Darkness Rising, Pages 201-250

                 He wondered who she was, and who the massive armored figure in the center of the pentagram was.  Could that be the Revenant they were planning to raise?  Relic had never actually faced one before, though of course he knew all about them from his studies.  He supposed it was possible, but why was no one awake here?  What had that shadow energy done to them?  He looked down at the wight on the ground and frowned behind his faceplate.  He remembered all too well the unhealthy interest the wight had taken in Tanya.  Judging by his position in relation to her, he had been charged with guarding her during the ceremony.  That meant it stood to reason he would have the key to her chains.  Stooping, the templar carefully searched him, being sure not the jostle him too much.  He didn’t know how much longer this sleep would last, but he had a distinct impression that he didn’t want to wake these people.  The power that filled the room was palpable and he could sense that there was something very… unbalanced about the power of the people about him.  Even Blaze felt off somehow, though he would take the time to explore that further once he had gotten her and the others out of these damnable tunnels.

                He gave a soft exclamation when he found the key to the chains tucked behind the belt the wight was wearing.  It was the work of a few moments then to get the chains unlocked and when he had her free he scooped her into his arms.  She woke then, vaguely, her head turning and her violet eyes fluttering open.  “Relic?” she asked softly and he nodded, then she slumped, her head against his chest as he turned toward the tunnel.  He had no desire to await these creatures waking, he knew a lost cause when he saw one and even with the full force of their original party, they wouldn’t have the power to defeat them all. He briefly considered slaying them in their sleep, but that wasn’t his way and instead he opted for a quick escape so that they might rally some reinforcements and come back here again, better prepared.  He was shocked on returning to place where he had left Lance to find Krystel Moonstone crouched by the demon hunters side.

                “You’re about the last person I expected to find here!” he exclaimed as he rushed up to her.  She had apparently been rousing Lance, who was just waking as the templar approached.

                “I hadn’t planned on being here, but when Sasha had a vision saying that Talia was in trouble, I couldn’t not come.”  She frowned, leaning over to look past him.  “I didn’t come alone though….” 

                This last was spoken softly, and mostly drowned by Lance’s delighted exclamation, having seen the unconscious elf in the templars arms.  “Tanya!”  The warrior mage scrambled to his feet and immediately moved to check for a pulse in the beautiful woman’s neck.

                “She’s alive, and she’s already woke up once, but there’s a lot of very bad, very powerful people behind me and we should really clear out of her before they come to and realize she’s missing.”  Relic said.  Lance met the templar’s eyes, obviously wondering why they weren’t going in there and obliterating the lot of them.  But he trusted the other mans judgment, if he said there was too many and they were too powerful, he would accept that. 

                “Let’s go then.”  Lance agreed.

                The two men turned and started to make their way down the tunnel.  Krystel paused, looking back the way Relic had come.  “But....”  She trailed off, her soft gray eyes perplexed, wondering what had become of Reaper who had said he was going on ahead to scout the tunnel while she saw to Lance.

                Within moments of Relic’s escaping with Blaze the creature who had once been Donovan Moonstone started to stir.  First its large hands rose from the ground at its side, the armor that covered them was unfamiliar, steel lined in gold and the tabard was tattered and old.  He looked first at the palms of its hands, then turned them so that he could stare at their backs.  “I… live….”  It said, it’s voice resonating throughout the chamber.  Putting its palms back against the floor it pushed itself into a sitting position, the helmeted head turning left and right, taking in its surroundings.  “The ritual has been performed?”  His head tilted down slightly then, seeing the woman who was crumpled on the ground outside the pentagram he awakened within.  “Ebony… of course, it would be you.”

                At the sound of the name the woman who had once been Illya Crane also started to stir, her arms moving out to her sides, her hands too pushing her upright against the floor.  She lifted her head, her lustrous white hair falling away to reveal a face as beauteous as any seen on the face of Kyzanthia, though the eyes were milky white, as was the hair.  Her nose was perfect and straight, her lips full and black, though it didn’t appear to be from any makeup.  She turned her head, her face a mask of confusion for a moment, then she did as the other had done, raising her hands and looking at them.  Then she started to laugh softly, “It worked.”

                “So it would seem.”  The former first knight of Peacehope agreed and her head snapped around, her eyes narrowing as she regarded the man. 

                “The armor is wrong,” she said, her gaze raking his metal clad form, “but I would know that voice anywhere.”

                The armored figure rose slowly, towering over her, looking to be at least seven feet tall.  He looked down at her through the vibrant green eyes of a face she didn’t recognize, though the voice that came from it resonated with a familiar power.  The man he now inhabited was undeniably handsome, with bright red hair and a full, flowing beard.  “Perhaps this will help.”  The man said and suddenly his entire form danced with black flames.  A smile spread across her albino features as the steel and gold armor vanished, along with the tabard, to be replaced by a suit of black plate, trimmed in silver and studded with wicked spikes.  The helm that appeared over his head, hiding the handsome face behind it was sporting a sun shaped disk at the forehead, though rather than shining like gold it was black as night, the sign of the man who now stood before her, returned to former glory.

                “Eclipse!” she gasped, and suddenly she was kneeling, prostrating herself before him, hands extended above her head as she lowered her face almost to the ground.

                “Rise, Ebony Penumbra, high Priestess of Shadows and tell me what this place is.”  He instructed her and she did so.  There was no sign of Illya Crane left in her physical form, the emaciated necromancer was gone and in its place was a woman who stood a couple of inches over six feet, her white hair falling to the middle of her back.  She was a full figured woman and moved with a grace and sensuality seen in few women throughout history.  The remnants of the rags worn by Illya Crane strained against the ample curves of this woman’s body, threatening to shred and fall away if she took too deep a breath.

                “We are in a temple, milord, one of the last remaining on all Kyzanthia dedicated to our lord.  It was here that my remains were entombed upon my death.”  She told him.

                “Your death?” he asked, looking at her sharply.

                “Aye… my physical form died six hundred years ago, but the magic I cast before my demise kept my spirit alive, though trapped within these walls.  Several years ago a pathetic excuse for a woman named Illya Crane happened upon my resting place by accident.  It was through my manipulations that she brought about our awakening.”  Ebony told him.  “She was only too willing to listen to my whispered words as she slept here among the shadows.  I pointed her to the book which detailed the ritual for bringing you back and in her dreams convinced her it was the means to bringing back a Revenant.  I taught her how to use shadow energy to augment her pathetic undead and turn them into a force to be reckoned with.”  At this the white skinned woman gestured at the still forms of Hyena, Necrolon and the others.  “They will answer to us now, just as they did to her, the shadow will have seen to that.”

                As if on cue the two most powerful undead in the room began to stir, Hyena and Necrolon pushing themselves upright and glancing around.  “What’s happened?” Hyena asked.

                Necrolon looked over to the two apparent strangers, but neither of them displayed any hint of not recognizing their new masters.  “The ritual was successful my pet.”  Ebony cooed seductively, sauntering over and circling the wight, trailing her fingers across his chest and shoulders as she did so.  “You performed admirably.”

                Hyena’s gaze fell on the altar where Blaze had been chained.  “Where has the woman gone?” he said, his voice rising suddenly as he glanced toward the tunnel.

                Eclipse spoke now.  “It matters not, she is insignificant to our plan.”

                “What plan?”  Necrolon asked from his side of the room.

                Eclipse turned to him.  “Ah yes, the warrior.”  The massive armored form of Eclipse moved toward the necro knight slowly, extending a hand, not toward Necrolon but toward the zombies that lie at his feet.  There were a dozen of them total and as a small portion of the same shadow energy that had previously engulfed the underground caverns radiated our from his hand to engulf the zombies they began to change.  Many of them growing as black armor, similar to that worn by Eclipse suddenly appeared around them.  “The general for our new forces.”  The deep voice continued, still talking to Necrolon as the knight watched with interest the transformation that was taking place.  A few moments later the zombies were gone and in their place stood a dozen heavily armored figures, their forms rippling for a moment with shadow fire before it diminished.  “This is but the first of the army that will be yours to command my friend.”  Said Eclipse, placing a hand in an almost fatherly way upon Necrolon’s shoulder.

                “Forgive me master,” Necrolon said hesitantly, “I can sense that you are my master and I know that I must obey you, but I have no idea who you are.”

                “The shadow has left all of your minds muddled and cloudy,”  Ebony Penumbra said, stepping forward and gesturing at the armored form of their leader, “but this is Eclipse, Avatar of the shadows and the Herald of the coming darkness.”

                “I still don’t understand.”  Necrolon said in a voice that showed he feared he would be punished for his stupidity.

                That was not the case however.  “This place,” Ebony said, gesturing around her, “is one of the last remnants of a religion that has all but died out on Kyzanthia.  Only the denizens of the Deep Dark still follow the ways of the shadow god.  But that is all to change soon, for we are back and with the leadership of Eclipse to guide us our god will be freed from the prison in which he was placed unjustly and we shall sweep the planet with our darkness.  The shadow cult has returned… let the world tremble.”’          

                Eclipse spoke then, “What my lady friend here is so… eloquently trying to say is that I am the physical embodiment of D’L’Tal’Itz, the shadow god.  I am his avatar, and it is my mission to bring about his release from the prison he was tricked into inhabiting by the other gods, namely Roma and Ra.  Already there are events in play that are going to assist us in the next phase of our mission, the Sun Seal is about to be unearthed.”  He looked at Ebony then and her eyes widened in stunned delight.  “We must go there and take over the efforts… we cannot afford for our mortal followers to bungle this.”

                “Where is it?  Where have they found it?”  Ebony asked, her voice rising passionately.

                “The Asgardian Mountains.”  Eclipse answered.  “Come, we must leave at once, there is little time to waste.”  The avatar of the shadow god moved to a wall nearby and placed his gauntleted hand against it.  Instantly the shadow energy appeared again, expanding out from his palm and forming a perfect circle of shadow on the wall, ten feet tall by six feet wide.  When he removed his hand the circle remained and he motioned the others forward.  “Shadow knights, you first.  Secure the area you find on the other side and we shall follow.”  Necrolon didn’t question his orders, though there was obviously still much he didn’t understand.  He lead the darkly clad warriors through the portal that his new master had opened in the wall and soon they were swallowed up.  Eclipse turned to Ebony then, “If we are to present ourselves to our new followers, we should probably look the part of D’L’Tal’Itz’s inner circle.”  Again he extended his hand and again that dark energy radiated out, this time enveloping Ebony Penumbra.  She smiled as it did so, showing no nervousness at its touch.  Indeed she seemed to relish it and as the darkness faded she was revealed in a glistening black gown that looked to be composed entirely of the shadow energy.  It fit her snugly, molded to her curves like a second skin and in her hand was a staff of some dark wood, the top of it shaped like the same black sun that shown on the helm of Eclipses armor.  “That’s better, don’t you think?”

                She smiled and nodded, stepping up and slipping her free hand around his waist. “Our time has come at last my lord.”  Behind her Hyena watched with interest, wondering what his role was to be in all this.  “The magic of the current age is so much less than it was, they have nothing that can stand against us any longer!”

                Eclipse sighed softly.  “Would that that were true, but there are powers in the world that can pose a threat to us.  We will deal with them in time… but first, we must see to our lords freedom.”  He turned and looked at the wight.  “You there, consider yourself to be the lady’s personal body guard, do you understand?  Should any harm befall the priestess, I shall hold you personally accountable.” 

                Hyena nodded, liking the thought of being around the sexy priestess a lot in the coming months and years.  If he was to be a body guard, at least it was to a body that was very worth guarding!  “I understand my lord.”

                Eclipse nodded and then he and Ebony Penumbra turned as one toward the portal and disappeared through it.  A moment later the wight followed without a backward glance.  As the portal closed behind him, a shadow near the tunnel entrance detached itself and Reaper, the master assassin stepped into the room.  He was looking toward the wall where the portal had just disappeared and his face was set in a very uncharacteristically worried scowl.  With a final glance around the temple he turned and slipped off into the shadows of the tunnel.

Chapter Six

                Following the news of the Cloud Dancers apparent destruction, there was nothing left for the companions to do but wait for word from the Shayde family, not a circumstance any of them were particularly comfortable with.  For two days they cooled their heels, trying to maintain a low profile and as such had found a small, out of the way tavern where they could gather and pass the time.  This had been a problem for a couple of reasons, the first being that Tasha, as a non-human, was a lower class citizen here and not all places would serve her.  The second was that they had decided to keep a low profile and as such couldn’t utilize any of the larger taverns that didn’t mind catering to near humans like High Elves.  The place they had found was a back alley dive called the Drooling Devil, which catered primarily to the non-human races that were kept as slaves or servants by the humans of the city.  It wasn’t a healthy place by any means, covered as it was in a thick layer of dust and grime.  The establishment had been opened in the back room of a small general store, the store room having been converted by the owner into this place.  The bar was a series of simple boards placed end to end across wooden crates stacked two high.  There were spider webs hanging from the rafters, meaning that Shadow Walker didn’t spend a lot of time here, stopping in every so often to check in with the others.  He had grown particularly restless, having been asked by Vance to curb his normal behavior of pickpocketing and thieving while in the city.  It was well known that Milligant had an established rogues guild that frowned on outsiders operating in their jurisdiction without permission.  If Bryant had been caught, that would have been exactly the kind of attention they were trying to avoid.

                It had been two days since they had heard of Cloud Dancers apparent destruction and the group, including at this point the young thief, were gathered again in the Drooling Devil.  Bryant stood leaning against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest, watching a card game that was taking place at the table in front of him.  Strut was playing in it against several non-humans, two orcs and a hobgoblin.  The game was small stakes, but it was the most interesting thing going on at that point.  Tasha had been standing behind Strut, acting as a distraction to his fellow players but was just now standing at the bar, getting more drinks for herself and the barbarian.  Vance was seated at the bar, his back to the game, sipping an ale and trying very hard to be patient with the situation but he was burning up with a desire to do something, still afraid he had failed in his mission to rescue Ishara.  Tasha stood next to him, waiting for the orcish bartender to draw Strut’s ale, her own glass of wine was already in front of her.

                She glanced at the handsome young templar and her heart went out to him.  She hadn’t known him long, but she had already gotten a good sense of who he was.  To him, his honor was at stake here, for he felt that he was somewhat responsible for Ishara’s having been taken in the first place.  She had tried to remove that thought from him, but to no avail.  He insisted that if he had just gone with the priestess he might have done something to keep them from being taken.  Her reminding him that he might just have been killed himself did nothing to help his mood.  He seemed to think that that would have been better than his current predicament, at least then he would have tried to stop the assassin.

                “You know,” she said to him, leaning over to speak softly so that the bartender didn’t overhear, “brooding like this is helping no one, least of all yourself.  You should find something to distract yourself with, like the others have.”  Vance grunted, glancing up into the mirror at the rest of the party arrayed across the room behind him.  Strut at his card game, Shadow Walker watching and Tasha having been helping in a more subtle way.  About half way between them and the game Talon Rethbourne and Arkayne sat at a small table, the Sentinel having taken it upon himself to act as a guard for the mage, assuring that he didn’t slip away into the city while they weren’t paying attention.  “You might be able to get in on the card game.”

                He shook his head.  “I’m not much of a gambler.”

                The bartender set Strut’s foaming tankard down in front of her.  Tasha placed a few coppers on the bar and picked up the drinks, saying to him as she turned away, “Neither is Strut, but that isn’t stopping him.”  She moved away then, back toward the barbarian.  As she crossed the room she could feel the eyes of all the men present, most of them monstrous non-humans who were as unwelcomed in the city as she was, watching her.  Talon Rethbourne made no effort to hide his interest as his eyes followed the sensuous sway of her hips, turning his head to boldly stare at her butt as she walked by their table.  “Gentlemen.”  She said to them in passing, not bothering to glance at the humans.  She didn’t want to do anything that might encourage Talon.  She was frankly astonished that the young human hadn’t propositioned her yet.

                As she rejoined the card game, drawing the eyes of Strut’s opponents to her rather than their own hands, Talon turned back toward his drink with a shake of his head.  Across from him Arkayne had his skeletal fingers around the fluted base of a wine glass.  “Something troubles you?”

                The guardsman looked up at the mage and then shrugged.  “It’s rare that you encounter a beauty on the level of Tasha.”

                Tobias Kress arched one sharply angled eyebrow at the young man, “You desire her?”

                Talon shrugged.  “What man wouldn’t?”

                Arkayne regarded him for a moment, then leaned forward, sliding his glass to the side so he didn’t knock it over.  “What if I were to arrange a little… rendezvous between you and the lovely elf?”

                Talon looked at him sharply.  “What do you mean?”

                Arkayne shrugged expansively, leaning back in his straight backed chair with a small smile on his too narrow face.  “it is within my power to arrange for you and she to… get to know one another better.”

                Talon turned to look at where Tasha stood, wine glass in one hand, the other hand resting lightly on Strut’s broad shoulder.  As he watched she leaned over and said something softly into the barbarian’s ear and the guardsman saw the other players eyes widen at the view she had offered them.  Talon knew that the two weren’t lovers, though he suspected they might have been once.  As he watched, he saw Bryant flash some sort of sign with his fingers and realized that the young thief was feeding Strut information about the other mens hands.  He shook his head, amazed that these people, so highly thought of back home, were working together to cheat at cards.  Turning back to the table he noticed the mage watching him sagely.  “What’s in this for you?”  Talon asked the man, not bothering to hid his interest in the mages offer.

