to a cataclysmic point, here, in her mind.

"It doesn't make any sense," she muttered. Nonetheless, there were two roads before her, and she made the choice.

***

Lily looked at the sheaf of papers, and set down her books. She walked around to the other side of her desk, and sat in her chair. Quickly, Lily yanked out the papers, and looked at the first page. It read, "Serpents and Babies, by Nobu Kane."

Lily opened up the small report, and began reading. Nobu's report was well-organized, and dished out a great deal of information just in the first page. Arraka and Nala were separate gods, of different divinities, that had no apparent relation. According to the Ajaren Codex VI, Arraka and Nala were stranded together, in a cave, during a snowstorm. Arraka was injured, and Nala nursed him back to health. After a week of each other's constant company, they became attracted to each other, and made love. The following morning, the snow had stopped, and was melting. They parted ways, but Nala was pregnant. So the Goddess of Life returned to the cave, and waited until she had her child, named Kain.

No other mention was given of the child, in any prophecies, anywhere.

Just as Lily turned to the next page, a patient came hobbling in the door, on the shoulders of two friends. The healer dropped the report, and pointed to a table. "Hop up," she ordered.

***

Kaia was thirteen, just like Lyn, but older by a month. Her hair was long blonde, and fell down to her waist. Many of the other girls were jealous, but they still enjoyed braiding it, when they had time to kill.

Their free time was shortening, though. It seemed like more merchants poured into the inn every day. A new wing was being built above the storehouse. Alyssa complained about their excessive load of customers, but Balan said he didn't have the budget. Unless they would take another pay cut (besides the last two they'd taken in the past month), he couldn't hire another prostitute.

So, even during the day, it was rare that all of the girls were free. They sat in the bunkroom, making bead bracelets and necklaces. All except Laurel, but she was expected to return any minute.

"Has anybody been with Laurel yet?" Kaia asked.

"What?" Alyssa asked, stringing another bead onto her necklace.

"You know what I mean."

"Oh," Alyssa said. She looked around, but the others gave no response. "No one?"

"I'll do it!" chirped Kaia with a grin.

"No," Alyssa reprimanded. "You're too young. It wouldn't be a good idea. Laurel's probably too young, anyway. We should-"

"I wasn't too young, was I?" Kaia scowled.

At the same time, Marian whispered, "Hey! I don't think she is a virgin!"

"You mean with girls?" Lyn said.

Marian shook her head. "Uh-uh. I went to this one merchant's room, and he had his own prostitute. From Harnash, I think. Have any of you seen her? About fourteen, dark skin, dark hair?" They shook their heads. "Well, she was complaining that no other prostitutes were...you know, for girls too...and she said that she did it to Laurel - it must've been her, if it wasn't any of you - for the first time."

Kaia pouted, "What! That's no fair! I've never-"

"Don't worry," Marian hastily assured her. "Janisa - that's the girl - said that they didn't really do it. It was just for show, for the merchant. And it was the same with us when I went. He'd make us fuck each other, then him, then each other, then him, until he passed out from alcohol. Afterwards, she told me about Laurel."

"She never mentioned that to the rest of us," Lyn mused aloud.

"Why would she?" Alyssa snorted. "It's probably emb-"

The door opened, and everyone abruptly fell silent. Laurel walked in and greeted the girls, who returned their half-hearted greetings. "Why is no one working?" Laurel asked.

Alyssa, who wasn't fazed by Laurel's entrance, replied, "Draynol said that there's a huge commerce convention in the bazaar, so everyone's gone during the day. I went down into the cafe, earlier, and it's completely empty. No one around."

"Oh," Laurel seemed puzzled. She walked around the girls, and then into the baths.

Kaia fidgeted for a moment, then stood up as well.

Marian grabbed the blonde's wrist. "I wouldn't do that. Janisa said that Laurel was scared, when it happened."

Kaia pulled her wrist away and continued to the baths. "So was I," she said.

Inside the bathing room, Laurel was just sinking into a tub. She smiled up at Kaia, and said, "Hi. How are you?"

Reassured by Laurel's smile, Kaia slipped out of her robe and sank into the water, next to the half-elf. "I'm all right. You?"

Laurel shrugged. "Tired. The man in 203 just kept going."

Kaia nodded sympathetically. "Why wasn't he at the convention?"

"I think he was a noble. He wore a ring, and a pendant. His robes were real nice, too."

"Oh. That happens every once in a while," Kaia said nervously. Now that she was here, she found it hard to bring up the topic. Thinking back, she tried to remember how Marian had first introduced her. Marian had actually gotten Kaia drunk, then seduced her.

That wouldn't work here.

Laurel nodded and sighed, working her shoulders.

Kaia's heart skipped a beat. "Are you sore?" she asked.

"A little," Laurel admitted. "We were on the floor for a while."

How convenient.

"Really?" She tried not to sound too eager. "I can give you a backrub if you like."

"Uh...s-sure," Laurel said hesitantly. She slid across the tub slowly, and sat on the bench, just in front of Kaia.

Kaia drew her legs up to the side, bent at the knees, and she grinned to herself. Laurel's naked back was barely an inch in front of her. This was the first time Kaia actually felt older than someone else. Always, she and Lyn were the young ones.

Kaia gently pressed her palms against Laurel's shoulders, then she began massaging the girl's skin. Laurel had a nice skin tone; she was slightly pale, and had freckles on her face, that matched nicely with her hair. And she was soft. Then again, all of them were. None of the girls ever did anything that could cause abrasions or toughen up their skin.

Laurel soon began slipping into a daze, at Kaia's skilled fingertips. Her eyelids drooped, and she hung her head forward, nose almost touching the water. After a while, Kaia slid around to Laurel's side, and she sat back. Finally, Kaia said, "Laurel? Have you ever come?"

"What?" the girl mumbled, still in a daze. She leaned back against the tub.

"You know, while you were with your 'client'. Have you ever climaxed?"

"Uh-uh," Laurel yawned. "Not with them. After, but not with. Have you?"

"You haven't?" Kaia asked, pretending to sound surprised.

Laurel shook her head. "No. Why?"

Kaia took a deep breath, and came around to Laurel's front, so she was straddling Laurel's hips. Slowly, she lowered herself down, so her buttocks rested on Laurel's thighs.

Then Laurel's eyes opened, and she said, "Kaia, what-"

"Do you want to come by someone else?" Kaia asked quietly. Her heart was pounding rapidly, and her normally-happy demeaner was gone.

"Kaia, I don't unders-" Laurel cut off as Kaia's mouth slowly covered her own. Her hands came up to Kaia's shoulders. Just as she was going to push away, Kaia's tongue pushed past her lips.

Laurel went weak, and her fingers clutched Kaia's biceps. Her eyes closed, and the familiar sensations came over her: forbidden pleasure, disgust, fear. Confused whimpers sounded through her nose, and she began breathing rapidly.

It was the same as before.

Scary thoughts gushed into her brain, and she moaned once again.

Kaia's breasts brushed against Laurel's smaller ones, and a tingle shot down to her genitals. A soft warmth began flowing up from between her legs, and Laurel tried to deny it.

She couldn't.

After Laurel's pitiful resistence failed, Kaia became more aggressive. Her tongue plundered the younger girl's mouth forcefully. She slid her fingers up to Laurel's neck, and they began making out earnestly.

A few moments later, Kaia noticed that Laurel was responding to her rubs, but not making a move. So she pushed her left hand beneath the water, and found Laurel's small breasts. With her thumb and index finger, Kaia began pinching and twirling Laurel's nipple. This illicited a moan of pleasure. Encouraged, she slid her hand down the half-elf's trim stomach, to her pubic area.

Laurel gasped when Kaia's fingertips slid across her clitoris. Though every fiber of her mind fought against this, instinct was winning over. Her hands pressed against the side of the tub, and she groaned. Two of Kaia's fingers slipped into her vagina, and she struggled vainly to find purchase for her legs. Nothing to tighten her legs around made it harder.

Kaia continued kissing Laurel, and mercilessly pumping her fingers into the girl's tight vagina. With her thumb, she began rubbing Laurel's clit.

