Storiesonline.net ------- The Thief of Roses by R22CoolGuy Copyright© 2011 by R22CoolGuy ------- Description: In a time before man rose to prominence, when magic flowed like water from every rock and plant, three great races vied for dominance. In their arrogance they challenged the Gods and almost succeeded. The Gods ensured that little evidence remained of their achievements and knowledge. That however, was about to change. Codes: mag fant ------- ------- Introduction What came before... The Orion sector, Rito III, 3158 GST (Galactic Standard Time) Reginald Ravensblade, Harpist of Time, sat idly watching the roulette wheel spin as the small gold ball travelled around in the opposite direction waiting to find its home. He was in the Maytag Casino, the largest, most prestigious gaming establishment on Rito III, a pleasure planet known for its gaming establishments. Reg had been on the planet for a week and had just finished his latest quest, another task where time had been manipulated. Several unscrupulous men had found an ancient relic and were using it to alter time to win at the various games of chance, most notably this very game of roulette. Reg was dressed in a fine silk black tuxedo with crimson bow tie and cummerbund. The sword hanging from his left hip was conspicuously out of place, but no one had called him on it even though he had been sitting at the table for some time. The large stacks of chips sitting in front of him were a testament to his skill, so perhaps the sword was as well. Either way, the other patrons, as well as the casino's employees, were leaving him alone. His thoughts were interrupted by his sword. "My Lord, he comes," the sentient Runesword on his hip, Timekeeper, announced telepathically in a hushed, almost reverent voice. "Who?" Reg asked, absently grasping the pommel, but still watching the wheel. "22, black!" the Dealer announced as the wheel slowed and stopped, showing the ball sitting in the pocket of the black even number. Reg watched as a modest stack of chips were slid over to his position at the table. He had been steadily winning for the last several hours. He removed several of the largest denomination of chips from the stack and leaned forward and placed them on 23 red. "The Creator," the sword replied. "He is looking for us." This time Reg did detect the reverence in the sword's voice. Reg looked up as a short, unassuming, elderly man sat down to his left at the gaming table. The old man was dressed in a tan cotton jumpsuit, of the kind worn by elderly men everywhere. Zippered in the front from crotch to neckline and held in place by a built in belt with a silver buckle. Attached to the belt on his right side was a large rune inscribed ring holding several intricately wrought keys of differing size and shape. He had closely cropped hair the color of burnt orange and crystal blue eyes. A strange dress for this upscale establishment. "Harpist, we finally meet," the elderly man said by way of introduction. "I am called Dao." "I have been halfway expecting a meeting for some time," Reg replied with a nod. "You look more like a maintenance man than who you truly are. The key ring is an unique touch." "Maintenance man, Creator, it amounts to the same thing, do you not think?" Dao chuckled. "You like the key ring? It holds the keys to the universe." Reg could feel an almost imperceptible shudder from his sword. He glanced down at it with a frown. "Melvina said that eventually you would want to meet me." "Yes, you are an anomaly," Dao eyed him intently. "I am very curious about that." "How so?" Reg asked, with a tinge of irritation. "Because I, a mere mortal, was able to draw Timekeeper from its stone?" "No. More like you, a mere mortal, are fairly pulsing with Eldritch and the Eldritch of a WitchLord," Dao replied. "That is a little strange considering your race is not Tarran, do you not agree?" "A gift from a friend," Reg shrugged. "An unintentional result of saving my life." "Yes, very strange circumstances and very unique. I do not believe it has ever happened before. I was unaware that it was even possible in the first place." "You sound surprised," Reg replied, eyeing him intently. "I was surprised that your body was able to cope with the change and it takes a great deal to surprise me," he smiled. "I also wanted to thank you for saving my daughter. It was not strictly within your purview and yet you rendered aid when asked." "You are more than welcome, I was honored to help and besides, the unintended results made it more than worthwhile," Reg replied with a shrug and smile. "But, that is not why you are here, is it?" "Perceptive, very perceptive," he replied. "No, it is not why I am here. I am in search of a champion, a herald, or a troubleshooter, if you will." "I already have a title and an occupation," Reg replied drolly, his hand sweeping toward the hilt of his sword. "And I am fairly sure that there would be conflicts of interest." "No, you misunderstand me," the man shook his head. "I do not want you, just your impressions. Your recommendations as it were. No, I am