ã€ŠVengeance and Love &#x2014; a Homebrew DnD-Inspired storyã€‹


 First

    I know what I am. I know who I am. The two are very much entwined, and I do not know if they can exist apart. I would curse the circumstances that made me thus, but I no longer care enough to do it.

    I kneel in the mud beside the little stream and scrub off the blood that is caked on my hands, between my fingers. I glance over at the body laying in the grass about five yards away. A paladin. Young man, half-elvish. His body is rent with the numerous cuts I scored during our fight, his throat slit with a death wound that I administered. Someone is going to miss their son, brother, friend. Pity, that. Not that I have any pity left for anything or anyone. The paladin had pleaded with me before his end, trying to appeal to my better nature and conscience. I doubt that I have one. When he saw that I wouldn¡¯t stop and that he could not best me in the end, he¡¯d called on his god. His god didn¡¯t save him.

    I shove the echoes of his last cries to the part of my mind I never visit. The part of my mind where I stuff away every tragedy that ever happened to me and the faces of every person I¡¯ve ever killed.

    Huh.

    Maybe there is the last vestiges of a conscience in me after all.

    I finish washing my hands, hold them out in front of me for inspection. They¡¯re as clean as they¡¯re going to get. There¡¯s still red staining the underside of my nails and the lines in the palms of my hands.

    My vision flickers, and suddenly my hands are covered, soaked, dripping with blood. I blink, squeezing my eyes shut. Swallow hard.

    When I open them again my hands are back to clean, dripping only with clear stream water.

    I sigh, stand and turn toward the paladin¡¯s body. It¡¯s three hours¡¯ long, sweating work to raise a cairn of stones over him. I may be a killer, but I have some decency.

    Like, I will not leave a body to be ravaged by wild creatures.

    And I will never ever raise my hand against a child. Of any race. At all. Ever.

    I¡¯d rather die first.

    I stand silently before the cairn I¡¯ve built, wondering for a brief moment what the paladin¡¯s name was, and if I should say some words over his passing.

    The moment passes.

    I have no love for the gods. So I don¡¯t say anything over the paladin after all. Just growl out,

    ¡°You didn¡¯t save him from me, didn¡¯t reward his faithful service no matter how hard he called on you. You had better give him peace, or so help me, I swear I will burn down every one of your temples and shrines.¡±

    I¡¯d do it to, and it¡¯s the least I could do for that poor paladin who was betrayed by his god.

    Like I said, I have no love for the gods.

    Fickle beings, often mucking up the affairs of us mortals for their own amusement.

    Bah.

    I turn away at last, pulling a small marble from my pocket. It¡¯s a tiny thing, only about as big around as a robin¡¯s egg. Made out of slate stone, polished by many years of loving hands.

    It¡¯s the dearest thing I own. My brother imbued it with transportation magic. It¡¯s my way back to him. No matter where I am, or what I¡¯ve gone through, with the right command this marble will bring me to wherever my brother is at the time.

    I¡¯ve lost count of how many times I¡¯ve used that marble over the years.

    I tap into its magic, whisper the word

    ¡°Home.¡±

    Because that is what my brother is to me: the only piece of home I have left.

    A heady rush fills my body. It feels like this every time my cells are pushed through the barriers of space and time. The paladin¡¯s cairn, the stream, the surrounding forest, it all fades from my view into misty white. I open my eyes a second later in a lush bedroom high in a fortress tower. A ginormous window overlooking the castle courtyard is open, and an early summer breeze stirs the cream-colored curtains. The bed is neatly made, the room free of any dust or dirt. My brother is still a neat-freak. A smile touches my lips.

    It¡¯s bright in here. The sun shows it¡¯s around mid morning here. I look around the room, noting a new trophy that my brother must have collected. A sword. Drow-made, by the look of it. I wonder which poor soul he got that from.

    I smile fondly in the sunshine, breathing in the scent of the bedroom. My brother¡¯s room.

    And speaking of my brother, he¡¯s nowhere in sight. Usually, I end up within five feet of him when the spell transports me to him.

    ¡°Fal?¡± I say. Someone yelps behind a changing screen in the corner of the room. Five feet away from me.

    The hot scent of fire reaches my nostrils.

    ¡°Whoever¡¯s out there, you had better be Avalon, or in the next ten seconds you will be nothing but a charred husk!¡± Fal¡¯s voice shouts from behind the screen.

    I laugh off his threat.

    ¡°It¡¯s me.¡± I say. ¡°And if you¡¯d use your head, you would know that already. You better finish dressing or whatever you¡¯re doing, because I¡¯m back and bringing news.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I turn away from the screen, biting back a smile, hearing the rustlings of someone hurriedly slipping on clothing. Fal grumbles as he dresses, and I only catch a word or two here and there.

    ¡°¡­no decency¡­ didn¡¯t know¡­ be back¡­ soon¡­ couldn¡¯t¡¯ve waited¡­.¡±

    Fal finally steps out into the room and I turn around, drinking in the sight of him. My brother.

    My twin brother. Falkirk D¡¯Adrian. The one person left in the world that I love. He is all that I have and all that I live for.

    There¡¯s almost nothing I wouldn¡¯t do for him.

    He grins at me and opens his arms.

    "Blackbird." The sound of my nickname leaving his lips is like a drink of water in a parched desert. I step into his embrace, holding him close, even though I know I stink like blood and dirt and sweat. Fal¡¯s scent (smoke and pine and sunshine) fills my nose, and I breathe it in deep.

    Blood and stars, I¡¯ve missed him.

    He pushes me back, holds me with his hands on my upper arms. We study each other, searching for signs that all is not well with the other.

    But there are none.

    And we should know. As twins, we share a bond with each other, a bond between souls. It allows us to keep an exact pinpoint on each other¡¯s location, to know the other¡¯s mood, emotions, even physical wellness. Fal can tell if I¡¯m wounded or hungry or thirsty or sad or if I¡¯m all the way over in the Deserts. And I can do the same for him.

    I study his face, noting the tinges of green in his grey eyes. Every face he¡¯s ever worn, every guise he¡¯s ever donned, he¡¯s always kept his eyes the same. And I love him for it.

    He¡¯s added a bit of grey in his hair at his temples today. It makes him look distinguished, even with his boyish half-elvish features.

    I reach up and ruffle his dark hair.

    ¡°You look like a lord today, brother.¡± I say with a teasing grin.

    He ducks away and laughs.

    ¡°Yeah, well, appearance is everything.¡± He replies. Our mood shifts and we look at each other soberly. ¡°You of all people know that.¡± He says softly.

    I nod, then change the subject before we can get too weepy.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to slip into your closet and see if you¡¯ve left any of my clothes in there.¡± I say. ¡°I need a bath and a change of clothing.¡±

    He smiles, then laughs. ¡°Of course, Ava. I¡¯ll just stand out here and wait.¡±

    I smile in spite of myself. ¡°No, you can stand out here and we can talk as I bathe, about the tidings I bring.¡±

    And so that is what we do. Fal placed a spell over the closet door that enables sound to pass through freely, but no sight. He also heats the bath water for me. So thoughtful, my brother.

    We talk as I wash. I can feel his mood shift with the news I impart. The high clans are finally getting over their differences and banding together. Against us. They¡¯re rallied by a young paladin who claims to serve one God, a God who, the paladin claims, rules over everything. If this paladin continues to succeed in his mission, the high clans are going to bring their combined, formidable might against us in full force. Soon.

    Fal¡¯s not worried, exactly. But he is concerned. And if he is, then I am. And I have a pretty good idea of what my next mission is going to be.

    But Fal surprises me by saying,

    ¡°Ava, I want you to befriend this paladin, get close to him, find out his plans and try to thwart them, if you can. But I want to know everything you find out.¡±

    I expect no less.

    He continues, ¡°This is not an assassination mission. Not yet. Information only, and keep me in the loop, understand?¡±

    I do. Perfectly. My brother¡¯s orders, if not his motives.

    I slip into a dark maroon dress with a tight bodice and a modest neckline. I never like showing off. The skirt falls full-length to the floor in beautiful volume, hiding the soft leather slippers I have on underneath.

    The slippers have steel toes. Fal cast levitation on them a while ago, so I am silent when I walk. But I can still do damage when I kick. I sweep my hair up on top of my head, pin it there so it falls free, thick and long and dark, down my back. Then I step out into the main bedroom.

    Fal looks me over. Smiles. This is the face I like to wear best, the half-elvish damsel. It¡¯s the one I¡¯m most comfortable in, being female even when I¡¯m in my true form.

    I know Fal likes this face as well. It¡¯s the one he sees me in most of the time. It¡¯s the one I wore all of our childhood years, albeit younger. He doesn¡¯t seem to mind that I look younger than him. Neither of us appears to age unless we want to.

    Not that we¡¯re that old, only in our thirtieth year.

    Fal¡¯s smile fades and he gestures to his own attire.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± He asks. He¡¯s so sweet: bloodthirsty one moment and worried about his looks the next. I smile, chuckling. In a cream-colored silk tunic and pearly grey breeches tucked into knee-high leather boots, with a sword belt over it all, he looks fine, and I tell him so.

    Then he smiles again. Holds out his arm for me to take. I do so.

    ¡°I have to address my troops, little sister. Would you care to join me?¡± He asks. I laugh.

    ¡°Why not?¡± I say. ¡°And by the way, I¡¯m only two minutes younger than you.¡±

    Fal chuckles. ¡°That still makes me older.¡± He says as we stride down hallways and stairs, neither of our feet really touching the polished floors.

    My brother¡¯s an excellent mage. One of the best I¡¯ve ever seen.

    I¡¯m not great at magic, though. Never have been. Stealing manna, yes. Casting a bubble of silence or shielding, yes. But not really anything much else in the mage arts.

    That¡¯s what Fal¡¯s for. He takes the power and the crowns, and I take the lives and do his bloody work for him.

    I shoulder all the burdens for him that I can.

    It¡¯s our life, and I wouldn¡¯t change it for anything. Not unless I could go back in time and stop the events that started this all.

    Falkirk and I step out into a wide balcony overlooking the main courtyard. It¡¯s a vast place, and nearly all of Fal¡¯s soldiers, the ones that aren¡¯t off fighting, are gathered here. They stand in perfect-straight ranks. Silent. Awaiting my brother¡¯s command.

    Fal raises his hand, mine still tucked in the crook of his other arm.

    ¡°My good men and women, valiant soldiers all,¡± he speaks, his voice amplified by mage-craft. They erupt into cheers. He motions for silence before he continues,

    ¡°The high clans gather their forces and prepare to march on us. Their might is sufficient to match ours. But will we falter before them?¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± They roar. These are the outcasts, the rejects, the betrayed and the remade broken souls. They are like us, and that is why they follow my brother. They believe in him. He promised them vengeance, and so they fight for him, body and soul.

    ¡°Will we allow them to take what we have fought so hard to obtain?¡± Fal¡¯s voice swells as his fighting blood rises.

    ¡°NO!¡± The soldiers below roar.

    I catch a glimpse of shadow within shadow down by the wall of the courtyard. A glint of sunshine on metal.

    ¡°Will we surrender?¡± Fal shouts, just as hyped up as his troops.

    ¡°NO!¡± They cry.

    Fal crumples as the metal sling-stone slams into his head.

    ¡°FAL!¡± The scream is torn from my throat. Guilt and anger rise up in me in a nearly overwhelming flood. I should have been more suspicious of the shadows. Should have seen what was coming.

    Should have prevented it.

    The courtyard goes dead silent.

    I catch Fal as he falls. I¡¯m driven to my knees on the balcony stones by his weight. His half-elvish face, dark hair and all, fades into pale, nearly transparent skin, hair that is white, translucent, almost invisible, and glittering rainbow streaks in the sun.

    His true form.

    Blood streams from a gash on his head at the hairline, by his ear. His eyes are closed in unconsciousness, and I cannot see their lovely green-tinged grey.

    Our twin bond is abruptly silent, empty, in stasis.

    My heart stutters in my chest. This is bad. Changelings never revert back to their true form unless by choice or if they suffer a wound grievous enough to force them.

    For changelings we are, Falkirk and I.

    I guess I had better back up to the beginning.

 Second

    Imagine a kingdom, its truthful foundation now built on lies. Imagine a ruling class, suspicious of all who are different. Imagine a race of beautiful beings, despised and persecuted just because they can change their face and form.

    Now take the picture that paints in your mind, and add to it blood and death and the murder of thousands of innocents.

    You forgot to add screams and fire and smoke.

    Shut up, Fal! You wanted me to tell this story; now let me tell it!

    I was just saying you forgot¡­

    Fine. Now be quiet and let me write.

    Imagine dark night sky lit by the glow of hundreds of homes burning. Imagine the screams of those torn from their loved ones, tortured and killed for the simple fact that they were ¡®not of this world¡¯.

    Grim enough for you?

    Yeah. That¡­ that stirs some unpleasant memories.

    Well, you¡¯re the one who wanted our story written down for the generations who come after us. This isn¡¯t anymore pleasant for me than it is for you.

    Yeah, I know. Just¡­ just get it over with.

    Be quiet and stop interrupting, and I will!

    Now imagine a couple, husband and wife, two of these despised, ¡®suspicious¡¯ characters. They flee, from the fire and the smoke and the screams and the blood and the deaths of their people.

    Oh, good. You got the gruesome bits this time.

    Falkirk!

    Sorry. I¡¯ll be quiet now.

    You had better be, or I¡¯m leaving you to write this yourself.

    *Falkirk manages a look of innocence. Ava shakes her head and bends back over her parchment*

    This couple flee from the kingdom, from the persecution. They run far and fast, and don¡¯t stop for anything but each other¡¯s exhaustion.

    Finally they come upon a secluded village deep in a forest. A village of half-elvish folk who know nothing of the hate that the couple had fled. These half-elves don¡¯t judge a person on their natural abilities. They judge a person on their actions.

    So here the couple found acceptance and a home. They adopted the forms and faces of half-elves and built a life there in that peaceful village.

    And in time, the wife gave birth to two little babes. Twins.

    A boy and a girl, two minutes apart and as alike in form and appearance as could possibly be.

    That¡¯s us!

    I know, Fal!

    I was just saying¡ª.

    Thats it! You can finish writing this yourself!

    Ava¡ª.

    Nope! Here¡¯s the quill. Write!

    Fine.

    *Falkirk sighs*

    Here we go.

    Why do you suppose that changelings were hated? Sure, we can shift face and form, and sure, some of us use our ability for devious reasons, but most of us are good, law-abiding people.

    Or we were.

    Now we have to live in hiding, often outside the law. Or we make our own way in the world, becoming too powerful to persecute.

    Anyway, back to the narrative.

    The changeling family, for changelings they were, lived in peace for many years.

    Why did you just say ¡®changeling¡¯ twice?

    For clarification. You didn¡¯t say they were changelings, and you can¡¯t just assume future readers are going to know what you¡¯re implying.

    They would have figured it out.

    Now look who¡¯s interrupting!

    Fine, fine. I did give you the quill. I¡¯ll be quiet now.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Probably.

    *laughter from Ava and eye rolling from Falkirk*

    Like I said, for many years they lived in peace. When the two children were old enough to control their abilities, they too adopted the likenesses of half-elvish younglings.

    The twins were inseparable, always exploring, adventuring in the woods around their home, always looking out for each other. They made good friends among the children in the village, but neither twin had any better friend than the other.

    Aw, you¡¯re sweet, Fal.

    They loved the villagers, and the villagers loved them, and no one had any regret whatsoever that changelings were living among them. Indeed, it almost seemed like the half-elves had forgotten that the changeling family was anything but their own.

    And all was warmth and happiness and prosperity until the day that the hateful scum from the changelings¡¯ native kingdom tracked them down and brought savage hell upon them.

    Almost literally.

    Aren¡¯t you going to tell us what all races were among those ¡®scum¡¯?

    I¡ª.

    You¡¯re the one who wanted clarification. And you left even less hints than I did.

    Well¡ª.

    They deserve to know, Fal.

    Very well.

    They were an assortment of races, mainly Elves, Men, and Drow. The odd Kenku or kobold.

    They swept down on the defenseless half-elvish village without warning, slaughtering men, women, and children alike.

    Some made it out, including the twin changeling children.

    But their parents were captured, along with a large percentage of the villagers.

    We were only in our ninth year.

    Avalon, I don¡¯t know if I can go on. These memories¡­ no child should ever have to go through what we did that day.

    I¡¯ll finish it then.

    No¡­ no. I can do this.

    *Falkirk starts hyperventilating. Ava rubs his back sympathetically*

    Deep breath, Fal. There you go. Breathe, brother.

    I¡¯ve got this. I can do this.

    The band of mercenaries and killers set fire to every building and burned the village to the ground. They dragged the captured villagers, changelings included, to the center of the village and demanded that the changelings be given up.

    For the changelings were still in disguise. Had worn their half-elvish personas for so long, they were indistinguishable from the real half-elves.

    But the poor villagers would not betray their friends.

    And so¡ª.

    Breathe, Fal.

    And so, the murdering scum brutally tortured the villagers, knowing that the changelings would shift back into their true forms when sufficient injuries had been inflicted.

    And the changeling children, who foolishly could not bear to leave their parents, hid at the edge of the forest and heard every piercing scream, every tortured cry.

    And the brother covered his sister¡¯s eyes so that she could not see the horrors that unfolded, even as he himself watched.

    Oh, Falkirk. I never knew¡­

    I¡ª it¡¯s¡ª Protecting you was all I cared about. Saving you from¡ª that. I¡ª *paper blurred from falling tears*

    Fal, I¡¯m so sorry.

    It is not, and never was, your fault. I made my choice, and I¡¯ll live with the scars. They help me remember exactly why I do what I do.

    What we do. My scars go no less deeper than yours.

    Well, the changeling couple could not allow their friends to suffer for them, and they did not hold out for long. They revealed themselves¡ª and paid the price. They hoped that if they gave themselves up, the rest of the village might be saved.

    But the raiders were merciless.

    They burned the captured villagers alive in their own village, and beheaded the changeling couple. The heads were staked at the entrance of the village, and their bodies were hung from the burned-down husks of the walls.

    Then they swept the forest for survivors. The twins barely escaped.

    The changeling children left the remaining villagers, even though the sorrowing half-elves would have given them a home. The twins vowed that no one else would ever suffer for their sake again, and so they struck out alone, but together, and soon found themselves in large city.

    It was there that they survived for the next year.

    It was nine months.

    Apologies. I had kind of lost track of time during¡ª then.

    So the changeling twins survived for the next nine months in the maze-like part of the city that housed the murderers, the thieves, the cutthroats, and the pickpockets.

    The slums.

    The slums, yes.

    The two children stole and lied to feed themselves, sometimes killing when they were threatened and had no other choice.

    They clung to nothing but each other all through the long, cold bitter months of that winter.

    And they nearly didn¡¯t survive.

    They were saved by the assassins¡¯ guild of that city. The assassins took the twins in. Fed and clothed them.

    And taught them the skills of death.

    It was in that guild that the changeling children knew a new kind of struggle. They learned the pain of growing muscles and burning lungs. Earned bruises and cuts from the weapons of their masters until the twins learned to be faster, stronger, more ruthless than anyone else.

    Those were actually fun times.

    Most of them, yeah. They certainly made us what we needed to be.

    And for years, all during their rigorous training, the twins planned and plotted, vowing to take down the raiders and make sure that what had happened to the twins never happened again.

    You plotted. I was busy keeping you alive and sane.

    We plotted. Some of the best plans came from you.

    Fair point. I am a genuis.

    Very funny, Ava.

    *eye rolls from Falkirk*

    It was the twins¡¯ eighteenth year when they broke from the assassins¡¯ guild and struck out on their own. They traveled the land, gathering to them all the poor souls who had a tragic tale to tell.

    Their army grew. Swelled quickly, because news travels fast and there will always be those seeking revenge for their hurts.

    And that is what the twins promised them.

    At first, for a month or so, the twins ruled together, but in time the siblings decided that they were better off leaving the ruling to the brother and the assassinations to his sister.

    So it was.

    And both were content with the arrangement.

    A year later, the boy decided that the ranks of his army were sufficiently grown. He began his conquest, and marched into the kingdom from which his parents had fled.

    That war was brief, brutal, and bloody. The leaders of the kingdom, and the leaders of that long-ago raiding party, fled.

    The twins tracked them down alone and slaughtered them to the last man.

    The siblings were far more merciful than the raiders had been.

    And, to be fair, when we cornered them, we did wait for them to strike first.

    Lot of good it did them.

    True.

    So somewhere in the middle of a tangled, overgrown forest someplace in the North, there sits in a clearing a huge cairn of stones. Built over the tyrants¡¯ bodies with the hands of the girl and the mage-craft of the boy.

    The boy quickly established his iron rule in the land.

    Then he turned his gaze to the kingdoms around him.

    He looked at their poverty and the cruelty of their kings and queens, and his ire grew.

    So he mustered his army and gave missions to his assassin sister, and now he sits, on the eve of the first battle, writing the story of his family so that if he and his twin die tomorrow, and their names are reviled by the victors, maybe someday these papers will be found and the truth of the twins¡¯ choices and motives will be known.

    Very touching. I couldn¡¯t have written it better myself.

    *a snort from Falkirk*

    True. Which is why I¡¯m writing it.

    Why, you¡ª!

    *brief scuffle ensues with much whacking of heads with pillows*

    So know, future reader, why we do what we do. Hate us if you must. We made our choices, and we will live, or die, by them.

 Third

    I know the second Fal regains consciousness. Our twin-bond re-wakes, exploding with pain and confusion on Falkirk''s part, and worry, relief, and anger on mine.

    I''m sitting in a hard chair beside my brother''s bed, watching his pale, translucent face and holding his hand. Have been holding his hand all while his guards carried him to his bedroom and laid him down. All while Fal''s physician bustled around, tending my brother''s wound. All while said dratted physician stitched up that awful, bloody gash.

    It looked worse than it really is. I hope. He''s been unconscious the better part of two hours.

    "Fal." I say softly, stroking his white-haired brow, feeling my stomach go for a ride with his surging emotions. "Falkirk. Wake up, brother."

    He stirs and opens his eyes.

    I could weep as I see their beautiful green-tinged grey. Fal''s personal physician bends over us, checking my brother''s vitals.

    "Blackbird." Falkirk whispers, turning his head to gaze at me. I smile shakily.

    "There we are." I say.

    "My lady, Lord D''Adrian''s vitals appear to be holding steady. He is just severely concussed. I believe his lordship will be fine in a few days, provided he does not engage in much excitement." The physician informs me.

    I snort.

    Excitement is Falkirk''s middle name. I couldn''t keep him from it if I tried. It draws him like a fly to honey, usually dragging me along.

    The bedsheets rustle as Fal tries to sit up.

    "Easy." I say, reaching to aid him in rising up or leaning back, whatever he wants.

    "My lady, I do not think it wise for his lordship to rise yet!" Protests the physician, probably hoping to appeal to my better mood. Not that I''m in one. The poor doctor''s misread me. Falkirk''s mood is better than mine right now.

    I''m in a mood to kill.

    Whoever had the nerve to do this to my brother is going to pay.

    "Oh, my head..." Fal moans, still struggling to rise. He presses the heel of his hand to his brow, turning slightly green. I lunge for the nearby wash basin, empty it into the fireplace. Slide it under my brother''s face just before he is sick.

    I wrinkle my nose, turning away.

    "Serves you right for sitting up too fast." I mutter.

    He murmurs agreement as he slides back down under the sheets. He''s paler than normal, which you wouldn''t think you''d be able to see in a changeling''s true skin tone, and sweating.

    The physician hovers and clucks as Falkirk relaxes. He busies himself with rechecking vitals and dabbing a cool wet cloth on my brother''s brow.

    Well, at least someone''s happy.

    My foul mood darkens further.

    Fal moans, turning toward the basin. I breathe deep, trying to calm my roiling emotions. Realize that Fal is feeling them too strongly through our bond and that they''re making his nausea worse.

    I stuff my emotions down in a place where they are instantly numbed with cold. Where they don''t matter.

    Instantly, Fal brightens. After a few minutes, color begins to enter back into his face and hair.

    In a few seconds, he is the half-elf dandy I am used to seeing him as.

    I watch him a moment more until I am satisfied that he will be fine.

    He senses my thoughts.

    "I will be fine, Avalon." He promises. "I hope nobody was too worried. I''ve suffered worse than a crack on the head before."

    I smile grimly. "Oh, we were worried, all right. I had your officers double the guard throughout the whole palace, and your best men are hunting down that cursed would-be assassin as we speak."

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    My anger and shame surge again. My brother had nearly died on my watch. If that sling-stone hadn''t been a glancing blow... if it had struck but an inch to the right... my brother''s brilliant brains would be nothing but scattered pulp and bone on the balcony stones.

    Fal takes my hand in his own, and squeezes.

    I can''t sit idle anymore.

    If Falkirk is going to be fine, as he says-- and I detect no lie through our bond-- then I have work to do.

    I stand abruptly. Lean down to press a kiss to Fal''s forehead, right above those bloody stitches. He winces, but doesn''t pull away.

    "Don''t worry, brother." I whisper to him. "Your blood will be avenged. By my own hand. Now excuse me, please. I''m going hunting."

    With that, I pull away and stride out the door. I don''t look back.

    I start my hunt in the place where I first saw that shadow move within a shadow. Using a little-known talent of mine, I cast telepathy in a wide arc, searching for an alien mind.

    I detect nothing.

    So I bend down near the stones and search for tracks. Find some-- dried mud where someone had scampered over the wall into the courtyard, now heading into the lesser-used wing of my brother''s ginormous palace.

    This intruder isn''t being very stealthy. Not to trained eyes such as mine, at any rate. I follow the signs, alert for any danger.

    Casting telepathy every twenty feet for a long period of time is tiring and uses manna I don''t want to spare. Fortunately for me, and less so for my quarry, my mind brushes against someone else''s a few feet into a dusty, abandoned passage back of the servants'' quarters.

    The strange mind shrinks away, as if it can sense me. I feel it drawing rapidly away, hear a whisper of sound in the passageway before me as the intruder flees.

    Cursing myself for not taking time to change back into more sensible garb, I hike up the hem of my long dress and give chase. My steps are utterly silent, courtesy of my levitated slippers.

    I gain rapidly, catch sight of a shadowy figure ahead of me. They''re running full tilt down the passage. I draw a long knife from a sheath bound to my thigh. Fling out a hand to cast a shield bubble.

    What can I say? It''s one of the only mage-y things I know how to do.

    The manna drains from me, and the bubble shimmers into existence around my quarry. It''s one of those shields where nothing can get in and nothing can get out. It also seems to be the only one I can cast, ever. It will stay in place, draining manna from me until I cease the spell.

    The intruder smacks into the side of the shield at full speed. Staggers back, clutching a blood-streaming nose with both hands. I abruptly release the shield and cover those last few feet, reaching with my free hand to spin around a-- female?

    Elvish, by the looks of her, and spitting mad. Her clothing shows she''s a rogue like myself.

    Blood cascades down her lip and chin, but she shows no sign of pain as she whips out a short dagger.

    If I weren''t so angry, I might laugh. That little weapon is no match for my long knife. This whole fight is going to be very one-sided, even though I''m in a dress.

    The elf strikes at me, and I merely lean aside, feeling the wind of the blade as it streaks past my face.

    I counter by altering my form to mirror that of hers.

    Mind games.

    And it does throw the elf off balance. Her eyes widen and her next stab is wildly off course. I merely let it whistle by as I drive my knee into her gut and slam her against the wall. She gasps and sags, but recovers quickly.

    I catch her third strike on my own blade, deflect it. Stab in lighting-quick to pierce her dark leather armor.

    She gasps and pulls away. Her hand presses to her side and comes away bloody.

    I''ve nicked her.

    She attacks again, with all the strength and speed born of desperation. I meet every blow with contemptuous ease. This fight could have been over ages ago.

    I''m playing with her now, and I hate myself for it.

    Time to finish this.

    I shove my anger aside and go on the offensive. In seconds the elf is off-balance and exhausted. I knock her dagger away one last time.

    My knife flashes once, twice.

    The elf''s head thumps to the floor. The torso slowly crumples after it.

    I stare at the body for a moment, not daring to look at my hands.

    "That was for my brother." I say quietly to the corpse. But all my ire has blown out of my sails, and I am left nothing but an exhausted husk of self, feeling as empty as the elf''s dead eyes.

    I kneel after a moment, close the elf''s eyelids gently. Wipe my knife on the skirt of my dress. Spattered heavily with blood, it''s ruined now anyway.

    Can''t really blame the poor woman. My brother and I have probably wronged her at some point in our lives.

    I can''t, for the life of me, begin to guess what we''d done.

    Maybe nothing.

    Maybe she was just a rogue, hired to do someone else''s dirty work for them.

    Lot of good their gold did her.

    I sigh, shake off my weary thoughts. Stand.

    Then I stoop and take up the elf''s head. With it tucked in the crook of my arm, I drag the corpse back down the hallway, out into the courtyard, all the way into the inner gatehouse. I cast it, head and all, at the feet of the startled guards.

    They swallow, calloused but sightly sickened nonetheless. Eyes flick fearfully between me and my kill.

    I feel the vestiges of my anger begin to rise again as I feel the aura of their spinelessness.

    I gesture to the corpse.

    "Take this to the outer wall and stake it there for all to see!" I snarl. "Let it be a warning to all, that this is what happens when you attack the High Lord of the North."

    The guards bow and acquiesce and I spin on my heel and stride out the door.

    It''s not like they can do anything else.

    I sigh again, feeling Falkirk send me calming emotions. I know he felt every savage moment of that fight, even the rush of my pent-up emotions releasing at the end.

    I lift my weary head and trudge back into the main keep of the palace, seeking a bath and new clothing.

    Maybe sleep too.

    After all, time and missions wait for no man.

    Or woman.

 Fourth

    I spend the night in a chair beside my brother''s bed. Wake bleary-eyed to bright morning sunlight streaming through his huge bedroom window directly into my face. I turn my head, grumbling.

    Whatever fool forgot to close those curtains last night, I will gut them.

    I peel myself off the chair and step softly to Fal''s side. He''s sleeping peacefully, his half-elvish face looking very young without the worry that creases his waking features.

    I don''t want to leave him. Don''t trust his soldiers like I trust myself. Unease roils in my gut. If someone made it inside the palace and succeeded in attacking Fal once, what''s not to say that it won''t happen again? And here I am, having to leave on some drat-blasted mission to recon on some fool-cursed paladin who won''t mind his own business.

    Falkirk wakes, shifting his head on the pillow and opening his eyes to meet mine. I stuff away my unease and smile at him.

    "I have to go." I whisper. "I''ll check in regularly, alright? Do try to stay away from excitement, and please don''t have your physician executed if you don''t like something he says. A good doctor is very hard to come by these days."

    Fal grins tiredly at me. "I''ll rest." He promises. "Come back soon, Blackbird."

    I touch his cheek briefly in reply, dig my slate marble out of my pocket, and whisper to it the name of the paladin''s last known location.

    Vezgaxur.

    Fal and the bedroom fade to misty white. My cells grate through inter-dimensional barriers. And then the dark streets of a sleeping city form around me. Shadows abound here, only pushed back by the occasional dim flame inside of a glass street lamp globe. I have appeared in one of these shadows; someone''s tall, stone garden wall is at my back. I hesitate for a second, getting my bearings. My body gently protests the abrupt time-shift and adjusting to it is not helped by my troubled sleep from the night before.

    I have been to this town only once before, and I do not remember particularly liking it. Not that it was a bad town, just full of shady characters who came out after dark.

    Back then, I was a Drow mercenary, supposedly looking to make some gold by escorting a merchant''s caravan safely through to the kingdom of Exalos. In reality, I was here to assassinate a crime-lord.

    Which I did.

    Quickly and effectively.

    But now I am not here to assassinate anyone. Yet. I am here to meet and ''befriend'' a fool paladin.

    I glance up and down the seemingly empty streets, taking careful note of the shadows, which might hide the odd cutpurse or murderous criminal. The paladin was supposedly last staying at a tavern-cum-inn called the Hollow Bard.

    Charming place, and as good a place as any to start. I step out onto streets damp with a recent rain. I''m glad I did not arrive in the midst of the downpour. That would have been miserable, to say the least, even though the kingdom of Dalozun is warmer than most places.

    I am getting close to the Hollow Bard when I hear the sounds of a struggle in a dark alley to my right. Someone is receiving a beating, by the sound of it. I shake my head, then groan to myself as I veer off into the alleyway.

    Why, oh why, can''t I just mind my own business? I''m supposed to be looking for a paladin! Not stepping into someone else''s trouble that they likely deserve!

    But I can''t leave. I know what it is to be starving, alone, beaten in dark back alleyways. I cannot just do nothing for the poor soul.

    The sounds of fists striking flesh grow louder the further I stride into the alley, and I loosen my mage-blade in its sheath at my back. A unique sword-- a gift from my brother-- it has hidden properties, some of which even I don''t know about yet.

    "Shouldn''t ''ave come ''ere, paladin!" I hear a harsh, gleeful voice somewhere ahead of me. "Should''ve stayed in yer own lands! Yer ilk ain''t wanted ''round these parts!"

    "Now ye''ll die ''ere!" Someone else chuckles.

    Grunts and groans accompany every smack of the assailants'' fists, and once I hear a faint crack followed by a short cry of pain. I quicken my pace, turn a corner.

    And then I see them. Under the glow of a lone flame globe a sandy-haired man is held in the tight grip of two burly half-orcs while a third attacker, a large tiefling, hurls blow after blow into the poor human''s ribs. The man''s face is bruised and bloody, and he sags in his assailants'' grasp. Another rib cracks under the tiefling''s assault. The human utters another cry as his knees buckle. With a flourish, the tiefling whips out a jagged blade and sets its point against the unfortunate man''s navel.

    "Now ye''ll die ''ere." The tiefling softly agrees with his companion. "I''ll leave yew gutted ''ere like a fish, bleedin'' out on the stones. Yew fancy that, paladin?" The human struggles feebly against his attackers, straining to get away from that wicked blade.

    "Enough!" I say, halting at the edge of the pool of light. My voice cracks like a whip through their bloodlust. The tiefling and half-orcs turn and look at me in surprise.

    "Weel now." Purrs the tiefling, recovering quickly. He leaves off his assault of the human and stalks toward me, a malevolent, lustful smile baring his jagged teeth. "''Ello, darlin''. Yew best get yer bee-oo-tee-ful self back out o'' this alley afore sumthin'' bad happens to yew. Wouldn''t want yer lovely self to end up like ''im, now would ye?" He jerks his head at the battered human as his cronies heave the man up against the wall and pin him there.

    "Per''aps yew could join me later for a time, hm?" The tiefling suggests, raking his eyes over me.

    My lips curls in disgust. These no-good shadow-scum are pathetic, and the tiefling''s offer means less than nothing to me. It''s insulting at best. At worst, at least for the tiefling, it''ll get him killed.

    "Leave the human alone." I say, authority swelling my voice. The tiefling adopts a cocky stance, folding his arms, his knife dangling from one hand.

    "Or what?" He asks, smirking. "Interfere wi'' my business, and I''ll gut yew along wi'' the paladin."

    In a rush of smooth movement, I draw my short mage-blade from its back-sheath. Hold it out to the side, away from me, allowing the light to catch the sheen of its otherworldly blade.

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    "Care to test my blade?" I counter calmly, arching an eyebrow. This will be almost too easy, if the tiefling accepts the challenge.

    The tiefling throws back his head and laughs. "That puny thing?"

    Now I''m the one smirking. I press a hidden button set in the hilt of my weapon and its blade shoots out into full sword-length.

    The tiefling stops laughing. His brow lowers in dark anger and he stalks toward me with his jagged knife held ready.

    I almost laugh.

    "No!" The human calls to me weakly, all sweet concern for me and none for himself. One of the half-orcs buries his fist in the man''s stomach, and he gasp-chokes and sags.

    I appreciate his concern, but I can take care of myself. It''s the arrogant tiefling who should be worried.

    The jagged knife flashes out at me, and I dance aside. Whirl and take the tiefling''s blade-hand off at the wrist. He shrieks and clutches at the wound. Falls to his knees on the blood-slick stones. I step forward and drive my blade into his heart. He looks up at me and dies with a look of surprise on his face.

    A whirlwind of stolen manna bursts from the tiefling as he topples onto his face.

    Huh. That explains why the human wasn''t defending himself with mage-craft. He couldn''t. He didn''t have enough manna.

    I nudge the dead manna-thief with my boot, then turn toward the half-orcs and their prisoner. The bullies blanch pale green as I glare at them.

    "Run." I say, lifting my mage-blade with a savage smile.

    They flee, dropping the human onto the stones. I listen to their boots slapping at the ground, growing fainter the further they get. They probably won''t be a problem again.

    I turn my attention to the injured human. He''s climbing painfully to his knees, one hand clutching at his ribs. He looks up at me as I step forward to help him. Takes my offered hand, but can''t quite rise to his feet. So I crouch down beside him.

    "Thank you." He wince-gasps. He looks a sorry sight: his sandy hair matted to his forehead with blood, two ribs cracked at least, maybe more. His lip is split, his nose broken. His eye is swollen and blood drips from a cut on his cheekbone. His youthful face is handsome under a mass of dark bruises. I can''t see his chest and stomach, but I''m guessing they are just as black-and-blue.

    "What are you called?" I ask him, sheathing my mage-blade.

    "Daniel, paladin of Elhim." He hisses in pain, falling back. I catch him and lay him gently down. So, this is the paladin I''m looking for. To be sure, fate certainly works in mysterious ways.

    "You?" He asks.

    "Avalon. Well, Daniel," I say, ripping open his blood-stained shirt to survey the gross damage beneath, "we need to get you off the streets. I need to know, are your ribs cracked, or broken?"

    "Broken." He gasps. He''s right. There''s a puncture wound from the inside of his chest as a piece of rib-bone pokes slightly out of his skin. He''s lucky it didn''t turn inside and stab his lung. Or his heart. Blood leaks out of other numerous cuts where the tiefling''s steel-knuckled gloves had hit against the paladin''s bones and broken skin.

    Well, this sucks. I can''t just bind up his ribs and sling him over my shoulder then.

    Sensing my dilemma, he says, "If I had sufficient manna, I could cast a healing spell."

    "Take mine." I say in relief, grasping his hand. He draws on what I have stored.

    It''s an exhausting rush as the manna flows out of me and into him. Daniel makes a weak gesture with his free hand. Groans as his ribs scrape and knit back together. I hear them pop. See the one jutting out slide back in and align itself with its fellows.

    The gash on his head, the cuts on his lip and cheek, his broken nose, his cuts and bruises, all heal as I watch. He''s powerful. I''ve never seen a healing cast with such efficiency. I sense a divine Presence around us and guess that he has the aid of his God.

    Huh. Daniel''s one of the only people whose god I''ve seen help. Very interesting.

    The paladin raises his head and moves to sit up. I stand and help haul him to his feet. Sling his arm over my shoulders as he stumbles with weariness. We support each other.

    "Where to?" I ask. "If you know a relatively safe tavern, I''ll buy you a drink. It''ll help you recover."

    "The Hollow Bard." He replies. I should''ve guessed. We limp out of the alleyway together, leaving the tiefling''s body for the town''s constabulary to find.

    The Hollow Bard is a less seedy place than most of the establishments you''ll find in this town. You still have your shady characters and your lust-sodden patrons, but they''re less abundant here. And here, nobody is trying to cut your throat or your purse strings. Swindle you, yes. Gamble you dry, also yes.

    But as Daniel and I slide into a private booth against the back wall, I allow myself to relax, knowing that we are relatively safe here. I order us each a sizable tankard of strong brew. I want it strong tonight, want to feel its bracing and slightly numbing effects ease my weary body.

    I can hold my liquor and have never gotten actually drunk, even though sometimes I''m tempted to sink into that oblivion. I wonder about the paladin''s drinking habits, turn to him to ask, realizing I should have asked before ordering. Find him with his head leaning back against the wall, snoring lightly. I suppress a smile. Sleep sure looks good.

    A portly barmaid good-naturedly slams our drinks down on our table, striding off without a word, just a nod, smile, and wink. Daniel wakes with a start, glances around-- probably wondering what he missed. Then wraps his hand around his tankard.

    "So," I begin, taking a long pull of my ale. It slides down my throat like liquid fire. I don''t mind. Contrary to most people, it actually wakes me up a bit. "What were you doing wandering around town after dark with no armor and no weapons to speak of?"

    He takes a drink before answering.

    "I was out earlier today, helping a young mother give birth. She''d been having difficulties, and I have skills as a cleric. It almost seems like I''m the only reputable person in this town, so her family came to me for help. I didn''t think I''d need armor and blade for this, so l left them here, in my room. The birth was hard, and the mother lost a lot of blood. I was able to save her and the child, but it was after dark before I felt free to leave."

    He gives me wry smile, saying, "Believe me, I regretted leaving my blade here when I stepped out of their home into black streets."

    I chuckle, taking another long pull of the fiery brew.

    "Well, now you''ve learned and lived to tell the tale. You won''t make the same mistake again." I tell him. Daniel nods.

    "Thanks to you." He raises his glass to me. I wave my hand and laugh it off.

    "You''d do the same for me." I say. He sobers.

    "I would. If there is anyway I can repay you..." He trails off, thinking, even as I shake my head.

    "I don''t want payment." I say.

    "Nonsense." He replies. "I don''t leave my debts unpaid. Do you have a something to put a transportation spell on, or something that already has one on it? If it''s the latter, I could tweak the spell, add something to it to alert me if you are ever in danger, something to tell where you are. Then I can transport to you and give you aid."

    That''s... actually a good idea. Useful. I hate it.

    But I should acquiesce as, after all, I am supposed to be befriending this man.

    Reluctantly, I draw my slate marble from my pocket and hand it to him. Daniel takes it, looks it over.

    "There''s already a transport spell on this, and I don''t want it tampered with or changed." I warn him. "And while you''re at it, you might as well put the reverse of your spell on it too. We can aid each other."

    He nods in acknowledgment. Grips my stone in his hand and whispers something. It glows briefly. Then he hands it back to me.

    "Done." He said. "Now wherever we go, if either of us are in danger the other will know, and also know the exact location we are at. You will also be able to tell where I am at all times. If you ever need my help for anything, you whisper my name to your stone. It should transport you to within five feet of me."

    I flinch.

    "What?" He asks, with sudden concern.

    "Nothing." I say. Shake my head.

    "Are you hurt? Did that tiefling score a strike that I didn''t see?"

    "No." I say shortly. I abruptly stand, walk away to the bar.

    I am under my brother''s orders. I have to stay with this fools-cursed paladin, this Daniel.

    I don''t want to.

    I hate this. I hate Daniel placing on my stone a replica of the same spell my brother did.

    I clench my fists. Relax them. Breathe in. Breathe out.

    I allow my anger to drain away. There is no way Daniel could know about Fal''s spell. He doesn''t even know my surname. And even if he did, there is no way he could know I am connected to Falkirk. My brother and I have made sure that, when I have missions like this, we cannot be connected to each other.

    I order a room from the bartender-cum-innkeep, slide the cold, metal key into my pocket once it''s handed to me. Then I make my way back to the paladin.

    "Are you sure you''re alright?" He asks, sea-blue eyes searching my face with concern. I muster a smile to reassure him.

    "Of course." I say, picking up my half-full tankard. "Why wouldn''t I be?"

    I tip my glass up and drain it to its dregs.

 Fifth

    I fall asleep during the wee hours of the morning, under a real roof, in a real bed. It¡¯s not nearly so fine as my rooms in my brother¡¯s palace, but I¡¯ve spent so many nights sleeping out of doors on hard ground and stones, in rain and chill, winter¡¯s cold and summer¡¯s heat, that to my weary body the inn bed feels like heaven.

    Both the paladin and I go our separate ways to our rooms not long after we finish our drinks, but I¡¯m not able to fall asleep right away. Time-displacement messes with my brain and body. One part of my body thinks it¡¯s daytime, while the other feels the nighttime frequency of this part of the world , and tries to sleep.

    It¡¯s very exhausting. Couple this with the night that I spent in a chair in my brother¡¯s room, and you have a recipe for a very grumpy and tired me.

    I wake bleary-eyed, sometime when the sun is high in the sky. It¡¯s shining directly into my face.

    Again.

    I flop my arm over my eyes, groan. Roll over, rustling sheets and quilt.

    A knock sounds on my door.

    ¡°Go away!¡± I shout.

    ¡°Avalon?¡± Daniel¡¯s voice is muffled by the thick wood of the door.

    ¡°I said, go away!¡± I lift my head and hurl the words at him with all the force of a grumpy morning.

    He doesn¡¯t go away.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± He asks.

    I flop my head back and groan.

    ¡°Avalon?¡± The door handle jingles. I¡¯ve locked it, like any sensible person would do, but it¡¯s not going to deter that fools-cursed paladin if he thinks I¡¯m in trouble.

    I sit up, cursing under my breath. Throw the bedclothes aside and stand. I pad to the door, dressed in a long white nightgown.

    I always keep spare clothes in a bottomless pocket.

    I unlock the door and yank it open a crack. Glare out at the cheerful sandy-haired man standing outside.

    He passes his gaze over my sleep-mussed hair, my grumpy scowl. Tries to hide a smile, but isn¡¯t successful.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± He asks again.

    ¡°Time-shift.¡± I say. ¡°Makes a body very tired.¡±

    ¡°Ah. I see.¡± He replies, his lips twitching with suppressed amusement. ¡°Well, it¡¯s nearly the noon hour, and when you didn¡¯t come down to breakfast, I became worried.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sweet.¡± I growl. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m up. Now will you leave me alone?¡±

    I shut the door in his face. Hear him chuckle as he walks back down the hall.

    I sigh, lock the door again. Walk over to my leather jerkin that I had tossed over an armchair last night. I slip off my nightgown and stash it in my jerkin¡¯s bottom-less pocket. It¡¯s like a bag-of-holding, but with a smaller mouth, and it¡¯s sewn to the one garment I take with me nearly everywhere.

    I raise my arms above my head, stretching out the kinks in my joints and muscles. Bend over backward to touch the floor with my palms. Rise back upright, recycling my form to cleanse me of dirt and sweat.

    Rummaging in my bottomless pocket¡ª upon which my brother long ago placed a spell of cleansing¡ª I come up with a short dress of dark grey cotton, a pair of black trousers, and fresh under-clothing. I pull it all on, shove my arms through the sleeveless openings of my jerkin and do up its clasps, and buckle my belt and baldric over it all.

    Tug on my boots and I¡¯m feeling ready to face the world.

    I tap silently down the stairs, survey the taproom for Daniel. Find him, waiting for me by the bar. He smiles as he sees me, waves me over.

    I thread my way through the mostly empty tables to join him. A steaming plate of hash-brown patties and sausages sit on the bar alongside a hot cup of strong, black coffee. Daniel gestures to the lot.

    ¡°For you.¡± He says. ¡°I took a guess on what you like.¡±

    I raise my eyebrows, surprised he¡¯s read me so well. It¡¯s¡­ disconcerting.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say, picking up the cup of coffee and giving it a sniff. It¡¯s been spiked, just the way I like it.

    I turn to him, a small, wondering smile parting my lips.

    ¡°How did you know¡ª?¡± I ask.

    He smiles shyly and shrugs.

    ¡°You seem like the kind of person who¡¯d do that.¡± He replies. I turn away and laugh, sip my coffee.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say again. He shrugs again.

    ¡°You saved my life. The least I can do is buy you breakfast.¡± He pauses, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

    ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t intend on staying in town for long. I am only waiting for a few friends of mine; they should be arriving today. I wasn¡¯t going to expand my party any larger, but you seem like a capable person, someone I could use in this mission. Would you¡ª be willing to join us?¡±

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    ¡°What would ¡®this mission¡¯ entail?¡± I answer carefully, sipping my coffee.

    He sucks in a thoughtful breath. Turns his gaze to the windows and gathers his thoughts before speaking.

    ¡°We¡ª will be traveling through the Clan lands, Exalos and the like. The lords and kings must be rallied together against Falkirk D¡¯Adrian, self-called High Lord of the North. That is what we are attempting to do. If we fail, then our world as we know it will be destroyed.¡±

    I keep my face carefully neutral as I answer, ¡°I¡¯ll consider joining you; however, I can¡¯t show my face anywhere near D¡¯Adrian¡¯s demesne. I¡¯ve been banished from those parts on pain of death.¡±

    Daniel whistles long and low, a small smile of awe playing on his face.

    ¡°What did you do?¡±

    I turn away, not deigning to reply. My stomach sours slightly at the lie, but I shove the guilt away. It has no place here.

    ¡°So,¡± I say instead. ¡°Your friends¡ª what are their roles here and what exactly would you be expecting me to do?¡±

    I dig into the main part of my meal as the paladin answers.

    ¡°Well, Antony is a bit of a rogue, but great at reading people and the room.¡±

    Antony could be a problem.

    ¡°Raeldon is politic-savvy, if a bit dry.¡±

    Interesting.

    ¡°Eliana is skilled in battle-arts and strategy. She will help strengthen the cities¡¯ defenses, should they accept our help.¡±

    Ah. A useful skill indeed.

    ¡°And what about you?¡± I ask over the rim of my coffee mug. ¡°What are you?¡±

    He smiles. ¡°I am the instigator, the conspirator, the general. If we run into trouble, I am the first line of defense. If one of my people is hurt, I am the healer. If a sacrifice needs to be made, I will make it, but I will not willingly endanger those I care for. I am the leader of this mission, and the final say.¡±

    His eyes shine with the fire of his spirit.

    I cannot help but give an answering smile. Part savagery, part foolhardy determination, part triumph.

    ¡°What about you?¡± Daniel asks, narrowing his eyes at me curiously. ¡°I already know that you are a ruthless fighter. I could use that. But I¡¯d like to know what other skills you are bringing to this party.¡±

    I laugh into my coffee.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already invited me to join you. Bit late for an interview, Daniel. But fine. As you¡¯ve already found, I am pretty good with a blade. I can also perform music and¡­¡± I eye him over my coffee cup, a smile dancing in my eyes. He gives me a tentative smile.

    ¡°What?¡± He asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m a bit of a spy.¡± I inform him. His eyebrows shoot up.

    ¡°For whom?¡± He queries, not that concerned.

    ¡°My brother.¡± I reply. ¡°He¡¯s a minor crime lord in the west.¡±

    Lie, truth, lie.

    I try not to feel guilty at deceiving this paladin.

    Of all the times my conscience had to surface, it picks now?

    Bah!

    I shove it down where it can¡¯t bother me.