                Arkayne smiled slightly.  “We both know that the templar has no intentions of releasing me on completion of this mission.”  At that Talon glanced over the mans slender shoulder to where the templar stood at the bar, nursing an ale.  “You, as a guardsman of our origin city have just as much authority as he does regarding my incarceration.”  Talon shrugged, not certain if that was actually true but unwilling to say so to the mage.  “I arrange for you and the woman to have a rather passionate affair and in exchange you… ensure my continued freedom beyond the completion of the mission.”

                Talon met the mans gaze steadily for a moment, his mind wandering to the enjoyable events the older mans plan could set into motion.  “Would you require anything of me to arrange this affair?”

                Arkayne smiled knowingly, “Are we agreed then?”

                “That depends on what you need from me.”  Talon responded.

                Arkayne leaned forward slightly.  “I need only a lock of her hair.”

                Talon scowled, “How am I to acquire a lock of her hair?”

                Arkayne laughed softly.  “Come now young Rethbourne.  You may have the rest of Algeron’s populace fooled, but I am not so easily befuddled.  We both know that there is a great deal more to you than what is seated before me.  I’m certain the lady has a hair brush, likely in her room at the Inn.  For a man of your skills acquiring some of her hair should be… child’s play.”

                Talon narrowed his eyes dangerously, regarding the old man.  “What is it you think you know about me exactly?”

                Arkayne laughed again.  “You know the answer to that, and I’m not so crass as to say it aloud where it might be overheard.  Suffice to say… your secret is safe with me for the time being.  Now… do we have an agreement?”

                Talon looked beyond the mages shoulder again, this time into the mirror mounted on the wall beyond the bar.  He could see Tasha reflected there, still standing behind him and assisting Strut in winning at cards.  His gaze played over her slowly, enjoying the way she filled out her leathers and realizing that he desperately wanted to see what she would look like without them.  Finally he nodded, “We have a deal.”

                Bryant watched the game unfold at the table in front of him, his eyes playing over the hands held by the two orcs and the hobgoblin.  He didn’t think any of the three of them knew that he was with Strut, or if they did Tasha was keeping them distracted enough with her behavior that they didn’t seem to care.  He had to admit, every time she leaned over next to Strut it was difficult for him to concentrate on his job, seeing what had changed among the three mens hands.  This plan was something that the three of them had worked out together, not because of any desire or great need for the money but simply because they were bored and looking for something to occupy their time.  He had been a little surprised that Tasha had been willing to help, though Strut had said she would.  In his experience the archer was a little too straight laced for this sort of thing, she wasn’t the sort of woman that liked to flaunt her great beauty.  But apparently she had a bit of a roguish streak in her that Bryant hadn’t been aware of because she had been only too happy to help them with their plan.  His opinion of her had gone up a few pegs at that, and he had to admit that while she wasn’t much of a flirt generally, she really knew how to keep the men across the table from Strut distracted.

                As he watched, the elf leaned forward a little farther than was necessary and picked up her wine glass, then she raised it to her lips without straightening.  Bryant had to smile as the orcs and hobgoblin watched her drink, the thief himself a little jealous of that wine glass for a moment.  As they watched her he leaned forward and scanned the cards of all three men.  He looked over the head of the hobgoblin who had sat in the middle and met Strut’s eye surreptitiously.  He nodded and the barbarian smiled, calling the last bet.

                “All right boys, let’s see them!”  He said, glancing at the other gamblers.

                The orc to Bryant’s right, about six feet tall and portly, bald on top with a long black ponytail trailing down the middle of his back, laid out his hand of seven cards.  “A pair of maidens and three sickles!”  he said proudly, glancing around at the others.  Bryant laughed softly and shook his head, it was a fairly weak hand. 

                The hobgoblin was next and it was he that Bryant had thought would be the most dangerous if they were caught in their little scheme.  He was tall and thin, as were most of his race, with an oblong head that rested lengthwise on his spindly neck.  His long, pointed ears drooped down either side, resting on his shoulders and his warty, hooked nose sniffed indignantly as he laid his own hand down.  “True run, four through ten of sabers!”  The hobgoblin was clad in dark leathers and wore a pair of daggers on his hips, marking him in Bryant’s eyes as a fellow rogue, though he certainly wasn’t much of a card player.

                The second orc, to the young thief’s left, laid his hand down as well.  He was the physical opposite of the other orc, tall and thin with thick lips and small beady eyes.  Where the portly orc had greenish skin, this orc’s skin was an odd gray color, leading Bryant to wonder if he had suffered some odd disease in his youth to discolor his skin like that.  He had a full head of shaggy black hair and had a battle axe leaning against the chair next to him.  That wasn’t so unusual, Strut’s own paired axes crossed his back, the handles visible protruding above his shoulders.  Tasha was unarmed, though her quiver and bow were leaning against the wall nearby.  She had left her sword in her room.

                “Kings Court!”  The orc said proudly, laying out his seven cards.  He had the full range of a royal hand, the king and queen of scepters and the Duke, Jester and Earl of castles, as well as the Duchess of sickles.  His seventh card was a three of sickles and didn’t add to the hand.  He cackled gleefully as he started to lean forward, thinking to scoop the winning toward him.  The other two monsters looked disgruntled.

                Strut held up a hand and the thin orc stopped, frowning at him.  “That is a good hand,” the barbarian allowed with a nod and a smile, “but I’m afraid a Kings court is trumped by a full army!”  Everyone’s eyes widened, with the exception of Bryant and Tasha who had known what he had, as the barbarian laid out his seven cards one at a time.  Arrayed across the table in front of him were the King, Queen, Duke, Duchess, Earl, Jester and General of Sabers.  The other three players stared, dumbfounded at the barbarian’s luck, but none of the three dim witted monsters even considered that possibility that he might have cheated.  They watched morosely as he leaned forward with a huge smile and raked in his winnings.  “No hard feelings boys!”

                The hobgoblin pushed back his chair with an angry grunt and started to rise.  Bryant, seeing the movement, had stepped forward at the exact same moment, allowing the mans chair to run into him.  He feigned stumbling, bumping into the hobgoblin as the other rogue stood.  “So sorry, didn’t see you standing up there!”  Bryant said with a brilliant smile.  The hobgoblin grunted and shoved him aside, then stalked angrily toward the door.  The two orcs, similarly disgruntled, trudged after him.  Bryant watched them go, then turned toward his cohorts and grinned, extending his right hand from within his dark cloak and tossing the coin pouch he had lifted from the hobgoblins belt into the air and catching it.

                Natashiana rolled her eyes, “You need to be careful of that sort of thing around here.  If he’s a better rogue than he is a card player, he’ll likely know who lifted that purse.”  Her words were a reprimand, but the smile that played across her beautiful face belied the words.

                Bryant shrugged.  “I couldn’t resist.  Besides, if he comes after me it will give me something to do in this gods forsaken town!”

                Strut laughed at him.  “There’s plenty to do here, just not while we’re trying to keep a low profile!”  He tossed the young rogue a few of the silvers he had won in the game.  “Thanks for your help kid.”  Bryant caught all the silver deftly and tucked them away inside his cloak.  He nodded and turned toward the door.  “Where you off to?”

                “Thought I might follow our hobgoblin friend, if he really is a member of the local guild I might learn something valuable!”  Bryant told him.

                Strut shook his head and Tasha called, “Bryant, be….”

                The young thief cut her off.  “I know, I know.  Be careful.”  He turned his head and flashed her a brilliant grin.  “I’m always careful!”  With that he flipped up the hood of his cloak and vanished out the door, following the three monsters.

                Strut turned to Tasha with a glint in his eyes and a smile on his face.  “Buy you a drink?”

                Tasha’s brows shot up at the gleam in his blue eyes.  She had seen that look before.  He was hoping to get lucky.  She met that gaze for a moment, then slowly smiled herself.  “What the hell?”  Smiling broader he slipped an arm about her waist and led her toward the bar.

                Bryant watched from a low rooftop as the hobgoblin and his two orcish companions conversed in low tones in the mouth of an alley three rows down from where the Drooling Devil was located.  They seemed to be discussing plans of what to do next, or where to go.  The two orcs were growling in their guttural native tongue, which Bryant was unfamiliar with and the hobgoblins was responding in kind.  He seemed to be fluent in the language.  After a few moments of this soft arguing, the two orcs shook their heads and moved off on their own while the hobgoblin turned and slipped into the shadows, moving along the road to the north.  Shadow Walker’s eyes narrowed and he smiled slightly.  The hobgoblin was good, no pedestrian was likely to see him as he flitted through the shadows.  But there was a reason Bryant Dieter had taken the name of Shadow Walker.  In the shadows, he was second to none and to him the hobgoblins movements were as clear as if the monster were not bothering to conceal himself at all.

                Keeping to the rooftops, the young human made his way along the street, following in the hobgoblins wake.  He had originally thought the hobgoblin and his orcish companions might try planning some sort of revenge on Strut so they could get their money back.  Evidently he needn’t have worried about that, not that he was surprise.  He knew how intimidating most people found Strut to be, not that he was intimidated by the big warrior. But other people were scared of him, and rightfully so.

                The best of the young rogues knowledge, the hobgoblin hadn’t yet discovered that his money purse was missing, but that just meant he hadn’t needed to use it yet. Bryant smiled, hoping he was close enough to see it when the hobgoblin did discover it.  He could well imagine the insult for a rogue to discover that his pocket had been picked by a peer.  He had to bite back a laugh, not wanting to give away his position.  He continued to follow the hobgoblin, staying about a block behind the other man, closing the distance when necessary to keep from losing him in the rapidly diminishing crowds of encroaching night.

                They had moved into a completely different district of the town now, near to the docks.  Milligant had a bustling sea trade, Bryant knew, and were he not concerned about drawing attention to himself he might have been weaving his way through the crowd of people down there, relieving them of their purses and other interesting baubles.  But he knew how foolish that would be right now and he resisted temptation.  In fact, he knew that it had been rather foolish to steal the rogue hobgoblins purse, but he really hadn’t been able to resist.  The thought of testing his skills against another rogue was far too sweet to pass up.

                He paused, crouching into deeper shadows as the hobgoblin came to a small warehouse located near to one of the larger berths on the cities docks.  The hobgoblin glanced around, though not up the young thief noticed with a grin and then disappeared down a narrow alley that ran between the warehouse and a tailor that seemed to specialize in sails and the roughhewn clothing commonly worn by sailors.  The mouth of that alley was across the street from Bryant and he scowled, not wanting to lose the man now that something interesting was finally happening.  He glanced around, his eyes narrowing as he saw a thin rope strung between the roof of a building to his right and that of the tailors shop.  The roof on his side of the street belonged to a brothel and he could well imagine that the whores probably used the rope to hang out their wash for drying.  It was possible that the tailor used it for the same purpose, but tonight it was going to act as a bridge.  Smiling at the challenge he had found for himself, the young rogue slipped silently over the roof and onto that of the brothel. He moved over to the edge of the tiled rooftop and sat, dangling his feet over the side.  He placed one soft sandaled foot on the rope and tested its give, finding that it sagged a great deal but seemed able t hold his weight.  Nodding, he added his second foot to the rope, ahead of the first one and stood up, wavering slightly as he caught his balance, throwing his arms out to the sides.  He made no sound, simply narrowing his eyes as he forced himself upright and waited for the softly swaying rope to still.  When it had stopped moving he started, keeping his steps quick and light, right heel to left toes, then left heel to right toes, the rope not moving even slightly to either side though it sagged farther and farther the further out he moved. 

                He didn’t look down as he crossed the street on his makeshift bridge, but he could hear people moving about below him.  His ears detected the telltale sounds of armored feet marching along the road below him and he froze, understanding that a patrol of city guards was strolling by underneath him.  He dared not look down for fear it would throw his balance off, but he knew that any movement might draw their gazes upward and then he was sunk so he stayed perfectly still, his balance perfect.  He slight breeze blew in off the bay and set the rope to swaying.  Sweat beaded his brow but rather than shift his arms to adjust his balance, he simply tightened and loosened muscles in time to the swaying of the rope, adjusting his weight in that way.  When the sounds of the patrol had receded enough that Bryant felt confident to move again he continued this path, crossing about twenty-five feet over the street.  When his feet came to rest on the roof of the tailors shop he breathed a sigh and glanced over his shoulder at the rope.  His eyes widened slightly, for seated in a window just beneath where the rope was tied to the roof of the brothel was one of the buildings prostitutes.  She was watching him curiously, her eyes wide and seeming impressed with what she had just seen him do.  She was not an overly attractive woman, curly orange hair piled atop her head and a low cut dress that was stretched to the point of ripping by her rather overweight form.  Bryant flashed her a smile and raised a finger to his lips and to his delight the woman returned the smile and nodded.  Still smiling, the young thief turned and flitted out over the roof of the tailors shop, toward the warehouse, wondering if the hobgoblin had already disappeared.

                When he made the edge of the roof and looked down into the alley he saw no sign of the rogue in question, but there was a man sprawled on the ground at the base of the warehouse wall.  Bryant regarded this man through narrowed eyes, seeing his disheveled clothes and the half empty bottle of rum that he clutched in his hand.  He looked to be a transient sleeping off a drunk in his ill fitted and rather stained clothing, but the mans breathing was uneven and he was lying a little too still to be believable.  The thief smiled, realizing that this supposed drunk was a lookout, probably for an entrance to the guild house.  He scanned the alley with his eyes again, looking along the warehouses wall for any sign of a door, but there was none.  He frowned, turning his head and looking more closely, now scanning the entirety of the alley through narrowed eyes.  He smiled again when he saw it, an old dilapidated wooden crate a few feet from the “drunks” feet.  The crate looked like any of thirty others that had been discarded in the alley, but the young thief had seen a slightly flash of light from a street lamp reflect off the hinges that were fastened onto one of the top edges of the crate.

                “Clever bastards.” He said softly, then he started looking for a way to get past the lookout and down that concealed entrance.  He was about to move away and try to approach the alley from a different angle when he saw the makeshift lid of the crate start to rise.  He crouched, his eyes narrowing again with interest as a figure climbed out.  He was of average height and build for a human male, about six feet and one hundred eighty pounds.  He was obviously fit, built like a dancer and moved with a grace that was commonly associated with cats.  Bryant instinctively recognized that this was a man of more importance than the hobgoblin had been, a dangerous man.  He wore lightweight cotton clothing of a dusky gray that would blend well with any type of shadows, his cloak was black and billowed ominously as he stood beside the crate.  The hood of the cloak was up and deep enough to hide any of the mans features from view.  Bryant started to shift to the side, wanting to get a better look beneath the mans hood and though he was absolutely certain he hadn’t made any noise, the mans head suddenly tilted back and he gazed up at Bryant with narrow, yellow eyes!  Bryant gasped, ducking back out of sight though he instinctively knew he was too late, the man had to have seen him.  The face under the hood wasn’t visible, he wore a mask over the lower half, but if the young rogue had seen correctly then the flesh around those bloodshot yellow eyes had been scarred and bloody, as though rotting away.  He felt a chill pass through him, for he had heard of a rogue that matched that description, an assassin of almost as great renown as Reaper himself.

                “Ghast.”  He breathed softly.  He slowly stuck his head back out over the alley, wanting to see if the assassin was still there, but he was gone.  Bryant’s heart jumped up into his throat… the lookout was gone too!  “Son of a bitch!”  The young thief said, turning and scanning the rooftop behind him.  His heart was hammering in his chest and Shadow Walker thought that it might burst right through his ribcage!  There didn’t appear to be anyone on the roof of the tailors shop with him, but he could feel another presence up here.  If that had been Ghast he had seen, then he knew he was in trouble, for the man was said to be one of the best assassins in the world.  Bryant was good, but even he wasn’t so cocky as to think he could take on one of the best… not on the mans home turf anyway.

                Acting on the side of caution, he drew forth his short sword and dagger, keeping them concealed beneath his cloak so their blades didn’t reflect any light and inadvertently give away his position.  Keeping crouched and trying to stay to the shadows he started to move along the perimeter of the rooftop, keeping his gaze focused toward the peaked center.  There could be someone pacing him, moving along the roof beyond that peak where he couldn’t see them.  He strained to hear, but there was no sound to give anything away.  Still, he had that persistent, nagging feeling that he was no longer alone up here.  ‘So much for keeping a low profile.’  He thought to himself grimly.  ‘Sorry guys.’  That last thought he directed at his fellow Dragons.  He didn’t care too much about Talon and Arkayne, nor even about Vance Falcone whom he didn’t know.  But he had come to like and even care about Strut and Tasha and if his actions here endangered them he’d have a hard time facing them afterward.  Not that he’d ever let them know that.

                A whisper of rustling cloth and a flicker of movement to his left and Bryant dove forward, shoulder rolling as a thrown knife cut through the air where he had been crouched.  He came out of his roll with his dagger and sword out and held wide, knowing the knife throw had been a feint, though an effective one for it would have skewered him if he hadn’t dodged.  They came at him in a rush, seeming to appear like magic from the shadows on the rooftop.  Two of them, coming at him from the left and right, each clad in black leathers, one with a cloak billowing out behind her though the lack of a hood showed him her long white hair.  Was this an old woman?  No, he realized as he dodged out of the way of her sword strike, she moved far too swiftly to be old, just prematurely gray then.  She was quick too!  He was forced to retreat, giving up ground as she came on, her katana flashing to and fro.  Bryant had to duck and weave, his eyes darting around, trying to discern a pattern in her attack.  When he thought he had it he started his own blades whirring through the air, meeting hers strike for strike, only succeeding in parrying at first though eventually he started to gain momentum, their whirling blades flashing in the deepening night as their strikes attempted to find openings in each others defenses.  Bryant noticed though that he was still retreating, still giving up ground to her and she was so swift with her blades that he couldn’t afford to glance over his shoulder and see how close he was to the edge.  He knew it had to be getting close though, his roll hadn’t carried him that far forward. 

