Vengeance of the half-blood

[Swordsman]

Alright. I'm splitting off here for a while; don't know if I'll return. Probably will. I've got Blade and Serana with me; nobody else come after me. I don't want any other characters, or it starts to get bad again. Azreal, if you want to jump in here, you can. Either PM me or email me (swordsman@fencingmail.com) first, and I'll give you the information you need about this deal. FoilGirl, I know you can't be online much, so I've taken some control of Serana. Feel free to come back and write for her any time you want.

[Swordsman]

The night had dissolved to chaos. The last ball had even been better than this…not for Jo, or him, or the rest of the force, but many others. Now, things were falling apart. He’d been gone for too long – too much had happened. He still didn’t even know what half of it was. Serana was on edge about something. She hadn’t really told him what had gone on yet. The Talruum had appeared, then disappeared again for all he knew. Plots on the royal couple, exclamations of conspiracy. Angelo, his right-hand man, along with most of the strike force, had been stolen away to form the inept A.S.S. They seemed unable to protect the royalty, which was half the reason the strike force had been established in the first place! Never had they failed so miserably as the A.S.S. But what was he to expect? He’d abandoned them for two months, them not even knowing if he would return. He’d left in charge Angelo, who had no experience with command and didn’t even know all of the members. Then when he’d been drafted, those not drafted were left leaderless to drift apart. Nækos was losing his grip. And he still needed a haircut.

It had been almost exactly 48 hours since his return to the kingdom when he heard something that sounded like an avalanche. It was, in fact, very nearly that, though he didn’t know it. He stopped where he was in the halls, turned, and started sprinting back down the way he’d come, towards the noise. Guards and secret service agents (A.S.S.A.) were going the same way – which brought something to mind. Who was guarding Arcon and Zelda, wherever they were? Following that train of thought, where WERE they? He started to get a really bad feeling in his gut. No encounter with Moonitic would be good.

Rounding a corner in the corridors down closer to the door, he nearly ran headlong into Blade. His knife was out before he recognized the Talruum’s build through the ratty old clothes. “Nækos, friend! Trouble!”

“No kidding, Blade! It’s all over the place here!”

“No! Not here! Home!”

“What? Who’s home? Mine?”

“Nova Zemblar. Pashalik – another Talruum – found me by the forest. Rogues together in own clan. Think a few sided with humans. Want to kill all other Talruum.”

“WHAT?”

“Nova Zemblar. Pashalik – another – “

“I heard you. I was just – nevermind. You want my help, I take it?”

“Talruum helped you. You return favor. You know the custom.”

“Of course I remember it. And I fully intend to help. How?”

“No time. Come with me; we go to Nova Zemblar, I explain on the way.”

“Deal. Can I take somebody with me?”

“Who? Must understand Talruum ways.”

Nækos pondered momentarily. Angelo was his first instinct. But he wouldn’t get the Talruum very easily. Lochinvar? Didn’t know him well enough, and he seemed to be needed here. Jo? Who was he kidding? Serana? Serana. She would understand. Now, the key was to find her.

Thankfully, that proved not to be too much of a problem. As they came out the main doors of the keep, some time after the explosion they’d heard, she was coming from the opposite direction, covered in dirt. Thankfully, in combat gear. He had no idea how she’d been able to get changed. “Serana!”

She spun at hearing her name. “Nækos! Part of the castle’s collapsed! We don’t even know who’s where. It’s complete chaos!”

“You’re telling me! At least you know what’s been going on! Listen, we need your help!”

“Alright. Who is this?”

“Serana, Blade. Blade, Serana.” He turned back to Serana. “Blade is a Talruum, like I told you about – what, last night? Anyway. The rogues have united, formed their own clan. Possibly allied with humans. They’re trying to take out the rest of the Talruum. I’m bound to help, and would anyway. But I also need help. And you’re the best person I can think of.”

“Help? With what? Which humans? Where?”

“Nova Zemblar. I don’t know how far. I’m just going to need a human with me, whom I can trust. With my life, probably.”

“Angelo.”

“No. I don’t think he’d adjust well to the Talruum. I need you. Will you come with me?”