It took longer than if they were out of water, but Laurel finally orgasmed. It was the most powerful one she had ever experienced. To keep from crying out, Laurel bit her lip, and just arched her back, coming halfway out of the water. For a few moments, her body was hard as rock, as the orgasmic waves rushed through her muscles. Then she broke into faltering spasms, and fell back into the water.

Kaia withdrew her hand from Laurel's hot cunt, and sniffed her forefinger. She licked the tip, and nodded to herself. Yes, Laurel had come. Though she knew Laurel pretty well, she just had to make sure that was a real orgasm.

A glance at the door revealed Marian. The black-haired girl grinned and flashed a thumbs-up sign, then disappeared into the bunkroom.

Laurel struggled into a sitting position, and looked down at the water for a few moments, panting. Kaia adjusted her position, so she was still on Laurel's lap. Finally, Laurel looked up at Kaia. Her expression was unreadable.

"Why did you do that?" Laurel asked.

Kaia's stomach flip-flopped, and her voice refused to work.

At the girl's obvious distress, Laurel smiled reassuringly, even though she felt half-sick. "It was good," she said truthfully. "Don't feel bad."

Kaia sighed, and said, "Someone else would have, if I didn't. And you're the most beautiful person here. I wanted you first."

Laurel blushed. "Thank you."

Kaia leaned down and kissed Laurel more passionately. "No, thank you."

"For what?"

"Just being here."

Laurel looked puzzled, but she nodded dumbly. "Now what?"

Kaia grinned mischeviously. "You know Mertnec?"

"Who?"

***

"It doesn't make any sense," Aleya muttered, for the second time. Then she looked up from her hands. "But Garen, I can't do it. You know that."

Garen's outstretched hand closed into a fist, and he dropped it to his side. His face turned blank, and he said, "Are you sure?"

Aleya nodded.

"You want your eternal master to be Aenis?"

Aleya stood up in front of him, her heart beating rapidly. "If it has to be him, instead of Tir, then so be it. If I have to choose now, then I choose Aenis. Tir's Minion are destroying Tirn Aill, and Aenis is the only one who can stop him."

Garen looked at her for a few moments, then said, "As you wish."

"I-I suppose you're going to kill me now," Aleya said uncomfortably.

Garen grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the altar. "You wish," he growled. "I wish I could say I'm sorry, but Aenis is the enemy, and since you serve him, you are the enemy."

Aleya stumbled after. It was kind of strange that Garen already considered her his hated enemy, just because of her decision. A few moments ago, he had been a completely different person.

Garen pushed her onto the flat surface, and held her wrist down. He reached beneath the altar, and lifted out a manacle, chained to the bottom of the table. It was centuries old, but the manacle fit together perfectly, as if it had been fashioned the day before.

Aleya shivered as she felt the warm metal lock around her wrist. She didn't resist as Garen quickly locked her other wrist into place. Things would only be worse if she tried to stop him. Right now, there was no way she could.

Garen walked down to her feet, and untied her boots. He pulled them off, then locked her ankles down with two more manacles. After a quick survey of Aleya's position, he grabbed a black box from beneath the table, and opened it up. Over a dozen torture devices were arrayed inside.

For the first time, Aleya tasted fear. "W-W-What are you doing with those?" she stammered. Her face was white.

"Tir's will," Garen replied simply. "You are the enemy, and you must be eliminated. I must hurry; your friends are close."

"C-Can't you just kill me?" Tears welled up in her eyes.

Garen frowned at her as he prepared the tools for their uses. "Don't you know what's going to happen to you? Can't you see the future?"

Aleya shook her head, and felt the tears streaming down her face, onto the table.

For a moment, Garen was puzzled, then he said, "Oh! Yes, of course. You're just denying the future. I've seen it many times. Prophets who foresee their own deaths, or torture, block it out." He began moving the tools to their proper adjustment, then said, "It's probably better that way. If you knew what was going to happen to you, they you would probably faint. That wouldn't suit our purposes at all."

"W-What p-purposes?" Aleya asked, hating herself for wondering.

Garen lifted a long, jagged knife from the box, and gripped the collar of her tunic. With the knife, he cut it open, down to her belt. Garen undid her belt, and dropped it on the floor. The blade pointing upward, he slit each pant leg open, so they fell open. He pushed the halves of the tunic away, and revealed her breasts.

Now, Aleya wasn't concerned about her nakedness; more, she was worried about the tools in Garen's box. All of them looked cruel, in some way or another. Most had jagged blades, spikes, or screws. They were obviously meant for torture.

"Purpose, really," Garen said absently. His eyes crawled over her body as though she were a feast. "Gods," he breathed. Now it was the boy speaking. "I wish you hadn't chosen Aenis."

"Why?" Aleya asked, curious despite her situation. What could motivate Garen, the actual boy, to feel that way?

"You are the most beautiful person I've ever seen," Garen said. "I was in love with you the moment I saw you. Gods, Aleya, please, change your mind. Can't you-" Garen cut off, and he picked up a long metal rod. "Too late," Garen's possessor said. "Once she's chosen, that's it."

Aleya clenched her fists and eyes, and began whispering a prayer to Aenis. Terror had begun to consume her, and she tried not to imagine what horrible acts Garen was about to commit.

On the end of the metal rod was a brand. It was a small symbol of a cracked skull. Garen bent down and dipped the brand into the fire, behind the altar. He looked up and saw Aleya praying silently. "Aenis can't help you now, Aleya," Garen said. "Nothing Good can come in this temple."

Aleya heard him, and began to cry. The prayer continued tumbling from her lips, but it came out haltingly, through sobs and gasps. The only other time she had been frightened was that night on the roof of Jonsaria. Deep down, she had known that Garen never meant it, but her conscious mind overrode her intuition. Now, she knew that he meant it.

Garen lifted the brand from the liquid fire, and walked around to the front of the altar. He held the red-hot symbol above Aleya's forehead. It hovered there, until her eyes opened. Her mouth opened in horror, and she tried to move out of the way. Garen's hand clamped down on her mouth, stopping her movement, and her scream.

More tears blurred her vision, and she strained under Garen's hand. The brand descended, and Aleya could feel the heat radiating from the metal.

When it was less than a thumblength from her forehead, light blossomed from the ceiling. Like a flower, white luminance spread out from a point in the ceiling. It flowed downwards, onto the captured girl. The brand pressed against her forehead, and distantly, Aleya knew that the brand was blackening her skin. She felt no pain.

Through her tears, Aleya saw a body materialize above her, crouching atop the altar.

Then, as if he had just seen it, Garen leaped back. "Who the fuck are you?" he snapped, holding the brand out, like a weapon.

The figure crouched protectively over Aleya had brown hair, and brown eyes. His skin was fair, and he wore white tunic and leggings. He wore leather shoes, no higher than his ankles.

Manjinar snapped his arm at Garen, and an invisible tube of energy mushroomed toward the boy. With a startled cry, Garen jumped back. The energy slammed into him, hard, and he flew back into the doors. The end of the room exploded in a cloud of dust and debris.

The Overlord dropped down in front of the altar, and stood ready.

Garen leaped out of the smoke, the Soulstealer held above his head.

Teeth gritted, Manjinar threw both his arms forward. Two blasts of light slammed into Garen, hurling him back into the pile of debris. Manjinar gestured at the ceiling above the boy, and it crashed down solidly, like a huge anvil of stone.

Manjinar turned back to Aleya. "He's gone," he said.

Aleya gasped, now. Her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. After a few moments, she looked up at Manjinar, and said, "Who are you?"

The manacles clattered to the ground, and Manjinar helped Aleya into a sitting position. "Your place has been waiting. Aenis chose you, because he knew you had the power. Now, you have made the choice, and we need you. Time is critical, and the fate of the Conflict hangs in the balance."

Understanding flooded her mind, and she knew that it was time. All her life, she had been kept away, hidden from the world. If Tir had ever discovered her, then she would have surely been eliminated by now. That was Garen's purpose. He existed solely to destroy her. But now Garen was gone.

