Winter

Chapter Three: Discoveries

by Bill Smith

Please check the updated notes page. There's a link to it in Odin 1.

-Bill

Chapter 03 - Discoveries

A sliver of light cut across the floor, dividing it in two segments. Aleya sat on one side, and Garen sat on the other. It reminded him of the day that he and his brother divided their room, after a fight. Then, Garen and his brother had been as silent as he and Aleya were right now.

They had traveled for a day through the subterranean city. The ancient city was quite expansive; there never seemed to be an end to it, and Aleya wondered how deep it went. At times, it looked less like a city than a dungeon. Huge hallways, caves, and rooms continued on forever, seemingly without purpose. Earlier, they passed over a bridge that crossed a vast chasm; in the distance, other bridges could be seen. The ceiling and floor were out of sight, but here, only a few hundred yards away, sunlight sliced through the dusty air, imprinting a line of brilliance on the floor.

Garen had explained it to her as soon as they entered: the room was used for magic that required access to the surface. The dwarves had used earth magic to open up a vent to the surface. Some types of magic traveled easier through air, and some required sunlight. This vent facilitated both.

They had stopped for rest a few minutes ago, and Garen's head was leaned against the wall. His eyes were closed.

Borim and the others were close behind; Aleya was surprised Garen couldn't feel them. Their presence was quite noticeable. For a moment, the girl just stared at him, then slowly got to her feet.

Without opening his eyes, Garen said, "Where are you going?"

"I-I have to go to the bathroom," she said.

"You haven't eaten in more than 24 hours, why would you do that?" Garen asked, eyes still closed.

Aleya was never a very good liar. Her bullshitting skill had never been put to the test, so she had never been able to develop it. Instead, she just looked at the door, took a deep breath, and ran.

For a fraction of a second, Aleya thought Garen wouldn't respond, then she heard him yell after her. Aleya shed her cloak, and ran for her life. Now, it was just a rush of adrenaline; neither of them had eaten in over a day, and Aleya was getting weaker every hour.

Another few moments passed before she heard Garen's footfalls closing in. She could only hope to keep ahead of him, at least to the bridge. Though she could see her future, desperation still propelled her. On her conscious level, Aleya was calm, every moment with Garen, but he still scared her. Garen was the only one who scared her: she couldn't read his mind, and she didn't trust him.

Far sooner than she expected, her strength began slipping away. Saviour or not, she needed food to survive. Besides that, Aleya couldn't see. With her physical eyes. Mentally, she saw the walls as they rushed by, and the doors as she passed beneath them, but it was all gray and blurry. Everything looked as though she were staring at it through water. It was enough to give her a general idea of where she was going, but it couldn't prevent her from tripping over a small rock or bump. If she did, then she would be at Garen's mercy. Again.

Then she plunged through a doorway, into a frighteningly cold emptiness. Aleya gasped as a chilly wind bit into her skin. At last (though it had been less than a two minute run), she was on the bridge, but, more importantly, so was Borim.

Boldar found Doronar tending their new horses.

"What did you find out?" Doronar asked.

"Nobody worships Lien down here."

"Didn't you tell me that on the ship?"

"Yes, but I didn't really think about it," the Lienite answered.

Doronar shrugged, then turned around from the horse. His gaze stopped on a group of kids staring at him. They disappeared down an alley. The Dragon straightened his tabard, then swung himself up onto his horse.

Boldar climbed awkwardly onto the other horse, and said, "Almost no one has heard of Draconia, and those who have don't talk about it. I'm tempted to force the information from them," he scowled.

"Do it," Doronar said, amused. That would be a sight...Boldar wasn't the most intimidating person in the world.

Boldar shot him a sidelong glanced, then, when the Dragon started forward, urged his horse after Doronar's. "My best idea would be to continue northwest," the Lienite suggested. "I know roughly where the country used to be, but it would always be helpful to find someone who knew for sure. I guess that Draconia doesn't keep in contact with the other nations. I suppose that it has to do with Arraka's personality. After all, the entire population of Draconia, at one time, worshipped the Dragon God, and his personality probably influenced them. Arraka was a-"

"Boldar," Doronar said. "Shut up."

"Sorry."

The Lienite, like all others, was prone to lectures. No matter how many times Doronar told him to shut up, the little man just didn't learn. It had become a ritual dialogue between them. Boldar would begin, and Doronar would tell him to shut up, then Boldar would apologize. Routine.

"Now," Boldar said, "we should just continue up into the mountains. I suppose we could head to the site of Draconia's old capital, Shorlarie. It shouldn't take us more than a few days."

"Where's Shor-something?"

Boldar grimaced. "It's not too far, as the crow flies, but we'll have to climb a mountain to get there."

Laurel's knees hit the ground painfully, and she nearly fell on her face, but managed to keep her balance. The man in front of her was actually handsome, she found. His hair and eyes were black, and his skin was deep tan, like Janisa's. He wore satin from his neck to his toes, all navy blue. A looped gold chain hung from his left earring. A dark brown dot was drawn between his eyebrows.

"Very nice," the man said coolly. His face showed no expression, and his eyes examined her as if she were a sculpture. "What is her blood?"

Otokono Hito replied, "She is three-quarters elf, sir."

The man looked her over again, then said, "What happened to her ankle?"

"She sprained it falling from a wagon. It should be healed in a few days."

"Stand up," the noble ordered.

Laurel struggled to her feet, and put most of her weight on her left leg.

"What is her history?" he asked.

"She was a girl at the Red Feather in Arangrad for a few months, until they sold her to me. That's all I know."

"Why would they sell to you after only a few weeks? An elf? Besides, she's quite young. They must have fetched quite a price from you."

Otokono nodded. "2500 gold."

"I suppose you'll be wanting twice that."

The merchant nodded.

After a moment, the noble nodded, then looked at a scribe in the corner, who began writing something down. "I will have the money transferred by tomorrow morning," the noble said. "Untie her."

Janisa moved before Otokono could, and she whispered, "I'll do it Master."

The merchant showed faint surprise, but didn't stop her.

Janisa stood in front of Laurel. The younger girl was trembling slightly.

"I'll never see you again, will I?" Laurel asked.

Janisa shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes.

Over the past week, they had grown very close, and had spent hours of every day with each other. After the second night, they had slept together. Janisa's resistance finally failed, as did Laurel's. But again, it was the same situation. It was as if her control was being sapped from somewhere, and her desires acted for her. Every night since then, they had slept together, and each night, Laurel dreaded and craved Janisa's touch.

They had become more than sex partners, though. Much of the day was spent talking, and their personalities were so close that they instantly liked each other, and became fast friends.

Now that was being torn from beneath their feet.

Janisa released the pointless rope that bound Laurel's wrists - as if she would run away - then hesitated. They stared at each other for a moment, then Janisa leaned forward. Her lips pressed against Laurel's in a quick kiss, then she walked back to Otokono.

The merchant was clearly surprised at this, but he said nothing.

"If there is nothing more, sir-" Otokono began, but the noble cut him off.

"How much for the other one?"

"Pardon me?" Otokono said.

"I will give you 2000 for the other one."

"Sir, I've had Janisa for years, and we've become quite close-"

"2250."

Otokono hesitated, and glanced down at Janisa, who stared at a spot just to the left of the noble, trying to avoid displaying emotion. "I'm sorry, sir, but-"

"2500. It is my final offer. You will take it, or take them both back with you."

Otokono's eyebrows raised, then he nodded mutely.

The scribe scrawled on the paper.

"Thank you, Otokono. You have fallen into favor, in my eyes. I'm impressed. Please visit me again if you find any more treasures such as these."

Otokono bowed deeply, then walked out of the room. He closed the door quietly.

For a moment, there was silence. Both girls were afraid to speak, since neither knew what this noble was like. The exhilerance of still being together strained against the fear. Laurel was strong, but she knew that constant transfer from one place to another would crush her. Now she and Janisa could draw from each other. For now, at least.

"What are your names?" the noble asked.

"I am Janisa," Janisa said. "And this is Laurel."

The noble motioned for her to step forward, and she did, and stood next to Laurel.

"My name is Shain Raveller," he said. The noble paused and looked at them both. "You should relish the time you stay here; it will be as short a stay as I can make it. You two were quite expensive, for prostitutes."

Borim sensed her only a moment before she came flying out of the door.

They were in the middle of the bridge when Aleya showed up, with Garen right behind her. Borim dropped his torch and started running towards her. She ran at him, and Borim drew his sword. Just before he reached Garen, he caught a flash of the kidnapper's angry face.

Borim attacked. His sword swung at Garen's neck with deadly accuracy. But the Soulstealer, as if it had a mind of its own, went straight for Borim's blade. They met with a loud clang, and a spray of sparks. Borim's sword broke, halfway down the blade. The amputated blade spun away, over Garen's left shoulder, and the shortened sword nicked the right side of his neck.

They were past each other, Borim holding his crippled broadsword. His mind was infused with a killer instinct, so he whirled around without thinking. In a flash, his dagger was out, and he stabbed it at Garen.

But the other boy had also turned, and he dodged. The blade opened a gash in his cloak. Garen punched his right fist forward, and the pommel struck Borim's face.

Light flashed in front of his vision, and the bodyguard toppled back. He landed near the edge of the bridge, and his broken sword flew out into the chasm.

Garen turned back to the others, and ran after Aleya again. Now, the exhausted girl was on her hands and knees behind Lia, breathing raggedly. Bolthorn stepped in front of Aleya, and reached for his sword.

"Bolthorn," Lia said. "I can take care of th-"

Then Bolthorn drew his sword.

Warning bells went off in Garen's mind, and the Soulstealer leaped into guard position.

Lia screamed and clutched her head. She dropped to her knees, her muscles straining tightly.

Fire blasted down the sword, and sprung from the tip, arching out into the darkness. Borim's eyes glowed intense purple, and waves of the watery energy erupted around him. A cylinder of the stuff swirled around him, rapidly increasing in speed, until it was a positive tornado. Soon, Bolthorn vanished in the luminance.

Gale-force winds tore across the bridge, centering around the warrior. Howls filled the vast chamber, and echoed throughout the chasm. Screams of demons clawed into their minds, reaching to tear out their sanity.

Lia fell forward onto her hands, and her eyes opened wide. Purple radiance poured from them, as if she were possessed. Her whole body seemed to be straining against the energy that fought to possess her.

Behind the elf, Aleya was far too confused to do anything.

Garen sensed that Kra was working here, but the resistance was far more than the god had expected. Somehow, Bolthorn, the weak-minded human, was stopping the god's progress. For a moment he considered waiting, since there was almost no probability of Bolthorn's victory, but Garen's instinct won over. Never was it good to assume.

So he ran toward Aleya again.

As he ran, the hurricane ceased.

Garen skidded to a stop, and warily looked at Bolthorn. The warrior was lying on his stomach in the middle of the bridge, his sword just a few inches from his grasp.

For a few moments, there was only a heavy silence, then Bolthorn groaned. His hand slowly groped for the sword's handle, and then he found it. His fingers closed around the grip, and the sword scratched along the bridge, as he dragged it up. Bolthorn staggered to his feet, and when he finally levelled his gaze at Garen, the boy paled. Though Garen's possessor had lived for thousands of years, it had been a long time since it had seen such a hateful, and deadly, stare.

"Fuck," Garen breathed, extending the Soulstealer once more.

Bolthorn raised Krenash, level to the boy's sword, and they just looked at each other. Tense silence filled gap between the warriors, and stretched out for thirty seconds - an eternity.

Then, Bolthorn attacked. He fell on Garen like an enraged god, and their swords met like the collision of two planets. A sphere of Krenash's fire expanded from each sword blow, and every strike sounded like a gong. Though Garen was much smaller, he fought with deadly skill.

Borim was the only one capable of interfering, but for the first time in his life, he put his emotions aside, and just watched as the two avatars brought heaven and hell together in one place.

The power scale increased exponentially as they fought, and Borim soon realized they would have to leave. With every strike, Krenash's energy devoured more of the surrounding bridge. If things continued, the cave would collapse. But he couldn't get to Lia and Aleya, without moving past the two warriors.

That would be impossible.

As Garen was driven back toward him, Borim scrambled away, yelling at Aleya mentally. After a moment, she responded, and grabbed the unconscious Lia. Though she was starving and weak, Aleya began dragging the elf away from the battle. She stumbled and slipped, but after a few minutes, managed to get Lia into the opposite doorway.