                Suddenly the second rogue was there, this one a man of greater height than Bryant meaning he had a longer reach.  He was clad from head to toe in soft leather, all in different shades of blue and black.  His face mask concealed everything from view but his eyes and he was wielding a pair of long bladed knives as he joined the fray, adding his own impeccable timing to that of the white haired woman.  Bryant was sweating profusely now, for these two worked quite well in tandem.  He realized that they must have done this before and knew too that if he didn’t get some distance between them they were likely to overwhelm him.  He had stopped retreating now, but in so doing had lost his momentum and was no longer on the offensive, now solely defending their strikes.  He was hard pressed, his arms growing weary as they pressed on, moving closer, trying to push him back, only to be forced a step back themselves when he wouldn’t relent.  Sparks flew as his dagger met one of the mans long knives and then he twisted his other wrist, trying to curl his short sword around the mans other arm, moving it inside to try and thrust the blade through his middle.  He never should have made the attempt as the white haired woman suddenly lunged in, her katana flashing.  Bryant tried to whirl away from the slash, felt a white hot pain lance through his left shoulder and suddenly his left foot was falling as there was no longer anything beneath it.  He must have been fighting right at the edge of the roof, which explained why they had been trying to push him back.  He shouted in alarm, his left arm going numb as his sword fell from his fingers.  He was toppling backward into the alley, the roof of the warehouse visible as he went over backward, his cloak billowing around him.  He saw the two rogues race forward as if to watch him fall, but he suddenly curled his body into as tight a ball as he could manage, putting himself as close to the wall of the tailor shop as he could get then he flung his dagger out.  The blade sunk deep into the wooden wall of the building and he shoved the sole of one of his sandals against it and pushed off, launching himself across the narrow alley.  He heard the woman exclaim in surprise and felt his gloved fingers close over the lip of the warehouse roof.  He hung there a moment, his left shoulder starting to throb now, feeling a warm wetness spread across it and begin to run down his back.  He thought the cut must be pretty deep and he knew if he didn’t get help for it soon he might well bleed to death. 

                Bryant grunted with the strain and winced at the pain in his shoulder as he hauled himself upright, kicking a leg out over the lip of the rooftop as he clambered up.  He wanted nothing more than to lie there and catch his breath but knew that even then the other two rogues could be drawing beads on him with crossbows… or worse.  He started to scramble to his feet and no sooner had he sat up then a crossbow quarrel did indeed thud into the roof right where his head had been.  He glanced over at the other roof and saw that the man was the only one there, a crossbow trained on him.  The woman was gone, but then she was visible again, racing out of the darkness toward the edge of the shops rooftop.  She launched herself through the air, easily clearing the narrow alley and landed catlike on the roof in front of Bryant.  He realized then that his sword and dagger were still on the other building, he was unarmed.  She smiled at him and he was struck, now that he could see her clearly, by how pretty she was.  Her white hair was long and lustrous and she had a cameo face with vibrant blue eyes and full pink lips.  Her body was lithe and athletic, her bodice low cut to reveal the top slopes of her generous, well rounded breasts.

                “We don’t take too well to outsiders working on our turf here in Milligant rogue.”  She told him and Bryant tried to position himself so that he could see both her and her partner with the crossbow.  Why hadn’t he shot again?  Or had the first one merely been to cover his partners move to the warehouse roof?  As if to prove that point he heard the sound of footfalls landing lightly behind him and knew that the male rogue had crossed over too.

                Bryant turned his back toward the center of the roof, not wanting to be backed over the edge again.  He held his empty hands out to his sides, showing them to the other two.  “I’m unarmed, you both saw me leave my weapons over there.”  He nodded toward the other roof.

                The man laughed harshly.  “Just makes you easier to kill.”

                “No.”  A new voice rasped and he saw the white haired beauty wince slightly, her blue eyes moving to something beyond Bryant’s shoulder.  “We won’t kill him yet.” 

                The young thief turned his head and looked over his shoulder.  At the crest of the warehouse roof stood the man he had seen climb out of the crate earlier.  He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his cloak billowing out behind him.  Bryant noted to himself that this man had to be Ghast, there was no other assassin on all Kyzanthia that could match that description.

                “Why?”  The male rogue in front of Bryant asked.

                “He’s one of the ones on the contract we just picked up.  It’s too much to be coincidence that he’s here now.  We’ll take him down and find out how much he knows.  If they know we’re coming, it will make them harder to kill.”  Ghast told the other two.  Bryant scowled, what the hell was he talking about?  What contract?  Before he could make any sense of that he saw the white haired woman move and his head whipped toward her.  Too late he saw the blowgun she raised to her pink lips, felt sharp stab of a dart in his neck and then his vision faded to black as he crumpled to the ground.

                Night had fallen in full and the crowd in the Drooling Devil had thickened.  Strut, Tasha and Vance all stood together at the makeshift bar, the two men drinking ales while the elf sipped wine.  She was on her fifth, which was more than she typically imbibed, but she was in a mood for company and these two humans were all she had at the moment.  She certainly wasn’t going to go and sit with Talon and Arkayne, not the way she saw the guardsman staring at her from his table.  She could see him clearly in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar and she shivered, the man gave her the creeps.  Strut caught her looking at the guard in the mirror and he shifted closer to her, slipping an arm about her waist and she glanced over at him and smiled.  They weren’t lovers, she and Strut, though they had been briefly.  He had been sending her all the signs that he was hoping to explore that facet of their relationship again tonight, and his hand coming to rest on her right buttock at that moment sort of cemented that idea for her.  She smiled again and didn’t move his hand, hoping it might send a message to Talon.  She saw him scowl in the mirror from the corner of her eye and sidled closer to Strut, pressing herself against his side and trailing her fingers lightly up his arm, tracing his bulging muscles with her fingertips.

                When next she glanced into the mirror she saw Talon and Arkayne heading for the door and she sighed, shaking her head slightly.  “I thought he’d never get the hint!”  She leaned down and kissed Strut on the cheek.  “Thank you.”

                He smiled and nodded, then removed his arm from around her waist and turned to flag down one of the two bartenders.  As the place had filled up it had become necessary for another bartender to lessen the workload.  Tasha took a half step to her right so that his waving arm wouldn’t accidentally hit her and raised her wine glass to her lips.  Someone jostled her as he stepped up to the bar and she splashed wine down her front, feeling the scarlet liquid seeping down between her breasts from her armors low cut neckline.  She stepped back and looked down at herself, her first thought was that her armor was now going to have a nice red stain to it.  The man who had jostled her turned to face her, opening his mouth to apologize, but when his eyes fell on the sexy elf they widened and his lips spread in a leering grin.  “Well damn!  Ain’t seen a woman like you in these parts in… well, since never!”  Tasha, dabbing at her cleavage with a rage she had snatched off the bar sighed, not looking at the man, wondering if she had traded bad for worse in Talon leaving only to have this lout show up.  “Hey now, I’m talking to you wench!”  The man started to reach toward Tasha and a burly arm passed in front of her, catching the mans wrist.  The mans eyes widened in anger and his gaze traveled up the arm until he was glaring into the face of Strut, his own visage impassive.  That in itself was a problem, for Tasha knew that violence usually followed that eerie calm.

                “The ladies with me.”  Strut told the man. 

                The newcomer was not as large as Strut, but neither was he small.  He was clad in a suit of studded leather armor, his bald head gleaming in the taverns lantern light, his upper lip concealed beneath the bushiest mustache Tasha had ever seen.  He was well muscled, though not bulky and she couldn’t help noticing the warhammer he had hanging from his belt.  The man ran his dark brown eyes over Strut dismissively and snorted, “She’s about to trade up!”  He started to reach toward Tasha with his other hand and she was suddenly staggered backward as Strut came forward, brushing her aside, one meaty fist colliding with the bald mans jaw.  He staggered half way across the room, toppling three tables on his way and scattering both the drinks and patrons at those tables.  The men who had been seated there all stood, looking angrily toward Strut and the other man.

                “Oh wonderful.”  Tasha sighed, shaking her head.  The smile on Strut’s face was typical, it almost always followed that passive expression, the one that foretold violence.  She saw the Vance had straightened from the bar and had turned, his back to it as he scanned the rest of the tavern.  All eyes were on the three of them and the bald man, a calm settled over the room… then all hell broke loose.  The bald, mustachioed fighter scooped an empty chair from where it sat near a table and swung it at Strut.  The barbarian ducked, the chair shattering over his broad back and Tasha had to dance to the side to avoid the flying pieces.  She bumped into someone and as turned her eyes widened to see a fist flying toward her.  She ducked instinctively, her mothers long ago lessons in the martial arts taking over as she reacted, driving an elbow into the sternum of her attacker, doubling him over so that he was bent over her crouched form.  Tasha straightened swiftly then, driving her head into the mans face and she thought she felt his nose crunch.  He staggered back into a table, blood streaming from his ravaged face and he and the table, and the two men who had been rising from it all clattered to the ground.  Another man was moving toward her, hands balled into fists and she sighed again.  “So be it.”

                Strut started to move after the bald man, wanting to smash his face to a pulp before someone else got to him.  As the tavern around him erupted into violence he grinned wickedly and swung a right roundhouse at the mans head.  The bald man proved to be more nimble than he appeared, ducking under the punch and landing a quick one two combination to Strut’s stomach.  The barbarian grunted and staggered back, then fell under the weight of a table that was flung at him.  He staggered back against the bar, toppling that particular section of the makeshift structure as he fell, the boards and crates landing on top of him.  He bounded back to his feet, glancing and left and right, wondering who had thrown the table at him.  “Hey runt.”  Came a familiar voice from his left and he glanced that way reflexively, his vision exploding with brilliant colors as a ham sized fist collided with the side of his head.  Strut was thrown, spinning, to crash into another table, this one shattering beneath his weight and sending tankards of ale flying.  The barbarian landed amid the rubble, pushing himself up on his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it.  He felt the vibrations in the floorboards and knew that his hated enemy was rushing up from behind.  He tried to roll away but the rubble of the table wouldn’t let him and he got a solid kick from behind, the metal lined boot smashing into his groin.  He was flung ass over head to crash to the ground on his back, then he doubled over and clutched his testicles, his face turning three shades of purple from the force of the blow.

                A huge mountain of a man appeared above him and Strut turned his head to glare hatefully up at Blaine Toliver, the warrior known as Skull.  He was all of seven feet tall, maybe taller, clad in hard black leather lined in places with silver spikes and studs.  This massive shoulders were circled by chains, another wrapped about his waist like a belt and the tops of his boots were similarly lined.  Upon his head rested the helm that had long ago given him his name, a helmet crafted of solid silver shaped like the top half of a large demons skull.  It had rubies for eyes and sharp teeth lining the base of the helm, the canines elongated like those of a vampire and dropping to either side of his generous mouth.  His had a square jaw and a thick neck, on his hips rested his morningstar and bull whip while diagonally across his back hung a claymore sword.  “I’d  heard you were in town.”  Skull grinned down at him.  “Always good to see to my favorite punching bag!”

                Strut lashed out with his foot, driving a boot heel into the side of Skulls left knee.  The experienced warrior was taken by surprise, but not to the point of a broken kneecap nor even a dislocation, but he was forced to kneel, his legs parting as he did so and Strut brought the leg back to his chest and lashed out again, driving his foot into the other mans groin.  Skull paled as he toppled over backwards, clutching at his balls and rolling onto his side in a position similar to Strut’s, clutching his privates.  Even through his pain, Strut managed a grim smile, “Good to see you too Skull.”

                Tasha ducked and weaved under a wild roundhouse punch, then straightened and drove her knee into the mans stomach.  He doubled over and she shoved him hard, sending him crashing face first into the wall of the tavern.  She turned and glanced around, saw Skull standing over Strut and her eyes widened.  “That just figures.”  She thought, then she was hit from the side by a flying tackle as one of brawlers bore her to the ground.  Growling she twisted onto her back, getting her elbows under his chin and pushing his head back as he tried to pin her to the ground, then the elf lashed out with a head butt, driving her forehead into the mans nose.  He groaned and rolled off her, clutching at his face and Tasha sprang to her feet, rolling her weight back onto her shoulders and then whipping her entire lithe body upright like a rubber band.  Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she foolishly turned, only to get a fist in the side of the face.  She cried out and staggered back into a wall, catching a flash of red hair and sun bronzed skin.  ‘Ariana?’  Tasha thought briefly, before her senses caught up to her, ‘No, it’s her.’  As she straightened face the new attacker she found herself staring into the emerald eyes of a woman who did in fact bare a striking resemblance to Ariana Moonstone, though she wasn’t quite as pretty as the paladin.  She was tall and firm, well rounded where it counted with long, flowing red hair and a pretty face.  Her shapely body was clad in a chain mail top that was little more than a bra and a pair of snug leather breeches with gaps cut at strategic intervals, showing flashes of lightly tanned flesh.  On her shapely hips rode a pair of matching long swords that Tasha knew from experience this woman was very deadly with.  “Alex.”  She said by way of greeting.

                Alexsys grinned at her, saluting before she came forward and twisted, lashing out with a side thrust kick toward Tasha’s chest.  Tasha dodged to the side, Alex’s foot slamming into the wall and the elf twisted at the waist, a dainty fist flashing to the side and slamming into the side of the warrior woman’s knee, causing her whole leg to go numb.  Alex growled, limping backward and eyeing Tasha with… not hatred… but anger.  This woman was the angriest individual Tasha had ever met, which was sad for she had always felt they might have been friends under different circumstances.  Of course, Tasha didn’t think much of her taste in men.  The last time she had seen Alex, the woman was sharing the bed of Skull, though from what she had learned, Alex had a reputation for being somewhat loose with her morals.  She hadn’t seen the half amazon half barbarian woman in several years, but it appeared she and Skull were still together.  Maybe she was giving up her wanton ways at last.      

                The warrior woman stepped in and threw a straight punch at Tasha’s head, the elven archer weaving to side and wincing sympathetically as the womans fist slammed into the wall.  Alex didn’t even flinch, merely followed through with another straight punch from the other fist.  This one Tasha blocked, then drove her elbow into the warriors throat, gagging her and staggering her back.  Alex, who was a fine sword fighter, had shown in the past that she wasn’t much of a hand to hand combatant while Tasha, who was weak with the sword, had studied the martial arts with her warrior monk mother.  It had oft struck the elf that if the two women were to ever work together, they would compliment each others skills nicely.  Alex raised a hand to her throat and bent slightly, trying to force air through her damaged windpipe.  Tasha, not one to let an advantage like that go stepped forward and slammed a fist into the side of the other womans head.  Alex spun, rolling with the blow and came out of it upright, swinging a fist of her own and Tasha’s head.  The elf ducked under it and received a leather clad knee in the face instead. The blow straightened her, made her see stars and staggered her back into the wall again.  “Let’s see if we can ugly you up a bit!”  Alex said, stepping into a massive punch that Tasha ducked, then launched herself forward, slamming into the other woman with her shoulder and sending her careening backward.  Alex latched onto Tasha though and carried her along as she toppled backward over a table and it collapsed beneath them.  The women fell in a tangle of long legs and arms, pushing the table aside as they tried to extricate themselves. 

                “Don’t!”  said a harsh voice and both women froze, looking up into the stern face of a city guard.

                Tasha glanced around, saw that the fight was over but there were several other guards around, including half a dozen that surrounded Strut and Skull, all of them with crossbows leveled.  The barbarian glanced over at her and Tasha shook her head.  So much for keeping a low profile.  She thought then to look for Vance, whom she wasn’t used to working with yet and so hadn’t been too concerned about in the fight.  She saw his blonde head lying on the ground near the bar and she started to call out to him, but then she noticed a guard crouched at his side, checking for a pulse.  Her eyes widened as the man looked over at what had to be the officer in charge and shook his head.

                “No!” she gasped, her face a mask of horror.

                “Who knows this man?  Who can identify him?”  the officer shouted to the room.

                Tasha and Strut exchanged glances and then the barbarian called, “His name is Vance Falcone, he’s a templar of Ra from the city state of Peacehope.”

                The officer strode over to the templars body and scowled down at it.  “Well, it looks like someone took this bar fight a little too far.  His throats been slit from ear to ear.”

                Tasha and Strut looked at each other again, the elf woman’s heart pounding in her chest.  Vance had been assassinated, but by who and for what reason?  Too few people even knew they were here for him to have been targeted, and she and Strut had far more enemies in town than he did.  A point made obvious by the fact that they had just been brawling with two of them.

                “Who started this mess?”  The officer bellowed.

                One of the orcish body guards stood up from behind the bar, blood running down the side of his face from a cut on his temple.  “Those two.”  He said, pointing first at Strut then at Tasha.

                “Wonderful.”  She said again.

                Talon waited while Arkayne unlocked the door to his room at the inn.  Like the others, they had both taken rooms at Wayfarers Retreat, though Arkayne’s and Talon’s were both on the third floor while the others all kept rooms on the second.  The mage stepped into his room and started to close the door, but Talon reached out and placed a hand on the thick wood, halting it.  “Just a lock of her hair?  That’s all you need to make this work?”  Tobias Kress smiled and nodded.  “Once I have it, can I bring it back to you here?”  Another nod, then Talon let the older man close the door.