Manjinar had saved her, and it was time to join with him in the Conflict: the eternal struggle between Aenis and Tir. But one more thing she knew: her presence wasn't needed here. Tirn Aill, her home dimension, was only a piece of the battleground, a small piece. Her place in the Conflict was far, far away. In another time, and another place.

"But I don't know how to use my power," Aleya said. "How can you expect me to-"

"I'll teach you," Manjinar said. "Don't worry. You'll learn quickly."

For a moment, they looked at each other, then with a nod, Aleya accepted her fate.

Both of them vanished.

***

Only a small lamp provided Lily's reading light, but it was enough. Her room was small, conaining just a bed, a small fireplace, and a dresser. The fire had been out for almost an hour; Lily had been so engrossed in Nobu's report that she just moved up to her bed instead of adding more logs to the fire.

With a sigh, she closed up the report, and set it on her dresser. Nobu's terminology was confusing. Obviously, the report was meant for Lienites. But that didn't matter. Lily got the gist of the report, and the clear message: she had something to do with Kain's birth.

What? She didn't know. She'd find out, though.

In the back of her mind, Lily harbored a small suspicion that she would carry Arraka's child. The last two visions seemed to suggest that, in a manner of interpretation. The snake, crawling into her womb; an image of Nala superimposed over her own; Nala holding a snake.

The slight suspicion that she would be Kain's mother rested in the back of Lily's mind. In the front of her mind, it was nothing more than a ridiculous fantasy. The Lesser Gods were no more a part of Tirn Aill than the Elder Gods. No one divined fates, and the gods were not conscious beings that existed on a higher plane than her own.

In Lily's opinion, the gods, all of them, were merely labels for certain forces of the universe. Aenis and Tir were just masks for good and evil. Shan and Khal were just other names for order and chaos. Those four 'primal forces' made up the universe, and people needed to give names to them. Aenis and Tir weren't conscious entities, they were just that: primal forces. Healers, priests, and clerics harnessed the power that the primal forces provided, because they knew how to access them. They weren't "granted" this power by the gods, it was just available for their use.

Because of Lily's recent experiences, that opinion was just now beginning to change. Her first vision had almost been dismissed as a delusion, but the second vision affected her much more. When Alrick had pronounced Lily's complete well-being, she knew that something was happening. Nothing was medically wrong with her, and she was sane, so what could it be?

Lily needed to talk to the Lienites again.

***

"It doesn't make any sense," Aleya muttered, for the second time. Then she looked up from her hands. For a moment, the girl just stared up at Garen, through her tears.

Aleya had a unique perspective on evil. The Oracle taught her that good and evil were subjective; that is, neither was better than the other. Whichever one you were raised with was just fine. Humans, he had told her, were neither good nor evil. Really, humans were both. Every human contained a measure of good, and a measure of evil. The same was true of orcs, goblins, and trolls. Just as humans were primarily good creatures, orcs, goblins, and trolls were primarily evil creatures. She understood this now, but the Oracle had raised her with the belief that she was neither good nor evil.

Now she knew why. Garen had finally backed her into a corner, and he was forcing her to choose her master. Either she was good, or she was evil. Two paths. One was hard, and one was easy. One was rewarding, and one was not.

But contrary to everything the scholars taught, the easy path would reward her, if she took it. The hard path, Aenis, would be constant struggle; the rest of her life would be spent battling Tir throughout the dimensions. If she chose Tir, then, as Garen had promised, she would rule Tirn Aill. Now, that wasn't her particular desire, but an eternal battle for Aenis didn't sound any better.

Strangely enough, none of her friends had crossed her mind. If she chose evil, then Garen would be her only friend...for now. If she chose good, then she would be separated from Borim and the others, as she had foreseen.

After an eternity of silence, she reached out and took Garen's outstretched hand. He pulled her up, and stared at her for a long minute. Then he grinned, "Tir has chosen well."

Aleya shivered as her destiny was sealed. "Let's hope so."

Garen nodded. "He has. Trust me."

"What now?"

"We're leaving, before your friends arrive."

"To where?"

"To find the Death Rose."

"Where's that?"

"Lia believes that it rests in the ruins of Tranoth. It's an old elven city, built during the Time of the Prophets. Ajanor was the last member of the Sh'rek family to possess the Death Rose. It was buried with him."

"Uh...oh."

"You're a descendant of Ajanor."

"Who?"

"He was an elven king."

"And he's my ancestor?"

Garen glanced around the room, grabbed his torch, then waved her after him, toward the door. "We'd better get moving. And yes, he's your ancestor. And no, don't expect to look like an elf. Your line has been so diluted by humans, you wouldn't be able to find any traces of elven blood in you."

"Oh."

"Anyways," Garen sighed, leading her up through the maze, to the surface. "We'll go there first."

"What if it's not there?"

"We'll look elsewhere."

They passed beneath the dentated entrance, and Aleya stepped out into the white snow, then stumbled forward when her foot found no solid ground. Her right leg plunged down, and she barely managed to keep herself upright. Slimy water enveloped Aleya's legs, up to her knees. Aleya looked at their surroundings, startled.

They were in the midst of a swamp. Thick tree trunks rose into the darkness. Vines hung from the darkness, drooping into the water. A layer of mist clung to the water, and swirled around Aleya's legs. It was only a moment before the water soaked through her wool-lined pants.

"W-W-Where are we?" Aleya stammered.

Garen sat on a nearby stone, and was rolling his pant legs up. "We're in Kranthae. It's Swampwood, as the locals call it. Creative name, huh? Tranoth is only a couple miles from here. I can't teleport directly into the city. That's not allowed."

Aleya felt herself sinking deeper into the muck, so she grunted, and pulled one foot free of the mud. After she set that foot forward, she struggled to get her other foot free. Eventually she did, and Aleya began making slow progress toward Garen, one step at a time.

Garen finished rolling his pants up, above his knees, then he dropped back into the water. "This is a really disgusting place," he said. "After Tranoth was defeated, everyone just left it to rot. Kind of sad, really. If anyone intelligent had been around, we could have used that city."

Aleya followed him, then yelped as she plunged down into the water. She sank all the way down to her breasts.

Garen, who had been walking ahead of her, stopped and turned around. The water was still up to his knees. He looked at her and stifled a laugh. "You all right?"

Aleya couldn't speak. She just held her arms above the water, stuttering incoherently.

Garen sighed and took a step towards her. His foot never found bottom, and he fell face-first into the swamp water. For a moment, only silent ripples marked his fall, then he broke the surface, a few feet in front of her. "Fuck!" he sputtered, wiping mud and slime off his face. "It was never this deep! Dammit."

Aleya couldn't help smiling.

"Really funny," Garen scowled. "Follow me. We'll be in this water for a couple hours, at least, so we should start wading, if you want out."

Garen turned back around and started toward the ancient city. Aleya followed, and wondered exactly why she followed. Her demeanor hadn't changed at all, since her decision to become evil. Nothing about her changed. Why did everyone make out evil to be so...evil?

As they trudged to Tranoth, Aleya found herself wondering why she was doing what she was doing. Riches and power had never motivated her before...of course, she had never been offered them before. Now, or soon, she would have them both, if Garen's predictions were correct.

Two hours later, Garen said, "Look," and pointed to either side.

At first, Aleya mistook them for trees, but two huge pillars towered on either side of them, crawling with ivy and fungus. In the past, they were white, beautifully white, but now, in this swamp, the pillars were almost the same color as the trees. Ahead, only one pillar could be seen.

As they drew nearer, Aleya noticed that the other pillar had fallen, and was leaning against yet another column.

"How many of these are there?"

"A dozen, I believe. We're almost in the city, don't worry. A very nice city, as I recall. One of the greatest architects in history built it. Can't remember his name, though."

Aleya almost asked where Garen, the actual boy, had gone, but stopped herself. Whoever was controlling Garen had a good purpose for doing so, and it/he/she would reveal itself to her, soon enough.

A few minutes later, Aleya saw a huge gate, set inside an algae-covered wall. The top of the wall was somewhere up in the darkness. As they passed under the arch, Aleya tripped on a stone, and fell into the marsh. A mouthful of water poured into her lungs. Cursing mentally, she broke the surface, coughing.

