Untitled As Of Yet, My 2007 Nano...Or what's done.

[kupan]

Alrighty...This is my Nanowrimo story from last November. ^^; As such, it's a pretty bad peice of junk, and also unfinished. But I am working on it! -nodnod-

Well...As of today, I am. ^^; The word count was 27,528.

And here it is. ^^

[kupan]

Fire.

It licked at the sky hungrily, its stark reds and oranges clashing against the night sky, which was soon obscured by smoke. The stars were not twinkling happily, as on most nights, but were covered by clouds of both smoke and condensation. The trees of the forest nearby were dangerously close to catching on fire themselves, despite the wide circle of clear ground between them and the cluster of buildings, known as the Panther Lodge.

Several figures stood outside, armed with water, but none tried to put out the fire of the lodge; instead, every time a spark or flame strayed near the forest, it was promptly put out. But no one tried to save the Lodge.


Smoke. It was everywhere, in her lungs, her eyes, her face. It filled the air, making it dark and toxic. Adri staggered under the weight of the burden she was carrying, stumbling through flame, smoke, and debris. It was very lucky that she knew this Lodge inside out; or was it the Fate helping her?

It didn’t matter. All that did matter was that Adri and her brother made it out alive. But that was increasing in difficulty. Everyone else was dead, wiped out in a struggle that had nearly lasted for two days. What was left of the lodge after that was now being burned to the ground.

Soon after, the figures outside left as the fire died down, though still dangerous. Adri soon found her way out of the inferno, still bearing her burden on her back, half-dragging her brother. She stopped only when they reached tree cover, on the gentle slope of the somewhat rocky hill. Despite the appearance that no one was around, Adri pulled the body a few more feet, just to be safe.

“Brennan!” Adri wiped smoke-stung eyes, the tears coming down her face not only from the rank air, but from the overwhelming events of the past two days, from seeing both family members and dear friends, even some in-house enemies, cut down before her very eyes. Now, only she and Brennan remained…

Or was it only her?

“Brennan,” Adri sobbed again, gathering his head into her arms. Eyes, dark and blue as the night sky, fluttered open, but they were unfocused for a few moments. Eventually, they managed to zone in on Adri’s face, teardrops hitting his own.

Their gazes locked for only a moment, during which Brennan vainly tried to raise his hand. Soon, though, it fell back to the ground, limp as ever. The motion seemed to Adri to carry the solemnity of the executioner’s axe.

Brennan’s eyes unfocused once more and began staring at a point past Adri’s shoulder, into the smoke-filled sky. His face softened and a small smile played about his lips as he ignored the trail of blood from his mouth and nose, as well as a cut on his forehead. He was wounded deeply in the stomach, and Adri now realized that this was his death wound.

She realized it too late. The young woman stared in horror. Then Adri began to sob, clinging to Brennan’s body as memories rushed back to her. Memories of days running in the forest, chasing each other and playing at being a hunter. Memories of him teaching her to hunt, to track, to shoot a bow.

“Don’t die, Brennan!” She clung to him, as if she could hold his spirit within his limp, bloody body. “Don’t…”



Nice day, wasn’t it? Well, Damien thought so, at least. Even if there had been unsettling visions the night before. The young seer strode through the town of Riverwall happily. He was back in Aelford, the small country of his birth. Not much had changed; the king’s health was as good as ever, despite his age of fifty-three, the Guild economies was great, and even the air was different (in his view, better).
However, something nagged at the back of his mind, and Damien, as he walked along absently, could not figure out what it was. It didn’t put a damper on his cheerful spirits, though, and he simply enjoyed being back in Riverwall.

A young dog limped along behind Damien, its brown coat scruffy and dirt-covered. Damien glanced back to give it a thoughtful look; he had somewhat ‘rescued’ it a few days ago, providing food and health care after it was beaten by a butcher for trying to steal meat, as dogs are wont to do. Now it wouldn’t stop following him around; apparently, the dog had taken the job of Damien’s bodyguard. Plenty of people had been bitten before Damien had the sense to bind its mouth shut with a leather strap. It could still growl, though, and did so viciously whenever someone came too close to both Damien and itself.

Damien stopped short, his eyes becoming unfocused. Someone bumped into him lightly; the dog gave a vicious (and muffled) snarl, but didn’t budge from the seer’s side. It gave a muted whine after realizing that his adopted master wouldn’t move; Damien’s eyes were unfocused, staring off into nothing as he clutched a satchel to his chest, one he had been using to shop.

He was in the same posture five minutes later.

[kupan]

The bartender cast a nervous glance over at the woman at the bar. She hadn’t moved from her stool for since the night before, drinking, and now she was simply glaring at her mug moodily, as if it had wronged her some way. A longbow was strapped to her back, and her clothes were shabby. However, the ‘button’ that held her cloak together at the neck showed, clearly, that this young female was a member of the Lodge of the Panther.

And, as far as everyone in Riverwall knew, this woman was the only survivor of the attack. Which had helped the bartender’s business, but not the young woman’s temper. After all, the members of the Panther Lodge were legendary in their own right and skill. The fact that they could be brought down by an attack like that was… well, surprising, to say the least. And those in the Lodge were reclusive enough to make people come out and see them whenever it was possible.

Today, it came to the point where the young woman was ready to punch the next person who bothered her in the face.

And that was how the brawl started off.



Damien gave a jolt, jerking back to reality as his vision cleared. Immediately, he whipped around, sliding the satchel’s long strap over his shoulder and chest as he quickly walked back the way he had come, towards the tavern. The dog followed him, confused.



“Get outta here, Panther scum!” The bouncer heaved the young woman out, not caring that she landed roughly on her back. The young woman scrambled to her feet, hurling a drunken curse at the bouncer as he firmly shut the door. While the Panther Lodge was legendary, that did not mean everyone liked them. For a moment, the youth staggered in place, bleeding from a few small cuts, mainly on her face. One bruise on the side of her forehead was already beginning to form. She stood there, swaying and looking at nothing in particular. This part of the street was nearly empty; this tavern wasn’t quite the most popular, but it had been the cheapest the girl could afford.

While many took a while to recover, especially from their first drink, as the woman stood there shakily, memories of that night flooded back, sobering her up quickly.

...Brennan…

Tears began to stream down the girl’s cheeks as she screwed her eyes shut tightly. Her fists clenched just as tightly, nails digging into her palms. Despite her refusal to acknowledge that event from the past few days, it all caught up with her, once again, and began to overwhelm Adri.



Damien turned the street corner onto the same one as this nondescript, poor tavern. Upon spotting the worn figure of the young woman, he paused, looking her over.

Dark red hair hung down straight, nearly to her mid-back. It was held back from her face by a brown cloth. Her clothes were simple, a hunter’s attire: a dark green tunic over a brown shirt and loose breeches of the same shade. The clothes were worn and shabby, with a black cloak covering her shoulders and nearly touching the ground. Boots reached up to just below her knees. Viewing the woman from the back, Damien still knew what her face looked like.

It wasn’t plain, but not beautifully stunning. Simply pretty, with dark hazel eyes that tended more towards the green. Her skin was lightly tanned and freckled, caused by hours spent outside, hunting. A pin of black metal, shaped in the form of a panther, held her cloak together, and she wore a necklace with the same sort of pendant.

Well, Damien was a seer, after all.



Adri didn’t hear the seer come up behind her, despite her usual skill at picking these sorts of things up. She stiffened, but didn’t move around, as a hand suddenly rested on her shoulder. “What do you want?” she asked – no, more like growled. It nearly matched the dog’s snarl as he looked this huntress over with a less-than-pleasant look.

“We can make it right, Adri Cadryn,” Damien said softly. The words, to him, were simple. But nothing, not even his second sight, prepared him for the sudden move Adri made.

She whipped around suddenly, her fist colliding with Damien’s jawbone soundly. The force of the sudden punch sent the unprepared and very frail Damien flying.
Well, that just hurt like the devil himself.



“Slapping water? Are you serious?”

Keentu looked up, intrigued by the statement. Her brown eyes fixed on the younger monks on the nearer end of the long table.

“Yes.” The speaker was another female monk, who looked very disgruntled. “Every day. I just sit on the mountain and slap water with one hand until it’s gone.” The girl occupied the ‘head’ of the table; by rights, Keentu herself could have that spot, considered her level. However, she was perfectly comfortable where she was.

“Who’s your master?” one of the other, equally young, monks asked.

“Master Richu,” the first speaker said crossly. “I don’t understand why he does it! He won’t even tell me the reason.”

Keentu, recognizing the beginnings of a familiar sentiment, quietly removed her plate and cup from the table, settling the plate and utensils in her lap, while one hand held the other. She knew what was coming next.

“He even has me do it a special way!” The girl’s eyes were sparking now, and she showed her palm. “It has to be perfect. I hate it. It’s. So. Annoying!”

Each word was punctuated with a slap, palm down, on the sturdy tabletop. “Every day for the past five months,” she continued, still hitting the table. Keentu would have scooted the bench back, except that it had about twenty other young monks sitting on it, as well.

The younger monk slammed her palm on the table one last time, frustration poured into it. The table, in one sudden groan and crack, split the entire length. A huge crack ran down, lengthwise, to the other end of the table in less than two seconds.

The table’s halves leaned inwards on each other; most of the food and cups on it slid off, spilling on the floor. As the younger monks stared, Keentu calmly cleaned off her plate, then began to stack some others.

“Stop gawking,” she chided good-naturedly, “And let’s get this cleaned up.” She gave a small smile to the young monk who had caused this. Said young female was now staring at her palm, and then the table.

“Did I do that?”



It was a beautiful day, two days before Damien and Adri first met. Keentu enjoyed practicing on the mountain slopes; the view was simply beautiful on clear, late summer days such as this one. It was also helpful that the clear air helped her to recover from the vigorous hand-to-hand training she had just undergone with Master Richu.

Keentu was of average height for her age of seventeen. Her semi-long hair was done up into a tight topknot on the top of her head. She wore simple clothes, loose and baggy to maximize movement. One look at her would give you a brown imprint into your brain; that was nearly all Keentu wore, along with her brown hair, eyes, and skin. A brown tunic over a lighter, tan-colored shirt, with a pair of brown breeches, clad her body. She wore no shoes, with a dust-colored strip of cloth around her ankles to tie down the loose ends of her pants hems. The same sort of ‘bandages’ wrapped around her arms, from her wrists to her elbow, tying down the loose sleeve ends. A sash a tad darker wrapped about her waist as well, the ends tucked in neatly to avoid loose ends. The only thing that wasn’t brown was the large white symbol on the back of her tunic, telling all who knew the fighting monk signs which clan she came from.

“Staves, Keentu?” The voice of Master Richu was deep, but slightly hiss-like, the ‘s’ sound drawn out very slightly. The female monk turned around, eyes bright.
“Yes, please,” she answered politely, though no amount of formality could cover up her eagerness. Richu made a face.

“Something tells me that I am in for yet another beating,” Richu observed, though his eyes danced. “Tell me, are you going to use trickery this time around?”

Keentu gave him a look of mock despair. “I never trick you,” she protested, quickly catching the staff Richu tossed her. It was swiftly followed by Richu swiping his staff at her, which she easily blocked.

Master Richu wore an outfit similar to Keentu’s in design, but with shades of red. The sash and bandages tying down the loose ends of his clothes were a rust color, as was his shirt, and his tunic and breeches were a bright crimson red. However, the older monk wore footwear.

Well, not boots or shoes, or anything that could really be called footwear. Instead, what seemed to be a type of close-fitting slippers covered his feet, giving his good grip. In reality, though, they were scales of a reddish color, fitting his feet so carefully that some people swore they had grown from his skin.

Well, in truth, they were right. But who really wanted to know that?

He wasn’t a tall man; rather, Richu was average in his looks and stature. He was bald, but youngish-looking, with dark eyes that were so bright green, they were nearly yellow.

Keentu and Richu fought swiftly and energetically. It was apparent that Richu was better, but not by much. In fact, he barely had time to block Keentu’s swift attacks with both staff and feet. Both received an equal amount of blows to their body, but they didn’t show the pain unless it was particularly hard.

As the two trained, they held a rather breathless, but calm conversation, remarking on a variety of things and, in Richu’s case, showering his pupil with both praise and constructive criticism. However, there was more of the latter, and next to none of the former.

Soon, both Richu and Keentu stopped, chests heaving from exertion. They had stopped upon what seemed to be silent, mutual agreement, and Keentu reached out to take Richu’s staff. He gave it up, though normally, the master-ranked monk would have tricked her somehow.

“I have heard a certain young monk is afflicted with wanderlust,” Richu panted, lacing his hands behind his head as he looked out over the wonderful view the slopes of the green, lush, yet rocky, mountain. Keentu looked up, mildly surprised and, a bit shamefully, eager. She managed to keep her face only slightly interested.

“Really?” she asked, keeping her tone bored and conversational. “Well, I’m sure they would love to be let loose.” She flashed a grin at Richu; they both knew who they were talking about.

“I am sure they would, as well.” Richu stretched his back in a way that most people, flexible or not, couldn’t do. “I am also sure that they would soon receive their chance.” He gave a warm look and a wink to Keentu before continuing. “Mistress Leona finds herself in need of some information from the library in Riverwall. It’s come into possession of a few documents, and she’s contacted them, asking if they could at least allow her to borrow the transcripts.” Keentu’s eyebrows rose slightly as Richu continued, a slow grin making its way across her face.

“We’ll have your provisions in the kitchens.” Richu gathered the two staves from Keentu, before starting to walk slowly back to the monastery. “You need to go as soon as possible.”

Keentu followed him brightly, eyes suddenly concerned. “Why the rush?” she asked quietly. Richu gave her a sidelong glance, but simply shook his head.

[kupan]

While Keentu wanted, desperately, to be able to travel beyond the monastery and the small village just below it, it panged her to leave. At least she could do so without everyone saying goodbye; that would cost her time, and, as Richu made it clear, she didn’t have a lot. But why? And why did she have to go get the records? Yes, she wanted to, but something wasn’t quite right here.

It bothered her.

Keentu looked back at the monastery from the lower, tree-filled slopes of the monastery, blinking wet eyes. She was an orphan, truthfully, and the only record the monks had of her parents was that she was entrusted into the monk’s care; specifically, Mistress Leona’s. However, she wouldn’t say anything about Keentu’s heritage, and, soon, everyone gave up trying to get the information out of her.

But as she stared back at her home, the mule Talka plodding along beside her, she couldn’t help but wonder if this had anything to do with it.

The mule snorted, then plowed forward as Keentu stopped, nearly dragging the female fighting monk along with him. He let out a loud bray, gave Keentu a glare, and bit her hand.

Well, so much for that deep, profound, and sentimental scene.




Keentu’s journey was rather uneventful; she and her mule plodded along the well-traveled road. There weren’t any bandits, old women masquerading as fairies, no little old men needing a meal. In short, she reached Riverwall a bit ahead of time. The most trouble she had along the way was the stubborn mule Talka. If he wanted to stop, well, he did so, and it would take Keentu forever to get him moving again.