    ¡°Your brother?¡± Daniel echoes, leaning his weight back against the bar and tilting his head back to eye me mirthfully. He¡¯s smiling. Not worried at all.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I mutter, turning away.

    ¡°Would I know his name?¡± Is the paladin¡¯s next question.

    ¡°No.¡± Is my very terse reply. Daniel leaves off.

    ¡°Sooo¡­¡± He switches subject, less so than he knows. ¡°Your banishment from D¡¯Adrian¡¯s lands¡ª you¡¯ve seen the man?¡±

    ¡°Ye-es.¡± I answer carefully. ¡°I¡¯ve interacted with him before,¡±

    ¡°Excellent!¡± He brightens. ¡°I wish to appeal to D¡¯Adrian¡¯s better nature using diplomacy, try to get him to see that perhaps less brutal measures are more effective in annexing the lands that he wants. And that is only if he will not be deterred from his warmongering.¡±

    I nearly snort into my coffee.

    Fat chance of that. My brother is set on his course and not even I could deter him if I wanted to. Which I don¡¯t. I will be right by his side all the way, even if we fall.

    Daniel continues, ¡°If you could tell me all you know of his motives and how he thinks, so that I will know what I¡¯m getting into and how to deal with him, I would be most grateful. I know you said you couldn¡¯t show your face around his lands, but if you¡¯ve dealt with the man¡­.¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± I mutter into my coffee.

    The fool paladin smiles, pleased.

    After my meal is finished, I toss my room key to the barkeep.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be needing this again.¡± I tell him. He just gives me a nod.

    ¡°Thank ¡®e kindly for yer business, ma¡¯am.¡± He replies, wiping out a tankard with a rag.

    I turn to Daniel.

    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯d be honored to join you, paladin. But if I¡¯m going to be traveling with you, I¡¯ve got to go home and grab a few things. I¡¯ll be back in two or three hours.¡±

    He inclines his head.

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll be here.¡± He replies.

    I wish I wasn¡¯t going to be. I take my slate marble out of my pocket, give Daniel a short nod, whisper ¡°Home.¡±

    He and the tavern around us fades into misty white.

    And then I am gone.

    Fal¡¯s lounging in an armchair in his sitting room, reading a book, when I appear. He looks up, his cheek supported on one long-fingered hand. Grins.

    ¡°You¡¯re back.¡± He says. I sigh and open my arms wide.

    ¡°Appears I am.¡± I answer tiredly. He gives me a concerned look. I know he can feel my emotions through our bond.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to do this, you do not have to.¡± He tells me.

    I sigh again. If anyone is having concern for anyone else, it should be me for him.

    ¡°No,¡± I say, ¡°you want this done, I¡¯ll see it through.¡±

    He gives a nod as I study him. He¡¯s been healing well, I know, but the sight of him still does me good. The stitched gash at his hairline is blood-free and on the mend. His color is good, and I feel he¡¯s not in much pain.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± He asks, growing more concerned as my emotions bombard him.

    I press my eyes shut. Shake my head.

    ¡°No.¡±

    He stands and wraps me in his strong embrace. I breathe in his scent, trying not to cry. Hold him tight and shudder.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± He rubs my back, circular motions he knows will calm me.

    I tell him.

    ¡°Time-shift, and troubled sleep, and the dreams, and you being hurt, and this fools-cursed mission!¡± I cry, my voice breaking. His mind brushes against mine, gathering the details. I don¡¯t shut him out.

    Falkirk presses a kiss to my forehead.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go back.¡± He says, sending me all his love and concern.

    ¡°I have to.¡± I reply, calming. ¡°I told the paladin I would travel with his group.¡±

    Fal is silent at this. He knows how much keeping our word means to us both. Without our honor, we are nothing.

    A spark of anger flashes through our bond, coming from Fal.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, leaning back to see his face. He gives me a tight smile.

    ¡°I am not angry at you.¡± He reassures me. Then mutters, ¡°I¡¯m going to kill him.¡±

    He means the paladin.

    ¡°He means to treat with you.¡± I tell my brother.

    He growls, half-pushing me gently away. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±

    I step toward him.

    ¡°You should. If there¡¯s a way to resolve this without bloodshed, then you should take it.¡±

    He turns away from me, lays a hand on my shoulder.

    ¡°Then he had better be prepared to surrender.¡± Falkirk replies grimly.

    I gather a knapsack of the provisions that I cannot stuff inside my pocket-of-holding. Tie a worn guitar onto the pack. I caress the neck of the instrument for a moment. I have fond memories of this guitar, memories of nights spent in taverns and inns, performing for loving and boisterous crowds. Memories of sitting alone or with Falkirk, strumming gently. Memories of laughter and love and gentle sorrow.

    I sling on my pack, mindful of the instrument, and head to my brother¡¯s rooms to say goodbye again.

    He gives me a sad smile as I stand before him.

    ¡°Be careful.¡± He orders. I grin.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t I always?¡±

    He laughs. Reaches out to ruffle my hair.

    ¡°Love you, little sis.¡±

    ¡°Love you, Fal.¡± I reply.

    Then I activate my slate marble and appear back in the Hollow Bard.

    It has been two hours since I¡¯d left. Daniel is still waiting for me.

 In Between -- Falkirk

    I stare at the spot where Blackbird has vanished, feeling the familiar stretch of miles and time zones on our twin bond. She has been gone for thirty seconds and all ready I miss her so badly my chest aches. I love that girl, my little sister by two minutes; would do anything to keep her safe, but I know that is not possible. She has and always will lead a life of adventure and daring. I know she takes risks so I will not have to, but... I wish I were in her place, protecting her, bleeding for her.

    Dealing with that fools-cursed paladin so she doesn''t have to.

    If I ever meet him, and it appears that I may soon, I will be hard put not to drive a mage-spear through his heart.

    But, maybe Ava is right. Maybe if there is a way to resolve issues without bloodshed, I should take that route. My sister gives the wisest council I know of. I sure could use some right now.

    Blood and stars, I miss her council. Her smile. Her laughter. Her dry sense of humor. Even her grumpiness.

    I feel manna pulsing within me; I almost reach for its power. Almost go after Ava.

    But I stop myself. Blackbird said she would go through with this mission. My interfering won''t help anything. I flop back into my chair, pick up my book again. Stare at its pages but fail to read the words written there.

    If only I had not sent her to infiltrate.

    If only I had said to assassinate.

    If only...

    But ''if only''s will not change anything. They will not change what happened to us in our youth, and they will not change what is happening now, and it doesn''t matter what I want in the present.

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    But I do know what I want in the future. The world. I will see that nothing like what happened to me and Blackbird ever happens again, or I will see the world burn at my feet.

    I abruptly stand. I have no time for concussions and wounds, nor for fool physicians, nor for a paladin''s misplaced diplomacy. I am under no such hallucinations that the Clans will simply give up their lands into my grasp. The world wants war, and I will give it one.

    I stride from my rooms, calling orders to startled guards as I go. They scramble to obey my commands, and I smile. Power feels good. Secure. Indomitable.

    "My lord!" A courier puffs up to me, straining to keep up with my brisk pace as I do not stop for him. The elf bows while nearly jogging-- an amusing sight to see, and I nearly smile. But do not. I don''t have the time for foolery. I am a man on a mission.

    Or, changeling, rather.

    "What is it?" I ask the courier, then grab his elbow to keep him from bowing again. "And never mind that! Just tell me your news!"

    He gulps a breath, then says, "My lord, esteemed lord of the North, your scouts and sentries report an army approaching the castle. They bear Lord Baeren''s banners."

    A savage grin splits my face, and I abruptly turn on my heel, switching direction. The elf, startled by my sudden change in direction, is left behind for a moment, scrambling to keep up with me.

    "Dismissed." I tell him curtly. He peels away with a sigh of relief.

    I end up on my high bedroom balcony, above the huge courtyard. From here I can see out past the curtain walls of my fortress, all the way to where my vast green fields meet a pine forest made hazy with distance. From here I can see an army marching to challenge me, to test my determination and defenses. Sunlight glints off spearheads, helmets, breastplates, and banner poles.

    I smile, the heady feeling of battle-lust rising in me. The winds rise, whisking my hair back from my brow, bringing with them the warm scent of summer sun and change. I grip the balcony rail with white-knuckled fingers. Finally, some fun. Blackbird did not take it all with her. And my excuses for excitement are fool-proof. The approaching army knows nothing of who they have just challenged. I care not for their numbers, nor the quality of their weapons. They will break upon the walls of North Keep like the sea upon the cliffs. I am not worried.

    I am exhilarated.

    My smile turns into a savage grin, all teeth.

    "Let them come." I whisper into the winds.

 Sixth

    Daniel''s face lights up when he sees that I''ve brought a guitar with me.

    "So you do play?" He asks, rather enthusiastically. I incline my head to him.

    "Well enough." I answer.

    "May we hear?" He gestures to the mostly empty tavern around us. I glance around at patrons who''re interested but trying to look like they''re not, and sigh. Stars know I love performing.

    "Fine." I say, striding to a table in the back by the hearth. Hook a chair with my ankle and drag it out to face the room. I place my open leather guitar sleeve on the floor in front of me and give Daniel a saucy, daring wink. What can I say? Performing for a crowd fills me with a heady, almost intoxicating feeling, kind of like battle does to Fal.

    "I never perform without encouraging donations." I say, grinning. Daniel smiles widely back. There''s some trepidation in his eyes, which I can understand. He''s never heard me play before that I know of. For all he knows, I could be really awful.

    Fortunately for him-- and for everybody else here, including me-- I''m good. Very good.

    "Pick a song," I tell him. "Any song."

    "Daisy in the Dell." He answers immediately.

    I nod, smile, and start picking out the melody on the guitar strings, humming along quietly.

    Oh, it''s been too long since I last played. I''ve forgotten how much I love this.

    After a minute, I start strumming the chords. Then I open my mouth and sing.

    "Oh, the Daisy in the dell,

    She''s the girl I love so well,

    And I''m hoping to build a home for her someday soon.

    ''Til then she canna be my bride,

    So I''ll roam the wildlands wide,

    Gathering gold for th'' brideprice as I sing her this tune.

    When home I come, she greets me,

    Embracing, kissing me sweetly,

    As I wrap my arms about her waist and swing her joyfully ''round.

    And there we lay in fields of green,

    As we laugh and talk and dream,

    And watch the timbers of our home rise as our spirits leave the ground.

    Oh, the Daisy in the dell,

    So long ago for her I fell,

    And I vowed when we were children that this lovely lass I''d wed.

    So home I come, and singing,

    As the required gold I''m bringing,

    And I swept her into my arms and I told her what I''d said.

    And now she''s dressed in white,

    And its a beautiful, star-lit night,

    As her daddy walks my Daisy down the aisle in the dell.

    And I watch her coming toward me,

    And they say the rest is history,

    All I know is that I wedded my lovely Daisy who I love so very well.

    All I know is I wedded my lovely Daisy in the dell."

    What little crowd there is starts clapping not long after I start into the bouncy tune. One couple, a Dwarvish chap and his wife by the looks of it, get up and start dancing to the beat. Two other couples join them. For a few priceless minutes, the tavern rafters ring with the sound of music and laughter and whoops and feet tapping and hands clapping. Sheer joy, all of it. It wells up in me, nearly splitting my face off with the force of my grin. At the same time, I feel Fal''s rush of pleasure. My joy grows.

    The song ends, the last chords rippling out from my fingers on the strings.

    Daniel leads the applause. I flush with pleasure, bow awkwardly in my seat.

    "You are good!" The paladin says, grinning.

    "Thank you." I tell him merrily.

    "Another!" Someone shouts. I bow my head in acquiescence.

    "Fine." I reply. "Any special requests?"

    There are many. I play a lot of the songs I know, and some that I have to learn. But I''ve always learned quick, especially when it comes to music. The stuff is almost like lifeblood to me. It''s one of the two things in my life that keep me sane.

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    Riverman''s Daughter, The Orcish Jaunt, Merry Lily, Dragon''s Bane, The Ballad of Sir Alin, and Mireth''s Bride are all plucked from my strings and voice, and before I know it, three more hours have passed, and the supper hour is upon us. The crowd has grown exponentially. My guitar case is heaped with copper and silver coins. I even see a gold winking up at me.

    Well, my way is paid for the next month.

    I lay aside my guitar and walk to the bar with Daniel. Order a venison steak and fried potatoes. Go to pay, but the barkeep waves away my coin.

    "Ye''ve well earned it, ma''am." He says, smiling. It appears he likes music almost as much as I do. Daniel orders as well, and we sit together and eat, content in amiable silence.

    Until three newcomers walk in the door, silhouetted in the westering sun.

    An black-haired half-elf, a bronze-skinned tiefling, and an ash-blond elf the likes of whom I''d expect to see in the courts of the High Clan Chief, Hyrym himself. Armed all of them. The half-breed and the high elf are clad in leather armor, and it''s scholar''s robes for the horned one. They stand there for a moment, letting the door swing closed behind them. Survey the tavern slowly.

    Daniel sees them, stands with a wide grin. He waves an arm.

    "Over here, Raeldon!" He calls over the noisy hubbub of a taproom in the evening. The tiefling turns his head in our direction, nudges his companions and says something, then walks over trailing two stony-faced pointed-ears. Daniel stands as they stride up to us.

    "Well met." He says, wrapping the tiefling in an embrace. The paladin clasps forearms with the high elf, and gives a courtly bow to the half-breed, who smiles, laughs, and embraces him instead. I watch them all, calm and neutral. Silent in the background. Observing. Assessing.

    Calculating.

    My well-trained mind is swiftly memorizing their weapons, armor quality and material, aura of confidence and power. Making plans accordingly just in case I have to take one or more of them down. Inside of the five minutes it takes for them to notice me, I have already formulated ten different ways I could kill each of them.

    It''s the high elf who finally locks eyes with my cool gaze.

    "Who art thee?" He asks. Yep, definitely from the court of Hyrym. Though, he''s maybe not been there in a while. His words are very High Court-ish, but his voice twangs with a bit of a rustic accent. It''s amusing. I smile.

    Daniel grasps my arm, pulling me to my feet and forward to meet his friends. This paladin is seriously happy. It''s a bit disconcerting, to be frank. I''ve never seen anyone this overjoyed except over relatives and lovers. I wonder who these people are to him that he loves them so.

    "This is Avalon." Daniel introduces us. "Avalon, the sage is Raeldon," he gestures to the tiefling, "the jewel among warriors is Eliana," here he gives a little bow in the half-elf''s direction, "and this dashing rogue is Antony."

    I give them all a polite nod.

    "Charmed." I say. They all nod back.

    "Avalon will be joining us in our quest." Daniel tells his group. They all narrow their eyes at me, but no one complains or protests. I''m impressed.

    "Avalon saved my life last night." Daniel continues. "Killed a man to do it to."

    He''s lucky my orders weren''t to kill him. If they had been, I would have stood aside and let the tiefling gut him. But, of course, I don''t mention any of this.

    Raeldon seems relieved at Daniel''s safety. The other two look impressed.

    "Thank you, my girl." The sage says, bowing in my direction.

    "It was nothing." I brush off his thanks with a smile and a duck of my head. "I know what it is to be in the situation that Daniel was. I couldn''t stand by."

    Further threads of that conversation is aborted when Eliana catches sight of my guitar. She gives a little gasp and steps over to run her fingers down the neck of my instrument. Antony mirrors her. He seems just as happy with my simple guitar as Eliana does. Which is to say, very happy indeed. Elves and their music. I could almost shake my head, but for the fact that I love music just as much as they do.

    "Dost thou play?" Antony asks fervently, handling my guitar with care. He picks it up and strums a chord.

    "She plays very well indeed!" Laughs Daniel. "You should have been here when she had the whole tavern rollicking to The Smith''s Reel!"

    "Will you play again tonight?" Eliana turns to me with shining eyes. I can''t help but grin in reply. But before I can answer, Daniel says,

    "Not here. I mean to move out, get out of the city before dusk. Maybe around a fire when we make camp for the night."

    Eliana groans. "We just got here, Daniel. I was looking forward to a real bed tonight. We''ve been on the road for days."

    "And we will be for many more." Daniel is unrelenting. I admire him for that. "War waits for no man, Eliana. Or elf."

    "Very well." The raven-haired half-elf acquiesces. Antony and Raeldon have made no comment yet. I think they knew they would not be staying here tonight. I get the idea that they have traveled extensively with Daniel before.

    "Eat, quickly." The paladin tells his friends. "The sun lowers, and I do not wish to have another experience like last night." He shoots me a meaningful glance, and I smile.

    "There is safety in numbers." I reply quietly. "Armed numbers."

    We are all ready to leave within the hour. I heft on my knapsack, handling my guitar gently. Make sure my newly acquired stash of coin is out of sight and reach. Then I step outside the tavern with Daniel and his friends. The last rays of the setting sun shine into my eyes, and I lift my hand to shade them. Daniel reaches back behind me and flips my hood up. It works better than my hand.

    "Thank you." I murmur in surprise.

    It turns out, we will not be walking out of the city, even though I was prepared to do so. But Daniel''s companions have brought horses. Or maybe Daniel already had one? Whatever the case, there is even a horse for me: a beautiful black mare with white socks a white blaze down her nose. I rub that blaze and cannot help but coo in delight despite myself.

    Antony watches me with the animal, pleased.

    "Does she have a name?" I ask him.

    "Aelenoth." He replies. "''Tis means ''Shadow Friend''."

    It suits her, and me.

    We mount up and ride out, racing the sun out of the city.

    We barely make it. We make camp for the night in a forest just three miles from Vezgaxur. Per Eliana''s and Antony''s requests, I treat them all to a round of songs before we sleep. Laughter abounds, even from Raeldon. Even from me. It''s the happiest I''ve been among strangers in a very long time. A pang of grief strikes me as I think of how short-lived this will probably be. Of how it definitely would be if they knew who I really was.

    I push the grief away, almost succeed. But not quite.

    Morning is a gentler affair than the previous one. Through our bond, I can tell that Fal is almost deliriously happy. I wonder what about. Perhaps he''s riding off of my emotions? I have no time to really wonder however, as Daniel passes out breakfast rations and we quickly get back on the trail.

    It''s midmorning, and I''m walking, leading Aelenoth behind me, when a burst of searing pain shoots through the twin bond. I gasp and clutch at my chest. Daniel, ahead of me, turns and steps to me, concern etched on his face. Antony, just behind me, does the same.

    "Are you alright?" Daniel asks. "Blood and stars, I knew you were wounded last night!" He reaches for me.

    It''s not me who''s wounded.

    I drop my horse''s reins and back away from Daniel''s hands. He follows. My eyes are wide, my breath coming in gasps, pain pulses through my chest.

    There''s no time.

    "I-- I''m sorry," I say. In an instant, my slate stone is in my hand.

    "Home." I say, and my companions'' astonished, worried faces fade to white.

    I pop into the huge main courtyard of my brother''s palace, smack-dab in the middle of a raging battle. I am just in time to catch Falkirk as he collapses backward into my arms, his face contorted in pain as his color bleaches. He''s clutching at a short knife blade buried in his chest.

 Seventh

    For a moment, I can only stand, white-faced and silent, as Falkirk sags heavily in my arms, his shimmery-white-haired head lolling on my shoulder. He grits his teeth, breathing fast and shallow. Grips the knife in his hand and yanks it out of himself. Blood spurts, fountain-like, as he flings the blade away. It rings as it bounces on the bloody flagstones. Fal''s green-tinged grey eyes roll back in his head as he faints.

    With barely a thought, I change form, shifting my body to grow larger, more muscled. A size where I can carry Falkirk comfortably.

    Because there is no way I am letting this boy out of my sight again.

    I cradle him in my arms, my emotions coming back to crash inside of me in all of their unmuted, desperate fury.

    I am angry. Supremely irate. Furious.

    And worried that this will be the last time I hold my living brother in my arms. That knife was close to the heart. Too close. There is too much blood. My brother''s manna is leaking out with it almost as fast as I can pour my own manna into him. Right now, I''m all that''s keeping him alive.

    I jog, nearly running, toward the main keep of the palace. Toward somewhere where we will be safe.

    Acting only on impulses, I ensconce the keep, the courtyard, the whole palace in the shimmering bubble of a mage-shield. What enemy forces are left outside cannot get in, no matter how hard they try, and what foes are trapped inside are left to my tender mercies as I drain their manna past the dregs, leaving their bodies lifeless husks. Take in as much of their life-force as I can because I am pouring all of my own into my impossibly massive shield and my unconscious, bleeding brother. With an effort, I refrain from draining my brother''s forces of their life. I suck in the manna greedily, trying to keep three things alive all at once.

    Even so, it''s a wonder we make it into the keep and into Falkirk''s bedroom. I heave him onto his bed; he lolls limply, blood soaking his shirt, soaking me, soaking the bedsheets much too fast. I press my hands over that awful wound, as I shrink back to my normal size. Press hard.

    "Come on, Falkirk." I mutter from between clenched teeth. "Help me out here. Wake up!"

    Something kindles inside of me, some magical potential previously untapped. Something clicks into place inside of my mind and I growl out some arcane word.

    Silvery light flares from my hands, warm and cold all at once. Beneath my hands I feel Falkirk''s skin and muscle writhing as it knits back together. A moment later the blood stops flowing from the wound altogether. I step back, relieved and astonished.

    I have never, ever, been particularly skilled at making healing spells work. Neither has Falkirk. It''s a weakness of ours. When we try to heal, our magic often backfires.

    Falkirk stirs and opens his eyes. They lock with mine, and our twin bond roils with emotion.

    Anger and remembered pain from him.

    Relief and waves of nearly-nauseating hot-cold fury from me.

    My brother opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

    "How could you?" I am shaking with the force of my anger. Take a step toward him. Falkirk''s eyes widen in astonishment.

    "How could you," I repeat, my hands balled into fists, "do such a fools-cursed, bullheaded thing like that?"

    "Thank you for saving my life?" He tries. I shake my head, laugh mirthlessly.

    "Oh, no, no, no." I say, turning away, beginning to pace. "You''re lucky I got here in time to do that. I nearly lost you, Falkirk!" I spin and hurl the words at him with all my might. "Do you understand that? I have told you not to be reckless time and time again, and what do you do? The second an army crests the horizon to challenge your power, you have the nerve to let them cross those fields. You''re a powerful mage, you could have blasted them to oblivion before they ever got close, I''ve seen you do it before. But noooo. You had the nerve to let them get close to the walls! And then, you let them get inside the gates! You didn''t even cast a shield over the palace!"

    His face turns sullen. "I thought I could take them."

    I bark out a laugh. "''Thought''. ''Thought''!" I wheel on him. "Curse your pride, Falkirk! I''ll not be surprised if, one of these days, your fool puffed-up head carries you off into the clouds! And you have to add recklessness on top of that! Unbelievable!"

    Falkirk sits up straight. "I''m the reckless one?"

    I ignore him, continue ranting. "Are you even listening to a word I''m saying? I feel like I''m serving a child! Do you not know how much I, and every one of your men out there-- who I so thoughtfully spared, by the way-- need you? How much you mean to me? Of course you don''t, you selfish fool. You''re just going to keep on putting yourself in danger, taking needless risks, and for what? To prove that you''re great? You already are! But much more of this, and it''s going to get one of us killed one day! Maybe me! Do you really want that? Because that''s what you''re going to get if I have to keep hauling your sorry butt out of every trouble you get into, which I wouldn''t have to be doing if you weren''t so drat-blasted reckless, Falkirk!" I shout.

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    "I''m the reckless one?" He repeats, his voice dangerously soft. "I''m the restless one?!" He siphons manna from me, which is a gross breach of etiquette and only makes me angrier. Rises and steps over to stand before me, fury radiating from every line in his body. He''s nearly spitting mad, but so am I. I stand up to him, chest to chest, matching ire for ire. Our emotions are only amplified by our twin bond, and now we''re riding off of those crashing waves. It''s only making this worse.

    "You''re the one who gets to go off on hare-brained adventures, risking your life time and time again!" He yells down at me.

    "Yeah, well, you''re the one who sends me off on those ''hare-brained adventures''!" I shout back, up into his face.

    "Don''t you dare do that to me!" He lifts a finger at me.

    "You''re the one who wanted to rule!" I shoot back. "So deal with it! This is the life that you chose! You are our king, and we need you! I need you. Safe and alive and whole and well, Falkirk." I quiet down, and my voice breaks as I say, "Because you are everything I have left, Falkirk. You are half of me. I am nothing without you. And if I lose you--" A sob hiccups in my chest as my anger rushes from me as fast as the sea retreats before a tidal wave. Bone-liquifying relief is all that''s left. That, and grief at the ''almost-happened-what-could-have-been''.

    I drop my head as tears slide down my cheeks. Falkirk''s anger ebbs as well, as he feels my emotions and responds. He sighs. Wraps his arms around me. I lean into him. I can count on one hand the number of times my brother and I have fought over the years. Now I have one more to add to the tally. It sours my stomach.

    "I can''t lose you." I whisper against his chest. I hear his heart beating, strong and healthy beneath his rent shirt, and my breath hitches again. More tears slide from beneath my eyelids.

    Falkirk''s hand rubs circles on my back.

    "And I can''t lose you." He replies. "How about this: you don''t take unnecessary risks, and I won''t either."

    I pull away and look up into his face. He smiles sadly.

    "Deal." I say. Then I crush him into an embrace. "I love you so much, Falkirk D''Adrian. Don''t you ever forget it."

    "I won''t." He says, hugging me back. "I love you too, Blackbird. More than life."

    It''s with foot-rooting reluctance that I step back from his embrace.

    "I left a fool paladin and his friends in the forest." I say, dropping my eyes, wishing I didn''t have to leave. Not again. Not so soon. I press my hands to my face and take a deep breath.

    "Then go." Falkirk says gently. He cups my face, lifts it to meet his gaze. "And forgive me for my anger. I should not have shouted at you."

    "Forgive me." I reply.

    "I do." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Don''t forget our deal."

    "I won''t." I promise. I lock eyes with him, pleading with him with my gaze, willing him to uphold his side of our bargain. Curse it all, I do not want to go.

    But I do, digging my marble from my pocket and whispering to it, "Daniel."

    I watch my brother until he is lost from my sight in the white mists of the in-between.

    Daniel''s waiting for me when I get back, standing there with his hands on his hips, facing me as if he knew exactly where I would appear.

    My cells are pushed through the inter-dimensional barrier, and then I''m standing there in the forest, on grass, face stone, feeling still and empty. Drained.

    Listless is a good description.

    A second after I appear, Daniel rushes forward, placing his hands on my shoulders, bracing me.

    "Are you alright? Avalon, are you alright?" He peers down into my expressionless face, worried and just a bit stern, as, behind him, his friends watch us from around a fire.

    "What''s happened?" Daniel presses.

    I twist myself loose from his grip and walk away toward the trees.

    "I don''t want to talk about it." I say, my head still not on quite straight after my brother''s brush with death and the fight that followed.

    He follows me, and my anger kindles once more as I stalk away from him.

    "Tell me," he says, "please. I want to help."

    "I said I don''t want to talk about it!" I shout at him over my shoulder.

    "I just want to help." He stops and says helplessly. Spreads his hands, wide and empty. "What happened?"

    I turn, all fire and anger.

    "You can''t help me! It doesn''t concern you anyway!" I hurl the words at him with all the force I can muster, which is a lot.

    And then, to my horror, I burst into tears. Sob into my hands like a child. In this moment, there is nothing more I want than to be near my brother. But he''s half a continent away. And he can''t come anyway. I feel his concern for me as he feels my swelling emotions at the same time that I feel his giddy rush as he absorbs a whole lot of manna at once.

    Well, there go the rest of the challenging army. But at least Falkirk is safe. At that thought, I sob harder.

    Daniel''s strong arms wrap around me and he holds me close.

    "Hush," he soothes. "Hush, my girl."

    I want to push him away, but I can''t muster the strength. All my ire is gone as fast as it''d come. Like wind spilling out of slit sails.

    I am once again drained, empty of emotion.

    "Now," the paladin says gently, "what happened? We were so worried when you disappeared on us like that, without an explanation. We didn''t know where you had gone, or what had happened to you. All I knew is that you were not in danger, as your marble did not alert me."

    I so desperately need someone, outside of my brother, to talk to, so I hiccup out a vague version of the story, leaving out names and details. Tell him only that my brother had been grievously hurt and when I berated him for his recklessness, my lecture had blown up into a big fight between us. How we had made up in the end, forgiven, but how I was still dealing with the emotions.

    And I realize something as I pour out the surface of my heart to Daniel. I realize that it feels good to talk to someone about these types of things. Hard, but good nonetheless. I have always bottled up my emotions inside of myself, not daring to make friends with anyone but my brother, lest they be my next target. Fal always knows what I''m feeling, and I can always talk to him, and he understands me. But it''s just not the same as an outside friend.

    It''s a pity that our friendship is built on eighty percent lies.

    I suddenly wish it weren''t. But it can''t be helped. My brother comes first; this is what he wants.

    So it is what I will do.

 Eighth

    We make good time to a city called Azmal, a mere three-week ride from Vezgaxur. I might have been able to transport us all there using my slate marble, but I''m not sure its magic is strong enough to handle all five of us. Daniel''s friends-- Eliana, Antony, and Raeldon-- warm up to me gradually, and over the course of those three weeks, they become as close to friends to me as they can be. And Daniel.... Well, let''s not get too ahead of ourselves here. As my brother told me, one time when I checked in with him during these past few weeks, it''s best not to get too attached. If they are not for us, they are against us. And that makes them enemies.

    And that could make them my targets.

    I think on this as we trudge down a dusty road with Azmal''s walls just in sight. Daniel''s face floats through my mind, and grief pinches my heart. Would that our friendship were real.

    What is happening to me? I can''t be feeling this way!

    I flip my hood up, stuff my regrets down where they can''t make me think. I seem to be stuffing a lot of things down in that cold, numb place lately.

    Daniel glances back at me.

    "You alright?" He asks. He asks me that a lot. I think he sees more of me than he lets on. Than I want him to see. It makes me uncomfortable. For so long it was only Falkirk who saw me truly. Part of me wants it to stay that way.

    Most of me.

    All of me.

    No friends but Fal and death. No companions but my brother, blood, and accusing souls. This is who I am, this is who I will always be. This is what I must be to reach my-- our-- goals.

    I take a deep breath, and answer Daniel with a smile. "Yes."

    He smiles in return and faces front. I don''t think he believes me. Oh well. Let him think what he wants.

    From beneath the refuge of my hood, I let my gaze roam the dreary, filthy cityscape of Azmal as we ride in. Our horses'' hooves clop and squish on the scummy cobblestones. Shady characters eye us from the weary crowds, from the shadows, from the alleyways. I slump in my saddle, all comfortable nonchalance. Let them try anything with me or my companions. It will be the last thing they do.

    To my surprise, Daniel finds us a reasonably respectable tavern and inn. The Walloping Goose, I read the inn sign and my eyebrows shoot up. This will be... interesting. Inside, it is as clean as this town is going to get. A portly woman wearing... questionable garb is behind the bar, wiping tankards out with a grey rag. I keep my face neutral as I watch.

    "Willah!" One of the patrons shouts, slamming an empty tankard down with a belch. "Another, lass, will ya?"

    It''s not even noon.

    Willah, the barkeep it appears, gives the dirty man a gap-toothed smile. "Nay, Smit! Let me see yer coin first!"

    The man huddles over the table, muttering, "Ain''t got any more, woman. Ya know that."

    Daniel strides up to the bar, me and the rest of his friends in his wake.

    "Good madam," he says, flipping her a silver coin. "I require room and board for myself and my companions." He leans close to her. "And information."

    Willah giggles like a child. "Ain''t nobody called me ''madam'' in a long while, boy." She swiftly pockets the silver. "Ya can ''ave all the room an'' board ya want, kid. Information, eh..."

    Daniel casually flips her a gold coin. She snatches it out of the air and swiftly secrets it away. Leans so close to Daniel, I wince.

    That can''t smell good. I pity the fool paladin.

    "Careful, kid." Willah whisper-rasps. "Ain''t good fer yer ''ealth to be toutin'' that much coin. I''ll give ya information, but next time keep yer coin better ''idden, understan''?"

    Daniel inclines his head to her. "Understood, madam. Now, information-- I wish to know if Lord Amyry is in town, and how favorable he has been of late."

    Willah cackles. "Favor''ble?! That good-fer-nothin'' noble was sour an'' mean from the cradle! But I ''spose he''s as favor''ble as he''s gonna ever be, boy. An'' yeah, he''s in town. So he is most of the time, whenever tax season comes ''round. An'' it''s always tax season." She mutters sourly.

    Daniel nods sympathetically. I merely watch and wait.

    I''ve heard of Lord Amyry. He''s a nasty piece of work, and if Daniel''s set on recruiting him to the paladin''s cause, that fool is going to be sorely disappointed. There''s a reason this city looks like this. Amyry is the kind of filth my brother is fighting to stop. This particular noble, he... well, let''s just say he makes what happened to my parents look like child''s play. And he doesn''t do it just to changelings. He does it to everyone who gets on his bad side. Falkirk sent me once to assassinate him. I nearly died. Fal vowed that he would never send me against Amyry again, at least not until my brother could back me with an army. I don''t blame him. Not much scares me. Amyry does.

    And I hate it.

    So, coming to Azmal doesn''t sit well with me, but I have to stay with Daniel. So I''ll get through this. Besides Daniel will likely need me. That naive half-breed and the dandy of a rogue won''t be much help in a place like this. They haven''t got the street skills.

    "Do you know of anyone who would be able to gain us an audience with Lord Amyry?" Daniel asks Willah. She cackles again before fixing the paladin with a strange, pitying look.

    "Only way ya gonna get a audience with ''im is through a trial, boy." Willah cautions. She''s right. "An'' those only end in executions! Maybe check with ''is lordship''s executioner ta see if ''e ''as a free block of time ta see ya? Watch yer step around ''ere, kid. That''s all the advice I can give ya."

    Daniel nods gravely. "Duly noted, madam." He turns and gestures to us. "These are my friends. They require a meal, the finest of whatever you''ve got."

    Willah looks us over with interest, probably wondering if we''re all as rich as Daniel. Her gaze lingers on me the longest. I narrow my eyes at her, wondering if I''ve ever encountered her before. The faces of my past living acquaintances are hazy and faded in my mind. I only remember the faces of the dead, sharp and clear.

    The barkeep breaks gazes with me, shakes her head slightly, then turns her eyes back on Antony. It''s clear she''s smitten with the ash-blond high elf. I smirk, amused. Willah catches my look, and laughs. She tosses us a couple grimy iron keys-- one to me and Eliana, one to the men. I snatch my key out of the air, one-handed, never taking my eyes off of the barkeep.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "These are ta yer rooms." Willah says. "Number on the key goes to the number on the doors upstairs."

    "Thank you." Daniel says. He turns to us, leaning back against the bar, as Willah disappears into the kitchen in the back.

    "I don''t actually expect to get an audience with Amyry," Daniel tells us, "but I have to try. Although, to be perfectly honest, I could not care less if D''Adrian mowed Amyry under in his conquest."

    Amen to that.

    Daniel continues, "Be on your guard at all times, and if you have to leave the tavern, go in pairs. I expect to get attacked here; Amyry hates outsiders, especially ones as fine as us. We are threatening to him. So be wary, and keep your weapons with you always."

    Oh, good. He''s learned.

    Willah returns with our food, some sort of meat drowned in a thick, brown gravy and stale biscuits. I eat and don''t ask questions.

    Antony picks at his meal. I cannot help but be amused at the high elf''s prissiness. Eliana catches my gaze, the same merriment I have, mirrored in her eyes. I grin, she giggles.

    Antony scowls faintly at us, lifts his chin. Which only makes us girls'' amusement grow. He finally cracks, the faintest of smiles lifting the corner of his mouth. Daniel sees and laughs. Raeldon merely eats without complaint or emotion. Daniel was right about him being dry.

    Because that tiefling is one of the most stoic, dry people I have ever met. The only time I ever saw him display emotion was when Daniel had told him about his nearly dying.

    We finish our meal and Daniel scrapes back his barstool. Stands.

    "Well, we should rest, and I need to go grab some supplies." The paladin says.

    "We''ll all go," Relies Antony. Daniel nods.

    "Very well." He strides to the door, trailing us in his wake. Lifts his hand to Willah.

    "We''ll be back!" He calls. She smiles at us.

    We spend most of the day wandering around town. Lunch at the Walloping Goose. Wander some more. I know each of us is taking note of how many Amyry''s guards are about town, his castle defenses, anything useful in warfare.

    But, wary as we are, Daniel was right to expect an attack. It comes, right when dusk has fallen and we are trudging wearily through miry streets back to the tavern. Ten soldiers dressed in black march out of an alleyway and block the way in front of us. Eliana, Antony, and Raeldon spin, and find what Daniel and I already know to be true: ten more soldiers close the way behind us. Daniel and I exchange a glance, and sigh. We all draw our weapons-- he his longsword, I my mage-blade, the rest their own. I press my weapon''s hidden button and the blade extends to full length with a soft shring! Eliana has a bow and sword, Raeldon a staff. Antony wields long knives and a blowpipe.

    "Drop your weapons and surrender, outsiders!" The tiefling in front orders us. He''s a captain, by the insignia on his breastplate. His rank won''t matter in a minute.

    "I don''t think so." Daniel replies calmly. He seems to know that these bullies aren''t up for anything other than a fight. He doesn''t even bother with diplomacy. A flame-orange, crackling mage-whip extends from his left hand.

    "Take them." Snarls the tiefling. His soldiers spring at us.

    My mage-blade flashes and sends a head rolling to the cobblestones as Daniel''s whip cracks and lashes across the attackers, tripping and binding them so he can finish them off. But I see him, more often than not, rendering his foes unconscious rather than administering the killing blow.

    Well, if that''s the way he wants to play, it''s his funeral. But I know he doesn''t want them dead.

    That-- my respect for the fool paladin-- is the only thing stopping me from finishing the kill. Instead I expend manna to place the enemies in a sleep so deep it''s like they''re passed-out drunk.

    To my own foes, I am much less merciful. My mage-blade swoops and flashes with unerring accuracy and deadly force. Heads roll, hearts are speared, and, as I use manna to conjure mage-shields and contract them, bodies are reduced to bloody pulp and shattered bone.

    Eliana is a steady bastion at our backs, suffering few wounds and keeping the soldiers behind us at bay. Many have her deadly arrows sticking from them, making them look like humanoid pincushions.

    Where Raeldon wields his staff, enemies fall and do not rise again. Cracked and stoved-in skulls and shattered bones abound, leaving his victims wailing or motionless on the stones.

    Antony is a whirling dervish of flashing steel. Where he goes, foes fall never to rise again. I have to admire the elf. He shows no mercy.

    The fight is over mere minutes after it began. The street is strewn with bodies, all of them in the black of Amyry. The tiefling captain is dead, his head lolling on the stones, his dead eyes staring. Probably my doing.

    Eliana surveys the battlefield, her eyes lingering on my gruesome work. She blanches pale and slightly green, and claps her hands over her mouth. A cut on her arm is heavily bleeding and Daniel steps over to her to tend it with warm, flame-hued magic. Raeldon and Antony set to cleaning off their weapons before sheathing them.

    Suddenly, from the alley bursts the figure of a black-clad soldier. He flees from us down the street toward Amyry''s castle.

    "After him!" Shouts Daniel, his head whipping up to track the running man. Antony and I glance at each other, then take off after the fugitive, sprinting side by side, matching stride for stride, breath for breath.

    Night has fallen by now, hanging heavy and black over the city. We gain quickly on the fleeing soldier, despite the fact that he knows these streets and we don''t. I veer off from Antony and take to the roofs, scaling the wall and driving upward to catch the lip of a filthy rain-gutter. We still run close together, Antony a little ways ahead down on the street, me rapidly recovering that distance on the rooftops.

    I drive speed into my legs, pulling ahead of the fugitive. Leap from the roof to tackle him. He goes down beneath me, and I roll away and to my feet, drawing my mage-blade. He rises unsteadily to his feet, drawing his own weapon. Sneers at me. Lifts his sword, and I get ready.

    A faint whistling, air-ripping sound hisses through the air. The soldier stops mid-stride, slaps at his neck. Then he crumples to the ground as unconscious as can be.

    I stare at him for a moment, then lift my gaze to Antony who is just lowering his blowpipe from his lips. He fixes me with an unreadable stare. Just like an elf, that.

    "Daniel would have wanted him alive." He informs me. I nod, sheathe my mage-blade. Stride over to the sleeping soldier and crouch over him. Flip back his black hood. It''s a half-elf. Age: indeterminable. Male.

    I yank off his belt and tie his hands with it. I gesture to the body.

    "Do you want to do the honors or shall I?" I ask the high elf. He sighs, eyeing my petite frame. He doesn''t know I am a changeling. He thinks I''m a half-elf maiden, of medium height and slight build. He thinks the task of dragging a body through the streets is not for the likes of me. So he''s going to do the chivalrous thing and bear the burden. He doesn''t know about the scores of bodies I''ve drug over the years.

    Sure enough, Antony bends, takes a tiny blowdart from the half-breed''s neck. Grasps the back of the soldier''s tunic and starts dragging him back the way we came.

    Personally, I''d rather drop the half-elf over a bridge somewhere.

    But Eliana''s face saunters into my mind like it belongs there. Her sick and grieved face when she saw the aftermath of how I fought. What would she think if she knew I--

    No. I shut those thoughts down immediately. Nobody except Fal needs to care what I do or how I do it. I get the job done. We''re alive. That''s all that matters.

    When Antony and I get back to our companions with our prisoner, Daniel looks up with relief.

    "Oh, good. You''re back." He says, then sees our captive. "And you captured him. Well done!"

    Antony inclines his head like it''s an everyday occurrence that he chases down thugs. Smug elf.

    "Avalon here tackled him from the roofs, and I finished the job with a dart." He says nonchalantly. Daniel steps over and crouches beside the captive. He grasps the half-breed''s jaw in one hand and tilts his face side to side to survey his face.

    "No one I know." He says after a moment. I nearly snort. Was he expecting to know someone here?

    "Let''s get him back to the tavern." Daniel says, standing. "I have some questions for him when he wakes up."

    He walks past me, pausing to lay his hand on my shoulder. Its warm weight incites a new feeling in me as his eyes stare into mine.

    "Well done." He says again, quietly, for my ears alone. His eyes tell me far more than those two simple words though. Through his warm, blue gaze I can tell he''s proud of me for not bringing back to him a useless corpse.

    And this knowledge fills me with a caring I don''t want. A warmth I cannot push away no matter how hard I try.

    This desire to please someone other than Falkirk I hate with my very soul.

    At least that is what I tell myself. I believe it too.

    But I only nod and follow him as he and Antony support the prisoner between them and drag him back to the Walloping Goose.

 Ninth

    While Raeldon goes below to the taproom for a drink, Daniel and Antony tie the black-clad half-breed to a straight-backed chair in the men''s bedroom. Antony checks and double checks Daniel''s knots.

    "I grew up by the sea." He says by way of explanation when he catches me watching closely. "I know my knots." He cocks his head at me and asks,

    "Would thee like me to teach thee?"

    Why not?

    I nod and smile. And get a small return smile from the high elf.

    "Later." He promises.

    "Ava," Daniel says, and I look at him.

    What did you call me? I almost ask, but I hold my tongue.

    "Yes?" I say instead.

    He doesn''t look at me, instead planting his hands on the chair back on either side of the unconscious prisoner. Leans close to him, studying his face.

    "Do you have anything that would wake this fellow up?" The paladin asks.

    Other than a slap?

    "Yes." I answer. I dig in my bottomless pocket and pull out a vial of something, well, vile. From experience I know that the contents inside smell like sulfur and days-old decaying meat. A sickening combination, but an effective one nonetheless.

    I uncork the vial and hold it under the captive''s nose. A mere three seconds later-- I was counting-- he jolts awake, coughing. He gasps for air, gets a nose-full of the foul stink. Chokes and gags.

    I step back, re-corking the vial and slipping it back in my pocket. Daniel glances at me.

    "Effective." He comments.

    Then he turns to the half-elf, who is now struggling fruitlessly against Antony''s tight knots. The half-breed''s face contorts in anger as Daniel folds his arms and stands before him.

    "Let me go!" The pointed-ear snarls at the paladin. Follows up his demand with a nasty insult directed at Daniel and involving his mother. Daniel appears unperturbed. His gaze grows colder, but that is all.

    "Answer my questions truthfully, and I will." He replies.

    I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows.

    That... may not be the wisest choice. If I were the paladin, I would get the answers I need and then dispose of the half-breed.

    Permanently.

    But, after nearly a month of Daniel''s company, I know that this is not his way. He hates killing, and is far too merciful and kind. He doesn''t yet know that the world works the complete opposite way, poor fool.

    Amyry''s man spits at Daniel, and my anger is kindled. The paladin doesn''t react, aside of the muscles in his jaw tightening. But I''ve had just about enough of this half-breed''s disrespect.

    "Tell me," Daniel says, "why does Amyry want us dead? What exactly were your orders regarding us?"

    The captive sneers.

    "We were supposed to kill you all, ----!"

    Well, that was a particularly nasty word. If I were the pointed-ear''s mum, I''d be washing his mouth out with soap. But I make no comment as he continues,

    "Any threat to Lord Amyry''s throne garners an immediate death sentence! To be carried out by whomever wants the gold! I shouldn''t be surprised if the whole city knows by now that there''s a price on your heads!"

    Daniel, Eliana, Antony, and I exchange worried glances that have the prisoner chuckling.

    A price? Well, curses.

    "I don''t want to threaten Amyry''s rule." Daniel tells the captive. "I merely wish to treat with him."

    The half-breed spits again. I see Antony''s fists clench.

    "It''s ''Lord Amyry'' to you, street scum!" The prisoner replies. Daniel sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

    "No," he says quietly, "it''s not." Opens his eyes. "If Amyry will not let me in to treat with him peacefully, I will walk in with demands that he cannot ignore. Tell me the entry passwords."

    The captive snarls, "I will not!" Spits a third time. An un-ignorable insult, one that demands an apology or satisfaction.

    And there is no way this blood-cursed sorry excuse for a half-elf is apologizing.

    "Enough!" I say. Antony starts forward, but I beat him to it.

    "Stand up for yourself next time." I tell Daniel, pushing him out of the way. His eyes widen at my reprimand, but he neither does nor says anything.

    My brother would never have let the prisoner get away with spitting thrice. At the first insult, Falkirk would have demanded satisfaction. Would have released the half-breed and given him a blade. And then my brother would have proceeded to make the half-elf pay for the insult in blood.

    Daniel is soft. It''s going to get him killed one day.

    Hopefully not by me.

    I stalk up to the prisoner and, when I know my companions cannot see my face, alter my features to cracked, ebony skin like jagged glass. My eyes become twin flame-hued orbs in their sockets.

    I slam the half-elf''s head against the back of the chair. Grab his shoulder and lean forward into his face as he woozily picks up his head. A knife-- previously hidden in my sleeve-- is suddenly in my hand, its razor-sharp tip pressing gently against the captive''s throat. He looks up into my face and goes white with fear.

    I smile. Wolfishly, all teeth.

    "I do not suffer insults to my friends to go unavenged." I hiss down into his face. "However, I''m fairly sure that my paladin friend over there doesn''t want you dead. So I won''t kill you." I tilt my head, still smiling. "Yet."

    The prisoner glances over my shoulder at Daniel.

    "Help me!" He pleads, his breath whistling in his throat. I grab his jaw and turn his face back to me.

    "No one''s going to help you." I say, smile gone as if it had never been. "Tell me the entry passwords to Amyry''s castle. Now!"

    Terrified, he spills everything. The passwords, the guard rotation schedule, everything.

    I release him and step back, grateful that Daniel didn''t try to stop me from doing what I did. That could have been awkward.

    "You got all that?" I ask the paladin, altering my face back to normal before I glance back at him. He nods, stunned, I think, by my ruthlessness. Antony too. Eliana has her hands over her mouth and is staring at me, wide-eyed.

    I feel a twinge of guilt. Quickly push it aside. Why should I care what they think of me? I got the information they wanted.

    "Thank you." I tell the captive, turning back around. I smile at him again. His terrified eyes dart back and forth between me and Daniel. I raise my knife.

    The half-breed has outlived his usefulness, and I can''t have him spilling my changeling secret.

    Daniel shakes off his shock, steps forward and grabs my upraised arm.

    "No." He says, as I turn to look into his eyes. They are firm and hard and their normal sea-blue is icy cold.

    "Why not?" I ask.

    "He''s a hostage. He''s still useful. I don''t want him dead. You will stay your blade, Avalon."

    "Fine." I yank my arm from his grasp, but I do not rebel against his orders. I respect him too much for that.

    "But I will not be hearing any more of his foul insults." I tell Daniel coldly, using my knife to slice a strip of cloth from the prisoner''s cloak. I tightly gag the half-breed with it, leaning close as I tie it behind his head. I whisper softly in his ear,

    "Tell them I''m a changeling, and I don''t care what the paladin says. I will make you wish you had never been born, understand?" Then I step back, asking,

    "Why exactly do we need a hostage?" I plant my hands on my hips.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Eliana smothers a laugh at my face and tone, sounding stressed. Antony turns away, probably exasperated with me. Or the world.

    It could honestly be both.

    Daniel sighs and replies patiently.

    "Because I don''t want Amyry shooting us on sight when we walk in. Hopefully he won''t want to kill one of his own men. Further, perhaps I could use this soldier to gain us an audience with Amyry."

    I snort. Poor, naive Daniel. That''s never going to work. I tell him so.

    He runs his hand over his face.

    "Probably not." He agrees. "But one can hope. I don''t want any more blood on my hands than there has to be."

    I snort again, turning away. Let the paladin have his fantasies.

    "I''m going to bed." I announce, and stalk out of the room without waiting for an answer.

    Eliana joins me in our room not long after. I watch carefully for any sign that the prisoner did in fact spill my secret. But Eliana doesn''t seem to know I''m a changeling. I turn over in my bed after she''s changed into her nightclothes, and watch her as she combs out her long raven-hued hair. She''s grim and quiet tonight. She silently climbs into bed and pulls the bedsheets over herself, flipping onto her side so she doesn''t have to look at me.

    Something''s wrong, and I don''t think my being a changeling has anything to do with it. She would have said something.

    "Eliana." I say.

    "Hm?" She replies.

    "What''s wrong?" I ask. She turns to look at me and I realize she''s crying.

    What have I done now?

    "You." She grits out. "You''re what''s wrong."

    Oh great.

    "Why do you say that?" I ask carefully.

    "What sane person kills as efficiently as you do, and doesn''t even care?!" She bursts out. My face goes blank.