thinking of your friend and benefactor, one Aaron Whiterune, WitchLord and styled thief." "Then ask him, not me," Reg replied absently, more interested in watching the wheel spin and tracking the rotation of the ball. "I would not presume to speak for him." "It is not a voluntary position," he replied with a shrug. "I need to know how he would handle himself under less than ideal situations. Is he as resourceful as he seems? Tell me everything you know about him." "Why him?" Reg asked intently, now more interested in the conversation than the wheel. "He may not like being manipulated. Strike that! I know for a fact he will not like being manipulated." "Many reasons," Dao shrugged, "not the least of which is the fact that he is dangerous where he is right now. Too strong for the current climate, if you will. His abilities are upsetting the status quo. He is disrupting the balance and it is unable to correct for him. I would rather make use of his unique talents than to have to put him down." "Put him down? Are you even sure you could?" Reg chuckled, thinking of his friend. "Many have tried and yet he still stands. If he thinks you are truly a danger he would put down the 'Rose Swords' and call forth the 'Hand of Death'. I do not think even you would want that." "No, absolutely not," Dao smiled a truly deadly smile. Reg chuckled having seen that very same smile on Aaron's face quite a number of times. "No, we ... I need someone that could instinctually correct shifts in the balance," Dao explained. "Since he is an anomaly and outside the influence of the balance he would be perfect. There are numerous worlds and Mythos where his talents would be of assistance." "What do you mean he is outside of the influence of the balance of things?" Reg asked and cocked his head. "Did you just not say that he is disrupting the balance on Andor?" "Yes, I did," Dao shrugged. "The balance cannot adjust for his actions and has removed him from its calculations. That makes him perfect for what is needed. Your impressions, please?" "He is single-minded and does not react well to authority," Reg tried to describe his friend. "He does not like people being taken advantage of. He never backs down from a fight, but he does not look for one either. He despises tyranny of any type, or any type of oppression for that matter. If pushed he does not just push back, he shoves. Hard. He is loyal to a fault. Balance that against the fact that he has no use for authority and no qualms about his chosen professions. He is basically evil, but even that may not be totally accurate, and has no qualms about how he achieves what he perceives as right. He is he who he wants to be, no facade, no hidden agenda. Does that give you some insight?" "Yes it does," Dao's smile became genuine. "He is exactly what I need. After that glowing review it is about time that I met him in person. Do you still harp?" "Excuse me?" Reg replied, perplexed by the change in direction of the discussion. "I asked if you still harped," Dao repeated himself. "I ask because I would like to hear you play. Melvina speaks highly of you and your skill." "Here?" Reg replied, sweeping his hand around the crowded casino. "True," Dao nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them the room was silent and more importantly empty. "Harp for me Reginald Ravensblade," Dao commanded. "Harp for me and I will tell you a story..." ------- He called himself Dao and he had been searching the Universe for sometime; searching for a fragment of what was left of his home world, Archan. He had a name at one time but, with no one to communicate with or introduce himself to, that name passed into obscurity a long time ago. He remembered his nickname though, funny how you can remember the things that taunt and torment you and yet important things end up drowned in the waters of Nepenthe. His nickname was Dao, and that was all that he had. Some within Dao's race had achieved the highest plane of existence and had cast aside their corporeal forms. They existed as pure energy and thought, abstract ideas, able to live amongst the stars, Dao was one such entity. That was the only reason he had survived the cataclysmic event that destroyed his home world, although it very nearly destroyed him, as Destruction is want to do to Creation. After Dao regained consciousness he had tried searching for any of his family or friends and when that failed he reached out searching for anyone that might have survived the catastrophe. Surely, someone else must have survived? He had searched and sent out energy, feelers if you will, all to no avail. He could not believe that he was all that was left of the thousands that had achieved astral enlightenment, that he alone survived when others of even greater intellect did not. His only conclusion was that they must have hid for some reason, perhaps for the same reason that his world was destroyed. Perhaps there were outside influences that he did not know about. If that was the case then he needed to be careful and more importantly he needed to be prepared. He grieved for the lost for