Surfeit of Thieves [Aki and Angmor]

[Angmor]

No, my previous post isn't done yet, but since that one's pretty much just going to be a shamelessly self-indulgent exploration of Vaoris' character, it won't alter this plot any. Emma asked I post this so that Aki, you can start thinking about your reply.

“The general idea is to scope out the place first. We’ll split up, locate the book and determine what obstacles we’ll need to overcome to obtain it. After an hour, we’ll reconvene at an area that will be determined when we arrive. At that point, we’ll discuss the plan to collect the book. We’ll rendezvous outside of the first shop we visited yesterday after we’ve collected it. The one with the dwarf. If anything goes wrong, and we need to pull out, we’ll reconvene there as well. I don’t want to risk coming back here too soon. It will be too predictable.”
Apparently, we would return to the shop that carried primitive fertility carvings. This would provide an ample opportunity to further torment Vaoris. How fun!
“We also need to be prepared for the possibility that Vaoris’ friends will make an appearance. I don’t think they’ll confront us during the party, but if they are also there to make a bid for the book, we need to act quickly before they get the chance. If they do manage to get the book, try to cause a scene and draw attention to them. Make it as difficult as possible for them to escape with the book.”

On top of getting to play with my pet scholar, there would be yet another chance for violence. If I had had any regrets about coming along on this venture, they were gone now. While on the road to Teirm, filthy and plagued by cold and thieves, I had never imagined that we would attend one of the famed parties of the decadent Broddring nobility. In terms of richness, they were only rivalled by the elves of Du Weldenvarden. I could dress in my finest attire, wear as much makeup as I pleased, and walk among the aristocracy as their better, whether they knew my superiority or not. The strong possibility of bloodshed would completely erase the boredom of having to mingle with simple-minded humans who thought of nothing but their own wealth. It finally appeared as though things were starting to go my way.

“Any questions?” Rohiriel asked, ripping me from my fantasies. I had forgotten entirely that we had to locate that silly book. Luckily, Vaoris had something to say.
“I don’t even know enough about what you’re saying to know which questions to ask,” the scholar said with a modest shrug. “But…” he hesitated. “Last night, in the alley… if there’s another fight…”
Ah, yes. In return for that sizeable brain of his, the scholar couldn’t defend himself against a housefly. “Don’t worry, little Noendîr.” I pulled my hand from the water and rubbed his hair, wetting it and making him wince irritably. “I can protect you from the terrors of obese humans.”
“And Corchiel, I want no more impulsiveness from you,” said Rohiriel sharply. “I don’t need to remind you of the danger you put us in last night.”
“Danger? Your… cousin… lives, and none of us were even scratched.” I raised my hands defensively. “I will not put us at risk during the party, but if something should happen… I promise nothing. Now, out with you both! My water is getting cold.”

After shooing away the both of them, I took a look outside the window and tutted. It was getting dark already. Dunking my head underwater, I scrubbed ferociously until I was certain that no remnants of the filthy sack remained before hauling myself out of the water. In between the two beds, a thick curtain that could be pulled along a rack had been hung for privacy. After booting open the door so Vaoris could come in and clean himself, I tugged the curtain to its full length, separating me from the scholar and those inquisitive eyes of his. Considering how he looked at Lessi, I could only begin to imagine how he’d stare at someone who was actually attractive. Snorting derisively, I pulled open my luggage and picked out my very best dress- none of that human-woven garbage Rohiriel had bought, but something I’d made myself. Made of the finest violet satin, embroidered with lacy designs of black roses, fine black cords, and onyx stones, it was full-skirted, with a heart-shaped, cleavage-baring bodice that both emphasized and flattered my chest. I laid it out over my bed while slipping into a silk corset, stockings, and slip before forcing on the uncomfortable whalebone frame of the skirt. Then I pulled the dress over my head, tightening the cords at the sides and straightening the dress. I could hear splashing from the other side of the room. Vaoris had taken my advice regarding hygiene, it seemed.

Now that I was dressed, I sat myself down at the vanity and began the task of prettying myself up. I started with my hair. After brushing it, I used a shaving knife to cut a patch of hair above my left ear down to almost nothing, and then scooped up the rest of my hair and twisted it into a regal updo, with two stray locks hanging down on each side of my head. I tied my hair on the right side of my head in order to showcase the shorn left side, and placed an elegant amethyst hairpiece of a blooming flower to hold it there. After tinkering with it to my satisfaction, I lined my eyes with the blackest kohl, then painted my lips with purple pigments and my nails with black varnish. I used crushed amethysts to decorate my eyelids right up to my eyebrows and temples, so it looked like a mixture of makeup and war paint. After patting on powder to make my skin as pale as possible, I picked out some accessories- black hosiery to pull onto my arms, and an amethyst brooch and silver chains to wrap about my neck. Once I had fastened the final clasp, I straightened in my seat and gazed at myself in the mirror, turning my head left and right. There. I would be, doubtless, the most attractive woman in the room. Unsurprising, really, especially considering all the women except Rohiriel were human, but nonetheless.

The party would be starting soon, so I pulled on a pair of elegant heeled black boots and pulled the curtain back. Vaoris had finished washing and dressing long ago. Men didn’t have to worry about being attractive. I walked briskly out of the room, slamming the door. I stepped over the next room over, pulling the key from where I’d stored it in my cleavage and unlocking it. I opened the door slightly, only just so I could see Myaja. The General had gone back to sleep after her rude comment directed at me. She still looked quite awful, but she slept more peacefully now, and her face had regained some of its colour. Still, she wouldn’t wake up in time to come to the party with us. But no matter. A high-ranking military officer like her would be all but lost in a social situation. Shutting and relocking the door, I turned away and marched towards the steps, gathering my skirts and lifting them slightly as I made my way down them.

Vaoris stood near the bottom of the stairs, pacing impatiently. He had indeed taken my advice about cleaning up- he, too, was in his finest attire, and his black hair was shiny and groomed back so that I could actually see his face. For once, he wasn’t so bland to look at. I could even begin to see why Lessi had taken such a liking to him. Lines had been etched into Vaoris’s face by worry. When he heard the creak of wood, he looked up, and his expression immediately turned into gaping surprise. I released my skirts and walked up to him, feeling all the more regal, and gazed up into his eyes with a tiny smile on my face.

“I must say, Noendîr, it’s nice to see you’ve cleaned yourself up. You do always insist on playing the frump.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Lai… Lai, Lady Corchiel?”
I grinned impishly and reached up to hold his chin in my hand, stroking the edges of his cheekbone with my black-painted nails. Oh, if only that trollop could see this. “I’m right here, Master Noendîr. Shall I knee you in your manhood to remind you of it?”
That brought him back down to earth. He gave me a deadpan stare, and then, to my surprise, cleared his throat and bowed. He took my hand and kissed the fingers. I looked around feverishly to see if Lessi was anywhere, but the damned slut was nowhere in sight.
“You look lovely yourself, Lady Corchiel. Especially since you left something to the imagination this time.”
“You would do well to keep me out of your imaginings, Noendîr,” I said primly, removing my hand and curtsying mockingly in response.
“If my servants are finished with their games,” said an imperial voice from behind me, “they would do well to look towards the kitchens.”

I looked up, first behind me, and then to my left. Behind, Rohiriel had somehow appeared, quiet as death, on the steps. I was momentarily dumbfounded at how dressed up she was, at her bright cloth and sparkling jewels and almost invisible makeup, and was reminded of my all-consuming hatred for blondes. But Rohiriel’s ice blue eyes were locked on whatever was to my left, and so I turned my head to look. Right next to the kitchen door, at the bar, Boann stood leaning against the wall. Her glare was fixed on us, at Rohiriel in particular. I hadn’t thought the woman’s expression could get any angrier, but there it was- pure, raw hatred lined Boann’s face. And yet, now that she had seen Rohiriel’s true colours, there was nothing that tiny mortal could do against us elves. She no longer seemed as confident as she had once been.

“Ah… so now the cat barks at the dog,” I said, unable to hide my pleasure.
“Yes, but that dog may turn and bite,” muttered Rohiriel. “Come. We’ll be late as is.”
“But I thought it was fashionable to be late,” I exclaimed. I cast another glance around, but that tramp of Vaoris’s was still absent. On top of which, I hadn’t heard any scream, so my Angel of Nyx was still slinking around somewhere. I turned to look at Rohiriel, but she had already swept past me and was making her way towards the door. My expression turned sour. There was no arguing with this woman, it seemed. Vaoris was already trailing after her, so I straightened my back and followed the both of them out of the cozy inn and into the cold night air.

---

The trip was an uncomfortable one. Rohiriel’s friend at the stables had given us furs to make the cold more bearable, but Vita, my stupid nag, was easily spooked after what had happened just yesterday. Every shadow made her jump, and eventually I needed Rohiriel’s strange horse expertise to soothe the animal. By then, Janus’s manor was just around the corner. We met up with a crowd of nobility, all of them trumpeting about how much more important they were than anyone else while trying to get down the pathway that led to Janus’s resplendent house. As of yet, all I could see was the rooftop- it was surrounded by a wall taller than even an elf. Tonight, the wall had been decorated with erisdar, coloured lanterns from Du Weldenvarden. The iron gate in the center was flanked by two very aggravated guards attempting to deal with the throng of impatient nobility waving around invitations and shouting to be let in. We had to slow our horses to barely a walk and wait for several minutes. Though it didn’t look like it, people were slowly being let through the gates. Soon, a stable boy appeared to collect our mounts. As I slid off Vita’s back and handed him the reins, Rohiriel flipped a coin at him.

Eventually, our turn came and Rohiriel presented our invitations to one of the guards. After snatching them up, poring over them and casting her a suspicious glare, he gave a grunt and waved us inside. The crowd in the courtyard within was like a current in the sea, pushing us towards the great marble steps that led up to the oak doors of the manor. The three of us were deposited into some sort of entrance hall where servants of Janus rushed about, taking coats and offering welcomes. I patted my hair to make sure it was still immaculate and followed Rohiriel and Vaoris as they headed towards another pair of doors. I wanted desperately to complain about the crowds, the humans, everything, but I could hardly hear myself think. I could only hope this Janus’s ballroom would be big enough to host all these people without risk of anyone being crushed. I was sick of being touched and bumped into and almost tripped over. Shuddering with disgust, I wrapped my arms about myself to take up as little space as possible and followed the elegant Lady Lantana and her very dull herald into the main hall.

The room was likely the largest in the manor. A circular affair, it had a domed roof enamelled with cream and gold. The floor was rich emerald green marble shot through with veins of gold. Across the entrance to the ballroom, a large raised dais had been built. Musicians strummed lutes and violins and harps, filling the air with soft music. It was empty of furnishings except for a variety of large crystal cases set twenty paces apart across the entire floor, usually beside the marble pillars holding up the ceiling. The largest one, embossed with gold, was set at the very center. Two guards flanked it, and one man- a man who was very tall, or maybe only seemed so because of how spindly he was, stood in front of it, beaming proudly. That was Tarim Janus, or, as the dwarf had put it, the slug. He moved slightly to the side to address a servant, and the book itself was in plain view. Or half of it, at least. Rohiriel had seen Janus and the book too, and I could feel her tensing beside me. It had to be tempting, having the object of our quest just within reach. I wouldn’t mind simply breaking the glass, snatching it, and running off, but somehow that would be too easy. Instead, Rohiriel drew in a sharp breath and looked at Vaoris and me, nodding curtly. The book had been located, but we still needed to do a general sweep of the place. I curtsied at my lady, then turned on my heel and walked away.

I wanted to try the doors and see what dark secrets the merchant kept, but I couldn’t restrain my curiosity about what was in the other display cases. I gathered my skirts and stepped over to the closest of them, peering into the glass just as everyone else was. It was a surprisingly well-crafted tiny jade figurine of Nyx, one hand open and the other closed, with the snake that had saved her wrapped around her neck. The next display case was one of the Dauthdaertya, the dragon-killing spears forged during the Great War between the elves and dragons. I was tempted to bring it home just to see how the Riders would react. Next was the knife that had supposedly been the one to cut Palancar’s throat, ancient statuary depicting the heathen gods of Old Broddring, and the skull of some terrifying creature. I paused to ogle a stunning multitude of gems that had encrusted some queen’s crown, and splayed my hands across the glass to get a better look. But the moment I touched it, a guard appeared from the pillar behind the case and ordered me not to touch the displays. I turned up my nose at him, offended, and strode off.

I decided to try the doors that were scattered at the four corners of the hall. Except for the main ones at the entrance, all of them were guarded, locked, and bolted- and not just physically, I realized when I touched them. Magic was at work here too. Whoever had done this only wanted one exit. I didn’t bother trying to break down the magical barriers- it would probably be a waste of effort, and there were too many guards milling around to escape any attention. Instead, I made my way over to the book now that some of the crowd had dispersed. I supposed I could have gone and checked the dais where the musicians played, but there were no doors or cases over there, just drunk and overly cheerful fools playing battered old instruments. Vaoris or Rohiriel might be the more musical type. Instead, I approached the case haltingly, peering in through the crystal. It didn’t look worth the glass it was encased in. The thing had been ripped in half. It was old, decaying, the handwriting barely legible. Probably not particularly well-written, either.

A peal of ear-shattering laughter made me tear my gaze away to Tarim Janus. I blinked in utter surprise as I saw the source of his laughter- a woman that was somewhat better-looking than all the others with long black hair not unlike my own and midnight blue eyes. It took me a moment to place her as the very woman that had been looking down her nose at me just yesterday in the warehouse, when my mouth had been gagged. Rage built up inside of me as she smiled at Janus, revealing two rows of even, glittering white teeth.

“And tell me, my lord, do you have any children?”
“Alas, no,” said Janus in a surprisingly high voice. “My wife has not given me any.”
“What a shame,” said the woman sadly. She reached up to touch Janus’s cheekbone. “A man without a son is a man without a future.”
Their eyes locked in the sort of way that only lovers’ eyes could do. I felt the urge to begin projectile vomiting.
“I had not thought of it that way,” mused Janus. “Would you… care to walk with me, milady?”
She entwined her arm with his and they walked away, their bodies pressed against each other. The urge to ruin this happy moment of theirs swept over me. I snatched a glass of wine from a platter held by one of the servants and downed it in one swallow. Setting the chalice back down, I took a step in Janus and his slut’s direction. Much to my surprise, a hand was clapped onto my shoulder, and I was turned back towards the case.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” said the man gripping me. It was Nareth. He, too, was dressed resplendently, better than most of the lords here. A servant of some kind hovered next to him. I only noticed him because of how raspy his breathing was, like an old man. “The treasure of the Karzin Bandits. Such a shame there’s only half of it.”
I snorted and roughly pushed the fool’s hand away. “There are a thousand books like it. Why put this one on a pedestal? Or any book, for that matter.”
“How can you not see the value of books, little girl? Without books, so much would be lost to us. They represent human curiosity and imagination. Without them, how would we share knowledge? How would we know of those few individuals that are worth remembering?” He sighed romantically. “Imagine, being important enough to be in a book.”
I blew a strand of raven hair out of my face. “Anyone can be put in a book. I wouldn’t be surprised if some foolish drama queen were writing about me right now.”
“Milady!” exclaimed Nareth suddenly, and I raised my head to see Rohiriel and Vaoris making their way towards us. Neither looked particularly thrilled to see the man next to me. “I had hoped you would come. Tell me, how fares the Lady Tinuthêl?”
“She is dead, Gaius Nareth,” said Rohiriel in a voice so cutting that it even unsettled me. The woman sounded like she had actually just lost her dear cousin. Even Nareth looked uncomfortable. “Your man failed to deliver the antidote as you promised. He blackmailed us with money we could not pay, and after much pain and suffering, she now lies dead.”
Nareth looked crestfallen. For a moment, he seemed to search for words, then said, “I had suspected as much. I am… truly sorry to hear that. I had hoped to meet her once she was well.” He straightened. “I promise you that my man will be punished as necessary.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Nareth,” said Rohiriel smoothly. “I assure you that I am capable of dealing out punishment myself.”
She walked away with her head held high, but her bottom lip trembled and tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. Vaoris took her arm gently and led her away. I watched them for a moment, wondering where that woman had learned to act so well. Another servant passed by, and I snatched up two more wine glasses from his platter and downed them separately.
“Slow down, milady,” chuckled Nareth from behind me. “A girl as young as you shouldn’t drink so much.”
I rounded on him, looking him up and down. “And why not?”
“Alcohol poisons the mind and slows the muscles. You would not survive long without either.”
I wanted to demand why he cared, or at least wipe that smug grin of his off that face. But before the final words had even left his mouth, screams erupted from the other side of the room, the one with the dais. I turned on my heel to see women fainting, creating a domino effect behind them. Men stepped over them and fled as two of the musicians- one of which had been in the warehouse, too- brandished swords that caught the light of the chandeliers and glittered menacingly.
“Get back!” one of them roared. “All of you, get back!”

The lights died and the room was drowned in darkness. It happened too quickly for me to summon any spells of night vision, so all I could do was grip the display case next to me for support as screams rang all across the room. I heard wine glasses tinkering as they broke, the cases giving enormous cracks as they were knocked down and shattered across the floor, and trampling feet as people continued to push and shove to flee from the dais. Something like another person’s body slammed violently into me, making me lose my grip on the case and fall onto my side. Above, I heard glass breaking, and covered my head with my hands as glass shards rained down on me. I immediately sat up and pressed myself against what remained of the case to avoid being trampled, hissing as I cut my hands on the shards scattered across the floor. All at once, the lights suddenly flashed back on, blindingly bright. Covering my eyes with my arm, I struggled to my feet and staggered away from the case. When I took my arm away, I saw that it had been broken. The book was gone. So were the armed musicians from the dais. I swung around in a full circle to see that the doors to outside had been flung wide open.

“Well, shit,” I exclaimed, more out of shock than anger.

No sooner did the lights come on than the entire party began to flee. They crammed the door, fighting to get through regardless that the bandits were gone. The guards were all bellowing at the top of their lungs, weapons out and trying to get through the doors to pursue the thieves, but this only added even more to the fear and confusion. I turned around, breathing hard, trying to see where Vaoris and Rohiriel were. I saw the two of them pressed up against a wall not far from me. Vaoris looked like he was still trying to work out everything that had just happened, but Rohiriel was looking about herself like a wolf seeking out prey. Her gaze locked onto an old man hobbling towards the doors, clutching his chest like he was trying to avoid a heart attack. Much to my surprise, Rohiriel made her way over to him in three long strides, and simply thrust her hand into his belly. The old man gave a startled cry and fell to his back, sprawling across the floor. Rohiriel patted him down, and tore something from his robes- the book itself.

There were only two other people left in the room- Nareth and his manservant, the one that breathed funny. As Rohiriel rose to her feet, book in hand, she spread her legs into a wider stance, looking ready to slaughter the entirety of Teirm if she had to. Nareth locked gazes with his manservant, and gave the taller man a barely imperceptible nod. As I still struggled for a hold on my own magic, the tall man spoke flawless ancient language and raised spikes from the ground that were sent rushing towards Rohiriel. Then he turned on Vaoris, still pressed up against the wall and staring at Rohiriel as she moved to avoid the spikes. Rather than kill her, however, they simply stabbed upward into the ceiling that formed a jail of sorts, trapping her.

“Noendîr!” I shouted. He didn’t respond. I raised my voice. “VAORIS!”
He turned, and gaped as the manservant stepped towards him.
“RUN, YOU STUPID BASTARD!” Finally gaining hold of my magic, I pressed my hands together, creating an angry electrical charge. I flung it at the manservant. It glanced away from him- he had wards, no doubt- and smashed into the wall near Vaoris. I swore and began to summon another spell, but the manservant turned and, before I could even speak, raised the ground in front of me like a wave in the sea and slammed it into my belly. I tasted blood as I was flung backwards, striking my head heavily on the marble floor. I moaned and rolled over, eyelids flickering. I saw Vaoris fleeing for his life through the double doors with the manservant hot in pursuit. It was so tempting to simply pass out, but I suddenly felt two hands grab me from under the arms and haul me to my feet. I found myself stumbling backwards into Nareth himself.
“Go get him, my dear. I haven’t seen him fight a fellow mage in too long.” He then turned to Rohiriel, still behind the spike wall. “I am sorry for this, milady, but I did warn you. I always play to win.”

I didn’t stick around to hear her response. I pelted after stupid, stupid Vaoris and the manservant, my anxiety and the adrenaline making me forget the pain throbbing in my belly and head. Something in my mind fleetingly warned me that I must have broken a rib, but I ignored it. I tore out of the now-empty ballroom and down the steps into the courtyard, where I could pick out two men in the dark. One was on the ground on his back like a turtle- the position alone meant it had to be Vaoris- while the other was wrapping rope around his hands and feet. As I neared, I saw that Vaoris had bits of blood at the side of his mouth. Rage brought new fury to my speed, and I flung myself onto the manservant, tearing into his back with my nails and attempting to force my way into his mind as I did so. He gave a strangled cry and snatched me by the hair, ripping me off with strength I had not anticipated. But that wasn’t nearly as shocking as what I had discovered in his mind- though his defenses had closed in before I could get anything but the smallest tendril within, I had learned one thing- his mind was far too vast or complicated to be any human’s. The man I dealt with now was another elf.

I crashed onto my side. The elf fell to his knees, wincing as he gingerly touched the mangled flesh of his back. I noticed that I hadn’t once seen him raise his right arm. It hung at his side, lifeless. There was a brief lull in the action as all three of us took note of our wounds, during which I had to voice my thoughts and curiosities to the elven manservant.
“Tell me, älfr,” I breathed. “How did you come about those injuries?”
The elf froze at hearing his own tongue, and he turned his head towards me.
“It’s been nearly ten years, girl.”
“So you were part of the Cleansing. All that suffering, and you were rejected from your own home, your own family, after fighting for their cause. And who can blame them? Your arm is dead. You wheeze like a dying old man. Are you dying? It’s a shame, really. Someone with all that power, and yet so pathetic. Lowering yourself to work for a human like a common lackey.” I struggled to my feet. “Release my comrade and I will give you a swift and painless death, and release you from your imperfection.”
The elf merely stared at me for a long moment, moving his mouth. Then he spoke.
“Being crippled isn’t easy. It’s frustrating the way my body stopped moving the way I want it to. I understand why you think you have an advantage over someone like me… älfa.”

With a dark chuckle, I flung another bolt of lightning at him, this one bigger. As expected, it glanced off and exploded, only closer to him this time. I just wanted to lessen his magical wards. He wouldn’t be able to bring up physical ones if he had to maintain this one. I intoned the words that would extend my nails into spears and swept them towards him, aiming to cut him in half from brains to balls. He sidestepped them with speed, and when I moved to cut him horizontally, he stopped them with the flat of his hand. With a quiet word, he suddenly bent the nails backwards, breaking them almost at the fingertip. I jumped backward as he sent a fireball flying towards me, smelling burning hair as the tips of my locks were singed. I snarled the words necessary for moving the earth, making the ground explode beneath him. But he was fast, even for an elf. Whenever I threw something at him, he avoided it, and managed to close in on me. When he got too close, I used my rapidly waning energy supply to create a magical barrier around me. The violet of my magic intermingled with the blue of his - and then everything turned red as sharp pain exploded in both my shoulders. I was slammed onto my back, on the ground, as the elf’s own long white nails twisted into my shoulders, pinning me there.

“My kind always were hypocrites.” A twist of the nails, and I winced. “Calling me pathetic for working with humans, when you live among them, even look like one…” another twist, and I gasped with the pain. “You… are pathetic.”
“Lenthir!” came Nareth’s voice from somewhere. “What have you done?”
“Only what was necessary. Elves, boss.” Lenthir raised his head, grinning from ear to ear. “They’re all elves.”

[Akilinia]

Rohiriel

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

As she left Corchiel and Vaoris to get ready, Rohiriel decided that she felt quite unprepared for the operation that night; a feeling she was unaccustomed to. She had run infiltration operations before, but never one in which she was responsible for the lives of two other people, and never one where she had the moral high ground. It irritated her that the perfect murder was easier for her to pull off than this travesty of a recovery operation. Of course, she usually had the opportunity to observe her targets for days or even weeks beforehand so that she could plan accordingly. She had never gone blindly into a situation like the one she was about to toss herself and her two companions into. The lack of absolutes and constants in tonight’s plan was making her uneasy. It was impossible to prepare for every deviation or disgruntled partygoer. She just had to keep the plan as flexible as possible to ensure that they would come out with the book. Ilirea could take the hit if they ended up being slightly less inconspicuous than they should be. It’s not like they have much of a reputation to maintain as it is. The Blue Divide took care of that. She thought morbidly as she slipped quietly into her own room.

Rohiriel paused to assess Myaja quickly, looking to reassure herself of the General’s condition. Comforted by the woman’s steady breathing and relaxed countenance, Rohiriel made her way quietly across the room to her wardrobe in search of something suitable to wear for the night’s festivities.