Borim sighed with relief, then looked back at the battle. With a start, he realized that the middle of the bridge no longer existed. Both of them were fighting on open air. When he looked at Bolthorn, his jaw dropped. Bolthorn was no longer just a big warrior, he was gargantuan. His size had doubled, at least. His face was replaced with a skull, surrounded by a nimbus of purple fire. Bolthorn's armor consisted of huge black plates; spikes jutted from the gauntlets, his elbows, shoulders, and knees.

Garen was a formless black shadow.

Then, the Bolthorn-avatar struck a terrible blow to Garen. With a massive explosion, the two avatars were thrown back to opposite sides of the broken bridge. There was a thirty-foot gap in the middle.

The Garen-avatar's smoke tightened and formed into the smaller boy. "Neither of us can win, Bolthorn," Garen said. "We are fighting ourself."

On the other side of the chasm, the Bolthorn-avatar shrank into his normal size. Down the center of the skull was a crack, into which the fire-nimbus was sucked. As soon as the fire finished draining into the crack, it sealed up, and Bolthorn's normal head rematerialized. His armor seemed to melt out of the spiked armor. "I don't care," Bolthorn panted.

Borim couldn't see Garen's expression, but there were a few moments of silence, then the boy vanished.

Ranon let out a stream of oaths as the horse dragged him and two other stableboys out of the stall. A shard of wood sliced open his forearm, from his wrist to his elbow. Blood immediately oozed from long wound, practically freezing in the cold temperature.

"Shit!" Ranon hissed through his teeth, still struggling to hold back the animal. He had taken off his winter coat because it was too bulky, now he had a fucking gash down his arm. Probably get fucking infected.

The horse was determined, but at least it wasn't going crazy. All it wanted was to get outside. It snorted and strained against the three stableboy's, each holding a rope. Finn, the stablemaster, was in the back, grabbing some sleeping powder to shove up the horse's nose. This horse was sick, old, and weak, but it was putting up some fight.

"I'll fuckin' kill this bastard!" Jesher, one of the other stableboys spat. Then the horse tossed his head, yanking Jesher off his feet. The boy fell into a trough, and broke through the ice that had built up on the top.

"Not so long as Lorinn pays me to keep him," Stablemaster Finn shot back, rushing his girth from his office. In his cupped palm was a handful of green powder. Finn came around to the front of the horse, who snorted a cloud of smoke in the man's face. The stablemaster swung his open hand at the horse's snout, and cried triumphantly when it inhaled a lungful of the powder.

If the horse was mad before, now it was insane. The instant it breathed in the powder, it backpedaled into another stall door, nearly unhinging it. The horse in that stall started panicking. Meanwhile, all three stableboys and Finn had been scattered across the stables, ingesting various amounts of frozen hay, dirt, or sawdust.

Ranon rolled up to his feet, facing the horse like it was an opponent in battle. Now, though, the horse was finally getting drowsy, and had stopped bouncing around. Fortunately. It could have trampled them without even noticing.

A few moments later, the herbs had taken effect. The beast stood, pacified and panting, just near the exit. Large clouds of smoke puffed from its nostrils, making it look like a dragon.

Anwren, the other stableboy, grabbed the horse's reigns and pulled it into the stall. "Why does Lorinn want to keep this horse?"

Finn heaved a huge sigh of relief, then said, "I think it's a sentimental thing. It was a gift from his mother, and the old boy just can't bear to part with it. Never comes to see it, I suppose he just sits at home knowing that it's here, healthy."

Jesher snorted. He had climbed out of the trough, but was dripping wet. He shivered uncontrollably, and his teeth chattered loudly.

"All right boys," Finn said. "You better git outta here before you all catch ill. We can fix the first stall tomorrow about noonday. Anwren, you're not hurt, you stay here for a minute and help me."

Anwren tied up the dazed horse and agreed. "You two go to my house," he said. "It's closer, and Gwen can help fix you up."

"I won't argue with that," Jesher answered. "Come on, Ranon."

After grabbing his coat, Ranon followed the other stableboy out and into the snow. It was the same temperature outside as it was in the stables.

"Gods," Jesher snarled when they were a few yards down the road. "That damned horse acts up about every other week, and Finn still keeps the damn thing. Last time it broke my foot! Did I tell you about that?"

Ranon pulled on his coat and cloak, and shook his head.

"Two months ago, horse did the same thing. Like it's ever gonna get outside? Ha! So it tries to do this same thing again, but it can't break free of the hook this time, so it look likes it's gonna hurt itself. 'Go in there and give it some blackout,' Finn tells me. Tir!" Jesher spat. His teeth were chattering audibly now, and his speech was broken up by stutters. "He's payin' me, though, so I take the damned herbs in there and shove 'em in the thing's face. It jumps up, and lands on my fuckin' toe! I swear, I thought I was gonna croak! That hurt so much!"

"I can imagine," Ranon nodded.

"C'mon," Jesher urged. "Let's hurry and get over to Wren's." He started jogging, and Ranon followed.

By the time they reached Anwren's house, the snow was a foot thick, up against the side of the porch. Anwren's dog ran out to meet them, but both of them ignored the tail-wagging ball of fur.

Jesher pounded on the door rapidly.

A few moments later, a woman opened the door and looked at them, surprised.

"G'day Miss Faror," Jesher said courteously. "Would you mind if we-"

"Gods, boys!" she cried, opening the door. "Get in here! Where's Wren?"

"He'll be here in a few minutes," Ranon said.

Jesher ran over to the fireplace and practically sat in it, trying to warm his hands. Ranon took off his cloak and coat, then walked over next to Jesher. "You boys make yourself warm!" called Anwren's mother.

Gwen, Anwren's sister, skipped down the stairs and stopped when she noticed them. She was short, maybe four and a half feet tall, with short brown hair, falling halfway down her neck. Her eyes were the color of chestnuts, just a little lighter than her hair. "Where's Wren?" she asked.

Ranon let Jesher answer. He had only been in this town a couple weeks, and had found a job as the stable boy pretty quickly. Everyone was nice to him, and liked him, but he was still uncomfortable around some people. Especially Gwen.

Ever since he had first seen her, he had been attracted to her, but that was not something that should happen. She was Anwren's sister, and from the way Jesher occasionally spoke, Ranon got the idea that he liked her, too. This wasn't something he should meddle around in, but she was so cute. Though she was seventeen, she didn't look any older than Ranon. Jesher was the same age as Gwen, which made him perfect for her. All Ranon's reason said that, but his instinct fought him.

Not that any of it mattered, he couldn't have her if he wanted. In nine months, he would leave, and his entire existence revolved around Alleria. Now, she was nothing more than a stone around his neck. Her presence just hindered him from living a normal life, and he resented her for that.

At first, it felt noble, righteous, and great, to be her Protector. Now, especially with the pregnancy, things had become impossible between them. Every time they spoke they were fighting, or at least he was. Anything Alleria said, Ranon immediately blocked out. He wanted nothing to do with her, but she was his whole existence. Without her, he would be...free.

But no. He had made a vow, because she had chosen him. At first-

"Ranon!" gasped Gwen. She had been talking before, to Jesher probably, but when she said his name, he focused in on her. "What happened to your arm!"

Ranon glanced at the gash on his forearm, and gaped. The blood now coated his entire arm, and was dripping onto the floor. "Shit!" he swore, grabbing his cloak. He started to wipe it all over the cloak, but Gwen slapped his hand away.

"Quit that!" she scolded. "Me and mother will bandage you up right now. Come with me." Gwen dragged him out of the living room, and Ranon caught a quick glance at Jesher. Faint lines of jealousy traced across his forehead.

Not good.

Not good at all.

Ghin counted his goblin troops again. Twelve. He double-checked their number every half hour; they had a tendency to get lost and not care. The wizard sighed and leaned back against the tree. Here they were, behind enemy lines, chasing after that damn old sorcerer, Alinor. Ghin had been only hours behind Alinor for two days now, which was building his suspicion. Either Alinor knew Ghin was following him, and just toying with him, or he just decided to speed up at exactly the same time Ghin did. It was a strange occurrence, but Ghin wasn't too worried.

No, he was more worried about the Minion all around him. His goblin troop, the "Fairies" as he called them, had been following him for a while now, but they probably weren't missed. In an army of more than 100,000, who would notice twelve goblins? Especially if they weren't there?

Ghin and the Fairies had been dodging Minion patrols ever since they crossed the enemy lines, hot on Alinor's tail. Maybe. Ghin had a distant feeling that maybe he shouldn't try to kill Alinor until the war was over, but, as usual, he ignored that feeling.

Yes. They would rest for a few hours, then continue after Alinor. Hopefully they would find that old bastard, and kill him. The Fairies would distract Jonas for a few precious moments, enough time to strike at Alinor.

The old fool.

Alyssa, and most of the other girls, rarely traveled to the first floor. That was why their skin was always so pale. In the Red Feather's dim lighting, though, no one seemed to notice. When she walked up to Balan, she caught sight of herself in a mirror, and was shocked.

Alyssa's hair was short, an inch lower than her ears, and normally it looked decent, but tonight it hung lifelessly, like a brown mop. Dark circles highlighted her lower eyes, and her skin looked dreadfully pale. Alyssa's hand instinctively went to her hair, and she gaped. "Arial!" she profaned. "I look like shit!"

Balan looked up at her, startled by her sudden presence. "What are you doing here?" he said.

Alyssa tore her eyes from the mirror. "You said we could come talk to you if..."

"I know, I know," Balan said. "Sorry." He leaned back and waved at the piles of money on the table in front of him. "The 4-12 shift just ended, and I'm divvying up their tips. Why? What's wrong?"

Alyssa seemed lost for a moment, then she remembered. "Oh yeah. I was kinda wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes."

Balan pointed to a nearby table. "Grab a chair."

Alyssa dragged it over to him and sat down. It was much more comfortable than the two chairs up in the bunkroom. Alyssa sat across from him and said, "What's the Red Feather going to do during the war?"

Balan leaned forward again and said, "Why?"

With a sigh, Alyssa began venting. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. For a long time I wanted to get outta here, but it's safer here, ya know? 'Cause I didn't have anywhere else to go, or no jobs or anything, so I just figured I could stay here, right? Well, you know that older girls aren't wanted at the Red Feather. With the war and all, I don't want to be sold or anything. Especially if my gold doesn't come with me."

"You know," Balan said, "Red Feather has been looking for older girls. About ten years back, you were the youngest they got, until one of the Red Feathers just got racy and bought a 13-year old. Then that became the standard. Got real popular, and we made a shitload of money. Times when we had a harem of like 20 pre-teens. Now a lot of merchants are turning back to the good ol' brothel. Seems younger girls aren't as popular anymore. So don't be so sure we'd sell you right off."

"Really?" Alyssa smiled. "That's great! About the younger girls, I mean. It ruins them to bring 'em here so young. At least when they're older they know what they're gettin' into."

Balan nodded. "If you're desperate to get away from this city - there is going to be a bloody battle here - you can see if the Arangrad Red Feather will buy you. Would actually give you some time off; travel time is about a week, I believe."

Alyssa crossed her legs and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I might just do that..." she murmured. Then she reconsidered, "I don't know. I already know everybody here, and it might be worse up there."

Balan shrugged. "Always a gamble," he said. "If you-"

A servant walked from the foyer and without stopping, whacked Balan's shoulder. He continued toward the kitchen.

"Korrin!" Balan called, but the servant ignored him. "Wonder what he..." Balan saw Alyssa looking pointedly past him.

Balan turned around and saw two men standing behind him. One was shorter and slightly pudgy, with a grey-streaked beard. He wore fine clothes, finer than most, and a thick fur cloak. The man behind him stayed inconspicuous, and was good at it. Probably the short one's bodyguard.

Balan stood up. Many of the clients had bodyguards, and most of them wore fine clothes, but this one had a different air about him. Only when the man pulled his hood back did Balan recognize him.

"Lord Mallor," Balan said without skipping a beat. "May I take your cloak?"

The man unfastened it and handed it to Balan without even looking at him. "Where's Azrim?"

"Sleeping, m'lord," Balan replied, smoothing out the cloak. "Shall I fetch him?"

"Yes," Mallor replied, looking toward Balan. As his head turned, he noticed Alyssa and stopped for a moment, appraising her. She stared back openly. He seemed to laugh a little, then said, "Yes, have him meet me in the green room." After a moment's consideration, Mallor said to Alyssa, "You'll serve us during the meeting."

