Darkness Rising, Pages 101-150

                But she knew it wasn’t likely she would ever be able to go back there, not in the open anyway.  She was still wanted for a murder she hadn’t committed, and though she was perfectly safe here in Peacehope, protected by her status as a Dragon, anywhere else in the world she was a wanted fugitive.  She was grateful to the Moonstones and Countess Shroude for arranging it all for her and if the Countess were in trouble now it was the least she could do to help.

                The apartment she kept was in a building that was owned by Ariana Moonstone, though ostensibly it was used by the Dragons to house its members.  At the moment, she was the only one of them that lived here, so she pretty had the run of the building and rather liked it that way.  Occasionally Ariana would assign a visitor to stay there, or a prospective Dragon and Tasha would be required to play hostess, but it was a role she was comfortable with and didn’t actually have to do very often.  Letting herself in the front of the building, which had one been a rather upscale inn, she took the stairs at a slight jog to the third floor, where the nicer suites were located.  The first one on the left was hers and she let herself in, crossing to the chest that sat locked in a corner of the room.  Speaking the magical command word that unlocked the chest she raised the lid and started to withdraw certain things from inside, saying a silent thank you as she did so to Gideon Tyrell, the former Dragons mage who had made the chest for her.  Not only was the magically unpickable lock his doing, but he had also modified the interior to be a lot more spacious than the outside would indicate.  From within she pulled her leathers, which she always wore while on the road, either on a mission with the Dragons or the occasional solo job that might come up.  Also she pulled from within an exquisitely crafted long sword, called Elven Grace, that had belonged to her late husband Calistone.  He had used it himself when he was an adventurer and she now carried it in his honor.  A belt carrying a small quiver full of arrows and her weapon of choice, the long bow, were the last things she pulled out.

                Taking the items to the bed she laid them out then quickly stripped from the gown she had been wearing to the party.  Hanging it in the armoire that had been augmented for her similar to the chest, she turned away from it and headed back to the bed, padding barefoot and nude.  She paused by the full length mirror, examining her reflection critically.  Not a vane woman by habit, Tasha nevertheless appreciated how she looked and on occasion how men reacted to how she looked.  Her lifestyle as an adventurer made it unnecessary to really engage in regular exercise, keeping her nubile form firm where it counted and soft where necessary.  She knew she was considered beautiful by the standards of most races, though sometimes she had a hard time seeing that in herself.  But occasionally, like today, after spending a few hours in the company of women like the Moonstone sisters and that Blaze person, she appreciated her beauty, for she knew that she was every bit their equal.

                Finishing her journey to the bed she pulled on the skin tight black leather leggings, smoothing them down over her sleek hips and thighs, then she pulled on her forest green, short sleeved tunic, the front rather daringly low cut.  Over that she pulled on the brown, hard leather corset style vest that she cinched up the front, its neckline matching the tunic underneath.  To the shoulders of the corset she strapped her pauldrons, leather shoulder guards that she had learned by hard experience came in handy during a battle.  Finally her boots, which she laced up and folded down just above her knees and her archers gloves, which came up to her elbows.  The last thing she strapped on was the belt, to which her sword and quiver were attached, the former on her left hip the latter on her right.  She used to carry her quiver on her back, till the day a particularly strong ogren had flung her hard against a wall, breaking every arrow in her quiver.  If it hadn’t been for Strut, that encounter would have ended rather badly for her she recalled.  Ever since she had carried her quiver on her shapely hip, opposite Elven Grace.  Picking up her long bow she headed toward the door of her room, pausing with her hand on the knob to glance over at the still open chest.  Speaking another word of power she smiled slightly as its top swung closed and latched, then the elf made her way back outside and took a right, heading down the road toward the stable where she kept her horse.

                When she arrived at the stable she wasn’t surprised to find Strut already there, clad in his plate and chain armor with his battle axes crossed on his back, their harnesses making them hang so that the handles protruded over his broad shoulders.  As she approached the barbarian she smiled, remembering fondly some of the exploits she and her friend had had over the years.  They had been traveling together before the Dragons recruited them, they had even been lovers briefly, resulting in a miscarried baby for Tasha.  She was happy to say that they were still friends, but she often wondered whether the barbarian harbored any feelings toward her.  Still, if he did, she doubted he’d act upon them knowing that his best friend was also falling for her.  She wasn’t certain as yet how she felt about that, Falcon was a good man but he was a recovering alcoholic and had his share of demons.  He was attractive enough, to be sure, but she didn’t know if she was ready for a relationship of that caliber.  Of course, it didn’t matter because she was certain that Falcon wondered the same thing about Strut that she did, and if he thought there was a chance that his friend still had feelings for her, he would never make a move either.  She sighed as she came up beside the warrior, thinking that it was a good thing she wasn’t looking for a relationship with either of them at the moment, because if she was she would have to be the one to make that move, not that she was against that idea.

                “Saddled your mount for you.” He grunted, nodding toward her horse, a beautiful chestnut she had named Ragnor, for her father, whom she missed dearly.

                “Thank you kind sir.”  She quipped with a warm smile, seeing his eyes flicker to her face briefly.  He didn’t show emotion much when there was work to be done, but she knew him well enough to know that he didn’t miss those things.  He had told her once, in a more tender moment, that her smiles were probably her best asset.  Of course, he had been playing with her breasts at the time….

                Stepping into the saddle she turned and watched him finish adjusting his girth, then he too mounted up and they kicked their horses into a canter, heading toward the cities west gate.  It was a fairly short ride from where the Dragons kept their mounts, which was why they used it most often when leaving the city, but this time it also happened to be the gate through which the Countess and her entourage had left.  They passed through the gate, Tasha aware of the eyes of Falcone’s guardsmen on her as she went.  They were bound to uphold the Countess’s laws, and she had declared that Tasha’s crimes were nullified here, but she also knew that each of them was aware of the price on her head and would take any opportunity to cash in.  Most of them were as corrupt as their leader, Major Falcone, and that was why the Dragons tended to rely more upon Galon Eagleharts militia when they needed military support.  She ignored the guards, as she always did, and followed Strut out the gate.

                Her seafoam green eyes swept the crowded trade street as they exited the city, looking for the tall ranger, and she found him off to one side, crouched down and speaking softly into the ear of one of the largest wolves she had ever seen.  Of course, she was familiar with the animal, having traveled with him and Falcon for the last few years.  It’s name was Fang and it had been the rangers friend, companion and partner for a long time.  A Dire Wolf, it had a sleek black coat except for its face and paws, all of which were dark gray.  Fang woofed happily when it saw Tasha and Strut approaching, leading to the ranger turning toward them.  If he was surprised to see Tasha he didn’t show it, he merely nodded and then turned back to Fang. 

                “I was just explaining to Fang what we need to do today.  He’s been getting a little antsy on the preserve, so he’s eager to help.”  Tasha knew that Falcon lived on a wildlife preserve of his own founding out here in the wilderness to the west of the city.  Fang roamed freely among the trees, hunting game and scaring the dickens out of the guards that patrolled the wilds.  Of course, for the last six years or so Fang hadn’t been alone.  Smiling slightly, Tasha raise a hand and slipped two fingers between her full lips, blowing out a shrill, keening whistle.  Lowering her hand she waited two heartbeats before a familiar answering roar came from the woods.  She smiled, her eyes dancing as she waited for her friend to appear, noticing that Falcon was also watching the woods.  Though he had a canine partner of his own, Falcon was raised by Druids and had a love for all things of nature, but when her Dire Panther, Onyx sprang into view his eyes lit up like they seldom did, except possibly for Fang… or her.  Tasha slipped from her saddle to the ground and threw her arms around the great cats neck as it sidled up to her, purring loud enough to rattle her against her chest.

                “It’s good to see you too.”  Tasha said.  She didn’t have the rangers ability of actually speaking to and understanding animals, but she had known Onyx long enough to understand what she wanted without the need for that type of communication.  Tasha had rescued the magnificent cat from an animal trader in the goblin swamps of Blackguard almost six years previously, not long after she had first met Strut.  The cat had been magically augmented to make her more fierce in the arena, with silver lining her claws and teeth as well as a few other abilities that even Tasha didn’t fully understand.  The trainer that had been responsible for Onyx, a fierce ogren warrior named Pheryl’Tas, had actually wound up helping her to rescue the cat, though it had turned out later that he had only done so in the hopes of eventually getting into Tasha’s bed.  When he had tried to force the matter, Onyx had stepped in on her behalf, though the ogren had known all the command words to back her down.  It had given the elf enough time to make good her escape though, and that had cemented her friendship to the cat forever in her own mind.  Pheryl had proven a bit of a thorn in her side several times since then, seeming obsessed with having the elven archer for himself.  So far, thank the Gods, he had not succeeded in his self appointed quest, but she was always alert, waiting for him to make another appearance.

                Falcon watched elf and feline for a moment, as did Strut, then the ranger said, “We ready to do this thing?”  Tasha stood straight and nodded at him, idly scratching the cat behind the ears.

                “I could track the carriage myself if I needed to,” Falcon said, and the others knew it was no boast, it was simple fact, “but it will be faster if we let Fang do it.  We’ll follow him on horseback.”  With that he stepped up into the saddle of a large gray mare she had seen him used before and barked something at Fang that sounded for all the world like an actual dogs bark.  The wolf turned and bounded off up the trade road, Onyx giving a little growl as she took off in pursuit.  The three Dragons exchanged glances, wondering what surprises awaited them, then took off in pursuit of the animals.

                In a matter of minutes the trio and their animal companions had left the bustle of the city gate behind them, though not before a lot of startled exclamations about a dire wolf and panther were flung into the air.  Though the Dragons had been around a while, people were still getting used to this newest incarnation, so the fact that two of the members kept dire beasts as partners hadn’t spread so wide as yet. 

                Kestrel led the way, following the distant black shadow that was both Fang and Onyx, the cat merely following in the wolf’s wake though it was more than capable of overtaking the canine.  It’s tracking abilities weren’t nearly so developed as the wolf’s, so Onyx let the other animal take the lead.  Behind the ranger came Tasha and Strut brought up the rear, all three of them bent low over their mounts necks as they charged down the road.  As only horse and rider, they were able to cover ground much faster than the Countess’s entourage had done, but even still it was past nightfall when Falcon brought them to a halt, frowning down at where Fang was sniffing around the edges of the road. 

                “What is it boy?” he asked, his blue eyes sweeping the area.  Tasha was about to dismount, but the ranger held up a hand and shook his head.  “No, don’t contaminate it, give me a minutes.”  She settled back into her saddle, exchanging a glance with Strut who only nodded.  They had both seen the ranger work in the past and knew that he was methodical, but they wondered why he hadn’t dismounted to read the sign yet.  As if reading their minds, he said in a distant kind of voice, “Before I can actually track the Countess’s carriage, I have to be able to discern the tracks of her and her escort.”  His eyes narrowed and he nodded slightly, “There they are.”  He said this so softly that only Tasha’s keen elven hearing picked it up.  Now the ranger dismounted, crouching on the road and Fang came over to sniff the ground at his feet.  Falcon nodded, patting the canine on the side.  “Well done.”  The wolf wagged its tail, then went and sat on the side of the road and watched its friends work just as the human and elf were doing.

                Falcon stood up and started to move around the stretch of road, a scowl etched on his ruggedly handsome face.  Finally he started to speak again, “The carriage stopped here at the side of the road,” he pointed a section of road where the shoulder sloped down into a gentle, grassy hill, stretching toward the side of the Starlight river a short distance away, “the driver dismounted and crouched down here,” he pointed again, “probably checking on one of the horses legs.”  A moment later he crouched down and squinted at some different sign.  “He collapsed,” then he started moving around an area just big enough to have encompassed the carriage, “but first the Countess and another woman got out of the wagon and someone, likely Avalon, escorted one of them toward the river.” 

                Tasha frowned.  “Another woman?”

                Falcon nodded, “Fang smelled two elven women here, similar scents, probably siblings.”

                Strut spoke up then, “That might explain why Ishara wasn’t at the temple when they brought Ariana in, she had gone with her sister to Valor.”

                Tasha nodded, “That would make sense.  The Duchess might have wanted her to perform the funeral ceremony.  Only they never made it to Valor, did they?”  She directed that last question at Falcon.

                The ranger shook his head.  “Shortly after the knight and whichever woman walked away,” he frowned, “the other guards collapsed just like the driver.”  Falcon moved over and crouched again, “Then one of the women collapsed here.”

                “If Avalon took one of them toward the river, then maybe….”  Strut trailed off as Falcon started that way.  A few yards from the rivers edge he crouched and shook his head.

                “They both fell right here!”  he called, pointing a section of the tall grass where it was still slightly compressed.

                “Then where are all the guards, Avalon, the elves and the carriage?”  Tasha called back.

                Falcon moved back to the road.  “Whoever took them was careful, I only see one set of footprints that don’t belong to the others here.  That might mean that there was only one attacker, but for a security group of four plus a knight, that seems unlikely.”  Strut wasn’t too sure about that, but kept quiet.  “Still, that one dragged all the downed guards as well as the women and Avalon into the carriage, then drove it away up the road on his own.”

                “He wouldn’t have gone far,” Strut said, “he’d be too afraid that that carriage might be recognized.  People would question why the Countess was out without a guard.”

                “Especially when they saw all the empty saddles where the guard should be.”  Tasha agreed.

                Falcon only nodded and started off up the road at a trot.  Strut grabbed the reins of his horse then nodded for Tasha to follow the ranger.  She did, careful to keep well behind him so that she didn’t distract him from his work.  Strut followed behind her, leading the rangers horse.  It was less than a quarter mile when Falcon stopped and gazed into the woods to the side of the road.  “They went off the road here.”  He said, moving away from the cobbled street himself and into the knee high grass.  He glanced up at the trees he was passing and nodded to himself a few times, though when Tasha and Strut glanced up all they saw were branches and leaves.  Finally the ranger led them to a small clearing where the Countess’s carriage sat, looking especially abandoned.    Tasha made to dismount again, but this time it was Strut that stopped her.

                “Wait.”  He said softly, his eyes on Falcon.  The ranger had crouched at the edge of the clearing and was speaking in a low voice to Fang, then he turned and did the same with Onyx.  The dire beasts turned and faded into the dark woods that bordered the clearing and Falcon stayed where he was, crouched down.

                After a moment he turned toward the other two, “Climb down,” he said softly, “and stay low.  I’ve got Fang and Onyx scouting for an ambush.  I’d rather not be hasty and stumble into one unawares.”  Strut nodded, thinking it a prudent precaution but Tasha was anxious to get to the carriage.  Someone could be hurt and need of help, and of the three of them she was the most qualified to offer aid.  When at last the animals returned Falcon spoke briefly to them both then turned and nodded at Strut and Tasha.  Even though the animals had seen nothing, the trio still approached the carriage cautiously, Strut with axes in hand, Falcon gripping his quarterstaff and Tasha with an arrow notched to her bowstring.  They had expected someone to jump out at them, so when nothing happened it had the opposite effect of letting them relax.  Rather it made all the more tense, wondering what would happen and knowing that something would. 

                Strut was the first to reach the carriage and opened the side door, again moving cautiously, remembering what had happened to Ariana earlier when she and her sisters had opened their fathers tomb.  There was a chance that this event was related to that one, though he didn’t know how great the odds were of that.  The sight that greeted their eyes when they opened the door made Tasha take a reflexive step backward and Falcon and Strut go a shade paler.  The bodies of the four guards were piled on the floor of the carriage, between the seats.  Their eyes were open and staring, but no one had to check for a pulse to know they were dead.

                The ranger stepped forward and examined the bodies, scowling slightly. “These men were fully armored yet there doesn’t appear to be a mark on them.”  He reached out and turned one guards head, then nodded.  “There, a puncture wound in the neck, the only place that wasn’t protected.”

                Strut stepped up and looked at the spot too.  Neither man had to look to know they would find a similar mark on the other guards.  “This was professionally done.”  Strut said angrily.

                Falcon turned to the barbarian.  “Didn’t Galon say that the Duke was killed by an assassin?  Something about an angry husband having hired the hitman?”

                “That’s right.”

                Falcon glanced back at the dead guards.  “What if that was a ruse?  What if the assassin killed the Duke in order to draw the Countess out?  What if she was the real target?”

                “Or her sister.”  Strut commented, “It makes sense in light of what we see here.”

                “Boys!”  Tasha called suddenly and they turned swiftly, weapons coming up but relaxed when they saw her crouched in some taller grass next to where Onyx had apparently led her.  “It’s Avalon!  He’s alive!”

                Strut and Falcon rushed to her side and looked down at the prostrate and very pale body of Avalon Charm.  The elf had the two fingers of her left hand not covered by her gloves pressed to the side of his neck.  “There’s a pulse, but it’s faint.  I don’t think he’ll last too much longer.”

                “He needs healing.”  Falcon said, then looked up at Strut.  “I have to keep tracking the kidnapper, neither the Countess nor her sister are here.”

                Tasha was looking up at the bulkier warrior as well, “I could never lift him and hold him in a saddle.”  She said and Strut sighed, realizing that his greater strength was going to work against him here. 

                “All right, I’ll take him back to the city and report on what we’ve found so far.  You too carry on without me.”  He stooped and hefted the knight on his shoulder. 

                Tasha said, “Use my horse for him, I think we’ll be proceeding on foot?”  She looked at Falcon for confirmation and the ranger nodded.

                “All right.  I’ll leave yours on the road Falcon, you two can ride double on the way back.”  With that Strut turned and carried the knight quickly back to the horses. 