some time and then decided that the best course of action to honor the dead was to start anew, start over and build a new world. He wanted to create something that would last, something that would be protected, something that would survive. ------- When the star providing warmth and light for his world inexplicably died, taking his planet with it, a new star had been born. The left over matter created a solar system with eight planets, seven of which could support life. Dao was cast adrift on the solar winds, for time immeasurable, until he healed from the aftereffects of the explosion and was strong enough to chart his own course. Staying relatively close to his original home world, he chose this new solar system and its third planet as his new home and settled on an island in an archipelago south of the equator. He had named several of the planets in this solar system. The third planet he named Andor, the fourth planet Goth, the fifth planet Tarra, and the sixth planet Omegadon. The other planets had not yet been adapted to support life. The third planet was not uninhabited; in fact two separate, distinct sentient races had been seeded on the planet and had risen to the top of the food chain. As equal predators it naturally occurred that they became mortal enemies. Both races had reptilian characteristics: the Wyrms of the Sky were more serpentine in nature and the Guthards were more lizard-like. It amused Dao that life, it seemed, always started with the reptiles, although he had a small hand in that in the past. Both races were born of Eldritch and commanded the power within all living things. Wyrms were large dragon-like sentient creatures that mated for life and lived and hunted in pods of six to eight. They were capable of breathing both fire and acid. They walked upright on powerful rear legs, but ran on four. Their front legs doubled as hands and they were nimble enough to weave spells with those front talons. Their powerful tail was both weapon and balance for their upright stance. Their race was further subdivided based on type; color being the more common, while metal the more rare, with platinum their royalty. Wyrms lived in a loose monarchical society whose queen arose from the platinum family. The monarchy was handed down from mother to daughter. The queen's only responsibility was to rally her subjects during times of war or other strife. During all other times pod units lived a semi-autonomous existence, working together to better the pod or family unit. Wyrms only clutched thrice during their breeding years, usually laying two to four eggs per clutch. After learning to shift their shape to humanoid, it was not uncommon for them to interbreed with the second age races. Whether they chose wyrm mates or humanoid mates, female Wyrms always produced a clutch that they tended to in wyrm shape. Guthards were a warrior race of reptilian nature. Large muscled and scaled bodies, taloned fingers, broad foreheads, pointed ears laid flat against the side of their heads. They dressed simply, wearing only loincloths. When they reached manhood, the males shaved their heads bald with the exception of a single braided stalk of hair in the center of the back of their heads. The braids and hair bands denoted their respective tribes, as well as rank and honors achieved. Guthards lived in tribal or clan villages, spread throughout the landmass south of the mountains. Inter-clan conflicts were not uncommon and in fact were normal methods of proving prowess for the males. They hunted in small, four to six male units, each taking part in both the kill and the spoils thereafter. Although primitive in appearance, their looks were dangerously deceptive. They were skilled trackers, hunters, and weapons makers. Their passage of manhood included not only the demonstration of their hunting, tracking abilities, but also included navigation by star position, combat methodology, battle plan and all matters related to warfare. Their females protected the village and their young, and provided input in warfare planning. It was not uncommon to find unpaired females assisting in hunts and village raiding. The two races divided the main landmass into separate territories, with the Wyrms staking claim to the mountains and all lands north, while the Guthards inhabited the plains and southern lands. Other races began to flourish during the first age, but the first-borns maintained a stranglehold at the top of the predatory tree. The second age would change that. ------- It was from this new home that Dao had started his search for a fragment of his old home world, a fragment that would enable him to create magnificent instruments for both good and evil. He knew that the metal contained within the fragment would be far more powerful than any metal that he could find in this new world. No weapon created by the different materials that could be harvested from this new world would be able to stand up against his creations. That was his intent. Archanite would be unrivaled in its toughness and hardness, its ability to take and hold an edge, and would