As she flipped through the row of bright fabrics, it occurred to Rohiriel that she couldn’t very well make it through this round without a dress. Sighing in annoyance, she pulled out the three options that she’d picked out for herself, trying not to cringe at the sheer amount of fabric that made up each of the three garments. She abhorred dresses. They were impractical in every way imaginable; they were impossible to move in, restricting, easy to rip and tear, and entirely too hot. She scowled, plucking at the layers and layers of material that composed each gown. The only positive thing about all of that fabric was that she could hide as many weapons underneath as she could fit. She wouldn’t have to worry at all about anyone seeing the imprints of her weapons through all of that material.

Sighing, Rohiriel selected the one that appeared to have the least number of layers and began to pull on the under-layers. Rebelliously, she selected a pair of black breeches and pulled those on first. If things got messy and she needed to move, she wasn’t above redesigning her dress with one of the handy blades she was going to have tucked on her person. Plus, the damned gown was floor length anyway. No one would even be able to see the breeches underneath.

After struggling with the chemise and the corset ties on the back of the dress, Rohiriel moved in front of the mirror to inspect the overall appearance of Lady Lantana. She had to admit, the dress fit very well with her role. The cursed thing was cut of emerald taffeta and was accented with gold lace at the waist, shoulders and at the bottoms of the sleeves. The dress was cut lower than she would have liked, cutting across from the edge of each shoulder in a heart shape that dipped a few inches below her collar bone. The sleeves were tied to her upper arm by strings of gold silk sewn with pearl and flared wide at the elbow to fall in a bell shape around her hands. A gold velvet sash also lined with pearls was tied at her hips and trailed down the front of the dress. Rohiriel selected a gold chain strung with a large drop of imperial topaz to wear as a necklace and matching drops to put on her ears. She’d put a few tidy little spells into each of them. Having them on her person reassured her; they could be quite helpful in a pinch. She dusted her eyelids with gold and lined her eyes with a brown kohl, then powdered her face and added some pale lip rogue as a final touch.

And the hair. She thought with exasperation, liberating her lengths of white-blonde hair from its usual braid. She placed the silver dagger that had been concealed in the center of the plait on the table in front of the mirror and then began the painstaking process of winding her masses of hair into a look that was acceptable for a noble’s party and capable of concealing several small daggers. She finally settled on using many tiny braids in combination with several bladed jeweled pins to pull half of her hair up. She just left the rest loose to flow down her back in waves.

Satisfied with her appearance, she stepped into a pair of gold slippers, tucked a dagger down into the front of her bodice, strapped one to each forearm, hid one in the back of her sash, tied a pouch of darts tipped in tranquilizers on her thigh and her long knife to the opposite thigh. Finally, she slipped a diamond ring that she’d been storing extra magical strength in onto the middle finger of her left hand. As an afterthought, she also tucked one of her special black shirts into the small dart bag around her thigh. The special material condensed easily until it was small enough to fit.

The weapons helped to make her feel slightly more prepared, but it was difficult to know what to take with her when she had no idea what she’d be up against.

Swallowing her frustration, she slung a black cloak lined with fur over herself, secured it at one shoulder with a metal brooch in the shape of an oak leaf and made her way downstairs.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Rohiriel drew in a sharp breath as they entered the ball room where the main festivities were to be held, nearly overwhelmed by the nearly physical wall of noble presence that slammed against all of her senses. Conversations and the tinkle of china crashed against her ear drums like tidal waves, thousands of fragrances assaulted her nose – plum, blossom, lily, rose, various different spices – and light refracted by countless precious gems cast bright spots across her vision. She was immediately reminded of why she preferred to be alone in the confines of the Grand Library. People, especially nobles, were just too much. Not to mention, the press of the crowd and all of the distractions they provided would make her job that much more difficult and Nareth’s that much easier. Perhaps it would be better to make a preemptive strike. She thought, nodding distractedly to Vaoris and Laioni as she habitually catalogued the grandeur of the room itself, absorbing the details of it: the dais with the musicians, the platform with Janus’ collection, the green marble of the floor, the magnificence of the domed roof with its cream and gold enamel, and the guards.

That last one set her back for a moment. No, She decided. Better to play defense on this one. They would have a better chance of intercepting Nareth after he made his move than they would if they both made a move at the same time. There was always the chance that Nareth would bide his time and wait for her to strike, but knowing what she did of him, Rohiriel was convinced that Nareth had the better position. She would bet anything that Nareth was already in the room with a plan in motion. She had a feeling that he’d been aware of this party for longer than they had, which gave him the advantage of more time to plan. On top of that, he had the resources to do the preparations necessary for this kind of retrieval operation. He’d probably even inserted some of his people into Janus’ staff. Plus, She thought darkly, weaving in between the clusters of chattering nobles, alert for anything out of the ordinary that might alert her to what Nareth was planning. This is his trade, his specialty. He and his crew have probably run hundreds of operations like this one. What chance does a former assassin have against an organization like his? I’m trained to kill, not to steal. There are certainly some overlapping skills, but this is Nareth’s turf. She could catch him at his game, but she couldn’t beat him at it. She needed to play it safe if they were going to emerge successfully from this party.

Rohiriel made her way to the nearest wall so that she could survey the room without being buffeted by the shifting alliances of the gathered nobility. Once there, she lifted a sparkling alcoholic beverage from a passing waiter and situated herself between two of the noble groups so that anyone watching her would assume that she belonged to one of the cliques, and each clique would assume that she was part of the other. That done, she lifted her gaze scan the room around her, searching for anything suspicious.

At first, nothing appeared to stand out, however, her second scan of the ball room revealed a familiar face among the musicians playing on the dais next to the artifacts. Frowning, Rohiriel studied the man, attempting to discern whether she’d simply seen him around town or if she recognized him from somewhere else. After a moment, she recalled seeing him in Nareth’s warehouse. The dagger imprints that were revealed on his arms when their sleeves were pulled taut by a stroke on the strings of their instruments served to support that notion and revealed to her watchful gaze that Nareth had one other man among the musicians It seemed odd to her that Tarim Janus did not authorize more thorough searches of his guests. She counted at least two daggers or knives on each of them. One even appeared to have four. She, herself was packing more than any of them, and that was not including the pieces that actually composed her outfit.

Well, his carelessness would prove to be his undoing.

Alright, She thought to herself, turning to look for more of Nareth’s men scattered elsewhere in the room. Musicians, noted. But what he planned to do with them, she didn’t know. The most obvious this would be to create a diversion and have the musicians snag the book while everyone was looking the other way. She discarded that idea immediately. It was too obvious. There had to be something else. The musicians played a part, certainly, but they were not the main players.

Her roving eyes snagged on a familiar pair of shoulders and dark hair. Ah, and there’s the mastermind himself. Couldn’t stand to miss the action? She thought sardonically, making her way towards him. Nareth was dressed magnificently, but Rohiriel knew she wouldn’t have even seen the man if he hadn’t been standing next to Laioni. He was unassuming in stature, and his clothing, fine though it was, did not draw the eye. The dark shades of velvet and silk he dressed in were probably specifically designed for that purpose. Regardless, something about the man drew her to him. She hated to admit it to herself, but she was traversing the room to speak with him without any real reason. She knew without speaking to him that he wouldn’t be careless enough to reveal something that might help her piece together the details of his operation. Some perverse desire within her to be challenged by someone as perceptive and adept at his trade as Nareth was pushing her to engage in another round of verbal sparring with the man. This is certainly not going to be conducive to achieving our objective here tonight. Her lips twisted with amusement, but her stride didn’t falter.

As she drew closer, another dark head of hair drew her eye and she deviated from her path to loop an arm through Vaoris’ so that she could drag the scholar with her. The beautiful red head that the scholar had been conversing with pouted prettily as her prize was carried off, but turned almost immediately to a tall blond man standing behind her, man-eating smile fixed brightly on her face. Rohiriel snorted and, ignoring the scholar’s protests, continued on to where Nareth and Laioni were conversing.

“Milady!” Nareth cried brightly. Laioni glanced up with a slightly irritated expression on her face, making Rohiriel wonder what they’d been discussing before she and Vaoris had arrived to interrupt them. “I had hoped you would come.” A small flutter of pleasure kindled in her stomach at his words. So game continues. The dark part of her whispered excitedly. She frowned, already intending to express disapproval and sorrow, and stamped ruthlessly on the flutter in her stomach and on the voice. “Tell me, how fares the Lady Tinuthêl?” Nareth continued, unaware of her internal struggles.

“She is dead, Gaius Nareth.” Rohiriel replied in her sharpest voice, channeling her genuine fear of losing Myaja and her discomfort at the strange desire within her to play along with Nareth. Her tone had the desired effect; Nareth looked quite unsettled by her pronouncement. She forged ahead ruthlessly. “Your man failed to deliver the antidote as you promised. He blackmailed us with money we could not pay, and after much pain and suffering, she now lies dead.” And a little lip tremble, a sniffle..

Nareth’s face caved further with every word she spoke. She almost felt bad for lying to him, almost. Letting him believe Myaja to be dead would make it easier for them to protect her in the long run. She was too vulnerable now, especially with the three of them at a party across town from the Golden Perch.

“I had suspected as much. I am… truly sorry to hear that. I had hoped to meet her once she was well.” Nareth said with what sounded like genuine remorse. “I promise you that my man will be punished as necessary.”

Rohiriel drew herself up to her full height, twisted her mouth to make it appear as if she were fighting back the tears, and looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t trouble yourself, Nareth.” She said quietly, wanting to drive the point home. This last part was about more than just Myaja’s apparent demise. “I assure you that I am capable of dealing out punishment myself.” As she finished, she allowed her lip to tremble, but she held her head high to maintain a semblance of dignity. Tears gathered in her eyes, but not a single drop spilled down her cheek.

Brilliantly maintaining the illusion of his character, Vaoris gently took her arm and led her away from Nareth and Laioni. Rohiriel maintained the sniffles and teary eyed look until they were well away from them, then she blinked a few times to dry her eyes and turned to face Vaoris. The scholar seemed startled by her abrupt change in demeanor, but waited for her to speak.

“The musicians.” Rohiriel said in a low voice, flicking her eyes in the direction of the dais. “Some of them are Nareth’s men. I don’t think they’re the main aspect of his plan, but I want you to keep an eye on them from here. Alert me if they appear to be doing anything out of the ordinary.”

“What constitutes out of the ordinary?” Vaoris asked, appearing slightly perplexed.

Rohiriel scowled as, right after Vaoris had finished asking his question screams filled the air in response to the swords the musicians were brandishing. A small part of her wondered curiously where they’d stashed full length swords, but the rest of her was completely focused on what Nareth’s play was. He hadn’t given her enough time to figure anything more out. Was that intentional? It had to be. He was too experienced for it not to be. He knew that the three of them where there trying to prevent him from obtaining the book. Why give them the extra time to figure out how?

“That, my dear, is out of the ordinary.” She told Vaoris as she struggled to see what was happening on the dais.

“Get back!” She heard one of the musicians roar above the panic of the fleeing nobles. “All of you, get back!”

Amidst the panic and mayhem filling Tarim Janus’ ballroom, Rohiriel felt as if everything suddenly slowed in her mind. Her eyes flickered rapidly over the scene unfolding on the dais. Janus’ guards were closing in around the two musicians with the swords. She could just make out the clang of metal on metal as the two sides collided. Decoys. She thought, rapidly shifting her attention to the other players in the game. Nareth and Laioni were still standing where they had been when Lady Lantana had made her appearance, Nareth with a small smile on his face as he observed the proceedings. Rohiriel frowned and was frantically scanning the rest of the scene with a shrewd gaze when the lights went out.

The screams of the nobles rose to a deafening decibel, drowning out Rohiriel’s frustrated curse. Keeping her eyes trained on where she knew the book was she fumbled at her left earring, struggling to get the drop out of her ear. After what felt like forever the little metal piece holding the gem to her ear came free and, without hesitation she popped it into her mouth. She blinked and felt her pupils narrow to slits as the inner workings of her eyes morphed to mimic those of a cat’s, allowing her to view the proceedings as if the sun were still out, albeit only in shades of black and white. Casting spells on jewelry was a trick she learned early on in her career. Being able to have a prepared spell on her person, especially one that was part of her outfit had come in handy many times. At first she’d had to attach an activation charm to the spells, but after a few tries she’d managed to create the spells so that they would be triggered by contact with the saliva in her mouth. The cat’s eye spell was one that she always kept handy. Elves could see well in the dark, but take away all light and even an elf was blind. She had spent a lot of her time in the dark and was comforted by small pull of the spell on her energy.

The sound of shattering glass drew her attention back to the scene unfolding in front of her. The people still left in the vicinity of the dais were shoving each other frantically in their attempts to escape. Many of the display cases were knocked over in the chaos. Rohiriel’s eyes narrowed and she could make out Laioni crouching against the display case nearest to her with her hands over her head to protect herself from falling glass and the wild blows of the terrified nobles. Her eyes flickered to the book’s display case just in time to see Nareth shatter the glass with a hand of brass knuckles. She expected him to reach into the case for the book, and was unpleasantly surprised to see an old man she hadn’t noticed before shuffle up next to him. The man’s hands were wrapped in cloth to protect them from the sharp edges of the glass and he reached in carefully, locating the edges of the book easily. Swiftly, he tucked the artifact into the folds of his cloak and disappeared into the crowd, moving much too fluidly for an old man.

Rohiriel scowled, vaguely aware of the armed musicians disappearing out the back doors, leaving a befuddled and startled group a guards in their wake. As soon as the last musician’s cloak had disappeared around the frame of the doors, the lights flickered back on. Rohiriel squinted, eyes watering at the sudden change but her cat’s eyes swiftly adjusted, allowing her to refocus on her quarry. Able to see again, all of the nobles were once again in flight. The doors the musicians had disappeared through were clogged with a gaggle of brightly clad people and angry guards trying to get through to pursue the alleged thieves. Well, that’ll slow the little old man down. She thought as she slid quickly through the crowd to cut him off, leaving a befuddled Vaoris in her wake. He was moving a lot more like an old man now. He was hobbling slowly and clutching his chest as if he were having a hard time breathing. As the crowd between them thinned she could hear a wheeze in each breath he took. Even as she closed in on him she had to admit that the man was a great actor. Even his costume was flawless. The wrinkles were natural in appearance and the white hair of his beard and head was threaded liberally and naturally with silver.

His eyes widened in shock as she stepped out in front of him, but she didn’t give him any time to react. “Sorry about this.” She muttered quietly to the man as she slammed her right fist into his solar plexus, hard. She heard the breath flee his lungs in a pained cry and saw his eyes roll up into his head as he crumpled to the ground. Quickly, Rohiriel reached into his cloak for the book. It was just where he’d tucked it earlier. She sighed in relief, glad that there hadn’t been a pass off that she’d missed in the brief interval in which she’d lost sight of the man. She slipped the portion of the book a disguised pocket that was sewn into the skirt of the gown and straightened to look for Vaoris and Laioni.

The rest of Janus’ guests had fled, leaving her party of three alone with Nareth and a man that had been hovering near him earlier in the night. Rohiriel dropped into a fighting stance. He was dressed in clothing that was not quite as fine as Nareth’s, marking him as a ‘manservant’. He seemed lopsided and his breathing had a weird wheeze to it that was not unlike the fake old man’s. No, not lopsided. One of his arms appeared to hang limply and nerveless at his side. She didn’t have any more time to worry about it, however, as the man began to move towards her at a nod from Nareth.

Rohiriel frowned, feeling the heavy folds of her dress curve around her legs as she moved into a better position. Would he fight her? Judging from his physical state doubted he would be much of a challenge even handicapped by her dress as she was. Mage. She thought with a curse as the man began to speak rapidly in the ancient language. The words were too quick for her to follow even if she had been able to recognize and counter the spell. Magic had never been her strong point. She was good at little tricks, but against a fully fledged mage she was nearly helpless. The ground shuddered as he lifted spikes from it. For a moment they hovered menacingly in the air and then, at another word from the mage, they tilted in the air and sped towards her at a terrifying speed. Rohiriel cursed again, nearly tripping over the gods’-cursed train of her gown as she struggled to move out of the way. Not fast enough. She told herself as the spikes closed rapidly. Suddenly the spikes tilted in midair again and thrust themselves deeply into the ground, effectively creating a cage around her. Rohiriel let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. If he’d intended to kill me… She thought, stunned for a moment.

She wasn’t frozen for long, however. Seeing the mage turn towards Vaoris spurred Rohiriel into action. Swiftly, she unhooked the necklace from around her neck and let it fall to the ground. Triggered by the impact, a perfect copy of herself sprang into existence, hiding her from view. Using the cover provided by the spell, Rohiriel spat the cat’s eye earring into her hand and dropped it into the pocket with the book, removing her other earring with her other hand. She popped it into her mouth and shivered as the spell activated, sending a wave of cold over her body. It felt as if she’d submerged herself in water. She waited until the feeling had spread over her entire body before she stepped out from behind the decoy she’d made. Invisibility. She thought with wicked glee, beginning to climb the shortest spike.

Not for the first time, she wished she’d just come in the breeches. Climbing in a dress was no easy task, but Laioni’s cries and the crackling sound of lightning being exchanged between the two mages urged her on. There was just enough space between the spike and the ceiling for her to squeeze through. Once on the other side, she realized that she was conveniently above one of the second floor balconies and swung herself down from the spike to land silently in a crouch. She turned just in time to see the manservant pelt out of the ballroom after Vaoris.

Nareth watched the man go and then moved to help Laioni up from the floor where it appeared that she’d been flung by one of the mage’s spells. He grabbed her carefully under the arms and levered her to her feet. It took her a moment, but after she got her bearings she turned and raced through the doors after Vaoris and the other mage. Nareth watched her go with an almost fatherly expression on his face before he turned to face the decoy she’d left in the cage of stone. The fake Rohiriel stood there silently, a slight glower on her face. She appeared to be quite real, but was incapable of speaking and was not solid to the touch; all minor things in Rohiriel’s opinion. The only thing she would do was pace around when spoken to. The spell had saved her life many times over, and it was always handy in situation like this one when she was supposed to be in one place but needed to be in another.

“I am sorry for this, milady, but I did warn you. I always play to win.” Nareth said quietly to the decoy. He almost sounded apologetic, too. Rohiriel almost laughed aloud. When he figured out that he was only speaking to a copy, he wouldn’t be so calm. Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to she knew she couldn’t stick around to see his reaction. He would figure it out soon enough, and she needed to have the book hidden away in a safe place before that happened, then she could go after Vaoris and Laioni. She hoped Laioni would be able to manage on her own until she could get there to help. That mage was no pushover.

With one last glance, Rohiriel slipped outside onto a balcony overlooking one of Janus’ gardens and launched herself off the edge. The twelve foot drop might have harmed a human, but she landed lightly in a crouch and was off at a run, skirts held high to allow her legs more freedom. First things’ first. She thought. This damn dress goes.

It took her a few minutes to find a suitable place to stash the book, but a natural hollow under a bush finally caught her eye and, with a glance around to be sure no one was looking, she dashed over to it. After a second of fumbling around for her invisible pocket, pulled the book from its place in her skirt and set it down in the hollow. It immediately became visible, but the shadow of the bush hid it from anyone who might walk by. Next, she retrieved the earring from her pocket and slid it back into her ear, then she pulled the dagger from the front of her dress and sash, laid them on the ground. Finally, she slipped off the dress and her underskirts until she was down to her breeches and breast band. The cold outside air raised goose bumps on her skin and she quickly tossed the dress on top of the book under the bush. With quick fingers, she unzipped her dart bag and removed the black shirt she’d hidden in there earlier that night. She shook it out and slipped into it. The material hugged her skin snugly, smoothing the goose bumps. Immediately, a sense of security stole over her. The material the shirt was made of was something she’d discovered in Ellesmera all those years ago. It was capable of repelling blades and magic, and when the spell was activated it could blend with whatever she happened to be standing in front of. Unfortunately, she’d only had a shirt made. Having an entire body suit of it would have come in handy, but she’d never been in a situation where her opponent had been able to strike back. The extra protection had seemed superfluous at the time.

Sighing, Rohiriel glanced around one more time before she spat the other earring into her hand so that she could cast the spell to hide the dress and book. The cold feeling of the invisibility spell vanished, and suddenly she felt exposed. Ignoring the feeling, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and reached for her magic. The barrier was tough and even more difficult for her to penetrate than it had been the last time. It’d been so long since she’d used magic. Sweat broke out on her forehead and coalesced into a bead on one of her temples. It ran down her face, tracing the contours of her cheek and jaw like a caressing finger. The feeling distracted her for a moment, but with a growl, she broke through the barrier and took a firm hold on her magic. For a moment it whipped and twisted in her hand, and then, without warning it succumbed to her will. She let out a deep breath, urging her heart beat to slow and opening her eyes. “Lita fold.” She murmured, staring at the pile under the bush. The silver fire of her magic wreathed her hand for a moment, and then surged to the dress and book. For a moment, the two things were illuminated and then they were gone, camouflaged with the mulch ground beneath the bush.

Satisfied that no one would find them, she put her invisibility earring back on her other ear and turned towards the flashes of light she could see in the general direction of the ballroom door. As she wove in between brightly flowering plants and trees heavily laden with fruit, the sounds of the fight grew stronger. She could see flashes of blue and violent over a the hedge wall that was the final barrier between her and the fight. She paused, trying to determine her next move and was able to hear an angry male voice.

“Being crippled isn’t easy. It’s frustrating the way my body stopped moving the way I want it to. I understand why you think you have an advantage over someone like me… älfa.”

Probably Nareth’s mage. She thought as the crackle of a lightning bolt could be heard arcing through the air in answer. I need to be able to see. Part of her was aware that his calling Laioni älfa meant that he knew they were elves and that their cover was blown, but she couldn't stop to consider the ramifications of that just then.

Spotting a tree with branches that hung over the hedge wall into the space beyond where the fight was occurring, she popped the invisibility earring into her mouth again and began to move silently toward the tree. Her legs, now unhampered by the dress, covered the ground in long strides and she reached the base of the trunk in seconds. Careful not to shake the tree too much, Rohiriel grabbed the lowest branch and hauled herself up onto it and then used a knot on the trunk to boost herself to the branch hanging over the wall. Perched there, she had a clear view of what was going on below; just in time to see the enemy mage pin Laioni to the ground with obscenely long nails.

The man’s face was a snarl as he dug his nails into Laioni’s shoulders and spoke quietly to her. She was too far away to hear the words. Rohiriel winced in sympathy, but remained where she was on her branch. Should she interfere, or would it be more prudent for her to return with the book to the Golden Perch? After all, it would do none of them any good if she got involved with the mage, lost and ended up losing them the other half of the book. Certainly it wouldn’t take them too long to find it if they looked hard enough, especially if they waited until sunrise. Her camouflage spell wasn’t nearly as effective in daylight.

Suddenly a thought struck her, sending a wave of cold through her that had nothing to do with her invisibility spell. Wait, where is the half of the book we came with? Vaoris had been in charge of it, but what had he done with it. He’d always kept it in that little satchel of his, but what if he’d decided that it wasn’t safe to leave the book behind? What if he’d been foolish enough to bring it to the party? Her eyes flickered back to the scene unfolding before her and she saw a prone body laying on the ground a good ten feet behind the mages. Vaoris. She thought, eyes skipping to where the two mages were still arguing.

She shifted her weight forward, deciding to retrieve the scholar before Nareth’s man could recover. The risk of losing the half of the book Vaoris might have was greater than the chance that they would discover the other half.

“Lenthir!” A stern voice called. Rohiriel hastily leaned back on the branch, wincing as it rustled slightly with the shift in her weight. “What have you done?” Nareth asked him, striding down the path leading from the ballroom. Rohiriel scowled. So much for that plan. With Nareth there, she couldn’t risk moving Vaoris. Her invisibility spell only covered her own body and whatever clothing she wore. It wouldn’t extend to cover anyone else. It would be easy for the mage to strike her down when he saw the unconscious scholar floating through the air on her back.

“Only what was necessary. Elves, boss.” The mage, Lenthir replied with a grin. “They’re all elves.”

“Well… This makes things interesting. Lady Lantana’s disappearing act suddenly makes a lot more sense.”

“Knowing what I do about her kind, I would bet my working arm that she’s lurking around here somewhere trying to decide if she should make a move to save her little friends now or if she should regroup and return when the odds are more in her favor.” Lenthir said, raising his voice pointedly as if to make her aware that this wasn’t all simply conjecture.

“Perhaps this will make her decision easier.” He said after a moment, reaching into the pocket of his robe to pull out the half of the book Vaoris had been charged with.