                Falcon and Tasha didn’t wait for him to leave, instead the elf turned to the ranger.  “Do you think you can track the kidnapper?”

                Falcon nodded.  “He left here with two women, heading deeper into the wilderness.”  He pointed to the west, “He’s heading back toward Valor, but his route is going to bring him out just to the north of the city.”  The ranger moved toward a sparse patch of dirt in the clearing, “He’s carrying one of the women, and looks like he has the other one awake and walking.”

                Tasha frowned.  “Why would he do that?  Why not keep them both unconscious and use one of the guards horses to carry them?”  She motioned toward the carriage, where all the horses that had carried the guards and Avalon as well as the team that pulled the carriage were still visible, grazing idly. 

                “The horse would have slowed him down.  This way he can assure the cooperation of one sister by threatening the life of the other.  I’d daresay it’s the countess that he’s keeping awake since she would be the less dangerous.  Priests don’t have much in the way of offensive magic, but they do have it.  I think he would find that a bigger threat than Shroudes symbols and wards.”  Falcon explained.

                “What’s next for us?”  Tasha asked him.

                Falcon glanced at her, his expression grim.  “We try and catch up to him before he get’s clear of the forest.”

                “Why?  What’s so important?”  She asked.

                Falcon glanced in the direction the kidnapper and assassin had gone.  “What lies just to the north of Valor, about a half mile from the cities wall?”  Tasha shook her head, having not traveled much of the island yet in the six years she had lived there.  “The zeppelin tower.  He’s planning on taking them over seas.”  Tasha’s eyes widened as she realized the truth of his words, then without another spoken between them they took off at a run through the wilderness, wolf and panther loping comfortably along beside them.

                Despite her current predicament, Penelope’s primary concern was for Sir Avalon.  She knew that this assassin, who she had convinced herself was the same man that had killed Duke Rethbourne, had left her knightly escort for dead.  When Avalon had awakened in the carriage while the assassin drove them off the road she had thought for a time that it meant salvation.  She and Ishara had already woken up by that point, the assassin having apparently used something else for them than he had for the guards.  Penny hadn’t realized until that point that the knight had gotten something else as well, or else he had gotten less of a dose than the other guards, all of whom she knew were dead.

                Avalon had come to and done the very best he could to get them away from their captor, but she thought that the drug must have still been affecting him, that and he was unarmed.  The assassin had made quick work of the man, hitting him with another dose of the poison as the knight had flung himself at the rogue when he opened the door.  The struggle had been brief and when it was done the assassin had still been standing.  He had told the sisters that one of them was going back under, then he hit Ishara with another of those darts. She had slumped into the assassin’s arms and he had told the Countess in no uncertain terms that if she tried anything, her sister was as good as dead.  He had then hauled the blonde elf over his shoulder and dragged her out of the carriage, forcing her to follow in his wake as he headed west through the trees.

                Penelope was no ranger to be sure, but she was fairly confident they were heading toward Valor, though she couldn’t for the life of her think why.  She had tried several times to ask their captor, but he maintained a stony silence throughout, though he was oddly polite when he would take the occasional break to let her get something to drink from a canteen he carried.  He never ogled her, she noted, nor was he rude the few times he spoke to her.  But neither was he lenient of course, this man was cold blooded killer and his eyes seemed bereft of any emotion she could see, which left her feeling cold and alone.  Still, she also knew that it wouldn’t be long before someone was after her, since Tyffani would have been expecting her at a certain time.  When she didn’t arrive she knew her friend well enough to know that Tyff would check with Peacehope and then Ariana, beyond any doubt, would assemble the Dragons and be on her trail.  The question was, would it happen soon enough to save her from whatever was about to happen?  There was absolutely no way she was going to risk her sisters safety, so she did everything she was told to by her captor.

                She wasn’t certain how long they had been marching through the woods, but she knew it had had to be several hours when suddenly they came out of the trees and she squinted up at a massive stone and wood structure that towered hundreds of feet into the sky.  It was long since dark by now, but she knew it instantly.  The zeppelin tower that had built outside Valor, one of the few political victories Duke Rethbourne had won against her.  She had wanted to have the company responsible for the zeppelin technology to build this tower near Peacehope, but the Duke had done something to assure it would be constructed here.  To this day, Penelope didn’t know what he had done and Tyffani either didn’t know or wasn’t telling her.  Either way, the fact that they had come out of the woods almost at the base of the tower was enough to tell her exactly what the rogue had in mind.  She was in for a long journey it would seem.

                The assassin’s hand moved to the hilt of his katana as another shadow detached itself from the base of the tower and moved toward them.  He relaxed visibly when he seemed to recognize the man, but she noted that he still gripped his weapons handle cautiously.  “It’s about time!”  The newcomer groused irritably.  “If you hadn’t arrived soon the captain was going to take off!  Even your bribe wasn’t going to keep him waiting for long!”

                “I’m here now, and ready to leave.”  The assassin said softly, his voice sending a chill down Penny’s spine as it had every time she’d heard it since being taken.

                The man from the tower, tall and painfully thin with a long, pockmarked face and watery eyes ran his gaze curiously over both women, lingering for a time on the Countess’s more obvious charms.  They were harder to see on Ishara with the priestess draped over the assassin’s shoulder as she was.  “This your cargo then?”

                “Our deal was no questions.”  The assassin growled.

                The man seemed to pale slightly under the tone.  He nodded, raising his hands submissively. “You’re absolutely right.  I forgot myself.  Was there any trouble?”

                Shadow Stalker turned and looked at the Countess, then back at the man, “No, but they’re both important enough that someone will come looking, and possibly soon, depending how good they are.”

                “You need me to have someone slow them down?”  The man asked, grinning wickedly, his yellow teeth showing.

                The assassin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “How much would such an adjustment to our deal cost me?”

                The man shook his head.  “Minimal, there’s always boys around here looking to earn a few silvers and they care particularly who they rough up to get them!”  The watery eyed man let his gaze linger again on the Countess, “Maybe you just let me spend a few hours alone with the brunette during the voyage and we can call it good!”

                It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, for one second the man was standing there grinning lecherously at the countess and the next he was on his back, the assassins blade at his throat.  Penny hadn’t even seen the man move, but it was so sudden she had gasped in surprise.  Her sister hadn’t even shift on his shoulder, so fluidly had he taken the other man down.  “Get that out of your head now, it won’t happen.  Understood?”

                “Yessir!”  The man squeaked fearfully.

                Shadow Stalker removed his blade but didn’t offer to help the other man up.  “Hire your men to slow any pursuit, add the cost to what I owe you.  If they are successful, perhaps I’ll throw in a bonus.”  The assassin motioned for Penny to follow him as he headed toward the tower.  Over his shoulder he called, “How soon is the captain ready to fly?”

                The zeppelin crewmen, as Penelope now knew him to be, was picking himself up off the floor as he answered, “Now that you’re here, two hours to prep.  Gotta get the balloon filled up all the way, takes time.”  The assassin said nothing, just nodding as he took his prisoners into the door concealed in shadow at the base of the tower.

                Because neither of them was carrying one woman and dragging another along behind, Falcon and Tasha made pretty good time as they sprinted through the forest toward Valor.  The ranger was faster then her, but even he had to slow down through the thicker parts of the wilderness, allowing her to keep pace with him fairly well.  As it happened, they arrived at the zeppelin tower outside Valor just as the massive propeller that maneuvered the craft was starting to spin. 

                “It’s leaving!  We’ve got to get up there!”  Falcon said tensely and the two of them started sprinting across the clearing toward the base of the tower.  They had maybe three minutes before the massive vessel would start moving, then it was a matter of seconds before it would be too far away to get to.

                As they sprinted toward the tower, however, they both saw the six men detach themselves from the shadows and move to intercept.  “A welcoming committee.”  Tasha said grimly, drawing an arrow from her quiver and dropping to one knee while shouting, “Keep going!  I’ll clear your path!”  The ranger said nothing, he simply poured on the speed, barreling toward the center of the loose line of six men.  They were large, burly looking types, obviously dock workers who were probably paid to haul cargo on and off the zeppelins.  The one that Falcon was charging at was human, his face set in a grim smile as he bent and spread his arms, thinking to meet the rangers charge.  The other five men broke into runs themselves, heading for the elf in the hopes of upsetting her aim.  Tasha was far too cool under fire for that however and she dropped the bruiser at the rangers feet just before Falcon got there.  The scout leapt over the fallen man and disappeared a moment later through a doorway in the base of the tower.  Once he was clear Tasha turned her attention to the other five and realized she was in trouble.  There was no way she could drop them all before they got to her!

                Just then a rumbling growl sounded to her left and she smiled as Fang stepped out of the night and faced off against the men at her side, then a hair raising feline scream announced the arrival of Onyx, who appeared on her other side.  The five men kept coming, but she saw sudden doubt in the eyes of a couple as they sighted the dire beasts that had suddenly appeared beside her.  Without waiting for a cue from her the two animals moved, Fang charging straight at the tough on the far left while Onyx sprang nimbly on the one opposite, on the far right.  This left the three in the middle for her, and since they were still several yards off this was much more to the archers liking.  She drew and fired again and before that arrow had arrived at its target she drew and fired once more, her movements swift and fluid.  The first hired thug took the arrow high in his chest and flipped over backward, his forward momentum instantly arrested.  He lay flat on the ground, staring lifelessly up at the sky while her second arrow caught the next man in the right shoulder, staggering him but not putting him out of commission. 

                Tasha frowned because by now the men were too close for her to fire again, so she dropped her bow and rose, drawing forth Elven Grace as she prepared to face off against them.  The two remaining men halted a few yards from her, their eyes narrowing at the sight of the finely crafted sword in the hands of the elf.  They had already seen her shoot and it was common knowledge that most people wouldn’t have a blade like that unless they had some skill in using it.  Tasha was no master swordswoman, but she wasn’t about to tell them that!  From her left and right came the screams of the two men that were still struggling against Fang and Onyx, telling there wasn’t likely to be any help from that front for a few seconds at least.

                “Your call boys, what’s it to be?”  she asked, smiling grimly at them.

                They glanced at each other then one of them, a human with a lot of scruff on his cheeks and chin and a burly, well muscled build looked back at her.  “How ‘bout we take that little knife away from you and then drag you back to the tower for a little party?”

                She grimaced at him, noticing that his partner was starting to sidle to the left a bit.  This one was a half-orc from the look of things, his incisor teeth slightly overlapping his upper lip, his skin having the slightly red tint of a jungle orc.  His nose was broad with wide nostrils and ridges across the bridge, his eyes small, beady and startlingly yellow against his reddish skin.  To the human she said, “All that fresh air from running through the woods all night has given me a splitting headache, so… no thanks.”

                By this time the half breed had moved far enough to the side that they were now flanking her from each side.  “Take her!”  The human growled and both men lunged for her simultaneously.  Tasha had anticipated this, for these men were not true warriors but simply toughs hired to slow them down.  She ducked and rolled out from between them, coming out of the roll in a crouch, facing them, Elven Grace at the ready.  The two men narrowly avoided collided with each other, each adjusting at the last moment to move past his partner to the side.  They turned to face Tasha again, new respect shining in their eyes.  “So you can move, that’s good, it’ll make the games more fun after we beat you senseless!”

                The longer they talked the closer Onyx and Fang were getting to finishing their victims off.  In fact, she couldn’t hear Onyx anymore, the great cat was probably just now making sure that her opponent was dead and would be moving to help her any second.  “I’ve got all kinds of talents you’ve never even dreamed of!”  She quipped, flashing a wild but still dazzling smile at them both. 

                She saw it in his eyes before he struck, the humans anger flashing in his gaze as he lunged at her.  She danced backward, bringing her blade up to defend herself but then a massive black shadow appeared out of thin air and crashed into him with a predatory snarl, knocking the man to the ground.  He started to struggle with Onyx, the cat having her massive fangs buried in his forearm already.  The human was screaming and beating at the cat with his bare fists, completely forgetting the knife at his waist in his panic.  None of the men had drawn weapons she noted, no doubt hoping to take her alive as a little bonus to their pay. 

                Tasha met the yellow gaze of the half-orc as he looked up at her, stricken by what he saw his friend going through.  She grinned softly, “I’m sure my other friend will be along any second now.”  She told him, “Should you want to be introduced to him.”   As if in answer Fang growled and appeared to materialize out of the darkness at her side, his black and gray coat having caused him to blend almost perfectly with the night.  The half-orc took one look at the dire wolf then turned tail and ran into the night, apparently deciding cowardice was the better part of rape.  Tasha reached out and scratched the huge canine behind the ears, then she turned and looked up at the zeppelin.  “Hurry Kestrel.”  She breathed, silently praying for his success.  In the background, Onyx continued to shred the screaming human, but she wasn’t about to step in on his behalf.  She doubted the cat would kill him, after all, it hadn’t been that long since she ate last.

                There were ten stairs to a flight and Falcon flew up them two and three at a time, ricocheting off the walls in his haste to get around corners and up the next flight.  He had gotten halfway to the top when he was aware of a burly figure suddenly blocking his path.  “No more passengers, the zeppelin is ready to depart.”

                So he wasn’t with the men from downstairs, he appeared to be with the towers hired security.  Still, the ranger had no time to reason with him, he simply lowered a shoulder and barreled into the man who was caught completely by surprise and shouted in fear as the ranger bowled him over, sending him toppling over the railing.  Falcon, not wanting the man to have died just for his doing his job, glanced over his shoulder and saw that he had grabbed the railing before plummeting down between the flights of stairs.  He said a silent thank you to whatever gods handled fools’ luck and kept sprinting up the stairs as fast as he could go, certain that guard would be on his heels in moments.

                A few more people dove out of his way as he passed, shouting obscenities at him or just for him to slow down.  The ranger paid them no mind, driving on, his lungs working in his chest like a bellows and a stitch forming in his side.  He ignored it all, seeing the top landing looming above him gave him a fresh burst of resolve and he charged all the faster.  When he reached the top of the stairs the door leading out to the boarding ramp was closed but it gave as he flung his weight at it, the frame splintering as his better than two hundred and fifty pounds hit it squarely.  Falcon staggered out onto the platform and glanced toward the where the zeppelin was pulling away.  It was a massive construct, easily the size of an ocean faring galleon, a massive balloon above it filled with air by a captive air elemental while a team of men somewhere below worked the mechanisms that spun the propeller.  All this flashed through his mind as he turned and sprinted up the ramp, attendants trying to stop him but diving to the side as they realized he wasn’t going to stop.  As he reached the end of the ramp and launched himself through the air, however, the only thing on his mind was how very afraid of heights he was and how much empty space was between his boots and the ground just then.

                There was a gate that had been pulled closed in the railing of the zeppelin as it was being prepared to for flight and Falcon caught hold of the top of this, his booted feet scrabbling for purchase against the hull of the airship.  He found purchase, barely, and hoisted himself over the railing and onto the deck, trying hard not to think about what he had just done for fear it would make him pass out with terror.  A man in a uniform that Falcon thought might have marked him as an officer came running up, his face contorted in anger.

                “Are you out of your damn mind!?” he screamed, and Falcon planted his fist in the mans face, knocking him to the deck and sending blood spraying across the floorboards from his broken nose. 

                “Sorry about that, but I really haven’t got time to explain.  I need to find someone quickly.”  He was looking around the deck, as though expecting that the rogue or his victims might be there in plain view.  Another crewman stepped forward and Falcon pivoted toward him, this time bringing his staff off his back where he had placed it for his headlong flight up the stairs.  The sailor, or whatever you called a zeppelin crewman took a defensive step backward and held up his hands. 

                “Hey man!  No harm here, I was just going to tell you to check the deck cabins over there.”  He extended a hand and pointed toward a row of doors about twenty yards away.  Falcon nodded at the man and moved in that direction, cautiously, his staff held ready.  It wasn’t his only weapon, of course, just his favored one. He also had a sword at his hip, a bow and quiver on his back and a pair of wooden kali fighting sticks tucked into his belt at the small of his back.  But he always used the staff first as it was the weapon he had the most experience with.

                Pausing, he turned back to the small cluster of crew that were standing a ways behind him, “Which cabin, exactly?” 

                Another man, not the one who had first spoken, told him, “Second and third.”  Falcon narrowed his eyes slightly, but then realized that the assassin probably wanted to keep his captives apart, which would account for the need of two rooms.  Which one would he be in though?  Turning back toward the line of cabins, Falcon made his way to them, stopping outside the door to the first.  He pressed his ear to the door but heard nothing. Scowling, he focused his attention for a moment on the ring he wore beneath his glove, on the third finger of his left hand.  It was mithril with the likeness of a wolf engraved into its top.  As he accessed the magic of the ring he suddenly became aware of a great many things that had previously escaped his notice as his senses heightened to an unbelievable level, matching those of the canine.  He could smell the elven women, being rather familiar with the scent since he himself was half wild elf, though he couldn’t differentiate between which sister was in which room.  They were wearing the exact same perfume, as sisters often did.  Slowly, he tested the knob on the door to the second cabin and found it unlocked, so he pushed it open.  The door swung on silent hinges and Falcon, standing with his back to the wall to one side of the door leaned over and glanced into the room, his gaze sweeping the interior.  It was simply appointed, a small dresser and mirror, an equally small table and a bed just big enough to hold the shapely blonde women currently chained to it.