                The guardsman frowned as he turned toward his own door, which was across the hall from the mages.  As he let himself into his room he was asking himself how the mage could have picked up on his secret.  He knew that mages had magical means of detecting illusions as such, that was why he had taken great pains to make certain that he could not be detected in that way.  The ring he wore on his left hand, beneath his glove, was enchanted so that his aura looked as human as he did, until he wanted it to change, in which case the ring would alter his aura at his whim.  Still, it didn’t seem as if the mage were planning on outing him to anyone.  He knew that that could be bad news for him, his alter ego had done a great many things that he didn’t think the fortunes of the Rethbourne family could protect him from, especially if it was made public that he wasn’t actually a member of the family.

                Closing and locking the door to the inn behind him, he moved across to the mirror that was mounted on the door to the closet.  He studied his reflection in that mirror, or rather the reflection of Talon Rethbourne, a persona he had been impersonating for a number of years now.  It had been tricky, trying keep up the premise of aging, having to figure out how to subtly change the appearance of the young human as he matured.  Ten years ago Talon Rethbourne had been sent on a crusade by his father in the hopes of causing the young man to grow up, give up his drugging, binging and womanizing.  Instead, he had gotten the young soldier killed, but rather than announcing to the world that the young nobleman had died, he had decided to assume the young mans identity.  It had seemed the perfect cover for his other life.  Who would suspect the pampered, corrupt and utterly hopeless Talon Rethbourne of actually being the assassin that had come to be called Spectre?  So named because of his penchant for getting in and out of targets homes and places of business without ever having been seen.  Of course, he had been seen far more often than most people were aware of, but that was the beauty of being a shifter, he could look like anyone he wanted at any time.  That, mingled with a couple of very special magical artifacts, like a cloak that could alter its appearance to look like any type of clothing he wanted and the ring to alter his aura and Spectre was a true master of disguise.  Lately things had been getting a little heated back home Algeron, he was aware that Reaper had grown far too curious and had been actively searching for him.  He had long thought there might be a confrontation in the offing there and he welcomed the chance, for he was certain that he was better than the so called master assassin.  Reaper had to be getting on in years now and Spectre, with the lifespan of a shifter, was still fairly young.  Perhaps it was time for Reaper to step aside and make way for a new number one, but that could wait till later.  For now he had other things on his mind, like that damnable elf.

                Usually Spectre was too focused on business to be distracted by women.  Oh, he had his needs certainly, but his persona as Talon Rethbourne usually gave him enough action to quench that particular hunger.  Ever since meeting Natashiana Grasamere, however, he hadn’t been able to get the elf out of his head.  It was the first time he could remember the Talon persona working against him, for she truly despised young Rethbourne.  But now Arkayne had offered him a way to make her his, though he wasn’t certain if it was a permanent magic. Did he want her permanently?  No.  It was merely lust, a few tumbles with her and he was certain he could leave her behind, satisfied.  The mages price wasn’t too much to ask, as Talon Rethbourne he couldn’t just let the mage go free, but as Spectre he didn’t particularly care, Arkayne was no threat to him.  Yes, he was going to go through with it, in fact this might mean the beginning of a working relationship between him and the mage.  It might be nice to have someone of his level of power in on his secret.  An ally of a sort, though he would be careful how far he trusted the man, if at all.

                Deciding to go ahead with the plan, Talon took a deep breath and then concentrated slightly.  His reflection in the mirror shifted, Talon growing shorter by a couple of inches, less stocky, his muscles more defined but not as bulky.  His ears disappeared into the side of his head, his eyes grew smaller and darker and his nose practically vanished into his face.  For a moment the true visage of a shifter stared out of the mirror at him, expressionless and almost featureless.  Then the magical cloak kicked in and his “working” garb began to form.  A black mask that covered his head, all but the eyes and a full body suit of darkest black that hugged his form snugly.  When it was all done, the only skin visible of Spectre was the eyes and the area of skin around it, which was an slightly yellowish hue, as was the case with all Shifters.

                Spectre ensured the door to his room was locked, the wedged a chair under the knob for good measure.  That done, he turned to the window and opened it, poking his head out.  His room was on the back of the inn, overlooking an alley that ran behind it and as luck would have it, her room was directly beneath his.  Sitting on the sill of his window he quietly lowered himself down the outside wall, dangling by his fingers from his rooms windowsill.  Night had fallen fully and his black suit he was little more than a shadow against the wall.  Glancing down, he judged the distance between his window and hers, then he released his hold and dropped, silent as a shade, till his toes landed on her windowsill and he crouched, perfectly balanced even though only his toes rested outside her window.  He peered inside, certain she hadn’t yet returned and fairly confident that she would be going to Strut’s room instead of coming back here.  He felt a little twinge of jealousy at that and was surprised by it. Typically, he thought himself above such pettiness.  This woman had affected him more than he would have thought possible.  As he knew it would be, the window was locked, but he made quick work of that and slid it silently upward, slipping inside the dark room.

                His nightvision was the equal of any cats and he looked around, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the interior of the room.  It was laid out exactly as his room upstairs, with a double bed, a closet, a dresser with three drawers and a small round table and two chairs.  Spying a hairbrush lying atop the dresser he crossed to it and lifted the brush, peering at the bristles.  He smiled beneath the mask, several of her hairs were caught within, long and glistening.  He plucked what he could, then turned back toward the window.  He paused, considering briefly rifling her drawers and her closet, but he thought better of it.  He wanted to know what sort of dresses and under garments she might have brought with her, wondering if he might get a chance to see them soon.  Realizing he had accomplished his mission and that any delay increased his chances of getting caught he slipped back out the window and up to his own room, leaving hers exactly as he had found it, minus the hairs from the brush, which he was certain she would never miss.

                Back in his room, he resumed the identity of Talon Rethbourne and then removed the chair from the doorknob and unlocked the door before crossed the hall and knocking on Arkayne’s door.  The mage answered at once, raising an eyebrow quizzically.  Talon held up the hairs and the mage smiled.  “My, you do work fast, don’t you?”  The entire theft had taken less than five minutes.  “Very well, bring it in.”  The mage stepped back and ushered the shifter into his room.  Talon glanced around, seeing that it was appointed the same as his own.  “Hand me what you have, and an equal number of your own hairs.”

                Talon frowned, but didn’t complain as he plucked them from his scalp, handing them to the mage.  Arkayne crossed to the small table on which he had placed a few mundane items, though Talon knew enough to recognize them as magical baubles.  There was a lit candle, a silver dagger and several other things that were harder to recognize, animal parts from the look of them.  Arkayne frowned in concentration as he sorted through the hairs, making certain he used an equal amount of each, then he twisted them together and started to mumble an enchantment under his breath.  As he chanted, he held the woven hairs over the candle flame and watched them burn.  Talon felt an odd sensation, like a tingling, pass through him.

                “What did you do?”  he asked softly.

                “I have bound her heart to yours.”  Arkayne said softly, watching the last of the hairs disappear in a thin column of smoke.  “She will fall in love with you, though it will not happen immediately.  You will start to see signs of her interest gradually.  How quickly she comes to your bed will depend upon your skill in getting her there, but I promise you… it will happen.”

                “She will fall in love with me?  Is it permanent?  I’m not certain I want her to be fawning over me permanently.”  Talon said with a worried frown. 

                Arkayne shook his head.  “You misunderstand.  This isn’t like a love potion that will make her your willing slave for a short time.  She will not act in any way that is contradictory to her normal views, other than you will have a new place in her heart.  She will not “fawn” over you, that is not her way.”

                “So she will be herself in every way except that it will my bed she wants to share from now on?”  Talon asked.

                Arkayne nodded.  “Exactly.  How long you string her along is up to you, break it off when you wish.  She will be devastated, as any person who is in love with someone who is not in love with them would be.  She will heal… just as all people’s broken hearts heal.  This can last as long as you wish it to.”

                Talon smiled softly.  “Excellent!”

                Shadow Stalker stood at the bow of the Plunderer, watching the coastline of the Trey’Elden mountain range draw nearer.  His eyes narrowed as he scanned the apparently deserted beach, wondering if the people he was supposed to be delivering his charges to were even here yet.  It had been his idea to meet them out here, away from the few settlements along this coast.  He didn’t trust them not to try and betray him in some way, but neither did he trust fate not to interfere in their illicit business should they have attempted this exchange near prying eyes.  He heard the approach of boots behind him and a moment later Ruddy Blaine stood at his side, peering toward the shore.

                “How long?” the assassin asked.  He had been antsy and anxious to finish his business since their dramatic arrival on the ship several days earlier.  He didn’t trust these pirates, and he liked them even less, especially the rude and crude captain.  He might have chosen to put several of the crew in their places in regards to their manners and how they acted around him and the elven captors he was in charge of, except that for the first time in recent memory, Shadow Stalker realized he was surrounded by a number of people who would present him a challenge one on one and would certainly best him in greater numbers.  Therefore he had had to bide his time, swallow his rather strict code of conduct in regards to manners and simply look forward to when he and these pirates would part company.  Of one thing he remained grateful, apparently Ruddy Blaine had been told that if he or his men mistreated the prisoners in any way, they wouldn’t be paid.  That meant the assassin hadn’t had to worry too much about guarding against lecherous behavior.

                “Two hours yet.”  The pirate captain turned his head to regard the assassin, his uncovered eyes taking what little of the assassin’s face was visible over the mask.  The nasty scar that rode the right side of his face, near the eye, was the only thing that might be used to identify this man out of costume, but oddly the pirate didn’t think that would be enough.  “Surely you can’t see whether there is anyone on shore from this distance?”

                Shadow Stalker regarded the man coolly.  “Can’t you?”

                “Certainly, but I have this.” He held up his spyglass, currently collapsed into a cylinder less than a foot long.  “You must have truly impressive vision to be able to see detail from here.”

                Shadow Stalker wasn’t about to speak with this man about his various magical trinkets, nor about his specialized training, all of which augmented his natural abilities in certain unique ways.  He just shrugged and motioned toward the shore.  “I can see that there is no movement along the shore, which leads me to believe that there is no one there to meet us… not yet, anyway.”

                Ruddy Blaine regarded him another moment, then nodded in skeptical acceptance of that and turned his one eye back toward the shore.  He raised his spyglass and extended it out, looking toward the sandy beach in the distance.  “There’s no one on shore, that’s true.”  The pirate said, “But I can see movement in the trees beyond.  I suspect that would be your contact.”

                The final two hours of his voyage went uneventfully and the thanked whatever gods were watching the events unfold for that fact.  The Plunderer weighed anchor a hundred yards off shore and Shadow Stalker, along with Countess Shroude and her sister were put ashore on a longboat with Ruddy Blaine and his first mate, Skar pulling at the oars.  The elven women were gagged, their wrists bound behind their backs.  Shadow Stalker stood in the boat, facing the shore as they approached, his eyes narrowing as he saw the quartet of shadow elves move out onto the beach to await them.  As they drew near to the sand, the assassin sized them up carefully.  Three men and a woman, the woman actually being Fae’Rena D’Spayr.  He was glad to see her, having been afraid he might find himself working with different Shadow Elves when he delivered the women.  Her brothers, and as he examined them he saw enough of a resemblance between the four to mark them as such, were arrayed behind her in a loose semi-circle. To the far right stood a man who was so obviously a warrior that Shadow Stalker marked him instinctively as the most dangerous of the quartet.  Like the sister, he was clad in dark leather and he fairly bristled with blades, both seen and unseen.  A lesser observer than Shadow Stalker wouldn’t have seen the multiple smaller blades the man had concealed all about him.  To the right of this man was a creature that made Shadow Stalker revise his initial opinion of the warrior, for this elf was completely and utterly insane.  There was no doubt about this, even without having met the man or interacted with him, he just gave off an aura of instability.  He was crouched in the sand behind his sister, his dark eyes wide and white rimmed, his leathers stained with what looked like blood.  As the boat thudded onto the beach the assassin got a good look at the middle brothers armor and realized that what he had first taken for a dark chainmail shirt was in fact hundreds of teeth woven together, the teeth of various sizes, marking them as being from multiple races.  He felt a lurching in his stomach as he realized that while the first brother might be the more dangerous fighter, this one was the more unpredictable, making him the most dangerous.  The third brother was a bit of a contrast, standing silently and seeming non-threatening, which of course set him apart in the assassin’s eyes.  He was obviously a thinker, standing quite still and calm, his hands clasped behind his back.  He wore a sword, but it looked to the assassin as though the blade wasn’t where the danger lay in this man.  There was something dark about him, an intangible factor that made even the assassin slightly uncomfortable, though he would never show it.  Shadow Stalker knew a thing or two about inner darkness, he decided that all of these siblings would bear watching.

                “It is good to see you again Shadow Stalker.”  The woman said with a pleasant smile as she moved forward, her eyes playing over the rogue as he stepped from the boat to meet her.  Behind him Blaine and Skar were dragging the High Elves from the boat.  Shoving them forward, both women sprawled in the sand at the assassins feet.  “And I see you have managed to acquire both of the targets!”  The woman laughed and applauded.  “Magnificent!  Your reputation is well earned, as we assumed it must be when I hired you.”

                Her dress was snug and yet seemed to move with her, the sensuous movements of the shadow elf somehow augmented by her leathers, which were composed of a leather he had never seen before.  Her sinuous muscles flexed and rolled as she walked forward and the leather seemed to mirror that movement exactly, acting as a second skin.  “The plan went off exactly as you said it would milady.”  He told her with a slight nod.

                Fae’Rena’s eyes flicked up to his, her full lips spreading slightly as she nodded.  “I am far from surprised, we had a great deal of time to plan this,” she turned and gestured at the first man Shadow Stalker had sized up, “These are my brothers, Celeb’Dae,” she then moved to her right, gesturing to the second brother who still crouched in the sand, though his gaze now rested hungrily on the high elves, “Um’Quel” and finally she motioned to the third brother, “and Athan’Dae.”  Shadow Stalker nodded to all three of them, it would have been rude not to acknowledge their presence and these people may prove valuable contacts later on.  “And these,” she crouched slightly beside the high elves, “Are Countess Penelope Shroude and her sister, the Priestess of Ra Ishara Wodan!”  At the name of the Sun God the three brothers hissed and made warding gestures toward the fair skinned elf.  “I think you will be most displeased with the journey ahead, Lady Ishara.”  Shadow Stalker saw the fear reflected in the blonde elf’s eyes, but he said nothing.  He didn’t hold with the idea of mistreating these women, but neither was he about to make a stand against his employers, that would have been bad for business.

                “Are we through here then?”  He asked her, aware of the pirates behind him shifting to either side along the beach.  Without the sun at his back he couldn’t see their shadows, but he wondered whether Lady D’Spayr had offered them a bonus to do away with any loose ends, namely a certain assassin.

                Fae’Rena smiled and nodded.  “Indeed we are.”  She turned her head and motioned at the third brother, snapping her fingers impatiently.  He scowled slightly, but produced a small black leather pouch which he tossed to her.  She caught it and presented it to the assassin.  “Your payment, as we agreed upon in Milligant.”

                Shadow Stalker, still aware of the presence of the two pirates behind him, stepped forward and accepted the pouch.  He hefted it slightly, testing its weight and determined that the full amount was likely there.  “I’m sure I don’t need to count it?”

                “But you will, when you are certain we are no longer there to witness the insult.”  The shadow elf woman said with a soft, tinkling giggle.  The sound sent an unexpected shiver down Shadow Stalkers spine.  Had he misjudged this lot?  Could it be the sister was the more dangerous of this quartet?  No, more likely they were all an equal danger… making this a situation he truly wanted to put behind him.  He made a mental note to seriously consider turning down any future work offered by the Shadow Elves.  “We do not take insult at such things Shadow Stalker.  We come from a society where mistrust is a way of life.  Feel free to count it if you feel the need.”  Shadow Stalker shook his head, tucking the pouch away under his cloak.

                “What of our payment lady?”  Ruddy Blaine asked, moving up beside the assassin.

                Fae’Rena regarded him coldly, but nodded, snapping her fingers again at the third brother, whose scowl deepened.  He didn’t appreciate the casual way in which she ordered him around, that was plain to the assassin.  Still, he produced another pouch and tossed it, not to her but to Blaine.  Shadow Stalker wondered whether the woman would have wanted to risk touching the pirate.  She hadn’t had that problem with him, but it occurred to him that an assassin, or other class of rogue, was akin to shadow elves and they might not be as prejudiced against him as they were some other classes.  The pirate captain caught the sack and made no apologies for opening it and counting swiftly.  He grinned up at the sexy shadow elf and nodded.  “That is the amount you were promised… pirate?” she spat the last word at him, but Blaine only smiled wider and nodded.  “Then leave us, your service here is done.”

                Ruddy Blaine surprised Shadow Stalker then by turning to him.  “You need a ride anywhere rogue?  We can wait for you.”

                Shadow Stalker shook his head.  “Thank you captain, but no.  I’ll find my way from here.”  With that the pirate nodded to his orcish first mate and they backed away from the five dangerous people on the beach till they were by their longboat, then they pushed it into the water and were gone.

                When the pirates had left, Fae’Rena sighed and shook her head.  “An unsavory lot, pirates.  Still, they have their uses.”  She sighed and turned to her brothers.  “Celeb’Dae, Athan’Dae, would you see to our… guests?”  She nodded toward the elven women and the two outside brothers nodded, stepping forward.  Shadow Stalker thought he saw disappointment in the eyes of the third brother and found he was a little concerned about the elven women.  He had to shake that thought away though… they weren’t his concern any longer.  “Where will you go from here Shadow Stalker?”  The woman asked him suddenly.