Soon, though, they stood before the gates of Riverwall. The sun in all its mid-afternoon glory contributed a little to the plain wall and the picture it made.
Just a smidgen.



Damien sat up, wincing as he tried to get his breath back. He had spent the past few moments contemplating how frail he was, how blue the sky happened to be, and how loud a dog’s snarl could get through a closed mouth.

Oh, and the painful blow to his face squirmed its way into his thoughts, too. He rubbed his jaw and his cheek, thankful that it wasn’t broken. Then he became aware of the young woman from the Panther Lodge standing over him, blocking the sunlight, and hurling insults at him viciously, the dog nearby trying to get the strap from its mouth so it could protect its ‘master.’

“W-What did I-I do?” Damien stuttered, standing. He cursed his stammer; it always happened when he was scared, and he was scared very easily.

“How did you know my name?” Adri demanded, her words slurring together slightly.

“Uh…Lu-lucky guess?” He grinned at her weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. He stood a few inches taller than Adri, though it was obvious that even she had more meat on her bones that this bookish, stick-thin beanpole of a seer-mage-scholar. And she hadn’t had any nourishment except for beer in the past two days.

Damien had a frail physique, though he carried the satchel and pack on his shoulders well enough, and he did manage to cover a good deal of ground on foot in only a few days. Scruffy brown hair covered his head, reaching his neck and barely pricking his eyebrows. His hazel eyes gave off the impression that Damien knew much more than he seemed to, and, despite the glazed look he sometimes wore, he was much more aware of many things that most others weren’t.
A long brown coat hung from his thin shoulders nearly to the ground, brushing against the leather boots on his feet. It was made of a very thin brown fabric, without any buttons or fastenings. It didn’t even protect him from the slightest breeze, and most wondered why in the world he wore such a useless thing. As drab and brown as it was, the coat wasn’t even decorative. The shirt underneath was a soft, off-white color, and his pants were colored a simple black. He had the look of a scholar about him, if not the air, and, when he wasn’t traveling, he could often be seen with a book or some item of the sort.

He was not very memorable, Damien soon found out. Very few people here in Riverwall recognized him after his two years of traveling about. A part of him felt glad about this, though. As a seer, people often pestered him for a bit of future-seeing, thinking he could give them a roadmap to their lives.

Even the people who paid got annoying, and Damien had left for that reason, as well as wanting to collect information and spend some time with mage teachers.
“Tell me, now!” Adri aimed another drunken punch at him, which Damien quickly sidestepped. Yvonna! Even drunk, this Adri was dangerous. Damien, for a split second, reflected on the fact that drunks were usually more dangerous, especially when armed.

He simply hoped that she wouldn’t reach for the bow on her back or the knife at her belt. Damien himself carried no weapon, which many travelers he met considered insane. Well, at least the non-magic, hardened ones. They were usually men, too.

Damien, as he stood there processing these thoughts, nearly got punched again. The dog, who had given up on getting the strap off its mouth, bulled into Adri’s legs roughly, sending her sprawling into the road before she could hit Damien again.

Huh. Maybe there is a use for dogs. The seer gave the animal a grateful look.



“Oh, think you can take us?”

Volim gave a grunt as he was shoved back into a wall.

“Think you’re a tough, jes’ ‘cause yer the blacksmith’s son?” A glob of spit landed near Volim’s foot, and he was silently glad for the young man’s bad aim.

“I think you oughtta give the weapons back,” Volim snapped back. “We worked hard on those knives, an’ jes’ ‘cause you’re a bloody patty-boy doesn’t mean you can take ‘em whenever you want!”

The insult of ‘patty-boy’ may seem stupid, but the patricians, the nobles of the country, didn’t like it one bit. Therefore, it was often used by the lower classes, though merchants and craftsmen generally had more respect than to use it, especially in front of the ‘noble’ patricians themselves. Volim really should have known better; instead of just one patty-boy, there were three. And each had the illusion that when insulted by a lower-class citizen, they had to ‘defend their honor.’
Well, three against one wasn’t very honorable, in most people’s opinion. Especially when the one had recently recovered from a broken arm, and that arm (his dominant right, no less!) was still very weak.

A few moments later, after a quick, scuffling fight, Volim ended up being thrown out into the road some way or another. He stood up quickly, not seeming to notice the fact that there was a dog, an adolescent female, and another young man standing in the streets. Apparently, his fight was interrupting theirs; Adri’s drunk swinging came to a stop, and the dog now rounded on them.

Thank heavens his mouth was strapped shut. Volim gave the dog a nervous look once he heard the loud, but muffled, snarling. Damien gave the dog a look as well; how loud could that thing be? Adri gave Volim a curious look, and then simply snorted. Damien, though, looked slightly alarmed as the other three patricians’ sons piled into the street, all riled up.

Volim turned, dismissed Damien and Adri from mind, and promptly began fighting with the ‘patty-boys,’ as he called them. Damien gave a low sigh, before moving back, making sure the dog followed him. Adri disregarded them, turned to glare at Damien, and was about to demand, once again, how he knew her name. Then one of the young men fighting banged into her; in her drunken state, Adri quickly turned and socked him in the gut.

“You know, b-brawls n-never turned out well,” Damien volunteered, still stammering.

No one listened. The seer glanced down at the dog, before turning to go. Instead, he was blocked by several of the city guard. Oh, joy. He was shoved roughly to one side as the guards moved in to break the fight up. They did so rather… roughly. A bit too roughly, for Damien’s taste. But the seer wasn’t about to get involved in anything. Something, though, told him to stay put and watch over things, and he always trusted those little random urges.

It didn’t take too long to break it all up, surprisingly; frankly, the patrician boys were ready to give up the fight, for Volim fought well enough. And, as a blacksmith’s son, he was plenty strong.

“What’s going on?” The question posed by the guard was answered in four angry voices; Adri merely crossed her arms and glowered.

Eventually, the story was straightened out; the three young nobles had come into Darrin’s armory, where Volim worked as an apprentice. They had demanded to see the best knives there, and Volim complied willingly. It was only when they walked off without paying him that he got annoyed. Following him, the apprentice demanded the knives back. “And like the bloody patty-boys they are, they didn’t want to,” Volim finished angrily.

The young nobles’ story was, of course, very much different. They declared that they had paid the amount, which was too much, in their opinion, and then Volim followed them, trying to steal the weapons back.

“Quiet.” The guard’s pompous, official voice cut through their voices as they raised angrily, Volim denying all the patrician boys had said. “You,” the guard continued, nodding at Volim, “Can spend the night in a cell. I’m sure these boys paid all. And you,” he glanced at Adri, “I’m not sure where you fit in, but you can accompany him.”

“What?” Volim glared at the guard. “They stole our knives! You’re just gonna let ‘em off?”

“Shut up!” The guard struck Volim across the face with a heavy hand; Damien would have protested if he hadn’t seen someone else farther down the street, another young woman. She was clad in brown (no, she was brown), and she led a mule along slowly.

Volim decided not to shut up and tried again, defending both him and Adri. The guard, impatient, raised his hand for another blow.

Volim flinched, but it never came; in fact, everyone seemed surprised as the guard’s wrist was suddenly in the firm hands of the brown girl. Damien blinked; he hadn’t even seen her move, except for a quick blur. Yvonna, she was fast!

“Sir, I think you ought to not hit him like that,” the girl said politely. She had a staff strapped to her back, well worn and sturdy looking. She let go off the guard’s wrist and stepped back, taking everyone in with a swift glance. “What has been happening here?” No one spoke at first; the one guard seemed a bit disgruntled that his blow had been stopped by a young female, while her calm attitude and odd… everything seemed to puzzle the others.

“Well, the blacksmith’s boy says that the noble boys took his knives and wouldn’t pay,” Damien said after a while. “The noble boys said that they had paid and the blacksmith’s boy was a bit too greedy for his own good.” His voice held a wondering tone as he looked over the young female quickly. “And Adri here,” he continued, gesturing to the woman from the Panther Lodge, “was drunk, got a little nervous because of me, then decided to join in on the fight after they popped up on the street.”

The female gave him a nod of thanks, before looking at the four offending males. “I don’t suppose there’s a way we can find out what really happened?” she said musingly. Damien gave a quiet sigh. Yes, but he didn’t want the fact that he was a seer to spread. Besides, his second sight might not even work; it was hard for him to actually make it ‘see’ sometimes.

“Listen, girly, we don’t need you butting into our business!” one of the youths spat. The newcomer gave him a long, level look, before turning to the guards.

“Tell me something.” She seemed genuinely curious, despite her next words. “Do you side with the young patricians because they are right, or because their families are twice as rich as the young blacksmith?”

Kudos for the girl, Damien noted mentally; the question stumped the guards, as well as the patty-boys; Volim, however, looked smug. Adri… was drunk. Enough said.

“An’ I suppose you’re siding with him because you’re of the same class,” the guard sneered eventually. The female arched her eyebrows gracefully.

“I suppose so,” she mused. “That I’m of the same class. However, monks do not side until they know the truth.”

“Monks?” Just about everyone but the young female seemed surprised; Damien now noticed, belatedly, the fact that she wore no shoes. She nodded, brown eyes curious and mildly amused.

“Yeah, right!” One of the patricians spat on the ground. “She’s jus’ makin’ it all up,” he sneered. The look he got from the alleged female monk was one of silent challenge, but she simply shrugged.

“Believe what you will,” was her simple reply. “I never said I was.”
And she never said she wasn’t, Damien thought, his curiosity piquing even more.

“Listen,” the guard protested, though unnerved by the bright-eyed young ‘monk,’ “We still don’t know how we can find out who’s telling the truth.”

“Good point.” The monk agreed readily; she seemed to have a detached air about her. Adri just thought the girl was a snob, and had the sudden urge to give her a good punch in her pretty little face.

“Actually…” All turned to look at Damien, who was rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face. “I can, um, I can d-do a truth-truth-truthspell, sir, if that-that’d be alright.”

Adri snorted derisively at Damien’s stuttering comment, disregarding the words. One of the patricians turned his head to chuckle, and Damien felt his face redden a bit. He shouldn’t be scared… Stupid stutter. The dog beside him gave a muted warning snarl, attempting to bare his fangs. This otherwise intimidating occurrence would have worked, if it weren’t for that annoying leather strap around his snout. That just resulted in the canine making himself look (and sound) like an embarrassing puppy. No one but Damien seemed to notice, and the dog quit with a grumpy ‘huff.’

“I’m s-serious!” Damien said indignantly. He didn’t even look like someone who could accomplish that, really.

Only the female monk seemed to actually believe him. “Would you?” she asked respectfully. Damien gave short nod, before stooping to pick up a rock off the ground. Adri raised an eyebrow.

“Wazzat fer?” she slurred, peering at the rock. Damien ignored her and concentrated on the rock, before looking at Volim and the patricians. All look puzzled by the rock, but he ignored them. Damien always needed something to concentrate on; truth to tell, he wasn’t the best mage or seer. After a few seconds, and after Volim had moved apart from the patricians, a small globe of blue-tinged light hovered above their heads, one for Volim, and one for the three noble youths. “Go through your stories,” Damien said tightly, through gritted teeth.

Volim went first, quickly, and the light didn’t so much as dim as he recounted a brief version of the events. The female monk, who seemed to have preempted the guards and taken over the position of authority, nodded to the young nobles, who stumbled through their own story quickly, haltingly, and with an air of being disheartened. Even the heat had gone from their words, though they stubbornly stuck to their stories as they spoke.

The light flickered once or twice at first, before going out completely. Damien released the spell, his breath catching as he let the rock drop. Both lights had disappeared now, and the seer jerked his chin towards the nobles. “Liars.”

[kupan]

Well, at least it was all sorted out now. The three young boys were taken off, Volim got his money back, and Adri was sullenly glaring at the ground as everyone ignored her.

“So… What’s your name?” Damien glanced curiously at the female monk as she checked her mule’s saddlebags. The same question was on Volim’s mind, as well as Adri’s.

“Keentu.” The girl smiled over at him brightly. “Of the Starred Crescents. What about you three?”

“I’m Damien, and the lovely drunk lady is Adri Cadryn.” He neatly sidestepped Adri as, her anger flaring up again, she tried to hit him from behind. The woman tripped over the dog and swore loudly, then Keentu knelt to cover her mouth with a hand, stopping the flow of vicious oaths.

The monk looked up at Damien curiously. “How did you do that?”

Damien let a small hiss of breath through his teeth. “Ah. Um, well… Eh. She’s been trying to attack me like that all day?”
“Why?” Volim cut in.

“Ehh nms m nmm!” Adri mumbled through Keentu’s hand angrily. The monk blinked at her.

“Could you say that again?” she asked politely. Volim snorted.

“She might be able to if’n ye took your hand offa ‘er mouth,” he chuckled wryly. Keentu blinked, then gave a sheepish smile.

“You know, that just might be possible,” she said apologetically, helping Adri up. “Sorry about that.”

“Shove it,” Adri snapped, before glaring daggers at Damien. “How do you know my bloody name?” she shouted. The seer cringed away from the angry youth, despite the fact that he was, at least, a year older than the other three currently present, by the looks of things. Keentu and Volim both gave Damien weird looks.

“D-Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbled, looking away. A strange feeling came over him, as if it would be okay to tell them how he did. Shaking it off, the seer turned to go. “Quiet, dog.”

The dog had resumed snarling at all and sundry once Adri had yelled at its master. Of course, it still sounded like a strangled puppy with that strap on its muzzle.

Keentu was immediately kneeling next to the dog brightly, stroking its fur. “Be quiet,” she said, her voice both firm and soft. Damien blinked. The dog blinked.

It stopped.

“Okay, that’s just not fair,” the seer grumbled. “He never pays attention to me! What did you do to him?”

Keentu’s fingers were working at the strap, gently tugging it from the dog’s snout. As soon as it was off, the canine gave a huge yawn, then barked joyfully a few times. It then resumed licking Keentu’s face and arms. “I told it to be quiet,” the monk said simply. Volim and Adri both laughed at Damien’s dismayed expression and the blunt logic used by Keentu.

“Have you named it?” Keentu continued, combing her fingers through the dog’s matted, dirty fur. Damien shook his head mutely.

“You should.” Keentu stood up, pushing the dog away gently and giving it an intent look.

“Have any suggestions?” Damien muttered sarcastically, before turning to leave. “Nice meeting you all.” He didn’t really expect the dog to follow him, but it did, giving a parting growl.

Keentu blinked as he left, before glancing at Adri, who was standing around, swaying, then at Volim, who was also heading back, his knives clutched in his hand tightly. Something seemed wrong about them leaving, but she couldn’t exactly place the reason.

“Wait!” she called; both Damien and Volim stopped to turn and look at her. She grinned at them apologetically. “I’m hungry,” the monk declared. “Where’s the best place to eat? And I’ll need some boarding, too.” A quick glance at Adri, and Keentu decided to take the young woman under her wing as well. “I’m sure she’ll need some, too.”

Damien was about to rattle off a well-known inn that he had known since before he left, but Volim beat him to the punch. “Not here, that’s for sure,” he snorted, looking at the tavern Adri had been thrown out of. “You’ll want th’ Scorching Gryphon, misses.”