"I'm sorry sir," Alyssa said, "I'm not a-"

"She'll be there in a short time, m'lord," Balan interrupted.

Mallor registered what Balan said, then proceeded to the stairs. He and his bodyguard walked up the winding stairwell and disappeared. A moment later, they reappeared on the mezzanine, walked across, then went down another hall that presumably led to the 'green room.'

"What did you do that for?" Alyssa demanded. "That's not my job!"

"That's Oshram Mallor," Balan gestured for Alyssa to stand up. "He has ownership over the Red Feathers. All of them."

"Wondered why you were so eager to kiss ass," Alyssa muttered, coming to her feet.

"I didn't kiss his ass," Balan replied. "Never have, never will. I don't do that. I only showed him the proper respect."

"Well, maybe you should kiss his ass sometime. Get you out of your lowly nightmaster position."

Balan snorted and began examining Alyssa's face. He pulled her hair back and contemplated a short pony tail. "Mm. Go get Kelnora and get her to make you up. She's got hair powder and stuff. Ask her if you should wear your hair down or up. She's in the accounting office. Be up in the green room inside five minutes or you're sold."

Alyssa scowled. "What about our conversation?"

"We'll do it when you get back."

With a snort of indignation, Alyssa stalked off to the accounts room. If she could remember where it was. It had been two weeks since she last traveled to the first floor, and even longer since she traveled past the cafe. Usually she just came here to talk to Balan, when no one else was in the bunkroom.

After a couple minutes of searching, Alyssa found the new night server (she'd replaced Bornas) and explained her situation. Kelnora listened politely, then led Alyssa down to her room. Kelnora seated Alyssa in front of a huge mirror, something she only saw rarely, and opened up a drawer. Inside was a variety of make-up and cosmetics.

"This will come out of the petty cash," Kelnora said. "Tell Balan when you get done."

Alyssa nodded, and Kelnora set to work. In the span of five minutes, Alyssa had been almost transformed. With a few strokes of Kelnora's brush, her hair no longer clung to her head. The cosmetics softened the circles beneath her eyes, and gave her a small appearance of health. The gold dust made Alyssa look like a fairy, she thought, but it wasn't too bad.

"All right," Kelnora said when she finished. "Sorry, that's all I can do in such short time. You'd better go up there now."

"Thank you," Alyssa said.

She went upstairs and managed to find the green room. It was a large conference room, with a green color scheme, of various shades. Two divans and three chairs created a semicircle around the fireplace; in front of the fireplace was a small table. Oshram Mallor and Azrim were seated on either side of the table, talking quietly.

Alyssa walked over to them uncertainly. Two times, she had been hired by more than one man at a time; neither experience was particularly pleasant (were they ever?). Hopefully that wasn't what Mallor intended. Last time she ended up taking it in her ass and face at the same time. After that, she struggled not to pull their balls off.

When she was right behind Azrim, Mallor looked up and said, "Bring us a bottle of Grollenik wine and a few sticks of Hrih."

Alyssa gave a short bow, then went back out the door. Outside the room, she stopped and wondered why Mallor wanted her to wait on them. There was always a chance that he would later take what he wanted from her...actually, that was almost certain...but why have her wait on them? That was like...stupid. She wasn't a skilled servant.

With a roll of her eyes, Alyssa stomped down a back stairway she had seen earlier, and found herself in the kitchen. At this time of morning, only a few cooks were on duty. One of them was lounging near the back door, looking out at the snow. He noticed Alyssa and said, "Can I help you?"

"I'm...ah, serving for Lord-" lord...why was he a lord? "-Mallor, and he wanted me to get him some things."

"What?"

"A bottle of wine and something called Zshrih."

The cook winced as she butchered the word. "Hrih," he said. "You're not a servant, are you?"

"Obviously not," Alyssa said impatiently. "Where can I find those things?"

"Come with me," the cook sighed, leading her through another exit from the kitchen. They walked through a dimly lit hall down into the cellar. "Which wine did he ask for?"

"Something called Grollick, or-"

"Grollenik wine. Red, I assume?"

Alyssa nodded.

The cook pulled a nearby bottle from the rack and handed it to Alyssa. "It's not cold right now, so take one of the buckets by the door, and dip it into the ice bin, right next to it."

Alyssa nodded, and the cook walked back upstairs. She found a stack of buckets and did as he had instructed, then put the wine inside. At the top of the stairs, the cook was waiting for her. He had a small bundle of Hrih, and several wine glasses. "Here," he said. "How many men were there?"

"Just two."

The cook put two glasses in the bucket and said, "You don't have to fill the bucket to the top. A few inches below will do. The Hrih is just incense. Light it from a candle or lantern, and stick it in the incense holder on the mantle."

Alyssa nodded. "Thank you," she said.

Just as she was about to go back upstairs, the cook said, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Alyssa," she replied, looking at the cook for the first time. His hair was so short he looked bald. He wasn't too tall, but he had broad shoulders. Gave him sort of a squat look, like a dwarf. But she'd never seen a dwarf. Only five dwarves had come through this Red Feather while she worked here, and she hadn't seen any of them.

"I'm Colin," he replied, sticking out his hand.

Alyssa shook his hand, but as soon as her slim fingers touched his, he turned her palm so it faced the ground, bent over, and placed a kiss just above her knuckles. This gesture was so foreign to Alyssa, she jumped when he did it.

"Sorry," Colin apologized. "I'm from Arangrad."

"Is that common up there?"

"No."

Alyssa frowned for a moment, then said, "Oh. I'd...ah, better take this up to Lord Mallor now."

"Yes, yes, go ahead."

Alyssa hauled the bucket upstairs, and took it to Mallor and Azrim. "Thank you," Lord Mallor replied when she dropped it heavily on the table.

They continued talking to each other about complex business matters, and most of it flew right over her head. Though Galnor taught her about money, she knew none of the terminology used, making it impossible to understand what was said.

Alyssa pulled the incense out of the ice and lit it, then put it in the holder. Then Alyssa stood next to Azrim, until Mallor ordered her to sit down and wait. Ten minutes later, she noticed that the incense was out, so she relit it. Five minutes passed, and it went out again. When this happened two more times, she berated herself for putting the Hrih in the ice.

Alyssa waved it through the fireplace swiftly, trying to dry it off, then relit it. Finally, it decided not to go out. When the girl sat back down on the divan, she noticed the bodyguard standing in the corner. Just standing there. Gods! How long had that man been in the room? Probably for the whole time. And she hadn't even noticed him.

Two hours passed before Mallor sent her down to get them breakfast, then he let her go.

Without sex.

As she wandered back to Balan's table, she wondered why Mallor had even wanted her up there. Not that she minded; she probably wouldn't be paid for it.

Balan was looking over some documents when Alyssa sat across from him again.

"Hello," Balan said without looking up. "There's a person on the waiting list."

"He didn't even want sex!" Alyssa said.

"What?"

"He just made me sit there on the stupid couch for two hours! What a waste of time!"

"Hm." Balan set aside the documents. "I think you should help the man in 203, he's been waiting for thirty minutes."

"Not my fault," Alyssa said. "But I can't help him. Mallor said he might want me later." Which was a lie.

"Oh. Well, what else did you want to talk about then?"

"My-" Alyssa cut off.

The front door opened and two cloaked figures walked in. One was tall, and had on a dark gray cloak. He stood there for a moment looking down at Balan, who was waiting for Alyssa to continue.

"Aren't you going to take my cloak for me?" the man said.

Alyssa immediately recognized the voice. "Galnor!" she squealed. He pulled his hood back and grinned at Alyssa. She ran over and jumped into his arms, hugging him fiercely. "Where have you been?" she scolded.

Balan stood up, turned around, then leaned against the table. Galnor shook hands with Balan and said, "Haven't seen you in a while."

"You've been busy."

"Actually I haven't," Galnor said, setting Alyssa down. He walked over to Balan, and left Alyssa to face the other cloaked person.

The second person was shorter, and wore a white cloak. When the hood came back, Alyssa squealed once more. "Bree!" she practically tackled the younger girl, and they fell into a giggling heap.

"Hey girls!" Balan scowled. "Take it upstairs. If you guys wanna talk, the red room is empty. Or go up to the bunkroom."

"Where were you?" Alyssa demanded, helping Bree to her feet.

"At Garen's mansion."

"A mansion, eh?" Alyssa said thoughtfully, scratching her chin. "Any chance he'd be looking for another whore?"

Bree shook her head. "I wish I knew. Garen's been gone for a while, and nobody knows where."

"Is he ever coming back?"

"We don't know. He never really said much before he left, and-"

"Hey girls," Balan said. "Upstairs?"

Alyssa frowned at the nightmaster, then skipped up the stairs, with Bree in close pursuit. Balan watched them go, then turned back to Galnor.

"How's the money management working for you?" Balan asked.

Galnor sighed. "It's going great, actually. Garen's estate is overflowing, but I can't really do anything with them until he gets back...if he gets back. He's only given me permission to use his money for Bree's happiness, and a weapons distribution investment. There are other opportunities that I'd love to sink my teeth into, but I can't, and someone else'll get to them for sure before I do."

Balan nodded. "You're right. Legally, you can't do shit with his gold except sit on it and wait till he comes back, aside from the other permissives he's given you. Upkeep of the manor, I'd expect."

"Yes, but honestly, I don't know if he's coming back or not, he-"

"How long's he been gone?"

"A few weeks, I guess."

"Not nearly long enough. According to the ACL, he needs to be gone five years with no word, then an extensive investigation must be performed, then you present your case before the Board of Commerce, and usually they'll let you have it. Granted he has no surviving relatives, of course."

Galnor sighed. "Is there any way to bypass that?"

Balan scratched his chin. "What are his standing permissives, now?"

"I pay the servants, myself, I pay for Bree's happiness, all our living needs, and just the basics. You know, standard-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Did he say anything before he left?"

"He just said that I can pay for Bree's happiness, and I have 'final say' on all his monetary transactions. I'm not quite sure how to interpret that. Of course, I'm able to spend money through the Windy Cliffs Weapons Company, but that's already done with."

"I'd visit the King's Library, and look for any rulings dealing with situations like that. You can ask the Board of Commerce, but they're probably overladen with cases now, what with all this inflow from Harnash. Might be a while before they can get to you. That might be advantageous, if you do wish to try something with his money. If he came back and brought charges against you, it'd be a while before they got around to your case."

"But they'd still get to us."

"Uh-huh. Do you think he's coming back at all?"

Galnor shrugged. "Not really. I can't say why, it's just a hunch."

"Well, like I said, the Board of Commerce is probably packed, so you may be overlooked by the Money Watchers if you skip out on the kid's authorization."

"I know, I'm just a little cautious, is all."

"You should be. Speaking of which, I think you should tuck at least half of Garen's account in your manor. Or put it somewhere safe."

"I know. That's one reason we came up here. I really want to move into the city. The manor is pretty much out in the open, and with the Minion coming..." he trailed off.

Balan nodded. "Well, prices are skyrocketing, so you'd better hurry."

"I have a friend who'd be willing to sell for cheap, but he won't hold for long, and I can't buy without Garen's approval. That's why I came to talk to you, to see if there was any way to slip through the cracks."

Balan thought for a few moments. After a time, he said, "I would sell the mansion outside the city, buy the one in here, and move, within the next week. Claim it under Bree's Happiness if you have to."

"Really? Do you think the Board would buy that?"

"Wait. How many witnesses were there?"

"To what?"

"To Garen's last directive."

"Just Nor."

"Who?"

"He's the servant at the manor."

Balan shook his head. "A single, third-party witness has never stood up in court, but it's your only chance. And if you've got a chance at a manor in here, I'd go for it as soon as possible. Things are starting to get crazy around here, and outside the city walls is not a good place to be. Like I said earlier, it might be easier for you to be missed by the Money Watchers. They're probably paying attention to those damn Harnash merchants. I would be. When I start my shift, this place is a madhouse. It's pretty quiet now, for once. Anyway, yes, go do it. It's probably your only chance. And I'd bury Garen's gold somewhere deep under your mansion, inside a triple-enchanted vault with five guards."

"What? Why?"

Balan leaned forward. "Honestly, I don't trust the Bank of Althoria. It's liable to close up in the middle of the war, and have loaned out more money than it can pay. Then we'll have a lot of poor people here in Althoria. Best to be rich, I say."