                Ishara lay on the bed, her long blonde hair splayed beneath her, her wrists manacled to the headboard above her head.  She had been stripped down to her slip, the dress she had been intending to wear to the celebration now draped over the back of a chair.  The gorgeous elf turned her frightened blue eyes on the ranger and they widened hopefully over the gag she had been forced to where when she saw him.  She looked half asleep, as though she were just waking up, confirming his earlier opinion that it had been she the assassin kept drugged.  Silently, the ranger mouthed at her, “Where is he?”  She shook her head, indicating that she didn’t know, so he held up a finger telling her he would be back. She nodded, her expression pleading with him to be careful.  Swiveling against the wall so the he was closer to the third cabin door, the ranger reached out and tested that one as well.  Like the first, it opened easily and silently and he leaned over to see a room appointed identically to the other, only this time it was the Countess chained to the bed and stripped to her slip.  She was gagged, as her sister had been but when the ranger didn’t see the assassin he turned and moved more fully into the doorway.  The movement drew her violet eyes toward him and when she saw him they widened in warning, but it was too late.  A sudden shift in shadows overhead drew his gaze upward to where the rogue clung to the rafters, or had been till he released his hold with his feet, his hands still gripping the top of the door frame.  He swung down, planting both feet in the rangers chest and sending Kestrel flying backward with a grunt of surprise and pain.

                Though caught flatfooted, Falcon was still able to roll with the blow, somersaulting backward and coming up in a crouch, his staff held crossways in front of him.  Shadow Stalker stepped from the dim interior of the cabin, drawing his katana as he did, his dark gaze sweeping the deck, establishing that Falcon was alone here.  “You’re either very brave or very stupid to face me alone up here.”  The assassin said, his voice low and cold.

                Falcon shrugged, his eyes never leaving his opponent.  “There is a third option.”  Shadow Stalker raised his brows slightly, questioning.  “Maybe I’m just that good.”

                The assassin seemed to consider that for a moment, then he nodded.  “There may be something to that, you obviously caught up to me, got past the men downstairs set up to slow you down.  Perhaps you are worth killing.”

                “No chance of convincing you to surrender peaceably?”  the ranger asked him.

                The rogues only answer was to attack, leaping toward the ranger, his blade flashing toward the other mans neck.  Falcon raised one end of his staff, parrying that blow and surprising the assassin when his blade didn’t cut through the wood, then he swept at the mans knees with the other end of the staff.  Shadow Stalker, recovering quickly from his surprise, swept his blade down and parried the other end of the staff then twisted his wrist, sweeping the blade up his body before lunging and driving the point toward Falcons chest.  The ranger twisted sideways, thrusting the bo out parallel with his body and pushing the sword away, the sliding his hands together at one end, swinging the staff like a club toward the assassins head, above the sword where it couldn’t be used to parry.  Shadow Stalker bent backward, his spine arching so far that his shoulders nearly brushed the floor, the staff passing harmlessly above his face before he straightened up and took a step back.  They started to circle then, each man wary and with a little more respect for the abilities of the other.

                They exchanged no more insults or threats, they merely paced each other, each looking for an opening in the others defenses.  Shadow Stalker, being a more world wise fighter, deliberately lowered his katana, making an opening that he hoped would draw the ranger in.  It worked, Falcon lunging and thrusting with the end of his staff.  Though it had been Shadow Stalkers intent, he was surprised with the speed of the strike, narrowly avoiding the blow as he twisted his shoulders away and then brought his sword up underneath the staff, knocking the end of it up high so that he could step in close on the ranger, slashing at his stomach.  Falcon lunged backward, his boots sliding on the deck and he brought the bottom end of the staff forward, catching the blade on it then swirling the quarterstaff to add momentum before he flung the blade upward.  The assassin had to strain to keep the blade from being pushed too far out of the way, but Falcon had enough room to maneuver and brought the end of the staff down in a vicious bash to the assassins gut that actually staggered Shadow Stalker back.  The assassin grunted, one hand cradling his lower ribs where he thought one may have broken, dancing backward to put some space between them.  The ranger was better than he would have thought, moving with a speed that should not have been possible for a man of his size.                

                He examined his opponent anew then, with the eyes of a rogue looking to score a good take on a pickpocket and that was when he saw them, the telltale bulges near the knuckles of his hands, beneath the gloves.  He was wearing rings under there, and if Shadow Stalker was any judge those rings would have magical effects that were augmenting the rangers skills.  In short, he was cheating… and that was just rude.  But then again, turnabout is fair play!  The assassin had a few magical tricks of his own, not the least of which was the shadow weave cloak he wore.  Tapping into the abilities of his cloak, which was lightweight but swirled with a movement not matched by the blowing breeze he sent another thrust toward the rangers stomach and as Falcon moved to block this the assassin suddenly disappeared, blinking from the shadows cast by the cabins behind him to one that was thrown by a barrel behind the ranger.  With the attack from the front suddenly coming from behind the ranger had now way of blocking the strike and Shadow Stalker felt a rush of pleasure as his sword sank into the small of the rangers back.  Of course, that pleasure lasted less than a second as the sword halted less than an inch in, having come up against something hard at the small of his back.  Grunting, the ranger reversed his staff and thrust it backward at the rogue, under his armpit.  Shadow Stalker recovered from his surprise quickly, parrying the staff away as he spun to the side himself.  The ranger turned, spinning the staff overhead and coming to a stop facing the assassin, staff held lengthwise at his side.

                They stood there facing each other, their eyes devoid of emotion and they realized that each faced a counterpoint.  A version of what each of them might have been had their lives run different courses, these were warriors.  Shadow Stalker dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment of this revelation, his respect for his opponent rising a couple of notches.  Falcon didn’t return the gesture, but his eyes did narrow slightly, the only indication that he recognized the threat the other man represented.  Then it began again, this time with the ranger launching an attack, thrusting with the staff, then spinning it around and swinging the other end toward his head as the assassin sidestepped the thrust.  Shadow Stalker ducked beneath the swing, twisting and flinging a knife he’d pulled from a concealed pocket on his leather while his back was to the ranger. Falcon swore, trying to sidestep the throw but it had caught him by surprise and the razor sharp blade caught him on the bicep of his right arm, sending a lance of pain through him.  He felt his fingers on that hand go numb and realized he wouldn’t be able to grip his staff, so he let it drop, reaching with his left hand for his sword instead. 

                Shadow Stalker took full advantage of having his opponent disarmed, even if for only a moment, lunging and slashing with his katana toward the rangers head again.  Falcon of course had anticipated this and shoulder rolled beneath the swing, drawing his sword and slashing at the knees of the assassin as he passed, but the rogue was quick enough to dance out of the way of the slash.  Both men came out of their prospective maneuvers facing each other, the assassin taking a moment to let his gaze flicker over the other mans blade.  It was mithron, which made sense considering the mine that rare metal came from was on this very island, and seemed to be of exquisite craftsmanship.  The hilt was wrapped in some kind of green vine, but there was no sign of poison on the shimmering blade.  However, the assassin was certain that it would be enchanted in some way, for he had come to realize who this was he faced.  In his studies of the defenders of the island he had read about Northern Ranger, the man called Falcon that currently served as scout for the Dragons.  There was no one else this could be, and that meant that the stories circulating about him had to be true, at least in part.

                The style of the rangers blade was a standard long sword, which was the same basic length as the assassins katana, so the slight advantage the other man had had, provided by the length of his staff, was now gone, evening up the playing field, but the rogue was still very much aware of those rings and didn’t think for a moment he had experienced their full range of power just yet.  He decided to go on the offensive once more and danced in, feinting a swing low for the rangers middle then reversing that and spinning around, his sword flashing in the moonlight as it streaked toward the taller humans neck.  But Falcon had anticipated the feint and his sword was there, blocking the strike and for a moment they strained against each other, testing their strength against each others blades before the assassin suddenly lowered his, ducking beneath the over compensated swing of the rangers blade and stepping in close, driving his sword up into the stomach of the ranger.  Falcon’s eyes bugged out suddenly as he felt a cold wave pass through him, his eyes dropping to those of the assassin as the shorter man ran him through.

                “You were the first truly worthy opponent I have faced in a long time ranger,” the assassin said in a low voice, “but there must always be a winner.  This time it was me, and for that I am sorry.  It seems your song is at its end.”  Then he twisted his blade violently and Falcon shuddered, a gush of blood exploding from his mouth, staining the shoulder of the assassins leathers.  “The afterlife awaits.”  The assassin shoved the ranger back and as Falcon staggered against the railing of the zeppelin his eyes shifted to the still open doors of the cabins where he saw the Countess, her head raised to watch the fight, eyes wide in fear and horror.  Then the assassins foot impacted his chest in a strong side kick and Falcon toppled backward, going head over heels over the railing and plummeting through the dark night toward the ground below.

                When Strut staggered into the hospice wing of the temple of light and dark, still holding the unconscious Avalon Charm over one shoulder, he saw that Ariana was awake and sitting up on the bed, talking to the small group of people still gathered around her.  When he entered, the gorgeous redhead glanced in his direction briefly, then did a double take, her complexion paling noticeably.  “Avalon!” she choked, starting to slide off the bed.  She was restrained by her sisters as Galon and Gar rushed over to help the warrior.

                “What happened?” Gar demanded as Galon took the wounded knight off the warriors shoulder and carried him, staggering slightly under the weight of the human in full plate armor, to a bed near Ariana’s. As he laid the knight down one of the temples healers rushed over.  At the paladins bed Krystel and the other girls had given up restraining her, allowing the redhead up and a moment later she was at her lovers side, holding one of his hands in hers.

                Gar assisted Strut to a chair against one wall and the barbarian slumped gratefully into it.  “We tracked the carriage to a point about six miles down the trade road.”  The warrior said gruffly, “Then Falcon read the signs and said that it looked like they had been ambushed.  The ambusher took the carriage farther down the road, but not all that far.  We found it in a little clearing a few hundred feet off the main drag.  All the guards were dead, Avalon nearly so and the Countess and her sister were gone.”

                Ariana, who had evidently been listening from where Avalon was being tended to, asked, “Where are Falcon and Tasha?  I understand all three of you went.”

                Strut nodded.  “Kes and Tasha are still tracking the assassin.”

                Galon looked at him sharply.  “What assassin?”

                Strut shrugged, “It seems logical, doesn’t it, that the Dukes assassination was a ruse to draw the Countess out?  Her security here in the city is too tight, she would be much easier to take while traveling.”

                “Are you saying that the same man that assassinated the Duke now has the Countess and Ishara?  And that this is the person Falcon and Natashiana are tracking?”  Galon asked.  Strut nodded and Galon turned to Gar.  “I’ve crossed blades with that rogue myself, they don’t know what they’re getting into.  We have to catch up to them quick!”

                Gar didn’t question his old friend, Galon Eaglehart was a good judge of a persons worth and if he said that Falcon and Tasha were no match for the assassin, then he was likely right.  Turning to the man who had inadvertently become like a son to him over the years, Gar asked, “Do you happen to know where they were going?”

                Strut considered that a moment, closing his eyes as he concentrated.  “I saw them leaving the clearing as I was going the opposite direction.  They headed due west, I think.”

                Galon spun around, his gaze settled on Talia but he didn’t ask the question on the tip of his tongue for he could see that the young ranger was already calculating.  “I know the clearing he mentioned finding the carriage in. If they headed due west from there, and assuming that the assassin didn’t deviate from his path….”

                Galon interjected here, “There’s no reason to assume he did.  He’s a rogue, not a scout, he wouldn’t want to risk getting lost.”

                Talia nodded, “…then they should come due west of Valor.”

                “What’s due west of Valor?”  Sasha asked, glancing around the room.

                Ariana gently laid her knight’s hand back on the bed beside him and turned to face the others.  She was still pale, but there was steel in her green eyes.  “The assassin is trying to take them off the island.”  All eyes turned to her, “The zeppelin tower lies due west of Valor.  I’ve had to catch airships from there once or twice.”

                “Who could he be working for that would want the Countess taken off the island?”  Aribeth asked, her tone perplexed.

                “We can worry about the who and why later, right now we have to stop him!”  Galon said, “How much of a start do they have on us?”

                The question had been directed at Strut, who considered his answer before giving it.  “I was pretty loaded down with the knight and the horses, it took me a while to get back here.  I’d say they’re maybe… three hours ahead of us.”

                “Which means, from where they left, if they kept up a good pace through woods, they may be nearly to Valor by now.”  Talia told the others.  Perhaps better than anyone she was aware of Falcons capabilities, having been trained as a scout by him.

                “Then we have to get there now.”  Gar growled, glancing around.  “How do we do that?”

                “Obviously,” Ariana replied, “we need to utilize the circle of teleportation at the Peacehope mages guild.  It’s linked to the one in Valor, along with several other places.  It’s the fastest way to get from point to point, but it will take a guild member to arrange it for us.”  At that she turned to her sister and Aribeth nodded.

                “I can do that.”  She assured them.  “I’m high enough placed in the guild to arrange a teleportation.”

                “Even if she’s not, Magnus is already there trying to talk to Purge about our Necromancer.”  Krystel reminded everyone.  “Either of them could certainly do it.”

                “I said I can do it!”  Aribeth groused.

                “All right,” Ariana stepped toward the others and staggered slightly, catching herself on the edge of the bed she had been occupying until moments before she took a moment to steady herself and then continued, “obviously I’m in shape to deal with this myself.”  She opened her eyes and looked around, “Galon, you and Aribeth go to the guild and arrange for the teleportation, do what you can to help Falcon and Tasha.”  Galon and the young mage started immediately for the door.  “Blaze,” the purple eyes elf turned toward the redhead, raising an eyebrow quizzically, “can I count on your help getting fathers body back?  Undead is your area of expertise, I could use your help here.”

                “Can I bring my people in?”  The elf asked. She had a team of specialists she generally used on her missions.

                “Of course, supplemented by mine.”  Blaze looked around, then she nodded her consent.  “Good, thank you.  I still need to meet with the barbarians from Trey’Elden and decide how best to help them and the outcome of the events in Valor still needs to be decided.  Our work is cut out for us people, let’s move.”  Blaze turned, her eyes flashing as she headed for the door, apparently eager to have a mission to accomplish.  Gar and Strut looked Ariana, who met their gaze evenly.  “I assume you and Galon will want to accompany me to Trey’Elden if that is what’s decided?”  The dwarf nodded grimly.  “Can you contact my uncle or Archress?”

                “I might be able to get hold of the elf, she isn’t in seclusion like yer uncle.”  Gar said after a moments thought.

                “See what you can do, this debt is as much hers as ours, especially if Rolin can’t be relied upon.”  Gar nodded and turned toward the door.  “Strut, rest up for now, I have a feeling I’ll be needing your help soon enough.”

                “What about us?”  Krystel asked, gesturing around at Sasha and Talia.

                “We’ll see.”  Ariana said, regarding her sisters with troubled eyes.  “It seems there’s going to be more than enough work to go around.”  The others all nodded agreement.  It had certainly been an interesting day so far.

                Galon and Aribeth arrived in Valor with a familiar sensation of momentarily fighting back the urge to vomit that always came with teleportation.  No matter how many times it was done, the same nauseous wave overcomes you and you have to take a moment to ensure you’re not going to throw up.  Once the wave had passed, Galon glanced around and noticed the attendant that had been assigned to the mages guild teleportation circle here in Valor. He was a young, freckle faced Initiate who had not yet found a master to teach him one of the specialized schools and as they arrived within the confines of the circle amid the customary flash of light his eyes had settled upon Aribeth and showed no signs of leaving.  The young woman, for her part, seemed to take no real notice of his attention other than to glance over at him and ask, “What’s the fastest was to the west gate of the city?  We need to reach the zeppelin tower quickly.”

                The initiate blinked as if coming out of a dream and stammered out an answer, “Uh… go out the front door and hang a left.  The first major crossroads, if you go right that will lead you out the gate.” 

                “Thank you!” Galon called as he and Beth jogged from the room, heading for the front door of the mages guild.  It took a little while to find their way out of the confusing building, Aribeth noting along the way that this branch of the Algeron guild was larger than the one in Peacehope. Once they had found the street they followed the initiates directions and set out at a run for the west gate, attracting a lot of strange looks as they ran.  Galon was a known entity here in the city, though he didn’t often find himself in this quarter, but Aribeth had only been here a handful of times.

                “That’s the gate coming up.”  Galon said through his labored breathing.  Aribeth, not quite the physical fitness specimens that a few of her sisters were, was having some trouble as well, but she was determined to make the old paladin keep up with her and not the other way around.

                “Why is it closed?”  Aribeth called, panting as she noticed the huge wooden gate was firmly secured.

                Galon swore.  “Must be security precautions following the assassination!”  As they neared the gate he called to the guards on duty at its top.  “Hey there!  Open the gate, we need to get to the zeppelin tower!”  The guard looked down and seemed to recognize him, not surprising considering he was one of the highest ranking military officials on the island.

                “You’re too late general, the airship is already leaving!”  one of the guards called down to him after glancing out toward the distant tower.

                Galon swore, “Just open the damn gate!” he bellowed and the guard quickly moved to comply.  It took several minutes for the apparatus that moved the heavy door to start up and once it did the gate moved ponderously, but it hadn’t gone more than a couple of feet before the two of them slipped through and started sprinting toward the tower visible near the wood line, about a quarter of a mile away.  They hadn’t gone half the distance when they noticed someone running toward them and Galon was certain it was Tasha, for he would have recognized her curvy body if nothing else, even at that distance.  But there was also the fact that she had a couple of dire beasts running along beside her, one a wolf and the other a panther.  The trio came to a halt within feet of each other and Galon, still gasping for air, glanced around.

                “Where’s Falcon?” he asked.

                Tasha pointed up at the zeppelin that was now moving at a pretty good clip toward the forest and the ocean beyond.  “I got slowed down by a little distraction the assassin left for us, he went on after the Countess and Ishara.”