Serana was blindsided. Going to the ball with him, that was one thing. Going with him back to the place he’d been driven out of, the place where he’d killed probably over twenty men in one night, had given in to the bloodlust – but had he? She needed to be fair. Was it bloodlust, or defense? Vengeance? Anger? Did it matter? Did she have the time to wonder? No to the last, so that took care of the matter for the time being. But she was going with him, alone, and this Talruum. To do what, she didn’t know. Where, she didn’t know. How far away, or for how long, she didn’t know. How much did she trust her mentor, and her father’s killer? Call it foolish, call it kind, call it wise – “Yeah. I guess I’m with you.”

“Thank you.” She sensed in his words a sincerity he knew not how to voice. “Are you armed?”

“Sword and your knife.” She handed the latter to him.

“Keep it for now.” He spoke now to both Serana and Blade. “Back to my place first, load out. Then on to Nova Zemblar. Blade – how far is it? Should we go on foot, or mount?” Nækos began jogging – it seemed he never walked anymore – back along the path – how many times was this now in the past hour or two? – towards his cottage. To load up and leave it, again. He really hated this. Blade pondered as they moved.

“Wounded when I came to your place…don’t exactly remember. Was walking for, maybe a day. But, I was not in Nova Zemblar when I started. Gone for…twenty, thirty days?”

“It’s THAT far away?” Nækos had never been directly between Nova Zemblar and Arconia. His route had been a highly circuitous one, taken over a period of about a year. That was one of the main reasons for his shock at seeing a Talruum at his door that morning. What was the place like now? How far away was it? It must be some distance, or they would be aware of each other. Which they obviously weren’t.

“No…don’t know. Maybe seven, ten days traveling? I traveled in circles, not straight line. Best to take mount.”

“Alright. I see you still have your sabre – do you want any other weapons? They’re not nearly as good, but they’re still sharp.”

“Many thanks, friend.”

Serana had simply been listening during this time. First, she had nothing really to say – she knew nothing of the subject. And second, she was too out of breath to talk. She had neither the Talruum’s immense strength, nor the halfling’s stamina. After another minute or two, they reached Nækos’ cottage.

The grass was freshly wet, the thatch smelling pungently sweet from the recently ceased rain. All three were in fact still damp. The moon was up, nearly straight overhead, lending a good amount of light to the area. The clouds were gone. Nækos saw no footprints in the grass or openings in the brush surrounding his clearing – his yard. The wind blew coolly through the trees. It was a beautiful night in substance – too bad about the content. He was home. Forget the cottage, he was home. It was night.

They entered, and didn’t bother to light the place. There was no need. He was already loaded out, so he let Blade take what he wanted, and helped Serana get outfitted. Then they were off to the stables, not too far away.

Once again they were greeted by the sweet scent of damp hay, but this time not a roof. Nækos and Serana both readied horses, but Blade just stood there. “Come on, get a horse ready, and we’ll go!”

“I will never ride another creature. I have not the need; I will not degrade them for unnecessary convenience.”

Nækos just stood for a moment. This kind of eloquence, from a Talruum? He must be another seer. When he had spent his summers there, his friend had been a seer. At first, he’d sounded just like the rest of the Talruum. But over a course of only days, he’d started picking up Nækos’ speech, developing and refining himself, so that he was quickly Nækos’ intellectual equal. Not only that, but it had even spread throughout the village to a lesser degree. Talruum lore told of the seers; they were a known and accepted thing. But uncommon. Maybe one in three or four generations. Now, he saw probably two in one generation. Was there something happening, some change occurring? Again, matters to be pondered on the journey. “Alright. Your call. Can you keep up with us? Nevermind.” He was a Talruum; he could of course keep up. The horses would probably tire first.

“Nevermind…nevermind…” Blade pondered the word momentarily, then nodded to himself, as if having filed it away for later use. Nækos was again amazed, but then saddened. His past was coming flooding back at him. He knew well that look, had seen it on his friend’s face. What had become of him? He hadn’t seen him in…years. He couldn’t even think how many right now. Would he still be “smart”? Or would he have reverted without human contact?