    What kind of person?

    A person without a conscience.

    It''s not like I enjoy killing. I do what has to be done, and I can''t help it if I do it well.

    "You''re bothered by what I did tonight?" I ask her. Eliana pauses for a moment, eyes rimmed red and jaw working. Finally she decides to just up and say it.

    "Yes!" She cries. "Yes, I''m bothered! Don''t you have a heart, a soul?! Or did you sell it?"

    I flinch, stung by her words.

    Of course I have a soul.

    Don''t I?

    And no, I didn''t sell it.

    I think.

    As for my heart, whatever heart I had was shattered long ago, and whatever pieces are left belong to Falkirk.

    My anger kindles, but then I sigh. I have no call to be irate with Eliana. She is far more pure and good than I will ever be. I know what I am. Blood I can never remove stains my hands. If I think about it too much, it threatens to break my sanity.

    Maybe she''s right, and I have sold my soul.

    But to whom, and what for what?

    I realize Eliana is just staring at me. I know I have to answer her in some way.

    "Eliana," I say, "there is no condoning what I''ve done in my past. There is way too much blood and grief there for anybody to forgive. But tonight was a live-or-die situation. I fought in the ways I knew how, with what I had, and we lived. Can you accept that?"

    She nods, sniffles. I sigh again, roll back over.

    "Elhim can forgive you." I hear her whisper so quietly I almost don''t hear. My breath stills, and I almost ask what she means. Then I remember Daniel mentioning Elhim as his God.

    The gods are fickle, and I cannot think of one who has not done worse than I have. No gods will be forgiving me today.

    But I can''t get Eliana''s words out of my mind. Before long I can hear her breathing even out in sleep.

    But it''s a long time before my body settles enough to copy her.

    In the morning, Daniel has an assignment for Antony and me. We are to take the half-breed prisoner to Amyry''s stronghold and, using him as leverage, gain an audience with Amyry.

    I already know that this is not going to work.

    "And how are we supposed to use the hostage as leverage?" I ask at breakfast. Daniel sighs and rubs his face with his hands.

    "I don''t know." His voice is muffled. "Threats, I suppose."

    "Threats?" I echo. He peeks at me.

    "Humane ones."

    My lips twitch, wanting to smile.

    "That leaves me a lot of grey area, Daniel." I say. "I will have to make threats that I am prepared to carry out. You are not well practiced in this business, that''s for sure."

    He nods in agreement, then drains his cup of coffee.

    "Do what you think is best." He says.

    Oh, that''s definitely a lot of grey area. Daniel and I have very different ideas of ''whats best''.

    But I merely nod, standing when Antony rises from his seat and gestures to me. We retrieve the prisoner from the bedroom and march him through the streets.

    Because of our scouting trips yesterday, we know where Amyry''s castle is located, and we head straight there. We encounter no opposition on the way, and Antony and I barely speak as we walk. Just minor observances and the pointing out of the streets that we need to traverse.

    I wonder if Antony is angry with me at all because of the night before. Then I silently curse myself for even caring. Why should I care? I don''t!

    The half-breed walks between us, still gagged, his hands bound behind him. A short rope hobbles his ankles, ensuring that he can only take short strides. He stumbles as we hurry him along, our pace quick.

    It''s a mere ten minute walk to the gate of Amyry''s stronghold.

    "Halt!" The guard on duty calls down to us. "State your names and business here!"

    I see three crossbows at least aimed down at us. They could be a problem, though not much of one, if I raise a mage-shield in time.

    Daniel told me to do what I thought was best, so I guess I am spokesman. I call up to the guard,

    "The paladin of Elhim, Daniel, wishes an audience with Lord Amyry."

    The guard sneers down at us, "The only audience this Daniel will get with milord is a trial and a beheading! And that''s only if milord''s bein'' kind!"

    I kick my prisoner to his knees and draw my mage-blade.

    "Then thus says Daniel to Amyry: I will walk in with demands you cannot ignore nor deny, and you will not be able to keep me out. And if you refuse me, I shall raze your stronghold to the ground and make its stones as dust that drifts away in the wind. Or, you can grant me an audience and we can talk peaceably." I slit the prisoner''s gag with my mage-blade and use the weapon to gesture down at him. "Choose wisely, guardsman. Your comrade''s life is on the line."

    "Avalon..." Antony lays a hand on my arm, but I shake him off. Daniel told me to do what I thought was best.

    This is what I think is best.

    The guard''s eyes widen as he recognizes his comrade.

    "Stand down!" He calls to the crossbowmen, who reluctantly put up their bows.

    "We thought you were dead!" The guard calls down to his captured friend.

    "I will be in a minute!" My prisoner cries, all his bravado gone. "This maniac-- ungh!" I thump him sharply on the side of the head with the hilt of my weapon, forestalling his next word. "Please, she''ll kill me!" He sobs out, coming upright, then bowing himself forward. I grab the back of his collar and haul him up on his knees. Place the edge of my mage-blade beneath his chin. He sucks in a sharp breath.

    "Listen to your friend!" I call to the guards atop the castle ramparts. "He need not die...!"

    They confer quietly for a moment, then one of them runs off into the castle proper. Returns a few moments later, white-faced and eyes haunted. He speaks to the captain on duty, the spokesman. They confer for a few moments more. I wait patiently. Obviously, Amyry''s answer was not favorable to his unfortunate soldier.

    I almost feel bad for the poor guy.

    And then I remember his insults to Daniel, and my remorse vanishes.

    At last the captain atop the gatehouse speaks to us. Haltingly, licking his lips while glancing apologies at his captive comrade, he says,

    "Lord Amyry will not grant an audience to the paladin Daniel, regardless of your threats."

    The half-breed in my grip releases a wail of hopelessness. I don''t even spare him a glance. It''s not my fault he chose to serve the wrong lord.

    "Very well." I reply to the guards. I yank the captive to his feet.

    And then I plunge my mage-blade into his back, through his ribs, up into his heart. He dies with a ringing scream.

    "Avalon, NO!" Antony is just a little too late to stop me.

    I jerk my mage-blade free of the corpse and let it fall to the ground. Antony''s hand lands heavily on my shoulder and he spins me to face him. His green eyes blaze with fury and... grief?

    "What hast thou done, Avalon?" He cries. "What is wrong with thee?!"

    Irritated, I knock his hand from my shoulder.

    "He made his choices," I say, nodding at the corpse on the ground at our feet. Swipe the blood off my blade on my sleeve in the crease of my elbow and sheathe the weapon. "And they made theirs." I nod to the stunned men atop the battlements. I grab Antony''s arm and drag him back into the cover of the city before the crossbowmen can shoot us.

    "Berate me on the way back." I grimly tell Antony. He shakes himself loose of me, and doesn''t even look at me as he says,

    "What hast thou done? Daniel wanted him alive, and you-- you--."

    "What, did you not want me to follow through on a threat that you didn''t stop me from delivering?" I counter. He turns his head slightly to view me from the corner of his eye.

    "Daniel will hear of this." He tells me quietly.

    I make no answer. I do not fear Daniel''s wrath.

    When we step back through the door of the tavern, Daniel is waiting for us. He frowns at the lack of a prisoner. Antony brushes by me and immediately draws the paladin aside, speaking to him in low tones. I see them glance back at me, then Daniel''s face pales and tightens in anger. He strides over to me and, without a word, grabs my arm and drags me up the stairs to his room. He throws open the door and tosses me inside, before stepping in after me. I stumble, regain my balance, stand straight and tall and meet his anger head on.

    I have ire to match his.

    "How could you?" He speaks, his voice low and shaking. His fists clench, but I am unconcerned. This man would never strike a woman, no matter how tempted he was.

    "You told me to do what I thought was best." I tell him, my voice intense and just as low. "Your exact words: ''Do what you think is best.''"

    He half turns away from me and digs his fingers into his hair.

    "That wasn''t what I-- Aargh! That wasn''t what I meant, Avalon!" He cries.

    "Then what did you mean?" I ask, folding my arms and tilting my head at him.

    "I didn''t mean kill him!" He shouts, turning back.

    "So you''d rather have me lie and bluff my way through than follow through on my threat?" I step forward, my voice rising. "At least it was humane, Daniel! He didn''t suffer! He died clean!"

    "Like that fixes anything!" He cries. "I thought you knew what I''d want, Avalon! I thought we were friends, and I thought that you respected me enough to carry out my wishes!"

    I did. I do.

    I take another step forward.

    "If you don''t like how I handled the situation, I can leave." I say, lowering my voice intensely. "Do you want me to leave, Daniel?"

    He half turns away again, tangling his fingers in his sandy-hued locks.

    "Yes." He replies. "No. I-- I don''t know."

    I step forward one more time, right up to his side. He''s breathing hard, distressed, and my heart pangs me at the thought of the grief I''ve cause this man today.

    Funny, I didn''t know my heart was still alive. But I don''t shove the feeling away, for the first time in a very, very long time. I owe Daniel that much, I suppose.

    I lay my hands on Daniel''s arms.

    "Do you want me to leave, Daniel?" I ask again. "Because I will. Just say the word, and I will."

    And then maybe I can finally be free of this wretched assignment my brother tasked me with.

    "No." The paladin replies brokenly, closing his eyes. He slowly untangles his fingers from his hair and lowers his arms, and I release him.

    "No." He says again, opening his eyes. Their sea-blue is fierce, and my breath hitches for just one second.

    "Don''t leave." Daniel says, then grabs my shoulders and leans down until our faces are only a breath apart.

    "But defy me again, Avalon, and I''ll personally see you to the door." He speaks softly, still very much angry. Then his anger seems to drain away, and his eyes turn weary. "Nevertheless, you are forgiven, Ava." He peers into my eyes, searching for... something. He doesn''t seem to find what he''s looking for, and his gaze saddens.

    "You''re not even sorry, are you?" He says softly. Releases me and turns away toward the door.

    Something akin to grief smites me at his tone and posture. Abruptly I decide to let him see a piece of my shattered heart.

    "How can I be?" I ask him, almost sadly, a new feeling for me when among strangers-- people who are supposed to be as strangers to me. "I stopped being sorry a long time ago, Daniel. Circumstances took away my conscience. It''s gone, Daniel. Gone."

    Which... may be not entirely true. Maybe.

    He looks back at me, but doesn''t speak. Merely gives me the most sorrow-laden gaze I have ever seen and then slips silently from the room.

    Leaving me clutching at my aching heart and feeling the nudges of emotion through the twin-bond as Fal wonders what''s wrong.

    And I don''t have the words.

 Tenth

    Falkirk''s pulsing emotions nudge me through our twin bond. He''s inquisitive and quickly growing worried. But I have no reassurance for him. I stagger to Daniel''s bed and sink down onto it.

    What is this pain?

    Why is this pain? I''ve functioned on no pity and no remorse for years. Why am I like this now? Pressing my fingers into the leather of my jerkin, I massage my chest over my heart.

    I feel Fal gathering his manna as his worry spikes.

    "Don''t come." I whisper. Try to push some reassurance at him. His worry fades somewhat. His manna settles.

    As I try to push this pain away, a single tear rolls down my cheek. I reach up and touch it, then bring my fingers down for inspection. I stare at my wet fingers for a moment.

    I''m crying? For what? Daniel?

    Or, perhaps, for the pain I''ve caused him. My breath hitches and I gasp, still fighting to keep my emotions hidden from Fal. I know he can feel them, but right now it''s just a muted version I''m showing him.

    I try to summon anger to drive away the pain. After all, why should I care what Daniel thinks of me? Why should I care about what any of them think of me? The only one I care about impressing is Falkirk. I clench my hands in my lap, curl the one fist around my tear.

    The truth is... I don''t know. I don''t know why I care what Daniel thinks, but I do. I don''t know when I began to do so. I exhale in a rush.

    I don''t want this. I don''t want this.

    But the anger fails to surface. The pain is still there, stabbing sharp. My hold on my emotions is slipping. I slowly uncurl my hands in my lap. Stare into my palms. My vision flickers, and suddenly my hands are once again covered in blood. The coat of red is thick; I cannot see my skin through the liquid staining me. My breath catches in my throat as I gasp and stand.

    "No, no, no." I whisper. Stare at my dripping hands. Drop my gaze to the floor, expecting to see the flowing blood staining the boards. There is nothing. I return my gaze to my hands, my breath shuddering in my chest. The blood there is... well... it''s there. Not disappearing. Definitely dripping. Definitely real. I clench my fists again, feeling the slick wet between my fingers. I close my eyes, shudder, swallow hard as screams rise in my mind. Faces too. Somehow that door in my mind has become unlocked. Somehow, Daniel unlocked it, opened it.

    I should hate him.

    I can''t.

    Right now, it''s all I can do to wrestle the memories back inside and slam the door shut once again. I lock it again. Open my eyes. The blood is gone. Mostly.

    A faint, red haze hovers around my hands, a ghost of the stain. The remaining wetness from my tear tints red in the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. I take in a slow, deep breath. Let it out, just as slow. Shuddering.

    The sounds of shouts and hooves and jingling metal outside catches my attention. I step to the window. My eyes widen. A long column of armed horsemen is cantering down the street toward the inn. A fierce drow rides at their head, steel helm glittering in the sun. There is only one man that could be, besides the fact that I''d recognize him anywhere.

    Amyry.

    The scum who''d almost killed me a few years back. A long, knotted scar crossing my lower spine suddenly aches, and I reach a hand up and back to finger it through my jerkin. I fight rising fear, my breath coming faster.

    Footsteps pound in the hallway, but I cannot turn away from the window. Amyry looks up at me, recognizes me, grins. He lifts his hand in a mocking salute that is half wave. Then he puts his fingers to his mouth and blows me a kiss, mage-fire gathering on his palm. Malice glitters in his smiling eyes. Horrible memories cascade through my mind.

    "Ava!" Daniel dashes into the room, wraps his arms around me, and yanks me away from the window just as Amyry''s fireball explodes into the window frame. Daniel and I crash to the floor together, his body covering mine, as burning shrapnel and liquid fire rain down around us. Daniel grunts in pain and jerks slightly as a flying piece of flaming wood embeds itself into his upper arm. I wriggle out from under him into smoke and heat. The inn is filthy and dry as drought. It''s going up in flames much too fast. I stand, reach down and haul Daniel to his feet. He grimaces in pain as he yanks the large splinter from his arm. Blood quickly stains his sleeve. The room around is quickly being enveloped in flames.

    "Come on!" I shout over the roar of hungry fire. Smoke fills my lungs and sets me to coughing violently. I tuck my mouth and nose into the crook of my elbow. Daniel pulls the collar of his tunic over the lower half of his face. He''s coughing too. Our eyes stream. I grab his arm and start to drag him to the door. He jerks free, lunges to the corner of the room and snatches up his companion''s knapsacks, as well as his own. Then he hustles us out the door. In the hallway, flames lick across the ceiling. I stumble in the door of my own room, grab mine and Eliana''s belongings. I am thankful that the half-elf is so tidy. It''s a simple matter of just grabbing up our two knapsacks.

    Daniel makes me precede him down the stairs, nearly pushing me over in his haste to get us down safely. We stumble into the taproom, racing fire and smoke as the flames of Amyry''s mage-fire quickly consume the inn. I am coughing all the while.The tavern patrons are rushing for the door, nearly jamming the portal in their haste to flee. Raeldon is using his staff to maintain some order. Anthony is frantically searching the small crowd for Daniel; his gaze lights up when he sees us. He hurries over to us as Eliana and Willah dash from the kitchen, Willah''s arm slung over Eliana''s shoulders. The kitchen is a maelstrom of swirling smoke and hungry flames.

    How many fireballs hit the tavern?

    Anger rises in me, battling the fear for control. Amyry is going to pay for this.

    Antony reaches us as I stumble, head growing light from coughing and too much smoke and too little air. My throat is raw and my mouth tastes coppery. I spit out a gob of blood as Antony slings my arm around his shoulders, wrapping his free arm around my waist. I am too busy coughing to thank him though. My vision swims and my knees nearly buckle as Antony drags me to the door. I cannot see if Daniel is right behind us or not.

    Please let him be so. I do not know to whom I pray. To any one who''s listening, I guess. Maybe Daniel''s God. Elhim has preserved him before. Maybe He will again.

    We stumble out the door into the street, and I drag in a breath of fresher air. Daniel staggers out right after us. Everyone else is already out. We stumble to the other side of the street, turn and watch the inn being consumed by Amyry''s flames. We all flinch and cover our faces as the kitchen explodes. The fire has found the cooking oil reserves stored there. Ash, cinders, and still-flaming wood bits rain down on us, like the snow of an apocalypse.

    Near me, Willah moans, sinking to her knees. I clear my throat, spitting more blood onto the filthy cobblestones. Amyry''s men spur their horses close to us. They had been gleefully watching the destruction; now they look ready for blood. I pay them no attention, instead watching in horror as the fire jumps to the house right next to the tavern, just before the tavern roof crashes in.

    The house quickly catches, combusting like dry kindling. The flames, fast as racing horses, spread down the walls and across the roof. Smoke begins to billow from the windows. Screams sound from inside, and a second later, two tiefling women rush outside and join our group. One turns back just as a tiefling child''s face peers from a second story window in the burning house.

    "Mama!" The toddler screams.

    "My baby!" The woman shrieks, covering her mouth with her hands. She makes to return to the house, but her friend pulls her back and holds her fast. She sinks to her knees as keening sobs rack her body. The roof of the house creaks alarmingly.

    I do not think. I act.

    I break free of Antony and dash across the street, ignoring Daniel''s and Antony''s shouts and too-late grasping hands. I burst into the open door of the house. Stop cold as smoke obscures my sight and roaring heat batters me. I get my bearings, catch a glimpse of stairs through the billowing smoke. I race up their flaming steps, ignoring the heat, ignoring the burns. Fal''s worry spikes again, through our twin-bond, but I have no time for him.

    At the top of the stairs is a long hallway, a blistering gauntlet of inferno and smoke. There is no time. I shove all pain away and plunge in.

    The child is not in the first room I check, nor the second. My pounding heart beats with panic. Time is quickly running out for both of us. Above, the ceiling creaks. Blood fills my mouth as my coughing pushes my aching throat past rawness.

    I barge in a third room and-- thank the stars! The child is here! Collapsed below the window, coughing pitifully. A female toddler, too young to be in this tragedy. Her eyelids begin to droop.

    I dash to her and scoop her up; she clasps her arms around my neck as her face and hair are spattered with the blood spurting from between my lips with each cough that is torn from my seared lungs. My vision blurs.

    Now for an exit. The window?

    I take a step forward, then leap back as the ceiling above the window abruptly collapses inward. I turn my body, shielding the child from the flying sparks and shrapnel. Rush back out the door of the room. It''s our only exit now. Hoarse, whispered prayers move my lips as I race headlong down the hallway to the stairs, the roof crashing in behind me. I am barely able to keep ahead of it.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Let us make it, Please let us make it." I whisper over and over through chapped, cracked, bloody lips.

    We skid down the stairs, through the main room, and out the open door into the smoky sunshine. I slow my steps, the child limp and heavy in my arms. My legs are jelly, my knees threaten to buckle, but I will not let her go. I stagger forward into the street. Daniel and Antony rush to meet me. The mother screams in relief as she sees me holding her child, safely emerged from the inferno. She runs forward, and this time her friend lets her.

    Antony relieves me of the child, turning toward the distressed woman. Daniel catches me as my knees buckle at last.

    "Ava," He says softly, cradling me. His sleeve is soaked with blood, but he seems not to notice his own wounds. He dabs at my bloody lips with his sleeve as I cough weakly. Soot smudges both our faces, but mine is worse. I turn my head to the side and spit out a mouthful of red. My eyelids flutter.

    I am in so much pain. Burns cover my hands, my forearms. My feet feel like my boots have been melted on. My face is singed, my lips cracked. My throat is seared and I do not know what damage my voice has suffered.

    I fight to keep my form from flickering. Succeed, but the effort is great.

    I moan as Daniel cups my cheek. His face wavers in my vision. His sea-blue eyes are narrowed in concern. I hope it''s only concern.

    "Ava, stay with me." He orders. His voice is distant, echoing down a dark tunnel. My breath hitches in my lungs. My heart skips a beat. My eyelids droop. I am so tired. It would be so easy just to let go.

    My lips move with one silent word: Daniel.

    Fal blasts our twin-bond with fear and worry. I feel him gather his manna, and he expends power, shifting through inter-dimensional barriers to somewhere very close by.

    At the same time, Daniel pools his own manna and pushes it into me with a whispered word, a prayer.

    My eyes open wide and I gasp suddenly as my body prickles all over, burns healing. Singed eyebrows grow back; my hair regains its silkiness. My lungs are clear. My lips, once again whole and smooth.

    Suddenly, all pain is gone. A divine Presence swirls almost imperceptibly around us before vanishing. I sit up in Daniel''s arms, and he laughs in relief.

    >Avalon, what is happening?< Falkirk''s voice enters my mind. >Tell me truly and now, or I am heading down there right now.<

    >Amyry is here. He burned the tavern we were staying at. The fire jumped to a house. I had to rescue a trapped child.< I answer. I show him images, my memories. Knowing through our twin bond that I am now alright, his attention shifts to the matter of Amyry.

    And, speaking of the filth himself, he spurs his horse right up to Daniel and me. Daniel turns, setting me on my feet behind him. His face contorts in anger and a flame-hued mage-whip crackles down from his hand. He snaps it, sending Amyry''s horse dancing nervously. Amyry stares down at us and merely laughs. His eye fixate on me, and his lips curl in a smile full of memories.

    "Hello, Avalon." He purrs. I blanch, fear overwhelming me. Daniel glances back at me, questions in his eyes. Sees my fear-white face and swings back around, cracking his mage-whip a second time.

    "You will pay for what you have done here, Amyry." The paladin growls. Amused, Amyry arches an eyebrow. Smirks.

    "Is that so?" He says, his voice low and rich. I shiver. Curse that drow, I hate him. Amyry continues,

    "This is my city, paladin. I may do here what I like. Burn what I want. Kill whom I will." With these last words, a silvery mage-blade shoots from his hand and strikes Willah in the heart. She falls back into Eliana''s arms, eyes frozen wide.

    Eliana screams. I am stunned by fear, unable to do anything. Daniel is pushed over the edge by anger. He steps forward, snapping his mage-whip at Amyry. The drow catches it on his arm; the whip''s momentum winds it around Amyry''s steel bracer. Daniel tries to pull him from the saddle, but the drow is too strong. It is the paladin who is pulled forward, off-balance and stumbling. Antony, Eliana, Raeldon, and a few others dash forward to help Daniel. The rest of the crowd flee as fast as their feet can carry them, leaving Willah dead in the street.

    With a sweep of the lord''s free arm, a mage-wind sweeps Daniel and the rest aside, smashing them against the walls of the surrounding buildings, leaving me standing untouched in the middle of the street. Crackling white magic erupts from Amyry''s hands, forming mage-bonds that secure my companions where they''ve fallen. My wide eyes flick from their pain-filled faces to Amyry''s smirking, triumphant one. He dismounts and stalks toward me as I am held captive by horrid memories. He sees them lurking in the depths of my eyes, and his smile grows wider.

    Fal''s white-hot anger rushes through our twin-bond as, still connected to my mind, he sees and hears everything I do-- memories included.

    And, not so very far away, a whole lot of manna is harvested and expended all at once, and Amyry''s castle''s roof is blown sky-high.

    The whole thing. Gone. Obliterated by my brother''s magic. Little bits of wood and stone begin to patter down around us.

    Amyry''s head snapped up the instant his castle roof was violently destroyed. As the aftermath begins to rain down, his eyes narrow and his breathing comes angry-fast.

    Falkirk was seeking to gain Amyry''s attention. Well, he succeeded.

    And I am grateful.

    The drow abruptly teleports back to his stronghold, and I feel my brother''s triumph and battle-joy as he at last meets his foe face-to-face.

    I shake suddenly free of Amyry''s terror-hold on me. Take only enough time to drain the manna from my friends'' fetters before digging out my slate marble and leaving to help my brother. A mere three seconds later, I materialize in the vast throne room of the main castle keep. Bodies of servants and guards lay all about, nothing but husks drained of life. It was their manna that had powered the destruction of the roof. Above me, there is nothing but jagged tops of walls and smoky, blue sky. I survey the room for my brother.

    Find him, stalking forward toward a dark body lying in the rubble that covers the floor of the room. A glowing silver-blue mage-spear sizzles in Falkirk''s hand as he levitates himself over the debris. Amyry climbs to his feet, wiping blood from his lip and nose. His breastplate is dented, evidence of Fal''s strike. The drow quickly flings out a hand, and a silvery mage-knife hurtles straight at my brother. Falkirk bats it aside with his spear like it''s nothing. My brother is pulsing with anger, nearly glowing with it as it fuels his power.

    >Stay back.< He tells me, not even glancing in my direction. >This is my fight.<

    I am content this time to do so, supporting him with my own manna instead of my blade. He sucks it gratefully, flings a mage-wind at the drow, knocking Amyry off his feet again. Amyry rolls, climbs once more to his feet. Conjures a mage-sword. It''s a long weapon, and heavy, but he wields it with ease. With a cry, Fal leaps to clash with him. It''s a fierce fight, but, even from the beginning, it''s clear that my brother has the upper hand. Not only is Falkirk the fiercer fighter, being fueled by anger and a desire to avenge my hurts, but my brother is also siphoning Amyry''s manna.

    Amyry''s eyes widen as he realizes that Fal is halfway playing with him, that the drow cannot win this fight. Desperate, he throws everything he has at my brother. But no trick, no weapon, no magic can best Falkirk. He merely meets it head on, throwing up a quick shield when he needs to, draining the attack of the manna that powers it. Counters with his own: wind blasts, thrown knives, giant icy needles; everything that the drow throws at him, Fal throws it back sevenfold. Finally, he kicks Amyry in the chest, knocking him to the ground for the last time. Stoops and grabs the drow''s jaw, turning Amyry''s face toward me.

    "Do you see her?" Falkirk demands into the drow''s terrified face. "Do you see her? Do you remember what you did to her? Do you?"

    The scar on my back tingles and aches. I watch my brother exact his revenge, and I do not stop him.

    Amryr lashes out with his foot, aiming Falkirk''s groin, but Fal merely knocks his leg aside with his mage-spear, then pins Amyry''s leg to the floor, the sizzling spear through his calf-muscle. The drow screams.

    "Oh, shut up, filth." Falkirk spits out, renewing his grip on Amyry''s jaw.

    "Mercy!" Pleads the drow. Fal''s lip curls.

    "This is mercy, you thrice-cursed scum. You deserve a lot more pain than this. You deserve pain to match that which you inflicted on my sister!"  He snarls into the drow''s face. Amyry tries to shrink away, but Fal doesn''t let him.

    "Apologize before you die." My brother coldly orders Amyry, turning the drow''s face toward me once more.

    "I-- I''m sorry!" The fallen lord screeches as Falkirk''s fingers dig into his skin, leaving purple bruises. I say nothing, mutely staring into his eyes. They are filled with pain and fear and hatred. I feel nothing, no remorse, no forgiveness.

    Falkirk grips Amyry''s throat and drags him toward the wall, where a broken wooden beam juts out high above. The drow gives a choked scream as his leg is ripped free of Fal''s spear. He pounds and scratches at my brother''s iron-tight hand, but Fal is unrelenting. His free hand conjures up a sizzling silvery-blue mage-whip, which he then flicks up and over the beam. The free end of the mage-whip dangles down to the ground. At a word from Fal, it curls tight around the drow''s throat as Fal releases him. Falkirk gives a single heave on the mage-rope, and Amyry is hoisted high into the air. The drow''s legs kick and jerk as he claws at the glowing rope around his neck. Choked sounds come from his mouth and his eyes bulge as he runs out of air.

    Falkirk merely stands there and watches him hang. Like-wise, I do not move. Every feeling is muted. My face is expressionless. All I know is that my brother has fought for me and won, and I do not pity his opponent.

    After a minute or two, Amyry goes limp, twitching and spasming. A mage-blade is conjured suddenly into my brother''s hand; he flashes it up, and Amryr''s body thumps to the floor, minus the head, which is only a second behind. Falkirk stands there for moment, staring at the corpse. I start through the rubble to him. Fal sighs and turns to meet me. Pulls me into an embrace, his emotions tired while still fizzing with battle-joy. All anger is now gone. For my part, I only feel relief.

    I melt into my brother''s embrace, secure in his strong arms around me.

    "Well, it''s done." He says softly in my ear. I hold him tighter, trembling.

    "Thank you." I whisper.

    "Forgive me," Fal pushes me back slightly, only far enough to look into my eyes. His are sorrowed as he remembers my memories. "Forgive me for not avenging you sooner."

    "No..., no." I murmur as I hold Fal tight, leaning back into him. "You have nothing to be forgiven for. What I kept from you... that was my choice. Besides, I am avenged now. It''s over. You have released me from a fear that threatened to drown me, Fal. Thank you."

    His arms tighten around me. "I love you, Blackbird." He says softly. And I know it. I always know it. Never doubt it. The twin-bond never lies.

    "Avalon!" The shout echoes in the distance. Daniel''s voice. Fal''s arms momentarily clench around me.

    But I pull away, though I hate to do so. Fal''s arms are the one place I am safe.

    "I have to go." I say.

    "Again?" He asks sadly.

    "You have to go." I tell him. "You can''t be seen here. It''d ruin everything we''re working on, you know that."

    He does. He pulls me in for one more quick embrace, kisses me on the brow, then steps back and fades through the dimensions. He''s gone from my sight in seconds.

    "Avalon!" Daniel is getting closer.

    "Avalon!" Antony and Eliana echo him.

    "Here!" I call back, turning away from Amyry''s body. I pick my way through the rubble and shove open the doors of the throne room-- not an easy feat given that it''s partially blocked by debris. But my companions are there to help. As soon as the doors are open enough for me to slip through comfortably, Daniel grabs my forearms and drags me out. His embrace is just as tight as Fal''s; the feel of his arms so similar that my throat closes with tears.

    "Are you alright?" His voice rumbles in his chest, against my ear. "Please tell me you''re alright."

    I nod against him, hearing his heart beat, savoring the pulsing sound.

    Why are these people becoming dear to me? I know I should guard my heart, but in this moment, I can''t. I''ll deal with the pain of separation later.

    But not now.

    A supporting arm around my shoulders, Daniel leads me out of the castle into the city. There I find that most of Amyry''s men are dead. The living ones are prisoners. The city is Daniel''s.

    I feel a prick of jealousy.

    The city should be Falkirk''s. After all, it was he who slew Lord Amyry.

    But the people are cheering and celebrating, and Daniel is so kind to them, so gentle.

    And I cannot deny him his moment.

 In Between -- Daniel

    I''ve been blessed with the Sight since birth. Can see things most other people cannot. Sometimes, it is a bit much, but, with Elhim''s help and guidance, I have always mastered it.

    I cannot ever turn off the Sight. I do not know anybody who can. So I see the ghosts, the phantoms, the shades. I see sometimes in a person what they don''t even see in themselves. I can see if they are hurting, or guilty. And when someone is overflowing with joy, they practically glow with it.

    And I can see when someone has suffered so much that they are literally breaking inside. It hurts me too, because, too often, I cannot relieve their pain, cannot tell them I know, cannot help them fix it. It doesn''t help that just about everyone is a little bit broken inside.

    Only Elhim can remake them into wholeness. It is only the followers of Elhim whose brokenness I have seen made well. It is only Elhim who can heal.

    Three weeks ago or so, I met someone who is very much hurting inside. Her name is Avalon. I do not know her surname. She is a lovely-looking half-elf. Very good with a blade. But she is ruthless, and pitiless. And she is also more broken inside than anyone else I have ever met.

    I wonder what has made her this way. I cannot even begin to guess. But something about her draws me, even as she tries to keep me out.

    Something always grabs at my heart and twists it when I see her.

    I have seen her laugh. There is weeping behind that laugh.

    I have seen her smile. There is pain behind that smile.

    I have seen her jest and tease Eliana, Antony, and me, but the humor behind that teasing is brittle, like she might break at any second. She is hiding some secret, I know. But she hides it well. I cannot perceive it.

    She is only truly happy when she is playing her guitar. Then it seems like all her hurts fall away and she starts glowing slightly in her happiness.

    And I can only see this because of the Sight.

    I know that she has killed before. She slew a back-alley thug to save my life after all. But I see her hands covered with blood, coated and dripping. And she cannot see it. I see her soul break a little bit more with every person she ends, even those she slays in defense.

    That too saddens me.

    But I am angry as fire when she and Antony return to the Goose, no half-elf prisoner in tow. Angry as fire when Antony draws me aside and tells me what Avalon has done. I glance over at her as my friend speaks, see the calm, remorseless truth in her eyes. I can barely restrain my anger as I stride over to her and proceed to haul her up the stairs. I am going to have words with this woman. I shoulder open my bedroom door and toss her inside. My thoughts are whirling, clouded by anger, broken in segments by confusion. I thought she respected me.

    The argument between us that follows can probably be heard downstairs, but I don''t care. It starts out quiet, intense, but it doesn''t end there. I shout, she shouts back. She offers to leave. I almost let her go. But then I see her brokenness, my heart twists inside me, and I know I cannot let her go yet. I tangle my fingers in my sandy hair.

    "Don''t leave." I tell her when she places her hands on my arms and offers again to go. Then I grab her shoulders, ignoring her widening eyes.

    "Defy me again, and I''ll personally see you to the door." I growl into her face. Then I release her and stride to the door. I look back, needing one more glimpse of her face.

    "You aren''t even sorry, are you?" I ask softly. A rhetorical question. The truth is in her eyes. It always is. But now, her dark, dark eyes widen, then grow shadowed with grief, past and present.

    "How can I be?" She replies quietly. "I have not been for a long time. Circumstances made me thus. My conscience is gone, Daniel. Gone."

    My heart breaks inside, hearing her words, and I know that her only hope is Elhim. She doesn''t know that yet, but maybe I can show her.

    But not now. Instead, I turn away and walk back downstairs.

    Eliana, Raeldon, and Antony wait for me at a table. All three have drinks, and a fourth glass is waiting for me. I sit, pick it up, take a pull of the frothy ale.

    Elhim, give me wisdom and strength. I pray silently.

    "You sent her packing?" Raeldon asks, seeing that Ava did not come downstairs with me.

    "No." I answer. Take another drink. Raeldon''s eyes narrow in irritation. He''s suspicious of most people, and terribly so of Avalon. The only reason why he tolerates her is because she saved my life. Raeldon sniffs and adjusts his robes.

    He is a grumpy and dry-witted tiefling most days, and today is no exception.

    "You should''ve, my boy." He mutters. I don''t reply to that. My decisions are final.

    "How-- is she?" Eliana asks, ever the soft heart. Her eyes hold none of the anger Antony''s do. If Antony is the brother I never had, that sweet half-elvish lass is like a sister to me, dear to my heart.

    I sigh, in response to her question.

    "She is... broken. More so than most. When I left she was... not regretful... but saddened, I think. Maybe she''ll change." There is faint hope in my voice. I have to cling to it, to believe it, or friendship with Avalon will mean nothing.

    "With Elhim''s grace, she''ll change." Antony says. His anger fades. He too sighs. Swirls his drink in his glass. Looks up to meet my eyes.

    "Art thou alright?" He asks.

    I think for a moment.

    "Yes." I answer. "But Ava... is not." I lean forward to meet my each of companions'' eyes. "Do you wish I had sent her away?" I ask them. I desire honest answers, and I get them.

    Antony ponders for a moment before sighing and saying,

    "No... no, I do not."

    "Elli?" I ask, turning to her. Her green eyes are dark with sorrow and a kindness that nobody deserves.

    "No, I don''t." She also answers. "She needs us, even though she thinks she doesn''t. She thinks she''s fine, but she''s not. We have to help her see that."

    I nod, glancing at Raeldon.

    "I already know what you think." I tell him. He inclines his head to me. Opens his mouth to speak, but there is suddenly noise in the street outside. I rise from the table and stride to a window.

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    It''s Amyry. At the head of a long column of soldiers, all armed for war, trampling what civilians do not get out of their way in time. He stops in front of the tavern, looks up at someone in the window above me, and smiles maliciously.

    Avalon.

    The word pounds in my brain. She''s in trouble, I know it. I turn away from the window and race up the stairs.

    Something terrible is about to happen, I know it in my bones. I dash through my open bedroom door, see Avalon standing at the window as if frozen.

    "Avalon!" I cry. Race to her and wrap my arms around her. I yank her away from the window and we crash to the ground as hell seems to break loose around us. My ears ring from the force of the fireball that exploded the wall. I feel Avalon beneath me, safe, but it is a wonder we are still alive. Pain hot enough to rival the quickly-spreading fire shoots through my arm. Avalon wriggles out from under me, stands, and hauls me to my feet. I yank the piece of wood from my upper arm, not caring about the blood that follows. My only thought is that we have to get out. Choking smoke sears my lungs. I grab my friends'' packs and Ava and I hightail it out of the burning room. We make it down to the taproom alive, after a quick stop at the girls'' room to retrieve their things. Ava can''t seem to stop coughing. I can hear the rawness of her seared throat. She buckles as we stagger towards the door to the street. Antony, coming to meet us, catches her and supports her as we make it outside. We are the last ones out. I do a quick headcount. We are all here. I sigh, relieved.

    And then the fire catches on the house next to the tavern. Two tiefling women race out, one turning back for her child, who is trapped on the second floor. The woman''s friend holds her back.

    I am momentarily frozen, horrified.

    But not Ava. The lass dashes into the burning house, too quick for me to catch her. I follow her part of the way across the street, knowing it would be fruitless for me to go after her into the inferno. But the waiting tears me apart. I whisper desperate prayer after desperate prayer.

    Please, Elhim. Please. Elhim, please.

    And then my eyes widen in horror as the roof of the house caves in, in a shower of sparks.

    No.

    Then, miracle of miracles, Ava stumbles out, the child in her arms. I dash to her side, Antony right behind me. Ava''s beautiful face is smeared with ash and soot and pocked with burns. Her hands-- her hands are a mess. Her sleeves are burned onto her forearms. Her feet are-- I dare not look down. But she is alive, and that is all that matters. Her lips are cracked and bleeding. Her chin and upper lip are stained from more than just that blood though. She continues to cough, her breath scraping in her throat.

    Antony steps forward and relieves her of the child, a beautiful little girl. He carries the toddler to her mother, who is sobbing in relief. I hear them talking, but their voices fade from my ears as Ava crumples.

    I catch her, cradling her in my arms. She turns her head to the side and spits out a mouthful of blood. Her eyelids flutter, sliding towards closed. I cup her face in my hand.

    "Stay with me, Ava." I order, knowing I am losing her, but unwilling to let her go without a fight. Her breath fades and, as I slide my hand to her neck, her weak pulse stutters. Cold fear grips my heart.

    No. She can''t be dying. She will not die, not while Elhim grants me the power to heal her.

    "Elhim, please, give me the strength and skill to save her." I pray. "Heal her so that she may know You."

    And Elhim answers.

    I mutter a healing word and push God-strengthened manna into the woman in my arms. She gasps suddenly, coming upright, her dark eyes wide and healthy and alive.

    I laugh in relief, silently whispering "Thank you." in my mind. Elhim''s power fades from around me as He withdraws it.

    And then Amyry spurs his horse forward.

    My laughter flees as anger rises up to take the place of relief. I expend manna and my flame-hued magic manifests as a mage-whip. I like the style of the mage-whip as a weapon. It''s got flexibility, reach, and it is nonlethal if I wield it so.

    "Hello, Avalon." Amyry purrs, looking past me. I turn, confused. How do they know each other?

    But the question flees from my mind when I see Ava''s face is pale and stricken with terror. Clearly, this poor excuse for a drow has hurt her in the past, perhaps horribly.

    And that makes me angrier. I crack my whip before snapping it at Amyry. He takes the strike on his armored forearm, and the whip curls there. I yank, setting my weight. I need him out of the saddle.

    Amyry yanks back.

    I stumble forward, surprised and off-balance. Behind me I hear boots slapping on cobblestones as my friends and a few townsfolk rush to help me.

    But Amyry sweeps us all aside with a sudden gust of mage-wind. I slam into a wall, hearing the crack of bone as I hit. Then I fall to the ground, hissing and groaning in pain. The hurt is intense. My vision wavers and blurs. Groaning, I try to leaver myself to my feet. Then suddenly, I am bound to the ground by crackling, white mage-tethers. I cannot move. I am forced to watch as Amyry stalks toward Ava.

    "No!" I want to shout. But I don''t have the strength.

    And then Amyry''s stronghold''s roof is blasted into the air by a whole lot of power at once. It''s obliterated into debris ranging in size anywhere from rocks and jagged beams the size of horses to pebbles and dust. It is the pebbles and splinters and dust that rain down on us.

    Amyry is instantly distracted from Avalon. Whatever happened, I''m grateful. An intervention by Elhim, it appears, though I could not begin to guess who or what He''s using.

    The drow teleports away, back to his castle, I assume. With him gone, Ava shakes off her reverie and turns toward me. I feel the siphoning of the manna even from here, and suddenly, the mage-bonds are gone.

    From all of us. And then, before I can stand, Ava has pulled out her little slate marble and teleported away as well.

    To where, I don''t know. Something tells me the castle, though. And that leaves me wondering why.

    I stagger to my feet as Amyry''s soldiers close in. Elhim''s power fills me, healing me and giving me strength. In an instant, my mage-whip is back and longer than ever, and I have drawn my sword this time too. I send out a blast of healing manna to my friends and those who stayed to help me fight. Then I am engaged in a deadly dance, in the clamor and heat of battle. My mage-whip snaps and cracks, jerking weapons out of hands, yanking feet out from under people, binding together hands and dragging those hands'' owners close to me so I can club them on the head.

    The instant any one of my people suffers a wound, I heal it. When an enemy goes down unconscious, I send them into a deep sleep. I truly do hate killing. I do it when I absolutely have to, but I will always hate how it tears at my soul.

    My friends have no such qualms, and in a way, I envy them. Still, my aversion to death is a blessing. A kindness. A mercy.

    I execute justice when the situation calls for it. I would not hesitate to end a murderer or other such ilk. But these soldiers are just following orders. I will deal with their other faults later.

    The battle is over a short time later, leaving us the victors. The townspeople emerge from their homes, hailing us as heroes. But I have no time for their adoration.

    I turn on my heel and sprint toward the now-roofless castle. A quick glance over my shoulder shows me that Eliana and Antony are with me. As always.

    We reach the stronghold, pick our way through the shattered gates, and through rubble and bodies drained completely of manna. The castle is deathly silent.

    "Avalon!" I shout, cupping my hands over my mouth. Fear claws at my heart. Where could she be? If she is not here, where else would I look?

    "Avalon!" Antony and Eliana echo me, their voices overlapping.

    "Here!" A young female voice calls back a moment later, distant and muffled.

    Ava.

    I make my way as fast as I can through the crumbling walls of the castle to the huge double doors of what looks like the throne room. The doors are cracked open, blocked with rubble. A pale hand is struggling to shift the stones and beams out of the way. Ava''s face appears in the gap.

    Eliana, Antony, and I work as quickly as we can, moving the debris just enough for the doors to crack open just a little bit wider. I grab Ava''s arms and pull her clear, before folding her in my embrace.

    She''s pale, drawn. Looks tired and sad. Looking past her into the room, I can see the dark body of a decapitated drow lying against the far wall.

    Did she do that? I wonder. Or did someone else? Maybe the person who blew off the roof?

    But I don''t ask her. Looking into her face, I don''t have the heart. She leans into me, soft and warm and-- thank Elhim-- alive. I hold her tight and never want to let go.

    But eventually I do. Let Antony and Eliana give their embraces. Ava seems surprised at their caring.

    And then I lead her out of the castle, into a noisy throng of joyful people. It seems that they want to make me lord over the city. I accept their adoration, try to point them to Elhim. I don''t know if they listen or not. I refuse the honor of lordship.

    We''re leaving this city. Today. I am done with it, and I cannot stay here after what has happened.

    I wrap my arm around Ava''s shoulders as Raeldon walks up leading a string of our horses.

    I lift Ava into her saddle and she mutely gathers up her reins.

    "Are you alright?" I ask. She nods, not looking at me. She lies, but I let her be. She always says she''s alright. She never truly is though.

    I mount my own horse, my friends doing likewise. I wheel the mare gently in the street, look my companions in the eye.

    "Let''s get out of this place." I say, and then we ride out.

 Eleventh

    I am quiet the next morning-- more so than usual-- as we ride through the forests, ever northward. After an hour or so of my silence and one-word answers when asked a question, Daniel finally drops back to ride beside me.

    "You are not alright." He says, trying to catch my gaze. It''s a statement today, not a question. I shake my head in reply. The paladin hesitates, weighing his next words carefully.

    "If I may ask... how did Amyry know you?"

    No, you may not ask.

    Yes, I will answer. Unwillingly. And only because I trust Daniel. Somewhat.

    He''s still trying to get me to look at him, but I turn my head even farther away.

    "I was sent to assassinate him." I murmur quietly, studying the trees around us. "I-- it went... horribly wrong. I was caught. He... tried to violate my honor. He made me filthy even as he didn''t completely succeed in his intent. When I... fled, he tried to kill me. I very nearly died." I reach one hand up and back, fingering the scar. "I barely made it home in time. My-- I was saved, but Amyry--. I have always been in fear of him since."

    I cannot look at Daniel at all now. A shame I had kept buried for so long now surfaces, bringing with it old nightmares. The paladin doesn''t speak. I duck my head with a tear-choked sigh, fearing to see in his eyes the condemnation I know is there.

    Daniel''s hand lands on my back, low, over where my own hand is softly rubbing my scar. He gently pushes my fingers aside and traces the length of the terrible, now-healed wound. It''s a large scar; I know he can feel it easily even through the leather of my jerkin.

    His other hand comes up and softly grasps my chin, turning my face toward him. I close my eyes and swallow hard. Our horses are halted now, and so close together I can feel Daniel''s leg pressing against my own.

    "Look at me, Avalon." He says softly. I hate myself for the tears that escape down my cheeks as I open my eyes. I am instantly held captive by his sea-blue gaze.

    There is no condemnation there. No anger; at least, not directed at me. No pity, even.

    There is only kindness. Only compassion. Only a desire to ease my hurt.

    I forget to breathe for a moment in the face of his love for a broken soul. Then I close my eyes again. I cannot look him in the eyes. Not, and see that. I know what I deserve. It''s not his kindness.

    I should hate him for it, and I can''t. What is happening to me?

    I try to turn my head away, but Daniel''s gentle hand on my chin holds me fast.

    "Look at me." He says again. And I do. His hand still gently rubbing my back, he says,

    "His actions were not yours. You bear no guilt there. While murder is wrong, you didn''t actually succeed. There is no guilt on that count either." He pauses.

    "Did you kill Amyry yesterday?" He asks.

    "No." I whisper. He gives me a faint smile.

    "I didn''t think you did. Nevertheless, Avalon, he''s dead now. He cannot hurt you again. Understand?"

    He''s so close to me now, and I can hardly stand in the face of his kindness. An unknown feeling wells up in me. It''s frightening and joyful all at once, filling me with a shivery feeling I cannot comprehend.

    "I understand." I whisper. And I do. I calm.

    Daniel calms me.

    This is so... I can''t...

    He pulls me into his strong embrace, and I clasp him tightly, laying my head on his shoulder.

    What. Is. Happening.

    I feel Fal''s inquisitiveness as he feels my conflicting and turbulent emotions. I ignore him. I will enjoy this while I can.

    Daniel finally pulls away, when we lock gazes again, there is something in his sea-blue eyes that ignites the shivery feeling again.

    But seriousness quickly clouds his features.

    "I mean to make our destination North Keep." He tells me. I lower my gaze, slamming iron bars back around my heart.

    "I cannot join you there." I reply.

    "I know." He says. "Do you have someplace to stay while we are apart?"

    I nod. His next question:

    "Would you be willing to tell what you know of D''Adrian, now?"

    I take a deep breath and give him vague details. Eliana and Antony ride up to us, and I realize that we have been still for too long. It almost makes me laugh. Raeldon waits for us a ways up the road.

    "Is everything alright?" Eliana asks, as she and Antony give Daniel and me shrewd looks. Daniel smiles, answers,

    "Yes, now. Ava cannot join us in the north."

    "Dost thou have a place to stay?" Antony turns to me. I smile reassuringly as my deceptions kick me in the gut.

    "Yes." I answer. "I will be quite well until you all are done treating with D''Adrian. I should leave now."

    "Now?" Daniel asks, startled. I nod.

    "It''s for the best, really. I shouldn''t get too close to D''Adrian''s lands lest I end up shot. I''ll meet you in Ciliren."

    Ciliren is a three days'' ride southeast of my brother''s claimed borders.

    Daniel stares at me for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then he nods and swings down from the saddle and steps up beside my horse. Offers me his hands.

    I accept his assistance, and his hands clasp me around my slim waist. His strong arms lift me down from the saddle. My feet touch the ground, but he doesn''t let go. Just continues to gaze at me with those blue, blue eyes of his. Letting me know he sees me.

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    I suppress a shiver as I wonder just how much of me he sees. How much of my darkness. How much of my deception.

    "Be safe." He says softly, releasing me at last.

    "I will." I reply, both of us knowing that that''s a complete lie. I turn away and am folded into the embrace of Eliana.

    "Take care." She whispers as she hugs me warmly.

    That I can do.

    Momentarily surprised, I quickly return her embrace.

    "You too." I reply. Antony is next, smiling sheepishly as he forgoes his usual withdrawn elvish ways.

    His embrace is brief, but no less caring.

    "I will teach thee knots when next we meet." He tells me. I incline my head to him.

    "I will be looking forward to it." I answer. Then I turn back to Daniel. He''s holding the reins of both his horse and mine.

    "Farewell." He says, lifting a hand as if to touch my cheek. But he lets it drop just before he touches me. I lay my hand on his arm, hoping against hope that, when I see him next, it is not to kill him.

    "Goodbye." I reply softly. Then I retrieve my slate marble from my pocket and whisper the word "Home". My friends fade to misty white.

    A few seconds later, I am standing in my brother''s night-dark bedroom. He''s sitting in an armchair, reading a book by candlelight. When he sees me, he yelps in surprise. Springs up and crushes me in an embrace.

    "I was beginning to despair of you ever coming home." He says into my hair. He''s brimming with joy, and a little bit of concern. Falkirk pushes me back from him, hands on my upper ams.

    "Are you alright?" He asks, unable to make sense of what he''s feeling through the twin bond. I take a long, slow breath in. Give him a faint smile.