accept further enhancement, enchancement from Eldritch, more easily than other known metals. He rethought the notion that he would only create instruments of good and evil and realized he would also need to create great instruments to balance them. But before all that he would create an instrument that would protect this world, this Mythos. An instrument that could not be defeated, could not be overcome by force or guile, not by him or any of his kind, not by a force of nature, nor even by a dying star. ------- Dao was on the trail of a large chunk of rock and had been so for close to an age. It could have been longer since he had nothing in which to mark time with, no calendar, or any other way to mark the passing of time. Like the tail of a comet, the rock's essence had fanned out behind its travel through space. Dao had tracked its movement through this backwater galaxy, hundreds and hundreds of light years away from the supernova that destroyed his world. The rock had passed close by the Yellow Dwarf that provided warmth for this particular solar system and abruptly veered course when snagged by the gravitational pull of the third planet from the dwarf star: a blue-green planet. He trailed the rock's path to the blue-green planet, where it had entered the atmosphere and crashed. He was astonished to find that there was life on the planet, sentient life! The meteor had entered the atmosphere, passing close to the northern pole and had impacted the ground on the northern portion of an island landmass in the northern hemisphere. Having ascended beyond a corporeal form eons ago Dao followed the trajectory, invisibly, to the outskirts of a small village on a coastal area in the north of this large island landmass. Dao's senses detected that a huge meteor had impacted here ages ago and a hut was currently sitting above what was left of it. He flitted about trying to determine the technological advancement of this settlement and was dismayed to find that they were not very far along the advancement scale. Rudimentary skills in agriculture and weapon manufacturing, coupled with poor sanitation and medicine seemed to sum up this society's advancements. There seemed to be some major event happening in the village square so Dao proceeded to the area and began to learn the language. What he found dismayed him further. There was some type of public trial going on involving a woman and her three identical children. The woman was accused of, did he have it right? Witchcraft? These people were barbarians! Anyway, apparently the fact that her children were triplets and healthy had caused alarm within the village. Also the woman's small crops were always the first to come in and were always the sweetest, hardiest, or largest. A recent storm which had devastated the area had completely missed her home. Dao could feel the power pulsing from her, as well as from her children. The rock, that fragment of his home, must have leached its energy into the area and the little family must have been mutated by it. He wanted that rock and those children as well. The woman could not be saved if he wanted to take the children with him. Perhaps he could ease her passing, though. He watched as the woman was led away to a stake and tied to it. She cursed the townspeople as bundled sticks were laid around the stake. A man with a lit torch threw it on the pile of sticks and they ignited. The children watched in horror as their mother was consumed in a bright white light and disappeared. The townspeople watching the event fled in terror leaving the children huddled together, alone and unattended. Assuming the corporeal form of an elderly man, Dao walked into the square and stood before the children and addressed them in their native language. "Your mother is gone," he said. "There is nothing more for you here. The village people are afraid of you and will only do you harm. Would you like to leave with me?" "Why did she have to go?" the little girl asked. "Well dear one, Death comes for us all in the end," Dao replied sagely. "Do you want to leave this place and go with me?" After receiving nods from the three children, Dao cast them into suspended animation and hid them amongst his essence. Resuming his ethereal form he returned to the hut and, using the power of the rock, he lifted it out of its resting space into the air. The rock was huge, at least 30 yards in diameter and denser than any known matter in the galaxy for its size. He noticed a glint of red and rotated the rock to find a large crystal of red. The crystal, mostly obscured by the surrounding stone, was almost four feet in diameter and over six feet long. A most unexpected bonus to be sure. The large rock with its ruby crystal was all that was left of his home planet after a supernova, and resulting black hole, destroyed the solar system. The metal within the rock had power, naturally infused with the power of Eldritch and then intensified during the supernova. He dubbed the resulting metal archanite and would use it to create magnificent weapons. The archanite in its unrefined state was