Galnor yawned. "I suppose so."

"Yes. Do that, and come back if you need any more advice."

Galnor nodded. "Yes, I will. I'm going to sleep now."

"You'll have to become a member of the inn, first," Balan said.

"Oh," Galnor said. "Join me up, then."

Lily's eyes opened slowly, and she stared straight at the ceiling. Her sleep never quite seemed to leave. It was as though she was awake...yet still asleep. It made no sense, but at the time, it didn't have to. She was interested in the fact that her ceiling was on fire.

Four rows of burning runes were etched into the dark stone. As she gazed at them curiously, through her haze of sleepiness, Lily wondered what they meant. And why they were there. While she was wondering these things, the meaning slowly dawned on her, one phrase at a time. It made no sense to her, since the meanings came in images. Revelations. Understanding of the words, not translations. They seemed to fall into place like pieces of a puzzle.

Oblivion - Life in Chaos - Conflict - Together - Wyrm - Child - Black Cloud.

A blackness, a pit that threatened to swallow her up, and keep her falling forever. Crimson winds raged around a small egg of light, in front of the Oblivion. Then the Oblivion seemed to expand outward, like a dark cloud, eating up everything. Swallowing up even the blackness. The crimson winds swirled in front of the Oblivion and solidified into the Wyrm. Then they fought; two forces of sheer chaos attacking each other. The battle between the Wyrm and the Oblivion was indescribable. The noise deafened Lily, and the vibrations rattled her bones. She closed her eyes and tried to scream, fully entrapped in the vision, but by the time her lips opened, everything was gone. The silence itself seemed to echo in her ears. When she looked aroun, she saw only a gray haze, and a glowing light. A new one. Off in the distance, she saw a small black dot, leaking black smoke. But she paid it no heed. Instead, Lily watched the Child, as it slowly grew and gained power. It was several minutes before she noticed that the gray haze had been blanketed by the black smoke she had ignored. Now it was closing in, and threatening to surround her and the Child. "No!" Lily screamed. "Look out!" she yelled at the Child...

Lily bolted upright. Her clothes were soaked in sweat, and she was trembling. For some reason, an afterimage of Doronar was imprinted in her vision. A few moments passed before it faded and she was able to regain her bearings. The palace, her chambers, her bed, her body...

Gods, this was enough. These visions were starting to get to her.

Lily looked at the fire. It was out. That meant it was early morning.

Without a further thought, she threw off the covers (hoping something didn't jump out at her) and walked to her wardrobe. It was time to leave.

Alyssa had on a face of pure disgust by the time Bree had finished.

"What?" Bree asked when she saw the older girl's expression.

"You're just gross," Alyssa said. "You sit here and whine at me about how boring your life is now that Garen's gone every single day. You have nothing to do but sit around on your ass everyday, wallowing in your silk pillows and piles of gold! Boo - hoo!"

Bree gaped at Alyssa's vehement response.

For a moment, Alyssa just stared at her angrily, then she grinned. "Just kidding, girl! Gods! You need to relax!" she hit Bree's shoulder. "Tir, why don't you calm down?"

"Sorry," Bree scowled. "I've been away for a while," she glanced around the bunkroom nervously. "It's not the same."

"Why not?"

"I'm not...for hire, anymore."

"Thank the gods every single day, Bree," Alyssa said. "You don't know how lucky you are to have found Garen. Especially since he's gone so much. You and Galnor can just sit around the house and bask in the wealth, girl. It's a wonderful life. Enjoy it."

"Galnor thinks we might be able to get Garen's money. He just picked up and left, and nobody knows where he went, so we might get it all. If we do, you could come live with us. It would be nothing to buy you out."

For the first time in a long time, Alyssa was truly surprised. "R-Really?" she stammered. "I-I don't know. That sounds a little too good."

Bree shrugged. "That's what he's talking to Balan for. Would you want to?"

"Of course I would you cute dumbass!" Alyssa grinned and grabbed Bree's hand and pulled her toward the door. "Let's go see what they're-ah!" she collided with Balan just as he was coming in the door. "Watch where you're going! I almost-"

"Time for Mallor," Balan said.

"Huh?" Alyssa said.

"You said Lord Mallor asked you to wait for him. Now he wants you."

Great. Now her lie had doubled back on her. "Oh - uh, yeah. Lemme go primp and I'll be there in a minute."

"Room 420," Balan said.

Alyssa scowled and said to Bree, "I'll be back in a little bit." She went into the bathing room to wash her face.

"Briana," Balan said. "How have you been lately?"

"Fine," she smiled, following him back downstairs. "How have you been?"

"Just dandy," he replied. "Everything's going fine. Haven't been able to bash anymore heads since Bornas, but that's the worst of it. You guys's room is 201, so you can go on up if you like."

"Oh? Sure," Bree said. "I'm getting a little tired anyway. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

Balan nodded and gave a short bow. He sat down at his desk and began working once more.

Bree walked up to 201, suddenly realizing she was tired. Today had been quite a long day, and she was ready to fall right asleep. When she reached the room, she tentatively opened the door, and slipped inside. There was one candle alight, but it was in the other room, so she couldn't see too well. "Galnor?" she asked.

No response.

Bree walked a bit further into the room, cautiously. For the most part, she remembered where everything was, but she didn't want to trip on a footstool or something.

"Galnor?" Bree repeated.

Then she felt his hand slide down her right arm, over the fabric of her tunic. Bree jumped, then let her heartbeat slow down. "Galnor," Bree said. "Please, I'm tired. Today's been a long..." she cut off when his fingers drifted across the front of her tunic. They deftly unfastened her cloak, and it slid to the ground in a heap. "Galnor," she tried once more. "Please, I'm very tired, and I don't feel like..." her breath caught when Galnor's hand slipped between her legs from the back, rubbing ever-so-gently along her nether lips. Bree tried to resist the natural feelings that came to her, because she knew she would be exhausted, and would sleep all the next day...but...what did it matter? Galnor was going to be in town, conducting business, and she would be stuck at the inn. What was there to do here...?

Galnor's left hand continued massaging her lower lips through her pants, and he pulled her hair back behind her shoulders. His mouth slowly kissed down the side of her face, down her neck. It was just like Garen. Garen was a wonderful lover, but...he was strange at times.

Galnor's right hand moved to her front once more, and he unlaced the front of her tunic, then pushed his fingers into the opening. His fingertips moved between her breasts, then he unlaced the rest of her tunic, letting it fall open. The air was cold, since no fire had been started.

A servant knocked, probably to start one.

Bree's eyes snapped open. "We should get that," she whispered. Her breath was coming lightly, since she was turned on.

"One more knock of three, then he'll leave," Galnor murmured, moving his mouth lower down her neck. He pushed her tunic, slipping it down her smooth shoulders, and pulling each sleeve from the girl's arms. His mouth trailed kisses down her shoulder, then down the side of her back. Bree's skin was so soft and smooth, it was like kissing silk.

"Galnor," Bree said one more time, even as she felt the lust drive away her drowsiness. "Please, I'm-"

The servant knocked three times again.

Galnor dropped the tunic, and moved his hands to the front of her waist. His fingertips skimmed across Bree's slim stomach, circled her bellybutton, then moved down to the rim of her pants. His thumb and forefinger slipped inside, and found the string that held them up. With those two fingers, Galnor pulled out the knot, and it came undone.

Bree's heartbeat increased as she anticipated what was to come. For about a week after Garen had left, she'd never expected to have sex again. Not that it mattered, really, she'd had more sex in two years than many women had in their whole lives. As it happened, both she and Galnor got drunk one night, and...well, she actually started it. Of course, after she started it, he took the dominant position. And that was how it always was since then.

Galnor slowly slid Bree's pants down her legs, until she was standing naked. It was too dark to see anything, but Galnor's hands did all the exploring, and they saw enough to know how perfect her small body was. He kissed further down her back, down her right buttock, then turned her around until she faced him. Galnor looked at her. He could just see a small speck of light in each of her eyes - the candle from the other room. Bree's breath quickened, and Galnor grinned. He bent down and kissed her. Bree's arms wrapped around his neck, and their mouths took over. For nearly a minute, they kissed passionately, and Galnor stopped himself from ripping off his clothes and mounting her right there.

But he pulled away, and moved straight down, kissing down her throat, to her collar bones, then moving to her beautiful breasts. Now, Bree's nipples were like pebbles, hard and erect. She gasped as he sucked and gnawed on each breast, taking her young flesh into his mouth. Time passed, then Galnor moved down her stomach, to her navel, then to her pubic hair. Bree's legs spread unconsciously, and her breath came in short gasps. He slipped his tongue out and moved it across her lower lips, then raked it back, parting them slightly with the tip of his tongue.

Bree inhaled sharply, waiting for his next move. He did it again, and the pleasure shot up from between her legs, tingling in her breasts and spine. Her breath came out raggedly. Galnor repeated it and then continued, increasing speed and rubbing her clit with his tongue. Soon the pleasure was just coming in one constant wave, carrying her along with it. After a few minutes, Bree felt her climax approaching. Galnor sensed it too; he slipped two fingers up into her wet pussy and began pumping them in and out rapidly. That knocked Bree over the edge before she knew what hit.

The orgasm shattered her consciousness, and her knees almost buckled. Bree's spasms remained controlled, though, and she managed to stay on her feet, barely. When the climax and her scream died away, Bree stumbled and fell to her knees.

When Bree regained her bearings, she found herself in Galnor's arms. The first thing she noticed was his erection, pressing against the small of her back. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Hm," Galnor chuckled.

Bree turned around and reached out again. Her hands found Galnor's shoulders, and she ran her fingers down his chest and stomach until she found his hard-on. As her fingers crossed it, he let out a small groan. It wasn't hard to figure out what he wanted.

In the darkness, she grasped his erection firmly and bent over it. She slowly licked the tip, mingling her saliva with his precum. Bree cleaned off the precum, then took as much as she could into her small mouth. Galnor moaned and she felt his organ throbbing on her tongue.

With leisurely movements, Bree began swallowing Galnor's member, drawing it deep into her throat, until his cockhead was almost pressed against the back. When it was as far in as it could go, Bree just started sucking on it, roaming across it with her tongue and teeth, until he came. As she expected, he came quickly. Galnor's fingers dug into her shoulders and he shouted out as his seed flooded her mouth. The hot semen filled her mouth for a moment, then Bree began sucking it down like water, until her cheeks drew inwards.

When Galnor was spent, and he stopped spurting, Bree sat back, wiping her mouth. She always wondered what would happen if Garen came home and caught them in this position.

Alyssa waited for a full fifteen minutes, per the regulations, before quietly sliding from beneath the covers.

It was Red Feather policy that the whores wait a quarter hour, or until the customer was snoring, before they left the room. Quite an annoying rule, since the men would sometimes wake up ten minutes later (those who didn't snore, like Mallor), all refreshed.

Alyssa carefully extricated herself from the sleeping merchant, pulling her leg out from between his, and lifting his arm off her chest. As she did, she noticed a small symbol on the white flesh of the man's bicep, on the inside, just a couple inches below the armpit. It was a black tattoo of a scythe.

With a sigh, Alyssa searched for her robe, and found it lying beneath the bed. As she stood to leave, she noticed the bodyguard sitting in the corner, watching her. The thought of that man watching her and Mallor fuck was slightly disturbing. Just slightly.

And did that guy ever sleep?

Alyssa fastened her robe about her waist and pulled the sash tight. She walked out the door, and closed it quietly behind her. Alyssa passed one of a patrolling Red Feather guards on her way to the bunkroom. She hoped Bree was still awake. It was only a couple hours before sunrise, now, so Alyssa doubted it.

When she arrived at the bunkroom, she was right. All the other girls had occupied bunks, and were sleeping quietly. Damn. The only bunk left was the broken one.

The bed they all left till last was old, and falling apart. The frame creaked, and hay was poking through a hole in the mattress. Someone spilled a drink on it ages ago, so now it always smelled like mildew. Usually, when Alyssa was the last one to the room, she would just pick up the youngest girl and dump her onto the bed, then take that girl's bed. Tonight, though, she was too tired, so Alyssa just wrapped herself up in the blanket and stared at the ceiling.