She heard Nareth’s indrawn breath. “Isn’t that convenient?” He said, almost reverently taking the book from Lenthir’s hands. “We lose the half we came here for, but emerge with the next best thing.” Her mind working quickly, Rohiriel ran over her options. She really only had two choices: return to the Golden Perch to regroup or confront Lenthir now in an attempt to retrieve the other half of the book and her companions. As she sat there, she realized that she couldn’t just leave Laioni and Vaoris in Nareth’s hands without at least attempting to rescue them.

Okay, She thought, leaning forward again on her branch. You want to dance? Let’s dance.

Deftly Rohiriel slipped her fingers into the pouch on her thigh and whipped a dart out with deadly accuracy, knocking the book from Nareth’s startled grasp. Slightly theatrical. She thought grimly, but that should get the job done. She didn’t pause to see their reactions, already having launched herself from the tree. She executed a neat roll upon landing and came to her feet just in time to see Lenthir incinerate the tree she’d been standing in moments before with a bright blue fireball. A glance behind the mage revealed that Laioni was unconscious on the ground, bound by ropes of the same iridescent blue of the fireball.

She realized that she’d been immobile for a second too long only when Lenthir whipped around with a savage grin on his face. “There you are!” He snarled, slashing his functioning arm in an arc. Before she had a chance to figure out how she’d been spotted, a strong blast of wind nailed her in the stomach and sent her flying twenty feet into the arms of a statue. She heard the air flee her lungs as she hit and spots danced before her eyes. She groaned and coughed, attempting to painfully draw the air back into her lungs. How had he seen her? Reflexively she felt for the small bead of topaz in her mouth and was relieved to still feel it there, tucked safely under her tongue. Suddenly, she was aware of a slight whistling sound. The rush of adrenaline cleared her vision just in time for her to make out several spines of ice flying through the air at her. Ignoring her back, which was composed of one large ache, she launched herself to the right and pulled herself behind a nearby tree. She heard the statue crumble as the ice pelted it and her tree shuddered as shards of ice and stone ricocheted into it. One stray piece sliced her cheek as it passed, leaving a trail of heat on her invisible body.

As the debris settled, the battlefield fell into an eerie silence.

“Where are you invisible woman?” She heard Lenthir call mockingly. “I can see your shadow you know. Hiding won’t do you any good.” Shocked, Rohiriel looked swiftly down at the ground and realized that there was indeed the faint outline of a humanoid figure branching out across the grass from where her feet would be if they were visible. She almost cursed aloud at her stupidity. The fire from the tree was bright enough to cast a shadow; it was dimmer than it would have been should the sun be out, but for Lenthir’s sharp eyes it was enough to alert him to her whereabouts. She’d never used the invisibility spell during the day and so had never had to be concerned about the possibility of a shadow. It had never occurred to her that fire could have the same effect.

“How tall are you?” He called mockingly from behind her tree. “About six feet tall? That’s awfully tall for a woman. Maybe I should cut you down to size.”

Rohiriel didn’t wait to see what he meant. She launched herself out from behind the tree just as a large wheel of fire chopped down the tree she’d been hiding behind just at the height of her neck. She didn’t give him a chance to recover or search for her shadow. Rohiriel drew another dart from her bag and shot it in the general direction of his torso, ducking into the shadow of a nearby wall to hide the shadow cast by her own person. She heard a curse as Lenthir ducked the dart and felt a blast of heat as flames enveloped the tree nearest to her.

“Lenthir!” Nareth called sharply. “I don’t want anyone to be killed. Show some self control.”

Rohiriel raised an eyebrow at Nareth’s comment. What a strange man. She thought, slightly relieved. Her job would be a bit easier if Lenthir was restrained by orders not to kill her. But how to use her own spell’s weakness against him? She needed a game changer. She couldn’t just keep running and hiding until he got lucky. Dousing the flames wouldn’t work, all he would have to do was cast a werelight in the sky above the clearing and he would be able to see her wherever she went. She needed something better than that. She wished she hadn’t wasted her decoy necklace on escaping from that cage earlier. It certainly would have come in handy now. What could she…?

That was it! She could use the same idea as the decoy necklace; she just needed to make shadows. That wouldn’t require as much detail or as much time. Certainly she could manage that before Lenthir found her again. She spared a glance at the mage before she began. He was growling in frustration, but was standing still in the center of the clearing, waiting for any sign of movement.

Breeching the barrier separating her from her magic was slightly easier this time, and after a moment of silent struggling, the magic was waiting patiently in her grasp. She didn’t dare speak the words aloud, but instead focused on what she wanted to happen and then released the spell. Immediately shadows much like the one she’d seen branching from her own two feet appeared around the clearing. Lenthir let out a sound of victory and fell on the first one he saw, sending strings of what appeared to be electrified blue rope shooting at the area next to the shadow. As the ropes fell lifelessly to the ground, Rohiriel pulled a silver string from her dart bag and lunged from the shadows. All around the clearing, the shadow copies imitated her movement, all rushing swiftly at the momentarily confused battlemage.

With a roar, Lenthir spun around and sent a circle of the same blue rope out in a arc at chest height. Rohiriel ducked under the strand without missing a stride and threw one end of the silver string at Lenthir. The little black barb at the end of the strand hooked securely into the cloth of his robe. At a word from her, the rest of the string followed, wrapping securely around Lenthir’s entire body until, within seconds his entire body was covered in silver like a small cocoon. She spoke another word and the silver string began to glow the same iridescent silver as her magic as small currents of electricity began to arc across the cocoon, effectively immobilizing the mage inside. At least for the moment. As the cocoon began to exude smoke.

She didn’t stop to see what would happen. She turned on her heel and sprinted toward where Nareth stood, watching the proceedings through narrowed eyes. As she ran, her shadows imitated her movement once again, and as she drew nearer she was Nareth’s eyes darting between them. Rohiriel triggered the blade strapped to her left wrist and vaulted over his head to land two feet behind Nareth with her knife pressed gently against his throat. He took an involuntary step back, bumping into the invisible lines of her body.

“You know,” He murmured quietly so as not to increase the pressure on the blade. “It’s a bit unnerving to have an invisible knife against your throat. I was under the impression that we were above such base inclinations.”

“It’s nothing personal.” She told him sincerely. “I would much rather not be fighting anyone. I’ve just come to retrieve the book and fetch my companions. We must be returning to my father. He’ll be most worried about us.”

He chuckled. “Still sticking with your story then, Lady Lantana?” His voice was amused, and Rohiriel had to admire him for his courage. Not many could stay so calm with an invisible assassin holding a blade to their neck.

“Most certainly, Master Nareth. Now, hand me the book, if you please.” She saw his cheeks lift in a smile.

“Unfortunately my dear, it appears that I must refuse. I don’t think you’ll actually kill me.”

Rohiriel frowned, but slid the knife up until it rested against his cheek. The dark part of her rejoiced, urging her to end it, to water the earth with his blood. He deserves it. The voice said. He’s in your way; a threat to your safety and that of your friends. If you kill him, the mission is done. You’ll have the book, and then all you’ll have to do is take care of that mage; an easy task if you actually intend to finish him. She swallowed, fortifying herself against the temptation. The voice was right, it would be so easy to end it right then. One little flick of the wrist and they could all return to Ilirea, safe and sound with the book in hand.

“Do you even want to know how many people I’ve killed? A part of me wants to kill you right now, very badly. Do you realize that my killing you would be the end to all of our problems? You’re the last obstacle in our path. Both halves of the book are within my grasp. All I have to do is take your life. Your little crew would fall apart without you to lead them. You’re the glue holding them together, Nareth.” She whispered to him, feeling a slight shiver wrack his body, brave words or no.

“Well,” He said after a moment. “It appears that we’ll have to test your resolve another day, milady. Until then.”

Rohiriel’s brow creased in confusion. “Wha-“

Before she could even voice her inquiry, something slammed into her side, knocking her away from Nareth and winding her again. She looked up in time to see Lenthir emerging from the charred remains of his cocoon, hand extended to cast a spell. The first one must have been repelled by her shirt, but it seemed that Lenthir didn’t intend to miss with his next one. The ball of fire he was amassing in his hands was large enough to engulf her entire body. Rohiriel cursed, suddenly struck with the knowledge that this was one fight in which she would not emerge victorious. She was no fighter or battlemage. She was not well equipped for such a confrontation; a fact that she’d known prior to engaging Lenthir, but had foolishly ignored.

Swallowing her pride, Rohiriel cast an apologetic glance in the direction of Laioni and Vaoris’ prone forms and then reached into her bag for one final trick. Her hands found the small bead just in time. She leapt to her feet, ignoring the complaint of a possibly broken rib, and threw the black sphere at the ground. Immediately, a mass of smoke erupted from the ground, spreading rapidly until the entire clearing was engulfed within its dense folds. Overused, but effective. Using the momentary cover, Rohiriel turned and raced back towards the garden where she’d hidden the other half of the book. Rather than stop to search for a tree, Rohiriel simply launched herself over it, using a small levitation spell to boost herself off the ground. The landing sent her to her knees, but after a moment she was back on her feet and racing through the maze of plants back to the place where she’d hidden the book and her gown.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

She rode Datia into the Golde Perch at a gallop, sliding to a stop just short of the Golden Perch’s entrance. Rohiriel leaped from the mare’s back and passed the reins to Carrock, not stopping to address his inquiring looks. She was officially throwing caution to the wind. This was no time to worry about appearing like a noblewoman. She needed to get Myaja up to date immediately and hope that the General had a new course of action. Rohiriel was way out of her depth here. She’d never led a recovery operation like the one they were about to embark on; this was going to be more of an invasion than anything else. Certainly this was more in the Generals’ area of expertise than a former assassin’s, especially one too conflicted to order her own thoughts. How did she expect to be able to do what needed to be done if she couldn’t even understand her own mind or keep focused on the task at hand? She’d had the upper hand and she’d been careless. If she’d made sure that Lenthir was more completely incapacitated or just overpowered Nareth instead of submitting to her kinder inclinations. That entire encounter had been poorly executed, careless even.

I gave up a life of violence. She reminded herself angrily as she strode down the hallway to her and Myaja’s room. I should never have even come on this mission. I knew from the start that this would be a lot more complex than a simple retrieval operation.

Scowling, she burst into the room. Myaja, startled out of a deep sleep, managed to pull a dagger from somewhere to send it flying in the general direction of Rohiriel’s head. “It’s me.” Rohiriel said, ducking the blade. It thudded into the door behind her, quivering with the strength that had been behind the throw. “I see you’re feeling better.” She remarked dryly, noting the color in the woman’s face and the spark of animosity in her gaze.

The general sat up in the bed. “How’d it go?” She asked.

“I don’t even know where to begin. Long story short, I managed to get Janus’ part of the book, lose our part as well as let Nareth and his pet mage capture Laioni and Vaoris.” She replied heavily, dropping into the chair in the corner next to the door. Suddenly all of the aches in her body were making themselves known. Painstakingly, she summarized the events of the night for Myaja, trying not to leave anything out. “And so,” She finished, “I’m in a bit over my head. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. I’m hoping that your experience will shed some light on this situation. What’s the next step?”

While Myaja was thinking, Rohiriel wracked her brain for anything new she’d forgotten to mention. “Wait, on the ride here I managed to estimate the location of the warehouse Nareth is using as a hideout. That might be a place to start.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Eww, apologies for how rushed the last part is. I can tidy that up later.

[Emma]

The first sensation I was aware of was something soft flickering across my arm.

I opened my eyes and saw a snake, black with violet spots, lying unmoving on the bed next to me except for its tongue, flicking in and out of its mouth and onto my skin. For the next few minutes, we both just lay there, staring at each other. It was trying to discern whether I was friend, foe, or food, while I was trying to discern what had just happened to me. I felt like I had been in a pitch-black tunnel for hundreds of years, and had only just managed to crawl my way out. The light I had yearned for was both blinding and unwanted, however, and I couldn’t possibly think why. The snake, I felt, was somehow important. In fact, why was there a snake lying on my bed next to me? Wasn’t it winter? Shouldn’t it be-

Everything came back to me in such an enormous wave that I sat up abruptly, kicking my sheets off the bed. The serpent spat at me as it fell off. It struck the floor, hissed irritably and slithered away. I held my head as everything returned to me- my house arrest in Ilirea, eavesdropping on the book theft, travelling to Teirm, searching for the stupid thing, and then nothing- nothing at all. Only hazy recollections of various things and people that made no sense. Along with the memories came pain- my back ached and was probably covered with bruises, there were marks on my wrists and ankles that suggested I had been bound, and my head- it felt like someone had split it in half with an axe. It was like a hangover, but a thousand times worse. But how? I knew I hadn’t gotten drunk- such irresponsibility was far below me- so I tried to recall my latest and clearest memory. It was leaving the Golden Perch early in the morning, right after eating.

Right after eating. Right after eating.

Disbelief came first. There was no possible way that I could have eaten an entire breakfast without noticing anything strange. Even without the ability to scan food like most elves, there were so many little giveaways. An ashamed waitress. Unusual scents or tastes mixed in with the meal. Besides which, meal poisonings were messy. They never came with just one body. And yet, the little memories I had of my group and the fact that I was lying safe in the Perch suggested that I was the only one who had been ill. I had been singled out for my obvious strength. I hadn’t been careful enough in my disguise. How could I? I’d never been trained for this sort of thing. I clenched my teeth. Speaking of my group, where were they? How many days had it been since I had been poisoned? Were they even still alive?

That last question made my stomach feel like it was boiling. Standing up from the bed, and cursing when I realized my legs were asleep, I hobbled over to the washbasin and promptly vomited into it. Along with the contents of my last meal, I saw an oily, yellowish-green fluid within. So I was no longer poisoned. One of them had saved my life. I cast a glance around the room. There was nothing that suggested it had been ransacked, but there was no note either- wherever they had gone, they should have been back by now. The amount of self-loathing burning in me made me cough up anything else in my stomach, and then I fell back onto the bed, breathing hard. Of the millions of questions swarming in my head, one was at the front of my mind. Which one of those bastards had been the one to poison me? Had it been Boann? The dwarf? It could be any one of those booksellers. The fact that a bunch of rich nobles were combing the city looking for it spoke volumes of how valuable it was. I slapped the bed and made an enraged noise, rolling over onto my face. Stupidity and recklessness. All of it. Everything that we had gotten, we deserved.

The door suddenly opened. I no longer had to think about self-defence. One of the knives I kept under my pillow was in my hand in a split second, and I turned and flung it in the general direction of the person before I even saw them. Ragged, messy blonde hair fell in the woman’s face as she ducked, and I realized that she was Rohiriel. I remained alert, but on the inside, I felt something untighten with relief. So at least I hadn’t killed them all. But they had obviously gone through a great deal of stress- Rohiriel’s hair was rumpled, her eyes were sunken and underlined with black bags, and what looked like it had used to be makeup had been discoloured. I sat up straight as she regarded the knife next to her with something approaching mild amazement.

“I see you’re feeling better,” she remarked in her usual sarcastic tone. Despite it, this was a good thing- if Rohiriel wasn’t as rattled as she looked, then perhaps things weren’t as bad as they seemed.
“What happened?” I snapped.

She practically fell into the armchair next to the door. In an exhausted tone, she began to explain all that had happened- it had begun two days ago, when I’d become very ill on the way home. In an effort to get us home more quickly, they had allowed Lucky to lead them into an alleyway. Both Rohiriel and I pressed our faces into our palms at that statement. Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. That was where I had gone unconscious, and stayed that way as we were all tied, blinded, and taken to a warehouse, where the entire group was issued a threat to stay out of someone’s way- someone called Gaius Nareth. I vaguely remembered a man of his description in one of the bookshops we’d gone to. I felt my face turn into a scowl at the thought of him. Now I had a name to put to this assault, and someone to exact my vengeance on. I had been refused the antidote, and taken back here, where it had been Vaoris who had saved my life, Rohiriel said most emphatically. Vaoris, of all people. I was stunned. But now was not the time to think of that. Despite the threat, all three of my group had gone to the party anyway, where Rohiriel had been outnumbered, and both Vaoris and Laioni had been captured. So they were still alive, for now. I allowed myself a sigh of relief.

“And so, I’m in a bit over my head. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. I’m hoping that your experience will shed some light on this situation. What’s the next step?”
It was a great deal of information to process for my still-muddled brain. As I pondered, Rohiriel suddenly spoke again.
“Wait, on the ride here I managed to estimate the location of the warehouse Nareth is using as a hideout. That might be a place to start.”
Finally, something I could work with. I sat up straighter.
“If they have an elf, then Laioni and Vaoris aren’t just hostages; they’re information. Their minds will unquestionably be probed. They know where we are, they know who we are, and they know that I’m still alive. Those elements of surprise are gone. So, it doesn’t matter whether they see me or not.” I stood up from the bed. Now that my mind wasn’t full of questions and that I’d expelled the poison from my system, I felt considerably more energetic. “I’ll go to the warehouse now. Keep the book with you. Always keep the book with you. They won’t kill Laioni or Vaoris as long as we have it. I have… experience with men like Nareth. Get some sleep while I’m gone. When I come back with them, we leave immediately. Now, where is this warehouse?”
After a moment of absorbing the information, Rohiriel spoke. “I couldn’t hear any waves or boats, so it wasn’t near the docks. The road was smooth and well-paved, too. I’d say it was in the merchants’ district.”

While speaking, I had gone to one of the chests of clothes, kicked one open, tossed aside the dresses, and taken the clothing I always wore under my armour. Just holding it made me feel more tranquil. Most elves’ battle armour was green and brown for the purposes of camouflage and because they represented the earth that we were a part of, but the outfits I wore beneath armour were always dark blue. Blue, my father had always insisted, was the colour of justice. It was the colour of water, the lifeblood of the earth. It was why the thirty-year war between Du Weldenvarden and Broddring had been coined The Blue Divide- both to denote the uniforms the soldiers wore and to sarcastically note the ‘fairness’ of the war. He’d always worn blue. Placing the outfit on the bed, I began to pull off the dress and the undergarments beneath it, uncaring that Rohiriel was in the room. The gown that I had been somewhat fond of when I’d first donned it two days ago now reminded me of my weakness, and I threw it aside.

Rohiriel was looking into the distance, frowning. “But, Mya-”
“We were scattered and stupid,” I snarled, pulling on a pair of high-waisted riding britches. “And I let my guard down. I’m sorry for that.” I slipped my arms into a square-shouldered jacket and buttoned it up, then bent down and placed my feet into shiny, black boots. I had been refused armour while in Ilirea’s clutches, so I had no access to anything except the stupid, ill-fitting steel that the guardsmen wore here. I’d be better off naked than in that. “I plan on regaining my worth. Now lie down, and sleep. That’s an order.”

I marched out of the room while tying a long, hooded blue cloak to my shoulders and pulling the hood up. Slamming the door behind me, I turned and was surprised to see the snake that had both killed me and saved me lying on the floor opposite the room. It was rattling its tail.

I paused to give it a small bow. It was an opponent worthy of respect.

---

The sky was tinged blue from pre-dawn by the time I arrived in the market district. The streets were empty and all the stalls packed away, but I would still have to move quickly. I kneed Valkyn, who snorted and took off across the street at full speed. I left the main area and began to circle around the edges- the forgotten alleyways, the streets that decent people avoided. I saw the occasional vagrant scurrying out of my way, and several individuals curled up on the street, possibly dead from the cold. These humans were ridiculous. In Du Weldenvarden, there was no such thing as ‘homelessness’ since everyone simply made their own homes. Why couldn’t they do the same? While I was busy scoffing, I rounded a corner and came upon a row of townhouses. All of them were freshly painted except for the last, crouching pathetically in a corner of the street. They were surrounded by empty carts probably used for delivering heavy goods.

I awkwardly dismounted from Valkyn and held him by the bridle. I could feel his hot breath against my face. I had decided long ago that I liked this horse. Tonight, when I’d frightened the life out of some stable boys by storming in and demanding they tack him up for me, he’d bitten one after he was too slow with the saddle. The stallion even knew to be quiet as I led him around the side of the closest building and stopped, listening. Despite seeming abandoned, the snow directly outside the townhouse was patterned with dozens of footprints. I leaned in closer, listening. The windows were either boarded up or too filthy to see through, but I could see the flicker of orange light through one of them. This was it, then. I released Valkyn, and gave him an awkward pat, not sure how to tell him to stay put but also unwilling to tie him up. He flicked his tail and walked off to stand underneath an awning, away from the snow and the wind. Then, he simply fell asleep on his feet. I mentally shrugged. Good enough, I supposed.

I approached the warehouse slowly. There were no guards outside, probably to maintain the illusion of abandonment, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any directly inside the door. I also had no weapons. The few daggers Rohiriel had lent me were not what I was used to fighting with. I needed a proper sword, and I would only find one here. That being said, charging inside while screaming like an idiot would not be the most intelligent decision. Instead, I simply approached the front door as quietly as I was able, only stepping on footprints, and knocked. I had heard voices and laughter as I approached, but now they went dead quiet. For another moment, there was silence, and then I heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. It swung open and a man appeared, peering down at me. His armour was filthy, probably stolen from a guard.

“The hell do you want?” He tried to see through my hood.
“I vish shelter for ze night.” I said as calmly as I could manage. However, my heavy and rather obvious accent came through, and I started swearing at myself for it. Thankfully, the man in front of me must have not fought in the Divide, because he didn’t recognize it.
“Tarrant!” shouted a voice from within. “What is it?”
“It’s a… it’s a woman,” said the man slowly, blinking down at me in confusion.

I stepped inside, and he didn’t stop me. It was warm within, due to a large, crackling fire at both ends of the room. It was large and spacious, and had a damp, earthy scent that was familiar to me. Well, I had been here before, I thought irritably. In the middle of the room was a long table, and at it sat more men in stolen guard armour. They were playing dice while eating cooked meat, and all of them were staring at me. I counted them quickly while observing their weapons. Four of them, with two swords, a pike, and a mace that were all in dire need of maintenance. As I began to walk towards them, the one called Tarrant slammed the door behind me, and approached me from the side, peering down at me. One of the men rose from his seat and sauntered up to me. He raised a hand, and it took every single part of my being not to strike as he grabbed my hood and pulled it down. Then he stood there, staring at me.

“Yeah, you’re a woman, alright…” he grinned, as if something was enormously funny. “But you’re even worse-looking than I am!”

And he burst out laughing, slapping his thigh. Tarrant joined him in a giggle while I simply stared at both of them, attempting to contain myself. Besides dealing out death with such cowardly means like poison, these were the kinds of men who pretended to be soldiers to get by in life. They were the lowest kind of filth. But their reckoning would come, and soon. For now, I was lucky enough to be unrecognized. Stepping around the two idiots, I walked around the room. Stairs led to the upper floor, where Nareth was going to be. I placed one foot on the step, mentally cursing as it creaked, and glared up. I couldn’t hear any noises from upstairs.

“Hey, you get your snatch away from there, lady. It’s not for you. Why don’t you join us for a game?”
“Gaius Nareth. He is up zere, is he not?”
Now the stares turned from curiosity to seriousness.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand your accent, lady. Come again?”
“Gaius Nareth,” I spat. “Your leader.”
The other two rose from their seats and they all approached, surrounding me and staring down at me. Their weapons were in their hands, and their faces were suspicious. I tried to pick between the two swords, gauging which one was less rusty and disgusting.
“So what do you want with Mr. Nareth, foreigner?”
“He has my comrades,” I hissed. “You seen zem.”
“Ohhhh… you mean those lovebirds we picked up two days ago? You just missed them, darling.”
“VHAT?”
“Mr. Nareth took them somewhere else. Probably doing terrible things to them, I’d reckon. Would you like me to describe what sorts of things he’s probably doing to them? For one, that girl-”

I snatched his pike and tore it out of his hands, then struck him heavily in the throat with it, sending him stumbling backwards. In the same movement, I spun the pike sideways and aimed it at the man directly behind me. It pierced his belly and I felt the resistance give up as the point emerged from his back. I twisted the pike and flipped him over me and onto one of the other men, sending them both flying to the ground. While the fourth one was still reacting, I lodged my foot in the first man’s groin. When he fell to his knees, I struck him heavily in the face. This was enough to get the fourth to attack, and he ran at me, sword out. I sidestepped the lunge and grabbed his arm, twisting him and sending him stumbling off. I whipped around to look at the man who had been speaking. He had the nicest sword, as well as a shield. I grabbed the shield and slammed it down onto his neck, separating head from body. Then I ducked underneath the shield as the idiot I’d just redirected tried to lunge at me again, sending him rolling over me- and directly onto the pike I’d used, still sticking out of its corpse. Another agonized scream. Meanwhile, the one who’d been knocked out by the body of the first man had risen to his feet, holding a mace. I deflected the first swing with my shield, and almost gasped at how heavy the hit was. I still didn’t have all of my old strength back. Enraged, I kicked him, sending him staggering backwards. While he was vulnerable, I slashed him across the torso.