Garen pointed a few feet ahead. There, the street was above the water level. He crawled up, then helped Aleya up. She sat on the old cobblestones, and coughed up the rest of the water.

"From now on, we'll be above the water," Garen said.

"Good," croaked Aleya. She brushed her hair back from her forehead, and said, "When are we going to get the Death Rose?"

"You're not," said a voice.

Garen jumped to his feet and spun around. The Soulstealer leaped from its scabbard with a metallic ring.

Aleya looked back, and saw a man standing in the street. He wore white clothes, and had plain brown hair. Though there was almost no light in the ruins of Tranoth, his every feature was clearly defined; light seemed to illuminate him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Garen demanded.

"Manjinar," Aleya breathed. "What are you...doing here?"

The Overlord showed faint surprise, but said, "You have chosen badly, I'm afraid. Tirn Aill is of little consequence, but Aleya, I must not allow you to fall into Tir's hands."

Garen snarled and ran towards Manjinar, but the Overlord gestured in Aleya's direction. A ball of flame dropped from his fingers. Before it landed, Manjinar vanished. When the fireball struck the moldy cobblestones, flames burst outward, swarming across the ground toward both of them.

Garen jumped back, but the fire turned into liquid, and seemed to jump after him. Aleya was slower to react, so it was dancing up her legs before she even realized what was happening. With a cry, Aleya tried to get away, and she fell into the water. None of the fire was doused. It followed her in, sizzling into the marsh, pursuing her relentlessly.

Aleya's scream of pain went unheard.

***

Laurel's eyes opened blearily, and she blinked several times, but sleep still held onto her mind. Though she wasn't fully awake, the girl knew that something was terribly wrong.

Several things alerted her to this fact. Normally, the bunkroom didn't shake and jolt. And her wrist was never manacled to the wall, either. The room was notably small, and only had one other occupant: the sleeping form of Janisa.

It was a while before Laurel's dazed mind finally put everything together, even though it was relatively simple. She had been kidnapped. Whether it was by Otokono Hito or someone else, she didn't know. Now, she was in a wagon, being hauled away from the Red Feather.

Laurel had been drugged, so as soon as she saw her predicament, her debilitated mind could only turn that fact over and over, examining it slowly. Marveling at how slow her mind was working, she wondered how it had happened. Had she been to Otokono's room again?

Three minutes passed before she finally remembered it. Last night (or some evening earlier) she went to Otokono's room once more, and had been offered wine. At first, she declined, but an hour later, she was thirsty, so she drank some. It never crossed her mind that her decanter was separate from the merchant's. Even so, why would that make a difference? After she drank the wine, things seemed to blur together, and her memory was just a jumble of images and sensations.

Just when Laurel knew she needed to escape, the wagon stopped. Boots crunched outside, and came around to the rear. Otokono opened up the back flap, and he looked in at the two girls. "Glad to see you're awake," he said.

Whatever drug he had given her still lingered in the girl's body, and his words seemed to come from far away. Laurel had to concentrate just to make sense of his words.

"I wish I didn't have to drug you, but you wouldn't have cooperated, otherwise. Not that I blame you; Red Feather is a nice place to work. Now, though, you're..." Otokono stopped and looked at her. He shook Janisa awake, and said, "When the drug's worn off, come get me. I'll be in the red building, behind the town hall."

Janisa nodded and sat up against the side of the wagon. "Are you cold?" she asked.

Laurel shook her head drunkenly, and swallowed. For a few moments, she tried to speak, then she finally uttered, "Whath append?"

"Master drugged you. It will go away in a couple hours."

"W...hy?" For some reason, speaking was extremely difficult.

"I believe he's going to sell you, in Harnash."

"W...Where...?"

"We're a day north of the Harnash border," Janisa answered. "I guess. That's what one of the other merchants said. We'll probably go into Harnash, sell you, then...well, you'll be on the slave market, until a rich noble buys you up. Unless Otokono is going to sell you to someone else."

Laurel groaned, and closed her eyes.

***

Mal-kar and Rinas stood next to Sorasa's bed, looking down at the prince. He was the only heir to the throne. If Prince Sorasa died, one of the other noble families would have claim to the throne. Two of the families had the closest ties to the royal family, and both were suspected of the poisoning.

King Josora was old, and ill. Though he was still capable of ruling, everyone knew that it was only a matter of months. There could be a civil war in Draconia if Sorasa died. Arraka would be ashamed of such a thing happening to his own people.

The prince was still alive, but barely. He was being administered drugs daily to keep his body functioning, but no one could offer any sign of hope. The poison had progressed too far, by the time the herbalists could counter it. Now, his breath came in wheezing gasps, and his body was very thin.

"You shouldn't have killed them," Mal-kar murmured.

"Too late," Rinas replied. "They wouldn't have known, anyway. Neither family is that careless."

"Perhaps not the families, but whichever individual ordered it."

"My mistake, then. Court-martial me."

Mal-kar said, "I'm going to the temple now. Join me if you wish."

"I will."

Both Dragon Knights left the prince's chamber.

***

The Third Outpost, as Jerik had named it, was newly built, and parts were still under construction. It was small, compared to some outposts, and somewhat shoddy. Much of the Third Outpost was wood, instead of stone. This was meant as a lookout, instead of a fortification.

When the evening watchman spotted torches, about a mile away, he was the first one to sound the warning. More than two dozen, battle-hardened soldiers turned into pansies, and ran away.

When the first regiment of the Minion arrived, they discovered an abandoned tower and four empty buildings. Curiously, cookfires were still burning, and many personal belongings had been left behind.

Shargoth, the general of Marath's army, couldn't help his laughter.

***

Borim, Bolthorn, and Lia looked down into the canyon, and saw the entrance to Kra's temple. "They must be in there," Borim said, already bracing himself for a fight. He looked around for a path, but saw the ladder leading down.

Without even testing it, the boy was clambering down the old ladder, to the bottom of the canyon. When he was about halfway down, Bolthorn followed him, and Lia came close behind. Something seemed familiar about this place, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Borim waited impatiently for them to reach the bottom. When Bolthorn hopped down from the ladder, he walked over to the boy and said, "I know that this sounds cowardly, but I believe Lia should-" as he turned back to look at her, he cut off. The elf was pressed against the canyon wall, a look of sheer terror on her face.

"Lia, are you all right?" Bolthorn asked, walking toward her slowly.

Her eyes flickered to his, and he flinched from the expression he saw there. Fear was something he had never seen in her eyes. Before he could respond, Lia spun around and scrambled up the ladder as fast as she could.

Bolthorn's jaw dropped open, and he started to follow her. "Hey, where are you going?" he called.

Borim grabbed the warrior's arm. "Aleya's in there."

Lia's strange actions seemed to shut down Bolthorn's brain, and he looked back at Borim stupidly. "But Lia," he said.

Borim hissed an oath, and ran toward the entrance, drawing his sword.

Bolthorn hesitated, and looked back after Lia. She had disappeared over the edge of the canyon. That spurred him into action. Calling her name, Bolthorn went after her.

He climbed the ladder, but when he topped the canyon wall, she was nowhere in sight. Cursing, Bolthorn followed her footprints in the snow, which led into the forest. He jogged after, expecting to find her soon, but after a half minute, he didn't see her, so he began running. Finally, he found Lia crouching by a stream. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, and she was whimpering, rocking back and forth.

"Lia," he said gently, kneeling next to her. "Are you all-"

"Oh Jonas!" Relief and fear filled her voice as she threw her arms around him. Lia began sobbing into Bolthorn's neck, and he uncertainly patted her back.

In that instant, the world shifted. All the snow, trees, and even the stream vanished. They were in the same place, but everything changed. The trees were large and green, it was warmer, and it was night. Rain was pouring down, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Bolthorn was shocked when he looked back down at Lia. She was naked, and bloody. Her hair was longer, and unkempt. Blood covered the girl's body, and ran down her back in rivers. Geometric designs had been drawn on her back and arms, and probably elsewhere.

When Bolthorn saw his own arms, he started. They weren't his arms. Strapped to thicker wrists was a pair of dark metal vambraces; Bolthorn's were made of steel, and only covered the outside of his forearm. These covered the inside as well. And his hands were covered in dark blood.