                He was a little taken aback by the question, realized he hadn’t given it much thought.  “I’m not sure actually.” He admitted.  “I thought I might head west, into the Empire.  There’s always work to be found there for an enterprising assassin.”

                “Even a free lancer?” she asked, smiling coyly.

                He paused.  How did she knew he wasn’t affiliated with a guild?  He couldn’t remember that ever having come up in his initial discussions with her.  After a few moments thought, he decided it likely didn’t matter.  “That makes it more dangerous, certainly.  Not necessarily more difficult to find work.  I like not having to share a cut of my fee with anyone.”

                She stepped up to him suddenly, her lithe body so close to his that he thought he could feel the heat emanating from her.  “I wonder… would you be willing to extend your contract with my family?”

                Shadow Stalker had to pause a moment, swallowing before he trusted himself to speak.  He hoped she took his hesitancy as thoughtfulness and not for what it actually was.  A powerful attraction to this dark skinned beauty, even if she did make him nervous… or perhaps it was because of that fact.  It wasn’t something that happened very often.  “What did you have in mind?”  he asked, aware that a moment before he had been seriously considering not working for Shadow Elves anymore, and he was proud of how steady his voice was when he asked that question.

                “We…” she smiled slightly and shook her head, “…I am impressed with how smoothly you handled this situation for us.  I would rather like to keep you on retainer… there are bound to be other tasks that come up to which your… particular skill set would be well suited.”  She reached out and lightly trailed an index finger down his broad chest, her smile seeming to make her eyes dance in their sockets.  “I will also admit to a certain… personal interest in keeping you around.”

                “Would I be working for you directly?  Or perhaps your mother… she is the Queen of your people, is she not?” he asked her, pitching his voice low, hoping that her brothers couldn’t hear.  He wasn’t sure how acute the hearing of shadow elves were, but he knew that other elves had very keen hearing and surmised that this offshoot race did as well.

                “Does that matter?”  she asked, resting a hand lightly on his chest.  If she was surprised that he knew who her mother was, she didn’t show it.  Shadow Stalker prided himself on always knowing who he was working for, and so he had done what research he could.  Information on Shadow Elves was rather limited, but he had figured out that the Royal Family was called D’Spayr.  It hadn’t been difficult to put the rest together.

                Shadow Stalkers heart was throbbing in his chest, but he kept his voice pitched low and even.  “It does to me.  I like to know exactly who I’m working for.  That way instructions don’t get mixed up.”

                She smiled and nodded.  “A wise precaution.”  She turned and glanced to where her brothers were now half dragging half marching the high elven women up the beach, toward a line of trees in the near distance.  “You would be taking orders from my mother, though they might come through me.  Is that a problem for you?”

                “My rates don’t change.  I’ll charge your family by the job.”  He informed her.

                Her smile widened yet again, her dark skin seeming to gleam in the moonlight.  “Your price is no object to us, I assure you.”   

                “If I agree to this, do I get to know what it is you and yours are working towards?  Why you needed the women from Peacehope?”  He asked her.

                Fae’Rena nodded, subtly.  “For men like you, loyalty is bought.  If we pay you enough, I am confident you could then be trusted with the details.”  That was not strictly true, especially in Shadow Stalkers case, but he didn’t mention it.  “Would that be a condition of your employment with us?  Wanting to know what it is we’re doing?”

                “It might.” He acknowledged.

                She smiled again, stepping back and turning toward the woods into which her brothers and their prisoners had disappeared.  “Then come with us assassin.  All will be made clear in time.”  He paused, watching her walk away.  She stopped by the trees and turned back to regard him, her expression patient, her full lips turned up in a smile.  “Come.”  She held out a hand to him.

                Shadow Stalker turned and looked out at the Plunderer, still anchored off shore as it awaited the return of its captain and first mate.  Should he have gone with them?  Probably.  Instead he turned and followed the beautiful shadow elf into the woods.

                Shadow Walker had learned, to his detriment, that the inflicting of pain was an art form and as an artist… Ghast was a master.  The young rogue was naked, secured spread eagled by straps at wrists and ankles to the top of a stout wooden table.  He was in a dank room, dimly lit by one hanging lantern, the hideous assassin standing next to the table while behind him, flanking the only door in the small room stood the two rogues from the rooftop earlier.  The male seemed to be watching the assassin work with a demonic eagerness while the woman had gone ashen and was trying to look anywhere but at the naked rogue, who was now covered in blisters and cuts.  Almost the entirety of his body was burned or lacerated in some way, his entire body a gory, bloody mess.

                “I ask you again… why were you spying on our guild hall entrance?”  Ghast asked the young man, his dagger dipping once more toward the thief’s naked flesh.  Bryant knew from harsh experience that that blade was treated with an acid that burned like the fires of Hades itself and at this point he felt he would have done about anything to avoid another burn.

                “I… I’d followed a hobgoblin from the Drooling Devil.  I was just curious… I wasn’t spying….”  He screamed then, arching his back off the table, his wrists and ankles straining against the leather straps as the assassin touched the point of his dagger to Bryant’s naked body, just below his navel and above his groin.  The young thief thrashed and screamed, the pain beyond reason.  He had always thought he could endure any torture, that he would be nearly impossible to break.  He was rather ashamed with how quickly the assassin had been able to do it, but the evil in this mans soul was beyond anything Shadow Walker had ever experienced.

                “Liar!”  the assassin hissed into his ear, bending over to say it.  The smell that radiated off the assassin’s rotting flesh was sickening, similar the smell of rotting meat at the local butchers.  It was a smell that Bryant was familiar with, having had to fight for such scraps in his youth, before the guild that had honed his thieving skills had taken him in. 

                “He may be telling the truth about that.”  Said the woman from the door, her face pale, her brow glistening with sweat. 

                Ghast turned, his horrible red on yellow eyes sliding over her shapely form as though only just realizing she was there.  “Go on.”

                “There is a hobgoblin in the guild, a low level thief named Lorp who likes to gamble in the Drooling Devil.”  She shook her head, trying desperately not to look at the formerly handsome thief strapped to the table.  “He’s been punished before for his carelessness, letting this… boy… follow him here would be the sort of thing he would do.”

                Even through his incredible pain, Bryant had the presence of mind to be offended at being called a boy.  He was eighteen, in most cultures he had been a man grown for at least two years!  The assassin turned back to him and if he had had any eyebrows left they would have been raised in surprise.  “So you weren’t lying to me?  Does that mean you are ready to cooperate?”  He leaned over the table, looking down into Bryant’s tortured eyes.  “Let’s find out.”  Bryant saw his arm move, knew the assassin was repositioning the dagger with the acid. He heard the female rogue sob incoherently in response to this movement, but he was too far gone to make anything of that.  “Do you know anything about the contract that’s been placed on you and your friends?”  Bryant started to shake his head, but then a pain unlike anything he had felt previously wracked his body and it spasmed, his spine arching so badly that his shoulders popped, nearly leaving their sockets.  His mouth contorted into a silent scream, his eyes squeezed shut.  The assassin had placed the tip of the dagger against the tip of the young thief’s penis and the burning pain had raced through his genitalia, igniting every nerve in his groin.

                “Stop it!”  The woman cried, suddenly appearing at the assassin’s side, wrenching the mans hand away from the thief.  Ghast growled, turning on her, his gloved fist coming around in a backhand that connected with the side of her head, knocking her spinning to the ground.  Bryant saw a flash of gold from the corner of his eye and his head turned, his gaze instinctively tracking that precious gleam as he had been trained to do from a very young age.  He lost sight of her as she dropped to the ground, beneath the edge of the table. 

                “You dare?!”  Ghast shrieked at her, towering over the woman who had already climbed back to her feet, though she was shaky.  It was a display of spirit that reminded Bryant of someone else he knew and then his gaze settled on the medallion she wore about her neck, dangling low enough that it was obvious she usually kept it tucked out view in her bodice.  It was a golden crescent moon, the points aiming straight up at her elegant neck.  He had seen that particular design before and he gazed, riveted not only by the precious metal, but by what the necklace represented.  The woman noticed his stare and self consciously tucked the medallion away.  “Never interfere with me like that again!”  the assassin was shouting at her.

                The woman, whom Bryant remembered was called Nightshade, paled in the face of the assassins anger, but she didn’t back away.  “How do you expect him to answer your question if he is screaming all the time?”

                Ghast paused to consider her words, when he answered his words chilled the young thief in spite of the burns that covered most of his body.  “It doesn’t matter if he answers.  It truth, it doesn’t matter what he knows… for it’s far too late for him to do anything about it.”

                “Then why continue with this torture?  It avails you nothing!”  She said, gesturing at the restrained thief.

                Bryant was hovering at the edge of consciousness, but he willed himself to stay awake, taking deep breaths to calm his mind.  He had a suspicion if he allowed himself to fall asleep, he might never wake up.  Ghast was answering the woman’s question, “His life is already forfeit, he is part of the contract as well.  I see no reason not to take advantage of the situation with a little practice in the fine art of interrogation.”

                She turned her gaze on Bryant then and he saw the pity in her eyes.  He was struck by how very pretty she was, her blue eyes sparkled like amethysts.  “I’ll take no part in this.”  She turned and started to leave but had to stop at the door as another man came in.

                Ghast turned to this newcomer, his posture showing his eagerness to hear what the man had to say.  “Well?”  Ghast asked.

                Bryant noticed that the woman had paused by the door to listen, though her hand was on the doorknob.  The newcomer, apparently an assassin and likely a minion of Ghasts, said, “Master, the templar is dead.”

                Shadow Walker’s heart skipped a beat.  Were they talking about Vance?  “You verified this?” Ghast asked.

                The lesser assassin nodded.  “I followed the guards as they took him to the temple to see if anything could be done.  I was hiding in the shadows when the priest pronounced him dead.”

                Ghast nodded and clapped the other man on the shoulder.  The newcomer glanced at Bryant, his eyes devoid of emotion as he regarded the grievous wounds covering the young mans body.  “What next master?”

                Ghast gestured dismissively at Bryant.  “This one is through.  He’ll not leave this room alive, not with wounds like those.  It’s only a matter of time.”  Bryant feared the assassin was correct.  He saw Nightshade leave the room then and realized that his only ally had left him.  “That leaves the elf and the barbarian on the contract.”

                “There is another warrior and a mage with the party as well.”  The younger assassin mentioned to his mentor.

                Ghast shook his head.  “The contract said nothing about them.  Only the elf and the barbarian are required killed.”

                The younger assassin hesitated, as though uncertain how his next words would be received.  “They may be hard to reach master.”  The older assassin regarded the younger, waiting for him to continue.  “They are currently incarcerated in Milligant’s jail.  They were arrested for inciting a riot in the Drooling Devil.”

                Ghast actually laughed, the sound wet and raspy from behind his face mask.  Everyone in the room, except Bryant, winced in revulsion at the sound.  “A bar fight?  Yes, that fits what I’ve heard of the barbarian.  The elf was likely just caught in the middle.”

                “I heard that the whole thing started because someone got fresh with her.”  The younger assassin said.

                Ghast nodded again.  “Yes, that fits as well. The woman is said to be a great beauty, and her looks are known to get her into trouble from time to time.”  That was true enough, Bryant knew from personal experience.  “Has the constable set bail on either of them?”

                The younger assassin nodded. “Fifteen hundred gold a piece, plus damages to the tavern.”

                Ghast nodded.  “Pocket change when stacked against what this job pays.  Plus, this will serve as an easy way to separate them.”  He glanced at Bryant then back at his protégé.  “I’m done here, come, we’ll pay the bail on the elf and after she is released we’ll make quick work of her.”

                “Master, if she is the beauty that it is said she is, might I….”  The young assassin trailed off as they headed for the door.

                “Yes.  I would say you have earned that right to bed her before we kill her Damon.”  He clapped the younger man on the shoulder.  “The templar was well done.”  He glanced at the male rogue that had fought Bryant on the rooftop.  “Stay here till Shadow Walker is dead, then you may go about your duties as normal.”  The thief nodded, and then Bryant was alone with him.

                The man said nothing to the younger thief, and Bryant, though he fought desperately to stay conscious, eventually succumbed to his injuries and slipped into blessed darkness.  He came awake some time later, he knew not how long, with a start to find the pretty thief leaning over him.  In fact, when Bryant came to, her rather abundant cleavage was hovering inches over his face as she reached across his body, apparently undoing the leather strap on his wrist.  The young thief might have smiled in enjoyment of the view if he weren’t in such pain.  He felt his wrist suddenly come free and he moaned in pain as the blood started to flow through the limb again.  Nightshade straightened, looking down into his face with concern.  “I had feared you dead.”

                He realized she could have checked for a pulse, but then thought that if it had been him, he wouldn’t have wanted to touch him either.  He must look hideous.  “Not yet.”  Bryant croaked gamely.

                She hesitated, as if not sure how to continue.  That was when Bryant realized that his other limbs were already freed and he started to push himself upright.  “Hold on.”  She said gently, stepping forward hastily to cradle the back of his head with one hand, helping him to rise.  “Don’t try to move too quickly.  In truth, you shouldn’t be moving at all, not after what you endured.  I’m surprised you even can move.”

                Once he was sitting up, Bryant noticed the body of the male thief crumpled on the ground by the door.  She noticed his gaze and followed it, then shrugged slightly.  “I never liked that sexist bastard anyway.”

                “Why are you helping me?”  Bryant rasped.  His throat felt like it had received the acid treatment too, but he knew it was just a result of his earlier screaming.  The memory of that shamed him, especially when he remembered that she had witnessed his breaking.

                She was still resting her hand on the back of his neck and he felt a shudder run through her arm.  “Ghast is a monster.” She said softly.  “And Damon is a chip off the old block.  When I heard him ask his master if he could have the elf before they killed her….”  She shook her head, unable to continue.

                “Can you help her too?”  Bryant asked, feeling dizzy as he tried to stand.

                “I don’t know.  I need to get you out of here first.”  She helped him to his feet, then produced a blanket from somewhere which she draped across his shoulders.  “If we hurry, the way out should be fairly clear.  It’s the middle of the night, so naturally most of the guild is out working.  There aren’t many of us here right now.”

                “Where are we going?” he asked, shuffling with her help toward the door.

                “I know a place where you should be safe, then I’ll try and help your friends… if I can.  But if Ghast catches me… I’m as good as dead too.”  She said.

                He turned his head to look at her, remembering the medallion he had seen.  “If you help us, we can help you.  I think I know someone that will be quite eager to meet you.”

                She scowled at him faintly, then shrugged.  “We’ll get to that later, we have to survive the night first!”

Tasha awoke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright on the narrow cot in the jail cell, her body coated in sweat that caused her cotton shirt to stick to her.  Her leathers had been taken when she was arrested, but she had been left her tunic and leather pants.  Her boots and gloves had been confiscated with the rest.  Her generous bosom was heaving, her seafoam green eyes wide as she gazed around the small cell.  The dream had been so intense… and one of the most erotic she had had in many years.  But the subject of that dream, the man her subconscious had been fantasizing about… it made no sense to her.  She couldn’t stand Talon Rethbourne… so why all of a sudden was she having a very intense wet dream about him?

                “I’ve had a few of those dreams myself.”  Said the voice of another woman from a cell across from Tasha’s.  She glanced that way and saw Alex reclining on her own cot, the warrior having been arrested at the same time as Tasha.  The elf knew that Strut and Skull were cooling their heels in cells in another wing of the jail.  Vance, she feared, was lying on a bed in some morgue somewhere, the victim of an assassin’s blade.  They hadn’t had time to investigate that, they had been arrested too quickly.  She hadn’t even confirmed yet that he was dead.

                “Pardon?” she said, having to swallow the lump in her throat first.

                Alex smiled.  “The sounds you were making before you woke up?  He must have been damn good!”

                Tasha shook her head, feigning ignorance.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  In fact she did, and yes, Talon had been rocking her world in her dream.  But why Talon Rethbourne?  What was up with that?

                “Whatever you say girl.”  Alex said with a shrug.  “Those sounds you were making though?”  She laughed, then mimicked some of them rather expertly, bringing an embarrassed flush to Tasha’s cheeks.  “Makes me wonder if he has any brothers!”

                Tasha shook her head.  “Sisters.”

                Alex laughed.  “That could be fun too!”

                The high eleven archer shook her head, disgusted with the half breed amazon and barbarian.  “You’re not their type.”  She stood up from her cot then, arching her back and stretching to work out the kinks that the uncomfortable cot had worked into her spine.  Alex laughed at her jibe, which surprised Tasha.  She had expected the woman to be angered, but apparently Alex was made of sterner stuff than that.  She certainly hit hard, the elf remembered from their earlier bout in the tavern.  The sound of footsteps coming down the hall between the cells caused both women to fall silent, watching for the guard they knew to be coming.  When he appeared he stopped outside their mutual cells and took a few moments to ogle both women.

                “You done raping us with your eyes yet?”  Alex asked him sarcastically.

                “Give me a minute.”  The man said without missing a beat.  He was a middle aged human in tarnished chain mail.  A little over weight with thinning black hair.  Tasha realized with a start that he reminded her of Captain Vaughn Briggs, the man she had accidentally killed in a jail break back in her home town of Hanover.  That had been the event that had put a price on her head, a price that still resided there, making her very nervous in her current situation.  It had been a number of years since that bounty had reared its head, but she could think of no worse time for it to do so than now.  Having apparently lived out his fantasy in his mind, which no doubt included both women, he turned toward Tasha’s cell.  “You’re free to go elf.”