                Galon looked up at the zeppelin and swore softly.  “The damn fool doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into!”

                Tasha frowned slightly, “Falcon can take care of himself.”

                Before Galon had a chance to reply Aribeth let out a squeal of horror and pointed toward the airship. The other two looked up and Tasha’s eyes widened in stunned horror as she saw a body toppling through the air toward the ground.  The paladin and the archer exclaimed in horror, but knew there was no way to help the falling man, who they could tell even at that distance was Falcon.  The mage however was already moving.  She took two steps forward, mumbling to herself and suddenly she was no longer standing with Galon and Tasha but had blinked the twenty yards necessary to be standing beneath the rapidly plummeting ranger.  Galon and Tasha started sprinting toward her desperately as the mage started to cast, throwing her hands up over her head.  A heavy wind shot forth, tossing her silver hair and making her pink dress billow out as it shot straight up, catching the falling ranger on its currents.  Falcon was not exactly a light man however, and falling at full speed as he was tended to magnify his weight, so by the time the archer and paladin had arrived at her side the woman was sweating profusely and had been forced to one knee with the strain of slowing the humans descent.

                “You’re nearly there Beth, hold it together a little longer.”  Galon said encouragingly and the mage grunted, her whole body quivering with the strain of having to lower the plummeting ranger.  When he got close enough to the ground to make it possible, Tasha and Galon grabbed him and lowered him to the ground.  Aribeth canceled her spell and slumped to her side, breathing hard, her blue eyes watching them work over the ranger with obvious concern.  “He’s hurt badly.”  Galon muttered, noticing the blood pumping from the rangers middle.  “We need to get him into the city, to a healer.  Gods above it may already be too late.”  The old man stood then, hefting the ranger with him as he did, displaying a strength that was surprising in a man his age.  Turning, he started jogging toward the city gate in the distance and as Tasha watched him she saw several guards moving in their direction, apparently having witnessed the rangers fall from the airship. 

                “You there!”  Tasha called to the nearest of the guards, who had paused to watch as Galon carried the badly wounded ranger past.  “Where is that zeppelin heading?”

                The guard, seeming perplexed by all this strange activity, took a moment to answer.  He glanced up at the zeppelin, rapidly disappearing in the distance and said, “It’s bound for Milligant, on the coast of Errgaunt milady.”  The man said.

                Tasha turned slightly to watch the zeppelin go, her blood suddenly running cold.  She had been to Milligant before, both as a member of the Dragons and before that, not long after she had left home following the travesty that had put a price on her head.  It was not a place she relished the thought of returning to.  “Shayde.” She mumbled, shivering.  The Shayde family were the local lords in Milligant and long standing enemies of the Dragons, though Tasha herself had had mixed dealings with them over the years.  They were evil, there was no denying that.  The head of the Shayde family was the high priest of Noktyrne, God of the Undead and you didn’t reach such status without being tainted.  But just because that was where the zeppelin was going, it didn’t automatically mean that the Shaydes were involved.  Milligant was one of the largest cities in the human empire, it could easily have been any number of people there responsible for the assassins actions.  Either way, Ariana would have to be told, and quickly.  But first she had to make certain Falcon was okay.  “You all right?” she asked Aribeth as the young woman climbed unsteadily to her feet, reaching out to steady herself on Tasha’s shoulder.

                Beth nodded. “I will be.  I just need to rest.  I’ve been exerting myself magically a lot today, I’m not used to that.  I swear I don’t know how those adventuring mages like Magnus do it.”

                Tasha started to lead the way back toward Valor as she answered, “He learned to conserve his magic, but I believe he also borrows energy from other sources when he needs it.”

                “I may need to ask him to show me how to do that.”  Beth said, her voice seeming to get stronger as they walked along.  She was catching her breath now, coming back to full restfulness.       

                “Where do you suppose Galon would have taken Falcon?”  Tasha asked as they moved through the gate, aware that the guards were eyeing them both curiously. 

                “Likely to the nearest temple.”  The mage responded, glancing around.  Tasha was about to ask one of the guards where that might be when Beth raised a hand and said, “Look, there’s temple to the Traveler, I’ll bet they’re in there.”

                Tasha nodded and started that way, trying to dredge from her memory everything she knew about the Traveler and his followers.  Being the daughter of a priest herself, Tasha’s schooling in Religious Lore was better than most peoples, so she was able to recall quite a lot.  Though he was not widely worshipped openly, the Traveler received more prayers than just about any other deity imaginable.  Almost anyone who had a journey to make would offer prayers, tithes or even sacrifices to the Traveler in the hopes that he would grant them a safe voyage.  He was also widely blamed for the antics of bandits and other such problems that plagued travelers, even the weather, though other Gods were supposedly directly responsible for that.  In some ways, though Tasha herself was not a devoutly religious woman, she thought that religion was credited or blamed more than was probably proper.

                The two women, elf and human, entered the temple and glanced around. It was small and rather dingy, a thick layer of dust resting on all the surfaces.  “Yuck.”  Beth said softly and Tasha privately agreed, looking around for any sign of habitation. The young woman placed a hand on her forearm, getting her attention and pointed down.  Tasha glanced down and saw footprints in the dust moving deeper into the temple.  She thought they looked to be about the right size to have belonged to Galon, so they followed them.  Sure enough, the prints led to a back room where they found the paladin leaning over a bed in which the ranger lay.  There was another man there, young and thin with unkempt hair and robes that looked as dusty as his temple.  This was obviously the priest that ran the temple and his appearance did not inspire a lot of confidence in his abilities.
                As they approached the bearded old warrior glanced up, his face strained and shrugged, not yet certain whether Falcon would pull through.  “The wound is pretty serious.”  He said to the women as they joined the two men at Falcon’s bedside, though on the opposite side.  “This is Neklin, by the way.”  He nodded toward the priest, who only nodded in their direction but didn’t lift his gaze from Falcon.  Tasha could see his hands glowing, elevated slightly over the wound in Falcon’s middle.  She had seen her father do this countless times on small wounds, but never with anything this serious.  She reached out and absently brushed some hair from Falcons forehead.  It was coated in sweat but clammy to the touch and she felt a chill run through her.  She started slightly when the ranger opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her.

                “I doubt he can see you,” Neklin told her, “he’s delirious.”

                With an apparent effort Galon stepped away from the bed and motioned to the two women to follow him.  They moved a short distance away, where they could talk without the priest overhearing.  “Time is against us here, someone needs to return to Peacehope and tell Ariana what’s happened.  Plans will need to be set in motion, and quickly.  I should go and report to the Duchess too, she’ll want to know what’s happened to her friend.”

                Tasha spoke up first, “I’ll go back to Peacehope.”

                Galon nodded, then turned to Beth.  “Will you stay here with Falcon and let us know the moment there’s a change in his condition?”

                “Of course.” She said with a nod.  The mage moved back to the rangers bedside and took one of his hands in her own.

                Tasha and Galon exchanged a glance, then moved together toward the door.  Outside, Tasha found Fang and Onyx waiting for her on the steps of the temple.  She looked at the panther, “We need to go home, but I have to get there faster.  You two will have to find your own way back, I doubt the mages guild will let you in to the teleportation circle.”  The wolf looked past her toward the temple and she understood.  Reaching out she patted his head and said, “I’m sure he’ll be fine, but if you want to stay I doubt anyone here will try and stop you.”  He thumped his tail, moved over to one side of the entrance and curled up to lie down and wait.  Onyx watched the canine for a moment, then rubbed her head gently against Tasha’s leg before turning and bounding toward the city gate.  Tasha knew it wouldn’t matter to the cat if the gate was opened or closed, she’d find her way out.  She turned back to Galon, “What should I tell Ariana you’re doing?”

                “The truth, she’ll appreciate me keeping the Duchess abreast of things.”  He paused, then sighed, “There is one other thing.  I don’t know if anyone has considered this yet, but with the Countess gone someone will need to sit the throne of Peacehope.  The next in succession would be her step son, Huntyr.  Not my first choice… but we don’t really have a lot of options open to us.  Someone will need to tell him what’s going on.”

                “Isn’t he part of the city watch now, along with the Moonstones step brother?”  She asked.  Tasha hadn’t had a lot of experience with the ruling family and could only remember seeing the young Huntyr Shroude a couple of times over the years, and then only from a distance.

                “Aye, he’s a captain, same as Rellik.  There’s four of them that generally run together in that group, Rellik, Huntyr, Talon and… Cyrrik.”  He winced slightly as he said the last name and Tasha remembered that it was his oldest son.  “Moving Huntyr onto the throne, even temporarily, will move all four of them into positions of authority, it will be bad for everyone, but I don’t see that we can avoid it.”

                Tasha nodded.  “I’ll inform Ariana and see what she wants to do.”  He nodded and they went their separate ways.

                Ariana Moonstone was not looking forward to the duty she now had to perform, a duty that should otherwise have fallen to Avalon, but with him down from the poison the assassin had inflicted upon him she felt it was up to her.  Technically, the job could have been given to Galon, who was Avalon’s military equal within the city, but the paladin was not the sort to place unpleasant tasks on the shoulders of others.  Straightening to her full six foot height and letting the defiance in her soul show in her eyes she marched toward the massive brick structure across the street from where she had paused and mounted the stairs toward its public entrance.  Ostensibly, this building was referred to as Sentinel Headquarters, where the so-called peacekeeping force of the city were stationed.  It was a massive building, all of fifteen stories that was used to house not only the Sentinels themselves but also the prisoners for whom they were responsible.  The name the average person had for it was Hellhouse, because it was well known that the Sentinels were a corrupt organization, largely due to the man who was in charge of them, Major Ravishe Falcone.  There were a few good seeds in a barrel of bad apples, as was usually the case, and Ariana knew most of them, but by and large the Sentinels were avoided by the Dragons whenever possible.  Her own step-brother, Rellik Vashόn was an officer of the Sentinels, having found a home among them when he moved out of the house he had lived in with her and her sisters and their parents.  Major Falcone had taken the young man in and treated him like a son, even allowing Rellik to date his daughter, Rachel.  It appeared that now Rellik and the young lady were betrothed, which Ariana figured was a match made in heaven since neither of them was worth a damn.  She knew her step-brother to be addicted to drugs, a heavy drinker and a lecherous son of a bitch and she couldn’t imagine the daughter of the major to be any better.  She was amazed that her first true love, Vance Falcone, had come from the same gene pool.  He was a good and honest man, had been not only her first love but her first lover and there was still a part of her that cared very much for him.  He was even man enough to put aside his feelings for her and strike up a friendship with Avalon, which she didn’t think many men would have done.  Of course, Avalon was man enough to accept that friendship, which was one of the reasons she loved him.  The two were cordial enough to each other and might even be actual friends one day, but she was grateful that they at least didn’t try to kill each other every time they saw each other.

                The man she was here to see today, however, was none of these men.  He was the step-son of Countess Shroude, one of her brother Rellik’s best friends.  In truth, it should have been him that ascended to the throne of Peacehope following his fathers death, but he had been very young and the people had requested the Countess stay on and rule.  This had not sat well with the young man, Huntyr Shroude by name, and he had become very bitter toward the Countess.  It was no surprise then when he followed his friend Rellik into the Sentinels and they were both now officers among the city guards.  Huntyr was a man Ariana had known for most of his life, him having been around the Manor quite a lot in their youth, hanging out with Rellik.  He had tried on so many occasions to draw her or one of her sisters into his bed that she had come to dread having him around.  To this day he still made the occasional attempt, though his duties as an officer of the Sentinels kept him from crossing their paths very often.  Today, however, she had come to speak to him about one of the very things that she dreaded most in the world, letting him sit the throne of Peacehope, even if only temporarily.  Because this duty fell under the category of official business, Ariana had opted to approach him as the leader of the Dragons as opposed to the noble woman she also was.  That being the case she  had returned home following Tasha’s return from Valor, caught a few hours of sleep and when the sun was high in the sky she had donned her armor and made for the city, knowing that Huntyr… and the others unfortunately, would likely be in their offices now.

                At first, when Tasha had approached Ariana with what Galon had said, she was aghast, feeling that the best course of action might have been to keep the whole ordeal a secret from Huntyr.  But in retrospect, she realized that that could easily come back to haunt them if, Gods forbid, they were unable to retrieve the Countess.  It would then become a criminal matter that they had not immediately placed the next in succession upon the throne.  So while she found the whole idea exceptionally distasteful, she knew she had little choice but to approach him with it.

                As she pushed through the lobby entrance of Sentinel Headquarters a hush fell over the crowded room as every head turned to regard her.  There were no women present, all of the Sentinels were male, but not all of the men present were Sentinels.  She could see that some of them were criminals being processed into the jail while others were likely innocent people being processed from crimes they hadn’t committed but were being framed for since they had refused the Sentinels payments… or something similar.  She knew that things like that happened, and since she was incapable of correcting the issue, though she had tried in the past, she chose to stay away and turn a blind eye, though it pained her to do so.  Major Falcone and his men were just too good at covering their tracks, otherwise the Countess would have had the vile officer banished from Peacehope many years ago.  The Sentinels were rather a powerful military force now, and all of them loyal the Major and his officers.  Pushing any of them out of the city was sure to be a daunting task and while they were corrupt, the ones that were not did a decent job of upholding the cities actual laws.

                While crossing the lobby to the duty desk and the sergeant seated across it the paladin felt the eyes of the men in the room following her.  Their hungry gazes made her skin craw, though that was mostly because of the type of men these were, usually a mans stares didn’t bother her.  She couldn’t really blame them for staring, she knew what she looked like and in her armor she was rather a fetching sight.  It had been custom made for her by Gar when she was in her early twenties and she wore it extremely well.  There were several pieces to the armor, a black hard leather halter style top and matching leggings, along with gloves that rose to her elbows and boots that came to mid-calf.  However, fused to the leather over her bust, thighs, calves and forearms were shining plates of mithron.  By her own request the area around her pelvis had been kept free of metal to allow for more freedom of movement.  Across her shoulders, also mithron on hard black leather, were a set of pauldrons, the mithron layered so that they protruded out slightly from her upper arms.  On her back, hanging at an angle so that the three and a half hand hilt protruded above her right shoulder hung Vindicator, her late fathers sword and the symbol of her families honor. The zweihander was only able to be wielded by a person with the blood of a Moonstone in their veins and by tradition the eldest, and thus leader of the family wielded it.  It fell to that member of the family to guard the magical blade for it was said that if it were to be wielded by another, then that person would be considered head of the family.  Ariana didn’t know how that could ever happen considering that she and her sisters were all that was left, but she took the duty seriously at any rate.  Also visible on the shapely warrior were a long bladed dagger riding high on her hip and a miniature, collapsible crossbow that was mounted to her left forearm, on the glove she wore there.

                The duty officer was blatantly getting an eyeful of her armors low cut neckline, liking the way her crescent moon medallion swayed above her firm cleavage.  “Help you milady?” he asked as she stopped in front of him.

                “I need to have a word with Commander Shroude.” She said stiffly, keeping her expression stiff and formal, like her posture.  This place always put her on edge, but she thought it might have done that to everyone.  “Is he in?”

                The sergeant tore his eyes away from her breasts with apparent difficulty, his bloodshot orbs focusing on her for a moment.  “I think the Major is in a meeting with all his commanders right now.”

                Ariana gave him a brittle smile, “They’ll want to be interrupted for this.” 

                Evidently there was something in her posture, or perhaps it was her eyes, that told the sergeant it was best not to argue.  Shrugging, he said, “Follow me then.”  The sergeant turned and lifted a part of the countertop, exposing a gap that Ariana passed through.  He let it drop with a bang behind her, no doubt hoping to startle her, but she just raised an eyebrow and let his smirk pass unquestioned.  Turning around, he led the paladin through the processing area, which was crowded with desks that they had to weave their way through.  Again Ariana was conscious of all the male eyes undressing her and again she felt the chill pass through her.  These were hard men, all of them, guards and criminals alike and in many cases there was no discernible difference between them. 

                Beyond the processing room was a hallway that the sergeant led her down, stopping at a stout door that looked to be made of walnut.  He glanced at her nervously, then knocked.  “What!?” came an angry call from the room beyond. 

                The sergeant swallowed his nervousness and pushed the door open, “My apologies for the interruption Major, but Commander Shroude has a visitor.”

                Evidently Falcone knew that the sergeant wouldn’t have been interrupting them unless it was an important visitor, so he asked, “Who is it?”

                “Lady Moonstone sir.”  Was the abrupt reply.

                “Which one?”  The major demanded and Ariana could see in her minds eye the exasperated expression on the mans face.

                “The Lady Moonstone, sir.” 

                There was a pause, then Falcone spoke in a more formal tone, “Show her in sergeant.”

                The sergeant stepped back from the door and nodded to Ariana, who returned the nod and then stepped through the doorway.  She found herself in a conference room, a long oval table set at its center with chairs scattered around its perimeter.  There were a dozen men seated around it, many of them she didn’t know by name though she recognized them all as officers of the Sentinels.  There were five men here she did recognize, however, and their gazes were none too friendly at the moment.  Major Ravishe Falcone himself sat at the far end of the table, facing the doorway.  He was human, tall and gaunt with a severely receding hairline.  His thinning black hair was slicked back over his scalp, he had a prominent brow that cast his shifty eyes into shadow, a long beak of a nose and a grim slash of a mouth.  His cheekbones too were prominent, casting dark shadows into his hollowed cheeks and his chin, which seemed unnaturally long came to a rather sharp point at the bottom.  He was clad, as he always seemed to be, in a military style suit of black with silver trim, the colors common to the Sentinels of Peacehope.  To his immediate left sat his future son-in-law, Rellik while opposite her step-brother sat the man she had come to see, Huntyr Shroude, regarding her with a curious expression, no doubt wondering what business she could possibly have with him.

