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| >> Campfire Creative >> Fiction >> Action/Adventure >> ID #1275331 |   |
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| [Introduction]
Apparently no one in Morthgar realized that their King was dying. Junly, a woman close to a century, was as healthy as could be until one day her health decided to drop. --Let me interject here for a moment. In the land of Morthgar, the "King" is elected by a council. Male or female, after the election, the King may do whatever he or she pleases as long as it is in the law. The council may give advice, but can never overrule the said King.-- No one knew about it, except for the few priviledged Ladies-in-Waiting. Even they didn't know the extent of her illness. You see, Junly was a stubborn woman. She wanted nothing more than to be over with her Kingship. --Again, I interject. If you are elected King, you may not refuse the offer. You must serve your life as King. There are only two ways of getting out of this. Commiting a High Offense against the Nation of Morthgar OR dying.-- However, no matter how much she loathed being King, she did her best to make Morthgar profitable. And, in the last 50 years, she'd done an excellent job. Crops were up and crimes were down. Neighboring countries were friendly, apart from Kirth which ignored Morthgar completely. --According to Morthgar historians, Morthgar's 5th King, Amelia, had a battle with the Emperor of Kirth, a battle of love. They loved each other with such fever that she faked her own death to be with him. She was found out, and under oath, swore that Emperor Hundt of Kirth forced her to do it. Even since that fateful day, Kirth and Morthgar have been dreaded enemies.-- Junly hadn't married, stating that it was a waste of time, for she would always have to put her country first. This was true with her because she spent almost every waking moment in the council rooms completing or creating some way of making life more efficient in Morthgar. Now she was dying. She was the only one that knew it up until the day it happened. She called a council meeting, and told the kingdom of her problem. A poison was creeping through her body. It had finally reached her lungs and she was to die shortly. "The matter of a new King will become an issue within the next weeks," she weezed, her breath becoming shorter and shorter. "I have strengthened our agriculture and our politics, but our military has been suffering. I did not," cough cough, "do this intentionally, but it has happened." "What is the need of a fine military, Your Kingship, if our alliances outnumber our enemies?" A young councilman asked. Cough, cough, hack, sneeze, cough, "It has come to my knowledge that an attack is coming. From whom, we can only guess." Cough, "but I warn you to know your new King. Do not let yourself be fooled by childish trickery." "How do you know this?" An angry man asked. "I can only say that," she shook with such force that Junly fell from her chair. In a whisper she finished her statement. "The gods have spoken." I want some good writers on this. It should be fun. I'm thinking a political and military battle-ish thing would be fun. All the rules apply. You know the drill. |
 Chelsea- out of time  Name: Dana HuntsAge: 19 Appearance: Dana is slender and tan, medium height. Her structure is that of a woman in every single aspect. She is gorgeous, when her mother can get her clean. She has dark eyes and dark hair which blankets her face and shoulders with grace. It is because of those mysterious and beautiful aspects that she would be considered a beauty of the ages. Personality: Although her middle class family would rather her be at home, learning to sew, cook, clean, and host, Dana is always outside, thus her dark complextion. She has two close friends, her dogs, who hunt with her almost every other night. She is always getting into fights, getting dirty, and getting into trouble. She doesn't mean too, but it happens. She finds it humorous that, although it is possible for a woman to gain Kingship, they are still looked down upon if they do not run households, get husbands early, or become spinsters. She is a fiery person who likes to laugh and loves to be free. Strengths and Weaknesses: She is great with animals, can fight with skill, and has a talent for getting on the good side of everyone but her family. She cannot, however, figure out if someone is lying, and she trusts pretty much everyone. Her insticts are animalistic, telling her to get away if something doesn't feel right, but she's so curious of everything that she hardly ever listens to them. Other: Her parents are through with Dana's attitude. They want her to become a presentable young lady, so by the Winter Solstice, she will be sent to Court in the Royal Palace of the King of Morthgar. They hope this will show her how to be a lady. Who knows? Maybe she'll find a husband. Dragon_Ninja Name: Blane Jackson (different everytime...I dont like using the same name...) Age: 21 Appearance: Blane is 6'1" average build. He is not what you would call attractive but not ugly either. He has a scar reaching from his left temple to his right cheek. He has long dirty blond hair worn in a low pony tail reaching to the middle of his back. He has blue eyes the color of the sky. Personality: Blane is very distant, he spaces out constantly. He gets so deep into his own world that he doesnt even register other people talking to him or watching him. Even those who know him can not comprehend what is going on in his mind. In the times that Blane is not spaced out he is very livly yet still guarded. It is hard to gain his trust, even for some family memebers of his. Strengths and Weaknesses: Blane is very tough due to getting hit so much for spacing out, which is one of the few ways to get him back from his mind. He is very good with a double sided spear and trains daily. That is the only time that he will never space out. He spaces out at the worst moments as well causing him to get alot of bumps throughout his life. Since it is hard for him to trust someone he doesnt make friends easily, though his spacing out was the main problem for that. Other: Blane was sent to the palace by his uncle. His uncle got fed up with Blane spacing out while he was supposed to be doing a job or doing chores around the house. If Blane spaces out at the palace while doing a job, then his uncle was sure he would get proper punishment. The only time he doesnt space out is when his is trainning with his spear, which he made himself. Jason Simmons Name: Miles GilroyAge: 21 Appearance: Miles is not ugly, nor is he drop-dead gorgeous. The only reason he is chased by ladies is because of his stature. he stands at 6 foot even, with dark blue eyes and light brown hair. He has a ragged goatee that his father and mother wish he would shave, but do not push because of the lack of time to do so. Personality: At first glance, one would think Miles to be cold and distant. However, he shows a unique kindness and hospitality that is rare nowadays. He is very flirtatious, but is very collected about doing so. Strengths and weaknesses: Miles' only weakness is his trust in others. Sometimes he trusts in people too much, which has lead to a lot of trouble. His greatest strength is his overall prowess to any situation. Other: He grew up in the palace, and has been a Knight of the Kingship for quite some time. Because of his reputation and rank, many thought him to be the next in line. He knows he is not, and plans to serve the Kingship until his death. He is currently a Captain in the Royal Guard. KC is a teacher now! Name: Hajari "Haji" Purushottama Age: 25 Personality: Hajari goes by the nick-name Haji. He is adventurous, impulsive, enthusiastic, and full of energy. He is very open to new ideas and welcomes challenges. He can be very impatient, but will pursue his goals whole-heartedly and with determination. He can be argumentative at times, especially when given a command he does not understand or disagrees with. He is a good and loyal friend, but is sometimes more honest than the situation calls for. He is also very competitive and loves to win, which serves him well in his current occupation. Appearance: Haji has dark black hair and mustache and light gray eyes. He stands about 5 ft 10 in and weighs 180 lbs. He's a soldier, so he wears a uniform with blue trousers, red jackets with gold buttons and accents, black boots and beret, a scimitar at his side, and white gloves tucked into a wide, white belt. He has a single piece of jewelry, a plain gold ring with a single diamond jem. It was a gift from his sponsor upon receiving his commission. Background: Haji is serving in the army, a cavalry officer, stationed at the fortress city of Arian. His family are farmers living only a day's ride away and he often goes to see them and they him. He is the youngest son, with two older brothers, but he also has two younger sisters, one married and with family of her own. Haji decided from an early age that farming wasn't for him and convinced his father to apply to the commander at Arian for a position. He's been there ever since, and is a veteran of many small skirmishes along the border. The army has not been well-funded by the old King, and the cavalry of Arian is only different in that they stage displays for their city and the local people. This is an opportunity for fund-raising that never goes past unexploited. As a result, Haji and his fellow officers have also learned social graces, to include dancing. Strengths/Weaknesses: Haji is a skilled swordsman, and can shoot (bow/arrows) as well, both able from horseback as well. He has been in the army, starting as a stableboy, for over half his life. He was forced into schooling as befits an officer and so can read/write, do arithmetic, has a rudimentary knowledge of history and lots of education in military strategy. His honesty and frankness, however, is often in conflict with local politics and Haji often finds himself sent off on patrol to avoid unfortunate circumstances and allow hot tempers to cool. Insane One Name: Aldia MondariaAge: 26 Appearance: She keeps her pale brown hair shoert and easy to manage. Her hazel eyes seem to reflect the sand turning into the ocean. Her skin is tan and healthy and she has a small body frame. Personality: She is very sharp and always trying to get ahead, but no one knows her true personality because she keeps it hidden at all times. Background: Growing up in the slums of a city that no longer exhist, she has learned how to be hidden in plain sight mainly because it was the only way to live. When she grew into her early-mid teens she realized how talented she was at it and started offering her work as a spy and thief to whoever paid the most, not letting any biased get in the way. Strengths/Weaknesses: Her mind is sharp and she can handle herself in a fight enough to escape. Though she lacks confidence when it comes to her own apperance and what others think of her. And this along with her proffesion has made her lonely inside and almost desperate for some type of relationship, even a hallow one. Other: She is currently spying on the kingdom of Morthgar, though even she doesn't know who her employer is. She is posing as the daughter of a recently deceased councilman, allowing her access to political affairs. Chelsea- out of time Dana heard her mother call her name, but chose to pretend she was too far away. She couldn't go back there. Not now. This was her last day of freedom. That's how Dana saw it. She loathed with a fiery hot passion anything that had to do with Court. Dresses were okay. Dana actually liked them, but eating little because women shouldn't be seen with food in their mouth? Please. Like that would ever happen. Cleaning up, washing her face and hair, that was completely fine, but never EVER EVER getting dirty. No way. And she wasn't even allowed to take Jersh and Carls her two Redbone hounds. Dana stopped running through the woods and collapsed in a small grove like area where the sun shown down brightly. Spreading her arms out, she breathed the sweet smell of spring. She sat up, and put her head on her knees. The courtiers would eat her alive. She knew it. Suddenly she was on her back, attacked by two very slobbery hounds. She tackled them, crying as she did. ~*~ A kiss on the cheek and three very bright new dresses later Dana was in a carriage on her way to the Palace. Yes, that's right, a carriage. They wouldn't even let her ride her own horse. "It's improper to show up at a royal palace bareback on a mare," her mother so gracifully informed her. No matter, though, for Dana had bribed the coach man to stow away a few extra things, extra slobbery things. By the time the sun was setting Jersh and Carls were curled up on either side of Dana, who was fast asleep. That was, until a sudden, jolting stop woke her from her fantastic dream about a hunt for a white stag with a gorgeous man, though she couldn't remember his face now that she thought of it. Shaking her head clear, Dana looked out the window on her left to see the biggest building she'd ever laid eyes upon. Her mouth wide open she jumped out the coach door before it stopped, the hounds close at her heels. "Oh, we are so over our heads boys," she whispered to them. They wagged their tails in agreement. Dragon_Ninja "HEY! WAKE UP!" Blane felt the blow from his uncle, "idiot, they wont be so nice at the palace. They'll punish you good and proper.""That's why Im going?" Blane knew his spacing out got on people's nerves sometimes but being sent away from home because of it? Thats just....not right. "Yep, I hope you get some good punishment, maybe even some whips will find your back." Blane never liked the way his uncle thought...he had felt everything but whips were always the worst. "Yea, I guess, so is the horse ready?" "Yes, hurry and get out of here so some work can get done," Well, not being around this guy was a good reason to get away from home. Blane went to the building as his horse was being lead out. He put his double-sided spear in the saddle bag. "Well, I guess this is good-bye," Blane said looking back at his home. Kicking the horse into going, Blane took one last look at his home. Jason Simmons Miles awaited the arrival of the palace's newest members. There were two definite that were to come, and a few more that were still uncertain. Miles checked the belltower. They would be arriving at any moment now. He was anxious. One was to be a court lady. This didn't thrill Miles very much. One more to go stalking around the palace, giggling and other girlish whimsicals. The other, though, would come to him. The young man, around Miles' age, whose name Miles believed was Blane, was being sent to serve in the army. He would serve due to his lack of concentration. He was to be given something to do to occupy his mind. And if he ever went out of place, Miles would have to discipline him. But Miles didn't feel like punishing anybody like the brass wanted them to be punished. But this new lady, though Miles had misgivings about her, was said to be very tomboyish, and might be a problem as well. Miles simply looked over at his second-in-command, Haji, and walked up to meet the carriage and the young man on horseback. Miles opened the door to the carriage, and was immediately knocked down by two very large canines. But they weren't attacking him. They were licking him. Miles laughed deeply and got back up. The woman to whom the dogs belonged to grinned apologetically. "I'm sorry about that, sir," she said. " Jersh and Carls don't act that way unless they like someone. Which is good news for you." She seemed to have regretted speaking, but Miles put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It was then that he noticed her beauty. She was gorgeous. He quickly cleared his head and proceeded to meet with the young man. He might have to look deeper into her history. But later. Right now, he had to train a soldier. KC is a teacher now! Haji stepped into Colonel Ahmad's office and stood at attention before the desk. "You called for me, sir?" "I did," said the colonel. "Have a seat." Haji perched on the edge of an old, wooden chair that creaked ominously whenever sat upon. He rubbed his hands nervously on his pants. His team was due out on patrol in the morning. He had much to do and meeting with his boss like this was never a good sign. Last time he'd been called in had been to announce a change of routes, a change that had placed them in the middle of a skirmish between neighbors and brought unwanted attention from Kirth. Colonel Ahmad leaned his elbows on his desk and regarded the young man before him. Irritation deepened the creases of his weather-worn face as he frowned. He sat back again, mentally steeling himself. "Haji," he said at last. "You're being reassigned." Haji's mouth dropped open in astonishment. He had a perfect - okay, mostly - perfect record and was a good leader on the field, what could be wrong? He stared, dumbfounded, at the colonel for two whole seconds before he could speak. "What?" he cried, leaping to his feet. "But - but, sir, we're going out on patrol tomorrow!" "Sit down, Captain," said Colonel Ahmad, gritting his teeth. He waited, continuing only after his subordinate had calmed himself. "Your company will be continuing as planned. You, Captain, will simply not be accompanying them." Haji felt sweat beginning to trickle down his collar. He struggled to keep a lid on his boiling emotions. "Who will be taking over my company?" He fully expected to hear that Bachchan would be promoted and placed in command, being the senior lieutenant in the battalion, and so he was completely flabbergasted when the colonel said, "Oh, Warsi can step up whilest you are gone." "Warsi? He's just a kid! This is only his second trip out! He doesn't have any seniority, he's totally green! I --" "Haji!" barked the colonel, stopping him mid-flow. He asked, quietly, "Are you telling me that your men are incompetant?" Haji snapped his mouth shut and ground out through his teeth, "No, sir." His back, already ramrod straight, stiffened and his hands curled into fists. He closed his eyes briefly and breathed through his nose, his mind racing. His men would not accept Warsi as their leader; how was he to convince them otherwise? And in one night? "Now," continued the colonel, "let's talk about your assignment." He leaned forward onto his elbows once more. "You've been selected to be our liason to --" Haji leapt to his feet. "No! No, sir. I won't be some courtier's bodyguard, sitting at the palace going soft while my men will be facing death every day! Those ... people ... have no idea what it's like out here, on the border. They're afraid to even send their own sons into harm's way! They're nothing but fat, lazy, old men squabbling over the latest scraps from the Council! No, sir, I won't do it!" Colonel Ahmad found himself on his feet, anger darkening his tan. "Now look here, you pompus, young fool!" he shouted, shaking his fist at Haji. "You'll go where I tell you and you'll like it!" He thundered right over an attempt to interrupt with, "There's plenty others in this city who would give their right eye for an opportunity like this!" "Fine!" Haji screamed right back. "Let them have it! I don't want it!" Colonel Ahmad had to visibly restrain himself from launching himself over the desk and throttling the upstart young officer. Inwardly he cursed both his old bones and the informational grapevine. News of the king's death had spread far and fast, even though the counsel had tried to keep it quiet. Everyone in Arian had then shortly known that the cavalry would be sending someone to represent them at the palace. Idle boasting had turned into fistfights and out and out brawls as each of his officers vied for the spot. All but Haji, even now glaring at him with insubordination written all over his face. He sat. "Sit down, Haji," he growled, placing his hands palm down on the desk and putting a lid on his temper. "I said, sit down!" he snapped when the young man didn't at first move. Both seated, they breathed hard and glared at each other for a minute. "You are going," said Colonel Ahmad. "End of story. No, listen up! This is an important post. We need someone there who, when asked what things are like out here, will tell the truth and not just what the courtiers want to hear. Sure, you'll nominally be assigned to the palace staff, but your real job is to be on hand when the new king is chosen. You are to make yourself an indispensible member of Palace Security and ingratiate yourself with the candidates." The colonel leaned across the desk. "There is no room for failure." He scowled. "You are not the person I wanted for this job ... and, so help me if you fail the trust that is now placed upon you, you will live to regret it. I promise." He reached in his desk and pulled out three rolls of parchment. He set one in front of Haji. "These are your orders. Upon arrival at the palace you will find and report to Sir Miles Gilroy. He will be your commanding officer for the duration of this assignment. To him, you are merely support personnel, there to augment palace security and manage the royal candidates. Speak to no one about your true orders. They will not be written, and, should something go wrong, we will deny everything. Understand?" Haji frowned, beginning to be interested despite himself. "Do you mean I'm a spy?" The boy is quick, Colonel Ahmad reminded himself. He nodded. "In a sense, yes. We, back here in Arian, need to prepare to get on the good side of the new king. We will use your information to do that, so you will be sending reports to me on a regular basis." He handed over the other rolls. "This is your proof of passage into the city and these are your identifiication papers. Keep them on you at all times. If you cannot produce your papers upon demand you will be thrown in prison for questioning. Security will be tight with the coming population surge. However," he added with a sly smile, "your papers also entitle you to certain side benefits, of which use of the palace courier service is one." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of thin hide. "This is the code you will use. Memorize it and burn it. Only I know the code. You will write to your sister in town and I will pick up the letters there." "Okay," said Haji slowly, "I'm a spy. I'll just wile away my time as a homesick soldier boy watching some fat courtier's back, and write tons of letters while using my, ah, charms to persuade the candidates to spend more on the army." "Yes," said the colonel with a nod. "But that's going to fool no one!" "It's your job to see that it does!" snapped the colonel. "Now, you'll be in plain sight, so do not get caught in any scandals, stay out of the courtier's pockets, and mind your tongue! You will be a servant there, and nothing more." Haji had a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. This is insane! he thought. This all sounded like his very own hell on earth. "Sir, with all due respect --" Colonel Ahmad laughed. "Haji, you don't have a respectful bone in your body! But that's a good start. You are going and you will be a diplomat, if it kills you. Word of your arrival has already left. You better go, you've got a lot to do before you leave tomorrow. Good luck." Subdued, Haji stood, saluted, and left. His hand on the latch, Haji stopped when the colonel said: "And, Haji, come back with a medal of commendation for something ridiculously foolhardy and brave to add to your collection ... Or not at all." Haji swallowed. Hard. "Yes, sir." * * * As a member of the cavalry, Haji had three uniforms. The first set was called the Class A uniform, a showy uniform for display only. It had shiny gold buttons, fancy ribbons plastered over the front, gold-threaded epaulets, polished, black boots, the high-collared jacket coat was bright red, the trousers blue with a red stripe down the sides, and white belt and cap. The only reasonably decent thing about it was the ornate scabbard and dress saber. It was thin, but super sharp and he'd saved up two whole months' pay after getting promoted to captain to purchase it a couple years ago. The other two uniforms were almost identical. Both were a non-descript brownish color, with black boots. The Class C uniform was worn in and around Arian on everyday business and training. It was styled similar to the Class As, in that everything was pressed and the boots and buttons were kept polished, and had a more sensible hat. The third uniform had no fancy name and was simply a battle-worn version of the Class Cs. This was the uniform worn while out on patrol and the more weather-beaten and worn, the better. Haji left Arian before dawn, dressed in his Class Cs, with his horse, a remount, and two pack mules. The steward had packed the mules, loading them up with extra uniforms, fancy wine, hardy foodstuffs, and delicate baubles from the city. There was also a small lockbox with money that was stashed away carefully to keep it from jingling. Haji had sighed and fretted over each bundle, wondering just how he was going to pull this off. He dreaded arriving at the palace. One of the things that kept popping up in his head (other than visions of being thrown in prison) was the fact that he'd be in his Class As every day. He arrived at the city surrounding the palace a few weeks later, tired, and in a foul temper. He rode past the long line of folks waiting at the gate and presented his papers to the guards. They had all but fallen over themselves to help him and, much sooner than he had either wanted or anticipated, he'd been whisked through the city, up into the palace proper, and handed over to Sir Miles. He'd hardly drawn a second breath before he'd been duly escorted to his rooms with strict instructions to get settled in and cleaned up as his first charge was due in that very evening. And now, hair still wet from a hasty bath and pulling at the collar of an even more hastily, but fresh-pressed red jacket, Haji eyed the approaching carriage with thinly veiled hostility. He wanted, with all his heart, to flee, as fast and as far as possible, but the city was to him an impenetrable maze. He brushed at imaginary dust on his trousers and braced himself for the worst. Insane One Aldia looked out at the city, fingering a strand of hair. Now she had three more people to look after. She sighed and walked to her desk and finished writing a letter. Folding it up she thought about how to keep taps on these new members of the court. The girl would be easy enough, as they were both ladies of the court. Interacting would be easy and inconspicuous. But what about the men? She picked up a book disguised as a journal (she kept the lock hidden on her at all times) and began to flip through it. "Blane Jackson....sent by his uncle as a servant. Nothing else of significance, perhaps I can have him do some chores to get a good idea of him..." She turned the page and glanced at the more interesting of the newcomers. "Hmn...nothing particularly stands out about this foreigner....Rank Captain, basic education, though his weapon's skills are impressive." She closed her eyes and thought for a moment, "People have been noticing my lack of...interest in courting and marriage...and people might think of a bond betweem us as a way to...unite the countries." She glanced over his profile again. "RIght, that is my plan for Hajari Purushottama...if I can get him to cooperate." She got up and walked out of her room, sliding the note into a small crevice undermeath one of the windows in the hall.'This job is too easy.' She thought as she picked up her own package from a seperate hiding spot and fingered the parcel. Chelsea- out of time The welcome party had been an interesting start to this forced adventure, or so Dana thought. Jersh and Carls followed behind her nipping at her travelling gown as she followed the two military figures into the courtyards. It was awkward as the silence continued, so Dana asked a question."Can Jersh and Carls stay with me?" She sounded desperate and regretted speaking the moment she opened her mouth. The two men who had introduced themselves as Hajari Puru-something or other--a name that immediately made Dana curious--and Miles Gilroy the Captain or whatever--she probably find out about the military things from him--smiled at her. "Unfortunately, the dogs must stay in the pens. You may visit any time, but they are not allowed inside the Palace," Miles said. His official and proper tone irritated Dana. Fine, Dana thought, I'll just stay out with them tonight. Who's going to stop me? ~*~ Dana's horror began later that evening as she sat in her chambers. Her room was enormous. There was no point to the massiveness. She didn't need a study. There was a gargantum library for that. She wasn't aware that she was allowed to take baths every hour for that's what the huge tub suggested. Shaking her head, she fell back onto her bed--a bed that was large enough for Dana, Jersh, Carls, and her horse. This is going to be horrid. She sat up. Unless I have fun with it. Let's see whose life I can interrupt and make more fun. Which Lady of the Court or Lord of the Dance can I turn into Queens and Kings of the muck and mud? She grinned. How else was she to find entertainment in hell? Dragon_Ninja "Well now isnt this a nice place," Blane said as he past through the gate. There was a carriage in front of him and by the way it looked, it must have been a noble's or something.Blane didnt pay attention to it and started thinking about what he could do. This place most likely had an area to pratice with his spear and he was sure there were people to spar. Then again, his uncle didnt send him here to spar and have fun, no, he sent him here so he would get beat for spacing out. Whats so bad about thinking about stuff? "Seriously, its not like Im killing someone," Blane was talking to himself not even noticing the man next to him,"I dont think uncle likes me too much, he probably wants them to kill me...I dont think this place will be much fun..." Blane still didnt not notice the man next to him with a bemused expression on his face. "I should just turn around...go back home before they actually do kill me...or maybe go somewhere else so I dont have to hear that idiots mouth...sending me here just so I get more punishment for thinking. Seriously, who sends someone somewhere just so they......." Jason Simmons Miles cleared his throat at the young man named Blane. Blane looked startled at the interruption of his thinking aloud. Miles simply grinned. This one would be worth the effort of training into a soldier. After all, if word was right, this one was a great spearsman, and there weren't enough of those around."So I hear you're good with a spear," Miles interjected in Blane's train-of-thought. Blane looked at him and smiled. "Maybe I am, or maybe I just like to talk myself into people thinking I am," he responded. "Why don't you show me what you can do," Miles pulled out his scimitar and handed Blane a long-lance, which would act sufficiently for a spear. "Your funeral." *********** After a small spar, which lasted maybe the whole of two minutes, Miles had successfuly taught the new guy that skill alone was not the only thing that drove somebody to being good at something. Though Miles had to admit, Blane was good, just not properly trained. Miles had sent Blane with Haji to be shown the barracks and practice grounds before showing him his quarters. Then, Miles patrolled the grounds. That was where he met up with the young Miss Dana Hunts, who seemed, from Miles' prospective, to be looking for trouble. When she saw Miles, she quickly turned around and tried to get away. Miles simply called out to her. "And just where are you going?" he asked, amusement and concern in his voice. She turned back around to face him, and he got a good look at her face again. She was fair, like most of the Ladies of Court, but she had something they didn't. She had fire in her eyes. A passion matched only by the likes of military and visionaries. So which was she? It was clear she felt embarrassed at being caught when she least expected it, but Miles also saw that she could compensate for any situation. "I was looking for the pens to see my dogs, Jersh and Carls. You do know where that is, don't you?" Her voice gave a hint of challenge to Miles. So Miles decided to accept the challenge. "I do. After all, it was I that took them there. They didn't seem to like anyone else. So I made sure that the penkeeper took care of them. And if didn't, he would have the full force of the military, what military we have, on him." "You said that last part with sadness. About the military, I mean." She had caught him. It was true, with the threat of Kirth hanging over everyone's heads, Miles now wished that the last King had done something about their military standings. After all, they couldn't always rely on their allies. The King pretty much only had the small force that Miles commanded, and that was bodyguard detail. Miles had taking a liking to this one. She was fiery, and she understood the kind of trouble that the military had. She sat down beside Miles and asked him to tell her about the military situation. So he did. KC is a teacher now! Haji stood at the window of the Palace Guard's Headquarters. The main entry consisted of a single desk in front of a solid wood door. All members of the Guard took turns manning this desk where they took requests from members of the gentry and palace staff and controlled acces to the commander, deputy commander, and the private area for the Guard. Past the door behind the desk was a smallish common room, with a few tables and chairs, a fireplace, and entryways into other areas of the complex. Straight back was the corridor leading to the barracks and private dining facilities of the Guard. To the left of that first door was the Commander's office and to the right was the office of the steward, behind which was a locked storage and supply room. The Headquarters faced a section of the palace that looked out onto the training yard and stables. It was practice that Haji watched from Sir Miles' office, but his mind was elsewhere. Sir Miles had appointed Haji as his deputy and over the course of their first week together had, for the most part, turned over those duties he felt suitable for both their temperaments. Sir Miles himself was very personable and preferred to take an active hand in the training of each recruit. He had taken a particular interest in one of their newest, a Blane Jackson. Sir Miles knew the Guard the best and wrote out the weekly work schedules and rotations and assigned each member to the courtier that best suited them. For instance, those who could ride well were often paired with the courtiers that preferred to spend their days out of doors on horseback. Those of the Guard who were well-educated and literate often spent their days indoors at council sessions and there were others who patrolled the halls or spent time at duty at various locations, like the main doors into the council chambers. And then there were a special few who were assigned to the royal candidates, who continued to arrive every day. Each province was sending their very best, some fifty individuals who worked off their stresses in sometimes unique ways. Haji's duties were more mundane. He often worked side-by-side with