Damien, who was about to suggest the same inn, smirked and fell silent. He needed a place to stay as well, so he might as well come along. Even if he did remember the way (and very well, too), he didn’t mind walking along with the other three. Besides, the seer felt an odd sort of prodding moving him along.

Volim led the way swiftly. He was a few inches shorter than the average for his age, which Damien supposed (and his ‘supposes’ were usually right) was eighteen. His eyes were a dark blue, and his hair was colored black. Damien, as he watched him, had a very disconcerting feeling, but he just couldn’t place what it was. As a blacksmith’s apprentice, his frame was built accordingly; he was stocky, with muscular, whipcord arms and chest, but not bulging.
Keentu seemed only a year younger, while Adri was as old as the blacksmith’s son. Damien still couldn’t shake that feeling that they needed to stick together.

Unbeknownst to him, the other three were feeling the exact same thing.




“I like this place,” Keentu announced. All four had decided to have some lunch together, though each was paying their own way. She looked around the place, wide-eyed and curious. Damien had eaten nearly as much as the monk; both travelers were starving. Adri had tried to order some sort of alcohol; Damien had seen it coming and stopped her from doing so, making sure she got cold water instead. None of the others seemed to want alcohol; Keentu’s meal, surprisingly, was made up of the plainest kinds of food and water. Then again, the seer mused, monks were simple folk.

Volim ate quickly, receiving greetings from many of the others there, and answering cheerfully enough. Most knew the blacksmith’s apprentice; Darrin’s forge made the best items in the city, and Volim was often a deliveryman.

Keentu watched Volim as he answered a carpenter about a possible trade; he’d need to see Darrin for that, and they could talk later.

“Do you know a lot of people here?” she asked curiously. That seemed to be her prominent trait, curiosity.

Volim nodded, pointing out several people in the room to her. Damien listened as well, faces vaguely stirring in his memory. There was old Caitlyn, the runner of Riverwall’s apothecary. She and Damien had never been on good terms. Then there was Darrin; well, at least Damien heard his name being mentioned. Come to think of it…

The young seer stared hard at Volim. He was very familiar. In fact…

“Volim,” Damien asked, once they youth had a break. He glanced at the seer quizzically. “Are you Darrin’s son?”

Volim stared. “Hold up,” he said finally. “I don’t remember telling you my name! How’d ye know?”

Adri gave Damien another glare. “Witchcraft,” she muttered darkly. “He knows everything.”

“Be quiet, Adri,” Damien muttered. “Volim, I know your father, alright? How’s he doing?” Well, Damien knew him... Whether Darrin would remember Damien himself was a different matter.

“Ha. Everyone knows him,” Volim scoffed. “I get people from outta town saying they know ‘im. What d’ye want?”

Damien shrugged. “Nothing at all,” he said quietly. “Don’t get so touchy about it.” The seer stood grumpily, glancing out the window. The dog waited patiently across the road, watching the inn intently. “I’m going to get a room.”

Keentu watched him go with an odd, speculative look that seemed to have more
intelligence than she had showed before. Then the girl promptly asked Volim who the bartender was, and if he knew that person over there, and what was her job?


Damien quietly purchased a room, grateful for the relatively low prices. It pained him, though, to see so many former acquaintances have no idea who he was. Then again, wasn’t that always how it used to be? Even when he was living here, Damien was only known for his fortune-telling ability, and that had annoyed him enough to make him a recluse. Of course, those at the library and university had known him well. They’d know him, most likely.

At least, he hoped they would.




Once Damien returned, he didn’t seem surprised to see Adri nearly falling asleep on the table. Volim gave the man a wary look. Who was he? And why did Volim even care? He should be getting back to the forge by now, but…

Something told him to stay put. Darrin, though, was expecting him back, and soon. “Listen,” the apprentice said once Damien returned. “What’s your name?”
“Damien,” the man replied. “What do you need?”

“Maybe I can get Darrin to see ye.” He didn’t speak of his father as a blood-relative, but, rather, his teacher. Well, in this business, that’s probably how it should be. He glanced at Adri’s long hunting knife. “And maybe Miss Adri, if she’d like to come?”

It was common knowledge that those of the Panther Lodge used only weapons and things created by their own craftsmen, and Volim would love to compare the make to Darrin’s own products. He had heard they were superior, but that would remain to be seen.

“Can I come?” Keentu asked curiously, looking up. “And could you point out where the library is, too? I need to get there.”

“Sure,” Damien agreed readily. “Adri?” The young woman in question snorted, holding her head in her hands. She sobered up quicker than many people, despite the fact that she had rarely drank before. But that meant the headache came quicker.

“Why not?” She grumbled sulkily. There must have been something helpful in what she consumed…

In truth, there was, but Damien and the bartender weren’t about to say anything.




The way to Darrin’s forge was straight through the marketplace. And despite Adri’s headache, as a woman, she was very interested in the wares, just as Keentu was. Damien and Volim stood it relatively well, the seer more interested in seeing people he used to know. Very few recognized him, and those that did usually bore some grudge against the young man. These he avoided with a near comicality that made Volim chuckle a little.

“So, ye used to live ‘ere, or ye bothered everyone in town,” he stated, walking through the crowds with relative ease. Damien shot him an annoyed look, before glancing back to make sure Keentu and Adri were still with them.

“I lived here,” he said quietly. “I left to travel about two years back.”

“Why?” Volim gave him a curious, if not slightly suspicious, look. Damien laughed.

“I’m not a criminal,” he assured him. He fell silent, rubbing his palm with a thumb. “My... Ah… What I did here was… irritating, at best. And yes, it was perfectly legal.” He caught Volim’s slightly skeptical look, and sighed. “It’s not something I like to broadcast,” he said a little shortly. “Trust me, it’s not bad.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Volim replied soothingly, holding up a hand. He didn’t quite know how to placate people like Darrin, then manage to sell them a sword at the maximum price in one breath, but he wasn’t bad at it. However, his temper often got in the way, more often than not. “It’s fine. We just get a lot of people like that, you know. Darrin’s smithy is the best in town,” he added proudly. Damien’s lips quirked a small smile.

“I’m sure it is,” he said vaguely.

Soon they reached the forge, which was at the far end of the market, where it was somewhat quieter. Or, rather, it would be, if the smithy didn’t have enough noises coming out of it. Volim smiled and slipped into the open-air part of the forge, where Darrin beat at a bar of metal on the anvil. He looked up only briefly, before tossing the metal into the trough of water nearby. Setting the tongs and hammer aside, Darrin approached them quickly, with a pleasant smile on his face. He took his thick gloves off and brushed his hands against each other.

“Hey, Darrin.” Volim nodded to his father.

“Customers?” Darrin asked hopefully, his eyes on the three visitors eagerly. Volim only shrugged. He was a good bit shorter than his father, and less muscular, but the resemblance, otherwise, was practically the same.

Adri was giving off the impression she might be; the young female was looking over the knives and such set up for sale.

“This is Adri, Keentu, and Damien,” Volim informed his father. “Met them today, gettin’ th’ knives back.” He put said knives on a table in the back corner of the forge, away from the furnace.

“Damien, eh?” Darrin approached the seer first, eyes narrowed slightly as he held out a hand. Damien took it, not trying to out-firm Darrin’s grip.

“Yes, sir,” he said pleasantly. “Just came to stop by.” His familiarity momentarily confused Darrin, before the blacksmith’s face cleared.

“That Damien!” he exclaimed, face brightening. “Welcome back, lad! Where’ve you been?”

“Traveling,” Damien said simply. He looked around the forge, which seemed a lot nicer than before. “I take it things are going very well for you.”

“Yes,” Darrin nodded. “But traveling is too general a word. Where?”

Damien sighed, before obliging. “To the capital, mostly. Went to Tyrne as well.”

“Not much out of the country?” Darrin sounded slightly disappointed, making Damien laugh.

“Actually, I did end up visiting Karnish.” He pulled a face. “Kinda hard not to, after all. We’re three days from the border, here. How’s Riverwall been?”

“Simply boring.” Darrin laughed at Volim’s answer, and the boy snorted. “It’s true.”
“I agree, tell you the truth,” Darrin replied, shaking his head a little. “Tell me, have you any news about metalwork? Craft secrets?” he gave a huge grin, which was met by Damien’s grimace.

“You know I wouldn’t, usually,” he retorted. “But I might have something.”
The simple words brought both Darrin and son over curiously as Damien dug something from his satchel. Keentu shifted silently in the background, glancing outside to make sure her mule was still there. He was, as was the dog. At least that was good. But she needed to get to the library…

“Here it is.” Damien drew out a package, taking it to the back table and untying it. “Let’s see… A broken bit of that folded steel from Karnish you’ve been wanting to see, and a dagger, from one of the Lodges.”

Adri was over there suddenly, wide-eyed as she shoved Damien and Volim aside. She snatched the dagger up, before turning a hateful gaze onto the seer. “Where did you get this?” She studied the hilt, body tensing before she rounded on Damien, fists clenched. “This was my father’s!” she screamed. The seer winced, backing up dangerously close to the forge as he raised his hands, trying to placate her.

“I-I didn’t know,” he stammered. “Honestly!”

“Easy, lass.” Darrin’s voice was as strong and firm as his grip as he grabbed Adri’s arms, pulling her away and plucking the knife from her hand. “Trust me. If Damien didn’t know, he most definitely didn’t know.” There was a hint of irony in his words that only Damien understood, and the seer moved away from the furnace carefully.

“I bought it from a different Lodge merchant,” he explained to Adri. “I thought it was their knife, not your father’s. He was eager to get rid of it, though.”

That seemed to mollify Adri only a little bit; Darrin let go of her cautiously. Once she didn’t pounce on Damien like a panther would, but she watched him with obvious distrust.

Darrin was observing the dagger intently. “What Lodge are you – oh.” He had caught sight of the badge-like pin that held Adri’s battered cloak together over her left shoulder. The Panther Lodge.

“It was burned down two days ago,” she spat, still giving Damien an evil look. “As far as I know…” Her voice trailed off, and she bit down on her knuckles, close to sobbing.

Brennan was dead…

“Would your wife mind if you kept her here for a few days?” Damien asked Darrin quietly. “The last tavern she was in, she was recovering from being drunk. I don’t think we should let her near alcohol again.”

“I agree,” Volim muttered. “She hits hard.” Darrin gave his son an amused look.

“You’re complaining for once?”

[kupan]

“This is Riverwall’s library?” Damien flinched at the words until he realized that they held genuine curiosity, not criticism.

“Library and university,” he clarified, looking down at Keentu. “What do you need from here?”

“Oh.” Keentu turned to the mule. “Master Richu gave me a list…”

“You can’t talk animals in there,” Damien warned her.

“I know. What about your dog?” She gave him an innocent, yet mischievous, grin.

“I… don’t know,” the seer admitted. “Do you know how to make him stay outside and not bug anyone?”

Keentu glanced down at the dog, before leading the mule to a corner. Damien followed, as did the dog. “Stay.” This command was addressed to both animals; surprisingly, the dog flopped down to lay on his side and stayed put, panting.

“… I am jealous,” Damien muttered flatly. He turned to lead Keentu up the steps after she retrieved her list.

“Alright, Keentu.” Damien glanced at her. “Did this Master Richu tell you who to speak to?”

“Archmage Katya,” Keentu said promptly. “He said they were good friends.”

Damien’s eyes widened in surprise, and he nearly missed a step, stumbling. “Archmage Katya?” he repeated in disbelief. The monk nodded furiously. “You are lucky,” he muttered grudgingly, opening one of the large double-doors. “Go on in, Keentu. She’s here now, I think.”

Keentu gave Damien an odd look. “How come you know this stuff?” she demanded. Damien, yesterday after they had visited the forge, told her that the university and library was closed up because the staff had some mages working on a very dangerous project.

“Um…” He rubbed the back of his head, but was spared answering as he accosted a young woman, in the green robes of a defensive mage. “Excuse me. Do you know where we can find Archmage Katya?”

The young mage nearly dropped her load of books; Keentu quickly caught the one that did fall before it hit the ground. Stammering, she accepted it from the monk. “Archmage Katya? Who needs to know?”

“She does.” Damien nodded to Keentu, who gave a simple bow.

“I am Keentu, of the monk clan the Starred Crescents,” she said politely. The young mage’s jaw dropped. Monks were rarely heard of spending time in Riverwall, much less coming to see the Archmage.

“It would be appreciated if you could tell us where she was at,” Damien prompted gently.



“Are you sure?” Keentu eyed the plain wooden door dubiously. “I always thought people with power liked fancy stuff.”

“Archmage Katya isn’t like that,” the young mage explained. Well, that would explain how she and Master Richu became such good friends, Keentu mused. She watched as Damien asked the young mage how long Archmage Katya had been, well, Archmage.

“For the past year and a half,” she replied. “And she’s been teaching us,” she added proudly. “Do you want me to tell her who’s here to see her?”
“No, that’ll be alright,” Damien said absently. He watched as the young mage knocked on the door without any qualms at all. Well, at least she and the monk weren’t uneasy.

Damien, though…

“Archmage Katya, you have visitors,” the girl called through the door. She then opened it brightly, letting the two others enter first.

The room was comfortably furnished, scattered about with rugs everywhere on the floor. Some were plain, others were brightly colored, and all were comfortable and plush. Cushions were everywhere as well, along with a few chairs. A large window opened up into the courtyard below from the second-story room; a robed figure sat in a comfortable chair there, watching them enter.

She seemed to be in her middle years, though leaning more towards the older end of the spectrum. Long brown hair, tied in a braid that fell down her back, was shot through with streaks of grey. Her eyes, though, were a clear green that watched them sharply. In fact, they were piercing enough to make Damien look away – and he was often the one with the searching look! Keentu immediately noticed his stiffening and reluctance to enter, though she had no idea why he would feel that way. Aside from the piercing look, this Archmage had a motherly air about her, and she rose as they entered, smiling warmly.

She was of average height, dressed in purple and red robes that reached to the floor and trailed slightly. Her face was much older than Damien remembered last, though it made sense; he had heard of her often, but the last actual sighting was more than two or three years ago.

He hadn’t even been able to use his second sight, and the reason for this was the pendant she wore around her neck. It was a simple black stone, though the rune-like character etched into the rock was a seer’s glyph, a rune to protect the wearer from anyone attempting to scry, or ‘see’ them, accidental or otherwise.

Aside from that, it gave the seer a flaming headache for the next few hours. A very painful business, that was.

Keentu bowed, her fist clenched over her heart as she did so. “Monk Keentu,” she said respectively. “Of the Starred Crescents. Master Richu sent me, Archmage Katya.”

“So formal,” the Archmage said pleasantly. “Are you a student of his?”
“Yes, Arch-“

“Please call me Katya,” the Archmage interrupted pleasantly. Damien’s eyebrows raised, and Keentu shot him a puzzled look. He seemed contemptuously surprised. “Won’t you sit?” Katya continued further, gesturing to a chair and seemingly ignoring Damien completely. How like her, Damien thought, disgruntled. Keentu took a chair, giving the seer another swift, discreet, and puzzled look. Damien simply moved a few paces back to stand and watch them, expression blank.

