(3) The Sword of Karr- incomplete

   It was hardly possible that there could be so many people in the whole world, let alone so many fighters as there were spread through out the Vale. Armies from vast and scarcely populated kingdoms sat side by side with those from the Nine Sects. An organized chaos, Shiftie had said. Abiel felt small, insignificant. She was surrounded by thousands upon thousands of all manner of melee and caster, so many legends in their own right, all substantially older and battle hardened, though she suspected none had ever seen a battle of this magnitude. It hadn't yet begun, the legions of Gurvir were advancing as she stood there feeling alone, hollow. She had always wanted this, or so she thought. In her dreams, she was meant for precisely this. But there was a difference between raiding and fighting small skirmishes with Shiftie or a host of others like Raxus or Zykon in front of her, protecting her in the real world. Abiel understood the gravity of those moments leading up to this. But who was she, compared to these people? The emissary of Coste Volte? With no army, no soldiers, not even a banner to post outside of her tent. Shiftie would have a mass of horde surrounding him. He could no longer watch out for her. Nor did she want him to. The fact that so many people had felt the need to be her shield until now, as if her life meant something in the scheme of the world, had never made sense to her. If she was being trained to be a centurion of some sort, then she needed to fight and to learn the hard lessons.

Abiel wanted to hide and take Marin and run as far as she could from this. If she were caught and killed, then so be it. It wasn't fear of death that was driving the urge to flee, it was the fear of failure and failing her master. She did not want to fall in battle here among thousands like a sheep to slaughter and know that Shiftie would believe she could have lived somehow. She did not have the knowledge he possessed, that anyone there walking passed her had. She was barely a novice in comparison. The gleam of her gloves caught Abiel's attention. Abiel held her hands before her, looking over the detailed hybrid metal, so beautifully crafted. These were a warriors gloves but they did not feel that they belonged on her. They felt heavy. All of her armor felt heavy, stifling, like playing dress up as a child in someone elses clothing. No, this was all wrong. A horn trumpeted across the valley. Captains and leaders began shouting orders. A Gurvir scout had been spotted.

A fire of urgency swept over the masses, who began seeing to their final preparations before battle. What had she to prepare for? Abiel turned and went back to her tent and began to look about, sifting through saddle bags, extra gear friends had offered her. Weapons- so many weapons. Swords, bows, shields... none of it felt as though it belonged to her and that her true possessions were missing. It hurt to breathe. If only she could take her breastplate off, but it would be folly to do so. It would be like asking to be murdered. She had to get used to it, but did not believe she'd have the opportunity. More horns blared followed by more shouting. All muffled in her mind, Abiel sat down on the small stool in the middle of the shelter and held her face in her hands.
     "Abi'" someone called from outside the tent and pulled the fabric aside. It was Zykon. "What are you doing?" he snapped and Abiel got to her feet.
     "Praying," she lied.
     "Oh," Zykon replied uncomfortably. "Well, when you're done doing that, make sure you go to see the clerics and shamans for their blessings or you will surely die."
     "I will. I am nearly finished."
     "Good. And Gods be with you and all of that." Zykon patted her awkwardly on her heavily armored shoulder.
     "And may they be with you and everyone this day." Abiel smiled meekly and the monk was gone. He wore no armor. Abiel envied that freedom, but went back to brooding on her stool.

She was glad her mother was not there. Juldain had never wanted this life for her. Abiel pulled her right glove off with her teeth and dropped it on the ground and began to dig within the wrist guards for the necklace until it slid up and then over the wrist guard. The stones were all on ugly shade of blood brown and red, stained by the blood of others and even her own. She'd tried so hard over the years to clean the stones, but to no avail. Whatever they'd been made from, they'd managed to absorb the blood. They'd never come off, Abiel lamented. As hard as she had tried to cut the slight string that seemed so fragile holding the stones together in their strand, it had never given way. More horns blared, closer this time. A horse's shrill whinny cut through it. Marin.

Abiel bounded from her tent and around the back, running as fast as the armor would let her to the horse paddock. Marin was rearing and calling out to her at the tall fence among the other horses, who became agitated by this. Abiel peeled the left glove from her hand and tossed it aside, forgotten immediately, as she ran. The sound of a whip cracked- The men in charge of the horses entered the pen and were attempting to calm the horse. Abiel ran in behind them, yelling for them to stop and called to Marin, who charged through the other horses to get to her, stopped and butted his head into her breastplate attempting to nuzzle her.

     "I am here, I am here." she called softly. The men began cursing at her but Abiel paid no attention. "What is it, my friend?"
     "I can not let you go alone," his thoughts touched her mind.
     "I'll be all right," Abiel laughed softly and felt tears welling in her eyes. "I have to be. Who else will look after you if I die?" for now, the lie was the truth. The other horses began to move toward her.
     "They want to be close to you, as I am." Marin stood over her, chest to chest, his head hanging over her shoulder. "We can smell their intent." Marin was speaking of the Gurvir. "They are very close now."
     "I know, my friend. And you know that if we are all to live, then they must be defeated and I must participate."
     "You should not go without me."
     "But I must. For what ever the Gods intent, it seems I am to fight, even if I am alone. But you will be with me, you must know that. We have a long time from this day on to remain kindreds. This will not be my end, but this one time, I must fight without you."
   Marin grumbled unhappily about this.
     "But I must ask one thing of you, my dear friend, this is terribly important to me. Should it happen that the Gods take me, find my mother in Trentaru Keep. Be her companion as you have been mine." Abiel was not able to hold back the tears and pressed her face into Marin's soft neck. He began to object. "Promise me!" she snapped and stepped back from him, but took his muzzle in her hands and pulled his nose to her chin, staring in his black eyes.
     "I will agree to this."
   A loud trumpet blasted, echoing across the valley. Abiel's heart stopped in her chest. It was the call to arms! Battle was moments away and she had not been to the clerics and shamans.

"Goodbye my friend." Abiel hugged Marin tightly about the neck and kissed the bridge of his muzzle. "I love you terribly." and she sprinted off without hearing Marin's reply.

    Abiel ran as fast as she could to her tent. The Lore army was on the move and in the distance she caught a glimpse of the Gurvir hordes sweeping over the top of the hills opposite the camp. She snatched two swords and left everything else behind and began to run toward the massive Lore army lines that were advancing as quickly as the Gurvir. At the edge of the tree lines, the casters stood in row after row in their colorful robes, already casting spells that arced and crashed down upon the hordes of evil races. Lore rangers were shooting arrows over the tops of their army to strike the advancing Gurvir. There was a considerable distance between Abiel and the back of the army. She was the straggler and the tears for Marin turned to tears of embarrassment.
   When the two armies met, it was like thunder. The screaming and shouting ripped through the Vale as the Gurvir attempted to push through the Lore lines in order to attack the casters. The armor was so heavy upon her, rattling around, jangling, twisting. Abiel kept running and finally reached the rear of the army. It was like a wall, everyone scrambling to reach a Gurvir. Enemy arrows began to rain down on the rear of the Lore army. Warriors raised shields while others rogues used the cover to sneak through. It was an expanse of violence like Abiel had never imagined.
   She tried to use her small stature to her advantage, squeezing through small areas as skirmishes and battles began to erupt in pockets. The Lore army was being pushed back and allowing for more room to move. Abiel hacked and slashed, not nearly as hard as she knew she could, hampered by the plates of armor. She channeled the frustration into her strikes and hacked and swung at every Gurvir she saw, even if they were engaged with Lore centurions or dread knights. Spells were erupting around them, blood staining the green grass and the foul smell of orc and goblin blood. Then came the ogres the Gurvir had swayed, trolls, and horrible mutated beasts Abiel could not recognize that were almost like dogs, but bigger and hairless. Then a smell assaulted Abiel's senses- the Gurvir's magic. Abiel thought she caught sight of a white ponytail and dark blue armor- Shiftie!
   Abiel tried with all of her might to fight her way to him, if it was him. Her armor continued to slow her down as another wave of Gurvir poured over the crest of the hill and more kept coming. It was like standing in the shallow areas of the ocean. Without realizing it, the Lore army had been losing ground and were being pushed back closer to camp, closer to the casters. Abiel took a moment to look back- the rangers were engaged now with the Gurvir and there was nothing between the rangers and the casters. Abiel had made a mistake a realized it when an ogre's mace slammed into her back, clipping her in the back of the head.
   Her breath rushed from her, her back burned like she'd never felt before, her head ringing. She tried to get her legs under her when a large boot pressed down on her back. Her arms were partially pinned under her. Abiel struggled and wiggled and barely managed to roll free of the incoming blow. The mace struck the bloody ground inches from her ribs and she was on her feet again, the back of her breast plate indented and squeezing her tightly making it difficult to breathe. She managed to dodge another blow as she attempted to circle him and avoid other fights. Abiel didn't want to avoid the ogre's crushing blow only to get stabbed by a Gurvir rogue. One thing was for certain- the breast plate had to come off.
   Abiel threw caution to the Gods and tossed one of her swords on the ground. Barely dodging the massive black-armor plated ogre who was becoming more agitated with every miss, Abiel fumbled with the buckles of her breastplate. The ribs were easy enough, The shoulder straps nearly cost her her feet when the ogre swung down to crush her head, the mace thudding into the earth inches from her toes. Abiel tossed her sword in front of her, watching the ogre, who stood staring at this new tatcic of hers. Abiel used the chance to wiggle out of the partially buckled breast plate and dove aside the ogre's next swing. She lunged toward him as he raised the mace again and snatched her sword, rolled to her back and drove the sword straight up, skewering the ogre between the legs then rolled toward the sword of a dead Gurvir dread knight, grabbed it and was on her feet again. Being free of the breastplate allowed her to catch her breath. Now she just had to lose the armored leggings.
   A blood elven dread knight interrupted her moment of joy, hacking and slashing away causing Abiel to back up hastily and nearly slipped in a goblin's end trails. Abiel parried and riposted, charging at the knight and her teaching took over for a moment. The dread knight paused for a moment to cast a spell- Off came his head. Abiel ould not be able to shimmy out of her plate greaves, not with her plated boots and shin guards. She would have to work her way out of them completely, a buckle at a time. She started from the bottom... One buckle down, then another attacker. A second buckle, another attacker and then a second and third foe. A third buckle... only four more to go, she thought as she parried and slashed. On it went until she lept away from her leggings, stabbing and whirling, dodging, parrying, feinting and advancing as she'd been taught. Without realizing, she was fighting and winning, and even enjoying the battle. And there it was again, the dark blue armor and the little white pony tail. It was further away than before, surrounded by adversaries. Abiel had stopped paying attention to who was winning the over all battle or to the fact that the Gurvir kept coming like a flood. Now that Abi' was free of the armor, she could move more swiftly to the only thing important to her now: Shiftie.
   He changed position for a moment and she could see his face clearly. He was bleeding, gashes in his forehead and cheek, fighting six enemies, a mix of blood elves, orc and goblin of various classes- a dread knight or two, several rangers-types and warriors. He was standing a head above them and Abiel realized he was fighting atop a pile of Gurvir corpses and Abiel laughed aloud and took on her next foe. Magic errupted around her, far too close. The Gurvir continued their advancement. Shiftie's blood-stained face was suddenly gone from view and Abiel began to panic. She hacked and slashed with a ferocity she did not know. She had to get to him.
   Gurvir dropped before her as she moved toward Shiftie, who was attempting to get back to his feet but finding it difficult on top of blood covered armor from the corpses and the Gurvir's relentless attempt to put him down like a rabid dog. Despite the surrounding Gurvir, Abiel saw it clear as day- a gleaming jagged onyx sword struck downward, piercing into Shiftie through his armor.
   There was no time for crying. Abiel had to reach Shiftie. He was still fighting from his back, using what was left of his shield to defend himself. The panic was shifting to anger, retribution, and the ever-growing need to reach him. The world was starting to cloud out around her. Abiel was losing herself, the focus so strong that all else melted away. She would not remember what was about to occur.

   The Gurvir surrounding Shiftie stopped attacking. He was hurt and badly. If he didn't get to the clerics soon, he was going to die. His magic shields were gone, he was too tired to cast a spell, his weapon shield beat to a pulp. Something was drawing the Gurvir's attention. And then he felt it- the rage. He knew now when Abiel was not herself and somehow she'd not only survived, but that she knew he was injured and she was coming to him. The pain seared through Shiftie. He'd been struck by a poisoned blade. Abiel's fury sent his blood boiling as he writhed atop the bodies of fallen Gurvir and even some of his own comrades. He turned to watch for her, out of control and tearing through ogres and orc warriors like a fiend. Her eyes glowed, white tendrils of smoke swirled outward. She was in nothing but a blood-riddled and filthy tunic that had once been white, leather breaches and her plated boots. But there was something different. Shadowy images of herself pulsed from her, like the ripples of a pool of water. She hacked and slashed, picking up swords, axes, knives, maces, anything near at hand, to kill her next victims, leaving the weapons where they stuck.
   When a foe charged her before she could pick something up, it did not phase her. Abiel fought with her bare fists. Shiftie had never seen a fist impale a face much less a skull before, and now that he'd seen it, he'd wished he'd hadn't. The Gurvir were frightened, that much he could tell, and what ever she was projecting upon them was affecting them, yet they could not run. Those new Gurvir just joining the fight were not yet affected. Abiel did not move out of the way in time of one advancing dread knight, Shiftie saw the blade of an onyx sword like the one that had pierced him, tear through Abiel's right upper chest. She fell to a knee, the smoke of her eyes faded some, and what ever hold she had on the Gurvir receded. They moved to attack her with everything they had. Shiftie saw Abiel's head rise some- she was looking for him, then looking at him. An axe swung down toward her neck- Abiel's left arm rose and a loud clash sounded as the blade hit the newly-black stones of her mother's necklace. Abiel rose when axe rebounded and shattered, the orc wielding it paid painfully when his heart was ripped from his chest and thrown aside. She seemed taller now. Much taller. Older. Frightening. The Gurvir continued to fall around her.
   Shiftie tried to get to his feet, but to no avail. The poison was working its way through his body, congealing in his heart and he had very little time left. For all of his lack of fear, he was angry. He did not want to die like this, watching his Abiel-turned-demon taking on the entirety of the remaining Gurvir in order to get to him. A small part of him hoped that she would, not that she could save him, but much like him in many ways, she always managed the impossible when it seemed least possible. As her frightening presence began to grow and encompass him as it was with all upon the battlefield, he could feel his lasts breath coming. The world was still now, watching Abiel eradicate and shred one Gurvir after another in the most brutal manner possible, as if holding its own collective breath. If this was the paladin he was seeing, then he was proud to have taught her, dumbfounded by the fury within her. As Shiftie's vision darkened, his last conscious thought was that he'd been loved by her over all others.



   The Gurvir battle horns sounded- retreat. Gurvir who could retreat did and fled back over the hill crest and out of sight. Those who couldn't, died and horribly as Abiel rushed to get to Shiftie. Finally free of Gurvir attackers, Abiel ran to Shiftie, the onyx blade still protruding from her, the heavy hilt sagging down, causing the jagged blade to cut higher toward her shoulder. There was no pain, only the annoyance of a heavy metal sword tugging at her person. She could not reach behind to grasp the hilt, so she opted to push it out  from the front. The rage was fading quickly as she dropped to her knees atop the bodies that Shiftie's own body laid strewn across. This could not be his end. Her emotions choked her and though she wanted to scream, it would not come out. Abiel pulled Shiftie to her. All demon-presence gone, she was smaller than normal, appearing as the child Shiftie had known. She held him in her arms and cried, begging and pleading that he should live and she should die. The survivors of the Lore armies were overcome by her grief as it poured over them and coursed through the Valley. She pressed her lips to his forehead, shaking with grief. He was still warm, she could taste his blood upon her lips.
     "Please please please. Take me in his stead." she whispered. "Come back to me. I'll do anything." Abiel cradled Shiftie's lifeless body to her chest, holding and rocking him, crying silently. "I love you. I love you so much. Please know that. I love you." Abiel kissed his mouth and held Shiftie to her again, stroking his soft white hair. The pain rocked her. Trapped within her body, it had no where to go. She held him more tightly, shaking and sobbing violently. "Take me for him. Please, I beg of you," Abiel prayed and kissed Shiftie's forehead again. "I love you."
   A violent force shook and boomed, knocking over people, tents, scattering animals and frightening the lot of them. A ripple of magic in a form no one recognized shook the survivors to their core, fearful some attack had just been unleashed. As quickly as it had come it was gone, none knowing what it was or where it had come from. They set back on the task of healing the wounded and tending to the injured, separating the bodies of Gurvir from those of the Lore.

Two days, Shiftie had been told. It had been two days since he'd fallen on the battlefield. He would have scars, but this was not new. All wounds had  nearly healed in those two days and  no one had told him what had happened, how he had survived the poisoned blade or what had become of Abiel. He'd expected her to be at his side- She was always at his side when he awoke. Friends had not been by his tent to see him since he'd awakened that morning. His body ached, but Shiftie forced himself from his cot. Dressed only in a clean pair of trousers, the high elf centurion left his tent to find someone, anyone, who could tell him what others seemed to be keeping from him. In the distance at the far end of the valley, bodies of the Gurvir will still burning, the smell of death hung about the once beautiful Vale. At the opposite end, the necromancers and shamans were still preparing the bodies of the Lore soldiers and casters to be returned to their homes for a proper burial. So many had died, even more terribly wounded. They had succeeded at fending off the Gurvir, for the time being. He recalled the sight of Abiel fighting and his stride quickened.
     "Raxus!" Shiftie yelled, seeing his dark elven friend standing in front of his own tent gnawing on a hunk of meat. Raxus' gaze fell over others near by. Shiftie realized they were staring at him suspiciously or lowered their voices to a whisper.
     "What in all of this world happened?" Shiftie demanded as he approached the dread knight. Raxus threw the remainder of his meat to the ground and pulled Shiftie into the tent, snapping at the onlookers to go back to their own affairs.
     "Where is Abiel?" the high elf demanded.
     "Sit down." Raxus said to Shiftie quietly and dropped the curtain to the entrance of the tent. An oil lamp burned brightly in the corner, casting shadows across the space. Raxus ran his hand through his white hair, his forearm heavily bandaged.
     "She is dead." Raxus said solemnly.
   Shiftie jumped to his feet and regretted it. His muscles burned and a wave of dizziness fell over him.
     "Sit!" Raxus barked. "Let me finish." Raxus crossed the tent and poured two small cups of porte and handed one to Shiftie. "Both the Dragon's and Serpeant's had out flanked the Gurvir. A group of rangers led one hundred casters through. They took out the Gurvir casters and half a legion of orc and what ever those hairless beasts were, cutting off their re-enforcements, leaving us to dispatch the rest. When the field started to clear, I saw you go down. And then we all saw... Her. At least fifty fell when I realized she was attempting to reach you. She had been stabbed by a cursed onyx blade,"
     "I remember," Shiftie cut in.
     "She did finally reach you. And she held you and cried terribly. I know this because we were all crying because of her. So help me, I hope to never suffer again as I did consumed by her grief over you." Raxus gulped down his wine and poured another cup. "Something happened, no one is sure what. There was... a crackling of sorts, like the sounds of thunder and lightening, but it tore through the Vale in a heavy blast. She was dead. Several of us came to your bodies. We took up your body and began to carry you and you started to breathe. We almost dropped you, I am not ashamed to say. Gave us all quite a start. But I know a dead man when I see one and sure as day you were dead and come back to life."
     "And Abi'?" Shiftie asked quietly.
     "No. We gave her over to Jenose for preparation."
     "Do you think..." Shiftie cut himself off. There was no way that she could have saved him. It made sense that she was dead, she'd been stabbed by a poisonous blade. But how could he be alive?
     "I don't know what I think or what I should believe. No one does. That horse of hers has been going out of his mind since. It's taking four druids to keep him calmed and some are suggesting we put him down if he's gone mad."
     "That would be a shame," Shiftie spoke softly, trapped in his thoughts. He'd never been attached to a horse the way Abi' was to Marin. It seemed wrong to lose the last part of her by destroying the animal. Several uneasy moments passed between them.
     "Did you want to ride with us to take Abi's body to her mother?" Raxus asked.
     "Of course. When do we set out?" Shiftie got to his feet more carefully this time and gulped down his cup of port.
     "Tomorrow morning. Will you be able to ride?"
     "I will have to be." Shiftie attempted a smile that showed as more of an awkward grimace.



   Shiftie waived slightly to the monk Tobynn, who was currently keeping watch over Abiel's horse, Marin. There was a strong magic being channeled at the grey-brown stallion, more than should have been necessary. He could see the horse's eyes blinking rapidly, struggling against the magic. Shiftie raised his hand as much as he could toward Marin's nose and stroked it gently.
     "She is gone. For that, I am sorry. If I cannot repay the debt I owe to her, than I shall pass it on to you." Shiftie looked to Tobynn. "Drop the spell, please, Toby'." Tobynn grunted.
     "It might just be your funeral then," the druid muttered and ceased conjuring the soothing spell.
   Marin reared irritably, his shrill cry spooked the other horses. Shiftie put his hands out, unaccustomed to having to soothe an animal so out of sorts.
     "Do you understand me?" Shiftie asked. "Give me a moment. Just a moment to explain."
Marin set his front hooves to ground and eyed the high elf suspiciously, pawing and snorting. Shiftie again put up his hand, his ribs still sore.
     "For her, if you understand me, please listen to me." Shiftie said softly. Marin stepped forward and touched his nose to Shiftie's hand. Shiftie exhaled, relieved.
     "She saved me. I don't know how she did it, but she did." The centurion found her name caught in his throat, unable to speak it aloud. "I can not repay the debt to her, though I doubt she'd ever hold me to it," a slight smiled cracked thinking of her near-to obscene generosity toward him for as long as he'd known Abiel. "Tomorrow, we are taking her body to her mother."
   Marin reared slightly.
     "Wait... wait! Listen!" Shiftie raised his hand again to Marin's quivering nose. "If you cannot control these outbursts, then under the magic you will go again or worse, I think you know this. I am offering you the chance to come with us. Either as my steed or free, how ever you choose. I will not force you to be ridden by another if you do not choose it. And you may stay with her mother after that. Juldain will care for you if you wish to remain with her, or you may stay with me or you may leave and roam the world at your will." The horse stood still, thinking this proposal over.
     "I will set you free now, you may choose your own way. I think Ab... She would want that." Shiftie turned on his heel and went to the gate and held it open. Tobynn walked passed him, avoiding the centurion's gaze. Marin stood watching and slowly walked toward Shiftie and waited for the high elf as he locked the corral, then followed like a lost dog at Shiftie's heals.
   Shiftie was being avoided, that much was clear. Eyes turned away from him, conversations lowered to a whisper or stopped at his approach. Marin was at least company. He was no substitute for Abiel, but there was solace in knowing Marin had meant so much to Abiel, which in turn reminded Shiftie of how much he himself had meant to the girl.


   Morning came swiftly, his aches lessened some from the day before. Marin was standing dutifully outside the tent as Abi' would have. Shiftie was in a terrible hurry now to have this job done. He carried his saddle outside and set it upon Marin, who did not appear to object, then bridled the horse gently. Taking Abiel home would give him the time to think over what might have happened. He should not have lived. He knew this, treatment, or the lack there of, was proof enough of that. Pouty was not there to consult, which Shiftie felt a sharp edge of resentment over. All this time spent protecting the girl, for what? So she could die in the first true battle of the world? That put any thought of her being the paladin to rest at the very least. She had been special though. There was no doubting that. But now she would be buried as a Regeant's daughter. Having no guild or house, it was all the recognition she would have. No one seemed at any particular loss over her more than another, despite having possibly turned the tide in battle. There was no way to know and no one had answers, only questions they did not care to resolve.
   Shiftie's thoughts had clouded his walk to his friends. Raxus, Mencius and Thromguard were waiting with their horses surrounding the two-wheeled cart carrying Abiel's wrapped body, two yoked mules waiting patiently to pull it. Raxus eyed Marin wearily.
     "He wants to go. Who are we to deny him?" Shiftie stated and pulled himself up into the saddle stiffly.
 
 

  Darkness.... nothing. The slight shift of consciousness, one and then many. A small plane of existence for one to stand on, though there were no feet to set upon the solid nothing, no legs, no torso, no arms or hand to reach out, no heart to pound within. Only an expanse, queries in their simplest forms from the entity that was known by some in the Lorelands as Abiel, though no memory of such a place or person existed within the thoughts of the entity.

     "Our child, who has come home too soon as you always do, making the choices again to give of yourself for One and not the many. Were you not the brightest of the stars for which your eternal destiny has been laid, We should remake you again from the clays of our souls." One voice, many voices pulsed through the entity in a gentle silence. It was not meant to respond, nor would it. Only to listen and accept what ever was to come from their wishes. 
     "The love you hold for him is too much, too strong. But as before, We know that right actions will come, though at a detriment to you. Such is the cycle your love for him causes, but so it shall always be. We shall receive you again upon the eve of your ascension into your true form. Go back to the world and set again upon your course. Live well, our small one, Our hope for all."

   The nothing became a true darkness, an expanding of all colors turning to black, vivid imagery, dreams so beautiful. Her bare feet touched tall wet grass that tickled her ankles as she walked, moving toward the highest mountain she'd ever seen that stretched beyond her comprehension.

  
      "Come to me," the voice whispered.
   She knew this voice, it had spoken to her in many dreams.  
   Abiel continued to walk toward the foreboding mountain, but held no fear. Her friend was waiting inside. There was no foot path to lead her, but she walked as though following one closer and closer. Doubled doors of iron and wood, cloaked in ivy and flowers opened before her with ease, closing behind her as she entered the dark mountain. Abiel followed the unseen path of her heart, following a music she could not hear that played to her mind, drawing her easily through the maze of chambers in the dark. She let her hands slide over the tunneled walls, feeling the cool stone against her skin. The mountain trembled slightly as a human might when being caressed so lovingly.

     "I will never understand the choices you make," the voice said.

     "Why? What have I done now?" Abiel smiled to herself. Her form was alternating between child and the adult she had yet to become.