black in color and highly radioactive. When refined, the metal would change color to white and lose its radioactive qualities. In either state the metal was highly magical, and could be infused with even more power. At the very center of the rock the metal was in its purest and most concentrated form. He named it star of archanite and it was silver in color. The red crystal was a ruby and perhaps the largest he had ever seen. No, strike perhaps, it was the largest he had ever seen! It was also infused with Eldritch and pulsed with its own natural light. He was not sure what he planned to use it for but he did intend to use it as well. ------- Dao returned to his new home world of Andor with the rock of archanite and the three sleeping children. Taking on his new corporeal form he created a medium sized cabin next to a pool of water fed by a cold mountain stream. The cabin had multiple rooms and beds for each and Dao laid the children down and moved the rock to his mountain forge. This particular island was dominated by a volcanic mountain and that was Dao's destination. He climbed the path that led to a vertical crack in the mountain's side and entered his work area. Having found the crack when he first picked this new home, he had enlarged the chamber and constructed a forge that was heated by the volcano itself. He scoured the mountains of the mainland for the material to create his anvil, and after finding what he needed he enchanted it with runes and Eldritch. His hammer was fashioned from the same material as the anvil and equally enchanted as well. Now, having the material for his weapons, he could begin his work. Setting the large meteor aside for the moment he went back down the mountain to wake the children. Entering the cabin and checking on the children he was surprised to find them awake and huddled at the head of their beds, as far away from him as they could be. Surprised, because he had placed them in suspended sleep and here he found them awake. Their power was strong enough that he could feel it radiating out like the heat from a bonfire. He studied them for several moments trying to get a sense of their temperament. "Do not be afraid, little ones," he smiled, while talking slowly and softly. "I am called Dao. You have nothing to fear, I will take very good care of you." "W-W-Where are we?" the little girl asked hesitantly. "You are at my home, your home now," Dao smiled. "What is your name, little one?" "M-M-Melvina," she stammered in reply. "I want my mommy." "Your mommy is gone, Melvina," Dao replied softly. "The bad villagers did not understand how special she was, or how special you three are. It happens with ignorance. Can you tell me your brothers' names?" "My name is Driscoll," replied the boy to Melvina's right. "I am Randolf," the other replied. "Is this really our new home?" "Yes, you can stay here for as long as you like," Dao smiled. "It will always be your home. Now, who is hungry?" Three hands shot up and Dao chuckled and led them outside where a table was set with fruit, breads, cheese and roasted fowl. While they ate, Dao learned that they were eight years old and Melvina was the unofficial leader. Randolf was the adventurer, while Driscoll liked to make things with his hands and loved animals. Although they were nearly identical, the boys at least, small differences in the boys' mannerisms set them apart. The children were beautiful, an adjective not normally used to describe boys. Melvina was clearly going to grow up to be a beautiful woman, while the boys would be quite handsome after they reached adulthood. Dao explained that they now lived on an island uninhabited by anyone else. The boys wanted to explore, while Melvina wanted to stay close to Dao. Dao cautioned the boys that while there were no other inhabitants, there were still plenty of dangers on the island. They were to call out if they ran into trouble that they could not handle. Dao watched the boys disappear in the underbrush and then turned and smiled at Melvina. "Well, little lady, I have work to do," Dao explained to her. "You can come with me and watch, but no touching, understand?" After receiving a nod in the affirmative, Dao reached out and took her hand and together they climbed the path to his forge in the side of the mountain. Melvina looked around in amazement at Dao's workshop and forge. He politely answered all her questions and set a stool by his work table for her to sit on. Climbing up on the stool, Melvina watched Dao at work. It took him the whole of three days to break down the meteor and begin the smelting process. He worked late into the evening each day and Melvina stayed with him the entire time. She was a patient little girl, asking questions when appropriate, but not bothering him at crucial moments. Like any other woman, her eyes lit up when he unveiled the ruby crystal in its entirety for the very first time. Her excitement level caused Dao to chuckle and he promised her that she could have part of it. He took additional time to cut the crystal in half and fused her half into the rock of the mountain