0 comments/ 6231 views/ 0 favorites The One With Three Ch. 01 By: some_freak82 Authors Note: This is a story I'm writing for a friend, but I need feedback on what people think about it. If you find any grammatical/spelling errors, please tell me so I may change them. If you have any comments, questions, concerns, grips, etc., please tell me. I have most of the next chapter finished, but I don't know if I should even continue. Therefore, if you want more, please tell me what you liked/disliked. I need to know what I'm doing right and wrong. Thank you for your time. *** Onyx Calleisto stood with his back to the large stone palace's wall. He gazed out across the city that had imprisoned him for the past ten years. Little had changed in the way of streets and people. The streets were still filled with people and trash. People hadn't washed themselves in days at the earliest. It was strange to think of wanting others to be clean after being around filth encrusted prisoners for a decade. It took all his strength not to go scrub himself in a river until he bled out all the dirt and grime after eating maggot infested meals. Before being imprisoned, he would have spared a little sympathy. Those days were behind him. He couldn't afford time for the weak and pathetic. He wouldn't, even if he could. They were worthless. Worse than that. Liars at best. Stupid one's too. Had they not known he would have gotten out of prison and want revenge? The least they could have done was poison one of his pitiful meals, just to escape his eventual wrath. None were smart enough though. Especially the noble, Jesper, which had framed him. He would die slowly if, no, when, Onyx got his wish. Murder. It still disgusted him after all these years. He had rarely lifted a finger in defense of his own life before. Any who knew him at all could have told the courts that. The few who really didn't like him could as well, but they'd probably lie about him like the others had. But the poor city folk had to take the word of a noble before a fellow peasant. Even one as generous with his hard earned coin as he. He snorted contemptuously. His own blood had turned on him too. His half-brother Jerim, his mothers son, but not his fathers, had testified against him. Telling lie after lie of his exploits in torturing small animals as a child. If he remembered correctly, and he always did, those were Jerims little pets he tortured to consume time. It was Jerim who had shaved that cat bald and cut off it's tail after she had the misfortune of tripping him. That Onyx would do something like that was preposterous! Had anyone looked into his late teenage eyes, they would have seen his innocence. But that innocence was the last thing the courts were looking for. Unfortunately, a bloody knife in his possession was more than enough evidence that he had killed that poor barmaid. His poor barmaid. He wished he could not remember her still. Too much pain had been dealt to him while he lay awake in his small cell with twelve other criminals. Time had only numbed the pain to a small stabbing in his heart and a full-fledged punch in the gut. Ann. She had such a sure countenance and lithe legs you would forget you were on fire if she didn't tell you. And she always would. A good woman. The best of women. Why did that butcher have to set his eyes on her? She was beautiful, true, and a good dancer, but not a noblewoman. She was someone a poor man could always pride himself in having as a wife. Not one for royal courts. Onyx guessed she would have been smart enough to get along fine, and eventually turn out like a noble, but he was bad at guessing other people's intelligence. That was another of his failings. It went right along side being too naive about people. More than one man had fallen for Ann's good looks and charm. All had been turned away with a sore cheek when they tried to force her to do something she knew was improper. He was the only man she would let touch her, but he was too shy and thick-witted to notice. Not until that bloody night had he found out that she felt the same way about him that he felt about her. It had taken him the better part of half of his sentence to realize that. At any point in the three years before her death, he could have asked for her, and she would have consented. No, she would have been ecstatic with joy. He hoped so, at least. It didn't matter now, she was dead, and all his hopes with her. No woman could compare with her. That would be like putting a firefly to a raging inferno. Nothing could come close to her beauty. Sunsets looked bland when seen beside her face. He didn't think he could settle with just another woman. Oh how he wished he had asked for her hand sooner! They could have lived so happily together, alone in the wood surrounding Kam-Bel's north eastern quarter. The city who had charged him with her murder. Onyx's stomach growled sourly, but he ignored it. He had eaten some five hours ago, and eating now would only make him grow weak. He needed to be hard, strong-willed and determined