With a gasp, Bolthorn pulled away, and Lia fell to her hands and knees. All the snow returned, the stream materialized, and the temperature dropped. Everything was normal again.

For a few moments, she panted raggedly. Lia dry-heaved a few times, then looked up at the warrior. The terror cleared from her eyes, and she sat back against the tree.

Bolthorn stared at her. He swallowed and said, "Lia, what just happened?"

"I can't go down there, Bolthorn," she looked away.

"What?"

Lia closed her eyes and looked away. "I can't go down there."

"Why not?"

"I've been there before. When it was still a temple."

Bolthorn was speechless.

"The priests...I was..." she took a deep breath and continued. "The priests kept me there for...a long time. They tried to destroy me, and I almost died. Jonas saved me."

Bolthorn didn't ask who Jonas was.

"I-I can't go back there, Bolthorn. Not after what they did to me."

For a few moments, they were silent, then Bolthorn said, "That was in the past, though. No one lives there now-"

Lia laughed bitterly and shook her head. "I wish. Time is meaningless. You saw what happened. You experienced my memories. If I go down there, I'll live through that torture all over again. That's a part of my memory that I can't touch. It's so powerful it even traveled across our bond."

Lia glanced to the side, as if she sensed something, then continued, "You have to get Aleya without me, Bolthorn. I can't go down there. Ever."

Bolthorn was silent.

***

With a gasp, Aleya scrambled away from Garen's outstretched hand, falling off the pillar, onto her rear. For a moment, she could swear that her body was covered in the swamp's disgusting water, and Manjinar's fire was consuming her, but then she saw Garen.

A quick glance around revealed that she was in the temple once more, inside the sacrificial room. Everything was quiet, and Garen looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

Aleya panted for a few seconds, then shook her head to clear it. "I...nothing."

Garen stepped over the pillar and crouched in front of her. "What is your decision?"

Aleya averted her eyes, then said, "I can't do it, Garen."

A dark look crossed his features. "You'll follow Aenis, then?"

Aleya shook her head. "No. No one. I'm not going to be anyone's servant."

Garen struggled to comprehend this, then he just gaped at her. Obviously, this wasn't what he expected. "You're what?"

"I can't make the choice. I'm not going to."

Garen stood up and turned around. He walked a few feet, then stopped. The boy ran his fingers through his hair, then looked at her. "You have to choose."

Aleya shook her head. "No," she said quietly.

There was a deathly silence, as Garen contemplated her decision. There was a sound of footsteps, and he flashed a look at the door.

"Borim," Aleya breathed, her eyes wide. What was he doing here? How come he wasn't here before? In her first vision?

Garen reached toward the door, and flicked his hand. One of the pillars suddenly broke free of the ceiling and the wall; it crashed in front of the doors, blocking them both.

Aleya could see that Garen was a little uneasy, but she didn't know why.

He snatched her wrist, and pulled her to her feet. "Come on," Garen said. "We're leaving."

Aleya bit her lip and called out to Borim, mentally. She heard him hurl himself against the door, calling out her name. But it was useless.

Garen pulled Aleya over to the altar, and said, "How long can you hold your breath?"

"I don't know, why?"

Garen looked down into the pool of fire, then said, "Take a deep breath, and hold it."

"What for?" Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

"Just do it."

Nervously, Aleya did.

Garen grabbed her waist, and pulled her against him, so her back was facing the lava. Air whooshed out of her lungs, and she whispered, "What are you-"

"Hold your breath."

Aleya squeezed her eyes tight, then drew in another breath.

Garen jumped foreward, plunging them both into the lava.

For a split second, Aleya thought she was going to let out her breath again, but she managed to hold it in. The lava didn't burn away her skin instantly, scorching her to the bone, as she had expected. In fact, it had no temperature at all. She was just diving into lukewarm water, for all she could tell. That could be true, except that her clothes were crumbling away, into ashes.

Garen held onto her, and pulled them down, deeper down the well of fire. After about ten seconds, they hit bottom, and Garen moved sideways. As they swam, a strange thought crossed her mind. What would it look like if she opened her eyes? There was a large bathing pool at her old temple, and she went swimming often. Her vision was blurry under the water, but what would it be like in this liquid fire? It was an interesting thought, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

After almost a minute, Aleya was getting light-headed, and when they surfaced, Aleya began gasping for air, drinking in lungfuls of the wonderful substance. When she regained her breath, she crawled out of the lava, oblivious of her nakedness at first.

They were standing in a large room, that Aleya thought was a smithy. An abandoned smithy. None of the tools or equipment was there, but a broken anvil sat in the corner, and a forge was in the opposite corner.

"We're in a different section of the same city we were in before," Garen said. "The temple was built after the city was abandoned, I think..." he trailed off.

Aleya looked at him, and saw him looking at her naked body. He was also naked, but she blushed anyway. "Where can we get clothes?"

Garen looked startled, then looked away, muttering under his breath. Then he said, "I'm not sure. We'll have to look for some."

***

"Go," Lia choked when she heard Borim's distant yell. "He needs you."

"He's calling your name," Bolthorn said.

Lia looked away and felt nauseous. Never in her life had she felt more helpless. "I can't go." When Bolthorn didn't move, she snapped, "Hurry! Aleya needs you!"

Bolthorn hesitated barely a second before scrambling to his feet and running back to the canyon.

Lia groaned softly and leaned against the tree, then began to weep.

Bolthorn ran toward Borim's voice, and soon found the boy standing at the edge of the canyon.

"Where's Lia?" Borim demanded. He was sweating, and his hand was bloody.

"She can't come," Bolthorn shook his head.

"What? Why not? I can't get through that door!"

Bolthorn went to the ladder and began climbing down. "We'll have to try."

Borim swore and followed Bolthorn down. "What's wrong with Lia?" he said angrily.

"Forget it," Bolthorn replied. He reached the bottom and waited for the boy to run ahead. They went inside, and Borim led him through a twisting maze of tunnels, until they reached a set of double doors. Neither would budge.

Borim hurled himself against the doors, probably for the hundredth time, and said, "They're getting farther away!"

"Quit that!" Bolthorn growled, looking at the edges of the doors. They swung inwards, which meant the hinges were on the other side. The doors were wood, but neither appeared rotted. Magic, obviously.

"How are we supposed to get in?" Borim was panicking. He could sense Aleya's presence moving farther away, and was getting desperate.

Borim's panting was the only noise that could be heard, and Bolthorn's mind raced, as he tried to think of a solution. Then a cold breeze blew through the hall, haunted with whispers and ghostly moans. Bolthorn's hackles rose, and he could swear that his name was murmured. A chill ran down his spine, and he looked down both ends of the hallway. They were empty.

Borim scowled. "Bolthorn, what-"

The warrior held his hand up, listening as the whispers echoed down the hall again, calling him. "Gods," he breathed, trying to discern a direction.

"What are you doing?" Borim demanded.

The echoes faded away, but returned a few seconds later. This time they were louder, and Bolthorn looked down the hall. He knew that something was calling him. With long strides, Bolthorn walked down the hall, toward the voices.

"What are you doing?" Borim followed after.

Bolthorn didn't answer, but started jogging. He didn't know where he was going, and had to double back several times, until he came to a dead end. There was a small door, and Bolthorn pushed it open. He entered.

Borim followed the warrior inside, and coughed at the stale air. He held his torch up, and looked around. They were in a large storage room, filled with dusty boxes, crates, books, idols, and strange tools. From the torchlight, shadows flitted across the walls like waterbugs, never staying in one place.

Bolthorn scrambled over to a pile of boxes, and began digging into the heap, shoveling away boxes and books until he came to the bottom.

"What are you doing?" Borim repeated.

Bolthorn grabbed a leather case at the bottom, then set it atop a nearby table. Borim walked next to him, and watched as Bolthorn flipped open the latches, and pushed up the lid.

Inside lay a sheathed sword. It was covered in dust, and didn't look like much, but to their experienced eyes, this was a serious sword.

"What's that?" Borim said in a more subdued voice.

Bolthorn reached down and grasped the handle.