     "You love too much, you do not see the world as it is, you only see him."
     "Is it wrong to love someone with all of your heart?"
     "If you were any other human, I would ask why you did not love more truly. But as you are no mere human, I must ask what binds you to him so madly in this life. Your role in these lands is not to be his servant, but for him to be yours."
   Abiel laughed aloud, it echoed, tinkling through out the mountain.
     "I do not serve at his pleasure, I serve him at my own. I did not choose to love him as I do, I accept it for what it is."
     "Do you dream of living in matrimony with little versions of him scrambling at your feet?"
   Abiel laughed more loudly still as she continued to move through the chambers and tunnels, now the vision of the adult self she had not yet become in the known world.
     "You know that I do not, just as you know that my wish is not for him to be mine. I love and I accept that I love, and he accepts that I love."
     "Wonderful. Now for you to accept that your place in this world is NOT merely to love him, but to ascend and reach your potential so that you may fulfill your destiny as you have in the past."
     "Have I ever said that I refused? I had assumed these things would happen in their own time, as you've always told me."
     "Dying so that he may live does not appear to me or to our creators as acceptance, my dearest love. Unbeknownst to your immortal self, you committed a sacrifice you were in no position to make, without the power to make it."
     "And you are telling me this because I managed to succeed?"
     "I am telling you this because it was foolish, however well intended and it will have consequences. "
     "For him, I am willing to pay whatever price."
     "So foolish a notion. You are not in this world to serve him or to sacrifice for him."
     "So you continue to remind me."
   Abiel reached the center of the mountain and began the descent toward the heart of the mountain. Torches lit at her passing, though she stepped sure-footed down the spiraling stone steps.
     "Why am I here?"
     "That is an unanswerable question."
   Abiel laughed again, the echo taking on an almost sinister tone.
     "Why am I here with you at this very moment? Why do I come here like this?"
     "Because unlike Him," the voice sneered, "You do not just come back to life. Your body needs time to rest and restore the spirit of your soul, rebuild its powers and magics. Elven immortality is a misrepresentation of the facts. They are not immortal if they can be killed. You are immortal when you choose to live and keep hold of your place in the world, which stands to reason that if you can sever this ridiculous bond with him, you can love the world as much and take your place in it as you were meant to. Until then, his spirit will ever be attached to yours, whilst you hope and pray that one day he will make all manner of things right between you."
     "But he owes me nothing." Abiel stopped and looked into the darkness as though the body of the voice was standing before her, a quizzical look upon her face.
     "Not in this life, no."
     "Then I want to cancel the debt. I don't want him bound to me because of something he did in another life, that's nonsense." Abiel proceeded down the stairs again.
     "He accepted the debt himself, my dear. He, just as you, accepted this fate. You are cursed and blessed with one another until Fate says otherwise. Foolish creatures, only seeing through your own eyes and never the eyes of others when you strike these bargains. But within this life, you can make the choice yourself, be free of him so that you may become what you are."
   There was no further discussion until finally Abiel reached the bottom of the steps and made her way across a narrow arched bridge over looking a giant pool of water that ran under the mountain. Across the water, two silvery orbs flared and swirled, moving closer high over the water. Warm air touched Abiel's skin as the enormous black dragon approached. Scaled muscles shimmered from the torch lights over head, the body of the dragon was bigger than her mother's castle, a long slender neck leading to a head small in comparison to its body, but as large as a barn and fearsome. Several long dark-grey opalescent tendrils hung from its snout reminding Abiel of a silly mustache, two long fangs peaking out of the closed mouth. His wings pressed tightly against his body, the dragon Arhus moved over the water as though it were solid, causing not even a ripple. He stopped just in front of her, dipping his head toward her, his tail whipping behind him to settle around his legs and wade absently in the water.
   Abiel bowed deeply, awed by the beauty and ferocity.
    "There will come a time when you must forgo your devotion to him and accept who and what you are to the world and love the world and your place in it with as much passion and devotion as you carry for him. There must be balance in all things."
     "So I am to be your sword in the fight for all things good and right?"
     "No. You are not the champion of righteousness, my dearling. Such a thing can never be, it should never to fall to one person to cure the ills of the world. You are merely the scales."
     "The scales?"
     "To have free will in the world means there are those who will do good things, those who will do bad and all of the reasons that those choices are made. There was once a time when you did terrible things. You did those things for him. And then you did things for others that were the right thing for them. You were the arms in the scale of balance. To some, you were the purest of evil. And to others, you were the savior. But never have you been the side of good or the side of evil. YOU are the balance."
   Abiel had never imagined herself as being capable of evil or of bad deeds. This unsettled her and she did not like it.
     "How many Gods are there?" Arhus asked.
     "Nine."
     "But?" he asked.
     "But what?" Abiel stared at him.
     "There is a Tenth entity. Balance. No matter which way the cycles go, there is always the centerpiece of balance. Such is the way with the Gods just as it is here in this world and every other."
     "There are more worlds?" Abiel asked surprised.
     "Irrelevant." Arhus snapped. "This is the only place you exist, and so any other place or time serves no function of knowledge in this one. Their are nine continents here on this world. The balance of these nine is the ocean they rest upon. There must be balance in all things, as I have told you. From the smallest of things to the largest of scales. And you must accept this. To ignore it, to ignore your place is to ignore the rules of the world. And if you will not accept it, then you shall find yourself in a position where you will have no choice but to concede to your fate in ways you would not choose to, and make choices you would not otherwise make."
     "I understand." Abiel sighed within herself. She did not like this dream at all.
     "Do not feel put upon by the weight of your purpose. To do so is to make your existence an unpleasant burden."
     "I like you much better when you aren't pressing important matters upon my soul."
   Arhus laughed heartily.
     "Go and find your dearest love then, leave me to be alone in this place until you decide to see me again."
     "You called for me this time."
     "So I did, so I did. And as usual, you have distracted me from the reasons I have called to you." Arhus arched his neck up and let out an enormous stream of flame, causing Abiel to duck with her hands over her head, though she knew he would not harm her.
   The chamber was alight now, gleaming in jewels and treasure beyond all counting. Arhus began to speak in a hissing tone, Abiel felt the magic ripple around her, the water bubbled and looked to be boiling about the dragon's black feet. The jewels and treasures sparkled and shimmered like a million stars and something caught her attention- the necklace Juldain had given to her, wrapped around her wrist was sparkling and glowing as well.

     "My mother... you gave this to her?"

     "Shhhhh. I am trying to cast powerful magics here." Arhus feigned irritation. He went back to casting and a large chest appeared beside Abiel and the incantation stopped, the jeweled walls dimmed.

     "Now, to answer your question, no, I did not gift it to her. It was gifted to your grandfather, who was instructed to pass it to your mother, who was instructed to keep it for you." Arhus was lying. Abiel didn't know how she knew, but said nothing. "It acts as a gauntlet when struck because you chose to wear it on your wrist." An image of Abiel fighting against the Gurvir in the vale appeared before her. She saw herself hold her arm up, saw the axe strike, and rebound in pieces. "It will never leave you now that you have it, you will never remove it." The image faded, but stayed brightly in Abiel's memory. Though she remembered the much of the battle, she did not recall that instance and wondered what else was missing from that day.

     "Open the chest." Arhus instructed.

   Abiel moved to kneel before the silver-plated chest, it was longer than she was tall and reminded her of a coffin. Beautiful images of dragons had been masterfully engraved into it. She touched them gently with her fingers and found the latch.

     "Within lies the sword of Karr, the weapon forged for you and only you. For any other to touch it means instant death. To carry it means that you have accepted your rightful place as the Paladin. It means that no matter where you go, you are a servant of the world, the people within it."

   Abiel took a deep breath and slowly began to push open the heavy lid.

A blinding light burst forth but Abiel did not avert her gaze. The light receded as she reached for it, allowing her to see the enormous blade that looked like no other she'd seen. Like its casing, the sword was nearly as long as Abiel was tall, it gleamed silvery white from blade to hilt, the blade was half as wide as the length of her arm, long rectangular, double-edged death staring back at her. The hilt was a dragon, nine black jewels embedded in the two horns, on the tops of the four feet, one at the tip of each wing and one at the tip of the pointed tail. It was calling to her in whispers and memories of a life she did not live. She wanted so much to touch it and hold it, but withdrew her hand from the chest. Something was happening. Arhus began to waiver. the sword began to glow brightly, the water began to rush and swirl. Someone near was shouting. The dream was fading. Abiel heard Marin calling to her desperately. She was waking up.

                                                                     CHAPTER

In a chamber of red-infused ambers, hundreds of candles blazed, wax dripped and pooled, connecting one candle to another, lined perfectly in the shape of a pentagram. Statues of a dragon in different poses carved from amber and onyx sat facing away from the pentagram at each of the five points. The room itself was round with red painted doors several yards from each statue. Sitting in the center of the blazing pentagram was a man, his head shaved and tattooed heavily in red and black inks in a language foreign to most lands. In place of eyebrows were similar tattoos that swept up into peaks of flame. He was shirtless, long muscular arms reached to the floor, scarred and tattooed, palms pressed firmly upon the hot stone tiles. He sat cross-legged, back straight, his breathing slow and precise, eyes closed. He was not in this room in mind or spirit, he was floating in the nothingness of time and space having a discussion with the God known as Orantius.
     "I see not where this is a problem, Gurivan. Dead or alive, the Paladin is of no consequence to your designs." Orantius was alone. Such a thing had never happened within the bounds of time in the world of Gods and their creations. He'd found the machinations of mortals and all of their plans interesting. He was no true ally of Gurivan, but no mortal had ever found a way to call precisely to him or any other of the Nine. As such, he found Gurivan's tenacity and desire to rule the world under one throne to be fascinating. The Half-ogre half-blood elf showed considerable talents in the arts of magic and warfare. Far and beyond most in intelligence and design made Gurivan formidable and had Orantius considering whether or not it was worth splitting the universes among the other Gods as opposed to sharing. They all had the same powers, they were Gods and creators of worlds and life, after all- why not see to things individually? It was merely a consideration.
     "The problem lies within her presence becoming known among the Lorelands and spreading, the armies uniting under her banner and thus ending my world domination before it begins." Even in the planes, the humor of the possibility that she might succeed in thwarting Gurivan's attempts was not lost on him. He would have paced had he been more than a vapor floating in the nothingness that was Orantius's plane of existence.
     "You have more power." A simple point that would have caused Gurivan to nod in agreement had he had a head to nod.
     "Has a Paladin ever failed?"
   If Orantius had been a man, it might have taken him some time to think this over. The Paladin had existed for at least ten thousand years in the histories of this particular world, had touched its ground hundreds of times. But it took the slightest of moments to respond, "No."
   "However, there has been no equal to the Paladin. And you are not her equal at present, you are her superior and will remain so as long as you take advantage of her youth. She will not ascend in any reasonable time that I can foresee given the choices she continues to make regarding an elven centurion. Make haste, my greatest follower. See to your people and your plans. You have the magic and knowledge to see them to fruition."
   "And the dragon, Theralon?" Gurivan asked.
   "Theralon the Red will continue to do as you bid."

   "She grows weak."

   "She must rest and be kept in constant fire, as I have instructed you before. Magic as you well know, is not an infinite source, and though the dragons are powerful and furious, their limits must be respected as your own or there will be nothing to help you in your quest."

"I understand, my father." The flattery had always seemed to warm Orantius, and if Gurivan was to find a way to claim the God's power for himself, it was better to keep him close and pleased. It was a risk, he knew, but the God had long since been giving away small secrets without realizing. In the God's mind, there was nothing to fear from Gurivan. He was flesh and blood after all, nothing significant. But Orantius's failing was that he had responded to Gurivan when he called. The art of God's and religion as far as the enormous man was concerned, was that Gods should remain aloof, a mystery. To keep their worshipers wondering what may lay in store, unable to contact them and seek aid for their personal desires in their singular life. In this way, he'd bested a God, and would become one himself, the only, in the end, with the God's help.
     "One last matter before you leave me, son of mine. Should the day arise when you must face the Paladin, a weapon like no other must you use to take her from the world."
     "I thought she could not die so long as she chose to return to it." Gurivan did not like this. He'd assumed she'd always be a thorn in his side and was prepared for that.
     "You are correct. However, your aim will not be to kill so much as it will be to eliminate her as a threat to your power. Her body can die. Once she has chosen to return to it, it is a matter of days before she can walk among the living. But if she is trapped and cannot return to it,"
     "Yes, I like this." Gurivan could have smiled.
     "Her body must be maintained, encased in a crypt of magics. Therilan can create this for you, watch over it. As for killing her, that will be another matter. It has come to my attention that the sword of Karr has been shown to her, which means it will only be a matter of time before she ascends and takes it for herself, as is her birthright. You will need a weapon of equal measure in order to ensure her death, for no man-made steel of the known world or magic will bring her down."
     "How is it that she died in the Vale?" Gurivan asked curiously.
     "The Paladin chose to trade her life for the centurion's, a foolish gesture, which will make her return to the realm of men all the more suspicious, but may work to your advantage if you choose to see it as such. Upon your return to the temple, you will do two things: amass all of the precious metals you can to make nine swords. The ores and metals must be melted together. When they are ready, you will add to it nine of Theralon's scales, and make an offer your blood and you will call to me. I will answer this call and I will forge for you a weapon to defeat the Paladin. The second task is this:  find those wary of the coming of the paladin. Convince them that she is every bit the threat they believe her to be. Now leave me, whisper my name into the ears of your followers. Let it be known that the world awaits your arrival and that I have chosen you to be my emissary."
     "I will, my benevolent father."

   Abiel struggled to move, to breathe. She was bound within a darkness that held no air. Her body felt heavy, painful. Her skin burned along with her lungs as she struggled against the magic of the necromancers. It did not take long before she was tired, almost too tired to fight. The darkness was frightening, the panic terrible. She tried to scream but there was no air to draw in or force out. She could see nothing, hear nothing. It was torture and agony. Her dream had left her, there was no one to call to. She was going to die, trapped Gods only knew where. Sheer panic engulfed her as a new darkness began to overtake her, the pain began to release as she faded.

   Marin shrieked, lunging and kicking at the cart Abiel's encased body rested in. Instead of going to help Abiel, the men were intent upon settling him. She was alive and dying there. No magic the enchanter tried to cast upon him would keep Marin from trying to save her. It was Raxus who'd first spotted the other animals walking with the procession just beyond the road behind the tree lines and thickets. He'd assumed they were there to see Abiel off, just as they'd come to her aid when she'd been so distraught when they'd left Wrottsley. But the animals were now advancing, the enchanter had tried and succeeded in mesmerizing some but not all.
     "What in all of the levels of Hell is going on here?" Vahlaur asked.
  Shiftie looked at the encroaching animals and then to Marin and Abiel's body... panic. It was not his panic. In the midst of Marin's sudden rash behavior, he'd mistaken what he was feeling- feelings that were not his own.
     "Karr be merciful..." he whispered and leaped onto the cart beside her body and began to tear at the enchanted linens. There was fading color in her cheeks. Shiftie opened her mouth and breathed into it once, twice, three times...
     "What are you doing?!" Raxus screamed.
     "For Gods sakes wake up!" Shiftie yelled and shook Abiel by the shoulders.
A long moment passed... Abiel's eyes opened wide, burning with tears as she took  in air in a panicked state. Everyone stopped in their tracks and stared open-mouthed as the girl tried vehemently to breathe. The animals rushed to her, a mountain lion knocking Shiftie back and almost off the cart. Marin approached leaning his head over Shiftie and the lion to rest his nose against her cheek. Her body ached in a way she'd never experienced, her lungs and throat burned.
     "Water," she gasped hoarsely. Shiftie jumped out of the cart and ripped a water gourde from Marin's saddle and brought it to her, pushing passed two racoons and a badger.
  Abiel drank greedily, regretting it and began to choke. Shiftie took the gourde from her and held it.
     "Slowly," he said quietly, trying to ignore the small paws touching his arm to reach her.
  She sipped now, trying to take her time. She was ready to drink a river's worth of water. After a long while, she waived the third gourde away, satisfied for the moment, but feeling very hungry. It would have to wait, that she could tell by the looks of astonishment on her friend's faces.
     "What happened to me?" Abiel asked.
     "I'd like the same answer," Shiftie snapped.
     "Where am I?"
     "Foremn Glade, three days ride from the Vale by horse, or four if your travelling slowly carrying a dead body." Raxus snapped.
     "Who's dead body?" Abiel insisted.
     "Yours!" Raxus snapped.
It was the bard who'd decided first to find happiness in the notion that the girl was alive, and despite the litany of forest critters intent upon surrounding her, leaned over them to hug Abiel and welcome her.
     "I shall have to write a special song for this occasion," he smiled and kissed her forehead. Abiel smiled warmly at Vahlaur, but looked to Shiftie in bewilderment.
     "How could I be dead? Again?! Am I still dead? And if I was dead, how can I now be alive?" she was panicking and they could feel it. Shiftie sighed irritably. It was bad enough that he didn't understand what had happened up until that point, but to be bombarded by her feelings was about all he could take.
     "Will you please get a hold of yourself so that we can decipher this blasphemy? Can you do something about this?" he waived angrily at the animals. Marin bared his teeth at Shiftie, who nearly slapped the horses muzzle in return.
   Abiel took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
     "Please my friends, I need to try to get up from here." Abiel pulled the shredded linens from her feet and with a considerable amount of discomfort, turned and slid herself to the rear of the cart. Marin moved quickly to kneel so that she could use him to try to stand. She touched her bare feet to the long grass- this triggered something in her memory that she could not clarify. A mountain and water.... that was all she could recall, and focused again on standing. Using the girth strap of the saddle, Abiel got to her feet. Her body felt heavy, much like the armor. Her stomach growled.
     Shiftie looked about nervously. "Are you fit enough to ride?"
     "I am if you need me to be," Abiel replied.
     "The sooner we leave here and get to... somewhere..." his voice trailed off. It would be a matter of days before the carrier bird reached Juldain warning of Abiel's death. Shiftie looked at the girl, who was staring at him awaiting his instructions and answers.
     "The closest town is Eohann. Beyond that, it's at least a weeks hard ride to the Forge." Vahlaur said, still smiling at Abiel, who was trying to raise a smile from the still silent enchanter, Mencius.
     "We will start for Eohann. We will rest there, then make for the Forge."
     "You four head there, I'll see to the cart and mules." Vahlaur offered.
     "Thank you." Shiftie said curtly. To leave them or set them loose was to invite inquiries.
     "I shall see you shortly, young one. By then, I shall have a song to play for you." Vahlaur kissed Abiel's hand.
     "It's good to see you, Vahl'. I look forward to hearing your music." Abiel smiled and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, though it hurt her legs to do so. Vahlaur helped seat Abiel upon Marin.
     "Back to your homes, all of you." Abiel commanded, waiving at the animals to leave. Reluctantly, the beasts made their way back to the trees. "I'll be fine now," she assured them as eyes peering through foliage kept watch.
   Shiftie pulled himself into the saddle behind her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist almost too tightly for comfort. Raxus took his saddle as Vahlaur tied his horse to the back of the cart. Mencius pulled the torn death shroud from the cart and stuffed them hastily into his saddle bags before mounting, his silence still sitting heavily about them.


  The sun had dipped behind the forest when they reached the small farming village of Eohan. It was bustling with soldiers and caster from the Lore lands, the sounds of music and singing rang clearly in celebration of the victory. Shiftie was quick to pull his cloak about him, pulling his hood up to shroud his face. Raxus untied his black cloak and handed it to Abiel. He and Mencius went inside in hopes of finding rooms. The inn was filled to capacity, but many a farmer was willing to rent out their barns and even their homes for the right price. Raxus accepted such an invitation and reappeared outside and motioned that the others should follow. Down the main road a stretch was the small one room cottage and a barn with plenty of room for the six of them. Once settled, Raxus paid the farmer handsomely for the shelter and any food the man could spare. Raxus headed back to the town to wait for Vahlaur and to find what ever company he could for the night as the others settled in, making beds of hay.

(2)Secondary Souls- First Chapters

                                                     CHAPTER I

   It was far too late for Abiel to be out in the courtyard, but the determination to master the sword-strikes she'd seen her mother's men practicing during the day out-weighed her exhaustion and the trouble she would be in were she caught.
     'Most of them couldn't do it properly,' she thought to herself, and heaved a sigh. Abiel dusted her dark leggings and stretched her aching muscles. Slightly renewed, she resumed her fighting stance, walked herself through the footwork she'd seen, swinging the short-sword down using both hands, ducking to the left, then the right from her unseen attacker, swung the short-sword over her head, parried, knelt, thrust upward, then lost her balance and fell back onto her hind-end. 

    "Foooock." She swore with a growl and chucked the sword as best she could onto the ground away from herself, fighting back tears. Abiel was tired, sweaty, frustrated, determined.
   She stared at the blade that was so heavy even after months of training. The sword was small in the hands of men, commonly a secondary weapon. It was a broadsword in her tiny dusty hands. Abiel inspected the broken calluses, raw and sore on her palms. In her eighth spring, Abiel was slight in height and weight compared to other children. While not disliked, having friends meant sharing her secrets and so she was her own company most days.
    The little girl got to her feet, unlaced the tie holding the loosening braid of her long unruly dark brown hair. She re-braided it stumbling awkwardly as she attempted to weave and twist the long sections of hair behind her head. She'd almost finished when Abiel had the distinct feeling someone was watching her. She dropped the braid, it unraveled until her hair was long and wild about her face and shoulders, turned abruptly and began to spew apologies and beg for forgiveness. Abiel had expected it to be soldier or a servant or worst of all, her mother.
   Abiel was met by a gaze so piercing and a face so beautiful she stopped speaking. Mouth agape, the little girl was transfixed by skin so touched by the sun and Heavens it glowed even in the darkness. Blue eyes sparkled as the most perfect gems might above cheeks and a jaw that must have been carved by the Gods artisan. Silken white hair pulled to a small tail at the back of his head, the man was tall and slender, but there was no denying the power and confidence in his demeanor. The elf smiled and Abiel let out a giggle she wished she could take back immediately and covered her mouth with both hands.
     "My Lord, I am so terribly sorry." Abiel knelt, forehead nearly touching the dirt. He was still smiling when she came to her feet.
     "No need to apologize, youngling. We all practice our arts when we find the time. Were it always convenient, I suspect people would sleep more contently." He bowed to her slowly, precisely. He straightened, pushing his dark blue cloak behind his shoulders. Simple but no-less well made were his clothes, all a dark blue. A clasp of dark platinum held his cloak about his shoulders- nine snake heads with eyes of diamonds and Abiel realized she was not standing in front of any elf, but someone of great power. He was a warrior of the Serpeant Sect. Awe swept deeper across her face and through her- despite being the daughter of the reagent, his authority swept across the lands, not just within the confines of her mother's city.
   The thought of her mother caused her to remember one of the opinions her mother had shared- that elves, male and female, be they high elf, half-elf, or from the woodlands, even the blood elves, were unmatched in their beauty. But occasionally, there were some who were clearly even more so, and Abiel decided, this was the most magnificent being she'd ever been in the presence of.
     "You will make a fine warrior," he said, cutting through her contemplation. Abiel blushed profusely.
     "My sincerest apologies again My Lord. I do not mean to stare. You are so beautiful." She lowered her chin and looked up at him under her mane of hair. The elf moved toward her, kneeling down before her.
     "I do not recall a time I have ever been complimented so sincerely, my lady and as such, I have lost my manners. I am a centurion of the Serpeant Sect. My elven name is long and arduous- I am known as Shiftie throughout the realms."
   Abiel let out a loud laugh at this odd name and covered her mouth hastily again and apologized through her hands. Shiftie only smiled a deep charming smile that faded to a subtle smirk.
     "I am not nearly as diabolical as it might imply, but on second thought, perhaps I am." he winked and gave her a mischievous smile that she returned, hers beaming from ear to ear.
     "It is an honor to meet you," Abiel regained her composure and dawned her courtly manner. Abiel had accepted but never truly understood the need for formal respect- and now, she was over-flowing with desire to honor.
     "I am Abiel, daughter of the Regent Juldain. It is my greatest honor to meet you, my lord." Abiel knelt before him again as humbly as she could manage.
     "I believe we were to be introduced tomorrow. How fortuitous. Fate has intervened and I am pleased that it has. I do believe the honor of the introduction is mine, fiercest youngling." He smiled and any tension or soreness she'd been feeling had left her body, embarrassments forgotten.
     "Will you be staying in the city for long, my lord?"
     "A few weeks, I think. Much business to tend to and this is a hard city to leave. I am quite sure your mother made sure of that for all who enter its gates."
     "Are you an acquaintance of my mother?"
     "I have not had the pleasure. Your mother has quite the reputation for commerce, I am told."
     "I am pleased to hear of this, good sir. I would be terribly put out to learn otherwise." a thoughtful and oddly mature expression crossed her face. Shiftie bit his lip to keep from laughing. He stood to his full height and went to pick up the sword she'd been practicing with. Her smile and innocence touched him in a way he'd never experienced. He wasn't annoyed that the human child was staring at him with intense reverence, that was curious. Most days he was blissfully unaware of how anyone looked at him. The elf pretended to inspect the sword while examining the girl.  
     "Would you like me to show you a few things? I think they might assist you in your studies."
     "Truly?" She beamed.
     "Truly." The elf held out the sword to the child.

   Within the hour, the bond was forged. It was a rare thing, or so they elves believed many loved ones would come and go, but a bond of the soul was unbreakable. This was not lost on Shiftie as Abiel listened so intently, absorbing his teaching with a fervent joy and noticeably insatiable desire to learn more.
      "I cannot promise you'll best dragons and the like by tomorrow, there's much to know and much I still have to learn, but I feel satisfied you could defeat many a foe in time if you continue to train in earnest. Balance and control of self in all things, these are the keys." Shiftie sat on an empty ale barrel and watched the girl. "You will make a fine swordsman, if that is your path."
      Abiel swung the sword one last time and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. "I feel it in my heart. This," she motioned at the castle and city, "this is a home, but not mine, not really."
 The words were far too mature and sent a startling chill up his back followed by a pain- the pain of foreshadowing that he seldom experienced. Straight in the chest like a blow from the hilt of a sword.
     "One can never be sure," he said. Not warning, but a leading statement to gauge Abiel's response.
     "I am certain, my lord. I know in my skin. Just as my mum knew she wasn't to be a farmer's wife or a jewel in the treasure chest of an old lord. She paved her own path. It was not enough to be the daughter of an army captain, even if his valor is still sung in the halls of the inns across the valleys all the way to the dwarven mountain forges. Even if she never approves of my choice, which she does not," she smiled at Shiftie briefly, "...this is my road. This," she held her sword before her seeing beyond it, "It is who I am- steel and iron."
   A second strike to his heart.
     "War is for you?"
     "Not in making but ending. If words were the magic the world needed to stop the evils and perils within, we would have no need for it. But the bards do not sing of my grandfather because he vanquished the hordes of orc and goblin and centaur with a well-cooked meal and chat at hearthside. He did it will steel, with valor, because he wanted his young children and the children of his men to be free. I wish this for myself- to protect those I care for- friends, should I ever come to have any."
     "Oh but you do have a friend, my lady, if you will have me such as I am." Shiftie came to stand before her and dropped to both knees.
   Abiel's eyes lit up, she beamed a smile of such happiness Shiftie was overcome with a foreign feeling that enveloped him in its fervency.
     "Then I shall protect you, sir. Not that you would need it, but my sword is yours." She tucked the sword to her shoulder, blade up at her side and bowed.
   The shadow deepened upon Shiftie as the words fell from her lips.
     "Perhaps I shall live a few extra years then." He got to his feet. "Shall we toast to it? A drink I think is order for all of your hard work. Let us see what is available in your mother's kitchens, if this pleases you."
   Without intending to, his hand reached out to Abiel and she took it gladly. So small was her hand. The shadows turned to consuming darkness.