    "I don''t know." I say. "Something''s changing. I--."

    Fal''s face grows concerned.

    "Changing for better or for worse?" He asks. I think for a moment.

    "For better. I think." I reply. He searches my face.

    "You are still with me, yes?" He queries. I hear a note of anxiety in his voice, feel it through our bond. I clasp his arms, smile wider.

    "Always." I answer. "Why do you even ask that? I''m never going to be against you, Fal. This fight requires both of us, and I will be with you to the end, stand or fall. Live or die. I''m never leaving you, Falkirk."

    He sighs in relief, drawing back into a hug.

    "I''m such a fool to doubt you." He says to the ceiling. I chuckle.

    "You are. A loved fool, but a fool nonetheless."

    He laughs; it rumbles in his chest. I breathe in his smoky scent.

    "It''s good to be home, brother." I whisper. He holds me tighter.

    "Stay, Blackbird. Please."

    "I will." I tell him, stepping away. "For a while. But I still have that mission you gave me."

    He fidgets for a moment, looking away.

    "What?" I ask, my heart sinking in me. Fal looks up, sensing my falling emotions. Hastens to reassure me, not that his next words help any.

    "I, um... I actually do have another mission for you." He says sheepishly. "A side-quest, if you will."

    I sigh, crossing my arms.

    "What is it?" I ask. Fal''s emotions surge and ebb, as if he''s trying to stuff something down. I know the feeling. I give him time as he sobers. He finally says,

    "I need a confirmed kill, Ava. Nothing less."

    "Who?" I ask, dreading the answer as Falkirk''s emotions spike in grief, betrayal, and distaste.

    "Thasron." He says finally, clasping his hands behind his back. I flinch.

    Thasron is-- was-- mine and Falkirk''s old mentor back when we ran with the assassins'' guild. Fal has let Thasron alone because of old ties. Until now. For my brother to issue a kill order regarding Thasron, our mentor must have made a move against us that Fal cannot ignore.

    My heart sinks, but I do not question my brother.

    "Very well." I whisper. "You''ll have your confirmation by nightfall tomorrow." Fal gives a nod, face blank, then turns away to gaze at his curtained window. But he cannot hide his true feelings from me. He is weeping inside. I steal softly up to him and lay my hand on his shoulder. His hand comes up to cover mine, and we stand like that for a long while. Finally, I tug my brother away from the window that  he can''t even see out of right now.

    "Fal, rest." I say. "Sleep. Problems are better handled in tomorrow''s sunshine." He allows me to tuck him in bed. I blow out the candles before slipping silently out of my brother''s apartments. Seeking my own rooms, I spend the better part of the night, preparing for tomorrow''s task, and playing my guitar. The music calms me, and, in the wee, wee hours of the morning, I am able to drift off into a troubled sleep.

    That night, I dream of death. Others'' and... my own. In violent, messy ways. Decapitation. Hanging. Impalement. Firing squad. You name it, it was there.

    I wake late morning, seek breakfast, give Fal a quick goodbye kiss on his brow, then teleport away using my slate stone.

    I emerge in the assassin guild''s old headquarters. According to my brother, Thasron still resides here. I make my way to my mentor''s old rooms, encountering no one on the way. The building is dark and deathly silent. I wonder briefly where everybody has gone.

    The door to Thasron''s rooms isn''t even locked. I twist the latch and slip inside. It''s dim in here, lit only by a smoky fire in the hearth. An older man dressed in black leather sits at a desk, his back to me. He''s writing busily. I can hear his quill scratching the paper, see the feather sway up and down with movement of his hand.

    I step silently to the middle of the room and stand there, waiting. The quill stills. Thasron lifts his head.

    "Avalon." He says, his voice low and deep. Rich as chocolate, just the way I remember it. "Little wolf."

    "Lone Wolf, now." I reply quietly, my stomach clenching. I will my emotions down.

    "Ah, yes," he turns and gazes at me, soft sorrow in his one eye. His other eye is covered by a black leather patch. "That is what they call you now, those who do not know who you truly are."

    I incline my head to him.

    "It is the way it must be." I say. "Lone Wolf is not as well known as you think, Thas."

    He smiles sadly. "I suppose you are here to kill me?"

    "I don''t want to, Thas." I answer, not moving. "But Falkirk has decreed, and so I must do."

    "Must?" He queries, raising his eyebrow. I lift my chin.

    "Will do. Always. Whatever Falkirk says."

    "And, how is your brother these days?" Thasron asks. I sigh.

    "Burdened. I do all I can. It''s never enough. I am away too often."

    Thas says nothing to this. I nod to the paper on his desk.

    "A letter?" I ask. Thas sighs.

    "Indeed. To you two D''Adrian twins."

    My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He continues,

    "I knew my death was coming soon, little wolf. I made my move against Falkirk, sided with the Clan lords. I knew Fal would order my death. I am too dangerous to him. This letter was my last gift to you two."

    I swallow around a lump in my throat. Thas regards me, his eye glittering in the dancing firelight.

    "Will you permit me to finish it?" He asks. I nod mutedly. I am not about to deny my mentor his last wishes. He resumes writing, and I wait patiently.

    "Where is everyone?" I ask as he works.

    "Dead. Gone." He answers distractedly. I blink in surprise, but ask no further questions.

    He is finished scribing way too soon. Thas sets down his quill, looks up at me. Are-- are those tears glittering in his eye?

    Are those tears pooling in mine? I blink quickly, tell myself I am dry-eyed.

    I draw my mage-blade and step close. Thas holds up a hand, and I halt.

    "Do you wish to share a last drink before I die?" Thas asks. Again, I nod, and he rises. Goes over to a tall cabinet in the corner of the room. Opens it and retrieves a bottle of wine. He pours two small glasses of the amber liquid and hands one to me. Thasron gives a little smile and chuckles as I inspect it for poison.

    "Don''t worry, little wolf. It is safe." He says. I trust him. We clink glasses and drink deeply.

    Then he turns away and sets his glass on the desk. Uncaps the bottle and pours us both another round as I set my glass beside his. He picks his up, holds it to his lips.

    Thas takes a shaky breath. "I believe I am ready now, little wolf."

    Without a word, I step up behind him and set my blade high against his ribs. He stiffens.

    One quick thrust into the heart, and it''s over. He jerks as my blade slides in. His glass slips from his hand and falls to the floor, splashing wine everywhere. He crumples into my arms, dead. I lower him to the floor, close his eye. Then I clean off my mage-blade. Re-sheathe it. Stare at the body of my mentor, at the pool of blood mixing with scattered wine. I am cold inside. This feels... all sorts of wrong. I cannot-- I can''t--

    I pick up my glass and drain it.

    Then I tuck Thas''s letter into my jerkin and teleport home.

    Fal is waiting for me, his face drawn and resigned.

    "It is done." I say quietly.

    "Truly?" He asks just to make sure.

    I take a deep, steadying breath, look him straight in the eye.

    "Thasron is no more, Falkirk. I did what I had to do. I am not proud of it." I reach inside of my jerkin and retrieve my mentor''s letter. Offer it to Fal.

    "Here. He wrote this for us. I haven''t read it yet." I say. Fal slowly takes it, opens its folds, reads it.

    Then he weeps.

 Twelfth

    I softly walk up to my brother and wrap him in my arms. Usually I am the one being embraced, but now it is my turn to comfort. Fal leans into me, his sobs shaking him as if they might tear him to pieces.

    "Easy, brother." I murmur, rubbing his back gently with one hand. With the other, I stroke his hair.

    "Breathe, Fal." I say gently as he chokes on his tears. And he does breathe, shuddering as he tries to bring himself under control. I eye the paper clenched in his hand. If Thasron''s letter made my brother weep, I''m not sure I want to read it. But I tease it gently from his grasp, smooth out the wrinkles. Then, with one arm still around my tearful, sniffling brother, I read.

    "Dear Falkirk and Avalon,

    How far in the heights of power you have risen, little wolves. I have taught you both well, and I am proud of you for using those skills.

    But the farther in the heights you rise, the harder the pride that comes with it makes you fall. And I see that pride in both of you, but especially in you, Falkirk. It will be your death if you do not forsake it. Or you may surprise me and succeed in your goals. For both your sakes, I hope it is the latter.

    I am sorry, little wolves, that I must become your enemy. It was not my wish, but it was my choice. I have seen the destruction you have wrought over the course of your war, and I cannot condone it. I beg that you will forgive me. You were, from the moment I met you both, the children of my heart. You always will be. But what kind of father allows his offspring to do wrong? Please understand.

    Avalon, little wolf, don''t let your anger and coldness consume you. There will come one day a reckoning for the blood you have spilt. One day, you will seek peace for your soul, but you will not find it except in one place. Only Elhim can grant you that peace, my daughter. He has for me. Find Him, and all your wrongs are swept away.

    Falkirk, oh Fal, my son. Your pride and anger will break you. You hold too tightly to things that were never yours to hold, to things that will not last. Vengeance is not yours to take, my son. Grasp for it, and you will surely fall. But seek Elhim and hold fast to him, and you will stand forever. Ah, Falkirk, I used to watch you spar, used to teach you techniques to better your combat. You fought like a tiger and were a joy to train. I have watched you grow, but in darkness. I pray that, one day, you will grow in the light. Many mistakes I have made, but my biggest was not saving you in time. I am sorry, Falkirk. Forgive me, please, my son.

    Forgive me, both of you. I have taught you the ways of death, when I should have taught you the ways of life. I know that my death is soon. If you are reading this, it has already happened, likely by the hand of one of you. But I forgive you, Avalon and Falkirk. May my blood be not on your heads.

    Walk in the light, little wolves. Seek it always, my children. I did it nearly too late.

    Always,

    Thasron vor Elhim"

    I take a shuddering breath. My vision blurs and twin tears race each other down my cheeks. Beside me, still tucked against my side, Fal covers his face with his hands, weeping.

    "Burn it." He chokes out, muffled. I tuck the letter into my jerkin and do not answer him.

    Elhim? Daniel believes in Elhim. Eliana as well. But... Thas did too? Before the end?

    I... I do not know what to think right now. I am all in a turmoil inside, and now Fal and I are riding off of each other''s emotions, each other''s grief.

    He''s angry, at Thas, at the letter, at Thas''s words.

    I am... I don''t know.

    I do know that one of us needs to function right now. And I know I am not leaving my brother no matter what. If he falls, so do I.

    So may it always be.

    I slam steel bars around my heart, iron bands around my emotions. I do not need Elhim. I haven''t ever needed Him before, I have functioned on my own just fine up through now. I do not need any of the gods. They never help and they always hurt.

    A tiny voice deep inside me whispers, but Elhim is always with Daniel...

    I ruthlessly shove that voice away. Let Daniel have his God. If Elhim helps Daniel, all well and good. But He is not for me.

    "We did what we had to do, Fal." I comfort my brother. "Let us wage our war to the end, even if that end is bitter."

    He lifts his head, locks gazes with me. His eyes are red-rimmed, his cheeks wet. But he is calmer now, and ready for a fight. Resolute.

    We both are.

    "Let Daniel come and treat with me, if he dares." Falkirk says, his voice low. His fists clench. "He will find nothing here but denial of his proposals and a readiness for blood."

    I force my heart to harden at the thought of the paladin.

    I will stand with my brother.

    Daniel is long enough in coming that Fal decides to go wage a siege on a small castle in Exalos lands, one called Enfall Keep. I accompany him. The keep my brother has chosen is strong. Defended by valor to match that of our men. Fal refrains from sucking manna, so I do as well. My brother prefers the long hunt, the satisfaction of a game well played.

    Besides, he has nothing on which to expend all that stolen manna. He cannot hold it all, and live. It would tear him apart. And he wants that little castle very much intact.

    So we sit in the glow of a sunset, perched on our horses atop a hill, watching the battle sway not in our favor, for the third day in a row.

    Fal turns his horse away as our men retreat. He rubs his jaw, angry and thinking hard.

    "Fal?" I ask.

    "Hm?" He looks at me, feels the waves of calm I am trying to send him through our twin-bond. His gaze softens and he smiles at me.

    "Tomorrow," he says, "that keep will be mine."

    I smile in return, feeling his new-found confidence; I am sure in my brother''s abilities. He''s been waging war for ten years. He''s well versed in the art by now.

    "What are you planning?" I ask. His eyes twinkle as he opens his mind up to me. My eyes widen and I suck in a breath as I grasp the depths of his plan.

    "You''re a genius." I whisper. He laughs.

    "Actually, I got the idea from you." He says. "Infiltration. A take-down from within."

    We both smile wolfishly, turn again to survey the little, stalwart castle.

    No, Enfall Keep does not stand a chance against my brother''s scheming.

    Fal sleeps well that night, in a tent next to mine. But my dreams are troubled, more blood and death than usual. And for some reason, Daniel is there, reaching for me, pleading-- what? His lips move, but no sound reaches my ears. He tries to save me from my countless deaths, and starts succeeding. But every time he saves me, it is him who dies. And my stomach churns at every time he is executed. Every time I see him lying in a pool of blood or in a misshapen pose, his dead eyes staring at me because I live and he doesn''t-- it is almost too much.

    I wake abruptly in the wee hours, my stomach lurching. Stumble out of bed and to an empty washbasin sitting on its stand in my tent. I plant my hands on the stand on either side of the large bowl. Lean over the basin, panting. I wait for my stomach to empty itself, but nothing comes. Instead, slowly, as the dream-visions fade from my mind, my stomach settles.

    But I do not sleep again for the rest of the night. Daniel''s deaths haunt me, and I cannot wipe their bloody ghosts from my mind. The thought of Daniel dying strikes me as an injustice. He''s a good man. He should never have to suffer anything his dream-self did, and certainly not for me.

    And yet, somehow I know he would. Time and time again. Because that is who he is. And the thought sickens me.

    I slide down to sit against the wall of my tent, my knees drawn up against my chest. I drag my hands over my face, then let them fall into my lap. Oh, curses, how can I go back to him, knowing what I know? How can I choose to deceive him again? More?

    I-- I must. I will. For Falkirk.

    That is the only reason.

    Fal comes and finds me when he wakes. I see pale grey pre-dawn light outside when he lifts the flap of my tent. I make no move to get up as he slides down to sit on the ground next to me. My arms stay clasped around my knees as he begins rubbing my back.

    "Do you want to tell me about it?" He asks gently, tilting his head at me, puzzlement and concern covering his features. Waves of calm pulse through the twin-bond to me, but they don''t help much. I mutely shake my head ''no'' at him. I feel his mind come questing for mine, but I put up walls he cannot breach. I am not ready to let him in. Not to see... my dreams.

    Fal sits back, hurt and confusion covering his face. His mind probes at my mental walls, but gently, seeking some weakness he can worm his way through. He finds none.

    "Ava?" He asks. "Blackbird?" His confused pain is evident in his voice. And at that, I lean into him, trembling, tears rushing to my eyes to flow down my cheeks. He wraps his arms around me, holds me tightly as I sob against him.

    Why does this hurt so much? Why am I changing? I was fine the way I was!

    "It''ll be alright, Blackbird. It''ll be alright." Fal comforts me softly.

    But it won''t be alright! And he doesn''t know it. I cry harder.

    He holds me even tighter, almost crushing me against him as I fall apart inside. His hand comes up to stroke my hair.

    "Shh," He croons. Hums a few bars of a song we used to sing together.

    And, slowly but surely, I begin to calm. My sobs subside. I pull myself together and relax against Fal. I am cold from hours sitting with no blankets or cloak in the chilly, early hours, but he warms me. My trembling ceases. I reach a hand up and wipe my face. Fal pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and finishes the job for me.

    "Thanks." I whisper.

    "Always." He replies softly, then stands and gently pulls me to my feet. Spins me around and gathers my hair into a long braid down my back.

    "There," he says, pleased with his work, "you should ready yourself. I aim to get started bright and early this morning."

    "It is bright and early." I point out, turning back around. He grins as he ducks out of my tent.

    "All the more reason to get going." He says, more cheerful now that I am better. My spirits rise on his cheerfulness.

    With Fal off eating breakfast and mustering his troops, I pull a fresh shirt and trousers out of my jerkin''s pocket-of-holding and shed the ones I''ve worn all yesterday and last night. I slip into the dark grey shirt and the black trousers, tuck the shirt into the trousers'' waistband, then tug on my boots. I pull on a chainmail shirt and then my jerkin over that, then buckle my sword-belt and baldrics over it all.

    I am ready.

    Shoving the last memories of the horrific nightmares to the depths of my mind, where I don''t have to face them, I step outside of my tent and go looking for Falkirk. Find him in full plate-armor, his helm tucked under his elbow, sitting astride his white war-horse. He''s at the head of his men, forming up the lines with shouted orders and good-natured insults. I assume he''s given his soldiers a rousing speech, because they laugh and talk as they form up, no longer hopeless from three days of defeat.

    I cross my arms and smile as I watch him lead his troops. This is what my brother was made for. This is what he''s best at. He''s an excellent leader, an excellent king. I will see the world bow at his feet, or I will die trying.

    As I watch, Falkirk separates a century off to the side. These one hundred soldiers are grim and sober, unlike their comrades. But they stand resolute, hefting their weapons with eagerness.

    I sober as well. These one hundred... are fated to die today. They will be running a kamikaze mission, sacrificing their lives so that my brother might take the castle.

    It is to these one hundred that we will drink tonight. It is of these one hundred that my brother''s minstrels will be composing songs and ballads. That I will be writing my own saga for, later, when I have my guitar in my hands and music in my head.

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    I watch them ride out, and my stomach clenches. Someone brings me my horse, and I mount up, spurring the steel-grey gelding up to my brother. He sees me, smiles. Then his smile fades, and he follows my gaze to the departing one hundred.

    "The Enfall One Hundred." He says quietly. "Here is to their valor." And he lifts his canteen in their direction. Their captain glances back and sees. The captain raises his fist then slams it to his chest in a final salute. The whole company halts, turns, and mirrors him before continuing on their way. They march over the rise and are lost to my sight.

    I sigh, grimness settling over my features. I do not think I will smile again today. Before long, Falkirk''s remaining men are ready to head out. Fal and I ride at their head to the same hill from which he and I had watched proceedings yesterday. We twins pull our horses to a halt, and the army forms ranks around us. For a little while there is nothing but the sound of the breeze sighing in the grass and fluttering banners, of equipment jingling and men murmuring quietly in the ranks until their officers shout, "Quiet in the ranks!"

    Nothing but the pale, chilly dawn light on my face. Nothing but cold, crisp air in my lungs. The sun rises at our backs, warming us. I can see the Enfall One Hundred marching toward the keep, around it, to attack the rear. An assault that will be their doom.

    But our salvation.

    I know the defenders can see us formed up against them. I know they see the one hundred coming. Even now, a black cloud of arrows arcs from the castle walls to fall upon the Enfall One Hundred. The one hundred merely raise their shields to the sky and march on, leaving a few of their comrades lying in the field, unmoving. The survivors disappear around back of the castle, and before long, the sounds of a battle joined reach our ears.

    My heart clenches as I stare at where our men must be dying. Fal glances over at me.

    "What is it?" He asks. I nod at the battle. I cannot lie to my brother, so I say,

    "It''s just-- them. The ones we sent to die. It-- saddens me."

    He tilts his head at me, his face blank, but I can feel his concern for me, for us, and the hardening of his heart.

    "Bothered?" He asks. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders and look my brother in the eye.

    "No." I say. He nods, then dons his helm and draws his sword.

    "To war, then." He replies. And we ride.

    As we near the walls, we hear battle-clamor from the other side of the little castle. There are few defenders on our side of the keep, but they are quickly picked off by our archers and myself. I siphon their manna and use it to crush their comrades. Our men set to battering the gates with a stout log. We are noticed, of course, and it doesn''t take long. But the alarm is sounded too late. As the defenders finish off the near-last of the Enfall One Hundred, who were trying to scale the back walls, the main gate is already splintering as Fal lends his manna to the power of the battering ram. Arrows rain down on us, but I raise a hasty mage-shield over our men, at the same time sucking the enemy archers dry of manna.

    The gate crashes inward as the last man of the Enfall One Hundred makes it through the defenders and to the gate to throw its restraining bars aside, and our men stream in, Fal with them. Just before my brother disappears through the gate, I link minds with him. I stand up on my horse''s saddle, making sure I''ve got my feet securely under me before straightening. And then I jump.

    Fal catches me with mage-craft, levitating me swiftly to the top of the wall. I drop softly onto the stones of the ramparts. What few defenders are left up here stand stunned for a moment, surprised by my sudden appearance. Their hesitation is their doom. I make quick work of them and leave their bodies lying in blood before sprinting down the stairs to the courtyard. It''s chaos down here, but I soon find my brother, and we fight back-to-back, our minds linked, moving as one.

    It''s a mere hour before the last ten men of the defenders drop their weapons and surrender. Fal gives them a choice: serve him or die. All but three choose to serve him. My brother gestures to the ones who chose to die, and I make use of my mage-blade once more. Three bodies collapse to the cobblestones, their throats slit. I step once again to my brother''s side, wiping my blade clean in the crease of my elbow.

    Our men erupt in a rousing cheer. The castle is my brother''s, and I should be happy, but all I feel is dead inside. My vision wavers and my hands turn red and dripping. I blink, and the vision is gone.

    We set to cleaning up the bodies. Two giant holes are dug in the field outside the castle, where only hours before our army had stood. The enemy dead are piled in one, and our own fallen in the other. Per expectation, none of the Enfall One Hundred survived their ill-fated attack on the rear of the keep, not even the man who opened the gate for us. As I watch their bodies topple into the hole, a single tear trickles down my cheek. Fal''s hand lands on my shoulder. I lean against him, my head on his shoulder.

    "Hail the fallen." He says.

    "Hail." I whisper.

    That night, in the great hall of Enfall Keep, there is feasting and music and dancing. I don''t feel like I can join any of it. But I make an effort for my brother''s sake. The evening grows late, and Fal strides to the head of the room. In his hand is a full cup of wine, and not a small glass either. The soldiers around me quiet down, and we face him, each of us holding our own glasses of red grape-blood.

    Fal raises his cup.

    "Hail our fallen!" His voice rings out in the crowded room.

    "Hail!" We reply as one, lifting our glasses.

    "Hail the brave dead!" He shouts.

    "Hail!" We cry, raising our glasses again.

    "Hail the Enfall One Hundred!" Fal toasts, and his eyes glitter wetly in the lantern-light.

    "Hail!" We roar. And everyone, to the last soldier, tips up their glass and drains it. Even me. Even Fal.

    The wine will help many of us to sleep tonight. Will help keep our ghosts at bay.

    It won''t be helping me, as I am not drinking enough to get drunk. I deserve the nightmares anyway.

    Somewhere in the room, a fiddle and a drum strike up a boot-tapping dance tune. I freeze.

    It''s Daisy in the Dell.

    Sensing my melancholy, Falkirk maneuvers through the crowd to me and grabs my hand.

    "Come dancing." He says with an irresistible smile. I cannot help but smile back, and I cannot deny him.

    He whirls me off and spins me around the dance floor, making quippy remarks and teases that have my ribs aching with laughter. After six dances in a row, I am laughing and gasping at the same time. My ribs feel fit to split and I am out of breath.

    "No more!" I plead, leaning against the wall as Fal grins, pleased that I am happy once more.

    "One more?" He wheedles. The fiddle and drum start up again, this time sweet and slow, and not a tune that''s going to speed up. I tilt my head, considering.

    "Please?" My brother begs. I grin and sigh.

    "Fine." I say, and he steps us back to the dance floor. With his hand at my back and my hand in his, I rest my head against his broad chest and listen to his heart beat. This. This is what makes me the most at peace. This is what I want for the rest of my life, to be right here, secure in my brother''s embrace, safe from all hurt and grief.

    But as we sway to the music, I know it cannot last. I must face the world, sooner rather than later.

    I close my eyes, letting the music flow through me and soothe my soul. An image pops into my head-- me dancing with Daniel. A sudden wish that takes me by surprise and startles me so hard that I immediately shove it away and am glad that Fal''s mind and mine are no longer linked. But the faint longing remains, and the idea that it could happen makes me glad, even as I sadden at the knowledge that I don''t deserve that at all.

    Fal feels my emotions, peers down into my face.

    "Are you alright?" He asks. I tilt my face up at him.

    "Yes," I answer, "just... just happy."

    He smiles, sensing no lie in my words. Holds me tighter. After the song is finshed, I bid my brother goodnight and seek my bed. Tonight I sleep without dreaming. There is only the faintest sense that I am searching for something in the darkness. Something I cannot find.

    In the morning, Fal and I return to North Keep via teleportation. A nervous steward informs us that Daniel is here. Has been here for a few hours now. My brother''s face immediately darkens. He turns toward his wardrobe to find clothing suitable for the occasion.

    "Fal?" I say, laying my hand on his arm. He looks at me, anger pulsing through the bond. None of it is directed at me though.

    "Just-- hear him out." I tell him gently. He nods, his jaw clenched.

    "I will." He promises. When my brother is dressed, regal in a black tunic and navy-blue robe with a silver circlet gracing his brow, he looks at me.

    "I want you there." He says. I look down at my half-elvish form.

    "Not like this." I say.

    "No," he agrees, "not like that."

    "Do you still have any of your old assassin''s clothing and armor?" I ask. He nods.

    "Of course. It''s in the closet, in the back." He gestures. I thank him and step inside, closing the door after me. I shed all my clothing and shift my form into that of a male drow, not too large, but wiry and definitely powerful. I don my brother''s old black assassin''s garb, grimacing as things slide and rub. Male forms are weird, with things where... they''re just weird.

    Clothed once more, I step outside the closet and open my arms wide for Falkirk''s inspection. His gaze narrows thoughtfully.

    "Hm." He says. "I like it. You look dangerous, Blackbird."

    "As if I didn''t before?" I quip, my voice deeper than I am used to. There is a slight guttural growl on throat-sounds when I speak. Fal smiles tightly and shakes his head.

    "You did before, but now you look even scarier." He replies.

    "Well, thank you." I say. Smile. And then follow Fal out the door.

    My brother settles himself languidly on his throne in his great hall. The throne is set on a dais, and I take my place, standing, behind and to the side of my brother''s perch. Definitely noticeable and definitely menacing. Pale hair wound into a warrior''s braid down my back, ebony skin, expression hard as flint, black armor of leather and steel, a long-sword resting point-down on the floor, my hands folded over its pommel... yes, I suppose I must look a intimidating sight.

    And I do not mind one bit.

    The herald at the massive double doors at the other end of the room announces Daniel formally:

    "To His Excellency, the Lord of the North, Falkirk D''Adrian, I present the paladin, Daniel vor Elhim!" The herald cries, then pounds his staff of office on the floor once. The doors swing open, pulled by mechanisms operated by two guards.

    And the paladin enters.

    I have to master myself, holding my breath and tightening my grip on the sword pommel in my hands. But other than that, I do not react to Daniel''s appearance.

    Fal interprets my sudden emotion as fear that my brother will harm the paladin. He sends me calm laced with his own concern. He doesn''t know...

    I don''t even know.

    What I do know is that Daniel looks better than he ever has, as he strides down the middle of the room towards the dais. He exudes confidence and peace. His hair has been combed to shining, his clothing is clean and looks new. The colors fit him well: navy-blue tunic and brown trousers. He bears no weapons, and neither do Eliana and Antony, who flank him. The only thing in his hands is a small, white flag. Hardly more than a scrap of cloth, really.

    Daniel stops three feet from the dais and inclines his head to Fal, all the respect my brother will get from Daniel. Eliana and Antony merely stand like statues, though Eliana''s gaze keeps darting to me. Faint fear lurks in her eyes.

    I hate it. I hate that this form inspires that in her.

    Antony seems oblivious, but I know he sees me. That elf notices too much sometimes.

    Daniel lifts his head to look at Fal, his gaze flicking to me. Curiosity lights in his gaze, and his eyes narrow as if he''s trying to place where he''s seen me before. My mouth goes dry. That paladin guesses-- sees-- too much too often.

    "Your personal assassin?" Daniel asks, nodding at me. Falkirk regards the sandy-haired paladin with a narrowed gaze, one index finger laid thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

    "Indeed," he murmurs. Daniel lifts his chin and gives my brother an amused smirk.

    "And if this doesn''t go well today, are you going to send him after me?" The paladin asks. I fight to keep my face neutral.

    What is Daniel doing?! Is he trying to provoke my brother on purpose? Does that fool paladin not know he is a mouse in a lion''s den?

    Fal suddenly sits forward, folding his fingers together and resting his arms on his knees.

    "Now, that depends on who it doesn''t go well for, and how many times you insult me." Falkirk replies pleasantly, smiling. "Once, twice, even a thrice insult I can overlook. I am a forgiving man, after all, Daniel."

    Daniel''s smile shows teeth.

    "Are you?" He asks. I nearly wince. That was... not wise on Daniel''s part. Fal''s countenance darkens as his mood does, and he sits back. I cannot see his face, but I know his expressions like I know myself. They adjust with his mood. He cannot hide much from showing on his face. He''s gotten better at it over the years, but his feelings still show most of the time.

    "I am." Falkirk replies coldly. "Paladin, what did you come here for? I am sure it was not to feed me insults as a mother feeds a babe. I have enough grief to deal with."

    "Grief that you caused." Daniel replies, and this time I do wince, slightly.

    That was extremely unwise. Fal''s cold anger grows. Daniel is just fanning flames now. He''s digging his own grave, metaphorically speaking. I wish I could tell him to shut his fool mouth, but I cannot break character. Daniel is on his own in this.

    Daniel plunges on,

    "I am here to help you destroy that grief. The High Clan lords would gladly treat with you, milord D''Adrian."

    I nearly sigh in relief. A show of respect on Daniel''s part will go a long way in soothing my brother''s ruffled feathers.

    "Send an envoy, or go yourself, and I would gladly accompany. I''m sure we could negotiate the annexation of the lands you desire, peaceably, without war and bloodshed." Daniel says. He reaches into a pouch on his belt and withdraws something metallic that reflects the light. A memory of a metal sling-stone catching sunlight overwhelms my mind with fear for my brother, and I act without thinking. I step forward, lifting my blade. Set its edge under Daniel''s chin. His eyes meet mine and his gaze flickers with concern as he lifts his chin. His hand comes all the way out of the pouch, his fingers curled around a silver cylinder capped at both ends with knobs of bronze.

    "Here," He says, unmoving but for the slow motion of his hand. "See? A message cylinder. Nothing more. No weapon. Your guards searched me and my companions thoroughly before they admitted us." He offers me the cylinder. I take it, removing my sword from his throat and stepping back.

    My stomach twists. What was I thinking? This is Daniel! The guy has trouble ending the people who are trying to kill him! What had made me think that he would harm my brother?

    But I know. I cannot take any more chances with my brother''s safety, no matter who is or isn''t a threat.

    And I do not know what Daniel is.

    I tuck my sword under my arm and inspect the cylinder for hidden traps or poison, just in case. Uncap one end and slide out the scroll inside. I unroll that and survey its contents before handing it to my brother, who has been watching all this with interest.

    Satisfied, I hand the scroll to Fal and the cylinder to Daniel before stepping back to my place on the dais. I plant my sword once more point-down on the floor.

    Falkirk reads the scroll, then purses his lips.

    "So..." He muses slowly. "These lords and kings would be willing to negotiate peaceful treaties with me? Annex some of their lands to me so that I will leave them alone?" He gives a little chuckle. "Gave me a decree, through you, stating thus and signed with their signatures and seals." He leads forward again, tossing the scroll to the floor at Daniel''s feet.

    "What I don''t think you understand, paladin," my brother says quietly, intensely, "is that I do not want just some lands. I want all lands. And I will have them, or watch them burn."

    "Please, D''Adrian." Daniel answers, picking up the scroll, re-rolling it and slipping it back inside its cylinder. "Reconsider. This is the best offer you are going to get."

    Fal''s face tightens into a scowl as his ire rises.

    "The best offer I will give all of you is war only." He replies. "Get out."

    Daniel steps back as his countenance saddens.

    "Would that your answer was different, D''Adrian." He says softly. "It could have prevented so much bloodshed."

    "Get out!" Fal says again, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Leave while you still can, paladin. The only reason you still breathe is because of the respect I have for that flag you carry." He nods his head at the white cloth in Daniel''s hand. Daniel''s fist clenches around the cloth, and he and Falkirk stare each other down for a moment. Antony watches them. Eliana watches me, fearfully. I do not move.

    "Come back, and you die." Falkirk''s voice is pure ice.

    If my brother gave a kill order, now or later, what would I do? Suddenly, I do not know.

    But, to my relief, Daniel spins on his heel and strides back down the room, giving a brief, "Come." to his companions.

    "My offer still stands, D''Adrian!" The paladin calls back over his shoulder as he leaves. "It stands until you choose to accept my aid, or you die."

    The doors boom shut behind him. Fal motions his captain of the garrison over.

    "Make sure he leaves our borders." My brother growls. "See that he is not harmed or hindered, he or his companions. But make sure they leave completely."

    "Yessir." The captain salutes and strides out.

    Fal turns to me, letting out a tense breath.

    "Well, that... went..." He says.

    "It went." I agree. "It went out the window. Could you not have at least considered peaceful negotiations?"

    He bristles at my tone.

    "Have you seen the poverty and hardship of the Clan peoples?" He demands. At my nod, he continues, "That''s what I aim to eradicate. What makes you think the lords understand any language but war and fire and blood? No. There will be no peaceful negotiations outside of that which happens inside of a grave. They will not bow before me, so I will see them break."

    I should have expected no less, but I suppose something inside me had dared to hope.

    "Then they will break." I reply. Fal calms, reassured by my support. I tug at the collar of my borrowed armor.

    "I need to get out of this and back into my own form." I say, grimacing theatrically. Fal chuckles.

    "Very well." He says. "Just put that back where you found it."

    "I will." I answer. "And then I have a paladin to go meet and a mission to finish." I step away, and then turn back.

    "It is still reconnaissance?" I ask. Fal''s face goes blank, but I know that, underneath, there is seething anger.

    "For now." He replies. "Report regularly."

    "Of course." I say. I smile at him. "Love you."

    He smiles faintly back.

    "Love you." He echoes. Then I walk out, my boots silent on the floor-stones.

 In Between -- Daniel

    I stalk out of D¡¯Adrian¡¯s palace, flanked by Antony and Eliana and surrounded by a company of guards, retrieving Raeldon on the way, anger and grief warring for dominance inside me. That stubborn, fools-cursed man! Why ever will he not see reason? Surely he sees that the High Clans are banding together, rising against him. That he cannot stand against their combined might. They will sweep him away like so much chaff in the wind. And there will be almost no one left to grieve for him. Maybe no one at all.

    Maybe his men would grieve him, for a time. They seem fanatically loyal to him for some reason.

    I muse over that for a time as we ride out of D¡¯Adrian¡¯s lands in the company of his garrison captain and fifty men. A hefty escort, but I guess D¡¯Adrian doesn¡¯t like taking chances.

    That pops a question into my mind that stirs my curiosity: what does the lord of the North like?

    As we ride, I mentally sift through what I know of the man.

    He¡¯s ruthless. Cunning. Doesn¡¯t care who he kills or why.

    Rumor has it, he has a sister, but no one has ever seen her. I wonder what happened to her. Did he love her?

    Did he kill her?

    ¡­ Some say that the infamous assassin known only as the Lone Wolf sometimes works for him.

    So he pays well, which means he¡¯s got a lot of gold.

    Maybe that¡¯s why his men stay loyal to him?

    But what actually drives him?

    I sigh. This is convoluted, frustrating work. Trying to understand D¡¯Adrian is like trying to understand a 4D chess game played at hyper-speed.

    My poor brain feels twisted inside out.

    I stop focusing on the physical side of things and start parsing out what my Sight has seen of his soul.

    My grief wins out over my anger at him in the end. D¡¯Adrian¡¯s soul is even more shattered than Ava¡¯s is. I cannot even begin to imagine why their souls are so broken. Is there a connection between them, I wonder?

    I remember D¡¯Adrian¡¯s hands. They too, like Ava¡¯s, were coated and dripping with ghostly blood. More like streaming, actually.

    I frown. What has gone on in the past that I know nothing of? I need some answers.

    And I know where I might find some. Ava said that she used to be acquainted with D¡¯Adrian. She was able to tell me some things about him, but I could tell she was holding back. Not, lying, exactly, just¡­ omitting.

    Maybe she knows what went on in D¡¯Adrian¡¯s past.

    Maybe she¡¯ll tell me what went on in her own. Maybe I¡¯ll finally know why her soul is so broken and her hands are so bloodied.

    Speaking of bloodied hands and broken souls, there was one other person in that throne room who was one of the three most hurting people I have ever met.

    Ava and D¡¯Adrian are two.

    But this new person was a drow, male, and definitely an assassin. D¡¯Adrian¡¯s personal executioner, it seems.

    This fellow¡¯s ebony-hued hands were only slightly less dripping with blood than D¡¯Adrian¡¯s. And his soul¡­

    Almost seemed familiar. Like I¡¯ve met him before.

    But I haven¡¯t. Not that I remember, leastways.

    This new mystery gives my mind something to chew on for the rest of the trip to the Northern border. At the border, D¡¯Adrian¡¯s captain leaves us.

    ¡°Come back, and we¡¯ll shoot you on sight.¡± The tiefling fellow growls.

    Antony gives him a mocking salute as he, Eliana, and Raeldon ride off. I linger for just a moment. This tiefling fellow is hurting inside. And compassion is my calling.

    ¡°I see you.¡± I tell him, and he pales, his eyes wide as he realizes what I mean.

    ¡°If you ever have need of assistance,¡± I offer with all sincerity, ¡°send for the paladin Daniel vor Elhim. If I am able, I will come. My word on it.¡±

    The captain¡¯s half-frightened posture turns into a suspicious glare directed at me. Then he sniffs, spits, growls an order to his men, and rides off without answering me.

    I sigh. So many hurting souls, and there¡¯s only so much I can do for them. Leaving everything in Elhim¡¯s hands is both exhilaratingly freeing and frightening at the same time.

    Not that I could be in control if I tried. And I don¡¯t want to try either. I am perfectly content in leaving it all up to my God.

    It¡¯s a three-day trek on horseback to Ciliren, where Ava awaits us. As we ride into town, I can¡¯t help but notice the hastily repaired city walls, the rubble lying around, the hard faces and weapons carried by almost everyone. Some houses have been abandoned, some are halfway destroyed. As we ride through, mothers grab children and usher them inside their homes, giving us fearful, suspicious glances. The children themselves are sober, and we hear none of the usual chatter and laughter that should accompany their play. The men follow their wives and stand guard at the doors of their homes, hands on their weapons. Their expressions are not so much fearful as angry. The town¡¯s suspicion of us is so thick I can almost feel it, the tension in the air.

    What happened here?

    The clop of our horses¡¯ hooves on the cobblestone streets sound unnaturally loud in the quiet. On the main street I rein in next to the smithy, even the clanging of the blacksmith¡¯s hammer is ceased by our arrival.

    ¡°Good sir, would you be willing to point us to an inn?¡± I ask politely from the saddle. The half-orc glares up at me for a moment before jerking his head at the far end of the street.

    ¡°¡¯Tis there. Only inn in town.¡± He grunts. I incline my head to him.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    He merely grunts again, spitting in the dirt before resuming his work. The cacophony of his hammer on the anvil follows us up the street. I look up at the inn sign as I dismount in front of the building. The hanging wooden board creaks slightly in the near-nonexistent breeze and proudly proclaims the inn to be the Boar''s Rest.

    The building itself is built of the same yellowish stone as the city walls are, with a thatch roof. It¡¯s a one-story affair, and not very big. It likely has only a few rooms to rent. The few windows that dot the walls are glass so grimy that I cannot see through to the interior. One window is completely boarded over.

    Antony, Eliana, Raeldon, and I tie our horses¡¯ reins to the hitching rail by the wall of the inn. I give Ava¡¯s horse a pat on the nose and hope she¡¯s here and ready to ride the beast.

    The town slowly goes back about its business as we enter the inn. I open the thick, wooden door and usher my companions inside.

    ¡°Be right with ya!¡± Calls a gruff voice from the kitchen in the back. At the second hour of the afternoon, the Boar''s Rest is fairly quiet. In fact, there is only one other patron besides us.

    ¡°Hello, Daniel.¡± Ava says with a strained smile, rising from a table in the back corner. She nods to my companions. ¡°Antony, Eliana¡­. Raeldon.¡±

    Raeldon grunts noncommittally. Antony inclines his head to Ava. Eliana sweeps past me and hugs her tightly. A startled expression covers Ava¡¯s face before she slowly returns the embrace.

    ¡°Hello, Ava.¡± I reply, genuinely happy to see her. I step forward and wrap her in my embrace as soon as Eliana releases her. Ava stiffens, surprised.

    But she slowly relaxes and returns my hug. I feel her sigh, and then her arms tighten around my ribs and she leans into me. Then, abruptly, she pulls away, and crosses her arms over her chest, her face unreadable.

    ¡°So, how did it go?¡± She asks. ¡°Did you get D¡¯Adrian to listen?¡±

    I smile in reply, noting her slightly uncomfortable stance. ¡°Can we talk? In private?¡±

    She narrows her eyes at me, wariness and something else in her eyes. Guilt?

    ¡°Of course.¡± She says after a minute. ¡°I have a room. We can speak there.¡±

    She turns and leads the way out of the taproom and down a hallway lined with closed doors on one side. She stops in front of the fifth¡ª and last¡ª door and unlocks it. Pushes it open and motions me inside.

    I step in and scan the sparse room. A grimy window lets in a muted version of the sunlight outside. A neatly made bed looks untouched. Ava¡¯s knapsack sits in a corner of the room. A small table graces the wall beneath the window. A clay pitcher and basin are on the table, bone-dry.

    The room looks like Ava hasn¡¯t been in it hardly at all.

    I turn from studying the room to find Ava studying me. Her eyes are still wary, her stance guarded, but she seems slightly more open.

    More like the Ava I know.

    I take her elbow and lead her to the bed, sitting us both down.

    ¡°D¡¯Adrian didn¡¯t listen.¡± I tell her. ¡°He utterly rejected the High Clans¡¯ proposal and banished me from his lands after subtly threatening to send his assassin after me.¡±

    Is it just me, or did she just flinch?

    I lock gazes with her. Ava¡¯s eyes are unreadable; it¡¯s like a wall is hiding her true emotions from me. About the only one that shows through is wariness. She sits beside me, tense and still.

    She¡¯s always tense and guarded whenever we talk about D¡¯Adrian.

    ¡°Ava,¡± I say, ¡°I have the Sight.¡±

    This time she does flinch. She shifts away from me slightly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen¡ª¡° I begin, and she lifts her chin, her wary expression changing to include stubbornness and a bit of¡­ fear?

    ¡°¡ª D¡¯Adrian¡¯s broken soul.¡± I finish. Ava relaxes, her gaze softening in sadness.

    So she does know something.

    ¡°And I¡¯ve seen yours.¡± I tell her quietly, laying my hand over hers. Ava¡¯s eyes widen, and she yanks her hand out from under mine. She stands abruptly and strides to the window. She stares through the grimy glass, her back purposefully turned to me.

    ¡°What do you want from me, Daniel?¡± Her voice is colder and harder than I¡¯ve ever heard it directed at me.

    ¡°I want to know what happened.¡± I tell her softly, kindly. I want her to know that I see her. The real her. And that I care, and that I¡¯m not going to let her suffer alone.

    ¡°What happened when?¡± She asks. Annoyance flashes through me for a split second.

    ¡°Don¡¯t play stupid with me, Ava.¡± I say somewhat sternly, then soften my voice. ¡°Please.¡±

    She sighs, turns away from the window, back to me.

    ¡°Fine. You want to know what happened to make D¡¯Adrian¡¯s soul so shattered.¡±

    ¡°And yours.¡±

    She adopts a long-suffering expression. ¡°And mine, apparently. Though I don¡¯t see why I matter so much.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll always matter, Ava.¡± I tell her. Her gaze softens, but she makes no comment on that statement.

    ¡°Daniel, what makes you think I know what happened in D¡¯Adrian¡¯s past?¡±

    ¡°Ava, please.¡± I say, determined to go gently. ¡°Don¡¯t do this to me. I thought you had more respect for me than that. Let there be no deception between us. We both know you know more about D¡¯Adrian than you¡¯ve told me.¡±

    She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. ¡°Fine. Fine.¡± She pauses, goes to speak, then closes her mouth again. A pained expression crosses her face.

    ¡°It¡ª is not pleasant.¡± She says at last, casting her gaze to the floor. But not before I see the sheen of tears over her eyes. A sudden realization strikes me.

    ¡°You were there, weren¡¯t you?¡± I say. Her head snaps up.

    ¡°There¡­ when?¡± She asks warily.

    ¡°You were at the event that made and broke D¡¯Adrian.¡± I clarify. She relaxes somewhat. Turns her gaze to the window, wringing her hands in front of her.

    ¡°¡­ I was. That¡¯s where¡­ I first met him. It was the event that made and broke both of us, I suppose you could say.¡±

    I stand and approach her. Take her hands in mine.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ava.¡± I tell her softly, letting her know she has my sympathy and my support. Whatever happened must have been horrible. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for dredging up those memories.¡±

    She gives a harsh laugh. ¡°You¡¯re the one who asked.¡± She says almost bitterly. Sighs, and looks me in the eyes. ¡°The ones who used to rule the North killed D¡¯Adrian¡¯s parents after exercising on them cruelties unimaginable. They killed my parents too. Same night. Same village. Same methods.¡±

    I remember hearing about the villages burned and massacred by the Northern raiders. The stories I¡¯ve been told are¡­ horrible, to say the least.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± I move to embrace Ava, but she tugs her hands out of mine and steps out of my reach.

    ¡°So,¡± I say instead, adding pieces to the puzzle in my head, ¡°You know him from when you were children¡­¡±

    She winces, looking away. ¡°And¡­ later.¡±

    ¡°You used to work for him.¡± It¡¯s not a question. ¡°Then you rebelled or did something he didn¡¯t like.¡±

    I¡¯m getting closer to the truth. I can tell by her expression.

    ¡°What did he pay you to do?¡± I ask.

    And¡­ there it is. I¡¯ve hit something. Ava¡¯s face closes off all expression. She shakes her head.

    ¡°Daniel, you do not want me to answer that question.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± I do.

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Ava, I do. Tell me. Please.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Her tone is final.

    ¡°Fine. Don¡¯t tell me, then.¡± I can¡¯t help but feel some frustration. I start sifting the puzzle pieces out loud, my gaze on her face.

    ¡°You¡¯re a spy, you¡¯ve told me that. And you¡¯re very good with a blade. You have no problem with killing. You gathered information for him?¡±

    Her eyes widen with each statement.

    ¡°Daniel, please¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve likely done some killing for him. That¡¯s why your hands are so covered with blood as they are.¡±

    Ah. I¡¯m very close.

    Fear and astonishment flash across Ava¡¯s face; she makes for the doorway, but I get there first, closing the door and leaning on it with one hand. She stops and glares at me icily.

    ¡°Let me out, Daniel.¡±

    ¡°No. Not until you give me some answers.¡± I smile.

    She raises her eyebrows at me. ¡°So I¡¯m the hostage now?¡±

    ¡°No, Ava.¡± I lift my hand gently to her shoulder. ¡°Avalon¡­ you are not alright. Your soul is shattered, your hands are coated with blood. They¡¯re slick with it, dripping with it, Ava!¡±

    Her eyes widen, her breath catches in her throat, and she suddenly retreats from me.

    ¡°Just tell me what you¡¯ve done, who you are.¡± I say gently. ¡°You¡¯ll find no condemnation from me.¡±

    She shakes her head wildly, giving another harsh, bitter laugh. ¡°Heh! You don¡¯t want to know this, Daniel. You won¡¯t be able to help but condemn me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true. I can help you.¡±

    Again, the bitter laugh. She looks at the floor. ¡°No, you can¡¯t. Please, Daniel. You don¡¯t want to know.¡±

    ¡°I do. Tell me.¡± I press gently.

    ¡°No.¡±

    But I can tell she¡¯s weakening.

    ¡°Please.¡± I say gently, taking a step toward her. I softly grasp for her hand, but she twitches it out of my reach. Lifts her eyes to mine, a shame and grief so dark reflected in her gaze that I¡¯m suddenly not sure if I really do want to know whatever she¡¯s about to tell me.

    And for a moment it seems she might deny me yet again.

    But she speaks.

    ¡°I am the Lone Wolf, Daniel.¡±

 Thirteenth

    ¡°I am the Lone Wolf.¡±

    The infamous assassin.

    The killer, the murderer, the cold stealer of lives.

    The admission feels better out in the open, somehow.

    I watch as Daniel¡¯s face drains of color and his eyes widen. He stumbles away from me and collapses on the bed as his knees buckle. He sits there, staring at me in shock. I move to sit beside him and he flinches away. I sigh, resting my empty hands on my knees, splaying my fingers.

    ¡°The assassin.¡± His voice is soft with shock.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I reply quietly, sadly, my eyes on my hands. ¡°Now you know. Now you know what I am, and now you know that, no matter what you said before, you cannot help but condemn me for what I¡¯ve done.¡±

    I hate my deceptions. I hate the fear Daniel now holds for me. I hate the blood and the faces that haunt me. I stare at my hands, at the blood staining my flesh but not my pants. I stare at it and I own it. I owe Daniel this much.

    Fal¡¯s alarm pulses through our bond, and I send back what gentle reassurance I can.

    My heart aches with the pain of my emotions, and I lift a hand to massage my chest. Daniel flinches again, and I let out a bitter chuckle.

    ¡°You did ask.¡± I tell him.

    ¡°I know.¡± He replies finally. His voice is hoarse. He clears his throat. ¡°I... just suppose I did not expect¡­ that answer.¡±

    Dancing around the subject now, are we?

    I look up and meet his wide, sea-blue gaze. Give him a sad, bitter smile.

    ¡°I do not expect forgiveness.¡± I tell him, and stand to leave the room. But this time Daniel doesn¡¯t flinch away, and I have taken no more than a step toward the door than he catches my hand and holds me fast.

    ¡°Ava.¡± He says, and I look at him.

    His fear is gone, and there is still no condemnation in his eyes.

    There is kindness, and there is¡ª

    ¡°I forgive you, Ava.¡± He says.

    Time seems to freeze. I can¡¯t breathe.

    I can only stare at him, wide-eyed, held in place by¡­ something.

    Something inside me threatens to break as his words echo in my head.

    I forgive you, Ava.

    That something is cracking, it¡¯s close to shattering, I cannot hold it together. The door in my mind, the door that only Daniel seems to be able to unlock, cracks open.