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. They always led to trouble. It was time to MOVE. Nækos swung wordlessly onto his mount, and Serana followed suit. Blade simply watched. Corasce roused from his spot in the hay, whined, wondered where he was going. This time, Nækos didn’t tell him to stay, but slapped his leg with his hand, calling the faithful canine. Another mixed blood, another stray. Two of a kind. He couldn’t abandon him. He squeezed his heels into the horse’s side, and it began moving. Serana again followed behind him, feeling out of place, confused, and somewhat uncomfortable. Blade started trotting along beside them, and Corasce beside Blade. And now that they were moving, Nækos could think.

He was leaving again. He was taking a friend now, actually two. Would he return? Would he stay in Nova Zemblar again? Could he? Could he return? Could he really stay anywhere? Arconia was so far the only place that he’d left, and then come back to. Did that mean something? Anything? Or would he simply disappear again, leaving his cottage, and most of his belongings to Arconia? He’d done it before; it didn’t scare him. He could survive on his own, anywhere, start again. But this time he had baggage. This time, he had Serana. The girl he liked, but who didn’t like him. The girl who hadn’t died. Yet? What did this mean now, having the girl with him? Why HAD he asked her? He could do alright in Nova Zemblar as a halfling; he didn’t need a human companion.

But he was leaving again, this time leaving his OWN home. A place that had been truly his. A place he had come back to before. And people…friends. He had never before left friends as he was now. What did THIS mean? Did he value Nova Zemblar, and the Talruum, more than he did Arconia and its citizens? After all, the Talruum knew what persecution was. And Arconia was…humans. Was that right? Was it right to value them less for being humans? He’d rarely known anything from humans besides hate, lies, and death. But the girl…the girl again. She was human. A pureblood. He shut his eyes momentarily, then his mind. He was going. He had to think of what he knew. He would talk to Blade when they stopped to rest; for now, they rode in silence.

He knew only two things: His past was coming back to him, with a vengeance. And he was returning to it – with a vengeance.

[three_hundred_fifty_five]

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: three_hundred_fifty_five ]

[Swordsman]

Ordered pairs? 2x1 matrices? Get out of here.

[latenight]

Since each pair begins with a number 1-4, and there are 4 "parts" to his En Guarde series, it more likely it refers to his story. Some sort of guide to deciphering them.

Interesting, but I don't have the time. Maybe one of you does.

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: latenight ]

[DamedEscrime]

coordinate points

[Fencing Angel]

[Ed. Note].. we seam to be inept becuse we are UNDERMANED..... as far as anyone knows it's just me a lady Rosalina.. and she being the head of the armed forces..(at least most of them) so that kind of leaves me.. (that anyone knows of..)

Just my two cents....


P.S. also things are changing.... and Fast...

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: Fencing Angel ]

[Swordsman]

At dawn they stopped and camped. It was pretty simple to do; they had basically nothing. Nækos and Serana dismounted and stretched, and Blade simply stretched. He seemed still energetic. Amazing... Corasce seemed glad to stop, and was panting slightly, but still had many miles left in him. That, Nækos believed, was the wolf blood speaking.

They were on a narrow trail, many hours out of Arconia. No break was visible in the forest, though the brilliant yellows of the sunrise promised a clear, cloudless day. It was a good thing they were under the trees, or it would get hot very quickly. The path had branched countless times during the last part of the night; it was unlikely anybody from Arconia would be able to find them, assuming they’d even bothered to follow. Tracks were not a problem, even with the soft ground. The “path”, while a clear spot through the trees, was still filled with tall grass. This grass had started about an hour after leaving the cottage, and indicated a rarely used trail. Nækos was glad for it. He tied the horses to a tree where they could graze, and went back to Serana.

She was dressed in combat pants and a tunic. The pants were actually formerly Nækos’, shortened slightly. The tunic was identical to his, but had been tailored for Serana’s figure. She carried a lightsword over her right shoulder, and a capped quiver, holding a longbow with the arrows, over her left. Two small knives were on the fronts of the straps, and a dagger was strapped to her right thigh. On the back of her horse was a bundle containing the three sabres that Blade had selected, and in the saddle ring of both horses Nækos had placed a spatha. Nækos carried his usual load, and Blade wore only a cut off pair of pants – “shorts”, he called them, much to Nækos and Serana’s amusement – and his sabre under his left arm. The terrain of the trail didn’t seem to bother his bare feet; in fact it was with the Talruum that Nækos had first learned to go barefoot so often. “How are you?”