if he was to get revenge. And he was going to get revenge. He couldn't live with anything less. Though he could never tell anyone, he knew who had killed his little woman. Lord Jesper, a fool, and an ugly one at that. Telling someone would just get him in trouble. He had seen it time and time again. Men convicted of killing someone when it was clear that a rampant noble had done the deed. The prisoners would scream for mercy in the end. Yell at the tops of their lungs that they just wanted out of jail. They had all died horribly. It was always torture, trying to "get a confession of the truth." All the guards were doing was giving an excuse to beating someone to death or tearing off their flesh one strip at a time. He had seen too much blood, and planned on seeing more. Hopefully not his own, but that was doubtful. What Onyx was planning would get him caught and probably beheaded. It would be worth it, though. Even if he only half finished his job, it would be of small consequence. Just a sad ending to a sad life. Death would be a welcomed end to the pain in his heart. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about it. He would have those moments later, when he found his unsuspecting prey. Slowly he pushed himself from the wall and started walking down the street. As he entered the street traffic, the people parted. No one wanted to brush up next to him. His cold blue-grey stare convinced them of that. He could have frozen the ocean with that gaze. Onyx tried not to breathe too deeply. A breath of clean air was rare around the unwashed scum of the streets. That he was bigger than most of the people he passed was nothing new to him. He had always been large for his size. Tall enough for a man when he had seen barely fifteen summers and he kept on growing. A feat that his parents would have been proud of, had they been alive. Onyx liked to think of his parents. Both had been kind and generous. Unfortunately, they had also been very elderly when he knew them. They had died as normal old people do, their bodies just stopped. He hoped it wasn't painful for them, the dying. Next to Ann, they were one of the best things that had happened to him. Had they but lived a month longer, it would have been double the time he had known Ann. When Onyx had been born, Jerim had been about fourteen years older. Even with his years in prison, he still couldn't figure out how such an old couple had had a child. At their age, they should have been settling down to grandchildren, not raising one of their own. It was just strange for people that old to have a child his age. Being a child when they had died left him a poor street urchin for the remainder of his fifth year of life. Jerim had been on his own for quite some time, and never even thought about bringing in his own brother. As luck would have it, an elderly scholar just happened to bump into him on the very street he would meet Ann less than nine years later. Of course, like everybody else did, the man commented to him on his size, saying he was roughly the size of boys' two years his senior. Onyx hadn't known what senior meant, but was impressed with the nice old man. After a time of looking him up and down, the learned man told the boy he was in need of a strong pair of arms to move some books. The work wouldn't be much, as the man planned on reading them more than moving them. He would also be given food and shelter. Onyx hastily agreed. During the long years of hauling books and cleaning, Onyx was taught reading and writing. Along with that, he became a sort of apprentice to the wizened old man and learned many things of the world. He was taught tremendous things of foraging and harvesting, before learning basic arts of battle and kingship from books gathered in the library. Numbers came after medicines, which was brought on while he was gathering information about cooking. Eating things had always interested him. He even learned some of architecture, before being taken from his adopted parent. Onyx still glowered and towered over everyone as he marched his way down the street to the market. Few people stayed around him long enough to buy anything from the hawkers or craftsmen. He guessed he frightened many of them, stroking his belt knife as he was. His wool brown shirt was stained with blood from a nose bleed he had earlier that morning, but most took it for someone else's blood, which suited him just fine. That would just mean less people trying to bully him. His matching pants were splattered as well, though most with berry juices from outside the city. Onyx thought he must look very ominous, standing there blood stained and all. His blue-grey eyes looked a little sunk in and ill, but that would go away with time. Despite his thin face, he was thick. Thick enough to do a blacksmith proud. It was mostly natural strength, but a lot of it came from working-out in his cell with twelve other men. It seemed harder to stab a man in the back if he looked to be able to rip your arms off without breaking out in a sweat. All thoughts