Thoughts streamed through her mind steadily, for almost another hour. Her mind moved from subject to subject, but most of it revolved around her life, and the Red Feather's role. Once or twice, Alyssa thought about the upcoming war, but that war was so distant, so far away, how could it impact her world? The war just seemed like a dream, and it wouldn't have any real impact on her life.

In a small corner of her mind, she wondered how long she could convince herself of that.

Alinor appeared beside of Jonas, back in the Tower. The room was small, since they were near the top of the Tower. Up here, the Tower was only about thirty yards in diameter. At its base, far below, the diameter was about a mile.

Four torches burned in this room, one for each direction of the compass. In the center of the room was a large, circular table, carved in to a flat map of Tirn Aill. Everything was on a small scale, but the ridges of the mountains and the deepness of the canyons was visible. The color was also perfect; it was so perfect that it looked real. The entire table looked like Tirn Aill, condensed into a ten-foot circle.

"Well?" Jonas said.

"Well?" Alinor said.

"Just as you expected," Jonas replied with a sigh. "They're cutting straight to Althorien. If Althorien's destroyed, victory would be a simple matter. Nobody else on Tirn Aill would be strong enough to withstand that many Minion."

"Nobody on Tirn Aill is strong enough to withstand that many Minion, except perhaps Draconia, in their homeland. But that is where the Minion would strike last, when they are the most powerful."

"Marath plans to leave one third of his forces behind, in the countryside. They'll provide supplies and food to the main force by stripping towns and farms, and I think they're planning to sweep towards Harnash. Tir knows that country can't survive a direct assault."

Alinor nodded. "Marath knows what he's doing. Our only hope is Aleya, and Doronar."

"What of Lily?"

"Oh yes, she's decided to go after him, finally. With her last vision, I tacked on an image of Doronar, and she started packing almost immediately."

"Good."

"The more they're apart, the less chance we have of getting them together."

"But it would have happened anyways-"

"Eventually," Alinor said. "I'm just speeding things up a bit, I hope. Have you heard anything from Lia?"

Jonas shook his head. "Should I go find her?"

Alinor thought for a moment, then said, "No, she should be left alone for now. If she hasn't found that engineer in a week, then we'll have to go after the Rose ourselves."

"Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"Of course I do. There may not be much of a choice, though. Kra is moving much faster than I had anticipated, and he leaves us no choice."

Jonas nodded. "Um, about the other night, did you ever find out what happened?"

Alinor sat down at the table and said, "Have you ever heard of a sword called Krenash?"

"Refresh me."

"A long time ago, in the Age of Life, Kra, Irol, and Genwral were brothers-"

"I know about the Death Rose."

"Shut up and listen. Kra, Irol, and Genwral were brothers. At this time, their true essences began to reveal themselves. Genwral didn't like what he saw in Kra, so one night, he visited his brother in his room, to try to change. He talked to Kra, and Kra got pissed. He told Genwral to get out, then he stabbed him in the back as he was leaving. Now, Kra wasn't powerful enough to obliterate Genwral; he just trapped Genwral's dead soul inside a stone in the floor of his room, so he would be stepped on every day.

"But Irol found out and attacked Kra. They battled for a century, our time, and tried to kill each other. They were an equal match, so they just weakened themselves until neither could move. In the process of beating on each other, their house was destroyed. Genwral's stone fell down here, in the shape of the Death Rose."

"I know that, you've-"

"But so did the swords that Irol and Kra were using. Both swords were infused with pieces of the gods. So your sword, Gren, is a piece of Irol. I'm presuming that Bolthorn's sword is its opposite, Krenash. When Bolthorn attempted to use the sword, it tried to take him over. If you hadn't been there, it probably would have."

Jonas was gaping and staring at his sword. "How come you never told me?" he demanded.

"Me or the sword?" Alinor asked.

"Either of you!" Jonas glared at Alinor. "I've had Gren for millenia, and-"

"I never thought about it until now. It didn't really matter, until now - now that we know its origins, and its purpose. You may have to confront Bolthorn someday."

Jonas shook his head. "Bolthorn retained control over Krenash. He's its master, now, just like I'm Gren's master. Isn't that right?" he patted the sword affectionately. The design in the pommel, a sideways hourglass, flared up angrily.

"Perhaps you're right," Alinor stood up. "But be cautious when you see him again. Warn Lia, too." He walked toward a circle near the edge of the room. "I'm going to sleep now. Tomorrow, I want to visit Flourville."

"What?"

"It's a town in Anoria. Bashran told me that the village elder had quite an extensive collection of books. A lot of them were written in what looked like Forean, he said."

Jonas nodded. "All right."

Alinor stepped into the circle, which was actually a circle of runes, with dozens more etched inside. He projected his destination outward, and the runes flashed. Alinor's body turned into white energy, then fizzled into the air.

Five levels up, Alinor materialized on his floor.

For a moment, Alinor just stood there, then he walked over to his window and looked out. He'd looked out this window a million times before, and long ago had he ceased to see the scene's beauty. The Tower was miles high, Alinor had forgotten how many, and never bothered to measure, but it was rare to see clouds outside of his window. Usually they stayed far below. Now, he could see them swirling around, and he could see patches of the ocean, reflecting the moonlight. Occasional lightning bolts leapt between stormclouds, lighting up patches of the gray moisture.

The Tower used to be situated in the middle of land, in a huge, huge forest. Green leaves could be seen in every direction. The majestic trunks of the Somarian forest looked like toothpicks from this height, but that was a long time ago. A long time ago.

It was difficult for human minds to comprehend time, beyond a certain measure. People were always fascinated by the length of elves' lives. Even longer than a hundred years seemed to fascinate them.

If Alinor remembered correctly, the oldest living elf on Tirn Aill was three thousand years old. He was the sage of a town, somewhere in Anoria. Anorian elves boasted that the sage was the oldest person in Tirn Aill, but he wasn't. Alinor was. Centuries seemed to blur past, and even his mind couldn't grasp his age, as a whole. Thousands of years. Far older than that elf.

Many people said that there wasn't enough time in a day, but for Alinor, there was too much. Time was eternal, and as far as he knew, he would live forever. That was why he found it so difficult to make friends. All his friends, even elves, eventually died, for some reason or another. When Jonas offered to be Alinor's bodyguard, Alinor refused, even though they were good friends. He had refused because he knew Jonas would die before Alinor ever needed him. But Jonas wouldn't give up, so Alinor relented, on one condition - Jonas had to be immortal.

Jonas agreed, wholeheartedly.

He never realized what a curse it could become.

So Alinor took Jonas to Nala's Spring, the fountain of eternal youth. Jonas drank the water, and condemned himself to live forever. They had been best friends ever since then, and that was ages ago. But Jonas was still young compared to Alinor. He hadn't yet realized what old age can do to a person.

Every so often, Alinor felt these pangs of weariness. Weariness of a soul trapped inside a body for too long. A species meant to live for no more than a hundred years, lived for thousands. It wasn't natural. He had been given Nala's gift at an early age, but even now, Nala's water seemed to be running thin.

Alinor wanted to sleep for a thousand years, but he couldn't.

Not now.

The bank was busy, even at sunrise. Merchants from all over the continent were busy negotiating, talking, shouting, and making money. In a few weeks, maybe even a few days, most of them would probably clear out and let Althorien take a beating from the Minion.

"Oddly enough, sir, Garen sho'Ren is quite new to our accounts. His holdings were set up only a few months ago, beginning at 93,000 gold. Usually-"

"Yes, yes, fine," Galnor said. "But now the problem is that we don't know where he is. He's run off and hasn't come back. We don't know when to expect him."

"And you are Galnor M'ren?"

"Yes. My question-"

"Who is Joden Tolar, then?" asked the banker.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, on the fifteenth of last month, you transferred almost 15,000 gold to numerous accounts. Weapons merchants, it looks like. Ever since then, yours has been the only signature on any transactions. It says here," the man peered at another one of the dozen papers he held, "you are acting as financial manager. It also says that Joden Tolar was acting as financial manager, but he was never removed from his contract."

"Oh...really?"

"Yes. Do you know Joden Tolar?"

Galnor shook his head.

"Does Garen want Tolar accessing his accounts?"

"No, his mistress said that Garen fired Joden because he disobeyed an order and tried to steal money from him, I think."

"Well, Joden still has full access to Garen's accounts, so you might want to tell Garen to remove Joden's contract."

"I would, but that's what I'm trying to tell you, he's gone."

"Oh?" the man looked over his spectacles. "Why didn't you tell me when you got here?"

That's the first thing I told you, stupid! I said it twice! "I'm sorry, but Garen's been missing for a few weeks now, and I think he might be dead."

"Five years is the mandatory wait period before presumption of death," the banker replied. "You'll have to prove that Garen's dead, before anything can be done with his account. You are only allowed to process transactions related to normal maintenance and the Windy Cliffs-"

"I realize that," Galnor scowled, "but my question..." he trailed off, staring at the far wall. An idea suddenly struck, and a slow grin formed on his face.

"Sir?" asked the banker.

Galnor grinned widely, and said, "Give me the contract for the Windy Cliffs Weapons Company," Galnor said quickly.

The banker searched through the mess of papers on his desk, then handed it over.

Galnor skimmed through it and laughed. This contract allowed the Windy Cliffs Weapons Company full access to Garen's account. And Galnor was the president of the Windy Cliffs Weapons Company. So long as the company was spending the money, Galnor was allowed to do whatever he wanted.

"What is it?"

"Forget it," Galnor said, handing the contract back to the banker. "The Windy Cliffs Weapons Company has decided to purchase a new manor in the city."

"Your company wants to purchase a house?" the banker asked. "Why would you..." then the banker stopped and smiled. He chortled heartily. "You're a devious one," he said, grabbing a clean sheet of paper.

Just then, someone right behind Galnor started shouting at the top of his lungs. "I want my land back! You can't do this to me! That's theivery! I-" Then he backed into Galnor. He cut off and saw the guards running toward him. Still hollering, the man started running, but the guards caught him and started pounding him. After the first few punches, the man shut up.

"What was that all about?" Galnor asked.

"A group of merchants called the Black Harvest. We've caught a couple of them, and rumor says they have tattoo's of sickles on their chests. They're selling insurance policies to farmers and townsfolk all over Althoria, in the name of the government. If the Minion destroy their land, or if anyone damages their property, the 'government' will pay back recompense in full. People fall for it, even though none of the merchants have government identification. Now they come here, complaining to us. Quite sad, really.

"Now, your company wanted to buy a house?"

Borric stormed into Lily's room, just as she hoisted her pack onto her shoulders. Two bodyguards rushed in behind him. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Lily gaped at the king, and forgot how to talk.

"You can't just pick up and leave," Borric snapped. "The Minion have already invaded Althoria, and are marching east as we speak! I can't have my only healer walking out on me!"

This was the first time that Borric had ever spoken to her other outside of a formal ceremony. For a moment, Lily's mind was empty, then she finally said, "I-I...huh?"

Borric's brow drew together. "I cannot-"

Then her mind clicked into place. "Sire," Lily said, "I cannot stay. I appreciate that you value me, but Alrick is an entirely competant healer, and I am hardly the only one left in Althorien. Lately, Nala has been calling me, and I must respond. My duty lies with her, more than you, Your Majesty. I'm sorry to say that, but it's true. The role she has set for me may be far more important than the one I have here. No matter how much I want to stay, I can't. I'm sorry." Lily took a deep breath and let it out to calm herself. There. She'd said it. Lily had prepared such a speech for Borric, but never expected to use it.

"Lily," Borric said in a calmer voice, "you swore loyalty to me-"

"Yes, but not slavery. There is nothing in my oath that states I must stay here for the rest of my life. I'm no longer able to continue my job here as a Healer of Vash, and I've terminated my membership with them. I'm leaving the country."

"Lily, the Minion are a strong foe, yes, but they don't-"

"I'm not leaving because of them, Sire. Nala has called me away, and I'm leaving. I must follow her bidding to move to the southern continent, and I'm not sure how long I'll be gone. Please don't keep me here."

Borric looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "All right," he consented. "But I'd rather you not go. We will need all the healers we can get, but if you must leave, then you must. I'm sorry to see you go." He looked at her for a few moments, then turned and walked out.

Lily stared after him. Gods! That was so fast! In then out. "Don't leave! Must you? Okay, bye." At least it was easy.

Lily looked around her room, and wondered if she would see it again. How long would it be before she returned? Would she return?