In response, purple fire danced across runes etched in the hilt and pommel, then tore down the sheath, flooding the room with an eery light. The whispers that had drawn Bolthorn here stopped, and he heard the voice clearly.

Mine, the voice uttered. It was an old voice, ancient and terrible; that voice contained more power than Bolthorn had ever felt in his life. And the single word, "Mine" encompassed a world of meanings, all of which terrified Bolthorn. But within a mere second, he forgot them.

"Come on," Bolthorn said. He lifted the sword and ran back to the sacrifice room.

Borim, frustrated to the point of explosion, ran after, still holding the torch. A moment later, he lost sight of Bolthorn, then caught up with him at the doors to the sacrifice room.

Bolthorn stood facing the doors once more, and drew the sword. A purple glint shimmered on the blade, and Bolthorn concentrated.

"What do you expect to do with that?" Borim snorted. "I don't see how-"

Without waiting for him to finish, Bolthorn swung at the door. His swing wasn't calculated, precise, or even aimed. There was only the brute strength. In a streak of purple fire, the blade arched into the doors, and they exploded with a thunderous crash. In four pieces, the doors burst inwards, over the pillar, trailing smoke into the room.

Borim was stunned for a few seconds, then he ran in, vaulting over the pillar, toward the altar. As soon as he reached the wall, he stopped, confused. Below him was the pool of fire.

"Where are they?" Bolthorn asked.

"They went in that direction," Borim said, disbelieving. "They're through this wall." He ran his bloody hand across the wall, feeling for a door of some kind.

Bolthorn looked around, then down at the lava. Dismissing it immediately, he continued his search for the hidden door.

***

Daren preferred women.

As opposed to girls.

Daren's weren't old, usually no older than twenty, but to Corin, that was too old. Now, at least. He liked the younger servant girls, usually around his age, 15. Most of the ones that would sleep with him were his age; only Daren could entice the 19 or 20-year olds. It was easy for Corin to seduce the servant girls. They were always willing to help, and they fawned over him constantly. Sometimes he could get two in bed at once. That was rare, but fun.

Every so often, one of the servant girls would disappear for up to a week at a time, then return, subdued and mellow. Corin couldn't understand what was happening until Daren explained it to him; the girls were getting pregnant, then going to a healer to kill the fetus. Usually the healer placed a spell on them, which stopped pregnancies, but it didn't matter. None of the mollified girls would sleep with the princes anymore.

There were plenty to spare, though.

This one, named Krissa, was cute. She was his age, as he liked, and funny. It wasn't that her sense of humor was overly clever, or anything like that, her personality was just funny. Krissa was humorous without meaning it.

Her voice was cute, and she had a slight lisp when she talked, even though her teeth were straight and perfect. Nothing was wrong with her mouth, Corin knew that from experience, she just talked with a lisp. A lithp.

Krissa had freckles on her nose and face, and some on her shoulders. Brown hair was usually tied back in a bun until they began their love-making, which usually sent it cascading all over the bed.

Though she didn't have a body of a goddess, Krissa was still beautiful. Well, beauty wasn't the correct word. Though sometimes, in the firelight or the moonlight, looking at his reflections in her eyes, Corin could call her beautiful. Other times, she was always cute. Just an adorable little girl.

Now, however, both were passionate lovers.

Krissa was on the bed, on her stomach, biting her lip. Corin was between her legs, licking her cunt. The girl's juices flowed freely onto the sheets, drenching them. Her thighs tightened around the prince's head, and she muttered, "Gods, Corin, please...now..."

Corin grinned. Krissa's voice was the cutest part about her. It was impossible to describe; she just always had a pitiful tone in her voice. Even when she didn't, it was just something that seemed to emanate from her.

In response, he flicked his tongue down over her clit.

She whined again. "Corin, pleease!" Her breath was coming in ragged gasps.

After a few more rounds of this, almost reducing her to tears, Corin raised himself up and positioned his cock to enter her. Krissa held her breath in anticipation, and moaned when he pushed into her hot depths.

Corin settled his head next to hers, above her left shoulder, and moved his hands beneath her body as he rocked into her. His fingers sought out her breasts, and his mouth found hers. Their breath and saliva mingled as they kissed. As Corin's fingers brushed her nipples, Krissa moaned and pushed off the bed, so he could massage her freely.

As their pace increased, their mouths broke apart, and Corin had to hold himself up with his hands. They both just fucked like that, a modified form of doggy-style.

Krissa came first, since he had built her up with an unfinished blowjob. Her scream tore through the bedroom loud enough for anyone to hear. Daren, next door, probably heard it. Unless he was fucking his servant, too.

As Corin neared his peak, he wondered vaguely about his seed. Would it impregnate Krissa? He hoped not. Krissa was one of his favorites. To have her pregnant would be a catastrophe.

But the prince came anyway. His hot seed fired up into her body, and she clenched her thighs tight, squeezing moisture from her hole into his pubic hair, down to the bed. Corin hissed through his teeth with every shot into her womb, and wondered if this would create a baby.

Sometimes children were curses.

They collapsed onto the bed, panting. Krissa grabbed a pillow and lay her head on it. "I'm sleepy," she said breathlessly.

"Sleepy?" Corin said. "But we haven't even-"

Someone knocked on the door.

Corin swore. This was the third time he had been interrupted. Probably for another of the king's midnight meetings. Borric was kept up nights by this war, and his missing daughter, so he seemed to feel it necessary to wake the rest of the castle, to join his royal insomnia.

"Who is it?" Corin bounced off the bed and threw his robe around his body.

"His Majesty wishes to convene in the west conference hall again, Highness."

Corin grumbled another oath, then said to Krissa, "If I'm not back in an hour, return to the servant quarters until I fetch you."

Krissa sighed dramatically and rolled onto her back. "As his Highness wishes," she said with a hint of disappointment. Her hand ran down her bare stomach, between her legs. That gesture was plainly saying, "Hurry up, or we won't get to fuck tonight."

With a shiver, Corin tied his robe, and stalked to the door. He threw it open, walked out, then slammed it shut. A wave of his hand repelled the servant, and he headed to the conference hall, dressed only in his robe.

As he walked in, Jerik was saying, "The Third Outpost has been abandoned. They reported that the full force of the Minion has reached the border. Best estimate they could give was 50,000."

"Before they all ran away," Borena muttered.

"That's not the whole army, though," Daren said. He was dressed in a decent tunic and pants, as opposed to Corin's robe.

"Exactly," the general nodded. "This is just their initial wave, which is large enough to carve its way all the way here. Once they reach Althorien, I suspect the rest of the army will show up. Between now and then, they'll be gathering food, equipment, supplies...it's hard to keep an army that huge functional."

"Where will they gather the supplies?" Borric asked.

"Pillage and plunder," Corin muttered bitterly.

Jerik nodded. "They'll just reap it all from our towns."

With a sigh, the king stood up and began pacing. "We need to stop the Minion. Is there any way we can defeat the first wave before it reaches Althorien?"

Jerik shrugged. "It's possible, but we would have to choose the battleground, and I wouldn't be surprised if our army came out with less than a thousand survivors."

"Gods," Borric breathed. "If we don't slow them, they'll overrun the countryside."

"Panic," Olis said. "Althoria will be crippled; we'll never live up to-"

"There's no way to avoid that," Jerik snapped. "Personally, I'm not going to let a lot of slobbering orcs destroy my homeland, but there's very little we can do about it. I don't know much at the moment, but my estimate - an optimistic one - is that Althoria will be one sixth the size it is now, if we achieve victory."

***

"This is the bottom line," Nobu said. "We can't interpret your visions for you. Lienites are intelligent; we are scientific and we know about how things work, but sometimes, our views of the supernatural are skewed. Lienites are not prophets or interpreters. That's your job. I can only tell you what I think.

"So this is the question, Lily: what do you think it means?"

Lily looked down for a moment, thinking. She glanced up across the annex, at the other Lienites. This was finally what she had to face. Finding her own answers. It wasn't something she wanted to do. It wasn't something she was qualified to do.

Nobu remained silent until she said, "But I don't know what to do."

"I think you do," Nobu replied. "Answer me this question: do you believe in Nala, as a true diety?"