were silenced by spying a familiar face. Harl, one of the two thugs that had held him down while Jesper slit his woman's throat. Red heat filled his vision as he stalked closer, looking around in the crowd for Harl's twin, Glen. Both were lacking in brains, so Onyx felt that their death wouldn't hurt anyone too badly. It would be hard stalking through a crowd that parted in front of you. Slowly Onyx hunched his shoulders, hung his head slightly, and took on the bleak look of everyone else in the street. That was another thing he had learned in jail, being as obvious as a speck of dust and about as harmful-looking. Only being truly invisible would make him be noticed less. So far, the only thing people would notice about him was his lack of stench, but being around so many others who did stink covered for him nicely. Thankfully, Harl was still stupid, and bullied his way through the street, making a large opening behind him for anyone to slip into. Especially a person with a knife. . . The encounter would have gone fast, a quick stab to the heart, then a small run into another street, and making himself look unobtrusive. Unfortunately, Harl turned left, and took the knife in the lung, instead of the heart. Normally, Onyx would have liked to watch him die painfully, but only had they been somewhere without so many eyes. They were in a street, though, throwing danger into the mix. Everybody would remember the tall scary-lookin' man walking through the street glaring at everyone. Fear made his hands move quicker. He wrenched his blade out the dead man, and stabbed again–once, twice, three times–never caring where the dull blade met flesh. After puncturing Harl, he leapt for the nearest alley, ripping off his shirt as he ran. Discarding the bloody knife and his shirt, he dashed back into the street, trying to blend in without a shirt and spatters of blood on his cheeks. As his head darted around for a seamstress, he moved down the street, away from the castle and the corpse he had just made. Five buildings down, he spotted one, a whitewashed double-storied house and place of work. A painting on the paneled wooden door showed a needle and thread, the symbol of a worker of clothing. Slipping in, he headed straight for the woman he deemed to be in charge. She was a slim woman, sporting a blue bonnet and a matching ankle-length dress. He supposed she was beautiful, but since Ann, he'd never looked at a woman that way. Gold-brown locks splayed in front of her eyes and Onyx couldn't help but wonder how she saw with those things constantly in front of her face like that. He figured she was in charge, since she was speaking animatedly to a short girl, who hurried to get away once the woman in blue was finished with her. "You the owner?" he croaked. He hadn't spoken in–what, two, three days?–and his throat wasn't used to saying so many words in such a short period of time. "I am," she replied in an airy kind of voice. "I need a shirt." He would have just said "shirt" but he could at least act civilized, even if he was covered in blood and shirtless. "So I see," she said dryly, eyeing his muscled scar-riddled chest. "When?" "Now. And pants. Please." he hated asking for help, but he had no wool and no knowledge of clothing. That was one of the things that wasn't covered in the library. He left no doubt in his voice that she might not do it. She sniffed sourly and grumbled something of impatience. "I have nothing in your," she paused and her cheeks reddened. He wondered why, but she was talking again, "size. But. . .No, no, you're much too big for that. If you'll let me measure you, I'll be able to have something for you in-" "No. I need it now." His voice was becoming accustomed to speaking and was able to get more out. "I don't have it now," she said testily. "But if you give me time-" He growled at her and she jumped. He doubted he could have sounded more like a bear if he had tried. He just turned on his heel and left. He needed clothing now, not in a couple of days. The nights in Kam-Bel's forests were colder than the nights inside that flee-ridden hole in the castle. After he looked in at four more seamstresses, he finally gave up, and just asked the price for a blanket. He cut a hole in the middle for his head to go through and wore it like that. Luckily, it was oiled, so he would at least be protected if the Gods suddenly decided the earth needed to have a nice, cool drink. He also added a buckle to either side to prevent it from blowing open. It was long, but it covered his blood stained pants, so he didn't mind it as much. He set off to find a decent knife from a blacksmith. It took him a while, there weren't many people around who could perfect the uses of iron, and very few who knew the secret arts of steel. The knives that he did find were all sharp, but he wanted dull, because dull meant pain when it tore flesh. Sharp would be fast and he could only except slow. Jesper would pay badly for what he did to Onyx's beloved. So he started dulling the blade. Scraping it around the wooden