                She blinked, starting stupidly at him as he rattled a key in the lock of her cells door.  “Pardon?”

                He grinned as he opened the door, his eyes sweeping over her again, lingering where her shirt still clung to her bosom.  “Someone paid your bail.  Unless you’d like to stay?”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

                She shook her head and moved quickly toward the door.  “Who paid it?”  She thought it must have been Shadow Walker, since Vance was dead and to her knowledge neither Talon nor Arkayne knew she was in jail.  Bryant would have known to come looking for her and Strut if he couldn’t find them in their rooms.  “What about my friend Strut?  Has his bail been paid too?”

                The guard shook his head, slamming the cell door behind her as she stepped into the hall. “Only yours as far as I know beautiful.  Now move it!”  He slapped her on the ass and she scampered forward, too distracted by this bizarre turn of events to worry about the guards behavior, which was expected in one so uncouth anyway.

                Out in the booking area, Tasha glanced around hoping to see Strut waiting for her, or at least Bryant… she would even have settled for Talon or Arkayne, but none of them were anywhere to be seen.  She scowled, moving toward the front desk where a sergeant was waiting with her personal effects.  She checked through her gear, then frowned at the man, upending her now empty coin purse.  “I had at least fifty gold pieces in here!” she said indignantly.

                He shrugged.  “Wasn’t there when we took it from you.  Maybe you got robbed during that bar fight.  Those pesky pickpockets are good like that.”  She met his smiling face with a scowl that did nothing to move him, so she sighed in frustration and signed for her bow and quiver, belt and what leathers they had taken from her when she was booked.  She took the time to put all of it on before she left the jail, something about her release didn’t feel quite right.  Why would some unknown benefactor pay her bail and get her released, but not the barbarian?  She suddenly wished she hadn’t left her sword, Elven Grace, back in her room at the inn.  She hadn’t thought she would need it for the gambling scheme that Strut and Bryant had talked her into.  “You be safe out there now ma’am.”  The desk sergeant said with a leering grin as she headed for the door, completely ignoring him.

                She stepped out into the cool, crisp night air and glanced up and down the apparently deserted street.  In a town like Milligant, the streets were never completely deserted and that as well set her on edge.  She rested a hand lightly on her quiver, fingering the fletchings of an arrow as she turned left and started down the street, heading toward her inn.  The bow she carried in her other hand, ready to use it at a moments notice if required.  It was well past midnight and she knew that this was the most dangerous time of night to be out and about alone, especially in this city.  The moon was up and bright and her elven vision allowed her to see as though it were daylight, that was really her only advantage.  The shadows all around her seemed deeper somehow, darker and more foreboding.  ‘You need to calm down Nat.’ She scolded herself, using the nickname her father had coined for her in her youth.  It was something only her family ever called her by.         

                A flash of movement to her right as she was moving down the street turned her that way with a gasp and she brought up the bow, drawing an arrow and notching it to the string instinctively.  An elderly human staggered from the alley, his eyes bloodshot, his breath reeking of alcohol and vomit.  “Spare any coin for a veteran of the wars missy?” he rasped at her, his toothless mouth slurring the words badly.

                She winced and turned her face away in disgust at the mans breath, stepping back to put some space between them, he had come far too close to her for comfort.  “Under the circumstances I could ask you the same thing old timer.”  He staggered away, his face reflecting his disappointment and she turned to watch him go.  When she turned back to continue on her way she gasped to find herself face to face with a dark eyed rogue in black and dark blue leathers, his face concealed by a mask and a deep hood.  His cloak billowed out behind him and his eyes burned with an easily recognizable hunger as he looked at her.  She stepped back and started to raise her bow but he lashed out, the toe of his soft boot catching the inside of her wrist.  Her hand went numb as the bow went flying away into the darkness, disappearing down the alley.  ‘Dammit!’ she thought, swinging her other hand which still held the arrow, trying to drive the point into his face.  The rogue weaved backward, avoiding the strike, then reached up with his left hand and caught the same wrist, twisting it backward and making her wince as she dropped the arrow, then he twisted her arm painfully back on herself, forcing her to back away or risk the wrist breaking.  He followed her, forcing her all the way back against the wall of the building she had been passing in front of when she was accosted by the drunk.  She felt the cool glass of a shop front window behind her as she was pressed up against it, but she hadn’t noticed what shop it was.  She tried to hit him with her other hand, still numb from earlier but her posture and the angle were all wrong and he laughed softly as he caught that wrist in his other hand, then transferred it to the first and pinned both her wrists to the window above her head with one hand.  He leaned in, pressing his body against hers and nuzzled her neck, breathing deeply of her scent.  She felt his hand slip between their bodies, fumbling at her belt and she mentally cursed as her quiver fell away, leaving her weaponless for the second time that night.

                “Who are you?!” she gasped out, trying to arch her back in an attempt to push him away.  “What do you want?”

                “Somebody wants you and your friends dead elfy,” he said, his voice a soft whisper, “but my master says I did such a good job offing your pretty boy templar that I can have a little fun with you first!”

                Tasha’s brow knitted, processing the confirmation that Vance was dead.  She would mourn him later, she had to deal with the current situation first.  He had also just verified that he intended to kill her as well, but he had also implied that he intended to rape her first, but Tasha was damned if she would just stand idly by and let him have his way with her!  Grimacing, she brought up her right knee, aiming for his side.  He sensed her movement and shifted to the side, her knee landed on his hip, a glancing blow and he chuckled.  Then she slammed her other knee into his groin and he gagged into his face mask, staggering back, releasing her hands. 

                Pressing her sudden advantage Tasha stepped forward and drove a fist into his face, staggering him back still further.  She heard something like a growl from within his hood and she caught a flash of silver as he drew a knife forth from somewhere inside his cloak.  Warily she eased backward, her eyes narrowing as the assassin moved in on her.  The hunger that had burned in his eyes was gone now, replaced by anger.  Gone were thoughts of rape, she had hurt him, now he intended only to kill her. A shadow dropped from the rooftop above her and Tasha saw a flash of what looked like white hair before a booted foot slammed into the assassin’s stomach, the momentum of the drop behind the kick.  He staggered back with a roar of pain, nearly sprawling in the street as he almost tripped off the raised boardwalk. 

                “Who are you?”  Tasha asked, surprised at the unexpected aid.

                The newcomer cast a brief glance over her shoulder and the archer saw a pretty cameo face, light blue eyes and yes… long white hair!  “A friend.”  Was all the young human woman said.

                Tasha processed that for a moment as the assassin straightened and faced off against them both.  “I could use another one of those about now.”  She decided, though she didn’t see the other woman smile in response to that, she had already turned her back on the elf.

                “You!”  The assassin growled at the white haired woman, “Decided to cast your lot with the prey did you?”

                “There’s a fine line between prey and hunter Tolvin!” The woman spat at him and then the assassin moved forward in a blur.  His knife flashed toward the young womans throat and she weaved backward, her right arm moving up in a circular motion as she parried the blade to the inside of the assassins reach.  Stepping forward and to her right, she drove her left knee into the mans solar plexus, doubling him over then Tasha took advantage of that and kicked him solidly in the face.  He was flung backward, landing hard on his back in the street.  The female rogue lunged after him, but the assassin was no slouch and he rolled with the elf’s kick, somersaulting backward and coming almost instantly to his feet.  His hand flashed out and Nightshade narrowly avoided the thrown blade, twisting her shoulders to the side as the knife cut through the air.  It thudded heavily into the wall not far from Tasha’s head and the elf instinctively dove to the side.  Her dive carried her farther into the alley and her nightvision allowed her to spot her bow lying against the wall not far in.  She scampered after it, scooping it off the ground and then turning back toward where her quiver lay on the boardwalk at the base of the large window.

                Nightshade and Tolvin were exchanging a flurry of blows, the rogues having each drawn a short sword from within their cloaks now.  Moonlight flashed on the blades and sparks flew occasionally as they traded blows, each desperate to avoid the lethal slashes of the other while looking for openings for their own attacks.  Behind Nightshade, Tasha now knelt beside her quiver and drew forth an arrow.  Notching it she drew the string back to her cheek and sighted down the shaft, drawing a bead on the assassin.  Her bowstring thrummed softly as she released it and the arrow shot forth, Tolvin didn’t seem to miss a beat as he swiftly angled his blade out and parried the arrow down.  It thudded into the ground at his feet and the elf’s eyes widened in stunned surprise.  She hadn’t ever seen someone do that before… especially in the middle of fighting another opponent!  She quickly drew and fired another arrow, not too concerned about hitting her pretty young friend at this range.  This time the assassin leaned well to the right and the arrow passed harmlessly between him and Nightshade.  Scowling, Tasha notched a third arrow and then drew a fourth from her quiver, holding it as she drew the third back to her cheek.  She released it then in a single swift, fluid motion she drew and fired the fourth.  Tolvin parried the first arrow aside but hadn’t seen the second one coming and it thudded into his shoulder. He staggered and grunted and the young thief lunged, her sword driving through his leathers into his chest, piercing his heart and running him clear through.  The assassin gasped, staggered, and then fell, sliding off her sword as he toppled to the ground.

                The thief stood over him for a few minutes, sword down by her side, blood dripping from the blade.  She gazed down at the dead assassin and knew that she had just signed her own death warrant… there was no turning back now.  “What’s your name?”  Tasha asked from behind her.

                “They called me Nightshade.” She said softly, her voice reflecting no emotion.

                “Is that what you want me to call you?”  Tasha asked.

                The woman turned her head slightly, looking at the elf from the corner of her eye.  “When I killed this man my affiliation with my guild ended.  Nightshade died with him.  My name…” she sighed softly and Tasha got the impression that this young woman hadn’t spoken her true name in some time, “…is Alicia."

                Tasha stepped down off the raised walkway and up to the younger womans side.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the assist Alicia, but how in the hell did you even know I needed it?”

                The young thief turned her light blue eyes on Tasha.  “Would you come with me?  There’s something you need to see.”

                Alicia led the elf down a series of dark back alleys, the archer would have been nervous about this if it hadn’t been for the fact that this young woman had already helped her out of a jam once.  Why would she have bothered if she only meant her harm now?  And though Tasha had attempted a few times to draw out of the woman an explanation of where they were going, Alicia had maintained a stoic silence.  With a sigh, Tasha decided to just wait and see what would happen.

                Nightshade, for try though she might Tasha couldn’t shake that this name seemed fitting for the young woman, wound up leading the archer to a small, dingy room that seemed to be located along the back of a warehouse near Milligants docks.  As Tasha entered with Alicia she glanced around, wrinkling her nose in distaste.  The place was coated in a thick layer of dust and there were cobwebs in the high corners of the small space.  A musty smell permeated the room as well and Tasha saw that it was sparsely furnished with a narrow cot, a rickety table and two chairs, a run down old dresser in which the drawers sagged to either side and a lantern that hung on one wall, burning dimly to cast what light there was.  As she walked in, she became aware that there was a person lying in the bed, covered by a thin, moth eaten blanket.  Tasha winced as she glanced at the unfortunate person, seeing a great many blisters and welts on his face, shoulders and what was visible of his chest above the blanket.  She stopped just inside the room as Alicia closed the door, started to turn toward the thief to ask what they were doing there when her gaze suddenly drifted back to the wounded man in the bed.  He was conscious, though barely and his dark eyes were resting on her with a familiarity that gave her pause.  As she gazed at him her eyes widened, recognition coming to her slowly. 

                “Gods… Bryant?”  She was so shocked to see the young thief in that state that she accidently let slip his real name in front of the other woman.  She rushed to the side of the cot and dropped to her knees beside the youth, reaching out toward him but stopping before she had actually touched him, not wanting to hurt him and not certain where it would be safe to touch him.  “What happened?” she asked, though she wasn’t certain which of them she had directed the question to… which ever would answer.

                After a moment it was the female thief that responded.  “He was caught spying on an entrance to the rogues guild headquarters.”  Alicia commented softly.  “Our guild here in Milligant is made up of both thieves and assassins and one of the highest ranking assassins in the guild, a monster named Ghast, was the one that saw him.  As it happened, Ghast had just accepted a contract on behalf of the guild… the contract named you and your companions… paying a pretty sum for your deaths.”  Tasha glanced over her shoulder at the white haired woman, surprised at this.  “Ghast that Shadow Walker here had somehow gotten wind of the contract and was trying to get information on it.  We captured him and Ghast…” she choked on the next words slightly, “…tortured him for information.”  She had to pause to collect herself before she could continue.  “It turned out that your friend here had only been outside our guild by coincidence.  But since he had been named in the contract, Ghast decided that there was no need to spare him further pain.”  She shook her head.  “I couldn’t stomach what they were doing to him… so I intervened.”

                Tasha swallowed audibly, her heart sickened by what she saw in front of her.  The Bryant she knew was young, cute growing into handsome and full of vitality.  This was a pale shadow of the man she knew and she wondered whether they would be able to bring him back.  “If your guild finds out you helped him, won’t that mark you for death as well?”

                Alicia paused again before speaking.  “They likely know already.  Ghast will wonder why Tolvin hasn’t reported back.  It won’t take them long to put two and two together and come up with my name.”

                The elf regarded the younger woman over her shoulder, her seafoam green eyes gauging the other girl.  “Thank you.”  The white haired woman nodded, her expression inscrutable. 

                “Tasha.”  Shadow Walkers voice was weak and she could hear the pain in it.

                “Don’t talk.”  She said, reaching up to lightly brush the hair from his face. 

                “Have to,” he gasped, his head turned to face her, “you have to know.”

                “Know what?”

                Bryant swallowed, his throat very dry and he glanced up at Nightshade.  The young woman came forward, filling a glass from a pitcher on the table and brought the water to the bed.  Tasha took it from her wordlessly and cradled Bryant’s head, helping him to sit up slightly as she lifted the glass to his lips.  Alicia watched, saying nothing, secretly touched at the way the elven woman seemed to genuinely care about the thief.  After he had drank enough to wet his throat, Bryant let her settle him back onto the cots thin mattress.  “Contract…” he spoke slowly, succinctly, trying to make himself understood through the pain he still felt, “…was only for us.  Me… you… Strut and….”

                She finished for him before he could. “Vance.  He’s already dead.”

                Bryant closed his eyes, his expression reflecting his regret at that news, though he had already suspected it from what he overheard during his torture.  “Reth…Rethbourne and Arkayne… not mentioned in contract.”

                “That’s damn peculiar.”  Tasha admitted with a frown.  For some reason she felt an unpleasant flutter in her stomach at the thought of Talon Rethbourne possibly being involved in this assassination contract. 

                “The plan, according to what we overheard at guild headquarters,” Alicia told her, “was for Ghast or some of his people to pay your bail and then assassinate you while you were separated from your friends.  They were then going to do the same thing to your friend Strut.”

                Tasha smiled darkly.  “If not for you,” she said with a meaningful glance at the younger woman, “they may have succeeded with me.  They would find, however, that Strut is not so easily killed.”

                “They have the manpower to throw enough people at him to ensure it’s done properly.  Eventually, he would fall to greater numbers.”  Nightshade told her.

                Tasha nodded, accepting the truth of that.  “Since they failed to kill me, does that put the second phase of the plan on hold?”

                Alicia frowned thoughtfully.  “That’s likely.  Ghast will want to know how much you know.  He’ll want you out of the way before he moves on Strut.”

                “Then Strut is safest in jail for now.  Not that I could afford to pay his bail anyway… the damn guards kept what little coin I had.”  Tasha grumped.

                Alicia nodded.  This was not unexpected.  “Our peacekeepers aren’t the most honest of men and women I fear.  Having been effectively cut off from the guild, I’m afraid I won’t be much use to you financially either.  I didn’t bring any of my own gold with me, I was too focused on getting us out alive.  By now they will have cut me off from what money I had access to through the guild as well.”

                “We’ll have to proceed on our own then.”  Tasha said softly.  She noticed that Bryant had fallen into a restless sleep.

                “How?  Our options are limited.”  Alicia told her.

                Tasha scowled thoughtfully at that.  “First off, I have to know if the other two members of our party can be trusted. I have to find out if Talon and Arkayne were in on this somehow.  Once I know that… I can think of a way to move forward.”

                “What if they are in on it?”  Alicia asked.

                Tasha turned and looked at her.  “Then I’ll kill them both.”  That same unpleasant flutter passed through her.  “I may need your help though.  I can handle questioning Talon… I suspect it wouldn’t be too hard to get him to talk to me.  Arkayne would be suspicious though.  He doesn’t know you… would you be willing to try and find out what he knows?”

                “Why do I sense that I may have to become rather more familiar with this Arkayne person than I really want to?”  Alicia asked.

                Tasha shrugged.  “The same goes for me and Talon.”  Though oddly, she found that it wasn’t entirely true.  She was surprised to find that she rather looked forward to spending some time alone with Talon, even if it was to question him.  ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’  “Will you help us?”

                Alicia sighed.  “I’ve already cast my lot with you people.  In for a penny….”  She trailed off.

                Tasha smiled.  “…in for a pound?”

Chapter Seven

                Silke Shadoe gasped and arched her back, her manicured nails raking at the broad, hairy chest of Karnash as he exploded within her.  The shapely shadow elf, her hair clinging to her bare shoulders and back from the sweat that coated her body, lowered herself over him, her full lips brushing his stubble covered chin as she spoke.  “You are insatiable milord.”