                                                      **************


   Shiftie did not mourn the loss of sleep staying up with Abiel passed midnight, then several hours more dissecting the events of the evening with her, enjoying from time to time the simplicity of Abiel's youth and tenacity to earn his respect and kinship. But there were answers he was determined to discover, and it was a fortnight's hard ride to the Serpaent Isles where the temple of the Serpaent Sect was located, and within it, the head of the Nine Orders, a monk known to the world as Pouty. Going to a Serpaent temple or to another sect meant too many ears and whispers and he would not risk it without further knowledge.
   There still remained his business and that needed to be attended to without fail. Shiftie stared down at the scrying bowl on the table- a small dark brown clay molded and fired by monks long before his birth, it was such a simple tool for such a powerful task- communicating with Pouty from across the land. Shiftie detested using it, never trusting in the privacy it was supposed to offer. Everything would change, initiatives set into motion that could not be undone if he was wrong, revolving around his new friend that he was alarmingly disinclined to share or part with. A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
     "Centurion, the Regent will receive you now," a servant called through the door.
     "Too many damned secrets," he sighed aloud and tipped the bowl to let the water drain onto the floor.


                                                          

CHAPTER II

  Abiel sat swinging her legs impatiently as she recited common greetings in elvish and dwarvish. Abiel's mother had been teaching her both languages since Abiel had been able to speak and was nearly fluent in both, the necessity for 'formal learning' as her pedagogue phrased it, nagged at the impatient girl. She was proud that she could write in elvish, saddened that dwarves did not feel the need to write things down, but Abiel was also quite sure that it would not look nearly as beautiful. The dwarves preferred to pass things on through spoken word and imbued relics in order to maintain their magics for fear that they would be stolen- mostly by humans. And gnomes. Their art was in the crafting of beautiful things despite their race's rough appearance and graveled nature.
     "Young Miss, it is important that you know this as a child of the court." Lady Condessa, Abiel's teacher of most subjects, implored her unruly student. A middle-aged widow, the Lady Condessa had no children of her own and had been a childhood friend of Juldain. As such, the education of young Abiel was of the utmost importance to the Regent and the Lady.
     "My apologies, Lady Condessa." Abiel stopped swinging her legs and sat up in her chair.
     "We'll move on to mathematics then,"
   Abiel rolled her eyes as her teacher turned her back to find her book. Abiel's need to leave and find Shiftie was gnawing at her. She'd slept hardly an hour, entranced by fantasies of herself as older, strong and valiant, fighting alongside her new swords master against ravaging orc and goblins- creatures she'd never seen except in books. A soft knock at the door caused Abiel to sit as straight as her chair would allow, eyes wide, heart pounding in her chest. It would not do if he saw her being an unruly student!
     "Enter," Lady Condessa snapped hastily.
   The large iron-framed oak door swung in softly. It took only a brief glimpse of the heavy boot as it passed the threshold for Abiel to realize it was Shiftie, and she was quite certain he was there to retrieve her. Shiftie bowed deeply, gracefully. Abiel hopped from her chair, nearly bouncing to him and wrapped her arms around his legs and hugged him.
     "Young miss!" the teacher chided, shock white at such an affectionate gesture.
     "My sincerest apologies for the interruption my lady, but I have been instructed by Regent Juldain to take Miss Abiel for the day." Shiftie pat the young girl on the head as he smiled apologetically to the teacher and realized he'd patted a child's head for the first time in his life.
   Abiel released the warrior's legs, grinning from ear to ear.
     "I am not entirely sure I approve of an untrained instructor molding the young miss, but the Regent has expressed her wishes... I dismiss you." the stern disapproving look did not fade from her face.
     "Thank you, Lady Condessa,"Abiel bowed hastily and ran out the door dragging Shiftie with her as he attempted to bow to the teacher.
   The door to her private tutorial chambers had not closed yet when Abiel began whooping and leaping down the corridor. Shiftie nearly doubled over with laughter. Adorable was not a word he'd expressed toward human children. Typically he found them obnoxious and crude, unusually filthy and highly boorish, especacially compared to Elven children, whom he had little use for either. Her smile and unfettered joy struck him. Without thinking, he scooped little Abiel up in one arm as he made his way down the hall and stairwell, then out into the stable yard. Abiel rested her forearm upon his shoulder, enjoying the world from such magnificent heights, mane of hair blowing behind her as they went. She was terribly proud of this, her first friend. If there was ever to be a first friend, then surely Shiftie must be the one to have.

   A paige was waiting with Shiftie's horse, a tall slender dapple gray stallion with a jet black mane and tail. Abiel gasped at the sight of the magnificent horse, who turned and went to move toward her while the young paige struggled to keep the steed still. A strange thing, given his mount had no particular care for children. The horse had been well trained to ignore and to work. Shiftie smiled and set Abiel upon the saddle before swinging himself up behind her. Abiel took a small tuft of mane in one hand the the small horn of the intricate leather saddle in the other. Shiftie's hand rested upon her waste and curved around her to take the reigns. She'd never felt so safe or powerful.
     "Magic," she said softly.
     "What was that?" Shiftie inquired, confused by the reference.
     "Speaking my thoughts aloud. I apologize, my lord." a deep exhale of contentment released from Abiel as the horse moved with such terrible grace through the stable courtyard and toward the city.  
     "Where do we travel to, Sir?"
     "A few places, I think. Your mother felt it was time for you to see more of your home under less formal circumstances than you're used to."
   Shiftie steered the horse effortlessly down the cobblestone bridge and through the gates into the main marketplace. Having never traveled through the city outside of a carriage, the buildings loomed overhead. Loud and bustling, Abiel found it difficult to look at any one thing at a time or for very long. The smell of the sea was heavy today, the sun warm upon her face. There was so much color, so many people. Abiel was sitting as straight as a board, head turning this way and that as Shiftie continued to maneuver through the pedestrians and carts.
     "Sir!" she exclaimed, pointing fervently, pushing herself up as far as she could. The high elf followed her gaze to a vendor with cages full of small forest animals, the bulk of them being ferrets.
     "Look! Look! A ferret trader! Please Sir, may we stop?" Abiel exclaimed trying to turn to look at Shiftie with an imploring gaze but not wanting to take her eyes off the small playing animals lest he say no.
   A small smile started to form as Shiftie urged the horse over to the trader where dozens of tall cages stood some linked allowing for the dozens of ferrets and small woodland creatures to attempt to have room to showcase their playfulness for just such an eye as Abiel's. The horse had not yet reached the post but Abiel was off the horse so quickly, Shiftie felt his heart stop at the fear of her falling and breaking her head open. The youngling was as fast as she was agile and flexible and as small as she was, he couldn't quite make out how she'd slid off like water, landed on her feet and hit a full run in half a moment. 'More surprises,' he thought.
   Lithe and adept for such a young child, she moved through the constant flow of people like a shadow. He chuckled to himself at the thought of her becoming a rogue and led the gray to the tethering post.
     "May I please browse your ferrets, good sir?" Abiel asked so politely it would have seemed insincere coming from an adult. The trader was not accustomed to such niceties and coughed long and hard to recall what little formal manners he had.
     "Of course, little miss. Mind your fingers though, those little bastar...," he coughed again, "... I mean those creatures can be a bit feisty, if you catch my meanin'." the trader nodded to Shiftie and the two men watched Abiel sink slowly to her knees before the largest of the cages. The ferrets and other animals had already become aware of her, stopped their play fighting and had been eyeing her in stillness.
     "Hello there little friends, I hope I find you all well today." Abiel curled her hand, putting her knuckles to the metal grate as her mother had shown her to do with strange dogs and horses. The ferrets at first sat frozen and as if a snapped back into life, they were rushing to smell, touch, and lick her hand gently, scrambling like mad over and under and in between one another to be touched by her. Abiel let out a giggle and slipped her fingers in between the wire grating to touch them all. Her laughter and joy seemed like a beacon to the animals, who continued to wildly attempt to touch and be touched by her.
     "By Gods!" the trader choked.
Abiel turned to look back at Shiftie, who appeared mildly disapproving. His stern glanced gave way to a warm smile- it was not his own smile, that he knew. But she was happy- so terribly happy and he could not seem to help feeling happy, though what he was witnessing was wrong. Their leisurely trip through the city became one of great import. The others had to meet her, see these things for themselves. He had to have answers.
     "Have you ever seen such a thing, sir?" the trader cut into Shiftie's brooding.
     "They must know their own kind, all rascals seem to." Shiftie replied, causing Abiel to howl with delighted pleasure, another smile upon his heart that was as much hers as it was his. Shiftie called her name quietly and reached out his hand to her.
    "I am sorry little ones, I must depart. My master calls." Abiel made small kissing noises at them, causing the ferrets to go wild and lick her fervently, almost pleading that she stay a while longer. Abiel giggled. "I must do as he says. Just look upon him, you'll understand." and the ferrets' gaze did fall upon Shiftie for a long moment before returning to their attention to Abiel.
     "See? What did I tell you." she whispered and giggled again lightly.
  Shiftie went rigid.
     "Goodbye little ones, I will see you again!" she promised and got to her feet. Shiftie's hand was still waiting for hers and she took his smallest finger in hand as was her way.
     "Thank you, Sir. Please be well." Abiel beamed a glowing smile and bowed at the trader, who could not find words to speak.

   Upon the saddle Shiftie set Abiel again and swept up behind her. He feigned looking through his saddle bag in order to see if any other had witnessed beyond the trader. This was not normal, not even for druids or shamans who lived among animals training for years to command them. One did not simply approach untamed animals, nor did untamed animals approach humans or elves or become wildly affectionate toward them in the course of a moment. Shiftie put an arm under Abiel's, holding her closely to him now. One witness meant ten and he needed to get her away from the populous to his comrades.
     "We have much to do today, my young pupil. We best make haste for our destination. I hope the introduction to the trader's ferrets will suffice for the meeting of animals for one day." Shiftie stated and steered the horse through the pedestrians at a small canter.
     "Yes, yes, that will do indeed, sir!" Abiel was still giddy. "I could never name them all," she sighed, day dreaming of playing in her mother's gardens with the ferrets.


   There was so much to look at, Abiel had stopped trying to take it all in. She would see more and looked forward to the day when she knew her way about her mother's city as well as Shiftie did. So many streets and bridges, the canals were a maze and wonder of architecture. But now that she had the elven warrior to herself and it appeared that they were going to cross the whole city to wherever he was taking her, Abiel had questions. Many many questions and decided that she would have to have the answers. And thus came the barrage of inquiries the like Shiftie had never encountered.
     "Are you married sir?" the question came after several other queries regarding Dwarves, Black Forge, The Vale and how it became home to mostly woodland elves, then moved on to the topics such as gnomes, iron, jewels, horse riding, plate armor versus chain or leather, more about jewels, building structures, the Nine Sects and elven hair colors.
     "No, I am most certainly not."
     "Do you like girls?"
   Shiftie almost choked on his laughter. "I do, very much so. Perhaps not as much as some of my companions." Shiftie smiled to himself, thinking of several friends who lusted for women as much as they lusted for battle, two of whom Abiel was soon to meet. Abiel smiled as well, glad that he had found something amusing within her query.
     "As a centurion, I do not often remain in the same place. I can be gone for days, months... years even. My role in the world as it stands is far more important to me and I do not imagine that will change in the future."
     "Oh." it was a simple response, one that Shiftie found himself almost concerned by. The odd moment passed, and Abiel continued asking questions about faerie wings and gnomish traditions in the winter.

   For all of the hurrying he'd intended, Shiftie had taken the longest most winding route to their destination, enjoying the company of his small energetic companion and her slew of questions and deductions. In the midst of a dissertation on her mother's opinions of elven wines versus dwarven ale, it occurred to Abiel that she was hungry and mid-sentence, asked if they would be eating that day or if fasting was a part of her training regiment now. Shiftie laughed so hard, his horse stopped mid stride and turned to look back at him.
     "Yes, my youngling, we are currently enroute to the tavern with the best sheepherders pie in the Lorelands."
     "Sheepherders pie?!" she squeaked excitedly.
     "The very best." Shiftie whispered in her ear. Abiel shivered and leaned back against his chest. She began to play with the ends of the horse's mane, watching the people and buildings float by.
     "This is my best day," she sighed in contentment. The duo rode in contented silence for the remainder of time until they reached the tavern of the Green Shepherd.

   From the front steps of the Green Shepherd, Abiel could see her mother's castle over the roof tops of the expansive city, sitting atop the cliffs overlooking the bay, the banners of many colors a welcome beacon to all. It was strange to see it from so far. Enormous even from a distance, Abiel had never thought of it as large, but she was proud and had a small smile for it and felt lucky in her heart that that was where she lived and was profoundly proud. Somewhere within those giant walls, her mother was seeing to the people's needs.

 

 The Green Shepherd was a modest two-storied place built of stone and timber with a dark tiled roof. Chimneys billowed steam and smoke, a wonderful smell of fresh made food and bread consumed her, causing her stomach to growl fiercely. Nine iron lanterns pained with green leaded glass hung in a perfect row between the first and second floors, two large glass-pained windows heavily curtained on either side of the large wooden door. Shiftie opened the door for Abiel, following closely behind and closed it quietly. It was warm, inviting. Heavy wooded tables and chairs about the room, a long bar down one wall leading back into the kitchens. Musky perfumed candles sat in the center of each table. It was full, by the looks of it and people in it, the Green Shepherd was customarily a busy place and attracted a wide variety of clients. Abiel's grip on Shiftie's hand tightened as he took the lead through to his waiting companions.

     "There he is!" a gruff voice boomed from somewhere within.
  Abiel could not see past Shiftie but trusted and followed diligently, trying to be brave in this new environment. She felt eyes upon her though it could not be said who was truly watching or why. Shiftie led her to a round table in the far front corner near one of the small hearths. There were six men in total- two humans, a dwarf, two dark elves and a high elf. Abiel felt a strange sensation fall over her skin, sending a chill up her spine. Shiftie began the introductions. The men appeared surly and battle ready which thrilled Abiel to no end.
   First was the dwarf, Thromguard. His cheerfulness was a trait she had not seen in the many dwarves that she'd met in her short lifetime, his beard an expanse of braids of different sizes clasped by small beads and gems, dark brown eyes and well made clothing of leathers and heavy cottons. He bowed his head, and raised a large tankard of ale and took a drink in her honor.
     "Pleasure is all mine in meeting you, youngling!" and Throm took another long swig of ale, some of it making it onto his beard, to which he paid no heed.
   The two dark elves were introduced as Raxus and Toatle.
     "Both are dread knights, converted to the Light by love and flowers," Shiftie feigned whispering, the two dark elves were not amused and made no apologies for the profanities and rude gestures made in her presence at Shiftie. Both were handsome, terribly handsome, she thought, with blue-violet skin shock white hair and gem-like twinkling eyes; sharp cornered chins, carved cheek bones, strong noses- they were a sight and Abiel could not remember the last time she'd been so intimidated. Both were dressed similarly to Throm and Shiftie in simple but no less well-made tunics and woven leather vests and leather breaches, cloaks clasped with the seal of the Serpaent. They did not rise from their seats and barely uttered greetings. Abiel was too apprehensive to be offended and squeaked out a greeting.
   It was the high elf enchanter that Shiftie introduced as Mencius that brought a smile to Abiel, his presence put her more at ease. He stood and went to her, taking her hands in his and bowed from the waist. Mencius was the epitome of grace and beauty.
     "An honor to meet you, my lady. If I can ever be of service," Mencius smiled warmly. His hair was a softer white than the other elves, almost a light golden hint to it reaching the embroidered tie at his waist. His heavy silken blue robes begged to be touched. She was sure her mother would have one hundred gowns made from this fabric given the chance. Mencius's aquamarine eyes sparkled as if he'd caught her thoughts. He touched her chin in the most gentle way.
     "Untamed," he said smiling and looked to Shiftie for a moment before taking his seat again. Abiel blushed profusely and turned to face the two humans who were introduced as Zykon and Vahlaur.

    "Feral," Toatle retorted with a growl. Shiftie shot him a daggered glance before completing the introductions.  
     "Master Zykon the monk, which is why he seldom wears clothes," Shiftie joked. Zykon nodded in her direction. He was truly the least dressed person she could ever recall meeting for that matter, wearing a linen shift that he had not cared to lace or tie and loose dark brown linen pants. He might as well have been dressed for bed. Zykon's raven black hair was pulled to a tail at the crown of his head and Abiel found him to be handsome and suspected that he had originated from the Tin Wor provinces several leagues away, the furthest of the eastern Lorelands beyond the Vale.
     Zykon's demeanor was not overtly friendly in a manner that made her determined to earn his respect. Abiel smiled and turned her attention to the last human, Vahlaur the bard, dressed in pale beige linen and rich brown leather. Abiel caught sight of an elegant looking psalter in his lap that he was plucking and strumming lightly. Waves of blond hair hung just passed his shoulders, a warm smile greeted her and he stood to kiss her hand. The two dark elves rustled irritably in their seats. Another glance from Shiftie forced them to settle as he helped Abiel take her chair beside Throm, then slid his chair closer to hers and sat down beside her.
   Abiel tugged softly at the edge of Shiftie's shirt, causing him to lean toward her.
     "Is Mencius an ainion?" she whispered. Shiftie smiled at the girl's use of the elvish word meaning 'angel'. Mencius, who'd overheard the question, remained silent but no less appreciative of the compliment. Abiel sat straight in her chair, forearms resting on the table, her fingers locked.
     "All of you make my skin tingle." she blurted out. The men laughed uncomfortably in unison, which Abiel noted. All eyes were upon Shiftie. There was much to discuss.

   It did not take long once the food and more drinks arrived at the table for Abiel to settle in and revel in her surroundings. She took great care in asking detailed and pointed questions to ensure that she had time to savor the bites of the best food she'd ever eaten. The men were all centurions in the Serpaent Sect alongside Shiftie, most downplayed their strengths and powers but for the two dark elves, who were content in discussing everything concerning their exploits and amassing of rare armor and weapons, one tale bled into another. It was like being swept up in a giant bardsong, inflaming her imagination. For the centurions, it was not hard to be charmed by the girl. The happier she was, the more intent they became upon seeing to her needs and feeding into her joy. Zykon who was normally quiet and seldom genial, fetched her water and spiced cider when her cups ran dry, more bread when the basket went empty. The more they shared, the more enthralled Abiel became with the men and their lives. The more Abiel wanted to know, the more the reserved men found themselves sharing.
   As the food and drink settled, Abiel's energy level began to wane. The tavern was cozy, the wooden chair she sat upon beside Shiftie may as well have been cushioned and the young girl began to lean against the centurion as Vahlaur continued to play quiet songs absently. Again, the instinct to give her comfort seemed a natural thing to Shiftie, his arm curled around Abiel, holding her to him. Her contentment at this gesture became palpable, causing Mencius to straighten in his seat, and to become aware that he'd been slouching in an unelvenly, overly-relaxed manner, the same overly-relaxed manner visible in his companions. Mencius lifted his cup to his mouth, watching the girl, but did not drink. He began to silently cast a spell.
   Abiel's eyelids were heavy, so heavy. She was comfortable. Shiftie whispered to her, she was unsure if she'd been able to respond, and did not question when he moved her easily to his lap, holding her to him. He smelled wonderful, she thought. And then she was asleep.
   Abiel immediately dreamed wonderful dreams of bright forests and animals and castles. Faceless people, valleys, vast oceans and elves. She was riding a horse, a large horse- her horse. This was somehow important and she told herself to remember that it was hers. Shiftie was riding beside her, there were others but seeing him made her smile. Her view shifted- they were charging toward something. Glints of steel from shields and armor twinkled like diamonds as she floated above and within the dream and tried to see more around them.

     "The Paladin? Are you quite sure?" Vahlaur asked as quietly as he could. The men were on the edge of their seats, leaning as far over the table as they could.
     "Of course I am not sure. There are one hundred reasons for her to have gifts. She could have elven blood, she could be a natural druid or an enchanter, or all of these things or none of them. She could be any of one thousand prophecies." Shiftie replied irritably and looked down upon her sleeping face, the slight smile on her lips. "She was born on proper the day," his voice trailed off. Maybe it was a ridiculous notion.
     "Does she have religion?" Thromguard asked.
     "None to speak of," Shiftie adjusted Abiel in his arms slightly and took a drink of his port.
     "That's bloody helpful," Toatle grumbled.
     "Having religion wouldn't matter if she were the Paladin. Even if the Paladin were an orc, it'd convert to the Nine." Vahlaur retorted and hunkered down in his chair, holding the stringed instrument tightly to his chest.
     "Has anyone even been looking? Haven't all the Sects put aside the Paladin myth? Of all of the prophecies, how many in our lifetimes have been seen to fruition? Why now? There's no more danger now than there was fifty years ago or three hundred from those bastards beyond the same wars that have plagued this land since men walked upright. None of us in our lifetimes combined have borne witness to such an event. It's been an age or more." Zykon stared at the girl.
     "It'd be folly to assume that she does not have power and a good dose of it. And if she is the Paladin, then her presence is as much an omen of ill tidings as anything, it means that a threat is coming if it is not already upon us." Mencius was now watching her sleep. They all were. "Are you not aware of what she had done to us before I lulled her? Remarkable."
   The dark elves did not hide their disdain- having it pointed out they were unaware that magic had affected them did not sit well and was an ill omen.
     "Mad because you were happy for a moment?" Thromguard laughed deeply at Raxus and Toatle.
     "Shut up." Toatle growled and left the table in a huff. Shiftie shook his head.
     "As I was saying," Mencius folded his hands in his lap. "The little one is seven? Eight human years? Assuming the foreshadowing you experienced, combined with the communications with the trader's ferrets, the presence she put upon all of us... No, I cannot say for sure that these are indicators that she is indeed Paladin. But clearly she has power and is yet unaware. It is quite possible she has elven ancestry, but elven magic does not manifest itself in these ways that I have seen. We all heard her- we make her... tingly." Mencius laughed lightly at the word.
   A long uneasy moment passed, Toatle returned to the table with a new cask of port. He glowered at the sleeping human girl in Shiftie's arms.
     "What if she is Paladin or not? We will fight back those fucking beasts as we always have, should they find humor and attempt to invade again." he snorted and took his drink in one gulp and slapped the cup onto the table.
     "If she is the Paladin, we have far more to be concerned with than another fucking orc invasion." Shiftie snapped at the impatient dark elf, who'd been his friend for many years.
     "And as I have always said, I trust in no one to save my skin but myself and if death should come, then let it. I will be ready and bringing many with me." Toatle refilled the cup.
     "If sacrificing you to whatever threats that bring back the Paladin's presence is all it takes to keep the rest of us alive, I'll tie the damn bow upon you myself." Raxus laughed and elbowed the cantankerous Toatle in the ribs and was physically rebuked without humor for the effort.
     "We must be certain." Zykon said quietly. "We cannot assume that she is Paladin, but to set aside the possibility would be foolish."
     "Therein lies the first mystery to unravel... How did she come into her magics? How is it that she has a physical reaction to our presence? Surely we cannot be the first with Gods-given strengths in our blood that she's encountered." Throm stroked his long beard.
     "Maybe she never had cause to notice?" Vahlaur replied.
     "Such is why I brought her for you to see for yourselves." Shiftie gently pulled hair from her freckled cheek and held her more closely as again, silence filled the space between the centurions.

   Night was beginning to fall, attendants of the inn lit candles, freshened the firewood and began to prepare for the evening's meal.
     "Can we take her?" Vahlaur asked, cutting through the unease.
Raxus laughed. "Take her where to do what?"
     "Stow it," Vahlaur snapped.
    "She's far too young, too many questions. And though he does not realize, Raxus is right. Where would we take her? How do we train her? Paladin or no, we should watch out for her, teach her, see what she develops into. What's the worst? She's an average warrior? A ranger? A mage? As if the world isn't running short on well-trained fighters." Throm's suggestion was not lost on Shiftie or Mencius.
   Within Abiel's dreams, she could hear the men speaking though it meant nothing and made no sense, she struggled to grasp the words that were smoke in her hands. It seemed a natural participation within her dreams as she adventured and journeyed within new worlds. This was the most wonderful sleep she'd ever had.
     "I'll go to Juldain and speak with her. There must be something she knows, perhaps without realizing." Shiftie was absently twisting Abiel's hair in his fingers. Raxus stared at him openly, his brow raised and creased at the odd sight.
     "Then don't tell her that part," Toatle snapped.
     "Who will teach her?" Zykon sat up straight, the argument objecting to being the tutor already forming in his mind.
     "We can send for someone?" Throm suggested.
     "Who are you going to ask outside of this table? I can think of probably a dozen souls we could trust to do the job, only to raise suspicions about their presence here handling an eight year old regents' daughter. No, this must stay between us for now and Pouty, once we can reach him." Vahlaur stated and finished off his warm mug of ale.
     "Yes, I believe Pouty will know what to do." Shiftie could not decide if he should stay with Abiel to begin her training or to head straight to Pouty and tell the Serpaent leader himself.
     "The fucking world might yet end and here we sit, debating old bloody mother's tales over a hatchling." Toatle muttered and stared down into his drink. No sooner did the words pass from his lips when Abiel's eyes opened, her line of sight encompassing them all, a small smile on her face.
     "One day, you will all be proud of me." Abiel tucked herself back into Shiftie's chest and was asleep again.
Stone still in their seats, they stared at Toatle and then turned their gazes to Shiftie.
     "What in the Gods names was that, I'd like to know?" Throm whispered.
     "Pouty will know no more than we do. We must watch her, train her as we can, as we would any other and let her become whatever she will." Mencius said softly, watching her.
     "Bah! She's a fucking child!' Raxus spat irritably. "These mysteries and such... I say we fucking forget them, get back to our own damn business. Yesterday, she wanted to play with swords. Tomorrow, she could pick up a stone and decide to become a painter. War is coming and that's what bloody matters."
     "I'll speak to Juldain tomorrow." Shiftie decided. "And then I will go to Pouty with all that I have. There is no sense getting any further mired in all of this, we have things we need to see to regardless."
It was the sensible decision- the only decision that could be made for the time being.
   After several moments, the centurions were approached by the inn keep Harpalus with a fresh set of drinks and bread. It was a welcome distraction and the men were able to move away from the subject of Abiel long enough for the tension to leave them and for other business to be tended to.