smithy, striking it on the heavy iron anvil, and digging holes in the rocky dirt floor with it. Soon enough it was dull, paid for, and sheathed safely in his belt. Or as safe as it could be, in Onyx's hands and with what he had planned for it. Gazing from the heat filled, smoky inside, he scanned the people around him. He slipped out easily enough, and went to his full height. His glare returned in full force to his face. A woman carrying a bundle of clothing dropped it in the mud after seeing him. She quickly scurried off after gathering the dirty shirts. Nearly breaking into a run, she turned a corner and he could almost imagine her hiking up her skirts and dashing off for help. Onyx allowed himself a small smile, which seemed to scare the people even more. Three streets later he found himself back at the street Harl had died. Maybe Glen will show up, he thought mercilessly, seeing his stupid face after Onyx stabbed him, like he had his brother. Death would not come easily for Jesper, after he disposed of the guards. Another small smile crept up on him. At least, he thought it was a smile. By the way people moved away from him, he guessed it must be something nearer to a grimace. Three hours of waiting proved nothing but time wasted when he could be using to finding the two walking dead men. As Onyx prepared to leave the city for the night, his eyes spied a rather dumb-looking face. It was almost a mirror image of the stupid face of his victim but seven hours gone. Life was finally looking good for him. This time, he needn't worry about a speedy death. Glen was going to die much slower than his brother. Ideally, Onyx wondered if Glen knew his brother was dead. It wasn't likely. They were both at the outskirts of Kam-Bel, and the opposite side of the city where as, Harl had died only five blocks away from the palace. It looked like he was just returning from a visit out of town, much the better. He wouldn't be on his guard, now. Slowly Onyx approached Glen, sidling up by him, and slowly pressing the point of his dagger against the mans' left armpit. Grabbing him by the arm, Onyx guided Glen in a circle, saying only, "keep moving or you're a dead man." Despite his lack of intelligence, the twin hurried along beside his captor. Evidently even one as dim-witted as he could appreciate the threat of death. Slowly, the two moved toward the northern end of town, where a small copse of trees was waiting patiently. In three minutes they were safely away from eye shot of any in town. Time seemed to thicken like jelly as Onyx pushed Glen to the ground. Right as he was turning to face his captor, his eyes caught a gleam of metal less than an inch from his face. Onyx was standing above him, knife almost brushing his large nose. "Where's Jesper?" Onyx asked hoarsely. He had waited for this moment for ten long years, and he wasn't going to have it spoiled by not knowing where the noble was. "G-gone. Please don't hurt me. I have a family." He ignored the rambling. The only family he had was dead as of this morning. "Where?" "The C-Council, my lord." he said dumbly. "I'm not a lord." Onyx spat. "What council?" "The Council of Seerers. S-South. They're holding a tournament for any who thinks they can–" "I don't care who thinks what! When did he leave?" Glen paled, "t-two days' ago. L-lord Jerim went too." "Who?" "J-Jerim Calleisto." Onyx's eyes narrowed. "I never knew he was a lord. What claims does he have of the title?" "Jesper lorded him. Please, please let me go. Please?" He barely heard. Jerim, a lord? Could this imbecile be trusted? How long would it take to this Council? If, that is, the Council even existed. A two day lead may be able to be over-taken if he left fast and hardly slept and ate. "When they left, did they have horses?" "Y-yes. Th-they did." Onyx swore loudly. Then did it again, because the first didn't vent enough anger. "Alright. For your information, you may live,"–he was just a pawn anyway and Onyx wanted Jesper, not an idiot–"but if I ever see your pathetic, stupid face again, I'll cut it off." Glen bounded to his feet, and hobbled off out of Onyx's field of vision. Evidently he had hurt him when he pushed him to the ground. Onyx didn't bother trying to feel guilt for what he had done. He was probably making a mistake letting the idiot walk away anyway, but he didn't have time to properly dispose of the idiot. A two day lead? His thoughts were suddenly silenced by a swift pain to the back of his head. Black blurred his vision as he fell to the ground, a stupid voice echoing in his ears, but none of the sounds made any sense. ************** The One With Three Ch. 01 "What's going on? Where am I? Who am I?" "So dark. . .So dark. . ." His head whipped around. Where was that sound coming from. Like a voice from behind him, but no one was there. Just more black skies with dots of white behind it. The dots faded as the voice came again. He was drawn back into his head. "Who are you? Where are we?" "Ann!" he shouted in his head, "where are you? How did you get here?" "Yes. That's