                The barbarian grinned as he slid his hands slowly up her sleek thighs, eventually cupping her firm round buttocks and squeezing them till she gasped again, this time as much in pain as pleasure, though he had discovered the two were often one in the same for this woman.  “Because you made me so with that… whatever it was you did to me.”

                “Shadow infusion.”  She supplied with a smile.  “I didn’t really know the full extent of its effects upon you, having never done it to a human before.”  She pushed against his chest, rising so that she was able to look down on his broad face.  He was not handsome, but he was a large man in every way that could matter to a woman and his physique was more than pleasing. 

                “You’ve done it to other races?”  He inquired, his shaggy eyebrows shooting upward.

                “Several shadow elves over the centuries have received that particular blessing.  Also, a few of our shadow orcs have done as well.”  She smiled, scraping her nails down over his nipples and getting her fingers hung up in his hair.  “We typically reserve it for use as a reward for great service to the people.”

                Karnash had noticed that the shadow elves shared a habit with his own species, always referring to themselves as “the people”.  “What does it do for your people when they are infused with this shadow energy you wield?”

                “It is much the same as with you.  Enhanced strength, reflexes and stamina,” she closed her eyes and smiled as she felt him swell within her and she shifted her hips slightly, bringing a moan from the warlord, “though I have never known it to increase libido as it has done with you.”

                “Perhaps your people are not so lusty as mine.  The tribes place a great deal of emphasis on relations of this sort.  There are even sexual rituals that are observed by my people to confirm such things as marriage, or to celebrate anniversaries.”  He smiled, closing his own eyes as she started to move above him, he placed his hands on her thighs and let her move over him, enjoying the woman’s skillful ministrations.

                “A race that reveres sex as an almost religious experience?”  She laughed softly.  “I am liking your tribes more and more Karnash.”

                He laughed.  “We also have sex just for the sake of having it, it is not all about the rituals!”  Then he moaned and fell silent as she did something truly unique with her pelvis.  He had learned the first time he bedded her that this woman, and he suspected it to be true of all shadow elf women, was extremely limber.  She could do things with her body that the bulkier, more muscular tribal women could never have dreamed of.

                “The shadow energy, when infused into a living being, is said to augment that which makes them who they are.  Not just physically, but mentally as well, so perhaps there is something to be said for your belief.”  She didn’t mention how shadow energy was also known to make evil people worse nor did she say that it had been known to shift good to evil.  Karnash wouldn’t have cared, he was already pretty far gone in that regard before they had done the ritual anyway.

                They spent a good long while pleasing each other, as they had been doing frequently since the shadow elves had arranged for Karnash to take over as warlord of his tribe.  When they had finished, they left the lodge that had belonged to his brother but was now claimed by him and moved together toward the edge of town.  The shadow priestess had donned a long black dress and wore a bear skin cloak over it to ward off the chill of the mountain air.  Karnash wore only his leather pants and boots, his sword hanging at his hip.  He never seemed to get cold any more, not that he had felt the cold much to begin with, but now it seemed that physical sensations were less potent for him in general.  He only felt the most extreme feelings since the infusion, but he felt it had been a worth while trade for the added power that had been given him.

                “The work goes well, it seems.”  Silke said, leaning into the warlord as slipping her arms about his waist as they watched a long line of tribesmen moving out of the village and up into the hills as another group returned from their shift.  “According to my people at the site, we are well ahead of schedule.”

                “What of the aid my niece and nephews went in search of?  Do we have any need to fear that?”  Karnash asked.

                The shadow elf frowned slightly.  “To be perfectly honest, I do not know.  We lost track of them at the coast and while we have an idea they went to someplace called Algeron, we do not have any presence there to inform us of how successful they were.  We must remedy that eventually, but for now we are in the dark as to what they may have accomplished.  Certainly they will return, and when they do we will have to deal with it.  Until then, I see no reason to dwell on such unpleasantness.”  Movement from above drew her eye upward and she tilted her head back, her eyes narrowing as she saw a dark avian shape circling overhead.  “A message.”  She raised her hand and the wraith bird landed upon her wrist.  Karnash had seen the shadow elves send messages in this way before, so it no longer surprised him.  But when this shadowy creature opened its beak, the voice that came out was not one he had heard before. 

                “Lady Silke, we have received the package from Algeron and are en-route to you.  Prepare to receive us, it will be only three days.”  Then the shadow bird closed its beak and dissipated into nothingness.

                Silke’s full lips spread across her face in a smile.  “Excellent!”

                “You are expecting a shipment from Algeron?”  Karnash asked, his shaggy brows shooting up again.

                She glanced up at him and nodded.  “A coincidence that it happens to be where your kin fled to, I assure you.  The delivery is in the form of a necessary sacrifice that will be performed when the work in the mountains is finished.”

                “Sacrifice?”  He repeated with a frown.  He was not troubled by the thought, for his own people had been known to perform sacrifices to the Asgardians once upon a time.  It was a practice that had been abolished by his brother, though other tribes still did it occasionally. What bothered him was the shadow elf’s habit of only informing him of aspects of her plan as they came into play.  “What sacrifice is this?”

                Silke Shadoe tilted her head back and looked shrewdly into his haggard visage.  “Yes,” she said softly, “I suppose it is time to bring you fully up to speed on what we are doing here.”  She took his hand and started to walk back toward his lodge.  “Walk with me lord Karnash.”  She knew that it pleased him for her to call him that and she did it whenever she needed to ensure that he was listening to her.  “What do you know of the religion of my people?”

                The massive warrior shook his head.  “Very little.”

                She nodded.  “That is the case with most races of the surface.  Though our religion predates most of yours, it has fallen into such antiquity among the surface dwellers that many of you forget that we do not worship a god that is considered to be mains stream.”  He frowned, uncertain what she meant by main stream.  Seeing his expression, she elaborated.  “There are a great many religions in the world Karnash.  Your own people follow the gods of Asgard, many of my peoples cousins follow the gods of light.  There is even a god dedicated primarily to worship by the Undead.  And those are but a few of the many deities and their religions that dot Kyzanthia.  But one of the eldest of the religions is the Cult of Shadows, the religion to which I myself belong.”

                “Do all shadow elves follow this religion?”  He asked.

                She shook her head, untroubled by the interruption.  Karnash got the impression that she was used to instructing people on her faith.  Indeed, as a priestess she probably had to do it quite often.  “The majority do, but there are those that also worship Rachnos, the spider god and a few other lesser known deities as well.”  She paused to collect her thoughts before she continued.  “The primary deity of my faith is D’L’Tal’Itz, the Shadow God.”

                “Never heard of him.”  Karnash said bluntly.

                Silke Shadoe smiled.  “There is no reason you should have, as I’ve said worship of the shadows has fallen out of favor among the surface dwellers.”  By this time they had reached his lodge and she led the way inside, pushing him into the chair from which his brother had once held council on days when he had not wished the formality of his throne, which was in the grand hall at the center of the village.  Karnash was much bigger than his brother had been, especially since the shadow infusion had fully taken hold, and this chair barely held him.  She smiled as she slid into his lap, her arms snaking around his neck as his hands almost instinctively began to slide up under her skirt, caressing the slender lines of her legs.  “D’L’Tal’Itz was not the only God in the cult of shadows, but he was the primary and he is the only one whose identity is remembered by most of us.  Any way, his story is rather a tragic one.  You see, he was once the most powerful of deities on Kyzanthia.  All others paid homage to him, for is there any substance anywhere more prolific than shadows?  Wherever light exists, there too you will find shadow and it was from this that he drew his power.  He had more followers than any other deities on the planet, and as they are prone to do, the other gods were jealous of him.”  Karnash’s hands were moving up and down her legs beneath her skirt, marveling at the smoothness of them.  He had learned from her that no elves, surface or shadow, had to worry about body hair.  The only places it ever grew for them was on their heads and between their legs.  He wondered if he would ever have a chance to test that information on a different type of elf.  “After many thousands of years under his firm but fair leadership, the other gods began to plot.  D’L’Tal’Itz was far too powerful for them to simply attack and hope to defeat, so they instead worked up a plan to imprison him.”  She leaned into him, enjoying the feel of his calloused hands on her bare flesh.  “Many of today’s main stream gods teamed up against the lord of shadows.  Among them were your own Odin, Roma of the Pantheon of Justice and even Ra, the God of the Sun who considered D’L’Tal’Itz his greatest adversary for among all the lesser gods he was the closest to the level of power possessed by the lord of shadows.”

                “You make it sound as though Ra is evil.” Karnash said as he leaned in to nuzzle her neck, burying his face in her soft hair.  “Everything I have heard declares him to be good and just… standing against all things dark.”

                “That last part, at least, is true.  He can hardly be the Sun God if is not against the darkness.  But all gods paint false pictures of themselves in order to please their followers, for without worshippers they are nothing.”  She paused, shivering slightly as one of his hands moved up from her thighs to her flat stomach beneath the dress.  To her credit, she did not lose her train of thought.  “The most powerful of these secondary gods and goddesses plotted to overthrow D’L’Tal’Itz and he, secure in the knowledge that none could stand against him, did not see the betrayal coming.  Long had he lusted after Roma, and so he did not question his good fortune when she came to him, offering herself to him in supplication and as she kept him distracted the other gods cast their spells of sleep upon my lord.”

                “That seems rather underhanded for the goddess of truth.”  Karnash commented in between kisses along the length of Silke’s slender neck.

                “Indeed.” She said, sighing in delight and squirming slightly in his lap.  “The spells worked, for the lord of shadows was too distracted to work up any resistance to the magic.  They then imprisoned him within a dimension of pure light, where no shadow could exist and sealed that dimension with a great golden disc in the shape of a sun.  The Sun Seal, it is called and it is a lock of great magical power crafted by Ra himself to keep the lord of shadows from escaping.”

                Karnash leaned back slightly to look into her face, sudden understanding lighting his eyes.  “You believe this Sun Seal to be here in Trey’Elden?”

                She nodded, pulling face back to her neck as she leaned back.  “Ra entrusted the hiding of the Seal to Odin, who is also charged with its protection.  For many thousands of years we have searched the vast caverns beneath your mountains for signs of the Seal but to no avail.  Recently, some of our psychics have begun to receive signs that pointed us here and we started to put into effect plans we laid out long ago for the recovery and opening of that Seal.”

                “So who is it you are planning to sacrifice to make this happen?” he mumbled, his mouth now working its way along her cleavage, above her gowns low cut neckline.

                “One of the daughters of Zithuran.”  She said and her tone of voice, almost reverant, caused him to sit up and look into her face.  “You don’t know the name?”  He shook his head, though by her expression he thought perhaps he should have.  “I’m not surprised, there is little reason for you to.  Zithuran is perhaps the most celebrated mage in the history of Kyzanthia.  Anyone who has ever studied magic, no matter their race or origins, has at least heard his name.  Many of the commonly accepted spells of the day are credited to him.  It is said he either created them or he discovered them.”  She shook her head.  “Little is known about him personally, other than he was extremely powerful.  His daughters, and there are three of them, are also powerful.  They are mutants with an abnormally high amount of magical energy.  When a person is sacrificed, their magical energy is released into the atmosphere, the act of sacrificing them doubles that energy and it is then usable in magical rituals as the like.”

                “So one of these women, if sacrificed, should supply enough energy to… what, break the Seal?”  Karnash asked.

                Silke smiled, grateful that he grasped the significance of the sacrifice so quickly.  “Exactly.  They may not be the only ones with enough energy to accomplish this, but they are certainly the easiest to find and get hold of.”

                “And you arranged for one of the daughters of Zithuran to be kidnapped and brought here, is that right?”  Karnash asked.

                She nodded, watching his face, trying to judge his reaction.  Karnash was an evil man to his core, she had known that from the start, it was why she had chosen him to help her with this.  But there were parts of his personality that were still a mystery to her.  “You are a devious one, aren’t you?”  He smiled through his dark stubble at her.

                Silke Shadoe smiled back and nodded, then she twisted around and rose to straddle his hips in his late brothers personal throne.

                The Shorerunner cut through the current like a torpedo, its hull slicing through the waves of the Sea of Stars moving at an impressive fifteen knots.  Of course, a large part of the reason for this was that Magnus Jorvel was assisting with the winds, at the request of Ariana Moonstone, of course.  The lady herself stood at the bow, leaning against the railing, watching horizon and waiting for the time when the vast mountain peaks of Trey’Elden would come into view.  In truth, she was a little aggravated by the timing of this mission, for she would much rather have been going after the necromancer that had stolen her fathers body.  But she knew that her father, an honorable man if ever there had been one, would have thought that it was equally important to maintain friendships such as the one that he had established with Rolfe, the warlord of the Thunder Hammer clan.  So, here she was sailing toward the mountainous home of the barbarians, uncertain what awaited her there.  She had spoken at length with the children of Rolfe, gotten the whole story from them as they all knew it.  She knew now that a shadow elf had been involved in whatever underhanded treachery had gone on in their village, and that meant that there was likely a lot more to know than they had been aware of.  She, like most surface dwellers, knew practically nothing about the shadow elves, but what little interaction she had had with them always showed her that they worked covertly, there was always more of them than it appeared there was and they master manipulators and planners who plotted their deceits in multiple layers and cared little for who they might hurt, so long as they got what it was they wanted.

                ‘What could the Shadow Elves be after in the Trey’Elden mountains?’ she asked herself, and not for the first time.  There was nothing there that should have had any interest to the subterranean race, she had discussed that with Gar, who had agreed that it made little sense.  But since they knew so little about the people in question, it was difficult to say what they might have had an interest in.  Frowning, she turned and leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms beneath her full breasts and scanning the deck of the amazon ship with her emerald eyes.  There was Magnus, talking with Princess Shayla as he cast the occasional wind rush spell at the sails.  He was sufficiently powerful that he only had to do this every half and hour or so, as the previous spell would weaken.  She smiled slightly, she had noticed that the barbarian princess had taken an immediate liking to the mage and she hoped that her young friend, rather inexperienced in the ways of women, might pick up on it.  Her gaze traveled to the right and she scowled softly, shaking her head.  There sat Rachnid, her goblin spider priest, surrounded by a small crowd of women, no doubt preaching to them the word of Rachnos, his chosen deity.  Though he was one of the most powerful priests she had ever encountered, it was her experience that Rachnid was something of a pathological liar.  She oft wondered if he even knew himself that what he was spouting was just so much blather.  But for some reason, his odd ways seemed to appeal to many people and she had seen that he would gain many converts to his religion no matter where they went.  She was surprised to see these amazon women hanging upon his every word, for she had thought them all to be devoutly loyal to the Gods of Olympus.  Still, having spent so much time away from their home of Themys, perhaps their faith was becoming shaken and now here comes Rachnid, spouting the tenants of a strange god whose promises to his followers, Ariana had to admit, would likely turn the heads of a great many sailors.  Spiders were a bit of a problem on most sailing ships.  She remembered one merchantman landing in Peacehope that had resulted in an infestation of Red Widow spiders, native to Keyos but they seemed to flourish in Algeron.  The infestation spread quickly, and the Dragons had been away on a mission when it happened.  They returned in time to find the entire island in an uproar and Rachnid, in the space of a single night, had fixed the problem with a few well placed prayers to his deity.  Ariana smiled at the memory, her poor sister Talia had been petrified with terror and Bryant had refused to leave the apartment he rented until the spiders were dealt with.  Both of them were deathly afraid of spiders, she knew, and that had been a particularly bad timeframe for them.  She had never really understood what Rachnid had done with the spiders, she just knew that over a twenty-four hour period they had all gone away and not a single red widow had been seen on Algeron since.  Rachnid, or rather his sermons, had experienced a serious hike in popularity after that.

                Gar, she saw, was making himself useful to the crew of the ship by fixing tools and weapons for them.  One of the most accomplished smiths on the planet, the dwarf had volunteered his time to Captain Murkwood in an effort to distract himself from the voyage.  Gar had never been particularly comfortable at sea, and having something like this to focus on made the journey more bearable for him.  There were several amazon women gathered around the small ships forge at which the dwarf worked, trying to pick up pointers on how to keep wickedly sharp edges on their swords.  Ariana couldn’t blame them, it had been Gar that had taught Ariana and her sisters how to maintain their weapons, not that her primary weapon needed much work.  Vindicator had been her fathers sword, which passed to her following his death.  It was a zweihander, which translated as three and half hand sword. The weapons was as long as she was tall and she rarely carried it with her except if she knew that a fight was imminent.  Usually it rode in a saddle boot on her horse and when she wasn’t mounted she carried a claymore crafted for her by Gar.  Vindicator though was a magical sword that was eternally super sharp, weightless and indestructible.  It was also blood bonded, so that only Ariana, as the eldest Moonstone, could wield it.  If anyone else tried, they would find the sword so heavy as to be awkward and clumsy to wield.  She knew if she ever died, the sword would pass to Sasha, which worried her somewhat since her gypsy sister had never been much of a hand with swords.  In fact, the only other sister that might have a chance of wielding Vindicator was Krystel, who used large swords as well.  She had always intended to speak to Gar about whether the enchantment could be altered, but she had never done so.  It had been the ancient dwarf that had crafted the sword for her father, and it would be he that would know about the enchantment, but somehow she had just never found the time to ask him about it.  She had to laugh as she watched him work, noticing that the stalwart dwarven warrior was somewhat distracted by the sweating female bodies gathered around him.  For some reason it did her good to know that even Wolfgar Graybeard was not immune to the lust that plagued the minds of men.