   It had been dark in Coste Volte for over an hour when Abiel began to yawn and stretch her way out of sleep. Still in Shiftie's arms, she returned his warm smile through sleepy brown eyes and touched the tip of his nose lightly for a moment.
     "Good morning, mellon titta ohtakyaro." he inclined his head toward hers causing Abiel to giggle softly. He'd called her his little warrior in Elvish. The dark elves sneered in disgust but Abiel did not notice.
     "I'm terribly sorry, sir." Shiftie helped her sit up straight in his lap, her apologies were offered to the others. "Such poor manners I have not shown in many years."
A twinge of guilt hit Mencius for lulling her so deeply into sleep for so long.
     "I was having such wonderful dreams!" she exclaimed through a yawn. "There were ferrets and horses and hawks! And I had my own horse! There was a black falcon with fire in its eyes, and then!" Abiel was so excited, the men felt excited, "And then there was a giant black dragon! As big as my mother's castle on the hill! And he SPOKE to me!"
   The earlier tension that had finally subsided was back ten fold now among the companions, despite the slight presence of her wonder and joy.
     "A dragon?" Mencius smiled. "And what did this dragon say?"
     "He said I was very small. Which, I suppose I am, but who isn't compared to a dragon?! And then he said that he missed me and he would 'wait to see me again when it was time, son of the gods.' SON of the gods? I am no son!" Abiel laughed heartily at this, but the men could not find humor within the news.
   Vahlaur cursed under his breath, every man at the table struggled in their seats.
     "Was there anything else?" Mencius asked.
     "Yes! All of you were there." Abiel looked up at Shiftie. "You looked after me, we traveled by sea to lands with no roads and no sun. But it was bright and green and..."
     "Did we see the dragon?" Zykon cut in.
     "It was... a different part of the dream? Truly, I cannot remember." she was puzzled and struggled to remember now. The visions were leaving her.
     "I wish I had such splendid dreams as these," Mencius smiled at Abiel again.
     "Do you think it means something?" Abiel asked with wonder.
     "Do you?" Mencius posed the notion to her.
     "I think it means I have a wonderful imagination!" Abiel exclaimed. "That is what my teacher and my mother have told me, even some of the servants, and I must say that I agree."
     "You've had these dreams before?" Throm choked on his ale.
Vahlaur cursed again- others knowing meant potential problems if the girl was Gods-marked for some prophecy or another.
     "I have and many others, though I could not tell you precisely what they were." Abiel was struggling now to retain the visions precisely, sad to let them go.
     "Abi'," Shiftie adjusted her in his lap so that she was facing him more directly and so that he had her full attention. His gem-like eyes twinkled and a slight smile met hers, but Abiel knew then that there was something wrong and she was the cause of it somehow and frowned. "Abi', I need to request a great favor of you if I may. We all do." he nodded to the others.
     "Anything for you, Sir." While Abiel sat up straight and dawned the air of seriousness that the moment seemed to require, the foreshadowing of something in her small response rippled over him and he collected himself.
     "Your dreams- you are not to share these again with anyone else unless one of us gives you permission to. Not under any circumstances and not unless we are with you or have given you express instructions. Do you understand?"
     "I do not understand. But I will keep this promise. I swear." Abiel was slightly frightened. She'd done something wrong. The disappointment began to creep from her, a fearful embrace sliding over them like silk, alarming the men at the table, but even more so, patrons beyond them.
     "Abi'!" Mencius snapped and she started in Shiftie's lap, the others startled in their own seats. It was probably the first time Mencius had ever raised his voice to anyone. He apologized profusely and collected himself. But this did not help to console the young girl. Her panic held firm increased, not understanding what was happening and she could see the men's demeanor change though she could not identify it. Everyone she could see within the inn seemed shaken as she searched for some cause for alarm and she clung to Shiftie.
     "Abi," Shiftie attempted to calm her through the overwhelming emotions drowning him. "Pen ohtakyaro, calm yourself. Saes pen tithen." He pleaded trying to remain calm in voice. The girl was shaking. He was beginning to shake.
     "Saes. I need you to do this for me little ferret. Saes." he begged with all of the fear that she was feeling consuming him.
   Abiel looked to Shiftie, saw her fear within his eyes, looked to those at the table, men who held no fear in their lives and yet they were being overwhelmed by it. Shame and embarrassment flushed over her and then onto them. Shiftie felt the urge to laugh but it could not overcome her feelings.
     "Saes Abi'. please try to calm yourself. It's all right, pen tithen. I promise."
   Abiel took several deep breaths, tried to think of the ferrets and the weight of her presence began to lift from the room.
     "That's better." Shiftie held her to him, stroked her hair. She was going to cry. He could feel it within his own eyes. "No no, none of that," he smiled, pulling her away from him. "It's all right. I promise." Shiftie offered the best smile he could. "Better?" he asked.
     "Yes," Abiel tried her best to contain herself, to be calm and to smile and not think about what she had done, though she did not understand any of it.
     "How will I know it is you that is asking?" she tried to alleviate things, to be strong now.
     "That is an excellent question." Throm smiled beneath his heavy beard. The dark elves looked ready to flee the table, Vahlaur smiled uncomfortably and Zykon sat in silence.
     "The ferrets. If there is ever a need to ask you about the dreams and you find yourself with any concern as to why we would be asking, we will discuss the ferrets. And if we, or someone else ask you about another animal, you will know not to tell. You must lie as convincingly as you can. Do you understand?"
     "I understand." Abiel replied solemnly.
     "Isn't the lass a little young for intrigue?" Throm winked.
     "Of course I am!" Abiel smiled. "But I can't give away the keys to the kingdom to the wrong regent, now can I?" Abiel sounded like her mother. Shiftie hugged her warmly and at last Abiel began to feel at ease again.
     "Nin pen Abi'." Shiftie kissed her on top of the head.



                                                                     CHAPTER III

   Within the first year after meeting at the Green Shepherd, Shiftie's presence within the city had not gone unnoticed, just as he'd feared. It was unusual for someone of his stature to stay in any place for so long unless a large contingent of a Sect had taken up residence or there was great need. Given the position of Coste Volte at the southern most point of the Lorelands, it was considered inconvenient. And no where within the Lorelands were there problems that would require such a lengthy stay, according to the people who were taking notice.  Shiftie was less concerned with the noticing of his presence initially as long as it never occurred to anyone that his charge, Abiel, was someone to be interested in. Juldain had laid a healthy foundation of cover initially, proclaiming openly that her daughter should be well rounded in all things, and no expense was spared for the multitude of teachers that were coming and going, so as not to point out that the only teacher of significance to Abiel was Shiftie. When the murmurs became outright questions regarding Abiel's being spoiled during the years where she should be traveling to courts for potential future matches, Juldain was forced to end the formal weapons training.
   Abiel had grown little in height that year, remaining undersized compared to children of her age. The new attentions showed to her by the various Serpeant Sect teachers garnered no favor from other children of the castle. Abiel was accustomed now to being around adults and behaved in the same manners as they, finding the children's play games to be uninteresting and pointless, though she found great joy in playing tag and anything that would make Shiftie laugh when they were alone together. What she found herself unprepared for, was the sudden disappearance of the high elf commander. He'd gone one morning to tend to business, but had not returned that evening or any evening after. Within the first few months, she'd received letters from him, but never information as to where he was or what he was doing. She could not correspond, only hope that he would return soon.


                                                            ********************

   Days turned to months, turned to 8 years. The dreams still came and far more frequently now, where he always seemed to be waiting for her at least. There was no consolation for the loneliness that remained in Shiftie's stead. Abiel's martial training did not stop but continued in secret, though she was seldom with the same teacher for long. It was a revolving door to allay suspicions, the teachings varied and were losing their luster, as they all had the most important lessons for her that canceled out previous ones.  Abiel felt loneliness would be her truest friend. It was hard to know who to trust, leaving her mother's castle under the guise of 'getting to know the city better', which she had already done in previous years. The only interest she had now was a new one- men. From day to day, it was hard to decide whom she fancied more, and through her fifteenth year, she spent a considerable amount of time learning the fine art of kissing and keeping her new friends secret from one another, though the young servant girls did not appreciate the time and new attentions spent on Abiel by those they fancied when Abiel was in their presence during the day. Many tried to befriend her in order to become more close to the young men they were eyeing and if that did not succeed, the gossiping began.

     "Abiel, Abiel! Come into my chamber, please." Juldain was in an icy mood, the tone Abiel had become accustomed to over the years when she'd been caught training by those who did not approve. Abiel had been walking down the corridor passed her mother's chamber, heading to the stables to go riding. She'd wanted to go down to the port that day. It was not to be, she could tell.
     "Coming, mother." Abiel replied and turned on her heel and went back. She walked through the archway, a servant, Coranay, one of the kitchen maids smirked and closed the door to Juldain's bedchambers behind her.
     "Have you lost all sense of decency?" Juldain snapped.
     "What are you talking about, Mother?" Abiel snapped back.
     "It has come to my attention that you have been spending personal time with Captain Hale!"
     "You said I couldn't leave the city without an escort!"
     "That's not what I'm talking about!" Juldain  gave Abiel a hard suggestive look.
    Abiel realized what her mother was insinuating, her mouth dropping in disbelief. "Nothing and I mean NOTHING is going on with the Captain, mother! He's old enough to be my father!" Abiel shuddered. "Who is telling you such nonsense?!"
     "Apparently EVERYONE is talking about it, my dear, it was bound to reach me! Captain Hale is married! I will not have my daughter cavorting around like some ill-bred strumpet!"
     "I beg your pardon?!" Abiel turned on her mother. "He has been training me how to dual wield swords! And not at the art of bedroom manners, regardless of what Coranay or anyone else tells you! I cannot believe you would even think that I would do such a thing!"
     "So I am to believe that you have not had relations with him when no less than four witnesses speak to the contrary?"
     "Yes! You of all people should believe me because what they are saying is not true! Captain Hale is an honorable man, he is married and happily so." The last was a lie, Abiel knew all too well that Captain Hale was unhappily married, and that he was quite in-lust and involved with Coronay's cousin Druscilla. Outside of that, he had tried to help Abiel and was a good well-intentioned man. It was in fact a ranger from the Talon Sect, Anzarius, that Abiel was interested in, and had been accompanying the Captain, Druscilla and Abiel so that Abiel could be trained leaving Hale and Druscilla to have personal time together. "He has only been helping me with weapons training!" Abiel insisted.
     "That isn't much better, you aren't supposed to get caught. I don't know how many times I have to tell you." Juldain was calming down but appeared no less strained. "Why can you not understand how important this is? You cannot be caught training with weapons" Juldain was exasperated and began to pace the room.
     "Why does anyone care that I train or if I kiss a boy? I am not some chambermaid hopping to and from one man to another like half of the girls under your employ." Abiel tried not to smile and wished she could somehow get revenge on those passing on rumors to her mother.
     "So what I was told about you cavorting with Ellio, Trens, Kaleb and that Fillep...true then?" Juldain grumbled.
     "Training and nothing more!" Abiel realized her mistake. "Though there isn't much Fillep could teach me. I most likely could teach him a few things." Abiel's stance had relaxed- she was standing like a man, legs apart, hands on her hips, cocky, and thinking of the sloppy mess that was Fillep and his short-swords. She had kissed Ellio a few times, Trens once- he was an excellent kisser, she mused.
     "Stand up straight."Juldain snapped.
   Abiel did as she was told, holding her hands together in front of herself, imagining punching all of the maids who were in fact bed-hopping their way into babies and marriage, squarely in their smug faces. Juldain's attention was obviously on another matter now, she was picking at her fingernails.
     "You stop that," Abiel nodded at her mother's hands. "Mother, I assure you that my honor is still very much intact. The men are my friends and instructors in weaponry, nothing more, however much that distresses you, but that IS in fact all. I suspect that my time with them is being perceived otherwise, causing animosity toward those who seek to trap the men, assuming they haven't trapped them already." Abiel relaxed again, standing in that terribly unfeminine stance.
     "Abiel!" Juldain shouted angrily.
   Standing up (nearly) straight, Abiel attempted to find a pose more suited to her mother's preference, enjoying the ridiculousness of the situation. It was not often that mother and daughter fought, their relationship was a solid one, usually filled with comfort and trust. Away from the eyes of others, Juldain and her daughter were quite relaxed and at times silly, titles and politics forgotten or at the center of their amusement. More times than not, it was Abiel's ear that Juldain sought regarding political matters, knowing her daughter did not care for matters of state, but knowing that the girl, even in her youth, was incisive and honest, with an uncommon ability to see multiple sides of situations and people. Abiel had a knack for wit like her mother, which Juldain enjoyed most days. This day did not appear to be one of them.
     "I merely speak the truth." Abiel was fighting not to smile and laugh at her mother.
     "And yet you still do little to keep your training secret. Training I do not have to allow! What was our agreement?" Juldain changed subjects again, another distressed flash across her face, Juldain was about to chew on her thumb nail in a very uncourtly manner and caught Abiel staring at her with an amused raised eyebrow.
     "I will continue to train until you accept that it's my destiny."
     "Destiny, is it?" Juldain scoffed. "As if you have all say in the matter and I have none! You are my daughter and as such you will behave accordingly, even if I have to lock you in the library!"
     "Have I not been educated at your command? Do I not dance well enough and speak and read the languages you wanted me to learn? Do I not cook well enough for your liking? I have done and continue to do what you have asked and all that I ask is to do one thing that I truly love in trade. Why is it so obscene to you that I train as a warrior? What rules have I broken?"
     "You are the daughter of a viceroy. I cannot explain to the people who care about the mere appearance of this why it makes no difference to me, but it affects the perception of this house and my ability to rule over this land." Juldain stated coldly.
     "What does it matter to anyone else what I do, especially where it concerns my one day helping to protect ALL of the Lorelands? And besides! You learned to read when grandmother told you it wasn't important and was unseemly! According to her, you just needed to learn to sew and cook..." Abiel laughed, her mother was a terrible cook. "You ride horses as well as anyone I've seen, you weren't to know that if grandmother had gotten her way. I cannot take up after you here as Regent..." Nor do I wish to, Abiel thought.
     "I know that! Which is why it is all important that you be married to someone of stature so that you do not find yourself cleaning a king's castle or serving some petty lord, but so that you may continue to live the kind of life I have tried to provide for you. That won't happen if you're viewed as some misfit with no respect for the position of your mother or off fighting in some land war over cattle and crops!" Juldain moved to a large chest of drawers and began rummaging through jewelry boxes.
    "You will not continue your training, of any kind! You are not to leave the city and if you force the issue, you will not leave the castle."
     "Mother!" Abiel whined.
   Juldain turned to face Abiel again, her light blue silken robes twisting elegantly as they swept over the stone floor.
     "You will not disobey me! Now bathe and dress yourself in proper attire. We are receiving guests for dinner."
      Abiel conceded. She knew well enough when to stop. "As you wish." Abiel sighed and rolled her eyes. Before she could leave, a knock came at the door to the chambers.
    "Enter," Juldain commanded. The door opened, the servant Coronay stepped into the room, holding the door open and staring almost longingly behind her. Several men entered- men Abiel had known and hardly seen in the years since their first meeting at the Green Shepherd- Zykon the monk, the enchanter Mencius, and the two dread knights Raxus and Toatle. The men bowed to the women. Before Coronay left, Abiel made sure to give the slightest of rude hand gestures at the girl. Raxus hid his smile.
    Abiel waited for her mother's dismissal and bowed to the men, her heart alight. If they were here, then surely Shiftie must be and she would be saved from this dreary nonsense of courtly manners and the talk of her supposed affairs with married men. Abiel pulled the door closed behind her, but overheard something that caused some confusion and curiosity.
     "You were not to see me until later..." Juldain had said.
   It was nearing sunset, meaning dinner would be served shortly. If these weren't her expected guests, then what were they doing in the castle and how did they know her mother?



   The dinner guests were several elven and dwarven dignitaries from the northern Lorelands. Abiel did not speak, nor was she spoken to. She ignored the conversation, smiled when it appeared her mother was speaking of her, and used the meal to dream of leaving Coste Volte with Shiftie. She wanted badly to spill a tray of drinks or a platter of food when Coronay and several other servants came into the hall. She could see them off in the corners of the hallway to the kitchen whispering and snickering. The dinner dragged on for several courses.
     "Mother, may I be excused?" Abiel asked before the bread pudding was served. She saw Juldain's cheeks tighten.
     "You may," Juldain smiled the false smile Abiel knew so well.
     "Good evening to you, my lords. It was a pleasure." Abiel curtsied, holding out the folds of her dark green dress and walked purposefully from the dining hall before sprinting down the corridors to her room to change and meet with several guards at their posts to work on her shield and sword techniques.

   Dinner had gone far longer than Juldain had expected. As much as she'd wanted Abiel to remain at dinner to keep an eye on her daughter, there was a considerable amount of things needing to be discussed with her dinner guests as well as the four Serpeant Sect members who'd made their presence known to Abiel, much to Juldain's dismay. War was coming, the newly named Gurvir armies had been spied preparing for invasion. Juldain sent Coronay to fetch Raxus and the others, then excused herself to go and check on Abiel. The news was not good, Juldain needed to start preparing immediately for what was to come and to help her daughter as much as possible.
   Abiel was nearly changed when there was a knock on the door.
     "Just a moment please!" Abiel shouted, hurriedly peeling off the dark leather pants she'd just pulled on and threw a night gown over her simple cotton jerkin. Another knock.
    "I'm coming!" Abiel yelled and hurried to the door and opened it. It was Druscilla.
    "Hello!" Abiel whispered excitedly and hugged the brunette servant.
    "Your mother wishes to speak to you in her chamber," Druscilla whispered.
    "Why?" Abiel pouted. Druscilla shrugged and they left the chamber.
    "She didn't say, but I wanted to tell you I won't be able to meet with you and the captain tomorrow. We've been told to begin making breads and the hunters are being sent to bring in all the deer."
    "But it's a month out of season. What ever is going on?" Abiel wondered as they walked down the torch-lit hallways. They arrived at Juldain's room, Druscilla continued on, hurrying back to the kitchen.
   Abiel knocked on the door and entered her mother's large chamber. Juldain was sitting at the foot of the bed holding something in her hand that Abiel could not make out in the dim lit room.
     "Mother, you wished to see me?" Abiel said.
     "Yes." Juldain looked up at her daughter with an expression Abiel did not recognize. "Where are your shoes?" Juldain scolded, looking down at Abiel's bare feet. "Never mind that now, I have something to give you. I couldn't find it earlier, and though I am hard-pressed to give you more than a swat to the rear for this nonsense over Captain Hale and your training, I have found it and it is important that you should have it." Juldain slid down from the high mattress until her slippered-feet touched the floor and then moved to Abiel with purposeful strides,  holding what ever it was tightly in her hand.
     "Mother, is everything all right?" Abiel asked.
     "Yes, I should think so." Juldain said and tried to smile. "This," Juldain held her hand with the object out before Abiel, "was given to your grandfather for his service against the Hordes during the last war. No one is terribly sure of its origin, only that it was made by the dwarves from a rare crystal they harvest from within their mountains."
    Abiel took it from her mother. In the dim light, it was hard to get a good look at it, but it appeared to be a necklace with the ugliest looking clear stones she'd ever seen.
     "It looks..." Abiel tried to find a word that wouldn't be seeming ungrateful for the gift.
     "Awful, yes, I know. One of the reasons it is valuable. Should someone seek to rob you, they would not think to take it, nor could they. Most have never seen the ore, so they would never know the worth. They are very hard, and with the right dress, it may well suit you. The clasps are made from mithril, but fortunately they are too small to melt down and become hidden by the stones once locked in place."
     "I will be happy to wear it, though I'd prefer to wear it around my wrist, if it is all the same to you." Abiel held the strand of stones at its full length, feeling over the carved cubes.
     "What is the stone called?" Abiel asked.
     "I would not know, to be honest." Juldain took the necklace from her daughter and began to wrap it around Abiel's left wrist until the ends met and were clasped.
     "I shall wear it proudly," Abiel said holding her arm up to admire the gaudy clear stones that barely gleamed dull in the firelight.
     "Of that, I have no doubt, my daughter. Now off to bed with you. I still have guests to attend to." Juldain said. Abiel turned to leave and stopped without turning to look at her mother.
     "I am sorry for the nonsense over Captain Hale. I promise that nothing sordid is happening there."
     "I believe you. The nonsense lies with the girls who merely want men for themselves. These things happen, it is common place at any court and I should have simply asked you if it were true." Juldain exhaled deeply.
     Abiel went to leave the chamber.
     "Wait," Juldain sounded out of sorts. She removed the large, jeweled pin that was holding her hair and ran her hand through the ends and stared for a long moment at the post of the bed before using it for support.
     "Mother? Is everything all right?"
    Juldain turned her head, a weak smile formed but her face was filled with worry.
     "I had not expected this to happen so soon," Juldain said.
    Abiel went to her mother.
     "Expected what?" Abiel was concerned and it was starting to become a presence. Juldain stood straight and looked to her daughter.
     "Everything will be fine, I think. Once you've gone from this place."
     "What?! Mother what in the name of the Gods of Hell are you talking about?!" Abiel's presence of feelings was growing, startling Juldain all the more.
     "Please, calm yourself." Juldain said soothingly.
    Abiel took several deep breaths and tried to settle down. It was not often that this loss of control and projection of feelings happened, but the sudden suggestion that she was leaving was far more important at the time than noting her mother's knowledge and acceptance of this odd ability.
     "In a months' time, the Hordes, now called Gurvir, under the flag of their new leader known as Gurivan, will be seeking to invade our shores and then all of the Lorelands, I suspect."
    Abiel's mouth opened wide in shock.
     "I must begin making the preparations the best I can, see that our people have everything they need and see them to a safer place until the Lore armies can fend them off. In a few days, you are to leave with the men you saw earlier tonight. They will take you to the dwarves, where you shall remain safe until such time as we can return home." There was a lie within Juldain's words, but it was hard to know which as Abiel attempted to take this all in. The one bright thing in all of this is that she would be with Shiftie. Who else would there be to see her safely from harm?
     "You must not let on what I have told you. It is very important that we do not start a panic or do anything to alert any would-be spies of this Gurivan. They must not suspect that we know of their plans. As such, you are to go about your normal business and do as you always do."
    Abiel wondered if that meant continuing to train.
     "I will not tell anyone, I promise." Abiel took her mother's hand. "I always wondered if we would see the Hordes, the Gurvir I mean. I wondered if they would remain terrible legends or if we would be visited someday by their evil."
     "With any luck, you will never have to see them at all, my daughter." Juldain smiled the best she could. "It is getting late. Off to bed with you." Juldain touched the tip of her finger to the tip of Abiel's nose and smiled again.
     "Good night, mother." Abiel had no intention of going to bed. She would do as she always did, just as her mother had instructed. Abiel stood on her toes, kissed her mother on the cheek.
     "And do not fear, everything will be fine." Juldain said.
    Abiel nodded and bowed, a hopeful smile for her mother then left to head back to her room. She needed to get out of the castle before it was too late.