who I am. Thank you." "Where are you?" Silence. "I don't know. I don't feel right. It's like being somewhere you know really well, but everything has changed. Like a room, and someone has re-arranged everything." "Ann? I"–he took a long breathe, he may never get this chance again–"I've wanted to tell you something. Something for a very long time. I love you." His voice stopped and wouldn't start again. "What?" Ann's bodiless sounds came. "I love you. I know I did." "Did? What do you mean, did?" she sounded startled, but there was a hint of anger in her voice. "Well, you're–" A sudden shriek filled his ears. It was Ann's voice. He hadn't heard it like that since Jesper killed her. Visions of the memory over-came his sight. They were walking, hand-in-hand through the moon-lit alley. She was so beautiful. Even the hay in her hair didn't mar her beauty. Gorgeous. He could still feel the muscle in her hands, and arms as they rubbed against each other, the euphoria of what had just happened still washing over them in waves. Onyx was so happy he was nearly crying with glee. "Thank you." he said softly, but not so softly she couldn't hear. "For what?" Her voice was as beautiful as she was. Light, without a care in the world. "Saying ‘yes.'" His cheeks still heated at the thought. He had just asked her the question, and they were going to be married. "As soon as possible," had been her answer. It took tremendous will-power not to shout thank you's to the heavens. "I'd have been a fool not to." Onyx shook his head. "I've nothing to offer you, but me. And that's not much." "No, you mean everything to–" A distant crash cut her off. "GO! You have to go!" Her loud shriek brought him back. That crash had been Jesper, come to claim Ann, but only to find she was already to be wed to Onyx. In his rage, he wanted to hurt the man who had taken what he had always wanted. So he stabbed Ann, and blamed it on Onyx. "Where? What's wrong?" "South. To the Council. You must go, fast." One word floated across his mind. "This has nothing to do with him. You must go." He didn't know he had spoken aloud. "This has everything to do him. He will pay dearly for what he did to you." More silence. Onyx started to fear she had gone. Would the last words he said to her be one's of hatred and vengeance? "What do you mean?" He nearly heaved a sigh of relief. "I've vowed to kill him. What he did. . .He'll pay." "For what?" Old pain seared in Onyx's chest. Did she not know of her own death? How could he tell her? Remind her of his own inadequacies? "When he killed you and blamed your death on me." "I'm dead? But, I don't feel dead. It doesn't matter. You have to go. South. To Canville. Ask for John Alvaire. He'll be able to help you. Please, go fast. Her life depends on it." "Why? Why do I have to go? Who's life depends on what?" But it was too late. She was gone, and he was waking up. . . ************** The first thing he noticed was the smell of pine. Very strongly in fact. The second was the needles poking his face and arms. Lastly was the pain in the back of his neck and head. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He had to go slowly because of the pain, but that was quickly becoming something he could easily handle. Or so he thought, until he moved. His first experiment with the pain, was to check the back of his head for any bleeding or bumps. There was one, a slight nub that hurt when he pressed it. Leaving that, his hand trailed up his unshaven cheeks to the bridge of his nose. Pressing each side with his forefinger and his thumb, he moved his body, and shifted himself to a sitting position. He opened his eyes again when he realized he had shut them again, and took a look around without moving his head. Harl was gone, and in his place slept a small girl, about fourteen or so. She was pretty, in a cute sort of way, with slightly full lips, and a body that promised full curves. Brown hair cascaded down her face, hiding her eyes from his vision, but he doubted they were open. She had a fair complection, and a strange arrangement of clothing for one sleeping on pine-needles. It looked like she was wearing a palace gown, suitable for a ball. So why is she sleeping on the ground beside me? He would soon get his chance to ask her, because at that moment, her hand balled up and rubbed her eyes. Yawning, she tried to roll over, but it didn't seem to help, considering her sleepy yelp of pain. She yawned again, she sat up and brushed the back of her dress off vainly. Onyx could see several places she missed. "Who are you?" he asked and winced. Maybe he should just lie down and wait his headache out. No, that was weak, and he wouldn't stand for weakness from himself. As she recovered from her shock, he went about yawning himself. "Armelia. I found you last night laying there." He grunted. Then thought better of it and just sat there. "Uhm, sir? Could I ask you a question?" she asked timidly. "No. You're going to go back to where you came from and leave me alone. I have something I need to do, and