“Archma – Katya, Richu’s sent me for a list of books and scrolls you have recently acquired,” Keentu said promptly. She wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and it set Katya off-balance, which, the monk noted as she glanced at Damien from the corner of her eye, seemed to please the young man. Apparently, Katya was expecting some sort of pleasantries before the business began, but she recovered smoothly.

“Is he well?” she asked, reaching to take the list Keentu handed out to her. That… was a very long list. Katya scanned it for a few moments as Keentu answered her question.

“Master Richu is doing very well, and he sends his regards,” she spoke quietly, awaiting Katya to be finished. She wanted to take a look around the city. It was very interesting, and Keentu had never really been to a city. Pity that Richu had stressed her return to the monastery be as quick as possible.

“I don’t have all of this,” Katya said with a worried frown. “Will he return them?”

“Of course. He said that he doesn’t need them all, but as many as you have. Copies would be fine, though he prefers the originals.”

Katya stood up, still looking at the list. “Come with me,” she said simply, before sweeping out of the room. Keentu followed quickly, leaving Damien to take a quick look around the small sitting room. Oh, how he was tempted to use his second sight… but there were no guarantees it was working today, and that Katya wouldn’t have any spells against this sort of thing. So, with a sigh, the seer followed them out of the room, annoyed by the fact that the door slammed shut in his face. Literally.

Despite her aged appearance, Katya walked quickly, as did Keentu. Damien was behind, and their lead on him was increased by one of the younger apprentice healers stopping him to heal the bruise the door caused to his face.

At least he knew they were in the main archives. Of course, that knowledge only narrowed it down a little bit.

The main archives were located a huge, vast room that took up two floors of the three-story building, the ceiling arching high above them. Bookcases lined the wall, while even more stood in not-quite-neat rows upon the floor. Some stood in lines, while others branched out, life flowers, from one of the many huge pillars that helped support the room and its atmosphere. Chairs, desks, and benches were located in nooks and corners to provide people here with some place to sit and read. Damien remembered this place with a lot of good feelings and memories. He sat on one of the benches, watching a few other people wander through. He was confident that Katya and Keentu were in here somewhere. Of course, he could be wrong, but it was against the law to just sit here and enjoy the library’s quiet, now, was it?




“So why did Darrin want a Lodge knife?” Adri watched Volim pound away on the anvil, wincing at nearly every single blow. It was loud, especially for someone so used to the quietness of the forest. There were a few other apprentices as well, doing this and that with a loudness Adri had never thought was possible.

“Everyone knows your weapons are superior,” Volim explained, readjusting his grip on the tongs before pounding the bar again. “He wants to know th’ secret, and ‘e’s been thinking that you lot make it y’selves, or ye get it from another country. With that chip Damien brought us, we’ve ruled out Karnish.” He glanced at Adri as she gave an amused snort.

“Of course not,” she declared, as if it was obvious.

“Well, then where?” Volim asked impatiently, annoyed. Adri only grinned and chuckled.

“Lodge secret. Ain’t gonna tell,” she teased impudently.

“You make it, huh?” Volim accused sullenly. She only wrinkled her nose, clearly enjoying this. “I hate you,” the blacksmith’s son grumbled, then put the metal back into the furnace to heat it up.

Adri simply smirked, leaning against the wall. As she watched the work going on inside, and the occasional business from a customer with Darrin, she reflected.

The entire Lodge of the Panther was dead. Adri clenched her jaw. She had to face the fact sooner or later, no matter how much it pained her. Brennan was dead, along with her family and all the other hunters. Damien had some how got a hold of her father’s knife. She tensed at this fact, not believing that he hadn’t anything to do with the attack. And how did he seem to know so much?

That would have to wait. First, she needed to find out who did this. Then she would kill them. As simple as that. Anger both hot and cold as the metal in this forge surged through her, the sadness gone.

But right now, she’d go eat lunch. The smell drifting from the street was very nice.
Volim watched Adri go absently, before pounding the metal yet again. Where did the Lodges get their weapons? And not only their blades – everything they used was superior. The bow Adri had was superior to any he had seen. It was eating both him and Darrin away inside, but it definitely wasn’t Karnish steel. And Adri wouldn’t tell him, either. It really bothered him.

Could it be that they honestly made their own weapons? All Volim had heard about the Lodges that most are known for their hunting skills and the fact that many held a rivalry. While not noble, they were pretty close to holding a status equal to theirs. The king would always listen to their advice, when given, but they rarely asked for any help from the monarch.

While many people revered them as a reclusive clan of superior humans, there were those who didn’t care, or simply hated the Lodges. After all, it always happened. Darrin was the one who attributed their skill simply to generations of traditions and teachings, as well as the superior weapons.

They must make it themselves. Darrin and Volim couldn’t find any other solution. Karnish steel, in itself, was superb, the secret carefully guarded, but it seemed that it was only a result of the superior ore in their mines, after Darrin had inspected the chip. No trade secrets.

Pity. Darrin had a very unique way of finding secrets out and employing them in his own work. Of course, he was very protective of his own. But, Volim reflected with a smirk, that’s how the business worked.

[kupan]

Riverwall was a wonderful town. Adri wandered trough it quietly, her bow strapped to her back as she tried to distract herself from the events that ad recently happened. Having located the source of the good smells, she had purchased a mid-morning meal for herself, and now munched on a few warm buns, buttered, with a bit of honey. They were very good, she thought. Especially at that price.

Adri didn’t have a specific destination, but she was surprised when, eventually, her footsteps brought her to the walled part of the city, having taken a ferry across the huge river the town was built upon. Here, it housed the Guild headquarters, as well as the university and library. There was the main marketplace as well, along with the governor’s house and a few of the other nobles. This portion was surrounded on three sides by a huge, thick wall that, most people claimed, was nearly impenetrable. Of course, war had not come to the city of Riverwall for so long, except to repel raids from bandits of both Karnish and Aelford. They mingled together along the border, almost to the point where they had their own races of people.

Adri paused. The Lodge of the Panther had been nearly completely responsible for defending this stretch of the border from bandits attacks, often cooperating with the military outpost in Riverwall and sometimes mercenaries, though the Panther Lodge had almost always remained aloof from everyone else. Could the bandits have burned the Lodge and killed the people? But that was impossible, wasn’t it?
Or so the Lodge had thought. They had assumed their Lodges in the forest were hidden so cleverly that only the other Lodges could find them. Had they been wrong?

The thought of another Lodge attacking and killing them off crossed her mind, only to be rejected. The Lodges, while possessing a sort of rivalry against each other, would never go that far. Never. They had their honor.

The thought was shoved back in her mind, and Adri ignored it. That wouldn’t ever happen. Could the mercenaries have done it? No, the companies here were all part of the Mercenaries Guild, and none would even think of doing that. And Adri was completely sure that the military of Aelford wouldn’t dare try to risk offending the Lodges, however aloof from the country they may be.

So that left one logical conclusion: the borderline bandits. Well, that wouldn’t be too hard now, would it? The bandits were the only ones stupid enough to try something like that, but sneaky and smart enough (contradictory, yes) to actually pull it off. Besides, the lack of activity should have warned the Lodge the bandits were planning something. They bred like rats; there never seemed to be an end to them at the source. The Lodge must have gotten careless, allowing this to happen…

Adri gritted her teeth, the look that flashed into her eyes making several people giving her a wary look and skirt around her. It wasn’t often that you came upon the only known survivor of a legendary Lodge armed with a bow, a full quiver, two knives, and was contemplating revenge with a look in their eyes that reminded you of a snarling, rabid, big cat.

Adri was surprised when her footsteps brought her to the looming, busy building of Riverwall’s library and university, as well as school for mages, wizards, and so on. Didn’t Damien and Keentu say they were coming here?

Damien. A sour taste filled Adri’s mouth. He seemed to know simply too much. Yes, he was a scholar; she could tell that much. But still… He seemed to know about things that he shouldn’t, like her name. And he had somehow acquired her father’s knife, which was also stuck into her belt, along with her own. Plus, he got too scared too easily.

Then there was Keentu. She was just so calm and collected, for all that she pretended to be a monk warrior. Adri gave a derisive snort. Polite as she was, the girl was probably some pretty little mountain dweller, come to do errands for this ‘Master Richu’ of hers. Huh. You just can’t trust anyone that polite and nice.

Volim seemed the only one to be of any good out of those three. At least he was normal. Quiet, though.

Adri huffed, before turning to thread her way back to the blacksmith’s forge. Despite her general dislike of staying there doing nothing, something seemed to make her stay. Not physical, no, but it made her curious, and any thought of leaving seemed to be pushed out of her mind quickly. It was very strange.




Damien had closed his eyes, enjoying the stillness of the archives, when he opened them with a start. Keentu stood in front of him, leaning forwards a little with a slightly concerned face.

“What the-!” He yelped and gave a small start away from her. “Where’d you come from?”

“Just over there,” Keentu asked, though the question would draw, from most people, a sarcastic remark. Damien scowled as she moved back to give him room to stand. Noting the stack of books she carried with relative ease, he arched an eyebrow.


“Did you get what you needed?” he asked her curiously. She nodded happily.

“Not all of it, mind, but I’ve got some of the more important ones,” the monk said happily. “As well as a few of the scrolls. I already took them out to Talka. I just came in here to get the rest and wake you up.”

“What do you mean, wake me up?” Damien muttered resentfully.

“You were sleeping.” Keentu gave a grin as she walked towards the exit. “Don’t deny it, either.” Damien made a face, before reaching for the tomes and volumes she held in her hands.

“Let me help,” he muttered. Despite his frail-looking frame, Keentu was mildly surprised that he could handle a stack of thick books easily. It must be the fact that, as a scholar, he did it often.

They went out the door, down the steps, through the streets, all with Damien, despite his two-year-long absence, guiding Keentu and her mule, the dog trotting along with them happily. He knew his way around very well, apparently, not even hesitating.

Another oddity. Keentu was sure that wasn’t quite possible, not in this jumbled maze of streets. Then again, what did she know? He was born here, spent most of his life in these streets. That’s what he had told her, though in very brief, vague terms.

However, it was still surprising when Damien literally ran into Adri. He didn’t seem to see her at all, and she was just turning when she saw him. Maybe he didn’t see everything after all.

Adri blinked, before giving Damien an acid glare. The dog growled, low in his throat, and Damien was glad to see that the she didn’t seem eager to confront the animal.

“Where are you heading, Adri?” Keentu asked curiously. Talka, her mule, had been loaded down with scrolls and books, and Adri’s attention was drawn to the load, obviously puzzled. “We just came back from the university,” Keentu explained, noticing her gaze. “Master Richu needed some things.”

“Oh. I was just heading back to the forge,” Adri said vaguely, watching Damien suspiciously. The seer seemed a little unnerved at her look, but only shrugged and continued threading his way through the crowded marketplace. Riverwall didn’t have a market ‘day.’ It was more like market ‘week.’ Damien didn’t seem to mind the press of people, though it made Adri much grumpier than usual, while Keentu was simply intrigued that so many people could coexist together in one place. Yes, there was a sizable number of monks in her monastery, but not as many as this town market could hold.

The smithy, now that they got back, was extremely busy. The forge itself was, in no means, an actual shop; Darrin’s wife ran a stall in the marketplace. However, there were enough people that came to browse through what was too valuable to put out in the open, where thieves had a better chance of taking it, or they came to ask a special order or commission something from Darrin. Volim was currently at the anvil as his father spoke with a carpenter. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to make nails again… Maybe Darrin would choose another apprentice to do that. Nails were extremely boring, and hinges were nearly just as bad.

Right now, as Adri slipped into the forge and Keentu tended to her mule, Volim was working on what would soon be a shield, but now looked to be a flat piece of vaguely-shaped metal. As the carpenter finally left, Darrin found a moment to come over and view his son’s work critically.

“Even blows, lad,” he advised.

“I know.”

“Are you hitting it hard enough?” Darrin worried next.

“Yes.”

“Don’t forget to reheat it.”

“I won’t,” Darrin snapped, scowling. “I know what I’m doing!”

“You’d better. That’s commissioned, remember?” Darrin was obviously worried about this shield, and Adri stifled a small laugh as they both broke into arguing between themselves, though this, by no means, hindered the apprentice’s progress. It was still confusing, the way that Volim referred to his father as ‘Darrin,’ instead of ‘dad’ or ‘father.’ They seemed to argue frequently, as well, though they never held any grudges, and Adri understood that, at least. Who knows how many fights she and Brennan had when he was teaching her to track and hunt? Teachers, especially ones related to you, often worried over what seemed to be the simplest things.

Adri looked around the forge restlessly. As things calmed down, Darrin took over from his son, who was happy enough to get out of the forge and into some clear, cool air. Adri, out of things to do, followed and nearly ran into him when he stopped short, giving Damien an odd glance. Keentu stood there watching the young man as well, just as confused.

“What’s he doing?” Volim asked Adri, puzzled.

Damien was simply standing there, his face angled ever – so – slightly upwards. His mouth was open a tiny bit, and he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. He was just staring off into space, and even the dog was getting worried, nudging his owner’s hand and whining. Adri approached, but was repelled when the dog turned on her and snarled viciously, fur standing up on end.

“Leave him alone. The dog bit me,” Keentu advised, rubbing her hand. Volim was surprised; she seemed to control the dog better than Damien himself. Adri would have done it anyway, out of spite to Keentu, but another look at the dog, and she decided not to.

They waited another few minutes. Damien was nearly stone except that he did move occasionally, and he still breathed. Then the man gave a yelp and flinched away from something unseen, throwing his arms up as if to ward off an attack. This seemed to jolt him back into the present, for, after a moment, Damien raised his head and looked around at Adri, Volim, and Keentu sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Adri nearly shouted. Volim was glad that they were further down the street, away from the forge.

“Uh… Ah, well, see…” Damien started stammering incoherently, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Any time you could give us an answer,” Adri prompted rudely.

“I was… um… Daydreaming?” He gave a weak smile, obviously not expecting the excuse to work. It didn’t. Adri gave him another mistrusting look, before turning on her heel and stalking off.

Volim gave Damien a peculiar look, something vaguely tugging the back of his mind, like déjà vu. Now that he thought about it, Damien did seem familiar, though he didn’t understand why. Darrin knew him, but, then again, Darrin knew a lot of people.

“Just out of curiosity,” Volim asked slowly, as they headed back up the street after Adri, “How do you know my father?”

“Darrin?” Damien shrugged. He gave a small laugh. “He, um, heard about my… job and came to ask… if I could help him out with something. He knew my parents, too, and they were pretty good friends. I don’t really know him all that well.”

“Oh. Alright.” Volim was satisfied with that, and that was probably the reason for the déjà vu, besides fitting with the fact that Damien had brought back a chip of Karnish steel. As if the thought was a cue, Damien spoke.

“Did that steel from Karnish help anything?” he asked. Volim shook his head regretfully.