    There were no lanterns at the back of the Green Shepherd, but the door to the kitchen was open. Abiel had been a frequent visitor to the place, having become close over the span of years with its' owner Harpalus. A human appearing to be in his forties (he'd assured her that he was much older many times), he reminded Abiel of a seaman. He was grizzled and hardened, quick to laugh but patient and stern with unruly customers. Harpalus was a man of enterprise, Abiel had realized, and much more than the simple innkeeper, though he seldom shared his other business dealings. When Harp' told her of his adventures, he'd always made them seem as if he'd been an observer as opposed to a participant, which inflamed her curiosity. All of her teachers were friends of Harpalus, whether by time or word of mouth and respected the inn keep immensely. Members of the Nine always came to Harp for food and shelter when they came to Coste Volte as did her mother's soldiers. Harp had taught Abiel little tricks of the trade with small arms like daggers and even simple eating utensils and even shared his recipes. "You never know where you will find yourself or whom you may be surrounded by in the world. It is always best to smile while you slip the dagger into their gut." he'd said.
      "Who goes there? Kitchen's closed." a gruff voice cut through the quiet night as Abiel stepped into the small hallway.
      "I do," Abiel smiled to herself, rounding the corner into Harp's small room and office.
      "Young Abiel, what brings you so late this evening?" Harpalus stood from his dark wooden chair, a glass oil lamp burning brightly on his cluttered table, his silver-tinged brown hair pulled to a tail high atop his head, reminding her of Shiftie.
    Abiel bowed and took his arm in greeting as he'd taught her.
     "I came with some news, sir. News that I think you will find important."
     "Do tell, do tell. Come, sit here." Harpalus gave Abiel his chair while he packed a long wooden pipe and lit it.
     "My mother has told me this evening that the Horde..." she tried to remember the name they were using now... "The Gurvir... they seek to invade Coste Volte in a month's time."
     "Your mother told you this?" Harpalus raised an eyebrow and caught sight of the stones wrapped around Abiel's wrist, then averted his gaze.
     "Yes. She also told me that I'll be leaving. Raxus and Mencius came to see her tonight. I don't think she would send me away with strangers, but she will need them to fight...?" Abiel wondered at that now, that her mother would send her off. Shiftie must be with them, so that would make more sense and led Abiel to her first question for Harp. "Is he here? Did he travel with them to fetch me?"
     "If the high elf is here, tat would be news to me." He saw the disappointment in her eyes.
     "Then it looks as though it will be Mencius, Raxus, Toatle and Zykon at the very least to take me to the dwarves. Why the dwarves, sir? Why not the elves of the Vale? Surely the Gurvir could never hope to invade there?"
    Harpalus wondered how much he should tell her. He had also received the very same news from her escorts. There was much that Juldain did not tell her daughter, Harp was unsure how wise it would be to tell Abiel more.
     "At this time, I do not believe they have the ability to take over the Vale. The magics there are old, given by the earth it grows from, the elven armies as good as good gets.  At the Forge, you would be better protected." ...but far more likely to be assassinated, he thought to himself.
   The elves as well as the Vale itself, would be more likely to sense a traitor, the dwarves held open cities within their mountainous fortresses. Abiel looked absently over the parchment and scrolls on Harp's table. Harp used the opportunity to get a better look at the stones wrapped about her wrist.
     "So, the Lore armies are not coming here to face them?" Abiel turned her attention back to Harp and caught him eyeing the necklace. "My mother gave me this tonight, it came from my grandfather, a token for his service after the last invasion by the Hor- Gurvir."
     The inn keep knew that was not the truth of the necklace, but said nothing.
     "Do you know what the stones are called?" she asked. Harpalus stepped toward her, holding his had out.   
     "May I see it?"
    Abiel searched it over for the clasp, but found it hard to find as Juldain had said it would be and instead stood and held her arm out for him. He took her forearm and hand  gently into his rough hands and turned her toward the lamp to see the stones better. Harpalus's suspicions were correct- he knew what he was looking at.
      "Qarget, is the old dwarven name, I believe. It is very precious to them, precious to those who know what it is. Most precious gems and stones can be magically enhanced to hold powers of one form another, the magic is like a shield upon the gems. Qarget is different in that the magic is held within."
     "Magic?" Abiel was surprised.
     "It is impossible to know what kind lays within these, if any remains," another lie, Harpalus sighed to himself, but felt it necessary. The thing was radiating magic, though he could not tell what kind or its purpose. "The stone has no purpose in and of itself. As it is rare and the dwarves keep it for themselves, and would be infinitely expensive to buy in any case, there are not many who would know what it was if they saw it. It's cheap appearance is also another reason the dwarves do not share it and the rest of the world largely has no use for it. Because Qarget is naturally imbued, the magic cannot be changed. When the magic runs out, the stones are useless."
   He hated lying to the girl, but she was still young and in many ways naive and at this point, there was no sense in telling her the full truth, though he had questions regarding just how Juldain had managed to obtain this necklace, worth her kingdom one thousand times over to the dwarves. The truth was, the stones would never lose their power and the magics contained within them would continue to grow in power now that they were being worn by someone worthy, and only the smith who'd honed to stones would know precisely what power resided within them. How had Juldain known that Abiel could wear them? What did she know and for how long? Was it only a guess? Years of knowing Abiel had not answered the questions stirred upon meeting her, but had only added more to the list. 
    Abiel was slightly dismayed by the information Harp' was sharing, though at least now she had a name for them. For a gift, it seemed hardly worth much as a one at all beyond the sentiment.
  She reminded herself  that it was a family heirloom and its importance remained for her. Abiel's fascination with the odd stones shielded her from the scrutiny of Harpalus.
     "Wear it proudly, though. It is indeed a special gift." Harpalus smiled after reading her expression, his scowl of thought changed to a broad grin.
     "I will, sir." Abiel smiled at her new bracelet and sat back down in the chair.
     "Forgive me, but you do not seem ill at ease with the news of the impending war." Harpalus was watching her again, gauging her.
     "Neither do you, sir." Abiel smiled. In that moment, Harpalus saw a vision of the woman she was close to becoming and he smiled.
     "War seems to be part of this world. I would be sad about it, but in times of grief and struggle, there are friends to be found and life regains value."
     "Will you be leaving then, when my mother calls for the evacuation?"
     "It is possible, though I wouldn't mind having another go at the bastards. We shall see, a month is still time enough to prepare and make decisions. If I leave, I will still be afforded the chance to fight regardless of when the time comes." Harpalus had his own plans and preparations to make.
    Abiel thought this over and was determined to remember it. Though he may not have intended it to be advice, it was smart and Abiel appreciated it for its potential use in her life. She looked about his small room, taking in his odd treasures and keepsakes, his poorly hidden stash of weapons at the side of his bed. She looked at an unfurled map strewn across the table, pinned down by random things, including a half-finished mug of ale. It was a map of the central Lorelands, crudely done but functional and accurate by her estimates.
     "I love this city, sir. I hate to leave it under these circumstances." Abiel sighed, tracing with her finger down the line of triangles meant to signify the Eldarian mountains that split Coste Volte from the allied kingdoms and the coast line that was carved out by the Vendrassi Ocean. She looked at the simple drawing that stood for her mother's city, the last city of the Lorelands, the first that would be invaded.
    Harpalus cut into her saddening mood with a cough. "Since tonight seems to be a night of gifts, I shall too offer you something to keep with you. Have you a boot dagger?"
     "I do, sir." She patted the knife buckled to her calf under her leather pant leg.
     "Let me see it, please." Harpalus re-lit his pipe.
    Abiel removed the simple knife and sheath that a friend had given to her and handed it to him.
     "This will do in a pinch, but perhaps I have something better." Harpalus began to rummage through his room, then went to a small chest at the foot of the bed, searching until he found what he'd sought. He handed Abiel a sheathed knife, it was larger than the one she'd been wearing. She pulled it out, the blade was as long as her hand from fingertip to wrist, the forged hybrid metal gleamed, the blade was still sharp, though there was no telling how long it had been sitting in the chest. The hilt was tidy, wrapped in black worked leather.
     "'Tis beautiful. I do not think I should take it, sir." Abiel put it back into the sheath.
     "Do not insult an old friend by returning things freely given, my dear." Harpalus stuffed his free hand under his arm and chewed irritably on the end of his pipe.
     "It is far too fine a thing to give me." Abiel implored, embarrassed.
     "There is no such gift too fine for my girl." Harpalus huffed. There was no arguing with him at this point, she'd learned all too well and his attempt to guilt her into taking it had succeeded. "Put it on then, don't keep me waiting." Harpalus cracked a smile and set Abiel's old dagger into the chest and closed it. "A fair trade."
    Abiel buckled the sheath to her calf and thanked Harpalus.
     "'Tis nothing but a trade between friends. Use it well and always remember where it came from." Harpalus winked.
     "I feel terrible for doing this, but I must leave you now before it gets any later. I was supposed to be at post tonight for more shield training."
     "Are you sure that's wise, my dear?" Harpalus asked.
     "My mother instructed me to do as I always do." Abiel gave a mischievous grin.  "I must not disobey!" Abiel winked at him and hopped up from the chair. "Thank you for seeing me and for my gift, sir. A truer friend I could not hope to have." Abiel hugged Harpalus warmly.
     "Be on your way then, girl. I will see you soon." Harpalus tried not to blush as Abiel pulled the hood of her dark cloak over her head and disappeared into the night.
    


                                                             CHAPTER IV

    Raxus was first through the door of the Green Shepherd, a nod for Harpalus, then surveyed the room for a private table. The others shoved in behind him, Raxus grunted in irritation and moved in further. Harpalus approached them, waving slightly for them to follow and led led them upstairs to an unoccupied room. Raxus was last through this time, shutting the door behind him. An eerie glow from the window illuminated him slightly, giving his blue skin a hint of green and black. The monk Zykon took up a position beside the window while Harpalus, Mencius and Toatle took seats around the room. Harpalus muttered a small spell as Mencius did the same to ward against eavesdropping.
     "As grave and more grave than you know," Harpalus slouched in his seat and wiped the building perspiration from his forehead.
     "She has asked us to take the youngling Abiel two days hence." Mencius appeared the most calm in the room, so fluid and lovely compared to his tense companions.
     "Black magic!" Harpalus thundered and leaned as far back as the chair would allow. "Our Abi' has been to visit this evening."
     "Is she all right?" Zykon asked, his posture stiffened.
     "Too much so, if you catch my meaning. Too much like her mother in some ways, but I suppose it will be more than a help in the days to come or I might doubt the success of your mission. All of you are escorting her then?" Harpalus stroked his bearded chin.
     "Yes. Shiftie would have come but Pouty has sent him elsewhere, so it will be the four of us." Mencius smiled briefly at Toatle, who sat irritated and brooding in his seat.
     "By all accounts, the first waves should arrive in a month's time, possibly three weeks at the least." Harpalus sat forward and picked at a splinter in the table.
     "The evacuation will begin shortly after we leave with the youngling, before dawn while it is darkest. I am sure word will spread, many will try to leave before then. The question remains- how many will want to stay and fight and how many will want to flee?" Mencius locked his slender fingers and rested them in his lap.
     "It's their Gods given right to defend their homes," Raxus snapped.
     "And Juldain's responsibility to see to their safety should they choose to leave, as is also their right, my friend." Mencius's constant calm was ever the frustration for Toatle and Raxus. Such was typically the difference between the two elven races.
     "She ought to be more concerned with what is coming for HER. What good will it do these people should Juldain die? IF Abiel survives, it's bound to reach the wrong ears, as such news always manages to. The blood bounty will hold against Abiel just as it did against her grandfather and as it stands against Juldain. It will likely increase ten-fold once they realize Juldain was a step ahead of them." Raxus leaned heavily against the wall.

   A silence beyond the two enchanters magics encroached upon them that they knew too well.
     "Damnation!" Harpalus spat. "TO ARMS!!! TO ARMS! TO ARMS!" he roared, but it was not for those in the room as they filed out weapons drawn. His voice echoed from the building and was heard three streets down. A wave of shouts and orders and screams erupted throughout the sleeping sea port of Coste Volte. As a fire spreading over dry brush, the panic of war set in. Children and the infirm were being shuffled to secret places as soldiers and mercenaries alike took to the streets as the army of goblin, orc, minotaur and blood elves began to lay siege and infiltrate the city. Battles broke out intermittently- for the time being, the city's architecture and lay out were doing what it had been meant to do- slow the flow of bodies causing a back up at the gates, allowing its soldiers time to organize, its people to flee and hide. Toatle and Raxus were first on their horses outside the inn.
     "We must reach the castle before the bastards over run it!" Zykon barked as he mounted his horse.
     "Castle?" Harpalus asked. "Oh Hells and damnation to us all! The girl isn't in the castle! She's out at one of the soldier's posts!" Harpalus was desperate now.
     "What?!" was all Raxus could cough out.
     "Do as she always does..." were the only words Harpalus got out.
    Zykon swore profusely as were they all, but for Toatle who was ready to meet the hordes head on and forget the girl. They stood frozen in anger and frustration- what were they to do? There were nearly thirty guard posts, the invasion was beginning which meant most if not all of the city would be surrounded until it was over taken.
     "Get inside!" Mencius shouted. The sounds of battle were drawing near to them, fires blazing just a few streets over. One by one, they filed into the tavern "Harpalus, I need a fire. The biggest you can conjure on the outside of the building. You three secure the doors and stairs. Quickly please!" Mencius went behind the bar, snatching two clay soup bowls and a pitcher of fresh water. "I don't suppose you have a strand of hair of Abiel's do you?" the high elf almost laughed.
     "I've got her boot dagger, " Harpalus replied.
     "It's metal, but it might do. I only hope that I can do this." Mencius sighed gratefully and sat at the table nearest the fire and filled a bowl with water. He took a vial from within the chest of his robes and uncorked it. Carefully, he poured black ink in the pattern of a five-pointed star, then another over it, slightly off kilter so that there were ten points in all. Harpalus bounded into the dining area with Abiel's boot-dagger still sheathed and handed it to Mencius.
     Mencius took a deep breath and allowed it to pour out of him as his body settled and relaxed beyond normal measure. Scrying for a soul was an old magic, not nearly as easy as scrying for someone who was prepared to receive a communication. Mencius could not recall the last time he'd done this, and had barely succeeded in the attempt. But now was the time for confidence, despite the dire circumstances. His insight reached out from his mind and body. Any other enchanter scrying would see Mencius' soul as a white vapor, long and stretching thinner as it increased its distance from his elven body. His mouth repeated her name silently in order to keep his attention fixed on the being he sought. The ragged souls of the orc began to appear, orange and brown like hot ash in a fire pit as they advanced through the city. Frightened souls of humans glowed green and flickered in their fear- and then a fading and consuming blackness. He could not linger, he caught himself as he hovered above. It was tempting to stay and watch as well as foolish. Mencius's conscious mind recognized the evil below him. No one found would live. This first assault was to be a warning to all of the things to come. The cruel races would have their long-awaited revenge and they would destroy all in their path.
    His body took another breath, something his aura could not do and Mencius refocused on her name. As in a dream, he tried to speak the name through the impossible silence. He concentrated on her hair, long flowing brown hair, the sparkling light brown eyes that had beamed such a wondrous smile at him that very afternoon. The white aura pushed on, floating over the city toward the the guard posts along the city walls.
    He felt a tug directing him, turning him toward the north. He could make out the shimmer of the forests edge just beyond the wall. Mencius was far from his body, his  aura thin and beginning to lighten. The yearning to return to his skin caused Mencius's still body to tremble, his concentration faltered. He begged for the Gods to hive him another moment, a sign, anything to show him where Abiel was, for confirmation that she was at least alive. With a painful heave, his aura flew back to its vessel and Mencius was whole again. Like a flash, a vivid feeling of terror, of the hordes of orc, goblin and blood elves assailed his senses. Human bodies in armor- Juldain's crest, strewn about. And long brown hair- Abiel's hair- a faint heartbeat, then silence. The inn felt cramped now, his head ached.
     "Tell me you've found her. I can't be holding this illusion much longer," Harpalus tried not to be impatient. He understood what his elven counterpart had done to his own body and the risk he took in doing so.
     "We will find her in a northern guard post near the tree line. That is the closest I could come to identifying her location," Mencius, in an unelven-like fashion, lifted the jug of water to his lips and drank from it until it was empty.
   Harpalus sighed. "It's better than wasting time looking in all of the wrong places. Can we confirm she is alive?"
     "As near as I can tell. In the moment I saw her, she was alive if but barely."
     "We should split up." Raxus left his post at the back door. "There are ten posts along the northern castle walls, the four of us should be able to see to them quickly enough. I say we do what we can, meet in Wrottsley in 2 days. By sundown, whom ever has arrived will head straight for the Forge."
   Toatle smiled to himself. Only glory could come from this task. Surely he would find the girl first, kill his giant's share of  Horde and see little Abiel safely to the dwarves. He'd succeeded at tougher tasks, bested many foes. This would be his time to show his worth.
     "I agree," he said, watching out the window, dreaming of the spoils of victory.
   Harpalus nodded solemnly and began to mutter a spell. The fire from the hearth began to grow and creep as water from a tipped pitcher as the false flames outside began to wane.
     "Spread out, begin at the eastern gate, move north so that if we find her, we should be able to seek cover from the forest. They'll be all too concerned with the taking of the city to patrol and they know the armies coming to meet them are still weeks away. They'll need to prepare for that before they can advance." Raxus adjusted his gear, unloading the saddle and gear from his horse.
   Toatle was out the door into the night before anyone could object. Zykon was next to leave and then Mencius and Raxus.
     "To the next life," Harp raised his hand as though it held a mug of ale, toasting his beloved inn and escaped to the shadows and to what fate might have in store.


                                                          CHAPTER V

     Utter chaos awaited the small band as they headed away from the heart of the city toward the posts. The invading army was like a black river flowing through. The soldiers of Coste Volte were putting up valiant attempts to hold back the tides of blood thirsty Gurvir. It was not hard to hide within the rushes of battle and madness, within the smoke of fires as buildings and homes burned. Once Raxus was free of the last district, he would have no cover toward the guard post. He could make it out through the smoke, from the shadows of the one of the mills giving him cover. By the looks of things, the invaders had already been here and moved on. Body upon body strewn about the lush grass, the rancid smell of orc blood poisoning the earth as it soaked in, the coppery smell of human blood over powered like its residents. Raxus drew a lean sword quietly from the sheath at his back and crept forward, crossing his steps. He took a blood elven helm from the ground and put it on, approaching the post now with what appeared to be ill intent.

    What he found inside looked to be a slaughterhouse. Bodies piled and split open, Raxus kicked them over out of irritation. An orc warrior appeared to be breathing, off came his head with a curse from the dark elf. He wiped the sword clean on the headless body and continued to search. About to move on, he saw a small finger under the legs of two Coste Volte guards. Hurriedly shoving and dragging aside bodies until he found what he'd been searching for- the girl, covered in blood a short sword in her hand that had clearly been run through several orc bodies, possibly human ones... What had happened here? There was no time to investigate. Raxus had her, she was alive and that was most important for the moment. The pressing task was to get her to the tree line where the forest would lend cover for their escape. Raxus pulled Abiel over his shoulder, heading up the narrow ladder to the roof of the post. More dead bodies, more stench of orc blood. Carefully, he looked down the wall to the ground below. All was still clear. The Gurvir were in the city now, unconcerned with defending the wall.
    "My apologies," he said quietly to Abiel before dropping her unceremoniously to the brush below. Deftly, Raxus jumped down to the cushioning shrubs beside Abiel's body, put her back over his shoulder and walked quickly toward the forest's edge. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt the shelter of the trees cut out the moon light and orange glow from the burning city. Utter darkness was of no concern for the dark elf. The expanse of the trees would make it difficult to track him in the night.
     "Whatcha got there for supper?" a hissing voice cut through Raxus's relief and his heart swelled with irritation. He dumped the girl's body to the ground and drew his sword but holding it loosely. Still in the blood-elven helm, his appearance would be cloaked.
     "It's warm and it's mine," Raxus growled with contempt.
Eight bodies moved out from the shadows- three orc and five goblin.
     "Damned blood elves. Always thinkin' your better than the rest of us!. Velvety skin eh? More like rat skin me thinks!" an orc barked.
     "It might be that you vultures taint everything you touch. If we wanted to eat rot, we'd be feeding off your lot, cunt!" Raxus spun his sword with a relaxed turn of the wrist, eyeing the orc warrior before him with death on his mind.
   The lack of trained fighting skill within the hordes ranks was made up for with the strength of orcs and the speed of the goblin. En mass, a swarm of them could best many men and elves and made for a tough fight for even the skilled warriors throughout the Lore-protected lands. But a weapon of any make in the hands of Raxus was an excellent evening of the odds. Raxus was a dread knight, an artist skilled with any weapon, be it staff or blade and the one thing he loved more than anything was battle.
    Giving no warning, Raxus engaged the eight, drawing a second sword as he parried with the first for good measure, whispering spells of dark magic and protection. One goblin, two and then three fell to the ground, split open and dead. A sharp jab to the ribs caused Raxus to curse the orc who was now bringing his crude sword down toward Raxus's neck to behead him. The sword stopped mid-arc as a blade tore through the orcs chest, stopping inches from Raxus's chest. The fighting paused, all combatants frozen in wonder as the sword blade disappeared from the orc's dead body. Behind where the orc had stood was Abiel holding a goblin sword, in a fighting stance Raxus immediately recognized. Raxus's eyes widened within the helm.
     "Little one, little one. Let's make this quick and painless for you. I promise I won't share you, you've left me no choice. I must have you for my meal," the last goblin promised in an eerily soothing manner.
     "Abiel, NO!" Raxus commanded as she turned to face the goblin, sword ready.
     "Abiel?" one of the remaining orc questioned. "It's the child!"
  It made not one difference to Abiel, who was now advancing on the last goblin as coolly as any warrior or knight Raxus had seen. The orc began to charge at her from behind, Raxus stepped between them to fight them back. The goblin was parrying Abiel's advancing blows until she dropped to a knee then sprang up, skewering the goblin from gut to shoulder. The goblin fell in a heap, and she picked up another sword and turned toward the skirmish behind her. As she did so, Raxus stepped aside as an orc's blade arced upward. It caught abiel mid chest, slicing up her neck to her chin, blood spraying from her body. Raxus beheaded the orc and then hacked down the other. Unphased by the mortal wound, Abiel charged at Raxus who was backing up now, shouting at her to stop. He peeled off the helm, his movement blocked by a tree.
     "Abiel! Stop! It's me, it's Raxus! Abiel!"
   She held the crude sword tightly at her shoulder, then raised it above her head with both hands. As she neared, Raxus was astounded by her eyes- gleaming, swirling mists like tendrils. A presence of anger and loathing wheeled about him. If Abiel had once called him 'friend', she did not know him now and Raxus was going to die. Raxus dropped to his knees before her.
    "Abiel! Remember! Look at ME! For Gods sakes remember me! Shiftie! Your mother!" he pleaded arms stretched toward her. "You must remember! Abiel, we must leave!" the words flowed as fast as he could form them.
   She was faltering but still advancing. Abiel swung the sword at him. His reflexes saved him from a fatal blow as he blocked her sword with one of his own. She was close now, pressing down with her weapon with more strength than was possible. It was taking most of Raxus's strength to defend against it. His tone changed as he was determined that both should live.
     "Look at me, Abi'. For Gods sakes you KNOW me." he spoke so softly and with care. "You know me, youngling."
   Her assault was easing, the smoke from her eyes fading. Abiel's arms were relaxing now, the sword lowered but remained fully in her grasp.
     "Abi'," Raxus smiled slightly , hesitating but finally pressed the sword into the blood-soaked earth on beside him.
     "I know you," she repeated and collapsed to the ground.

    It would be a long run to Wrottsley carrying the girl, it'd be a miracle if she survived the wound she'd been dealt. But she was still breathing and that would have to suffice until Raxus could find a safe enough place to set her down and inspect it. All weapons sheathed, Raxus kicked the stolen blood elven helm into the brush and slung Abiel over his shoulder and began to run. The ground passed swiftly beneath his deft feet, he attempted to use animals paths and stay away from open areas where he could easily be tracked. There was no consideration for his friends. Whether they lived or died, the girl was in his custody and he would have to see her to the dwarven fortress himself. It would be a matter of days now when the entire southern area of the Lorelands would be over run. It was the most vulnerable. An hour and then two, then a third passed. Raxus could smell her blood, feel it flowing from her into his own clothes. She needed tending, it could not wait any longer and his legs were beginning to tire, his lungs burning more with every breath. He found a small glade slightly lit by the moonlight. It might be enough he thought and set her down, peeling off her blood-soaked clothes.
    "Fuck," he spat disheartened.

Pouring the last of his water skin over her chin and chest, Raxus couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a wound so terrible. Jagged and curled, the skin looked as though she'd been ripped open. She'd lost so much blood. Raxus pulled needle and thread from a small pouch at his waist. This was not the first time he'd had to stitch someone up on the go, he'd stitched himself so many times over the years he wondered if he shouldn't change professions to cleric. The sheer size of the wound- from chin nearly to navel had Raxus second guessing if he had enough thread. Again the thought that she should not still be alive pressed at him, Raxus did his best to push it away. Time was not on their side. He regretted that he was having to be so hasty. She did not stir in her sleep as he stitched in the darkness. Raxus tried to cast the few healing spells he knew but his training was in dark magic in battle. Raxus pulled off his own blood-soaked cloak and vest and shirt, dressing her in his shirt and re-dressed himself in the vest and cloak. Over his shoulder she went again, and off into the darkness of morning Raxus ran.
   Nearing dawn, they reached the watchtower of Wrottsley. It was not lit. A tall tower of wood and stone, it reached high above the canopy of trees. Raxus could smell orc and goblin alike- they were too near for his liking, most likely hiding near to the tower waiting to ambush any who might venture too near or to light the beacon. How could they be so far north? he wondered. 

   A hollowed tree trunk would have to suffice as a hiding place for the girl while he scouted. Raxus began whispering incantations for spells, shrouding him in the new morning light as he walked silently, a long jagged bladed dagger in his hand at the ready. The closer he came to the tower, the stronger the smell became- death. There were at least four- the wooden steel-hinged door lay on the ground outside, Raxus stepped around it. The smell of human blood and decay- four Wrottsley soldiers were in a heap against the stone wall. Tentatively, Raxus stepped inside. A goblin soldier was asleep at his post and paid for it. Raxus slit his throat in a silent sweep. Another goblin called out in their gurgled language once, then twice, then came rattling down the stairs. Raxus stood fast against the wall, wrapping himself in shadow until the goblin came nearer. The dagger went hurling through the air into the goblins throat. He could not cry for help and fell in a clattering heap to the floor. The noise was enough to raise curiosity in the others above. Raxus could hear them clambering from the roof and the jangling of armor.
   Back into the shadows Raxus stepped as he waited. There were four... no, five voices, orc and goblin shouting... Raxus drew the two swords at his back, whispering spells of disease and accursed pacts, as they neared. Using the darkness as cover, he slipped beneath the last deck of stairs, his silvery eyes glowing within the shadows.

   It was an ugly but swift fight for Raxus. Using the steep wooden stairs to his advantage, the rogues were put to death. Raxus spit on the pile of corpses with a sneer and turned to head outside to fetch Abiel. Dawn was upon them, they needed to be on the move. Raxus approached the tree where he'd left her- she was gone. Raxus stomped the ground and swore before following her tracks into the tree line. There was someone near, he could smell them now and followed the scent only to regret it. A knife was at his throat, and he knew it was not Abiel. 
     "I'm sure the Lorelands will grieve your loss for the short time it has left in power, dread knight." the blood elf hissed. Raxus felt the cold steel start to pierce his skin and then abruptly withdraw. The rogue collapsed to the ground, Raxus whirled to find the fresh corpse with an arrow through its throat. Abiel stepped from the brush-line some fifty feet away, filthy and blood-covered, her eyes tired. She lowered the bow she'd stolen.
     "Two others that waited for you after you went into the tower. They're dead now, sir."
     "That's twice," was all Raxus could say and grabbed the rogue's body by the foot and began to drag him to the tower.

  It took some time for the two of them to carry the bodies of the Gurvir soldiers up to the top, but Raxus was more than satisfied to light their carcasses on fire. The Wrottsley soldiers he left as they were. There was no time to dig graves and he would not besmirch their honor and burn them with the Gurvir. He waited to see that the Berigalian beacon was lit to the northeast... a soft glow of orange and gold began to reach higher and higher into the morning sky. He hoped throughout the lands that armies were preparing to meet their foes. It was time again for the world to be tested. Raxus prayed it was ready. Abiel waited quietly for him and made no complaint when he told her to run. And run they did through the woods and thickets to Wrottsley.