it's not going to happen with some child tagging along with me." He tried to stand as her jaw worked soundlessly. He was at a crouched position, still holding the bridge of his nose, when she finally got her voice to work. "I, good sir, am not a child! I am a grown woman, and I'll not be talked to that way by some vagabond. And, I might add, I saved your life last night and if you don't apologize immediately I'll not come to forgive you soon." Shaking his head slightly, he stood the rest of the way, swaying only slightly. "I'll not apologize," he said letting go of his nose. "because you are a child. And you did not save my life last night." "Really? So how were you going to save yourself while that ugly man stood above you, holding a knife to your throat?" Now it was his turn to work his jaw. "Doesn't matter." he got out. "He wouldn't have killed me anyway. He's too stupid to know real danger." "So what was he going to do? Shave you? Which, by the way, you really should do. That beard you're growing really is making you look like an untrimmed bush." Onyx furrowed his brows. What was she talking about? Shave him? Glen would surely have killed him, but he didn't need this girl to help him. He could move faster alone without her at his heels chattering off his ears on the way. But where was he going? The memories of his dream last night caught up to him. Ann had said to go south. To–where was it?–Canville and talk to a man named John Alvaire. But why? Because a dream told him so? Only, that was the most real dream he had ever had. It felt like she had really been with him. Glen had said the same thing; south. What was the other thing? That part about a girl? How would Ann know a girl in Canville and why would she need him? He looked down at the girl and remembered her. Growling slightly, he forgot some of his pride and spoke. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice clearly saying that he wasn't. "Now leave. I haven't got time for you." "No, I won't leave you until you give me a proper apology." Her chin lifted in a very stubborn way. "Fine, but you had better not slow me down. And don't even think I'm going to save your neck if robbers come. Or feed you." As she scrambled to her feet, he swirled on the balls of his feet and had to catch himself on a tree limb. Strong! he thought fiercely and started walking south, ignoring the pain in his head. After getting his bearings, Onyx decided against going through town. He didn't know if he'd be welcome there again, but that was fine. He didn't really plan on going back. Not after what they did to him. Three miles later found him striding over long blades of grass. A small forest laid out to the east, and nothing but more grass to the west. North was his past; south his future. Armelia was walking along side him, barely falling behind because of his large steps. Onyx had been wrong about her, she hadn't said more than five words in the past hour, and she didn't seem to want to come out of her reserve. Of course, he wouldn't admit it if she held a dagger to his throat. He never liked being wrong and admission was worse. She was still wearing that ridiculous purple and red silk gown, and didn't seem to have another in a small bag she had produced from behind her. Onyx had caught glances of what had lain inside. Food and water. Well, at least she wasn't foolish enough to think someone would be giving her food. But that wasn't all that was in there. A small cutting knife, a change of shoes, and a brush were all in there. It was almost dusk before one of them decided to speak. "I still don't know your name." Armelia said. He looked at her for a little while before answering in two words. "Onyx Calleisto." She looked at him for more, but he was busy setting up a fire. He didn't have any food with him, and didn't even have a way to get some. As his stomach grumbled loudly, he glared off away from the fire into the meadows behind them. He was dreaming about what he would do with Jesper when he found him, so he didn't hear the girl walk up to him from behind. What startled him the most was what she held in her hand. A small portion of bread and cheese. She was giving him food? No, she just wanted to come over and gloat about his misfortune. "Here." she said simply. He looked at the food, then her, and shook his head. He didn't need her pity. Though his legs were weakening and his hands were starting to shake, he would not accept the food. "Take it. I want some sleep tonight, and I'm not going to get any by being woken up every ten minutes by your belly." He grunted. "If you don't like it you can go back to Kam-Bel. I'm not stopping you. Besides, I went longer in jail without food. One day wont hurt me." Her eyes narrowed. "What'd you mean, ‘jail?'" "Exactly what I said." She didn't speak to him. All she did was stand there, holding her food, and staring at him. Then she spoke one word. The one word he didn't want to hear from her. "Why?" Onyx shifted his glare to the girl. "It's none of your business." "It is if I'm traveling with