I heard yelling and rapid footsteps from upstairs. I stood up straight as two more mercenaries appeared at the landing. When they saw the mess at the foot of the stairs, they yelled and came charging down. I opened my mouth and screamed at them both. One of them was cowed and stumbled backwards, but the other kept coming. He had height and momentum, so I did a roll, kicking him just as he reached the bottom and sending him toppling almost on top of me. I rolled over once more and buried my sword in his chest. The coward paused a moment more midway down the steps before giving a strangled yell and following his companion. I got onto my knees and wrapped my arms around his waist when he was close enough; flipping us both so that he was on his back while I sat on top of him. I struck him viciously in the head with the shield until he stopped moving. It was only then that I realized how hard I was breathing. I bit my lip. Not now, not now. I had slept enough. Mentally screaming at my body, I got to my feet.

I ran on channelled rage now. This Gaius Nareth had attempted to kill me, injured my pride, and now held my companions captive. He had once told me, long ago, that I couldn’t live without the fire of battle. It was the heat that imbibed me with strength. And for once, he was right. If it weren’t for battle, I would have gone mad long ago.

There were three men at the top of the stairs now. Two were soldiers I hadn’t seen before. The third, standing behind them, was Lucky. The look on his face gave me the energy I needed. One of the men I had just killed had been armed with an axe. Taking it in my hand, I flung it as hard as I could in his direction. It struck one of the other ones in the face instead. As he fell over backwards, the weapon buried in his skull, the last of the soldiers made a high-pitched squeak. He turned and bolted away, leaving Lucky alone on the landing. He stood there for a moment, watching me, mouth working but making no sound. He looked at his dead men. Then he gave a pained chuckle, shaking his head and holding onto the railing for support.

“Zis is funny to you?” I spat, tasting the blood on my lips.
“He told me, you know. He told me we would have a surprise waiting for us. But I never would have dreamed it would be you.” He began to walk down the steps. “That uniform. You’re an elf. Explains why that poison didn’t work. I fought in the Blue Divide, you know. You hear what we did with those uniforms? We collected our shit in them. Stripped them off your kind’s corpses and used them to carry away our shit to ward off the bloody flux. Very hard material to rip, that.” He stopped halfway down, pausing to look at me. “He was angry that I killed you. Wanted to meet you once you were well. What’s your real name?”
“Myaja Kolbjorn.”
“General Myaja Kolbjorn? You’re not shitting me? Well! These boys died well, then! Better than they deserved. Better than I deserve, that’s for sure.”
“You talk too much,” I growled as he bent to pick up a sword and shield.
“Almost done. I suppose it’s only fair that you know my real name, too.”
“I do not vant to know it.”
“Well I want you to, so shut up. Accept a dying man’s last wish, okay? I was Captain Magnus Tappina of the 15th. Got the name ‘Lucky’ after I was the only one who didn’t die of the flux. Ironic, eh?”
“What is ze point of zis?”
“I’d like someone to know I used to be more than a mercenary. You just happen to be that someone. I was an educated man, General. Now I work for the educated men. See, here in Broddring, as soon as there’s no more war, no one cares what you did. You’re a burden. The lucky ones die or they get promoted. The rest of us? We sit around all day, guarding fat noblemen, wiping their shit. We get paid just enough to drown our sorrows. The ones who lost their limbs, those are the ones you see sleeping out on the street, begging for money. No one gives a shit about them. Does it work the same way in Du Weldyvardy, General Kolbjorn?”
“No,” I said, disgusted. “Our soldiers are not treated zis way. Not ever.”
“Ah… well, maybe the good grace of Nyx will see me born as an elf next time around, then. But you’re right, I do talk too much. Let’s have at it.”

He widened his stance and pointed the sword at me as he reached the bottom of the steps. I mirrored his pose. For a moment, we stood there, each waiting for the other to initiate the fight. I got tired of waiting first and ran at him with my shield in front of me. He ducked behind his own and the two sheets of metal met with a reverberating clang. Lucky’s sword reached over his shield and he swung twice at me. I met both blows with my shield, and then attacked with my own sword. It, too, was blocked, and Lucky swung his shield again with unexpected strength, sending me staggering back a step. Why was I so tired? We struck at each other with our shields again and again, and when Lucky made the mistake of swinging his shield too far, I attacked with my sword. He twisted out of my way and slashed me across the side while I was open to him. I turned to face him and pressed one hand to the wound, not looking at it. All the while, I kept trying to remember a Magnus Tappina from the Divide.

“It’s awful sweet of you to be going so easy on me, but really, General. I’d like to die knowing I was up against your all.”
He aimed low with his shield this time. I brought my sword down on it, and he was forced to crouch under the strength of the blow. When he raised his sword to swing at me, I had the advantage of height, and I tore into his shoulder.
Midway through his scream of agony, he gave a pained laugh. “That’s more like it!”

Lucky’s arm was too injured to swing, so he dropped his sword. Instead, he raised his shield high, so high that the firelight glanced off the very sharp, serrated edge of it. It bit into my shield when I raised it to protect myself, and I heard the hideous sound of metal on metal as it rent my shield apart. With a curse, I tossed it away and sidestepped another blow, my sword just managing to glance off Lucky’s back. With a tiny yelp, he slammed the shield into my sword, sending me backwards a few steps. I raised my sword to deflect a second blow, which sent me backwards yet again, and before I was able to stand up straight, a third blow came. I allowed myself to fall and roll back to my feet, breathing hard, and kick Lucky just as he raised his shield again. He half-heartedly stabbed me in the abdomen, and I felt the tiny teeth of the shield’s edge just bite me before I moved back. For the next blow, I crouched, holding the sword with both hands. It rang as metal struck metal, and I felt the weapon beginning to give way. As Lucky prepared himself again, I swept the sword across his other arm, dismembering it. He gave a final scream, one of those deep ones that tore at the soul, and I stopped, my panting now ragged.

Lucky had fallen onto his back, grabbing the stump of his arm and groaning. I had won. I could just leave him there. But I found myself pausing.
“Colonel Magnus Tappina. Dishonourably discharged for insubordination. Zey have your name in books.”
His laugh was hysterical. “Do they, now?”
“Zey say you vould not kill elven child.”
“Got that part right, at least…”

He gave another agonized moan. I looked at him for a moment, and decided I wouldn’t just leave him there. Bending down, I raised my sword and pressed it into his chest, forcing it down until I had sheathed the weapon into his heart. I looked at Lucky’s face. Through the pain and desperation, I saw his mouth form into the words ‘Thank you’ before I heard the death rattle, and the light left his eyes. I looked at him for a moment longer before hearing a soft shuffling from behind me. I whipped around to look. It was the last of Lucky’s men, looking down from atop the steps in absolute horror. I staggered to my feet, and began pounding up the steps. He screamed most girlishly and ran away. I reached the top and tore after him, following the sounds of his screeches. He ran from room to room, crying and wailing pathetically. As I followed, I couldn’t help but notice that there was nobody around. My rage steadily grew as I finally cornered the coward, where he slid to the floor and covered his face, sobbing.

“You monster! Just get it over with!”
“SHUT UP! HUMANS! Vhy do you ask to die?! You accept death so villingly, it makes me vant to make ze sick!” I grabbed him by the shirt, slamming him against the wall. “VHERE IS GAIUS NARETH?”
“I don’t know!”
“BULLSHIT!”
“I don’t knowww!” he wailed. “We met him at Tarim Janus’s house! He had those friends of yours, the creepy lady and the World of Warcraft dork. They were all tied up! He just told us to watch the warehouse for the next few days! I swear that was all he said!”
“Nothing? NOTHING of vhere he vas going?”
“I’m too young to die!”
There was a certain type of growl that Urgals used to incite fear in their enemies. It was a scream, but a very, very deep one made with the diaphragm, and incredibly loud. Inhaling as much air as I could, I did that scream now, bellowing it directly into the young man’s face.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAGH! STOP IT, YOU’RE SCARING ME!! I DON’T KNOW! I JUST DON’T KNOW! THAT’S ALL HE SAID! I wasn’t paying attention because of how bad his people smelled!”
“I… vhat?”
“There were some other dudes who came with him, and they smelled like fish and brine and UGH! It’s like they just took a bath in the dock, it sucked! And he FOLLOWED them!”
“Ze dock?”
“Yeah!! Also, you’re kinda choking me to death.”
“Dock…” Fuming, I slammed him into the wall again, earning another frightened whimper. “Listen to me, human. Go to docks. Find Gaius Nareth. Go on ship. TELL HIM vhat happened here tonight. If you do not, I vill find you. Do you understand me?”
“Uh… I…” I stared at him hard. “I mean yes! Yes I will!”
“Good. Now go!”

I pulled him to his feet and gave him a shove, sending him stumbling out the door. Once he recovered his balance, he took off at a run, galloping down the steps and then whimpering as he stepped over the corpses of his comrades. Then his footsteps disappeared, and I gave a heavy sigh. I stood up with an exhausted groan, touching the slash on my side and the pierced flesh of my abdomen. This pain was good. This pain was familiar. I left the room, slowly walking to the landing and making my way down the steps. As I did, I saw Magnus Tappina. His face was peaceful. As I walked past his corpse, I bent down to close his eyelids. Whatever he had done, he had accepted his death with dignity, and I found that respectable. Turning away, I walked toward the door. One part of my vengeance had been carried to term. Now I had to enact the other.

Character Used;; Myaja Kolbjorn
Words;; 5167. Uhhhh... wow.
Muse;; So. GOOD.
Thoughts;; The only actual problem I see is that it feels rather rushed. Otherwise, OMG YOU GUYS I AM SO PROUD OF THIS FRICKING POST. -flails-

[Angmor]

Who is this woman?

The question had dogged him since the beginning, ever since The Quiet One had saved his life that night in the library, so very long ago. But after witnessing, and even doing his best to assist with her interaction with Nareth just now, the question was thrust back into the forefront of his mind even more insistently than before. As he led her away between crowds of nobles, Vaoris tried to reflect on just why the exchange bothered him so much. After all, he had seen Rohiriel's acting before now. Even he had been telling plenty of lies since he had arrived the the city. But up until now, lies had merely been a defense. A shield against awkward questions that would delay their mission, and, in the case of the first confrontation with Nareth, likely saving their lives. But with what he had just seen... That had been the first time he had ever seen lies used as a weapon. Rohiriel had not strictly needed to engage with Nareth, but she had deliberately gone to meet him, and very specifically fed him information designed to make him reach a certain conclusion. There was something almost... sinister about that. And when the Ancient Language prevented outright lies, it was not something that was usually learned by polite elven society. So that begged the very important question; where had Rohiriel been taught that skill, and where had she learned to master it so effortlessly? These questions entered the rabidly growing mental archive marked 'Unanswered.' But for the first time, he wondered if the image waiting to be uncovered was a dark one.

Even as he thought it, he was able to watch as the pain and distress drained from Rohiriel's face, leaving her instead with the expression of vague calculation she had been wearing most of the time he saw her. “The musicians,” she intoned quietly“”Some of them are Nareth’s men. I don’t think they’re the main aspect of his plan, but I want you to keep an eye on them from here. Alert me if they appear to be doing anything out of the ordinary.”
Vaoris blinked, trying to make the mental switch as he glanced over toward the musician's dais. None of them he recognized, but then, his last meeting with Nareth and his employees had been rather stressed. “What constitutes out of the ordinary?” he asked tentatively, his eyes noting a movement as two of the men fingered their instruments...

A movement that swiftly culminated in them drawing swords from their instruments and brandishing them menacingly, screaming at the crowd to get back. Vaoris felt his eyes widen.
I guess that counts as out of the ordinary...
“That, my dear, is out of the ordinary,” Rohiriel mirrored, struggling against him as they were suddenly enveloped in a throng of fleeing nobles. Vaoris grit his teeth and tried to stand his ground, struggling to see what was happening...

When the lights went out.

What followed next was utter chaos. The lack of light drove the chaos into a frenzy, turning the assembled guests into an exorbitantly wealthy stampede. Vaoris was swept along, shoved and jostled, unable to keep his feet. At last, he found himself with his back to a wall, and he stayed there as best he could. Finally, the noise grew less, and just as he was starting to think he was the only one left, the lights inexplicably returned. The light only served to bring him more confusion. Suddenly, Nareth, his manservant, and his own party were the only ones in the room. Laioni was sprawled amongst the shattered remains of the display case, and Rohiriel was standing over the prone form of an old man, with Treasures of Alagaesia somehow tucked under one arm as she stood defiantly before Nareth. Without a word, Nareth signaled his manservant... And Vaoris could only watch in abject horror as Rohiriel was suddenly imprisoned in a field of magical spikes.

Vaoris was frozen. He could hear someone shouting something, but he couldn't seem to understand. He could only stand, suddenly at war with himself.
Do something.
I can't.
You have to.
I'm a scholar. There's nothing I can do.
Help her.
I can't. He'll kill me.
Use your magic.
I can't reach it fast enough.
“Noendîr! VAORIS!”
The crippled mage turned to him, and Vaoris looked into the dark blue eyes. He could see the anger there, a simmering rage, barely contained behind walls of will.
Move. Defend yourself.
I can't.
You did it before.
I'm not the hero.
The mage raised his hands, ready to perform a spell...

“RUN, YOU STUPID BASTARD!”

Just then, from beyond the scholar's vision, a bolt of violet energy struck the manservant's side and seemed to rebound off an invisible barrier before slamming into the wall just over Vaoris' head, showering him with sparks and shards of pulverized stone. As he flinched instinctively away, the shock seemed to push the mental stalemate over the edge, filling his adrenaline heightened mind with one thought;

Run.

Taking advantage of the mage's momentary distraction, Vaoris bolted, pounding across the open space and through the hall's double-doors, left wide open by the flood of fleeing guests. He bounded down the manor's broad steps, knowing that the mage was right behind him. He didn't know how he knew without turning to look, but he was certain. His only that was to the garden courtyard he had seen on the way in; trees, shadows, and statues. Cover and places to hide. The portion of his mind that remained analytical wondered just what he would do when he got there, but... he figured he would jump off that bridge when he came to it.

Several heartbeats later, he crossed the archway in the tall hedge, skidded around a corner, and threw himself down behind the pedestal of a large statue. His heart pounded in his ears, the breath tearing raggedly from his lungs. The night had already turned chill, cooling the sweat on his face and sending a shiver down his spine. The cold also helped to clear his head from the blind panic that had gripped him.
What's the matter with you? he berated himself. You should have helped them! Dozens of scenarios flickered through his mind, all filled with with actions that he should have done. Although, to be fair, every scenario ended most likely with his death or incapacitation. Besides, the simple fact was that he had not, he'd made the decisions he had made, and now with both Rohiriel and likely Laioni out of action, it was up to him to deal with the consequence. He had to be the one to think his way out of this.
Think... How do I do this? How can I do this? I can't do this...
Just then, a shadow appeared at the archway, followed quickly by the figure of the tall mage, silhouetted by the lights of the house behind him. Vaoris ducked back a little further behind the pedestal, eyes narrowing. Now that he was thinking about it, who was this man? He hadn't been at the warehouse, where they'd had their first confrontation with Nareth. From what Vaoris had seen, the man obviously suffered some kind of critical injury, and yet... wrecking the ballroom in such a spectacular manner was an impressive display of power. Far beyond that of the average human mage, Vaoris was certain. Beyond that, there was just that... offness about him.
I'm missing something. I have to be. What did I miss...
Just then, the roving eyes of the mage seemed to lock straight on his hiding place, and the silhouette of a smile grew wider.
"You really shouldn't breath so loudly, little one."

Vaoris felt his eyes widen, ducking back even as a blinding bolt of magical energy bloomed against the legs of the statue behind which he was hiding, the explosive discharge knocking him on his side in the damp grass. Before he knew what he was doing, he was scrambling to his feet and dashing for the next statue, feeling the hair on his neck rise as another shockbolt blasted the ground where he had been lying. He swore through clenched teeth. It seemed like just last night, he had been running through chaos, with things exploding all around him. He was so sick of this. Right then, he wished for nothing more than a spell that would just carry him home to his Archives, with his own books and his own clothes, with no memory of this entire event.
He just wanted to go home.
Three paces from safety, his luck finally ran out. A bolt struck him in the upper chest, and all thought shattered under a crackling wave of pain.

The next thing he was aware of was lying on his back, staring up at the stars. The mage stood over him, and for the first time, Vaoris noticed the sharpness and angles of the man's features; the paleness of his skin and the elegant braiding of his golden hair. Like a clap of thunder, Vaoris felt the answer to all of his questions fall into place.
"You..." he stammered through dry lips. "You're an..."
Without a word, the elf's stare grew intense, and Vaoris felt the crushing subliminal pressure that indicated a mental attack.
No! No no no... Books!
Remembering the miniscule amount of training he had received on the subject, he submerged himself in thought and memory.
He was wandering the Grand Library, straightening the fiction section. The slight creaking noise of the shelving cart. Running his finger over the spines of the books, the musky smell of the pages...
There was just enough capacity for him to notice the mage smiling. "Nice thought," he said, and kicked Vaoris hard in the stomach. The breath left his lungs with a cry, shattering his concentration. Strong tendrils of thought entered his mind, batting aside his scattered resistance and leaving him at the mage's mercy. To his horror, the stronger mind did not inflict any kind of command or compulsion; it simply took hold of his recent memories, scanning hurriedly through them as Vaoris had done with his books the previous night. It happened so fast, he wasn't sure just what details the mage managed to glean, knowing only that it could not be good. With one last effort, Vaoris kicked out at his assailant, only to have the elf jump easily aside. “Very well. I have no further need for you.”
With that Vaoris felt his vision obscured by a descending boot, and the world went white.

* * *

It really was not often that Nareth found himself in a situation in which he was out of his depth.

After all, his mind was the sharpest of anyone he knew. It was not a boast, it was merely a statement of fact. He was always anticipating outcomes, always one step ahead. Riggs had told him once that it sometimes seemed like he lived five minutes ahead of everyone else, and it was true. In fact, it so often grew to be tiresome. It was hard, being so clever when everyone was so... slow. Still, it put him at a disadvantage on the very rare occasion when he was surprised. Now, he was certainly at a disadvantage.

Pushing the fragment of the book he had taken from the unconscious scholar into his pocket, he glanced down at the two subdued elves with a frown. So who were they? Were they truly a rival band of professional operators? His idea of elven culture did not generally give the idea that such a thing would be possible. But who would they work for, besides themselves? Ilirea? Why would the riders send a band in secret, when legitimate channels were open? He supposed the elven government would stoop to such a thing, but... No, that did not quite fit either. The elves had plenty of resources; why simply send three people for the task, including the arduous work of gathering intelligence. Nareth himself had subcontracted that work, while Lady Lantana had opted to do it herself. That did not sound like the agent of a wealthy government. The matter for the most speculation, however, was Lady Lantana herself. The woman who had seen through the deception of his plan, and intercepted it seemingly without effort. The woman who had disappeared right in front of him. The woman who was currently taking on a battlemage, using tactics of theatricality and misdirection. The woman who, as painful as it was to admit, he had badly underestimated. Noendir's behavior had not changed, and he had no doubt that he was indeed the scholar he made himself out to be. The maidservant had more or less performed to type, of course with the addition of violent magic-use. But this was not the image of Lady Lantana that she had sold to him the previous night. This was something new, unknown, and possibly dangerous.
So who are you, then? he wondered, his eyes roving the shadows. Who are you?

For him, it was the height of confusion as he juggled his thoughts with trying to follow a magical battle that he did not entirely understand. Of course, amid all of the shifting shadows and blasting flames, it was easy to see that Lenthir was not being nearly as conservative as he could be.
"Lenthir!" he shouted amid the chaos. "I don't want anyone killed. Show some self control!"
But then... he was hardly an expert on what would constitute non-lethal force in this particular situation. The revelation that he was now going up against a party of elves was still processing, its implications slotting into place. Elves were, unfortunately, rather beyond his area. He knew that they were superior both physically and magically, but accounts differed as to exactly how much. Lenthir would certainly have more knowledge in that area, but he was hardly going to defer to an angry battlemage with a cultivated hatred for his own kind.

Just then, something in the fight seemed to change. Nareth at first thought it was his eyes were playing tricks on him, but it was quickly undeniable that the shadows of the garden were growing, blossoming into duplicates of the vague human shape that Lenthir had been chasing around the courtyard for the past five minutes. With a cry of triumph, Lenthir attacked... the wrong one. Spotting the trick, Nareth had to smile. A simple ploy, but a clever one. At that moment, each and every shadow lunged at the battlemage, converging on him like a sea of ghosts. With a snarl of frustration, Lenthir reacted with circular attack that traced across every shadow indiscriminately... and somehow still missing the mark. A blur of motion passed across the mage, leaving behind a trail of shimmering silver. Frowning, Nareth watched the shining strand wrap around Lenthir like a net, entrapping the mage in an iridescent wrapping. Nareth felt his eyebrows rise as the shadows rushed past...
Converging on him.
On then did Nareth begin to consider just what Lantana's intention could be. Saving her companions had to be part of it, But her primary objective in coming here had been to acquire both halves of the book, which meant...
Eyes narrowing, he reached belatedly for the dagger at his waist...
There was a blur, a subliminal feeling of extreme motion, followed by a disembodied prick of cold against his neck. And just like that, it was clear. He was at the mercy of his new rival.

"You know," he commented amiably, "It's a bit unnerving to have an invisible blade against your throat. I was under the impression we were above such base inclinations."
"It's nothing personal." The disembodied voice in his ear was unchanged, belonging most definitely to Lady Lantana. Another clever part to the mask he was now sure she wore. "I would much rather not be fighting anyone. I've just come to retrieve the book and fetch my companions. We must be returning to my father. He'll be most worried about us."
He laughed, genuinely amused. They were leagues beyond that now. They were so far beyond that, memory of their aliases would barely make for an interesting footnote in his recollections. "Still sticking with your story then, Lady Lantana?"
"Most certainly, Master Nareth. Now, hand me the book, if you please."
Now, Nareth was not unfamiliar with the concept of a threat. After all, he used them quite often himself, enough to know that the key was the belief that the threat could be carried out. In this case, that key was absent. He smiled. "Unfortunately my dear, it appears that I must refuse. I don't think you'll actually kill me."
He expected the tightened stance, the heavier pressure of the blade against his throat. A little posturing was always required for a good threat. What he did not expect, however, was the sudden darkness to her words, the deeper undertones to her voice. Lady Lantana was gone now. Whoever this woman was, she was finally speaking to him now.
"Do you even want to know how many people I've killed? A part of me wants to kill you right now, very badly. Do you realize that my killing you would be the end to all our problems? You're the last obstacle in our path. Both halves of the book are within my grasp. All I have to do is take your life. Your little crew would fall apart without you to lead them. You're the glue holding them together, Nareth."
He felt fear then. Nareth was not the sort who would ever deny that the prospect of death held fear for him. If he had made yet one more misjudgment tonight, then that was it. He would meet his fate with dignity, and deal with whichever god truly did govern the hereafter. And yet... the emotion he would die with would not be fear, but disappointment. Logically, the woman's argument was perfectly sound. He had known it all since the start of this venture, in fact. Even in the wider scope, killing was by far the simplest and most direct way of achieving the desires of the heart. But it was for that exact reason that Nareth would not indulge in it himself. Killers were not complicated. Much as most of them liked to invent elaborate motivations for themselves, perhaps spouting speeches about justice, or defending the innocent, or making the world a better place, the simple, unavoidable truth was that they wanted something, and were simply too lazy, stupid, or immoral to accomplish it any other way. And even the simplicity of killing was an illusion. Nareth had spent enough time speaking with men like Henson and Riggs to know; killing had a cost. The balance of the universe demanding that those who would take a life had to give a part of themselves in return. The most elite killers ever trained were those who would give and give, until there was nothing left. If he was to die tonight, he could rest secure in the knowledge that he had held true to what he believed in. Could she say the same?

It was a long moment of waiting. But in that time, he finally decided that yes, perhaps she could. If she was going to kill him, she would have done it by now. Besides which, Lenthir was finally managing to free himself from his bindings, and while the order was still in effect, Nareth rather doubted he'd be in a gentle mood...
"Well," he said, "It appears that we'll have to test your resolve another day, milady. Until then."
Whatever surprised comeback she had been preparing was cut off as Lenthir's precision shock-spell cut the air, veering around Nareth to strike her invisible form away from him like a negligent flick of the wrist. As he turned around, he couldn't help but wince a little bit. Whatever Lenthir had done, it sounded painful. But, he decided, most likely necessary. Nareth saw his assailant lying prone on the ground, whatever spell she had been using evaporating to show the form of a small, disheveled woman, now dressed in the garb of an infiltrator. Lenthir stood over her, the snarl on his face illuminated by the building orb of magical energy in his hand. Nareth opened his mouth in a request to surrender when her hand darted to her belt in a sudden motion. There was a pop and hiss, and courtyard was almost instantly filled with a thick white smoke. Nareth shielded his eyes, both from the cloud and the blasting heat of Lenthir's fireball striking the ground where the woman had been standing. As the smoke dispersed rapidly, Nareth fanned the air with his cloak, eyes roving the chaos of the now charred and burning garden. The woman of course, was gone.
Oh... Nareth thought with distaste. How cliche.