  The village was a good size, simple mapping with graded dirt streets lined with potted flowers and wooded walkways. It sat upon a plateau, the buildings large, two and three story structures tan or cream  plaster, lined with dark painted beams borrowed from the forest. Wrottsley was in a quiet chaos, people, children and soldiers running from place to place, preparing to leave. As in wars past, the city was prepared to evacuate. There weren't enough soldiers to defend it, their soldiers would see to their safety and only then would they join with the Lore armies to fight.
   Suspicious glances could be felt as the dread knight and human child rushed down the main road to a small inn with a heavy lantern hanging over the door, iron and red glass in the same mold as the lanterns over the Green Shepard. Abiel felt her throat swell as she choked back tears. Raxus rushed into the inn, dragging Abiel behind him.
    "I have naught but food and water to offer, all my stores are depleted," a woman's voice called from the floor above them.
    "I am but a simple sheepherder, here for your sheep, if you should have any," Raxus called back. Abiel looked at him quizzically.
    "Sheep, you say?" the woman replied. Floorboards creaked as the woman crossed the wooden floor that was the ceiling above the dread knight and his charge. Abiel watched the stairs as the woman made her way down, a delicate hand sliding along the carved wooden banister. A human woman, long silken red hair flowed to her waist, a little older than Abiel's mother, but soft and welcoming. Raxus dragged Abiel to the bottom of the stairs, took the woman by the hand, kissed it and bowed deeply. The woman's green eyes sparkled, a knowing half-smile and a curtsy for Raxus followed. She wore deep purple cotton robes that left little to the imagination at the bust, her small waist and curved hips accentuated by a golden rope tied and knotted to the side.
    "Ursi," Raxus greeted her, kissing her hand again and then kissing what appeared to be each side of Ursi's neck instead of her cheeks. Abiel felt awkward in that moment and wished he'd left her at the door. "...This is Abi'. Abi', this is a trusted friend, Ursi."
     "How do you do, My Lady?" Abiel bowed at the waist.
     "A pleasure, I'm sure." Ursi curtsied at Abiel, but looked strangely at Raxus.
     "Is there a room for the child to clean up?" Raxus asked.
     "Upstairs. The patron who was in it was about to bathe when the crier gave word that the beacon had been lit, the water should still be warm enough." Ursi raised an eyebrow. Raxus merely nodded at her silent question then turned back to Abiel.
     "After your done, see what food we can take with us. The kitchen is through there." Raxus pointed down a wide hallway over his shoulder.
     "I'll see what fresh clothes I can find for her, then we can speak more." Ursi winked at Raxus and followed Abiel upstairs.

   The water ran a sickly brown, the fetid smell of Gurvir blood consumed her. Abiel scrubbed at her face and arms, her nails encrusted, tried to scrape the dried blood from the stones wrapped around her wrist- they were discolored now. She looked anywhere she could but at her chest. Ursi had given her a salve to put over the stitches. Gently, Abiel wiped at the areas of her chin and neck nearest the healing wound. The scarred flesh itched, Raxus had said that meant it was healing. It would heal. It had to heal. A small voice in the back of her mind yearned to see the damage, but Abi' fought back the thoughts and continued to scrub at her legs under the water. The water was disgusting. Now she wished only to be out of it, as if she might become tainted and forever smell of Gurvir, soaked in their blood.
   Panic pounded in her chest. it felt as though the stitches might open from the force. Where was Shiftie? Why was he not there? Why was he not the one who'd found her? Taken her and her mother away... A lump of emotion grew instantly at the thought of her mother, who must now certainly be dead. 
   Abiel hurried out of the basin drying off as quickly as she could, then stopped, holding the towel tightly about her shoulders took look out the thick glass-paned window. The sounds of chaos were so much more quiet here then what she could remember from the night before, which was very little. She'd left Harpalus at the Green Shepherd, made her way down to the guard post. She'd done this 500 times in the years since Shiftie had left Coste Volte. She was speaking to the men, they were showing her techniques with shields and light swords. She'd been surrounded by her mother's soldiers when the orc burst through the door. There were several, there wasn't much room for the soldiers let alone their assailants. Abiel remembered the soldier, Trenton had been his name, pulling her behind him and charging ... and then she was in an old tree trunk near the beacon. The rogue had gotten sloppy. She'd killed him easily enough, that she knew. A well thrown dagger, the one Harpalus had given her, lodged in the blood elf's spine. Down he went in a heap onto the ground. To Abiel's knowledge, the first being she'd ever killed. She'd taken his bow and arrow and made her second kill to save Raxus.
   And yet through all of the madness, everything she could recall, every fear of the unknown merely brought her back to one thought- Shiftie was not with her and it felt wrong. This was not what she'd dreamed. Amidst all of the violence, she had always been at his side. Abiel hastened to dry herself and began to sift through the clothes Ursi had left. Women's shifts- pretty and colorful. No, that would not do. The world was in the midst of crisis and Abiel refused to spend what might very well be her final days in a flowery shift and under-dress. She tore through the room, looking everywhere for what she sought- an open trunk that had been shoved under the bed filled with a man's things. These would do for now, she thought as she tossed unwanted garments over her shoulder onto the floor, pulling an under shirt over her wet hair and head, an excessively large brown jerkin that tied over the chest and hung off one shoulder, then pulled on a pair of well-worn brown leather pants that were far too long and wide in the waist. She pulled the waist strings as tight as she could, the chords hanging near to her knees. On went the boots and a dark green hooded cloak from Ursi's collection that pooled on the floor, it was so long. Abiel rifled through her things, making sure she had all that was important- Harp's dagger... Abiel dug through the blood-stained clothes, the lining of her cloak for any other link to home. But that was all there was. She buckled the sheathed dagger around her calf under her overly-long pant legs and looked to her mother's necklace that had somehow survived the turmoil of the night, bound around her wrist. She wondered if they would darken in the days to come, if they would darken with her own blood. 
     Disgusted by the thought that her gift had been marred forever by Gurvir, Abiel left the room. She heard giggling and other utterances and she realized what she was hearing and regretted it. It appeared Raxus and Ursi were... sharing a moment, as Druscilla had so often put it.
   Dru'... poor Dru, Abiel thought as she quietly went down the stairs to the kitchen to find what she could  pack for her and Raxus. As she found acceptable foods that would last them several days, Abiel's mind drifted home, wondering what had become of everyone, struggling to believe they'd died but also that they might have lived. Now that Abiel had seen the true meaning of dire and was being rushed head long into it, she actually missed the gossiping, over-eager servant girls of her mother's castle. Abiel missed her mother.  She looked to the qarget stones. How could this have happened? Juldain had never done irrational things, there was always a reason and a plan for her actions. The sack of food Abiel held would hold no more. She headed outside to inspect the 'sheep' Raxus had asked for.
    There were no sheep in the barnyard, of course. Only pigs, chickens and horses. The chickens came to inspect her, but their train of thought was short-sighted- food was their only concern. The pigs however, moved to the fence line of their pen and squealed to her, piglets trying to shove through and understand the fuss. Abiel smiled and said hello to them, debated whether or not to set them free lest they became slaughtered by the Gurvir upon their arrival. Abiel entered the open stable, the horses ears immediately pricked up and they too moved to the front of their stalls to see her and greet her. There were a dozen, a variety of breeds and colors.
    "Hello," Abiel said moving to each one to pet their necks, to be nuzzled by their warm soft noses. The horses were aware that something was amiss within the city, they could sense the urgency of the people, were alerted by the ever clanging warning bells still ringing through the city.
    "I will need the assistance of all of you, I think. Two to carry my friend Raxus and I, and probably the mistress Ursi who cares for you. There is a possibility that several more of my friends will come here, though I would not ask you to wait in case the invaders reach here first, or if they've fallen in the city of my home."
    The horses stood and listened, discussed among themselves who would stay and who would go with her. Two horses that stretched their necks over the stall gates, the third would carry their caretaker when she was ready to leave. Abiel let all of the horses out however, in case there was such a need for them to flee. The two that waited were fillies, the biggest in the stable and had been the most experienced within the world outside of Ursi's care. One was a deep red with a dark brown mane and tale, a white diamond down her face. The other was a pale sandy-hue with a cream colored main and tail. They waited patiently as Abiel saddled and bridled them, let them get their fill of water and hay as Raxus stepped into the stable yard adjusting his sword belt.
     "The 'sheep' are ready, I have food and water enough for the three of us, if Mistress Ursi is joining us?"
     "She will not be joining us," Raxus said simply.
   Abiel made no further inquiry and waited for Raxus to choose between the two horses. He chose the slightly larger red.
     "Be safe, my friends." Abiel waived at the other horses slightly, Raxus eyeing her suspiciously.
They rode around to the side gate where Ursi was waiting.
    "Thank you for your help and hospitality, Mistress Ursi." Abiel smiled as best she could and bowed from her saddle. This was awkward.
     "It was a pleasure to meet you my dear, I hope our paths cross again soon." Ursi replied. Raxus merely nodded and winked at Ursi before urging his mare into a gallop back down the main street they'd entered town from. Raxus was in a hurry to catch up to the caravan of towns people, hoping he and Abiel would blend in for as long as possible.
                         
                                                   *****************

    It was not long before they reached the tail of the caravan as it trailed its' way  north through the wooded mountain side. Raxus urged his horse to a gallop to catch one of the soldiers, spoke briefly then turned back to Abiel.
     "Follow me." His demeanor was was one of grave urgency and all seriousness. He led Abiel to to a break in the pack of Wrottsley citizens and left her there to follow amid them, then rode off to the head of the procession to speak with the captain of the guard.
    Abiel could feel curious eyes upon her, unsure of whether to smile or how to shield herself. Absently twisting the mane of her horse between her fingertips, she tried to steel herself, to be calm. She was tired, starving and wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep away the nightmare that her life was becoming. She was frightened, unprepared and unsure of how to proceed or behave. If her father were alive, she was sure he would have an answer. If her mother were alive, there would be an answer. Something solid and true to cling to. Abiel did not need to be reassured that she would be all right, she had faith in Raxus and his friends that she would live through this. But to do what? There was no home, no money to pay for shelter. Abiel stared at the qarget stones, touching them gently. Sunlight filtered through the trees, setting upon the marred stones an eerie brown-red glow.
     Soldiers were moving up and down the lines, shouting orders at one another and the people, urging them to pick up the pace. Raxus had passed on the news  of the invasion of Coste Volte and signal tower. Rangers and rogues were sent to scout- if there were Gurvir already at the tower, then they could be here as well, watching and waiting. This did not matter to Abiel now, who sat brooding and trying not to let her grief and fear consume her. Let them come, let them try to take me, she thought. After some time, Raxus joined her, taking some of the bread and water for himself and eating in his saddle. She could feel his eyes upon her though he did not appear to be looking at her directly.
    If he was nervous or frightened, she could not tell, though Abiel was quite certain that Raxus knew very little about fear or worry. Normally, that might have been of some comfort. But her shame was mounting along with her fear and sadness, swirling painfully in her mind and heart. One question leading to another, imagined thoughts of how her mother might have died, envisioning her home burning to the ground... Why am I alive? Abiel wondered. Why am I here with him? Abiel looked at the dark elf from the corner of her eye, feeling the weight of his frustration imposed upon her. The horse Abiel was riding upon, Venda, was becoming restless underneath the worried girl, drawing the attention of the guards and people of Wrottsley. Abiel tried to calm the horse, calm herself, but it was not working.  Abiel became suddenly overwhelmed by visions of orc and goblin, blood, fighting, screaming. She saw her mother's face contorted in pain and agony. Abiel felt the wind rush from her, confined now by those around her. She began to panic- she needed quiet, to be away and quickly or she might surely die there of panic.
     "I am sorry, I need to excuse myself a moment," the words barely made their way out as she urged Venda past Raxus and the others, breaking the lines of angered soldiers, ignoring Raxus's calls to her.
    Leaving the security of the caravan was a mistake, one that she did not recognize through the cloud of her anxiety. Soldiers shouted, people stared after her. It took several moments for Raxus to get clear and follow Abiel, cursing at her under his breath and ready to kill her himself. She was putting herself in severe jeopardy as well as the the villagers. He'd only gone a little way before the tracks of her horse became jumbled and hard to identify. There were thickets and foliage among the trees, he could not see her, though he could faintly smell her horse. This was irritating beyond measure to Raxus, who heeled his horse forward into the brush.
    It was taking far too long to locate her. There was no reason he should not have been able to find her, she could not have gotten that far. Raxus attempted to stand in his saddle. They would not be able to rejoin the caravan now he realized bitterly, and surely the two strangers that had come and gone would be remembered... Raxus turned and looked this way and that... not one sign. As he sat down however, a horrible cry rang out, one like he'd never heard in his life, piercing into his heart and mind causing him to grasp his chest, doubled over in his saddle, his eyes welling with tears, a roar of agony not his own trapped in his throat. It echoed through the mountains. Birds and animals alike responded.  His horse lunged forward, galloping as fast as she could, despite nearly dumping Raxus into a nasty looking thorn bush. Raxus tried to reign the horse in, but to no avail. The strong mare leaped over a fallen tree and a thicket, Raxus was holding on now unable to stop the horse as she continued to run head long further down the mountainside, coming to an abrupt halt in a small meadow, where Abiel's horse was standing over Abiel, the girl curled up on the ground crying terribly... surrounded by any number of animlas. Mountain lions, badgers, raccoons, hawks, squirrels... they were sheltering her, more were approaching, leering at the dread knight cautiously, but intent upon seeing to the girl.
    Raxus slipped off of his horse, approaching cautiously. Her grief was nearly over-whelming, his discomfort at having these feral creatures about unnerving. He moved toward her slowly, quietly, tried calling her name but she did not respond, continuing to cry and mourn.
     "Abi'," Raxus neared her, several of the rabbits moved aside, a mountain lion growled and a badger hissed, but they did not attack, they pressed closer against her for comfort. Raxus touched her shoulder, moving her hair aside, feeling her tears well in his own eyes.
     "Abiel," he said a little more harshly but she looked up, the sadness exuding from her was unbearable. He was kneeling in front of her now, she mistook his outstretched arms meant to get her to her feet and pushed herself into them, crying against his chest. Raxus had never understood what had caused Shiftie to treat Abiel as he had, warmly, affectionately. He understood now, there was no choice. There was too strong a need in her to deny and in that moment, Raxus felt compelled to meet that need. His arms moved around her, holding her to him, wanting so much for this foreign grief and fear to end and never to be felt by either of them again. She tried several times to apologize through the breakdown. Raxus understood because he could feel it. 
    After some time, the crying stopped, Raxus wiped hastily at the tears he'd shed. Still surrounded by a forest's worth of animals willing to protect her, Raxus was forced to continue with the soft supportive role. Her grief was lightening, at least enough to give several of the beasts the idea that she was going to be all right, and they slunk away back to their animal lives.
     "We need to leave this place, and quickly, child. We are not safe here. It will be dark soon and very cold." Raxus forced her gently to sit up and look at him to understand the grave nature of their predicament. He'd half expected her to fall to pieces again and waited for her reaction.
     "I am sorry, Sir. I don't know what came over me. What I have done is very foolish. Please forgive me." Abiel used the sleeve of her cloak to wipe her tears and face, wiped at the tears she had left on Raxus's leather vest.

   He bit his tongue, wanting nothing more than to berate her, but there would be time for that later, the looming need to comfort her was finally waning. Leaving was the priority now, and looking about him, he wondered which route was best to take and to be sure that they remained unseen and untrackable. Without the caravan to hide them, there was no safe way to get to anywhere but the Vale of the woodland elves, which was at least two days hard ride to the west, but they would be safe there and he could find others to journey with him and the girl to the dwarven lands for escort without suspicion.

   It was a long night moving through the forest of the mountains, Raxus pushing the horses hard to make it down the eastern side of the range. They'd barely remained out of sight of three Gurvir patrols, Raxus had had to dispatch of two rogues and hoped no one would discover their bodies until the next day. Abiel's forest friends were keen to help the two along their way, even going so far as to distract the Gurvir and draw attention away. For once, Raxus was grateful for their presence. Moving over a mountain side during the day was tricky at best, but at night, even with his enhanced sight, there were no warning signs lingering over dark gnarled roots or an animal's burrow until it was too late. Having the Gurvir so near at hand worried Raxus. They should not be so far into the Lorelands and regardless of the Nine Sect's abilities, amassing forces and riding out to meet the Gurvir head on so quickly was dubious, let alone marching them so far south. The Nine seldom communicated or worked together when there was no need and through years of peace, life and politics had always intervened. Such was the way of the world.

   Abiel did not seem to be so troubled as she had been earlier, Raxus was thankful for this and it was more than likely that she was too distracted trying not to trip and fall to think about her grief or give into it again. She was very tired, that he was sure of, but she did not complain or slacken her pace.

    At dawn, they reached the base of the mountain, the valley marking the south-eastern Woodland Elf Vale lands that lay before them like a vast green ocean. It reached out for miles to the west and northward, cutting through the mountain range where the Otium Pools sprang. Upon the hills overlooking the pools were the southern paths leading to the heart of the Vale where the wood elves resided, where help had to be found. The Vale elves would have to be the first line of defense against the Gurvir if Raxus and Abiel could get there in time.

   The horses were exhausted and Raxus was quite sure they would not survive at the pace they were keeping, but Abiel assured him they understood the peril. Skirting along the tree line, Raxus kept a watchful eye on the trees. The Gurvir patrols had been moving fast in the night. They could afford to stop and rest, moving more slowly in the light of day but it was more likely that they had pushed forward as he and the girl had. Though the sloping road to the Vale was still a half a day's ride away, Raxus could see it in the distance like a beacon, urging him on. 

   The dread knight spotted something in the distance- a caravan. He and Abiel took the horses deeper into the forest as they approached.  He could see several colorful tents, a few working horses and mules, the gleam of armor plates on several human men. Raxus spurred is horse forward, hoping it could at least get him to the camp where they could rest a bit before completing the journey. As he approached, he realized it was a trader's camp, a well-to-do trader, to afford the payment of such a well-geared escort. There were dwarves as well, four of them. About a dozen people in all, sitting about a small camp fire over which a pot of food boiled. Raxus saluted and hailed them as he neared, they'd been watching him and Abiel since they appeared out of the forest.

    "Hello there, good centurion!" one of the dwarves stood and saluted back.

Raxus slid off the horse.

    "Good day to you," Raxus replied with little cheer. "I am Raxus, this is my squire-at-arms, Abi'." Raxus waived briefly at Abiel, who was dismounting and taken aback at the introduction.

    "I fear to tell you sirs, that there has been a Horde invasion in the south, if that is where you might be headed." Raxus announced.

    "A what?!" one of the rangers, a simple looking man in what appeared to be brand new leather elven armor, hopped to his feet.

    "They go by the title Gurvir now, as if changing the name makes them different from what they've ever been." Raxus spat. "They've over run Coste Volte and Wrottsley as well and are making their way north toward the main of the Lorelands. My suggestion to you sirs, would be to return to the Vale until such a time when we know where they are and their full intentions." Raxus spoke almost politely, Abiel raised an eyebrow.

    "Pull up a stool then, the both of you. Take a rest. We'll see to your horses and you can tell us the tale. I am Telmut, these are my brothers Kammut, Babbot, and Grammot." the dwarf pointed to the three others, who looked almost too identical to tell them all apart. Abiel decided she would refer to them all as 'sir'.

    After she and Raxus were given sitting stools, food and drink, Raxus began to spin a wild story regarding where Abi' was from and how they'd come to be in Coste Volte. He explained about the sudden invasion and wondered at how much truth there was about their escape. He did not mention the Gurvir at the watch tower and lied about it being lit when they arrived and failed to mention stopping in Wrottsley.

    "There are patrols about in the mountains and hills already, thanks be to the Gods we were not discovered, but there is no way to know if they will be seeking to target the Vale at the present time, or how much of their army is marching already." Raxus said and began to eat while the dwarves and their guards discussed at length what to do and what this meant for business. Several times, Telmut looked to Abiel, inspecting her. She could feel his steely gaze resting upon her healing scar, and several glances from the brothers at the stones bound around her wrist. She took the opportunity to stretch and pull her sleeves down until they nearly covered her hands, bending over her metal bowl to eat.

    "I need to speak to these men further," Raxus set his bowl on the ground and stood and stretched his aching back and legs. "See what wood you can find at the edge of the forest, do not linger." Raxus said to Abiel commandingly.

    "As you wish," Abiel replied, hoping it was sufficient. She'd never given much thought as to how a squire would speak to their master until then and prayed she was convincing.

    There wasn't a terrible amount of scrap wood to choose from, and she did not want to get too far from camp. She went in as far as she would dare, the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountain. Abiel picked up what she could and hoped she'd found enough and been gone long enough for Raxus to say what ever he needed to out of her presence, which unnerved her all the more. Abiel turned to head back and found Telmut approaching.

    "Hello, Sir." Abiel inclined her head, giving an awkward half-bow, trying not to drop the wood she'd found.

    "And a hello to you, young miss. If I can be of assistance?" Telmut reached up to take the wood.

    "It's quite all right, thank you, I can carry it." Abiel smiled. Telmut's leathery cheeks flushed pink at her smile.

    "This business with the Gurvir," Telmut stumbled over the new title for the horde and seemed amused by it. "'Tis a nasty nasty thing." He was watching her, but not in such a way as to make Abiel uncomfortable. He seemed to know something, waiting for her to speak of it.

    "Aye, war is hardly a pleasant experience for anyone, I would think."

    "Have you been a squire for long, young Abi'?" Telmut tugged at his beard. It reminded her of Thromguard, the axe-weilding dwarf she'd known for years.

    "Alas, I have not." Abiel said quietly. "If you would excuse me sir, I should return to camp." Abiel bowed slightly and started to leave. "Thank you for you hospitality today."

    "The pleasure and honor of hosting a centurion of the Serpeants and his companion are mine." Telmut said sincerely. Abiel did not know how she should receive the term 'companion', it made her think of the enchantress Ursi and her 'companionship' with Raxus and bit her lip before leaving the cover of the trees.

    

   Upon Abiel's return, Raxus instructed her to rest some, they would be leaving for the Vale shortly. The dwarves and their guard continued to discuss the best course of action for them, as now they would not be making stops in Wrottsley or Coste Volte with their wares. Telmut and his brothers were craftsman of fine hybrid-metals, mostly short swords and axes. Telmut was quite pleased with himself over the craftsmanship, pulled out several pieces for Raxus to look over. They were minimal and simple in appearance, but well made and it was not lost upon Raxus that Telmut would have no problem selling some of it to the dread knight at a discount.

   Over the mountainside, the light was still bright. The valley was darkening, long shadows of the tree line were stretching over the grass. In the distance, the torch lights of the southern forest line of the Vale could be seen against the barrier of dark trees. Raxus checked the horses, began to saddle them as the traders began to break camp and prepare. They would all travel to the Vale together, it had been decided. Raxus felt more at ease having other fighters at hand should a Gurvir patrol locate them, though Raxus couldn't be certain that they'd dare to venture so close to the Vale. He wondered what had become of his three companions, if they'd all survived and managed to elude the Gurvir. Raxus would have the answers soon enough, but for now it was time to make haste and see Abiel to the elves and then the dwarves as quickly as possible.

   There was a smell upon the air Raxus did not like. The band was ready to leave and Raxus had just put his foot in the stirrup to mount his horse.

    "Telmut, ready your men." he whispered to the dwarf not far from him.

    "Aye," Telmut did not question and slowly pulled an axe from under the bench he sat upon in the cart.

  Raxus could hear the dwarf 'whisper', it wasn't much of one. The gurads took up their weapons.

    "Ride straight for the southern road, as quickly as possible. Leave the goods." Raxus whispered.

    "We didn't make these weapons to see them used upon the Loreland people, no sir, we'll take our chances." Grod grumbled.

   Raxus shook his head slightly, it would be their funeral then.

   "Move out," he commanded, watching as Abiel, still half-asleep, pulled herself up into the saddle.

   "Abi'," Raxus called quietly.

   "Yes, my lord?: she yawned deeply.

   "Wake up!" he snapped. "Look at me." he hissed. Abiel's eyes widened. "Be ready to ride for the Vale at my order, do you understand me?"

   "Yes," she nodded quickly.

   "When I tell you, you ride as fast as you can to those lights there in the distance."

   "They're here, aren't they?" Abiel whispered.

   "They're very close. Are you ready?"

Abiel was wide awake now. "Yes."

    "Unless you can turn those feelings upon whatever is coming, I suggest you keep them in check," Raxus snarled quietly, her growing fear beginning to creep from her and onto the dark elf.

   Abiel nodded and took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm.

    Raxus waived the group forward, the band moving as fast as the cart-mules could run. If they should be attacked, they were out in the open, sitting targets. Displeased with this, Raxus urged them on, turning to watch the tree line of the forest as often as he could. The dwarves wares were rattling and jangling about, echoing through the valley. Raxus felt as though they may as well be standing still screaming "We are right here!" The torch lights in the distance still seemed so far off. They were making little ground, but the dwarves refused to leave their things.

    The attack came swiftly, a volley of arrows raining about them, striking at the ground and the carts, one glanced off one of the human guards shoulder plated armor.

    "Ride!" Raxus yelled as another hale of arrows arced over them.

   The patrol of Gurvir emerged from the forest, some on horseback, though the horses did not look like any Raxus had seen before. Massive beasts, scaled with thick heads and jet-black eyes. Orc, goblin, centaur and blood elves ran at them, roaring, firing arrows, hurling magics. There were at least a dozen, it was hard to count. Raxus turned his attention for the moment, seeing the torches slightly larger, still a fair distance off. Another band of Gurvir rushed from the tree line ahead of them. It would not be long before they were surrounded.

    "Halt! Circle!" Raxus yelled. "Prepare for battle! Abiel, set your mare loose, you tell it to make for the Vale, you understand?!" Raxus pulled a bow from his saddle and began to fire, pulling a steady stream of poison-tipped arrows from a quiver behind his leg, ignoring the strange looks from the others as they pulled the mules and horses into their position. Abiel slid off the saddle, spoke quietly to the mare then slapped it on the rump, sending her fleeing for the Vale. The horse was sure to give the Gurvir a wide birth as she streaked toward the tree line.

    The rangers of Telmut's escort began firing multiple arrows at once from beautiful carved bows, uttering magics as they let loose their volleys. The warriors took up positions around the carts, Abiel standing in the center, trapped on Raxus's order. Magic impacted around them, a ranger staggered some, but continued to loose his arrows.

    "Get under one of the carts and stay there!" Raxus shouted at Abiel. The Gurvir were closing in now.

Unsure as to whether or not his mare would understand, Raxus took the chance of giving orders to the horse.

     "Be ready to take her!" Raxus pulled the horse quickly to the cart Abiel was beneath nearest him.

The Gurvir were nearly upon them, speeding toward the small camp. 

 

   

 Raxus drew two of the swords from his back and readied himself, whispering spells of death and protection. He ran out to meet the first few, swords clashed and shields split. Abiel buried her face in the ground, covering her head with her hands. If she would not be allowed to fight, then she did not think she could bear to watch. Raxus's horse reared and shrieked as a bolt of magic landed close by. The smell of orc and goblin blood assailed Abiel, she felt some hit her. How she hated that smell. She looked up to see bodies strewn about, Raxus and the others fighting fiercely, the dwarves hacking with their axes like a sharp knife through soft cheese. The band was outnumbered, but they were holding their own.  They'd cut the Gurvir attackers down by half, but the human warriors were tiring. One of them went down in a scream.