you." "Fine. Than this is where we take separate paths." He stood without another word, and headed out. It took her five minutes to catch up. Only that long because she had had some problems with the fire. Again she went into herself and didn't seem to want to talk. Maybe that's how he could get her to shut up. Just keep walking. And that he tried. They walked on until sunrise, to the afternoon, and finally stopped by a river around sunset. As they stumbled into camp, he noticed that the girl was a little worse for wear. He felt a momentary guilt, then squashed it with anger. She shouldn't be here anyway. Soon she would start slowing him down. Onyx tried his hand at fishing, and caught something small and slippery. Since he had no knowledge of fish, he gutted it as best he could with a sharpened rock and cleaned it with his hands. Glen had stolen his knife, but that wouldn't have been much help in opening the fish anyway. In the end it tasted as good as it smelled; horrible. But it would keep up his strength. And that was all he needed it for. He took the time for his stomach to settle to look at himself in the small stream. He was large, a head taller than the tallest of men, and half again as wide. Long black hair slid down the back of his head, revealing all of his face. From forehead to chin, Onyx was handsome, even if he didn't think so. His cold grey-blue eyes told everyone he wanted to be left alone and his stubborn mouth and cheek bones meant to back that up. Quietly he grumbled about not having a knife. He wanted to shave, but he didn't want the girl to know she was right so he'd never ask for hers. While he was looking at himself, he watched Armelia approach him from behind. She was still pretty, despite the noticeable limp in her left leg and her hair matted to her forehead from all the sweat. Something must have happened to her when they were walking, because Onyx didn't remember her having one before. "Are you ready to talk, yet?" she asked, still slightly winded and very exasperated. "I'll tell you what," he said, nearly gritting in frustration. "You may ask me one question, but then you leave. One, and only one. Will that satisfy your curiosity?" She thought for a second. "Five." she said. "What?" he shot back. "Five questions." "One, or none. Take your pick." She wasn't the only one who was getting agitated. Who did she think she was? "Fine. You should really bathe. You're starting to stink, and I'm not going to walk next to someone who smells as much as you do." "Alright!" he roared. "Five questions, and not one more." She sat down as if it was going to take a long time, and Onyx groaned. He could have just gone on. She had been quiet before and might have been longer. Just as he knew it would be, her first question was, "why were you in jail?" One down. "Murder." he said and waited for the next. Armelia raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Who?" Onyx just glared at her. "I doubt you'd know her." "Just answer the question." "Fine. She was a barmaid named Ann." "Why?" "What does it matter why? I killed her, that's all that matters." "Do you want me to leave or not?" Onyx growled under his breathe. "I just did. Who cares?" "Tell me." "No. It's none of your business." "Wha. .?" she started and paused, her eyes narrowing. "You're lying. You never killed her. What're you hiding from me?" "Nothing. One more. And make it quick. I plan on leaving early tomorrow." There was only a moments hesitation before she asked her last question. "Where are you going?" "Canville." she at least deserved the truth on that. Not that it mattered, she wouldn't be coming with him anyway. "That's five, you had better not be here when I wake up." She stood up and glared down at him. "You're lying to me, and I'm going to find out what really happened some day." "Not likely." he growled as she turned on the balls of her feet and stalked away. Before heading to sleep, Onyx decided to clean up. Not because the girl told him too. That was just idiocy. It was because he could feel the layers of dirt and sweat that was caking him. He felt like five more seconds of it would make him vomit. As he bathed, he washed his pants as well. The blood and berry juice was already dried in, so there was no hope of getting it completely clean. The most he was able to do was fade it a bit. Onyx mostly ignored the stains, but a nagging thought always kept coming back. He had no more pairs of pants and he wouldn't get far if he was covered in blood. The pants he was washing were the only ones he had left from before Ann died. Maybe he could stop at the next town and have some custom-made. He also needed some supplies, so it looked like he would be spending some time there. As he settled himself down for sleep, Onyx heard the splashing of Armelia, probably taking her own advise. He just laid down and listened for some time before sleep took him off. His last thoughts were hope of no dreams. Thankfully, he couldn't remember any of his dreams. When he woke half-a-day later, he found Armelia gone.