the steward, making sure all the Guard were kept fed and had fresh clothing and equipment. He reported injuries or illness to Sir Miles and handled more of the day-to-day affairs, except for the morning report to the council, although he often lurked outside the main doors in case Sir Miles needed him for something. And Haji was on the rotation for bodyguard duty, a duty he thoroughly detested and many times did his best to get out of, despite his 'orders' from Colonel Ahmad. "Sir?" Haji started. He'd been considering the punishment of a certain young member of the Guard, caught in, ahem, a scandalous position with his even younger female charge. Luckily, it was members of the Guard who had caught them and thus prevented a larger incident. By all rights, the lad ought to be dismissed, but Haji wanted to weigh all the options before he decided on a course of action that could potentially ruin a person's life. "Captain?" said the soldier, standing awkwardly in the doorway. "There's a Miss Mondaria to see you. Shall I show her in?" Haji blinked, pulling his thoughts back to the present with difficulty. "What does she want?" "She says she has a request and she only wants to speak to you." Sighing, Haji said, "Let her come in." He took a seat at the desk and stared blankly at the letter of reprimand he'd drafted but was reluctant to hand to Sir Miles to sign. The woman who entered moved with a beauty and grace common to all the courtiers, but that somehow grabbed Haji's attention immediately. She was beautiful, but many of the courtiers were. Small jewels flashed on her ears and around her neck and Haji noticed that she had trim but muscular shoulders, a seeming contradiction to her small size and station. But her eyes really commanded his attention. They were strong, purposeful, and full of drive. He stood, faster than he'd intended to, feeling suddenly awkward and on edge. He smacked his knee on the desk and winced. She smiled, an enchanting smile filled with humor and her eyes twinkled. Haji bowed in greeting. "Miss Mondaria, what brings you by on this beautiful afternoon?" She curtsied and handed him a letter. He turned it over and noted the swan signet in the wax seal and, on the other side, his own name, written in his sister's elegant hand. "I somehow received this letter for you by mistake today," she said. He looked back at her questioningly and she blushed, adding, "I suppose I could have just sent a page, but I have been curious about this area of the palace and took the opportunity to explore a little." Haji found his mouth curving into a smile. He said, "Indeed, and how do you find it?" She shrugged, looking around a little. "It is more barren than I am accustomed to, but I dare say it's efficent." Haji chuckled. "Yes, I'd agree with that assessment. Is there ought else I can help you with?" Her mouth turned down a little at the corners, managing to look both embarrassed and angry at the same time, though neither feeling seemed addressed at Haji in particular. Still, he felt uneasy for a moment, feeling the hair at the base of his neck stand up warning him of danger. He tried to shrug off that instinct, but he'd trusted it too often. Something about this situation was wrong, but what? What could be dangerous about this little girl? "Commander Gilroy," Miss Mondaria was saying, "has assigned Lance Corporal Kimmur as my escort during the hunt tomorrow and I must protest." Haji's mind raced. Kimmur was one of their most accomplished horsemen. "Was his performance inadequate?" he asked. Miss Mondaria sniffed, lifting her head a little in disdain. "The man is an uncouth barbarian and I should rather fall from my horse than let him accompany me again." Haji laughed, stopping abruptly as the young woman stiffened in anger and flushed, pressing her lips together tightly. He bowed hastily. "Beg pardon, my lady. Truly, I meant no offense. I will see that another of our fine Guard has the priviledge of escorting you on the morrow." She lifted an imperious eyebrow, but the tension slowly receded. "I would thank you for your courtesy," she replied, and swept from the room. Feeling drained, Haji broke opened his letter as he strode back to the window. It was a short note from his 'sister,' a demand for news. He sighed and slid the letter into his coat. He drummed his fingers on his belt in irritation. Too many things on his mind! Looking down on the training yard, he determined that he would ride with the Miss Mondaria in the morning. He could certainly use the exercise! And a break from the incessant paperwork would be welcome. Smiling a little in anticipation, Haji crossed back over to the desk and noted the necessary changes to the schedule. Then he picked up the letter of reprimand again and studied it. What was he going to recommend to Sir Miles? Hmmm .... Insane One Aldia walked away from the meeting, trying to figure how much of a threat Hajari would be. He seemed to be doing no more than paperwork, but she could tell that he was fit and capable of fighting."I need to work on my skills...just in case...." she muttered to herself. She had grown lazy and hadn't practiced her fighting in a while. If she was going to survive, she would have to be stronger than she was. Thinking about where she could practing in private she walked down to the garden. Deciding that her study at night would be the best option she sat down and fingered the petals of a small blue flower. "I wonder how long I'll be here..." She muttered softly. She was growing tired of the palace and all of the political affairs, at least from the perspective of a lady of the court. But, money was money, and she needed it. She looked up at the sky, "I need to make this a bit more interesting." Closing her eyes a small smirk appeared. "And I know how." Chelsea- out of time It had been an entire week since Dana had been forced to attend Hell's portal to earth. She was absolutely miserable. The only thing she had done that was even remotely interesting was talk to the arrogant military man, Commander Miles Gilroy. He wasn't that bad, but he gave off the air of a man who wouldn't take rejection, competetion, or insubordination, all of which Dana would love to give him, just to watch him get angry. He did have a lot to say. She didn't understand most of it, but one part of their conversation did strike her as odd.~*~ "The weirdest part," he was saying, "is that King Junly was as healthy as the day she was elected. She never really struck me the sort of person who would let a part of her kingdom go unnoticed." He shrugged. "Then why did she?" Dana asked. Commander Gilroy chuckled. "That's a fair question, Miss Hunts, but I can honestly say I know not. She was an amazing woman who lived the job. She lived her live with military discipline, but she showed no interest whatsoever in the actual military." He shook his head. "I didn't understand it then, and I still don't to this day, understand her decision." Dana sighed and stretched her cramping legs. She really hated heels. She'd seen a few woman with slippers. She have to ask around and get some. Seriously, heels? Please. "Commander Gilroy, this is a very complicated situation, and I really don't understand." She felt incompetant, but she really didn't. "You know, you may call me Miles...or Mr. Gilroy if you want." It was an attempt at friendship, but Dana wasn't interested. She was interested only in serving her sentence and leaving this prison. "It's been a pleasure,Commander," She grinned at him, "but I must get to sleep." She bid an affectionate farewell to her dogs and turned away only saying this, "But just remember that they are electing a new King soon. Right?" And she was gone. ~*~ Other than that night, Dana had tried her hardest not to enter the public without a very goo purpose, like visiting the library for instance. She was so upset that she lacked in military strategy that she was reading up on the subject. It was far more interesting than finding out who kissed who at the Water Dance that weekend prior, as many of the other women in the library thought. But regardless of how hard she tried, her efforts were futile now. She glared down at the peice of parchment in her had. You are cordially invited, it read in fine scrolling print, to the pre-election ball a week from tonight. It is a formal occasion, but will not require an escort. "I should hope not," Dana muttered angrily. She knew she wasn't going to have fun getting all decked out just to sit around and watch a bunch of prissy, nose upturned, I'm-prettier-than-you-are, never-been-dirty-in-my-life women dance with a bunch of arrogant, nose upturned, You're-not-worth-my-time, Hate-actual-labor men. She also knew that it would be considered a dishonor not to show up when you'd been given a written invitation. "Great. This should be a ball." Dragon_Ninja "Dang...that lance was heavier than Im used to..." Blane was taling to himself once again,"I wish...whats his name again? Oh yea, Miles Gilroy, or I guess it's Captain Gilroy to me...I wish he let me use my spear." Blane walked to his horse and took his spear from the saddle, it was his pride and joy. He had spent two months making it and another two with the designs on it. It was two feet taller then him, it had two dragons spliting at the middle, heading for the ends and the blades coming like fire from their mouths. Blane went into detail even on every scale on both of the dragons. Even with the unnessecary designs on it, the spear was lighter than the common lance. "Well I guess I should see where Im going to be living from now on...hope its not as bad as what uncle wants it to be..." Blane recalled the stables he lived in at home, "Well it cant be THAT bad...I hope." He headed over to the barracks and could help but see that this place had a strange lack of soldiers. He had heard that the pervious king wasnt to big on military, but he didnt expect even the king's palace to have so few soldiers. Blane went in to settle down when he saw what looked like a training ground. "Great, there's a place where I can do my training this close to where Im living, I think my uncle sent me to a better place...but then again I just got here, better not get my hopes up. I think I'll go train a little before I settle down." Blane dropped his stuff, grabbed his spear and headed for the training ground. "Who knows...this place might be fun" Jason Simmons Miles paced the halls once more. He was worried about the current situation, as always. As Head of the Guard, it was his duty to keep Morthgar safe, and he wasn't doing too good of a job with the threat from Kirth. But he couldn't let that worry him now.The pre-election ball was coming up soon, and it was his job to ensure that it went off without a hitch. Easier said than done, as always. He couldn't stand most of the big to-dos there anyways. The only people there he could stand were his own men. And he was having problems with them, too. That reminded him. He looked down at the parchment that Haji had sent to him. It concerned a certain officer and a certain courtier, and he had to decide what to do with his subordinate. He should just let Haji deal with him the way he wants to, but he knew he had to do it himself. Maybe he should get some rest. After all, he had a long day ahead of him training the new recruits. He knew he had to pay special attention to that Blane guy. Blane was good, no doubts there, and he probably would have lasted a bit longer in the spar had he used his own weapon, but Miles had to train him especially well. Most of the new recruits had some former military or militia training, so they would know the basics. Blane had none, just his own practice. And that wouldn't cut it if it came to war with Kirth. Miles truly hoped the new King would be able to deal with the situation as it needed to be dealt with. He rolled up the parchment and headed to the officer's quarters. It would seem that they would be one man short come time for the pre-election ball. Miles was glad he didn't have to go as an escort. At least he hoped he didn't. KC is a teacher now! That evening after giving his nightly report to Sir Miles, Haji went down to the stables to check on his horse and his equipment. His gelding, Mortimer, thumped his stall with one hoof enthusiastically and the other gelding, his re-mount on the way here, whickered softly in greeting. Haji gave Mortimer a once over, taking care to lift each hoof and feel along each leg. Just thinking about getting out of the palace made him grin like a loon and the horses soon caught his excitement. He fed them both a handful of grain and ran his hand over his saddle. It was military issue and would serve him well. He frowned suddenly. He hadn't practiced his bow skills in a while. Still, as an escort, he was supposed to guard against trouble, and not actually hunt anything himself. Unfor- Hand on the door, Haji was surprised when it opened from the other direction and the girl from the other night stood there, looking as surprised as he felt. Haji had an idea. He bowed. "My apologies, my lady. Please, after you." She stared at him suspiciously. "Thank you, Captain." "I wonder," Haji began hastily, as she turned to go, "I was just on my way in to see the dogs for tomorrow's hunt. Will you be going?" "A hunt?" she echoed, looking surprised that she would even be asked. She cocked her head at him, an instinctive gesture that caused the lamplight to cross her face in a most dazzling fashion. She asked. "Do the women hunt here?" "Well," Haji squirmed a little. "Yes. And no. The women of the palace often ride out on the chase, and a few have been known to bring down the quarry, but not often. It was just, well, seeing you reminded me of your two handsome dogs and they looked like they would be good hunting companions, and so, well, this will be my first hunt out here and I was just looking around to see what would be going out with us ...." She regarded him silently for a moment. "I had not been invited," she said reluctantly. "Well," said Haji after a moment's inspiration. "I am going along as part of the guard ranks, a last-minute change. I could always say that you are my current charge and could not very well leave you by yourself here. Besides," he added quickly, as he saw her eyes narrow in suspicion again, "I will be there for a Miss Mondaria, so surely I will have enough attention for two of you, that is, uh ... Can you hunt - I mean, ride, can you ride?" For a moment, the young woman almost seemed to laugh; she smiled a little, at least. "Yes," she replied simply, "I can ride, but I do not have a horse here." Haji smiled. "That at least I can remedy. Come, let me introduce you to my horses. This," he patted his black and white gelding on the nose, "is my war-horse, Mortimer. Don't let him fool you," he added as the beast tossed his head, "he might act mean sometimes, but he's just a big puppy at heart." Then he rubbed the neck of the liver-spotted appaloosa next to Mortimer. "And this is my other horse, Dutch. He's just as gentle as can be and should be perfect for you. And there is plenty of tack here. I can have him ready for you, it would be no trouble." She gazed back at him silently for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Captain," she chortled, "you are a devious flatterer! You just want to take my dogs!" Haji shifted feet, embarrassed, and blushing like crazy. "Well," he started to say, and then bowed. "My apologies, my lady, I mean no offense, but surely a lady with two fantastic hunting dogs would love to ride on the hunt herself?" "I would love to go, but I brought nothing to wear." Now Haji flushed darker. "As it were, my lady, I know a very good man who happens to be a steward here in the castle. I am sure we can find you the proper attire." Still she hesitated, and Haji fell silent, unsure of himself and his motives. But, truly, guarding two women should not be such a great deal ... and then he recalled his interview with Miss Mondaria. He began to feel a little uneasy. Of all the women in the palace, did he suddenly find himself paired with two falcons instead of pretty but harmless robins? "Very well," said Miss Hunts (and how was that for irony? Haji thought to himself), "I will take you up on your offer. Send your man to me and I will meet you back here in the morning." Haji bowed. "Very well, my lady, the morning then." When he looked up, she was gone. He hung up his jacket, belt, gloves, and beret and pulled on a pair of overalls from the feed room. He had some tack to clean before morning. Tired, but excited, and dressed again in his red jacket, freshly pressed and in boots that shone in the early morning light, Haji held the reins of his two horses and waited for his charges. Unlike most mornings, when the courtiers all slept until mid-morning after late evening revelry, the morning of the hunt all brought them to the palace's main stables before dawn. Haji led his horses among them, just one more face in the hustle and bustle. Miss Mondaria found him first, swishing along in her heavy split skirt and followed by a groom with her horse. The mare was a stunning sight, tall, elegant, with a kindly face, and a shocking deep red in color, with black mane and tail and white socks. She seemed unfazed by the activities, unlike Mortimer, who pranced and bandied about totally unlike the stolid war-horse he really was. "C'mon, Morty!" he hissed at the animal as the gelding tossed his head with enough force to make Haji wonder if he'd just dislocated his shoulder. He made a quick, abbreviated bow to his charge. "Good morning, Miss Mondaria." Her eyes flicked past him to the horses. "Captain," she said evenly, "a fine morning it is. I could see that red coat of yours from across the courtyard. Are you riding with us?" Haji shortened Mortimer's lead rope and nodded. "Yes, my lady, I have been appointed as your escort today." He heard the barking of dogs and hoped that his other charge would be there soon. He added, "It was indeed luck that my charge for the morning is also an accomplished rider (I hope! he thought to himself)." Haji could not read the expression on Miss Mondaria's face. She said, "I see," and fell silent. They stood there awkwardly for several minutes until two dogs flashed up to them, panting with excitement, followed quickly by a much-changed Miss Hunts. In the same type of split riding skirt as Miss Mondaria, and holding gloves, and a crop, she seemed much more confidant than the night before. A man behind her, a servant, held a fine bow and quiver of arrows. Haji bowed to both women. "Miss Mondaria," he began, "may I introduce to you Miss Dana Hunts, my charge this morning and a fine horsewoman. And, Miss Hunts, this is Miss Aldia Mondaria, also my charge this morning." They courtsied to each other, but it was with relief that Haji saw the two women mounted and he could turn his attention to Mortimer. He adjusted his scimitar upon its hook on the saddle and settled his quiver and bow at his back. Mentally, he instructed himself to find time to give the horse a run daily, as his hands were full of the gelding's pent up energy. Finally, the Huntsman gave the signal to the rest of the party to mount up and the trumpets announced the release of the hounds. Today they were after wild boar. Three had been seen somewhat to the north, trampling through a farmer's crops. The boar would make an excellent addition to the feast the following week. And they were off! Insane One Aldia's lips tightened as they rode out. She hadn't wanted the other girl to come, but she had to make do. Perhaos it was better, it was more propper for all three to be together than just her and Hajari alone.She steered her horse around some rocks and sped it up enough to jump over a log, every move as graceful as she looked. She glanced back at the other two, Hajari was moving formally, never using excess energy and kept it strict while the girl, Dana, was all over the place yet in complete control of her dogs and horse. Suddenly the dogs stopped running and sniffed around. "Jersh, Carls? What's wrong?" Dana pulled her horse next to the hounds right before they took off. "Hey!" Dana called after them and followed. Haji looked at Aldia and she sighed in annoyance. This girl was trouble. Without a word they took off to follow her, Haji because he couldn't abandon her and Aldia out of curiosity. They reached a small clearing and it appeared like Dana had fallen off her horse. She was pale and staring at the two dogs, one was growling and the other whimper. "Dana? What is going on?" Hajari dismounted and knelt next to her. "H-he's dead." Dana cried out. "Dead?" Aldia dismounted herself and walked to the dogs, "Oh my..." she covered her face with a hand, "Captain Hajari, you need to look at this." Hajari got up and walked over to the body before stepping back. "N-no..." He suddenly felt sick. The man was the soldier who was caught in the scandel. He looked at the dog Jersh, who was licking his face to try and wake him up. But to no avail, the man had three arrows in him. One in his head, one in his heart, and one in his....Hajari winced. "These arrows..." He looked at one of the arrows that Carls was growling out, "Are Kirshian. That makes sense...." "Excuse me, Captain?" Aldia looked at him, "How do you know?" "They have a distinct look about them. The feathers on the fletching come from a bird that is rare her, but plentiful in Kirsh, and the position is for repentance again since." "H-how can that be repentance?" Dana got up, still shaked but looking a bit better now that they were there. "One for the three pleasures of man. One in the mind, heart, and body." Haji looked at the arrow between the man's legs, "I just hope that was the last arrow." "So they killed this man for a sin?" Aldia kneeled next to the man, "But he's one of our soldiers." "I know...that's what has me so worried, he was confined because of a..situation he had got himself into." Haji paced around, now sick with worry. "I wonder," Aldia covered her mouth with her fan again, "I have heard whispers of a spy in the castle. Nothing major, just overhearing gossip among servants." Haji stiffened, "A-a spy? No! We'd have caught him!" "Then explain this." Aldia looked at him, her face unreadable. Haji felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up again. "I-I can't. Look, I can't leave the body just like this. Miss Aldia? May you take Miss Dana back to the castle and fetch Captain Miles?" Aldia nodded but Dana shook her head, "No! I want some answers! What's going on?" "I'll explain on the way," Alida offered and climbed on her horse. "No. I'm staying here until I know what's going on!" She crossed her arms. Aldia shrugged, "Suit yourself. See you at the castle." And she took off. Chelsea- out of time Dana hated sounding like a whiny courtier, but she was so confused. She knew that Kirsh and Morthgar weren't on the best of terms, but that didn't exactly explain the fact that this man was so brutally murdered. Plus, if he was killed for a sin he commited in the castle, how could Kirsh have known? The ritual was entirely Kirshian. Killing a man for an unforgivable sin was something The Kirshians took very seriously. It was almost as if Kirsh were mocking Morthgar.Ha Ha, Morthgar, you're men can't be trusted.But that would mean... Dana sank to the ground, calling her dogs to her. She ripped her expensive dress up to wipe away to blood from Jersh's face. She didn't want to sound like a fool, but it seemed to Dana that it was suggesting someone in the military was untrue. When she finally calmed her dogs down enough to get back to her feet, Commander Gilroy and Aldia were already there. "This is bad," was all the commander could say. "You think?" Aldia muttered. Dana looked up at the commander. "Uh..." she studdered. "Yes, Miss Hunts?" he was distracted and rightfully so. "Commander..." "Miles." "I think...well, it's a bit symbolic isn't it?" she was trying to find the best way to explain her notion, but it was difficult. "What? Are you trying to be funny, Miss Hunts?" "NO I was just saying..." "because now is not the time." "Fine," Dana was embarrased. She glared at the commander with fiery passion and hoped he felt the heat. Jumping onto the mare she kicked her into a gallop and headed for the palace. See if I ever try to help again. Dragon_Ninja Blane was in the training ground when he looked up and saw someone rushing through the gate."Wasnt she with that hunting party?" He asked no one in particular. It seemed to be something urgent. Not five minutes later he saw Captain Miles rushing out as well. That put Blane deep in thought, maybe they spotted some troops from Kirsh, its common knowlegde that the relation between Kirth and Morthgar isnt the best and a war could start at any time, or maybe that...one guy...whats his name...Haji Puru-something or other, was attacked by something. Blane turned back to the training dummy,"Well for now it has nothing to do with me." Blane was sure, though that whatever happened will probably cause some sort of uproar in the palace. Especially if it had something to do with Kirsh. It might even turn to war. If it came to that Blane was sure he could fight them but it wasnt something he would look forword to doing. The biggest thing he ever killed was a rabbit when he was hunting, he wasnt sure if he could take the life of a human. "Lets just hope that doesnt happen...at least not yet..." Jason Simmons Miles was extremely confused. At he hadn't meant to snap at Miss Hunts. He was just trying to get his thoughts together."I apologize, Miss Hunts," he said."I'm just trying to figure this out. Because of what he did, I relieved him of his post and sent him home. I had recieved a letter just now that he had made it safely back. That's what I'm trying to understand. I did not mean to snap." "I understand," was all she said. Miles knelt down beside the body. He searched for anything that might give him a clue to why a letter was sent to him saying that this man was okay. Because, looking at him, he was definitely not okay. "So, what do we do, Commander?" Haji asked, clearly ready for anything. "Gather what troops we have and make sure they're prepared for anything. And I mean anything. Including war. Keep them alert at all times. I know it may not be wise, but I will send a message to Kirth to see if they know anything of this murder." "Aye, sir." KC is a teacher now! Haji saw that both ladies returned safely to their rooms and then excused himself to the stables for a little relaxation for himself. Silently, he rubbed down the horses, brushed them until they shone, and then scrubbed at the saddles. He'd done quite a lot the evening before, but he didn't want to let his mind think and so busied his hands and body with tasks. The grooms, thankfully, left him alone and he began to relax a little with the undemanding solitude and the comforting sounds of horseflesh. When he could once again see his face in the polish on the saddles, Haji put them away, next to their gleaming bridles and the rest of his tack. He put away the buckets and brushes and cloths and took a broom to the tackroom floor. Then, still without a word to anyone, he pulled off the overalls he'd once again donned, collected his clothes and stopped for a moment at the door to Mortimer's stall, and rested there. The usually capricious animal seemed to sense his mood and blew in his face quietly. From next door, Dutch poked his head out and nudged Haji, his own demand for attention. Haji rubbed their cheeks and patted their necks in affection. They'd been his only company for over three weeks on the journey here. Hmmm, really now, he ought to sit down and write out a letter home. He still had a letter from his 'sister' burning a hole in his pocket that he needed to answer. And something like Corporal Danes' murder would be just the thing to relate. Wasn't likely to remain a secret, that was for sure. He sighed and gave the horses one last rub. "We'll go for a real ride tomorrow," he promised. Haji returned to his rooms first to change into fresh garments. He put away his scimitar and other weapons and put back on the dress sword he wore with his Class As. He grimaced as he pulled back on a freshly pressed red coat, buttoned up the high collar, and adjusted the tie underneath. He set his beret beside him at his desk, and pulled out inkwell and paper. He stared for a moment, unsure of where to begin. When at last he drizzled sand over the final page to help the ink set, several hours had passed and his stomach growled in impatience. He looked at the letter once more: My lovely Anjali, pray forgive your brother his silence, the Palace of the King is an incredible place, always bustling with activities. I have met more people in the space of one day here than possibly my whole life there in Arian. Please give Father my best. My duties here are far removed from what I expected. I now serve as Deputy Commander of the Palace Guard, sworn to protect the palace and all who live there from harm. I report to Commander Miles Gilroy. Sir Miles is a most genteel man and this duty sincerely brings me pleasure. I first did truly wonder if my skills would be of use here but I am concerned no longer. In dread of frightening you, dear sister, I must relate a most shocking incident. A young soldier of the Guard was sent away just yesterday to prevent a scandal from some affairs here at the palace. Today he was found during our morning hunt, punished in the Kirshian way. I know not what to think, for he was not of their ilk, and why placed in such an obscure manner? The old ritual is usually carried out with much fanfare and, well, I shudder to call it celebration, but you know these things as I do. The whole situation is very puzzling and vexing, when I think about such life snuffed out before it has even had a chance to begin. There are more and more people arriving every day and our duties increase by double. After this first week here, about a quarter of the candidates have arrived. They are all from the nearer provinces, of course, and you would be amazed by the customs and manner of dress brought in with these personages, as well as their retinue. Each one among them brings a veritable army of servants and pages and physicians and the like. Just watching one come in is like a grand parade. And each one has very particular ways of needing addressed and has special needs that must be very pain-stakingly addressed. It is my wish, and let me be boxed soundly for my impertinence, but I do not feel that any I have met so far should be found sufficient for as grand a post as they all aspire to achieve. They are all men so far and as pompous a flock of popinjays as ever could be desired among men. And their wives! Spare me their dramatics and hand me some wine, I beg you. I still retain some hope in the coming weeks that I shall find one, at the very least, whom I would be overcome with joy to serve. In these, the middle and further provinces, for surely there must be good, sensible people out there, in the less protected areas and tenuous border lands, I hope for the hope of our kingdom. Someone younger, perhaps as well. The council, however, remains behind closed doors and my wishes remain just that, wishes only. Do they think as do I? I can only wonder. Ever your obediant servant, your brother, Hajari. Nodding in satisfaction, Haji rolled the letter into a tube and sealed it with some wax and his signet ring. He placed the letter inside his jacket and went to hunt down some lunch. He would swing by the headquarters of the Courier Service later on his way to the Guard Headquarters. He and Sir Miles needed to talk about their next steps. How would they find a traitor in this morass of people? Chelsea- out of time 5 days! 5 days of unexplainable hell, and Dana had almost had enough. She had been poked proded, complimented, put down, and thrusted so far out of her comfort zone that she was almost ready to call it quits. All for a stupid ball. That "stupid ball" was the talk of absolutely every person in the palace. No where could she find recluse from the incessive jabber of maidens. It was enough to drive the calmest person mad.The worst part was she had to get fitted for a new style of dress. It was being introduced at the ball. They called them "ball dresses." At first, Dana thought they had no creativity when it came to naming things, but she was set straight when layer after layer was placed over her head and around her hips. By the time the final "coat" was administered she was 15 pounds heavier and looked like a ball. A round, stupid,ugly ball. They packed up the dress and had it delivered to her room assuring her they'd send a servant up to help her dress. Yeah, they'll need too. Another horrible thing was having all kinds of men corner her in the most inoportune places and formally ask if she'd like an escort. Dana was forced to curtly deny them all. She was not some toy for their manly pleasure, even if her dress made her appear as such. She had avoided the commander as best as she could. She didn't really understand why, so she told herself it was only because he made her feel incompetent. That was surely the only reason. Right. She had finally made it to the night of the ball. If she was to say she was excited, she be a liar. It was more a feeling of impending doom. She was glaring at the heels that matched her dress "Oh so elequently," when there was a knock on her door. "Come in." A large woman entered caring a wicked, curved peice a metal they called "the hook." It was needed in the dressing process. "Time to get dressed, Milady." "Call me Dana." She hated that her father had fallen into the position of Duke of Comite, the small county near the Palace. Dana had grown up as a farm hand, and had become a "Lady." The woman nodded, smiling. "I am Gwen. And I'm sorry about the dress." Dana grinned. Finally someone who thought that it was as hideous as she. Gwen open the box with the dress that lay waiting to strangle Dana. Once again, layer after layer was piled onto Dana already supple hips. Pouting, Dana sliped into the final layers. They were the once that everyone actually saw, and she had to admit they were gorgeous. Wondering how she was going to get out of the door, Dana slipped into her heels. To bad I can't just wear the outer layers. She looked up sharply and grinned evil. Suddenly, layer after layer of clothing shot into the air in peices. "Ah. Must better." Her body could breath. She glanced at herself in the mirror. The thinner layers clung to her curves and made her look more like a woman and way less like a ball. She felt as if she were wearing a layered night gown. The shade was deep red while the thread was golden, shimmering when she moved, Now that it can move. The small woman with the needles said it accented her dark hair and eyes, while also showing respect for the royal colors of Red and Gold. "Nicely done, Mil--er--Dana," Gwen said picking up the destroyed material. "Have a good time at the ball." Breathing deep the aroma of victory Dana walked out the door, unescorted, to the ballroom, feeling like she could battle the entire army of Kirth herself. ~*~ Music, candle light, courtier, and nominees filled the ballroom. Most women wore ball dress. The older women however chose a slightly older style of corsetted gowns. Aldia chose to follow their example. She too felt that the ball dresses were far to...bouncy. The