    "Get ready to run!" she heard Raxus shout, much to the amusement of the Gurvir. Abiel grabbed a shield from Telmut's cart, hoping he would forgive her for stealing it, then leaped in to the saddle, doing her best to shield herself and Raxus's horse.

    "GO! GO! GO!"

   Abiel heeled the horse in the flanks, holding tightly to the mane with one hand, leaning over trying to shield them. The Gurvir were too entrenched in their battles to do much to stop her from fleeing and once clear of the fight, Abiel dropped the shield and turned to look back. Two rangers and a second warrior had died, bodies of the Gurvir... She could see Raxus  surrounded now. One of the dwarves fell. Abiel could see the road ahead leading up into the Vale, it wasn't far. Abiel turned in her saddle again as another dwarf fell, then two more of their guard. A violent anger swelled in the girl's heart. No, she decided. They would not die for her. Abiel snatched the reigns, hearing the horse's objections to this in her mind, she had agreed to and understood the urgency to see Abiel to safety.

    "You will obey me!" Abiel yelled. The horse acquiesced and wheeled around, charging for the battle. Abiel drew one of Raxus's swords from the saddle, heading straight for a massive orc on horseback and slashed, decapitated a blood elf and slashed another orc about to run through the dwarf Telmut. As easy as silk, she slid from the galloping mare's saddle and engaged in the fight. The Gurvir were far less in number now, Abiel's training became second nature. She was in control but did not wonder then that she was weilding a heavy two-handed broadsword with one hand, she did not appear to be the under-sized fifteen year old she was as she stabbed and hacked her way to Raxus's side, appearing ever the adult she would eventually become. Abiel ignored his anger and cursing, fighting at his back as the last of the Gurvir bandits engaged the survivors. Things appeared to be looking up now, she was quite pleased with herself as she parried and dodged and the dread knight's cursing ceased.

    More magic landed around them, a third wave of Gurvir rushed from the forest. Abiel spun and slashed, trying to cut as many down with a single swing as she could. She was getting further from Raxus, the new group of  Gurvir were running at directly at her.

    "Raxus!" She shouted. A blood elf lunged at Abiel, grabbing her forearm. She butted the beautiful tan-skinned elf in the nose and though the elf's grip released with an angry curse over the exploded nose, Abiel was dizzy now, her head throbbed. Raxus fought his way quickly to her, the wave of Gurvir was nearly upon them.

    "Run! And don't you turn back!" he yelled, and began to cast spells as quickly as he could while parrying and advancing, trying to give Abiel room to flee.

 Abiel scrambled out of the pack and began to sprint. The Gurvir did not stay to fight this time, they gave chase after her, leaving Raxus and the remaining four of the trading camp standing amongst the dead, forgotten. Raxus raced to one of the fallen men's horses, swung up into the saddle and spurred it to a gallop. As soon as Abiel realized the Gurvir were now after her, she dropped the sword and ran for the Vale as fast as her legs could carry her.

   She was beginning to slow, her lungs burned and her head still ached. She could hear the Gurvir getting closer, she did not want to look back, but did so. They were gaining on her in the quiet of the plains, some Gurvir were back on their nightmarish horses, gaining with every footfall like thunder at her heels. They began to call and cackle, magics exploding around her as she ran. Finally she had made it to the road, there were no guards posted and her heart sank. The Gurvir were still giving chase, only a few feet from her now. She pressed up the sloping path, the beauty of the place ignored by the fear driving her forward. The steepening grade of the hill caused Abiel's muscles to burn, she could hardly feel them and stumbled, trying not to lose her balance. The hooves were right behind her now, the rushing breath of the Gurvir steeds was hot against her neck.

    

   A large horse charged over the top of the crest before her, a rider in black wearing a blood-elven helm, sword drawn, charging at Abiel. She slipped and fell back, the Gurvir who'd been right behind her and about to snatch her, barely missed her, the horse leaping over her body. Abiel scrambled, running off the road now, panicked and surrounded as she ran. There was no path as she burst through one thicket after another, branches and foliage cutting her face and hands, snagging on her clothes. Again she could feel the hot breath of the charging horse right at her heels, so close now, too close... she was going to be caught and die in the Vale, she was sure of it. There was shouting, the sounds of battle, the warmth was gone. Abiel chanced a glance over her shoulder to see the blood elven warrior who'd come at her over the crest still riding her down reaching for her, the orc who'd almost snatched her before, no where to be seen. Abiel's heart stopped and a scream erupted around her as she fell. She had not seen the ledge and now she was falling so fast it looked as though the water below was rushing to meet her. The impact relieved her of all fear and consciousness as darkness claimed her.

                                                               CHAPTER V

   Was it a nightmare? There had been such a fierce battle. Abiel had been leading an army, a terrible human army, invading.... Shiftie had been there, commanding her, but it had not looked like him. And she had not looked like herself, though Abiel was quite certain it was them in the dream. As she began to awaken, the images became more brief until she could not recall the dream long enough to distinguish anything that made sense. It was pain that had roused her from her deep, vivid sleep. She was comfortable and warm, and there was a fragrant smell upon the air. Abiel's eyes began to open, she did not recognize where she was, but it was beautiful. She lay among thick silken sheets, goose feather-filled blankets and pillows upon a mattress that had to have been made in heaven. The bed frame was built of thick woven tree branches that still appeared to be growing leaves as they grew upward to from posts and a canopy, light sheets of silken drapes were held back by silver chords matching the large open windows across the room. There were sculpture, plants, flowers in abundance,  a tall chest of drawers on the far end of the room, a small fire burned lazily in a large hearth, tall wax candles waiting to be lit sat upon tall well-worked black iron stands. So much of it reminded Abiel of her mother's taste.

    A beautiful hand painted pitcher of water sat upon a small wooden table beside her. Abiel pushed herself uncomfortably into a sitting position to reach for the pitcher ignoring the cup and drank greedily. She was too thirsty to care and she was alone. It wasn't long before she'd consumed the contents of the berry and rose tinged drink and pulled the covers from herself, dangling her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet did not touch the woolen rug below, a grimace etched across her face as Abiel attempted to set her feet to the floor and stand. Being still, only her head ached. Moving, everything ached and pinched. Finally her feet touched the soft mat and she pushed herself to stand. Her body rejected this, her back and legs screaming with discomfort. She staggered back trying to catch her balance and spent a moment trying to regain herself. Across the room beside the chest of drawers was a silver carved mirror that sat upon the floor and was taller than Abiel. Using the bed for support, Abiel took slow small steps toward it. Something had caught her eye and it was not the long pale blue sleeping gown she was dressed in.

    After some time, Abiel reached the mirror, steadied herself with one hand on the dresser, and with the other, moved aside the untied panel over her chest to see her scar. It was healed, that made no sense to her, Raxus had only sewn the stitches a few days prior.  Jagged and roughly sewn together, it looked to be a harsh trail beginning at her stomach, creeping up her sternum to her neck, stopping momentarily under her chin only to begin again to stop under her lower lip. With a shaking hand, Abiel slowly traced the scar with her fingertip from chin to chest. While she could feel the odd texture of the scar against her finger, she could not feel where her finger was touching the scar. Abiel had been afraid that it might still hurt, it looked painful, wretched. She was marked for the entirety of her life now, and no memory of how she received it. Abiel could not bear to look at it any longer and hastily drew the chords of her nightgown together, covering what she could with the panels, then hurried through her discomfort back into the bed, warm tears her only company as she drifted back to sleep. Her dreams were a far better place to be than wherever she was and whomever was holding her, badly scarred and confused.

   In the midst of her wonderful and colorful dreams, Abiel felt something tugging on her consciousness. Her eye lids were so heavy. There were others in the room, she could make out movement of three, maybe four but her eyes were so heavy, she was still so tired. They spoke, the words would not register though she struggled to listen. Something moved toward her, maybe a hand, Abiel did not know. It would have to wait, they would have to wait, for her dreams were calling.

     "She drank it all," the elven woman said, holding the empty pitcher beside Abiel's bed.

     "She lives? Is she all right?" an elven man in the doorway stepped into the room, surprised and horrified.

     "It appears so," a golden-haired half elf sat upon the bed feeling Abiel's hands and forehead.

     "The girl takes a mortal blow from a goblin rapier and lives," the half-elf inspected Abiel's nasty scar with irritation.

     "As though there were time enough to stitch it properly," the dark elf huffed. "We were running for our lives in case no one had told you that part of the story."

     "...Falls to her death into the Otium pools," the half-elf said softly, thinking, wondering.

     "And drinks an entire pitcher of water laced with rosebane," a male woodland elf sat in a comfortable chair across the room, watching her.

     "Is she or isn't she?" the dark elf demanded. The elves looked to one another, and their gaze fell to the sleeping child.

     "If she isn't, then what is she?"

                                          ***********************************

  The feeling stirred again, the feeling of eyes upon her, and voices.... Abiel was terribly comfortable in the bed... Bed? She was in a bed. Yes, a warm comfortable bed. Her eyes flew open, she turned over quickly and came to sit up, surrounded by elves, several faces she recognized and she smiled brightly.

     "You found me," Abiel smiled at Mencius, Toatle and Zykon. Mencius smiled widely at the girl, Zykon tried to hide his grin, Raxus stepped out from the corner behind Toatle, the dread knights scowling as they always did.

     "Thank you for saving me, my lord." Abiel said sincerely to Raxus, who inclined his head and took a step back behind Toatle again.

     "As I am sure you are quite tired still, my dearest, we shall wait to do the formal introductions when the time is better." Mencius stepped toward her and took her hand in his. "How are you feeling?"

     "Sore, hungry. Like I could sleep for days more still and eat the entirety of one of my mother's banquets. How long have I been asleep?

     "Eight days," Mencius smiled.

     "Eight?! What in the Gods world would I be doing asleep for so long?" Abiel asked frightfully.

     "You might have awoken sooner," Mencius pushed several strands of her almond color hair from her face to be tucked behind her ear. "...except that you were quite thirsty and drank a large jug of rosebane water."

   Abiel turned to look for the pitcher that was beside her bed.

    "I drank rosebane?!"

    "In small doses tempered by water, it helps one sleep while trying to recovery from....injury."

    "Injury?" Abiel inspected her arms, patted down her legs. "I'm just a wee bit sore is all."

    "You don't remember?" Mencius asked.

    "You died." Toatle grumbled irritably. Raxus hit him in the chest with his fist.

    "I..." Abiel's hands moved to her chest but the look in Mencius's eyes told her that her scar had nothing to do with it.  And the memory returned in a flash of running from the Gurvir, the blood elven warrior charging after her... "I fell," she said unsure still, having no memory after that.

    "You fell quite a long way, my dearest, into the Otium Pools. Toatle was trying to reach you, but you did not recognize him."

   Abiel sat open-mouthed, trying to remember something, anything at all, but only the dreadful vision of that plated hand reaching for her as she ran remained in her mind. She sighed quietly. All of these things happening and she had no memory. How many times had her life been in peril and she was mentally absent? It was very unnerving to the girl and she sat biting her lip, a slight pout on her face. 

    "Do not dwell on these mysteries, there will be time enough for that, I am sure." Mencius assured her softly. "For now, rest more still if you need to."

     "What of the Gurvir?" she asked, looking to Raxus.

     "The bands so near to the forest have been... disposed of." Mencius smiled softly looking her over. Abiel lowered her chin, catching a slight glance at it in the mirror across the room, the fleshy scar seemed horribly vivid.

     "And their army?" Abiel folded her arms about herself.

     "Still hold up in Coste Volte." the enchanter tried to be reassuring.

     "My mother?" Abiel looked to meet Mencius's gaze.

     "No word yet, I am afraid my dear." Mencius patted her arm. "But there is another who would like to look in on you, if you don't mind one more person joining us."

   Abiel looked at the beautiful high elf quizzically as a boot crossed the threshold of the door to her room. It took naught but a moment to recognize and Abiel was scrambling out of bed jumping from it to sprint and leap into Shiftie's arms, pain forgotten. She appeared the small girl she had been seven years before as the white-haired centurion held Abiel, her arms and legs wrapped about him tightly, crying quietly into the crook of his neck. The change in her appearance caught all but Shiftie and Raxus off guard, the two having become somewhat accustomed.

    "I've missed you terribly. I was so worried." Abiel sobbed, leaning back to look Shiftie in the eye. Shiftie wiped the streams of tears from her cheeks with the back of his soft hand.

    "Mellon titta ohtakyaro. I am sorry for not having been at your side, as I have missed you as well. But I am pleased to see that you are alive and safe." Shiftie smiled and touched his forehead gently to hers. He felt her exhale in relief, feeling a sense of security and happiness emanating from her, and also a slight fear and resentment.

  Shiftie pulled her to him again to hug her and to whisper into her ear.

    "I will not leave you again, this I promise." Shiftie spoke so quietly and soothing, the girl's grip around his neck and waist tightened for several moments in thankfulness. She was happy now, a giant smile of truest joy spread across her face, her feelings touching each of the elves in the room. The two dread knights shifted uncomfortably where they stood and opted to quietly take their leave and be free of Abiel's feelings.

  Abiel looked about the room confused and was then aware that everyone was smiling almost unnaturally. She loosened her grasp on Shiftie, sliding down slightly until her feet touched the floor and stood on her own, back to her normal height, appearing her age again.

    "Amin hiraetha," Abiel apologized, blushing as she attempted to control her emotions, to be less over-joyed than she was.

    "Better happiness than something else," Shiftie quipped. "You said that you were hungry. Shall we dine then?" he held out his hand to her, Abiel took his little finger as she always had, her height diminishing again as they left the room.

   Abiel ate. Then ate some more. The elves tried hard not to stare, the girl took no notice, but occasionally apologized for the mass consumption they were witnessing. Abiel's hunger felt insatiable, she could not stop eating and her hunger was foremost in her mind. She was taking care not to shove everything she could reach with her hands into her mouth straight away, she managed, if but barely, to use her utensils and constantly wiped at her mouth as she went with the napkin at her setting, though if it were not for the dozen or more witnesses, Abiel would have crawled up onto the table and shoved the food into her face without ceremony. 

   Abiel had consumed enough for half a dozen men, there was nothing left on the table and several additional dishes of sweet meats and aged cheese and bread had been brought to her. Though she knew she could eat more, Abiel had had enough to finally gain some control over herself and to care enough about appearance that she willed herself to stop. Her elven hosts Chazmirs, a fair-haired high elf cleric and her mate Rethim, a silver-haired high elven bard, offered her more food, but Abiel declined, embarrassed. Taking the moment to measure what she'd just consumed, Abiel was almost ill at the thought, but considered asking if a large dessert of some kind could be brought to her room later. Abiel dismissed this notion, thinking how dismayed Juldain would be at her daughter's crassness.

     "Are you quite sure?" Chazmirs smiled sincerely.

     "Quite. I really have never eaten so much food in all my life. It was wonderful!" Abiel blushed at her excited outburst.

     "Perhaps a light walk would be in order." Shiftie suggested, smiling at Abiel, who returned his smile with eagerness. "Toatle?" Shiftie looked to the dark elf, who was picking at the linens on the table, clearly irritated at having been made to dine in what Abiel learned to be a large home in the middle of the Vale. The dread knight had hoped to be keeping the company of a woodland elf seamstress he'd met several days before, not watching an undersized demon-child consume his weights' worth of food.

    Toatle looked to Shiftie, roused from his thoughts. "Hmm?"

    "Would you be so kind as to escort Abiel on a walk of the grounds?" Shiftie asked pointedly.

  Toatle's mouth opened, irritation poorly concealed within his light-crystalline eyes and face, he wasn't about to stand watch over this girl, this thing, whatever she was, so prone to dying and coming back to life. He felt her eyes move to him, he looked to Abiel, seeing her initial disappointment over being sent on the walk with him instead of Shiftie. More insult to injury.

    "Let's go then," he snapped and abruptly shoved himself away from the large carved table, his chair scraping purposefully over the stone floor, unnerving the guests. He ignored the glare from Shiftie as he marched toward the archway leading out onto the terrace and waited impatiently as Shiftie whispered something to Abiel. He heard her excuse herself and walk quickly to him. Toatle stood up straight as a board when the girl, looking naught more than eight again, took his smallest finger in hand.

  He would have ripped it away, but the look in her eyes and her small smile that he detested so much  halted the rude reaction. For the time being, Toatle acquiesced. As with all of his meetings with her, his irritation would have to wait until after she was out of his presence. Begrudgingly, the dark elf clasped her small hand in return and led her down the smooth ornately decorated walkway out to the gardens.

    Abiel had questions. She always had questions. Toatle was not opposed to talking, but the girl was never silent in his company unless she was asleep... or dead. He chuckled to himself at this realization, prompting more questions from her, eliciting a sigh of frustration from him.

     "Are you all right?" Abiel asked concerned, still appearing to him as the child he'd met 8 years before. Toatle could have choked her there and then among the flowers. It was a cool night, he barely noticed but for the ice-cold feeling of her skin against his, Abiel was still in her sleeping gown. She seemed unaffected for a long while, the talking and the questions apparently kept her unaware of the chill. He did not offer her his cloak, but pulled it off and knelt to wrap it around her and pulled the large hood over her head. Another fleeting thought of pulling it over her face and he had to stifle the chuckle with a cough.

     "Thank you," Abiel beamed appreciatively.

     "Come back to life from falling and drowning to be taken down by chll or worse- I'd never hear the end of it." Toatle grumbled.

    Abiel pulled the hood back from her eyes as Toatle still knelt before her.

     "You do not care for me." It was a small statement without the intonations of suspicion, mostly disappointment.

      "You're fine." Toatle replied trying not to look her in the face directly.

The dark elf sat back some, forced now to at least meet her gaze.

     "I care little for anyone." It was the truth in theory and reputation, but Toatle spied the disbelief in Abiel's eyes.

     "I suppose you do not have to like me, I hope that it's acceptable that I like you, sir. And I am grateful for all that you have done to help me. And if you don't care for me and still helped me anyway, well that makes you a good person."

   No one had ever referred to Toatle as a good person that he could recall. He allowed himself to sit back onto his rear in the damp grass and looked at her, inspecting her as she looked at him and sat down before him, wrapping his cloak tightly about herself and picking lightly at the grass.

     "I couldn't blame you for not liking me, and I don't mean that to garner pity. I have only brought strangeness and danger into your life, into everyone's lives. And for what?" Abiel laughed softly, a pained laugh. "What is my life worth?" the girl looked to him, hoping he had an answer. Toatle had none to offer.

     "Your importance remains relevant to some, a mystery to many." Toatle replied.

Abiel looked at him quizzically.

    "We," Toatle waived his arm lazily in the general direction of the house and its' occupants, "...can't be certain. We are trying to discover the answers to the puzzle that you have become."

    "I don't want to be a puzzle, sir. I just want to stop dying." an odd expression crossed the girls face at her own words. "Life was much more simple a fortnight ago. I was just my mother's daughter. Now it seems I am a fugitive and a demon."

    "You're not a demon." Toatle laughed almost mockingly, though he was certain she was one.

    "What am I then?" Abiel asked simply, staring at Toatle with a stillness that made his skin prickle.

  A voice called to Abiel- it was Shiftie, standing at the top of the stairs leading down into the garden.

    "Come," Shiftie raised his arm before him, holding out his hand.

   Abiel did not stand immediately, she looked back to Toatle, who had no answer for her.

    "You're our puzzle, I suppose." Toatle cracked smile.

    "Then I suppose you must keep me until you put my pieces together." Abiel replied, no longer looking the young child but very much like the maturing fifteen year old she was, with a smile that struck Toatle straight in the chest. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek as he sat frozen. "Thank you for helping me." The words fell upon his ear as a gentle whisper enveloping his body- a foreshadowing.

   Abiel got to her feet and sprinted through the torch-lit garden to take Shiftie's still out-stretched hand. Toatle felt her look back at him briefly, though he could not bring himself to stand or to watch her leave with him. It seemed he did not despise the girl as much as he'd wanted to and despised himself all the more for it.

     "Shall we wait until the morning then?" Shiftie looked to Abiel, who was beaming a smile at him as they walked the terrace out into the quiet canopied-city. The moon touched the ground gently like little lights through the foliage high above. This was a magical place, full of life that thrummed and buzzed within Abiel. It reminded her of when she'd first met Toatle and Raxus and Mencius, Shiftie's friends, she thought softly, and her skin had taken a slight chill among them. She could not recall the last time she'd felt such a thing since meeting them, but here among the Vale, her skin was alight with vibration, like a thousand gentle silken strings were being run over her body and through her mind. Abiel's smile faded at the prospect of losing any time with Shiftie. The thought of being out of hand's reach from him struck at her like a blow.

    "If you need to rest my lord, I understand. Sleeping for nearly a fortnight has me well rested." Abiel replied and watched as her slippered feet moved over the grass and smooth pathing stones. She spied something moving in the shadows of the tree line, behind the houses and shops and looked to Shiftie. "Did you see that?" Abiel looked again but saw nothing.

    "Not to worry, my little one, the Gurvir could take over all of the world if they wanted, but never the Vale." Shiftie assured her and patted her head.

    "Because it's enchanted?" Abiel asked, sounding child-like.

  Shiftie laughed softly. "It is the first magic, or so the elves believe. This was once and still remains a place that reveres honor and the good hearted. It is said that many lifetimes ago, this was a prison for the elves of all races from the human world. That no elf should leave the barrier of the trees and enter into the world of men. But the magics of the land had their revenge so that no unworthy being could come here and lay claim to the beauty of this place or its natural riches, protecting my kind."

     "Do you prefer the Vale to your home?" Abiel asked, looking for movement in everything about them.

     "They are both equally beautiful to me, there are several human kingdoms that I marvel at as well. Here, you are surrounded by a world given to us to use, to live within. It provides all that any could need. Bountiful fish from lakes and streams, flowers the like you will never see in the world. The homes here are built with the permission and even the aid of the trees. Irentaru though is a crafted beauty, it's spires rising high into the sky." Within the high elf's words, Abiel could see what he was describing, an enormous castle and city built of white, with icy-blue silken banners flowing from the tops of the towers stretching up toward the heavens.

     "I shall have to take you there one day, I think." Shiftie mused.

      "My mother has spoken of it..." Abiel's voice trailed off. How she longed to know that her mother was well. Or even dead. Just to know the truth of what had become of Juldain would suffice. Abiel folded her hands in front of her as she walked. "I have so many questions, I don't think I can find the beginning."

    "Choose one, and we shall move on from there." Shiftie stood aside to allow for Abiel to pass first over a small wooded bridge as they headed into the forest, away from the heart of the city.

   Abiel's questions turned to the tales of things she'd done over the years in Shiftie's absence, her many teachers and the various things she'd learned, purposefully omitting the brief dalliances with love and held out her wrist to him when she spoke of the last night in Coste Volte. 

     "It does not come off, the stones do not wash clean." Abiel explained. Shiftie knew quite well what they were, and had a theory regarding how they'd truly come to be in her mother's possession but said nothing, and when Abiel did not press for his opinion on it, he was relieved. "But she gave them to me. " Abiel picked gently at the grass as she and Shiftie sat upon his dark cloak.

     "Possessions can never replace the love in your heart or your memories of her. Much of who you are now is because you are a part of your mother. Never forget that." Shiftie pulled a long pipe and small pouch from within his vest and set to packing a small amount of pipeweed into the bowl.

     "I hope I have only the good parts." Abiel sneered quietly.

Shiftie laughed, choking slightly on the smoke as he had inhaled when Abiel had responded. She smiled slightly and patted him on the back several times.

     "Will you tell me where you've been, my lord?" Abiel watched the high elf, entranced by his face. How long she had waited to see him. Abiel had nearly forgotten what he looked like. Struck again by his carved face and sparkling sapphire eyes, she might be seeing him for the first time.

    Abiel listened as Shiftie spoke, noting silently when he gave little detail or merely a brief mention of a topic that seemed important. He spoke at length of Pouty, the cities they'd traveled to, petty issues between kingdoms and lords needing to be settled, skirmishes he'd fought in, weaponry and battle gear he'd either amassed or had seen and wanted to call his own, but could not afford. There were new techniques he wanted to show Abiel that would have to wait until they reached the dwarves. In the end, Shiftie had spoken at length. But to Abiel, he'd hardly said a thing of true substance. Though she'd hung on every word, Abiel was positive he was leaving something sizable out. But it was late, creeping upon dawn and despite the rest she'd had, Abiel was ready to climb back into the wonderful bed and dream more wonderful dreams. No longer the shadow of memory in her mind, he'd come back to her. Shiftie had come for her after all. Abiel dwelled on his words from when he'd first stepped through the door and held her so closely to him... "I will not leave you again." He'd promised this, and Abiel meant to make sure he kept his word.

   The heart of the city was abuzz with talk of war, the spotting of Gurvir patrols, bandits and attacks up into the central valleys of the Lorelands. Midnight raids, killing and burning, taking anything of value to them, only to vanish and attack elsewhere the following night or a few nights after. There were reports of slaves being taken, bodies mutilated and left upon main roads and trails in warning. If even half of the stories were true, Shiftie and the others assumed it was to distract and intimidate in order to complete their foothold on the southern lands. Since the day in the valley when the Gurvir had attempted to take Abiel, the Gurvir had stayed far from the Vale, lending credit to the theory. If they were not willing to come near the Vale, then they were not ready for full scale war. 

    Spring was quickly turning to summer, and the entourage preparing to take Abiel to the dwarves was questioning the logic behind it. At least in the Vale, it would be easier to keep her safe, to train and watch her and the likelihood of unsavory characters reaching the girl was small. But at the Forge, all manner of people were free to come and go, the dwarves did not care who entered their kingdom so long as it did not interfere with their mining. While quick to show that 'nonsense' of an unsavory nature would not be tolerated, the Forge was an enormous place with many a dark corner for shady dealings and even murder. The dwarves did not fear an invasion from anyone. The steel doors that were raised above each of the entrances to their cities could be closed in a moment, sealing them off without a thought to go about their business. They feared no known magic, for their own was powerful and was drawn from the mountains, the largest range in the known world. They did see the coming war as they saw all wars- as an opportunity to put their crafts in ironwork and steel to use, to turn the hard monies and gems they were paid in, into treasures of art for themselves.  