cavern for later use. He ended up with several stacks of bars of white archanite, as well as stacks of silver star of archanite. He withheld many large rocks of pure black archanite as well and fashioned them into useable bars with his hammer and anvil. Beside its other obviously magically properties, black archanite inflicted wounds tended to heal slowly or sometimes not at all. Dao assumed correctly this had something to do with the amount of alpha radiation the rock gave off. Discarding the remaining rubble he had the beginnings of several swords and many other weapon parts. He finally finished on the morning of the fourth day and started on runes of power. Taking out a rolled up piece of parchment, Dao unrolled it and set small weights on the corners to hold it flat. Taking a quill pen and inkwell filled with ink he had prepared from a mixture of animal oil and powdered archanite, he began writing runes on the parchment. As his quill traced the lines on the parchment, a silvery viscous light appeared out of the air and flowed into the lettering, like water filling a trench. As each rune was completed it would flash with a brilliant silver light and rise off the parchment and into the air. The rune would hold its shape for a moment and then dissipate in a silvery glow, finally fading into nothingness. The mountain would rumble and the ground would tremble when each rune dissipated. "What are you doing?" Melvina asked, looking at the parchment. "Creating words of power," Dao replied, absently. "The written symbols are called runes." "What are the runes for," Melvina asked, reaching out to touch the flow of silvery light. The light shifted its course and began to flow onto her fingertips. Dao reached over and gently removed her hand from the flow. Melvina lifted her hand up and turning it back and forth to study the silver light encasing her fingertips. Her skin began to absorb the light until eventually none remained. "That tickles!" she giggled. "What was it?" "I imagine it did tickle," he chuckled as well. "It is called Eldritch and it is the life-force of this land. With it you can accomplish amazing things." "Like creating runes?" Melvina asked, studying his writings. "You never answered me why you need them." "I am going to create great swords of power," Dao replied. "I need the runes to bind the swords and give them great power. The words will also be the swords' true names. Runes can also be used as a type of magic; one that needs no outside power, the power will be contained within the runes themselves." "Are they Runeswords?" Melvina asked, awe clearly in her voice. "Yes, exactly so," Dao replied astonished. "Runeswords!" "What are true names?" Melvina asked while studying his drawings. "True names unlock special powers and give the one that knows the true name special control." "What will the Runeswords do?" Melvina was clearly interested. "Why, they will give their wielders, their lords, great power," Dao proclaimed. "Some will be for good, others for evil, and still others for balance. In their runes will be their true name, their power, and their binding." "Can I help?" Melvina asked bright-eyed. "I believe you already have," Dao laughed again, dipping the quill into the inkwell. "Will you teach me the runes?" Melvina asked. "Cauth," Dao explained as he drew the symbol, a capital 'A' with the tails curling outward and connecting the cross. "It is the rune of power. It will magnify your power if spoken at the release of your attack." "Careem," Dao explained as he drew the rune, a horizontal line with two small circles, one at each end. "It is the counter rune. It will counter any attack except Himith." "Caral," Dao explained as he drew the rune, a capital 'H' with the tails curling outward and connecting at the cross bar. "It is the rune of warding. With it you can trap or prevent access." "Unhimith," Dao explained as he drew the rune, a diagonal lightning bolt from left to right. "It is the rune of life." "Himith," Dao drew that rune, the opposite of Unhimith, a diagonal lightning bolt from right to left. "It is the rune of Death. These two counteract each other and only each other." "Nathamdose," Dao drew the rune, an isosceles triangle, laid over, with its point facing left and its base perfectly vertical. "It is the rune of command. With it you can control the will of another." "Damna," Dao drew that one as well, a single hexagon. "It is the rune of holding, if you want to stop multiple targets." "Et," Dao drew the rune of binding, three concentric circles. "It is the rune of binding and is quite powerful. It will only bind one thing, be it a person, a building or a city." "El," Dao drew its rune, a figure eight laid over on its side. "It is the rune of protection. It is preemptive in nature." "Spoken all together, except Himith, it is an oath to end all oaths!" Dao smiled. "And a ready source of power when the flow of Eldritch cannot be accessed." Dao thought for a moment and then sighed, putting the quill back into the well. He leaned back, steepled his fingertips, and closed his eyes in meditative