    I forgive you, Ava.

    I can¡¯t breathe. I can''t breathe.

    I reach up and claw at his fingers, jerk my hand from his grasp. Flee to the door.

    But before I can wrench open the door and flee down the hallway, he catches me. That fools-cursed paladin wraps his arms around my waist and holds me fast.

    His touch jolts my lungs back into action, and I gasp for air. Struggle against him. I need to get away from him, from this pain, from the voices screaming for vengeance in my mind I cannot flee from them

    Daniel doesn¡¯t let go, even though I give him plenty of reason to. When he doesn¡¯t release me, I fight harder, twisting and bucking against him. Only by virtue of these feelings rising up in me overwhelming at his touch, do I refrain from hurting him seriously.

    He doesn¡¯t let go.

    Panic squeezes my chest, my lungs. I turn in his arms and shove at him, pounding at his chest. Push at his arms, but to no avail. He only holds me tighter, even as he grunts and winces in pain. He makes no move to avoid my fists.

    Dimly, I feel Fal nudging at me through our bond, his fear and worry flaring as he feels my panic. I slam him away, even as he gathers his manna.

    Panic takes me totally, my mind narrowing to the point where my only thought is to escape this, escape Daniel, he cannot do this I cannot feel this way I do not deserve forgiveness I cannot escape him I have no right this will break me the voices scream for vengeance the blood rises in my sight I cannot shut the door this thing inside me cannot take the strain it will shatter if this goes on much longer--

    ¡°Ava.¡± Daniel says.

    ¡°Let me go!¡± I gasp.

    ¡°Calm down, Ava.¡± His low voice rumbles calmly in his chest as he crushes me firmly against him. ¡°Calm down.¡±

    I try to wiggle free, but he merely shifts his grip on me, pinning my arms, pinning my torso against his.

    ¡°Let me go, Daniel!¡± I demand, voice shrill with the force of my panic. His silence is his denial, and he just stands there, holding me against him. I stop struggling, accepting the fact that he¡¯s not going to let go. Hold myself stiffly in his arms. His shirt is rough against my cheek.

    His heartbeat is strong and steady and calming to me, and, almost against my will, I find myself relaxing. My breath stops coming in gasps, my wildly pounding heart settles, and my tense muscles ease.

    After a minute, Daniel¡¯s hand moves on my back; he rubs in gentle circles, and I relax farther.

    Fal¡¯s manna swirls and seethes with wild indecision, and I send him reassurance. He too relaxes, sending me impatient inquisitiveness.

    ¡°I forgive you, Ava.¡± Daniel whispers down at me. I tense once more, but he doesn¡¯t cease holding me or rubbing my back.

    ¡°Daniel, I don¡¯t deserve that. From anyone. Especially not from you.¡± I tell him brokenly.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter.¡± He replies softly.

    ¡°How can it not?¡±

    ¡°Because forgiveness does not depend on whether or not a person deserves it.¡± He says, tipping my chin up with one hand so our eyes meet. He chuckles slightly. ¡°If it did, none of us would be forgiven. We would all be doomed to the Hells.¡±

    I close my eyes so that I do not have to look at him. Swallow hard as a tear escapes to slide down my cheek. Daniel¡¯s hand comes up to cup my cheek and his thumb wipes away that tear. I swallow again, suddenly aware of how close together our faces are, of how good his arms around me feel.

    I go to speak, hesitate, and Daniel beats me to it.

    ¡°Were you sent to assassinate us, Ava?¡± He asks softly. I open my eyes. Shake my head.

    ¡°No. I¡ª this was supposed to be a recon mission. I was supposed to get close to you, and thwart your plans if I could.¡±

    ¡°And whatever happened to doing that?¡±

    I give a smile twisted by sorrow as I realize I count him as a friend. A true friend. One I now know I cannot harm.

    ¡°I got a little too close.¡± I say. He chuckles lightly and his hold on me eases. I step back carefully, but his arms tighten once more.

    ¡°Daniel¡­¡± I say warningly.

    ¡°Just one more question.¡± He says lightly.

    I tense.

    ¡°Was it D¡¯Adrian who sent you?¡± He asks.

    I hesitate. Then relent.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Is all the reply he gives. I look down, unable to meet his gaze any longer. He gently releases me and takes a step away. Laughs slightly, resting his hand on my shoulder. ¡°For the record, Ava, I¡¯m glad you haven¡¯t killed us.¡±

    I look up and meet his eyes. Manage a smile, just for him. ¡°Me too.¡±

    His smile fades, and he asks, ¡°Avalon, can I trust you?¡±

    I swallow again. ¡°I certainly hope so, Daniel.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything else about you that I need to know of?¡±

    Yes.

    ¡°No.¡± I answer, my inner defenses mostly back in place. The deception twists my stomach into sourness. I hate it. Daniel¡¯s eyes search my face for a moment, his expression serious, as he looks for my deceptions. I withstand his scrutiny, unflinching. After a moment, he nods, seemingly satisfied.

    I have no idea how much of me he just saw. That scares me.

    The paladin squeezes my shoulder, releases me, and steps past me to the door. He quietly opens it and disappears into the hallway. I walk slowly to the window and resume staring through the grimy glass.

    A minute later I hear Antony¡¯s voice. ¡°Daniel! Is¡­ is Ava alright?¡±

    Daniel sighs. ¡°You know that answer to that, Antony.¡± There¡¯s a slight pause, then Daniel continues. ¡°She will be fine, I think. If she can just see¡­¡± His voice fades as he moves farther down the hallway. I can¡¯t hear the last of what he says.

    What in the world does Daniel think I need to see? I can see perfectly fine, thank you!

    It¡¯s a while before I join Daniel and the rest in the taproom. I slide into a chair at their table after ordering a meal at the bar. Eliana flinches away from me. Antony glances up at me and back down at his food. Raeldon is his usual stoic self, not even acknowledging me, just continuing to eat.

    Daniel¡¯s told them, then.

    The paladin himself gives me a warm smile.

    ¡°He should have shown you the door.¡± Raeldon pointedly remarks at me. Daniel¡¯s smile drops and he glares at the tiefling.

    ¡°Yeah, well, he seems to want me around, so deal with it.¡± I shoot back dryly. Eliana and Antony smirk. Daniel shakes his head, hiding a smile.

    ¡°Raeldon,¡± he says, ¡°let her alone.¡±

    Eliana leans toward me as my meal arrives. ¡°Is it true?¡± She asks.

    I dig into my beef and gravy, flicking a glance up at her. ¡°Depending on what Daniel told you, probably.¡± I answer noncommittally. Antony pushes aside his empty plate and crosses his arms over his chest.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe thee didn¡¯t tell us.¡±

    I quirk an eyebrow at him. ¡°Really. What, did you expect it to be something I would automatically tell potential targets?¡± Antony and Eliana both flinch. Daniel sighs. I shake my head at the elf¡¯s naivety.

    ¡°I was supposed to get close to you all. My goal was to gain your trust, alright? Obviously, I¡¯ve just lost that, but at least now you know, and now you can do whatever you have to, to guard against me.¡±

    Antony opens his mouth to speak, but he¡¯s forestalled by a shadowy silhouette in the doorway of the tavern entrance. We all look up.

    A tall elf, as blond as Antony, steps into the tavern. The newcomer is dressed in road-worn clothing that looks like it belongs to a dockworker. His face is as stoic as Raeldon¡¯s, and his eyes are as grey as flint as he sweeps his stony gaze over the tavern. He¡¯s searching for something.

    ¡°One of yours?¡± Daniel asks Antony, gesturing with his head at the newcomer. Antony¡¯s face is tight as he stares at the grey-eyed elf.

    ¡°Yes.¡± He answers curtly. Stands and makes his way to the tall elf, and they speak for a moment in low tones. They¡¯re too quiet for me to hear. The grey-eyed elf hands Antony a sealed message cylinder, then swiftly departs the tavern.

    Antony walks slowly back to us, uncapping the cylinder. He tugs out the scroll inside, reads it, and drops into his chair. His face is pale, his eyes unfocused.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Asks Daniel.

    ¡°My... my home¡­¡± Antony says in a dazed tone. ¡°Tyrhyld¡­ it¡¯s been attacked. By¡­ pirates.¡±

    Eliana covers her mouth with one hand. Raeldon¡¯s eyes close briefly as he comprehends the news.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my boy.¡± He says kindly, sorrowfully.

    ¡°How many dead?¡± Daniel queries, ever practical.

    ¡°Too¡ª too many.¡± Antony chokes out. I push back my chair with a loud scrape, and everyone looks at me.

    ¡°When do we leave?¡± I ask. Antony smiles slightly.

    ¡°At dawn.¡± Daniel says. ¡°Rest well tonight. We¡¯ll be riding hard.¡±

    And so we do, galloping out of Ciliren with the sun on our horses¡¯ left flanks. We¡¯re heading due south, to the sea.

    Normally it would a month¡¯s hard ride to Tyrhyld, but Daniel has a plan that¡¯ll cut our journey in half. Ride hard for five days, stopping in Azmal for a night, as our road takes us straight through that wretched city and it would cost us precious time to bypass it. From Azmal, ride even harder for a day and a half until we reach the Abanogan River, and then take a ship down the river to the sea. That passage will take about five days. It¡¯s another half day down the coast to Tyrhyld. And when we reach Antony¡¯s city¡­

    Well, I hope Daniel will know what to do. I know no details of the attack. Antony is withdrawn, more than usual, and monotonic. The only one he speaks to is Daniel, and I see them sometimes conversing in low tones when we rest.

    These five days on the road are the hardest I¡¯ve ever spent. I¡¯m used to using my marble to transport places, and Daniel makes us ride at a grueling, forced-march pace, all day and whenever the moon gives us light to see by. We sleep in snatches. I¡¯m not sure Antony sleeps at all. We eat in the saddle. We doze in the saddle too, more often than not. When the horses flag, Daniel pushes more manna into them, we rest for five or ten minutes, and then it''s back on the road for us.

    It¡¯s a weary five that ride into Azmal during the late hours of the afternoon. We¡¯re caked in the grime of the road, in sweat and in dust. All of us but Daniel droop in our saddles, bone-weary. Our horses amble through the streets as we search for a half-reputable inn. The city is just as grimy and violent as I remember it. Nothing seems to have changed from Amyry¡¯s reign. In fact, it seems to have gotten worse, if that were possible. Patrols of armed and armored guards wander the streets, giving everyone suspicious glances. The townsfolk cower away from them.

    I startle out of a half-doze, drawing my mage blade, as a slight human woman in a threadbare dress runs out into the street and grasps the reins of Daniel¡¯s horse. The horse startles, half rearing, but Daniel settles the animal with a few words, then fixes the woman with a stern gaze.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± He asks, his voice harsh with little-used, dust-caked vocal cords. The woman just stands there, holding the wretched horse¡¯s bridle, and now we are all stopped in the mucky street.

    ¡°Please, sir.¡± She pleads quietly, looking up and down the street. ¡°Ye airn¡¯t safe here, paladin. There be a price on yer heads, and mos¡¯ o¡¯ the city¡¯ll turn agains¡¯ ye if they find ye. There be a few here who aire gra¡¯eful fer what ye did, but mos¡¯¡­¡± She looks furtively up and down the mostly empty street again, then gives a tug at the bridle. ¡°I can give ye a safe place to res¡¯, sir, ye an¡¯ yers. Come with me.¡±

    Daniel regards her for a moment, then nods and clucks to his horse, touching his heels to the animal¡¯s flanks. The woman leads his horse across the street and through a tall garden gate. The rest of us follow suit. We dismount in a sparse, stone courtyard, bare of nearly all vegetation. The walls of the courtyard are tall, effectively hiding us from the rest of the city. The gate is just as tall. A small stone house is attached to the courtyard. This place looks to have once been a wealthier part of the city. Not so any longer.

    The woman shuts the garden gate firmly behind us and locks it.

    ¡°Elisile?¡± A man¡¯s voice calls from the house, and a tall, thin, male tiefling steps out of the house. His pupilless, golden eyes look with puzzlement at us, before turning his gaze to the woman, Elisile. ¡°What¡¯s going on, Elisile?¡±

    ¡°Look a¡¯ them, Zephos.¡± Elisile cajoles him. He does, and his eyes widen.

    ¡°They need shelter and res¡¯¡± Elisile tells Zephos, as the tiefling bows clumsily to us.

    ¡°Forgive me, m¡¯lords and ladies.¡± He says. ¡°I didn¡¯ realize who ye were. My wife was righ¡¯ to bring ye all here. Ye¡¯ll be safe here as long as ye stay, m¡¯lord paladin.¡±

    ¡°First of all,¡± Daniel says, stepping forward, ¡°there will be no ¡®m¡¯lord¡¯s or m¡¯lady''s. If you want to address me, just call me simply ¡®Daniel¡¯. And likewise, these are Antony, Eliana, Avalon, and Raeldon.¡± He gestures to each of us in our turn. ¡°And second of all, what do you mean when you say that we aren¡¯t safe here? Amyry is dead. How can there still be a price on our heads?¡±

    Zephos and Elisile exchange uneasy glances. Then the tiefling gives his wife a decisive nod. He turns to us.

    ¡°Go into the house; my wife will tell ye everything.¡± He says. ¡°Le¡¯ me tend yer horses.¡±

    Daniel gives him a long, searching look before handing over his horse¡¯s reins. Zephos sets to unsaddling our mounts and rubbing them down, talking softly to the beasts all the while. Daniel follows Elisile into the house, and his friends trail him. I step up beside him and whisper,

    ¡°How do you know you can trust them, Daniel? You don¡¯t exactly have a perfect record for picking the safest of situations to be in.¡±

    He chuckles quietly at my tone, and replies, his lips close to my ear, ¡°You forget, I have the Sight. These people are sincere; they mean us no harm.¡±

    I drop back slightly, mulling over his words. What he says is true, about his Sight. Well, if Daniel trusts Zephos and Elisile, then I guess I¡¯ll trust the paladin.

    We step into a well-lit, surprisingly clean, one-room home. Late sunlight streams through two windows in the street-facing wall, a small table with four chairs stands by a small kitchen area, and two bunkbeds are on the far side of the room.

    Four beds? Who else is supposed to be here?

    Elisile catches my questioning glance, and smiles kindly.

    ¡°There aire still some o¡¯ Elhim¡¯s people in Azmal.¡± She says, and Daniel¡¯s eyebrows shoot up. He breaks out in great grin.

    ¡°I knew you were vor Elhim!¡± He nearly shouts.

    Elisile smiles wider, but motions for quiet.

    ¡°Hush, paladin. Ye may be vor Elhim, and have the Sigh¡¯ to boo¡¯, but it should still be not spoken of in public. This be a dangerous city for Elhim¡¯s people.¡±

    Daniel¡¯s face grows concerned and sorrowed. ¡°I know¡­ Where are the rest of you, then?¡±

    Elisile saddens. ¡°Gone. Fled the city while they could, or imprisoned and killed.¡±

    ¡°By whom?¡± Daniel questions. Elisile sighs, gesturing for us to seat ourselves. Daniel seats Elisile, Eliana, and myself at the table before taking a seat himself with us. Antony and Raeldon lean against the wall, crossing their arms, and listening intently to the woman.

    ¡°By a pale tiefling; he goes by the name o¡¯ Azaes and claims to be Amyry¡¯s foster brother. He marched into the city nigh on a week and a half ago now, and took over in Amyry¡¯s place.¡±

    Daniel goes deadly serious. ¡°This is dire news indeed. And not what I hoped to find when I came back here.¡±

    Elisile nods sadly. ¡°Aye. Azaes marched in, slaughtered the newly appointed mayor and his family, and se¡¯ himsel¡¯ up as king. He put out a bounty on yer heads, demanding revenge for Amyry¡¯s death. Mos¡¯ the city hates you for how you abandoned them, and would turn you in to him in a heartbeat. Only a few o¡¯ us aire sympathetic to ye, and even fewer still would dare to help ye.¡±

    ¡°Well, I thank you and Zephos for belonging to those few.¡± Daniel says, his face softening as he looks at Elisile. ¡°It was not my intention to abandon the city, it simply wasn¡¯t my place to stay and set up a new government. That task belonged to the citizens. Besides, it was not any of us here who killed Amyry.¡±

    ¡°Then who did?¡± Asks Elisile. Daniel looks to me, but I supply no answer for him. Daniel turns back to Elisile and shrugs. She nods with a troubled look. Then she rises from her seat, steps to the little kitchen, and begins to assemble a small meal. It looks like supplies are a bit sparse, but the woman spares no effort to give us substance.

    Zephos steps inside, smelling of horse. He seats himself on the edge of one bottom bunkbed. Steeples his fingers and regards us with his eerie, golden eyes.

    I thought Raeldon¡¯s red eyes were disconcerting, but gold is an even weirder color.

    ¡°Elisile told ye, then?¡± He states it like it¡¯s not a question. Daniel nods.

    ¡°I thank you very much for the hospitality you and your wife have shown us.¡±

    Zephos inclines his head to us, smiling. ¡°We couldn¡¯ turn ye away, ye being vor Elhim and all.¡±

    ¡°What are your plans?¡± Daniel asks intuitively. Zephos sighs and stares into space over our heads. Elisile watches her husband intently.

    ¡°We¡­ were going to follow the res¡¯ o¡¯ those who fled.¡± The tiefling says finally. Daniel nods like he was expecting this answer.

    ¡°Then we will help you all we can.¡±

    We will?

    ¡°I would not have you in danger for our sakes.¡± The paladin continues. ¡°Take two of our horses. There are ample supplies in our saddlebags. Take those as well. They will take you far from here.¡±

    Zephos is shaking his head even before Daniel is finished speaking.

    ¡°The horses we canna except.¡± The golden-eyed tiefling says. ¡°We¡¯ll take the supplies, but no more, and thank ye for your kindness, Daniel. Ye can stay here for as long as ye need to. This is one o¡¯ the las¡¯ safe houses in Azmal.¡±

    The two men exchange smiles, recognizing a brotherhood between them.

    ¡°Very well. Thank you.¡± Daniel says. ¡°When will you go?¡±

    Zephos looks to his wife, and she gives him a smile and nod. The tiefling gazes at us.

    ¡°We¡¯ll share one las¡¯ meal with ye, then leave the city with the sun.¡±

    And that is what happens. A pang of sorrow strikes me at the couple¡¯s leave of us. They were kind, and I have had so little kindness in my life. I wish them a safe journey. They head northward, laden with the supplies Daniel gave them, the setting sun shining like a blessing upon them. As I watch, Zephos leans down and plants a kiss on Elisile¡¯s lips. Daniel¡¯s face pops into my mind, and I immediately shove it away as my cheeks grow warm. I turn away and return my attention to my companions.

    Daniel lays his bedroll and stretches out on the floor, crossing his arms and staring thoughtfully into space.

    ¡°I think we should go check out this Azaes.¡± He says at last.

    ¡°WHAT?!¡± Antony and Eliana stare at him incredulously. Only Raeldon and I do not react.

    A smirk curves my lips. I had known this was coming. This is how Daniel thinks. Brilliant and foolish all at once.

    Raeldon merely continues sharpening the blade he¡¯s been grinding at for the last twenty minutes.

    ¡°When?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Tonight.¡± Daniel says.

    Eliana gapes at me. ¡°You cannot seriously side with him!¡±

    My smirk reveals teeth. ¡°You know I can¡¯t stop him, Eliana. And, truth be told, I¡¯d rather like to know my enemy as well.¡±

    ¡°Chances are, he already knows we¡¯re here.¡± Raeldon gives his blade one last swipe with the whetstone, then sheathes it. He looks up. ¡°I think it is an excellent idea. Just, be wary for traps.¡±

    ¡°I always am.¡± Daniel replies. Antony snorts in amused disbelief.

    As the night grows darker, we cleanse ourselves of the grime of the road, sharpen weapons, and darken our blades with smoke. Tonight¡¯s is a stealth mission. While Daniel, Raeldon, and Eliana scope out wherever this Azaes is hiding himself, Antony and I will take to the shadows, try to find our target, and take our measure of the man himself.

    The city is still and silent as we venture out into the streets. Skirting numerous patrols of guards, we soon find the only place in the city where Azaes could be.

    Amyry¡¯s castle is still in ruins, although it looks as if repairs have begun. But the city¡¯s prison¡ª a two-story building sprawling the length of a city block¡ª is teeming with guards. At least inside. We see at least two patrols enter, one dragging a prisoner with them. A few soldiers patrol around the iron-and-stone building, with another two guarding the iron front door.

    Daniel, Eliana, and Raeldon station themselves in the shadows of an alleyway near the prison, with a clear view of the building. Antony and I sneak in a little closer.

    The first inkling I have that this is a trap is when everything is suddenly quiet and still.

    Then suddenly soldiers pour into the alleyway Antony and I are in, driving us back to the open street in front of the prison. They¡¯ve brought lanterns, and the harsh light is nigh on blinding after the black gloom of the alley. The clash of swords fills my ears, and we are hard put to defend ourselves. I¡¯m fighting by pure instinct. Somewhere in my mind I dimly realize we cannot afford to be pushed back into the open streets. I execute a flurry of blows, opening a space around myself.

    Then I sheathe my mage blade and leap at the wall of the alley, my fingertips catching the cracks between the stones. Pull myself up and onto the roof two stories above the street. I lay there for a moment, panting. Look over the lip of the roof. Bile rises in my throat as I watch soldiers driving Antony, and Daniel, Raeldon, and Eliana too, out into the street in front of the prison. My comrades fight back to back, desperate, and I make no move to help them as they are surrounded by nearly a hundred soldiers.

    Everything in me screams for me to aid my friends, but I hold myself back even as I hate myself for it. Curse myself for all kinds of idiot and coward. Even though I know that I would be no help out there. We would all be captured or killed, and there would be no aid for us.

    I climb down on the other side of whatever building I am atop of. But I go no further than the alleyway.

    I watch as a pale tiefling enters the fray. He wields a massive, silvery-violet mage blade, and swiftly cuts down Raeldon.

    Azaes.

    The pale tiefling sends the sage sprawling in the street, bloody and motionless. A dark force swirls around Azaes, and I cannot help but wonder, what god does he worship, and does he have his god¡¯s help?

    Whatever the case, he quickly overwhelms the rest of my companions, and they are beaten to their knees and bound. Azaes stalks around them, triumphant. I can see his smirk from here. He stops in front of Daniel, and they speak for a moment.

    Azeas¡¯ face contorts in fury, and he strikes Danial, openhanded, across the paladin¡¯s face. Daniel is thrown onto the cobblestones by the force of the blow, and his head strikes the ground. He goes limp, and I watch with growing ire and shame.

    Azaes says something more, and Antony and Eliana are hoisted to their feet. Two soldiers pick up Daniel, and my companions are dragged into the prison.

    Except for Raeldon, who the pale tiefling nudges with his boot and then turns and disappears inside the prison with all of his guards.

    Leaving the sage motionless in the street.

 In-Between -- Daniel

    Ava and Antony have disappeared into the shadows ahead of Eliana, Raeldon and I, and, though I can no longer see them, I know relatively where they should be. I hope they¡¯re going to be careful. This is a dangerous city, and Azaes most likely knows we¡¯re here.

    But he doesn¡¯t know where we are at this moment, and that is the most important thing.

    It had not been my intention before, nor my prerogative, to reestablish this city¡¯s government. But with Amyry¡¯s foster brother added to the mix, it seems that now is my time to intervene. Azaes seems to be every bit as ruthless and cruel as Amyry was, and I wonder if Ava knows this pale tiefling as she did the drow. I think not. She seemed as surprised as we were when we learned of Azaes.

    I crouch in the cold, dark shadows of the alley, watching the guards go about their rounds, and memorizing their numbers and routine. Beside me, Eliana mutters to herself, her keen eyes searching out the prison¡¯s defenses, making calculations, assessing and reassessing. Raeldon whispers little observances of his in her ear, and she nods as she adjusts her calculations.

    A whisper of sound reaches my ears from behind us, and I stand swiftly, whirling and drawing my sword.

    In the alleyway behind us stands a pale tiefling clad in full armor, a massive, silvery-violet mage-sword leaning at rest on his shoulder. A dark energy swirls around his form, and he¡¯s at the head of a full company of soldiers, every one of them with their sword drawn. Every one of them ready to kill.

    Azaes. It has to be.

    Raeldon and Eliana react just a second after I do, and an uncharacteristic curse comes from the sage¡¯s lips.

    ¡°Take them.¡± The pale tiefling orders, pointing at us with a steel-gauntleted fist. A cruel smirk curves his pale lips. The soldiers surge forward.

    The fighting is fierce, and we are driven back, out of the alleyway, into the street in front of the prison. Antony meets us there, fighting desperately to defend himself. He¡¯s bleeding from a few minor wounds. Avalon is absent. A cold hand of fear clenches my heart.

    ¡°Where is Ava!¡± I shout over the clamor of battle.

    ¡°Gone!¡± Antony shouts back.

    ¡°Dead?!¡± My voice cracks, and I bat away an opponent¡¯s blade. These soldiers aren¡¯t giving up, aren¡¯t dying, aren¡¯t even taking any wounds that I can see. That fear inside me grows colder and harder, and I silently cry out to Elhim. I cannot hear if He answers.

    ¡°Not dead!¡± Antony shouts at me. ¡°Gone!¡±

    I have no time to ask where or why, as Azaes enters the battle. He targets Raeldon, and I am helpless to watch as he slashes my friend across his ribs and then brings the pointed pommel of his sword down between Raeldon¡¯s horns. The sage crumples, bleeding profusely. He lies there on the cobblestones, limp and motionless.

    ¡°NO!¡± I scream, and batter desperately at the soldiers surrounding me. ¡°Elhim!¡±

    I hear no answer.

    The dark force around Azaes swirls and swells, and seems to strengthen the enemies around us. It is but mere moments more before we are overwhelmed. My sword is torn from my grasp, and a steel-gauntleted fist smashes into my gut. I double over and sag to my knees, gasping and retching. My companions get like treatment.

    My arms are jerked behind my back and I am bound with cold chains. Antony struggles as Eliana is bound; the rogue gets a boot to the face for his trouble.

    ¡°Well, well, well.¡± Azaes gloats, circling us softly. ¡°We meet at last, Daniel.¡±

    ¡°Am I supposed to know you?¡± I ask, peering up at him. ¡°Or just the demon you¡¯re harboring?¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Ah, yes, Catarsus.¡± The pale tiefling winds his fingers through the dark tendrils of energy swirling around him. The demon seems to pulse and purr with pleasure around Azaes. ¡°He and I have been waiting for you¡­ Tell me, Daniel, do you not wonder how I knew you were coming? How I knew where to find you tonight? Why your God has not answered you? Catarsus knows everything, and he is powerful enough that even Elhim cannot contend with him.¡±

    Now it is my turn to smirk.

    ¡°That is where you¡¯re wrong. Catarsus knows only what he is permitted to know, does only what he is permitted to do. And he is no match for my God. Beware you, Azaes, demons tend to turn on those who think them friends. You think you are in control now, but Catarsus could erase you in a heartbeat and puppet the shell that remains. Elhim allowed me to fall into your hands tonight, perhaps for the purpose of ending both you and Catarsus, the scourges upon this city that you are. Even if you kill me, Elhim is still in control, and He will end you by other means. I am expendable. You are expendable, Azaes, as I am sure you will find out if Catarsus ever tires of you.¡±

    The pale tiefling¡¯s smirk vanishes into a fierce snarl of fury, and darkness flickers in his light blue eyes. He lashes out and the back of his open hand smacks across my face. Light erupts in my vision. Pain blooms. The metallic tang of blood fills my mouth. I am sent sprawling, and my head strikes something hard and cold. The light flares brighter behind my eyes, the pain rises to a skull-splitting crescendo, and¡ª

    Darkness.

    There is darkness and pain.

    ¡°Daniel?¡± Someone calls my name, sounding faint, like they¡¯re far away. ¡°Wake up, Daniel.¡±

    I blink my eyes open, pain flaring in my head at the light beyond my eyelids. It doesn¡¯t matter the light is dim, nearly nonexistent. It stabs into my eyes like lances.

    I must be severely concussed.

    Eliana is sitting next to me, Antony¡¯s head in her lap. The elf looks rather worse for the wear. He groans softly as Eliana gently bathes his swollen face with a damp rag. Raeldon is nowhere to be seen, and a pang of sorrow strikes me.

    ¡°Lay still, Daniel.¡± Eliana says. ¡°I¡¯ll get to you in a minute.¡±

    ¡°Take your time.¡± I reply hoarsely. I struggle to sit up, ignoring my friend¡¯s protests. Cradle my head in my hands, waiting for the pain and nausea to subside. Chains clink softly as I move, and I realize that all three of us are fettered at the wrists and ankles to long lengths of chains bolted to the dank, stone walls around us. A cold, heavy weight rests on my collarbone, gently squeezing my throat. I reach up a hand and run my fingers softly over an iron mage collar, designed to keep me from using magic. Both my companions wear one as well. The collars glow softly.

    It is a good thing that mage collars are powerless against Elhim. His Presence swells softly around us, breathing new life and strength into us, soothing our hurts.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I whisper.

    Stay steadfast and be ready.

    The God¡¯s whisper fills my ears, nearly sundering my mind and eardrums, before fading away. I swallow hard, quailing even as strength fills me.

    ¡°How long was I out?¡± I ask Eliana.

    ¡°An hour, give or take.¡± She replies. Light flares in the corridor outside our cell, and I hear the steps of many booted feet on the floor. Azaes and a squad of guards appear outside our cell and stop in front of the iron grille of a door. Azaes smirks coldly.

    ¡°Catarsus and I have some questions for you, paladin.¡± He says as a guard unlocks the door. The portal squeals open on rusty hinges. The soldiers swarm in, pushing Eliana and Antony back against the walls. Two of them haul me to my feet and release me from my chains.

    ¡°Daniel!¡± Eliana and Antony cry as I am dragged from the cell. The cell door slams shut behind me and I am marched away, out of sight of my friends.

    I am taken to a fair-sized room deep within the prison, a room filled all manner of instruments of torture. Despite myself, my breath hitches in my chest. I concentrate on staying calm. Panicking won¡¯t help anything. Elhim will never desert me, no matter the trials.

    I must stay steadfast.

    Azaes faces me and we stare each other down. It is he who finally looks away, and Catarsus seethes in anger around the pale tiefling.

    ¡°Daniel,¡± Azaes purrs in the voice of a man who knows he holds great power, ¡°how much pain are you willing to endure for your friends and your God?¡±

    ¡°As much as I need to.¡± I answer him calmly, feeling utter peace cascade over me.

    ¡°Oh, but you need not to.¡± Azaes grasps my jaw with one cold hand. His eerie blue eyes peer into mine as if seeking to leech the light from my soul. ¡°It would be so easy, Daniel, would it not, to deny your God and serve me?¡±

    I laugh. ¡°That is a deal I would never take. I have all the power and wealth I need in this life. Do what you will.¡±

    Catarsus swirls in violent fury, and Azaes¡¯s face contorts in anger.

    ¡°Then suffer!¡± He snarls. He turns to the guards. ¡°Get whatever information you can from him! I want to know his plans, the movements of the High Clans, where the rest of the vor Elhim are, and where his other friend disappeared off to!¡±

    Then he sweeps from the room in cold fury, as two guards grasp whips and move towards me.

    ¡°Answer quickly and truthfully, and you need not suffer. Much.¡± One of the soldiers chuckles sadistically as two other guards hold me fast.

    ¡°Do what you will. You will never get what you want.¡± I reply through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Very well.¡± He says.

    And then the questions and pain begin.

 Fourteenth

    From the shadows I watch as Daniel, Eliana, and Antony are dragged into the black maw of the prison house. The dark iron door clangs shut behind them, and they are lost to sight. No guards stay outside but the ones who patrol around the building. I slip back around the alleyway corner and lean against the wall. Tip my head back and gently thunk it against the stone. Bitter curses spew in quiet fury from between my lips.

    I lift myself off the wall and peek around the corner again. Raeldon still lies in the street, unmoving. I can¡¯t tell if he even still breathes. The flickering light of the flame globes wavers over his still form.

    ¡°Curse it all.¡± I mutter. A raindrop hits my hood, and my ire rises still further.

    ¡°Curse it all.¡±

    Not rain. Not now. Not a miserable, cursed deluge.

    Fal feels my anger and sends me his inquisitiveness. I send back what little reassurance I can, and he bombards me with his frustration. His emotions only fuel mine.

    I step out into the street as the sky lets loose. Keep to the shadows as water cascades down, rain heavy enough to obscure Raeldon¡¯s body and the buildings around me. Water streams off of the bright flame globes and my jerkin. It pours off the brim of my hood, soaks through and drips down my forehead and cheeks. My hair is sodden in moments. I cannot avoid the ankle-deep puddles in my path as I stick to the shadows along the walls and alley entrances. The filthy water splashes up to my knees as my feet come down into the puddles, and I grunt softly as I step into a deeper-than-expected dip in the cobblestones. My ankle twists slightly, sending a stab of pain through the joint. I utter another soft curse.

    But my ankle doesn¡¯t seem seriously injured, and I¡¯ve endured far worse pain before, so I pay it no more heed as I make my way toward Raeldon. I keep a wary eye on the silent, dark prison house as I creep up to the body and crouch. I lower my gaze to the prone tiefling. Place two fingers on his neck, searching for a pulse. If he isn¡¯t dead already, he is very nearly so. His manna is undetectable.

    Blood streams from a gash on Raeldon¡¯s head, between his curly, bronze horns, and from a wide wound in his side. It mingles with the rain and the pooling water in the street, turning it a muddy red. His clothes are soaked and stained with more than just the rain. His eyes are closed, his body limp, his bronze-hued skin abnormally pale.

    ¡°Come on, you fools-cursed tiefling.¡± I mutter, pressing my fingers harder into his neck. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare give up on me now. Live, curse you!¡±

    And¡­ there it is. Beneath my fingers: the faintest, fluttering pulse of his heart circulating his blood through his veins. I sigh.

    Raeldon has never liked me, but I cannot¡ª will not¡ª leave him out here to die. He matters to Daniel, and so he matters to me.

    ¡°Stay with me, Raeldon.¡± I say softly, tearing strips of cloth from his sopping robes and binding up his abdomen and head. Then I shift my form as large as I can in my current clothing, and slip my arms beneath the tiefling. Stand with a gasp and a grunt. This trifling is large, and he is not light.

    How in the world can such a thin, no-beef-all-bones person be so heavy?

    I shift my form to that of a male, grateful for the added strength the other gender provides, little as it may be with my present small size. Stagger back into the shadows with my burden.

    I am no weakling. I have carried bodies, dragged corpses, supported my fair share of dead-weight over the years, but even so, my arms are trembling when I finally stumble up the steps and through the door of our safe house. I drop Raeldon in his bunk and strip him to his waist. The wound on his head hasn¡¯t stopped bleeding, nor has the slash in his side. Both will require healing, and that will require manna I¡¯m not sure I can spare.

    But I¡¯ll try. For Daniel¡¯s sake.

    Cold fury fills me once more at the thought of the paladin¡¯s plight; cold fury and fiery determination. I will get my friends out of that prison one way or another.

    I loathe the false accusations and wanton cruelty that run rampant in this town. If it were up to me, I just might fire the whole place and walk away without a backward glance, no matter the innocents inside this cursed place. Gods know I have so much innocent blood on my hands already. What¡¯s a little more?

    I press down on Raeldon¡¯s side, hard, and watch his blood pool up between my fingers and run over my hands. Reach for my manna, for my mage-craft and the skill I have only recently unlocked. Watch Raeldon¡¯s blood mix with the thick, phantom liquid already coating my skin.

    No. If I set this miserable town ablaze, Daniel would not be happy, to say the least. And¡­

    I can no longer deny my affection for Daniel. These feelings¡­ I no longer want to deny them. I do not understand them. They are unfamiliar. I don¡¯t know what to do with them half the time. Part of the time I want to kiss the man, and the other part of the time I am stuck in despair at my remaining deceptions, at the things I can never reveal to him.

    I hide these emotions from Fal, as much as I can anyway. I know he can feel something of what I¡¯m feeling, but he doesn¡¯t understand it, and most of the time he ignores it, so long as the work he and I are doing goes well.

    If Daniel knew¡ª

    If Daniel knew that Falkirk D¡¯Adrian was my brother, the paladin would no doubt use me against Fal. It¡¯s what Fal would do, if their roles were reversed. And Daniel is so, so powerful, about as powerful as Fal.

    And the paladin has Elhim on his side, too. If Daniel ever decided to fight against Fal directly¡­

    I could very well lose my brother. My last family. The other half of me.

    I must protect my brother from Daniel.

    And I have to protect Daniel from my brother. The knife twists both ways. If Fal ever knew how true of a threat Daniel was, Fal would not hesitate to take him out. He would give a kill order for Daniel. And he would give it to me.

    I know that there is no chance that Daniel will ever love me back, but I now know that I can never harm Daniel. The indecision of last week is past. I am incapable of causing hurt to the man I care for. If Fal gives me a kill order for Daniel¡­ I will refuse him.

    If he gives me a kill order for any of those I now count as friends, I hope I would refuse him.

    I stare down at Raeldon, and push my manna into him, growling an arcane word, exhausted as the rush of energy leaves my body. Silvery-blue light erupts from beneath my hands and begins knitting the tiefling¡¯s wound back together. I watch in astonishment, stupid with exhaustion, as the light from my magic streaks up Raeldon¡¯s veins and erupts out of the gash on his head. The skin and bone there begin to heal as well.

    Suddenly I realize that this healing is draining me of too much manna. I tear my hands away from Raeldon¡¯s skin and stagger backward across the room, gasping. Cut off the flow of manna between us. Panting, I lean against the wall and simply stare at the unconscious tiefling. His wounds are now mostly sealed up, only seeping a little bit of blood. I didn¡¯t heal them all the way, just enough to save his life. He¡¯ll scar, probably badly.

    Oh well.

    I wearily push myself off the wall and stumble to the cabinet on the other side of the room. Open it, shove aside my friends¡¯ knapsacks. Grab the emergency healer¡¯s satchel and riffle through it until I find bandages and a bottle of disinfectant. I make my way back over to Raeldon and uncork the bottle with my teeth.

    ¡°This is gonna hurt.¡± I tell him after spitting the cork onto the bed, knowing he can¡¯t hear me. I grab his wrists and cross them on his chest, then lean on them with one arm, pinning him. With my free hand I pour a generous amount of brown, syrupy liquid onto the bloody slash in his side.

    Raeldon jerks slightly and groans weakly.

    Oh good. He¡¯s waking up.

    The acrid, vinegary stink of the disinfectant stings my nose, and I turn my face away. I reach up and pour some on his head, on the wound between his horns. Raeldon groans louder. I lift myself off his wrists, grab his collar and pull him upright. Proceed to wind the bandages around his wounds. An arduous job, with his deadweight. But I get it done, somehow.

    That done, I step back and study my handiwork. It¡¯s not the best I¡¯ve ever done, but it is sufficient. I retrieve the cork and stuff it back in the neck of the bottle. Toss that back in the satchel where it belongs and walk over to the washbasin. I watch the water splash in the bowl, distracted by exhaustion. Scrub my hands clean of Raeldon¡¯s blood. Well, as clean as they¡¯re going to get, anyway.

    ¡°Who are you?.¡± Raeldon¡¯s gravely voice behind me freezes me in place.

    ¡°What? I¡¯m Avalon.¡± I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. He¡¯s just laying there, his usual unreadable expression on his face.

    I swear, that tiefling has only two expressions: bored-with-the-world, and barely-disguised-subtle-contempt.

    ¡°No¡­ you are not. For one thing, you¡¯re male. You may resemble Avalon, but you are not her.¡± He replies, his tone puzzled. I look down at myself, suddenly realizing I¡¯ve forgotten to change back to my half-elf form. I groan.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m Avalon, I swear.¡± With no other choice, I shift forms back into what he is used to seeing. I relish the look of astonishment that crosses his face as I look back at him.

    ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re a changeling?¡± He whispers incredulously.

    ¡°Surprise, surprise.¡± I reply calmly.

    ¡°Wait, how do I know you¡¯re really Avalon, changeling?¡± His voice is layered with suspicion.

    ¡°I saved Daniel from being painfully murdered in an alley, Antony promised to teach me knots, you and I have never gotten along, I am the assassin known as the Lone Wolf, and I like my coffee spiked.¡± I tick the items off on my fingers. ¡°Are you satisfied, or must I go on?¡±

    He stares at me.

    ¡°No¡­ no. I am satisfied.¡± He says after a long moment. ¡°Just how many more secrets are you hiding?¡±

    I smile grimly. ¡°Too many.¡±

    ¡°How can we ever trust you, Avalon?¡± He says, almost sorrowfully. I give him a tight smile, over my shoulder.

    ¡°Well, you never have, and I suspect you never will. If I had my way, you would never have found out I¡¯m a changeling.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    I scoff. ¡°Why? Just look at how the Northern Kingdom used to treat our kind, and then tell me you don¡¯t know why.¡±

    He¡¯s silent at this. After a couple minutes of me scrubbing furiously at my hands, he speaks.

    ¡°You¡­ saved my life. Thank you. I must confess, I am surprised you did.¡±

    I¡¯m startled into a bark of laugher. ¡°You and me both!¡± I turn around to face him fully, drying my hands on a rag. ¡°But let¡¯s be clear about something, sage. I didn¡¯t do this for you. I did this for Daniel. Because he cares about you. That¡¯s the only reason.¡±

    A faint smile crosses his lips. ¡°Understood. I am glad we are on the same page, Avalon.¡± His smile disappears. ¡°You care for Daniel, do you not.¡±

    I drop my gaze to the rag in my hands. ¡°I¡­ do.¡±

    ¡°You are not worthy of him. You have no chance of a life with him.¡± That blasted tiefling says coldly.

    I lift my gaze to his, and give a bitter, mirthless laugh. ¡°Oh, I know. Don¡¯t you worry your horned head; I have no intentions of pursuing Daniel¡¯s affections. He¡¯s safe from me.¡±

    ¡°Is he really?¡± Raeldon muses quietly. I narrow my eyes at him.

    ¡°Whatever you think of me, Raeldon, whatever I may be, I would rather drive a jagged blade through my own breast than harm Daniel.¡± I shed my sodden jerkin and use the rag to wring out my dripping hair. Toss the rag onto the table and half-stride, half-stumble to my own bed. I flop down onto the lumpy mattress, kicking my boots off. Lay back and close my eyes.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Raeldon asks.

    ¡°Taking a nap.¡± I reply, not opening my eyes.

    ¡°Why? Daniel, Eliana, Antony, they are still back there, in captivity.¡±

    ¡°And what do you expect me to do right now?¡± I shoot back. ¡°I¡¯m exhausted. Don¡¯t worry, I don¡¯t intend on leaving them in those filthy hands for long. Just let me rest.¡±

    ¡°Why did you not go after them immediately?¡±

    ¡°Because I was busy saving your life!¡± Anger enters my tone.

    ¡°You should have left me.¡±

    I sit up and fix him with a fierce glare. ¡°To die? What, and have that hanging over my head? What would Daniel have said? He would have made the same choice I did.¡±

    Raeldon shifts and winces. ¡°He would have done a better job, that¡¯s for certain.¡±

    I growl out a curse and flop back down.

    ¡°How do I know you didn¡¯t help them get captured in the first place?¡± Raeldon breaks the silence once again.

    ¡°Stars¡¯ sake, man! Let me rest!¡± I shout.

    ¡°Answer me.¡± He demands. I look at him.

    ¡°This close.¡± I tell him, measuring with my finger and thumb. ¡°I am this close to regretting not leaving you in that street. I did not purposefully let them get captured. I slipped away when I saw the problem arise, for the sole purpose of not being caught up in it, so that maybe I could do something about it later! I am no good to our friends inside the cell with them! At least with me on the outside, now they have a chance. Now leave me alone. Please.¡±

    This time he stays silent, and the last thing I hear is the rain drumming on the roof.

    I dream of my death again tonight, in all of its violent messy ways. And I dream of Daniel in a stone prison cell. I dream that I am chained to the wall, and am helpless to intervene as the prison guards grab the paladin and proceed to interrogate him. Violently.

    The guards¡¯ whips are used nearly as much as the questions are asked. But no matter the pain inflicted, Daniel does not give in. I know he never will. His cries tear at my soul, and though I scream myself hoarse, I can do nothing.

    I cannot save him.

    The guards finally tire of their sport with him and turn to me. I yank at my chains, desperate to get free, determined to make them pay for what they¡¯ve done to my friend. One of the guards grabs my shoulders and shakes me.

    I wake, violently, abruptly. Faster than thought, a knife is in my hand and at Raeldon¡¯s throat.

    Pure reflex.

    Fal blasts me with worry.

    The tiefling stares down at me, his expression unreadable. His fingers dig into the flesh of my shoulders as he holds perfectly still. A thin line of red marks his throat where I¡¯ve nicked him. I stare up at him, muscles rigid and trembling. He sways slightly.

    ¡°Avalon.¡± He says in a tone like that of which he would use to calm a wild horse. ¡°Put the blade down, Avalon. I am not here to hurt you. Put it down, Avalon.¡±

    Slowly, hand shaking, I lower the knife.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I say softly. I sit up just in time to catch him as his knees buckle.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I say again, mopping the blood from his throat with my sleeve. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be up, Raeldon.¡±

    ¡°What rest am I supposed to get with you screaming your fool head off?¡± He growls up at me with some heat.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I repeat, sending calm waves through the bond to satisfy Fal. ¡°I cannot control the nightmares. I didn¡¯t mean to disturb you.¡±

    ¡°Too late.¡± He mutters as I stand, supporting him. We limp back to his bed, and I now have a new appreciation for the distance he covered in his condition just to wake me.

    I lay the tiefling back in his bed, check his bandages. Some blood has seeped through, but not a lot. He¡¯s in no danger. I¡¯ll change the bandages come morning. As I turn away, Raeldon speaks.

    ¡°What¡ª were you dreaming of?¡±

    I halt, turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. ¡°Terrible things. Always terrible things. But no more than I deserve.¡±

    ¡°You dreamt of Daniel.¡± He states it like a fact. I turn to face him, regard him with a blank face. What¡¯s he getting at?

    ¡°You were screaming for him.¡± He says.

    I take a moment to reply.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I say finally. I turn away and go back to my bed. Raeldon lets me go and says nothing more.

    I lay in bed, but I do not sleep. Instead I stare up at the bunk above me, plotting my friends¡¯ rescue.

    The sunshine is just starting to peek through the windows of our safe house when I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. I am as rested as I am going to get. I stride over to Raeldon and stand there for a moment, staring down at him. Who would have thought that it would come down to me and him? Just the two of us, having to cooperate without Daniel to mediate between us.

    No matter. The tiefling is of no use to me at the moment, and he is not coming with me on this rescue mission. If he insists, I¡¯ll knock him unconscious and tie him to his bed.

    I¡¯m still standing there when he blinks his eyes open and focuses on me.

    ¡°Good morning.¡± I say. His lips twitch and his eyes narrow at me.

    ¡°It is certainly bright.¡± He replies after a moment. I wonder what he¡¯s thinking.

    Whatever. I don¡¯t need to know.

    ¡°I need you to sit up.¡± I tell him, going to the healers¡¯ satchel for the bottle of disinfectant and more bandages.

    ¡°After my activity last night?¡± He grouses. I stride over to him.

    ¡°Sit up.¡±

    Raeldon glares at me, but attempts to comply, gasping and wincing. I sigh and grasp the collar of his robes. Pull him upright and unwind the bandage from his abdomen. He and I look down at the wound in his side. It¡¯s mostly healed, scabbed over now, and no sign of infection.

    Well, no sense in taking chances.

    ¡°This is gonna hurt.¡± I tell him, same as last night. I don¡¯t wait for his reply before pouring disinfectant onto the wound. He sucks in a sharp breath, gritting his teeth, grabs my arm in an iron grip. His fingers dig into my flesh.

    ¡°Easy, Raeldon.¡± I¡¯ll bruise for sure.

    ¡°Apologies.¡± He says, releasing me. I make no comment, only unwind the bandage from his head.

    ¡°Now for your head. Ooo, this is healing nicely.¡±

    He merely grunts in reply. Sucks in another sharp breath, his hands curling into tight fists on the bedclothes, as I disinfect the wound between his horns.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll live.¡± I tell him, wrapping fresh bandages around his hurts.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He says after a minute, as I put away the bottle of disinfectant. I pause for just a second, but then continue in my tasks without answering.

    I throw the basinful of bloody, filthy water from last night out the door into the street. Glance up and down the road unobtrusively. The street is quiet and nearly empty so early in the morning; the few people out and about pay me no mind. I duck back inside and scrub out the basin before filling it with fresh water. I have last night¡¯s soiled bandages clean in very little time. Neither Raeldon nor I speak to each other as I work, and I am more than fine with that.

    But he finally breaks the silence as I am preparing a meal for us both.

    ¡°What are you making?¡± He asks.

    ¡°Soup and schemes.¡± I smile, knowing he can¡¯t see my face.

    ¡°You have a plan, then?¡±

    ¡°Raeldon, I always have some semblance of a plan for whatever situation I happen to find myself in. I¡¯m merely fine-tuning details right now.¡±

    ¡°What is your plan?¡±

    My smile grows cold and tight, more than a little wolfish. ¡°Let¡¯s just say it involves quite a bit of stealth and not a little blood. I am going to use every skill in my arsenal to get our friends back, and anyone who opposes me will find themselves on the other side of the Hells¡¯ Gates.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± He rumbles disapprovingly. I turn to face him, letting him see the anger in my smile and the fire in my eyes.

    ¡°What would you have me do, sage? There is no way I am rescuing them without bloodshed. The wardens and guards are lucky I do not opt to end them all for what they have done. They are not innocent. Why should anyone care if they face the fires of the Three Hells?¡±

    ¡°They are lives, Avalon. It is not for you to decide who lives or dies or for what reason.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you believe that is Elhim¡¯s job.¡± I snort, but without my usual derision. I am¡­ slightly more careful about how I speak of Elhim these days. Not only does the man I care for fervently believe in and worship this Deity, but I have seen the God in action enough to know that He is not someone to be trifled with.

    I still don¡¯t like the gods.

    ¡°I do believe that Elhim¡¯s prerogative, and not a mortal¡¯s.¡± Raeldon replies to me.

    ¡°Mm.¡± I answer noncommittally.

    ¡°Avalon¡­ what do you expect me to do while you are off retrieving our friends? I am in no condition to help you, but I dislike being idle.¡±

    How good of him to imply he wants to be helpful.