                Huntyr Shroude was a handsome enough man, about Ariana’s own age with wavy black hair and brown eyes.  His bronzed skin was unblemished, his cheeks and chin clean shaven though it looked as though he had decided to start wearing a mustache that she thought looked rather ludicrous on his narrow face.  He had a slender but solid build and a generously lipped mouth that was pursed curiously at the moment.   It was the major that broke the silence that had settled over the room as Ariana stood just inside the door, her green eyes sweeping the collection of officers.  “To what do we owe this rare privilege milady?”  Falcone asked, his voice full of false courtesy.

                “I need a private word with Huntyr Shroude, major, if he has a moment to spare.”  Ariana said, her emerald gaze settling on the young officer.

                Huntyr shook his head.  “There’s nothing you can say to me that they can’t hear.”  He said, gesturing around the table.  She saw her step-brother smile, as did the other two members of their little inner circle, Cyrrik Eaglehart and Talon Rethbourne.  Cyrrik was the eldest child of Galon Eaglehart, older brother to her own squire Rylan.  He was a tall and well built man with short cropped blonde hair and blue eyes. The sort of craggy look to his face that reminded her of statues she had seen of some of the Norse Gods.  He was nice to look at, and in her youth Ariana had had such a crush on his father that she thought perhaps Cyrrik would be like Galon, or perhaps hoped would be a better word.  She had even dated him for a time, but when he got pushy and didn’t want to take no for an answer she had sent him packing… with a black eye and few broken ribs for his trouble.  Talon wasn’t even a regular resident of Peacehope, being the second child of the Rethbourne family of Valor.  Her good friend Lorilei was his older sister and she remembered Talon as being a well adjusted and pleasant young man.  Then he had joined the military at his fathers insistence and wound up being sent off as part of a contingent of soldiers sent to Inveigle to help in their continuing war against the goblins of Blackguard.  Talon had returned from that ordeal a changed man, and not for the better.  He had started to pal around with Rellik and the others and got into drugs, alcohol and easy women.  Now he was as bad as the rest of them, though she had often thought that if he could get a good influence or two into his life he might still be turned around.  She knew that his mother had given up on him, though she had tried everything she could think of at first, but to no avail.

                Taking a deep breath to collect her thoughts, and drawing all their eyes to her rising breasts as she did so, Ariana spoke, “Very well then.  This is the situation,” she began, turning and starting to pace back and forth across the room with her hands behind her back, “yesterday afternoon, while on her way to Valor to attend the funeral of Duke Rethbourne,” she glanced at Talon here, suddenly wondering why he wasn’t at home with his family right now, “Countess Shroude and her sister Ishara were ambushed and kidnapped.  Sir Avalon Charm was nearly killed, all the guards assigned to protect the women were not so lucky.”  She paused, turning to face the table, “Despite our best efforts, the kidnapper, who we have reason to believe is the same assassin that took out the duke, got away with both women on an airship bound for Errgaunt.”  Now for the truly painful part, “In light of this situation… you are needed to sit the throne of Peacehope as interim ruler, until such time as your step-mother can be rescued.”

                Stunned silence greeted these words and all the men around the table stared at her.  Again it was the Major who broke the silence.  “Did it not occur to you to enlist our help in capturing this assassin and rescuing the women?”

                “There was no time to mount a proper rescue operation major, we had to move swiftly.  The Dragons were already available, so we acted.”  Ariana informed him.

                “Yes, that worked out well, didn’t it?”  The words stung, but she had no defense for them.  She already felt as though she had failed the Countess.

                “So just like that… I’m the ruler of Peacehope?”  Huntyr asked, his tone reflecting his disbelief.  It had been something he had dreamed of for most of his life, but had thought he would never see since the throne of Peacehope was sat for life, and Countess was a High Elf in the prime of hers.  She was sure to outlive him… or so he had thought. 

                “Interim ruler.”  Ariana corrected.  “We’re going to get her back.”

                Huntyr smirked slightly.  “Only if I approve the mission.” 

                Ariana’s expression darkened, she had been afraid of something like this.  “What?”

                He smiled wider, looking for all the world like a cat with his sights on the open door to the canary’s cage.  “Well, since Peacehope holds the Dragons charter, any missions you undertake must be approved by the crown.  If I don’t let you go after her, you don’t go.”

                “You don’t want to do that.”  Ariana said darkly, the threat in her tone quite evident.

                Huntyr started to stand up, his own expression darkening, but the major reached over and place a hand lightly on the younger mans arm.  Huntyr glanced at him and sat back down, immediately getting his temper in check.  “The lady is right,” the major said, much to Ariana’s surprise, “it would be unwise to prevent them from going after the Countess.  Her popularity was such that hindering her attempted rescue could well result in someone hiring that assassin to come after you.”    Ariana could hardly believe what she was hearing.  “However,” the major continued with a grim smile at the paladin, “since the Dragons have thus far consisted of men and women the Countess selected and trusted, I recommend that you send along someone of your own choosing to… see to your interests.”

                Ariana’s eyes narrowed slightly at that, “What is that supposed to mean?”

                Huntyr looked at the major and slowly, a shrewd smile crossed his face.  “Yeah, that’s a good idea!”  He looked back at Ariana, “Since the need for swift action is certain in this instance, I’m going to assign…” he glanced around the table, “…Talon Rethbourne to accompany the team going after my step-mother.”  Ariana winced inwardly, but did well to keep it from her expression.  This was completely within his rights as the ruler of the city-state, and she had no cause to question it… unfortunately.

                Though she was reluctant to say so, she knew she had no choice but to add, “There are a couple of other missions the Dragons need to see to as well… my Lord.”  Some of the men smirked, able to hear in her voice how much saying that title had cost her.  “At the same time as your step-mother was being abducted, someone was breaking into my fathers tomb and stealing his body.  My people are researching the identity of the corpse thief now, but when they are done I would like to send a team after them as well.  Blaze has already volunteered to lead it, since we know undead to be involved.”

                Huntyr regarded her a moment, then exchanged a glance with the major.  Ariana had a nasty suspicion that if she didn’t get the Countess back quickly, Huntyr Shroude was going to turn into little more than a figurehead ruler and Major Falcone would actually be the power in Peacehope. That thought was horrifying for her.  The major gave the slightest of nods and Ariana suddenly realized that the more missions they approved, the fewer of her people would be left in Peacehope to try and rein in whatever damage this idiot caused in the Countess’s absence.  Huntyr glanced around, his gaze wandering from Rellik, who shook his head imperceptibly to Cyrrik.  “Fine, I’ll approve that mission as well, but Cyrrik will be added to the team.”  Ariana bit back her anger at this, knowing full well what that would mean for the final mission, which she had little choice but to lead herself.  “Finally, there is a contingent of visitors here from the Trey’Elden mountains, representing the Thunder Hammer tribe.  I have yet to speak with them directly, but I have an idea what it is they are asking of us.  I will need to take a team to Trey’Elden as well to assist them.”

                Huntyr didn’t need to look to the major for this one, he simply nodded and said, “That sounds like an excellent chance at improving diplomatic relations between us and the tribes.  Take Rellik with you and I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”  Rellik smiled over at her and Ariana felt her blood run cold, she had expected that, but it was still hard to take.  The major was smiling softly, his gaze directed at the top of the table.  “Is that all Lady Moonstone?”  Huntyr asked her, “If so, I really must get over to the palace, I’m sure there is a great deal I must see to.”  Ariana nodded, but didn’t move right away. She was trying very hard not to let her body shake with the mounting anger she was feeling.  “Major Falcone, would you accompany me?  I feel the need to have an advisor I know I can trust until I’m more comfortable with these new duties…” he glanced at Ariana again as he and the major rose, “…however temporary they might be.”  That was all the paladin had to hear to know that he was not planning on relinquishing the throne without a fight.  Things had just gotten far more complicated, and a few hours ago she wouldn’t have even thought that was possible.

                Striving hard to keep her tone civil, Ariana gave a stiff half bow and said, “Very well my lord.  If you’ll excuse me then, I really must speak with the representatives from Trey’Elden personally.  There are then a great many preparations to be made.”  She started to turn away, then stopped and addressed the table again, specifically the three men that had been forced upon her teams, “Gentlemen… I’ll be expecting to see you all in two hours at the Dragonkeep.”  The Dragonkeep was the castle like fort built out of the eastern wall of the city that had, since the teams inception, housed the Dragons, at least in practice though none of them actually lived there anymore.  It was still used as a base of operations and was manned around the clock by soldiers of her own choosing, selected from the militia of Galon Eaglehart.  Rellik, Cyrrik and Talon all nodded, smiling slightly at each other, then she left before she lost control of her tenuously held temper.

                Once she was out of the Hellhouse, Ariana turned sharply to the right and marched a block before ducking into an alley and stopping, fists clenched at her side, head down and eyes closed, struggling to rein in the temper that was still raging within her.  She needed to be able to think clearly and that was never easy when her temper was up, and those particular men had always been able to do that to her with relative ease.  ‘If he’s left to his own devices,’ she thought to herself, ‘he’ll ruin this city while I’m gone.’  She needed someone she could trust to try and keep things together while she was away, until the Countess could be recovered.  But who?  She would think about while she met with the barbarians, then she needed to summon her Dragons and everyone else whose assistance she was going to need to the Dragonkeep to divide up the teams.  Shaking her head at the sudden complexity of the situation, Ariana turned and headed for the palace where she knew the barbarian princes and princess to have been given quarters for their stay.

                Kelvan, son of Rolfe, stood quietly at the window of the room he and Ember had been given to stay in at the Peacehope palace.  He was impatient, wanting to get back to his people who he knew needed his help, but also knowing that there was nothing he and his siblings could do on their own.  They needed the help of the Dragons, and so they waited until the daughter of their fathers late friend could come and speak with them.  Evidently there had been some trouble in the city and elsewhere on the island over the last couple of days and that had delayed her.  He prayed it would not last much longer, for he knew that his siblings, especially Devlin, were as anxious as he.  He had heard that Devlin was drinking his way through the palaces entire stores of alcohol and he hadn’t seen much of Shayla since their arrival.  No doubt she was taking the opportunity to read up on the local people so that she would be better able to understand the customs when it came to interacting with them.  She was better at that sort of thing than her brothers were, which was why Kelvan had decided that when… and if he was able to take over as Warlord of the tribe he was going to assign her as his most senior advisor.

                As he stared out the window, which overlooked Peacehope, he absently rubbed the scar on his chest where the blade of that dark elf had sliced him.  It had been nearly a month since that day now, and the wound refused to heal properly.  It was a nasty scar stretching across the top of his chest, over his pectoral muscles and though it did not bleed it was a constant source of irritation for him.  Suddenly she was there, her arms slipping around his chest from behind, her firm young body pressed against his back.  Her fingers slipped under his and traced that wound, gently caressing his muscled chest.  Kelvan moaned slightly, pressing back against her.  They had not yet been together as man and woman, for neither of them thought it proper till they were officially wed.  Like his sister Shayla, Ember believed in the old customs and thought that her maidenhead should remain intact until her husband broke it.  But he found that as he spent more and more time with the nubile young woman his resolve was weakening by the minute.

                “You’re very tense.”  Ember said softly, her fingers starting to dig into the hard muscles of his chest.  He had noticed that as well, the area around the wound seemed to be hardening, and discoloring though he hadn’t yet mentioned this to anyone.  The effect was spreading too, causing him some concern.  Her fingers, which were rather strong considering her slight frame, were incapable of working the stiffened muscles loose.  “You carry too much emotional weight around with you my love.”  She said, incorrectly translating the cause of his unnatural tension.

                He turned in her arms so that he was facing her and could slip his own arms around her.  “Can you blame me?  Here I am, all of sixteen cycles old and the fate of our people may well rest on these shoulders.”

                She smiled, the slight freckles across the bridge of her nose shifting with the expression, “They are rather broad shoulders, I’m sure they will bear it well.”  Since coming to Peacehope, Ember had been wearing dresses in the local style, her own clothing having been soiled and tattered during their journey.  He knew that his sister too had not been able to bring any of her own clothing with her, but she had refused the dresses offered by the palace servants and last he had seen Shayla she was wearing mens pants and a sleeveless shirt… which she had ripped the sleeves off of.  The same was true of him and Devlin, though his brother preferred to go shirtless, Kelvan had opted to wear a tunic provided him with the wool pants.  They had been permitted to keep their weapons, though he didn’t wear his around the palace.  His claymore was resting in its scabbard, leaning up against a wall in a corner of the room.  His siblings, he had noted, were not comfortable enough here to go unarmed, but he had said nothing to them about it.  Their future ruler he might be, but for now he was still their little brother and he had difficulty with giving them orders.

                The dress that Ember, daughter of Sorn was wearing today was a light and airy thing, made of cotton and dyed light blue, the same as her eyes.  He leaned back and pushed her to arms length, running his eyes over the gown approvingly.  She blushed slightly at the obvious hunger in his gaze, especially when it lingered on the low cut neckline.  Her reddish blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her feet were bare and she was wearing no makeup… women of the tribes rarely did.  “These people have strange customs,” Kelvan said in a heavy whisper, “but I can find no fault with their clothing!”  Ember laughed and when he pulled her back into his arms she lifted her soft pink lips to meet his.  He felt his pulse quicken and a corresponding flare of pain in the scar on his chest, but he disregarded it as he pulled Ember closer to him, moaning at the feel of her lithe form against his muscled body.  She melted against him, responding to the urgency in his lips, parting her own to accept his questing tongue.  His hands moved from the small of her back down to the firm round buttocks beneath the blue skirt and he squeezed them while lifting, her eyes widening in surprise as she felt herself hoisted into the air, reflexively parting her legs and hooking them over his hips.  Kelvan carried her to the bed in the center of the room and laid her down, stretching out atop her, never breaking the kiss and his hands began working the hem of her dress up her calves, his fingertips caressing the firm smoothness of her lower legs as he slipped the entirety of his hands up under the skirt, his palms grazing her sleek thighs as they worked their up to her silk underwear, another gift of the servants here in the palace.

                Ember started to squirm then, turning her head and breaking the kiss though Kelvan kept going, trailing his lips down the side of her face to the base of her neck.  “Kelvan,” she gasped, her hands sliding to his shoulders and starting to push against him, “slow down!  We agreed this wasn’t the way!”  Another stab of pain went through his chest, lost in the waves of lust that were washing over him and he growled, one hand coming up and grabbing her wrists, pinning them to the bed above her head.  “Kelvan, what are you doing?  You’re scaring me!”  The barbarian princes’ lips and tongue started to work their way down from her neck across her upper chest till he was kissing the upper slopes of her smallish breasts where they were visible above the neckline of her dress.  His free hand was working at the buttons on the bodice, revealing more of the firm globes to his hungry mouth.  “Stop this Kelvan!” she was starting to panic now, her voice rising in fright and his hand emerged from her skirts and clamped across her mouth, tossing away the underwear her he had just torn from her hips as he went.  The fabric had left a friction burn on her tender flesh and she that, along with the fear now paralyzing her, led the young woman to start crying.  She felt her loves hand close around one of her breasts as it slipped into her open bodice, squeezing painfully.  He grunted in appreciation of their firmness, lowering his mouth to suck one of her nipples into it, chewing playfully.  Ember was too frightened to think, and too confused to understand what was happening.  This couldn’t be Kelvan on top of her, this wasn’t the sort of behavior he engaged in. This was more the way his brother acted, her sister had told her that Devlin was known to force his way into women’s beds if they refused him the first time.  That was why she hadn’t refused, that and she was trying to keep the elder prince from noticing Ember.  But now the younger brother was acting like the elder, which was so out of character it was the most frightening thing about this experience.

                She felt his iron hard manhood then, pressing against her through the wool trousers he had been wearing.  She had fantasized for a long time about what that would feel like, but not under these circumstances… not under these conditions.  It was when she felt his hand starting to undo the buttons of his pants that something inside her rebelled and she suddenly bit down on the fingers of the hand clamped over her mouth.  He gasped, pulling the hand away quickly and before he strike her, as it appeared he intended to do, she growled “Enough!”  She felt something, some unseen force pushing against her, driving her deeper into the soft mattress.  It was expanding outward quickly, shoving against Kelvan as well and the prince, surprised by the suddenness of it was flung backward with a shout of surprise.  So powerfully was he flung away from her that he slammed into the wall near the roof and fell, crashing into the small table and collapsing it beneath him.  He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it, his expression dazed.

                Ember sat up on the bed, the bodice of her dress gaping open and glared over at him, no longer scared but now more angry than she had ever been.  “What the hell is the matter with you?” she nearly screamed at him.  So intense was her anger that she hadn’t yet realized what she had just done, nor remembered that it wasn’t the first time.  That realization would come much later, after things had calmed down.

                “I…I’m sorry Ember…” he paused, slumping to a sitting position against the wall, “…I’m not sure what’s happening here.”

                “It seems as though you’re losing your mind, that’s what!” she said angrily, pulling together the fabric of her dress and starting to button it up.  “What were you thinking?  You nearly raped me!”

                His expression was miserable and he seemed to be near tears as he nodded, staggering to his feet.  “I know… I can’t understand what happened.  One second I was kissing you, then I was acting like some animal… but that part… it was like I was watching it from a distance… like it wasn’t me at all.”  He looked up at her, his expression pleading.  “Ember please… I would never hurt you.”