For several moments, the only sound was the hiss and crackle of the fires. At last, Lenthir gave a sigh, lowering his arms. "She's gone. Typical of her kind. Leaves her friends to rot rather than join them."
Nareth drew himself up. "You weren't exactly making it easy for her," he said, his tone showing his irritation. "But I'll deal with you later. While Riggs and Henson are keeping them occupied, I'm sure the city guard will be along shortly. You see to Rion, and give yourself whatever healing you need so that you too can get these two ready for transport. I'll head to the stable and bring the horses." One thing was certain; it was now of utmost importance that they make their way back to the safe house and regroup. It was time to come up with a new plan. In light of tonight's events, he would need to reconsider a great many things.
A great many things indeed.

. . .

It was fairly typical, the way the team slowly trickled back into the hideout in ones and twos, jovial and jubilant at the prospect of a plan well carried-out. This feeling swiftly deflated as they returned to find Nareth's thoughtful expression, Lenthir's bloodied robes, and the two unconscious prisoners in the corner. The group that finally gathered around the table was a much more somber one as Nareth relayed the revelation of everything that happened over the past hours. After a long moment of silence, Henson finally summed it up in his trademark gruff tones; "Well Gaius, looks like we've just stepped into a deep puddle of shit, and we don't have the shoes for it."

Nareth remained silent, his fingers drumming softly on the table. “Maybe,” he said finally. “Maybe we are. Or, just perhaps, we've found our first worthy challenge.” He glanced up, hurrying to explain. “Sure, it got a bit intense in there, but that was mostly our doing. It actually caught me off guard that we, as a group, did not totally dominate the situation. We spooked her, and took two of her companions hostage. She merely responded in kind.”
“Er, I might remind you that she wasn't pulling any punches either,” Rion spoke up. Most of his old man disguise was still in place, but he had lifted his shirt to expose his toned stomach as Jora attended the rapidly forming bruise. “And I would remind you that she did that first, as the starting move.”
Nareth had to chuckle. “Clearly, Rion, you've been spoiled in my employ. You can't remember the last time a tipped-off mark had his thugs beat you near to a bloody pulp in an alleyway. I minimize it as much as I can, but don't kid yourself. Our profession involves a great deal of physical risk. A bruise is merely a scored point in this particular game.”
Riggs cleared his throat, clearly not happy with the situation. “Boss, from the sound of it, she almost killed you.”
That... was a good point. Nareth could still feel the light irritation of his skin, as if the knife was still resting against it. That, he had to admit, was a close call. And yet... “Lenthir? What do you know about her? You seemed to glean quite a bit out of your pillaging of the scholar's head.” Which, in Nareth's mind, was first-rate cheating. He would never have allowed Lenthir to do it had he known, but now of course it was too late. He didn't like it, but it was be stupid and irresponsible now not to make use of knowledge if he had it available, especially if doing so might potentially put his team at risk.
For his part, the mage stood against the wall, saying little, the magical glow infusing his fingers as he healed his various cuts and lacerations one by one, while shooting the occasional hard glance at the unconscious captives propped against the wall in the corner. At being addressed, he looked up.
“The boy knows nothing, but he has been wondering. Kind of him to keep such orderly memories on the subject. I see what she's done and how she's done it, so I know what she is. She is an assassin, Gaius. Or at least she was. How she could possibly have come into the employ of Ilirea, I can't begin to guess. But that's the way she operates. Shadows, secrets, and trickery. She's been trained to be as cunning as a snake and twice as slippery, doing whatever it takes to accomplish her aims without pity or remorse. that is who she is.”
Nareth nodded. “A denizen of the shadows, certainly. She definitely showed that. And yet, she did not 'almost' kill me. She could have killed me,” he responded. “There is a critical difference. Logic would dictate that was even the best course. She could have, but she didn't. That tells me that she is not a murderer, and therefore, worthy of all our respect. The measures she resorted to in the courtyard were merely in response to ours. Which is something that I wish to address, Lenthir.” He turned his chair toward the battlemage, giving a critical eye. “You mind explaining what you were doing?”
"I was doing what was necessary."
"And working a bit of overtime. What does 'no one killed' mean to you, exactly?"
Nareth didn't flinch at the flash of anger in the mage's eyes. It was only another moment before Lenthir remembered just whose resources were keeping him hidden from a rabid queen after his head.
"With respect, you have not dealt with elves nearly as much as I have. As I'm sure you may have noticed by now, they are much less fragile than humans, and much more difficult to bring down. About the only reliable way I've found is to injure them beyond the point of toughing out the pain, and then healing the damage later. I've also found that severe burns are the most efficient way of accomplishing this.”
Nareth blinked, almost having trouble processing what was being said. It almost seemed too much to believe, and Lenthir was definitely not the most reliable source. And yet it was spoken with such absolute certainty... Nareth turned to Riggs and Henson, the two others in the room who had some experience fighting elves. Riggs nodded. “With respect sir, Lenthir is right. Elves are bloody hard to bring down. They can take an arrow or two without slowing down, use magic like fiends... I once saw one make a ten-foot leap with a dagger still sticking out of her back. And, for that matter, hard to contain,” he added, glancing at the captives. “They are notoriously bad at staying where you put them. The drugs to take out the magic are expensive, so we sometimes had to improvise with giving them a concussion. It was also standard procedure to break both legs.”
“A fine idea, Riggs,” Lenthir spoke up, “I'll take care of that...”
“No!” Nareth shouted, unable to believe what he was hearing. He leaped to his feet, pounding the table. “Nyx's breath, is this what we've come to? The first sign of a real challenge, and we're reduced to a bunch of over-educated thugs?” His glare roved across the suddenly quiet assembly, lingering longest on Riggs and Lenthir. “We are not at war anymore,” he addressed them, gesturing emphatically to the unconscious elves. “These are not our enemies. These are merely our rivals in a game of skill, and they will be treated as such. Do I make myself clear?”

There was silence around the table, and for good reason. It was not often that he found himself in a position of asserting his authority. They were a well-oiled machine, and he was the one to intentionally create the attitude of equality. But this was definitely at time when he needed to show firmness. As his anger cooled, he realized that it was not really their fault. After all, he really had been spoiling them. They had all grown too soft, too complacent. It had been too long since they had a challenge that taxed their wits and abilities, and now that they were facing one, a bit of operational panic had to come up. Time for a reminder, then.
“Look,” he said more calmly, sinking back into his chair. “We are the best, are we not?” Heads around the table nodded. “Of course. We are the very best at what we do. Because of that, we've gotten lazy. It's been too long since we've had to strive for anything. Now it's time to get back in shape. Now, facing this opponent, we have to be on our best game. If we do this right, this could be the most satisfying job we have ever accomplished, because our opponent actually made us work for it. Am I correct?”
Riggs shook his head slowly. “You make it sound like a match of capture the flag, Gaius.”
“In a way Riggs, it is,” Nareth answered, settling back in his chair. “Things of this nature should not be a matter of life and death. This is merely an exercise of wit. The winner will walk away wealthier, and the loser will be little worse off than they were before. Is there something wrong with that?”
“That assumes the opponent plays by those rules.” Nareth looked up, turning to Lenthir as the elf spoke in a tone of quiet assurance. “You're sparring with a wooden sword, Gaius. What happens if your partner draws their steel?”
Nareth sighed. “I already told you. She could have, but she didn't.”
“And yet there is another player in this game,” Lenthir went on. “One that you would do very well to consider. Myaja Kjolborn.”
Nareth blinked. “What haven't you told me?”
“Perhaps you might recognize the name of General Myaja Kjolborn.”
Nareth's memory clicked. Head of the elven armies... Or was. He had heard had kept up with the news that the Riders had placed her under house-arrest for crimes against peace and happiness, or something like that. But then... “Where the hell is this going, Lenthir? Speak clearly for a change.”
“She's here.” Two simple words, but the mage seemed quite proud of them and the effect it had on the group. He smiled. “She was sent along with these people by the same senile Rider that put them on the chase in the first place. She was in this room, from what I hear, although not in terribly good condition at the time. Calling herself Lady Tinuthel.”
“But...” Nareth blinked, feeling his image of the situation shifting rapidly. “But Lady Tinuthel is dead. Lucky and his men poisoned her.”
“You think? The scholar brat saved her, apparently. The only reason she wasn't at the ball tonight was because she was recovering. And that won't take long, I'll wager. The woman always was a tough bitch to bring down.”
It all fell into place. Lantana, or whoever she was, had lied to him. A classic trick. If he dismissed one member of the party from his calculations, that opened him up for a fatal error down the road. Clever. And worse, he had never really considered Lady Tinuthel before now, who she could be, and what she was capable of. He had no strategies in place for her, which meant that he had better catch up fast.
“Alright,” he acknowledged, “so she's here. What exactly does that mean? And what do you know about her?”

Lenthir's smile widened, warming to his tale. “I know plenty. She was a colonel during the war, and she worked closely with King Vanska. I even met her several times, although doubtless she would never remember the bodyguard. No one ever does. But I watched her determination and her ferocity in battle. She possesses a very rare balance between rage and cunning. She uses her anger to fuel her resolve, and that makes her all the more deadly. But she is also ruthless and uncompromising. In this particular situation, I put myself in her position; she is a mighty warrior, but was nearly laid low by treachery. That demands a reckoning, against the traitors, and by extension, against you. In summary, she will come here, and she will kill us. And there will be little anyone, except possibly me, can do about it. And I guarantee that the only way I could stop her is to kill her.”
The atmosphere in the room seemed to chill, just a few notches. Turning away, Nareth laced his fingers and put his elbows on his lap, shutting his eyes. Such a small factor, but it changed so much. He needed to think...
“Something I've observed about capture the flag,” Riggs observed quietly in the background. “Someone always comes back to free the prisoners.”

Nareth thought. It was difficult to say how long. He simply allowed his mind to envelope him, a cascading, interconnecting lattice of cause and effect behind his eyes. Placed squarely in the middle was this idea of Myaja Kjolborn, obstructing the flow like a large rock dumped into a stream, shunting the events in directions that he did not want them to go. Working with conjunction with what he now knew of Lantana, it was difficult even for him to process. Despite the precautions taken, he was quite sure that Lantana knew where to find his hideout. And if she had gone back to her own little spot at the Golden Perch... that did not give them much time before one or both of the elves came back her on a rampage that could only lead to mutual violence. It was a shame, really. After all, he had done nothing personally to the General. In fact, he greatly disapproved of what Lucky had done. He was perfectly in agreement with her that a reckoning was due... He paused. Now there was a possibility. As so often happened, it was elegantly simple, a tiny shift that would change the course of everything. And as for Lantana...
“You know Riggs,” he said finally, opening his eyes and raising his head. “I played a lot of capture the flag as a kid, but we had very few set rules. Because of that, I would always put the jail somewhere that was very hard to reach, and even harder to get out of.”
“What do you mean?” Riggs asked with a frown. Nareth smiled.
“How's the sailing this time of year?”
“Fantastic, if you like twenty-foot waves, bone-chilling water, nausea, and very active sharks.”
“I do,” Nareth answered, drumming his fingers on the table. “Right now, I very much do.” He stood up, straightening his clothing. “Alright people, here's what we're going to do. Riggs is going to rent us a ship, which we'll take far out into the bay. We'll use that as a staging area to regroup, where I can study this book and come up with a further plan. We'll also hang on to the prisoners for now, probably to use as a bargaining chip for the other half. Put Spook on that. Have him in the vicinity of the Golden Perch, to keep an eye on our lady friends. Oh, and Henson, I want you to get in contact with Lucky and his men. Tell him that I'll pay him twice his usual fee if they will guard this place for us while we're gone.”
There was a pause as the new orders seemed to sink in, followed by smiles, grunts, and even a few chuckles as they realized the implications of what he had said.
“What is that, three birds with one stone?” Jora asked with a smile. “You are the devil, Gaius.”
“Thank you, Jora,” he said. “Coming from you, that's high praise indeed. Alright people, let's get a move on. Take anything you think you might need, but I want us up and out of this place in an hour or less.”

. . .

He was in the Grand Library, In the grove of trees under the central dome. But something was wrong. The wind howled all around him, causing the trees to creak and moan tortuously in the dark, Like there was somehow a storm inside the building. Looking up, Vaoris saw that the main doors were gaping wide, and standing in the doorway was a figure shrouded in black. His heart falling into his toes, Vaoris turned and tried to run, but the ground shook beneath him, knocking him down. The figure stood over him...
"Get away!"
The figure jumped nimbly back, chuckling slightly. "Easy there, child, said a deep, resonant voice that sounded vaguely familiar. "I guess that's what I get for trying to be charitable..."
Still groggy, Vaoris tried to think... and then it came. The voice of the elven mage who had knocked him out in the garden. The cloaked figure turned in the lantern light, and Vaoris found it was the exact same face. Crying out in fear, he tried to scramble back... and did not get far before something tugged him back. Looking down, he found that his wrists were bound, and that his right leg was locked to the end of a heavy chain.

Fighting down rising fear, he took stock of his surroundings. He was in a small room, perhaps eight feet square, constructed of heavy timbers. Laioni lay across from him on a layer of straw, and the hostile mage stood over them like a vulture waiting for its meal. Oddly enough, the sensation of shifting ground from his dream had followed him from waking, as had the chorus of creaking wood. Only after seeing that the back wall of the room was curved upward did it fall into place, making his gut churn. They were on a ship. Sometime since the party, Nareth had put them all on a ship, and taking them who knew where. As he reached that conclusion, he watched the dark-cloaked mage stoop over Laioni. "The boss insisted that I come down here to heal your wounds. I should tell him that you people keep trying to attack me-"
With a snarl, Laioni surged into a sitting position, her found hands pointed at the mage. She was halfway through the first word of her spell when it translated into a cry of pain, blue electrical energy arcing across her body. The absent part of Vaoris noted that it seemed to emanate from the thick iron collar fastened around her neck, an ugly slave-holding apparatus with the incongruous addition of a large iron stud. He also noticed belatedly that he had one too.

The shock only lasted for a second, but it was enough to make Laioni collapse back to her side, moaning. The mage chuckled. "Ah, do you like those? My own personal invention. I've enchanted those to detect its wearer accessing magic, and to administer a shock whenever you do. Painful enough to disrupt your concentration, but not enough to cause any serious damage... at first. You might think to outlast the spell, but I warn you, that diamond contains enough power to stop your heart before that happens. And don't think to tamper with the diamond either, or it will unleash all of its energy at once, and we'll find nothing but scattered ashes."
Vaoris licked dry lips. This was all happening so fast. It was all so difficult to process...
"So what happens to us now?"
"At the moment, nothing," the crippled elf answered jovially. "Just relax, and make yourselves comfortable. Someone will be along with food shortly."
"You..." Laioni hissed, recovering from her shock. "You've made a dangerous enemy by toying with me."
The mage paused, and then laughed, long, loud, and heartily. "Well, be that as it may, you may have just made a friend. Perhaps once this is all over, Nareth will consent to letting me keep you as an amusing pet. But in the meantime, rest well, and dream of a world where your threats actually have teeth."
With that, the heavy timber door shut soundly. Listening, Vaoris heard what sounded like at least three heavy locks sliding shut. The mage's halting steps faded, until the only sound was the creaking and groaning of the hull.

Vaoris let out a long breath, settling his head against the wall as he fought down a sense of crushing hopelessness. This was it. He had been captured by the enemy, likely to be tortured for information, or tossed overboard, or... things that he could not even imagine. And all because he had agreed to this stupid, silly, misguided quest, trusting in some strange, silent, dark and mysterious woman to protect him. Because he thought, just for an instant, that maybe he could be the hero.
"So, has it been long enough for you to think of a plan of some sort, or shall I give your fragile mind more time to process?"
At Laioni's words, Vaoris looked up to find her perched imperiously on one of the room's fold down beds, eying him like a queen to her subjects. He paused, his mouth hanging slightly open, before finally blowing out an incredulous breath. Clearly, she did not understand just what was going on here, or the seriousness of the situation. "I don't have a plan," he said, running a hand through his hair. "This isn't something you just plan your way out of, especially by me. All we can do is... wait, and hope they need us too much to kill us." Which, he decided, was not likely. It seemed that everyone was assuming him so much smarter than he was. As soon as that illusion was dispelled... that would be it.
"Truly?" Laioni snorted, undeterred. "I overestimated your intelligence after all. Clearly, you are good for nothing but shoveling those piles of feces you call BOOKS."
The words stung the same way they always did, and yet... there was something different this time. Vaoris looked up, frowning, trying to identify the feeling. Something had... snapped somewhere within him, and there was an odd feeling trickling into his heart.
"After all, what do you scholars even do all day?" Laioni carried on, blithely unaware of the change. "You sit around in your FILTHY halls, doing nothing but staring at squiggly lines. No wonder your brain is probably the consistency of porridge, except without the nutritional value."
It was subtle at first, just a whisper. Much like the first trickles that heralded an approaching flood. "Laioni..."
"Even what you WEAR looks like silly gray pajamas, even further testament to your slothful nature. NOTHING could ever have the semblance of being more lazy than a scholar."
"Laioni." More insistent now. Holding it back was almost painful, making him grit his teeth.
"I've been among human dirt farmers that have worked more in a day than you have in your entire life, with more intelligence to show for it. I suppose it doesn't MATTER to you that they will KILL us unless you can think of a way to get-"

"I don't KNOW, dammit!"

Laioni blinked, looking taken aback by his angry words. The feeling was a rushing tide now. Vaoris could no more hold it back than he could stop an avalanche. Even if he wanted to. Right now, he found that he didn’t. "What do you EXPECT me to do?" He held up the chain binding his leg to the wall. "This is solid steel, made with a refinement process you couldn't be bothered to study, made to be harder than STONE! Do want me to just THINK my way out of that? Or maybe THINK my way past Nareth and his killers? And THEN what, huh? We're on a SHIP, in the middle of the OCEAN. I can't think my way out of this! And since you've OBVIOUSLY never had a logical thought enter your head, that means we are going to die because of you!"
Laioni's blinking had become rapid, leaning slightly away from him. "Ok Vaoris, I get it. Look, let's calm down..."
"No!" He couldn't stop now. It was a release that he had been holding back for too long. It felt as if the negative feelings stored up through his entire life were spewing fourth, having finally found a target worthy of their wrath. He leaped to his feet, his face feeling odd and twisted as he stalked as close to her as the length of his chain would allow. "No," he want on, "I've just had a marvelous revelation that I'm going to share with you. It's almost funny. For this entire trip, I've been worried about pulling my weight, doing my part. I thought I could never be of any use outside the library. But now I realize that I had nothing to worry about. I did my part and more. I saved Myaja's life, and I could have done it just fine without you. And since we got here, you've done nothing but blow our cover, try and give us away, and march us straight into trouble, never once thinking about anything, especially the consequences. And then, when it's up to you to save us with your magic, the very thing you were sent along to do, you can't even do THAT! You get your cheap, oversold ass handed to you by a cripple with ONE ARM! No Laioni, I've finally realize that I'm not the dead weight on this mission. You are."

He paused, but only for breath. For her part, Laioni had grown just a little smaller in her seat, turning her eyes away from him. He was unmoved. His anger had not yet even begun to abate, tempered by logic into a weapon. He realized he had all kinds of stored ammunition against her, just waiting to be used.
"Aye, sure, turn your nose up. Act like some high-born lady, too good for the rest of us! I'll tell you what Laioni, I've heard the stories about you. How they had to rescue you out of the ass end of a forest, like some savage roaming naked through the woods. I even heard that you had the stupidity to burn your own house down! And then in Ilirea, you're supposed to be some kind of teacher, but you're always taking some excuse to leave the city. And nobody cares! They may have you teach, but obviously no one needs you. I've dedicated my life to knowledge. I've solved riddles, tracked down ancient tomes, memorized knowledge that would make your TINY brain explode. I mapped the city, I discovered the layout, and I used my knowledge to save a life! What have you done, Laioni? What the hell have you EVER DONE?"

At that point, the fury finally ran its course. He felt... not exactly good, but definitely different. Almost the same way he might feel after a fever finally broke. The fire in his chest had burned down to embers. He could rekindle it again if he tried, but he felt there was no need. He had said everything that he had needed to say. It was quiet. The ship creaked, his breath came hard his heart pounding in his chest as if he had just come from a long, satisfying jog. Not a single sound came from Laioni. She simply stared past him with wide, unblinking eyes. Not a word. Despite his state, Vaoris found he was a little surprised. It was a long moment before she finally even stirred, moving to look at him with eyes like jagged ice.

Then she slapped him. Hard.

Vaoris let his face turn with the blow, taking it without so much as changing expression. It seemed that his emotions had run their course, leaving him almost numb inside and out. He barely felt the sting across his cheek, overshadowed as it was by a tiny flush of victory. While she had verbally abused him at every possible opportunity, she had never laid a finger on him before. Physical violence was the domain of someone who had nothing to say. She hit him because she had nothing else. Whatever she did now, it didn't matter. Her reaction was irrelevant. It wouldn't make what he had said any less true...

A chain rattled. Opening his eyes, Vaoris saw that she had stood up and turned her back, moving to sit cross-legged in the corner of the room. His expression didn't change, but there managed a tiny trickle of surprise. This was certainly not what he had expected. Even with the bucking motion of the ship, she sat very still and silent, almost going dormant. She suddenly looked very small, like a child in borrowed finery. Turning, Vaoris moved around her, hearing the tiny sniff...

And saw the lamplight glistening in the tears running down her cheeks.

Vaoris felt nothing. No pride that he had gotten to her, nor shame at what he had done. He simply felt too tired and drained to take the mental step back he needed to look upon his word, whether with joy or revulsion. It simply was.
He almost didn't notice the sound of the door opening behind him. Whoever had come, they were silent for a long moment before speaking up. “My, my... Did I miss something?” It was the mage. Vaoris turned slowly, face expressionless.
“No.”
The crippled elf raised an eyebrow, eyes darting between him and Laioni, as if unable to believe the evidence before his eyes. Finally, the mage gave a lopsided shrug. “Very well. Master Nareth wants to talk with you in his stateroom. Just you. She can stay here and... do whatever it is she's doing.”
“Fine,” Vaoris said.
“I trust you won't try anything funny as you follow me?”
“I won't.”
“Good. This way.”
As he turned to go, Vaoris hesitated, just for a moment, giving one last glance at Laioni's still form. Then he walked into the hallway, and the door was shut behind him without a word.

[/blockquote]

[Angmor]

The trip topside was longer than he would have expected, through the narrow corridors and up steep ladders. Vaoris had never been on a ship before, but this one seemed like it would have to be a large one in order to have at least three separate decks. As he ascended, the sound of the howling wind and battering rain grew louder, finally reaching a crescendo when the mage ahead of him threw open a hatch, spattering them both with icy water. As he climbed onto the open deck, Vaoris was treated to a sight he had never thought he would witness from such a perspective; the sea in all its turbulent majesty. The water spread out as far as he could see on all sides, a shifting landscape of enormous waves, sending up jets of angry water where they buffeted the ship's hull. Rain slashed out of an overcast early-morning sky, soaking him in an instant and sending a shiver down his spine. A flash of lightning overhead illuminated the deck before him, revealing the large number of shrouded, rough-looking men, glinting in particular off the collection of wicked-looking blades they all carried. They all had the looks of pirates and mercenaries. Faced with such a scene, any semblance of hope died within him. There would be no rescue or escape from this place. Even if they could get past the mercenaries, no one could brave the ocean's wrath. He was at the mercy of a madman, adrift and helpless.

Just then, the deck seemed to plummet beneath him, making him fall painfully to his knees. Slightly ahead of him, the mage turned around with a sigh, a hand emerging from the dark cloak to help him to his feet. "Oh, come on. You're an elf, aren't you? Help me show these slip-footed humans how it's done." With that, crippled and all, he turned and started to make his way across the slewing deck with a catlike grace that was definitely impressive. Drawing himself up, Vaoris did his best to mimic the movement, and quickly discovered it was not too difficult. A matter of keeping a wide stance, with knees slightly bent, anticipating the motion of the ship and allowing his balance to compensate. It was still slow going, and by the time they crossed the length of the vessel, he was soaked to the skin. He was still wearing the clothes he had selected to the party; Loose breeches, thin laced boots, and a long, artistically layered tunic of pale green fabric, accented with flashes of silver. Torn stained, and now soaked with water, it was almost funny to consider that it would be the second outfit of borrowed finery to be ruined in as many days. Despite this, he did not feel the cold. He didn't feel much of anything, even fear. What was the point? While he often thought it over the past few days, the idea that he was helpless had never been more true. Whatever was about to happen to him would happen. His only thought was that if he was to face his end, he would face it with dignity.