“No. Jus’ seems to be the fact that they’ve got superior ore,” he replied. “Thank you, though. That might help when Darrin needs some more ore.”

“How would you manage that?” Damien asked incredulously. “They had a hard enough time letting me even look at their mines.”

“Then where’d ye get the chip?” Volim asked curiously.

“I, um, got in a fight with bandits when I was trying to cross back,” Damien muttered. “They use Karnish steel, and one of their swords broke.” Well, that was the truth so far. “They left after they realized I wasn’t worth it, and I took the chip.”

Volim blinked at him. “How’d the sword break?” he asked curiously. Damien immediately changed the subject.

“Keentu, when are you heading back to the monastery?” he asked abruptly. Volim frowned at the switch. Damien didn’t seem to be the type to carry a weapon. How in the world could he break a sword? Maybe he had a friend with him, or he did carry a weapon.

But, then again, maybe not.

“Probably tomorrow,” she said, shrugging. “Volim?”

“Mm?” Volim looked at her absently, only half-listening.

“Maybe we can help you find out about the whole metal situation,” she offered. “Some of the masters know a bit about weaponscraft, and we have some archives there, but not just from this country. There might be something in there.”

That offer was tempting. Volim thought it over, as did his father when he told him. Well, why not give it a try?

[kupan]

Keentu, in her hurry, had them all wake up at dawn. While she looked bright, refreshed, and ready to go, Volim felt tired and grumpy. He was surprised, though, to see both Damien and Adri out there, waiting as well. Adri looked like he felt, with more anger, while Damien was shivering in the cool, misty air. That coat of his didn’t look that warm, but Volim figured Keentu must have been colder. However, she was happy enough going barefoot on the cold cobblestones. Volim wouldn’t have dared.

However, the information from the night before seemed to explain that a little. Keentu had told them that her monastery was located in the mountains, though not too high, but more on the slopes. A small town lay beneath, she said, in a valley. It was mostly a farming community, but if they’d rather stay there than at the monastery, the inns were good. If not as elegant as the Scorching Gryphon, it was at least clean enough, and the food was simply delicious. Literally, simple. All in all, it sounded like a nice enough place, though, to Adri’s annoyance, there was no Lodge anywhere near, though Keentu had told her that the Lodge of the Bear checked in regularly. The monks kept order there, anyway.

They started off soon, Keentu leading the mule, rather than riding it. They had forsaken any horses, and each carried their own pack, with Talka the mule carrying whatever else they needed, as well as the books and scrolls Richu had wanted.

Truth to tell, if it had been Volim, he would have let at least Damien ride the mule. The young apprentice could ride, but not as well as he wished, and Damien seemed to be the frailest of all of them. However, as they walked throughout the day, Damien seemed to be a little stronger than he looked, though the man was often lagging behind, and Keentu was nearly always in the lead. The morning passed without much talking, and Volim wished one of them would start a conversation. Keentu didn’t stop them for lunch until in the mid-afternoon and by then, all four had rumbling stomachs.

Volim was secretly glad Keentu hadn’t packed lunch for all of them. Her meal consisted of a grand total of: two slices of bread and a bit of meat.

Noting the odd looks of the other three, the monk blinked back at them innocently. “These are trail rations,” she explained.

“No, these are,” Adri pointed out, showing her own meal, which wasn’t quite as simple.

“For a monk,” Keentu explained. “We’re simple.”

“Simple in the head,” Adri murmured under her breath, but loud enough for all the others to hear. Volim would have expected a reaction from Keentu, but all she gave was a slight shake of her head, before she quickly finished eating, then giving Talka a good drink from her waterskin. She moved back over to watch the other three eat, all of whom were taking their time. Volim noted that Keentu seemed a bit worried, always glancing upwards at the sky.

“Keentu, we’ll be fine,” Damien assured her eventually. Everyone turned to look at him, startled by the very knowing tone in his voice. He simply kept chewing, eyes slightly unfocused. “Trust me; we won’t want to start hurrying until later tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Adri asked slowly, scowling. Keentu, though, put on a speculative look. Damien blinked and gave them an odd look.

“Mean what?” He asked blankly, before blinking again. “Oh. Um…” He looked away, licking his lips nervously. “Ah, it’s just… Nothing. The mule’s getting tired?” Talka only blinked at the four faces suddenly turned to him, then snorted. He didn’t look tired at all, and mules were known for their sturdiness.

“That’s it,” Adri growled. She stomped over to Damien before Volim could stop her. “How do you know all this?” She very nearly shouted, hauling Damien up by his shoulder. The man winced, jaw clenched, and Adri could feel him trembling under her hand. To her, that just screamed guilt. His answer didn’t help things at all.

“D-do I-I-I have-have to an-answer?” he stammered, the words barely legible through his stutter. Adri, as she eventually made out his words, was about to answer with a shout when Keentu gently laid a hand on her arm.

“Leave him alone,” the monk said quietly. Volim was surprised at the effect those three words had on Adri; she snarled, let go of Damien, and swiftly aimed a good, hard punch at Keentu. What was even more surprising was the quick reaction; Keentu’s hand quickly moved up to grab her wrist, step aside, and let Adri’s force push her past the monk. She lost her footing, and would have fallen if Keentu hadn’t supported her.

Damien, Volim noticed, immediately backed away, his hands shaking slightly. None of them seemed to understand why Adri was so suspicious of Damien, not even him.

Adri wrenched away from Keentu roughly, giving her a stone-cold look. The monk let her go, before turning to the mule. The dog, realizing that its perpetual growling was being ignored, decided to snap at Adri if she so much as breathed on him again.

“Ready to go?” Keentu asked them absently. The brief scuffle seemed to have made everyone lose their appetites, and the food was packed away swiftly. No one objected to the quick pace the monk set, though Damien lagged behind again, rubbing his shoulder a bit dejectedly. He didn’t want to tell them, but Adri seemed so set upon finding out how he always knew everything. And they were hurrying… He sighed. Those bandits ventured inland a bit far than they usually did. Still, hopefully, they wouldn’t be too much trouble. After all, it was only a group of four, and all seemed like poor travelers. The mule, he knew, would be the first attraction. Then Adri, for Lodge people were never slim pickings.

And her being from the Lodge of the Panther would not help. Damien gave an involuntary shiver. When (and if) the bandits attacked, they’d have a rough time fending off a group that size. Of course, it hinged on two very important decisions; whether the leader of said bandits gave in to his fellows and decided to rest before reaching them, or if Keentu wanted to stop a bit early for the night. Yet, there was another thing his vision showed, something a bit odd that might happen…



“I’m getting tired,” Damien ventured, looking at the setting sun nervously. It took a few more tries for Keentu to actually hear him; Adri just ignored him, while Volim looked pretty tired. While he was a blacksmith’s son, he hadn’t traveled this much in one day. Truth to tell, neither had Damien, lest he was horseback. Adri, though, probably had.

“Are you, really?” Keentu frowned at the setting sun, to their general left. “We do need to hurry…” She fell silent as his earlier words came back to her. “Volim? Adri?”

Adri scoffed. “We can keep going,” she muttered snidely. Damien, to her, was just a wimp. Volim, though, looked at his stomach a bit ruefully.

“Can we at least stop for dinner?” he asked hopefully. He got hungry often, and the sun was setting quickly. Keentu shrugged. They were divided, but making better time than she had expected.

“Well, why do you ask me?” she teased finally. “I’m not your leader.”

“Thank you,” Damien said quietly, though it was obvious that Adri was not happy with the idea. “Are we going to stay the night?” he asked tentatively. Keentu shrugged.

“I don’t mind, but tomorrow, we’ll have to make it up,” she replied, getting out another simple meal. Volim looked at the darkening sky, noting Damien do the same, but with much more nervousness. The seer then nodded after a moment.

Eventually, their rest stop had turned into a campsite. Adri got a fire together, and Talka was un-tacked and left to take care of himself. The road they used wasn’t too far from a stream of clear water, and they made use of it.

“We need to set a watch,” Damien suggested a bit later. He hadn’t eaten a lot, instead toying with a blade of grass. Volim and Keentu both gave him an odd look, while Adri only snorted. A watch was common sense, wasn’t it? However, her paranoia (though she wouldn’t admit to being afflicted with such a thing) was acting up… She wouldn’t put it past the man to murder them all in their sleep. Even if Keentu could take him on and win.

“Why?” Volim asked after a moment. Damien gave him a level look and shrugged.

“Common sense,” he murmured. “Haven’t traveled much, have you?” It was more of a statement, rather than a question, but Damien didn’t put any vice or other emotions into it at all.

“Not really,” he muttered. “Darrin usually handled it, and he’d put one of the older apprentices in charge.”

“I’ll take first,” Damien said simply, wrapping his coat around him a little more. Adri looked over at him suspiciously, but the young man didn’t seem to notice a bit, turning his back to the fire quietly. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk.

Everything grew quiet eventually, Keentu and even Adri sleeping soundly after a few moments. However, Volim had a hard time trying to get comfortable, despite his thick bedroll. Eventually, he glanced at Damien, who seemed preoccupied. Or maybe that was how all night watchers looked. The young apprentice stood up after a moment, moving over to Damien quietly.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. Damien jumped and looked over at him as Volim sat down, before nodding sharply.

“What do you need?” He spoke as he turned to watch the road dully, shivering a little. It was that time of year when the days were nice, warm, and toasty, but the nights were colder than most people would like. At least the cold snap hadn’t come yet.

Volim only shrugged. “I was only wondering,” he said slowly, “How you seem to know so much, and why we needed to stop.”

Damien’s face tightened. “I’d rather not answer,” he said softly. “Please don’t press me.” Volim gave a small sigh beside him, then nodded again. “Get some sleep,” Damien said eventually. “You’ll need it.” He didn’t say why. Volim gave a small sigh, before turning back to his ‘bed.’ He stopped when Damien gave a small ‘ulp’ sound, stiffening. The man’s fists were clenched, and he began breathing much too fast than one person should. Volim looked at the two females, debating whether he should wake them up. Damien didn’t look well at all, staring at space and looking very sick. A few more seconds passed, before Damien suddenly jolted back, throwing up an arm. As Volim reached over to help support him (Damien nearly collapsed, despite his seat on the ground), it seemed as if the man had aged in those few seconds, exhaustion lining his face. Without a word, Volim lay Damien down jerkily, letting him sleep as he took over the watch until Adri woke up a few hours later.

That was… very worrying.

[kupan]

Keentu awoke early, meeting up with Adri who had taken last watch. The Panther Lodgewoman nodded to her, her breakfast already eaten and packed away, then went to wake Damien up. Surprisingly, it took only a nudge; Damien was a light sleeper, apparently. For Volim, though, took a good bit more to wake him up. Awake he did, eventually, and after they ate quickly (or in Damien’s case, as slow as he could without bothering the rest of them), they were once more on the move.

The rest of the journey, much to Damien’s relief (and the others’ puzzlement at his relief), went very well and uneventful, talking about half a day longer than Keentu would have taken, were she traveling alone. She hurried them from lingering in the town too long, despite Volim’s wanting to speak with the local blacksmith, and it wasn’t a large length of time until they had the monastery in sight.

In the fall afternoon, with the grass still green and the air clear, the monastery was a picturesque thing, and despite Keentu’s wanderlust, she still felt relieved to see the monastery, her only home. Damien, though, as he saw that they had to climb the slopes of the mountain, winced and glanced mournfully at his feet.

“Do you want to ride?” Keentu’s voice was right by the seer; he gave a jump and a startled look towards her.

“I think that would be nice,” Damien said, giving her a slightly grateful smile. “Though I don’t think there’d be room on your mule…” His protests went unheeded, as Keentu stopped the mule. There was enough room, but only barely.

“What’s going on now?” Adri glared at them bad – temperedly, but Volim gave her a slightly warning look. He was tired, but Damien looked like he was about to collapse, for some odd reason. The apprentice looked down as he and Adri continued ahead, remembering what had happened the night before…

He gave a shiver. Damien would need the help, because he looked like he would fall on his face, despite the good act he put up.

It wasn’t too much longer until they actually reached the monastery, and Adri gave a loud yelp of surprise when, without even her knowing, someone popped up right alongside her.

“Good day,” the man said, nodding his head. Keentu turned around, startled. Then her face broke into a grin.

“Master Richu!” Keentu quickly reached forward to grasp his wrist in a common warrior’s handshake, though Adri winced at this ‘Richu’s’ grip; she could see how hard it was, and Keentu made a face, shaking her hand when it was released. “Has everything gone well?”

“Very well.” Richu cast a quick look over Volim, Damien, and Adri, who shivered at his voice. It was somewhat raspy and… snake-like? “I do not remember asking for guests.” He grinned at the younger monk. Keentu simply shrugged.

“They wanted to come,” she said. “This is Volim, who works as a blacksmith’s apprentice in Riverwall. He came to see if you knew anything about how the Lodges made their weapons.” She gestured to Volim, who was a bit unsure about how to greet this newcomer. Richu, however, solved the problem by grinning.

“We will see to it,” the older monk promised, proffering a hand to shake with Volim. The youth winced, though he hid it better than Keentu, dropping his hand quickly from Richu’s crushing grasp. The monk didn’t notice.
“This is Adri. She’s the last one who survived the attack on the Panther Lodge,” Keentu continued. Richu blinked. He didn’t seem to have heard about that. Adri shifted as he stared at her for a hard moment, then nodded, lips pursed. He offered his hand, and Adri matched his gaze and tried to match his grip. ‘Tried’ is the key word.

“And this,” Keentu said, finally waving a hand to Damien, “Is Damien. He… I don’t know what he is.” She turned to give the man a thoughtful look. He dropped his gaze, shrugging.

“Nothing of importance,” he murmured quietly, giving a small shrug. “I’d just like to see your archives, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Richu, for some reason, didn’t offer a handshake, which surprised Keentu. The older monk had always been polite like that, but now he simply watched Damien with a tilted head.



Adri, on the second day, had taken to exploring the monastery. The Master-ranked monks had set to studying the books and scrolls Keentu had brought back with a viciousness that equaled a scholar’s fervor. However, it held a sense of urgency that puzzled her. They were only books. What good could they do? She thought this clan of monks was fighters, not bookish types. She hadn’t even seen many of them train. Of course, Adri hadn’t really cared much about, missing the simple training going on beneath her nose. It wasn’t until Adri happened to take a walk on the slopes of the mountain that her mind was drastically changed.

Keentu had finally managed to coax Master Richu from his studies, and they had come to their usual spot to spar amongst each other, while enjoying both the view and the mountain air. The two monks, contrasting in color, were nearly a complete blur moving around each other as Adri stumbled upon them. She stopped short, watching them spar. They used no weapons but their fists and feet, and she noticed, right away, that Keentu wasn’t quite as skilled as the older monk. However, she still managed to hold her own as Richu held back. It surprised Adri that Keentu didn’t seem offended by this. Perhaps she just didn’t notice.

Or, perhaps, it was because Richu was very distracted. Adri didn’t notice this, but Keentu did, especially when he ignored openings. Richu never ignored most openings, unless it was clear Keentu was becoming tired. She finally withdrew after forcing Richu back. Both monks rested for a moment, before Keentu crossed her arms.