married folk gathered at certain areas to discuss married folk things and the courtiers, the singles, mingled with one another, searching for something they, themselves, don't even know. A tall, bald man with an aging face stood on the orchestra's mound holding his glass in the air. When he had the attention of everyone in the room, he said, "Welcome all." It was a simple statement, but it meant quite a bit. There were many different people there, to address them all would have taken hours. "It is time." Yet another simple statement, but everyone shifted in antisipation. "When I call your names, nominees, please take a stand behind me." He held up a short peice of parchment. "From Elevil," His voice echoed off the walls, " Duke Gorthon Welsh." A little old man who looked ready to fall over, ran to the mound all grins. He shook the speakers had enthusiastically before settling down. "From Hydn, Lord Wenter Junst." A regal looking man with graying hair made his way slowly to the mound. Gorthon held out his hand, but Wenter ignored him. "From Dicte, Lord Lonz xaande." A dark skinned man, bald and aging, found himself next Gorthon. He smiled pleasently, but it seemed not much was going on inside his head. "From Lister, Lady Aldia Mondaria." Aldia's head shot up. Her escort, Haji took her elbow and led her to the mound. Aldia stared at the speaker as if he'd grown two heads. What? "And finally, From Comite," Dana looked around for her father. He didn't tell her he was nominated! "Lady Dana Hunts." Dana tripped over her heels and was caught by none other than Miles Gilroy. "That's you Milady," He looked just as shocked as she was. There was laughter from her fall and Dana's face turned a bright red, more out of anger than embarrassment. She took her shoes and broked the heels off over a pillar. Placing them back on she smiled gently at those around her. A few gasps were heard. She walked to the mound with her nose in the air. Ladies whispered about her gown, asking who her tailor was. Good, she thought,for them. They also noticed how she was unescorted and wondered at this for she had an undeniable beauty. "These," the speaker said motioning to the 5, "are our cadidates. Memorize their faces, names, and actions for your vote determines it all." The council men nodded. It had begun. Dragon_Ninja It was a beautiful night, outside the palace. That ball seemed to be kind of lively but Blane never liked those kinds of events. He was glad that he was put on guard duty that night. Standing right outside the gates with one other guard. "Why do we have to guard here, its not like anyone will attack." The guard was complaining, it was obvious he wanted to go to the ball. "Well, you never know. You know, they found that guy killed outside, its almost certain Kirth killed him. The commander said to be ready for anything including war." Blane hated the idea of war more and more. "Why do you want to go to the ball anyway? Those events are to dressy for me. Wearing those restricting outfits, and the women wear dresses that weigh about 30 pounds. I never understood why its considered a good dress if it adds so much weight to someone." The other guard, Gil, looked at Blane like he was crazy. "What are you talking about? If you go to one of those balls you could meet the love of your life. Those ladys of the court are beautiful." "Yea, you may meet the love of your life but most of those ladys your talking about are reserved for people in higher positions then us." Blane didnt even want a courtier, they seemed to be very stuck up. Thats one of the few things he actually despised, stuck up women. Seriously even if you live in a palace doesnt mean you have to---Blane felt a blow on the back of his head. "Hey, we're on duty, this is no time to be spacing out like you always do." Blane rubbed the back of his head, "You dont have to hit so hard you know..." "Are you kidding me? I hit you five times before you woke up." So thats why it hurting so much, Blane thought, I really need to work on that... "Stop spacing out you idiot!" Gil hit him again, harder this time. "I've never seen anyone with such bad focus, its amazing that you haven't done that while we spar." Blane and Gil have sparred every day since Blane came here and met him on the training ground, the day that man was found dead. Blane looked out, "Hey, I see something. It looks like a carriage." Gil looked to, "Its waving the Kirthian flag! This cant be good. Go get the Commander I'll stop it here. Hurry! and dont you dare space out!" "I know!" Blane said as he rushed back to the palace. Jason Simmons Miles watched as the five nominees now stood at the podium. He looked over at Haji, who nodded at him. It was he and Haji who had placed Aldia and Dana's names in the nomination ballot. And why not? After a conversation about each of them, Miles had decided that if there was going to be a good king, it needed to be one of those two.Miles took a good look at the three men who had been nominated. Typical. Truly grotesque men who cared for nothing more than alcohol and women at their every women. It disgusted Miles so that these men could possibly be the next king. But Miles knew better than to say anything. Or do anything. He was startled when the new guy, Blane, quickly approached him and whispered in his ear. "Kirthian carriage is approaching. Gil is standing at the gate to stop them, lest they be warmakers," Blane told him. Miles followed Blane out to the main gate. "They shouldn't be coming to attack. I invited them here to discuss what happened to our young friend in the woods," Miles told him. Blane stared at him wide-eyed. "Can you do that?" "In the absence of a King, the military Commander takes all responsibility for military actions. As the military Commander is myself, then yes, I can." Blane nodded his understanding, and they continued on their way to meet the Kirthian Ambassador. KC is a teacher now! The Ball was a long, slow, loud, torturous affair for Haji. He had to dance, which was probably the one thing he was self-conscious about. Still, being graceful and appearing confident had been beaten into him while at a young age and although he felt strangled by his neck-tie and was sweating nervously, he guided Aldia around the floor like a pro. But he couldn't keep his gaze from flicking around the room, constantly on the alert. All members of the guard were on duty tonight. All the usual positions were filled, plus several dozen around and inside the ball room, along the walls, at every entrance, and patrolling the palace corridors nearest to the ball room. And most of these folks would be pulling double shifts. Haji did not feel lucky about being on Aldia's arm. He was the subject of many, many jealous stares and honestly wished he were somewhere else. Anywhere else! But as Deputy Commander he had to be there. When Sir Miles had told him that he wanted Haji escorting Aldia he'd been dumbfounded. Unfortunately, he'd not been able to argue with Sir Miles' reasoning and so here he was. He hadn't been sure what to do and had felt sure he'd totally bungled the asking, but she'd said yes almost before he'd begun. Luckily someone else had been escorting her that day and he'd been able to get around a couple of corners to lean against a wall and catch his breath. Then he'd gone for a ride to calm his nerves. He couldn't get the corporal's death out of his head. He and Sir Miles had sat down for a long interview with the Kirshian Ambassador following the recovery of the body and the Ambassador had been quite curt. He'd rigidly refused to acknowledge the attack as any more than slander ... until they'd managed to get him to look at the body. At that point, he'd turned a rather sickly shade of green and had demanded that this be kept quiet. Sir Miles had been insulted, but he was a shrewd negotiator and he soon had the Ambassador's word that the man would send home for news. Sir Miles had also made sure that the letter written also had an invite for the Kirshians to send their own investigative team. There were rumors, of course. The boy's death hadn't stayed secret for long, but they'd managed to contain the rumors so far. What would happen when the people found out there were actual Kirshians here? But Haji was interrupted in his thoughts by the start of the formal part of the ceremony. Aldia was totally surprised and for a moment Haji thought she might bolt, but she gathered her skirts and strode purposely up to the platform. Of the fifty or so representatives from the counties, the candidates had been narrowed to five. There was a lot of quiet muttering going on as the Minister of Protocol continued his speech. Haji siddled through the crowd to stand next to Sir Miles. He whispered, "I take it your plan to escort Miss Hunts did not go so well?" The man glared at Haji for a moment, but then grinned. "Yes, well, she had other ideas. Beautiful, is she not? Easy enough to keep a watchful eye on." They both turned at Blaine's urgent whisper. After speaking for a moment, Miles told Haji, "Stay here, keep an eye on things. I'll go and take care of this. I'll fill you in in the morning." Haji sighed. Still, the politics of a ball, and the simple guard duty, was the lesser of the two evils. He didn't know if he wanted to meet any Kirshians anyway. He had met some, on the other end of his sword. This would sort of be like fencing, but with words and the vague threat of political threats, sanctions, trade embargos, that sort of thing. Still, what timing! Haji gradually eased his way to the edge of the crowd and waved to a young soldier on duty along the wall. "Seal off the ballroom," he told the guard. "Only myself or the Commander may pass. When this is all over, we will break up the party into groups. All will be escorted to their quarters. Pass the word." "Yes, sir." The Minister had now progressed in his speech past all the flowery bits about how glad the council all was to see all the prospective candidates and they were all worth, etc and so forth. Now he was saying something about trials and tests. Haji's ears pricked. Tests?! To see which of the five would be most worthy of the throne. The trials were decided upon by the council and there were three, to take place one a week and followed by the vote. In a month's time, the winner would be announced at a formal ball. Another one! thought Haji. And at the ball's conclusion, the new King would select his or her new council (this also caught Haji's attention) and take up the governorship of the kingdom. (Lots of polite clapping, cheering, etc) Now the Minister gestued for his aide to hand him another scroll. "The first test," he declared, opening the scroll, "is the Test of Champions! Five of our greatest warriors will face off against our Candidates in combat." (Now Haji was open-mouthed in surprise) The minister turned partly to face the Candidates. "The first trial will begin tomorrow at noon, over the steeplechase. Lord Junst will be riding first against our first Champion, Deputy Commander Hajari Purushottama!" Oh, crap! thought Haji, as heads turned to stare in his direction. Now the Minister was saying something about obstacles and challenges within the course and Haji was having a hard time staying focused. There would be five different challenges per Test. The first part of the Test of Champions was the steeplechase, a race through the course to see who would finish first. Each of the Candidates was paired randomly with one of the Champions and they would ride against each other through the course. The next part of the trial would take place the next day and would be a test of weapons. (same champions) The next day's trial, the third part of the test, sounded like some kind of footrace. The fourth part was what sounded like a live-action chess match with real people as the tokens, and the last, the fifth day, was a hunt, where all the candidates faced off against each other and the champions to bring down the prey. The Minister of Justice would be the referee for each match, but the council would be watching each trial. There were technically winners and losers, but anyone could still win out in the end. The second test, continued the Minister, was to be the Test of Knowledge, which amounted to several written and oral tests on geography, history, politics, and justice. The fifth part of that test was for each of the candidates to sit in arbitration as the people brought in conflicts or problems for them to solve. They would all be a group again for this part and all would have their say, but the Minister of Justice, who's job this was in the King's absence, would decree the actual resolution. And the last test was one of compassion, and this one brought a lot of whispered mutterings from the candidates, as well as the audience. This one was tricky, and they were all group events involving some kind of labor. First in the palace as lowly laborers, second in the stables, third in the infirmary, fourth as menial labor out in the fields, and lastly, the candidates would live for two days as beggars on the streets. There were two days of rest between each test, but only one day after the last test and before the Ball. That last day, the Council would sit in seclusion and decide. Haji's mouth was dry and his palms were clammy. Cold sweat trickled down his back. This was really complicated! And it started tomorrow! There were four other appointed champions, three from the Guard, and two from amoung the courtiers. Haji and Blaine, the new guy, and another, Sergeant Mikkles, an efficient, if gruff, older man who'd served his entire life in the Guard. Why not Sir Miles? Haji wondered. Is it because the Council doesn't want to be without their Commander of the Guard for a week? Or did Sir Miles stay out of the running on purpose to deal with the Kirshian problem? Geez! What are we going to do with the Kirshians now that courtiers are going to be running around all over the place? The party was beginning to break up, the courtiers being escorted into the formal dining hall for the beginning of the feast. Haji groaned. The hall was full of talk about the Tests. He hurried forward to escort Aldia and also snagged Dana's arm, leading them both in. "Hey!" he said cheerily, though he did not feel merry in the least, "If it's not my two favorite ladies! I'm going to be the envy of every man in the city!" They both gave him some measure of a smile, struggling with their own shock and dismay and honor-bound pleasure at their elevation to candidates and still deep in thought about each of the Tests. Haji escorted them to their places and helped them into their chairs. Then he sat down right between them. He took a quick gulp of wine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Guard taking up their places and was satisfied. He handed his wine glass to a passing servant. He could not afford to get drunk. This would be a long, long, long, long evening. And what did he have to look forward to in the morning? Haji sighed. He'd be writing a lot of letters in the days to come. Insane One Aldia stood frozen for a moment. <i> Who in there right mind would nominate me?</i> she wondered. She stood there or a second, lost thought before she remembered to walk up and stand next to the other nominees. <i> I can't accept the throne, that would be too dangerous for me...though I could probably inform the captain of me being a spy and now being in danger, and I wouldn't have to worry about money anymore....No! I can't just sit on the throne and do nothing. After my life it would seem too dull. But, I have to make an attempt at it, otherwise they would find it odd that I don't seem interested." She left her own train of thought in time to hear the list of trials. The steeple chase wouldn't be too difficult, but she wondered if her horse was up to it. She had mainly trained her horse for speed, but not for obsticles. The occasional jump wasn't a problem, but she didn't know if she could handle different tast with it. Also she didn't trust the other palace horses with something this important. It would be her own horse or forfeit. The weapons test would be difficult. Her specialty was fighting just enough to get away. And unless their oponents were also women, they would have a disadvantage because men's strength gives them an advantage in close ranged combat, and Aldia's small frame was a problem already. Unless they could use long ranged weapons like spears, glaves, or staffs, she would probably loose. The footrace would also be a problem because of her size. Her short legs would mean she couldn't cover as much distance. <i> Curse my height! Or bless it...</i> But maybe her oponent wouldn't be used to racing for endurance, maybe just speed. If she paced herself she might pull it off. She didn't understand the fourth task so she put it aside, deciding to think on it when she learns more about what it is about. The hunt was part luck and part skill, but in her case it would be all luck if she won. She was terrible at using bows, and she was only good at tracking people, not animals. She could tell a dog print from a deer, but that was about it. For the test of knowledge she would have to study, her casual understanding wouldn't work at all. Geography was decent, but history and politics were lacking. And the conflicts to solve...it depended on the conflict. As she listened to the Minister drone on about the final challenged she sighed mentally. This one she would just have to do her best to live with the different groups. Finally, when he got to the part about living with the beggers for two days she straightened a bit and tried to hold back a smirk (Which actually made it look like she was disgusted). It wouldn't be too suspicious if she went missing in those two days. People died in the slums every day. Wether from murder, disease, or starvation. Kidnappings were common...and "kidnapped" is what she will become. She will flee in those two days, and leave Morthgar to itself. Chelsea- out of time The next day, Dana was up and grooming the horse Haji had graciously allowed her to borrow again. The man in the stalls was anxious and constantly offered his assistance. A candidate usually allowed servants to kiss their toes, but grooming the animal was calming for Dana. Dutch tossed his head gently and Dana grinned. The animal had spirit, but was as sweet as a kitten. "You ready for today?" she whispered in his ear as she finished her task. "I know I'm not. I can barely breath." Sighing she led Dutch back to his pen. "I'll be back in a few hours, love." She backed out of the stalls and ran straight into a large body. Please, don't be who I think you are! "Good morning Miss Hunts," an amused Miles said. Dana grimanced and turned around. "Yes it was." She new she had to ask, but it almost pained her to do so. "Look, Commander..." "It's Miles." "I was wondering if you'd," she swallowed and whispered, "help me on my trials. I'm not that handy with weapons. The hunt and the race I think will be fine, but I'm a bit nervous about the fighting. I've only fought with the boys in my village. Well, that was before my father got rich, but still. I only know how to throw a punch and run away, and, well...yeah." She blushed. She really hated opening her mouth sometimes. Miles grinned. It was almost as much fun watching her stutter as it was to watch her walk. "I'd be delighted." She blushed again and looked up at him. She was probably about to thank him, or hurt him, but she whipped her head around, obviously hearing something. Please, don't be my father. She listened harder, only confirming her fears. No! She shoved Miles into a darkened corner and cursed. "I will skin alive whoever invited them." she muttered. Miles, grinning in victory, stepped out from the shadows and greeted the plump bald man. "Hello Duke Hunts. Pleasure. I'm Commander Gilroy, the one who sent the notice." Dana followed, glaring death at him. commander or not, that man is dead. "Daddy!" she cried with false joy. "This is a great surprise." Her father hugged her smartly. "My daughter! A candidate. Who knew? I told you, darling, that she would find herself here." They walked away without even saying hello. "Good to see you too," she muttered to the wall. Miles frowned, but led the two elder folks to their rooms. ~*~ Dana watched anxiously as, one after another, the candidates raced the Champions. it was a scary looking course, but Dana had given herself a practice run with Dutch an hour ago via the Commander's suggestion. Dana was still plotting her revenge over her parent's arrival. She was thinking, murder in his sleep. Her parent's hadn't once spoken to her, but she was fine with it. They seemed enamoured with the Commander which gave Dana a certain feeling of satisfaction. Let him deal with them. Haji looked regal, all decked out in his formal uniform, but Lord Junst barely looked at him. When the Minister suggested a hand shake, Haji bowed and offered his hand. Junst looked at his fingers and nodded, sniffing in disapproval. Haji's face hardened and his grip tightened. Bad mood, stoneman. In the end Haji beat the man by inches, but Dana had a fighting suspicion that he'd meant it to be like that. Aldia showed no expression. She was staring at a rather wicked looking climb and patting her horse's neck. When the signal to go was given, she was off. Winning by a mile, she never lost her grace. It was odd that she dismounted so quickly, but Dana thought she was as shocked as the rest of the spectators. By the end, xaande and Aldia won their match, while Welsh and Junst lost. By the time Dana mounted, clothed in her garbs from home, a simple tunic and trouser(which made many woman gasp in the audience), she was shaking in fear. The commander was at her side pretending to adjust her saddle. "Ride hard. Your Champion is a bit of a stiff old man, but don't take him for granted," he whispered, winked and walked away. Glancing to her side she shook hands with a whited haired man they called Mikkles. "Milady, it's an honor to race you," he bowed and gripped his reigns. His voice was gruff and harsh, but there was a glimmer in is eyes and Dana wondered if he was enjoying this far more than he let on. The signal was given and Dana kicked Dutch forward. He was eager to run, and he jumped into action. The first few hurtles were simpled and Dana found herself in the lead. Suddenly there was a wall where the path once stood. Turning sharply, Dutch slid towards another hurtle barely making it over. Dana had to hand it to the animal. It was hardy. Mikkles was now far ahead of her. She agreed with herself. Just finish the race and be done. Who cares if you loose? She noticed a small trail leading off the main path, and, letting curiousity control her, she followed it. Except for the random branch across the face, it was a far more pleasent trail to follow. In the distance she noticed a very high wall. She tried to pull Dutch away, but she could feel his muscles tensing in anticipation. He was going to jump. He had something to prove, and she was going to let him. Closing her eyes she felt Dutch's feet leave the dusty ground. She almost screamed, but for some reason she could see Commander Gilroy smirking if she did, so she swallowed it. She heard screams from the spectators, and she opened her eyes. She was over Mikkles head. They landed hard, almost throwing Dana out of her seat. Dutch trotted over the finish line and whinnied. It sounded to Dana like a laugh. Dragon_Ninja Blane was suprised when he heard he would be testing this Duke Gorthon Welsh guy, but after he raced and won he figured it would be kind of fun. He had only won by about 2 seconds. Duke Welsh was a good rider. Next would be the weapons test...I hope I get to use my weapon this time Blane thought. He had been training a lot since he came here was only able to use his spear against Gil, who he hasnt seen recently... "Hey!Wake up!" Blane felt the blow on the back of his head. He looked up and saw on of Duke Welsh's personal guards. "The duke wants to see you." Ah, of course. Im probably going to get chewed out for actually winning that race... The guard led Blane inside the palace to a very extravegent room...Blane never understood why rich poeple had to show off with such extravegent things. He saw the duke and made a standing bow. "You wanted to see me, Duke." "Yes, about our race..." I knew it, this guy is mad that I won the race instead of letting him win to increase his chance! "You are a good rider, how about you join my personal guard, since your going to have to serve under me, your future king, anyway. The higher your position the better for you, dont you think?" Welsh smiled. What a cocky fellow "It's not my place to decide, if and when you are king then you can make me your personal guard, but right now only Commander Miles can make that decision." Blane put more weight on the "if" part of the statement. The duke's smile turned into a glare. He caught what Blane did. "The weapons test is next isnt it? They are saying that we are going to be using real weapons, let us hope you have some skill or I might kill you. You may leave." Blane turned without bowing and left."God, I hate cocky people." Saying it just loud enough for the duke to hear but not loud enough for him to understand what he said. Jason Simmons Miles felt himself impressed at Dana's win over Mikkles. And that was alot to say. Miles could barely beat the old cotter. Miles took a glance at Dana's father. He was ecstatic, to say the least. Now Miles was beginning to regret inviting him. Dana strode past Miles on the horse and dismounted. Her father took her into a large embrace and almost squeezed the life out of her. She shot daggers at Miles, and he couldn't help but to smile. It seemed she was a good mood after winning and returned his smile. "Congratulations, Milady," Miles said, bowing. She returned it with a curtsy. "Thank you, Commander, you are too kind." "And a right strapping fellow!" the Duke boomed, grabbing Miles' hand and giving it a ferocious shake. He was beaming. And he almost broke Miles' hand, which was saying a lot, because Miles had a vice-grip. "Thank you, Duke Hunts. Now if you will excuse me. Milady, we have time to practice for the weapons test before you're up." "Alright," she said, almost hesitantly. Miles could tell she was nervous about having to fight. But Miles would teach her everything that she needed to know. KC is a teacher now! The second trial of the Test of Champions brought the whole city to watch in the pavilion. The palace servants had worked all night to set up the tents. These tents would be used again, for the chess matches, and again for arbitration day. Today for the second trial, the spectators came in coats and blankets and the sellers of food made their money with hot foods and steaming drinks. Haji shivered, but he wasn't cold. He stood with the other champions, waiting for his name to be called. The candidates stood on the other side of the make-shift arena, and the Minister of Protocol stood in the center making another speech to the crowd, or, as should be said, making his speech again to the crowd. These were the same words he spoke the night of the ball. He introduced the candidates, introduced the champions, and then called out for the first match to begin. As the minister walked off the arena floor, servants ran forward to hand them their weapons and jerkins and to take their coats. Haji removed his red jacket slowly, his fingers stuck in the fastenings. Oh, the steeplechase had been easy, fun, even. The only hard part had been in holding Mortimer back so they didn't humiliate their opponent. It would have been unwise to humiliate a man who might soon be king. That had been a hard lesson to learn, growing up in the corps, that one did not humiliate one's superiors, no matter how much you wanted to or they deserved it. Haji had ambitions of his own and he didn't want that to include future humiliations for himself. So now the question was, how was he to lose gracefully and without appearing to be throwing the match? The question stuck bitterly in Haji's throat. He hated to lose. Unfortunately, the loser of the steeplechase chose the weapons for this trial, and, as a courtier, Lord Junst was also a gentleman; he chose a gentleman's weapon, a sabre. He wanted to fence. He had age and experience on Haji, which counted more than youthful exuberance in fencing, but, and Haji licked dry lips, when he fenced it was for his life, something he'd trained to do from his very first day in the corps. This was not going to be easy. "So, young man," said Lord Junst jovially as they met in the center of the ring to shake hands. "The weather is perfect for a duel, wouldn't you say?" Unfortunately, Haji was beginning to like the man. He couldn't quite bring himself to smile, but, as they shook hands, Haji said, "Indeed, sir, it is. Keep me on my toes, shall you, sir?" Lord Junst laughed. "Indeed I shall! Good luck to you, lad, you're going to need it!" Oh, pray that be so! Haji thought fervently. They backed up the requisite paces and saluted each other with the sabres. Now the match would begin. Two ministers watched closely, and there was a scribe to annotate points, for this match would be bloodless. The heavily-padded jerkins would absorb any jab by the blunted blades and their ball-tips. These were training weapons, not the real thing. The candidates were not to be injured, and who would want to be, honestly, what with the footrace the next day? Now that, truly, was worrisome, being a run through the city, a veritable obstacle course in and of itself, a steeplechase for humans ... but the run didn't worry Haji as much as this duel did. One could easily outrun an old man like Junst, and was expected to, and that meant losing this duel. Just how was he going to do that? "On guard!" shouted Lord Wenter Junst, Earl of Hydn. Left foot forward, right arm up, Junst advanced and lunged like a blind man with a wooden leg. Haji's heart sank. And this man was supposed to be a great duelist? Who had told him that? and why? There would be no getting out of this one, no losing gracefully. It was humiliate or be humiliated. Haji parried, riposted, parried again, lunged, and almost hit the slow old man by accident. Fencing was supposed to be a ballet, a dance of skill and beauty. The cavalry learned fencing in preparation and practice for dressage, the horse ballet, a coveted position that Haji aspired to. Oh, Mortimer could dance, all the warhorses could, but Haji wanted one of the white stallions. He wanted to train the horses for the exhibitions, to ride a white stallion in the exhibitions. He practiced every extra minute he could find, and Mortimer certainly benefited from the time, in the hopes of showing the old trainers that he could ride, really, really ride. Not all skilled sword dancers were accepted for the white stallions, but it was an important first step, to prove one's dedication, and Haji knew that he could fence with grace and style and beauty. But this ...! Oh, what, what was he to do? "A touch!" cried out one of the judges, holding up a piece of red fabric. The duelists stepped away, Junst breathing heavily, returned to their starting positions. Haji 1, Junst 0. Again they spun into action. Haji felt torn between giving in and really showing his stuff, and of holding back and doing merely the minimum to keep his opponent at bay. He could draw out this match all day, if he so desired, for there was nothing Junst could do that would bring him close enough to even get his foil within an inch of scoring. "Have at you!" cried the old man, lunging forward once more. Haji held him back easily. He parried, feinted, spun to the left and lunged. Whoops! That had been a perfect point in line, he hadn't actually planned on doing that. "Touch!" cried out the judges and the two men again stepped away. Lord Junst was red in the face and blowing. "Good luck is a valuable attribute, Captain," he panted in passing. "I am warming up nicely, you shall not take me by surprise a second time." Haji groaned. How could this man believe himself to be such a skilled fencer? What manner of insanity was this? "Begin!" said a judge, and they advanced towards each other once more. This time Haji went on the offensive from the start. Junst retreated, but neither far nor fast enough and there was a room for a remise, and "Touch!" called by the judges. The two combatants fell apart again. One more point, then, and this humiliating spectacle would be over. Haji raised his arm once more to en guard. Junst's face was red from more than just exertion now. His eyes were blazing with fury. Haji felt sick. "Begin!" cried a judge, and they met, blade against blade once more. With a snarl, Junst charged. Haji stood his ground. He hardly had to move his blade before "Touch!" was called and he stepped back from his opponent. They bowed to each other, for Junst would not deign to shake Haji's hand, and the young soldier handed his sword and jerkin, barely damp, back to the servants. He donned his coat silently, ears closed still to the sounds of the crowd. He returned to the line. Mikkles took one look at his face and said simply, "Bugger, mate, that was a tough call. Wish me better luck, eh?" Haji nodded mechanically, feeling the older man thump him companionably on the back. Across from him, Junst was loudly and still angrily complaining to anyone who would listen. He looked down at his toes, noted that his boots would need little cleaning. He hadn't kicked up much dust on the hard-packed dirt of the ring. In his ears now, Haji could hear Lord Junst now calling him a cheat and he felt his face turn red. Lord Junst had seemed like a nice old man, but if this was the way he accepted loss, well ... Haji's heart hardened a little. He heard the boos of the crowd, but they did not please him. Lord Junst was not proving himself very worthy of the throne and that was very disheartening. He looked up again as the judges called for the next bout to begin. He was, himself, beginning to understand the point of all these tests. The council was not testing the candidates to see if they won or lost - no, the candidates were being tested on how they won or lost. Hmm, devious indeed. He straightened his back and shoulders and stood up straight. He had won, and he meant to keep on winning! Now the next combatants took their places in the ring. Haji felt a renewed spark of interest in the affairs of these courtiers. Perhaps he was, indeed, in the right place at the right time. One of these candidates was worthy of the throne and he, Captain Hajari Purushottama of the Royal Mounted Corps, was hear to see history in the making! And the judges called out, "Begin!" Insane One Aldia tightened the gloves around her hand, mouth dry. This would probably be the most difficult test in this trial for her. She took the glaive she had chosen as the weapon for the duel. I am lucky my oponent isn't that solder Blane. I have heard he is skilled with a spear.Taking a deep breath she walked into the arena and surveyed her opponent. He was the complete opposite of her. Large, slow, but strong. She twirled the glaive once, still trying to get a feel for it's weight. Here goes nothing. The judges called out for the match to start and she immediatly jumped backwards and tried to swirld around her opponent, but the man was smarter than that. He spun around and hit her in the side. She stumbled over as