   The days became long, although Abiel was still euphoric from Shiftie's return, the training was hard and extensive, the highelf's patience was short and there seemed no end to the list of weapons Shiftie wished her to learn. Abiel was exhausted, frustrated, and wished for nothing more than to sleep for hours on end the moment they finished each evening. She longed for nothing but information or news about her mother and yet none came. Toatle and Raxus appeared two to three times a month with news or confirmation of rumors regarding the Gurivan and to assist with her training. 

   All the years Shiftie had spent away from Abiel were causing the resentment she'd thought had gone toward him with every correction and and frustrated sigh that came from him over every poor swing, kick, and punch she attempted. The shield was held too high, her chin not high enough, one leg bent too much, the foot of the other leg too stiff. Every failure to execute felt like a slap in the face Abiel did not feel she deserved. And always, Abiel realized after some time, there were always others there, causing the rebukes to sting all the more. If it wasn't Mencius the enchanter or Throm the dwarf, or the monk Zykon, there was some person or persons always watching. Always watching her, gauging, speaking softly as they watched . Surrounded by people who seemed to know more, there always loomed an awkwardness. Abiel was always waiting to be asked questions, but none came. She spent hours wondering what it is that everyone wanted or seemed to expect but no one would come out and say.

     "If he'd been there to teach me, I wouldn't be so terrible!" Abiel snapped one night as she and Toatle walked the grounds of the castle after dinner. She'd regretted the words as soon as she'd spoken them, even more so since she'd said them to Toatle, who seemed amused by her frustration with Shiftie.

     "Had any one of us been there to teach you, you would indeed be far better off than you are. But, you aren't all that terrible, I am quite positive Shiftie is merely overwhelmed." The words were not spoken in any form of empathy on Shiftie's part, as always, Toatle was the picture of not-so-subtle irritability. "It might interest you to know that we will be leaving soon for the dwarven-lands. You must be as educated as we can hope to make you, should battle arise."

     "Have I not proved myself enough?" Abiel demanded to know, turning and planting her feet firmly on the ground.

  The dark elf laughed mockingly. "Proved yourself? The only thing you've proven to anyone thus far is that you seldom do as your told to and you manage to lose control of yourself in such an artfully violent manner that might kill us with your own hands."

   Abiel stared at Toatle's unflinching face, not sure whether to slap him or cry.

     "Has no one told you what happened with Raxus the night of the invasion at Coste Volte? Apparently not." Toatle appeared amused further by this and the look of astonishment on Abiel's face. "Here is the wondrous tale of little Abiel the initiate, primed and ready for battle. We find slayer Raxus, first locating our amazing warrior-to-be beneath a pile of carcasses, men, orc, goblin, barely breathing and, what a surprise, conked out, as it were. So he carries the little warrior away from the city only to be accosted by a Gurvir patrol. In the midst of the ensuing fight, just as it appears our steadfast dread knight might see his end, the little warrior has awakened and proceeds to dispatch the remaining Gurvir even while being mortally wounded herself, only to attack the dread knight, nearly murdering him before, and, surprise! Our little warrior dies. Again." 

   Abiel was mortified. She stared with her mouth wide open, frozen in her place, trying with all of her might to remember, to understand what Toatle was telling her.

     "I would never..." Abiel's voice was a whisper as she tried to remember.

     "Oh but you did, my youngling. And nearly succeeded. We assume that wound, fatal to any mortal," he stared pointedly at the exposed scar, "was the only thing that kept him alive. Now how do you suppose that would sit with the rest of us? Had you been any better trained before that night, you might have succeeded in killing him and Gods know who else. And you think we're going to take you into this now Gurvir-infested world without, One: seeing if your mentally fit, and two, assuming you've managed to retain your wits, be sure that you won't kill us all along the way?"

   Abiel had heard all she could stand to hear. She began to run as far from the dark elf as fast as she could into the forest, fighting back tears as she went. Toatle shrugged and returned to the castle.

   It was time for the evening meal, elves, dwarves, and humans met in the dining hall of the home of Chazmirs and Rethim to eat and discuss the matters of the day. Shiftie entered the hall, bowing and clasping arms with his companions. He had expected to see Abiel seated already, she was usually first in for dinner, starving after training and excited to speak with everyone, and to receive news of her mother Juldain, if there was any. There had been no word until that day,  Shiftie had information for the girl that he was positive she would be glad to hear.

     "Where is young Abiel?" Chazmirs asked as she poured glasses of port for the guests.

     "I can't be sure, I have not seen her since earlier this afternoon." Shiftie was clearly distressed.

     "Has anyone seen her recently?" Mencius asked.

     "Not I," Rethim replied.

     "Nor I." Throm stated gruffly. He and Mencius had just been discussing how quiet things had seemed in the last week. This did not bode well in his opinion.

     "I'm quite sure she is fine," Toatle sighed irritated. "The little git is probably off crying in a corner somewhere."

     "Why would she be crying?" Chazmirs snapped. She had never been overly fond of Toatle and found his constant provoking of the girl to be unsettling.

     "It seems that our steadfast little demon still has quite a bit to learn about hearing the truth when it does not please her." Toatle casually took a drink of his wine and chewed on a piece of cheese.

     "What have you done?" Mencius gasped.

     "What? I have done nothing, thank you, only shared with her the goings on after Raxus found her. Seems no one thought to tell the little demon that she had nearly killed him."

     "Gods damn you and your mouth." Shiftie spat and got to his feet, looking ready to fight.

     "You keep lying to herand expecting all of us to. To protect her? From what? How long did you plan on keeping it from her? Until she murders one of us during some Gurvir attack on the road? She knows she's being watched by all of us, while we wait to see if she has another murderous fit, you've got her as twisted as a sailor's knot over the misguided teachings of others after you so lovingly abandoned her in Coste Volte."

     "You know I had to!" Shiftie started to lunge at Toatle, but stopped himself as Toatle rose from his own seat to back away from the high elf, a smug grin on his blue-hued face.

     "Settle yourself. You don't have to explain that to me, my friend! But you might consider explaining to your little berserker. " Toatle was almost laughing. His easy attitude was infuriating everyone in the room. "She told me herself, she feels inferior because you abandoned her and left her in the hands of others to learn, only to be punished again and again for it here as you attempt to retrain the little twit. I explained that it was better for all of us that she'd been so poorly trained or Raxus here, " Toatle slapped his hand in a jovial manner on Raxus' shoulder, "would have been made Gurvir meat by her."

   Raxus did not hesitate to punch Toatle in the side of his head. There was no humor in this. Promptly, Raxus had a stunned Toatle on his back on the table. Toatle was no longer smug, but enraged by the attack. Rethim and Vahlaur were attempting to pull Raxus off of Toatle, while Shiftie pinned Toatle down by the chest and got nose to nose with the dread knight.

     "Where is she?" Shiftie seethed through clenched teeth.

     "I don't know, I don't care. All the safer for us. Now get your hands off of me." Toatle's eyes began to glow with anger. Tired of being forced to cater to what he considered a foolish little human, Toatle had had his fill of all of the lot of them and their ridiculous prophecies. He was not a tutor, he was a dreadknight, and his time had been wasted. He tried to sit up as he felt Shiftie's grip on his vest and tunic loosen.

     "Tell me where she is!" Shiftie slammed Toatle hard  against the table again, causing glasses to spill and plates to clatter.

     "She ran off into the forest crying like the child she is. Now get your hands off of me!" Toatle growled. Shiftie let go of him and immediately turned to Chazmirs. 

     "Send out guards, search the grounds. We," Shiftie motioned at the others, "will go into the woods. And you!" Shiftie turned toward Toatle, who was leaving the room.

     "I! Am leaving. There is a war to be fought, I am not going to sit here and play 'who wants to be murdered by a demon' any longer. See you all on the battlefield, assuming you live long enough." And with that, Toatle left the dining hall.

   Raxus rushed to go after him, caught again by Rethim and Vahlaur.

     "Leave him. We must find Abiel, make sure she hasn't left the city."

   Hour after hour they searched the grounds, the taverns and inns, the woods. The entire city was on alert by the end of the night. It was nearing midnight, the band filtered in to the dining hall that was still cluttered from the scuffle earlier. 

     "Where would she have gone?" Throm asked sitting down heavily in one of the chairs. 

   Shiftie was angry, shaking with rage, unable to speak. The others were speaking, going over a list of possible places she might be, whether or not she could have left the Vale, sharing their anger over Toatle's behavior. Shiftie wasn't listening, he was trying to set aside his anger in order to better suss out the possible location of his charge. 

     "Has anyone checked her room to see if she might have come in earlier to get her things?" Chazmirs asked. 

    Shiftie grumbled and hastily left the dining room, a small lamp in hand. He did not knock but swung the door open looking this way and that to see what might be missing, only to discover that Abiel was in bed asleep. Anger sprung forth in a slew of profanities in every tongue he knew so loudly that it echoed through the house. Abiel sat up straight, eyes wide and fearful. It was obvious she'd been crying for some time, her eyes and nose were red even in the dim light, eye lids puffy and irritated. 

   After spending the day crying, Abiel had no tears left.

     "We have been looking for you for hours!" Shiftie roared.

     "Why? So you can learn how to tame your vicious dog?" Abiel threw her covers off and leaped from the bed to stand before Shiftie. For the first time, her presence did not shrink, it grew and she was eye to eye with Shiftie, her rage and pain becoming palpable. Shiftie was too furious to notice, it only heightened his own anger.

     "I am trying to train you so that you can be prepared!" the high elf stood his ground.

     "Prepare me or prepare yourself for what I might do?" Abiel began to pace the room like a caged wild cat, turned and pointed at Shiftie.  "Why would you keep something like this from me? Must I suffer more before you deem me worthy to know that I am a killer? I have to find out from Toatle? How can I be the best that you can make me if I don't know how to help you?!" She was calming down now, the distance between them lessened her presence over him.

   Shiftie glared at her, watched her form slowly shrink until she was her normal height and appeared her actual age. "You don't even know when you've lost control, Abi'. It isn't about trust. We have questions. I have questions and some I am not even sure what they are yet, and so far, the answers find me unprepared. Yes, you are different, but I don't know why or how. I don't understand your strengths, I don't know if we have even seen all of your true power. Thus far at its worst? yes, you become something... someone other than yourself. Someone who does not know friends from enemies. Most importantly, if you are not prepared for war," Shiftie sat down in the armchair beside the door, his elbows on his knees, he placed his face in his hands and looked at the ground.

   Abiel moved to kneel before him. He looked up slightly.

     "I don't know how to help you and for that I am sorry. I do not know why I am this way. Don't you think that it's hard for me to know what I've done? What I almost did? Knowing that I almost killed Raxus- how can I ever look at him without shame? And as you train me, Toatle was right... it might only serve to make me all the more efficient. I don't know if I can harness my feelings. I don't even realize until something goes wrong that I am projecting my feelings upon others. And how terrible that must be for you," Abiel said softly. "I am so terribly sorry, Sir. Please forgive me. Please." Abiel took his hands in hers.

     "You don't need to apologize to me, Abi'. We simply need to find the answers and train you the best we can. I think it is time that you started training further with Zykon. His people and his own training as a monk might be able to temper some of your power. It has to."

                                                           CHAPTER VI

  Abiel slept terribly for the rest of the morning, wracked by dreams of destruction and violence at her own hands. Villages and cities burned, not a soul left alive in her wake. She seemed to slide from her own body, watching in horror as the vision of her took in the scene with serenity and peace. When Mencius came to wake her, Abiel had tears in her eyes, tears she'd been crying in the dream. She wiped her eyes as the elf appeared to float to her bedside and sit beside her, wiping her tears and smoothing her sweat-dampened hair.
     "Are you all right?" Mencius's silken voice was like a warm blanket.
     "I believe so, just terrible dreams. I was doing terrible things." Abiel looked away from the enchanter, ashamed.
     "Perhaps it would lighten your heart to know that there is news of your mother." Mencius smiled as Abiel sat up and looked at him, waiting.
     "She is alive, my dear. It seems she escaped unscathed and undetected. She is with Pouty now..."
     "At the Keep? With Pouty? But why would she be with Pouty?" Abiel was confused. None but the members of the Nine Sects were allowed in the Keep and though Pouty was one of the most powerful beings in the known world, he was also a recluse. He was infamous for it. And now her mother was to be his guest?
   Mencius shook his head. "Things in the world are very dangerous right now and look to be worsening as each day passes. Pouty seldom acts in haste, I can only think that it is important. And right now, there is no safer place. You will learn more later, but as it stands now, the Gurvir are attacking cities no one thought could be taken. They dealt a heavy heavy blow to the Hammerhead armies and have destroyed villages throughout the western Lorelands. They are many and the Loreland armies and the Nine Sects have been caught off guard. Things are in a bad way, my dear. We leave today for the dwarven kingdom and I... we all need to be sure that you are ready."
     "It doesn't appear that I have a choice. I will ready my things." Abiel was not ready and she was tired. "Will Toatle be with us?" Abiel asked irritably.
     "The dreadknight has chosen to depart, sadly." Mencius patted her hand.
     "Tis nothing sad about it. If I never see him again, I will not shed a tear." Mencius stood to allow the girl out of bed.
     "The loss will be for his skills. I fear we may need him sooner rather than later. He is rough and quite the scoundrel as darkelves go, but he is an excellent warrior none the less."
   Abiel sighed and began to search her room. "I really don't have anything to take, my lord."
     "As we will be traveling with all haste, you won't need much. We should take you into the village and outfit you as best we can."
     "I have no gold, my lord. I have nothing to buy wares with."
     "But you do, my dearest youngling. Your mother being the forward thinking woman that she is, has made arrangements. You only need to present yourself to the bankmen of the Sect-Allied cities along with this seal," Mencius placed a small golden ring bearing the crest of Coste Volte, "...and you will have access to all of the funding you might need. And even if that were not true, you would be well taken care of, all of us would see to that. Shall I meet you in the garden when you are ready?"
   Abiel smiled and shook her head. "As you wish, I shall be there momentarily."

   Abiel took a thorough bath. Something told her it might be a few days or weeks before she would be able to wash herself properly. She dressed in clothes Rethim had loaned her, politely refusing to wear anything dress-like outside of her night shirt that Chazmirs had offered. All of the bard's clothes were too big, but she'd become accustomed to the fit and rather enjoyed the look of longer sleeves and though Shiftie detested it, Abiel loved having trousers that were so long that she stepped on the back of them. Chazmirs had loaned her a dark gray hooded cloak that crossed over her chest to clasp at the opposite shoulder, allowing Abiel to cover a considerable amount of the scar, she was determined to find another like it.
   As she stepped onto to parapet, it was not Mencius waiting for her but Raxus and Shiftie. Abiel's heart thudded in embarrassment, she hesitated a moment before joining them and barely whispered greetings to them, her eyes fixed to the ground. Raxus pulled her by the hood of the cloak to him and knelt in front of her.
     "You have nothing to be sorry for, youngling. Nothing what so ever. We shall unravel this mystery together. You have nothing to fear or to be ashamed of." Raxus held her eyes with his own.
   Abiel barely nodded. She was not convinced. Raxus took one of her hands and opened it and placed his little finger in her hand and closed it for her. "It's like this, is it not?" Raxus asked, trying to confirm that Abiel always held Shiftie's littlest finger when they walked together. Abiel smiled slightly and nodded. "Then off we go." Raxus stood and with the girl in tow, followed after Shiftie toward the market square of the Vale.

   When it came to the jerkins, cloaks, and trousers, the elves had little to say, other than casual comments from Shiftie regarding the color, the night before seemingly forgotten. Abiel took his opinions to heart and picked the colors she liked best of the colors Shiftie approved of most. The weaponry, however, Abiel allowed the centurions to choose from. Abiel spied Shiftie eyeing several daggers and long swords, several recurved bows and a staff. He fumed irritably about his lack of money and suddenly Abiel had an idea that cheered her greatly. They were leaving the last of the storefronts to head back to Chazmir's home when Abiel muttered something and ran inside the weaponsmith's shop again, the elves waited impatiently. In another few moments, she was bolting back out the door, extremely happy.
   The elves raised an eyebrow.
     "I decided to get the lavender blouse after all." She lied smiling from ear to ear.
   The men shook their heads.
     "It is time we were heading back and begin saddling the horses. Your things should be delivered by then and we can be off." Shiftie stated and headed back for the cleric's quickly.

   Abiel said her goodbyes to those remaining at the Vale, Chazmirs and Rethim the saddest among them.
     "We shall see you very soon, I am sure. Rethim and I will be leaving to meet with our own Sect shortly. We hope to reach you at the Forge once you are safely settled there. We would like to call upon you, if it pleases you?" Chazmirs smiled, her eyes sparkling with tears.
     "This would please me greatly. Please be safe on your journey, I will await your arrival with great anticipation." Abiel hugged Chazmirs tightly and then Rethim. "Thank you for your hospitality. I hope some day to repay you both for the kindness you have shown me." Abiel was choking on her own emotion now and trying with all of her effort not to cry or to allow her feelings to come over those nearest.
     "Go now and be well, you take our best wishes with you." Chazmirs wiped the falling tears from Abiel's freckled cheek, then looked to Shiftie, who was sitting atop his horse impatiently. "Be safe, we will see you soon."
   The high elf nodded and looked to Abiel who said her final goodbyes and went to her horse, a large speckled gray gelding that looked almost too large for her to handle, but was eager to carry her.
     "Hello, my new friend," Abiel smiled at the horse and patted his neck before pulling herself deftly into the saddle and urged him onto the road.




                                                         CHAPTER VII

   There were more than a dozen riders and two pack horses heading for the dwarven stronghold. It would take at least a fortnight to reach without delay and Shiftie was praying to the Gods that there would be none. Many in the caravan were new to Abiel, two rogues- one man called Dremus, and a dark elf rogue called Norfolk, whom Abiel had heard mention of over the years as being one of the best at his trade and more. Abiel lost sight of two handsome wood elf rangers, Praxis and Faeron, within the first mile of the journey as they immediately took to the woods to put their tracking skills to use. Shiftie and the monk Zykon rode at the head of the group followed by Abiel who rode alone. Mencius accompanied Philphans, a large troll Shaman, the first troll Abiel had ever met, with a personality that reminded Abiel of the dwarves she'd met in the Vale before the attacks. Surly in appearance was to put it politely. It seemed genetically impossible that the troll could ever appear friendly on any terms. His voice was gruff, his manner lacked the grace of most races, but Abiel did not fear him and was all the happier for it when they were introduced and he seemed quite pleased to meet Abiel and she was at ease with Philphans from then on.

   The most beautiful red-haired high elven cleric draped in deep purples and gleaming light-plated armor rode in the center of the small convoy. Shiftie had introduced her as Mykaylla. Their familiarity might have otherwise irked Abiel, but for the clerics grace and perfect looks, she even smelled beautiful, Abiel would understand perfectly well if her keeper had taken more than  notice of the cleric. She rode between the enchanter and shaman.  The constant urge to turn and stare at Mykaylla gripped her more so than Abi' would have liked. The curiosity gnawed at Abiel, causing her to squirm in her seat and increase her embarrassment, for she was sure the elven woman could see her moving about in the saddle and must have been wondering what the God's the girl was doing fidgeting as a child might.
   The three casters were flanked on the sides by Raxus and a barbarian warrior called Aneurin, one of the few men Abiel had ever met that made her heart stop with his brutish handsomeness. He did not speak often to anyone, though he was known by most of the party. He was as tall as Shiftie, but twice as thick in musculature. While his dark hair was kept short, he had an expanse of beaded braids growing wildly from a thick beard speckled with the occasional graying hair. Under most circumstances, Abiel would have been twisted in knots over the look of him, but there was something about the cleric Mykaylla that even a chiseled-faced barbarian could not distract Abiel from.
    Both the Mykaylla and Philphans were from the most historically powerful of the Nine Sects, that of the Dragon. Though Shiftie and Mencius never spoke regularly of the Dragon Sect, when it was mentioned, both spoke of it with respect and not-so subtle desire to one day wear the dragonwing crest. The leader of the Dragons was rumored to be a battle-savvy and obscenely hard-mannered wood elven warrior named Swag. While Pouty and those under the banner of the Serpeant Sect had finally risen to the unofficial top of the Sects, those within the Sects knew it would only be a matter of time before the Dragons led the fighting guilds. Over the storied history of the Nine, power and the recruitment of the best and finest casters and melee fighters helped shift the balance of power from one Sect to another. Though competitive in accolades and occasional rivalry between leaders and member of the Sects, never had one Sect fought against another. None sought to destroy or interfere with a guild outside of their own, though it was rumored that over the last few decades, the Serpeant and those of the Hammerhead had come close to full scale wars against one another and a deep-ceded rivalry still lingered between the two crests. The occasional personal issue might erupt into skirmishes between members, but all accepted, even if begrudgingly, and honored the overall purpose and function of the Nine, to keep peace and see to the safety within the borders of the Lorelands.

   By mid-day, the band was pressing hard northward through the mountains, sticking to the patrolled roads. Shiftie's goal was to reach the valley crest by sundown, to rest the horses in Ehton, then continue down the mountain and into the plains of Lanscombe and cross the wide open territory by sunset. Ehton was a large outpost for the Vale's army now, swarming with nearly five thousand wood elven soldiers and casters. It had been a large village and trading post for several centuries and Abiel was familiar with Ehton through their dealings with Juldain. She wondered about her mother then, long passed glad that Juldain was alive and now solely curious as to why she would be with Pouty in the Keep. This was highly unusual, the Keep at Trentaru was a place occupied solely by the guildmasters of the Nine Sects. None outside the Nine was allowed to enter, except for those in the employ of the guilds and even they were not permitted entrance without formal credentials presented by a member of one of the Nine.
     "Abi'," Shiftie called quietly without turning in his saddle and motioned her forward slightly with his hand.
   Abiel spurred her horse forward to come along side the elven centurion.
     "Sir?"
     "Should issues arise, stay near to the casters." It was not a suggestion. "Fall back as you were, Zykon will ride with you and begin your lessons on meditation." Shiftie did not look at her.
     "As you command." Abiel slowed her horse some to allow for space to grow between them as did Zykon.
     "Do you know of the arts of meditation?" Zykon asked quietly.
     "Some perhaps." Abiel shrugged. At that point, Abiel was not sure what she did or didn't know any longer.
     "There are different forms of the meditative state. The highest is achieved when you can focus out the world around you and elevate your soul to a quiet restful state. Your mind does not focus on trivial things in this life."
   Abiel nodded. She was not sure she'd ever be able to shut her mind off to anything that pressed her.
     "The most important for you I think, is to find the balanced form of meditation I use for combat. In this state, your mid focuses on sound, smell, a control of ones self and ones mind to anticipate and react. It is complete harmony between mind and body. If you are able to do this, you should be well grounded in battle so that you do not lose yourself." Zykon steered his horse closer to hers. "A combatant with true skill leaves out emotion. Anger, frustration, fear, all of these things cloud the mind, cloud judgment and reaction until you learn how to control and use them. In your case, according to what Raxus has explained to me, it is most likely that these things contribute to your change and loss of self. As I have witnessed your ability to," Zykon took a moment to find the proper wording, "...affect those around you with simple feelings, I am sure that when surrounded by violence, it is amplified."
   Abiel's cheeks flushed with the color of her shame.
     "You must let these things go. They are done with. The burdens of the now are heavy enough without carrying the weight of things passed. You can not change what has been done. You must learn to view your mistakes and use them as tools to learn from. Do you understand?" Zykon was very serious in demeanor.
     "I do, Sir." Abiel breathed and exhaled deeply.
     "Good. Never forget that. You will find that it applies to all things in life, not just in battle. You will make mistakes, you WILL fail." Zykon seemed anxious to drive this point home, causing the shame again to resurface and wonder if the monk or anyone around her had ever been capable of failings so large as hers.

*to be filled*

     Abiel met Shiftie's gaze and bowed slightly, her face passive despite the anxiousness to get back to raiding, back to her friends. For the first time in her still young life, she did not want to be with her master. The years she had spent when he'd first left her in Costa Volte had been a suffering she did not want to experience again. When she was with Darkteror, Chaz and the others, Abiel felt whole and strong. She was gaining reputation for her skills and valor and amid the dangers, she was having fun. Her companions had initially been a distraction from the confusion and uncertainties, but that had faded into an ever growing familial bond that she'd never known. But now before her master, she steeled herself to remain still and to leave his presence as quickly as she could.

     "My lord," Abiel said softly, bowing again and waited for his nod of approval for standing straight and squaring her shoulders. She glimpsed briefly at Throm and smiled before leaning over to kiss his temple. She turned and walked from them with a certainty that stung the high-elf. It showed on his face. He turned to face Throm, the dwarf was grinning from ear to ear. He both adored the girl and enjoyed the way she turned his great friend in knots.

     "What?!" Shiftie snapped. "Speak your mind." Shiftie growled.

     "You are a lion among lions, my friend. Of that, there is no debate." Throm's chuckled trailed off as he lost himself in the amusement.

     "But?" Shiftie cut harshly as he sat down and took a drink of ale.

    The bar maid interrupted and said something about payment but Shiftie was not listening and only returned to the present to catch Throm saying, "...Well of course she did." and Shiftie knew then that Abiel had already paid for the drinks and whatever else he and Throm might want. Without realizing, Shiftie's hand went to touch the new mail she'd given to him. It was so light, he regularly forgot he was wearing it. Shiftie's thoughts moved to her skill- whatever she was, she was becoming an effective enough tanque in battle, her reputation growing and being paid well for her services. Enough so that it was keeping him geared and upgraded regularly, as he continued to be the most oft recipient of her generosity.

     "Say it." Shiftie said quietly, aware that Throm was waiting for him.

     "You are a lion indeed, my friend. But that..." the dwarf focused his attention on Abiel outside before she was lost from sight, "...that is no lion. That is a dragon. And more so, whether you accept it or not, is not only a dragon. Your girl is THE Dragon."

     Shiftie's shoulders fell as he slid back into his thoughts. "The dragon is mine." he hadn't meant to say it aloud. A sharp chill ran up his back.

     "Aye. And it is by the Gods favor that she is." 

     The unease wrapped around the high-elf's shoulders.

     "Whatever the truth of her soul and your shared blood-bound destiny."

     "Soul-bound." Shiftie corrected gently. Throm laughed and elbowed the elf in the ribs.

     "Destruction in living form- Love. The dragon burns all things in It's fire and reveals the truth. You'd do well to remember the Sword of Karr cuts both ways." Throm took a deep drink of ale.

     "Pouty? Is that you?" Shiftie smirked but he was not amused.