Finally, the mage led him through a large door at the rear of the ship, and Vaoris suddenly found himself stepping into a large, well-furnished, well-lit cabin. At an ample desk at one side, there stood two men, the first of which a large, grizzled sailor in a rough mariner's coat, speaking in a gruff Alban accent. "Near as ah ken tell, we're holdin' about five miles off shore. With the currents as they are, we're probably driftin' a bit North, but it shouldn't be nothin' to worry about as long as the weather holds. This is actually pretty tame for this time ah year."
The second man, of course, was Gaius Nareth. "That's just fine, captain. We don't have any particular timeline or destination at the moment. Just hold to whatever course you see fit and keep us steady."
The ship's captain chuckled. "O'course, 'tis my pleasure. Ah charge by the hour, anyway."
"Of course," Nareth nodded serenely. "Now please, leave us. You too, Lenthir, unless you had something else you needed to say."
"I don't think so. I'll be keeping an eye on the other prisoner, but... I don't think she'll be any trouble for a while," the mage answered, shooting Vaoris what he thought to be a significant look before turning to the door. "For now, I think I'll challenge Jora to a game of cards."
"Don't lose your shirt," Nareth called over the howling wind as the two men left the cabin, leaving Nareth and Vaoris alone.

There was relative silence. Vaoris stayed where he was, strangely aware of the water dripping from his clothes. After a moment filled only with shuffling paper, Nareth looked up, offering a smile. "Well, here we are again, Noendir. I find myself yet against surprised at the circumstances of our meetings. I'm sorry that this one had to be so damp, but it's a bit inevitable, really."
Vaoris blinked water from his eyes, saying nothing.
"Can I offer you anything? Food, drink? Warmer clothes? I can send some down to Corchiel too, if you can give some recommendations of what she might wear."
Still, Vaoris said nothing, instead turning his attention to scan the room. As far as he could see, there was no rack, no thumb-screws, or any other instruments of pain and torture, but that did not mean there were not people waiting in the wings to do just that. He heard Nareth sigh.
"Is this really necessary? I thought we understood each other, you and I. I don't see why much has changed between us, beyond perhaps a few revelations of identity. Is that really so jarring for you?"
Finally, Vaoris found the energy to speak. "Nothing changed? You have your mage nearly kill me and my friends, kidnap us and hold us prisoner, and you say nothing has changed?"
"Ah, yes..." Nareth appeared to cringe slightly, although the feeling couldn't be genuine. "My mage gets... rather carried away sometimes, and for that I apologize. As for your 'kidnapping', I'm not sure why you're so surprised. We already knew that we were rivals in a game. I merely won the encounter, and this is the result. You will not be harmed, and you will be treated as fairly as possible. As soon as I have the prize, you'll be free to go."
Vaoris shook his head, turning his attention back to the room. "So why did you bring me up here, then? What do you want? You going to torture me for information?"
"Torture... Such an ugly thing. Not something I subscribe to in my work. Besides, I already have any information I might need. You see, my mage read your mind. I'm sorry, it's not something I would ever have ordered him to do, but it was too late to stop him. But I know who you are, and why you're here." He paused. "On that note, would you prefer I call you Noendir, or Vaoris?"
It was impossible for his spirits to fall any lower, but Vaoris did manage to feel a spike of dread. They knew. They knew everything. That they had no official Ilirea sanction for their mission. Their names, specialties, and histories. Everything that he knew, they knew.
"I think I prefer Vaoris," Nareth carried on. "Such an elegant name. No Vaoris, I merely wish to talk, much the same way we both enjoyed when we first met. And... I merely thought you might like to help me examine this."
Vaoris finally recognized the object the man was holding. An object he had lovingly attended, ever since he had ripped it from the thief's hand. That he had carefully bound into a packet of waterproof leather, carried on his person at all times; the last half of Treasures of Alagaesia. He swallowed back a curse at his own stupidity in bringing it to the party. Merely the latest in a long line of mistakes. "And why," he asked, "Would I ever help you? You said yourself that we are rivals. I would go as far as to say that you're a psychopath."
Nareth paused, blinking rapidly... and then burst out laughing. "Psychopath? That's quite rich, coming from you. You forget, I was approximated on your memories. And if I was thinking about psychopaths, I'd be thinking about the three women with whom you've been traveling. Let's see, shall we? The petty witch, who has abused you at every turn, the elven general who has unflinchingly slaughtered thousands of people, and has treated you with little but disdain, and, best of all, a shadowy woman who has yet to tell you a single thing about herself. Do those sound like entirely normal, rational beings to you?"
Vaoris said nothing. So, this was not to be torture of a physical kind, but a mental. Well, he could resist that too.
"Think of it, Vaoris. We are pursuing artifacts that supposedly make the holder invincible. There are some heavy stakes there. How do you know what their intentions really are?"
"How do I know yours?" Vaoris shot back.
"Because I'm about to tell you. My intention is to find the armor, and sell it to the Riders."
Vaoris did look up at that. "What?"
"Just what I said. I know the power I'm meddling with here. The world is not ready for that, and neither am I. Now, I hardly think the Riders are the ideal guardians, but... it's the best we have."
Vaoris resisted the thought, looking down again. "You're just out for money."
"Your salary is paid by government tribute. And you dress far too nicely for someone insisting to send it all back. Besides, might I remind you, the armor would grant me all the money I wanted. I could just put it on, and take it from anywhere. The wealth of entire nations could be mine. I get far less by selling it to the Riders, but plenty to cover my investment and fund my amusement. A simple business transaction, nothing more. Now, contrast your... 'friends'. How can you be so sure that their intentions are above-board? I'm sure this witch could appreciate such power. An elven general definitely could."
The image sprang to mind unbidden, and Vaoris could not stop it. Laioni, donning the armor and going on a rampage, setting up her own petty little kingdom, with people to adore her, and wait on her hand and foot. Myaja, taking the artifacts back to her forest, equipping her warriors to depose Broddring and the Riders...
"And then, there's this... 'Rohiriel,' as she calls herself. My mage tells me that she has barely ever spoken to you, except to relay instructions. No past, no family, no home... She likes horses, and she obviously has the skillset of someone used to the shadows. Dare I say... an assassin. Neither of us know enough of her intentions to even begin to guess what she intends to do with that power, should she be the first to get it. Does that worry you as much as it does me? Perhaps you would care to vouch for the strength of her character, because I'm afraid I cannot."
Vaoris was beginning to feel like the floor was tilting under him, and it had nothing to do with the high seas. "But... She saved my life..."
"Ah, of course. A saved life is an excellent way to buy its loyalty. I've used the tactic many times myself. But I must say, she isn't nearly so loyal when it counts. She left you to me, after all. Granted, my mage and I left her very little choice, but that doesn't change the fact that she abandoned you."

Vaoris said nothing; could say nothing. Like it or not, his mind was logical, and everything that Nareth was saying was making sense. Far too much sense.
"Look," Nareth said, raising a hand. "This is all wild speculation, and I could be way out of line. That's not what I called you here for anyway. I merely ask if you want to help me examine this book. I'm not trying to turn you to my camp, and I don't need you to do it. I'm going to figure it out either way, you know that, but... call it a professional courtesy." Vaoris had to look as Nareth opened the book, spreading it on the desk and smoothing it with his fingers. "I'm not asking you to go into danger, track down any leads, fight off a horde, assemble antidotes. This is what you do, isn't it? You are a scholar, and this... this is knowledge that hasn't been discovered in hundreds of years.” He turned, offering a smile. “So, what say you? Shall we discover it together?"

[/blockquote]

[Akilinia]

Rohiriel
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

For a moment after the door slammed shut behind Myaja, Rohiriel just let herself sit and stare blankly at the knots and whorls that composed the thick piece of wood. She hurt. Her entire back throbbed and every breath sent a stabbing pain through her abdomen, providing further evidence to support her suspicions that one of the ribs there was broken. Underneath the larger pains, she could feel her face stinging from the scratches carved there by the stone rubble sent flying when Nareth’s battlemage destroyed one of the garden statues while trying to incinerate her and all the close calls she’d had with the battlemage’s flames left her feeling distinctly sun burnt where her skin was exposed.

Rohiriel sighed and levered herself painfully from the chair she’d slumped into and made her way to a small black bag she’d packed. Prior to this assignment, getting hurt had been a rare thing for her. Assassins didn’t often get struck back by their targets. That being the case, Rohiriel didn’t often find herself wishing she was more magically able; specifically wishing that she could heal with magic. But then, would a person capable of healing have become a cold-blooded killer? All she’d wanted to do was help her people during the Blue Divide. Would she have become a healer if she’d been capable? What would her life have been like if she’d never picked up a blade, never killed?

She ripped the bag out of the dresser drawer where she’d stowed it and tossed it on her bed. What does it matter? She asked herself pulling out a salve for her skin and scratches, bindings for her ribs and a potion to speed up healing and reduce pain. That’s like asking what would have happened if I hadn’t been naïve enough to believe that man when he told me he could help me learn how to protect people, or asking what would have happened if I’d never left home and simply taken my place in the family business. It’s pointless to wonder and pointless to ask myself these things. I am this way and everything happened the way it did. I can do nothing change my past and I can’t revive those who have died at my hands. The sooner I stop thinking about all of these things, the sooner I can focus on the present. But, that was assuming that she could ever forget the faces of the people she’d killed, the feeling of their blood as it ran over her hands and soaked into her soul. Would it be fair to them if she was simply able to dust herself off and move on with her perfect little life? What about this is perfect? She snarled at herself, pulling off her shirt so that she could bind her ribs.

As she wound the strips of flannel tightly around her abdomen, she felt the darkness within her stir. Is it better to honor their memories by trying to ignore their existence? It whispered to her. Better yet, you’re not just ignoring their existence; you’re trying to forget any of it even happened. How is that fair to them? It’s your nature to kill. It’s your nature. How can you ignore all of this? It asked her, sensuously wrapping her mind with memories of how good it felt to kill with a purpose.

No, how good she’d believed it to feel when she thought she’d had a purpose. She had never enjoyed killing, not in the slightest, but she’d done what she’d believed to be necessary.

She slammed her fist against the wall and the pain shocked her from her recollections and from the dark train of her thoughts. She needed to focus on the present. Dwelling on what had happened wouldn’t be any help to her.

She tied off the bandage around her ribs and began to apply the salve to her face, letting her mind run through the events that had happened earlier in the night. One thing was clear to her as she relived her battle with Lenthir. The battlemage was an elf, and a strong one at that. No human would be able to command such power. A veteran of the Blue Divide, perhaps? His disabilities could be the result of old battle wounds. But why would one of her kind be working with a group of human thieves, even one as extraordinary as Nareth’s? Was it blackmail? No, she found it hard to believe that a human, even Nareth would be capable of unearthing something on a elf. The divide between their races was just too great. It must be mutual, then. She thought, carefully rubbing the salve into the damaged skin on her face. Lenthir must need something that he cannot get on his own, and Nareth must be supplying him. But what is it?

Sighing, she put the stopper back in the salve and picked up the potion. Taking a swig of it, she decided that the matter of Lenthir would have to be put aside for the moment. She had entertained the idea of bribing him away from Nareth. His group of humans would be helpless against elves, but unless she knew what Lenthir needed from Nareth, unless she knew more about Lenthir himself, she couldn’t manage that.

The potion hit her stomach and her pains began to fade, leaving a feeling of warm contentment behind. She resisted the urge to take another drink and screwed the lid back onto the bottle, and then tucked it into the bag she would take with her when she went to retrieve Laioni, Vaoris and the other half of the book. The potion only lasted for a few hours; she would need another draft before long.

That done, she slipped back into her special black shirt and pulled out a pair of black pants with numerous pockets sewn on them. Peeling off the singed black breeches she’d worn to her encounter with Lenthir, Rohiriel slipped into the new pair. Each of the many pockets was already filled with her favorite toys. She would be fully prepared for the second round with the battlemage. She slipped the topaz earrings back into her ears, wiped the makeup from her face, and then began the process of removing all of the pins from her hair. After some swearing, she managed to wrestle her unruly locks into its usual neat braid with the strip of spined material at its core. Next, she began the process of strapping weapons on; a dagger on the thigh, knives on the lower back and under the sleeves on each wrist, and a small half sword at her waist. She pulled a pair of kid leather boots from the bottom of her trunk and slipped them on, and then she slipped a knife into her left one. The boots were specially designed with no hard sole so that she could tread silently. Lastly, she strapped a leather gorget lined with a plate of steel around her neck.

Dressed, she grabbed the backpack she’d prepared for just this event and slipped out the door.

It occurred to her to wait until Myaja returned, but time was of the essence. She didn’t know where Nareth had escaped to, but she did know that he wouldn’t have waited around at his hideout for Myaja to come knocking. Having captured Vaoris and Laioni, he would know the details of their mission and their true identities. Odds were that Nareth had heard of Myaja before, or at least Lenthir would have. She didn’t maintain a very low profile. That would mean that he knew she survived and would thus be able to predict her desire to exact vengeance on Lucky. Additionally, he probably would have guessed that she would know where the hideout was and would have taken measures to be sure he wasn’t there when she arrived. He wasn’t a man to underestimate his opponents or rather, now that he had their measure he would be sure another episode like the one at Janus’ mansion didn’t happen again. Every minute that she waited allowed Nareth to get one more step ahead. He was tricky enough that she needed to be close behind him to pick up his trail.

I hope Myaja found something at the hideout. We need a place to start. She thought, picking up a jog as she exited through the front gates of the Golden Perch.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Running through the city certainly took longer than riding a horse would have, but Rohiriel couldn’t make herself bring Datia when she didn’t know where she’d end up and she hadn’t felt right asking Carrock to borrow one of his when she couldn’t guarantee its safe return. She could run almost as fast as a normal horse and she could maintain a good run for days. That would have to do if Nareth had left Teirm. At the very worst, she had enough gold on her to buy a horse. She trusted Datia to Carrock’s care while she was gone.

Once she arrived in the warehouse district part of Teirm, it didn’t take long for her to locate Myaja. Valkyn, the warhorse she’d elected to ride from Ilirea was standing out front of an apparently abandoned warehouse snoring gently under an awning. Scanning the street, Rohiriel noticed that one of the doors was ajar and fresh footprints were visible in the snow leading up to the door. Drawing her half sword with her right hand and the knife from her lower back with her left, Rohiriel cautiously approached the door. She only heard a single pair of footsteps on the other side of the door. Her logical mind told her that the single person inside had to be Myaja. There was no way that whoever Nareth left to guard his warehouse could take on the elven general and survive, but the cautious part of her pointed out that Nareth had one elf on his team, why not another?

She inhaled deeply, calming herself, and then slipped silently up to the door to peer through the crack. The small gap between door and frame only showed her a small sliver of the room beyond, but she saw enough of the scene there to be almost positive that Myaja was the person inside. Blood coated the smooth stone floor of the room and the blank eyes of several men stared unseeingly in different directions, their weapons still clutched by their lifeless fingers. You should have been the one to do this. The darkness whispered as she carefully opened the door just wide enough so that she could slide through. Even over the wintery scent of the fresh snow, Rohiriel could smell the stench of death as she shouldered her way into the room.

Her eyes flickered rapidly, taking in the scene. Nine dead, one alive. Myaja. As she watched, the general bent and closed the eyes of one of the men. Rohiriel noted with surprise that the dead man was Lucky. Myaja straightened and began to move towards where Rohiriel stood, deep in thought. It took her a moment to register that there was another person in the room, and when she did her sword flashed up swiftly to the guard position and she fell back into a fighting stance. To Rohiriel her moves seemed slightly slower than usual, and it only took her a second to spot a bloody slash on her side. She was surprised to see any injuries on the general. After all, her opponents had only been humans.

Raising her eyebrows, Rohiriel sheathed both of her weapons and lifted her hands. “It’s me.” She said quietly. For a moment Myaja seemed confused, but then she grunted in acknowledgement and lowered her sword. “Took you long enough.” She grumbled, turning to pull an empty sheath off of one of the corpses by her feet. Her breath hissed out through her teeth as she straightened. She hooked the sheath to her belt and slid the new sword home.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you needed my help anyway.” Rohiriel replied wryly, gesturing to the carnage behind the woman. She pulled her bag off of her shoulders and pulled out her medical supplies. “Here, sit down, patch yourself up, and tell me what you’ve learned. We can’t afford to waste anymore time here. We need to catch up with Nareth and his crew as soon as possible.” She tossed the small bag of supplies to Myaja and pointed to a chair next to the hearth.

Myaja scowled fiercely at Rohiriel and drew her sword. “I’m perfectly fine! I don’t need healing. Let’s just track those bastards down and kill them. That will make me feel better.”

Rohiriel dropped her eyes pointedly to Myaja’s bloody abdomen. “Look, you’re useless to me if I have to clean you off the floor because you’ve passed out from blood loss. Sit down and put something on that.” She ordered deftly avoiding a slash from Myaja’s sword and shoving the woman back into the chair. For a moment Myaja stared resentfully up at her, but when it became apparent that she wouldn’t back down, the general began to sort through the small first aid bag.

Sighing in annoyance, Rohiriel hooked a nearby chair and settled herself across from the general. “Did you discover anything useful? We need to figure out where Nareth took Laioni and Vaoris as soon as possible.”

Myaja leaned her sword against the arm of her chair and got to work on her injury. “The docks.” She said angrily.”I wasted my time here. Lucky and his men were just a diversion. Nareth and the children must be miles out to sea by now.”

That was unexpected. Rohiriel thought, leaning back in her chair. She hadn’t expected him to stick to his word in the end. She guessed leaving Lucky in Myaja’s path would count as disciplining him. And then, of all the places she thought Nareth might flee to, the sea would have been her last choice. He was original, she would give him that. Now, of course the question was how to catch him. Teirm was a large port with many ships. Not to mention the fact that it was impossible to track a boat on the ocean. Of course, all ports had ledgers that kept track of which ships went out and where they were heading. Not many ships would have set out at such a late hour. Hopefully Nareth hadn’t been smart enough to pay one of the men at the docks to be forgetful on that count. If he’d forgotten to do that, then she would bet that he’d done something to cover his tracks. The question was what.

“We’ll have to go down to the docks. We can check the ledgers to see what their heading was and what ship they’re on. After that we can charter a ship and go after them.” She told the general.

Myaja grunted and curiously gave her wounded side a probing poke. Rohiriel eyed her strangely, but didn’t comment. “I shouldn’t have trouble persuading a captain to take us out.” She said, finally looking up from her side. The glint in her eye convinced Rohiriel of her sincerity and she didn’t even bother to question the woman. Poor men. They’ll wonder what they did to draw the sea god’s vengeful gaze. She thought wryly.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

While Myaja stalked into a small shop on the wharf to check the ledger, Rohiriel seated herself on the bench out front and stared out over the water. The rising sun painted the shifting waves different shades of red, gold and pink as they shifted to and fro. Each shift of the water set the boats resting on its surface rocking back and forth, as if the ocean wanted to remind the daring human creatures that all were at her mercy. Although the day was still very young, just past dawn, people were beginning to travel the docks. They were rough men and women, people who had seen a lot of things. Rohiriel imagined that life must continue out on the water just as it did at sea; life and death, tragedy and miracle, but with no escape from any of it. Anyone who went out on the ocean was trapped in whatever vessel they’d chosen to take residence on. Rohiriel wondered why people chose that life. Was it an escape for some of them? Or was it simply the only life they knew beyond this inch of shoreline in Teirm? Regardless of the reason, it seemed to Rohiriel that when the sea stole the heart of a man there were no returns.

Rohiriel picked up her bag and pulled out the wax wrapped half of the book that had fallen into her possession. Earlier in the Golden Perch it had occurred to her that the most logical course of action was to leave the thing behind, but she couldn’t help but think of what could happen if she didn’t bring it. She would certainly be giving up an important piece of leverage over Nareth, and since they were planning to journey out to sea and put themselves at his mercy, it seemed prudent to her that any extra bit of leverage was something she could not afford to forgo. She also suspected that Nareth would be busily working on decoding his half of the book. She had a feeling he would try to get as far as he could with what information could be found in his half, but then what? Would he hold Vaoris and Laioni hostage until he got the other half? Kill them? He’d said he wasn’t the kind of person to take hostages or kill, but how much did the treasure mean to him? What steps would he be willing to take to get it? No, there really wasn’t an option to keep the book safe and risk showing up with nothing. She’d made the right decision to bring it along with her.

She smiled and tucked the book bag into her bag. Well, smart to bring the copy along anyway. Nareth would never be able to find the original. She’d hidden it in a place where no one would think to look, and even if they did find the place, locating the book through her spells would be nearly impossible. Even the sneaky man that Nareth had left behind to tail her wouldn’t be of any assistance. She had to admit that his disguises were good, but it was a small matter to keep track of someone following you once you marked them. She’d devised a neat little spell that allowed her to ‘cast a color’ on a person, for lack of a better term. A few words allowed her to alter her sight so that the person she chose glowed a bright red in her sight. The spell was immune to changes of clothing or baths. It stayed with a person like a second skin until she removed it. After that, it’d been easy to lose the man, cast a copy of herself in a store near the Golden Perch and go invisible to stash the book. Nareth should have known that a simple man wouldn’t be able to keep up with her once she knew he was there. If they wanted the original, they’d need her to find it for them.

More leverage. She thought, slinging her bag over her shoulder as Myaja emerged from the shop looking somewhat disgruntled.

She carried two pieces of paper in her hand that were a little worse for wear. Knowing the woman as she did, Rohiriel suspected that the general had simply stormed in there, demanded to see the ledgers and ripped them from the grasp of whichever hapless sailor was kind enough to help her. She shoved them at Rohiriel without a word and scowled as Rohiriel carefully flattened them out as best she could before reading them.

One document was for the western portion of the dock and the other was for the eastern half. Each side had two large ships setting sail within the past few hours. Actually, within a few minutes of each other. She thought, looking closer at the times listed next to each departing ship. How clever. It appears Nareth guessed that we would figure out where he went and paid another captain to depart at the same time he did so that it would be more difficult for us to discover his heading. She folded the papers carefully and tucked them into her pocket.

Myaja caught her movement and turned to glare at her. “That bastard is trying to cover up his trail. How are we going to track them down now? We can’t exactly turn back time to see which ship he jumped on.” She snarled, kicking the bench Rohiriel had been sitting on over with her boot.

Rohiriel patiently righted the bench and said, “These ledgers list the docks that each ship departed from. All we have to do is go to each one and interview the men there.” Catching the malicious glee in Myaja’s face, Rohiriel held up a hand to stop the woman. “Interview them.” She repeated. “We’re not going to maim or beat the poor men. We still need to maintain a low profile. If we get the authorities involved here everything will just get more complicated.”

The general held her gaze for a moment and then, upon ascertaining that Rohiriel was serious, she cursed as well as any of the sailors on the dock would have been able to and stalked off in the direction of the first dock. The sailors parted before her like prey before a hunter. Sighing in exasperation, Rohiriel followed in her wake.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The sailor squirmed in Myaja’s grip as she held him against the hull of the new ship in port. The first dock had been a bust, and it appeared that the general was determined to be sure that the second round wouldn’t be a waste of her time. The woman had restrained herself admirably throughout the first round and Rohiriel was content to play a little good cop to her bad cop for the second round. As long as we’re out of sight. She thought, glancing over her shoulder again to be sure that they couldn’t be seen from the docks.

After interviewing the others on this dock, it had become quickly apparent that the man Myaja held pinned was the only man left from the shift that had seen Nareth and his ghost ship out of port. In Rohiriel’s opinion, that warranted a bit of roughhousing. They couldn’t afford to miss anything with this man. There was no one else to compare the information he gave them against.

The sailor’s curse drew her attention back to the scene in front of her. “Tell us what we need to know you puny little sea rat!” Myaja ordered, shaking the man slightly. The man was being very obstinate and was refusing to tell them anything about the ship that he’d helped launch earlier that morning. Rohiriel suspected that Nareth had paid the man to be silent, but she wasn’t going to jump on one ship to race out into the bay after another unless she knew it was the right one. Especially since many of the sailors they’d been talking to were muttering about a large storm shaking the seas out in the bay. The blue skies earlier in the morning would have given Rohiriel reason to doubt them, but she’d since learned that the oceans were especially volatile this time of year and had seen a mass of towering gray clouds hovering farther out over the bay.

Mind made up, Rohiriel stepped carefully up behind Myaja’s shoulder and, making sure the sailor had a good view of her face said, “It’s best if you tell her what she wants to know. My cousin here doesn’t always remember that the Blue Divide ended over a decade ago. Sometimes she still thinks that she’s the esteemed General Myaja Kolbjorn from the Du Weldenvarden forces.” She saw Myaja tense up at the condescending tone of her voice, but placed a consoling hand on the woman’s shoulder, hoping she would consent to play along. From the widening of the sailor’s eyes and the waxen pallor of his skin, Rohiriel knew her ploy was having the desired effect.