    ¡°Stay here.¡± I tell him. ¡°Be ready to leave immediately when I get back. There¡¯s no telling what pursuers we¡¯ll have.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± Is all he says.

    We¡¯re silent as I finish preparing the meal, and silent as we eat. I need to wait until dark to put my plan in motion, so it¡¯s a long wait throughout the afternoon. Raeldon naps, and I alternate between dozing and watching the warm sun trace its path across the floor. My body is still and relaxed as I recline at the table, but my mind is whirling, running through my plans, checking for flaws, taking a mental inventory of the weapons and supplies I need to take with me.

    Finally the sun drops below the horizon, the shadows lengthen, the city enters twilight¡­ I don my jerkin and begin tightening the straps and buckles on my bracers, belt, and baldrics. Sheathe numerous blades in various pockets.

    And then¡­

    It is full dark. I stand and pad softly to Raeldon¡¯s bedside. He¡¯s sleeping soundly, looking kinder in slumber than I have ever seen him. I almost hate to wake him. But I reach out and grasp his shoulder.

    ¡°Raeldon,¡± I call his name softly, giving him a gentle shake. He blinks slowly awake and looks up at me, muddled by sleep.

    ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡± I tell him. He blinks once, slowly, then nods.

    ¡°Very well.¡±

    I turn to go, but he calls my name. I halt and half turn back, curious.

    ¡°Avalon¡­ do be careful, my girl.¡± He says. For a second, I am frozen in astonishment. Only one other time has he called me anything but Avalon.

    But I regain composure, give him a brisk nod. Then I walk out the door and I don¡¯t look back.

    I keep to the shadows and the back alleyways, skirting the light of the flame globes and the patrols of guards. Other than that, the streets are empty, silent, and any other people out and about take pains to keep away from me.

    Good.

    If they tried anything, that¡¯d be one more kill to add to the count.

    It¡¯s almost ridiculously easy to make my way to the same alleyway where I had watched my friends get arrested. I crouch there in the deepest shadows, studying the dark prison. The guards are fresh, alert and chatting with each other. I don¡¯t have time to wait until they get bored and sleepy. I¡¯ll have to employ more overt tactics to take them out.

    There are two guards at the entrance to the prison and five patrolling around the building. I count the seconds, timing their rounds, then make my move.

    I conjure quick mage shields around the flame globes by the street and over the prison door, then abruptly contract them. The globes shatter and the fire inside is snuffed. Glass patters down onto the cobblestones as the street goes suddenly pitch black.

    No matter. I am made for the night. I need no light but what the moon and stars give me.

    While the guards exclaim in alarm and stumble around trying to find some light, I move swiftly forward, my footsteps silent on the stones beneath me. The first the guards know of me is when I appear out of the gloom ten feet away. One of the men by the door lets out an involuntary yelp and draws his sword. I cover the distance in less than a second, a knife in my hand. A hand over the man¡¯s mouth and one quick slash to the throat later, he slumps silently to the ground.

    ¡°Jerik?¡± The other man questions, his voice high-pitched with fear. That¡¯s the last thing he says. He joins his companion on the ground, blood streaming from the gaping wound in his neck.

    Now for the five guards patrolling.

    Drawn by the shattered glass, lack of light, and the final word of one of their comrades, the remaining five guards congregate around the prison door. I am hidden in the shadows just a few feet away, and I don¡¯t hardly dare to breathe, they are so close.

    It¡¯s a very simple matter to conjure sudden mage shields around their heads and contract the shimmering bubbles. The poor men don¡¯t even have time to cry out before their skulls burst and shatter. I am splattered with blood and gore. Disgusted, I wipe at the mess and flick it off me.

    I¡¯m even more disgusted as I realize I have to pick through that mess, search the men¡¯s bodies for the prison keys. My lip curls as I divest one of the smaller guards of his armor. I find the keys on the belt of one of the other men, and, rather than finagling with the buckle, I just slice through the thick leather with my mage blade. I slide the bloody keys on their ring off the belt, suppressing a grimace at the blood on my hands.

    ¡°Gross, gross, gross.¡± I mutter as I slide the guard¡¯s breastplate, bracers, and greaves onto my own torso and limbs, over my jerkin. I alter my visage to that of the youngest, smallest guard, take his helm and jam it onto my own head. The metal helm is still intact, thank the stars. It had belonged to one of the men whose throats I slit. Now for the door.

    I tuck my mage blade between my arm and ribs as I try key after key in the lock. Finally¡ª four keys later¡ª the lock clicks the iron door swings open as I push it.

    The antechamber is certainly more brightly lit than the street outside. Lanterns cast flickering light through the room, and I stand there for a moment, letting my eyes adjust.

    Four guards who had been gambling with dice stare at me. I see a registration desk against one wall of the room to my right, a door to my left, and an oak-and-iron door straight ahead of me. That¡¯s the door I need.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    But those drat-blasted guards are between me and it.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand there, Jerik. Come in, man! What¡¯s happened?¡± One guards says. He¡¯s an older fellow, a half-dwarf with a captain¡¯s insignia on his breastplate. He stands barely taller than me.

    I step inside the room. ¡°The lights outside just went, um, out.¡± I say hesitantly, as if in shock, my voice deep. They relax slightly, falling for my ruse, but remain alert, stepping toward me, disconcerted by how covered with blood I am.

    ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡± The captain says again. ¡°Speak, Jerik!¡±

    Then one of them notices my mage blade.

    About time. It wasn¡¯t exactly hiding.

    ¡°Wait¡ª¡° He starts, beginning to draw his sword, but he doesn¡¯t get much further than that. Three thrown knives and a flick of my mage blade later, blood is pooling in the dice tray, three bodies litter the floor and one the table, and the captain¡¯s head lolls against the flagstones.

    I step over them, around the table, unlock the oaken door and yank it open. Ahead of me stretches a long, dark hall built of grey stone that absorbs what little light there is. At regular intervals the walls on either side are pierced by iron grill doors. Infrequent torches sputter in sparse brackets on the walls. Another hallway intersects this one, running perpendicular. Men¡¯s voices echo in jovial tones from a barracks somewhere deep in the prison. Or maybe a mess hall?

    This place is bigger than I realized. I hesitate, then stride silently down the dim corridor, peeking in every cell I go past. None of them hold my friends. I reach the intersection and pause. Left, right, or straight ahead?

    I turn on my heel and stalk back to the antechamber. Stride to the registration desk and open the massive tome that sits upon it. I turn to the most recent entries, and there I find them. My friends¡¯ names.

    Antony, Eliana.

    Daniel.

    They¡¯re in cell 72.

    Curse it all.

    I stride back down the hall and turn left at the intersection. The cell numbers are engraved on the rusty doors. This hallway starts with cell 30. This isn¡¯t the right corridor. I turn back around and take the original straight path.

    These cells are 90 and over. Growling under my breath, and feeling the crush of time running out, I spin on my heel and stride down the remaining hallway.

    Oh, good. This corridor begins with cell number 60. This is the hallway I need.

    I have taken no more than a few steps forward when a guard appears out of the gloom ahead of me. He comes close, stops and stares at me.

    ¡°Jerik?¡± He asks, sounding confused.

    ¡°Jerik¡¯s dead.¡± I say in Jerik¡¯s voice, then abruptly cup the guard¡¯s head in my palm and slam it hard against the wall. His eyes roll up in his head, and he slumps to the floor. I stare at him for a moment, wondering where my usual ruthlessness is. I should complete the kill, but¡­

    I won¡¯t. Not this time, at least. He¡¯s defenseless.

    Instead, I take precious minutes to drag him into a cell and lock the door. Then I continue my hunt for my friends.

    Cell 65¡­ 67¡­ 69¡­ 71¡­ 72! I hurry to the bars and peek through. My breath hitches in my throat. My friends¡­ do not look as if this has been the best day of their lives. Luckily, I¡¯m about to make it better.

    All three of them are shackled by their wrists and ankles to long chains attached to the walls. All three of them have subtly-glowing iron collars around their necks. All three of them are bruised and scraped up. Eliana and Antony don¡¯t look too badly; Antony is sitting against the wall with his knees drawn up and his head in his hands. Eliana is cross-legged on the floor, and Daniel is¡ª

    Daniel is¡ª

    Not well.

    His head is in Eliana¡¯s lap as he lays belly-down on the filthy stone floor. He¡¯s shirtless, and his back¡­ is a tattered mess of blood and shredded skin and muscle. He shivers and trembles as he lays there, his breathing ragged.

    His pain tears at my heart and stokes within me an ire so fierce all I want is to exact my slow, painful revenge on those who have dared to hurt him.

    Fal¡¯s inquisitiveness pulses through our bond, but I ignore him.

    Antony and Eliana glare up at me as I pick frantically through the keys, finally finding the correct one, and unlock the cell. I wreck the door open and step inside. In a flash, Antony is on his feet, his chains looped in his hands.

    Oops. I should have changed my form back to that of the half-elf damsel.

    ¡°Wait¡ª¡° I start, but my eyes widen as I realize it¡¯s too late. Antony moves with a speed and anger I am unprepared for. In an instant his excess chain is looped twice around my throat, my mage blade is wrested away from me, and I am slammed painfully up against the cell wall. Antony holds my own sword against my throat with one hand; his other grasps the trailing end of the chain around my neck, drawing it tighter.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I gasp, digging my fingers between the tendons of his hand, the hand tightening the chain. He seems not to notice the pain. I feel my air slowly being cut off.

    So, this is what it feels like. Panic rises¡ª my own, and Fal¡¯s.

    ¡°Thou hast made a grave mistake, filth.¡± Antony hisses into my face, his lips curled in a mocking, vengeful smile, his coldly furious eyes locked on mine.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I cry, my voice rasping as I run out of air. ¡°Antony, it¡¯s me, Ava! Please, Antony!¡± I shift my form back, and the transformation startles him enough for the chain around my throat to loosen. I drag in a breath as his eyes widen and he takes a step back.

    Then his eyes narrow, and he shoves me harder against the wall. Tightens the chain even farther and presses my blade into my flesh hard enough to draw blood.

    ¡°Changeling.¡± Antony hisses. I whimper in pain as bright spots dance in my vision. Fal¡¯s worry grows even more acute, and he gathers his manna.

    No. My lips silently form the word. No. This can¡¯t be how this ends.

    ¡°Please, Antony, it¡¯s really me. It¡¯s Ava.¡± I claw ineffectively at his hands. It¡¯s new, being at the mercy of another. My brother killed the last person who treated me similarly. He¡¯s preparing now to teleport to me, and when he arrives he will show no mercy. I cannot let that happen.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe thee.¡± Antony tells me, his breath hot against my cheek.

    ¡°Antony.¡± Eliana raises her voice firmly. The elf pauses and looks back at her. Then he looks down at Daniel. The paladin is conscious; he¡¯s turned slightly on his side to look at us. Antony¡¯s gaze softens as he stares at his friend.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ her.¡± Daniel gasps quietly in pain. ¡°Look at her blade.¡± Antony whips back around and gazes, wide-eyed, at the mage blade in his hand.

    ¡°Oh, stars.¡± He gasps, suddenly releasing me. ¡°Oh, stars.¡± He unwinds his chain from my throat and drops my blade on the ground. I drag in a ragged breath, relief cascading through me as I send overwhelming reassurance at my brother. His manna ebbs.

    Good. He¡¯s staying put.

    My vision clears and my knees buckle. Antony catches me as I collapse forward.

    ¡°Oh, stars.¡± He repeats. ¡°Ava, please forgive me. Ava, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I tell him, rubbing my throat. The shallow cut stings and the bruises are tender. ¡°My fault.¡±

    ¡°So.¡± Daniel says quietly. ¡°You¡¯re a changeling.¡±

    I give him a weak smile, but his gaze remains stern. Antony sets me on my feet, stepping away, and I sag against the wall. His initial worry fading, now the elf and Eliana give me looks of suspicion.

    ¡°Any more secrets, Ava?¡± Daniel asks. ¡°And please, don¡¯t lie to me this time.¡±

    His words are like a kick to the gut. I drop my gaze.

    ¡°So, so many secrets.¡± I say quietly, forcing the words out. Then I lift my gaze to his, stubbornness in every line of my body. ¡°But this is the last revelation I¡¯m giving you right now. My secrets are dangerous, Daniel, and they are mine to keep as I see fit.¡±

    His lips twitch in a pain-filled smile. ¡°At last, an honest answer.¡±

    I sigh, knowing I deserve every one of his reprimands.

    ¡°Why hasn¡¯t Elhim intervened for you?¡± I ask, changing the subject. Daniel¡¯s smile grows.

    ¡°He has. He sent you.¡± He replies. I scoff.

    ¡°But why not earlier? Why didn¡¯t He spare you this pain? Stars, why didn¡¯t He prevent you from getting captured in the first place?¡±

    Daniel¡¯s brow furrows. ¡°Elhim¡¯s ways are not our ways, Ava. Sometimes He puts us through trials to teach us.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t see what you have to learn.¡± I mutter dropping to my knees beside him. The shredded skin and muscle on his back is an angry shade of red. ¡°Stars, they didn¡¯t even see fit to disinfect the wounds.¡± A few other choice expletives drop from my lips as well, all directed at Daniel¡¯s tormentors. I toss the prison keys to Antony and he sets to freeing himself, Eliana, and Daniel.

    ¡°Hang on, Daniel.¡± I say, laying my hand on the iron collar around his neck. The abominable thing is a mage collar, and it prevents the use of mage craft. Nobody but another mage who knows how these blood-cursed things work can unlock them.

    Luckily, I know how they work. It was part of my training back when Fal and I ran with the assassins. Unfortunately, this also means that there is a mage somewhere in this building that I am probably going to have to deal with. Most likely that blood-cursed, gods-powerful, pale-skinned tiefling.

    I mutter a few arcane words, activating my mage-craft and shaping my manna. My hand flares silvery-blue, and so does the collar. Then it clicks open. I gently remove it from around Daniel¡¯s neck.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He whispers. I smile.

    ¡°My pleasure.¡± I reach up and do the same for Eliana. She gives me a swift, grateful smile.

    ¡°Antony, get down here.¡± I tell the elf. With a sigh, he crouches next to me and I remove his collar as well.

    ¡°I thank thee.¡± He says, standing straight. He retrieves my mage blade from the ground, and swings it through the air a couple of times.

    ¡°Dost thou mind if I borrow this?¡± He asks.

    ¡°No,¡± I reply, turning my attention back to Daniel. I really don¡¯t have enough manna right now to heal him. And if his God won¡¯t help¡­ ¡°I have other weapons I can use.¡± I tell Antony. ¡°But I want that back when we¡¯re out of here.¡±

    He grunts in acknowledgement.

    ¡°Here.¡± I undo buckles and straps and shrug out of my borrowed armor. ¡°Take this too. You need something until we get your gear back.¡±

    Antony takes the armor and buckles it on. It¡¯s slightly small for him, but not by much, and he makes no complaint.

    ¡°Daniel,¡± I turn my attention back to the paladin and lay my hand on his bare arm. ¡°I can stem your bleeding, and even knit some of the flesh back together, but I¡¯ve already been expending manna tonight, and this will weaken me more than I¡¯d like. What do you want me to do?¡±

    ¡°Just help me stand.¡± He says. Eliana¡¯s face tightens, but she helps me lift Daniel to his feet. We drape his arms over our shoulders, and he sags between us, gasping. He¡¯s pale, sweating, and shivering. His blood soaks through my sleeve, is slick and wet and warm against the skin of my arm and hand. My other hand grasps the wrist of the arm laying over my shoulders.

    ¡°You alright?¡± I ask him with concern. He looks at me, something akin to amusement in his sea-blue gaze, and I¡¯m suddenly aware just how close together our faces are. He smiles, something I can¡¯t read in the depths of his blue, blue eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m alright.¡± He says quietly.

    Liar.

    But I make no reply to him, just nod to Antony. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Together, the elf as our vanguard, we exit the cell and begin to make our slow way back to the prison entrance.

    Twenty slow steps later, Antony stops in the middle of the passageway.

    ¡°What now?¡± I grumble, peering around him. ¡°Oh, great.¡±

    Blocking our path is a small unit of guards, headed by a pale tiefling who is holding a purple-ish blue mage blade. The tiefling.

    Azaes.

    Well, there¡¯s the mage. The shadow tendrils of his god swirl around him.

    I narrow my eyes at him, my anger seething just beneath the surface.

    ¡°Let us pass, and thou shall be left unharmed.¡± Antony says. Small chance of that, elf. Mercy is weakness.

    The pale tiefling sneers. ¡°Surrender now, and maybe we¡¯ll let you live, elf.¡±

    ¡°Never.¡± I say. Azeas¡¯s eyes flick to me, and he smiles coldly.

    ¡°Ah, there¡¯s the one we missed. Where¡¯s your tiefling friend, girl?¡±

    I chuckle low in my throat. ¡°Like I¡¯d ever tell you.¡±

    The pale tiefling cocks his head. ¡°Oh, we¡¯d get you to talk eventually. Poor Amyry will be avenged. I¡¯ll succeed in killing all of you sooner or later. I wonder¡­ how much more pain can your paladin friend suffer before he breaks?¡±

    I am startled into looking at Daniel. He gazes back at me, calm gravitas in his eyes. I know he can see my anguish at his pain¡­ and even my caring for him. He offers me a small smile. I turn back to the pale tiefling, anger spilling over.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you if you touch him again!¡± I snarl. ¡°In fact, I¡¯ll kill you whether you let us pass or not, for what you did to him!¡±

    ¡°Ava¡­¡± Daniel speaks quietly, but his voice holds a tone of warning. I ignore him. Azaes smiles coldly at my threats.

    ¡°Oh, you could try.¡± He counters. I shrug out from under Daniel, leaving only Eliana to support his weight; she leans them both against the wall. I step forward, shoving Antony aside. He grabs for my arm, but I shrug him off.

    ¡°Ava!¡± He says. I ignore him as well.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, then.¡± I challenge the pale tiefling. ¡°Right here and now. Just you and me. Leave my friends out of this fight. If you win,¡± I snort in mirthless amusement, ¡°well, then, we never really had a chance, did we? But if I win, then every one of your men here had better run, or I will kill them as well.¡±

    The soldiers behind him blanch, but the tiefling¡¯s smile only grows wider. ¡°Very well.¡± The darkness around him pulses.

    ¡°No.¡± Daniel says, and I turn to look at him in surprise as he pushes himself off the wall and Eliana, and stands on his own two feet. He limps forward, brushing past both me and Antony.

    ¡°Daniel¡­¡± Eliana, Antony, and I all say in unison. He merely casts us a withering glance, then turns his attention to Azaes, who watches him warily.

    ¡°You will fight me.¡± Daniel declares.

    Eliana gasps, covering her mouth with her hands.

    ¡°No!¡± I cry, reaching for the paladin.

    ¡°Daniel, this is madness!¡± Antony shouts.

    That fools-cursed paladin ignores us all. The pale tiefling¡¯s lips curl in a cruel grin.

    ¡°Then let us begin.¡± He says, taking a step forward, lifting his sword. Eliana, Antony, and I all reach for our friend¡ª

    ¡ªonly for a shimmering, transparent mage shield to slam down in front of us, blocking all access to Daniel and his opponents.

    ¡°Daniel!¡± I scream, pounding against the shield. It doesn¡¯t give.

    ¡°Daniel!¡± Antony and Eliana cry, beating against the shield alongside me. Pressure builds inside my skull as a very powerful divine presence swirls around us. I begin to see this Presence: in flame-hued flashes of light darting around Daniel. Elhim is here. The shadow pulsing around Azaes shrinks back.

    ¡°Daniel!¡± I scream again, but to no avail. My hands become sore from beating against the mage shield. Where in the world is the manna needed to feed this thing coming from? Is this Daniel¡¯s work? He¡¯ll be dead from manna-loss in another minute if he keeps this shield up.

    But I see him standing tall on the other side of the shield, showing no sign of wavering. He doesn¡¯t even sway as he faces the pale tiefling.

    Is the shield the work of Elhim, then?

    I am left no more time to wonder, as Azaes¡¯s blue eyes go completely black and he raises his sword high; with a savage grin, he brings it down at Daniel¡¯s unprotected neck and chest. The dark god¡¯s shadow tendrils stab forward. The paladin makes no move to avoid neither shadow nor blade.

    I cannot even scream. I am frozen, helpless. Dimly, I hear Fal nudging me through our bond, wondering what¡¯s going on. I cannot answer him.

    I can only watch as, just before the tiefling¡¯s blade and the dark tendrils make contact with Daniel¡¯s skin, the flashes of light darting around Daniel suddenly erupt in conflagration. The whole hall on the other side of the mage shield becomes an abrupt inferno within which nothing is visible. The flash is blindingly bright, and I turn away, covering my head and shielding my eyes with my arms. Dimly I hear a high-pitched, otherworldly shriek of excruciating pain. I can feel the heat of the fire even through the mage shield. If it hadn¡¯t been there, we would all have been burnt to a crisp. Nothing could have survived in that fire. And Daniel¡­

    Daniel was in that fire.

    My breath hitches, and my eyes burn with tears. I lift my head and face the searing light of the Divine fire. I watch it swirl and undulate ravenously against the stone and the mage shield.

    Fal abruptly gathers his manna and teleports to somewhere close by. He¡¯s not in the prison, but he is close enough to talk to me.

    >Blackbird? What''s going on?< His voice enters my mind, full of concern and fear for me.

    I am silent.

    >Blackbird? Ava, what''s going on?<

    I do not reply; my eyes are caught by a sight the likes of which I¡¯ve never seen, the power of a God who intercedes for His followers.

    >Avalon D''Adrian, answer me!< Fal¡¯s voice cuts through my mind like a whip.

    >Leave off, Fal.< I tell him at last. >Do not interfere with this.<

    He falls silent, and I watch as the Divine fire ebbs and recedes. And there¡ª standing untouched right where I had last seen him¡ª is¡ª

    Daniel.

    And not only that, but he is healed and whole, the skin on his back mended with no sign of nary a scar. Free of the blood that stained him. His manna restored.

    I gape at him, dumbfounded. The faint stench of charred flesh reaches my nostrils.

    The paladin holds no weapon, wears no armor, and yet¡ª and yet, the remains of the pale tiefling and his men lie blackened on the floor, just piles of ash on the uncaring, scorched stones. There is no sign of the dark god.

    The pressure of Elhim¡¯s presence fades from my skull as the God fades from our ken. The mage-shield vanishes suddenly, and I dash to the paladin. Throw my arms around Daniel¡¯s neck, a few tears escaping down my cheeks.

    ¡°I thought you were dead!¡± I cry at him. He chuckles as his bare arms come around me in a firm embrace.

    ¡°I told you,¡± he says, ¡°Elhim¡¯s ways are not our ways.¡±

    I make no reply. Just get squished between him and the rest of our friends as they too embrace the paladin, unheeding of me in the middle. I do not mind the contact.

    ¡°Thank Elhim!¡± Antony crows in relief and triumph, more emotional than I¡¯ve ever seen him.

    Eliana nudges one of the corpses with her toe. ¡°Thank Elhim.¡± She echoes.

    ¡°We should keep moving.¡± Daniel says, extracting himself from us. ¡°We are not home-free yet.¡± He swiftly conjures a long mage blade of crackling orange; the shimmering weapon seems to drip ghostly liquid flames from the blade. From his off-hand, extends his customary mage-whip. The light of his weapons glints off his bare chest, and I turn my eyes away, my cheeks growing warm. The paladin takes the lead, and we set off once more down the hallway.

    ¡°Help us!¡± Comes a weak cry from one of the cells, and a pale, thin hand stretches from the bars toward us. Daniel halts beside the cell. His expression becomes sorrowed as he gazes at the occupant.

    ¡°I must leave for now, to wage war, but I swear I will return.¡± He promises, and moves on.

    As I pass the cell, I peek inside. An underfed female drow of about thirteen winters gazes back at me, her eyes haunted. Her thin face is marked by blood and bruises. My ire against the prison guards grows.

    ¡°Daniel!¡± I call, and he stops walking to look back at me. I snatch the keys from Antony and begin unlocking the cell. ¡°We¡¯re taking her with us.¡± I say grimly. The paladin¡¯s face softens, and he nods, walking back to me. I wrench open the cell door and we two step inside.

    Daniel smiles as he crouches beside the girl, setting aside his mage blade and extinguishing his whip. ¡°I guess I¡¯m keeping my promise now.¡± He tells her as I crouch beside him. The drowling shies away from us as much as her chains will allow, curling up slightly to protect herself. Daniel makes no move toward her, instead turning to me.

    ¡°Are you sure you want to bring her with us now?¡± He asks me gravely. ¡°There is bound to be much battle and blood ahead of us tonight.¡±

    I look at the child. She stares back, fear lurking in the depths of her violet eyes.

    ¡°Do you want to come with us now?¡± I ask her softly. ¡°What Daniel says is true. Much as I hate to say it, we cannot guarantee your safety outside of this cell. But if you come with us, you would be free, completely. No one of us will hurt you. We¡¯ll do all we can to protect you, I swear it. Or, you can wait here until we¡¯ve taken down all foes out there, and we¡¯ll come back for you when we¡¯re done.¡±

    Her eyes flick from me to Daniel, and back. She uncurls and shifts toward me, chains clinking softly.

    ¡°There is no safety for me inside this cell.¡± She says, sounding so young. ¡°I don¡¯t care about battle. I care about freedom. I want to come with you now.¡± Tears pool in her eyes. Without another word, I reach forward and unlock her chains, as well as invoking my mage-craft to relieve her of her mage-collar. I stand and offer my hand to her. She takes it and stands, but she¡¯s so weak. I catch her as her knees buckle.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry.¡± She sobs as Daniel swings her up in his arms, cradling her like an infant.

    ¡°It¡¯s no matter.¡± He says lightly. I precede him out of the cell, his long mage blade in my hand.

    ¡°Antony,¡± Daniel calls the elf over. ¡°I need my arms free. There is work yet to be done tonight.¡± To the child, he says gently, ¡°You¡¯ll be safe with Antony, lass.¡±

    Antony hands me my mage blade.

    The drowling nods fearfully as Daniel hands her over into the elf¡¯s strong arms. Then the paladin strides past me, taking his mage blade back as I offer it. His crackling, orange whip extends from his hand again.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± He says I fall into step beside him.

    ¡°What art thee called?¡± Behind me I hear Antony ask the child.

    ¡°Auvanna.¡± The drowling replies in a small voice. ¡°Please, sir, there are other prisoners here, many of them a lot worse off than me.¡±

    ¡°We will do all we can for them, Auvanna.¡± Antony replies, more animated and reassuring than I¡¯ve ever heard him. ¡°But we cannot help them just yet. We have a battle to fight first. We will come back for thine fellow prisoners, I promise.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Auvanna replies. Antony chuckles.

    ¡°Do not call me ¡®sir¡¯, little one. I am merely Antony vor Elhim.¡±

    ¡°Yes, s¡ª Yes, Antony.¡± The drow child answers. My lips twitch in a smile as I listen to them.

    We gain the antechamber without any other incident. Just before we go in, I stop my companions.

    ¡°There are corpses in this room. It¡¯s somewhat¡­ messy.¡± I tell them with a glance at Auvanna. Eliana¡¯s face tightens, and Antony nods in understanding, shifting the child so she cannot see the room at all. He speaks to her in low tones, but I don¡¯t pay attention to them, instead looking to Daniel. He merely gazes at me, his eyes unreadable, and gives me a nod. Then he turns to the door and disappears inside the antechamber. Antony addresses me,

    ¡°Ava, thee would not happen to have a sedative with thee, would thee? One strong enough to render the recipient unconscious for a couple of hours?¡±

    ¡°I do happen to have such a thing. Why do you want it?¡± I ask him, slightly wary.

    ¡°Auvanna should not have to see blood, death, and battle. She needs rest anyway, and she has agreed to take the sedative.¡± He replies. I walk around him and look Auvanna in the eyes.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I ask her. She nods solemnly, her eyes wide. I sigh, and reach into my pocket of holding.

    ¡°I¡¯m loath to use this on one so young, but¡­ here you are.¡± I withdraw a small vial and a clean rag from my pocket, and drip a few drops of the liquid from the vial onto the rag. ¡°Just relax. This will be painless.¡± I tell the drowling.

    Her eyes widen still further, but she makes no protest as I step forward and press the rag firmly over her mouth and nose.

    ¡°Breathe.¡± I say. She does, and her eyes flutter closed as her body goes completely limp. I count out three more seconds just to make sure she¡¯s truly and deeply unconscious, before removing the rag. I meet Antony¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°She¡¯ll be out for about four hours.¡± I tell him. He nods in acknowledgment.

    ¡°Ready to go?¡± Daniel says, peering at us around the doorframe. We all nod, and he beckons us into the antechamber.

    Eliana sucks in a breath and goes pale at the sight of the bodies. Daniel, not missing a beat, strides to the other door in the room, the one that doesn¡¯t lead outside. Eliana follows him quickly. I stuff the tainted rag and vial back into my pocket and walk to the iron exit door. Lock it from the inside. Now if anyone wants in, they¡¯ll encounter resistance, and we¡¯ll be forewarned.

    ¡°Go find your gear, Antony.¡± I say, turning back around. ¡°Give me Auvanna.¡± I hold out my arms for the girl. He hands me the unconscious child, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise at how light and thin she actually is. She weighs hardly more than a newborn colt. I slide onto the edge of the table, and sit there, waiting for my friends. I count each rise and fall of Auvanna¡¯s chest as she breathes. Somehow, the counting calms me. Or maybe it¡¯s Auvanna¡¯s slow, even breathing.

    Or maybe it¡¯s the act of helping another soul instead of ending them.

    Either way, my faster-than-normal heartbeat begins to slow, and the trauma of the night begins to fade as I calm enough to filter it to the back of my mind. My emotions settle. I still feel Fal close by, and I perceive that he¡¯s impatient, unsettled, and concerned.

    >Ava, Blackbird, I need to speak with you.< His voice echoes suddenly in my mind.

    >Later.< I reply.

    >No, now.< He says.

    >I''ll come find you and talk to you later.< I tell him firmly. He subsides, but I can still hear him grumbling in the background. I gently close my mind off to him, knowing he can feel my subtle amusement.

    Daniel, Antony, and Eliana emerge from the prison storeroom, each garbed back in their own armor, and with their weapons at hand. Daniel¡¯s fiery mage blade is gone, replaced by his normal, steel longsword, and he''s found a new shirt somewhere. It¡¯s a soft blue, and it looks good against his sandy hair. He looks at me and smiles, and something in his gaze softens.

    I return his smile, feeling a subtle urge to kiss him. I abruptly shove that to the back of my mind.

    ¡°Ready?¡± I ask, handing Auvanna back to Antony as he reaches for her.

    ¡°Yes, le¡ª.¡± Daniel¡¯s answer is interrupted by a sudden, violent banging on the prison door.

    ¡°Aster! Open up! Now!¡± A gruff voice from outside shouts.

    Oh, curses. We¡¯ve taken too long. They¡¯ve found the bodies I left.

    ¡°Aster!¡±

    Metal shrieks on metal as someone¡¯s steel-gauntleted fist slips on the iron door. A guard patrol, then. Probably at least ten strong.

    ¡°Aster is dead!¡± Daniel shouts back. ¡°All you out there, lay down your weapons, kneel and place your hands behind your head, and we will deal kindly with you!¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Comes a bark of muffled laughter from the other side of the door. ¡°No! How about this: you do as you have told us to do,ere we break down the door, and maybe we won¡¯t kill you all!¡±

    The door shudders as something heavy smashes into it from the other side.

    ¡°Daniel?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Daniel, what do we do?¡± Eliana queries, pale but resolute.

    ¡°We fight.¡± He says grimly.

    ¡°This battle will attract a lot of attention. There are armed patrols all over the city. They will be on us in moments, and we will be left battling over a hundred men.¡± I tell the paladin grimly. He nods, but doesn¡¯t back down at all. He never does, and I love him for it.

    ¡°Let them come.¡± He says. ¡°We are given a task this night, and Elhim will see it finished, whatever the end.¡±

    Comforting.

    Daniel gestures to the door. ¡°Ava, would you kindly unlock it so our friends out there have an easier time coming in?¡±

    I obey, stepping to the door as it shudders under another assault. Quickly unlock it, then leap back.

    Whatever battering ram they¡¯re using slams into the door once more, and it crashes open. The four men wielding the battering ram¡ª which is someone¡¯s stone garden bench, by the way¡ª stagger into the room as their momentum carries them forward. Daniel and I meet them head-on, scarcely allowing them time to drop the bench and draw their swords before we are upon them. Eliana doesn¡¯t have time to use her bow; I am my usual ruthless self, and even Daniel shows no mercy this time. The four men are dead within seconds. Their comrades attempt to stream through the door behind them. But the door acts as a fatal funnel as Daniel and I hold it against them. Our swords flash in unison, and I cannot help but think that we work incredibly well together. Almost as well as Fal and I do.

    I shake those thoughts away, unwilling to entertain them at the moment.

    ¡°Archers¡­ FIRE!!¡± I hear someone outside shout, and the wall of soldiers in front of us parts. My eyes widen and I have barely enough time to fling up a mage shield in front of Daniel and I before a swarm of arrows crashes into it. Most of the shafts shatter, and all clatter to the cobblestones. Through the shimmering mage shield I see more and more soldiers rushing to join the battle from various parts of the city. My heart sinks. I cannot see any way we make out of this one alive.

    ¡°Drop the shield, Ava!¡± Daniel says beside me. I do, feeling my manna draining until I cease feeding the shield. Daniel leaps out into the midst of the soldiers, and I follow him. Eliana moves to take our place in the door, and after a minute, Antony brushes past her to join us, his long knives in his hands.

    Pressure builds inside my skull again, and I recognize the now-familiar Presence of Elhim. The air seems to thicken around us, but, strangely enough, it doesn¡¯t seem to effect Daniel, Antony, or I. If anything, the two men seem to move even faster as they cut down their opponents. Eliana¡¯s arrows seem to find their marks with uncanny accuracy. I don¡¯t notice much of a difference in myself, but my manna seems to cease tanking so hard when I raise another shield around us as a second volley of crossbow darts arcs toward us.

    The battle rages on, and time seems to cease to exist; it is just the clash of sword on sword, the whistle of arrows, and the screams of dying men. There seems to be no end to the soldiers surrounding us, and none of us¡ª except for Daniel, it seems¡ª avoids taking wounds. Eliana has moved out into the midst of the fray, has run out of arrows and discarded her bow in favor of her sword. She and Antony fight back-to-back, moving in tandem. The part of my brain that is detached from the battle wonders if there is something between them that I have missed.

    Daniel¡¯s steel longsword and bright, flame-hued mage-whip flash and crack with all the speed of deity-enhanced instruments of death, they are quick and dreadful as the Unholy Terrors, the Heralds of the Hells. With every sweep of the paladin¡¯s blade, another man dies. With every snap of his whip, another soldier is yanked flat onto his back, and then Daniel renders him unconscious with seemingly infinite manna.

    At some point during the battle, I find myself pressed up against Daniel¡¯s back, fighting off enemies behind him. There is a brief lull in the conflict around us, and he turns to me, grim-faced and fire in his eyes. I sag, exhausted. My manna reserves are nearly depleted, and I am bleeding from dozens of superficial wounds. The pressure of Elhim¡¯s presence makes my head feel compressed, which isn¡¯t helping me at all. Daniel¡¯s face softens as he looks at me, and he lays a hand on my shoulder.

    Strength and new life fill me as he pushes manna into my weary body. My wounds heal, and the ache in my skull eases slightly. My reserves fill back up, chock-full.

    ¡°Better?¡± He asks, smiling slightly. I give a tired laugh.

    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡± I gesture to the air around us. ¡°How do you stand it, Daniel?¡±

    He gives me a puzzled look. ¡°Stand what?¡±

    He really doesn¡¯t feel it? ¡°Elhim¡¯s presence. The pressure of the Divine. It¡¯s like it¡¯s compressing my skull.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± His confusion disappears, and the look he gives me is almost pitying. ¡°I don¡¯t feel it, actually. I mean, I know He¡¯s here, but His Presence doesn¡¯t affect me, or any of His followers, like it does those who don¡¯t believe.¡±

    I blow out a breath through pursed lips, puffing loose strands of my hair off my face. ¡°I see.¡±

    I can¡¯t help but feel some irritation, and perhaps a flash of fear, at this revelation.

    ¡°How am I supposed to fight through this?¡± I ask the paladin. He smiles wider.

    ¡°You could believe¡­.¡±

    I scoff. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple, Daniel.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but it is.¡± He remarks, just before snapping his whip up and over my head. Its tip catches a soldier in the eyes, and the man screams and falls back, his hands over his face. Behind the soldier are his comrades, angry, armed, and still fresh.

    And just like that, we are back in the thick of it, fighting for our lives.

    The clamor of battle awakens the city, drawing inhabitants from their homes. Some flee, some bar their doors, and some gird themselves with various weapons and join the battle. To my immense relief, they fight for us, not against us. The noise swells, corpses litter the stones beneath us, rendering footing unstable.

    Through the twin-bond, I feel Fal fighting as well, battle-joy fizzing through his veins as he wets his sword and drains manna from soldiers. He¡¯s out of my sight, a few streets over. I cannot help but feel some relief that he is fighting for us. I pity my brother¡¯s enemies.

    I take a blade to the arm, and Daniel heals me almost as quickly as the wound was administered. I give him a nod of thanks, and throw myself back into the thick of the fray.

    And then I hear Antony¡¯s anguished cry, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Eliana crumple around a sword through her gut. The sight is like a kick to my chest. My breath stills, and a harsh ache contracts around my heart. I gasp for air.

    Daniel¡¯s whip flashes out, growing in length and breadth. It sweeps away the soldiers around Antony and Eliana, clearing a wide space around them. Daniel reaches out a hand and a beam of bright, crackling, orange energy shoots from his palm and strikes Eliana. The sword slips from that terrible wound, it heals over, and her armor mends. With a shout, she scrambles back to her feet and rejoins the battle. Antony presses close to her and fights like he¡¯s possessed.

    Yep, there is definitely something between those two. Despite our dire circumstances, I grin.

    The battle stretches on longer, and yet none of us flag. When we are wounded, Daniel uses Elhim¡¯s power to heal us. When we fall, Daniel revives us back to full health before we die. Elhim fills our manna reserves before they even begin to drain. I find myself able to supplement my mage blade with a mage-shield, one that I can keep up indefinitely at the moment. The added protection is invaluable.

    And then it happens, almost subconsciously, a ripple of dismay through the enemy soldiers. They falter, and then¡ª weapons start clanging onto the cobblestones. The soldiers¡ª of which there are now only about a mere fifty left¡ª begin crying for mercy and dropping to their knees, hands up and open.

    The man I am currently fighting does such a thing, and my blade arcs toward his neck. I manage to stop it just a hairsbreadth from his skin.

    ¡°Mercy!¡± He pleads again, terrified. My hand and blade tremble as my training tries to insert itself. Complete the kill, something inside me whispers. I stare at the soldier on his knees, my breath coming in gasps. He is panting even harder than I, and his eyes are wide. Blood stains his armor where I¡¯ve already nicked him.

    ¡°Please!¡± He pleads. My gaze goes to my trembling sword-hand, and I see the phantom blood there.

    ¡°Ava¡­¡± Daniel says behind me.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying.¡± I reply. Slowly, I lower my blade to my side. Turn and face the paladin. He gives me a pleased smile.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He praises me. The urge to kill vanishes, and my cheeks grow warm.

    I look around; all across the battlefield, throughout the streets we have been fighting in, Azaes¡¯s men are surrendering. Swords, knives, crossbows, and shields all clatter on the stones, and the townsfolk who fought with us busy themselves with binding the soldiers¡¯ hands behind their backs.

    Daniel stalks among the soldiers, his sword still in hand, and his mage-whip still crackling and glowing. The soldiers cower away from him, but he makes no move to attack. Just looks them over with a face like stone.

    At last he speaks, and his voice swells with authority.

    ¡°Too long have you been terrors and tyrants over this city. I gave you a chance earlier to surrender peaceably, and you refused me. Now hundreds of your comrades and friends lie dead, lost forever to the Hells.¡±

    ¡°Please, sir, what will happen to us?¡± One of the prisoners asks. Daniel turns to look at him, and the captive quails under the paladin¡¯s steely gaze.

    ¡°You will be locked inside the very prison you once guarded and within which you committed heinous deeds. You will remain there until I arrange your trial. The majority of you will most likely be executed, but you need not fear the Hells, or death. You must answer for your crimes, but I offer you a way out of eternal damnation. Elhim offers you forgiveness for your soul, and life after death.¡±

    At the paladin¡¯s words, the soldier¡¯s face twists into a sneer and he spits on the ground at Daniel¡¯s feet. Daniel doesn¡¯t move, merely gazes at the soldier with all the calm gravitas of a man who sees and knows and doesn¡¯t care.

    ¡°Curse your god!¡± The soldier snarls. ¡°We don¡¯t need your petty promises, paladin! Kill us if you will!¡±

    Daniel¡¯s face saddens slightly. ¡°I had hoped your answer would be different.¡± Then his countenance hardens into something even colder than before, and I suppress a shiver. ¡°But I am not the petty one,¡± the paladin says, ¡°nor is my God. Guard your tongue.¡±

    The soldier falls silent, his bravado withering under Daniel¡¯s cold stare. Antony steps forth and hauls the soldier to his feet. Marches him into the prison. The townsfolk who fought for us help. Eliana busies herself tending the soldiers¡¯ wounds, but I make no move to help her. I could care less if they rot in prison. Daniel oversees the releasing of the previous prisoners and the captivity of the soldiers and guards. Eliana switches her attention from the soldiers to the once-captives.

    At one point, Antony brings me a groggy Auvanna, and I cradle the girl as the effects of the sedative slowly wear off. She blinks up at me, barely cognitive enough to recognize her surroundings.

    ¡°Where is Antony?¡± She whispers.

    ¡°He¡¯s around.¡± I reply reassuringly, gently giving the drowling a drink from my canteen. ¡°He¡¯ll come for you soon.¡±

    At last, every soldier has been placed behind bars, their names and crimes recorded in the prison register as they confess and the once-prisoners testify. Daniel places new guards over the prison, choosing them from among the townspeople who fought with us, and giving them explicit orders. Then he steps away, satisfied, and turns to me.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go get some rest.¡± He says, his expression softening as he gazes at me. I smile.

    ¡°That sounds like a plan.¡±

    ¡°Eliana! Antony!¡± Daniel cups his hands over his mouth in order to be heard by them. They look up at him from across the street, bashful smiles on their faces. Antony is holding Eliana¡¯s hands, a tenderness in him that I have never seen before. I have no idea of what they had been speaking to each other, but I have a fair guess.

    As Daniel and I watch, Antony turns his attention away from us and back to the half-elf in front of him. He gently cups Eliana¡¯s face and lowers his lips to hers.

    My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Beside me, Daniel gives an incredulous laugh. He looks at me and shakes his head merrily.

    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡± He says, taking my elbow. I carry Auvanna, and the paladin leads us past Eliana and Antony, back to the safe house.

    ¡°Come on, lovebirds!¡± Daniel calls over his shoulder, mirth evident in his voice.

    After a minute, they do follow us, and Antony steps up beside me and relieves me of Auvanna. I glance up at the elf. His cheeks are abnormally flushed, and his usual stoic expression is now a small, shy smile. I look back at Eliana. She¡¯s no better. Her eyes sparkle with joy and there¡¯s a slight giddiness in her step.

    I chuckle and shake my head.

    We reach the safe house with no incident, but I sense we¡¯re being followed. I wonder if any of my companions have noticed our shadow. Daniel might have. I¡¯d be willing to wager a week¡¯s worth of meals that neither Antony nor Eliana has, though. Through the twin-bond, I feel Fal flitting from shadow to shadow, always staying out of sight, yet always keeping us in his view. He had better be careful.

    Raeldon meets us at the entrance of our safe house, leaning heavily on the door frame, and Daniel greets him with a smile.

    ¡°Thank Elhim you all are safe and well!¡± Raeldon gasps. Sweat beads on his horned brow; he¡¯s in a lot of pain. The paladin places his hand on the tiefling¡¯s shoulder, and I watch in awe as Elhim¡¯s Presence swells around us and the wound on the sage¡¯s head heals over completely. No doubt so too did the wound in his side. Raeldon takes a deep breath and stands straight.

    ¡°Thank Elhim!¡± He says again, folding Daniel in a hearty embrace. Daniel laughs and echoes his words. The pressure of Elhim¡¯s Presence begins to fade from my skull.

    It¡¯s gone within moments.

    I see my companions inside, feeling Fal¡¯s impatience.

    ¡°Daniel,¡± I catch his arm as he steps toward the washroom with fresh clothing.

    ¡°Hm?¡± He looks down at me.

    ¡°I have a¡­ errand of sorts to run. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    He glances out the window at the dark streets. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    I give him a reassuring smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll be careful, and it¡¯ll be dawn soon anyway.¡±

    He nods and returns my smile. Once again, I resist the urge to kiss him.

    ¡°Alright.¡± He says. ¡°Be back soon.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡± I reply, and slip out the door.

    I walk a little ways back the way we came, then duck into a dark alleyway. Fal is there, waiting for me, obscured in shadow. I do not resist him as he grabs my shoulders and pushes me up against the wall. He pins me there, his face inches from mine, his anger pulsing through our twin-bond.

    ¡°I thought we had promised each other we wouldn¡¯t take reckless risks!¡± He hisses down into my face.

    ¡°Hello, brother.¡± I reply calmly.

 Fifteenth

    ¡°¡®Hello brother¡¯?¡± Fal echoes me. ¡°Is that all you have to say?¡±

    ¡°Until you calm down enough to talk like a sensible person, yes.¡± I reply matter-of-factly. He gives me a little shake.

    ¡°How can you give me a promise and then go and break it the next chance you get?¡± He growls at me, and I feel every ounce of his anguish and anger.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t break it.¡± I tell him, pushing him gently away from me. ¡°If anything, it was you who broke it. It was incredibly reckless of you to come here like you did, and then fight in a battle that was no concern of yours.¡±

    ¡°I knew what I was doing.¡± He mutters, looking away. His hands loosen on my shoulders.

    ¡°So did I.¡± I say gently. ¡°I was in no way reckless, Fal. I took no greater risks than would be on any of the mission you gave me.¡±

    He mutters something unintelligible, but I can feel that he¡¯s calming down and beginning to see reason. Then he looks up and meets my gaze.

    ¡°That battle was a concern of mine, Blackbird.¡± He tells me fiercely. ¡°You were in it. There were people trying to kill you. Do not tell me that I had no part in it. There is no way I¡¯m going to leave my little sister alone in a situation like that. You always seem to get into trouble when I¡¯m not around.¡±

    I grin at him, savoring the familiar sight of his grey-green eyes. I don¡¯t get to see those eyes often enough anymore. ¡°Likewise.¡±

    He finally smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He releases my shoulders and crushes me in an embrace instead.

    ¡°Oh, Fal.¡± I whisper, hugging him tightly. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you so much.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve missed you too, Blackbird.¡± He says hoarsely. A strong pang of longing strikes me, and I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s coming from me or him. Likely both of us. We are the one constant in each other¡¯s lives, and, in these times, we need that constant. We need each other.

    ¡°Come home.¡± His voice is muffled against my neck.

    ¡°Fal¡­¡±

    ¡°I release you from this mission. It¡¯s done. It¡¯s over. I don¡¯t care anymore. Let Daniel do what he wishes. Come home.¡± He says. I stiffen momentarily, then relax. I want this, to go home with him and be free of most worries for a little while. I also want¡­

    At the same time that one burden is lifted from me, another takes its place.

    Daniel.

    ¡°Ava?¡± Fal says.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come home, Fal. Just let me go and say goodbye.¡±

    ¡°To them?¡± He queries, looking into my eyes. I laugh.

    ¡°Yes, to them. I can¡¯t just waltz off with nary an explanation, Falkirk. That¡¯ll cause more problems than it¡¯ll solve.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± He grumbles. I reach up and tousle his hair.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be home in a few hours.¡± I say lightly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll expect a full report.¡± My brother replies, pressing a kiss to my brow. He steps backward. Gives me one more smile, a smile that I return with all the force of the love I have for him.

    ¡°I love you, Blackbird.¡± He says.

    ¡°I love you.¡± I reply as he fades through the mists of the dimensions.

    I walk back to the safe house in the pale rose light of the predawn. My steps are slow, my thoughts heavy and ponderous. I don¡¯t want to leave Daniel and the others. I count them as friends now. At least, as much friends as one can be when the friendship is built on lies.

    And I¡¯m falling in love with a man I can never have. Who will never love me in return. Oh, the heartache. Maybe it¡¯s for the best that I go home for a while. Get away from all this. Take some time to think.

    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± Daniel asks when I walk in the door.

    ¡°Oh. Yes.¡± I reply absentmindedly. His hand lands on my arm.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± He says. I look up at him and smile, taking in his still-damp-from-washing hair, the caring in his sea-blue eyes, the fresh, clean clothing that hides skin that should be marked with horrific scars but isn¡¯t.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± I answer him. ¡°But I¡¯m going to have to leave you.¡±

    ¡°Again?¡± He asks sadly. Behind him, Antony and Eliana both mirror his expression, listening to our conversation.

    ¡°Again.¡± I confirm. ¡°My brother wants me back home, and, truth be told, I¡¯m feeling a need to be there with him.¡±

    ¡°But what about¡ª¡°

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry.¡± I interrupt him. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you in Tyrhyld. You know I have my ways to get around. I could be there before you, if I wanted. I just need a few days, Daniel. That¡¯s all. You can give me that. It¡¯s still days to Tyrhyld anyway.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ Alright.¡± He concedes. ¡°As long as you¡¯ll be there. We need you, Ava.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡± I promise.

    I don¡¯t know if I will. This might be one promise I have to break. It might be better for all of us if I did.

    But Daniel seems to believe my words. I¡¯m never sure just how much he sees with that Sight of his.

    ¡°I need to sleep for a few hours, and then I¡¯m going.¡± I announce.

    ¡°Ava¡­ Why?¡± Eliana asks, stepping around Daniel to clasp my hand. I give her a reassuring smile.

    ¡°It¡¯s just for a few days, Eliana. My brother needs me, and I have some things I need to think about.¡±

    Her expression turns hopeful. ¡°I¡¯ll be praying, then.¡±

    I chuckle, gently disengaging my hand from hers. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    I stride to my bed, shedding my jerkin, boots, and weapons, ignoring the blood still splattered on my clothes and skin, ignoring the looks I¡¯m being given by Antony and Raeldon. The straw mattress has never felt so comfortable, a pillow so welcoming, and I¡¯m asleep in seconds. The last thing I hear as I drift off are the low tones of Daniel¡¯s and Antony¡¯s conversation.