“Tired.” Serana wasn’t yet nocturnal – though she would quickly learn to be.

“Alright. We’ll get some food, then rest. You must be hungrier than I am.”

“Food!? Where??” She was hungry.

“Working on it. I think Blade’s going to handle the hunting.” Blade was, in fact, already off the trail, looking around for small furry woodland creatures. Sighting a rabbit, he crouched, stalked it, then pounced as soon as he was in range. While rather comical in appearance, it required a great deal of skill. Then, a bonus: A large badger working its way over to investigate the smell of blood. Normally, one would never want to tangle with a badger. But this time it wasn’t a problem; Blade simply beheaded the slow moving animal as soon as it came close enough. Bringing them back, Nækos and Corasce’s mouths began to water, while Serana’s appetite decreased slightly. Even so, she remained ravenous.

“Man, I’m so hungry I could eat one of those things raw!” She thought she was exaggerating; Nækos laughed.

“Good. Because you’re going to.”

“What? No! No, that’s not happening! We’re going to make a fire, and cook those!”

“No, a fire is out of the question. Too dangerous in the grass, hard to find good wood, and it wastes away too much of the nutrients of the meat.”

“I’m not eating that raw, and that’s final.” She literally put her foot down.

“You say so. Eventually, you’ll get hungry enough to eat. And in the meantime, you’ll be pretty uncomfortable.”

She considered this, and could see no way she would get cooked food from the deal. “Fine. You win.”

“Glad you didn’t make it hard.” With that, he sat down, took the rabbit from Blade, who was already working the badger, and started cleaning it. By the time he finished, Blade was already digging into the badger. Looking horrifically bestial, he sat there in his “shorts”, bare-chested, covered in thick Talruum hair, blood smearing his face, and grinning happily at the meal. Nækos took the first chunk of the rabbit just to show that it was okay, contrasting interestingly as he wiped a small trickle of blood from his chin. He cut another piece, and handed it to Serana. She had no problems handling it; she’d cleaned animals before. Swallowing it, however, was another matter. Her throat immediately rejected the warm flesh, and she heaved forward, barely controlling the vomit reflex. After a minute, however, she managed to swallow the meat, and then the rest went more smoothly.

“Does blood always make you this sleepy? I could take a nap now.” Serana sat in the matted grass, chin slightly reddish-brown, stomach full.

“Not once you get used to it. And it’s a good thing you’re sleepy – we’re going nocturnal from here out. We’ll sleep now until an hour or two before dark, then get moving again. When you’re not in society, the night is your best friend. Nocturnal animals do the best in nature.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Blade was still silent, as he had been all along. Nækos still needed to get more information from him. Corasce had hunted himself a few mice and a squirrel, and was full and happy. They’d recently visited a stream, where Blade had drunk probably a gallon of water, and so all was well with the traveling group. If they didn’t think of the destination.

Nækos lay back in the grass next to Serana, who was already dozing off. He heard Corasce settle down a few feet away, and knew Blade was just on the other side of Corasce. He closed his eyes, but was suddenly plagued by memories. Everything seemed to be coming back now – Salar, his friend Sarone, the convent, that awful night. Nova Zemblar. The Aiovuses – and the awful smell of their burned bodies. The mob. Kinkado. Tay. Eidis – rest his soul. All the towns and villages in between. And then, more recently. The long night spent in FencingSucks. Leading Moonitic out as dawn broke. Ledgerto. Josephine. Would he ever find rest? Would he ever have an actual home, somewhere to stay, no more fighting? Just as he had begun to despair, now he had Serana. Maybe it would be alright. Or did he? Did he have Serana?

And then he remembered the first – Serena. When this business with the Talruum was over, what? Would he simply go back to Arconia? Could he? After going back in his past, could he really return to the present? No. He didn’t think so. He might have to go all the way back – all the way back to the kingdom of Ruuss. Where one fateful night, an elf and a human had given into their emotions, and broken the law. Where it had all started. Rus-land.

[lochinvar]

[Ed. note: badgers are not recommended for eating. They're from the same family as skunks--and smell just about as good!
So, kids don't try this at home. Remember, these are professionals.]