                The sound of clashing steel drew her eye to the aft portion of the ship where, partially blocked from her view by the captains cabin and mess hall, the brothers Devlin and Kelvan were easing the tedium of the voyage by honing their swordplay, sparring amid a ring of interested amazons.  The two races, Ariana knew, had been at war for a few years now and it was probably a rare thing for there to be barbarians and amazons in such close proximity and not trying to kill each other.  Felicity Murkwood had long ago severed her ties to her amazon sisters, and so she didn’t bear the animosity to the tribesmen that most of her people did.  In fact, it was the treatment of her and her crew after they had unsuccessfully attempted to retrieve the queen of the amazons, who had been captured, that led to her estranging herself from her people.

                Finally, her gaze traveling farther to the right, Ariana saw her step-brother leaning against the railing, similar to her, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, watching the goings on aboard ship, though in his case he was mostly watching the amazon women.  Rellik Vashόn  was a tall, powerfully built man with long black hair who, she realized suddenly, bore a striking resemblance to her friend Strut.  As it happened, Rellik was a better looking man than Strut, though the barbarian didn’t have the attitude problem that Rellik did, nor did he have the addictions that had soured the young warrior toward the world.  Though Rellik was step-brother to her, Sasha and Aribeth, he was half-brother to Krystel and Talia as they shared the same mother.  But since there was no blood relation between him and the elder three Moonstone sisters, he had never been shy about letting his attraction to them show.  Something that had led to many uncomfortable encounters over the years as he attempted on more than one occasion to seduce one of the girls.  He had even, once, attempted to rape Ariana at a party they had both been attending, though on that occasion she had beaten him within an inch of his life and made it abundantly clear that the only reason she was allowing him to live was because she didn’t want to be the cause of her youngest sisters losing their brother.  There was actually some love between him, Krys and Talia and she wasn’t going to jeopardize that.  As if feeling her gaze upon him, his dark, almost black eyes shifted toward her and he smiled slightly.  He knew she was unhappy about having him along on this mission and he was doing his best to rub her face in it every chance he got.  The one upside to his having come along so far was when Felicity Murkwood had kicked him soundly in the groin after he had propositioned her for about the fourth time.  Thought of the captain of the Shorerunner drew Ariana’s eyes to her where she stood on the wheelhouse, calmly steering her ship.

                A movement nearer to the deck though directly beneath the pirates thigh high boots drew Ariana’s gaze back downward and she smiled a little to see her squire, Rylan Eaglehart, come staggering onto the deck.  He hadn’t acquired his sea legs and Ariana was beginning to wonder if he ever would!  Though he lacked the build of his father and older brother, he more resembled Galon than did either of his siblings, who both took after their mother.  Rylan had Galon’s dark brown hair and square jaw, his piercing brown eyes and his straight, somewhat broad nose.  Ariana had often thought that if young Rylan grew into his looks, he was destined to be a devastatingly handsome man, just as his father was.  Ariana, and she suspected her sisters as well, had long harbored a bit of a crush on her “uncle” Galon, and so she thought it fitting that Rylan showed all the signs of having one on her, though he thought he hid it well.  To Ariana though, who was pretty wise to the ways of men, he wore his desire for her on the sleeve of his tunic.

                “What brings you staggering up here Rylan?” she asked, trying to stifle a laugh as he stumbled to the left in answer to a wave that rocked the ship, a wave that Ariana suspected Felicity had steered into.  The captain had been having a lot of fun teasing her squire in every way she could find and the smirk on her beautiful face confirmed the paladin’s suspicions.

                Rylan looked concerned as he approached her, and that was enough to put Ariana on her guard.  Rylan wasn’t one to be overly concerned without due cause.  When he was close enough to speak to her without being overheard, he replied, “I was in your room, seeing to some laundry I had done when I witnessed a message come over your mirror.”  Ariana scowled softly, her delicately arched brows coming together.  She carried with her a magical mirror that was a means of staying in communication with certain people back in Peacehope.  All her sisters were supposed to carry them as well, though she knew that Talia and Krystel did not.  The Countess and Ishara also had such mirrors and had communicated with Ariana many times over them.

                “What message?”  She asked the young warrior to be. She wasn’t upset he had seen it, the mere fact that someone back home had felt the need to contact her out here in the middle of the ocean was cause for concern.

                “It was from your sister Beth.”  He said, leaning against the railing and pretending to look out at the horizon so that no one behind him would see his lips moving.  She turned and followed suit, letting her emerald gaze trail over the distant skyline.  “She said that Huntyr Shroude made an announcement yesterday stating that the Countess had been rescued and was safely back in Peacehope.”  Ariana’s eyes widened in delight at this news, then she frowned, not knowing why the young man might have felt it necessary to pass this information along to her in private.  There must have been more, and there was.  “Beth further stated that she tried to get in touch with your team in Errgaunt to confirm this, but she was unable to.”

                “Has the Countess been seen in Peacehope?”  Ariana asked seriously.

                Rylan nodded.  “According to your sisters message, she has.  But she also said something rather odd… that you and she would both understand that that didn’t necessarily mean that the Countess had returned.”

                Ariana frowned deeper and nodded.  She did indeed know what her sister might have been hinting at.  Though the Countess believed that Ariana was the only Moonstone aware of her twin, Ariana had long ago informed her sisters, believing that Daemonaya Wodan warranted watching.  Her sisters disappearance would be just the excuse she would feel she needed to suddenly surface, pretending to be Penelope and trying to wrest control of the city from her sister.  Leaning toward her squire, she said, “Tell Magnus I need to speak to him.”

                Rylan nodded and moved off across the deck, stumbling slightly as the ship rocked on the waves.  A few minutes later Magnus Jorvel appeared at her side.  “Rylan said you wanted to see me?”

                Ariana nodded.  “There’s been a development.  Something… odd may be taking place back home.”  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, knowing that anyone watching, namely Rellik, would think it suspicious that first Rylan and now Magnus were standing next to her with their backs to the deck.  It would be obvious they were carrying on a conversation of some sort.  “I need you to send a couple of magic messages, any spell you know will suffice as long as they get to their destinations quickly.”  He nodded his understanding.  “First, I need a message sent to Strut in Milligant asking for a progress report.  They might be in some trouble, though it’s too early to tell.  Secondly, send a message back to Peacehope, to Beth and ask her to respond in similar fashion to me directly.  That’s the only message for her, get in touch with me.”

                He nodded, turning from the railing.  “I’m on it.”

                “Magnus,” she said and he turned back to her, “don’t be overheard.”  She was still facing away from him, but she nodded toward where Rellik was standing. She didn’t have to look to know her step-brother was watching them.  She could even picture the frown on his face as he did so, trying to figure out what was going on.

                Magnus nodded and said softly, “I’ll mute my room before I send the messages.”  Then he was off toward the door that led below decks to the cabins they had been given.

                Rellik Vashόn watched as Magnus walked away from his sister, back toward the stairs that led below deck.  ‘What in the Hells was that all about?’  He wondered idly, then shrugged, dismissing it.  He knew that she wasn’t happy about his being along, and frankly he enjoyed that a bit, but he wasn’t going to begrudge her her little secret conversations with her people.  Turning away from the redheaded warrior woman he let his gaze linger for a moment on the sexy captain of the Shorerunner tending the wheel on top of her cabin, in the wheelhouse, then he looked toward the back of the ship, where the barbarian princes were sparring.  He watched them for awhile, acknowledging that they were pretty good but thinking smugly that he was better.  He could see by the looks on the faces of the amazons gathered around them that the women were rather impressed as well, especially with the elder brother, Devlin.  When he had disarmed his brother with skillful twist of his wrist and then swept the younger mans feet out from under him, the women applauded and Devlin smiled around at them.  Kelvan had apparently had enough at that point, because he got angrily to his feet and stomped away, toward Rellik.   The warrior saw him coming and noticed that his brother frowned after him but did nothing to pursue the younger prince.

                “Difficult living in the shadow of an older sibling, isn’t it?”  Rellik said as the youth came within earshot.  Kelvan paused and frowned at him, not understanding.  “The older ones are usually better at everything, more experienced… it’s really aggravating.”  He glanced meaningfully at Ariana, who was only a year older than he, but her reputation far eclipsed his own and that was somewhat galling to the guardsman.

                Kelvan glanced over his shoulder at where Devlin was now flirting shamelessly with several amazon women, his former instinctive distrust of them apparently forgotten.  “He doesn’t overshadow me,” the young warrior shrugged, “in fact I’d say it’s just the opposite.  Our own people chose me to lead them over him… I know that can’t be an easy thing for him to stand, but he makes no mention of it to me.”

                “Except, perhaps, that his practice blows hurt a little more?”  Rellik asked with a smile, eyeing the cuts and scrapes evident from Kelvans recent sparring session.

                The prince shrugged.  “My brother is a very talented warrior, that is no secret.  He lacks in more… subtle skills however, and that, I think, is why our people decided I would be the better leader.  Devlin is more a doer than he is a thinker.”

                “What about your sister?”  Rellik asked, glancing over the young mans shoulder.  The lady in question was moving toward them now, having realized that Magnus wasn’t going to be returning to her side for a while.  Rellik found the young barbarian princess almost as alluring as his step-sister or the Shorerunners’ captain.

                Kelvan smiled slightly at that.  “Shayla would make a better ruler than either me or Devlin, were she allowed to lead.  But the laws of our people forbid it.”

                “That’s very kind of you to say little brother.”  Shayla said, stepping up to his side.  She offered Rellik a cordial smile, ever the diplomat of the siblings, but Rellik could see the coldness in her gaze.  She wanted nothing to do with him if she could avoid it.

                Kelvan slipped a hand about his sisters waist and pulled her in for a one armed hug.  “It’s nothing Devlin and I haven’t always known.”  The younger brother turned to Rellik and grinned, “What neither of us is likely to admit however is that she could likely kick both of our asses with a sword too!”

                Shayla laughed outright at that.  “You maybe, but Devlin is among the best warriors our tribe has ever known.  If we hadn’t already had a champion when he came of age, father may well have declared him to be.”

                “Don’t sell yourself short prince.”  Rellik admonished.  “You have some skill with a blade.”

                Kelvan nodded, humbly accepting that compliment.  “I’m nothing compared with my older siblings though.”

                “You only lack experience and, if I may say so, confidence.”  Rellik said and caught the surprised and somewhat stunned look that crossed Shayla’s face when he said it.  From what she had seen of him, and heard from Ariana, she hadn’t expected him to be so lavish with the praise.  “Also, you may want to think more about your moves.  From what I saw, you’re an instinctive fighter, and that’s all to the good, but there comes a time what a fighter has to learn to think in tandem with his instincts.”

                “Well said.”  Shayla commented, impressed in spite of herself.

                What Rellik would never have admitted to either of them was that those words had been spoken to him by his step-father, Donovan Moonstone, whom he had despised.  But the man had attempted to improve on Rellik’s swordplay and that was one of the lessons that he remembered.  “Your sword is not your only weapon, after all.”

                “I’m not sure I follow you.”  Kelvan said with a frown.

                “Well, take the way that little sparring session with your brother ended.”  Rellik said with a nod toward the elder prince, who was still trying to sweet talk his way into an amazon bed.  “With you flat on your back staring up at the sky.”

                “He kicked my feet out from under me.”  Kelvan commented.

                Rellik nodded.  “Exactly!  Devlin has learned that in a fight, bare hands and feet can be as valuable an asset as your blade.  He uses them together to achieve victory, as do any of us who have enough experience on the battle field.”

                Shayla smiled appreciatively at the guardsman’s words and Rellik thought he may have slightly improved his chances with her.  “He’s right little brother.  Kellinor,” she glanced at Rellik, “our tribes champion,” he nodded his understanding, “was every bit as dangerous without a blade as he was with one!”

                Kelvan glanced down at where his sword was sheathed on his hip, then further down at his booted feet.  “I’m not quite certain how the two could work together though.”  He admitted.

                “Perhaps I can show you.”  Rellik offered, not quite certain why he had suddenly decided to take an interest in teaching the young prince anything.  He satisfied himself with thinking that he merely wanted to score points with the hot sister.  When Kelvan nodded eagerly Rellik motioned for him to back up and drew his broadsword from his hip.  Shayla watched, a bemused expression on her face as her little brother drew forth his bastard sword and squared off against the other man, who was about the same size as Kelvan, if a decade older.  “Come ahead.”  Rellik waved him forward with his sword and Kelvan gave a little shout as he lunged in, sword swinging in an overhand chop.  Rellik danced to one side, raising his sword to parry the strike and then twisting, deflecting the swing downward so that Kelvan’s sword tip grazed the deck.  Shayla glanced toward her brother and saw that Devlin had been distracted by Kelvan’s shout and was now watching with interest.  Rellik moved in a step, bringing his leading foot down on the flat of Kelvan’s blade, then turning his shoulder into the younger warrior and staggering him back.  The young barbarian found himself weaponless as he staggered backward, the blade of his sword wedged into the boards of the deck under Rellik’s foot.  The young man looked at the guardsman wide eyed and Rellik had to laugh slightly.  This was the first time he had ever tried to teach someone fighting tactics and he found that he was rather enjoying it, much to his own surprise.

                Stepping off the younger mans sword he hooked his blade under the crosspiece and used it to toss the barbarian’s weapon back to him.  “Now, come at me again, this time from the side.”  Rellik instructed.  Kelvan did so, lunging in swiftly and swiping at Rellik from the side with his sword.  Rellik stepped into the swing, blade moving down and out to keep the others blade at bay, then he twisted on his right foot, snaking his left leg behind the barbarian’s and turned his shoulder into the man.  Kelvan cried out as he went down on his back, though this time he managed to retain his grip on his sword.  Not that it did him any good, for Rellik’s foot was once again holding it pinned to the ground and now the point of the soldiers sword was resting lightly against Kelvan’s throat.  “I believe it was something like that that your brother did to you earlier?”  Kelvan nodded carefully, not wanting to get cut by the blade at his throat.  Rellik moved it aside and extended a hand to the younger man, which the prince took and allowed the soldier to help him to his feet.  “So do you understand what I meant?  In battle, what you hold in your hand is not your only weapon.  Your entire body should be used against your opponent.  You should work on that, in particular those two moves I just showed you.  I can almost guarantee that the next time you spar with your brother, the outcome would be different.”

                Rellik sheathed his sword again as he turned and exchanged a glance with Shayla, the look in her eyes said that she thought perhaps she had misjudged him and she smiled slightly, her full lips spreading across her pretty face.  He smirked, turning away and moving toward the entrance to the mess hall, the smells coming from it telling him that supper must be nearly ready.

                Days passed and Ariana didn’t get responses from either of the messages that Magnus had sent on her behalf.  “Do you want me to resend them?”  the mage asked her three days after they originally sent the messages.

                Ariana frowned thoughtfully.  “No.  If they had gotten the messages before they would have responded.  The fact that they didn’t means they either couldn’t or they didn’t get the messages.  Sending them again might cause them trouble and we don’t want to do that.  We simply need to finish with what we’re doing here in the mountains and then go to Errgaunt and check on Strut, Tasha and Bryant.  After that, we’ll see what’s going on in Peacehope… whatever is happening, something certainly doesn’t feel right.”

                Later that same day they came in sight of the Trey’Elden shoreline and Ariana’s party all gathered at the bow of the ship to gaze toward land.  “How long till we get there?”  Devlin asked Felicity as she moved up to the railing with them.

                “Three hours, maybe four.”  She told him, her eyes narrowing as she sighted another ship in the distance, moving toward them, away from the mainland.  “What is he doing here?”

                “Who?”  Ariana asked, her gaze moving to take in the ship as well.

                “That’s the Plunderer, Ruddy Blaine’s ship.”  Ariana’s eyes widened.  She had heard of the Plunderer, it was one of the most hunted pirate vessels in the world.  Unaffiliated with any kingdom, including the Pirate Confederacy, Blaine and his crew sailed all the seas of the world and prayed on all ships equally. 

                “Are we in danger from them?”  Ariana asked, uncertain of the status between Blaine and Murkwood.

                “Possibly, though Ruddy and I have never been enemies.  We’ll keep our distance, monitor them and see what they do.”  She said with an edge to her voice.

                Ariana turned to her people and motioned for them to scatter across the deck and they did so.  Then she moved to lean against the main mast, about mid ship and watched, her tension mounting as the Plunderer made an obvious course correction to bring it near to the Shorerunner.  “Steady ladies.”  Felicity said, just loud enough for her Amazonian crew to hear her.  “Let’s not make him suspicious by adjusting our course away from him.  Might be he just wants to flirt… Ruddy Blaine always wants to flirt.” 

                Ariana narrowed her eyes as the two corsairs came within shouting distance of one another.  On the other vessel she could plainly see a human standing with one leg perched on the lower bar of his railing, one hand resting on his cutlass while the other was raised in greeting.  Felicity Murkwood returned the wave.  “Ahoy Shorerunner!”  Called the bald, patch wearing pirate captain of Plunderer.

                “Ahoy yourself you scalawag!”  Felicity called with a coy smile.  “Didn’t expect to encounter the Plunderer in these waters!”

                Ruddy Blaine shrugged and Arianas’ gaze traveled the length of the deck behind him, noting that the men on the Plunderer were going about their business as usual.  Nothing seemed amiss, just two acquaintances exchanging greetings… right.  “Just dropping off some… cargo in Morlanta.”  He said, nodding toward the small coastal community now in view of the ship.