“G-g-general Kolbjorn? T-the same general responsible for killing a thousand humans single handedly during the Blue Divide?” He asked, fearfully looking into the face of the woman holding him a foot off the ground with one arm.

Rohiriel removed her hand from Myaja’s shoulder as she felt the woman’s attention turn back to the man in her grip. “Oh yes.” Rohiriel said sweetly, moving closer. “Although, I think a thousand men might be a bit of an understatement. I mean, I served under her and saw her kill that many in a single battle alone.” She grinned menacingly at the terrified sailor, watching the man turn even paler in the shadow cast by the ship’s hull.

Myaja slammed the man against the hull, hard. Rohiriel barely withheld a wince as the man’s head cracked against the tough treated lumber. “So,” She asked. “Are you ready to tell me what I want to hear?” The man hesitated, staring at her with wide, terrified eyes. Noticing the hesitation, Myaja shook him again, put her face right into his, and said, “Think carefully. If you answer wrong things could get a lot worse for you.”

Gulping, the man nodded jerkily. “O-okay, okay! I’ll tell you everythin’ you need to know, just don’t k-k-kill me!” He promised, tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. “A pirate ship left the bay earlier this mornin’, a few hours ago. It was a big one; three masts on her and thirty-odd crewmen. That man, the one you described to me rented her for a while. He pulled me aside, he did, right before they cast off and said that the sack of gold coins he held could be mine if I’d promise not to tell about him to anyone who came a’lookin’ for him later on. He said that two wenches were lookin’ for him. They headed out in a northerly direction, right into the eye of that there storm on the horizon.”

“That’s what we needed to know.” Rohiriel said, stepping back so that Myaja could put the man down.

Although, perhaps it might be prudent for us to make sure that he can’t run off to tell someone that we were here… She was thinking when the sound of a fist striking flesh drew her attention to the sailor, now sprawled senselessly on the ground. Rohiriel raised an eyebrow at Myaja who was rubbing the knuckles of her right hand.

“Wenches?” She muttered darkly, spitting on the ground.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The weather outside was largely at odds with the atmosphere in the captain’s office where Myaja, Rohiriel, and the captain of the ship they’d chartered had gathered, kept warm and comfortable by a small fire in the corner of the room. Rain lashed fiercely at the glass window panes and the muffled shouts of the crew as they navigated the stormy waters of the bay could be heard through the thick wooden door leading out to the main deck of the ship. The paneled floor beneath them rolled and bucked beneath their feet in time with the waves. The padded leather chair that Rohiriel was seated in slid across the floor a few inches in response to every rise and fall of the ship’s bow. Ignoring the motion, Rohiriel watched the droplets of water that had left on the floor just inside the door when one of the crew had stuck his head in to inform them that they had spotted what they believed to be the pirate ship a few swells ahead. Here we go. She thought, pulling a small crystal out of her bag and activating the spell attached to it.

The ship’s captain, a mercenary by trade, watched her suspiciously, his hard face creased by deep lines and scars. “What’s that you have there?” He grumbled from where he leaned against the wall by the door. The man was one of the most distrustful Rohiriel had ever had the pleasure of coming across. Although, she suspected that in his line of work cynicism and wariness were the traits that had kept him alive this long and in charge of a crew of cutthroat criminals who held viewed monetary wealth as more important than loyalty or any other sentimental nonsense.

Sighing inwardly, Rohiriel held the crystal out for the man to take. “It’s a stone.” She told him as his hand closed over the small white rock. At his snort of disbelief, Rohiriel smiled at the man. “I’ve stashed four other stones just like it at each pole of the ship. They’re all connected by a spell that I’ve just activated. Currently, they’re camouflaging the ship so that the northern half appears to be nothing more than waves and rain to anyone looking at it. This should allow us to get close enough to the pirate ship so that my companion and I can board safely.”

At that, the captain’s eyes widened and he looked up sharply from his examination of the crystal. “I must have misheard you.” He said darkly, enclosing the stone in fist. “I could’ve sworn that you just implied that you wanted me to get within boarding distance of another vessel in this twice cursed monsoon! You must be out of your everlovin’ mind, lady!” He spat on the ground next to her foot.

From behind her where Myaja leaned against the wall opposite the captain, Rohiriel heard the scrape of metal as the woman drew her sword. “Now you listen here, you-“ She started to say.

“Myaja, enough.” Rohiriel said sharply, turning to fix the general with a glare. The woman’s belief that anything could be fixed with force was beginning to grate on Rohiriel. Did she think that Rohiriel would have let them get this far without having thought about this?

Myaja met her glare with one of her own for a few minutes and then subsided against the wall with a mutinous look on her face, slamming her blade home in its sheath. The captain chuckled quietly, amused by the small spat between the two women. Feeling her own anger flare at the man’s air of superiority, Rohiriel was turning around to give him a piece of her mind when she felt something whistle through the air. The dagger passed not a hand’s breadth away from Rohiriel’s face and came to rest a foot to the left of the captain’s head, quivering from the strength behind the throw. The captain’s face turned a pasty white and he drew his sword, pointing it at the two of them as if the small piece of metal would be enough to stop the pair of them if they truly decided to end him. “Crazy bitches.” She heard him mutter under his breath. “I never should have agreed to this madness.”

Rohiriel reined her own anger in and swept a hand over her face. “Put your sword away, captain.” She said quietly. “We mean you no harm. My companion over here is simply upset over something that the men on the ship we’re pursuing did to her. Her temper is a bit short at the moment. We all need to take a step back and get back on task here. We’ll be within range of the pirate ship soon.”

For a moment, Rohiriel thought the captain wouldn’t listen to her, and then he slowly lowered his sword and slid it back into its place at his belt. The darkness stirred within her as the tension in the room dissipated. She could almost feel its disappointment at the lack of bloodshed.

“As I was about to say,” She continued on as if nothing had happened. “I have come prepared with the means to board the pirate ship from a safe distance. We will not need to be close enough to board by traditional methods.” At the captain’s reassured look, she gestured to the stone he still clenched in his hand. “The stones will remain active for the next twenty-four hours. When we are ready to return, they will light up with a bright silver light. At that point, I will need you to get as close as you can to the pirate ship and hold her steady so that we can board. Upon our safe retrieval, I will give you the rest of your payment.”

At that bit of news, the captain puffed himself up and took a step towards her. “Now, wait just a minute. The deal was that we get you out here and then you pay us in full. There was no mention of a return voyage.”

Rohiriel nodded indulgently and retrieved a small pouch of gold coins from her bag. Tossing the money to the man she said, “Well, our plans have changed. Think of that as a small bonus. You take that and the third of the payment I’ve already given you for now. When we’ve returned safely, I’ll give you the rest plus two other pouches the size of the one you have right there in your hand.” She promised the man, levering herself out of her chair.

She let the man think about it while she pulled out a long rope with a chain core attached to a grappling hook. After a moment of weighing the bag in his hand, the captain nodded and tucked it into the sash at his hip. “Aye, you have yourself a deal. But just remember, things won’t go well for you if you don’t keep your end of the deal. And, if it takes longer than twenty-four hours, we’re gone. I won’t lose my ship and crew for a bit of cash.” At Rohiriel’s nod of understanding, the captain opened the door and went out onto the deck. Rohiriel slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out after him. Myaja followed behind her.

Eyes narrowed against the sharp bite of the wind and rain, Rohiriel paused in the middle of the deck to find a place to secure the end of the rope to. The foremost mast caught her eye and she beckoned for Myaja to follow her as she made her way towards it.

After securing the rope to the mast, Rohiriel turned to scope out the pirate ship, just barely visible through the maelstrom of the storm. Enhancing her vision with a small spell, Rohiriel was able to make out the ship in more detail. Specifically, she was able to see that the anchor was chained to the side of the ship in between the second and third levels. Well, there’s some good fortune. She thought, grabbing the grappling hook end of the rope.

Drawing on the power of the diamond ring she wore, Rohiriel shot the grappling hook out over the water in the direction of the ship. The power in the diamond sustained her effort three-quarters of the way to the pirate ship and then she had to use her own energy to propel the grappling hook the rest of the way. As the last few feet were breached, the magnet spell she’d cast on the hook prior to their departure activated and secured the hook to the metal of the anchor. Gasping, Rohiriel broke the connection with her magic and leaned back against the mast to catch her breath. Not for the first time she wished she was a stronger mage. It had taken her almost a year to store the magic that had been in the diamond ring. She had been saving it for an emergency, and now, in a few minutes it was all wasted on a single spell. Scowling, she fished her amber necklace out from beneath her shirt and drew some power from it to replenish her stores of magic.

If I have to take on Lenthir again, I’m screwed. She thought pessimistically, checking the tightness of the knot where she’d secured the rope to the mast.

Satisfied with her work, she pulled two harnesses out of her bag and handed one to Myaja who was staring at the rope stretching out over the turmoil of the ocean waters with dawning comprehension. Rohiriel had had the harnesses made special for her by one of her contacts in Ellesmera. It was composed of thick, sturdy leather that was sewn into loops for the legs and hips. Two straps went up from the hips and over the shoulders to attach to the back of the strip running around the person’s hips, and two metal hooks had been attached securely to the front of the ensemble. Pulling her harness on with familiar efficiency, Rohiriel looped a metal hook over the rope and secured it with a small spell.

Turning to Myaja, Rohiriel said, “We’re going to repel out over the water, propelled by a spell that I put on the metal hooks on the harnesses and the grappling hook at the other end of the rope. Once activated, the spell will create a super strong magnetic force between the grappling hook and the hooks on our harnesses. This magnetic force will pull us from this ship to the other ship without too much trouble. If we do start to lose momentum, however, I added a second magnetic spell to increase the force. I’d rather not use that unless we have to because the magic required to fuel the second spell will be pulled directly from me.” She said as Myaja imitated her and connected herself to the rope.

Rohiriel raised a hand in fairewell to the captain and the watching crew, took a deep breath and activated the spell. From past experience, Rohiriel was prepared for the disconcerting jerk of the spell and the sudden rush as she was pulled abruptly into the air and sent shooting through the air, only prevented from a painful fall into the heaving waters below by the suddenly inadequate rope they were suspended from. She could hear an oath from Myaja as the spell took hold of her and then suddenly the only noise she could hear was the howl of the wind as they were buffeted back and forth in the air.

Normally, the rope hung taut or it was connected from a higher place to a lower place. The continual rise and fall of the ships caused the rope to continually rise and fall, lose taughtness and then regain it as the ocean repositioned the ships according to its whims. The only thing that kept them moving in the right direction was the continuous tug of the magnet at the end of the rope.

At various points along the trip, Rohiriel was convinced that they wouldn’t survive the journey, but after what felt like an eternity, the pirate ship finally came into view. It loomed out of the storm suddenly, and Rohiriel was unprepared for the sudden impact of metal anchor against her body as she failed to deactivate the spell in time. Gasping as the breath rushed from her lungs, Rohiriel deactivated the spell just as Myaja’s body slammed her against the hull of the ship and the sharp sides of the anchor again. Lines of fire sprang into existence on her thigh and face as the metal bit into her skin, cutting through her pants and the thin skin of her face as easily as a knife through butter. Cursing expediently, Rohiriel forced herself to ignore the pain in her thigh and face as well as the renewed throbbing of her ribs. “Myaja.” She managed to wheeze. “Grab hold of the anchor, then unhook yourself from the rope and attach yourself to the anchor. We need to get off this rope as soon as we can.” As she spoke, Rohiriel turned and hooked herself to the anchor of the vessel, undoing the small spell that had been holding the hook on her harness to the rope. Once there, she clung grimly as a wave washed over her. The force of the water tugged fiercely at her limbs and only sheer determination and the sturdiness of the hook and harness on the anchor kept her attached to the side of the ship. Sputtering, she looked over to where Myaja had been and was relieved to see that the general had managed to attach herself to the ship as well.

Swiftly, Rohiriel deactivated the spell holding the grappling hook to the anchor and slid aside as it released and crashed down into the ocean fifteen feet below them. That done, she glanced up and to her left for the portholes she had seen during her earlier perusal of the ship. We need to get ourselves off of the hull and into the ship as quickly as we can. Otherwise, we’re going to be swept off by the ocean regardless of elf strength and the harnesses. She thought swiftly, spotting the round opening in the ship’s hull about five feet up and two feet to the left of where the anchor was secured to the hull.

Turning to face Myaja, she shouted, “We need to climb up and go through one of those portholes.” She said, gesturing to the one she was referring to. “Make sure you stay latched onto the anchor at all times, otherwise you could be swept off of the hull by a wave.” As she said that, another wall of water crashed down over the pair of them. Surprised, Rohiriel lost her footing and just barely managed to keep her hold on the anchor. As the water subsided, she continued her directions, speaking quickly. Myaja stared grimly over at her, soaked to the bone. “Climb as high as you can while you’re attached with this hook, then take the other hook and find a new, higher place to attach it. Repeat that process until you can reach this porthole over here. We should be able to climb in through it.” At Myaja’s nod, Rohiriel turned and began to haul herself up the anchor.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

After many long minutes of climbing, bracing for waves crashing over them, and being buffeted by wind and rain, Rohiriel was able to haul herself in through the porthole. Shaking from the exertion, she leaned out to help Myaja through after her. Luckily, the room the porthole led to was empty. She wasn’t sure that either of them would have been able to defend themselves from pirates in their condition. Gasping for breath, Rohiriel sank against the wall and closed her eyes. She heard the general’s harsh breathing as she stumbled across the room to collapse on a trunk against the wall.

“Now what?” Myaja asked after a moment.

Opening her eyes, Rohiriel shifted so that she could painstakingly pull her bag off her shoulders. “Take your harness off.” She replied, pulling a small pendant from the small pocket on the side of her bag. She tossed it to Myaja. “After you’ve done that, put this on.”

For a moment there was silence as the two women endeavored to wriggle out of the sodden leather. Handing her harness to Rohiriel, Myaja waited until she’d stowed both harnesses in her bag and had slung it back over her shoulders before she asked, “What does this do?” as she slipped the pendant on over her head.

“It’ll make you invisible.” Rohiriel replied, carefully removing her earring. “Just say blindr syn to activate it. I have one too,” She said, holding up her earring. “It’s a bit different than the pendant, but it serves the same purpose. We’re going to make ourselves invisible so that we can find Vaoris and Laioni.”

Myaja scowled, lifting the pendant in her hand. “So you want us to skulk around like criminals instead of taking the fight right to these bastards?” She growled.

Rohiriel frowned and levered herself to her feet. “No, I want to understand our enemy before we engage them. We don’t know anything about these guys or what the situation is with Vaoris and Laioni. We need more information before we make our presence known here.” She said, popping her earring into her mouth as she made her way towards the door she assumed led out of the room. “We’ll be able to see each other when we’re both invisible. Activate your pendant and let’s get going. We don’t have time to bicker over strategy right now.”

Myaja cursed and murmured the words to activate her spell. To Rohiriel, nothing seemed to change, but from the way Myaja suddenly locked onto her even though she was still invisible, Rohiriel knew the pendant was working properly. “Perfect.” She said, leaning her head against the wood door to listen. When she was satisfied she couldn’t hear anyone beyond the door, Rohiriel opened it just wide enough for them to fit through and slipped out into the hall.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

They didn’t have a chance. Within moments of locating the cell where Laioni was being held, all five of the guards in the hall in front of the cell had been incapacitated. Sneaking around the corner into the portion in the very bottom of the ship where prisoners were held, the invisible Myaja had snuck up on the five guards and, in a flurry of kicks and punches had left them lying prone on the ground, groaning in pain. The darkness reared its head within Rohiriel again. Wouldn’t it be better to be sure that there was no way they’d be able to cause them trouble later? Why simply leave them unconscious and stashed in a hidden from when you can kill them? It would be so easy. Images of her engraved knife slashing through each of the guards’ throats flashed through her mind like a sick film. Blood sprayed everywhere with each slice, coating her arms and face crimson; the scent of rust and life flooding her nose and mouth. Familiar. Comforting. Simple. Instinctual.

“What a waste of food and good clothing these men are.” Myaja said after a moment, kicking the unconscious form of the nearest pirate. “They couldn’t even protect one lousy prisoner.”

Wrenching her eyes from their prone forms, Rohiriel turned to Myaja. “Go check on Laioni while I stash these guys somewhere out of the way. Find out where Vaoris is and if she knows where Nareth and is crew are.” She ordered abruptly, liberating a set of keys from one of the unconscious guards and tossing them to Myaja. Myaja blinked at the sharpness of her tone, but seemed to decide not to comment, turned and walked to the door of Laioni's cell.

As the general began trying the various keys in the lock of Laioni’s cell, Rohiriel set about hiding the pirates so that it would be much more difficult for them to cause trouble later.

After pouring a few drops of sleeping draught into each man’s mouth, Rohiriel dragged the five of them into an empty cell at the back of the hallway and piled them just inside the door. Pulling the door closed behind her she sealed it shut with a small burst of magic and then cast a spell of camouflage on it so that the cell the men were in and the cell across from it appeared to vanish. Lastly, she cast a silencing spell over the area to ensure that the men couldn’t call for help if they happened to emerge early from their synthetic slumber.

Satisfied that it would be impossible for the men to escape and a bit more difficult for anyone who wasn’t a mage to find them, Rohiriel spat her earring out into her palm to disable her invisibility spell and made her way back to Laioni’s cell.

As she entered the cell Myaja glanced up from where she was crouching next to Laioni. The witch was pale and her face seemed barren without its customary smirk. A strange collar wrapped her neck. It was iron and a large stud was visible on it. Beyond that, however, Laioni appeared to be none the worse for wear.

“The collar is magical.” Myaja said without preamble. “She can’t use magic or take it off without being shocked or killed by the thing. She doesn’t know where they took Vaoris, just that this man named Lenthir came in and took him to see Nareth in the stateroom.”

Rohiriel frowned, trying to understand the implications of this new development. She had hoped to find Vaoris and Laioni together, retrieve the book from Nareth and then get them off immediately. The addition of the collar and Vaoris’ absence made things more complicated. She could go find Vaoris herself and hope that Nareth had the book with him, but then she would alert Nareth to their presence and the entire pirate crew would be upon them as well as Lenthir, Nareth and whichever cronies he’d brought on this little jaunt with him. Her best bet would be to buy them more time. If they both stayed in the cell until Laioni’s collar could be removed, the odds were good that they’d be discovered and the alarm would be raised. But if she were to somehow incapacitate or delay the crew, then they would only have to worry about Nareth and his men. She liked those odds a lot more.

“You stay with Laioni and work on getting that collar off of her. I’m going take a look around and see about buying us a bit more time.” She told Myaja, tossing the woman a second pendant as an afterthought. “Put this on Laioni. If anyone comes down here, activate both of the pendants and dispose of them. We have to avoid detection for as long as we can.” At Myaja’s nod of comprehension, Rohiriel popped the earring back into her mouth and took off down the hall at a light jog.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Slipping carefully up onto the deck, Rohiriel waited on the edge for a moment, observing. She needed someone in charge for her little ploy to work. It wouldn’t do to have all of the pirates running amuck while they were facing off against Nareth.

After a few minutes it became apparent to her which man was in charge, at least of the crew scrambling around on deck. Moving closer, she watched the man silently as he brusquely ordered the crew on how to manage the ship. The three other men ran left and right at his order and the man steering the vessel flipped the wheel swiftly whenever he was commanded so that they took the incoming waves bow first. After a moment, it appeared the three men running around deck were no longer needed and the man giving orders sent them towards an entrance on the far side of the dock that appeared to lead into another part of the ship’s belly. Rohiriel spared a smile for her good fortune and began to make her way across the deck after the disappearing pirates.

The deck rocked and rolled beneath her feet, and rain and wind ripped at her clothing and hair as she endeavored to make it across. Using the various masts and ropes on the deck to balance herself, Rohiriel passed the two men left on deck and finally made it to where the pirates had disappeared below.

She staggered as the wind and rain suddenly disappeared and leaned into the wall. She used the comforting solidity of the wooden wall to catch her breath for a moment before she continued down the stairs in front of her.

As the sounds of the storm faded behind her, sounds of revelry could be heard ahead of her. Rounding a corner she came across what appeared to be the mess hall of the ship. What seemed to be the entire crew of the ship gathered around a few long tables engaged in various activities: gambling, downing mugs filled with drinks of the alcoholic variety and stuffing their faces with steaming piles of what appeared to be an attempt at a sort of mash. Counting swiftly, Rohiriel estimated that there were about thirty of them in total. Peering into the room, Rohiriel noticed that there was only the one exit from the mess. Smiling slightly, she moved off down the hall to poke her head into the two other doorways she could see. One appeared to be quarters for the men. The room was filled with bunks and she could hear some snoring coming from some of them. The other room was a small office in which a woman from Janus’ place was seated at a small table across from Lenthir. There was an array of cards spread across the table in front of them and two piles of cash, the larger of which was next to the woman.

As she watched the woman laughed and merrily scooped all of the cash to her side of the table. Lenthir threw his cards down and cursed. “Dammit Jora, I know you’re cheating! I saw you pull that last one out of your sleeve.” Lenthir accused, glaring at the smiling woman. At his accusation, her smile grew wider and she laughed again.

“Where’s your proof, Lenthir? Play me another round and we’ll see if you’re right.” Jora offered gamely, beginning to collect and shuffle the cards. “Of course, you’ve used all of your wages for the last two months in this game, so I know you don’t have anything left to bet. Guess it’ll have to be clothes.”

Rohiriel heard Lenthir curse again as she moved off down the hall to investigate the stairs she saw at the end. It might be a bit tricky to work around Lenthir and that Jora woman, but if she was careful then she could manage it. She’d just have to make it appear as if some of the crew were still in the mess to maintain the semblance of normalcy that Nareth’s team would expect. She couldn’t afford to raise the battlemage’s suspicion, and who knew what that woman was capable of. Rohiriel hadn’t paid her much attention at the party. She just remembered seeing her with one of the nobles there, hanging on his arm with a bit smile on her face and her breasts pushed up to her chin.

The stairs ended up leading her down into the storage area of the ship. Supplies, ropes, mountains of captured treasure and various other things littered the room, all stacked in tidy disarray into piles. Taking a walk around, Rohiriel noticed that there was a small trickle of water flowing in through two of the boards. Stopping to examine it, she noticed that there were some large crates piled next to it. Casting a swift silencing spell on the room, she used a blast of compressed air to knock the pile of crates over, sending them sprawling all over the room. Some of them cracked and spilled loads of fruits and other supplies across the wooden belly of the ship. That done, Rohiriel turned to the small leak in the hold and began to widen it, carefully whittling away at the boards on either side until the water pouring in was noticeable even to the most unobservant eye. Satisfied, she disabled her invisibility spell and began the work of copying the appearance of the ragged man from the deck who appeared to be in charge.

The spell only took her a few minutes, and when she was done she disabled the silencing spell and went racing loudly up the stairs with heavy feet. As she rounded the corner into the mess hall, the pirates slowly went silent at the sight of her. She waited a few moments after they fell silent, glaring menacingly around the room at them. “How come ya rats ah sittin’ here while my hold’s bein’ sullied by water? Did none of ya hear the crates tumblin’ around down there?” She roared, watching men wince. “I need half of ye down there righ’ now. Clean up that mess!” Immediately half of the men in the room leaped to their feet and raced by her, down the hall and into the hold at the end of the hall. She glared around the room once more, then turned and stomped after them.

She heard men scrambling down in the hold as she made her way down the hall and had to work to keep the stern expression on her face. As she passed the room where Lenthir and Jora were playing cards, Jora poked her head out into the hall with a sultry smile on her face. “Is something the matter, handsome?” She asked, fluttering her lashes.

Taken a bit by surprise, Rohiriel stared at her for a second before she managed a cocky grin. “Nope. Nuthin’ to worry yer pretty head over, m’lady.” She said, sweeping the man’s ratty hat off and bobbing a clumsy bow. “Just givin’ these lazy slobs somethin’ ta do. They didna secure the supplies as well as they shoulda.” She told Jora, moving on down the hall. She heard the woman laugh behind her and exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Stomping down the stairs, she was pleased to see the men busily occupied trying to clean up the mess she’d made. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and let the pirates sweat under her gaze while she reached into one of her pockets to remove a small piece of sticky rubber. She activated it and put it on the wall next to the doorway. Immediately, the rubber flattened and copied the pattern and texture of the wood underneath of it. It would record the sounds in the hold for the next minute and would then begin repeating them as soon as the sounds changed or she cast a silencing spell. In this case, the silencing spell would be the key to activating it. She counted slowly to sixty and then stepped back through the doorway leading to the hold. She closed the door and sealed it with a spell. Lastly, she cast a silencing spell on the outside of it. The rubber, unaffected by the spell, began to broadcast the sounds it had recorded through the heavy wooden door.