[ 09-26-2001: Message edited by: lochinvar ]

[Swordsman]

When you're that hungry, it's all good.

[Swordsman]

Enough thoughts. He finally slept, and decided upon waking that he’d done enough thinking for a while; he would face things as he came to them, as he always did.

It late evening when they awoke, nearly dark. Unfortunately, the nights were shorter in this season, but they would have to deal with that. They would not sleep so long the next time, but they had needed the rest that day. The trio, with Corasce, were quickly up and ready, and silently moved out, each still too much asleep and lost in their thoughts to speak. Blade led as usual, knowing somehow which paths to take as they frequently branched out. They moved on for hours, distance and time indeterminable. Serana dozed in her saddle, and Nækos simply sat, enjoying the night, the rhythm of the horse, the steady fast breathing of Blade and Corasce.

After a little he looked over at Serana, and ended up staring for some time. In this world of darkness and endless motion, she was the spot of beauty for him to latch on to. It was much the same as the first night after he had carried Jo, literally kicking and screaming, from the first ball. He remembered crouching there next to her as she slept in his own bed, memorizing every delicate line of her sleeping face. He remembered the eternal hours spent in his chair beside the bed, keeping his vigil over her. But that was past, so far past…no. He musn’t start dwelling on that again, going over once again every detail of those times. It would drive him mad in this dark speechless world, punctuated only by hoof beats, footsteps, and the padding of soft paws. This was his world, his to enjoy and thrive in. If he didn’t think.

They traveled that night, then stopped and ate shortly after sunrise. They rose shortly before sunset, and began traveling again. So it went for several days; he lost count. Six? Seven? Probably something like that. During these times, however, he began to learn more about the situation. He spoke more with Blade; he couldn’t think what to talk to Serana about, and she was quiet.

Blade was considered a Talruum rogue. A few years earlier, his sister had been ambushed and killed by human archers, and he had sought vengeance. He hadn’t, however, known who had killed her. He had instead gone by scent, following the trail they left to the place where they kept her body. He killed every man there, and several archers nearby, then left feeling that he had avenged her. The humans were infuriated by the strike they saw as unwarranted – it was never widely known that the killer’s sister had been murdered, had her body paraded through the streets, and then sold. The other Talruum, upon hearing of Blade’s killings, cast him out for giving the humans another excuse to hunt them. Blade had remained as peaceful as he could be, hunting for food and killing only when it was his life on the line.

This was actually many times. The Talruum clans regarded rogues as something to be hated, despised, and feared, and were probably justified in this view. Rogues were never cast out without good reason; usually those were theft of another’s weapon, murder, killing of humans, something like that. This alone meant that they were unstable and dangerous; when added to the shame and despair of exile, they frequently searched for revenge against the clans, or against humans. The latter vengeance was what gave Talruum the bad name with humans in the first place. For these reasons, clans were constantly on guard against rogues who might decide to strike at some unexpected time. Rogues also fought each other frequently, something of a “holier-than-thou” stemming from the tendency of one to never be convinced of one’s own guilt. Blade had killed several other rogues, each time bringing the head to his clan to show what he had done for them, trying to redeem himself. He was cast away each time.

Finally, he had nearly been killed himself. In a duel with another rogue called Seth, he had won, but gotten a large gash in the side as a result. Delirious and staggering from blood loss, he had wandered aimlessly for several days, before finally collapsing at the door of a small cottage on the outskirts of a city. And in the short few days since then, his side had very quickly healed, enough that he could run so hard and so far as he was now.

Now, he had received a plea for help from one of his old friends in the clan. Many of the rogues had banded together into something like a clan of their own, and had made a deal with the humans. Failing again with their old weakness of trusting to easily, the rogue clan had made a truce that they would kill the rest of the Talruum around, and in return be left alone. But Nækos knew the humans better than that. Once the clans were gone, the rogues would be broken up by spreading misinformation, and then the ones who didn’t kill each other off would be hunted down with longbows.