With a sigh of regret, Lily walked out and spent an hour saying good-byes to her friends. Alrick seemed the most surprised of all; being suddenly promoted to full healer from apprentice in a single minute must be pretty shocking. Of course, Borric would probably replace her with another Healer of Vash, then make Alrick apprentice again.

Lily walked through the city, and headed to the bank. She needed to withdraw the gold from her account and buy a horse. Then she had to talk to Nobu and find out how to get to Draconia. If it even existed.

"Clear the way!" someone yelled as she was about to enter the bank. She stepped aside and watched as two guards dragged a bloody body from the building. The man was alive, but had a broken nose, six missing teeth, and three cracked ribs. Whatever he'd done, the guards sure took care of him.

Lily walked into the bank, and raised her eyebrows. It was very crowded, mostly filled with merchants. The main room was large, and had a high ceiling. Tables lined the walls, and bankers sat behind them, negotiating fiercely with the customers.

Someone at a nearby table was standing up, so Lily walked over to the table and took his place.

"Good day," the banker said, looking at her through a pair of spectacles. "How may I help you?"

Lily just couldn't help it. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. "But would you mind taking off your glasses for a moment?"

"What?" he said.

"Your glasses, could you take them off?"

"Why?" he said suspiciously.

"I'd like to see something."

After some more persuasion, the man reluctantly removed his spectacles. There were red marks on his nose and ears. "I can hardly see without them," he protested. "I need them to-"

"-read, yes I know," Lily said. She slipped out of her backpack and left it on the chair. She leaned across the table and said, "Hold still."

"Hey!" the man flinched as her fingers touched his forehead. "What are you-"

"Just hold still," Lily ordered, like she was talking to a patient. The healing energy flowed from her fingers, directed to the man's eyes. After a moment, she pulled away, and said, "How does that look?"

The banker was blinking rapidly, looking at her and at the papers in front of them. He held up his glasses and looked through the lenses, then without them. For a few moments, his surprise was evident, then he swallowed. "How did you do that?" he asked in an awed voice.

"I'm a - I was a Healer of Vash."

"Really? The last healer said that he couldn't fix my vision!"

"What?" Lily snorted. "That's absurd. Vision is one of the easiest things to repair! It's a wonder why anyone made a science of spectacles."

"Vision is not the easiest thing to repair," said someone at the next table. "Skin is."

Another man standing next to the speaker said, "Hair's the easiest thing, if you want to get technical."

"Technically-" started the other one.

"What in Tir?" the banker scowled. "Are you two healers?"

They nodded.

"Are you people having a convention here?" he asked Lily.

Lily shook her head. "I don't know them."

"Well, anyway," the banker said. "What can I help you with?"

"I wanted to close out my account and withdraw all my gold."

"All right. That's usually done at the tables over there, but don't worry about it. I'll have you fixed up in short order."

"Thank you."

It took longer than a "short order," but Lily didn't really mind. Now that she was leaving Althorien, she started looking at things differently, noticing the simple beauty in the architecture of the city. And she looked at people, even the banker. Would she ever see normal humans again?

Gods, she didn't want to leave. But what choice did she have? Nala needed her, and the goddess wouldn't give up.

Her biggest worry, though, was finding Doronar. He had been gone for months. He was probably halfway across the world now. How could she expect to find him?

Lia's eyes opened slowly, and Bolthorn's concerned face appeared. He was a little blurry, but that would probably fix itself in a minute. When she looked at him, she scrambled away, and fought down the nausea. "B-Bolthorn, w-where did you get that sword?" she asked.

"In the temple," he answered guiltily.

Lia sighed and looked around. They were still on the bridge, but it was broken in the middle. There was a gap of about thirty feet between the two sides of the bridge. Aleya and Bolthorn were on this side, and Borim was on the other, waiting anxiously.

"How long have I been unconscious?" Lia asked.

"About twelve hours," Aleya replied. "What happened?"

"You figure it out," Lia asked, struggling to her feet. Bolthorn offered to help her, but she yanked her arm away from him.

Lia walked to the edge of the bridge, and Borim stood up. "What are you going to do?" he called.

Instead of answering, Lia just extended her arm. The missing section of the bridge reappeared, with a darker stone.

Borim looked at it uncertainly, and Lia said, "Am I going to have to come across and get you?"

Aleya ran toward him first, then he ran toward her. They met halfway across, and Borim picked her up in a bear hug. As they hugged, Lia turned to Bolthorn and said, "Where did you get that sword?"

"In the temple," he repeated. "I-"

"Where in the temple?"

"In a store room."

"Just sitting there? In plain view?"

"No, it was underneath-"

"Listen, Bolthorn," Lia said. "That sword, that sword is pure evil. I'm sure you remember what we went through trying to control it. Get rid of it, right now."

"What? Why?"

"Because your sword contains a piece of Kra. Your sword contains a piece of a god. Do you understand that?" Lia was getting worked up. "If I weren't here, you would be working for Garen, or he would be working for you, and you would have killed us all. Do you understand that?" she demanded. "That fucking sword could have killed us, and most importantly, Aleya. If she dies, Tirn Aill dies. Does this make sense?"

Bolthorn was staring at her, wide-eyed, mouth open. "But-I-you, I-I didn't know."

"Well you do know. Take that sword off, and throw it-"

Everything around Lia melted, and she was sitting on a bed. The bed was big. It was covered by three layers of blankets, and six pillows neatly situated at the top of the bed.

This bed was the central setting of her dreamscape. That was the typical locale where she communicated with telepathic friends and this was where many of her battles took place. It was an odd setting, to be sure, but she was a sex mage, so beds were familiar territory to her. This one was just located within her psyche.

There was always a setting outside the bed, and it always varied. Today, it was a perfectly flat grassland. Perfectly flat. On the horizon, a large mountain towered. A gnarled tree, with a large cat resting in its branches, was sillhoutted against the horizon, just south of the mountain. The northern sky was dominated by a white moon, while another, green-colored moon hung in the southern sky. The sky itself was practically empty, just a clean, dark blue.

This was Jonas' dreamscape.

It only took her an instant to recognize it, and as soon as she did, Jonas appeared in front of her.

"Jonas!" she cried in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Listen to me," he said, sitting on the bed next to her. "Alinor spoke to me about the sword yesterday. It's a piece of Kra. It-"

"I know that, stupid," she said. "Wasn't it obvious by the big Kra we both fought?"

"Yes, but he spoke to me again this morning, and he thinks that you shouldn't get rid of the sword."

"What!? Why not?"

"Well, Krenash, the sword's name, is only a piece of Kra, and once it's controlled, it can't take him over again."

"You don't know that," Lia countered. "It might-"

"Krenash's opposite is my sword, Gren. In the beginning, it tried to take control of me. Without Alinor and the Council, I wouldn't be here. Now that Bolthorn controls the sword, he controls its power. That could be a great help in this war."

"Jonas," Lia said in a deadly soft voice, "are you saying that you want me to dredge up the most terrifying and horrible experience of my life, so we can introduce evil into our group?"

"Bolthorn controls it, now. It cannot take him over, anymore. Krenash may be very helpful in our struggle."

"You're talking about fighting Kra with Kra. That will not work."

"Lia, when we defend Althorien, we are going to fight Kra. The whole god, not just a piece of him. You will be facing your terror to a degree equal that of when you were actually being sacrificed. Our recent battle was nothing compared to what we will face."

Lia stared at him in horror. "W-W-What?" she said fearfully. Her lips were trembling.

Jonas knew he'd gone too far. So soon after her encounters with Kra, it was bound to do something to her. As Jonas struggled for a reassuring reply, Lia spun around ran from the bed, into his grassland.

"Lia!" Jonas cried. "Wait!" He ran after her.

After a few minutes, Lia dropped to her knees and hugged herself tightly. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she shook with sobs. Then Jonas was next to her, and he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Oh Jonas!" she cried, throwing her arms around him.

Jonas returned the hug before he realized what was happening. The first splatters of rain dissolved both their dreamscapes, and they were kneeling in the forest again. Lightning split the sky, and thunder reverberated through the valley. Lia was naked, and covered in blood.

For a moment, Jonas had to struggle not to be pulled back into the memory. Jonas hardened his resistance, then, with sheer willpower, he dispelled the phantasm, and returned them to the dreamscape. Lia's muscles tensed, and she pulled back from him with a grunt. "Gods, Jonas, just the thought of facing him again is too much. Look at what just happened! I'll go insane. If I get anywhere near that sword..." she left the sentence unfinished. "Maybe you're right about him keeping it, but I just can't face Kra again. Never." She looked down and let the tears drip into the grass. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Jonas was unnerved by the realization that she was right. In her current state, Lia would never be able to survive Kra's assault. Probably just the sight of him would drive her crazy. It was shocking to know that she had lived with this weakness for thousands of years. But there had to be some way to heal her. They needed Lia. She was powerful, but not like this.

"Lia, don't make him throw it away," Jonas said. "But I won't ask you to put yourself through that. It's not necessary. We'll think of something. Just get that engineer, and hang in there. We'll think of something." He kissed her, and let his lips stay against hers for a few moments, then pulled back.

Lia's teary eyes were painful to look at, but Jonas watched them, until he broke off their communication.

When the world melted away again, she saw Bolthorn standing a little closer, looking into her eyes.

"Lia, are you all right?" Bolthorn asked. "You just stopped moving for a second there."

Lia closed her eyes. "I'm fine. Listen, we have to go get Olrick Mahr."

"What about-"

"Forget it," Lia said. She turned around and started back the way they had come. "Forget I said anything. We have to go now."

Garen stood at the edge of the town, and watched as people moved about their daily chores in main street. There were quite a few people just standing around pointlessly, talking to each other. It was near the middle of the day, but winter up here was harsh, so the sun wasn't showing. Instead, snow was dumping down heavily, as it had been for the past several days. People enjoyed the snow, and the children were having fun playing around in it.

Garen didn't really care about them, he was just here for their souls; or his possessor was, anyway.

Casually, he drew his sword and walked over to a pair of children that had just finished a snowman. The kids never saw him coming, and Garen decapitated the first one in a single stroke. The boy died without a sound, and his soul, pure white, streamed up into the blade, then was stored in the pommel. The second kid, probably the first one's sister, turned around when she saw the boy disappear from her peripheral vision.

Garen allowed her a short scream before he killed her.

That scream brought the parents, and a dozen more people running. Garen faced them, and twirled the blade once. It would be interesting to see what his controller did next. Did he plan on killing the entire town?

That evening, Alyssa woke up to Bree's insistent shaking. "Come here," Bree said. "I've got a surprise for you."

Alyssa was still half-asleep, so she ended up on her face when she tried to crawl out of the bed. "Ow!" she complained. "What are you doing? Where are we going?"

"Sorry, but hurry up and get dressed!" Bree shoved a gown at Alyssa, and the girl grimaced.

"Will you slow down? I'm still asleep," Alyssa said. She took the gown and managed to figure out which way was up, then pulled it over her head. She tied the sash around her waist, then followed Bree out the door. "Where are we going?"

"Downstairs."

"Why?" Alyssa started straightening out her hair, and wiping her eyes.

"You'll see."

They arrived at Balan's table a moment later.

"...selling insurance policies to people, and then skipping out of town with the money. They give out fake documents and everything. They're called the Black Harvest, like some kind of cult or something. The banker said they've got tattoos of sickles on their chests."

"That's strange," Balan said. "I thought that was just a rumor. I haven't seen any around here, but nobody exposes their chests, either. Except for that group on the second level that arm wrestles all the time. Those bastards annoy the shit out of me."

"Hello Alyssa," Galnor said. "Good to see you're feeling well."

Alyssa was confused for a moment, then realized he was being sarcastic. "Shut up. I was sleeping. Now what's so great that you wanted me to see?"

Balan pulled something off the table behind him, and handed it to her. It was two pieces of paper. Alyssa took them, and...no, it was two halves of one piece of paper. "What is this?" she asked.

The paper looked like a contract, the one she'd been forced to sign when she came into service at the Red Feather, four years ago. Alyssa had looked at it many times, usually checking the specifics of her income.

It was torn in half.

"What is...?" Alyssa looked at them.

Bree was the only one who couldn't suppress her grin.

"What is this?" Alyssa demanded.

"Well," Galnor said to Balan, "apparently her deductive powers are not as adequate as we had previously estimated."

Then Alyssa's voice became choked with emotion as she finally realized what it meant. "Oh gods," she said, tears welling up. She looked at the others, and couldn't decide who to hug first.