"Well, I've never been too sure-"

"Do you believe in Nala as a goddess, now?"

"I mean-"

"Is Nala the Goddess of Life?"

"Y-Yes."

"Is Arraka the Dragon God?"

"Y-Yes."

"And do you believe that they are trying to influence your life?"

Lily nodded mutely.

"Do you believe that your fate is somehow tied to Doronar's?"

After some hesitation, Lily nodded again.

"Then there's your answer," Nobu said. "The gods are pulling you together."

"Even though he's all the way in Dragonia?"

"Doronar's trip to Draconia is vital, obviously. I think yours is too."

"My what is too?"

"You need to find Doronar. I don't think it will be that hard; once you two begin looking for each other, you will find each other. Arraka and Nala have a purpose for you both."

"So you expect me to just get up and follow him to Dragonia?" Lily raised her eyebrows.

Nobu shrugged. "It depends on how important you think it is. In my research, I've never encountered a god who reveals the future to people, on a whim. Arraka and Nala are not careless dieties. They need you both, now."

Lily sighed, then slowly nodded.

***

Tal flared at the last moment, and alighted on the jagged rock.

Impenetrable clouds swirled around the dragon and rider, making them seem all alone in a world of gray. The temperature was well below freezing, but neither of them felt it.

The outside temperature would need to drop another twenty degrees before Tal felt any discomfort. Rinas wore a winter suit of Jak-rash fur, which easily protected him from the biting winds.

I don't understand, Rinas frowned. Where are all the Ice Trolls?

Maybe after we killed the last group, they decided to stay in their caves.

Unlikely, Rinas answered. Maybe we should fly over the S'arn Cliff again. That's where most of them have-

No, Tal replied flatly. You're not the one who has to fly around all the time. My wings are getting tired. We're going back.

Rinas knew it would be futile to argue, so he agreed.

Tal shuffled around, then leaped into the air, and dove into the colorless void. The northwestern mountains were the highest, and the most dangerous; Though he could see only a few feet, Rinas knew that Tal was missing some of the rocks by only meters.

As they flew, Rinas wondered about that strange vision he had seen. It had been a few months, but it still bothered him, occasionally. Arraka's oracles foretold of disturbing wars, death, and an age of darkness. Besides the ominous prophecies, there had been no signs of evil in Draconia. Nothing appeared to be wrong.

Of course, when he had contacted that other Arrakan, there had been no mention of evil. In fact, the whole encounter was quite pointless. Both men just stared at each other, answered a couple questions, then the vision faded.

Rinas closed his eyes and sighed. What did it mean?

The instant his eyes opened, they dove out of the clouds, and appeared over a forest. Tal's head was visible. In fact, everything was visible. The clouds...no, everything had vanished. The entire mountain range had disappeared, and they were flying a few hundred feet above the forest. Stars shone, but they seemed dim. The shining moon hung near the top of the sky.

Down below, there was a huge field. An enormous field. Miles across, at least. In the middle of the field was a set of buildings. Towering above them all was a pyramid, with steps going up each side. At the top of the pyramid was a massive pillar of fire. The flame rippled up in waves, that sent heat distortions high above the pyramid.

"Oh gods," Rinas whispered.

What? Tal asked.

"Don't you see that?" Rinas said incredulously.

See what?

Rinas ignored the dragon and looked down again. In the field were thousands, tens of thousands - hundreds of thousands maybe - of soldiers. Some appeared to be human, but most looked like trolls, ogres. Many were just black humanoids, with no clear definition. They moved like liquid, and looked very deadly.

When Rinas looked up again, he saw that they were flying straight at the pillar of flame. Just then, he recognized it. This temple was Arraka's Eternal Flame. Supposedly, it no longer existed. This was where the Dragon God's essence resided. The pillar of fire was the sign that Arraka still lived.

And they were flying straight into it.

"Tal!" Rinas cried, clamping down with his legs.

The dragon snorted and almost veered away from the fire, but still flew straight for it. As they neared the flame, Rinas saw a man ascending the steps, toward the flame. He was dressed in a strange variation of the Dragon Warrior armor.

It was the same man that he had seen in the vision.

Rinas's jaw dropped again, but before he could say anything, Tal dropped into Shorlarai like a rock, then changed pitch sharply, and flew into the Dragon Knight hold. His wings spread out, and they slowed down inside the well-lit cavern.

"Gods," Rinas panted, reeling from the sudden change of scenery.

Are you all right? Tal asked irritably. You almost made me hit a building.

Rinas's mind was blank. He slid out of the saddle, and staggered over to a bench. A squire hurried over to the dragon and began unharnessing the equipment.

Rinas, are you all right? Tal repeated.

Y-Yes, Rinas answered. Just let me think for a while.

He stood up and walked back to the cave entrance, and peered into the gloom, out at the capital city of Draconia.

***

Lia was still crouched by the river when Bolthorn came into the clearing. He stopped and said, "They aren't in the temple. They somehow found a tunnel through the mountain, and we'll have to get them there."

The elf stood up. "I know," she answered. "Let's go after Borim." She headed back toward the canyon, but never approached the rim. As soon as she saw Borim's tracks, she followed them, and they soon caught up with the boy. His face was set in a grim mask of hate, and Lia knew she had to be careful. Borim was likely mad at her, and this was probably testing his sanity.

"What happened to your hand?" Lia asked when she saw blood soaking through his gloves.

"Nothing," Borim snapped. "Why didn't you come into the temple?" he demanded. "Your magic could have broken through those doors and-"

"Borim!" Bolthorn said harshly. "Save that discussion for later, after we get Aleya."

"What happened to your hand?" Lia repeated soothingly, weaving a small spell to calm him down.

"Nothing," he replied.

The spell had calmed him down, but it didn't make him more cooperative. "Borim, if your hand is bleeding, you could get frostbite, and you wouldn't be able to hold your sword."

If one couldn't hold a sword, what good would they do as a bodyguard? And if one couldn't be a bodyguard, why would Aleya want him around? Lia hoped this was Borim's reasoning, and she was right. With a sour grunt, he stopped and pulled off his gloves.

Bolthorn's eyes popped wide when he saw the boy's hand. Three of his fingernails hung loose, gashes covered his hand, and blood dripped into the snow. Initially, he must have tried prying the door open.

Yes, this was definitely eating at his sanity.

"Shit," hissed Lia. She grabbed Borim's hand and held it between her own. A few seconds passed, and the fingernails reattached themselves to his hand, and all the lacerations sealed. With a wave of her hand, the blood slid off his hand like a cloth, and turned the snow crimson.

Despite his anger to Lia, and his fear for Aleya, Borim was clearly amazed. "Thank you," he mumbled, and slipped his glove on. The boy turned and continued walking through the forest.

Lia sighed and fell back with Bolthorn. They remained a few yards behind Borim, who plodded along steadily, occasionally grumbling and cursing.

"I don't understand," Bolthorn whispered.

"What?" Lia asked.

"What happened to you - us, back there?"

Lia sighed and looked down. "Several th...a long time ago, I was kidnapped by a necromancer. They tried to force my soul into Gehenna, but they couldn't. I was too strong for them. I sat in a prison cell for two months before they figured out what to do with me; they sold me to the Kranites that worshipped in that temple, and they tried to destroy me.

"The priests at that temple were very skilled, and almost succeeded." Lia paused for a few moments and fought back the memories. She continued, haltingly, "Months...years...I don't know how long...a lot of time passed, and when Jonas finally rescued me, I was nearly insane. My mind was in pieces. It took decades for me to recover.

"But if I ever go back there..." she swallowed. Lia shook her head sadly. "It's too much, Bolthorn. The power that resides there...is immense. If I go back into that altar room, I'll go insane. Again."

"What about the rain?"

"What?" Lia started.

"When I found you, you hugged me, and said-"

"Oh, that," Lia sighed. "As soon as I saw the sacrificial pit, in the bottom of the canyon, the memories possessed me. I went back in time and it was just like the day Jonas rescued me. It was in summer, I think, and it was raining. I couldn't wait until the blood was off me. And the tattoos. My father spent days removing them."