It was a worst nightmare for the Talruum clans. They had to band together, but that hadn’t happened in centuries. They were somewhat distrustful of each other, and that is how the humans would win. Unless Nækos could help. He first had to re-establish respect with them. How to do that, he wasn’t sure. But he would come up with something – hopefully. The other thing to do would be to sniff around the villages, starting with Nova Zemblar, feigning support for the plan. He would have to carefully work his way in, quickly but not so quickly as to arouse suspicion. He didn’t know how smart these humans were. Once he was in far enough to figure out who the main ringleaders were, and who was in charge of the whole deal – humans always had one man above all the others – he would assassinate them, one by one. And then…then what?

Go back to Arconia? After having abandoned it once again? Just take Serana back, and then do what? What would he do? He had really no strike force to speak of anymore. Angelo had been drafted away. Really, he had only Serana. And once he was done in Nova Zemblar, how far would he be from Nova Servaya?

He shuddered in his saddle at the thought. He’d never imagined going back. Never even thought of the action as a remote possibility. It was his past, and a dark one, and it was long gone. Long gone. But then, so had Nova Zemblar been. And now here he was, riding along next to a panting Talruum, headed back there to insert himself once again into the violent affairs between humans and any other species. No wonder he subconsciously distrusted the humans he knew. Even his closest friends, he kept a small distance from. Because he had never truly trusted them. And for a very simple reason: For the first 17 years of his life, every human he had ever known had automatically hated, loathed, and feared any other race it knew. And yet, he couldn’t imagine the Talruum being prejudiced against elves. They had even taken him in…

And here he was, thinking again. The night seemed to grow darker around him, and the sleeping Serana by contrast even brighter. But a small good had come from all this reflection: He knew now his purpose, what he had to do. Past that, he wasn’t sure. But he did know what he could do.

He would to bring the Talruum together. He would assassinate the leader of this human faction. And then…he could go all the way back. To the beginning of it all.

[Foil Girl]

The rocking of her mount's steps was enough to keep Serana from sleeping deeply. She would also periodically be woken up if the horse shifted it's weight, so her sleep wasn't exactly restful. She barely opened her eyes, hardly enough to see through her lashes, to find green eyes gazing back at hers. The dark-haired girl jumped in her saddle, surprised by his intense look.

When Nækos realized her eyes were open and she was awake, he instantly tried to look somewhere else. Serana could hear him softly curse himself for getting caught up in his thoughts.

His stare sent a shiver down her back, that wasn’t attributed to the cold night. And again... why had she agreed to help him? Despite his sincereness, Serana still, in the back of her mind, saw him as her fathers killer. The thought was always there, lurking, troubling her. She couldn’t say revenge for her father had never crossed her mind... It had when she first arrived in Arconia. Serana took a deep breath, trying to relax. The rider knew she wouldn’t harm him now. He was her friend, her teacher, and her- she stopped her train of thought and shook her head, as if she could shake her worries and burdens free. No. Her train of thought moved to Blade, who was running.

Nækos had only briefly explained it to her... Talruum? Was that what they were called? And she was off to fight against humans for whom? She didn’t know the least of it. To tell the truth, she was wary, and a bit frightened of Nækos’s friend. But it was too late to go back now. Again... why did she come?

[ 09-30-2001: Message edited by: Foil Girl ]

[Blade]

Blade's mind was in torment.

He travelled with companions he feared, yet respected.

Blade still sullen from his outcast, sniffed the air warily. He led his companions northwards. "Not far," managed to tumble out of Blade's mouth.

Blade was not willing to force words yet. He was not sure if Serana, as she was called, would understand.

Blade was one of a few of a new breed of Talruum. Each had been outcast, called rogue and killed by the other rogues. He alone survived.

He felt remorse for the vengeance he reeked on the murderer's of a fellow clan member. It was the warrior blood that drove him to kill.

It was called the preacher syndrome, amongst the Talruum, feeling guilt and remorse after a battle.

'Preacher' was a term picked up from the humans of Nova Zemblar.

As they travelled, the words of Pashalik played on his mind.

[Swordsman]

Alright, this is getting good! Nice to have other authors doing their thing here. I'm still working on where to go immediately from here, but if you have anything, feel free to throw it in! I'm becoming more and more fond of this Blade character...

[Swordsman]

Serana knew he’d been looking at her, and he knew she knew it. He did not, however, realize the bitterness the still harbored, the blame she placed on him for her father’s death. Had he known, he might have gone with just Blade. But he hadn’t, and still didn’t, know.