Galnor's resolve broke, and he grinned.

Alyssa leaped into his arms and hugged him fiercely. "Oh thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" she cried.

"Hey, you still paid for it," Galnor replied. "We're just givin' you a place to stay. We're ready to leave whenever you are."

Alyssa kissed Galnor, then dropped down and grabbed Bree in a hug. Bree giggled, "I was hoping you wouldn't mind."

"Mind? Mind? Mind my ass!" Alyssa said.

"Don't mind if I do," Galnor kicked her butt lightly.

"Mind your manners," Balan ordered Galnor.

"You mind your own business," Galnor replied, "I don't work here anymore."

"I took the liberty of deducting the proper gold from your hoard of gold," Balan said. "You put quite a dent in our accounts." He gestured to a bag of gold on the table.

"Oh Balan!" Alyssa jumped on the nightmaster, and he laughed, almost falling back. "You're so kind!" She planted a big kiss on his cheek, then said, "You need to shave."

Alyssa dropped to the ground and said, "Does that mean I get real clothes?"

"I bought some for you at the market today," Bree said.

"Where are they?"

Bree pointed to a bundle on top of her bag, and said, "They're wrapped up in your cloak."

Alyssa grabbed the bundle and untied it. A white cloak, similar to Bree's, unraveled and dumped its contents all over the floor. A pair of white stockings, leather boots, brown winter pants, and a nice tan shirt lay on the floor.

With a grin, Alyssa bent over and picked up the pants. "I haven't worn real clothes in years!" She shook them out and then stepped into them, pulling them on, beneath her gown. Alyssa then took the shirt and turned away from the others. As she pulled off the whore gown, it seemed like she was shedding a layer of skin. These new clothes were symbolic of her new life, outside of whoredom. Alyssa pulled on the new shirt, then turned back to the others as she laced it up. "How do I look?"

"Different," Balan admitted. "I'm not used to seeing you outside of that gown."

"Or my natural state," Alyssa said. When she finished lacing the shirt, which was slightly difficult because she hadn't done it in so long, she grinned and tucked it into the pants. "I look good in brown!" she said.

As she spoke, she remembered that she would be leaving the other girls, permanently. Alyssa's grin fell from her face, and she looked at the floor. After a moment she said, "I'm going to say good-bye to the others. I'll be back in a minute."

Alyssa went back to the bunkroom, unused to the constrictiveness of the clothing she wore. It was quite different from a drafty white sheet, or nudity.

Inside the room, all the girls were still asleep. They wouldn't be required to wake up until ten o'clock. That was when the whore shift started, unless somebody decided to pay extra. From ten at night to six in the morning, they were open for business. Most of them were bought brfore two, though.

Alyssa felt guilty for leaving them to this horrid job, but she was practical. Staying would make no difference to their lives, except for her absence. Their jobs wouldn't change. They'd still fuck, every night. No, it was Alyssa's right to leave; she'd been here long enough, and it was time to move on in life.

With a sigh, Alyssa walked to the farthest bunk. The one with the hole in it. Kaia, the youngest, was sleeping on it now. Thoughts of Kaia's age brought back memories of Laurel's strange disappearance, and Balan's pitiful attempt to cover it up by saying someone bought her. Most of them believed it, luckily.

Alyssa pushed those thoughts away, and knelt by Kaia. The girl had beautiful blonde hair. The most beautiful hair of them all. She looked cute sleeping on the mattress like this, her hair spread out in a fan, her arms sticking out to the sides. For a few moments, Alyssa just stroked Kaia's hair, until she woke up.

The younger girl blinked and said sleepily, "Alyssa?"

"Hi Kaia," Alyssa replied.

"What do you doing?" Kaia mumbled.

"I came to say good-bye."

"Huh?"

"I'm leaving."

"For where?" Kaia stretched out her arms and grunted. "What time is it?"

"Galnor and Bree are letting me stay with them. I'm leaving the inn."

"What?" Kaia sat up and the cover fell away, revealing her bare chest. Most of them slept naked or in nightgowns. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm leaving in a few minutes. I might not see you for a while."

Kaia swung her legs out and faced Alyssa. "But why?"

Alyssa grinned. "Come on, girl. You think about it. How long would you want to stay in this shithole?"

Kaia's mouth opened, and stayed that way. Then she sniffed, and a tear slid down her cheek. "Alyssa, I don't want you to leave."

"I have to get outta here, I'm sorry," Alyssa replied. She hugged Kaia, then kissed her cheek. "Please, get back to sleep."

"You'll come visit, right?"

"Of course I will."

Kaia sniffed again, then said, "Bye."

"Bye." The girl rolled onto the mattress and faced the opposite wall, shaking silently.

Alyssa struggled not to cry right there. She moved to the next bed, where Lyn was sleeping. Lyn was the same age as Kaia, only a couple months older. She had long hair too, but it was slightly darker than Kaia's. Blonde with brown streaks in it.

Alyssa sat down on the bed next to her, and soaked up the girl's features. All of them were all beautiful, and didn't deserve to live like this. Whores should be ugly, so that men didn't want to pay for sex. They shouldn't condemn beautiful girls to such a life.

"Lyn," Alyssa whispered.

Lyn woke up with a moan, and she saw Alyssa. "Hey, what are you doing? I'm not moving to that crap mattress," she said, still tired.

"Lyn, I'm gonna be leaving tonight. I bought myself out, and Galnor's letting me stay with him."

Lyn came awake quickly. "What are you talking about? Why didn't you tell us?" she demanded.

"I didn't find out till just now."

Lyn was now sitting up next to Alyssa, and she smiled. "Congratulations. I'm glad somebody's getting out of here."

Alyssa returned the smile. "I just came to say good-bye."

They hugged tightly, and Lyn said, "Bye. Come visit."

Alyssa sighed as she stood up and walked to the last bunk. It was occupied with Marian, now the oldest of the whores. Marian had short black hair, the same length as Alyssa's, and blue eyes. It was a strange combination of colors, but one that Alyssa loved. She sat on the bed next to her, and Marian woke up immediately.

When she saw Alyssa, she said, "Alyssa? What are you...?" she noticed the different clothes. Marian sat up. "What are you wearing?"

"I'm leaving in a few minutes," Alyssa said. "Galnor and Bree are letting me stay at their house."

"What?"

"I came to say good-bye."

Marian grabbed Alyssa's shoulders. "You're leaving right now? Tonight?"

Alyssa nodded.

Marian looked at the older girl for a few moments, and a pair of tears slipped from her eyes. Then she leaned forward and kissed Alyssa. Their kiss was short, but passionate. At first, Alyssa was taken aback, but she returned it with as much fervor, then they broke apart. "Maybe you will get to run your own business before me," Marian chuckled bitterly.

"Damn right I will," Alyssa said. "But I still want you to try and beat me."

Marian smiled and sniffed. She kissed Alyssa once more, then said. "Bye."

"Bye."

Alyssa stood up and walked out. As she returned to the first floor, she let out a shaky sigh. At least the worst part was over.

Ranon walked in the door and closed it behind him. "Hi!" Alleria called from the bedroom. "I found a new shirt for you down at the market. It-"

"What were you doing at the market?" Ranon said, walking to the wash basin in the kitchen.

"I went down there to get some food and-"

"Alleria, I've told you before that you can't just walk off without me. It's my job to protect y-"

Alleria stomped into the kitchen snapped, "And I've told you before that I can't be cooped up in this hut all day. What do you expect me to do while you're working? I'm glad we were able to buy this hut with Daren's money, otherwise we'd be living in the streets. Your job is barely enough to live on."

"So why do you go down to the market and spend all our money?"

"I didn't spend any money!" Alleria cried. "I asked the lady at the linen shop if I could work for her for a while, and she said yes. So while you're at the stables, I'll be at the-"

"Alleria, it's too dangerous for you to-"

"I think it's safer for me to stay in the market, where people can see me, instead of all alone, here at the house. What if robbers came here? I couldn't stop them."

Ranon scowled. "I'm going to chop some wood or do something productive."

Alleria watched him go out. Gods, he could be such a bastard.

Daren was walking down the hall, toward another recruiting session with Jerik, and he passed by the servants' lounge. A girl, not much younger than himself, was sitting in a pile of laundry, yawning. He stopped and looked at her.

How come he'd never noticed her before? She was cute, very cute. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. Her hair was dark brown, and fell about her shoulders in long curls, wet from a recent bath. Since her body was wet, obviously she didn't do a thorough job in drying, the servant gown clung to her body in some places, leaving little to the imagination.

When she noticed him looking at her, she grinned and gave a little wave.

Daren grinned back at her, and waved. Then he continued down the hall, wondering who she was.

"Will you quit that!?" Aleya laughed, slapping Borim's hand away.

"Sorry," he lied, continuing to stare at her face.

He had been staring at her constantly, as if she would suddenly disappear again. Of course, that had happened twice already, so he expected no less. Still, Borim hadn't been more than five feet from her ever since they'd been back together.

Borim's hand moved up to Aleya's face again, and he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Borim," she said around her food, "I'm eating. Quit it!"

"Sorry."

"You have food too, and it's getting cold, why don't you eat?"

Borim reluctantly looked down at his food, which was as cold as the snow around them. He set it back in the fire, and looked at the sky. Still cloudy. Snow hadn't fallen for a couple days, but the previous weeks' was still there, and didn't show any sign of melting.

The cave that led into the old dwarven ruins had a ledge near the entrance, and they were all camped under that. Borim and Aleya were seated together, next to the fire, but Bolthorn and Lia had moved away from the fire, not even sitting near each other. Obviously something was disturbing them, but Borim rarely worried about that.

His thoughts always dwelled on Aleya.

"What did he do to you, Aleya?" Borim asked.

"Hm?" she tore off a hunk of her meat, chewing rapidly. Food had been scarce while she was with Garen.

"Why does he keep taking you?"

"I thougt we...well, he tried to convince me to follow Tir."

"And you said no, right?"

Aleya raised her eyebrows.

"I know, I know. Why didn't he kill you?"

"He would have tried if I chose Aenis, but that would have been worse than if I followed Tir. Almost. After that, Garen just wanted to string you guys along as much as possible. I guess he wanted to delay you for as long as possible before the war. The worst part is that he didn't feed me much."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Borim sighed. If that was all, then Garen didn't deserve the extra-long torture death, just the medium-long torture death. "Good. If he ever comes near us again, I'm going to kick the shit out of him."

Aleya shrugged. "He's not all that bad."

The Tower was old, but it was strong. A hand-carved gift from Pendara, in return for saving his child. This was the only place Alinor could sleep peacefully. No Overlords could break in so long as someone was alive inside.

Manjinar woke him from his sleep, demanding entrance to the Tower.

Alinor sighed and crawled out of the bed. The gray cloak formed around his body, and Alinor opened up the shield.

Manjinar appeared in the room, clothed in his typical white uniform. It was a relatively new style for Manjinar, only in the past thousand years had he started this trend with white clothes. Perhaps it was supposed to symbolize Aenis, and goodness.

"Can I help you?" Alinor asked innocently, knowing full well why the Overlord had come.

"Why in Tir's name would you do something like that?" Manjinar said. For the first time in ages, his voice was awed. Totally shocked. Just flabergasted that anyone could perform such a horrific deed.

"What ever are you talking about?" Alinor asked, beginning to walk the perimeter of his room. A sly grin crept across his darkened features.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" roared Manjinar. White light consumed his eyes, and he was breathing heavily. "You massacred over one thousand Followers! And why? You??"

Alinor said, "The temple you're referring to had no real benefit to my cause."

Jonas appeared in the rune circle at the edge of the room.

"It was just a petty monastary," Alinor said, "and it was seated on top of a nexus. The Minion are dangerously close to that area, and I deemed that it would be unwise to leave the nexus so open to attack. If the Minion took the nexus, it would greatly enhance their mages' abilities. So I destroyed the nexus and the temple. It would also make a decent place to-"

"That's a pitiful lie, especially coming from you," Manjinar sneered.

Alinor shrugged. "I can only do so much. Without aid in this matter, I must put my efforts where they can be most useful."

Manjinar's eyes widened, then he chuckled. "So that's what this is about? You want my help?"

"That's the gist of it," Alinor said. "I don't really see why you care, though. Aenis has declared Tirn Aill forfeit, isn't that right? We're all as good as dead, anyway, aren't we?"