the judges yelled "Touch!" Aldia got up slowly. He had put all his strength in his swing. She looked into his eyes and could tell they were full of anger. Either he was mad at her for beating him in the race, or he didn't think she could take the thrown. She sighed softly and stepped back away from him. She hadn't expected to win, but she hoped she could get at least one touch on him. The next two touches came just as fast and painful as the first. She touched her side tenderly, she would probably get a bruide from this battle. The judhes shouted "Begin!" once more and before Aldia knew it, she had lost. Chelsea- out of time Dana watched, her face beat red in anger, as Aldia lost. She heard whispers, "Women, shouldn't be allowed to fight." "It isn't natural." She clutched the lance in her hands until her knuckles were white. Mikkles had suggested lances. He noblely stated that he was in need of a decent lance duel. According to the Commander, however, even a fool could get a touch with the weapon. It was a difficult weapon to master, yes, but if you swung blindly it was very possible to maim your opponent.Yesterday had been a day of rest for the other candidates, but the commander had other ideas for Dana. ~*~ The morning sun shone over the castle walls. The smell of dew hung heavily on everthing, and Dana yawned loudly. "Do you always rise this early, Commander?" "It's Miles, and yes I do. Earlier actually." He found it rather humorous that she continued to use the formal name given him. It was almost as if it were a game to her. Dana enjoyed using his formal name. She wanted to put some kind of barrier between them. She wasn't exactly sure why. She looked up to see a giant stick being thrown at her. She caught it barely and staggered. "What's this?" "Your weapon. It is easier to learn defense with a lance." That was an out and out lie. Sergeant Mikkles had approached him after the steeple race. He'd wanted to make sure that the "little lady" was properly taken care of. "She looks a bit shaken up. I don't think she planned that jump. A right fine lady." He had told Miles his choice of weapon. Apparently, the man wanted to to have a chance. Hours later, Dana was sweating and in the dirt. She'd had more fun that morning than any other spent in the palace. She was dirty for the first time in weeks. It was fantastic. Miles looked down at her lying in the dirt. "I think you've learned all you can today." He held out his hand to help her up. Grinning, Dana took in and threw to the ground as she stood. "Thanks, Commander," she said still grinning, but now he was on the ground. "I appreciate your help." Later that day, Dana was helping her new found friend Glen dust the large tapestries adorning the halls surrounding her room when she over heard voices. "I don't care if you have to murder another one, just get me that win!" Peering around the corner she noticed Lord Welsh. He was clutching the tunic of a man dressed in military attire. She fled to her room, wondering what she would do. ~*~ Dana glanced over at the Haji. He had been trying to hold back, she could tell. Lord Junst wasn't taking it so well. What was the big deal? It wasn't like they were judging on your wins. Were they? Her father came to her side and patted her shoulder. "Sorry dear, but we won't be spending supper with you tonight. I'm afraid that nice man Lord Welsh has invited us to sup with him and his lovely wife." He walked away without hearing Dana's reply. Which was just as well. Turning quickly to the Commander, she gasped. "You don't think?" He patted her shoulder, "Don't worry, Milady. I've posted men everywhere. Nothing will happen to your father.Now go fight!" He pushed her forward and before she knew what was happening... "Begin." She blocked a blow and jumped out of the way. Already she was fearing an immediate failure. Blow after blow she blocked and jumped. It was the only defense she had. For an old man, Mikkles was quick. "Touch!" Damn. Again they went at each other. It was a cold day, but already Dana was sweating. Two more touches and she was breathing rather heavily. Not out of exhaustion, but embarassment. It wasn't easy to lose so quickly. Block, jump, block jump. What was that? An opening? She took it without thinking. "Touch!" Another touch and she was out, but she grinnned. She'd proven that she could defend herself and she was immensely pleased. "Well done, Milady," Sergeant Mikkles said, holding out his hand. Dana took it pulling the old man towards her and kissing his cheek. "She whispered into his ear, "Thank you." The old man blushed and walked away. Dragon_Ninja Blane fight would be the last of that day, so only one more fight and he was up. It seemed that none of the canidates so far really knew how to fight. That Dana Hunts person can defend herself...for the most part. But the other two dont seem to be very good with weapons-- Blane felt the blow on the back of his head again. Turned and saw the same guard of Welsh's. "What is it this time? It should be obvious that I dont like your Duke." "Im only here with a warning, the Duke plans to kill you in your fight with him. I suggest you either forfit or go and beg his mercy. They may be only allowing blunt weapons in there but a sharpened one can easily slip by unnoticed." "You tell him, if he kills me Im going to take him with me, although a weapon is blunt it can still kill." The guard glared at Blane and turned, "Once Lord Welsh is king, your gonig to wish you had begged his mercy." "If he becomes king." The guard glared once again and left. Jason Simmons Miles had overheard the conversation between Blane and one of Lord Welsh's guards. He didn't like it. That pompous, arrogant fool. Miles will be glad to see when that egghead learns he will not be King. Then Miles will be allowed to put him in his place.He walked over to Blane and put a hand on his shoulder. Blane, always off in lala land, jumped at the sudden movement. He turned around. He quickly regained himself and saluted. "At ease," Miles told him. Blane relaxed a bit, but not much. "I hope you're ready. And, if I may make a suggestion, try not to kill him. But I do want you to do everything short of murder to put him in his place. He should know better than to threaten the life of one of my men." Blane grinned, clearly pleased that he wouldn't have to hold back much. He left, feeling confidant. Hopefully, not too confidant, Miles thought. His thoughts were interrupted by Dana's arrival. KC is a teacher now! Haji applauded politely with the rest when the two ladies lost, but he was also smiling. They had both done so well! Apparently, the ministers thought the same, for he could catch snatches of the conversation, where they had stuck their heads together along one end of the ring. But then the judges called for Blane and Duke Welsh, and they donned their padded jerkins silently and gathered their staves. Well, they looked like staves, but they were really too thin, more like spears without the, well, the spear-part. And Duke Welsh wasn't liking that, apparently. The ministers had their heads together again, glancing sideways at the scene. The duke cast an angry look their way and shut his mouth. Haji looked at Mikkles. "That's not good," he whispered to the other man. "Aye, you have that right," said Mikkles in a low voice. "That duke was out for blood. Sure hope the boy keeps his wits about him." "Spears are his specialty," Haji replied. He grinned. "Spears ...? Aye, right you are, sir. Look! Blane's got the feel of it now." "Begin!" said the judges, and C-R-A-C-K! the two poles smashed against each other. Blane fought totally on the defensive for straight on twenty minutes. He blocked blows to the head and the legs; he kept his fingers from being smashed; he also deftly dodged spear thrusts that, even through the padding, could have broken ribs; and he smiled the whole time. "What stamina!" said Mikkles in a low voice. "Wait, wait," hissed Haji. He pointed. "Here it comes." Sweat now poured from the duke and his attacks came slower. Blane ducked under his guard and ... "Touch!" shouted the judges. Duke Welsh, sitting in the dirt where Blane's blow had knocked him, scowled. He staggered to his feet and back to the starting position. When they started again, he again attacked, but this time for maybe only ten minutes before again he tired and again Blane set him back in the dirt. And then again they fought. Again the duke hit his backside in the dirt. Haji and Mikkles were laughing now, along with the majority of the crowd. "... No strategy ... none at all," were fragments overheard by the ministers, back together again, whispering to each other, and shaking their heads in disappointment. Haji laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes. When at last Blane was declared the winner, both he and Mikkles congratulated the boy heartily. "Well done, lad, well done!" said Mikkles, thumping him on the back. "Indeed, that was quite the exhibition!" said Haji. "You should be very proud, especially," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "in not retaliating and keeping your head, when he so desparately tried to take it off!" They backed away then and quietened, for the Minister of Protocol was back, speaking to the crowd and describing the next trial, the footrace. This was to be a race both starting and ending in the pavilion. He said the path would be marked by red paint, painted during the night, and would cover 5 km (about 3 miles) through the city. The runners would start at the pavilion, run up the main entryway to the city, up the stairs to the wall, along the wall about halfway around, down to market street and across the bridge to the palace, then through the gardens, back across the bridge into the city, up more steps back to the wall, and then finally, down the steps and out the main gates and back to the pavilion. Ministers (the judges) would be placed along the route to oversee the trial. The runners would start in pairs several minutes apart. The first pair, Haji and Lord Junst, would start first, followed by Aldia and her Champion a few minutes later, and so forth until all had started. Spectators were allowed along the route, to cheer, to jeer, and to challenge. Ah, thought Haji, here's the trick to it. Of course, this wouldn't be a simple race. The runners would be challenged by the people of the city. While the obstacles would not be announced, they could range from greasing of the steps, to lines laid across the route to trip, to throwing stones. The ministers would oversee all to make sure that no one got overzealous. The runners were not allowed to carry any weapons or make any contact with the crowd. If they did, they would immediately forfeit the race. And with that, the candidates and champions were dismissed. The footrace would start midmorning the following day. Haji looked at Mikkles. The grizzled old sergeant shook his head. "That doesna sound good to me," he said. "I agree," nodded Haji. "There's too much bend in those rules. Watch your back, old man, and you, too, Blane." Mikkles laughed, as gruff as ever. "You be careful, yourself, young hotshot. Your candidate - and yours," he glanced significantly at Blane, "will not have taken his loss gracefully. They both have the influence to make things very hard for you." "And I'm first," Haji added softly. * * * The next day, on his way outside, Haji ran into Aldia and Dana, being escorted by their guard (all the candidates were now escorted at all times) to the pavilion. He bowed to them both in greeting. "Good morning, Miss Mondaria, Miss Hunts. You are looking entirely sensible today." Aldia sniffed, while Dana blushed and Haji laughed. He himself wore only his trousers and a loose shirt he intended to take off shortly before the race. He felt a little odd, not having his cap, and the stones were cold under his bare feet, but he didn't want his uniform to hold him back, and his polished riding boots would have no grip on the cobblestones. "Good luck to you both," he said, bowing again, and let them be. Together, they made their way to the pavilion and separated into their groups. Haji walked around a little and stretched, he was very nervous; he had written another letter home, dropped it off with the courier service the night before, and was seriously beginning to wonder what Lord Junst had done with his free time. Again the minister explained the rules, this time pointing to the red line along the start. He called for the first two runners, and Haji and Lord Junst stepped up to the start. There were no kind words between them today. "Ready ... GO!" Haji took off, but stayed close to his opponent. They pounded up to the gates together, but there was indeed grease on the first stair, and Lord Junst fell behind, slipping and sliding. Haji slowed his pace and took the stairs cautiously, sticking to the edge, barely on the stones until he was at the top and could wipe his feet on the stones, to one side, so others wouldn't slip in his mess. He did not spend too much time at it, knowing that dirt would soon glom onto the remaining grease and give him better traction. He ran along the wall swiftly but steadily, jumping and dodging and picking up his feet over the scattered poles along the route. He blocked out the sounds of the people cheering, and he kept his eyes to the road ahead, trying to concentrate and ignore the waving and the huge numbers of people along the way. They threw things, which he ignored, or dodged when they were large enough, but for the most part, he did not bother too much with them. Then he was to the stairs down, wrinkling his nose, for these were covered in hay and manure and again he had to pick his way carefully so as to not slide in the manure or miss a step hidden in the hay. At the bottom, he wended his way through the carts along market street and dashed on towards the bridge .. and found the entryway blocked. The minister pointed and he looked down. The red line turned to the left, down around the side, and under the main bridge. At the bottom, another minister stood by what looked to be flimsy planks tied together and leading across the moat. Haji considered this for a moment and then, shrugging, he set off across. He had to go slowly to maintain his balance, for the planks pitched and rolled beneath his feet precariously, but he managed it and, looking back, saw Junst on the other side, beginning to cross. Haji ran faster, down to the palace gardens and starting around. He slowed a moment, listening. Dogs! They'd let the dogs loose! He knew he could be smelled miles away and so he picked up his pace again. The gardens seemed empty, but for the baying of the hounds and in no time they were right on his heels. Haji ran faster. He had no talent for dogs, and so he knew that the only way he was getting though this was to outrun them and so he ran, hearing them right behind him, practically nipping at his heels. Gasping for breath now, Haji saw the gate at the far end and threw himself over it, laying, panting, on the other side for a few minutes. The dogs howled and whined for a minute, digging at the gate, but they soon took off, presumably after someone else. Haji let himself wheeze for a few more minutes before hauling himself to his feet and running again. This time he was allowed to cross the bridge and then it was up another street of the city, being pelted by rotten fruit and vegetables, and to the next set of stairs. These were slick with what looked like water, but freezing cold and Haji slipped. He fell to his knees, sliding down the few steps he'd gone up. "Ice!" he panted, wondering where and how this had been managed. He studied it for a moment, and then looked around. The blocks had been stored in straw and the remains were still scattered nearby. Haji quickly tied some straw to his feet and started up again, this time grasping the wall for support. At the top, the stair turned as it opened onto the wall and Haji took the time to rid himself of the last of the straw and bindings. Then he was out onto the wall, with some fancy footwork for the ropes laid ankle-high across the path, and running for the end. He started down the last set of stairs at a full run. He knew that was a mistake on the first step as he felt the first pains, but he was moving too fast to stop. The jagged rocks, hidden from sight at the top of the stairs, bit into his feet like daggers. He tried to leap the next steps down, but misjudged or slipped or something, but ended up catching only his heel on the step and fell, onto his left shoulder and rolling, down to the foot of the stair. The minister wouldn't allow help, although the crowd had fallen silent, and Haji struggled to continue breathing, and to open his eyes. The ground spun when at last he managed to sit up and he waited for a moment. Then, wincing at what he was about to do, Haji grabbed one of the tiny but incredibly sharp rocks out of his foot and slashed at his trousers. He ripped his trousers to the knee, picked off the stones one by one, and wrapped the make-shift bandages around his feet. He could hear someone else coming along the wall, presumed it was Junst, and staggered to his feet. Only a little further to go. Haji took a deep breath and then set off running again, pushing his body's agony to the back of his mind. Once out of the city, the ground was all dirt, softer and easier on his feet. He reached the finish line and collapsed, wheezing, to the ground. "That ... sucked!" he managed to say, and then passed out. Insane One Aldia looked at her opponent, sizing him up. He was unpredictable, and a threat to her. Winning the race didn't matter to her, just staying away from him and any harm he might try to inflict upon her.She looked back at the course, feeling her scant breakfast coming up. Relax...it's just a small race. Just make it through. You don't want the throne anyways. "Go!" The man yelled and they took off. Aldia tried staying behind her opponent but he seemed determined to stick close to her. They passed the gate, Aldia still trying to keep away from the much larger oponent. When they reached the grease covered stairs Aldia ducked low and and started slowly started climbing. Ignore him for now. Just keep climbing. She was near the top when she felt something grab her ankle. She looked down at her oponent who smirked and pulled her down. Chelsea- out of time It was almost impossible for Dana to keep her eyes on nothing but the race. There seemed to be so much going on around her. It was as if the entire world came to see her fail miserably. She slipped on the first set of stairs, tripped over the logs, and she fell when hit by a rotten cabbage. It was enough to make her want to cry, but through it all Mikkles was just a few yards ahead of her. He was pacing himself she knew, but for what she had no idea. Then she heard howling. Dogs! She could handle dogs. They always seemed to like her. When she came into the clearing, Mikkles seemed to be fairing horribly. The dogs were nipping his heels and one almost tripped him. Looking down, she saw Jersh and Carls panting at her side. She patted their heads. They were by far the biggest dogs of the bunch, and they would protect Dana with their lives. Suddenly, Mikkles went down. She ran to him, but their were too many dogs in the pile to see him. She heard him grunt in pain. Whistling as loud as she could, she began kicking at any dog she could see. They finally left him, lying bloody but alive on the ground. She offered him her hand, and, when he took it, dragged him to his feet. "Thank you Milady," His rough voice spoke in gasps. "Don't mention it. Now let's finish this bloody race." They both took off again, Dana staying by Mikkles side to insure his health didn't fail. Over the wall and bridge they went. The ice stairs were rather difficult for Dana as she only wore slippers, but she made it no worse for the wear. Mikkles grabbed Dana's hand as she started for the last set of stairs. "Careful, Milady." She under where her foot hovered and gulped as she saw the jagged rocks. Inch by inch, they made their way up the stairs and through the dirt to the finish line. They crossed together and shook hands. Then, insisting that he rest, Dana led Mikkles to a chair and called for servants to see to his wounds. She knew she had lost and she felt horrible about it, but what was she suppose to do? Let the dogs eat him? Surely not. She noticed that Haji had suffered far more, and felt a pang of pity for him. Apparently, Aldia's champion had been disqualified for misconduct. He had enlisted the help of a local to try to behead Aldia as she ran by. It didn't work of course. Alida's reflexes were to sharp. Thus, she won by default. But, feeling that she had too, she finished the race as intended. Dana watched as Haji was carried and Mikkles was led into the palace. They had suffered serious injuries. Dana was glad she hadn't been hurt, but she felt a sense of guilt that they had. Her legs were shaking. She realized she hadn't eaten in quite a while. "Shall I lead you in Milady?" the Commander said grinning. Dana nodded. Over her shoulder, she heard signs of trouble. From the bits and peices of information she'd gathered, Welsh had tried to kill that soldier, Blane. What a nasty man! That reminded Dana, "My father!" The Commander patted her arm, "He's fine. Just like a promised. You doubted me, Milady?" Dana flushed, "Call me Dana." Dragon_Ninja Blane was getting very tired of this duke, always telling him to beg his mercy or he would die real soon.Blane was never good at races since he usually spaced out while he ran long distances. He slipped on those greased steps falling into Welsh and tumbling back to the bottom. The duke, in his fury, pulled a knife and tried to stab Blane in the chest. He barly managed to block it and roll away, and for some strange reason the minister didnt notice it. Blane gave the crowd quite the laugh when they started throwing stuff at him. In his own world, he just took the hits not even noticing the turn until he ran strait into a wall. Next was the wall climb, which he didnt notice, again, until he slamed into it. Welsh wasnt far behind when Blane stopped at the wall and once again pulled his knife trying to kill Blane as he was dazed from hitting the wall. Being blessed with a very hard head Blane was able to recover quickly and dodge again. Once again the minister mysteriously didnt notice. He came up to the iced steps. Blane slipped on the first step, he wasnt able to recover fast enough to aviod the knife stike completly. He got a very deep slash on his side. Blane looked and saw the minister looking away as if something else had his attention. Damn it, this cocky bastard thinks he can do this and I wont do anything back? The duke got up thinking Blane wouldnt move after a slash like that and started carfully up the stairs. Blane rolled over and grabbed the Duke's ankle and pulled him down. Wincing at the pain that shot up from his side he threw the duke to the ground and started up the stairs as fast has he could, losing more and more blood with each step. Blane reached the last set of stairs and didnt notice the jagged rocks until he got his right foot slashed, he trapped and fell down getting more cuts all over his body. He fell to the bottom of the steps and his body wouldnt move. His strenth had failed him, he couldnt move anymore. He rolled over and looked at the sky, his breth was getting short, pain was shotting up and down his whole body. He closed his eyes. "You should have begged my mercy." Blane opened his eyes and saw the duke standing over him, a smile on his face and a look of victory in his eyes. "I doubt you will live much longer without some help, Im still will to grant you my mercy if you beg for it." The duke smile got wider. "Me die from something like this?" Blane was trying real hard to sound like he wasnt in the most pain he had ever been in since he was born."I've had worse from my uncle." The dukes smile faded, only for a second, "Well Ive got a race to win, I'll let you wallow in your blood for a while." As the duke left he kicked Blane in the side, hard. Blane suppresed a scream that was begging to come out. He had never felt this much pain before. When the duke was out of sight Blane tried to move again, but nothing would move, any attempt he made was rewarded with a fresh wave of pain. To make matters worse, his race was the last so no other racers would come and the ministers go strait back to the palace after the last racers past. Then, suddenly all the pain was gone, Blane started feeling tired, no, exhausted. He wanted to go to sleep. He stopped looking around and looked at the sky, it was going to rain soon. Blane smiled, he always liked the rain, but right now his was sleepy. He slowly closed his eyes, faintly hearing someone's voice, but he didnt care right now, he was to tired. Jason Simmons Miles had went back to the race after ensuring that Dana was comfortable. He noticed that Lord Welsh was coming towards the finish line, while Blane was nowhere to be seen. Blane was better than that, even when spaced out, Miles knew. Something was wrong.Miles ran past the Duke, who gave him an evil sneer. After jogging a few yards, he spotted Blane's unconscious body lying on the ground. He had a nasty wound in his side from what he guessed to be a knife. Miles hurried over to him and quickly called the field medics. As the medics carried Blane away to treat his wound, Miles found the knife that had cut into Blane. It had Duke Welsh's insignia on it. And, furthermore, it was known to be Welsh's personal dagger. Now Miles was angry. He returned to the finish line, where he saw Welsh celebrating. Welsh would not be celebrating long. Miles walked up straight behind him and tapped on his shoulder. When the Duke turned around, he gave him a mouthful of fist. The Duke went down, sprawling. Two of his teeth had fallen out and he was bleeding. His personal guards advanced towards Miles with swords drawn. About five of them. Miles drew his scimitar and noted with pleasure that what men he had out here had already surrounded the guards. Welsh got up panting, and the ministers hurried over to make sure he was alright, while looking at Miles with daggers. "Commander, explain yourself this instant," the Head Minister said. Miles merely looked at him and handed him the knife. The Head Minister had not been on the field during the race. "You had better get better ministers to judge this competition, or some of our nominees will have their way out there. Like today. Getting paid off to ignore certain things is not what we elected the ministers for. You would do well to ensure that this doesn't happen again." "What makes you think you can attack me and get away with it?" Welsh exclaimed through a bloddied mouth. Miles gave him the coldest stare in the world. "Because, in the absence of a King, I am Commander-in-Chief of every armed man and woman residing in this palace. And I will not have any of them harmed under my watch without consequence to those who would do them harm. I am superceding the Minister's authority to postpone the competition until all are healed of their wounds." "Aren't you going to do something about this, Minister?" Welsh asked. The Minister simply shook his head. "Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I can't. The Commander had superceded my authority. He is now in charge of the competition. We will not start up again until he says so." And with that, the crowd left, and everyone went to their own dwellings. Miles went to see how Blane was doing. Aldia, Dana, and Haji were already there. KC is a teacher now! Haji felt someone gently slapping his cheeks and heard his name being called. He groaned and cranked his eyes open. His head felt like it was going to split open at any moment, his legs ached, his back hurt, his shoulder was on fire, and his feet, his feet were a mass of agony. He twitched. "Easy, easy now," said a gentle voice. Haji turned his head. One of the palace medicos knelt beside him, cool cloth in one hand, her other patting his cheek. "Are you back with us now, Captain?" she asked. "Ye-es," he croaked. "He'll be all right," the medico said, looking up at someone out of Haji's sight. "He's just dazed." She looked back at him. "Did you fall? Hey, stay with me now. Fall, Captain, did you fall somewhere? Hey! Look at me ... Did anyone see what happened?" "Please, ma'am," piped up a young voice as its owner, a small boy of about nine or ten, trotted up. "He fell on the rock stair. He couldn't immediately stand up again." The medico frowned. "And what do you know about it?" "I saw him, followed him here." She patted Haji's face again to get his attention. "There, now, you'll need to tell me where it hurts. Here?" (the ribs, yes) "Here?" (merde! that was his shoulder, yes, yes, quit poking at it!) "And here?" (ulp! well, it wasn't before, but it is now) "And your feet I can see. Very well," and she now turned to address others. "You and you," she said, pointing to two of her helpers, "take him down to the infirmary house and tell Madam that he's banged up his head, likely dislocated his shoulder too, strained his back, and his feet will need tending. The rest she can see. Go on now!" The medicos bundled Haji onto a stretcher and he gratefully let his eyes slide shut again. Then, as shock dumped ice into his system, they flew open again and he struggled into a partially upright position. Junst! That bastard, what was he doing there? He'd never passed him, of that Haji was sure, had he been asleep so long? Could that old man have beaten him? Not possible, not -- "Wait! Wait!" he said, louder the second time. "I want to stay and see who finishes!" The medico pushed him back down. "Don't be a fool!" she snapped. "Do you want the blood on your feet to dry before those, uh, bandages come off? Do you?" Haji's vision was swimming again and he just felt too tired to argue. "Take him," said the medico, "the other one can walk." The jostling caused Haji to black out again; unfortunately, the pain of re-setting his shoulder brought him right back out. Not that he'd never dislocated a shoulder before (there had been that well-remembered wrestling bout when he was sixteen), but that was a younger Haji that hadn't also just wrenched his back. He lay on his stomach, eyes glazed over and panting, while they cleaned the superficial cuts and scrapes from the fall, but when they started on his feet, he couldn't stand it! "Hold him down!" shouted someone angrily. "I said, hold him down!" Instantly, weight landed across his legs and the back of this shoulders and Haji found himself weeping, much to his own chagrin and embarassment. His good right arm clutched the edge of the table where he lay, until his fingers bled from the grip. All he could feel was the itchy-burning-like-hell-fire-flaming agony that used to be his feet. He ground his teeth and eyes together while they poured what felt like acid on the bottoms of his feet and pulled off what felt like layer-upon-layer-upon-layer of skin. He shivered from the sweat that broke out across his body and he felt like puking, only couldn't, and wished, desperately, that he'd never come to the palace in the first place. He was mostly out of it when they flipped him over to clean up the rest of him and to stitch up the rather large gash along one temple and pick out the rocks embedded in his hands. He moved to an actual bed then, placed again on his stomach, and wrapped with enough bandages he could hardly breathe, to protect his ribs, he sorta remembered being told. They laid a sheet and blanket over him, for he was shivering for real now, but he also became aware of someone screaming close by. Then Mikkles crouched down in his filed of view, three of him, and so Haji blinked rapidly to focus, but gave up after a while and closed his eyes again. "How you doin', sir? Okee now?" He didn't wait for a response. "You shoulda jus' lie quiet now, yoo'll be fine. Don' worry, thas Blane, he did was found, heel be okay. The comman'ner sure was furious, you shoulda seen. Canna say I blame him, though, with all that gunnin' on. Lady Aldia, nows, I think as onny one not hurt, nasty that, eh?" "H-h-how, d-did it en-nd?" Haji managed through chattering teeth. He didn't see Mikkles frown, but could hear a change in the man's tone. "Wahl, you an' Lord Yunst ye know, Dana and mesself commin' in together. Ye canna tell, but me's numb on brandy jus' now, got sum dog bit me to pieces back there, coulda been worse, though, I's s'pose. Lord Lonz looks like busted his arm, lost to th' Baron, both them went swimmin' an' th' Baron lost some skin on th' ice. Lessee, the young heir to the Viscount got hisself disqualified fer tryin' to off th' Lady 'Dia, and um our young feller Blane got knocked up pretty bad, ons acount of him bein' that th' Comman'ner be so mad." "M-my r-race," chattered Haji, "wh-who w-on?" Mikkles' voice seemed odd (or was it his ears making things up?), and there was a short pause before he replied, "Th' Lor' a curse, didn' ya see 'im, sahr?" "You!" said a loud voice that made Haji's head throb. "What are you doing? Get back to bed this instant!" There was a brief scuffle and then Mikkles was gone, hauled away by the medicos. Haji shivered, glad that the screaming had stopped, but cold, so cold. He got dizzy when he opened his eyes, so he kept them closed and his head hurt worse than a bad hangover and all the noise made his ears feel numb. He startled at the hand on his shoulder through the blankets. "Haji?" that was the commander's voice. "Haji, are you - geez, man, you're shivering -- Get some blankets over here!" Quieter now, "Haji, can you hear me?" "Y-yes. I'm so-sorr-ry." "No, no, nothing to be sorry for, Haji, the competition's on hold, you take all the time you need to get better. Hear me? You're going to be fine. Blane's hurt, and Mikkles, but they'll both be fine." Haji felt the additional weight of blankets although he still shivered. "Th-thank y-you, si-sir." "Don't worry about a thing. Do you need anything? Food? Something to drink?" Haji blinked and squinted at Sir Miles, but couldn't bring him into focus and closed his eyes again. "N-no, th-than-nks, s-sir. B-but Mor-mor-ort-mer, I ...." "Captain, there you are!" Two more people crouched down into Haji's swimming field of view. He flinched; their voices were so loud. They were two ladies, though they didn't look much like ladies at the moment. "H-hi," he whispered. "Could hardly recognize you from the back," joked Dana softly, patting him gently. "Mort-mer," he managed to say, "L-lady, w-would you?" Aldia and Dana exchanged glances. "Of course we'll check in on him for you," said Aldia. "He'll be fine," Dana added. "Now, now," that same medico was back, Haji could tell from her exasperated tone. "These gentlemen need rest, let's be off now." Sir Miles squeezed the couple of Haji's fingers now swaddled up in bandages, the two ladies kissed him (he would have blushed madly if he wasn't semi-conscious), and then they were gone, leaving only the medics and the not particularly soothing sounds of the palace infirmary. He couldn't move, only shiver, and sweat, and pray for the days to pass quickly. Insane One Aldia let Dana check on Haji's horse while she walked to her room in the palace. She didn't want to be near the course for the trials anymore for that day at least. "That wasn't right...that course was too