“Master Richu, what’s wrong?” she demanded quietly. Adri, realizing she still hadn’t been noticed, took a few steps closer, listening beneath one of the few trees that grew so near the edge of the cliff-like slope.

“What do you mean?” Richu arched his eyebrows, blinking and trying not to appear worried.

“You’re distracted, and the last time that happened, it was when you didn’t want to tell me about Elder Joseph’s death.” She looked at him, worried. “Please, don’t tell me-“

“It is not that,” Richu assured her. “Everyone is alive and well. Staves?” He moved towards the two staves laid on the ground, though Keentu slipped in front of him.

“Not until you answer my question,” the female monk said adamantly. Maybe, Adri thought, she does have some will.

Richu crossed his arms across her chest and gave her a wry look. “You will not let this go?” Keentu firmly shook her head no, and he sighed. “How does a trade sound? You answer one of my questions, and I will give you an answer in turn.”

Keentu gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine,” she grumbled, moving to pick the staves off the ground slowly.

“Damien,” Richu said promptly. “Have you ever seen him in a trance state?” Keentu turned to blink at him, Adri doing the same beside the tree she stood by. What did Damien have to do with anything?

“Sort of,” Keentu said after a moment. “And he knows things. He knew Adri’s name before they met, she said, but that might be coincidence.” The female monk shrugged. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I was… curious,” Richu replied smoothly.

“Feh.” Keentu made a face. “Your turn.”

“What is wrong? I do not want to say.” He grinned at her stare. “What? I did answer, did I not?”

“Yes, you did,” Keentu grumbled. “But I’d rather you give a better explanation.”

“You should have specified.” Trust Master Richu to find a loophole.

“You tricked me,” Keentu complained. She gave him an annoyed look, before her gaze slid away from him and, for the first time this day, she noticed Adri. Her eyebrows rose, as did the Lodgewoman. An agreement seemed to pass between them silently, much to Adri’s pleasure. The female monk didn’t say anything and simply turned back to Richu.

“I did no such thing,” Richu said smoothly. “I obeyed the agreement.” He glanced over at the view for a moment, before giving a startled yell as Keentu swiped his legs from underneath him with a staff.

“A trick for a trick,” she said smoothly, tossing a staff at him. Richu caught it easily, jumped up (literally), and faced off against Keentu.

“That was not fair,” he pointed out. His pupil gave a snort as she began circling.

“Neither was your answer.”

“You should be specific,” Richu repeated, moving with her. Adri, for a moment, thought he saw her, but he only gave her a flicker of eyes.

“You didn’t bother stating the rules to our fight,” Keentu replied. She couldn’t help but give a clever smile, and Richu grimaced.

“I would have thought you would obey the guidelines of a fair fight.”

“And I would have thought you would answer my question as I assumed you would,” Keentu shot back. A slow smile spread over Adri’s face; the real battle, she now realized, was one of words here. Or, at least that was part of it. Maybe monks weren’t so bad after all.

“You have got me,” Richu sighed. He lunged suddenly, without warning, though Keentu blocked it swiftly, following up with a flip of her staff towards his head. Another click of wood on wood, and it was deflected, the two warrior monks going back to circling each other.

“Then will you answer?” Keentu asked imploringly. The older monk smiled.

“If you happen to win this match, I will explain everything,” he promised. “And I mean it. No tricks.”

Adri and Keentu both seemed to sigh. For Adri, she was dying of curiosity. However, this match would prove to be interesting as Keentu suddenly dived at Richu. A flurry of staves, then both monks disconnected, Richu jumping back while Keentu skidded on the slick grass. Both were slightly tired, but where Richu had, earlier, been distracted and holding back, Keentu and the fight she presented had his attention and every bit he could force into such a fight. He took the defensive most of the time, repelling Keentu every time she struck. However, it wasn’t long until Adri realized that Keentu was giving her all, and that was at least Richu’s equal in staff-fighting, if not superior. Both of them used not only their staff, but they would kick and punch as well, using nearly any resource that came to hand.

Adri gave a gasp when a powerful blow from Richu sent Keentu through the air. The female monk hit the tree Adri was next to, though she literally bounced off it and back into the fight, using the momentum to land behind Richu and swing at his back. He whipped around to block it faster than Adri could have thought, and they went at it again.

Adri’s earlier beliefs that monks weren’t as great as everyone said were quickly corrected. They weren’t. They were much, much better, and from what she understood, Keentu was only a student, and this was simply a mock duel.

She was abruptly surprised as the staff was suddenly knocked from Keentu’s hands by an expert twist on Richu’s part. She quickly managed to grab one end of his staff, though. He began turning, Keentu holding on tightly until she was being flailed through the air. Managing to plant her feet on the ground, she twisted, using Richu’s momentum as he tried to swing her around to reverse the action to him instead. While she couldn’t match Richu’s strength, however, she let go of the staff, literally throwing him away – and over the edge of the cliff.

Adri gave a strangled noise, rushing from her previous position to the edge of the grass-covered cliff. Keentu was briefly startled, joining her, before she just grinned.

Richu hadn’t fallen more than five feet away from the cliff; staff still in his hands, he managed to grab the rocky side of it, using it to slow his fall, rather than stop it completely. Soon, however, he did managed to stop, grabbing, tightly, a small outcrop of rock with one hand. He jammed his staff into a crevice just above, then used it to pull himself up until he had found both handholds and footholds. Adri had realized she wasn’t breathing, and once she realized that she wasn’t, she took in a deep breath. He was okay. Good.

Keentu lay flat on her stomach and extended her staff as Richu slowly began to make up his way up the cliff. It was a lot easier than it looked, and soon, the red-clothed monk could reach Keentu’s staff. He grabbed hold of it, and both Adri and Keentu started to pull him up slowly. His torso finally came up over the edge, and the monk immediately scrambled to his feet, only to find that Keentu had grabbed him and flipped him over her back. Landing flat on his back, Richu stared up at Keentu’s grinning face as she crouched beside him.

“Does that mean I win?” she asked, both worry and amusement clouding her features. Richu grimaced, then looked at his right hand. It was bloody from slowing his fall, as was his right foot, nearly. Chest heaving, he nodded.

“Lovely sky,” Keentu remarked, looking up at the few fluffy white clouds. “I think that’s a horse.”

“I think you are right,” Richu said, nodding. As Adri stared in disbelief, the two monks quickly classified the rest of the clouds and their shapes, no gloating on Keentu’s part, nor bad feelings on Richu’s. It was... odd.

Eventually, Richu sat up from his position, looking against his hand. Adri was still standing in front of them, shocked.

“Mistress Adri?” Richu looked at the woman with his eyebrows raised. “Are you okay?”

“You fell off a cliff, Richu,” Keentu mused. “I think she’s a little stunned. Have you ever seen monks fight, Adri?” The Lodge woman shook her head mutely.
“A lifetime of training and Keentu is already thrashing me,” Richu said softly, smirking. “Adri, that is just how monks are. Do not worry.”

“Well, I won,” Keentu declared. “So. What is wrong, Richu?” She gave him an expectantly look as Adri arched her eyebrows, just as curious.

Richu gave Adri a slightly pointed look. “I am sorry, Adri, but we would have to speak privately. I believe they are serving lunch at the monastery.”

Adri glared, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. “I’m not hungry. Why can’t I know?”

Richu gave a sigh, before standing up. “Tell you what,” he began, a small smile playing around his face, “I will tell you both… If you can keep up.” He stood up then, gave Adri a challenging look, then took off. Adri blinked. He was really… fast. And as Keentu followed, Adri realized she would not be able to keep up, and tracking was out of the question; once they reached the tree line, both monks jumped up into the trees, moving about that way.

She now officially hated monks. With a sigh, Adri started to trudge back to the monastery, the food mentioned by Richu stirring her stomach’s appetite.

[kupan]

Damien thanked the young monk as he led him into the monastery’s archives. While they were neither as big nor impressive as those in cities, the entire place was crammed with books and scrolls, all neatly organized. The seer gave a small smile, before he began to wander around the room and between the shelves. There were a few other people moving around, most of them recognizably students. Gaining knowledge, it appeared, was part of every monk’s life. What made him giggle a bit was the fact that a book existed here on nearly every subject you wouldn’t normally find in, say, the Riverwall archives.The History of Gloves? Odd. However, there was one on blacksmithing; Damien made a mental note to let Volim know… when the young apprentice stopped eating, that is.

What interested Damien most, however, were the books Richu had sent Keentu for. He wasn’t quite sure they would be in the archives at the moments, if the master monks needed to look, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek, now, would it? He knew the titles of most of them; after all, Keentu had let Damien take a quick look at them once or twice. The seer refrained from touching most of the books after a couple times. His second sight seemed to be very active today, and he had been seized by a couple of visions that had to do with the books themselves… and both were pretty bloody at one point or another. Well, that was the last time he looked at Karnish’s history. Damien nearly felt sick, and had taken a moment to go outside and empty his stomach.

The seer was a little distracted by a book he had plucked off the shelves after finding, with a sense of relief, that it triggered no visions in him. Opening it up, he blinked at the odd, rune-like characters. It wasn’t a language he had seen before, and Damien had learned a fair few. He flipped the pages idly, not watching where he was going until he bumped into someone. The seer gave a small, strangled noise and stumbled backwards, and a hand quickly reached out to steady him. Looking up, he saw Master Richu – and then Damien was lost in a blinding, fragmented vision.

An alter, surrounded by half-snake men, Nagas. A struggling young boy being led to it. A flash of crimson red…

Forward in time. The boy laying on the ground in a deserted grove, shivering and curling up into a fetal position. Wearing only pants, the boy’s chalky pale skin showed new patterns of ever-shifting red scales. His eyes opened, revealing golden irises and slit pupils. He stared about in fear, before a spasm wracked his stick-thin body. The scale patterns moved even more, spreading. The boy’s body began to change in a bone-wrenching way that caused him to scream aloud in pain.

And again, the vision was wrenched forward, as if someone else aside from Damien was trying to control it, hiding things in a desperate way. Flashes, however, still managed to push their way into Damien’s sight. Flashes of bloodshed, of the boy growing up as a Naga, with no control over his newfound powers. Years seemed to go by in a few seconds, and Damien was lost within them, feeling pain, sorrow, and the fierce exhilaration of a Naga’s desire to hunt mortals.

And then a ray of light seemed to shine through. Monks came to fight the terror of a small town, the Naga boy. They defeated him swiftly, though none killed the boy, simply forcing him to become too tired until he became his human shape. What followed next was wrenched, once again, from Damien’s vision, and –
Damien gave a lurch as he was slammed back into the present time and his own body, the book having fallen from his hands already a few seconds ago. Richu stared at him in horror, until the seer’s body jerked. Damien’s hand flew to cover his mouth, the other holding his stomach as nausea fought its way up his throat. He barely felt himself being picked up and carried through the halls swiftly; it went by in a blur, until both Richu and Damien were outside, half-hidden by some bushes. The seer proceeded to throw up, forced to the ground on his hands and knees until the spasms subsided, but slowly. In fact, to Richu, it seemed like too long a time until Damien quit heaving. He remained on the ground a few seconds longer, eyes unfocused as he tried to forget the vision.

Another wave hit Damien as he was trying to stand, and he nearly stumbled. Richu, out of reflex, grabbed him before realizing that wasn’t the best thing; once again, Damien was swept up into a bloody vision for a few moments, and once again, he hit the ground when it was over, heaving up his insides until nothing more came out. Even then, the young seer simply dry-heaved until it felt like his stomach was going to come out, along with half his other organs. This time, once he was done, Damien made no move to even attempt to stand. His current occupation was to stop the tears streaming down his face.

Richu knelt, carefully reaching out to touch Damien again. When no visions ensued, the monk grasped Damien’s shoulders, facing him. The seer winced at the tight grip, before blinking and staring at Richu.
“You… Y-You’re a-a… A N-“

“Yes,” Richu said firmly, cutting across Damien’s surprised stammering. “But only through no choice of my own. Are you alright? I am sorry, Damien. I did not mean to give you those visions.”

Damien didn’t answer, but then he began to cough violently, an arm moving to cover his mouth. He tasted blood inside his mouth, and spat it out before giving Richu another half-frightened look. The monk’s features, usually calm and expressionless but for a small smile, were now filled with pain.

“Damien, do not look into it too much. There are much more pressing matters at stake here. Much more so than a Naga’s past. Come. We need to speak with you and your friends.” He stood up, helping Damien to rise as well. The seer swayed on his feet, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his brown coat.

“H-How d-did you kn-know that… that I’m a-a seer?” he stuttered, trying to stay standing.

“Archmage Katya. She is my friend,” Richu said abruptly. He started back to the building, tugging Damien along. “Come. We can stop and get something to help your stomach.”



They collected Volim, who was speaking with another monk (who here wasn’t one?) about what he knew of blacksmithing, and if the smith in the village below them was any good. Adri was already there as Richu led them into a comfortably sized room. Keentu knelt quietly in the middle of the room, Adri standing back a ways. Richu left them to stand in front of them at the other end of the room. It was somewhat shady, and his eyes quickly scanned the four, a green-yellow color.

But that couldn’t be right… Damien knew that Nagas had golden eyes with slit pupils; these seemed a pretty normal green color, though it was tinted towards the yellow.

That reminder of Nagas made Damien feel sick again, and he turned, one hand holding his stomach as he tried not to get sick all over again. He stepped aside to let Volim flop down into a sitting position near Keentu and look over at Richu with a clearly disgruntled, yet expectant, look that said clearly, “This had better be good.”

Once Damien turned back around, feeling only a bit better, he looked at the group dully, taking a few steps back. This didn’t bode well, instinct told him. Or perhaps it was just his roiling stomach.

Richu was the one to speak first, and he watched the four as he did so, though mostly Keentu.

“It is no mistake that all four of you are here.”

The words, blunt, made Damien give a start, startling both Volim and Adri. Keentu, though, dropped her gaze, showing a calm face, but biting the inside of her cheek. Richu hadn’t told her anything yet… in fact, he had run off on her earlier, and that didn’t help things. This just screamed bad news.

The silence eventually grew uncomfortable for even Damien, and Richu seemed unsure of how to begin. The seer, usually very patient, finally looked at him, exhaling in a sigh. “Well, if it isn’t, then I would like to know what this is all about.”

Richu gave Damien a quick, somewhat startled look. The seer’s stomach jolted at the look as Richu’s eyes flashed gold; he quickly glanced down, fists clenching to try and hide the shaking.

The man gave a soft chuckle. “I am sorry,” he apologized sincerely. “This is not something I know how to say. But,” here his voice became shrewdly mischievous, “can you not see it?”

The implications made Damien’s head jerk up swiftly, surprising the other three. “I’m not that good,” he snapped. “And if you think I already know everything just because I have second sight, you’re-“ His voice cut short, and Richu couldn’t help but laugh at the young man’s horrified face. Really, these young ones were no match for wit.