And now it was the early night, and they were at a town. The path had become more worn in the past day or two, and finally it widened, opening into a clearing, which quickly became a road. The air had a strange scent to it, a kind of tang that Nækos had never before smelled. When the town came into view, he could see on the far side of it a small copse of trees, barren and leafless, with large noisy birds flying and swooping here and there, making a racket. They seemed to be everywhere.

Then they came into the town, and Nækos saw what he never could have imagined: An immense lake, wider than he would ever have thought possible, so huge he could not see the other side. It simply stretched on forever. The trees were, in fact, the masts of large ships, mazes of rigging. The place was a bustle of activity – people scurrying here and there with various loads, goods being brought onto ships or taken off, birds being chased away. Fishermen going about their business, children scampering in and out of shops near the water’s edge. He counted at first glance at least a half-dozen taverns and pubs.

It was nearly like Nova Servaya. Larger by far than the city of Arconia, and larger by an even greater magnitude than Nova Zemblar, this city was like what he’d grown up in. He could already see areas like what he’d known, poorer places where skinny dirty children ran about, playing in the filth. And he could already see gangs. Suddenly, memories came rushing back in a storm. He remembered the first fight he’d been in, the first scar he’d received. Touching his left ear, he remembered the last fight he’d ever lost. He remembered the first time he’d killed, and the awful sensation it brought. He remembered the darkness, the stench of the city. The different darkness, the pungently clean-smelling openness of the forests. He remembered the convent, too. Suppers of bread and a thin soup, his studies. The first time he’d thought to use a blade, a broken piece of glass. Just as suddenly some of the old prayers came back to him, entreaties for forgiveness and mercy that he’d long ago memorized. He remembered saying them, kneeling there next to Salar, with Serena on the other side of her, feeling safe in only that one place – with the immortal Salar by his side. And then he remembered that final night. The fights in the darkness, the hunts in the cellar. And his immortal Salar, his refuge when things got out of control, on all fours, coughing blood, vomiting her entrails, the poison ripping her body slowly apart. He remembered fleeing at the last instant, as the extra men came in. And then the one thing he thought he’d forever locked away, never to resurface, came back to him: The sickening swack as the block filth’s standard-issue shortsword had bit flesh, rejected it, and hurried all the way through. And the dull thud as Salar’s head hit the floor.

Nækos reeled with the memory as they rode slowly down the main street, and nearly fell from his mount. Serana started, then quickly leaned over and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him upright in the saddle again. He stayed limp for a moment, leaning slightly forward, held up only buy Serana’s hand, then closed his eyes, shook his head violently to clear it, and righted himself. “Nækos? What was that? Are you alright?”

“I…don’t know…yes. Yes, I’m…well, no. I’m not…I don’t know. No, I won’t collapse. Look: when I told you a few nights ago about where I’d come from, what my history is, I just repeated words. I didn’t think, I just spoke empty sounds. But being here…this is so much like Nova Servaya. It brought all of them back, everything that had happened. I just couldn’t take it, not that fast. So…I don’t know. I’m physically all right. But that’s all.”

“Alright. Don’t worry me like that.”

They were nearly stopped now, and Blade had regained his breath. “Will take a boat across next night. Until then, we must wait, sleep the day.”

Nækos didn’t reply, just stared rather blankly ahead. Serana shook him, and he barely reacted. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

Time for her to take a little control, since Nækos didn’t seem to be in the best of shape. “Yes, we do need a room for the day. Might as well try this place since we’re right here.”

They turned and stopped in front of the tavern she’d indicated, which they happened to be right in front of at the moment. She dismounted, and Nækos numbly followed. Entering, a few heads turned at the tables they passed, noting the strange trio. The beautiful lady warrior, the massive, hairy one, and the blank, dark, smaller one. Serana proceeded indifferently to the bar, which she pounded on to get the proprietor’s attention. “What’ll it be fer ya three? Sure looks your friend here could use a drink.”

“Water will be sufficient to drink. I’d like a loaf of bread, a wheel of whatever’s the sharpest cheese you have, and a big piece of beef. Cooked, if you please.”

“What kinds a’ moneys ya got?”