Manjinar looked at Alinor for a few moments, eyes narrow. "Fine," he said coolly. "You'll have my help, but when this is over, I will drag you before the High Court and-"

Alinor snapped his fingers. As soon as he did, something far away seemed to unravel. There were a few sprinkling sounds, like water hitting a pond, then quiet.

Manjinar's mouth came open slowly. "You...bastard," he said. "How did you...?"

Jonas broke out laughing, and the Overlord spun on him angrily. He fought down an insult, then turned back to Alinor. "How did you-why did you-"

Alinor shrugged. "It was quite difficult, and I had to use nine of my magestones. They're still inside the temple, hidden, if you had looked. But then, you couldn't really see them. I deposited the magestones inside nine of your priests, then cast the spell. This is the biggest illusion I've cast in a while. I'm quite pleased it worked so well. All of your worshippers are perfectly safe."

"Why bother with the illusion then? Seems like quite a waste." Manjinar was obviously pissed, but he would get over it. His precious Followers still lived. For now. With such a big magical reverberation, Alinor wouldn't be surprised if Marath went to that temple himself.

"It probably was, but your help would be even greater. I'll eventually recharge the magestones - there's plenty lying around this old place - and I really didn't want to make an enemy of you."

"Wise decision, but I would have chosen a different method."

"There wasn't one," Alinor said.

Manjinar snorted. "I'll return tomorrow. If you'll excuse me, I have to help someone that deserves it." He vanished.

Alinor sighed.

"Don't you think that was a bit risky?" Jonas asked.

"I didn't get where I am today by avoiding risks."

Laurel slipped in the door and closed it quietly.

The room was quiet. Not that she expected it to be loud, but it was just so similar to the rest of this place. Everything was quiet about this mansion. Everything seemed dead. The only people Laurel had seen were Shain and the servant that had shown them their room. The same servant had brought Shain's summons only a minute earlier.

Whoever the servant was expected Laurel to know where Shain's room was. Pure luck led her to this end of the wing, where she remembered seeing the potted plant in the corner of the hall.

Shain was standing on the balcony. Laurel glanced around the room quickly. The balcony doors stood open, and ocean wind flapped them out like whips. Everything was quiet and dark. No candles or lanterns were lit, and the fire had been put out. Moonlight cast large squares of light on the floor, from the windows and balcony doors. It was quite a beautiful evening, and it captured the girl for just a few moments.

"Come out here," Shain said without turning.

Laurel walked through the open doors onto the balcony. Wind blew her hair to the side, and she almost grabbed ahold of it to keep it down. Moving air wasn't something she was accustomed to.

"Quite a beautiful sight, don't you think?"

Laurel nodded mutely, drinking in the image. It was almost midnight, if she had to guess, and the moon rode high, reflecting off the Sea of Storms. A couple ships were moving in from the sea, toward the harbor. Lanterns dangled from the prow of the ships, and figures were moving about the deck, preparing to dock. At the harbor, even more boats were docked, bobbing up and down like toys in a tub.

"What city is this?" Laurel asked.

"Reth. Biggest port in the country. We're also the capital. We have the most foreign trade routes of the known world. Over the past few decades, we've established more overseas routes. Our number of marine traders has tripled in the past twenty years, then doubled again in the past few months. You know they're already staking claims on the territories of Althoria? Before the war's begun?"

Laurel wondered why he was telling her this.

"Countries in Kachara have expressed interest in the lands of Althoria. Quite sickening, really. But those countries have a lot of money, so in the meantime, and probably after, I'm going to drain a lot from them. Now, mostly, my business is in refined metals, and slaves. Different trades, huh? I change constantly, depending on what the demand is. Right now, Harnash is looking for slave labor, but so are the other countries. I've got herders moving around in Althoria, picking up quality slaves. Most of my men are hanging around at the edge of the Minion's wake. Nobody would notice missing towns, so close to the Minion's path. Quite an excellent way to make money, really.

"My next shipment of slaves will leave for Talanbu in a few weeks. Some of them will be dropped off there, then the caravan will travel east, through Allentof, until it gets to Anoria. You two are going with it."

Laurel started. "What?"

"To Kachara, the southern continent. I know it's hot here, but I hear it's even hotter down there. In the deserts, anyway. Yes, you two will be sold down there somewhere. Wherever my trader can pull the most profit. There are other prostitutes as well, but to be honest, I think I can get the most for you. Janisa will go with you, of course. She's a beautiful girl, but elf prostitutes are quite rare, especially at such a young age. You're quite a jewel, young Laurel. They'll pay anything for you, and I can see that you and Janisa are fond of each other, so if you're sold as a pair, that's just more money for me.

"Now that I think about it," he mused aloud, "Janisa may be just as rare. Our darker skin is rare down there, I hear. I mean, the brown skin of the desert people is common, but skin like mine isn't. Perhaps Janisa will fetch a hefty price as well..." Shain trailed off. He picked up his glass from the railing, and finished off the wine. He looked down at her, and Laurel swallowed. Shain was definitely the most...probably the only man she'd ever seen who was handsome.

As a rule, all merchants were ugly, and at least a little overweight (or way underweight). Most of them were old, but her new owner was none of those things. He was young, probably only in his early twenties. Dark hair covered his scalp in a short cut, no longer than a couple inches. His eyes were black or brown, she couldn't tell which; white dots shone in his eyes, reflecting the moon. Though she hadn't seen his bare body, Shain appeared to have a perfect physique. Not perfect like god-perfect, just perfect in that he wasn't as big as a boat.

For several minutes, they just stared out at the ocean, then Shain finally asked, "What was your history before you came to me?"

"I lived with foster parents until I was almost twelve. An elder of the town raped me, then sold me to a merchant. That merchant kept me for six months, then sold me to the Red Feather. I wasn't there long before Otokono Hito kidnapped me and brought me down here."

"Really?" Shain looked surprised. "I didn't think he had the gall. Didn't look like someone who could pull that off successfully. Who were your birth parents?"

Laurel shrugged. "I don't know. They abandoned me after I was born."

"I see." He paused, then said, "Come back here, so the moon is in your face. I want to look at you."

Laurel moved away from the rail, then stood behind him. Shain grabbed her waist, and set her on a stone table. The table was freezing, and Laurel gasped as the heat drained away from her butt and upper legs. Her feet dangled over the edge.

For almost a minute, the man looked her up and down, examining her silently. He reached out to her hair and pulled it back, into a pony tail. A finger traced Laurel's ear, and she blushed. Her ears were a stigma; usually people's attitude changed when they saw the slightly pointed tips. They thought she was weird, or they treated her like she was from a different world. She still spoke the Common Tongue.

Shain let go of her hair and moved to her face. He tipped her chin up and examined her carefully. After he finished, he let out a small breath of amazement, but he didn't say why.

The new gown Laurel had been given was similar to the older ones, but it had clasps on the right shoulder, so that it could come up, or down. Shain undid the clasp, and let the gown slid down around her waist. It didn't go any further, because she was seated.

Oddly enough, Laurel found herself blushing as he stared at her breasts. There was no real reason why, she knew they were perfect, but she found herself attracted to this man, so it only made things worse when he scrutinized her so carefully.

Another minute more, and Shain untied the rope around her waist. He opened the robe, and Laurel had to fight not to clamp her legs together. More blood rushed to her face when he spread her knees apart and looked at her mound. Gently, he traced his finger through her pubic hair, along one of her nether lips.

"You're not three-quarters elf, are you?" Shain asked.

"What?" That question tore Laurel's mind away from the tickling sensation between her thighs.

"You look more like a half-elf."

Laurel nodded, and Shain stood up and gestured for her to put her robe back on. "That doesn't matter too much," Shain said. "I figured as much when I bought you. None of the southerners will care, I'm sure."

Laurel finished putting on her gown, then got up and stood next to him again.

"Thank you for coming, Laurel," Shain said. "I just wanted you to be aware of the situation. Were I not so tired, you could stay longer, and perhaps we could do other things, but I am beginning to fall asleep now. Please send Janisa in when you return to your room, I wish to speak with her as well."

"Yes, master," Laurel said.

"Call me Shain."

"Yes...Sh-Shain."

Laurel walked back into the room, out of the cold wind, and back into the carpeted hallway. She let out a deep breath. Gods, if she had ever wanted a man in her life, it was definitely him.

Cradled in Borim's arms, finally feeling safe again, Aleya drifted off to sleep. It came quickly, and she slept deeply within the first few minutes. The warmth of Borim's chest, his breath in her hair, all let her dream peacefully.

Or so she thought.

Aleya's eyes snapped open, and she looked around. She was back in her old temple, where she had been raised for twelve years of her life. It was quiet now, though. Two stand-torches burnt on either side of the altar, and on either side of the door, but that was it. Normally, two acolytes stood outside the double doors, and the Oracle was usually seated on the left side of the room, but they were absent. Everyone was absent. She was the only one here.

Why?

Aleya moved toward the doors, to search the rest of the temple, but they slammed shut, and the bolt slid into place. Aleya froze. She looked around, and noticed that the Oracle's chair was no longer empty.

Garen was seated in it. His eyes were closed, and he had a look of contentment on his face. "This chair is rather comfortable," he said. "I can see why your Oracle would want to sit in it every day."

Garen's mere presence drove Aleya to her knees, and she said, "W-W-What are you d-doing here?"

Then Garen's eyes opened, and he stood up. "Unfortunately, you people caught me, and you got away." He walked over to her trembling figure. "There are always ways of getting around these things, you know."

"G-Garen," Aleya said, "can't you just leave me alone? I don't want any part of your-"

"War? Too late," Garen sighed. He grabbed Aleya's wrist and pulled her to her feet. "Lia will force you into the Conflict, whether you want it or not. And, I still haven't quite figured out what it is exactly, but there's something very special about you. You're different. Very different indeed." Garen led her to the altar. "You're too different for us to allow you to live. If you lived, it could seriously jeopardize the Conflict. That is, you might tip it in favor of Aenis, even though you don't follow him. We don't want that." Garen pushed Aleya against the altar, and pulled a rope from the top of the altar.

The altar itself was different from Kra's altar, deep in the temple, but it still had a flat surface. It was covered in a white tablecloth, and various religious objects adorned the top. Aleya knew what all of them meant, since they were used every day, by the Father Priest. The Oracle had taught her how to use them, but she never got a chance, before she became the "chosen one".

Garen swiped them all off with his arm, then lifted Aleya up onto the table. When he looped the rope around her wrist, she finally had sense enough to resist. With a scream of "No!" Aleya yanked away from him, and ran toward the entrance to the sanctuary.

Garen cursed. Instead of following her, he continued with the rope, and tied four pieces of rope to each corner of the alter, which had a protruding stone candleholder, carved out of the altar itself. If tied down at the base of the holder, it was doubtful Aleya could break free.

At the other end of the sanctuary, Aleya was trying vainly to lift the bolt that crossed both doors. It was only made of wood, and not terribly heavy, but she still couldn't budge it. Something was holding it in place.

Finally, Aleya turned back toward Garen. Fear knotted in her stomach, and she knew that escape would be far more difficult than a hundred foot dash to the bridge. She also knew that she was dreaming, but she couldn't wake up. "Garen!" Aleya said, the fear finally showing. "Why don't you just get out!!"

Garen grinned; he had made progress already, without laying a finger on her. He hopped off the altar and walked toward her. When he stopped in front of her, he said, "You know what Garen wants more than anything in the world?"

Aleya shook her head mutely, the tears already streaming.

Garen took Aleya's limp hand, and he took her back to the altar once more. "Poor, poor Garen," Garen said, lifting Aleya onto the altar once more. "His life was taken from him, but he doesn't know it. Soon, I'm going to tear this kid's soul from his body, and become an Overlord, with more power than you can imagine. But I need to use Garen's body. Since he will be dead soon, what do you say we give him what he wants?"

Aleya bit her lip as he fastened each knot around her wrists and ankles. The appalling thing was, it was pointless to even attempt escape. There was nothing she could do.

"You know what he wants more than anything in the world?" Garen asked again.

Aleya opened her eyes, and looked through the tears at the boy-shaped demon. "Me."

Garen bent down suddenly, and stopped his face less than an inch from hers. He slammed a knife into the table, right next to Aleya's head, and grinned maliciously.

"Exactly," he said.

END OF WINTER 03

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©1997 by Bill Smith (micro@oz.net)