dangerous to put future rulers on." She closed her eyes and recalled when her opponent pulled her down. It had been pure luck that she had grabbed a piece of the stairs that had little grease from all the competitors running up it. What if she hadn't lucked out? What if she had fallen? She would probably be in the medical tent along with many of the others. She removed her shirt to look at the bruise from the previous day, it was now joined by many more "Souveneirs" from the trials. Her knees were scraped and bruised and she had a cut or two from some weapons she hadn't dodged while running. "...If Dana becomes the King, I'll have to make a request to change these trials. They are nothing short of madness and a death sentence." Sighing, she pulled her shirt back on and started working on a new note. Chelsea- out of time So SORRY! I had a henious week. I just started a new job and I've been working almost every day, my best friend just broke her leg, AND my computer has been acting up.Because the next trail had been put on hold by a furious Commander, Dana was bored out of her mind. She visited Haji and Mikkles on a regular basis, which was noted and studied by the ministers. She had a feeling that they were watching every one of the candidates through every one of their activites. It didn't bother Dana, except when she wanted to take a run on Dutch. "Out of the question," Commander Gilroy said fleetingly has he hurried down empty corridor. Apparently, he had a pressing meeting to attent. Dana didn't care. "I'm bored." Dana knew she was whining, but she didn't care. "And I'll stay within sight of the palace." "No." Something on his face told Dana that she wasn't getting the full story. Touching his shoulder gently, she asked, "What happened?" His face softened and he slowed to a stop. Running his hands through his normally uniformed hair, he sighed. "Another murder has accured." Dana gasped. "When, where, and how?" she asked, surprising herself with her sternness. Miles looked down at her thoughtfully, debating on whether to tell her the fullness of it or not. He decided she could handle it. "It was another soldier. He was patrolling the outskirts of the palace gardens, the ones bordering the Markii Forest. Anyway, we found him among the roses. His face had been peeled off and was sitting next to his burned ashes." Dana looked as if she were to vomit. "That's a Kirthian warning!" Miles nodded, wondering suddenly how much this young beauty knew. "Aren't there Kirthian Ambassadors here?" She whispered this as if someone would over hear. "How did yo--" "I have my ways." she smiled playfully. Not being able to help himself, Miles grinned back. "Yes, there are ambassadors from Kirth here, but I assure you, Milady, they are being watched carefully." Dana didn't look satisfied. "Perhaps it was just a warning to the new King. Or to all of Morthgar," her voice went low and menacing, "A new king means a new war." Miles stared at her with new found respect and amusment. Dana interpreted the look wrong, however. "If you find me so funny, perhaps I should dress in jester's clothing and parade around the palace." Her face was stern, but red. "That would be very amusing." Dana glared and stormed off. She's very right. What if it is a warning to Morthgar about the finding of a new king? Dragon_Ninja Blane, although still injured from the race was trying to be up and about. Despite the urgings of the people in charge of caring for him he would not stay in that bed. He had even tried to go to the training ground but realized that mistake when the knife wound open up again.Blane was walking down the corridor that was the fastest way of getting back to the barracks when he saw Captain Miles and...Who is she again? He knew her to be a canadate for king but he had forgotten her name. It was then Blane realized that he should NOT be out of the infirmery. He went into the nearest room, relieved to find it empty. He heard them stop right outside the room. Crap! Do one of them know Im in here? Then heard it, there had been another murder. He couldnt really hear the rest of the conversation but...if this time it was Gil that was killed...Blane hadnt seen Gil recently. If it was Kirth again, and it was Gil that was killed... Blane gritted his teeth. Jason Simmons "So who was it that was killed?" Haji asked when he had gathered his Captains together. Miles was still contemplating about why Dana stormed off like she did. The sudden question snapped him out of his thoughts."It was Gil," he said blatantly, clearly displeased with having to let out the news. Gil had been a good soldier. It hurt Miles to know what kind of trouble they were in. The Kirthian Ambassadors had been told of the recent murder, and had the same sick look on their face like last time. They clearly had nothing to do with the murders, but seemed surprised that someone knew exactly how to do the normal Kirthian signs of warning. It uneased Miles more when he learned that Blane was walking around the castle, against orders. Miles had been extremely mad at him. How that boy could be so stupid was beyond him. He had ordered Blane back to bed, and gave him an ultimatum of staying there, or dealing with Miles. Blane hadn't left his bed since, except when needed. Maybe he wasn't so bad. Miles wondered if Blane knew about Gil. But right now, Miles had to go meet with the Ministers to discuss the situation with them. KC is a teacher now! The first few days in the infirmary were the toughest. Haji couldn't roll over without help and he couldn't walk, either, so that left him with really no privacy at all. Still, the guard's steward brought his work to Haji and they had many conversations, often drawing in Mikkles for his long experience. But Mikkles had family in the palace and they were always there. Haji counted one morning and got to 8 children under the age of twelve; but then the next day, a group of four women with 6 more children in tow came to visit. "So, what, is everyone in the palace related to you?" Haji asked. Mikkles leaned back against his pillows, laughing. "Just about. I have three sisters and two brothers and they all have a half-dozen kids or so. I've just got the one boy myself, you met him. I'm considered a little strange, but my wife died giving birth to him and I have never remarried." So Haji had more than enough to think about and was able to grit his teeth through a week before being allowed out of the infirmary wing. The medicos bundled his feet in a huge pillow of bandages, with some leather draped over all, and he shuffled his way to a meeting with Sir Miles. The bandage over his eye gave him a rather rakish look, since he was not wearing his cap, and his hair stuck up at odd angles. Sir Miles was not in a good mood, and his first words soon made why very clear. Another murder, and of another of the guard, on patrol around the palace. Sir Miles had called together all ten of his captains and they all sat around the guard common room. Haji had his feet propped up on another chair; they were starting to throb again. "So who was it that was killed?" he asked into the silence, as no one else seemed to want to talk and that was the only thing that came to mind. Sir Miles scowled. "It was Gil." "My boys found him," said Captain Tomas. He pulled on his moustache. "They're .. maybe not frightened, but certainly nervous. Who's going to be next? Who's doing this? Why?" "Do the Kirthians know?" asked someone else. "Yes," Sir Miles answered. He started to pace. "I think it's for sure someone in the palace, but I don't think our ambassadors had anything to do with it. I'm sure we've got a spy or a sympathizer, or it could be someone just causing trouble and hoping to stir up another war." "What's the next step?" asked Haji. He glanced sideways at some of the other captains. They were all uneasy themselves. "I have a meeting with the Kirshians," answered Sir Miles. "We have to keep this quiet to keep from alarming the city, so watch your men carefully, watch yourselves. I'm going to be increasing the patrols so that no one is on solitary routes anymore. This will keep us stretched and with the men tired, their tongues will wag." He eyed them fiercely. "I'm looking at you, my captains, to maintain order within the ranks. Nothing changes, nothing out of ordinary. I'm not going to allow this troublemaker to think he's got us riled. We have to find the man responsible! Before anyone else gets killed. Understand?" "Yes, sir!" "Good. Dismissed. Haji, wait, I want to talk to you. No, no, don't get up." He pulled up a chair next to where Haji was sitting. "How are you doing?" "Fine, sir. These feet are still tender, but I'm healing well enough that they've let me out of there now." "And Blane? Mikkles?" "Both are doing well. Mikkles should be going home tomorrow. Blane will be there a while longer. He won't be able to ride for several more weeks. You know, sir, there's no reason we can't do our chess tournament, I understand we're supposed to be seated for that. And then if we want to let the rest of the tests continue, we can just do our hunt later?" "Hmmm, I'll consider it. Are you in a hurry to get this done?" "Ah, yes and no, I suppose, but I think that the sooner we get a new king, the better. We really need the stability and the support that a new king can give us." Sir Miles tapped his knee thoughtfully. "That's true, I suppose." "We do only have two more trials to this test. There's no reason, even if we wait until Blane is better, that the candidates can't go ahead with the other two tests." "What are the rules to this chess game?" "Um, Mikkles has been tutoring me. He says that traditionally, and he was very young when the last king was chosen, that this is a live-action match, where a large board is painted out in the pavilion and actual people take the places of the pieces. The candidate and the champion sit above the board, at the same perspective as the observers. The turns are timed, the candidate and champion call out their moves and the players on the board go to their squares, and then they battle it out. Mock battles, but the traditional rules still apply." "That doesn't sound too bad." "Ah, but the trick is, the judges have disasters and windfalls that they hand out periodically, and randomly, too. Some things are triggered by certain events, like if you advance all your pawns, your supply lines could be hit and some of your players get pulled off the board. Some are triggered by time-based events, such as if you don't move within your time-limit, perhaps you get caught in a seige and your opponent gets a player back." "Interesting." "I think so, but the best part is that it's a purely mental game, we're not allowed to interact with the players on the board. Mikkles tells me that the tournament lasts for several hours and is one of the favorite events. Of course," Haji added quickly, "he also told me that there's a precident for changing the trials during the tests." "Oh?" "Not our last king, but the one before. Short-lived, yes, but when he was chosen, there was a fire in the city and the candidates all jumped in to help put it out. The ministers decided to cancel the rest of the test and just use the fire as the last two trials." "You have an idea?" "Well, Mikkles and I have talked about this. To, um, kind of speed things along, instead of a hunt, what do you think about having some kind of shoot-off? Shooting arrows at targets to see how well we do. It's kind of like a hunt, only on foot. In another week, Blane should be strong enough to pull a bowstring. He won't do well, but that's not really important. He won't be cleared to ride for a long time." Haji shook his head. "That knife-wound is not healing well, he's tried to push himself too fast. Perhaps if you talked to him? He seems to think that he's somehow let you down." "He should!" snapped Sir Miles. "Blasted fool, could've got himself killed. Why is it that the young think they're indestructable?" Haji smiled. "Without anyone to tell them it can't be done, they find a way." "Okay," Sir Miles stood. "I'll think about it. I'm glad you're doing better, but take it easy, okay? "Sure." Haji watched him go and sighed. He struggled to his feet and went to the window to look out, prodding the bandages on his ribs gently. Another week, maybe two, before he could ride and nothing strenuous for even longer. Mortimer was really getting a vacation. Dutch was enjoying the attention, that was for sure. Haji was really considering gifting the horse to her. Certainly, he'd never enjoyed the gentle creature as much, but Dutch wasn't a warhorse, either. Hmm, he really ought to pay Miss Hunts a visit to say thank you. All the men in the infirmary had enjoyed her and Miss Mondaria's visits. For a minute, he let himself feel sorry for himself. Then he shook it off and took a seat at the desk. He had some letters to write. Insane One Stepped out of her room and almost into Dana, knocking them both onto thr ground. "Owe...Oh, Miss Hunts. I'm sorry for that. My mind is elsewhere.""No no..." Dana rubbed her head and got up, "It's my fault. I wasn't paying enough attention. What with the recent murder and all..." Dana straightened, "Uh..you didn't hear that." "New murder?" Aldia looked at her, "Another one?" Dana sighed, "You caught me. Can I explain to you in your room?" She looked around for any servants who might be in the hallway. Aldia nodded and let her in, "I appologize for the mess. Not being able to do anything...productive has taken it's toll on my room." "It's fine." Dana grinned, "My room isn't any better....at all." She sat down on a chair while Aldia sat across from her. "Anyways, a soldier who was on patroll was killed. Apperantlly they peeled off his face," Aldia shuddered, "And burnt his body. Kirshian way of warning." "Why would they do this...?" Aldia looked out the window. "Do they really hate us that much they want to attack while our country is down?" "I don't know." Dana sighed, "I just hope nothing else happens. This isn't a trial to become king so much as 'Let's see who gets killed last.'" Aldia chuckled and got to her feet, "Perhaps we should inform the other competitors? We all should be aware of this so we can handle it when the time comes." Dana nodded, "Right. I'll go tell them. I have a bit better idea and I could use the excersize!" Before Aldia could stop her she was off. Aldia sighed and sat down at her desk. She was certain it wasn't because of her that the first soldier had died, she hadn't even known about the scandel till the body was found. All the same, being a spy was becoming more and more deadly. She took out her quill and wrote a small note to her employer (whoever it was). For the time being I am stepping away from my post in order to maintain my safety. I shall give you a detailed report shortly before the end of the competition. For this time you may cut my funds. . She took the letter and slipped it into the usual hidding spot, too lost in her own thoughts to see someone hiding in the shadows of the castle, watching her every move. Chelsea- out of time Dana left the room thinking hard. Was it even her and Miss Mondaria's decision on whether or not the other candidates should know? It wasn't as if it had been their lives at stake. No. It was the lives of the soldiers defending them. She stopped in front of a lively tapestry and studied the detailed art. It depicted the battle of Kirth and Morthgar in the reign of her 5th King. It was because of her that woman had a bad name. In the far left corner, the forbidden affiar was shrouded in shadows, a black and white and out of focus picture. In the far right, the capture and betrayal was dull colored, mostly blues. The rest of the tapestry was vivid battles, colors so bright it was hard to stare at. Suddenly something caught her eye. A body, in flames, the face staring out at her. The legend went thus; When the Emperor of Kirth's armies were keeping Morthgar's focus, he, himself went out looking for King Amelia, who was in hiding. When he found her he slaughtered her in the ancient Kirthian ritual. Then, however, it was just a brutal killing. Now, it is a sign for all betrayers of love and a warning to those who try to abuse the priviledge love gives. How could she have forgotten the stories? Didn't The man die in a horrible manner as well. That fateful day returned to her, and she forced herself not to vomit. But that murder wasn't one of betrayed love. It was of forbidden love. Dana looked up. She had to get to the library. ~*~ Hours upon hours had finally gotten her here. A book in front of her, the words slightly unfocused for the candle she had been using was dying out, she read out loud. "During the reign of King Amelia, a scandalous affair took place. Many scholars believe that the truth is as our good King spoke it. She had never had any romantic relationship with the Emperor of Kirth, regardless of the legends. However, there were many threats given to King Amelia, before the conflict started. One such threat came during a court meeting. A large package was carried into the council room and once opened revealed a horrid sight. A dead body, three arrows placed in specific places, the neck, the heart, and the groin. Just like our poor soldier!," she exclaimed and continued heatedly. "A letter was given with the body. According to council records it read, 'The throat, so you may never speak your transgression. The heart, broken as mine is now. And the groin, so pleasure may never come to you again.' Morbid much?" Reading on, she found out that those who believed legends thought it came from her betrothed, whom she broke off with just before this incident. Dana now recalled gossip she'd heard around the servants, thanks to her good friend Gwen. She had said that the first murdered soldier was having a love affair with a married woman of court, or something. Dana didn't really understand the signifigance, but she was sure it was no coincidence. Now if Gil had betrayed someone he loved, it would fit more clearly. Dana had a debate with herself as she quietly ran back to her room. She didn't know whether or not to tell the commander. He had so much on his minds already. Perhaps what she found was just silly girlish thoughts. Maybe she didn't know what she was talking about. But then again... Maybe she did. Dragon_Ninja For the next couple days, Blane hardly left his bed, except when nature called or when the attendants had to change the sheets on the bed. He had never seen the commander as mad as he was when he saw Blane come out of the barracks. It made it even worse when Blane tried to run and hide, opening his wound again.Then came the news that it was, in fact, Gil that was murdered. That pushed Blane from being ashamed to depression. Not only the death of his friend and only sparring partner, also threat of war with Kirth. Blane didnt want to even think about taking a human life, although he was close to taking Welsh's life after he gave him this knife wound... "Hey," He felt a soft blow on his head. Captain Miles was standing over him. "I havent left the bed," Blane said, assuming that this was what this was about. "Good, you need to heal fast if we are going to continue with the trails, but you wont be well enough in time to ride for the hunt, we're going to see if we can get that changed." Blane was a little confused, "Cant you just move on to the second test until everyone is healed?" That seemed like a better idea instead of postponing the trails altogether. Since it was a test of knowlegde it could be done, while they were healing. The captain stared at Blane, apparently a little suprised. He didnt respond to the question, instead he walked off without saying anything. Blane stared after him, Did I say something wrong? Jason Simmons Miles couldn't understand how everyone he talked to seemed to think alike in the aspect of going ahead with the chess match. They had all made good points, to be true, but it just uneased Miles to think about letting them all out in the open.Miles turned the corridor and nearly ran into Dana. She was carrying a book with her. As it dropped from her hands, Miles studied the title. The History of Morthgar,{i/} by Andreas Gilroy and something scribbled. He felt a sudden ping. She saw the sorrow on his face and reread the title of the book as he had. It was when she saw the name of the author that she paused, as if in understanding. "My grandfather wrote that," Miles said. His grandfather had been one of Morthgar's prized historians. It made Miles sad thinking about him. "What happened to him?" Dana asked, now worried about Miles thoughts about his grandfather. "He was killed, shortly after finishing his accounts of the fifth king. The chiseled name, Malachi Welsh, was his murderer." "Welsh?" she asked in shock. "Yes, Duke Welsh's uncle." KC is a teacher now! Haji headed back to his room tired that night. He knew he'd pushed himself too far and that he'd regret it in the morning, but he hadn't wanted to ask for help to go down to the stables. Was it weird that he'd wanted to visit Mortimer and Dutch? He hadn't thought so, but he'd also gotten the chance to talk to Miss Hunts, lending a hand to help feed in the stables and had thus been able to thank her personally. She'd seemed distracted, so there'd been no need on his side to keep the visit brief. He'd simply sat on a tack box and watched, too embarassed to admit he needed to rest before heading back. And now, here he was, inching along a deserted corridor in the dark, hoping that he could make it back to his room without either passing out or being too conspicuous in his absence. The stairs had really taken their toll and he knew he had another set to climb. He was sweating so he unbuttoned his coat and loosened his tie, glad for the first time that day that he wasn't carrying around the extra weight of his dress sword. He paused at a junction in the old hallway to lean against the wall and pant. There was a light coming towards him! Haji peered at the bobbing light, wondering. Few used this dusty old corridor these days but him, the palace had gone through so many renovations in its long history that few even knew they were here. He'd found them in his explorations, from curiosity, and also a need to find some privacy, the palace was so crowded! On a sudden impulse, Haji ducked back into the darkness of an indentation in the wall, waiting. He listened. There were two pairs of feet walking briskly down the hall, and two distinct voices whispering -- and then a third one from somewhere! Sweat turned to ice down the back of Haji's collar ... that was a Kirshian speaking! His hand went to his belt and he almost cursed. He had no sword, no weapon of any kind. They were coming closer, almost to the intersection now, but they seemed to be slowing as they talked. "вы последние," snapped the Kirshian (Haji translated, "You're late.") "Shut your mouth!" hissed the first man imperiously, obviously someone used to giving, not taking, orders. "вы поэтому проклятье небрежное!" snapped the Kirshian. "Я потребность убить вас для полностью тревоги, котор вы причиняли меня!" Oh, ho! thought Haji, That Kirshian is definitely not happy with his allies, not if he's threatening them, or at least one of them for messing up .... He listened harder, trying to memorize every word. "вы расточительствуете ваше время с мальчиком, он негожи! Я сказал, что вы убили девушку!" What? thought Haji. The third voice spoke up this time, what, was that a Danverian accent? (Danvar's been one of Morthgar's strongest allies! thought Haji) "I told you not to mess with the boy," the Danverian said. "Shut up!" snapped the first voice, obviously a Morthgarian. "If I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it!" There was a blow and the Morthgarian cursed and the Kirshian snapped, "Вы будете идиотом!" He's really not happy! thought Haji. The Danverian was laughing quietly. There was the sound of half-drawn steel, and the Danverian said, "Don't be a fool, Welsh! He'll skewer you!" There was a long, weighty pause, and then the sword slid back into its sheath, and the Kirshian said, "Забудьте мальчика. Вы, получаете девушку, и вы, я получаю новую работу для вас. Я хочу вас получить пробы задней на следе. Вы привинчено это вверх, поэтому вы фиксируете его." Haji felt his throat go dry. Who were they talking about? "Why?" asked Welsh grumpily. "What's it matter? Gold is all that counts in this so-called contest." "Мы играем правилами, ничего из ординарности. Сделайте вашу работу это время!" "Ha!" sneered Welsh, "You have nothing without me, I can damn well do as I please!" A scuffle, then, and the cut-off, hoarse breathing of someone being choked. The Kirshian was speaking, still threatening, Haji presumed, but speaking too quietly for him to catch more than a few words, something about feeding his .. oh, yeah, he didn't really need to catch that part. And then they parted, and someone, Welsch, presumably, slouched against the stone, gasping for breath. "Наблюдайте его," said the Kirshian. "Yes," said the Danverian. (Who was that? Haji wondered. He didn't know of any Danverians in the palace ....) The group broke up ... but they, Welsh and the Daverian, were coming this way! (Haji could still hear Welsh's noisy breathing, and his compatriot had the light) What am I going to do? If they know I've heard all that, they'll kill me! He had a few short seconds to think, he couldn't possibly sneak away, not in his present condition, well, there was really only one thing to do ... he hesitated for a moment, but then slowly, slowly and as quietly as he could, Haji backed away a few steps and threw himself on the floor. "What was that?" Steel slicked on two scabbards and Haji tried to lay still and not flinch. Behind his eyelids, he felt the light come closer, heard the two men walking cautiously forward. Haji counted his breathing, wanting to appear like he'd just passed out. Then they were right on him and Haji could hear Welsh laughing. "Well, if it isn't the little soldier-boy!" said the Danverian, and Haji's blood ran cold. The man had dropped the accent ... he knew that voice! A steel-toed boot prodded Haji, he couldn't help it, he groaned. "You should kill him!" said Welsh, "Who knows what he could've heard." "Not likely," said the other, "and he's really been useful, it's because of him that we --" "Shhh!" "What?" "He's tricky, this one, could be faking!" "Hmmm, too true, well, we'll just have to see! Eh?" A solid boot connected with Haji's side and he doubled up, gasping in pain. "Well, look at that, why, Welsh, you're actually right!" "Don't say my name!" "Why not? He obviously knows who we are, don't you, Haji?" Haji roared, unwinding with a snap and barrelling into Ahmad and grabbing at his sword arm. The colonel dropped the lantern and it's glass shattered, casting them all into darkness. Haji struggled with Ahmad, in close quarters, jabbing with his elbows and knees and cursing the bulky (and soft) bandages on his feet. He had both hands on the sword now, pulling the older man off balance. They toppled onto the floor, rolling, and then Haji saw Welsh coming at him in the gloom and dropped Ahmad, kicking out at the courtier. Welsh went down and then Ahmad was at Haji's throat, sword forgotten, his strength overpowering against Haji's weakness. He started to black out for real then. "Стоп." The pressure let up. Quiet panting filled the hallway. The Kirshian was back. "Принесите его. Я имею планы для это одного." No! thought Haji, beginning to struggle again. But Ahmad and Welsh easily overpowered him and they tied his arms behind his back and gagged him. Then, one on each side, they dragged him along. Thinking fast, Haji drove a foot down onto one of the larger pieces of glass, glinting in the darkness. He let himself be dragged, deciding not to make this easy for them. They walked a long way in the old corridors, but then the Kirshian did something, Haji heard a grinding noise, and then a whole section of the wall swung open. "Он кровоточит!" A fist connected with his head, and Haji fell into darkness and knew no more. Insane One Making her way down to the main hall, Aldia stiffled a yawn. She hadn't slept well and her practicing with daggers had left her hungry. The only thing she cared about was food at the moment.Focussing solely on her breakfast, she barely noticed Dana sitting down. "Hey Aldia, more bad news." Dana flinched from Aldia's glare. "S-sorry! Sheesh...don't look at me!" Aldia finished eating and politely dabbed at her mouth. "What is it Dana? Forgive my bad mood. I have a lot on my mind." "Well...sorry to add some more but I haven't seen Haji around lately." Dana looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. "So? He probably has other things to do than bother around with you." Aldia got up. "Yeah but I just have this gut feeling..." Dana sighed, "Come on. What else have you got to do today?" Aldia turned to look at the younger girl, "If I help you look for him will you leave me alone so I can continue studying and perhaps get more sleep?" Dana thought and nodded, "Okay. Oh, and don't tell Sir Miles. He has to much to worry about with the killed soldier and Blane and other stuff too." Aldia waved a hand and began her search. After an hour she was becoming very irratated and somewhat worried. He wasn't anywhere in the military area nor around the medical tent. "He could be in his room..." She thought. Now she just had to remember where it was. She continued looking around the older areas of the castle, hoping to find a servant who would point her in the right direction. After a short while she was about to turn back when something caught her eye. She walked over and blinked. "Blood...? And it's not too old..." She followed the trail curiously. What had happened here? Suddenly there was a small pool where whoever was bleeding stopped for a short time and then the trail continued..."Into the walll?" Aldia looked around. Part of her said to go back and leave it alone, but the part of her that needed to unlock secrets told her continue. She pushed herself closer to the wall, feeling for any loose stone. She felt one mive slightly at her touch and pressed it in. The wall shifted and moved to the side. Aldia stepped forward into the shadows, she made her decision to continue by pressing the stone. After what seemed like an hour she stepped out into the light and a hand grabbed around her mouth, stuffling her scream of shock. Her captor hissed in her ear, "Stupid wench..." He pushed her into a cage and she toppled over her skirts and fell over something which groaned. She blinked and looked down at the body. "H-haji?" She whispered. "Dana was right..." She looked up at the man who grabbed her. He didn't seem to be familiar. He had locked the cage and walked back to his seat. Aldia's mind was racing. They needed to get out, Haji was looking pale and needed medical attention. She grabbed the daggers she kept on her and stood up. "P-please sir. Let me out! I didn't know anything was down here!" She widened her eyes in fear. The man got up and walked over, "Shut up you-" he moved to slap her but she was too fast. She grabbed his arm and slid the dagger into it. He yelled and she pushed him back, retreating to the other end of the cage. The man snarled and grabbed the keys. He unlocked the cage and tried to grab her. She let him and when she was close enough she took the other dagger she had on her and slipped it into his side. The man cursed but the wound had proven to be fatal. He fell over dragging Aldia down with him. She broke free from his hold and moved over to Haji. Somehow he wasn't injured in the struggle. Hoisting him over her shoulders she started moving up the stairs and away from this pit. Chelsea- out of time Unfortunately for Aldia and Haji, the Kirthian had heard the struggle and arrived to investigate. When he found one of his goons dead, he became exceedingly angry. He turned to see the small woman trying to drag a semi-conscience Haji back down the corridor. He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, she quickly turned loosing his grip, but he'd expected as much. Hitting her temple, he watched her crumple to the floor. No more chances, they were going into the pit. He threw first Haji then the girl into a large hole in the middle of the room. Haji gave a grunt but lay still. It would not have been good if he'd died, but the Kirthian didn't care at the moment. Back to business. He walked through a plain wooden door where two other men seemed to be arguing about something. ~*~ Great! Now I can't find Aldia. It's nearly noon! Where could they be? Dana was starting to worry, but not enough to enlist the help of the Commander. She felt horribe when his face sunk into depression after seeing the author on the book she'd taken from the library. It was impossible to know what he really felt, and she wasn't exactly sure she understood her own feelings as well. Nevertheless, it was time to find someone who knew where everyone was, Gwen. Walking purposefully to her room, Dana gave only a fleeting greeting to her father who didn't mind at all. "Gwen!" "Dana! Good to see you. How has you day progressed?" Dana could tell she had some gossip to tell for she was beaming. "Spill." "Where?...Oh! right." She sat up from her mending (with Dana as her Lady she did a lot mending). She grinned. "Well, according to Jerad who is friends with Markus who is the Commander's main hand the commander's been saying your name in his sleep." Dana stared. "Of course, Markus is in another room, but he distinctly heard him say Hunts...hunts." Dana rolled her eyes. She knew that the commander had meant the hunt they had to go on. That was all. "Gwen. Has anyone seen Aldia or Haji?" "Aldia hasn't been seen since breakfast, and no one has seen Haji since yesterday." "That's what I was afraid of." KC is a teacher now! You know, people, you can't just spit out information that your character doesn't know! That degrades the quality of the story, it's called metagaming in other circles, and can potentially really piss off your cohorts. I've done it before, guilty as charged, so that's why I'm sensitive to it now. I love this cf, I think it's been great, but I'm going to have to ignore that last piece because it doesn't make sense! (Chelsea, you can erase this rant if you want to, I apologize for losing my temper)~KC Haji woke aching all over. His back and half-healed shoulder both hurt again and his head felt like it was about to split open. He blinked open gritty eyes to find himself laying on his side, his arms still tied behind his back, and actually tied around what felt like a bedpost, and his ankles were also bound together. The bandage on his head had slipped, effectively covering his right eye. Both feet hurt, the one with the piece of glass most of all, and he groaned around his gag, wanting to sit up, but too weak to try. He was cold, too, his jacket having been removed, tossed negligently on top of him like a blanket, but it also had slipped sometime during the night. Looking up, Haji realized that he must still be in the palace somewhere. The room was unkempt and dirty, evidently not having been used in some time, but the stone walls were familiar and reassuring. There was a certain relief in waking up at all, and lots to worry about, not being quite dead yet. He was so very thirsty, and he needed to use the necessary ... where were his