                She was still angry and her adrenaline was still pumping, the look of absolute horror on his face at what he had just about done took some of that away.  Her own expression softened slightly, “You’ve been under a lot of stress… perhaps you just got carried away.”  He nodded, eager to accept any excuse she might offer.  “But Kelvan… you can’t let that happen again.”

                “I won’t!  I swear it!”  At that moment there came a knock at the door to their room and the prince’s head snapped around as he looked at it.  Was this the palace guard, come to investigate the noises?  He glanced at the broken table and the cracks in the plaster where his body had struck the wall.  Then it occurred to him what had happened and he glanced quizzically at Ember, but she was already moving toward the door, finishing securing the last button of her dress.  Before she could open it he crossed the room and kicked her torn underpants beneath the bed, out of sight.

                The young woman opened the door, smiling in a long practiced way, expecting to see one of the palace guards standing in the hall.  Her smile faltered slightly though when she saw a remarkably beautiful woman with flaming hair standing there in a set of armor that had to have been custom crafted.  She was smiling uncertainly down at Ember, who stood head and shoulders beneath the woman.  “Good day… is everything all right?  I thought I heard fighting as I was coming down the hall.”

                Ember glanced over at Kelvan, then the smile returned and she stepped back, pulling the door open.  “Oh yes, we’re fine.  Just an argument… we’ve already worked it out.”  As the redhead entered the room her gaze settled upon the broken table, flitting briefly over the cracks in the wall near the roof.  “Our people really get into their arguments.”  The girl said, blushing slightly.  Then, as if in a conscious effort to change the subject, she said, “You must be Lady Moonstone?”

                “Lady Ariana Moonstone,” the redhead confirmed with a dazzling smile, “eldest daughter of Sir Donovan Moonstone who I understand you hoped to find here.”

                “Our condolences on your loss of your father.”  Kelvan said diplomatically, taking over from Ember.  “I am Prince Kelvan of the Thunder Hammer tribe.  Our fathers were friends, or so we’ve been led to believe.”

                Ariana nodded, her green eyes dancing over the young warrior, sizing him up.  For his part, he was sizing her up too, but he prayed that Ember couldn’t read his mind, especially after what had just happened.  ‘This woman is exquisite!’

                “You have my condolences on the much more recent loss of your father.  I have spoken with friends of Donovan’s who also knew Rolfe, though not as well.  They tell me that he was a great man… I know a thing or two about the loss you’re feeling.”  She moved further into the room, glancing around, perhaps looking for any more damage.  Finally she stopped halfway between the door and the bed, crossing her arms beneath her impressive bosom she regarded the young prince.  “You met with General Eaglehart when you arrived and he told me some of what brings you here.  But I’d like to hear it from your perspective, if you don’t mind.”  She tilted her head slightly to the side, her full red lips quirking into a smile that he found sexy as hell.  “I assume you are Kelvan?”

                The young prince jerked as though slapped and laughed self deprecatingly.  “Thor’s Hammer!  Where are my manners?”  He nodded, stepping forward and clasping forearms with the woman, impressed with the strength of her grip.  “I am Kelvan, son of Rolfe and this is my betrothed and soon to be Queen of the Thunder Hammer tribe, Ember, daughter of Sorn.”  Ariana and the young woman exchanged nods and smiles, then Kelvan continued.  “Of course I can brief you on what happened back in our home, but first…” he looked to Ember, his expression pleading, hoping she was willing to be helpful after what she had just endured, “…my love, would you go and fetch my siblings?  They should be here for this meeting as well.”

                Ember met his gaze for a moment, then she smiled and nodded, her expression assuring him that she was with him… though she had not yet forgiven.  It was enough for now, he knew forgiveness would come.  “Of course, I’ll be right back.”  She bowed slightly to Ariana then turned and exited the room through the still open door.

                “I must apologize for the table, as my betrothed said, my people tend to get very… involved in their arguments.”  He said, turning and gesturing at the shattered remains of the table, then stepping over to set the chairs beside it upright.

                Ariana studied the young man for a moment, wondering what had been happening in this room before she had arrived.  What had they been fighting about and why had it gotten physical?  The answers to those questions would speak volumes about the people she was meeting with, would help her to determine if they were worth her helping.  No, that wasn’t true exactly, she was already obligated to help them because of the debt her father owed theirs, but still, she would like to know what kind of people the children of Rolfe were.  ‘He’s certainly nice to look at,’ the paladin thought as she watched him attempt to straighten the chairs, one of which had broken with the table, ‘if a little young.  In about ten years he’s going to be down right devastating to any woman that looks at him!  Young Ember is a lucky woman.’  Then she thought of the fight that had been going on in here before she arrived and she wondered if she was correct in that assumption.  No amount of good looks could make up for being abusive, she decided she would have to keep an eye on the young prince.

                She turned then as she heard people approaching the still open door.  She plastered her dazzling diplomats smile on her face as Ember returned with the other two offspring of the warlord, but her smile very nearly faltered when the elder brother walked in.  He was one of the most physically impressive men she had ever seen and she couldn’t stop her eyes widening ever so slightly when she saw him.  Devlin, he was introduced to her as, and when she shook his hand she caught the knowing smirk in his eyes as he ran them over her shapely form.  He had seen that initial reaction and gauged it correctly, causing Ariana to decide she had to watch herself around this prince.  She thought of Avalon and stepped back quickly, wanting as much distance between her and Devlin as she could get.  ‘That is one handsome hunk of man,’ she thought to herself, ‘but he’s no knight!’  She and the princess, Shayla, exchanged meaningless greetings that Ariana couldn’t even recall second later.  Devlin’s gaze felt like it was burning her skin!

                Trying to get her thoughts back on track, she smiled around at them and said, “All right then, why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what brings you here seeking my fathers help.  If it’s within my power to do so, I’ll fill in for him.”  They took turns telling her what had happened back home in Trey’Elden, the whole story taking the better part of an hour to tell.  When they had finished the room lapsed into silence for a while, then Ariana summarized, “So basically the shadow elves infiltrated your village, recruited your uncle and killed your father.  Then they enslaved your people, but you have no idea what for?”

                “That’s it in a nutshell, yes.”  Shayla said with a nod. 

                Ariana nodded herself, frowning as she considered the problem.  “It sounds as though you need an army to take your tribe back, but I can’t offer you that.”

                Kelvan shook his head.  “No, our people will fight to defend their freedom, all we need is help getting to them.”

                Ariana nodded, glad to see that the young prince, destined to lead these people, seemed to have a lot of faith in them.  Faith like that was usually justified… and hard earned.  “That we may be able to attend to.  A small group, consisting of you four and myself… along with a few friends should be able to slip in unnoticed and emancipate your people.”  Devlin frowned and she realized he didn’t know what the word meant.  Shayla leaned over and said something to him softly and he nodded, his expression clearing up.  It was clear to her that while Devlin was the eye candy here, his siblings were the brains.  No wonder young Kelvan had been chosen to lead his people, and in a few years time he would likely be even more pleasant to look on than his brother.  “I have to attend a meeting with my people,” Ariana told them, “to assign someone to accompany us as well as to take on a couple of other missions that have come up recently too.  Why don’t you all join us and we’ll see where we go from there?”  The barbarians agreed and within a few short minutes Ariana was leading the procession across the city, toward the gates of the Dragonkeep.

Chapter Four

The door to the small cabin opened and she turned her head toward it, expecting to see the assassin returned from his meeting with the Captain of the zeppelin.  It wasn’t Shadow Stalker that entered the cabin though, it was one of the crewmen.  He was tall and gaunt with thinning black hair and watery, red rimmed eyes.  His prominent nose was skewed badly to the side, showing that it had been broken… likely more than once.  As he entered the room and pushed the door quietly closed behind him he let his eyes drift hungrily over the elf’s scantily clad form, his gaze making her skin crawl as it roved up the long, sleek lines of her legs where they were visible beneath the chemise she had worn beneath her dress.  The assassin had stripped them both down to their undergarments, having said he wanted to be certain they didn’t have any weapons concealed.  He had been extremely thorough in his search of them, so much so that Ishara had felt certain they were likely to be raped before he was done.  He hadn’t even hinted at that however, and the blonde elf got the impression from what little interaction she had had with the man that he wasn’t the sort to force himself on a woman.  This sailor that was now moving silently toward her, however, was another matter.  The lust burning in his gaze was unmistakable.

                “He’s not here I take it.”  It was a statement, not a question, but the elf still shook her head, eyeing the man warily, unable to speak because of the gag that was still wedged between her teeth and tied at the back of her head.  “Good for me.”  The sailor, at least she assumed that was still what they were called though their vessels traveled the skies instead of the seas, sat himself on the side of the narrow bunk to which the priestess was tied, her hands secured to the headboard above her, crossed at the wrists.  She watched him, her blue eyes accusing as he reached out with a grubby, stained hand toward one of her legs.  She kicked out at him, reminding the man that it was only her hands that were tied, but he just laughed as he knocked her flailing limbs aside.  Ishara was no combatant, had never been, even during her days traveling with the original Dragons.  Instead of kicking him, she pushed against the thin mattress with her heels, shoving her shapely form away from him as far as it could go with her hands secured above her, pressing her back and hips against the wall that the bunk extended out from.  Still smiling, he leaned over and she shuddered in revulsion as she felt the tips of his fingers caress the smooth skin of her left calf, his hand slowly moving up past her knee and sliding beneath the hem of her slip.  Ishara closed her eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face as his hand moved up her thigh, his palm finding the warm flesh, his fingers splaying wide across her satiny skin.  She heard him release a long, shuddering sigh and tried desperately to clamp her thighs together as the man made to move his hand between them, questing for the soft mound of hair found there.  “Ain’t had me a woman in a long while,” he said, his voice husky as he worked his hand between her thighs, patiently wiggling his fingers between them, “weren’t docked in Valor long enough to visit the whorehouses.”  He licked his lips, his eyes drifting to her full bosom, “Ain’t no loss though, no whore could match you!  Gonna have me a fine old time right here on the Cloud Dancer!”  It was the first time Ishara could remember hearing the name of the zeppelin she was being held on.  It occurred to her, somewhere in the depths of her mind, that she had traveled on this particular ship before on business for the church.

                After several minutes of silent struggling, the crewman managed to insert his hand between her legs, down near her knees where her toned thigh muscles were the weakest.  Ishara was still pressing them together as hard as she could, keeping her eyes closed and sweating lightly from the strain of struggling against him.  The man seemed to be enjoying himself though, chuckling slightly as he started to work his hand up between her thighs.  “Damn but you’re a fine looking bitch!” he crowed happily.  “Who knows, maybe when I’m done with you I’ll go and try out that other whore next door.”  Ishara’s eyes snapped open at that and she glared daggers at him.  “Oh ho!  Touched a nerve there did I?  She kin to you then?”  His rheumy eyes wandered over her beautiful face, taking in the full lips around her gag, the structure of her high cheekbones and delicately pointed ears.  “Sister, in’t it?”  He laughed, delighted.  “Ain’t never had me no sisters a’fore!”

                Suddenly Ishara’s eyes widened as Shadow Stalker seemed to appear behind the man, almost as though he had materialized from nothing.  “You’ll not be starting now.”  His voice was low and menacing, sending a shiver down her spine.  Its effect on the sailor was even more dramatic, though, as the color drained from his face and he jerked his hand out from under her slip.  He twisted at the waist, turning to look the killer in the eye and thought for certain that there was no soul reflected in that gaze.

                “I… I….”  He couldn’t finish whatever he had been about to say, fear froze the words in his mouth.

                “I had only one rule regarding my prisoners, and that was that you men were to leave them alone.  I have an understanding with your captain… I’ve told him what would happen to his men if they couldn’t follow my rules.”  The assassin’s hand moved faster than a striking snake, there was a flash of silver in the dimly lit cabin and Ishara was spattered with scarlet gore as the sailors throat was laid open.  The air leaving his wind pipe whistled hideously as he slumped to the side and she would have screamed, not only at the sight of the blood spurting from his severed carotid artery but also at the way his eyes rolled up in his head as he slumped to the ground, but the gag prevented it.  Probably just as well, she didn’t want to show weakness in front of her captor.  Though oddly, she suddenly found herself thankful for his presence.  Strange how that worked out.  Shadow Stalker stood beside the bunk, staring down at the dead crewman for a moment, his gaze reflecting stark anger.  “I apologize for that.”  He said, and it took her a moment to realize he was talking to her.  “I have pledged to deliver you and your sister to my employer unharmed… but my pledges do not carry much weight with men like this.”  He dropped to one knee then, disappearing from her sight for a moment.  She heard a series of strange sounds, almost like a scraping, then he stood again and he was dragging the body toward the door, his hand under the dead mans shoulders.  Ishara, who had settled back upon the bed more comfortably now that the apparent danger had passed, raised her head to look at her would be rapist. Her eyes widened at the sight of an ugly red “R” engraved in the middle of his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose.  She wondered, not for the first time, what sort of monster this assassin was.

                ‘R?’ she thought to herself, ‘Marking him as a rapist… or is this something different?’

                He was gone a few minutes, and when he returned he crossed the room to her bedside and leaned over, untying her hands.  Her confusion must have shown on her face because as he jerked her to her feet he explained, “We were never going to finish the journey on this vessel… the rest of the voyage will be taken on a more mundane mode of transportation.”  She thought he might have smiled beneath the black cloth that covered the lower part of his face.  “It’s time to change ships.”

                Ishara frowned, wondering how that was possible when they were several hundred feet in the air and no doubt traveling over open water.  He took her arm and led her from the cabin, out onto the deck.  She squinted against the bright sun, realizing only now that it was likely a couple of days since they had been taken from Algeron.  She saw her sister, Penelope, standing a short ways away, held by one of the zeppelin’s officers.  Like Ishara, the dark haired elf was clad only in her under garment, though hers was shorter than the priestess’s as her gown had been slightly more revealing.  When she saw Ishara and the blood spattered across her front, Penny’s eyes reflected concern.  Ishara tried to reassure her with her eyes, but it was difficult to communicate in that way.  She knew that Ariana was able to convey a lot to her sisters just with her eyes, but unfortunately Penelope, Ishara and their other sister, Daemonaya had never been that close. 

                The assassin guided her across the deck to the railing that ran the perimeter of the ship.  The officer brought Penny over to the same area and Ishara watched as Shadow Stalker, sill gripping her arm, leaned out over the railing and gazed down toward the water below.  She thought of trying to throw her weight against him, knocking him over the side, but knew that was tantamount to suicide as he would likely take her with him.  The assassin nodded, then extended his free hand.  Without a word another crewman stepped forward and placed a mirror in the assassins palm.  Shadow Stalker extended it out as far as his arm would reach and adjusted the mirror so that the rays of Solus reflected brilliantly off its surface.  He moved it up and down a few times, obviously communicating with someone below by a series of pre-arranged flashes.  A moment later he stepped back and the Countess’s startled gasp through her muffling gag was mingled with the surprised reactions of the zeppelins crew as a grappling hook, attached to what looked like a nylon rope, suddenly caromed over the side of the ship and clattered to the deck.  It was drawn back, then two of the three tines of the grapple hooked to the edge and held fast.  To be sure, Shadow Stalker moved forward and tested the pull on the line.  Nodding, he was satisfied that it would hold, then he turned to the Countess.

                Her eyes were wide and frightened, she had figured out what he intended to do. He was certain, were she able to talk around the gag in her mouth, that she would have questioned his sanity.  “Relax milady, it’s perfectly safe.”  He smiled slightly behind his mask, “Mostly.”  He was still holding Ishara by the arm so he motioned the man holding the noblewoman to bring her forward.  As the officer started forward Penelope groaned and shied back, away from the edge, shaking her head.  Eventually another crewman had to step forward and grab her other arm and between him and the officer they pushed her forward, pinning her to the railing.  Penelope was able now to see the ocean surface beneath the zeppelin and the distance made her swoon slightly, but she could see that the nylon rope attached to the hook descended all the way to the deck of a ship that was sailing along abreast of them.  It occurred to the woman, who was herself an accomplished mage, that for that ship to be keeping pace with the zeppelin it must be moving at magically magnified speeds.

                Shadow Stalker turned and looked at another man, nodding.  This crewman, short and squat with specs perched on the bridge of his nose, stepped forward a little hesitantly.  Penelope turned her head and saw the gnome approaching, a pair of steel manacles in his hands.  She narrowed her eyes at the diminutive little man, but his fear of the assassin far outweighed his fear of her.  While the officer and the deck hand held her fast he fastened one steel bracelet around her right wrist, then she was moved to the side, her left wrist passed underneath the rope, the chain between the manacles crossing over the top of it, then her other wrist was shackled.  The Countess started struggling anew as the officer and the deck hand hoisted her up and over the railing.  Her feet found the deck, just the heels resting against it between the slats of the railing.  She looked back over her shoulder, met her sisters terrified gaze, and then she screamed through her gag as the officer shoved her hard.  Penelope felt her feet slip, then she was dangling out over the ocean, hanging by the manacles that crossed over the top of the rope.  She spun slightly, her long legs kicking as she started to slide down, realizing as she descended that the angle of the rope was not so steep as it had appeared from the top.  Her long hair billowed out behind her, the lightweight material of her slip slapping against her skin as she slid down the rope, the ship growing larger as she got closer to it. She eventually was able to recognize it as a  Corsair, and the name stenciled along the side of the ship was Plunderer.  She felt her heart skip a beat, for she recognized that name.  As the ruler of a kingdom with a healthy seafaring trade, she had heard many tales of the pirate vessel called the Plunderer, captained by a menace named Ruddy Blaine.  She had herself placed a bounty on the ship and its crew, and now here she was, sliding across open space into the waiting arms of the most vicious pirate crew on the Sea of Stars.  She could see them gathered around the spool around which the rope was wound, watching her as she came at them.  Before her feet had even struck the deck two of the pirates had jumped forward and caught her, one of them a large, well muscled orc with red skin and a missing eye.  She knew him to be a savage orc from the jungles of Krayt, and if the intelligence she had read regarding this crew was to be believed, his name was Skar and he was the second in command on this ship. 