Perfect. She thought, making her way back up the stairs, she stalked back into the mess and slammed the door shut behind her. She figured the rubber she’d left on the wall by the door should have had enough time to copy the sounds of the men in the mess. She placed her hand on it to ensure that it was done collecting sounds. Reassured by the cool feel of the rubber – it burned hot when it was recording – she cast a silencing spell on the room to prevent any noise from reaching Jora and Lenthir next door and then reached into her pocket to remove a pouch. Triggered by the silencing spell, sounds of the crowded lunch room began to play from the rubber behind her. The pouch held a dark purple powder that put anyone who breathed it in to sleep. Taking a deep breath, she gave a tiny push with her magic and sprayed the powder across the room. Immediately, men began to fall off the benches as they inhaled the powder unsuspectingly. As the last man fell, Rohiriel counted to twenty before she let herself take a breath.

Moving swiftly, Rohiriel began to drag the bodies under the tables, casting spells of invisibility under each table as she went, anchoring the spells with more of the same crystals she’d used to camouflage their chartered ship earlier. These would also last for 24 hours; plenty of time for them to get Laioni and Vaoris, retrieve the other half of their book and make their escape. The powder would keep the men under for 24 to 36 hours, depending on the man. A weak mage wouldn’t be able to bring them around either, but she was reminded that there was a battlemage on board. She hoped the man didn’t know any healing techniques. If he did then their escape would be a bit messier than she’d planned. She hadn’t quite figured out a simple plan to disable the man. She simply hoped her illusions would convince him that everything was normal long enough for them to escape.

After laying the last invisibility spell, Rohiriel straightened and began to place small pebbles on the seats where the men had been sitting. The spell inside of the pebbles was designed to replicate the image in her head when she activated them. In this case, the crowded mess of the ship. Pebbles in place, Rohiriel stepped to the front of the room and pictured all of the men as she had seen them before; laughing, gambling and joking loudly with each other, and then she spoke the word the activate the spell. As usual when she prepared a spell ahead of time, the power drain was minimal because she’d poured the power for the spell into the object beforehand. Nodding in satisfaction at the perfect replica of the scene she’d witnessed before in the mess, Rohiriel shed her disguised, became invisible again, and carefully opened the doors leading to the hall outside of the mess. Unless someone sat and examined the men eating in the mess or tried to touch one of them it would be very difficult for anyone to tell that they were illusions. The sound was genuine and the men were engaged in their normal activities. Hopefully that would satisfy anyone simply walking by.

Time for the next step. She thought, making her way back towards the cell where she hoped Myaja and Laioni were waiting for her.

[Emma]

The interior of the ship was just as I’d imagined it- dark, dank and gloomy. I almost preferred the outside.

I crouched just beside the porthole, out of the dim ray cast by the storm-light. There weren’t even torches or lamps down here. I was quickly told the reason why when the boat violently lurched underneath me, almost sending me sliding across the slippery floor. Crates and barrels rattled threateningly on the other side, but they were tied fast to the walls and floor. I quickly decided that I disliked boats. The deciding factor of your survival was based on the whims of the sea, not anything you could control yourself. And I wasn’t fond of the idea of a sword fight on ground that twisted and rolled. All of the cons of this venture worried away at me as I began to wiggle out of the leather harness. At least I was on something vaguely solid instead of hanging in the air like the laundry. I shuddered with disgust at what I’d just went through and decided that we wouldn’t do that again. Better to take control of the ship and steer it back home.

I looked outside at the rain and the ocean and pondered the climb I’d just endured. Quietly, I congratulated myself. I could hardly climb a tree, and was a little bit stunned that I’d managed that hideous anchor. It was a reassuring thought. Perhaps I hadn’t become so soft and pathetic after all. I now looked down at the pendant Rohiriel had tossed me, and wrinkled my nose. I had always had stunted magical abilities, and it had never held much interest for me except in strategy. I almost never needed magic on a more personal basis. Slipping it over my soaked head, I winced at how the chain felt- the iciest cold I had ever touched. It didn’t even gain a tiny bit of heat from touching my skin. I held the pendant up away from me and pointed at it.

“What does this do?” I grumbled.
“It’ll make you invisible. Just say blindr syn to activate it. I have one too.” As if just to prove to me that this wasn’t some kind of threatening object; Rohiriel held up an earring that was identical in colour and make to my necklace. “It’s a bit different than the pendant, but it serves the same purpose. We’re going to make ourselves invisible so that we can find Vaoris and Laioni.”
I looked at her. “So you want us to skulk around like criminals instead of taking the fight right to these bastards?”
“No, I want to understand our enemy before we engage them. We don’t know anything about these guys or what the situation is with Vaoris and Laioni. We need more information before we make our presence known here.” I scoffed when she suddenly disappeared from sight. I didn’t even want to guess what tactics these pirates employed. Strategy was wasted on their kind. “We’ll be able to see each other when we’re both invisible. Activate your pendant and let’s get going. We don’t have time to bicker over strategy right now.”
The pendant seemed to be looking at me with the stink-eye. “Blindr syn,” I murmured.

The feeling was unpleasant. It was like a shroud had just fallen over me, although I saw and heard nothing. Rohiriel appeared in my vision again, who smiled and commented happily. I scowled back at her. It had been so long since I’d been given orders by anyone but the Queen. I didn’t think I was used to it anymore. I had to grudgingly tell myself, over and over again, that Rohiriel was the one with the stealth experience, not I. I had long ago discarded the idea of her as a mere librarian. Before settling into a soft life in Ilirea, she’d probably been an assassin or saboteur, or whatever else involved skulking around in the shadows. She definitely didn’t do this work for the Riders, though. She’d been so quick to rebuke being anything except a librarian. Whatever she was doing in Ilirea didn’t involve Du Weldenvarden, and so I let her be while also remaining wary. I didn’t know what her motives were, and I wouldn’t ask. And for now, I was happy to have her on my side. She knew what she was doing, which was the main reason I could squash the complaints of my pride. I let Rohiriel go first as we crawled through the belly of the ship like rats. We were lucky regarding the storm- almost everyone was out on deck making sure the ship survived. I contorted my face. I didn’t like relying on luck.

But it served its purpose. The halls- or whatever the sailors’ term was- were completely empty. It was dark, and we would be warned of anyone approaching by torchlight. By the time we found five men standing around outside a single locked door, it was fairly obvious who was being kept behind it. Rohiriel and I traded glances. I already knew I would be the one to deal with them. Despite her reflexes and build, Rohiriel had never raised a hand against anyone in our time together. I was fine with teaching these men how pathetic they were, but it was still odd. Stranger still was her insistence that no one could die. Very strange rules for someone who was a possible spy. For now, I was content to follow along. But I knew that soon, one of her carefully planned ideas was going to go awry, and it would probably be because we left someone alive that shouldn’t have been. I would make sure to be ready once that happened.

The pirates were either sitting or leaning against the wall, too tired to stand and fight the rocking of the ship. Considering the given laziness and the empty bottles that had rolled to the far wall, I quickly realized that sneaking over would be a waste of time. So I just walked over and connected the base of the closest one’s skull with my fist. I grabbed another one’s arm and flung him over my shoulder where he crashed into the wall. The other three got up, swaying and reaching for swords, but unable to see their assailant. Suddenly, I was glad that I wasn’t supposed to kill these men. Disgusting as they were, it felt dirty to kill someone who couldn’t even see you. I disposed of them in quick succession- a face to the wall, a knee to the stomach, and smacking the last in the head with the hilt of his own sword quickly took care of them. While Rohiriel came up, I cracked anyone who had their eyes still open across the head.

“What a waste of food and good clothing these men are,” I growled. “Couldn’t even protect one lousy prisoner…” Really, a chimpanzee could guard Laioni and Vaoris.
“Go check on Laioni while I stash these guys somewhere out of the way. Find out where Vaoris is and if she knows where Nareth and is crew are.”

I still didn’t like being ordered around. But I resignedly caught the keys that Rohiriel tossed over and began the irritating chore of finding out which one fit. I was tempted to just break the door down, but that would be a waste of energy and make Vaoris and Laioni’s escape blatantly obvious. Finally, one of the keys fit, and I flung the door open, stepping inside immediately. The room seemed to have been made with the intent of carrying livestock, with straw and buckets. But the only figure in the room was Laioni, lying on her side and facing away from me. I looked around, but Vaoris was nowhere to be seen. I inhaled, but I could only smell rat piss and dirty straw. Nobody had bled in here. I stormed over to Laioni, grabbing her by the shoulders and rolling her onto her back. She was wearing something that looked too much like a dog’s collar, complete with glimmering spikes. I looked at Laioni’s face. Makeup was smeared unattractively across her face, and her skin looked icy to the touch. Her hair, normally shiny like onyx, was matted and filthy like a rat’s nest. She was wearing a dress that might have been nice a few days ago but was torn and stained with blood. And yet, she was curiously without injury.

I looked at her violet eyes, dead and listless. My first thought was torture.
“Where did they take Vaoris?” I snapped.
Something changed in her eyes and she looked away. It just occurred to me that I was invisible to her, but she didn’t seem surprised. She had probably sensed my presence even before I opened the door, but she didn’t give a damn that I was here.
“Why haven’t you tried to escape?” I shook her, but there was still no response. Narrowing my eyes, I gave her a heavy slap across the face. She jerked around and her eyes flashed, but there was no counter-violence or angry retort. That was worrisome. I leaned in to her, but then she murmured, “Lenthir took Vaoris away.”
“Why not you?”
“I’m going to be… his pet.”
I ignored that. “Why didn’t you escape, Laioni?”
“This collar shocks me… when I…”

I closed my eyes. Vaoris wasn’t dead. They wouldn’t have bothered with all this if they were just going to kill him. Something had been done to Laioni to render her completely useless. Maybe it was the collar that had tortured her when she had first tried to use magic. Nareth had the book. Vaoris was the only one among us who was a scholar. He would be able to translate. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and opened my eyes again. For the first time, I noticed trails running down Laioni’s cheeks that looked suspiciously like they had been made by tears. I wanted to ask her who had done this to her, but then someone walked into the room. I relaxed as soon as I saw it was Rohiriel. Laioni, however, continued to stare off into blank space.

“The collar is magical. She can’t use magic or take it off without being shocked the thing. She doesn’t know where they took Vaoris, just that this man named Lenthir came in and took him to see Nareth.”
Surprise registered on Rohiriel’s face, then disappointment. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
“You stay with Laioni and work on getting that collar off of her. I’m going take a look around and see about buying us a bit more time.” She took something out of her pocket. “Put this on Laioni. If anyone comes down here, activate both of the pendants and dispose of them. We have to avoid detection for as long as we can.”

It was another one of these idiotic necklaces. I caught it and nodded at Rohiriel, who walked briskly out of the room. I bent over Laioni again, and as I did, there was a sudden spark between us that made me jump back. I looked down at the pendant around my neck, where the spark had originated. It had hovered just by the stud on Laioni’s collar. I called it a choice word and flung it off onto the straw, tossing the other one next to it. Laioni looked at me as soon as I became visible, taking in my appearance while blinking her long lashes. Then she turned away again. I looked at the collar, removing my sword from its sheath. It was too large for Laioni, so I was able to push her neck away from the edge I had picked. It was as far away from the stud as possible. Then I swung down the blade onto the collar. With a shriek of metal and an involuntary shudder from Laioni, it left a large dent. Better yet, neither of us was shocked, and that was good enough for me. I struck the collar again and again like a blacksmith at his forge until the metal was weakened enough for me to twist it apart. The abused collar screamed and sparked as it was rent apart, and I tossed it away. The sword, now completely ruined, went with it. Small loss.

“Walk,” I ordered. “Don’t pretend you can’t.”

After a moment of stillness, she slowly moved her arms and pushed herself up onto her elbows. I grabbed her arm and pulled her up, steadying her when she stumbled. I looked up and down Laioni, briefly noting that she was wearing the most modest dress I’d ever seen her in. It was also useless for an escape. Wordlessly, I ripped the outer material and tossed it aside. She was in a white silk bodice and petticoat that only went up to her knees, and, as expected, she didn’t complain. I picked up the two pendants and placed one over her head, activating it, and then put on mine. My skin crawled as the magic slithered over me again. Looking at Laioni, I opened my mouth to tell her to get moving, but just then I heard voices further down along the corridor. Despite both of us being invisible, I pulled Laioni out of the room and shoved her down into the shadows. Then I closed the door to her prison and joined her in the shadows. The glow of torchlight illuminated two pirates, soaking wet, who were heading right for the prison. Relief, I realized immediately, and almost swore aloud. Worse still, these two didn’t linger around- still wide-eyed and wary after the ordeal outside, they took one look around and ran for it.

“Stay here,” I hissed in Laioni’s ear and took after them.

Catching up to the pirates was no difficult matter, but one kept looking behind him like he knew something was coming. When I grabbed the other and slammed his forehead into my knee, the wary one squealed like a pig and began swatting his torch around like a weapon, almost dropping it. I ducked and wove around the leaping flames, then snatched the wrist holding the torch and ripped it out of his hand. And for a fleeting moment, I think my invisibility spell wavered. Because suddenly the pirate’s gaze fixated right on mine, and his eyes widened, like he could see me. I smiled at him and blew out the torch, and then cracked him in the skull. Hopefully outside was still too vicious for the captain to notice two missing men. With luck, he’d just think they had gone overboard. I dragged the unconscious forms underneath a pair of benches, only stopping to take a sword. Then I strode back to where I’d left Laioni. But when I approached the prison door, there was nobody in the shadows. I froze. I should have been able to see her.

Then I heard something like a small explosion and the beginnings of a scream.

I began to run just as I realized the mistake I’d made in leaving Laioni by herself. The girl was unpredictable incarnate. She’d never suffered once in her life. She’d never been in this kind of position, even barring whatever she’d gone through. And if there was one thing she couldn’t do, it was control her emotions. Laioni had issues even before going into this. I should have known that her first reaction would be violence. The word burned in my mind just as the crack of what had to be a lightning spell reverberated around the belly of the ship. I slowed to a halt at one open door, where a charred corpse was lying in the middle of the floor. I ran to the next one, which had another. So she was just opening doors and killing anyone inside. And what was going to happen when she found the room where they stored the black powder? I stopped slowing down to count. I passed by five open doors before I found the end of the corridor- a trap door that was wide open. Panicked cries were the only things I needed to hear before I jumped in, sliding down the ladder. I stopped short, looking around. It was the hold, where most of the men slept. The hammocks were empty now, but I could hear several whimpers.

“Wait! Please listen!” someone cried as I shoved my way through the tangled nets. “A lot of guys here are just hired outsiders; we’re not with these g-”
“So what?” came Laioni’s unnaturally cold voice. “‘Please don’t kill me’? You are still affiliated with Nareth, are you not?”
I saw flames just as I reached Laioni standing over two men, scalding one’s leg with liquid flame. He cried and fell backwards, gripping the injury. For a moment I stopped, staring at the scene- Laioni looking dead with her cold eyes, pale skin, and white clothes, standing over two defenceless men. I saw how much she looked like my husband had during the Divide. The fog of anger dropped over my senses again.
“You’re all forgotten and worthless,” Laioni was saying. “So it shouldn’t matt-”

I punched her right in the stomach, hard enough to nearly knock her out. She gasped and fell over forward, and I caught her. A strike to the head and solar plexus quickly solved both men of their fear. I placed Laioni over one shoulder and made my way through the maze of hammocks. She didn’t provide too much of a fuss, only adding to my apprehension about her state of mind. I carried her out of the trap door and back out into the hallway, where I placed her down. We watched each other for several moments, and then I grabbed Laioni by the bodice and kicked her into the wall again, harder this time. I heard the wood splintering behind her. Then I snatched her by the hair so she wouldn’t get away, and took a moment to breathe, trying to control my feelings. I couldn’t look at her. She still looked too much like Anastasio.

“What’s wrong, Myaja? I was just being helpful. ‘Tis surprising that you, of all people, have a problem with it. Blood baths are your specialty, are they not, General?”
I whirled to face her. Her voice was so hideous that I couldn’t keep silent. “A soldier is a professional. A murderer is someone who slaughters because they have issues. I didn’t risk my life coming to the rescue of Palancar fucking Angrenost. If you want, you can go home to Ilirea and slaughter the Riders when we get off this damned ship. But now you control yourself, Laioni. If you don’t, I will keel-haul your pompous ass-”
Her face had been contorting more and more with each word, but now she snarled. “WONDERFUL! So now the General preaches to me as well? Save your breath and spare me your bullshit, Myaja. I’ve heard-”

She fell silent when she saw my hands clutch the hilt of my newly pilfered sword and just begin to slide it out of its sheath. When I pulled it out, Laioni ignited a fireball in her hand, her pale lips trembling. Then she heard what I had- running footsteps from either side of the hall. Someone was coming up from the trap door, probably the uninjured pirate I’d hit over the head. The other was probably someone hunting for the relief. Laioni’s eyes went from me to the empty space where a pirate would soon appear, the fear obvious in her eyes. I just kept my eyes on her and listened. Soon, someone appeared on my left and her right. After a moment of indecision, Laioni extinguished the fireball and slammed a powerful gust of wind into the pirate there, knocking him over. I turned around and whacked the flat of my blade across the shins of the man who had indeed come up from below. Then I slammed the hilt of my sword at the base of his skull, and he slumped over. I drew myself up, looking from one man to the other while Laioni shook.

“I… actually thought you were going to kill me,” she whispered.
“I thought I’d have to kill you too, little girl,” I growled as I began to drag the bodies in a way that was now very familiar. There were some convenient empty crates nearby. “Not a whole lot of trust going around here.”
“How amusing…” she murmured in a voice that began to quaver. I looked up in surprise just as tears began to stream down her face. “You made a joke…”
I stared stupidly down as Laioni suddenly sank to the ground, hugging her knees and beginning to cry noisily.
“He was right!” she wailed. “Even when I want to help, what I do- I just- it’s monstrous. That was monstrous. I’m becoming my mother, of course I am, because I’ve always been like her…”

She continued on like this for quite a bit, quaking and sobbing. I was trying to get over the fact that she had just run the full gamut of emotions- catatonia, deranged madness, fury, and now a complete emotional breakdown. Then I remembered that Laioni was a teenager. I closed my eyes and sheathed my new sword, going up to her. I took her arm and stood her up, and then was once again rendered completely useless when she hugged me and continued to wail. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged me. I didn’t think Laioni had ever hugged anyone. Now beginning to get a little bit frightened, I peeled her off me and looked at the witch’s face. I really hoped this was just a mood swing, and that she would get back to normal. This was simply terrifying. Either way, I felt Laioni was a different person than before. I sighed and allowed myself to relax, just slightly. I had saved her from herself, at least.

WIP

[Akilinia]

Rohiriel
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Returning to the cells, Rohiriel arrived to an astonishing sight. Myaja stood over Laioni with her bare blade drawn while the witch sobbed on the ground. Astonished, she paused in the doorway leading to the prison hall and waited to see what would unfold. Regardless of the coldness in Myaja’s face, Rohiriel didn’t believe that the general would kill Laioni. If anything, she appeared to be almost as astonished as Rohiriel to see prickly Laioni curled up on the ground like a child, sobbing into her knees.

“He was right!” Laioni cried, her voice slightly muffled by her knees and broken by the occasional hiccupping sob. “Even when I want to help, what I do- I just- it’s monstrous. That was monstrous. I’m becoming my mother, of course I am, because I’ve always been like her…”

An unexpected surge of anger welled up within Rohiriel, and it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t the suggestion that Laioni had been out of control mere moments before and had allegedly done something horrible that was bothering her, but the insinuation in her voice that whatever she had done wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t help but be the same as this mother of her’s. The idea that one’s actions were determined by genetics or who one’s parents were was completely preposterous to Rohiriel. If that were the case, then how had Rohiriel ended up the way she had? If one’s life was irrevocably determined by the actions and inclinations of one’s parents, then she should have never gone to Ellesmera. If what Laioni said was true, then she would have never left her family’s farm, never become an assassin, never killed countless people by slaughtering them in the dark from behind without ever asking herself why she was doing what she was.

Maybe she is right. The darkness whispered to her. Maybe you’re just an abomination, an exception to the laws of nature; unnatural in that the only purpose in your existence is to kill, because that’s all you’ve ever excelled at. Maybe this is why you’re always struggling to avoid the temptation to shed blood, to kill instead of maim and disable. Secretly, your body yearns to end the lives of your enemies. It’s what you do, what you were born and made to do. Why fight it?

Shaking her head vehemently, Rohiriel disabled strode into the corridor, heedless of the single tear she could feel rolling down one cheek. How will it help me to dwell upon what could have been? She thought. This will never help me to atone nor will it make what I have done disappear. Even the sight of Myaja uncomfortably holding Laioni as the witch sobbed on her did not make her hesitate. She stalked up to the pair of them as Myaja carefully peeled Laioni off of herself, her movements as graceful as any predator in her anger, and paused a few feet away. Myaja glanced at her, embarrassment bright on her face and opened her mouth to say something, but Rohiriel cut her off, addressing Laioni in a tightly controlled voice.

“Being related to a person doesn’t mean that you’re automatically going to become them. If that were the case, I would be raising horses and I would have never wetted my hands with blood. Do not blame the actions of your own hands on someone else. Be strong and take responsibility for them. Everything you have done is your fault and no one else’s.” She said sharply, meeting Laioni’s red rimmed eyes with her own. “We don’t have time all of this self pity right now, so dry your eyes and pick yourself up. We have things that we need to do before our enemies become aware of our presence. That is, if whatever shenanigans that went on down here have not already alerted them.”

At her words, Laioni seemed to retreat inside herself, her gaze going blank. Too fueled by her anger, Rohiriel couldn’t find it within herself to begin to feel sorry for the impact her words seemed to have on the witch. Myaja simply stared at Rohiriel, unsure of what to say in response. Rather than wait for the general to collect herself, Rohiriel spun on her heel and stalked back off down the hall. After a moment she heard the hesitant sounds of two pairs of footsteps following in her wake.

As she walked, Rohiriel forced herself to breathe deeply and relinquish her rage. Angry people were careless; they made mistakes, and mistakes were something that the three of them couldn’t afford right then. She needed to focus on the potential ramifications of any noise Myaja and Laioni had made doing whatever they’d done in her absence after Myaja had managed to get the collar off of Laioni. She hadn’t heard anything on her way back to the prison hall, but there was always the chance that someone else had. At worst, Lenthir and the rest of Nareth’s crew had heard. At best, no one had. After all, her hearing was sharp and, judging from the layout of the ship she had been compiling in her mind, the office where Lenthir and the woman, Jora had been playing cards was further from the cells than she had been.

Exhaling, Rohiriel climbed the ladder leading to the main deck. From her experience with ships, staterooms were considered to be the first class accommodations for the passengers aboard the ship and were thus built on the most comfortable part of the ship; the deck. Emerging onto the open expanse of the main deck, the first thing Rohiriel noticed was that the storm was beginning to abate. The wind had dropped to the occasional gust and the waves no longer beat the ship with every swell. Pausing a moment to look out over the water, Rohiriel could see a bit of blue sky showing through the black cumulonimbus clouds ahead. The two men who had been on the deck when Rohiriel had last been on it were still there, albeit the one man’s brisk orders seemed much louder than they’d been originally now that the howl of the wind had decreased so dramatically. In addition to the original two pirates, there were two others scurrying around deck and lowering some of the smaller sails. Rohiriel grimaced and hoped that they hadn’t left too many pirates unaccounted for. If they started crawling out of the wood like vermin when things got rough then everything would be more complicated.

Turning her attention to the rest of the deck, Rohiriel noticed a structure in the center of the back it from which lantern light was visible. Well, She thought, motioning over her shoulder for Myaja and Laioni to follow her as she set off across the deck, dodging deftly around a scurrying crewman who didn’t even take any note of the odd disembodied shadows moving across the deck. It’s a place to start.

Adjusting more easily to the sway of the deck under her feet the third time she crossed it, As the large door loomed closer, Rohiriel could hear the muffled sound of voices through it. Sliding silently up to the piece of paneled wood, Rohiriel peered into the thick glass window to the right of the door. Although the shapes were blurred, she managed to discern that there were only two people inside, both bending over what appeared to be a table. Slightly reassured that there wasn’t an ambush awaiting them on the other side of the door, Rohiriel laid her hand carefully on the handle of the door, turned the knob and opened the door just wide enough to slip through.

Stepping inside of the room, the first thing she noticed was that Vaoris was not being treated much like a prisoner. The scholar stood freely right next to Nareth and both men had their heads bent over what Rohiriel recognized as the other half of the book.

As the door thudded shut behind the three of them, Rohiriel placed a hand on the hilt of the half sword strapped to her waist for comfort and then cast a swift silencing spell on the door. Disabling her invisibility spell, she said, “Well, this is not at all what I expected to find.”