captors? Where in the palace was he? There were no windows here, no way to make out any familiar features or landmarks, and only a dim lantern for company. Haji shuffled around a little, trying to ease the ache in his shoulder and back. The movement made him nauseous and light-headed, but did attract some attention. Someone was sitting on the bed behind Haji. At the sounds of him moving, the occupant rose and came to crouch at his side. "Well, well," drawled Ahmad, though Haji only recognized his voice, his face had been very cleverly disguised. But the man was saying, "I was beginning to wonder if I'd hit you too hard. Now, now, no need to get all riled up, you'll only tire yourself. It's a shame, you know, that it had to be you, damned waste, if you ask me. Now I'm going to take your gag off, but you've got to behave, understand?" Haji scowled around the gag, but nodded. Once relieved of the awful rag, he opened and closed his mouth a few times while the colonel had his back turned. He drank from the offered pitcher eagerly enough, once he'd been assisted to sit up. Leaning back and half-closing his eyes, Haji asked, "So why don't you untie me?" Ahmad laughed. "Not likely! Even mostly-dead I wouldn't trust you. You just stay quiet and I'll have no need to put you in the cage or replace the gag, will I?" Haji frowned and shook his head slightly. "Why?" he asked. "Why what? All this? Hmphf! As if I'm likely to explain anything to you! Now, just shut up and mind your manners, I'm not under any orders not to harm you, only to keep you alive." "I need to--" "It can bloody well wait, can't it!" and with that, the colonel moved out of Haji's eyesight, and from the creak of the bed, climbed back on. Shortly, there was the slight noise of parchment and the scratch of a quill. Haji sighed, but he did feel better just having sat up. So it was to be a waiting game, was it? Well, he could be just as stubborn! He'd out-waited wiley-er quarry than this (he hoped). He would just have to try and be patient. While he waited, he tried to puzzle out the conversation he'd overheard. Welsh had been there, the duke who had tried, twice now, to murder their young guardsman Blane. He seemed to think he was somehow in charge of this operation, though Haji had no such illusions. Clearly, the mysterious Kirthian was running things. His presence cleared up the murders; he was quite obviously the one behind them. As for the three men? This had to be some kind of conspiracy, one to incite Kirth and Morthgar to declare war upon each other. Sir Miles' descriptions of his meetings with the ambassadors led Haji to believe that they didn't want war any more than he or Sir Miles did. So Ahmad and that Kirthian had to be working on their own. Why? What were they getting out of it? He pushed that aside for now. The Kirthian had told Welsh to stop scheming to kill "the boy." That had to mean Blane, because he'd been told he was, well, messing up their plans, and to stop wasting time. There was mention of a girl, no, two girls. One would seem to be the real target, the threat, that Welsh had been meant to deal with and the reason for the Kirthian being so angry. The other had been more directed at Ahmad, a distraction or nuisance and she seemed to be a newer target, someone to be got out of the way. Haji wondered if this was an accomplice .. or ...! He swallowed. Aldia. She had to be the target! Two ladies, in a competition for the kingship, that could only mean Dana and Aldia! And that would explain Welsh. If this were a conspiracy to control the kingship, then the conspirators would have had to include plans for a puppet-king. That must be Welsh; and the reason behind that last comment he'd made, the one that had provoked the worst threats from the Kirthian. Haji stared at the door he could just barely see on the other side of the room. He had to warn them! How long had he been here? What if the ladies came to harm while he'd been laying here helpless? Had they even noticed that he was missing? Would anyone have thought to check the old hallways? Sure there were shorter and easier shortcuts through the palace, but didn't servants occassionally go that way? Chewing his lip, Haji craned his head around, but there was no way he could see to get to the door without Ahmad seeing, even if he weren't tied up. Hmm, if his hands weren't around this post, he could probably get that piece of glass out of his foot and cut away the bindings .... He could hear Ahmad shifting behind him and came to a decision. He watched and waited until the man swung his legs over and started past. Then, Haji acted! He swung his own legs like a giant club, knocking Ahmad from his feet, then hit him again for good measure, as hard as he could, considering he was now mostly sideways again, pulling on his bad shoulder and pressing his ribs into the floor. He waited not at all before struggling with his bonds. With his back against the frame, he heaved with his legs and managed to lift the bed a little, but not enough. He got his feet painfully under him and shoved! Grunting with the effort, Haji edged his hands and their bindings free of the bedpost and let it come crashing back down. He then went to Ahmad and took his knife, cutting himself free. He was just reaching for the door, when it opened and he came face-to-face with a stranger. They both reacted instantly, the stranger reaching for his sword and Haji just barrelled straight at him. They went down in a tussel, fists and feet flying, but Haji just couldn't keep up. Soon his struggles weakened and, bludgeoned to within an inch of his life, he was dragged into smaller confines. He dimly heard the sound of a metal door clanging shut and two voices raised in argument, in which he heard his own name mentioned, and then nothing for a long time. He woke the second time with the strong smell of earth in his nostrils. He was really cold now but the dirt felt good along his aching body. Why is it, he asked himself, that I've been spending so much time on my stomach lately? Aldia heard him moving and came to his side. Touching him lightly on the shoulder and whispering in his ear, she asked, "Captain? Captain Per-rosha-whatever? Hajari, you okay?" Haji blinked, but could see nothing in the blackness. "Where am I now?" he groaned. "I don't know!" The familiarity of her voice penetrated his foggy mind. "Aldia? Miss Mondaria? How - what are you doing here?" She laughed a little. "Trying to save you, what else would I be doing?" A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, despite the seriousness of their predicament. "Things not - not going precisely as planned?" She sounded amused. "Not precisely, no. How do you feel?" "About like I've just been thrown from a horse, gored by a bull, and half-bashed to death by rocks while trying not to drown," he replied with a groan. "You been working on that awhile?" Despite the pain, Haji chuckled. "I thought it out some time ago, did actually get thrown, got my foot stuck in the stirrup and dragged..." He cursed softly, under his breath. "I do think I've actually broken some ribs now." "Is there anything I can do?" "Well ... if you're not squeamish, you mind pulling that piece of glass out of my foot? You can use my tie to pack the hole." "Um, yeah, okay, I can't really see, but I'll try." She felt her way to his feet, feeling each for the blood she remembered from the corridor. She did find it, the blood still oozing slowly, and fingered the shard, driven deep into the skin. "Um, this is not going to feel that great, do you think you can not kick me when I pull this out?" "I'll try. If you can come get my tie, use that to grab hold of the glass, should give you a better grip." "Are you sure you want me to do this?" she asked, fumbling with his tie. "Yes, if I'd hit anything major, I would've bled to death by now and there's nothing more to be gained by leaving it in." "O-kay." Aldia returned to her position, playing with the thin fabric of the necktie until she had something she thought would work. "Okay, here goes," she murmered and, feeling Haji tense beneath her, grabbed hold of the piece of glass and gave a great yank. It came out far easier than she'd expected and she almost fell over. Haji was breathing hard and fast. He panted, "Quick. Put, put the wadded up fabric into the hole and press down hard until it stops bleeding." "Okay." Aldia did as directed, feeling Haji tremble beneath her touch. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "Yeah," he whispered back, "it's not been a real good day -- is it day?" "Yes, Dana -- Miss Hunts -- asked me to look for you this morning at breakfast. I'm not sure, but I think it's afternoon now. Just what is going on here? What's happened?" "Well, it's a long story, really, but the short of it is that I overheard a conversation between three gentlemen regarding the competition. They found me and brought me ... well, not here, but somewhere ... I tried to escape and the next thing I know I'm in here." "When I found you, you were in some kind of cage. I got you out, but was caught. I'm afraid it's my fault that we're down here now." She looked up, towards the dim light at the top. "It's not going to be real easy to get out." "Could be worse, I suppose." "How?" "We could be dead." "Oh. Right. So what was so important about what you heard?" "Well, plotting to get yourself and Lady Hunts out of the way, you're apparently the stiffest competition, in order that one of the plotters can sit the throne instead." "That's the news?" laughed Aldia. "I think I'd figured that out for myself." "But it gets better. I know two of the schemers, and the third is a Kirthian." There was a long pause. "Lady? Are you still there?" "Yes, I'm still here," Aldia had to fight against the bile rising in the back of her throat. "I just ... can't believe it. Kirthians plotting with Morthgar to start a war?" "Looks like it." "Oh, man, and I just walked right into their trap." "You and me both," sighed Haji. "It would appear that I'm next on their list for public displays, I'd wager they're trying to scare the counsel into declaring war, before or after the coronation, it's hard to say." "The Commander is keeping all the murders real quiet." "Yes, I kn -- wait, how do you know about them?" "Dana told me, but I knew mostly before, I think. We've got to tell someone! Who are they? The men? I killed one, I'm pretty sure, but there's at least one more, the one who captured me." "You killed one?" For a moment Haji was too stunned to speak. "Um, what did he look like? There's four of them that I've seen, but I didn't get a good look at the Kirthian." "He was big, bald, with a bushy moustache, and a tattoo on his back." "Oh. That sounds like the chap who caught me trying to escape, then." He thought for a moment, remembering back to their first meeting. Then he grinned. "Good on you, Lady, I thank you, and that's one I owe you." "Um, you're welcome? So who are the others, the ones behind all this?" "Duke Welsh --" "Welsh! Why, that scheming, double-crossing --" "And my boss, a colonel in the cavalry, but he's disguised somehow as a Danvarian. I don't know what name he's going by here, I," he paused, on the verge of telling her how incredibly betrayed and foolish and hurt he was, and how some of his superior's actions, when regarded in light of this new information, suddenly made a lot more sense. But, "It's okay," Aldia said, interrupting his thoughts, "I think I understand. So, Welsh, this colonel, and a Kirthian. It's not a lot, but it's a start. Lemme check these walls again, hang on." She drifted off and Haji shivered, cold clear through, but not willing to ask his abused body to do anything. Before too long, Aldia returned to his side. "I think that I can actually climb out," she said. "You don't think you ...?" "No," Haji answered. "I'm sorry, but, I don't think I can even move, let alone climb out. No, if you can, then you must. Get to Commander Miles and tell him what's happened. He can arrest Welsh and find out who the Kirthian is. The important thing is to not let them succeed in pushing us into war." "Are you going to be okay in here?" "Well, think of it this way, the only way I'm leaving is to die, so, yeah, I think I'll be okay in here. Go, quickly, and good luck." There came the sound of skirts rustling. "Here, then, these'll just get in my way, but they'll help keep you warm." Haji felt the weight of fabric on his back and legs. "Um ...." "Don't ask and you won't be embarrassed by the answer." Chuckling, Haji replied, "Good point. Uh, Miss Mondaria?" "Yes?" "You are an amazing woman, I just wanted to say that, and ... thank you." "Don't worry, Hajari, we'll get you out of here. I'll bring back the others soon." "Good luck!" he whispered. Haji could hear her climbing, felt dirt clods fall on him, and then nothing. She was gone. (Hey, all, don't come rescue me yet. Arrest Welsh and have the bad guys break him out of prison or something, I'm not done with him yet, and I've got some more planned for the bad guys!) Insane One Aldia struggled to climb out, panting slightly. Her head still hurt from being knocked out. She pulled herself up and looked around. Thankfully no one was there to keep watch. Must have thought I couldn't climb out because I'm a girl... Aldia smirked slightly. They have no idea who they've made their enemy.She looked at her bare legs. This would be awkward...she only had a small skirt on. Just a slip to keep her main skirts from sticking to her legs. And judging by her luck lately she would pass everyone but Dana or Miles before finding them. She finally walked out of the old tunnel and began running. Time was of the essance here. Haji needed help, and she didn't want him to die. You are an amazing woman, I just wanted to say that, and ... thank you. The words kept replaying over and over in her mind. She shook her head. No. Don't think about it. She couldn't afford letting her emotions get in the way. Chelsea- out of time Dana ran into the Miles shortly after talking to Gwen. She had finally decided that she needed to tell someone. After relaying every bit of information that she had, Miles ran his hand through his hair. "Are you sure?" "You don't believe me. I knew you wouldn't. Never mind." Dana started off. She had to do something, and since her first plan failed, she was off to plan B. "It's not that I don't believe you, Milady." She turned. "I want to be completely sure before I start a full out search. Dana was about to retort when she was grabbed by a rather underdressed, out of breat Aldia. She was only able to gasp certain words, but they were finally able to understand her meaning. Haji was captured and Welsh was a bad guy. Aldia was led somewhere to clean up while Miles got together his soldiers. He took only a handfull. If what Aldia said was true, there weren't many men to worry about. Dana insisted on attending. She felt slightly responsible after all, but Miles wouldn't allow it. They ambushed the area. Miles had two of his men go down into the pit, but there was no one there. Miles cursed. They must've realized Aldia's escape by now. Into the other room they went, but it was completely empty. They were searching the surrounding areas when some of his men approached Miles stating that Welsh had disappeared. It seemed they were too late, but Miles doubted they were finished with their scheme. ~*~ Later, Aldia was sitting with Dana in her rooms. She was afraid for Haji's life, as was Dana, but Aldia seemed even more stressed than normal. Dana had a fleeting suspision that there was something there, but she didn't feel the urge to ask. Not yet anyway. She had been thinking. Miles seemed to think it was necessary keeping the people ignorant. Dana had agreed until today. She now thought the urgancy was more intense and that the people of this city and country should know what was going on. Aldia said that it was unsure if it was a true Kirthian behind the attacks. Whether he was or not didn't matter. He wanted war. That was the issue. Earlier that day, after searching the castle for any sign of Welsh, Miles had dismissed the Kirthian Ambassadors, feeling that the Kirthian Emperor had a right to know what was happening. Dana was sure, now more than ever, that it was necessary to find a new king. The uncertainty that came with no true leader was wearing on everyone's nerves. According to good ole Gwen, there were more fights in the city, and less productivity. It was madness. Dragon_Ninja Blane had finally got the permission to move about. The moment he stepped away from the infermery he ran into Captain Miles."You got cleared to move about?" He seemed a bit hurried. "Yes, sir, Did something happen?"Blane said, a little confused. "Yes, your going to be part of the search party, we are looking for Haji and Welsh, if you find either of them, dont you do anything come back and report to me," He started walking off, "Oh, and dont you dare space out on me, this is NOT the time to do that." "Yes, sir," said an even more confused Blane. I wonder what happened. Blane thought as he walked the opposite direction of the captain. I haven't seen him around the infirmery but he also got cleared to move about... Blane felt a harder than usual blow on the back of his head,"I said no spacing out!" "Ow...sorry sir, it wont happen again," the captain stared at him,"...at least not until the situation is settled..." A smile seemed to tug at the captains lips, "I already search this area, you go outside, search around the palace." "Yes, sir," Blane saluted and walked away from Miles still wondering what had happened. Jason Simmons Miles seemed a bit anxious after hearing the news of Haji's disappearance, and then what he had heard from Aldia. He continued on his way to the Nominees Chambers, where all those elected to be possibles for Kingship stayed. He took a small squad and split them into five groups, three per group. They were to check every room, including Aldia's and Dana's rooms for any clues as to what was going on. He had already recieved permission from Aldia and Dana, though the former seemed a bit relunctant. The other two, besides Welsh, were furious when they were pushed out of there rooms for them to be searched. "What is the meaning of this?" They both almost simultaneously demanded. "Official military business. You don't have a problem with me searching you rooms." It was a more a command then a question, and the two merely backed down, awaiting the results. It was about five minutes before every room had been searched. "Interesting stuff in all the rooms, but nothing to give any hints about where Captain Haji is. Welsh's room is the only one that points toward conspiracy." The head non-com had told him after the search was over. "But we already knew that," Miles said, mostly to himself. He then dismissed them to search elsewhere and went to go help Blane. KC is a teacher now! Haji slowly turned his head so that his other cheek pressed into the ground. The cool earth felt good against his skin and an eye he could feel swelling. He sighed. And then tensed as he saw the reflection of lantern-light and heard voices, casual talking that quickly turned to shouting and cursing. He smiled. "Find her! Find that bloody b--" someone, undoubtably the Kirthian, was screaming through a thick accent, but then he cut himself off mid-flow. "Wait. There's going to be a change in plans." There was a lot of discussion that Haji couldn't hear that made him frown with concern. Then the group, for there were a number of them above him, broke up and the light disappeared. Now Haji fretted, worrying about what was going on. What were they doing? All too soon, however, they were back. They dropped a rope ladder into the pit and hauled him bodily from it. Haji found himself eye to eye with a very frightened member of the guard, held at knifepoint, surrounded by six goons, with more behind. The boy stammered, "C-Capt-tain!" just as Haji remembered his name, one corporal Taye Alezandre. He was thinner than Haji, and younger, but they were similar in height, Taye's hair was about the same length, if lighter in color, and his eyes were blue to Haji's gray. All of a sudden, Haji realized what was going on. He started to say, "No!" in gut-wrenching horror, but could only gasp as he was dropped to the floor and the young man cuffed into silence. Ahmad thrust Haji's red jacket at Taye. "Put it on!" he commanded harshly. He ripped the blood-soaked bandage from Haji's head and yanked it on over Taye's forehead. Haji yelped, for the bandage stuck, and later remembered thinking, Great! That'll surely scar now! Then the other guards bound and gagged him while others did the same with Taye. Ahmad glanced from one to the other. He frowned and drew his sword, stabbing Taye in the foot, igoring the boy's muffled cries. "There, they're as alike as can be," he said. Haji was hauled to his feet and pulled to stand next to Taye. They were both turned to face the person that could only be the Kirthian. He was younger than Haji had expected, maybe his own age. He had the face of an angel, but demon eyes. He seemed not quite a little mad. "Rough him up some," said the Kirthian in his thick accent. "He'll do. Ahmad, you're with me. The rest of you remember that I want Gilroy alive, harmed as necessary, but alive. Understand?" All around them, the mercenaries nodded. "Good," said the Kirthian, nodding, "that --" he said something in Kirth that could only be a derogatory term, "-- has interfered with me for the last time." He gave his mercenary commander a warning stare. "You're to keep Gilroy busy as long as possible. Don't let him get away." "Yes, sir," replied the merc, and the Kirthian replied, "Get going, then, the guards could be here any minute." Ahmad poked a dagger through the remains of Haji's shirt. "You will walk," he hissed. "You will cooperate. Your friends think they're going to rescue you," he glanced over at Taye, "but they don't have to find you alive, got it?" Haji followed his gaze, catching Taye's wide eyes, and silently admitted defeat. He nodded. "Good lad," whispered Ahmad in his ear. "Let's go." Limping slowly out of the room, Haji managed a glance back. Mercenaries had Taye surrounded and they were swiftly and silently leaving through the passages. Where were they going? What trap was the Kirthian planning now? He cried out through his gag as Ahmad jostled him roughly by his injured arm. He had his hands tied behind his back again, Ahmad on one arm and one of the mercs on the other, following the Kirthian and more of his men. "Move it!" said Ahmad. They hustled him deeper into the passageways, passageways so old they were half-filled with rubble and debris and made Haji's nose itch. They seemed to be in an awful hurry and before long they were almost running, partly dragging Haji in order to keep up. The Kirthian led the way through at least three secret doors and more hidden passages until they stopped, breathing hard, in a narrow passage, pressed up against a wooden wall. This is the council chamber! thought Haji with alarm and dismay. He was pressed right up against the wall and could hear raised voices within. His captors released his arms and he slid down to the floor, exhausted. What was going on? What were they waiting for? "Где Welsh?" snapped the Kirthian in a low voice to Ahmad, who shook his head and shrugged back. They waited. They even pulled out the gag briefly so Haji could get water, though he dared not drink too much. How long did they wait? Haji guessed at several hours, but he'd been dozing as much as he could to hold onto what little strength he had left. He woke to voices, from the other side of the wall, crying out in alarm. When the noise had mostly subsided, someone on the other side opened up a door, obviously waiting for their party. Ahmad and the other fellow yanked Haji up off the floor and they moved forward again, through yet another forgotten secret door and into the counsel chamber. The large, circular room was milling with frightened ministers. Armed and thuggish mercenaries prodded the ministers into small groups and more continued to pour through the doors. A few men dressed in the Palace Guard's uniform stepped forward to salute the Kirthian. "Хорошо," the Kirthian said and they took up positions around the dais in the center of the room. It was here that they also pulled Haji, dumping him unceremoniously at the feet of the Kirthian. The counsel room was a grand bowl-shape, with raised floors above the center so that all could see the person who had the floor. The counsel ministers huddled together on the benches, none yet brave enough to speak. * * * Welsh felt that he'd executed his part of the new plan flawlessly. The Kirthian had been very explicit and insistent in his instructions. First, he had to stay hidden, there was too much risk involved should someone spot him before they were ready. Second, the mercs of the diversionary group split up and left the palace. A few of them were targeted to draw attention to themselves, to draw the Palace Guard out of the palace and out onto the grounds. When Welsh saw the Commander head out with a large group of guardsmen, he signaled the diversionary mercs and then it was time for the third step. He gathered up the men assigned to him and set out. With evening setting in, palace servants bustled to and fro getting ready to serve dinner in the great hall, but they didn't give Welsh and his 'personal' guard a second glance. The real guardsmen had to be avoided, but again the Kirthian was trusting to the Morthgars' love of secrecy to get Welsh through the palace halls without trouble. Most of the ministers took dinner in their rooms rather than in public, so their absences should go unnoticed for just long enough to accomplish their goals. The commander of this band of mercs kept looking over his shoulder, though, and that was really irritating. "What?" Welsh demanded. "I think someone's following us," said the mercenary slowly, fingering his weapon. "I've been hearing it since we crossed into this wing." Welsh gave the man a dirty look. "So what? No one can stop us once we're inside. Quit looking back like that, it's suspicious." The merc scowled, but he did as he was told. He didn't need Welsh, the man was an idiot, but orders were orders, and he could always use the man as a hostage should things go awry. They arrived at their destination, the corridors surrounding the counsel chamber, with no delays and without being noticed. Silently, the mercs went about the business of getting rid of the real Guard and taking their places. When all was set, the remainder of the mercs entered the main doors. At first, no one spared him any attention; they were all too busy focusing on the man at the bottom center of the room. Apparently some kind of debate was in progress. Welsh didn't pause to listen. The mercs spread out around the room, only about half full with only the counsel members present, and proceeded to round up the ministers, pressing them all down towards the bottom rings, pushing them all together. The ministers did not go quietly at first, too shocked perhaps by what was going on, and those who couldn't see didn't pay them any mind until others started shouting. Then there was chaos. Welsh strode straight down to the center and to the far side, looking for the secret door that the Kirthian had instructed him to open. He ignored the fracas all around him, searching for the door and the release mechanism. Finally! He found it and forced open the old door. The Kirthian and more mercs poured through and Welsh took up his position in the center, next to Ahmad and the Kirthian, who even now was scanning the room, looking for someone. * * * "Silence!" roared the Kirthian. An eerie quiet settled instantly over the room. At the top, the last of the mercs came in, closing the door behind them. Nothing should look amiss. "Minister of Protocol and Prime Minister," announced the Kirthian. "Show yourselves!" Two old men, looking vainly around for support, slowly stood. The Kirthian crowed in delight. "Excellent! Excellent! Bring them to me." Two mercs ushered the men to the bottom level, pushing them down on their knees before their conquerer. The Prime Minister spoke, his deep voice resonating in the room, "Whatever you are about, you shall not succeed." The Kirthian laughed. "Of course I shall! And you will help me." "W-what do you want?" The Minister of Protocol's voice was raspy and high-pitched in his fear. He swallowed convulsively, a nervous tic. "Tonight," replied the Kirthian, "history shall be made! Tonight, a new King of Morthgar takes the throne!" The two ministers spared each other worried glances. That subject had been the very topic of their debate. Who would be the next king? The trials had been violated, the tests put on hold. In all the Minister of History's books, nothing like this had ever happened before. The Prime Minister denied his fear. He sneered at Welsh. "With him?" He spat. "He is not worth the post of dung-keeper!" Welsh moved to cuff the old man, but the Kirthian stopped him, laughing. His reply, said calmly and with only a tinge of compassion, effectively silenced the last of the whispering and protestations from the other ministers. "My dear friend," said the Kirthian. "You have no choice." The ministers trembled before the suffocating presence of the Kirthian. They felt powerless to stop him, caught as inexorably as twigs in a gale. They could only pray for deliverance now. The Prime Minister had to look away from those mad eyes; his gaze fell on the man lying bound and gagged at the Kirthian's feet. His eyes, and those of Haji's, met. The gentle calm there soothed the minister and gave him back his courage and strength of will. He would have to try and prolong this as long as possible. "We will not help you," said the Prime Minister. Behind him and beside him came gasps of surprise and fear. Fear. The Kirthian breathed deeply. The room stank of fear, his favorite perfume. He felt the power within him growing. He seemed to tower over the ministers. He let his anger, his hatred, come boiling to the surface, only a little, to cow this foolish old man. "You will do what you're told or you'll face my wrath!" he screamed. The two ministers flinched away. "Prepare the ritual!" barked the Kirthian. The ministers scattered, falling over themselves to obey. The Kirthian laughed. At his feet, Haji closed his eyes for a moment out of sheer frustration. He felt helpless and weak, completely at a loss for what to do. He'd been able to get back some strength, but the rush to this place had stolen that away. He could only lie on the floor and hope help would come in time. Soon, so very soon, all was ready. The ministers shuffled together in frightened silence, terrified of what they were about to do. The power they were about to invoke, to place about Welsh, could not be taken away once given. Once they started the ritual, it had to be finished, or catastrophe would result. The Minister of Protocol knelt before the Kirthian, trembling. "Uh," he licked dry lips, too scared to look him in the face. "We need a sacrifice." Ahmad kicked Haji, making the man moan. "Will this do?" He laughed. The Kirthian laughed. All the mercs smiled grimly. The old man was horrified. He could not pull his gaze away from the captain's white face for a long, lingering moment. "B-b-but!" he stammered, shaking from head to foot in fear, "Such magic, it cannot, I cannot -- it is evil!" "But powerful," said the Kirthian. "Unstoppable. We shall have the utmost power that only the sacrifice of an innocent can bring." As he knew, as a few others in the room knew, only the sacrifice of a pure being could be greater, a virgin and a true innocent, one who had never been touched by evil. They were rare in this little kingdom, rarer still in Kirth and the lands beyond. But here at his feet now was a righteous man, one who's very goodness shone like a beacon to those trained to sniff them out, yes, yes! This man was almost as good, would yield almost the same result. Too bad his treat must be shared with that whelp of a duke, but no matter! There were others and when he was through here, they would all be his for the taking. Haji knew a little about Kirthian magics, raised in the borderlands, surrounded by soldiers, he'd heard all the stories, the legends used to frighten young children into obediance and keep young trainees awake at their posts. Never had he once believed them, but here, now, looking at his captor, he couldn't help but believe. Haji swallowed, his mouth gone dry. He stared into the Kirthian's horrible, hungry gaze, and he felt true fear clenching in his gut. The Kirthian would not just be taking his life, he would be destroying everything about him, everything he had been, everything he might one day become, his very essence. But Ahmad was laughing, laughing so hard tears came to his eyes. "Perfect!" he chortled. "We could not have picked a better man if we'd tried!" He nudged Haji with his foot, painfully digging into the ribs. "Always trying to do the right thing, eh, Haji? Right the wrongs, protect the weak, and all that crap? You have been a thorn in my side for years! I can think of no better means to your end!" Miles! thought Haji, fighting down his paralyzing fear. Don't fall for the trap! If there's any justice in the world, please, pull out before it's too late! Come quickly! All depends on you, you must stop him! He closed his eyes, praying with all his might for help to arrive. Aldia. Her face kept popping up in his thoughts. He was thankful she'd gotten away, that she wasn't here now, and he prayed for her, too, in the hopes that she'd gotten to Miles, that she hadn't been caught ... or killed. He wanted her safe. Aldia .... There was argument about how to perform the sacrifce. The ministers were used to using innanimate objects, sometimes foodstuffs, but never a live body, of any kind. They were afraid. Haji was afraid, though he tried not to show it. Miles, please! he thought. Hurry! The Kirthian snapped, "I'll do it!" and pulled out a silver dagger as long as his forearm. "Get started!" Time was of the essence, but the Prime Minister didn't think he could safely delay any longer. Forgive me! he thought, looking into Haji's eyes. He lifted the ritual book and began reading. The ritual of Kingship, the preface to the coronation, was an ancient ritual, meant to bind the new king to the land and its people. The sacrifice came very early in the ritual, a symbol of all that the new king would be sacrificing for Morthgar, in exchange for taking up the crown. These usually came in the forms of gifts. The new king's family and friends would donate these things, everything from the family coat of arms to the person's favorite childhood toy, and they would be burned in a large bonfire in front of the palace, with all the city as witness. The intensity of the gifts, how much they meant to their former owner, would be formed into the new crown, forged from the person's own spirit. But here there were only the ministers, the mercenaries, and the traitors. The Prime Minister fought to keep his voice neutral. He dared not influence the ritual with his emotions. When he got to the end of his passage, he nodded at the Kirthian. The Minister of Protocol now took up the reading, invoking the spirits of the gifts; he stumbled a little at the change in wording that the Minister of Magic