                His massive, muscular arm caught her about the waist and the impact knocked the air from her lungs, folding her lithe body around his arm.  He grinned at her, his jagged teeth showing yellow and seeming to have a great deal of unidentified meat stuck between them.  As was the norm with his people, the incisor teeth overlapped the upper lip, though not so much as the plains orcs, the green skinned cousins of his race.  Up close she could see that his face, arms, shoulders and chest were lined with scars that she thought might well have been self inflicted, though many of them were doubtless the result of many battles as well.  Another pirate stepped forward and reached above her, a moment later her hands were free and she was shoved away from the rope just before her sister came crashing into the arms of the other pirates.  She winced as Skar dragged her to one side, the claws on his fingers scraping against her scalp as he took her by the hair, forcing her to her knees and bending her head back so that he could look down into her gorgeous face. 

                “Countess Shroude,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice, “welcome aboard the Plunderer!”  She saw his one yellow eye wander down to the low cut neckline of her slip, his hungry gaze perusing her ample breasts hungrily.  “It will be my pleasure to ensure that you don’t enjoy your voyage!”

                Behind her, Ishara was being released from her manacles as well, but to the side of the vicious looking orc Penelope suddenly saw a man appear.  He was human, about six feet tall with a gleaming bald head, a bushy mustache and goatee and a patch over his right eye.  He wore loose cotton pants and a light vest, open in the front and a scimitar hung at his waist.  “Now Skar,” said Ruddy Blaine, placing a hand on his first mates shoulder, “we agreed not to harm these lovelies.  I’ll abide by that agreement, for what this fellow is paying… we can buy a whole harem of elvish beauties!”  As he spoke he raised his uncovered eye to the zeppelin.  As Skar did the same, Penelope was able to turn her head slightly, wincing as the movement caused her hair to pull in his hand.  She saw Shadow Stalker descending to the pirate vessel the same as she and her sister had done.  But when he reached the bottom he had been sliding along on a length of chain he held in both hands and he landed lightly, with seemingly no jarring impact whatsoever.

                Blaine moved forward, extending a hand to the assassin.  “Shadow Stalker, welcome aboard the Plunderer. I’m Ruddy Blaine.”

                The two men shook and the assassin glanced to his left and right, assuring himself that his two captives had survived the trip unscathed.  To the pirate captain he said, “That was smoothly done Captain Blaine, you have my thanks.”  The bald man nodded and smiled, showing a golden tooth flashing in his mouth.  “Are we on schedule?”

                Blaine nodded.  “Though Lady D’Spayr sent word that her people will meet you at a different time and place, on the coast of Trey’Elden.  Should be a mere three days sailing from here.”

                Shadow Stalker nodded, his gaze falling on Countess Shroude, who was still kneeling at the feet of Skar, who still held her by the hair.  “Excellent.”  Suddenly a massive explosion rent the air above them and all eyes save his turned up as the zeppelin exploded, the flash silhouetting the assassin and casting the pirates shadows along the deck of their ship.  “All is proceeding according to plan.”

                It was while leading the four barbarians toward the Dragonkeep on the far side of Peacehope that Ariana was made aware of her error.  She and her charges were waiting to cross one of the busier streets in the city when she heard hurried footsteps approaching and turning her head she felt her stomach tighten ever so slightly at the sight of Vance Falcone coming toward her.  He was what Ariana considered devastatingly handsome, with vibrant blue eyes and short cropped blonde hair.  He had an athletic build, not too bulky but still well muscled and he wore the suit of shining plate mail armor that had been his right since graduating as a templar like he was born to it.  His too handsome face, which hurt her slightly to look upon, was set in an unhappy scowl as he approached, his ice blue eyes focused on her.  She realized he was angry with her for something, she had seen that look in his eyes a few times before, but she couldn’t think what.

                “Vance.” She said hesitantly as he stopped in front of her.

                “Is it true?” he asked her.

                She narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to discern his meaning.  “Is what true?”  She saw a glimpse from the corner of her eye of Shayla’s reaction to the templar.  Her eyes had widened noticeably and she was rather openly perusing his muscular form.  The templar didn’t seem to have noticed her guests as of yet.

                “Ishara Wodan was kidnapped by the same assassin who killed the Duke?”  he said acidly.

                Ariana closed her eyes and dipped her head.  ‘He should have been told right away!’  She realized that his first priority as a templar of the temple of light was the safety of the priests and priestesses assigned there.  In this case, Ishara had been the one to sponsor him into templar training, so it was doubly bad for him to hear this.  “It’s true.” She said softly.

                “I should have been told immediately!” he growled, leaning in close to her.  It was a mark for how much they meant to each other, how much she still cared for him, that she didn’t strike him for taking that tone and posture with her. 

                She opened her eyes and met his levelly.  “You’re absolutely right Vance, you should have been.  I’m sorry, that was my mistake.  I’ve been a little distracted… not only have the Countess and Ishara gone missing buy my fathers body was stolen as well.”  He blinked, most of the anger leaving his face at that.  “Not to mention that my priority is the Countess’s return just as yours is Ishara’s.  But yes… I should have told you, I’m sorry.” She motioned toward the Dragonkeep in the distance, “I’m on my way to set up the rescue mission, you want in?”

                “Absolutely.”  He said, then suddenly seemed to realize they weren’t alone.  The barbarians were watching them with a mixture of bewilderment and bemusement on their faces.  “Who are your friends?” he asked, and Ariana noted the way his eyes traveled just as boldly over Shayla as hers had over him.  She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that… nor was she sure why she should care.

                “Vance Falcone,” she said by way of introduction, “may I present the children of Rolfe, warlord of the Thunder Hammer tribe.  This is Shayla, Kelvan and Devlin.”  Then she motioned at Ember, who was looking quite shy all of a sudden in face of the handsome holy warrior.  “And this is Ember, daughter of Sorn and betrothed of Kelvan.”

                Vance nodded around at the barbarians.  “Ladies… gentlemen.”  They returned the nod and Shayla actually smiled a rather dazzling smile at him.

                ‘That woman can be down right beautiful when she wants to.’  Ariana thought.  Up till then she had thought of Shayla as a warrior princess type, all warrior with little softness to her personality.  Now she was seeing a different side, yet she suspected the woman herself wasn’t too familiar with that aspect of her personality just yet.  “Come with us Vance.  I’ll put you jointly in charge of the rescue mission with Strut.”

                “Strut?  You’re not going?”  he asked, surprised as he fell into step beside her.

                Ariana shook her head.  “I’m obligated to go to Trey’Elden and help these people rescue their tribesmen.  After that… depending on how long it takes… I’ll try to catch up to one of the other groups and help out where I can.”  They all fell silent then, and stayed that way the rest of the journey to the Dragonkeep.

                The Dragonkeep was a massive structure that resembled a military fort, which it had actually been intended to be before Donovan Moonstone had commandeered it.  The north wall of the city ran in a straight light from east, at the shore to west where it intersected that wall.  The wall that surrounded the keep was an extension of the north wall, built a few years later, encompassing about three acres of land.  The complex consisted of the main keep, a large castle like structure that rose for six stories, a large stable where more than just horses were kept (many of the Dragons were of races whose riding mounts ranged through a  myriad of exotic animals) and a barracks that had been designed to hold about five hundred soldiers.  The soldiers living there now were not assigned to the protection of the city, however, but to the oversight of the Dragons, or more specifically the Dragons leadership, in this case Ariana Moonstone.  The keep was entirely self contained as well, with a large kitchen that was attached to the main building but also serviced the barracks, a well for drinking water and a forge where Gar… or occasionally Strut would hammer away for hours on some weapon or armor that they had decided needed improving. 

                As they entered the main hall of the keep, a vast room with arched ceilings rising about sixty feet up, Ariana and the others glanced around.  For Vance it was all familiar, the people milling about on some errand or another, but the barbarians eyes widened in surprise for they had not expected anything so grandiose as this.  “This is all yours?”  Kelvan asked, his voice tinted with awe.

                Ariana shrugged, “It’s not technically mine, no.  It belongs to the Dragons and there’s no rule anywhere that says a Moonstone has to lead this group.  But for now… I control the keep and all its forces, yes.” She led the way deeper into the building, turning left off the main hall and leading the others down a side hall.  This one was much narrower than the first and they passed several doorways that stood open, through one they could see a group of armored men running through some standard sword fighting techniques.  “That’s one of the six training rooms we have in the keep.  It’s for instruction with swords.  The soldiers under my command are also trained to use axes, spears, shields and whips so there are training rooms for each of those as well as one for teaching them unarmed tactics.”  The barbarians all exchanged looks that showed how impressed they were.

                The paladin finally stopped at a closed door near the end of the hall and glanced over her shoulder at the others before taking a deep, steadying breath and pushing into the room beyond.  Vance and the barbarians followed and found themselves in what looked like a war room.  On the walls were huge maps of just about every kingdom on Kyzanthia and dominating the center of the room was a massive oval table that looked to able to seat about a fifty if necessary.  Just now there were about fifteen people scattered intermittently around the table, all of them looking expectantly at the new arrivals.  Ariana turned to the barbarians as Vance surreptitiously took a seat a few down from hers, which was closest to the door.  “Everyone, I’d like to introduce the children of Warlord Rolfe of clan Thunder Hammer.  This is Kelvan, the future leader of his people, his betrothed Ember, the Daughter of Sorn, Devlin and their sister Shayla.”  The barbarians said nothing as they looked around the table, all four of them eyeing Strut curiously, recognizing him for one of their people… though obviously from a different tribe.  The paladin motioned the foreigners to seats and they sat together as close to the door as they could manage.  Ariana smiled slightly, then glanced around the room, taking stock of who was there. Nodding, realizing that everyone she needed to speak to was here, she took her own seat.  “All right, now that we’re all here… a situation report is in order.”

                Including the six people who had just entered the room, there were now twenty-one seated around the wide oval, and all eyes and ears were focused upon Ariana as she leaned forward, clasping her hands together on the table in front of her.  She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then nodded and launched into her sitrep.  “There are a number of developments many of you might or might not be aware of.  If you know this information already, then please bear with me so that I might update those who don’t.  There should be information here that none of you have learned as yet.”  She glanced around the table, meeting as many of the eyes as she was capable of.  “First off, we believe that the same assassin who took out Duke Rethbourne, a man we now believe to call himself Shadow Stalker has also kidnapped Countess Shroude and her sister, Ishara Wodan.”  Ariana took a moment for that news to sink in for the people present that hadn’t yet heard it.  She knew that no official announcement had been made, that would fall to Huntyr when and if he decided to make one.  “Secondly, our visitors here,” she nodded at the barbarians, “have come to us seeking help with a problem they face back home in Trey’Elden.  My father owed theirs a pretty great debt and so I have decided to grant their request, which means I won’t be leading the third mission… the recovery of my fathers body, which was stolen from its crypt yesterday by…” she turned to Magnus, eyebrows raised.

                The mage leaned forward, clearing his throat slightly and everyones attention shifted to him.  “Her name is Illya Crane, she is a necromancer from Errgaunt wanted, obviously, for being a practitioner of a forbidden art.  There is some connection with Miss Crane and the Dragons, though it is rather a weak link.”  Ariana cocked her head slightly at this, listening.  “It seems she was once in the employ of a Bryce Grayson… during a time when Donovan Moonstone led this group.”  At that the mage turned and regarded Ariana.  She in turn glanced across the table at where the only two representatives of her fathers team with them today were seated.  Galon, who was more comfortable addressing so many people, leaned forward.             

                “I remember her vaguely.”  He glanced around at Ariana and her sisters.  Though not technically members of the Dragons, they were present because the discussions taking place concerned them as well.  “You girls should remember Grayson, he gave your father a hard time more than once, the first time being before most of you were born.”  He frowned, trying to recall the details.  “The first time was shortly after Peacehope declared its sovereignty.  The Count and Duke, back when they were still seeing eye to eye on things, had decided that they needed to declare a First Knight… defender of the realm sort of thing.  In honor of everything your father had done to assist them in settling Algeron, they wanted to just had the title to him.”  Galon smiled fondly at the memory, shaking his head.  “That didn’t sit to well with Donnie.  He told them that if there was to be a First Knight, then it should be determined by a competition, as was done in other kingdoms.  He was convinced there might be a better candidate among the other knights on the island.  They were all invited to come to Peacehope and the tournament to determine First Knight was held.  Grayson was among the other knights and it eventually came down to him and your father as the final two.”  Galon glanced at Gar and the old dwarf nodded, agreeing with Galons account thus far.  “It came to your fathers attention before that final contest that some of the men Grayson had defeated had died of their wounds… wounds that shouldn’t have been fatal.  He had Ishara investigate… back then she was one of us, a Dragon.  She discovered that their deaths were more the result of dark magic than the wounds they’d inflicted, which meant that Bryce Grayson was cheating.”

                Gar picked it up there, “These men and woman were all knights remember, and the rules had been set… no magic permitted.  Only pure skill could determine a winner, but they knew now that Grayson had been using magic, and foul magic at that.”  Gar shook his head, “We tried to get your father to back out, to just arrest Grayson and accept the title, but he refused.  He entered that arena with only a non-magical sword and armor and they fought… damn did they fight!”  Gar slammed his fist on the table, making Tasha, sitting a few seats down from him, jump slightly.  “In the end, yer daddy beat him without a scratch on him.  He then revealed to the crowd that Grayson had cheated and he was dishonored, stripped of his title and banished from Peacehope forever!”

                “At least,” Galon continued, “it was supposed to be forever.  We crossed blades with Grayson and some of his men quite a few times over the years, but the one we’re concerned about today was the last time.  It was also our last mission as Dragons, your father had decided it was time to retire from adventuring and settle down to raise you girls.”  He glanced around the table, saw that everyone was listening raptly.  It wasn’t very often that these two men, who had known him best, told tales of Donovan Moonstone’s exploits.  “We had gotten word from Candelar, one of the outlying settlements of Peacehope that they were being plagued by undead.  The recently deceased were re-animating and attacking the living.”  He nodded toward Blaze, “Tanya was with us on that one.”

                The elf with the haunting violet eyes nodded, her full red lips turning up slightly.  “I remember.” She glanced at Ariana, “Your father was… astounding to behold in battle.”

                “We went to Candelar, backtracked some o’ the zombies that were seen in town to the local cemetery.”  Gar continued, “Wound up having to fight our way through a host o’ undead.” 

                “We finally caught up to Bryce Grayson and Illya Crane in her inner sanctum, an old crypt she had claimed as her own.  She had just finished performing some kind of ceremony on Grayson, something designed to make him more powerful.”  Galon glanced over at Blaze and this time the elf picked up the tale.       

                “Illya Crane had been using her undead to bring her live subjects to experiment on.  She seemed to think she could create a hybrid undead and mortal mix, creating a being with all the strengths of the damned but none of their weaknesses.”  Blaze shook her head.  “She was attempting to infuse necromantic energy into a mortal being and it seemed with Grayson she had succeeded.  He challenged Donovan to a fight, a final showdown between sworn enemies.”  She laughed bitterly, “It turned out to be the last mistake he ever made.”

                Galon spoke again, “Crane had been somewhat successful, and we know from the earlier tale that Grayson was into the idea of augmenting his own abilities through magic.  He thought himself the match of Donnie.  Turned out he was wrong, especially with Vindicator in your fathers hands.  The end result was Grayson’s eventual death by beheading, right there in the cemetery.”

                “What became of Crane?”  Tasha asked, leaning forward slightly to look at Galon around the bulk of Gar.

                “She slipped away during the fighting.  It was the last we heard of her, until now.”  Galon answered.

                Blaze nodded, “I had forgotten all about her it’s been so long.”

                “There was some speculation yesterday that she might be intending to use fathers body to create a Revenant.”  Ariana said, bringing the conversation back on course.

                Magnus spoke up again, “As to that, I may have some information. Purge has actually heard that there have been several Revenant sightings around Kyzanthia of late, almost as if someone were assembling a force of them.”

                “There’s a comforting thought.”  Talia grumbled and several people nodded their agreement.

                “More likely,” Blaze said with a thoughtful frown, “someone already has an army of undead and is using the Revenants as generals.”  She glanced over at Ariana.  “If it’s Crane doing this, she would know that your father was a gifted leader of men and a superb warrior.  She saw first hand that he was exactly the sort of hero whose body would make a vessel for a Revenant.  It fits the facts… I’d say that’s what she has planned.”

                Ariana nodded, “Are you still prepared to help with this?”  Blaze nodded sagely.  “Then you have my thanks.”  The paladin turned then and said, “So… three missions requires three teams.  As I’ve already said, I’ll be leading the team going to Trey’Elden.  Blaze has volunteered to go after Crane and Vance Falcone, seeing as Ishara Wodan is also in danger, has volunteered to lead the team going after the Countess and her sister.”  Ariana paused here and sighed, knowing the time had come to drop the last bomb.  “There’s been another development I feel I should warn you all about.”  She glanced around, saw a number of grim countenances looking back at her. She could well imagine that some of them, those who had known her the longest and knew the inner workings of Peacehopes nobility the best, may already see this coming.  “In light of Countess Shroudes kidnapping, it has fallen to her stepson, Huntyr to lead the city till her return.”  A lot of grumbling went around the table at this.  “This problem is two fold for us.  Firstly, he has insisted that if we are to undertake these missions, then he wants representatives of his own to tag along and keep an eye on things.”