There was silence for a moment as Damien shut his mouth and gave Richu a dark glare, teeth pushed together so hard it made his jaw hurt.

“Is that how you knew?” Adri’s angry voice startled Damien, and he turned, half-afraid she would try to punch him again. Keentu, however, was already thinking this over. It made sense, the trances, the fact that he knew so much, and how he was always seeking after knowledge. Seers, she knew, had a curiosity worse than a cat’s. At least, that was what she had heard. The female monk simply knelt where she was, head canted to the side, and ignored Adri threatening Damien about something; the seer could barely make out her words, she was so angry. Volim was, for a moment, trying to put things together before he gave a crooked grin. He agreed with Keentu’s thoughts (even if he didn’t know them), and stood up quickly to make sure Adri didn’t pound Damien into a tiny ball of pulpy seer-ness.

“Oh, so they did not know.” Richu’s plain statement made Damien give him another stiff look.

“And I’d rather no one else does,” the young man muttered. “It’s a pain in the neck when everyone wants you to tell them their future.”

Volim, who had made sure Adri would stop trying to hit Damien, fell silent. He was about to (jokingly) ask that very question. Instead, he gave a small upwards huff. Adri wrenched her arm free from the young blacksmith’s grip, giving him a stone – cold look as she stomped over to a corner of the room, eyeing Damien with more suspicion than ever before.

“Very well,” Richu said simply, though he seemed very pleased with himself.

“Master Richu.” Keentu’s flat, demanding voice caught the older monk’s attention. “Would it really kill you to tell us what this is all about? My legs are cramping up. What happened to the chairs?”

“Oh.” Richu smirked a little. “Lain has been enjoying her training.” Keentu gave a small sigh.

“Master Richu, I think that your training is what causes the carpenters so much work,” she complained. “Has she broken any yet?”

“A fair few.” Richu grinned a bit wider, causing Damien to give a small shudder Was he the only one to realize the senior monk had fangs? But it was odd… Damien hadn’t noticed them before, nor the occasional flash of gold from his eyes, nor even the fact that his ‘shoess’ were really grown scales. Perhaps he was being silly and paranoid. A simple vision shouldn’t change the fact that the monk was sociable, witty, polite, and kind.

“You’re going off the subject,” Adri declared. “Why are we here?”

Richu’s face immediately changed, filling with regret and irritation at her demanding tone. “I am sorry,” he said again, looking down briefly. “I, frankly, do not wish to pressure you four. But if I didn’t, then someone else would, and it would not change things at all.” His words, clearly beating around the bush, were met with four impatient, flat looks, and he gave a mental sigh. The impatience of youth; even Keentu wanted him to explain soon, and he could usually count on her to be very patient.

The monk strode to the single window in the room. it made up for the lack of others by being rather long, the length of an entire wall (if not necessarily the height) contributing to give one an excellent view of the mountain slopes and the small valley beneath. A small door cut the far wall, opposite to the one Damien, Adri, Keentu, and Volim had entered by; the seer assumed, after managing to see a bit through the small crack the open door provided, that it was Richu’s room.

The monk leaned on the windowsill idly, resting most of his weight on one elbow. “I do not suppose any of you have heard Archmage Ritz’s prophecy?” he asked finally, turning to view their reactions.

“Archmage whozawhatsit?” Volim looked confused, while Adri didn’t seem to know or care. Keentu shook her head no, but Damien immediately looked up.

“Archmage Ritz,” the seer said quietly. “He is the one who brought forward the second sight theory, that others gifted with magic could learn at least a little of it. He was an oracle.” Damien’s voice had more musing in it than anything else; he seemed to be talking to himself at the moment. “No one was ever sure if he was right, but I don’t think he was. As an oracle, he gave a fair few prophecies, most of which came true in his lifetime. Which are we speaking of?”

Keentu and Volim stared at Damien, while Adri only snorted. So he knew a little history. Big deal. Richu nodded approvingly, though. Well, it shouldn’t really surprise him. Damien was a seer himself.

“His Prophecy of the Four,” Richu said quietly. Damien went cold, his hands trembling. Yes, he knew that prophecy; the words had seemed to stick with him as, one late night in a library, he carelessly read the words. He couldn’t recall it word for word, but bits of it, now that it was called to mind, floated through his mind.
One of the Forge… Second, from the Huntscraft… Another of the Wind and Stars. The fourth, of-

Damien shook his head abruptly, as if that would clear his mind. “I need to go see my dog,” he said sharply and suddenly. Richu blinked, but made no move as the seer left the room abruptly. The dog had been well-looked after, though Damien had to shut it in somewhere to keep it from following him everywhere. The door slammed after the seer passed by, and Volim was startled to notice that the air around them had dropped a few degrees and what looked to be frost was now melting off the door handle where Damien had gripped it to wrench the door open.

There was silence for a moment, broken only when Volim curiously asked two inquisitive questions, laden with curiosity and the desire to know. “First off, can I go eat? An’ what’s an oracle anyhow?”

Keentu pondered a little before answering. “They’re a little like a seer, except that they can see whatever they want, as well as whenever they want. Seers can control second sight, but it takes years of experience, and it can still grab them in the middle of the night. An oracle has more control over it, and they can actually tell prophesies. A seer becomes an oracle only if he has enough potential, and years of experience.” Richu nodded in agreement, not quite feeling the need to clarify or expound on Keentu’s definition.

“Go ahead and eat,” he said absently. “All three of you. But I will need to speak with you later.”

Volim left very quickly, Adri grumpily stomping out after him. Keentu, however, paused a moment, hurrying on her way only when Richu gave her an angry look. He needed to think.

This was a very bad idea. They might not even be the ones. This sort of thing had happened before, when they randomly picked a set of alleged heroes to fill whatever prophesy was the scuttlebug when war threatened Aelford. Sometimes, they were right, but sometimes… they simply were not. It was usually better to let events unfold naturally, but that could also get everyone killed.

An impasse. A stalemate, an annoying little thought in his mind. Richu gave a sort of sound that was between a groan and a hiss. If they did nothing, it was likely that this country that most had never even thought of would overcome Aelford. If they tried to force the role onto these four youths, well… it was a one in a hundred chance. But… there was still a chance.

After all, it had been chance that the monks decided to try and train Richu from his blood-thirsty, half-crazed state when they first found him terrorizing the small town of Rasp. The monk let his eyes fall sightlessly on a bush just outside his window. Chance. The Fates ruled events, as some believed, while others believed in Deities controlling all. Richu had no sense of religion, only that there was a superior being and you could control your actions, but not the consequences. Sometimes, he realized with a pang of guilt, you couldn’t even control your actions.

He gave another hiss, head dropping into one hand. It was really starting to hurt. How had Damien known of the prophecy? It wasn’t widely spread about, or even believed. It had occurred near Ritz’s death, in fact, right on his deathbed. Such an ominous set of words while the Archmage was delirious with sickness and disease weren’t a cause to create panic, so only a few had written down, most as the ravings of a madman while he died. But… circumstances of impending doom all fit the prophecy. Richu had been the one to convince the other monks of the reality, but now he wondered if it all was real.

He stood from the window, slipping towards the door. He needed something for his headache.

[kupan]

Damien didn’t quite understand how some half-remembered words could cause that feeling of dread in him. The seer had indeed let ‘his’ dog out, feeling that he ought to at least be a little nicer to it, since the creature was so determined to protect him. He had left the monastery, walking along one of the many trails that led through the gentle green slopes of the mountain. This one led along the mountainside, neither rising nor falling, and, when it occasionally rimmed a cliff edge, he was provided with a wondrous view. Some of the more tired trees were beginning to yellow in their leaves a little, while many others remained green. Fall was on its way, and Damien was glad. He enjoyed the season tremendously, enjoyed the warmth that was evened out with the chilly edge in the mornings and evenings. In the mountains, it was cooler, but much nicer than the city. Damien wondered why he didn’t just move up here.

Then again, nothing was stopping him. It wasn’t like he had a home, really. As a nineteen year old, it was perfectly acceptable to live on his own. His father had no qualms about him leaving; in fact, he probably preferred it. His father was a merchant, and had never been around anyway, while his mother was dead from a plague that had swept though Riverwall when he was ten. The seer looked up at the sky through the branches of the trees arching above him. It was dotted with a few white clouds here and there, but otherwise remained a steadfast blue.

He shouldn’t have done that. Damien knew he shouldn’t. But the prophecy just bothered him. Yvonna, it didn’t really even fit them. Well, maybe Volim and Adri, and even himself, as well.

That was what bothered him most. The criteria could fit most anyone in Aelford. Why them? Damien held his stomach as he swayed on his feet, stopping suddenly. The dog whined, nudging his hand worriedly. No. No visions, not right now. The seer tightened his jaw, shaking himself.

But it didn’t work, and the revelation swept him up, leaving the dog standing there, confused and whimpering, and, finally, it began barking and howling loudly.

Darkness. It was tangible, swirling around him with shades of metallic purple on what seemed to be the edges and ends of the ribbons of dark. He was kneeling on something; he stood slowly, arms wrapped around him as he tried to breathe. Damien felt the dark wind tugging at him, the ends of his long brown coat fluttering and being tossed about, like his hair.

There was a shout; the seer whirled around to see where it had come from. For a second, the darkness was split, as if someone had driven a wedge of light into it. He was surprised as something seemed to throw someone into this place, and the seer jumped back as it landed near him.

It was Adri.

Damien rushed forward, kneeling to turn her limp body over. She was wounded, obviously, bleeding from various wounds. Blood matted her hair and was streaked across her face. A longbow was in her grasp, despite that it had been broken in two, the bowstring holding it together.

He was starting to feel sick, and, unconsciously, his hands tightened their grip. As they did so, however, they seemed to go right through Adri as she dissolved into nothing. He began breathing much too quickly, staggering back and staring at his blood-covered hands. The darkness suddenly seemed to part, only wisps of mist remaining as he stared, helplessly, at the monastery. Bodies were littered everywhere, and everything the seer saw was stained red.

The dark winds came back, rushing into his view and blocking everything as he was suddenly yanked around by the force. They opened again onto a battlefield, sounds and all. Damien realized he was trembling, and crumpled to the ground, barely able to stay on his knees as he stared, horrified by the carnage.

The dog’s barking was cut short when Damien collapsed, and it whined, nudging him once again. It could feel the seer trembling violently; see his wide-open eyes staring at something beyond the lovely, late summer day. It whined again, before howling and barking, the sounds carried on the clear mountain air.

Damien seemed as if he had been caught watching the battle for weeks, unable to tear his eyes away. The vision fooled him into thinking this was reality, wiping away all common sense and leaving him with only terror and… guilt. Guilt that forced Damien to realize he could have prevented this. Now it was too late. Aelford would be slaughtered, down to the last child and woman.

The seer was still in the vision as he lurched forward and hit the ground roughly, then began coughing violently. Blood came out of his mouth, then his stomach roiled, and he was soon heaving all over the road. He didn’t notice as a monk stooped to pick him up, still coughing and shuddering. The dog was still snarling, but seemed to realize that this person was here to help. As the monk ran off, the dog followed, surprised by the speed with which the red-clothed person moved.



“What happened to him?” Richu looked up as Keentu entered worriedly. The dog next to the seer’s bed immediately jumped up and snarled, giving a bark before it recognized Keentu. The older monk only shrugged, looking at Damien with concern showing in his eyes visibly. Blood was streaked on his clothes and body, and his hands were completely red. Richu had been in the process of cleaning it off, alarmed to feel Damien shaking beneath his touch.

“I heard the dog,” Richu explained, nodding to the animal. “It was howling loud enough to wake the dead. When I got there, Damien was on the ground, coughing up blood and dry-heaving.” He jerked back as a spasm wracked Damien’s body. “He is not faring much better even now, but I think the worst of it is gone.” The monk paused for a moment to rinse the rag out in a basin of clean water. “I think he is still having visions.”

Keentu looked over at Damien, who was staring at nothing, eyes glazed over, but moving still. He would occasionally jerk or twitch, once even nearly falling out of the bed. Richu, Keentu noticed, was wearing a pair of gloves and was extremely gentle as he scrubbed off the blood. Whose was it? The seer hadn’t been wounded in any way, and there was too much for him to cough up. Richu was feeling a bit more than concerned. There hadn’t been any blood on the ground when he found Damien, either, nor any tracks.

Could it have come from the vision? “Go get Archmage Katya,” Richu said curtly. “She should be here soon; perhaps she is on the road. Now!”

The female monk nodded, before slipping out the door. She walked sedately out of the monastery, passed Adri who was outside, and then took off. The Lodge woman stared after Keentu. What was going on? And how could she run so fast?



Richu watched Damien steadily for the next hour or so, unsettled at the fact that he was still within his vision, which seemed to be getting worse. The seer thrashed occasionally, his clothes removed and cleaner ones put on. The older monk was now occupied with cleaning his brown coat and mending it; it was very worn and scruffy.

Damien staggered through the battlefield, shying away from the bodies and tiny groups of still-fighting warriors. No – plain people, for there were peasants as well as knights, children as well as hunters. He just wanted out of this nightmare, away from the blood that now coated him head to toe.

There was another rushing, and he was almost glad to have the purple-black winds enshroud him once more. However, it soon turned to dread when they began to part, revealing something so terrifying Damien could never have imagined it, hitting his knees and feeling his stomach heave, even in the vision.

Richu gave a start as Damien unconsciously began to cough, holding his stomach tightly and half-way sitting up. He moved over to try and calm the seer, looking up only when the door opened and Katya entered, a very breathless Keentu following. The Archmage pushed Richu aside, alarmed, and gripped her staff in one hand tightly, the other moving to touch Damien’s hot, sweaty forehead.

Damien gave a startled gasp as the thing was pushed away, and darkness –the plain, normal black of nothing, something that Damien welcome – entered, pushing out everything but the seer himself. Eventually, even sound was stifled but what he made; his shallow, ragged breathing seemed as loud as a dragon’s roar, and Damien tried to calm it down. He was on the ground, and, realizing this fact, the seer gently pushed himself up to all fours. He was surprised to find that he felt slightly wet; some sort of liquid that was not blood dripped from his hair and face. He gasped, finding that it was cold, and he was somehow being supported on freezing water. Standing, he created ripples, the end of his coat trailing lightly in the water until he had risen completely.

“…What?” He couldn’t help but feel the need to speak aloud; he was surprised to see a sudden burst of color at his word, spouting upwards for a moment like a fountain. Hitting the surface of the water, the drops bounced back off, until they melted into the water again. He blinked, then took a step forward, curious at this new change. Each step made a small noise, and each noise caused another tiny spurt of colored water. Growing closer to the ‘fountain,’ he saw that everything was reflected underneath the water as a blue shape. A small swirling motion was where the spurts of color came from; he couldn’t help but stoop to take a closer look. His finger reached out to touch it, and it shone white suddenly, stark against the rest of the blackness here. It was a pool of light, swirling here even when Damien jumped back, startled. He stared, before he began to shiver. It was cold in here. Where was this place? Why couldn’t he get out? The seer began to panic, breathing much too quickly and looking around with desperation.