    It¡¯s afternoon when I wake. The golden sunlight streams through the windows and warms the floor. Dust motes hang in the air. It¡¯s still and cozy in the safe house, and for a moment, I don¡¯t want to move, don¡¯t want to leave. But I rise from the bed and tug clean clothes from my jerkin¡¯s pocket-of-holding. Eliana and Antony watch me from their places at the table. I give them a nod as I pad softly into the washroom and shut the door firmly behind me.

    I try not to think or feel as I clean up and dress. Try to close my emotions off from Fal. It seems to work; he doesn¡¯t react. It also helps that he¡¯s asleep.

    I don¡¯t want to leave.

    I need to leave.

    I love Daniel.

    Fal is all I have left.

    Daniel and Fal are sworn enemies.

    I sigh, feeling an unfamiliar lump in my throat. This is all so tangled. I cannot have both my brother and my love.

    It has to be one or the other.

    One loves me now, while the other¡­

    In one direction lies hope¡ª however faint, while in the other¡­ lies only more blood and death.

    I cannot choose.

    The noise of the water splashing in the washbasin comforts me somewhat, somehow. I scrub dried blood and bits of gore from my skin and my hair, then slip into a clean tunic and leggings. Take some deep breaths, feeling uncharacteristically saddened and reluctant.

    I slowly gather my wet hair in one long plait down my back, then grasp my filthy clothing in one hand and balance the full washbasin in the crook of my other arm. Finagle the washroom door open by firmly nudging it with my knee. I walk out into the main room, and Eliana and Antony once again pause their conversation to look at me. I drop my clothing on the floor and stride out the front door to toss the wastewater in the street.

    ¡°Where are Daniel and Raeldon?¡± I ask the silent couple, placing the washbasin back where it belongs and stuffing my filthy clothing into my jerkin¡¯s bottomless pocket.

    ¡°They¡¯re out.¡± Antony says emotionlessly.

    ¡°Daniel is organizing Azaes¡¯s soldiers¡¯ trials.¡± Eliana informs me. I nod in acknowledgement.

    Ah. Well.

    I had hoped to say goodbye to the fool paladin. But I¡¯m not waiting for him to return, nor am I going to seek him out.

    Perhaps this way is better. Goodbyes are too painful anyway.

    ¡°Tell them I said goodbye.¡± I say as I slip into my jerkin and do up the clasps. I grab up my knapsack and weapons, then dig in my pocket for my slate marble.

    ¡°Do you have to go?¡± Eliana pleads.

    ¡°Thee need not leave,¡± Antony says kindly. ¡°Thee art one of us now.¡±

    I swallow against a sudden lump in my throat. Smile, with reassurance I do not feel.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back.¡± I tell them.

    Goodbye forever, something in me whispers.

    ¡°I still have a promise to keep.¡± Antony says. I think back to his promise to teach me knots.

    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± I smile. ¡°I¡¯ll remember.¡± I gaze fondly at the elf and Eliana. ¡°I hope you two are happy. Goodbye.¡±

    With that, before I can become too weepy, before Daniel can walk in the door and make this all harder, I tap into my marble¡¯s magic and whisper ¡°Home,¡± under my breath.

    Eliana says something else, but I cannot hear her through the mists that rise and obscure all in the white nothingness of between dimensions.

    I reappear in my brother¡¯s dark bedroom. He¡¯s snoring lightly in his bed, his features calm and boyish in the peace of slumber. His window is curtained, and I step softly over to twitch the soft cloth aside. Peek at the nighttime world beyond. By the position of the moon, it¡¯s about three in the morning over here. My poor brother must have gotten tired of waiting for me and slept while he could.

    The bedsheets rustle behind me, then I hear the sound of bare feet on a partially-carpeted floor. My brother wraps his arm around my shoulders and pushes the curtain all the way aside.

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    ¡°Hello, Blackbird.¡± He rumbles fondly, his voice thick with sleep.

    ¡°Good morning, Fal.¡± I reply, hugging him tightly with my free arm.

    ¡°Is it?¡± He queries. Peers out at the moon. ¡°I suppose it is.¡± He looks down at me. ¡°Still tired?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± I answer, not bothering to hide a yawn.

    ¡°Sleep, then.¡± He says, taking my knapsack from my hand and sets it on the floor. Undoes the clasps of my jerkin and slips it off my shoulders. He pushes me towards his bed.

    ¡°I have things to get started for the day, anyway.¡± He says. ¡°Rest. I won¡¯t be far away.¡±

    I don¡¯t resist him, instead plopping down on the bed and kicking off my boots. Sleep is the best thing for me, at the moment. I¡¯m a bit deprived of it. I have emotions that I don¡¯t want to think about right now, things I want to forget.

    I¡¯m not so desperate that I¡¯ll seek out something alcoholic, but I won¡¯t pass up a chance to sink into the realms of slumber and revel in the oblivion that gives me.

    Fal slides the quilt over me, and I shut my eyes tightly.

    No thinking.

    No feeling.

    The bed dips slightly beneath my brother¡¯s weight as he sits beside me. Softly, he begins to sing¡ª a lullaby that our mother would sing.

    I swallow hard again, and a tear escapes from my closed eyes to slide down my temple into my hair.

    No feeling.

    ¡°Sleep, Blackbird.¡± Fal says. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and stands. I hear him walk away, and a second later, his bedroom door opens and shuts.

    I turn onto my side, and concentrate on taking slow, deep, even breaths.

    No feeling.

    And then I¡¯m asleep again.

    The sun streams through the window in late-morning warmth when I wake again, groggy. My mouth is dry, my clothing wrinkled, and my hair straggling out of it¡¯s braid. But at least the sun isn¡¯t in my face. I roll over and doze for a few more minutes before I decide that I really need to get out of bed.

    My bare feet hit the floor, and I stumble over to my brother¡¯s closet. Through the twin bond I feel Fal¡¯s pleasure that I¡¯m awake. There¡¯s a bath-basin full of water waiting for me in the closet and, a quick pulse of manna from Fal later, it¡¯s steaming with inviting heat. I strip and lower myself into the hot water, hissing at the touch of it on my skin, gradually relaxing as I grow used to it.

    A proper bath is just what I¡¯m needing. I take my time, washing thoroughly¡ª with soap! I ignore the phantom blood on my hands. Don¡¯t even bother trying to wash it off. I know I never could.

    I finally climb from the bath, towel myself dry and wring out my hair. I choose a fine, silken, navy blue dress from the clothing I have stored in the back of my brother¡¯s closet in the event of emergencies. Pull it on and do up the stays in the back as best as I can.

    Fal walks through his bedroom door at the same time as I step out into the main room. He gives me a soft smile.

    ¡°You look lovely, Blackbird.¡± He compliments me.

    ¡°Thank you, brother.¡± I reply tiredly. His look changes to concern.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± He asks. Mute, I shake my head. He steps toward me and wraps me in his strong embrace. I lean into him, resisting the urge to cry. I¡¯m tired. Tired of suppressing these emotions. Tired of hiding them from Fal. Tired of the whole charade, the lies, the blood, the death.

    The battered door in my mind, the one that Daniel opens, the one that I try to keep locked, it shudders under an impact from behind it. Bends. Distant screams reach my ears from within my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to shut them out, try not to hear.

    Not that it works.

    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± Fal asks, rubbing my back gently. I feel his concern and his love, and my hold on the shroud over my emotions slips. I know it the instant he comprehends the pain that I¡¯m feeling, the little that leaked through our bond. His hold on me tightens, but he says nothing, only sends me reassurance and soothing waves of calm. After a minute he releases me, gently turns me around, and tightens the stays up my back. He conjures up a few silvery-blue hair pins and gathers my hair up to hang elegantly down my back.

    As he works, he speaks softly, telling me what¡¯s been going on in my absence.

    Apparently, someone has been leaking information to the High Clans, and my brother has lost three deployments of troops so far. Dead or imprisoned, the lot of them. The informant is someone inside my brother¡¯s stronghold itself, but he doesn¡¯t know quite yet who it is. He has spies working to ferret them out though. He isn¡¯t going to send me after them however. Apparently, it is high time I took a break and rested for a while. Breakfast is waiting for us downstairs, even though it¡¯s almost the noon hour. He¡¯s been busy for hours; he¡¯ll join me for a bite to eat. He¡¯s sent out more soldiers to replace the ones he¡¯s lost, the result of that being that there aren¡¯t as many around the palace right now. Some towns have been burned in his conquest. Very little loss of life, however.

    He teases the last hair pin into place.

    ¡°There.¡± Fal says finally. ¡°All set.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Fal.¡± I reply numbly. I grab my baldric and slip it over my head. It settles on my shoulder, reaching cross-body to my hip, a familiar weight with the hilt of my mage blade peeking over my shoulder.

    Precautions never hurt. Not even in my brother¡¯s palace.

    ¡°Come on, Blackbird.¡± Fal says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. He squeezes me comfortingly, and I lean into him. He leads me out of his rooms, down the corridors and stairs, and into the main dining hall. Various courtiers and higher-ranking officers are already assembled here, conversing, laughing, partaking of the late-morning meal. They all fall silent as we enter. The scrape of chairs on stone echoes through out that hall as they stand as one and bow or curtsy politely to us. Fal acknowledges them with a brief nod, and leads me up the length of the room to take a seat that the head of the high table. He ushers me into the seat next to his, directly to his right. Pushes in my chair for me, and then sits down in his own.

    A general cacophony sounds throughout the hall as everyone resumes their own seats. The clinking and clatter of metal utensils upon glassware and the loud buzz of conversation permeate the room. I pick at my food, ignoring the concerned looks Fal is giving me. Finally he moves to lay the bared inside of his wrist against my forehead.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sick, Fal.¡± I hiss, leaning away. ¡°Just¡­ tired. I don¡¯t have a fever or anything. Leave off.¡±

    He lowers his hand back to the table. ¡°Then what is the matter? This is unlike you. Please, tell me.¡± He insists. I sigh.

    I can¡¯t tell you.

    ¡°I¡¯m just in need of rest, that¡¯s all.¡± The lie feels sour in my mouth, and I know Fal isn¡¯t fooled. He gives me a look of sadness and deep concern.

    ¡°Blackbird¡ª¡° He begins to speak, but just then one of my brother¡¯s soldiers slips through the door behind us and hurries to Fal¡¯s side. He leans close and whispers something into my brother¡¯s ear. I can¡¯t hear the man¡¯s words, but I can feel their effect.

    Triumph and irritation streak through the twin bond from Fal¡¯s end, and he whispers something back to the soldier. The man salutes, bows, and exits as swiftly as he had come in.

    ¡°Fal?¡± I ask. ¡°What was that all about?¡±

    He gives me a small smirk, and I can still feel his triumph swirling through the bond. ¡°They found that spy.¡± He says, just as the big doors at the other end of the dining hall open and a squad of guards marches in, a prisoner in their center.

    Fal stands and strides down the the hall, stopping in the center. I follow immediately behind him, and the guards march up to us. They cast their captive at my brother¡¯s feet. My eyes widen and my breath stills.

    She¡¯s just a woman, younger than me, almost little more than a girl. Her plain dress is tattered. Blood drips from a slash on her shoulder and trickles from a wound at her hairline. She sobs breathlessly as she cowers on her hands and knees before my brother, but the looks she¡¯s casting up at him are nothing if not defiant.

    ¡°Ah.¡± Fal says, looking down at her, chillingly impassive. ¡°You.¡± He crouches next to her. ¡°Why, Callis? Whatever possessed you to do this?¡±

    I cast a quick glance around the room. Everyone is silent, still, watching intently. Everyone here knows the outcome of this confrontation.

    ¡°You had my family murdered.¡± Callis spits up at Fal.

    What?

    ¡°Callis, you misunderstand.¡± Fal murmurs calmly. ¡°They opposed me, and were killed in the line of duty. Yet I took you in, provided for you, gave you work as an aide in my council. And this is how you repay my kindness? I¡¯m hurt, Callis.¡±

    ¡°I wish you were dead!¡± She shoots back. Fal stands.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡± He replies calmly. ¡°Unfortunately for you, you won¡¯t be living to see my demise, if such a thing ever finds me.¡± He looks at me, and I feel his intention even before he gestures to Callis.

    ¡°Avalon, if you would?¡±

    My face stone, I step up beside Fal and draw my mage blade. I stare down at Callis, and she stares back at me. For all the lack of expression on my face, my emotions sure are a seething storm inside of me. I watch the tears stream down Callis¡¯ face, I watch her shudder and tremble as she sobs. I lower my blade to her throat. And¡­

    I see my parents hanging from the village walls as flames lick at the dark sky behind

    I see Eliana''s stricken face as she sees the aftermath of the men that I''ve slaughtered

    I see Daniel''s face soften as he gazes at me

    I hear Eliana''s soft voice: "I''ll be praying, then."

    I hear Callis''s bitter tones: "You had my family murdered."

    I feel Daniel''s strong embrace, hear his gentle declaration: "I forgive you, Ava."

    I look down at my sword hand and see the blood coating my skin, dripping to the floor, oozing over my fingers to trickle down my mage blade.

    And I can''t make the kill.

    ¡°Ava?¡± Falkirk queries, looking at me with puzzlement and concern.

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± I whisper, withdrawing my blade from Callis¡¯s throat. I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t.

    Callis looks up at me in astonishment. Fal gives a nod, as if he had expected this. His emotions are hard and unreadable as he takes the mage blade from my hand and slits Callis¡¯s throat.

    Callis gives a gurgling sigh as she collapses. Her eyes stare up at me, unseeing, accusing. One more face in my mind. One more voice behind the door. Her blood pools out from her, reaching toward the toes of my slippers. I stare down at the spreading crimson. Watch wide-eyed as it touches the tips of my toes.

    I cannot take it anymore.

    I spin on my heel and flee from the dining hall, avoiding Fal¡¯s grasping hand and ignoring the gasps and murmurs from the courtiers and officers. I run, and don¡¯t stop. I don¡¯t know where I¡¯m going, and I don¡¯t care. I flee from the faces of my dead, from the voices that haunt me that I cannot escape no matter where I go.

    I reach a door and push blindly at it. It gives under my questing hands and the weight of my body. I stumble into the room beyond, realizing dimly that it¡¯s one of the small meeting chambers that are throughout the castle. It¡¯s empty, and for that I am grateful. I slam the door behind me and stumble across the room to collapse near one of the corners. The stones are hard and cold beneath my hands and knees. My body is wracked with harsh, hiccuping, gasping sobs. Tears blur my vision, run in salt streams over my cheeks and lips.

    I am trapped in the memory of Callis¡¯s murder, of the countless murders I¡¯ve committed.

    There is no forgiveness for me, no matter what Daniel says.

    Sudden revulsion makes my stomach surge upward, and I empty its contents onto the floor. I heave and retch until there is nothing left, and then I continue to sob. Wrap my arms around myself and rock back and forth with the force of the pain.

    I don¡¯t know how much time passes. I feel Fal dealing with matters in the dining hall. I feel his concern for me, and his slight irritation. But I feel all this dimly, numbly, like I¡¯m underwater. And I don¡¯t care.

    I don¡¯t move as the door of the meeting chamber opens and shuts quietly. The sound of the latch clicking is loud in the silent room. My weeping has subsided, and now I exist only in a state of numbness. I hear approaching footsteps, and then the intruder crouches beside me.

    ¡°Hey, Blackbird.¡± Fal says softly, laying a hand on my shoulder. He glances at the messy result of my stomach¡¯s rebellion. Grimaces and lifts a hand, conjuring the mess away. ¡°So, you were sick.¡± He murmurs.

    ¡°Of sorts.¡± I reply hoarsely. He places my mage blade, now clean, on the floor beside me.

    ¡°Here¡¯s your sword.¡± He says.

    That blade killed Callis, killed countless others. I shudder.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want it.¡±

    I feel his confusion and concern. And hurt.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± He asks. I mutely shake my head.

    ¡°Come here.¡± He says gently, and gathers me into his arms as he sits down with his back against the wall. I suppress another sob, leaning into his embrace.

    What have we done?

    What have we become?

    ¡°Hey, sh, sh.¡± Fal says, rubbing my back gently, comforting me as best as he can.

    What have we done?

    ¡°I¡¯ve never known you to be sickened by blood and death.¡± My brother observes gently, fishing for answers.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I just¡­.¡±

    I can¡¯t tell him the truth. I can¡¯t lose him.

    ¡°I¡ª I¡ª.¡± I stop and sigh. Close my eyes as more tears roll down my cheeks. Fal holds me tighter.

    ¡°Hush. You¡¯ll be alright. Take your time. Get some rest. De-stress. It¡¯s time to stop worrying about me, Blackbird. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose you.¡± I choke out, holding him tighter. ¡°The risks you take¡­¡±

    He chuckles softly. ¡°I promised you I wouldn¡¯t be reckless, now, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He stiffens as a thought occurs to him, and I can feel his embarrassment.

    ¡°Ava¡ª¡° He begins, a peculiar note in his voice.

    ¡°Oh, Fal¡ª¡° I start, his feelings influencing mine.

    ¡°You¡ª you¡¯re not¡ª you don¡¯t happen to be¡­ with child?¡± He asks.

    The notion is amusing, startling me into a laugh. ¡°Oh, Fal. You know I¡¯m not. For one thing, I¡¯m not married. For another, I am not a suitable mother. Who would I even¡­ do something like that with?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He admits, still embarrassed and a bit amused. ¡°I was just trying to find a reason for you to be acting like this.¡±

    ¡°I promise you, Fal, it¡¯s not because I¡¯m pregnant. I¡ª I just¡­ I¡¯m feeling out of sorts, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Well, alright then.¡± He chuckles softly. ¡°I just made a fool of myself, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    I give him a small smile. ¡°Yes, you did.¡±

    ¡°Take it easy today and get some rest, Blackbird.¡± Fal orders gently. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll feel better tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Fal,¡± I hold my hands out in front of me, ¡°on my hands, do you see anything?¡±

    He gives me a puzzled glance before peering at my hands. ¡°They look fine to me.¡±

    He can¡¯t see the phantom blood.

    He can''t see it.

    I can¡¯t un-see it anymore.

    I curl my fingers into fists and tuck them in my lap. ¡°Never mind.¡± I say.

    ¡°Alright.¡± He replies, still confused. ¡°Ava,¡± He shifts to look me in the eyes, ¡°you are still with me. Right?¡± His tone is almost pleading, but I sense an underlying current of iron.

    ¡°Of course!¡± I tell him, and he knows through our bond that it¡¯s the truth. ¡°Always, brother. Always.¡±

    He sighs in relief. Presses a kiss to the top of my head. Gently stands, leaving me still on the floor. ¡°Rest.¡± He says, giving me a fond look. Then he leaves.

    I remain there for a while, huddled on the floor, staring at my mage blade.

    What have we become?

    The question echoes in my mind, and I have no answer.

    All I know is that I can¡¯t keep on like this. I can¡¯t keep killing, not even for Fal.

    Thasron was right. Here, now, I search for some semblance of peace, and I cannot find it. I know I will never be able to find it. I know Thas found his peace in Elhim, or so it seems, and I know that Daniel and his friends have peace.

    But all the blood I¡¯ve shed¡­ not even Elhim can erase that.

    So I have to live with this.

    The knowledge fills me to every corner of my being, and I accept it. This is a burden I must bear, and bear it I will, until death. It¡¯s the least I can do, and it¡¯s less than I deserve.

    I will own this blood, these dead faces, these voices.

    I stagger up from the floor and amble from the meeting chamber to my own rooms. I collapse on my bed, feeling drained and accepting quiet despair. Exhausted from weeping and inner turmoil, I succumb to sleep when it calls.

    When the nightmares come, I surrender to them.

    And when I wake, I have made a decision.

 Sixteenth

    I join Fal for breakfast in his rooms in the morning, feeling his pleasure and relief that I am feeling better, that I am back to his Blackbird, the sister he is used to seeing. Our meal is simple, just leftover cold meat squished between cheese and bread and washed down with a cup of coffee, spiked on my part.

    ¡°So,¡± I begin the conversation, ¡°you wanted a full report from me?¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡± Fal says, raising his forefinger, gesturing for me to wait. His mouth is full. I smirk, amused.

    ¡°You did that on purpose!¡± He playfully accuses me once he has chewed and swallowed.

    ¡°Did what?¡± I am all innocence.

    ¡°Waited until I had my mouth full before you asked me a question!¡±

    ¡°Maybe I did, and maybe I didn¡¯t.¡± I sip at my coffee, peering at my brother over the rim of the cup, my eyes sparkling with mirth. He grins at me.

    ¡°So, the report?¡± I ask, setting my cup down.

    He sobers. ¡°Yes, I did want one, but only if you¡¯re up for it.¡± I feel his mind nudge mine, looking for any sign of yesterday¡¯s distress. Of course, there is none.

    I smile at him. ¡°You¡¯re sweet, Fal. But I wouldn¡¯t do something I didn¡¯t think I could handle.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± He says, gesturing for me to begin. ¡°Let¡¯s hear it then.¡±

    I hesitate, gathering my thoughts, then begin.

    ¡°Daniel is the linchpin of it all.¡± I tell Fal. I have no wish to have Daniel and Fal at each other¡¯s throats, but I must tell the truth. I have to make this report, and then¡­

    ¡®And then¡¯ will take care of itself.

    I continue: ¡°If he is taken out of the equation, it will all fall apart. He is the one thing holding together the High Clan Lords¡¯ alliances. I¡¯m not saying that the Lords like him, but they do tolerate him and they need him, and that¡¯s what counts. During the time I traveled with him, he received many missives from the Clan Lords and sent missives in return. He thinks that you¡¯re evil and that you need to be dethroned. He¡¯s trying to rally the Lords against you and, for the most part, he¡¯s succeeding. I don¡¯t know how many lesser lords are with him; I didn¡¯t get to see him in action in Vezgaxur, but I¡¯m guessing that he¡¯s not in very good standing with the lord of that city, given the situation in which we met. And obviously he didn¡¯t get anywhere with Amyry and Azaes.¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± Fal remarks, crossing one leg over his other knee and pensively tucking the tip of his forefinger between his lips.

    ¡°I¡¯d advise extreme caution in dealing with the paladin.¡± I tell Fal a bit sternly. ¡°More caution than you¡¯ve shown to date. He¡¯s more powerful than you think and, Fal, his God fights for him.¡±

    Fal snorts in amusement. ¡°Come now, Blackbird, you can¡¯t really believe that?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± My tone is dead serious. ¡°I have seen it, Falkirk. I have seen this God actively intervene for His followers, I have seen Him completely destroy a tiefling mage, a full company of soldiers, and a demon in a virtual, giant fireball. I have seen Him power mage shields indefinitely, give His followers supernatural speed and resilience during battle, and I have seen Him bring people back from death.¡±

    Fal scoffs lightly, still amused. ¡°Really, Ava, when have the gods ever been useful or important?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Fal. This God is important, somehow. He protects His own. You might not even be able to get close to the paladin. Not to mention, Daniel¡¯s friends are powerful as well. Even if you could best their combined might, let alone that of Daniel himself, I don¡¯t see how you could best Elhim.¡±

    Fal is silent at this, regarding me with a coolness I have never seen directed towards me by him.

    ¡°Just¡­ be careful.¡± I say, nearly pleading with him. ¡°I have no wish to lose you.¡±

    Fal smirks at this. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, Blackbird. We¡¯ll see just how well Daniel and his God do when they face me. I seriously doubt they would be a match for me. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Eliana¡¯s healing flashes into my mind, along with my own, followed by the images of Divine fire and charred corpses. But I bite my tongue and make no other comments, frustrated though I am. I know I could never change my brother¡¯s mind on the subject. I shove the memories aside and continue my report.

    ¡°Daniel is currently en route to Tyrhyld, Antony¡¯s home. It¡¯s apparently been attacked by pirates.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡± Fal remarks.

    ¡°From there I have no idea what he plans to do or where he plans to go.¡±

    ¡°And how did things end up in Azmal?¡± Fal asks. I tip my head back over the rim of my chair and stare at the ceiling. A sigh pushes itself from my lungs.

    ¡°Daniel is basically lord of that city now. Like I said, he¡¯s powerful. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯ll stay on as ruler of Azmal; he¡¯s not really one for thrones and such, but I just don¡¯t know. When I left, he was making Azaes¡¯s men stand trial.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Fal sits, staring off into space for a moment, lost in thought.

    ¡°Fal,¡± I venture to ask, ¡°Do you know what happened in Ciliren? The town is a mess and the people are suspicious and hostile.¡± Fal looks at me, a faintly amused smile curving his lips.

    ¡°We might have had a skirmish there.¡± He tells me.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Is all I can think of to say.

    ¡°They repelled us. I¡¯ll be returning back there, though. Soon. This time they won¡¯t be denying me.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± I reply. And I do. This piece of news only reinforces my decision. I watch my brother as his thoughts wander once more and his attention turns entirely away from me. I drain my coffee to the dregs and set the cup on the table with a soft clunk.

    ¡°Fal.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡± He looks at me.

    ¡°I¡¯m excusing myself now, if you don¡¯t need anything else. I¡¯ve got some other stuff to get done.¡±

    He regards me for a moment, still searching for the distress of yesterday. I offer him a reassuring smile. After a minute he nods.

    ¡°Of course, Blackbird. If you need me at all, I¡¯ll be around.¡±

    He gives me a smile as I leave.

    I head immediately to my own rooms. Once there I change into more practical clothing than the gown I¡¯m currently wearing. I then slip into my jerkin and make sure I have all my weapons and that my pocket-of-holding is packed with essentials. Then I dig my marble out of my pocket and look at it for a moment, rolling it gently between my fingers. Studying how its dark-grey slate drinks up the sunlight and reflects nothing back.

    I need to leave. I¡ª I need some time to get away from everything and just think. My head isn¡¯t on straight at the moment, and I need it to be. I desperately need it to be.

    I¡ª I just need some time alone. Away from everyone. Even Fal.

    But what about¡ª?

    So many scenarios and things that could go wrong in my absence swirl inside my mind. Doubt rises in me. Am I truly doing what I need to? Is this the right thing?

    Before I can talk myself out of my choice, I clench my marble in my hand, feeling the hard stone dig into my palm. I visualize in my mind¡¯s eye a peaceful forest, a lively stream, and a cairn built by my own hands. And then, holding the image in my mind, I tap into my marble¡¯s magic. The world around me fades to white.

    And I feel Fal¡¯s sudden, frantic alarm.

    I reappear in the forest glade where I had slaughtered a young paladin so recently and yet so long ago. I still see his face, clearly, vividly. But I am left no time to dwell on anything much as Fal gathers his manna and abruptly teleports to me.

    I don¡¯t want to see his stricken face, or hear him call my name. I don¡¯t need my resolve crumbling.

    Before he can even finish reappearing though the dimensions, I am off again, stepping into the in-between and emerging someplace else. I¡¯m in the east, I think. The place is beautiful, if barren. Brown stone atop jagged cliffs that rise high above a crashing sea. It¡¯s loud here, and the air tastes salty, but I have no time to enjoy the place before I have to teleport again with Fal right behind me.

    I lead him on a merry chase, flashing through locations with the ease that the magic of the marble affords. Often doubling back. Leading Fal on a merry chase as his manna drains and he becomes more and more weary.

    I can tell when his manna is depleted enough that he can follow me safely no more. And I stop running. I teleport one more time, reappearing in a dark forest. It¡¯s night, with a moon full and bright enough to cast shadows and a weird half-light beneath the dense canopy of leaves. I ghost my way through the shadows, traveling through the forest as far and fast as I can before Fal gets here. I duck behind a broad tree trunk as he reappears out of the in-between somewhere behind me.

    ¡°Blackbird!¡± He cries, and I feel my heart breaking at the anguish I hear in his voice, and feel through the twin-bond. ¡°Stop! Please! What¡ª what are you doing? Ava? Please!¡±

    His voice breaks at the end, but rings out through the trees with no regard for anything hostile that might be around us. He¡¯s about twenty feet behind me.

    ¡°Go home, Fal!¡± I shout at him over my shoulder, around the tree trunk.

    ¡°Ava¡ª why? Please, why?¡± He¡¯s close to tears, hurt and bewildered. I swallow past a lump in my throat. He takes a step toward me. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? What are you doing this? I¡ª I don¡¯t understand!¡±

    ¡°I need some time alone, Falkirk. I need to think. This won¡¯t be forever, but I can¡¯t stay right now. I¡¯m sorry. Go home.¡± I tell him, mustering some harshness into my tone.

    ¡°Blackbird¡ª please!¡± His voice breaks again. So does my heart. He comes closer.

    ¡°You have enough manna for only one more safe teleportation. Anymore, and you risk death. Whereas, I can do this for as long as I need to. Don¡¯t come any closer. Go home, Falkirk. Please. Don¡¯t come after me. Just leave me alone for now. I¡¯ll return when I¡¯m ready.¡±

    ¡°Ava¡ª.¡± I feel his mind questing for mine, seeking entry, seeking understanding. But I shut him out, mercilessly. And I don¡¯t open up.

    ¡°Do it, Falkirk! Stop worrying about me. I¡¯m not a child.¡±

    ¡°Ava, please!¡± My brother pleads, and I¡¯m hard put not to go to him. Instead, I say not another word. Merely teleport once more, back to the forest glade and the cairn.

    I feel Fal¡¯s fear and grief and anguish almost as acutely as if it were my own. It¡¯s not that he¡¯s deliberately pushing it through our at bond at me. He doesn¡¯t need to. That¡¯s how strongly he¡¯s feeling it right now. And I hate myself for the pain I¡¯m causing him.

    He gathers his manna and teleports once more; I feel him land back in North Keep. I breathe a small sigh of relief that he¡¯s done as I said. I don¡¯t know what I would have done if he had followed me again.

    The forest is peaceful here, but the peacefulness fails to penetrate to my soul. I want that peace. I need it.

    Thasron was right. I seek for peace and do not find it. I am denied it.

    But there is no anger at this denial. To my surprise, my deep anger is mostly gone. Taking its place is a deep remorse that sucks at me like quicksand.

    I look around the forest, gaze at the stream that¡¯s maybe a little more cheery than normal, and I take a deep breath. Shove that sorrow down where I shove everything else. I sink to the grass beside the cairn and lean back against the rough stones. I can see that poor paladin¡¯s face in my mind. The faces never leave me and, here, in the place of his death, his visage refuses to be ignored.

    Well, if he won¡¯t leave me be, might as well not shove him away. Might as well own this. I can never escape it, after all.

    I close my eyes and study the paladin¡¯s face. He was a handsome fellow¡ª pleasant to behold, but not eerily so. He had green eyes.

    Callis¡¯s face floats into my mind alongside the paladin¡¯s. Despite her being the most recent death I¡¯ve witnessed, the paladin¡¯s face is just as vivid as hers. I study them both for a minute, side by side.

    And then my breath stills and my eyes open wide.

    No. It can¡¯t be.

    But it is.

    In their faces, there is a distinct resemblance, a likeness too profound to ignore.

    "You had my family murdered."

    Callis and the paladin had been siblings.

    They¡¯d been siblings!

    Just like Fal and me.

    I tip my head heavily back against the cairn and cover my face with my hands, breathing fast and hard.

    What have we become?

    The question echoes in my mind, and I shy away from the answer.

    But then I berate myself for being such a coward. There is one way I can know the full weight of what I¡¯ve done.

    I can open the door in my mind.

    Slowly, hesitantly, I pull open that door. Then my eyes fly open, wide, as the door bursts open with all the force of my victims behind it. Searing pain, countless faces, and a multitude of screaming voices all fill my mind. My breath stills, and it¡¯s only with an effort that I am able to drag more air back into my lungs.

    I squeeze my eyes shut and clasp my head tightly in my hands.

    I need this to stop.

    It¡¯s too much.

    It''s too much.

    It''s too much!

    I utter a choked cry as I struggle to shove every face, every voice back behind that door, struggle to close the door again. And I do it, eventually. I slam the door closed once more and lock it securely. But it¡¯s lost its integrity. It¡¯s bent and warped and no longer fits in its frame. Faces can leak out. The voices cry louder. They¡¯re harder than ever to shut out.

    I need someone by my side next time I open that door. Someone who can draw me back, who can keep me from drowning in¡­ everything.

    That¡¯s if I ever open that door again. I sigh again. Massage my temples with my fingertips. My teeth are sore from clenching my jaw. Despair swirls around me, and I struggle to master it.

    Thas was more right than he¡¯ll ever know. There will never be any peace for me.

    There might be, something inside me whispers. Daniel and his friends have peace, somehow. Thas found peace. Somehow.

    I know where they would say they found their peace. They would say they were given it. They would say that Elhim had given it.

    I drag my hands down my face and let them drop to my lap. ¡°If¡ª if you¡¯re there, please¡ª please answer.¡± I whisper to the air, feeling self-conscious and slightly silly. I pause, listening.

    There is no answer.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re real. I know it. Daniel would¡ª would say that you would forgive me, would give me peace. Please.¡± I pause again, holding my breath, listening for something. Anything.

    Nothing. The forest is still, silent, not even stirred by a breeze. The only sound is the stream behind the cairn and me. I curl my fingers into fists, digging my nails into my palms, trying to anchor myself with the pain. Despair wells up in me and threatens to overwhelm me.

    ¡°I knew it.¡± I mutter. ¡°This is pointless.¡± After a minute I rise and shove the despair down again. I welcome the numbness that replaces it. I begin building a fire pit.

    If I¡¯m going to spend a considerable amount of time out here, I might as well make the most of it.

    I spend four days or so in the wilds. Alone. It¡¯s¡­ an unexpectedly blessed reprieve. I enjoy it. I feel Fal¡¯s hurt and fear and anguish over my actions, but I ignore him as best as I can.

    I forage for what I need to survive, mainly meat. I have everything else I need in my bottomless pocket. I fish in the stream by the cairn, and I sleep in snatches in the trees. My sleep is light and sporadic, and I am tired when I wake, but I am unwilling to succumb to a deeper slumber. I cannot risk being caught off guard.

    By anyone.

    I spend my time thinking, searching for answers, my thoughts whirling round and round without end. Trying not to avoid my problems while trying to avoid my darkness and shame.

    Most of my anger is gone. It¡¯s no longer there to be summoned forth. The bitterness is¡­ fading. The pride is a wall to hide behind when things become too difficult.

    But peace continues to elude me, and after a while I know only one answer to one problem among all of them.

    I know who would never ask me to kill.

    I know who holds some answers, even ones I don¡¯t want to hear. Some answers I don¡¯t understand.

    I know I have a promise I should keep, because without my word, without my honor, I am nothing.

    I am going back to Daniel.

    Fal will not be happy, I know. But¡­ Fal¡­ is¡­.

    I sigh. The whole situation is complicated, more so than I¡¯m willing to figure out right now.

    I only know I need¡­

    I sigh again, heavily, puffing out my breath hard enough to blow stray strands of hair off my face. I don¡¯t know what I need.

    But my decision is made. I dig my slate marble out of my pocket, hold it up and watch as its dark grey hue absorbs the sunlight. I remember the spell Daniel placed upon it, an exact replica of my brother¡¯s.

    Doubt swirls within me as I gaze at the small, round bit of stone. Before I can think too much and talk myself out of my choice, I clench the marble in my fist and whisper the name of the man I love.

    ¡°Daniel.¡±

    And the world fades to white.

    I stagger as I am deposited on the heaving deck of a ship. Daniel grabs my arms to steady me.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Whoa, there! Easy.¡± He says, and then grins. ¡°Ava! You came back!¡± The air explodes from my lungs as he wraps me in a tight embrace.

    ¡°Daniel¡ª let¡ª go!¡± I gasp out. He releases me, laughing, and I drag in a breath. I can¡¯t help but grin at him. Stars, I¡¯ve missed him.

    ¡°You came back.¡± He repeats happily.

    ¡°Of course I did.¡± I say, arching an eyebrow at him in amusement. ¡°I told you I¡¯d meet you in Tyrhyld. Speaking of which,¡± I turn to gaze out at the passing coastline and a city that we are rapidly approaching. A pall of smoke rises over the walls and buildings. ¡°I thought you¡¯d already be there by now.¡±

    ¡°The trials took some time.¡± The paladin says, sobering and folding his arms. I move to lay a hand on his arm, think better of it, and let my hand drop back to my side.

    ¡°A lot of executions?¡± I ask sympathetically. He drops his gaze, breathes in deep through his nose and out again.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± He says. ¡°A lot. Most of Azaes¡¯s soldiers had done despicable things and, well, they faced justice.¡±

    This time, I do lay my hand on Daniel¡¯s arm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I say softly. He lifts his gaze to mine, and my breath catches at the sight of those sea-blue eyes. He searches my gaze, and smiles slightly.

    ¡°You¡¯ve changed somewhat, Ava.¡± His smile holds sorrow in it.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I admit.

    ¡°But you are still fighting.¡±

    Now it is my turn to drop my gaze. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to think or feel, I don¡¯t know what to do, Daniel.¡± I lift my eyes to his, feeling my despair well up again. ¡°I feel as if I¡¯m drowning.¡±

    His gaze softens, and my breath hitches again. ¡°I know someone who can help you.¡± He says.

    ¡°I tried talking to Elhim, Daniel.¡± I tell him before he can begin speaking about his God. Surprise covers his face. ¡°He didn¡¯t answer.¡±

    He narrows his eyes at me, and a faint smile tugs at his lips. ¡°You weren¡¯t listening, then.¡± The paladin says. I narrow my own eyes, lifting my chin.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Daniel begins, but he is interrupted by Eliana, who climbs out of a hatch in the deck, catches sight of me, and runs over to happily squeeze the life out of me as best as she can.

    ¡°Hello, Eliana.¡± I gasp. Her embrace is even tighter than Daniel¡¯s was. I look over her shoulder and see Auvanna, the drowling, shyly standing there. Stars, I¡¯d forgotten about Auvanna. Where had she been when I¡¯d left Azmal? Probably testifying against the condemned soldiers.

    I offer the drowling a smile, and she shyly returns it. The fabric of her violet dress crinkles where her fists are clenched around it. Eliana finally releases me, and holds me back from her a little ways. Her eyes search my face with alarming perception, and I have to resist the urge to look away. Eliana¡¯s expression saddens.

    ¡°You poor girl.¡± She says, and pulls me back into her embrace, albeit gentler this time. I am stunned. What did she see? Can my inner turmoil and struggle be that obvious?

    ¡°It¡¯ll be alright.¡± Eliana says, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut against sudden tears.

    How dear these people have become to me over the time we have spent together. How closely I know I must guard my heart when I don¡¯t know how the next few days and weeks will play out.

    That alone could tear me apart right now.

    Eliana finally releases me again, and I step away at her and quickly swipe my hand across my eyes. The half-elf turns to Daniel.

    ¡°She tried talking to Elhim.¡± He says to answer her unspoken question. ¡°She says there was no answer.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Eliana clicks her tongue in understanding and sympathy. ¡°Then you weren¡¯t listening, Ava.¡±

    I chuckle softly. ¡°That¡¯s what Daniel said.¡±

    ¡°Daniel is usually right.¡± Antony says, and I look up to see that he has joined us up in the wind and sun. He stands confidently on the deck, swaying easily with the heaving boards beneath our feet. I haven¡¯t seen him in his natural environment before, I guess. He regards me with the same perceptiveness that Eliana did, and nods once. Then he crosses the few feet between him and Eliana to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

    ¡°What was that supposed to mean?¡± I ask him, puzzled by his look and nod and then his lack of elaboration.

    ¡°My comrades art right. Thee did not hear Elhim because thee weren¡¯t listening.¡± He says matter-of-factly.

    I sigh slightly in irritation. ¡°I was listening. He didn¡¯t answer because, well, because¡ª.¡± I press my lips together against the words that want to escape, and turn on my heel. Stride to the rail and clench my fingers around it. Blink away tears that have no business plaguing me right now. Sea spray splashes up onto my face as I work to corral my tempestuous thoughts.

    After a minute boots clack quietly on the deck boards behind me, and Daniel leans on the rail next to me. He doesn¡¯t look at me, doesn¡¯t acknowledge me in any way, he just stares out at the city that we¡¯re fast approaching. I glance at him, but he seems preoccupied with the wind and scenery. The weight in my heart grows even more heavy.

    And finally, I cannot stand the silence anymore. ¡°What do you mean, I wasn¡¯t listening?¡± I pitch my voice over the noice of the hissing waves. I hate how vulnerable I sound. ¡°I was listening, Daniel. I was.¡±

    He turns to look at me, leaning on his elbow against the rail. A stray wave splashes up and soaks his sleeve, but he doesn¡¯t seem to notice or care. He merely gazes at me with kindness and compassion before he speaks.

    ¡°Elhim is everywhere, Ava. And if you speak to Him, He¡¯ll hear. Sometimes He answers in a way we can absolutely know, and sometimes His silence is the answer. If you did speak to Him, then either you didn¡¯t want to hear what He had to say, or He hasn¡¯t called you yet. I suspect it was the former.¡± He finishes softly. I can¡¯t keep my eyes from welling up with tears.

    ¡°I opened the door, Daniel.¡± I confess to him. He cocks his head, confused.

    ¡°What door?¡±

    ¡°The¡ª the one in my mind.¡± I turn my gaze seaward and continue in a voice made quiet with shame. ¡°The one behind which are all the faces and voices of the people I¡¯ve killed. Every single one.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± His tone says he understands completely. ¡°What happened when you opened this door?¡±

    ¡°I was overwhelmed.¡± I mutter.

    ¡°I see.¡± He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder sympathetically. I look up into his eyes that seem to reflect both sky and sea.

    ¡°I managed to shut it again, but it¡¯s damaged and so am I; I can¡¯t open it again, Daniel, I can¡¯t!¡± I confess in a rush. He regards me for a moment with a kindness so profound, I want to shrink away from it. I don¡¯t deserve his kindness.

    ¡°One day,¡± the paladin says slowly, choosing his words with care, ¡°you will have to open that door again, Ava. You will have to face what you are. You will have to face the knowledge that you cannot be saved by any worldly power. But when that day comes I will be there with you, and I¡¯ll be praying that you¡¯ll know a redeeming performed by the only One who can do such a thing. I promise.¡± He squeezes my shoulder again.

    ¡°Thank you, Daniel.¡± I whisper, and then turn my eyes away to gaze at the harbor as we sail into port though the narrow mouth between the cliffs on either side of us.

    Tyrhyld is a fair-sized city, ruled by one particular family of elves for as long as anyone can remember. Nobody would go so far as to say that the current patriarch of this family, Lord Garein, is actually a High Clan Lord, but he¡¯s close enough to. He¡¯s powerful.

    I wonder what relation Antony is to him.

    I am not left to wonder long, however, as two fair-sized ships sail up on either side of us, escorting us into the huge harbor. Their guns are already run out, and I count twenty to a side. A hefty weight for even ships such as these. They could blow us out of the water with nary a thought. Looking around at our own ship, I realize that she¡¯s too small to carry much more than the weight of two guns. We probably don¡¯t even have guns aboard.

    ¡°Ahoy the Mother of Pearl!" Calls a sailor on deck of the ship to our right. Daniel and I look over. Antony stands at the other rail. ¡°Art thou friend or foe?¡±

    ¡°Friend!¡± Antony replies, cupping his hands around his mouth in order to be heard across the distance between the two ships. ¡°I am Antarion Galaethor vor Elhim, youngest nephew of Lord Garein Galaethor! He called me home, and I have come!¡±

    ¡°Antony?!¡± The sailor cries. His tone is joyful.

    ¡°Hello, cousin.¡± Antony says, his tone dry but fond. I am stunned.

    Antony has a true elvish name?

    Moreover, Antony has cousins?!

    Something lightly touches my arm, and I look over to see Daniel grinning at me.

    ¡°Not quite what you expected of him, is it?¡± He says, gently teasing. I shake my head.

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t expect this at all. I mean, he, well, he¡¯s always been solitary and so¡­ elvish.¡±

    Daniel laughs. I find myself chuckling despite myself.

    ¡°True, that.¡± The paladin says. ¡°He¡¯s been a bit estranged from his family for a while, but he¡¯s always been on fairly good terms with them nevertheless.¡±

    ¡°Why estranged?¡± I ask, curious. Daniel gives me an unreadable look.

    ¡°That¡¯s something he¡¯ll have to share himself, if he sees fit.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± I don¡¯t push for answers, instead folding my arms and leaning back comfortably against the rail as I watch us sail all the way into the massive harbor.

    Tyrhyld is a beautiful city, even half-burnt and streaked with soot and ash¡ª it¡¯s tall and built of pale stone only a shade or two darker than the white sand on the beach. The city walls extend into the ocean far enough to ensure that there are no weak spots on land. The water-side of the city is open to the docks and such, which may seem like a safety hazard, but, looking back behind us, I see a massive log-and-chain boom raised back into the narrow harbor mouth. Two heavily fortified watchtowers sit atop the pale cliffs on either side of the harbor mouth as well, to guard the entrance and work the boom. I have no doubt that it would take a fair amount of magic and men to overcome the garrisons of those towers. Obviously, the pirates didn¡¯t succeed.

    And it would take even more resources to gain the city itself. Tyrhyld is built on a tall, fairly steep hill that slopes down to the sea. The land side of the city is almost another whole city by itself, while the ocean side looks to be the sea-merchants¡¯ and sailors¡¯ district. Lord Garein¡¯s round citadel sits in the middle, reaching for the heavens like a pale arm. I can¡¯t help but stare up at it as we disembark at the docks.

    ¡°Watch your step.¡± Daniel says, grasping my arm as I trip over a warped board in the dock we¡¯re walking along. Startled, I look at him. Amusement dances in his eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s quite the beautiful sight, isn¡¯t it.¡± He nods at the citadel rising far above us. I look back up at it.

    ¡°It¡¯s definitely something.¡± I agree, hardly paying attention to anything else.

    The harbor master¡¯s aide and Antony lead us through the orderly streets toward the citadel. I am amazed by how clean and bright and prosperous this city is, even with the ash and bits of rubble. I haven¡¯t actually been here before, and I didn¡¯t know such places still existed in the Clan lands. There are bright flowers growing in painted window boxes on the houses and shops we pass. At the least the ones that aren¡¯t crushed and burnt.

    Flowers! Who knew.

    A merry sound catches my attention, and I look over to see Daniel chuckling and openly watching my ill-concealed amazement.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Have you never seen a city before?¡± He teases. I shake my head.

    ¡°Even as battle-worn as it is right now, I have never seen a city this bright and clean, besides¡ª.¡±

    ¡°Besides what?¡± He asks. I shake my head again, waving my hand in dismissal of the question.

    ¡°Never mind. It¡¯s one of those secrets I¡¯d rather keep.¡±

    Daniel¡¯s face saddens. ¡°Trust is a bridge, Ava. It travels both ways.¡± He remarks quietly. I look at the ground.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Daniel.¡± I say softly. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently.

    ¡°You¡¯ll come around.¡± He says lightly. I muster a small smile, but make no reply. After a moment, he releases my hand and we walk in silence. I savor the feel of the sea wind in my hair and on my face as I try to regain control of my thoughts. Take a deep breath of the air. It fills my lungs, blessedly clean even with the smoke, and scented with market spices and salt. I allow myself to enjoy it.

    A squad of guards in decent armor halt us at the the main entrance of the citadel. The main doors here are double doors; huge, reaching up dozens of feet. A smaller wicket gate is set in the left door.

    ¡°Lord Garein is expecting us.¡± Antony tells the guards, handing the squad captain the letter the elf had received in Ciliren. The captain peruses the missive, then nods to us.

    ¡°Very well.¡± The captain says and opens the wicket gate for us. The harbor master¡¯s aide takes her leave of us and trots back down to the docks. Antony leads us inside the citadel.

    The courtyard we find ourselves in is cool, shaded from the sun. It¡¯s also as wide as a street, and across from us there is a two-story building wrapping around the rising center of the citadel. It circles out of sight. I look up and behind, and my breath catches in my throat. The outer wall rises the height of the highest point in the citadel, and the courtyard we¡¯re in really is a street of sorts. I think the wall stands by itself all the way around the citadel. Recessed windows of sorts pock the surface of the wall high above us, letting in sunlight and wind. How in the world¡­ does this stand like it does?

    ¡°Coming?¡± Daniel¡¯s query jerks me out of my thoughts and I turn to see that my friends are all waiting for me, ready to move onward, and watching me with amusement as I gawk at the splendor of the architecture around us.

    ¡°Sorry, yes.¡± I reply, a blush warming my cheeks. I hurry to catch up to them, and Antony leads us around the building a little ways to a set of stairs that lead up to a second street. This street runs between the second story of the ground building and another two-story stone building. I¡¯d wager it continues like this all the way up to the top.

    Despite my keeping myself fit, my legs are burning by the time Antony stops in front of the doors to the top of the citadel. The top is a round tower, a couple dozen feet tall or so. Recessed windows pierce the stone walls in various places, letting in light and air to the interior, I assume.

    The citadel is huge, and a beautiful work of art, but I am glad that I cannot see past the buildings around us. We¡¯re hundreds of feet in the air and I have no wish to look down at the city below us.

    Another squad of guards bars our way at the doors to this final tower. But when Antony announces himself and shows them his missive, they stand aside. One of the men tells us to wait and slips inside the tower. He returns a moment later and beckons us forward.

    ¡°Lord Garein will see thee now. Thine weapons, if thee please.¡± The guard says. We disarm ourselves and place our weapons in the custody of the guards. For my friends¡¯ sakes, I keep back no knives or anything. The guard who is spokesman regards Antony with something akin to fondness. ¡°It is good to have thee home, Kitten.¡± He holds the door open for us.

    Antony presses his lips together in a thin line as his cheeks flush a pale pink. He motions for us to follow him as he steps inside the tower.

    ¡°¡®Kitten¡¯?¡± I whisper discreetly to Daniel. The paladin grins.

    ¡°Later.¡± He whispers back.

    Inside the tower, it is a simple, single room. There is a dais across from us on which is place an elegant, wooden chair carved to look like an oak tree. There are around a couple dozen or so courtiers in the room¡ª men and women both, and mostly elves¡ª, and a straight path to the dais is open before us. Antony strides confidently down this path, stopping a few feet from the dais and bowing low to the elf who is seated on the chair there. Daniel, Eliana, Raeldon, Auvanna, and I mirror him.

    ¡°Welcome home, Antarion.¡± The elf on the dais has a surprising deep voice. Antony straightens and looks the elf in the eye. We behind him straighten as well.