"But why did I see the rain?"

Lia pursed her lips and said, "Bolthorn, you remember that night we...?"

Bolthorn blushed deeply, and said, "Lia, I-I wanted to talk to you about that. I'm sorry for what I did, an-and I know you must-"

She surprised him by laughing.

Borim looked at her, and scowled.

"What's so funny?" Bolthorn asked defensively.

"You think it's your fault?" Lia asked. She shook her head. "Bolthorn, you resisted it. I'm the one who forced you into it. I know certain spells..." she wiggled her fingers for effect. "When we had sex, I created a bond between us. We're connected on a very primal level. You have access to my mind, and I have access to yours. There's a lot more to it than that, but the bond is the reason you saw me all bloody. My memories consumed me, and were obviously strong enough to project across our bond. It happens frequently."

"You forced me into having sex?" Bolthorn was incredulous. Obviously he couldn't get past her first few sentences.

Lia grinned and leaned up to him. "Don't worry, we'll do it again, real soon."

***

"Call me a pervert, will ya?" Ghin said under his breath, scowling. "Pervert my ass. Whenever I get my hands on you, you old man, I'll show you who's a fucking-" Ghin fell silent as the troop of goblins walked beneath his position.

When they had passed, he dropped to the ground behind them and whistled.

The goblins spun around, startled. As soon as they saw him, they raised their spears, screaming in defiance. They charged, and Ghin extended his hands forward.

One, right after the other, halted, and dropped to their knees. Then, one at a time, Ghin wrapped his spell around their minds, and they became his slaves. Gods how easy that was! Fortunately, goblins weren't the most intelligent, or willful, creatures in the world.

"All right everybody," Ghin said. "It is my job to turn you into merciless killers. We've got a wizard to murder! Follow me!"

***

Aleya slipped the cloak over her head, grateful to have some clothes at last. It had only been a few hours, but the temperature, even in these caves, was dreadfully cold. And, of course, there was Garen. He tried to resist it, but Aleya often caught him staring at her body.

If she weren't in such a dangerous situation, she might return the stares, but right now, her thoughts were on her future. She had seen down two unlikely paths, and neither seemed correct. So the only way left for her was straight. But where did that go? This was the only time in her life when she felt uneasy about not knowing her future. This was the only time it mattered.

She grabbed a pair of baggy pants, a shirt, stockings, and a pair of shoes. Garen pulled on a pair of pants and a large shirt; he left it unlaced, and said, "We're going near the FireSkull River. It'll get pretty hot down there."

"Why don't you put another shield around us?"

Garen shook his head, and looked at the ceiling, to the east, and squinted. "Lia will detect it. I don't want her to know exactly where we are."

"Um...where are you taking me?" Aleya asked.

Garen grabbed a cloak from the rotting wardrobe and said, "Away from the others."

"They'll keep chasing us," Aleya answered. "They won't stop."

Garen nodded, "That's the idea. Come on."

As Aleya followed Garen into the caverns, she knew that Lia would find them soon. Within the next two days. But that was all she knew. Whether Garen would kill her before then was still an unanswered question. And what would happen when Lia finally came face-to-face with Garen? Again?

***

Janisa helped Laurel into their small bedroom. It was bare of furniture except for a single mattress, and a small clothes chest. Two wool blankets lay in a pile on the bed. A small candle sat in the corner.

Laurel had sprained her ankle while getting out of the wagon, and Otokono was furious. He almost hit her, but Janisa distracted him long enough for his anger to dissipate. So he sent them both to bed, and went looking for potential buyers.

"Gods," Laurel whispered, squeezing her eyes tightly. She groaned as Janisa helped her onto the bed. "It hurts." Tears leaked from her eyes. Laurel scooted back against the wall.

"Poba will be here in a few minutes," Janisa said. "She knows a little bit of healing."

"Good," Laurel said.

Janisa sat next to Laurel, and stared out their small window. The window was near the ceiling, and it had bars. Through it, they could see small rectangles of the sky, which was overcast with clouds.

"Is there any way I can get back to the Red Feather?" Laurel asked quietly.

Janisa shook her head. "No," she sighed. "Otokono's done this before, and he knows how. The last girl who tried to escape..." she looked aside and didn't finish.

"What's going to happen to me?" This was a question Laurel had asked many times.

Janisa replied with the same answer. "You'll be sold into the slavery market. If you're lucky, you'll get a nice master who keeps you, or the Red Feather down here will buy you, or a noble will want you. If you're unlucky, or just not lucky at all, someone else will get you."

"What were you?"

"With Master?" Janisa asked. "Not lucky. Not unlucky; just not lucky. At least he doesn't beat me."

The door opened and Poba came in. She had dark skin, darker than Janisa's, and wore two braids down her back. Her servant gown was tan, and dirty. She knelt by Laurel and took the girl's ankle in her hand. Without a word, the woman began prodding the swollen ankle, illiciting sharp cries from Laurel.

"Ow! Hey, what are you doing?"

"I think Poba does this to torment you before she fixes it."

Poba didn't look up.

Janisa smiled, and said, "Don't worry, she knows what she's doing."

Laurel said, "When will it stop hurting?"

Poba ignored her, so Janisa replied, "No more than two weeks."

A few moments later, Poba reached into her gown and withdrew a small bottle. She handed it to Janisa and stood up. The servant looked at Janisa and slapped her hand to her wrist, then rubbed it around. She held up two fingers, then cast a sympathetic glance on Laurel.

Janisa nodded. "I understand."

Poba walked out, closing the door behind her.

"What?" Laurel asked, thoroughly confused.

"You need to rub this on your ankle, twice a day." Janisa opened it and poured some on Laurel's ankle. She began massaging the liquid into the half-elf's fair skin. "Poba doesn't speak," she said, addressing Laurel's unspoken question. "Master raped her, four years ago, and she's never talked since..." Janisa paused, thinking, then said, "I haven't been with Master that long. Another servant - he's dead now - told me about it."

Laurel remained silent, and for a moment, she wondered what exactly Janisa had been through in her life. Then Laurel wondered what she still had to go through.

***

Alinor walked through the market, a gray cloak sliding amongst the commoners. The town was three days east of the border, and had a mass of refugees, turning the town square into a mess. It was very noisy, but it would quiet down soon. The refugees would continue on, probably within two hours, leading a caravan train toward Althorien. A few minutes later, Alinor found Jonas talking to woman in a wagon.

When the wizard arrived, Jonas turned to him, grim-faced. Alinor flanked Jonas, who easily cleaved a path through the crowd. "That woman says the Minion are only two days west," Jonas said. "Nobody's putting up any resistance."

"Wisely," Alinor said.

Jonas nodded. "If the Althorian Legion is going to strike at the Minion, it should be soon. I haven't heard any news of their approach, though."

"Perhaps it's for the best," Alinor mused aloud. "Lia still hasn't found Olrick Mahr, or the Death Rose."

Jonas's eyebrows drew together. "It's getting late. If they don't find him soon, they should go to Tranoth."

"You don't have to tell me that," Alinor replied. He stopped, then pointed to a stable. "Let's go there, it's empty." They walked toward the stables. "I know exactly how crucial the situation is. Olrick Mahr may not even make that much difference, but he's got hope."

"All that really matters is the Death Rose," Jonas argued.

Alinor shook his head. "Aleya can stop Marath, and all the mages, but not the army."

"What about Ajanor?"

"Ajanor had mastery over the Death Rose. He linked with it far better than Aleya will be able to. Besides, she will be inexperienced, and won't have enough control over it. But it should be enough to hold off Marath. If not, we'll be there."

Jonas nodded. "I suppose so."

They stepped inside the stable and looked around. Except for the horses, it was empty.

Alinor opened his hand, and a few feet from his palm, the air shimmered like water, then whirlpooled into a vortex of black clouds and flashing energy.

Jonas said, "Where are we going?"

"We're going to kill some innocents."

"You want to threaten Manjinar, you mean?"

Alinor nodded, narrowing his green eyes. "If he doesn't agree to help us, he'll find that I can be a lot crueler than Marath."

*****************
(c) 1996 by Bill Smith (micro@oz.net)