had just written. The Kirthian scowled and the Prime Minister worried. He could feel the power they were invoking already. It was not too late to stop, there'd be consequences, dire consequences, but if the sacrifice were killed, there'd be no turning back at all .... Ahmad held Haji still. He'd pulled off the remains of his shirt and they'd bound his feet again, but Haji wasn't going anywhere. The last day's exertions had drained whatever resistance had been left. He felt very warm to the touch and he had a strange flush to his cheeks. His eyes, too, had an unnatural brightness and he glared at Ahmad not with anger or hatred, but pity and, what was worse, forgiveness. Ahmad avoided Haji's accusing gaze, keeping his eyes on the Kirthian instead. He could sense Haji's grief and anger and fear, but he pushed those feelings aside. They no longer mattered. The Kirthian made the first mark, driving the dagger into Haji's skin, from shoulder to elbow. Then another vertical mark on his thigh, the dagger cutting through the cloth of his pants like it wasn't even there. He mirrored the action on the other arm and leg, timing the blows to the reading. He could feel the magic at work. Then the last vertical mark, from collarbone to navel, cutting through the bandages binding his ribs. They fell loose. These cuts were not deep; they were merely symbolic. It would be a waste to kill the subject too early. He did the last mark, a horizontal stripe on the chest, just above the vertical one, from shoulder to shoulder. Ahmad held the head now, tilting the chin up. The Kirthian waited, the dagger at the throat, waiting for the right moment. Haji cried out in muffled screams with each touch of the blade. He could feel the pervasive evil of it, the physical pain was nothing to the mental and spiritual anguish he felt. This blade had been used many times before, Haji could see the victims in his mind, feel their pain and terror as his own. He could feel the evilness poised over him, waiting impatiently to devour him and so he screamed. He could feel himself slipping now, losing the instinctual struggle against the dark magic that caressed him so gently, so lovingly, that whispered foul promises in his ears. In a dim sense, Haji could feel the point of the dagger against his throat, could hear the ancient words of the ritual, could feel the warm blood dripping along his chest and arms and soaking into his blue trousers. He felt disconnected, as if that were happening to someone else. His reality was all wrapped into the shady figures growing steadily more solid before his eyes, reaching out to him, calling him to join them. All seemed lost. And then the Minister of Protocol dropped his book with a slam on the dais. The Kirthian whirled around in shock, the dripping silver blade still in his hand. Commander Miles Gilroy had just entered the room, looking rather mussy and battle-worn and breathing hard from a fast run, but, in the ministers' eyes, his appearance was nothing short of a miracle. Here was their hero, their savior, come at last. "You!" snarled the Kirthian in rage. He stood up, radiating hatred out into the room. All the ministers screamed and dropped, cowering, to the floor. Those standing nearest to the Kirthian were knocked or pushed aside. Ahmad slid sideways, away from Haji, and tumbled from the dais. On the opposite side, Welsh and the two ministers were also knocked to the floor. Ahmad picked himself up with a snarl and drew his sword, looking for a target. He moved to go to Welsh's aid, for the fool was engaged in battle with that young upstart he'd been trying to kill for over a week now. Battle! The room filled and overflowed with the sounds of steel on steel as Guardsmen fought mercenaries. The Guard filed in from behind Sir Miles, running to engage the enemy and protect the ministers, now being flung to the side without regard or simply slaughtered for being in the way. Haji gasped, coming back to himself in shock, trembling and sweating, with tears running, unheeded down his face. He wanted to retch, but the gag was in the way. He couldn't get enough air! But then gentle, soft hands pulled away the gag and others sliced away at his bonds. He blinked, squinted to bring the lovely face into focus. "A-Aldia!" "Shh! And Dana!" said a voice by his ear. "There, now, I've got to help Miles!" "Are you okay?" asked Aldia. There was blood everywhere. Haji nodded, not trying to speak. He wanted to lay his head in her lap and weep, to just have her hold him, but the dark magic still pulled at him, called to him, and she was not safe, not as she sat beside him, next to the evil that still hovered so near. He struggled to form words. "You can't stay here," he managed to gasp. "You're in danger." She gave him a bewildered look. "So are you! I'm supposed to get you out of here!" "I -- can't!" gasped Haji, the magic held him rooted in place. The Prime Minister crawled towards them, keeping a wary eye on the combatants. "He's right, young lady, the ritual must be finished, one way or another." "No! Isn't there any other way?" "The magic called must be satisfied," replied the Prime Minister. Aldia stared at the Prime Minister, desperate for some good news. "How? How do we stop the ritual?" The Prime Minister eyed the Kirthian nervously. "We must get the dagger," he answered. "I can sever the threads, I think." "What? You think?" The old man held out his hands in entreaty. "I've never done this before!" Haji struggled to follow the conversation. "Get me the dagger," he whispered. "I must do it, the only way to, to send the demons back where they came from." Aldia bit her lip. The Kirthian battled Miles and Dana, sword in one hand and dagger in the other. How were they to get it free? She didn't want to call out, for fear of distracting them, but even as she watched, the dagger was knocked from his hand, sliding across the dais toward Ahmad, Welsh, and their combatants. "Get it!" screamed the Kirthian to Ahmad. "Kill him! Kill him, you fool!" Only now was the Kirthian aware of his mistake, that he'd let his hatred of Gilroy distract him from the task at hand. He should have killed the subject first, and then gone after the other. Aldia and Ahmad both lunged for the dagger. Aldia reached it first, but almost dropped it as the tainted blade scalded her hands. Ahmad swung at her with his sword and the Kirthian was screaming, but he was far too busy with Dana and Miles to come to his ally's assistance. Haji watched Aldia, deeply afraid for her. Only evil hands could safely wield that knife, it was a tool of evil, and evil only. "No," he whispered, for he had no voice with which to shout, "Do not use the dagger. Aldia, no!" Insane One Aldia fell to the side, her shoulder cut from the blad and her hands were starting to blister from the cursed dagger. She swore more than a lady of her class should be alowed and tried grabbing the dagger again but Ahmad was faster. "Looking for this, girlie?" He taunted, waving the dagger in front of her face before pushing her back.Dana let Miles deal with the Kirthian as she ran up behind the gloating Ahmad and kicked him in the back. The angered man turned and started trying to slash. But he was stopped mid-turn by Aldia sticking her foot under him enough to trip him. He fells and both Dana and Aldia had to wrestle him to get the dagger back from his hand. Dana yelped when he hand youched the dagger, "How can he hold onto this?" She asked no one in particular. "I honestly wish I didn't know." Aldia bunched up some cloth from her sleeves over her hand and grabbed the dagger, though the cloth did hardly anything to prevent the burning. She bit her tounge and ran to Haji. "I have the blade," She grabbed his hand, tears coming to her eyes when she felt how cold it was. She passed it to his hand and closed his hand over it. "Don't die on me." Chelsea- out of time Dana and Miles led all of the Palace Guard on the hunt outdoors. According to Blaine, there was another death, a horrible death, nothing Kirthian about it. Dana broke rank by flying to the side of the dead solider. Tears streamed down her face when she saw the figure, hanging by his toes on an apple tree, cut deeply, like game, from navel to chin. His entrails were rotting on the ground and Miles had to cover his nose to keep from gagging."Is it... It can't be," Miles was fearful now. He hadn't believed Blaine, but there he was, Captain Haji, dead. "No," Dana sighed looking into the lifeless eyes of the soldier. "This is Corporal Taye Alezandre. We met at the library. He was a genius when it came to books." She sniffed and stood. "Haji is still alive." Miles looked at his men, searching the surrounding areas. It wasn't Haji. No, it was a trap. Suddenly his men shouted a warning. Mercs from every direction attacked. Miles drew his sword and pushed Dana behind him. Dana, however had other plans. Growling in anger, she jumped from behind him, sword drawn, and threw herself at the enemy. The mercs weren't there to kill, they weren't being paid enough. They were there for distraction, Miles knew this. After minutes of relentless attacks, blocks, and more attacks, Dana was tiring. She looked around her. No one had died. What was happening? "Commander Gilroy!" a voice called from above the heads of many battling soldiers and mercs. "The Council room, the Ministers!" That was all they needed to hear. Most of the mercs had been captured, injured, or had run away. Miles ordered some to continue the search of the grounds, but more were ordered to follow him to the council room. Dana took up the rear of the group, joined by a breathless Aldia. “I found Welsh leading mercs dressed in Guard’s clothes. The council room.” Her face was pleading when she asked, “Haji?” “He’s alive. That is, we haven’t found him yet.” Dana let that sink in as Miles ran shoved open the door. “You,” A man, obviously Kirthian snarled. Him. Dana was immensely impressed with Miles, yes Miles. Commander Miles. He was rushed by the Kirthian, whose rage was unmatched, except for maybe Dana’s. How could he? He had no right to tear up her countries politics and bring on the evil that was radiating from every corner of the room. It took one look from the Ministers to fuel her forward. She rushed the Kirthian. His skill was enough that it took her as well as Miles. The sounds of battle surrounded them both, but Dana was focused on destroying the one who brought pain to her country. Ass. Who knows how long it was, but Dana saw out of the corner of her eyes, Aldia jump for a dagger than Miles had gotten out of the Kirthian’s hand. Dana jumped to her aid. A smirking man, holding the dagger, didn’t notice her behind him, so she gave him a forceful kick. Soon, they were all on the floor scurrying to get the dagger. Dana’s hand grazed it, and she hissed in pain. What kind of evil was it? Aldia ran to Haji’s side with it, and Dana followed feeling helpless. Turning, she saw Miles, once again, enter a deadly battle with the Kirthian, whose face was red with hatred. KC is a teacher now! Haji had eyes and ears only for Aldia, wrestling with Ahmad for the dagger. Her cussing did not surprise him, but he didn't know that anything could at this stage. He felt very foggy and numb -- not a good sign. He knew that, dimly, his mind was screaming warnings, but he could not summon the energy to even care that he couldn't feel his feet. He didn't know if he was starting to shiver or if his eyes were going glassy in shock or to even wonder at his probably ghastly appearance. And, for a few minutes at least, he could ignore the ghostly demons plucking at him, avoid staring, transfixed in horror, because, for a moment, there was something more important to pay attention to. He had just sent Aldia into deadly danger. He was both mortified by his own temerity and fascinated by her determination. She had spirit! And she had the dagger! He couldn't grip it when she placed it in his hands, and she had to place his fingers around the hilt. For a second, their eyes met, and she was saying something, but Haji didn't hear. She was concerned for him! He might have grinned, sloppily, but for the sudden searing pain lancing through his fingers. If one must put a positive spin on things, at least he could control his limbs again. The dagger rooted him in the real world, pulling him away from the borderlands of the undead. Haji hissed, funnelling the agony into movement. He stared his demon self in the eyes, contorted his face into a grimace of happy revenge, grabbed the beast by a scaly ankle, and stabbed it with the dagger. The creature screamed in deafening cresendos of hatred and anguish, clawing at him in a last desparate bid for freedom. It was stronger than he was, but Haji was determined; he held fast. Not a mortal blow, so he raised the dagger again, stabbed again. The wails increased in volume, its struggles doubled, it lashed at him with teeth and claws. Haji was halfway over the border again. He didn't have much time now. He raised the dagger for the third and final time, managing to stab straight into the demon's heart. It shrieked its death cry as the dagger turned to molten silver in Haji's hand. His hand relaxed instantly in reaction and now he struggled to get away, to get back where he belonged. All around him the demon world convulsed and shook itself with spasms. The demons there fell upon him and he covered his face when he could. They wanted to drag him with them, revenge and frenzied hunger keening from their lips. They scorched him with flame, slashed at him with claws, beat him with wings, and yanked on him with their tails, but all in vain. Somehow, Lady Aldia had yet again kept her head. She hung on to his legs with all her strength. All around her was chaos -- fighting and screaming and dying. The collapse of the pathway to the demon plane broke over her like a wave to rush over the council room; but still she perservered. "Come on!" she was yelling. "Fight, Haji! Fight them!" The pathway narrowed, sucking at him, sucking away his attackers. He was so tired, so very, very tired! He could easily slide into that deep abyss, disappear forever into nothing. He would not have to face the pain, the continuing struggle just to keep breathing. He could give up. He could, it would only take a second. No, less than that. He'd probably die anyway. He was marked, forever; somehow he knew that the demon taint would forever be upon him. Could he face that? What would this do to him? Even if he did go back, he could still die; he could live in awful agony for a few more days, and then die, whereas here, in an instant, everything would be all over. He'd never feel it. Never feel anything ever again, actually. The pathway was closing, closing painfully around the parts of him still suspended between worlds. Haji made his decision. Even a few more days would be better than an eternity without ever seeing Aldia again. He had to get back! Ahmad was still out there, a danger to them both, and the Kirthian! That ... he hesitated to call him a man ... must ... be ... stopped! Haji plopped back into Aldia's arms with a lopsided grin. "Miss me?" Insane One Aldia felt the tears fill her eyes. "Haji you...luckly little....idiot..." She tried her best to refrain from collasping with relief. She needed to get Haji out somehow.For the second time she tried hoisting the barely conscious Haji. "Don't worry..." She whispered to him. "Sleep..It'll be f-" But before she could finish her statement, Ahmad gave a scream of fury and started advancing towards them, now holding two swords. One of his own, and one from a fallen soldier. Aldia took a step back, she couldn't just drop Haji. That might just finish the work that the insane Kirthian started. She looked around for anyway out, but saw none. Dana had gone back to assisting Miles with the Kirthian, the one she wanted to die above all else, she couldn't distract them. Everyone else was locked in combat with one, or two, foes. Finally she saw the nearest soldier, the boy who was battling Welsh. She hated to call him away from his own battle, but he should be able to move fast enough for her to escape, if what the rumors said about him were true. "H-hey!" She called, "Soldier...Blane! Help! Please..." Please...it sounded strange coming from her lips. She had never begged for something so earnestly in her life. She glanced back at Ahmad. who was smirking crazilly, "Who should I kill first?" He laughed and positioned himself to attack. Dragon_Ninja Blane knocked Welsh off his feet, he winced, the knife wound still hadnt healed completly. Welsh got up in more of a rage and lunged. Blane side-stepped and slamed his spear on Welsh's back. He had plenty of chances to deal the final blow, but his wasnt ready to kill, even the man that had tried to kill him."H-hey!" Blane heard someone call, "Soldier...Blane! Help! Please..." Blane looked and saw a woman carrying Haji and some other guy walking toword them with two swrods and an ugly smirk on his face. At the same time Welsh was getting up shaking his head, trying to get the impact from the last hit out. Blane turned and ran in front of the woman and Haji. "Try to get out of here," He said looking back at them, although it seemed that is what they were going to do in the first place. "You think you can beat me?" The man with the swords asked, as if it was a joke. "I dont know Dragon_Ninja (sorry for the very late...continuation of my addition, Ive had a weird week.)"You think you can beat me?" The man with the swords asked, as if it was a joke. "I dont know, but Im sure I can stop you." The man laughed again and advanced with a dangerous look in his eye, "It looks like I get to kill three more today." "Wait!" Blane turned and saw Welsh coming over, "This one is mine!" He took a sword from a dead soldier. Blane looked back, the woman and Haji were heading for the door. Blane held up his spear, he would have to be on the defensive for this fight, against both Welsh and this dangerous looking guy. They both attacked, Blane blocked and parryed blow after blow as best he could. He winced, his old wounds were starting to open back up. He got the okay to walk around but not to fight, not like this. Blood stained his shirt. Welsh smiled, he remembered that wound, the one he so graciously inflicted. He watched in satisfaction as Blane staggered, while he and Ahmed continued the onslaught of attacks. They stopped as Blane fell to one knee, leaning on his spear. Blane took the chance to look back, it seemed that those two were nearly to safty. Welsh walked up to Blane, "Just stay right there, I'll make your death quick," He swung his sword above his head and brought it down with all his strenth. Blane jumped back, dodging as best as he could. He propped himself up on his spear. "I would rather kill myself than die by your hand." Welsh's smile turned into a look of pure fury. He charged along with Ahmed. Blane was on the defensive once again. Blane staggered once more as his knife wound opened more and more. He wasnt sure how much longer he could hold out. "I have to admit, boy, you're pretty good," He heard the man with the two swords say, "but Ive had many chances to kill you already, and Im thinking about taking them if Welsh here doesnt hurry it up." Blane staggered as the man's blow nearly knocked his spear out of his hands. Welsh saw it as an opening and rushed him. Blane regained his balance, side-stepped, and knocked Welsh in the back off his head, harder than he had ever hit anyone. Welsh fell, out cold. Blane stood looking a Welsh, breathing hard, trying his hardest just to stay on his feet. He heard the other man chuckle. "Well well well, it looks like it's just you and me now, boy. I will test you without that idiot Welsh getting in my way. If you fail this test, you die." He advanced, with that same dangerous look in his eyes. Jason Simmons Miles was taking an onslaught of attack by three of the mercenaries. He was tiring quickly. He could see Blane, his wound reopened, fighting the one they called Ahmed. Welsh had been knocked out cold. Miles didn't have time for this.He whirled around in a high arc, confusing the mercs he was fighting. Exactly as he had planned. He brought his scimitar whizzing back down and used it to uppercut the three of them. They lay at his feet, dead. As there was currently no enemies outnumbering his men, he turned his attention to Ahmed. Ahmed had just knocked the weapon out of Blane's hand, and Blane was trying to catch his breath. Ahmed raised his sword for the killing blow, only to be parried by that of Miles' scimitar. KC is a teacher now! "Not ... sleep," muttered Haji, dazed, as Aldia half-carried, half-dragged him off the dais. "That's bad." He blinked, fighting exhaustion. The counsel room looked like, well, like a war had been fought there, was still being fought there. Men cowered in various corners, other men fought up and down the levels, on the walkways and benches, around the dais. The Kirthian still battled doggedly on, hate and death still burning in his eyes. Blane on one side seemed to be winning his battle, injured though he was, and, advancing on Aldia, was the last person Haji really wanted to see: Ahmad. And he looked really, really, really pissed. Leaning heavily on Aldia, Haji struggled to get his rubbery legs to support him. The world spun crazily and the evil smile on Ahmad's face grew broader. Haji closed his eyes against the dizziness and nausea. Looking up, he scanned the room, just as Aldia was doing the same. "Soldier...Blane! Help! Please," Aldia called. "There!" croaked Haji, ignoring Ahmad for a moment and lifting an arm enough to point. A dead soldier slumped across a bench nearby. "Get his sword!" "Are you insane?" hissed Aldia. She kept edging for the door. "Get the sword!" he repeated, an eye on the fight, as Blane knocked out Welsh and Ahmad continued to advance. Aldia continued to back up, dragging Haji with her. She just wanted to get out of there. "No ... no!" gasped Haji. "Blane! He's going to kill him! Stop! Aldia ... Please! Stop!" Aldia looked back. Blane was leaning on his spear know. She gasped for breath. Haji was heavy! She needed to get him to safety, to help, but he continued to resist. "Haven't you done enough!" she gasped. "But -- Miles!" Haji interrupted himself in amazement. Aldia even turned to look. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Now Commander Miles battled Ahmad, shoulder to shoulder with Blane. "Where's Dana? Where's the Kirthian?" Haji looked, too. He jerked his chin. "There! There they are!" "Oh, no!" cried Aldia. The men, well, they could look after themselves, but now Dana thrashed in the Kirthian's grip, alone, and she'd lost her sword. Why did no one else seem to see that? "Aldia," said Haji slowly, craning his head back to look at her. "Do you trust me?" "Uh, what?" "Do you trust me?" She met his eyes, confused. "Maybe. Maybe a little." That look was certainly not encouraging, but Haji pressed on. "We need to help Dana. Get a sword." "A sword?" she echoed. "Why?" Haji licked his lips. Everyone was busy, there was no real choice, not if he wasn't to see Dana slaughtered before his very eyes. He would have to trust to his new demonic nature, with a half-crazed notion and a guess at how to make it work. "I, uh, have an idea." She stared at him a moment, then looked back at Dana, and over to Miles and the staggering Blane. Welsh was up again, and the two pressed their attack on the two soldiers. There really was no one else to help Dana. She bit her lip, glancing at Haji. "I can't do it," she said. "I can't fight Him!" "Don't worry," Haji told her. "Put me down. There," he nudged her a little towards a dead mercenary. "Get his sword." Aldia let Haji slide to the floor, propping him up against the side of the secret door. She looked longingly at freedom, just through that blackness, but she couldn't deny that Dana was in serious need of help. Mastering her revulsion, she grabbed the saber and returned to Haji. "Now what?" He was looking at her, but he didn't really seem to see her. "Haji! Now what?" He coughed, weakly. "Now ... place one of my hands on yours, and ... and try to relax." She gave him a look that told him plainly that what he was asking seemed, to her, utterly ridiculous, but she took one of his limp, pale hands, blistered from the dagger, and placed it over her own as it gripped the sword. At first nothing seemed to happen, other than Haji fell limply back against the wall. She wanted to help him, but it was as if the sword had a mind of its own. Where she would have set it down to attend Haji, the sword wouldn't let her go. She couldn't drop it! And it was pulling at her, pulling her toward the Kirthian and Dana. She fought the compulsion, but it continued to pull, pulling her to her feet and dragging her each step, pointing steadfastly towards the Kirthian. With each step she took, some of Aldia's fear leaked away, pushed aside by a mounting anger. By the time she was halfway there, she'd given up fighting, though she did look back once, and strode purposely up to the locked combatants. She pointed the sword, pressing the tip into the Kirthian's back. "Put her down!" Was that me? Aldia wondered. Yikes! He's looking at me! Guess so! The Kirthian snarled like a mad thing, turning his head and glaring at her. Shocked and frightened, Aldia staggered back a step. The Kirthian's eyes glowed red-hot and he slavered at the mouth like a wild thing. He didn't seem much like a man anymore. Aldia struggled in the Kirthian's grip, but he didn't even seem to notice. His rock-like grip continued to hold her, dangling, in midair. She kicked futilely. "So," hissed the Kirthian, and Aldia caught the hint of fangs, "another slip of a girl to challenge me!" He tossed Dana aside, and the younger girl did not immediately move again. "I shall enjoy you both!" Aldia's sword swung up, blocking the Kirthian's advance. Her heart was pounding fast. She'd have given anything -- anything! -- not to be there right that second. But again the sword acted of its own accord. The Kirthian tried to bat it aside, and the sword bit into his flesh. The Kirthian laughed, ignoring the wound, and drew his own sword again. The black blade writhed in the light. "I shall enjoy this!" he laughed. "Morthgar is truely finished if you're the best they can do!" Trembling, Aldia retreated, until her back was pressed up against the wall and there was nowhere left to go. She glanced at Haji. "Yes," drawled the Kirthian, following her gaze. "Tasty, but he is no more use to me. You, though, mmmh, tasty! I shall take my time with you!" He cut low, intending to cut her legs out from under her, but Aldia's sword managed to block it, dragging her off the wall as it did so. Her hands shook, but the sword stayed firmly pointed at the Kirthian, not wavering from his midsection. He was surprised that she'd parried his stroke, but not displeased. His mouth curved up at the corners into a wicked smile. Courage! Courage, Aldia! He stabbed at her stomach and again was blocked. She thrust at him and he pushed her back. They went back and forth that way for several minutes and Aldia knew that the Kirthian was testing her, playing with her, and, to her surprise, growing more frustrated and angry with every blow. Finally deciding he'd had enough, the Kirthian dashed forward, planning on slicing her open quickly, to leave her to bleed to death. He slashed and stabbed, watching her dying body hit the floor, blood streaming from her wounds, her mouth open in a silent scream. Or, that's what he'd intended to happen, but somehow she managed to parry his blow. Again! He was a little confused. This little snip was no swordswoman, she'd proved that plain enough during the tests. He riposted and lunged, this time not trying for anything fancy, just trying to run her clean through. This time he watched in satisfaction as she fell aside with a sob. Or, that's what should have happened. Again she parried, but this time, she followed up on his surprised pause, pushing him back a few steps in order to defend against his attack. What was going on? This shouldn't be happening! This should be so easy! No! How could this be? She was actually pushing him back! Forcing him to defend himself! A trifling little girl! Aldia didn't think, she just reacted. The sword felt alive in her hand, guiding her every movement. Her footwork was non-existant, but that didn't seem to matter, the sword seemed to know what it was doing. She blocked, she thrust, she cut him . . . ? Yes! He was staggering back now, red blood staining his arm, shock and fury darkening his face. He was staring back at her now .... The Kirthian glowered, watching the girl panting. That conniving little wench! She'd actually blooded him! There was something about this girl, he decided, something that called to him, blood to blood, but what was it? He couldn't decide, but this was not, he further decided, a time for fun and games. He needed to dispatch her quickly and then get to Gilroy. He'd let the man go for a minute, and he was now a hairsbreath from killing Welsh. Couldn't have that! The sword came swishing at Aldia again, fast and in a pattern half-realized. She blocked it, but the blade reversed on itself, coming back! Suddenly, she felt herself on her knees, dropping, jumping, falling somehow out of the way. Too slow! Damn! Aldia flinched, feeling pain and cold from the Kirthian's blade as it sliced her temple. That, she somehow knew, was a swordsmaster's technique, a very advanced move and one that required lots of strength and control, to reverse a blade like that in the very middle of its sweep. How did she know that? How did she know what was coming? Steady Aldia! That voice again! Did nobody else hear that? Trust me! You must trust me! Aldia blotted her forehead against a shoulder, and let the the sword do its work. She didn't try to think or react on her own; she let the sword lead her. And, somewhere in all that, in the next few minutes, she started to hear something besides her own harsh breathing and pounding heart, something besides the litany of Oh shit-oh shit-oh shit in her own head. There was something else there, whispering to her, a familiar voice, calm and confident. She stumbled, half-glanced behind her, to be sure that Haji's body still lay, unmoving, behind her. Pay attention! that voice demanded now, yanking her back to her opponent who even now was advancing, taking advantage of her momentary distraction. Defense, said that voice -- that was Haji's voice! -- inside her head. The battle renewed, blade to blade, and now Aldia realized that she was not really in control of her own body any more, more a bystander than a participant. Haji, somehow, someway, was helping her, giving her strength and an intimate fighter's knowledge, the easy grace and feel of a brilliant swordsman. Her body took on a life of its own, lenthening its stance, adding steadiness to her grip, and beauty to the line. Shock and disbelief shone from the Kirthian's face through the sweat now beading on his brow and upper lip. She blocked thrust after thrust, feeling each move come more and more easily as she listened to Haji, relaxed into this strange embrace. She had the Kirthian retreating! And fighting on the defensive! "This is impossible!" he screamed at this girl, this impertinent young woman who should've known better than to have become imbroiled in the affairs of this kingdom, a woman here on his orders. This couldn't be real! She was fighting him now, really fighting, like she knew what she was doing! "Who are you?" he demanded, recognizing the moves, understanding the expertise now evident throughout her posture and attacks. "Who are you?" Aldia fought on, pressing the attack, pushing him right back up against the wooden wall of the counsel room so that their earlier positions were reversed. Each swing of her arm now brought burning pain from her blistered fingers all the way up her arm. She was starting to feel a little dizzy, a little sick, and having to concentrate harder to keep things from swimming out of focus. Was she imagining things, or was she bleeding, her legs unsteady beneath her? The Kirthian continued to retreat and he stared at her now with fear in his eyes. . . . . Three, four, lunge! came Haji's voice again, instructing her, leading her through the complex movement. Aldia gasped for breath. So weak! So much pain! Her arm shook, but her blade kept on, steady as ever, expertly defending her. Parry. Riposte. Feint ... again ... She spun in a circle ... and ... Lunge! Aldia stared at the Kirthian, at the sword now spearing him right through his chest. He was staring back at her, mouth open in an 'O' of astonishment, almost comical but for the way his eyes slid upwards, as if staring at someone just over her head. She'd backed him right up against the wall and her thrust had gone right through to the wood behind. He was not going anywhere -- and yet! He strained against the sword, pushing himself towards her, further impaling himself, bloody froth at his lips. "I know who you are!" he gasped, flecks of blood flying. At this very moment, with his own life's blood pouring from him, he could see the double-image, the ghost within and around the girl. He laughed. A simple blade could not keep him here for long, he had powers beyond what this mortal could possibly imagine! And him, the Kirthian's eyes narrowed with calculation. He was far too new to his powers, he couldn't even guess at what was to happen next. Aldia couldn't drop the sword, but she backed off as far as she could, leaning away from this gruesome sight. "Demon filth!" the Kirthian howled, falling forward. Aldia's mouth formed words all on its own. "I am as you made me, spawn!" The hand that still held the sword's hilt twisted savagely. The Kirthian screamed in pain, but his hand whipped up as Aldia came closer, grabbing her around the neck. His strength was incredible! Still she fought, her hand not leaving the saber, its blade still pushing harder into the wood of the wall. The Kirthian was laughing, gripping her with both hands now and shaking her like a rag doll. She had spots in her vision now, but she couldn't leg go! She couldn't let go! The monster dragged her closer. She was starting to black out. No! Aldia! NO! She could barely hear now, hear the Kirthian laughing, chuckling, whispering into her ear, "If she means so much to you, Brother, I'll keep her around a while longer!" The Kirthian dropped Aldia, slamming her against the wall and she collapsed, unconscious. With great effort, he pulled out the saber, hissing in pain as the wound began to heal itself. He picked up his own blade and began advancing toward Gilroy. Haji opened his eyes with great difficulty, lying sprawled awkwardly on the floor. He turned his head after a moment's hard concentration, to look after the Kirthian. Even now he was stepping away from the ladies, moving to finish off Miles, still battling Ahmad. Their skills there were almost evenly matched. Where was Blane? Ah, there! He'd split off from Miles, dueling Welsh again. He didn't look very good. Haji fought against the darkness that wanted to claim him, fought to stay conscious. "Miles!" he croaked. "He's a demon, Miles!" Oh, if he only had that dagger still! They needed silver, or holy water, or ... or something! What was it that the legends always said? Moonlight, maybe? He couldn't remember! The darkness was creeping up on him again, but Haji willed it away. He had to know what was going to happen! He glanced over at Aldia again. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I failed you!" Wait! Was she moving? Was Aldia moving? She was! She crawled over to Dana and the two girls huddled together, whispering. Haji just ... couldn't hold out for much longer. He felt his eyes slide closed again, felt the darkness claim him. "Good luck," he whispered, and slid into the painless abyss of unconsciousness. Insane One "D-dana..." Aldia coughed. She was so tired..., but she had to save Haji. If she lived through this she wouldn't be able to live if she knew she could't do anything to save him."Aldia?" Dana looked up weakly. What had happened? Was the battle over? She couldn't think. The world was spinning and all the noise...oh wait, guess it's not over yet. "Dana...Haji...help...I can't..." She coughed more. Her throat was killing her. She didn't know how close that demon was to killing her, nor did she want to know. "Haji...?" Dana forced herself to look up. The Kirthian...was that the Kirthian? He looked nothing like a human anymore. Dana shook her head, No. Focus. He was walking towards Haji...and if Haji wasn't dead already, he would be soon. Dana looked at Alida who had finally collasped while Dana was thinking. She was pointing somewhere. Dana followed her hand to where she was pointing. The dagger! It was cast asside in all the chaos and now was free to grab. She started crawling as fast as she could. She needed to save Haji. She needed to save Aldia. She needed to save Miles, Blane, Gwen, Jersh, Carls, her father, her mother...She needed to save everyone. Chelsea- out of time Before she got to the dagger, a hand touched her shoulder. It was soft, but Dana was startled anyway. Looking up into the kind eyes of the Prime Minister, Dana somehow knew that soon, soon, the fight would end. He helped her stand, mostly carrying her to a secluded corner of the council room. Not saying a word, he took a vial from his robes. He handed to Dana, who drank the sweet tasting liquid. Strength returned her and her injuries lessened in pain."I didn't know, I just didn't know," he muttered, fumbling with the empty bottle. "Prime Minister," Dana said with confidence she didn't feel, "What is going on?" The older man stared, and finally nodded. "History was never really reconciled." "What?" "King Amelia and the Kirthian Emperor," He whispered the name, "Hundt." Dana knew the story, but she douldn't understand how it was relevent in the current circumstances...War. The Prime Minister continued. "He gave his soul to the demons, thus becoming an immortal being." Dana looked at the Kirthian, at Hundt, an ancient ruler, living, breathing, today. "He has been planning his revenge for centuries, but he knew that he had to wait until Morthgar was weakened." "The process of picking a new King..." Dana muttered. The Prime Minister nodded. "Also he knew he had to destroy the Gilroy line. Because Miles has had no children, it would've been easier." Dana frowned, "Why the Gilroy line?" The Minister had been searching the walls, looking for something, but he answered her question. "King Amelia's secret guard's commander was a Gilroy. They have always protected the king," he motioned to the still fighting Miles, "even when there isn't one." Dana nodded, not even allowing herself the priviledge of doubt. It was time for this to end. She was sick of it. Sick. "You must kill him Dana." The minister turned on her, his eyes wild with sudden recognition. "What? Me? why?" The Prime Minister shook as he took her hand. "Amelia's blood runs through these viens. Only you can weild the weapon and deliver the final blow." Dana shook her head, "First, that...thing cannot be killed by normal weapons. Second, you must be mistaken. I grew up a dirty farm girl. I can't be related to ancient royalty." "First," the Minister retorted, still looking for whatever it was he wanted to find, "I know of a stash of weapons, Amelia's herself, made with the purest of metals and instilled with liberty, freedom, and all the things that make this country good. Second, when Amelia died, her family went into exile on their own. They knew the truth, and couldn't stand the accusations of the court. That's how you are related, Milady." Dana was shocked, but there was no time for argument. "What are you looking for?" "An ancient chamber within these very walls holds the weapons of the warrior Amelia. We must find the lost entrance and kill the demon, Hundt." "In minutes? When it's been lost for centuries? Joy." She began searching, but it wasn't the walls. She knew. She ran to the seats where, for centuries, the ministers and king had deliberated as one. Frantically she searched. She was running so fast that she tripped, falling hard on her side. "OOF! Hey!" Underneath the seat she'd fallen over was a picture, a tiger tearing a snake in two, the insigna of Amelia. Jumping to her feet, Dana tore at the seat. It loosened, and she shifted it to the left. A staircase led down in to darkness. There was no time to call for the Prime Minister. Looking back, the Kirthian had gone straight for Miles who looked worn. Dana squared her shoulders and stole down the staircase. It was intensely dark, and Dana stubbed her toe more than once, but quicker than she'd expected she came across a moonlight chamber, centuries of misuse and uncare evident. Where's the dammed weapon of purity? She never needed to ask. Circling the room, she saw it. It shone more than the moonlight coming through a slit in the ceiling, a broadsword, huge and fear-inspiring. She ran to it, tried to lift it, failed, then tried again. Suddenly, something entered her. It felt almost right but misplaced at the same time. Let's go kill that bastard! A voice said in her head. Dana, not on her accord, lifted the giant sword, her muscles straining and ran up the stairs. "HUNDT!!!" The volume mixed with Dana and the mistery voice caused the entire room to stop. Miles looked up, shocked to see the tiny figure with the giant weapon. Hundt started. "Where did you hear that name?" "It is yours isn't it?" That was Dana, she was finally at her fullest amount of anger. She looked around the room at the death, and wanted to kill. Hundt came to her, "Amelia? Is that you?" Dana nodded. That wasn't her. Amelia? KC is a teacher now! There was something ... odd, or not quite right about this nothingness Haji found himself in. It wasn't like he'd never been knocked unconscious before, or even never been close to death before, because he had. Maybe not quite this close, but close enough. There was just something different this time around. Maybe it was the not-quite exactly black darkness of the space behind his eyeballs. He could almost make out shapes, like that time just before sunrise, before the world starts to go gray, where all the trees are just darker blobs in the night. Or maybe it was the not-especially numb tingle-iness he felt, like his legs had fallen asleep and were just now waking up, that weird pins-and-needles sensation. Every so often a lance of pure, unadulterated pain would arch up his side or his back, or, come to think of it, anywhere. He couldn't really feel his body much at all, more like a large, shapeless blob than anything else. No, he was quite certain he'd never felt like this before. He wondered why he wasn't just asleep. He should be blissfully unaware of anything, and not trapped in this bizzare kind of limbo. He should just be waiting to wake up, whether to awaken back in that messed up body of his or to, well, to somewhere else entirely was a big question mark. He wasn't even really sure which he'd prefer at this point. All he knew was that he shouldn't be here, wherever here was, whatever here was. Oh, look, isn't that cute? asked the Madness. Yeah, he's still trying to reason us out, agreed the Nothing. Can't say as I remember this ever happening before, mused the Madness. Okay, that was quite wierd. Haji wanted to reach up and rub his ears, assuming of course he still had any and still had arms and hands to feel them with. There was a fluttering in his thoughts, sort of like having water in his ears, a sloshing, crinkling kind of sound. If he concentrated, he could almost make out voices. "Who's there?" There was nothing to see, but Haji tried anyway. There wasn't even the sensation of moving, just the barest hint of laughter, from somewhere far away. "Who's there?" Do you think he suspects? asked the Nothing. The Madness snorted. Not likely. No one's ever survived one of his sacrifices before -- never botched one before, either, for that matter .... Hmm, you could be right. Will he make it? Uncertain. There'll be no protective angels to worry about, that is for sure, nothing to take him from us. True enough, nodded the Nothing. It is hard on these mortals, to realize that they're not the men they think they are. What do you know? chided the Madness. You've never done this before, either! He may come out on the other side stronger, stronger than he was, that's all I'm saying, protested the Nothing. Yes, there is that possibility, to live through the pain of the transformation, but the pain is likely to drive him mad. And then he shall belong to me. The lonliness, the powerlessness of it all was getting to Haji. Darkness, not life or death, but this unrelenting limbo that almost seemed to suffocate him, to drown him in his own unimportance. He felt that he should have a body, his mind was adrift, but he had to have a body somewhere. Where, though? How did he lose it? How could he find it again? He felt as if he'd been lost for a very long time ... he struggled to remember something -- anything! From before ... before all this, this nothing. How long had he been this way? Forever? No, no, that couldn't be it, there just had to be something more! A long pause, and then the Nothing said, I don't know why he persists. He can't ignore us forever. He thinks he's so smart, said the Madness. But he'll talk. He'll beg for mercy, for an end ... but it shall not come, oh, indeed not! Will it ever end? sighed the Nothing. No. He cannot become who he is until he accepts what he is. Until then -- listen to that! Music to my ears. The pain! The unrelenting agony! Just leave me alone! Haji screamed, but they were silent screams, for he had no throat with which to give voice to anything. He would sob, but there was nothing but the all-encompassing grief and horror and terror in a heart that he could no longer feel beating. The waves of pain grew stronger now, lasted longer, but at least they drowned out those voices. Those smug, contemptible, mocking voices. Haji hadn't imagined death this way. He was cold, and he felt wet. There was a tingling sensation rushing over him, rushing towards him. He cowered away. No, he couldn't let it touch him, it was evil, evil magic! But it was too late, too late for regrets. There is no such thing as magic, said the Nothing. What is evil? asked the Madness, But the absence of good? There was power now, Haji could feel it in his blood. What is happening to me? he wondered. He could remember a little now, remember stabbing that vile creature as it came to him, vile kisses and foul whispers on its lips, its clawed hands pulling him free, crossing the boundary between their worlds. Such wretched ecstasy, those staring eyes and dripping fangs. Life in exchange for power. The more the Kirthian sacrificed to these demons, the closer they could come, until they could physically cross over. The Kirthian was one of them. Maybe once he'd been human, but the power corrupts. Trapped, neither here nor there, they'd toyed with him, tormented Haji with their plans and dreams, his pain for their pleasure. It would all be over soon, and never, the agony would last forever. And then he'd been back, dazed, inexpressibly relieved to find himself safely back in his own body, hearing the furious snarls and hateful screams of dissatisfaction, but only from a distance. There were cool, gentle fingers on his face, in his hair, soothing back the nightmares, the almost-was. Then he'd gone back, for the connection was still there. Tenuous, but there. The demon-knife, sunk up to its hilt in a demon's heart, had broken the connection between the worlds, but at what cost? What cost indeed? "What is happening to me?" The power spoke to him, reasoned with him, promised him the world. "They're not worthy," it said. "There is only you." It taunted him with his own dreams, showed him what could be, what might be, should he do as it commanded, if he was a loyal servant. Power coursed in his veins, even now healing the awful damage, casting aside the infection that ate away at his feet, cooling the blisters still rising on his palms, sealing the open flesh from the demon-blade. All as if to say, "See? See what I can do if you let me?" But Haji could almost smell the power's bitterness, its hatred of all that was life and living and alive. It hated him, too; it only wanted to use him, and then throw him away. But still there was that which gave Haji hope. Choice. He had the evil in his own soul now, tainted by the demons and their world. He was becoming one of them, like the Kirthian, but the Kirthian chose to use that power for evil, to keep on gaining power until it, eventually, would consume him. Haji had already chosen to use the power twice; chosen first to steal it from the demon, to break the connection and send the demon-world away, hopefully forever. Now it was in him, the price for that decision. He'd chosen again to use the power to help Dana. Should he continue this way, it would destroy him as surely as the Kirthian. That must never be. The power railed at him, pleaded with him, bargained and cajoled, flattered and threatened. It would always seek for control; he'd never be safe from it again. One wrong move, one slip, and it would own him forever. Could he make the choice? Again and again and again, every second of every day, forever? The correct choice? The light seemed to think so. He had to believe that he could make those choices. I hate do-gooders, sighed the Nothing. Haji smiled and opened his eyes. The world looked a little different, but he supposed he could live with that. He didn't hurt any more, and that was a wonder, but he really didn't have time for that at the moment. What was going on? Where was everyone? "Hundt!!" Every head turned towards the woman with the sword, a sword that was at least as big as she was, but one that she held up menacingly as if it weighed only a fraction of its size. To Haji's eyes, she glowed. The Kirthian had also turned at her words, staring upon this figure of fury with disdain. "Where did you hear that name?" A flicker of movement caught Haji's eye and he turned away from the spectacle. Ahmad brought his sword up. He was going to ...! "Miles!" shouted Haji. "Look out!" With satisfaction, but also a lingering sense of failure, Haji watched as Miles and Ahmad returned to their private combat. Welsh and Blane still fought doggedly on, both now breathing (and bleeding) heavily. Dana and the Kirthian were now obscured by the whirlwind of their attacks. Something more than just purely physical might was in use there; which really only left one person to look for. Where was Aldia? There! Laying on the floor close to where the Kirthian had dropped her. Haji stared. It was hard to make out, but he did believe, yes! She was breathing! His body did not seem to want to obey him and his muscles ached like he'd asked too much of them, way too much, a total-body ache he'd agonized through in his early training days. His head still felt heavy too, like he hadn't slept in too long. Still, he fastened his double-vision on Aldia's sprawled form and dragged himself along the wall towards her, ignoring all else. He had to stop several times to rest, but he did finally get there, sweating, and wheezing for breath. Aldia was still alive, and beginning to bruise from her run-in with the Kirthian. He went to touch her ... and stopped. He had this sudden, overwhelming and irrational desire to ... he shuddered, shaking his head slightly. He licked his lips and paused, reaching up to touch his mouth. Am I drooling? He stared at his hand. The burns and blisters were gone, vanished, as if they'd never happened. He looked at his other palm and found its condition to be the same. No, no, no! This can't be real! He touched his chest. There were scars, nasty, raised scars, but the damage from the Kirthian's dagger was healed. He rubbed them awkwardly, eyes closed and fighting for a calm he felt slipping ever faster away from him. I was just dreaming, I know I was just dreaming! "Get away from her, unholy spawn!" Haji's eyes flew open. The Prime Minister crouched at Aldia's other side, sword in hand and glaring. "Please, I --" "I saw what you are, you can't use your trickery on me!" Haji stared at him. "What? I --" The minister scowled, swinging the blade awkwardly. Haji's temper flared and he snarled at the old man, flinging out an arm to knock him away. The minister, startled, fell backwards, hit his head on the benches behind him, and was still. Haji turned his attention back to Aldia. He touched her on the arm, drawing back quickly. He was sure he hadn't grabbed her harshly, and yet, his fingers left dark marks on her fair skin. He went to touch her, cautiously, on the shoulder, and drew back, nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply. His head spun crazily, his eyes unfocused, breathing deeply of a fabulous perfume. Sweet, sweet blood, trickling lazily from a cut above the woman's left eye. She smelled so good! So fresh, so alive. This was food! This was an offering! He could barely stop himself from drooling. She was so close, so inviting, so very vulnerable. His gaze was drawn to her delicate neck, ignoring the bruising there as unimportant. In just an instant, he could have his hands at her throat, feasting on her warm, delectable flesh! He reacted immediately, recoiling from Aldia's warm, alluring body with a horrified cry. He groped his way along the wall, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Aldia, eyes wide, fighting the insatiable power that demanded sustenance, that begged for a sweet, warm morsel. He really did retch now, bringing only tears to his eyes from the force of his disgust, for his stomach was empty. He trembled all over, aching to go back and feast off the provacative flesh so enticingly near. Fear spiked through him, followed closely by such hatred and rage as he'd never felt before in his life. Teeth bared, he stared at the Kirthian. If he'd been able to see his own face just then, he would have been shocked at the sudden transformation, the demonic fangs and mad, red eyes. Just as suddenly, however, the blood-lust was gone, and he was left to shiver in the aftermath. He buried his face in his hands, hunched against the wall. I'm a monster! he thought. A monster! He ought to make a run for it now, but he was still too weak, he wouldn't get far. He would have to trust to the Prime Minister or one of the others to recognize his demon-taint and destroy the threat he provided before he grew too strong for them, before he became another mad-man, like the Kirthian. Haji sat there, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around himself, and leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes and concentrated on holding still his deranged impulses. The power was still there, probing, waiting for a weakness. Haji couldn't let it find one. Insane One The Prime Minister shok Aldia gently. "My lady, wake up. You're in danger."She opened an eye slowly and forced herself to sit up. "What's our status?" She croaked before coughing. The Prime Minister held her steady, "Careful. That demon almost got you." "Demon?" Aldia looked around. If only her head would stop pounding. Miles and Blane were fighting Ahmad and Welsh, respectivly, and Dana was locked in combat with the Kirthian. Where had she found that sword? The Kirthian seemed to be more cautious fighting her than he had with Aldia. She continued to scan the room. Where was Haji? He was to injured to get up and walk away on his own. Using the Prime Minister as support she hoisted herself to her feet. "Where are you going?" "I have to find Haji." She replied, scanning the room. Using whatever she could find to jeep her steady she continued walking around the room. Why am I so tired? I've had worse injuries before...I think. She was just starting to be able to stand on her own feet when something blocked her path. Something big. Something ugly. Something that had made her trials a living Hell. The champion that had oh so clearly made his opinion of her clear. She growled in annoyance. She was tired, she was feeling sick, she had a headache from Hell,she didn't have time for this, and she was pissed. She grabbed the spare daggers she had hidden on herself before they reached the court and tried her best to appear steady on her feet. "Just die and leave me alone." Chelsea- out of time An addition by the magnificent KC is a teacher now!  * * * Hundt advanced on Amelia, disregarding the mortal whose body his former love's spirt had manifested through. In his free hand he summoned a ball of dark energy. Hatred distorted his face into an unrecognizeable mask as his human form melted away. Amelia swung her sword in a small arc, surrounding them in a halo of brilliant light and wind. Hundt staggered, dropping the magic to shield his eyes. "You bitch!" She smirked. "Just you and I now, Hundt. We shall end this, for once and for all." He sneered at her. "You think you know so much, do you? I have spent the ages growing in power. You? You've been dead!" She shrugged as they circled. "Then we shall see who has better spent their time, then, shall we?" Hundt grabbed his sword with both hands and the black blade writhed, growing in size and length to match hers. He swung; she met his blade, but the deafening <CRACK!> stayed within their luminous sphere. The force of the blow caused both to stagger. Hundt smiled. "Possessing a mortal, Amelia? And you condemn my actions?" "A descendant, my dear Hundt." She smiled at his alarm. "Who was I to turn down her offer?" Their blades met again, once, thrice, and the combatants fell apart once more, breasts heaving with exertion. "Your strength and power is still dependant upon a weak mortal, whereas I -- I have all the power of eternity to call upon!" Her pitying look cast fingers of dread upon Hundt. "Alas, Hundt, your connection to that infernal plane has been severed. Look!" He looked where she pointed, to the sorry figure huddled to one side, separate from the disarray around him. He saw the scars, where before fresh wounds had been, and recognized him. He cocked an eyebrow at Amelia. "So?" he demanded. "A new lieutenant for myself to take the place of that miserable failure Ahmad. With him at my side, this is but a temporary setback." She smirked again. "You don't find it the least bit unusual that he has gained something from his experience? Where are your friends now, Hundt? Summon them now! Let us see who is right!" Hundt glared at her, but he was afraid, afraid that he would not be able to call upon the powers of the demons. "What is it?" she taunted him. "After all this time, are you still afraid of me?" He roared, charging her and they clashed once more. Hundt was stronger and he hammered her with blow after blow, seeking to smash that self-righteous attitude right into the ground. All his grief and anger at her passionate betrayal came once more to the surface and he screamed, calling upon his demon-granted strength to crush this woman who had haunted his whole life. Revenge! He would take now the revenge she'd been denying him for centuries! * * * Miles heard Haji's warning and reacted instantly, parrying Ahmad's cowardly attack. He threw him off and then stumbled himself as a whirlwind knocked him sideways. He looked. Where once Dana and the Kirthian had been, there was now a maelstrom of wind and light. He squinted. He could barely make out Dana through all that. She's cut off! he thought in alarm. Enough was enough! He had to get rid of his target now, and quickly. Dana needed his help. He crossed blades with the Danvarian Aldia had warned him of and once more they battled between the benches. The older man retreated from Miles' renewed attack, looking around for support that would never come. All around them the Royal Guard was beating back the Kirthian's troops and they pressed back down towards the center. Miles' target turned to run, and found himself facing a wall of steel. Miles commanded his soldiers: "Take him. I want him for questioning later!" He turned his back to the short-lived struggle, racing back. He noted with some relief that Blane had at last speared that damned duke. He feared for the boy, as he'd lost a lot of blood due to his re-opened wound, but he had no time to lose. From his vantagepoint, he'd just seen Dana fall. "Dana!" Lowering his sword, Miles charged the wall of light, skidding and sliding as it dissipated just before he barrelled through. Hundt's blade crashed into Amelia's and the foolish mortal girl dropped the weapon from stinging hands, falling to her knees. Miles stabbed the Kirthian. His stroke lacked finesse and went wild as he struggled to keep his balance, barely grazing the man's side. Hundt screamed in fury. "Gilroy! Forever have you thwarted me! I'll make you pay now!" He spun around, punching Miles so hard the human flew halfway across the room and collapsed onto the benches, a broken, pitiless figure. Now to finish -- Dana, mouth open in fear, surprise, and more fear, this time for Miles, grasped blindly for the sword. Her numb fingers found the dagger instead. That's my girl! said a voice in her ear. Amelia! Dana's voice and Amelia's blended in a roar of anger and retribution. She didn't know how she closed the distance so fast, but Dana buried that silver blade as far as it would go into that demon's back, with all the strength she possessed and then some. Hundt screamed, shaking the very foundation of the palace itself. Black energy, blacker than the blackest night, and sparking, spread outward from the dagger, enveloping him in its coils. It expanded to a sphere of evil blackness, completely surrounding him, but continuing to grow and grow and grow. The sword! Dana stumbled to grasp the giant sword and felt superhuman strength flow through her arms once more. She lifted the blade, shining with its own light against the dark, and swung. Amelia's sword sliced through the darkness, cleaving it in two. Air whistled past Dana's ears and then she was flying, flying, flying .... That's my girl, whispered Amelia and Dana saw her smiling, and waving. * * * Blane looked up from where he lay as tremors shook the floor, walls, and ceiling. Shortly after, blasts of light and energy exploded, and Blane covered his head as furniture and bodies flew over his head. Then, abruptly, there was silence. He staggered to his feet, pressing the heel of his hand into his wound. The counsel room was a shambles. The closer to the center, the more extensive the damage became. The dais itself was only so many wood splinters and the stone beneath cracked and split as if hit by a giant fist. In the dust, shadowy figures moved. "Hey, you okay?" Blane started. Commander Gilroy, weaponless and covered in a fine, white dust that made him appear like a ghostly pin-cushion, due to the wood chips and stone splinters sticking out of his armor, peered at him worriedly. "I, uh, don't really know, sir. Are we still alive?" Miles smiled. "It would seem so. Can you walk?" "Um ...." "Nevermind." He turned his head, in the direction of the main doors, and shouted. "Over here! I need a healer here!" Then he looked back at Blane. "Stay here and do what the healers say. Got it?" "Uh, yes, sir. Uh, sir?" "Yes?" "What the devil happened?" Miles grinned, thought about laughing, but that was just the hysteria talking, and he choked it back down. "Just stay here." He needed to find Dana. He came across the Prime Minister next and, a short distance away, Haji and Aldia. Aldia was unconscious, but Haji was stirring weakly. From the looks of things, Haji had used his own body to shield Aldia; he was covered in wood and stone splinters, and she looked relatively untouched. Miles shook his head and rolled his eyes a little. He knelt down to check on the man. Miles jerked back as Haji turned on him, flashing red eyes through the dusty haze. Miles hollered, instinctively defending himself. Haji slumped back to the ground and Miles took deep breaths to still his racing heart. What the heck was that? "He needs ... to be killed." Miles started. The Prime Minister stared at him, looking as dishevelled and worn as Miles felt. "What do you mean?" "Did you see the red eyes?" asked the minister. Miles nodded. "He has been marked by the demons. He is a threat and a danger." Miles looked back at Haji uncertainly. The man didn't look any different to him now as before. Oh, wait, he touched his arm, wiping away dust and dried blood. He touched a scar instead of an open wound. The scar looked like it might have been there for years. Miles' heart sank. "You see it, too, don't you?" Miles shook his head, wanting to deny what his eyes told him. "I can't do it. I can't kill him in cold blood like this." "He's weak, defenseless now," continued the minister, "but that won't last. If you don't kill him, he will destroy us all." Miles stood. "No." He waved to attract attention. A few of his troops answered his call. "Bind him," he told them, pointing to Haji. "And take all three of them to the healers." "Yes, sir," parroted the Guard. Miles continued his search. He got back to where he'd started, but still no Dana. Where was she? Where could she be? Commander Gilroy. He turned on his heel, staring around, and then rubbed his eyes. Was it his imagination, or was there a ghostly figure flickering in the dust? Your king lies there, intoned the spirit. Miles didn't question. His feet carried him to a hole in the stone floor, to stairs leading down. Hesitantly, mindful of the dark, Miles worked his way down. At the bottom, he lifted Dana's limp body into his arms. She was holding something, something that glowed, even in this pitch-black hole. For the second time in as many minutes, he stared. Dana held a crown. It was a fragile thing, a thin, silver filet. Now the ghost's words penetrated Miles' cloudy head. His king? His King! He lurched to his feet and carried Dana up the stairs. He thought he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned, but all he saw when he looked, were a few glittering shards of a broken sword. The shards were the same color as the crown and, even as he watched, their glow faded and the pieces dissolved into the stone dust upon which they lay. Miles stared at his limp burden in amazement. A king had indeed been chosen. * * * And my slightly less interesting addition There was something to say about the brilliance of Amelia. Her light radiated throughout where they both stood. There was no floor, no walls, only a intense white light. It was enough to make Dana dizzy. For a brief moment, Dana wondered where she was, but it was short lived for in front of her stood an ancient King. Amelia was tall, a beauty with strength beyond belief. Her hair was the same as Dana, long and black, as were her eyes. Dana felt as if she were looking at a different version of herself. It was slightly disorienting. "You have proven yourself ten times over, Dana Hunts of Comite." Amelia's voice resounded off the nothingness and Dana felt an urge to kneel, so she did. Amelia strode to her, stopping suddenly. "I have been watching you. You gained the trust of servents. You know of the people. You worry over war, but most of all, Dana, you care. That is what makes you a king." Dana looked up sharply. "What?" Amelia smiled, amused by the look on the young girls face. "The responsiblity is immense, but with what you've shown today, I know that you deserve this." Out of nowhere, Amelia grabbed a crown. It was small, made with the purest silver. It shown even more than Amelia. Dana gulped. "I'm not worthy of that title Amelia. Everyone else has worked far harder than I." Amelia nodded. "You use those around you, knowing that they can help in ways you never thought. To take advantage of the wisest around you is a sign of Kingship, as is your humility." Dana shook her head, still not willing to believe what was happening. Amelia, speaking in the Old Tongue, recited the ritual placing the crown on Dana's head. Her vision began stirring, and she fell to the ground. Amelia look down at her smiling. "Go now and rule." Dana opened her eyes to the infirmary with the other injured people. She tried to sit, but felt like a baby without the ability to move. Looking around she saw Haji, tied to the bed. Anger swelled in her. "Where is Miles?" "Here My King," he kneeled next to her bed. Dana stared at him. "Stand up you dunce." He did smiling. "Untie Captain Haji. Now." "My King, he's been transformed into a demon..." Dana could tell that Miles didn't want to believe it. Dana shook her head. "He does not deserve to be tied like an animal." Dragon_Ninja (Sorry for the late addition, I kind of hit a writers block...)Blane was stuck in a bed...again. Commander Miles had ordered him to stay in the bed yet again. Blane didnt mind much this time. He couldnt stop the shivers from coming. He had taken a life. The life of a hated man, yes, but a life nonetheless. The weight of Welsh's life is still on his hand, no matter how hard he had tried he couldn't shake it off. He had told a soldier next to him, an older man, he didn't know his name. "Yea, I remember that feeling...Let me tell you, it never leaves. The more lives you take, the heavier it will get. It's up to you weather or not you can carry the burdon." The man turned and fell asleep on the spot, he was wounded just as bad or worse than Blane. The attendant came over to change his bandages. Blane winced and grunted when the old bandages were taken off. He heard the attendant suck in air between his teeth, "You're gonna have some nasty scars, I'll tell you that much." "I kind of knew that already..." Blane let out a little chuckle, interuppted by a grunt as the guy started to put fresh bandages around his wounds. Blane's thoughts went back to the battle. He rememebred very clearly the look on Welsh's face when he had stabbed him. A look of anger, going to suprise, then...that blank stare. Welsh had stared in the eyes of his killer, even in death. Blane could not get it out of his head. The attendant finished and told Blane to get some rest. How the hell can I get some rest!? Blane roared at the attendant in his mind. Blane laid down and closed his eyes, they jerked right back open. He had seen Welsh's face once again. Blane let out a quiet, but almost hysterical laugh, "So...even in death you are still out to get me?" Jason Simmons Miles had Haji untied. He placed his hand on his blade, just in case. He looked over at Dana. She was a true King. And she would make a good one. And, someday, make some man a very happy husband. He turned his attention back to Haji.Haji was having an inner struggle, Miles could tell. But the real question was, who was winning? Haji, or the demon. C'mon, Haji. |
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