“What do you want?”

“Whaddya mean, whadda I want? Ah want tha money, the regular delca!” The man reeked of…something.

“Well, I’m sorry, but we don’t carry that currency. However, we still require the food and drink I mentioned, and a room for the rest of the night, and tomorrow.”

“Well, ah can’ help ya wid eider o’ those, till ya show me some gold.”

“We lack any coined money, or gold. Perhaps this will suffice in their stead?” She produced a largish block of silver, and slammed it onto the counter in front of him.

The man’s beady brown eyes went wide for an instant, then he recovered. “Yea, I reckon that’ll work. Which room’ll you be wantin’?” He reached quickly for the block, but Serana also produced a knife, which she imbedded in the bar tip down, blade just between the man’s fingers.

“We will be requiring a large room, and a nice one. I’d also like the food, and our baggage, brought up to us. In addition, we will be returning through here in a while, and will require the same services when we do.”

“Well, I’ll be anticipatin’ your return, and hope ya find more o’ this stuff on yer way!”

“No, you don’t understand. This will suffice for the next time we are here, as well.”

“Aaaah…I dun think so. Methinks this’ll work for this time, but yer gonna hafta pay again just like anybudy else if yer gonna come back.”

“Just like anybody else? We aren’t paying ‘just like anybody else’ right now. And I assure you, we most certainly are NOT ‘just like anybody else’.”

“Fair ‘nuff. But if ye don’ come back soon ‘nuff, I’ll probly forgit which one’s ya was, and am I gonna let ever’body stay free?”

“Oh, I think you’ll remember us well enough. Now, do you want to show us to the room, or will I have to take this next door?”

The proprietor quickly became friendlier. “Well, now, methinks you’d not like it much o’er there. Y’see, the guy’s not real friendly there, not half’s friendly’s me. Methinks you’ll like it here just a-plenty!”

“Well, I’ll take your word for it. Now, can you send somebody up with our baggage as well?”

“O’course, m’lady!” He turned with a cheerful smile to the back room. “Enid! Git out here! There’s three horses –“

“Two,” Serana corrected.

“-Two horses out there, that’s got bags on ‘em. Go git ‘em and takem up ta the fifth room!” He turned back, and came around the bar. “Now then, shall we head to yer room?”

Serana smiled. Finally got you to cooperate… “That would be quite fine now, we’re rather weary.”

With that, they headed up the stairs to the side, heads at the various tables following them, then turning back to their meals and conversations. One head, however, was a little slower than the rest to turn back.

[Blade]

Blade's instinct kicked in. He could sense danger. He warily eyed the crowd below as he ascended the stairs. The inkeep led them onto their landing just as Blade's eyes had locked onto the sole person that followed their ascension to completion. Blade had lost sight of the person.

His thoughts turned as he knew Nova Zemblar was not far. Not far for a Talruum. Could they be being watched? Are they being followed? Blade was unsure. He knew there was trouble brewing but he didn't know what.

Blade took in the view of the room as it was opened to them. Heard the inkeep complete his speech that he was droning on with. Blade was only still long enough to see Serana claim the only bed in room.

"Must go," Blade said to his companions and with that he was off.

Serana turned to Naekos and gave him a quizzical look.

Naekos merely shrugged.

Blade moved quickly back down the stairs. The sudden movement drew the looks of the crowd again. Most turned away in disgust at the sight of the beastly figure. Blade took it in momentarily. There was no sign of the one that had eyed them all the way up the stairs, not that he had got a very good look.

Comprehension came to Blade about the looks of disgust he was receiving. He silently cursed that he had not utilised the bathhouse at the Ball that night but with all the commotion...

Blade finished descending the stairs and sniffed the air. There was too many scents, he had no idea which was the man's that he was after. He walked out.

He saw Enid and some others muttering under their breath about unpacking the horses. Blade wondered if any of the others was the one he was after. He had no idea. All Blade knew was that he was following his instinct.

Something led Blade straight to the waterside. Whether it was the smell, the hustle and bustle, Blade did not know.
A ship's bosun stopped him. "Scram you tramp!" he said as he flicked his whip at him. Blade smiled at him. Again he silently cursed the state he was in. He did not want any trouble. Not yet.