                “Spy on us you mean.”  Strut spat bitterly.

                Ariana nodded, “My thoughts exactly.  In fact, in the case of the mission to retrieve his step mother, it may be even worse.  He may have given his man instructions to ensure she doesn’t survive the journey home.  He’s not likely to want to give up his new power now that he’s finally got it, something he’s wanted for a very long time.”  A few nods circulated the table.

                “Which of his cronies am I stuck with?”  Vance asked, accepting the bad news gracefully.

                “He has asked that Talon Rethbourne accompany you.”  Vance nodded, he had grown up in Peacehope and while he didn’t particularly like Talon either, he knew the man well enough.  She glanced at Blaze, “You’ll be saddled with Cyrrik Eaglehart… I’m sorry.”

                “I can handle him.”  Blaze said with a soft smile and Ariana wondered if she shouldn’t be a little worried about Cyrrik.

                “As to my team, I’m going to have to take my own step brother Rellik along.”  The paladin told everyone.

                A few spaces down from her, seated next to Blaze, was her friend and long time companion Commander Relic, a templar with the church of light, just like Vance, though he was only loosely connected to the Peacehope temple.  “Good thing he’s going with you!  If he came with us that would just get confusing!”  Laughter rippled around the room and Ariana was glad that they were able to make light of a potentially bad situation.

                “Furthermore, since I don’t trust Huntyr or Major Falcone,” she glanced at Vance when she said this but he smiled, understanding, “I will be leaving a few of you here to keep an eye on things for us as well.”  She turned to where her sisters were seated, along the table to her right.  “Krys, I’ll leave you in charge of that.  As a lawyer, you’re a little more knowledgeable about what sort of power he’ll actually have as an interim ruler.  You might be able to work the system around him a bit, but be aware that he’ll have Falcone whispering in his ear as well.  That’s where the real danger will be, any decision Huntyr makes you can be pretty sure will be coming from the Major.”

                Krystel nodded.  “I’ll handle it.”

                Ariana took a deep breath then and glanced around, “Okay then, the teams will be broken up as follows.  I’ll be leading the group heading to Trey’Elden, both Galon and Gar have volunteered to go with me, but I’d like one of you to accompany Blaze.”  She glanced at the elven warrior mage.  “If that’s all right with you?  It will give you some official clout on the island having one of them along.”

                Tanya nodded.  “I’d be honored to work with either of them again.” 

                Ariana glanced over at the two old warriors.  “I’ll let you decide between you which one goes.”

                It took a space of two heartbeats for Galon to say, “I’ll go with Blaze.”

                Ariana nodded.  “Then that leaves Gar with me and the three barbarians.”

                “Four.”  Ember corrected her quietly.

                Ariana had been expecting this and turned to the young woman with a patient smile.  “Ember, I understand you are to be married to Kelvan, is that correct?”  The young woman nodded, “But I don’t believe you have any combat training?”  The girl shook her head, frowning.  “Then there’s a good chance that you wouldn’t live long enough to see your wedding day.  If you stay here, then Kelvan can send for you when it’s all over.  While you’re here, you might be useful to my sister in helping to keep an eye on things around the city.”

                Ember turned to Kelvan, her expression searching.  The young prince was looking from Ariana to his betrothed and back again.  “Is this what you want Kelvan?” she asked.

                Kelvan met the paladins gaze for a moment and she hoped he had the wisdom to see she was right.  Finally he turned to his young love, “Though it will grieve me to be parted from you for so long… I would much rather have you somewhere I know you to be safe.  Yes… I want this as well.”

                Ember raised her chin and nodded, “Then I shall stay.” 

                Ariana smiled and reached over, squeezing the girls hand.  “You’ll make a fantastic queen for your people one day.”  Then she turned back to the gathering, “So that’s me, Gar, Devlin, Kelvan and Shayla.  I don’t know exactly what we’ll be facing when we get there, but they hinted at magical resistance.”  She turned to Magnus.  “I’d like you to come along too.”  He nodded, taking it in stride.  “Once we get there we will be liberating some enslaved tribe members, they may well be wounded, so Rachnid, I’d like you along as well.”

                The little goblin looked very pleased with himself to be added to the bosses crew.  As was true of all of his race, Rachnid was short and spindly with an oversized head and matching hands and feet.  His wide, pointed ears had puffy black hair growing out of them, a surprisingly little amount when compared to others of his species.  In fact, when compared to other goblins, Rachnid was rather a rare individual.  For one thing, he was clean all the time, his priestly robes always neat and tidy… except for the occasional spider web hanging under his armpits and the little eight legged creatures that could occasionally be seen scampering about.  His head was bald as well, his scalp covered in a spider web tattoo that was a symbol of the deity he served, Rachnos the spider god. 

                Ariana smiled at the relieved looks that crossed the faces of Bryant and Talia.  She knew the young thief and her sister were very afraid of spiders.  “That’s my team, except for Rellik and I’ll pick him up on the way out of town.”  She turned to Blaze.  “Who would you like along with you?”

                The statuesque elf glanced around the table.  “Well, in addition to General Eaglehart,” she nodded toward the old paladin, “and apparently his eldest son,” Ariana winced at that, it hadn’t occurred to her that father and son would be on the same team, she glanced at Galon but he seemed unmoved, at least on the surface, “I will of course be taking my own people.”  She motioned to the men seated to either side of her.  “Commander Relic and Lance Crowe.” 

                “Is that all?” Ariana asked.

                Blaze frowned thoughtfully and Ariana turned, staring pointedly at her sisters.  Talia spoke up suddenly, “If you don’t mind Blaze, I’d like to come along.  One of his daughters should really be there to see to his remains.” 

                Ariana nodded imperceptibly at her baby sister.  Blaze nodded as well, “That is acceptable.”

                Ariana sighed with relief, she trusted Blaze to get the job done, and she knew that Galon would have watched out for her fathers interests as well, but with Cyrrik along she didn’t know how much he could be relied upon.  With one of her sisters there she felt that her fathers body was in no danger of being mistreated.  Then she turned to Vance, “And you?  I was going to be sending the remainder of my own team after the Countess… is that acceptable?”

                “Who would that entail?”  Vance asked, glancing around.  He knew Ariana quite well, but they hadn’t been as close as they once were, obviously, and he hadn’t really had opportunity to meet her team as yet.

                Ariana pointed around the table and as she said their names they waved or nodded.  “Strut, Tasha and Shadow Walker.” 

                He nodded.  “That would be fine with me.  But is there anyone available for magical support?”

                Aribeth spoke up then.  “Would I do?”

                Vance glanced at her and smiled, then in his most diplomatic tone said, “Actually, I was hoping for someone with a little more experience, no offense.”

                Beth shrugged.  “None taken. I’ve never been an adventuring mage, but I’ll help if I can.”

                Ariana looked at her sister.  “You and Krys can share the duties regarding Huntyr Shroude here at home.”  Beth nodded at that, feeling that at least she was being entrusted with something.  “Did you have someone in particular in mind?”  She asked then, turning back to Vance.

                He nodded, glancing at her discreetly.  She recognized the look on his face, he was about to say something he knew she wouldn’t like.  “We believe the Countess and Ishara are being taken to Errgaunt, right?”  Ariana nodded, keeping silent, waiting for him to finish.  “Well, it occurs to me that there is someone here in town that would be uniquely qualified to help us with this.  He even has connections to the mages guilds over there.”  It was common knowledge that the warlike human empire had little contact with Algeron, in fact in recent years they had declared the island kingdom to be their enemies.  This was a fact that her people were well aware of, and it would effect how they operated once there.  But having a mage along with connections in the guilds would be a valuable asset to be sure, it might even mean setting up a teleportation to the empire, cutting their pursuit time of the assassin down to practically nothing.  They would simply have to lie in wait for him to arrive. 

                Then it occurred to her who her former lover was talking about.  “No!”  Her eyes widened and she leaned back in her chair, gazing at him as though she couldn’t believe what he was suggesting.  “You can’t mean….”

                He nodded, speaking in a tone he used to use when they were dating to try and keep her from losing her temper.  “I know he can’t be trusted, I remember what he did… but he could be useful here.”

                “Who are we talking about?”  Tasha asked from across the table.

                Gar and Galon, both looking as astonished as Ariana, had apparently also figured it out.  The dwarf growled, “Arkayne.”

                “Who?”  Strut looked around at the others.

                Ariana answered.  “Back in the early days of my fathers incarnation of the team, Arkayne was one of the first mages to travel with them.  Signed the charter and everything, in fact his name is still on it since there are no known means to remove a name from a magical contract like that.”  She shook her head.  “He betrayed the team… was using black magic on the women traveling with them at the time, one of which was the very woman you serve!”  This last she directed at Vance.

                He nodded.  “Like I said, I’m familiar with what he did and I wouldn’t trust him either, but you can’t deny he would be useful.  My primary concern is getting Ishara and the Countess back, shouldn’t we be using every available advantage to make that happen?”

                Ariana leaned forward over the table, closing her eyes and thinking hard.  Finally she raised her head and said, “If you want him, you have to take full responsibility for him.”

                Vance nodded.  “I can do that.”  In fact, as a templar of the church he had the authority to order prisoners released to his custody, claiming responsibility for them and freeing the former jailers of any possible blame for wrong doing.

                She looked up at the three members of her team.  “Are you three all right with this?”

                Strut shrugged and Tasha looked uncertain, but neither of them said anything.  Then Bryant piped up, “If he tried anything I’ve got a dagger with his name on it!”  The paladin smiled and nodded, then turned to Vance again. 

                “Anyone else?”  she asked, almost afraid of what he might say.

                Vance shook his head.  “Not that I can think of, no.” 

                Ariana sighed and nodded.  “All right, you see to his release from whatever prison they put him in, and on your head be it.”  Then she glanced around the room.  “Those of you who were unassigned can assist here in the city as needed.  If we need backup, we’ll call.”  With that the meeting broke up and the parties went their separate ways.

                Upon leaving the Dragonkeep they made their way to the Peaceful Rest cemetery, Blaze leading the way up the narrow, paved path that led to the Moonstone family crypt.  Beside her strode Talia Moonstone while behind them came Galon Eaglehart, Commander Relic and Lance Crowe.  Cyrrik Eaglehart, she assumed, would join them soon.  If he didn’t, that was on him.  The elf had no intention of going and looking for the man.

                Now that she was going about the business of hunting the undead, Tanya had ditched the sexy red dress she had been wearing the day before and now was clad in her hunters garb, as she liked to call it.  The outfit was all black leather and consisted of a low cut halter top that cinched up the front and had wide leather straps rising over her shoulders.  The halter left her flat stomach bare and beneath that there was a broad leather belt upon which hung several pouches of varying sizes and a few sharpened stakes that rested in loops at the small of her back.  Her long legs were poured into a pair of leggings and there were thigh high boots and gloves that rose nearly to her armpits, not to mention a wide leather choker about her throat, the better to ward off sharp fangs.  Completing the ensemble was a lightweight cloak, black with a red lining inside, the hood pulled up to conceal her tumble of black hair.  The whole thing looked both ominous and sexy at the same time.  Riding low on her left hip was a sword, called Final Rest, that was something of a trademark for her.  All warrior mages carried some form of magical weapon, Blaze’s was unique to her.

                “Did you leave the door open on purpose?”  She asked the blonde ranger as they approached the tomb and found the large concrete door standing open.

                Talia, who had also exchanged her party dress for her more commonly seen attire of a buckskin colored leggings, low cut strapless top and boots shook her head.  “Not on purpose, no, but we were a little more concerned with getting our sister to the healer than we were with the security of a tomb that had already been breached.”  The low cut leather of her top was lined with tassels that swayed as she walked, as did the ones along the tops of her boots.  On her hands were soft leather gloves and she wore a headband of matching leather to help hold back her long, wavy blonde hair.  On one shapely hip rode her sword, Spirit, crafted for her by Gar when she came of age and in one hand she carried a long spear, using it as a walking stick as they made their way up the shallow hill.

                “Noted, and rightly so.”  Blaze said with a slight nod, her purple eyes flicking over the exterior of the tomb, already noting any discrepancies but finding none as yet.  “This is a two level crypt?” she questioned.

                Talia nodded.  “Father’s tomb is on the lower level, the upper was reserved for lower ranking family and a friend.”  No one questioned the last part, it wasn’t important nor did it matter who the Moonstones allowed to be interred in their family plot.

                Blaze paused on the entrance of the crypt and glanced around, her gaze lingering for a moment on the coffin of Aribeth Case.  “What happened there?”

                Talia glanced at the sarcophagus, its lid still lying on the ground behind it, the wooden box within still lying open.  She scowled slightly, trying to remember.  “I was unconscious at the time, so I’m not sure.”

                Galon, also now wearing his armor and sporting his sword and shield, spoke up. “Krystel broke into it knowing that Aribeth was interred with her blade.  The girl wanted a weapon to help defend her father’s body.”  He walked over to the open coffin and looked down into it, frowning.  “She didn’t put the sword back though…” he scowled, glancing around the room as though looking for the weapon, “…that’s troubling.”

                Blaze, Relic and Lance, unconcerned about the missing sword, were already moving down the stairs toward the lower level.  Talia, having heard something in her surrogate uncles tone that caught her attention frowned and asked, “Why?”

                Galon turned and met her gaze for a moment, looking as though he were debating whether to tell her.  It had always rankled Talia that even now, a full grown woman, she was still looked on as the “baby sister”.  “You didn’t have the chance to know your adopted sisters mother, she died before you and Krystel were born.”  He said at last, turning to look down at the remains within the coffin, his expression showing that it pained him to see her like that.  “She was a beautiful woman, inside and out, but she had a lot of demons.  Demons your father used to help her contend with… but the greatest demon of all was that damnable sword.”

                “The sword?”  Talia prompted.

                He nodded.  “We’re not sure where it came from, when she joined up with us she was already wielding it.  A cursed blade, it was bonded to her, augmenting the darkest parts of her soul.”  He shook his head, “She said it was called Nightmare, and from the way she moaned and tossed about in the night I think it was aptly named.  Your father, it seemed, was a balm for the effects of that sword.  I think she fell in love with him quite early on, and he might have with her if she had been with us longer.  A few months was all she stayed, then she went on her way, taking Nightmare with her.  We ran into her often over the years, and always that sword was there.  Each time they’d meet Donovan and Aribeth would go off together for long days at a time and he would try to work her through some of her turmoil.”  He glanced back at Talia.  “I’m certain it was during one of these times that your sister was conceived, though Donnie never spoke of it.  The last time we saw her she showed up on his doorstep, mortally wounded and clutching a newborn babe to her chest.  She died in his arms, he had her interred here and named the child after her.  Knowing that most of the problems she had were related to that sword, he had it placed in here with her so it wouldn’t bother anyone else.”

                “Now my sister has it, and hasn’t seen fit to return it.”  Talia said, sounding worried.

                Galon nodded, his own expression dour.  “That’s the swords influence, it will maintain a low profile until it’s fully bonded to her, but she’ll develop an attachment to it early on.  Looks like maybe she already has.”  He slammed his hand on the side of the stone box, “Damn!  If I had known I might have acted sooner!”

                “We haven’t the time to deal with it now, but perhaps when we return with Fathers body we can discuss with the mages guild how best to deal with a cursed blade.  Until then… we have a job to do, right?”  Talia had placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned and smiled at her.

                “You sound like your father.” He said.  “Always focused on the problem at hand and worry about the other things later, when there’s more time.”  He nodded.  “All right, let’s catch up to the others.”

                Talia and Galon arrived in the lower tomb to find Blaze crouched beside the hole down which Illya Crane and her monsters had escaped.  Hearing them enter, the warrior mage turned and asked, “You said she had a Necroknight?”

                Galon nodded.  “Tough bastard too, kept us all busy while she had her ghouls grab Donnie.”

                Blaze nodded.  “I’m not too surprised you couldn’t take him.  They’re a part of the middle tier, but they’re almost powerful enough to be upper tier.” 

                Talia frowned.  “I don’t know much about undead, what do you mean by middle and upper tier?”  She asked.

                Blaze was still examining the shaft in the floor, so Relic turned and regarded the ranger as he explained.  He was a mysterious figure, slightly more than seven feet tall and armored in plate mail from head to toe, though there was a slight orange glow through the eye slit in his helm.  She knew that his armor was gimmicked out by gnomish tinkerers, she had heard the tales and hoped to see some of those gimmicks for herself.  His armor was all gray and black with the holy symbol of Ra, the ahnk, emblazoned on the chest and shoulders.  His claymore, Challenger, rested in its scabbard on his broad back.  “Typically,” the templar said, his voice echoing metallically from within his armor, “undead are classified by tiers.  Lower tier are the simpler undead, those that are considered mindless or of limited intelligence.”

                “Zombies and the like.”  Offered Lance Crowe.  Though an undeniably handsome man, Lance had a shabby kind of look to him, his shoulder length blonde hair seemed stringy and dirty, his chain mail and leather armor well worn and patched in many places.  If judged by his build, he was fit for a human, well muscled and toned, but he looked pale and sickly all the time.  His eyes were dull and listless but he was quick to smile and always seemed in good humor. The most impressive aspect of the Demon Hunter was his spear, which was seven feet long and lined from end to end in magical symbols and runes designed for battling the supernatural denizens of the various planes of hell.