    ¡°Thank you, Uncle.¡± Antony responds, his voice oddly subdued and formal. So, this is Lord Garein. While Antony and Garein exchange their pleasantries, I study the elvish lord.

    I¡¯ve never met him before. I hear he rarely leaves Tyrhyld. He¡¯s ruled here for a couple hundred years, I believe, but he doesn¡¯t look a day older than mid-thirties. He¡¯s as ash-blond as Antony, with the same pale grey-blue eyes. Maybe slightly taller than my friend, and definitely with a more muscular build. Garein¡¯s demeanor is every bit the lord.

    I tense as Garein¡¯s eyes turn to me, and he regards me cooly. ¡°Will not the changeling reveal her true form? Thee will not be persecuted here.¡±

    I freeze, then flick my gaze back and forth between Daniel and Antony. An odd sense of betrayal wells up in my chest before I have a chance to squash it down. ¡°You told him?¡± I ask softly.

    Antony¡¯s face is unreadable. Daniel¡¯s look is apologetic but firm.

    ¡°Everything that you told us. Antony sent a message ahead, detailing our group. It wouldn¡¯t have been right to hold back information like that from his lordship.¡± The fool paladin says.

    I lift my chin, icy formality entering my tone. ¡°We will speak of this later, Daniel.¡± Then I turn my gaze to Garein. ¡°Forgive me, my lord. If you truly wish it, I will reveal my true form.¡±

    He inclines his head to me, all cool seriousness. ¡°I do wish it, Lady Avalon. I will have no pretenses here.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± I sigh softly, resigned, and drop all physical guise. I know it the instant Daniel and the others behold my true form. The paladin¡¯s eyes widen, and something unreadable enters his gaze. Antony just looks surprised. Eliana looks as if she has never seen a changeling before, Auvanna is astonished, and Raeldon¡­. Well, Raeldon is his usual stoic self.

    I look down at myself, wondering why they could be so surprised. I am just me, your typical changeling. I haven¡¯t cut my hair in a while, and its translucent white length flows down a little ways past my waist, unfettered by any ties or pins. My skin is a changeling¡¯s usual translucent pale-as-snow hue. I can¡¯t see my eyes, but I know that they are the same shade of grey as my brother¡¯s are. I am the same size I usually am, so my clothing still fits¡­ I literally cannot see what astonishes them so.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, looking back up at them. Antony shakes his head.

    ¡°It has been so long since I have seen a changeling shift. I had forgotten the strangeness of thine folk.¡± He says, though not unkindly. I can¡¯t help but feel a bit amused. Daniel just swallows before answering me, his cheeks faintly pink.

    ¡°You¡ª you¡¯re just¡­ not what I¡¯d expected.¡± He says, his voice oddly strained. I quirk an eyebrow at him, and glance at Lord Garein to see him looking at Daniel with an amused expression on his regal face.

    ¡°Um, alright¡­.¡± I say, before addressing his lordship. ¡°Is this more to your liking, my lord?¡±

    He nods once, satisfied. Yes, I can definitely see the family resemblance between him and Antony.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± He says. ¡°Outside these walls thee may take whatever form thee wish, but while thou art inside my citadel, I would not have thee hide thineself from us. I regret the hatred thine race has faced, but here thou art safe.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Uncle.¡± Antony speaks up. Garein looks to him. ¡°The city has already repelled the invaders. There is no more fighting to be done at this time. What would thee have me do?¡±

    Garein¡¯s face saddens. ¡°Help with the cleanup, visit with the inhabitants of thine city, and mourn thine dead, Antarion.¡±

    Antony¡¯s expression freezes. ¡°Who of our family¡­ didn¡¯t survive?¡± He asks.

    I¡¯ve never seen him dance around a subject so delicately.

    I see a sheen of tears cover Garein¡¯s eyes. ¡°Tyelion and Fynd¨ªr.¡±

    With a quiet, choked cry, Antony abruptly turns away from everyone, his hands flying up to cover his face. His shoulders shake, and the whole room is dead silent. After a couple seconds, Eliana walks softly up to the elf and wraps her arms around him. He turns in her embrace to weep against her shoulder and neck. Despite myself, a hard lump lodges in my throat as I watch his grief. Eliana runs her fingers through his hair and murmurs quietly in his ear. I can¡¯t hear her words, but I hope they help Antony. Garein strides softly to his nephew and lays his hand on Antony¡¯s shoulder. He too says something too quiet for me to hear. I glance over at Daniel, and am not surprised to see him swallow hard and his eyes glittering with tears. Even Raeldon swipes at his eyes with his thumb. Auvanna stares at Antony, a stricken expression on her sweet face. She no doubt doesn¡¯t understand.

    I sidle closer to Daniel. ¡°Who were Tyelion and Fynd¨ªr?¡± I ask quietly. Daniel quickly dashes his hand across his eyes and sniffs.

    ¡°Tyelion was Antony¡¯s cousin, his mother¡¯s sister¡¯s son, and Fynd¨ªr was his brother.¡± He replies equally quietly.

    Oh.

    I understand Antony¡¯s pain all too well now. If I ever lost Fal¡­ it would tear me apart inside. I have lost people I counted as brothers and sisters, way back when our village was sacked and burned. I know the pain.

    After a few minutes, Antony wipes his face dry and lifts his head, taking a shuddering breath. He looks down at Eliana, then stoops and kisses her cheek softly. Despite his grief, Garein smiles.

    ¡°I take it thou hast finally found a bride, Antarion?¡± He asks. Antony¡¯s lips twitch in a faint expression of joy amidst his sorrow.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t asked the question yet, Uncle, but I intend to soon.¡± He replies hoarsely.

    ¡°Very good.¡± Garein claps Antony on the shoulder. ¡°I am happy for thee, Nephew.¡± He strides back to his throne and seats himself. ¡°When thee see fit, thee may go.¡± He gives us a respectful nod, and we bow back to him.

    ¡°Come.¡± Antony says, gesturing. We follow him out of the room, out of the citadel, and back into the town.

    ¡°Where are we going, Antony?¡± Auvanna asks, trotting to keep up with the elf¡¯s long strides. I listen closely to his answer, curious myself.

    ¡°I have a house in town that I shared with my brother, Auvanna.¡± The elf replies, clasping hands with Eliana. ¡°We¡¯ll be staying there for the time being, provided it is still standing.¡±

    How long has it been, I wonder, since he has been back to his home? And how will he cope with having to stay in a place that he last remembers staying in with someone he has just lost?

    Daniel looks down at me and speaks suddenly, dislodging me from my thoughts. ¡°You are not going to change back from your true form?¡± He sounds mildly surprised. I look up at him, then down to myself. Sigh.

    ¡°What¡¯s the point?¡± I answer quietly. ¡°Walk a half-mile, might as well walk the whole mile.¡±

    ¡°If you are sure¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± I sigh again. ¡°But really, I may have to shift forms here, in public, so what¡¯s the point of keeping it hidden now?¡±

    Daniel makes no reply to that, but he does reach over and give my hand a squeeze. I withdraw my hand gently from his.

    ¡°Daniel, why did you have to spread the details of my life like that? I told you in confidence, and I was mostly fine with you sharing it with Antony, Eliana, and Raeldon, but not the whole blasted nobility!¡± I infuse my tone with some of the ire and betrayal I¡¯m feeling.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ava. But it was unwise to keep it from his lordship. You shouldn¡¯t worry yourself. I know Lord Garein to be a just and discreet man, and he had every right to know just who he was receiving into his city.¡± That fool-blasted paladin is apologetic, but still firm on the subject.

    ¡°You still should have asked me first. I am a very private person, Daniel, and not easily trusting. I could have been arrested the second I set foot on the docks.¡±

    ¡°You were under my protection. Lord Garein would not have done something like that without my consent, even in his own city. He¡¯s vor Elhim, Ava. He knows the meaning of forgiveness. You were safe, like he said.¡±

    ¡°Oh very well.¡± I grumble, knowing that it can¡¯t be helped now. And¡­ maybe Daniel¡¯s right. This time.

    I am stared at by the townspeople as we walk to Antony¡¯s house. I see them whisper. I try not to care. I try to ignore the panic that threatens to well up in me. Once inside Antony¡¯s house, once the door is shut against the world, I breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing for the moment.

    I look around. The house is elegant but homey. It¡¯s small and cozy. I like it. A kitchen, dining room, and comfortable sitting room on the first floor, and spacious, sunny bedrooms upstairs. I watch as Antony gently disengages himself from us and walks upstairs. I move quietly to the foot of the stairs and watch him stop in front of a closed door upon which is carved the likeness of a willow tree. Antony places his hand on the surface of the door, then softly leans his head against the wooden leaves of the willow. The sunlight streams in from a window at the end of the upstairs hallway and gleams on the tears running down Antony¡¯s cheeks. He swallows hard. I move away from the stairs.

    ¡°So, ¡®Kitten¡¯?¡± I ask Daniel, joining him at the dining room table. He smiles.

    ¡°Yep. It was the name he was given by his siblings and cousins when he was younger, on account of his fierce temper and his affinity for heights and knives and squeezing into very small spaces. They used to use the name to tease him.¡±

    ¡°Antony had a temper?¡± I am surprised.

    ¡°Has.¡± Daniel corrects. ¡°Has a temper. It doesn¡¯t show the way it used to, and he rarely snaps anymore, but it is still there.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± I let that new piece of information revolve in my mind for a while, until Antony comes back downstairs to show us all to our respective bedrooms. I¡¯m bunking with Eliana again, it seems. This time, we¡¯ll have Auvanna with us as well.

    We spend the next few days helping around the city, using manna and back-breaking effort to clean up rubble, and mourning over the dead, fortifying damaged walls, and occasionally rebuilding a house or two. I work alongside my friends and complete strangers, and I don¡¯t get many dirty looks.

    But there will always be those who let their prejudice get the better of them.

    On our seventh day in the city, just as we¡¯ve finished up the last of the major cleanup, I am approached by an angry half-orc who clearly doesn¡¯t want me within a mile¡¯s reach of the city.

    ¡°Clear off, changeling.¡± He growls.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Daniel steps in angrily, but I motion him aside.

    ¡°Leave off, Daniel. Let it alone.¡± I say, and move to ignore the half-orc.

    Or, at least, that is my plan until the half-orc grabs my arm and spins me to face him. Daniel moves to to aid me, but the crowd has contracted and moved back, forming a ring around the half-orc and I.

    ¡°Leave off, sir.¡± I tell the half-orc icily, yanking my arm out of his grasp.

    ¡°When you leave the city.¡± He growls down into my face.

    ¡°I have as much right to be here as you.¡± I growl back at him.

    ¡°Ava!¡± I hear Daniel shout, and in my peripheral I see him trying to push through the crowd, trying to get to me. I ignore him. I can handle myself.

    ¡°You have no right to be here, changeling scum.¡± The half-orc sneers.

    ¡°What did I ever do to you, that you hate me so?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Your kind has always been a plague upon our lands, and the northern lords were right to drive you out. That point was driven home when D¡¯Adrian stole his crown!¡±

    My fingers curl into tight fists. No one gets to talk about my brother like that!

    But then I force myself to relax. Violence will not fix anything.

    ¡°If you have a problem with my presence, you can take it to Lord Garein.¡± I mutter, turning away.

    ¡°No! Your kind killed my family! You deserve to pay!¡± The half-orc whirls me back around, and this time I shove him away. He staggers, but keeps his footing.

    ¡°Don''t touch me again.¡± I growl at him.

    ¡°Your kind killed my family.¡± He repeats, anger and bitter grief smoldering in his tone. ¡°I¡¯ll see you pay.¡±

    Great. Someone else whose loved ones probably haunt me. I¡¯ve killed a few orcs and half-orcs in my time. I wonder which ones were his.

    I try to defuse the situation, knowing that I¡¯m probably lying as I say, ¡°That wasn¡¯t me. Leave off.¡±

    ¡°I challenge you.¡± He growls. ¡°Single combat. Let the gods decide if you are guilty or not.¡±

    My eyes widen, and my hand reaches up almost of its own volition and slides my mage blade out of its sheath.

    ¡°Ava, no!¡± I hear Daniel shout. The half-orc grins, bloodlust glinting in his eyes. He yanks a large sword out of his belt and levels it at me. The crowd, once silent, now begins to chant.

    ¡°Ava!¡± Daniel¡¯s distressed cry barely rises above the noise of the crowd. I don¡¯t look at him, instead locking eyes with the angry half-orc.

    Kill, something inside me whispers. I see the same command glint in the half-orc¡¯s gaze. Kill.

    No.

    I refuse to add anymore blood to my guilt. Not when it can be avoided. The half-orc must have seen something flicker in my eyes. Something that tells him I¡¯m backing down. He snorts angrily.

    ¡°Fight me!¡± He roars.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to fight you.¡± I tell him, lowering, then sheathing, my mage blade. I have no thirst for blood anymore. The crowd around us goes abruptly silent. The half-orc growls in fury, but I¡¯m already turning away. I¡¯ve taken no more than a few steps before I hear shouts behind me. A half-second later, something strikes me, hard, high in the back. Blinding, burning, white-hot-ice-cold, sharp-as-knives pain erupts in the left side of my back and my chest. Steals away nearly all thought, all feeling, all breath. Only fragments race through my mind, sensations there and then gone.

    Unexpected

    Unprepared

    Too sudden to fight the pain

    Too sudden to gather my wits

    I collapse.

 Seventeenth

    I reappear in the forest glade where I had slaughtered a young paladin so recently and yet so long ago. I still see his face, clearly, vividly. But I am left no time to dwell on anything much as Fal gathers his manna and abruptly teleports to me.

    I don¡¯t want to see his stricken face, or hear him call my name. I don¡¯t need my resolve crumbling.

    Before he can even finish reappearing though the dimensions, I am off again, stepping into the in-between and emerging someplace else. I¡¯m in the east, I think. The place is beautiful, if barren. Brown stone atop jagged cliffs that rise high above a crashing sea. It¡¯s loud here, and the air tastes salty, but I have no time to enjoy the place before I have to teleport again with Fal right behind me.

    I lead him on a merry chase, flashing through locations with the ease that the magic of the marble affords, often doubling back, as his manna drains and he becomes more and more weary.

    I can tell when his manna is depleted enough that he can follow me safely no more. And I stop running. I teleport one more time, reappearing in a dark forest. It¡¯s night, with a moon full and bright enough to cast shadows and a weird half-light beneath the dense canopy of leaves. I ghost my way through the shadows, traveling through the forest as far and fast as I can before Fal gets here. I duck behind a broad tree trunk as he reappears out of the in-between somewhere behind me.

    ¡°Blackbird!¡± He cries, and I feel my heart breaking at the anguish I hear in his voice, and feel through the twin-bond. ¡°Stop! Please! What¡ª what are you doing? Ava? Please!¡±

    His voice breaks at the end, but rings out through the trees with no regard for anything hostile that might be around us. He¡¯s about twenty feet behind me.

    ¡°Go home, Fal!¡± I shout at him over my shoulder, around the tree trunk.

    ¡°Ava¡ª why? Please, why?¡± He¡¯s close to tears, hurt and bewildered. I swallow past a lump in my throat. He takes a step toward me. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Why are you doing this? I¡ª I don¡¯t understand!¡±

    ¡°I need some time alone, Falkirk. I need to think. This won¡¯t be forever, but I can¡¯t stay right now. I¡¯m sorry. Go home.¡± I tell him, mustering some harshness into my tone.

    ¡°Blackbird¡ª please!¡± His voice breaks again. So does my heart. He comes closer.

    ¡°You have enough manna for only one more safe teleportation. Anymore, and you risk death. Whereas, I can do this for as long as I need to. Don¡¯t come any closer. Go home, Falkirk. Please. Don¡¯t come after me. Just leave me alone for now. I¡¯ll return when I¡¯m ready.¡±

    ¡°Ava¡ª.¡± I feel his mind questing for mine, seeking entry, seeking understanding. But I shut him out, mercilessly. And I don¡¯t open up.

    ¡°Do it, Falkirk! Stop worrying about me. I¡¯m not a child.¡±

    ¡°Ava, please!¡± My brother pleads, and I¡¯m hard put not to go to him. Instead, I say not another word. Merely teleport once more, back to the forest glade and the cairn.

    I feel Fal¡¯s fear and grief and anguish almost as acutely as if it were my own. It¡¯s not that he¡¯s deliberately pushing it through our bond at me. He doesn¡¯t need to. That¡¯s how strongly he¡¯s feeling it right now. And I hate myself for the pain I¡¯m causing him.

    He gathers his manna and teleports once more; I feel him land back in North Keep. I breathe a small sigh of relief that he¡¯s done as I said. I don¡¯t know what I would have done if he had followed me again.

    The forest is peaceful here, but the peacefulness fails to penetrate to my soul. I want that peace. I need it.

    Thasron was right. I seek for peace and do not find it. I am denied it.

    But there is no anger at this denial. To my surprise, my deep anger is mostly gone. Taking its place is a deep remorse that sucks at me like quicksand.

    I look around the forest, gaze at the stream that¡¯s maybe a little more cheery than normal, and I take a deep breath. Shove that sorrow down where I shove everything else. I sink to the grass beside the cairn and lean back against the rough stones. I can see that poor paladin¡¯s face in my mind. The faces never leave me and, here, in the place of his death, his visage refuses to be ignored.

    Well, if he won¡¯t leave me be, might as well not shove him away. Might as well own this. I can never escape it, after all.

    I close my eyes and study the paladin¡¯s face. He was a handsome fellow¡ª pleasant to behold, but not eerily so. He had green eyes.

    Callis¡¯s face floats into my mind alongside the paladin¡¯s. Despite her being the most recent death I¡¯ve witnessed, the paladin¡¯s face is just as vivid as hers. I study them both for a minute, side by side.

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    And then my breath stills and my eyes open wide.

    No. It can¡¯t be.

    But it is.

    In their faces, there is a distinct resemblance, a likeness too profound to ignore.

    "You had my family murdered."

    Callis and the paladin had been siblings.

    They¡¯d been siblings!

    Just like Fal and me.

    I tip my head heavily back against the cairn and cover my face with my hands, breathing fast and hard.

    What have we become?

    The question echoes in my mind, and I shy away from the answer.

    But then I berate myself for being such a coward. There is one way I can know the full weight of what I¡¯ve done.

    I can open the door in my mind.

    Slowly, hesitantly, I pull open that door. Then my eyes fly open, wide, as the door bursts open with all the force of my victims behind it. Searing pain, countless faces, and a multitude of screaming voices all fill my mind. My breath stills, and it¡¯s only with an effort that I am able to drag more air back into my lungs.

    I squeeze my eyes shut and clasp my head tightly in my hands.

    I need this to stop.

    It¡¯s too much.

    It''s too much.

    It''s too much!

    I utter a choked cry as I struggle to shove every face, every voice back behind that door, struggle to close the door again. And I do it, eventually. I slam the door closed once more and lock it securely. But it¡¯s lost its integrity. It¡¯s bent and warped and no longer fits in its frame. Faces can leak out. The voices cry louder. They¡¯re harder than ever to shut out.

    I need someone by my side next time I open that door. Someone who can draw me back, who can keep me from drowning in¡­ everything.

    That¡¯s if I ever open that door again. I sigh again. Massage my temples with my fingertips. My teeth are sore from clenching my jaw. Despair swirls around me, and I struggle to master it.

    Thas was more right than he¡¯ll ever know. There will never be any peace for me.

    There might be, something inside me whispers. Daniel and his friends have peace, somehow. Thas found peace. Somehow.

    I know where they would say they found their peace. They would say they were given it. They would say that Elhim had given it.

    I drag my hands down my face and let them drop to my lap. ¡°If¡ª if you¡¯re there, please¡ª please answer.¡± I whisper to the air, feeling self-conscious and slightly silly. I pause, listening.

    There is no answer.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re real. I know it. Daniel would¡ª would say that you would forgive me, would give me peace. Please.¡± I pause again, holding my breath, listening for something. Anything.

    Nothing. The forest is still, silent, not even stirred by a breeze. The only sound is the stream behind the cairn and me. I curl my fingers into fists, digging my nails into my palms, trying to anchor myself with the pain. Despair wells up in me and threatens to overwhelm me.

    ¡°I knew it.¡± I mutter. ¡°This is pointless.¡± After a minute I rise and shove the despair down again. I welcome the numbness that replaces it. I begin building a fire pit.

    If I¡¯m going to spend a considerable amount of time out here, I might as well make the most of it.

    I spend four days or so in the wilds. Alone. It¡¯s¡­ an unexpectedly blessed reprieve. I enjoy it. I feel Fal¡¯s hurt and fear and anguish over my actions, but I ignore him as best as I can.

    I forage for what I need to survive, mainly meat. I have everything else I need in my bottomless pocket. I fish in the stream by the cairn, and I sleep in snatches in the trees. My sleep is light and sporadic, and I am tired when I wake, but I am unwilling to succumb to a deeper slumber. I cannot risk being caught off guard.

    By anyone.

    I spend my time thinking, searching for answers, my thoughts whirling round and round without end. Trying not to avoid my problems while trying to avoid my darkness and shame.

    Most of my anger is gone. It¡¯s no longer there to be summoned forth. The bitterness is¡­ fading. The pride is a wall to hide behind when things become too difficult.

    But peace continues to elude me, and after a while I know only one answer to one problem among all of them.

    I know who would never ask me to kill.

    I know who holds some answers, even ones I don¡¯t want to hear. Some answers I don¡¯t understand.

    I know I have a promise I should keep, because without my word, without my honor, I am nothing.

    I am going back to Daniel.

    Fal will not be happy, I know. But¡­ Fal¡­ is¡­.

    I sigh. The whole situation is complicated, more so than I¡¯m willing to figure out right now.

    I only know I need¡­

    I sigh again, heavily, puffing out my breath hard enough to blow stray strands of hair off my face. I don¡¯t know what I need.

    But my decision is made. I dig my slate marble out of my pocket, hold it up and watch as its dark grey hue absorbs the sunlight. I remember the spell Daniel placed upon it, an exact replica of my brother¡¯s.

    Doubt swirls within me as I gaze at the small, round bit of stone. Before I can think too much and talk myself out of my choice, I clench the marble in my fist and whisper the name of the man I love.

    ¡°Daniel.¡±

    And the world fades to white.

 Eighteenth

    I stagger as I am deposited on the heaving deck of a ship. Daniel grabs my arms to steady me.

    ¡°Whoa, there! Easy.¡± He says, and then grins. ¡°Ava! You came back!¡± The air explodes from my lungs as he wraps me in a tight embrace.

    ¡°Daniel¡ª let¡ª go!¡± I gasp out. He releases me, laughing, and I drag in a breath. I can¡¯t help but grin at him. Stars, I¡¯ve missed him.

    ¡°You came back.¡± He repeats happily.

    ¡°Of course I did.¡± I say, arching an eyebrow at him in amusement. ¡°I told you I¡¯d meet you in Tyrhyld. Speaking of which,¡± I turn to gaze out at the passing coastline and a city that we are rapidly approaching. A pall of smoke rises over the walls and buildings. ¡°I thought you¡¯d already be there by now.¡±

    ¡°The trials took some time.¡± The paladin says, sobering and folding his arms. I move to lay a hand on his arm, think better of it, and let my hand drop back to my side.

    ¡°A lot of executions?¡± I ask sympathetically. He drops his gaze, breathes in deep through his nose and out again.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± He says. ¡°A lot. Most of Azaes¡¯s soldiers had done despicable things and, well, they faced justice.¡±

    This time, I do lay my hand on Daniel¡¯s arm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I say softly. He lifts his gaze to mine, and my breath catches at the sight of those sea-blue eyes. He searches my gaze, and smiles slightly.

    ¡°You¡¯ve changed somewhat, Ava.¡± His smile holds sorrow in it.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I admit.

    ¡°But you are still fighting.¡±

    Now it is my turn to drop my gaze. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to think or feel, I don¡¯t know what to do, Daniel.¡± I lift my eyes to his, feeling my despair well up again. ¡°I feel as if I¡¯m drowning.¡±

    His gaze softens, and my breath hitches again. ¡°I know someone who can help you.¡± He says.

    ¡°I tried talking to Elhim, Daniel.¡± I tell him before he can begin speaking about his God. Surprise covers his face. ¡°He didn¡¯t answer.¡±

    He narrows his eyes at me, and a faint smile tugs at his lips. ¡°You weren¡¯t listening, then.¡± The paladin says. I narrow my own eyes, lifting my chin.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Daniel begins, but he is interrupted by Eliana, who climbs out of a hatch in the deck, catches sight of me, and runs over to happily squeeze the life out of me as best as she can.

    ¡°Hello, Eliana.¡± I gasp. Her embrace is even tighter than Daniel¡¯s was. I look over her shoulder and see Auvanna, the drowling, shyly standing there. Stars, I¡¯d forgotten about Auvanna. Where had she been when I¡¯d left Azmal? Probably testifying against the condemned soldiers.

    I offer the drowling a smile, and she shyly returns it. The fabric of her violet dress crinkles where her fists are clenched around it. Eliana finally releases me, and holds me back from her a little ways. Her eyes search my face with alarming perception, and I have to resist the urge to look away. Eliana¡¯s expression saddens.

    ¡°You poor girl.¡± She says, and pulls me back into her embrace, albeit gentler this time. I am stunned. What did she see? Can my inner turmoil and struggle be that obvious?

    ¡°It¡¯ll be alright.¡± Eliana says, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut against sudden tears.

    How dear these people have become to me over the time we have spent together. How closely I know I must guard my heart when I don¡¯t know how the next few days and weeks will play out.

    That alone could tear me apart right now.

    Eliana finally releases me again, and I step away at her and quickly swipe my hand across my eyes. The half-elf turns to Daniel.

    ¡°She tried talking to Elhim.¡± He says to answer her unspoken question. ¡°She says there was no answer.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Eliana clicks her tongue in understanding and sympathy. ¡°Then you weren¡¯t listening, Ava.¡±

    I chuckle softly. ¡°That¡¯s what Daniel said.¡±

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    ¡°Daniel is usually right.¡± Antony says, and I look up to see that he has joined us up in the wind and sun. He stands confidently on the deck, swaying easily with the heaving boards beneath our feet. I haven¡¯t seen him in his natural environment before, I guess. He regards me with the same perceptiveness that Eliana did, and nods once. Then he crosses the few feet between him and Eliana to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

    ¡°What was that supposed to mean?¡± I ask him, puzzled by his look and nod and then his lack of elaboration.

    ¡°My comrades art right. Thee did not hear Elhim because thee weren¡¯t listening.¡± He says matter-of-factly.

    I sigh slightly in irritation. ¡°I was listening. He didn¡¯t answer because, well, because¡ª.¡± I press my lips together against the words that want to escape, and turn on my heel. Stride to the rail and clench my fingers around it. Blink away tears that have no business plaguing me right now. Sea spray splashes up onto my face as I work to corral my tempestuous thoughts.

    After a minute boots clack quietly on the deck boards behind me, and Daniel leans on the rail next to me. He doesn¡¯t look at me, doesn¡¯t acknowledge me in any way, he just stares out at the city that we¡¯re fast approaching. I glance at him, but he seems preoccupied with the wind and scenery. The weight in my heart grows even more heavy.

    And finally, I cannot stand the silence anymore. ¡°What do you mean, I wasn¡¯t listening?¡± I pitch my voice over the noise of the hissing waves. I hate how vulnerable I sound. ¡°I was listening, Daniel. I was.¡±

    He turns to look at me, leaning on his elbow against the rail. A stray wave splashes up and soaks his sleeve, but he doesn¡¯t seem to notice or care. He merely gazes at me with kindness and compassion before he speaks.

    ¡°Elhim is everywhere, Ava. And if you speak to Him, He¡¯ll hear. Sometimes He answers in a way we can absolutely know, and sometimes His silence is the answer. If you did speak to Him, then either you didn¡¯t want to hear what He had to say, or He hasn¡¯t called you yet. I suspect it was the former.¡± He finishes softly. I can¡¯t keep my eyes from welling up with tears.

    ¡°I opened the door, Daniel.¡± I confess to him. He cocks his head, confused.

    ¡°What door?¡±

    ¡°The¡ª the one in my mind.¡± I turn my gaze seaward and continue in a voice made quiet with shame. ¡°The one behind which are all the faces and voices of the people I¡¯ve killed. Every single one.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± His tone says he understands completely. ¡°What happened when you opened this door?¡±

    ¡°I was overwhelmed.¡± I mutter.

    ¡°I see.¡± He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder sympathetically. I look up into his eyes that seem to reflect both sky and sea.

    ¡°I managed to shut it again, but it¡¯s damaged and so am I; I can¡¯t open it again, Daniel, I can¡¯t!¡± I confess in a rush. He regards me for a moment with a kindness so profound, I want to shrink away from it. I don¡¯t deserve his kindness.

    ¡°One day,¡± the paladin says slowly, choosing his words with care, ¡°you will have to open that door again, Ava. You will have to face what you are. You will have to face the knowledge that you cannot be saved by any worldly power. But when that day comes I will be there with you, and I¡¯ll be praying that you¡¯ll know a redeeming performed by the only One who can do such a thing. I promise.¡± He squeezes my shoulder again.

    ¡°Thank you, Daniel.¡± I whisper, and then turn my eyes away to gaze at the harbor as we sail into port though the narrow mouth between the cliffs on either side of us.

    Tyrhyld is a fair-sized city, ruled by one particular family of elves for as long as anyone can remember. Nobody would go so far as to say that the current patriarch of this family, Lord Garein, is actually a High Clan Lord, but he¡¯s close enough to. He¡¯s powerful.

    I wonder what relation Antony is to him.

    I am not left to wonder long, however, as two fair-sized ships sail up on either side of us, escorting us into the huge harbor. Their guns are already run out, and I count twenty to a side. A hefty weight for even ships such as these. They could blow us out of the water with nary a thought. Looking around at our own ship, I realize that she¡¯s too small to carry much more than the weight of two guns. We probably don¡¯t even have guns aboard.

    ¡°Ahoy the Mother of Pearl!" Calls a sailor on deck of the ship to our right. Daniel and I look over. Antony stands at the other rail. ¡°Art thou friend or foe?¡±

    ¡°Friend!¡± Antony replies, cupping his hands around his mouth in order to be heard across the distance between the two ships. ¡°I am Antarion Galaethor vor Elhim, youngest nephew of Lord Garein Galaethor! He called me home, and I have come!¡±

    ¡°Antony?!¡± The sailor cries. His tone is joyful.

    ¡°Hello, cousin.¡± Antony says, his tone dry but fond. I am stunned.

    Antony has a true elvish name?

    Moreover, Antony has cousins?!

    Something lightly touches my arm, and I look over to see Daniel grinning at me.

    ¡°Not quite what you expected of him, is it?¡± He says, gently teasing. I shake my head.

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t expect this at all. I mean, he, well, he¡¯s always been solitary and so¡­ elvish.¡±

    Daniel laughs. I find myself chuckling despite myself.

    ¡°True, that.¡± The paladin says. ¡°He¡¯s been a bit estranged from his family for a while, but he¡¯s always been on fairly good terms with them nevertheless.¡±

    ¡°Why estranged?¡± I ask, curious. Daniel gives me an unreadable look.

    ¡°That¡¯s something he¡¯ll have to share himself, if he sees fit.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± I don¡¯t push for answers, instead folding my arms and leaning back comfortably against the rail as I watch us sail all the way into the massive harbor.

 Nineteenth

    Tyrhyld is a beautiful city, even half-burnt and streaked with soot and ash¡ª it¡¯s tall and built of pale stone only a shade or two darker than the white sand on the beach. The city walls extend into the ocean far enough to ensure that there are no weak spots on land. The water-side of the city is open to the docks and such, which may seem like a safety hazard, but, looking back behind us, I see a massive log-and-chain boom raised back into the narrow harbor mouth. Two heavily fortified watchtowers sit atop the pale cliffs on either side of the harbor mouth as well, to guard the entrance and work the boom. I have no doubt that it would take a fair amount of magic and men to overcome the garrisons of those towers. Obviously, the pirates didn¡¯t succeed.

    And it would take even more resources to gain the city itself. Tyrhyld is built on a tall, fairly steep hill that slopes down to the sea. The land side of the city is almost another whole city by itself, while the ocean side looks to be the sea-merchants¡¯ and sailors¡¯ district. Lord Garein¡¯s round citadel sits in the middle, reaching for the heavens like a pale arm. I can¡¯t help but stare up at it as we disembark at the docks.

    ¡°Watch your step.¡± Daniel says, grasping my arm as I trip over a warped board in the dock we¡¯re walking along. Startled, I look at him. Amusement dances in his eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s quite the beautiful sight, isn¡¯t it.¡± He nods at the citadel rising far above us. I look back up at it.

    ¡°It¡¯s definitely something.¡± I agree, hardly paying attention to anything else.

    The harbor master¡¯s aide and Antony lead us through the orderly streets toward the citadel. I am amazed by how clean and bright and prosperous this city is, even with the ash and bits of rubble. I haven¡¯t actually been here before, and I didn¡¯t know such places still existed in the Clan lands. There are bright flowers growing in painted window boxes on the houses and shops we pass. At the least the ones that aren¡¯t crushed and burnt.

    Flowers! Who knew.

    A merry sound catches my attention, and I look over to see Daniel chuckling and openly watching my ill-concealed amazement.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Have you never seen a city before?¡± He teases. I shake my head.

    ¡°Even as battle-worn as it is right now, I have never seen a city this bright and clean, besides¡ª.¡±

    ¡°Besides what?¡± He asks. I shake my head again, waving my hand in dismissal of the question.

    ¡°Never mind. It¡¯s one of those secrets I¡¯d rather keep.¡±

    Daniel¡¯s face saddens. ¡°Trust is a bridge, Ava. It travels both ways.¡± He remarks quietly. I look at the ground.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Daniel.¡± I say softly. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently.

    ¡°You¡¯ll come around.¡± He says lightly. I muster a small smile, but make no reply. After a moment, he releases my hand and we walk in silence. I savor the feel of the sea wind in my hair and on my face as I try to regain control of my thoughts. Take a deep breath of the air. It fills my lungs, blessedly clean even with the smoke, and scented with market spices and salt. I allow myself to enjoy it.

    A squad of guards in decent armor halt us at the the main entrance of the citadel. The main doors here are double doors; huge, reaching up dozens of feet. A smaller wicket gate is set in the left door.

    ¡°Lord Garein is expecting us.¡± Antony tells the guards, handing the squad captain the letter the elf had received in Ciliren. The captain peruses the missive, then nods to us.

    ¡°Very well.¡± The captain says and opens the wicket gate for us. The harbor master¡¯s aide takes her leave of us and trots back down to the docks. Antony leads us inside the citadel.

    The courtyard we find ourselves in is cool, shaded from the sun. It¡¯s also as wide as a street, and across from us there is a two-story building wrapping around the rising center of the citadel. It circles out of sight. I look up and behind, and my breath catches in my throat. The outer wall rises the height of the highest point in the citadel, and the courtyard we¡¯re in really is a street of sorts. I think the wall stands by itself all the way around the citadel. Recessed windows of sorts pock the surface of the wall high above us, letting in sunlight and wind. How in the world¡­ does this stand like it does?

    ¡°Coming?¡± Daniel¡¯s query jerks me out of my thoughts and I turn to see that my friends are all waiting for me, ready to move onward, and watching me with amusement as I gawk at the splendor of the architecture around us.

    ¡°Sorry, yes.¡± I reply, a blush warming my cheeks. I hurry to catch up to them, and Antony leads us around the building a little ways to a set of stairs that lead up to a second street. This street runs between the second story of the ground building and another two-story stone building. I¡¯d wager it continues like this all the way up to the top.

    Despite my keeping myself fit, my legs are burning by the time Antony stops in front of the doors to the top of the citadel. The top is a round tower, a couple dozen feet tall or so. Recessed windows pierce the stone walls in various places, letting in light and air to the interior, I assume.

    The citadel is huge, and a beautiful work of art, but I am glad that I cannot see past the buildings around us. We¡¯re hundreds of feet in the air and I have no wish to look down at the city below us.

    Another squad of guards bars our way at the doors to this final tower. But when Antony announces himself and shows them his missive, they stand aside. One of the men tells us to wait and slips inside the tower. He returns a moment later and beckons us forward.

    ¡°Lord Garein will see thee now. Thine weapons, if thee please.¡± The guard says. We disarm ourselves and place our weapons in the custody of the guards. For my friends¡¯ sakes, I keep back no knives or anything. The guard who is spokesman regards Antony with something akin to fondness. ¡°It is good to have thee home, Kitten.¡± He holds the door open for us.

    Antony presses his lips together in a thin line as his cheeks flush a pale pink. He motions for us to follow him as he steps inside the tower.

    ¡°¡®Kitten¡¯?¡± I whisper discreetly to Daniel. The paladin grins.

    ¡°Later.¡± He whispers back.

    Inside the tower, it is a simple, single room. There is a dais across from us on which is place an elegant, wooden chair carved to look like an oak tree. There are around a couple dozen or so courtiers in the room¡ª men and women both, and mostly elves¡ª, and a straight path to the dais is open before us. Antony strides confidently down this path, stopping a few feet from the dais and bowing low to the elf who is seated on the chair there. Daniel, Eliana, Raeldon, Auvanna, and I mirror him.

    ¡°Welcome home, Antarion.¡± The elf on the dais has a surprising deep voice. Antony straightens and looks the elf in the eye. We behind him straighten as well.

    ¡°Thank you, Uncle.¡± Antony responds, his voice oddly subdued and formal. So, this is Lord Garein. While Antony and Garein exchange their pleasantries, I study the elvish lord.

    I¡¯ve never met him before. I hear he rarely leaves Tyrhyld. He¡¯s ruled here for a couple hundred years, I believe, but he doesn¡¯t look a day older than mid-thirties. He¡¯s as ash-blond as Antony, with the same pale grey-blue eyes. Maybe slightly taller than my friend, and definitely with a more muscular build. Garein¡¯s demeanor is every bit the lord.

    I tense as Garein¡¯s eyes turn to me, and he regards me cooly. ¡°Will not the changeling reveal her true form? Thee will not be persecuted here.¡±

    I freeze, then flick my gaze back and forth between Daniel and Antony. An odd sense of betrayal wells up in my chest before I have a chance to squash it down. ¡°You told him?¡± I ask softly.

    Antony¡¯s face is unreadable. Daniel¡¯s look is apologetic but firm.

    ¡°Everything that you told us. Antony sent a message ahead, detailing our group. It wouldn¡¯t have been right to hold back information like that from his lordship.¡± The fool paladin says.

    I lift my chin, icy formality entering my tone. ¡°We will speak of this later, Daniel.¡± Then I turn my gaze to Garein. ¡°Forgive me, my lord. If you truly wish it, I will reveal my true form.¡±

    He inclines his head to me, all cool seriousness. ¡°I do wish it, Lady Avalon. I will have no pretenses here.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± I sigh softly, resigned, and drop all physical guise. I know it the instant Daniel and the others behold my true form. The paladin¡¯s eyes widen, and something unreadable enters his gaze. Antony just looks surprised. Eliana looks as if she has never seen a changeling before, Auvanna is astonished, and Raeldon¡­. Well, Raeldon is his usual stoic self.

    I look down at myself, wondering why they could be so surprised. I am just me, your typical changeling. I haven¡¯t cut my hair in a while, and its translucent white length flows down a little ways past my waist, unfettered by any ties or pins. My skin is a changeling¡¯s usual translucent pale-as-snow hue. I can¡¯t see my eyes, but I know that they are the same shade of grey as my brother¡¯s are. I am the same size I usually am, so my clothing still fits¡­ I literally cannot see what astonishes them so.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, looking back up at them. Antony shakes his head.

    ¡°It has been so long since I have seen a changeling shift. I had forgotten the strangeness of thine folk.¡± He says, though not unkindly. I can¡¯t help but feel a bit amused. Daniel just swallows before answering me, his cheeks faintly pink.

    ¡°You¡ª you¡¯re just¡­ not what I¡¯d expected.¡± He says, his voice oddly strained. I quirk an eyebrow at him, and glance at Lord Garein to see him looking at Daniel with an amused expression on his regal face.

    ¡°Um, alright¡­.¡± I say, before addressing his lordship. ¡°Is this more to your liking, my lord?¡±

    He nods once, satisfied. Yes, I can definitely see the family resemblance between him and Antony.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± He says. ¡°Outside these walls thee may take whatever form thee wish, but while thou art inside my citadel, I would not have thee hide thineself from us. I regret the hatred thine race has faced, but here thou art safe.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Uncle.¡± Antony speaks up. Garein looks to him. ¡°The city has already repelled the invaders. There is no more fighting to be done at this time. What would thee have me do?¡±

    Garein¡¯s face saddens. ¡°Help with the cleanup, visit with the inhabitants of thine city, and mourn thine dead, Antarion.¡±

    Antony¡¯s expression freezes. ¡°Who of our family¡­ didn¡¯t survive?¡± He asks.

    I¡¯ve never seen him dance around a subject so delicately.

    I see a sheen of tears cover Garein¡¯s eyes. ¡°Tyelion and Fynd¨ªr.¡±

    With a quiet, choked cry, Antony abruptly turns away from everyone, his hands flying up to cover his face. His shoulders shake, and the whole room is dead silent. After a couple seconds, Eliana walks softly up to the elf and wraps her arms around him. He turns in her embrace to weep against her shoulder and neck. Despite myself, a hard lump lodges in my throat as I watch his grief. Eliana runs her fingers through his hair and murmurs quietly in his ear. I can¡¯t hear her words, but I hope they help Antony. Garein strides softly to his nephew and lays his hand on Antony¡¯s shoulder. He too says something too quiet for me to hear. I glance over at Daniel, and am not surprised to see him swallow hard and his eyes glittering with tears. Even Raeldon swipes at his eyes with his thumb. Auvanna stares at Antony, a stricken expression on her sweet face. She no doubt doesn¡¯t understand.

    I sidle closer to Daniel. ¡°Who were Tyelion and Fynd¨ªr?¡± I ask quietly. Daniel quickly dashes his hand across his eyes and sniffs.

    ¡°Tyelion was Antony¡¯s cousin, his mother¡¯s sister¡¯s son, and Fynd¨ªr was his brother.¡± He replies equally quietly.

    Oh.

    I understand Antony¡¯s pain all too well now. If I ever lost Fal¡­ it would tear me apart inside. I have lost people I counted as brothers and sisters, way back when our village was sacked and burned. I know the pain.

    After a few minutes, Antony wipes his face dry and lifts his head, taking a shuddering breath. He looks down at Eliana, then stoops and kisses her cheek softly. Despite his grief, Garein smiles.

    ¡°I take it thou hast finally found a bride, Antarion?¡± He asks. Antony¡¯s lips twitch in a faint expression of joy amidst his sorrow.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t asked the question yet, Uncle, but I intend to soon.¡± He replies hoarsely.

    ¡°Very good.¡± Garein claps Antony on the shoulder. ¡°I am happy for thee, Nephew.¡± He strides back to his throne and seats himself. ¡°When thee see fit, thee may go.¡± He gives us a respectful nod, and we bow back to him.

    ¡°Come.¡± Antony says, gesturing. We follow him out of the room, out of the citadel, and back into the town.

    ¡°Where are we going, Antony?¡± Auvanna asks, trotting to keep up with the elf¡¯s long strides. I listen closely to his answer, curious myself.

    ¡°I have a house in town that I shared with my brother, Auvanna.¡± The elf replies, clasping hands with Eliana. ¡°We¡¯ll be staying there for the time being, provided it is still standing.¡±

    How long has it been, I wonder, since he has been back to his home? And how will he cope with having to stay in a place that he last remembers staying in with someone he has just lost?

    Daniel looks down at me and speaks suddenly, dislodging me from my thoughts. ¡°You are not going to change back from your true form?¡± He sounds mildly surprised. I look up at him, then down to myself. Sigh.

    ¡°What¡¯s the point?¡± I answer quietly. ¡°Walk a half-mile, might as well walk the whole mile.¡±

    ¡°If you are sure¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± I sigh again. ¡°But really, I may have to shift forms here, in public, so what¡¯s the point of keeping it hidden now?¡±

    Daniel makes no reply to that, but he does reach over and give my hand a squeeze. I withdraw my hand gently from his.

    ¡°Daniel, why did you have to spread the details of my life like that? I told you in confidence, and I was mostly fine with you sharing it with Antony, Eliana, and Raeldon, but not the whole blasted nobility!¡± I infuse my tone with some of the ire and betrayal I¡¯m feeling.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ava. But it was unwise to keep it from his lordship. You shouldn¡¯t worry yourself. I know Lord Garein to be a just and discreet man, and he had every right to know just who he was receiving into his city.¡± That fool-blasted paladin is apologetic, but still firm on the subject.

    ¡°You still should have asked me first. I am a very private person, Daniel, and not easily trusting. I could have been arrested the second I set foot on the docks.¡±

    ¡°You were under my protection. Lord Garein would not have done something like that without my consent, even in his own city. He¡¯s vor Elhim, Ava. He knows the meaning of forgiveness. You were safe, like he said.¡±

    ¡°Oh very well.¡± I grumble, knowing that it can¡¯t be helped now. And¡­ maybe Daniel¡¯s right. This time.

    I am stared at by the townspeople as we walk to Antony¡¯s house. I see them whisper. I try not to care. I try to ignore the panic that threatens to well up in me. Once inside Antony¡¯s house, once the door is shut against the world, I breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing for the moment.

    I look around. The house is elegant but homey. It¡¯s small and cozy. I like it. A kitchen, dining room, and comfortable sitting room on the first floor, and spacious, sunny bedrooms upstairs. I watch as Antony gently disengages himself from us and walks upstairs. I move quietly to the foot of the stairs and watch him stop in front of a closed door upon which is carved the likeness of a willow tree. Antony places his hand on the surface of the door, then softly leans his head against the wooden leaves of the willow. The sunlight streams in from a window at the end of the upstairs hallway and gleams on the tears running down Antony¡¯s cheeks. He swallows hard. I move away from the stairs.

    ¡°So, ¡®Kitten¡¯?¡± I ask Daniel, joining him at the dining room table. He smiles.

    ¡°Yep. It was the name he was given by his siblings and cousins when he was younger, on account of his fierce temper and his affinity for heights and knives and squeezing into very small spaces. They used to use the name to tease him.¡±

    ¡°Antony had a temper?¡± I am surprised.

    ¡°Has.¡± Daniel corrects. ¡°Has a temper. It doesn¡¯t show the way it used to, and he rarely snaps anymore, but it is still there.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± I let that new piece of information revolve in my mind for a while, until Antony comes back downstairs to show us all to our respective bedrooms. I¡¯m bunking with Eliana again, it seems. This time, we¡¯ll have Auvanna with us as well.

    We spend the next few days helping around the city, using manna and back-breaking effort to clean up rubble, and mourning over the dead, fortifying damaged walls, and occasionally rebuilding a house or two. I work alongside my friends and complete strangers, and I don¡¯t get many dirty looks.

    But there will always be those who let their prejudice get the better of them.

    On our seventh day in the city, just as we¡¯ve finished up the last of the major cleanup, I am approached by an angry half-orc who clearly doesn¡¯t want me within a mile¡¯s reach of the city.

    ¡°Clear off, changeling.¡± He growls.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Daniel steps in angrily, but I motion him aside.

    ¡°Leave off, Daniel. Let it alone.¡± I say, and move to ignore the half-orc.

    Or, at least, that is my plan until the half-orc grabs my arm and spins me to face him. Daniel moves to to aid me, but the crowd has contracted and moved back, forming a ring around the half-orc and I.

    ¡°Leave off, sir.¡± I tell the half-orc icily, yanking my arm out of his grasp.

    ¡°When you leave the city.¡± He growls down into my face.

    ¡°I have as much right to be here as you.¡± I growl back at him.

    ¡°Ava!¡± I hear Daniel shout, and in my peripheral I see him trying to push through the crowd, trying to get to me. I ignore him. I can handle myself.

    ¡°You have no right to be here, changeling scum.¡± The half-orc sneers.

    ¡°What did I ever do to you, that you hate me so?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Your kind has always been a plague upon our lands, and the northern lords were right to drive you out. That point was driven home when D¡¯Adrian stole his crown!¡±

    My fingers curl into tight fists. No one gets to talk about my brother like that!

    But then I force myself to relax. Violence will not fix anything.

    ¡°If you have a problem with my presence, you can take it to Lord Garein.¡± I mutter, turning away.

    ¡°No! Your kind killed my family! You deserve to pay!¡± The half-orc whirls me back around, and this time I shove him away. He staggers, but keeps his footing.

    ¡°Don''t touch me again.¡± I growl at him.

    ¡°Your kind killed my family.¡± He repeats, anger and bitter grief smoldering in his tone. ¡°I¡¯ll see you pay.¡±

    Great. Someone else whose loved ones probably haunt me. I¡¯ve killed a few orcs and half-orcs in my time. I wonder which ones were his.

    I try to defuse the situation, knowing that I¡¯m probably lying as I say, ¡°That wasn¡¯t me. Leave off.¡±

    ¡°I challenge you.¡± He growls. ¡°Single combat. Let the gods decide if you are guilty or not.¡±

    My eyes widen, and my hand reaches up almost of its own volition and slides my mage blade out of its sheath.

    ¡°Ava, no!¡± I hear Daniel shout. The half-orc grins, bloodlust glinting in his eyes. He yanks a large sword out of his belt and levels it at me. The crowd, once silent, now begins to chant.

    ¡°Ava!¡± Daniel¡¯s distressed cry barely rises above the noise of the crowd. I don¡¯t look at him, instead locking eyes with the angry half-orc.

    Kill, something inside me whispers. I see the same command glint in the half-orc¡¯s gaze. Kill.

    No.

    I refuse to add any more blood to my guilt. Not when it can be avoided. The half-orc must have seen something flicker in my eyes. Something that tells him I¡¯m backing down. He snorts angrily.

    ¡°Fight me!¡± He roars.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to fight you.¡± I tell him, lowering, then sheathing, my mage blade. I have no thirst for blood anymore. The crowd around us goes abruptly silent. The half-orc growls in fury, but I¡¯m already turning away. I¡¯ve taken no more than a few steps before I hear shouts behind me. A half-second later, something strikes me, hard, high in the back. Blinding, burning, white-hot-ice-cold, sharp-as-knives pain erupts in the left side of my back and my chest. Steals away nearly all thought, all feeling, all breath. Only fragments race through my mind, sensations there and then gone.

    Unexpected

    Unprepared

    Too sudden to fight the pain

    Too sudden to gather my wits

    I collapse.