Katya tensed, and Richu gave her a worried look, not realizing that they had been joined by Volim and Adri. The Archmage wasn’t seeing anything, her breathing calm while her eyes were glazed. Richu was plenty prepared to wake her up, but soon she shuddered, then sat back in her chair, taking a slow, deep breath. The dog whined, nudging at Damien’s cold hand, and then licking it once or twice. It was surprised to find a response; the hand suddenly gripped his fur just behind his ear painfully, and Damien began coughing violently once more, sitting up with his free hand clutching his shirt. Katya jerked back as blood came out; Richu was there with a clean basin of water and a few rags.

“Is he out of it?” the older monk asked. Katya nodded silently, before looking over at the dog with a frown.

“What is that dirty thing doing in here?” she demanded coldly. The dog gave a loud snarl, and Damien actually managed to give her an attempt at a glare. If Katya didn’t like the dog, then…

“He stays,” the seer muttered. His tongue felt thick, and he could taste blood. “Can I have a drink?” He sat up a little further, his body immediately started to hurt, and he gasped, coughing again and doubling over. Once he had finished, he found a cup of water thrust at him; Damien took it and drank quickly. A bit too quickly, since, once he finished it, he began coughing once more.

“What happened?” Volim stood near the door, vaguely curious in the proceedings. He looked at Damien with a bit of concern; something he didn’t understand. They’d known each other for less than a week. But, then again, by the reactions of Richu and Katya – an Archmage, no less – it seemed as if this was something to be worried about.

Damien looked at Volim, clenching his hands to try and keep them from trembling. It didn’t work, and as he remembered what had happened in the vision, the seer gave a shiver, before he began dry-heaving again.

“…Well, thanks for the explanation,” Volim muttered under his breath. Katya gave him a stern look.

“If you’re not going to be serious, then leave,” she said curtly. The comment actually made Damien stop puking and give her an incredulous look. Keentu’s brow furrowed slightly. What was so surprising about her sternness? It fit with her occupation, and the situation. In fact, the seer didn’t seem to like her at all…

Very odd. The female monk looked at Volim, but he only grunted and settled against the wall, rolling his eyes and muttering something quietly. Adri seemed disinclined to even acknowledge that she was here; she was lounging against the window, apparently finding something better to look at outside than in here. Volim, at least, showed interest; Keentu was starting to get annoyed at the huntswoman and her attitude.

Damien eventually stopped hacking up blood and bile and settled back, glad for the empty basin Richu had provided. He shifted uncomfortably, the pillows not helping anything. Neither did the new clothes. Well, they did, except that he didn’t have his coat. He wore it often; one would wonder what was so important about it. He looked down at his hands quietly, and they were still shaking, as was the rest of him. Damien gave a sigh, before clenching his fists and screwing his eyes shut as he tried not to cry.

“There’s blood on him,” Katya remarked, surprised. Richu was there immediately with a wet rag as the Archmage pointed it out; he quickly scrubbed it off gently. “Where did it come from?”

“I do not know,” Richu answered quietly. “He possesses no wounds. Damien? Did someone attack you?”

Damien shook his head slowly, his eyes wide and full of terror. “I-I don’t… don’t w-want to-to talk ab-about it,” he stammered slowly. Katya pursed her lips into a firm line.

“Too bad. Spit it out.” The commanding and demanding tone of her voice caused Damien’s dog to put its paws on the bed and growl across at her; Katya moved to shoo him off, but Richu calmly pushed her arm back down. She gave a huff, before settling back into her chair. “I will get into your mind, Damien,” she threatened, eyes narrowed. The seer looked up, genuinely concerned, and drew in a sharp hiss.

“You… You w-wouldn’t.”

“Archmage,” Keentu ventured cautiously, “Why is this so important? Can’t you at least give him time to recover?” She didn’t flinch as Katya’s head snapped over to look at her; the Archmage was briefly startled, as most of the novice mages, and even some of the masters, would often cringe at that look in her eyes, the one that meant she must be obeyed.

“No, it can’t wait, girl. This is too important for you to bother about,” she said haughtily; Richu’s hand once more descended on her arm, the grip a warning as his own eyes matched her gaze.

“I would ask, Archmage Katya, that you call her by her name, which is Keentu, and also, that you would realize the need to remember your authority means next to nothing here.” His words were gentle but firm and Katya dropped her eyes. The authority remark was nearly a lie, but they hinted at other things.

“I’m sorry, Master Richu,” she said quietly. The formalities were only mere words, but once Richu used them, it meant that he was in a rather testy mood; she’d better back down, despite their friendship. “Damien, would you please? We really do need to know.”

They all turned back to look at the seer, who was absently stroking the dog’s head, still trembling from foot to head. He didn’t look eager at all to relate the story, but something more was on his mind.

“I-If you-you’ll ans-answer a question,” he said, breath catching. “Wha-what was that… place?” His curious eyes found her; both knew what he was talking about, and Katya sighed.

“Did you not pay any attention to your tutor?” she asked scornfully; Damien flinched, but shot back defensivly.

“Aye, Archmage. He was always t-talking ab-about you,” the seer snapped back. “You being so perfect. I learned more by myself than he could ever teach.” Keentu was surprised at the vehemence in his voice, as well as the fact that he rarely stuttered as he got worked up. Richu glanced at her, murmuring an order for food for all of them, and Keentu quickly slid off, slightly disappointed.

Katya’s eyes flashed, and Damien immediately regretted his words, though he only looked away sullenly, still scratching the dog’s ears with a trembling hand.

“Katya-“ Richu started tentatively; she waved a hand to silence him.

“I can take care of it, Richu,” she murmured, eyes narrowed. “Damien, if you expect any sort of apology from me, you are very sadly mistaken.”

“I don’t,” Damien retorted. “Wouldn’t expect it from you. From what I remember, it’d kill you just to give a compliment.” He was slightly pleased to see her face going red, but he knew he should back off before things got too out of hand. Katya’s temper was legendary, even if he hadn’t met her often. He clenched his jaw, before moving towards the edge of the bed. The small movement caused him a sudden, surprising burst of pain, and he gave a strangled noise, hugging himself suddenly. His breath caught for a moment. “Where’s my coat?”

“It is being washed,” Richu replied. “Along with your other clothes. They were covered with blood. Damien, what happened?”

The seer looked away, eyes troubled and dark. Volim gave Adri a suddenly nervous look, wondering if she felt the same foreboding feeling. The Lodge woman did, apparently, though she did a very good job of hiding it. However, her eyes told all as they met Volim’s, and he chewed on his lip thoughtfully.

“You were in your center, at the very last,” Katya said finally, hoping it would prompt him into speaking. Damien looked up and blinked at her.

“Which is?”

Katya sighed. “It’s somewhere within you, the heart of your spirit,” she explained impatiently. “Most people never find theirs, though mages have a special aptitude for it.” She turned in her seat as Keentu entered with a tray carrying several plates of food. “Some monks can find it, as well as craftsmen. It’s possible for anyone to find theirs, but it takes years, even for a mage.”

Damien nodded silently, inwardly flinching, then hardening, at her tone of voice. It held a condescending nature, as well as a haughty tone and unbelief that Damien wouldn’t know of this ‘center’ deal. Of course, he reflected sourly, she probably found hers once she heard of the concept. He occupied himself with simply petting the dog’s ears. He really did need a name.

The seer gave a small sound that was half snort, half laugh. Here he was, recovering from a very painful vision, with five people wanting to know what happened, and he was concerned with naming the mutt. “Jiskiqqi,” he murmured suddenly, and most of the occupants of the room gave him a rather puzzled look. Richu, though, simply smirked. The dog gave a grunt, cocking its head in curiosity.

“Jiskiqqi?” Katya repeated. “What do you mean?” Damien arched an eyebrow at her.

“My dog needs a name,” he said simply. “Jiskiqqi. It means Loyalty in Elvin.” He couldn’t help but add smugly, “I thought you would know that.”

“Stop avoiding it,” Katya snapped. The dog, now named Jiskiqqi (and not really minding it, either) gave her a low growl. Damien tried to move again, taking in a sharp breath and falling back. Since when did visions cause pain? It wasn’t as if he was actually living them, anyhow.

“Stop moving,” Richu said shortly. “Katya, perhaps you are hungry. Why don’t you have Keentu show you the dining hall?” The pointed look he gave the Archmage was clear; with a stiff look and a concealed sigh, the woman stood up, flicking her braid over one shoulder as Keentu quietly opened the door, taking the food out as well, except for Richu’s and Damien’s. The look was now shown to Volim and Adri; they both left as well, leaving Richu alone with Damien.

[Here'sHoping]

Hi,

First of all: congratulations on doing NANO!

I'm just going to provide some reader reactions. Hopefully something will be useful...

Okay, so first of all Adri. Because I met her first, she sort of became the main character to me. I was sort of disappointed when she turned out to be a mean, vicious drunk. I know there is a prophecy and they are all meant to be together but, by the end of it, I just wished she would go away. One thing is that she is part of this mysterious lodge group. They were all just killed in a terrible way. I thought it might be interesting if, when she brings her brother out of the lodge, she finds a clue on the ground... maybe a symbol of some kind that she has seen before and this might lead her to the town and the library. Possibly she has some pill that she drops in her booze so that she can drink like a fish, act drunk but really be completely alert and gathering clues to her family's killers. She could still be suspicious of others but just maybe not so mean...? And it would give her a storyline and something to do.

I also wanted to suggest to really think about the POV that you want to use for a scene. My personal preference is to have a main character so most scenes would be in that character's head and it would be the character we could get to know best. But, I can see how you might want to use multiple equal POVs because they are all sharing the prophecy. I would just be careful to keep with one POV during each scene and just let us interpret things through one character's eyes at a time. So, for example, maybe when we're in Volim's head, we notice Adri giving him the cold shoulder all the time. Volim thinks that Adri doesn't like him and is a snob. Then, we get in Adri's head and we realize that actually Adri's got a crush on him and doesn't know how to handle it... something like that. In some ways, I think it's better not to know what everyone's thinking all the time. Also, in some ways, it's just easier not to bounce around so much between people's heads. Just because each time there is a switch you have to reinvest in that character's thoughts.

Would it be possible to give Volim a stronger storyline as well? One possibility would be that he is overshadowed all the time by his father, the master blacksmith. And his father doesn't pay much attention to him. Then he finds this moonrock in a field and creates a marvelous sword but his father won't even acknowledge him because he isn't spending time doing what he's supposed to do... so, with a heavy heart, he leaves for the village to find his fame and fortune as his own master blacksmith... (just random idea but something like that which would give him some conflict.)

I have to tell you that I love prophecy stories. But I did get the feeling as I was reading it that you were sort of hinting at it and then taking it away so I started to feel cheated. For instance, Keentu fighting with her master and then she earns an answer and his answer is "I'm not telling." I didn't think that would actually fly because someone who answers like that isn't going to get many takers (ever again). But then after she won again, he said this time no tricks. and then again, he changes the rules and he'll tell her if she can keep up.... then she does keep up and we find out later at the gethering that he still hasn't told her. And then at the gathering, I didn't understand why everyone was impatient to get out of there. I am doubtful that they would all make the journey for the food so again it felt like a cheat. We get just a couple of hints: there will be a war and a piece of the prophecy "One of the Forge… Second, from the Huntscraft… Another of the Wind and Stars. The fourth, of-" and then they all leave to go get food. It didn't make sense to me except to think that you weren't quite sure yet so you couldn't reveal yet what you didn't know.

So anyway, I think the place to start is with a villain and figure out what s/he's after. Since you have magic, I think more than a war. Maybe destruction of the world, etc, etc. Once you know what s/he's after, you can decide what your prophecy is about. And I did like the Richu character alot: the fact that he was turned into a ...Naga... (I forgot the name, sorry) and he was able to become good but he's still just a little bit...strange... I thought that was a nice twist.

Here's an idea that might work for you and might not:

I'm going to randomly pick Keentu as a main character (just because she seemed to have the most scenes at the beginning):

1.) Story opens with an earthquake near the monk's mountain and lots of smoke rising around everyone in their mountain. All of the monks (including Keentu) gather in fear because the time isn't right and it means something. The elders send everyone away to continue their studies. (backstory that you wouldn't reveal to the audience: monks are close to the land and read the signs of nature. the smoke of the earthquake is a sign of the fire at the lodge. One of the prophecy children (the only one they know anything about) has been found and is in danger. This means that the time may be right to find the members of the prophecy).
2.) Fire at the lodge. Adri gets away, buries her brother and finds a symbol/clue on the ground. Goes to the town... (and etc, see previous section on Adri). (I also think it would be neat if something in her pack is magical or something to do with the prophecy. Not that you have to do anything with it in that scene but maybe it comes up later on?).
3.) Scene with Keentu
4.) Scene with Damien. He rescues a dog. He throws some stones in the air but the dog nudges him during the throw so that he believes that he will need to rethrow. But to his amazement, the stones have painted him a clearer message than he’s seen in a long time. He heads toward the village (where the stone cast has pointed him). The dog follows him. (I have a soft spot for animals so I kind of wish his dog was sent from the Fates to help them all (but the reader may only gradually come to know it)).
5.) Keentu scene
6.) Volim's story line (see previous section on Volim)
7.) All characters have been introduced. Keentu scene again. She is brought into meeting of Elders and is sent to go get the characters. Not told why but just told to look for a blacksmith, a seer, and a lodge member without a home. She must bring back the first ones that she sees... (something like that).
8.) She goes and brings them back with her. You can still have a lot of those scenes you have as they are packing up to go. I think it would be good to give them each motivation to follow her...not just that that they feel they want to be together but a different reason. Volim will get a secret of the blade. Adri is suspicious that the monks have killed her family. Seer has a vision of a crescent just before he meets Keentu (something like that).

I think you might also want to think more about the Lodges. Some other good potential scenes might come after the main characters find out about the prophecy. Adri might eventually bring them to a friendly lodge (secret handshake/levels or etc). It might be interesting if the Lodges have a whole culture built up around the prophecy and protecting The Child...

I do think it would be really nice if all of your characters were very different/different powers...instead of there being as much overlap (for example the monks and the seers have overmages and Keentu was the first one to feel that they should all be together). One thing I found suspicious was that they all spent so much time being freaked out that Damien knew people or knew things that he shouldn't have. For just me personally, seeing somebody do magic would explain a lot and so it's not what I would be wondering about.

Core Characters:
a.) Adri: Bow and Arrow character? Panther Lodge member (legendary in skills), believes in Fates. What are the Lodges legendary in?
b.) Damien: Seer. (As an FYI: I kept getting his char and Darrin and Brennan interchanged.) Has a dog. I think I would make sure that he is the only seer in the group… to make him special.
c.) Keentu: Monk of monk clan the Starred Crescents. Good with hand-to-hand combat and fighting with staves. Close to nature?
d.) Volim: Blacksmith’s son. Will he be the sword fighter?

And I just wanted to mention that I thought you did a good job with the battle/fighting scenes. I felt that I was able to follow along very well (for myself, I always struggle with writing action scenes).