thought. "Are you done?" she asked. "Yes, for now," he sighed again, opening his eyes. "I need a special rune and I must find the precise word to use. It must be different, unused, and powerful." "Well, you are powerful," Melvina replied. "You could use your name, you could be a rune." "Well... , yes, yes I could. That will work very nicely," Dao replied, leaning forward, taking the quill out and scribing his name, which floated up and glowed brightly before disappearing. "Dao, the rune of making or un-making," Dao spoke the word into existence, as he drew the rune; a cursive capital 'L', laid over on its side with a diagonal line connecting the tails. "Now, I need another word that will be the binding rune, the rune of control for all of the swords." "I want to be a rune," Melvina proclaimed. "You could use my name." "No, I do not think... ," Dao stopped speaking and started thinking. "Why, yes. Yes, I think that will work just nicely. Melvina, let us go find your brothers." "Goody! We get to be runes!" Melvina exclaimed, hopping down from the stool and taking Dao's offered hand. The two left the forge and travelled back down the path to the clearing to begin the search for the boys. Before they started, Melvina saw a bush with vibrant red flowers in bloom close to the edge of the clearing. Dropping Dao's hand she made her way to the bush and bent over breathing in the fragrant smell of the flowers. "Oh, they smell lovely," she declared, standing up and turning back toward Dao. "What are they called?" "Roses, Melvina," Dao smiled as he replied. "On my home planet there were many varieties and they come in many different colors, just like Eldritch. Some on my old home even thought of them as the symbol of Eldritch. The red variety were called Tarra and I named one of the planets after it because of the planet's red hue in the night sky." She reached into the bush to grab one and pulled her hand back with a yelp and stuck her finger in her mouth. "Be careful they have thorns to protect the flowers," Dao warned. "They are lovely but they can be treacherous. You will find many things in nature that are beautiful but also deadly." Melvina nodded in understanding and turned back to the bush to study the flowers. She spent several moments smelling the fragrance before finally returning to Dao's side. "Will you show me how to take care of them?" "Yes, and we will search for other varieties to add to your little garden, but now we need to find your brothers." ------- Over the next several days Dao tried and failed to come up with the proper word and was almost ready to set it aside when it finally came to him. The children's strength was greatest when they were together. Individually they had power, but together acting in unison their power almost rivaled his own. What if he combined their names and used the resulting word? Yes, that would work fine, now which combination? He reflected on how they interacted together, how they worked in combination. Yes, there was the combination: Mel-Dri-Ran. Now, what would the rune look like? He pondered the question of Meldriran's rune for several weeks before the answer came to him. He was sitting in a chair watching Melvina tend her expanding garden of different rose varieties. She was holding a long stem red rose and examining its qualities when the shape popped into his head. He remembered back to the conversation when she first discovered that bush of red roses and his comment about them being the symbol of Eldritch. He told Melvina where he was going and hurried to his forge and writing desk, with her scrambling to keep up. Removing the parchment, quill, and inkwell, he began. "Meldriran!, Dao drew the final rune, three concentric hexagons at the top of a vertical line with a small 'v' at the bottom. "Are the last two runes going to be used in oaths and such?" Melvina asked. "Oh, no no. They are special and will be singularly used for making and control. Their power will be so great that if they were known then all I have done and will do could be undone at some later date. No, these two words will be reserved for only a select few." "Will I be allowed to use them?" "Perhaps, only time will tell." Now, with the last of the words of power finished he was ready to start his work and he knew the order in which he would create them. Informing Melvina that he planned to start the next day they finished the preliminary work and spent the rest of the day practicing manipulating Eldritch. ------- The forging of the first sword took Dao nearly three long years to complete. Since it was his first he took a more cautious route to its completion. The actual sword work only took several months, it was the enchanting that took the bulk of the time. Well, the enchanting and determining how best to insert a sentient life force within the sword. Melvina stayed at his side during the entire forging, while the boys explored their surroundings. Not that there was not time for instruction or formal education, for Dao had set time aside everyday to teach the children languages, mathematics, the sciences, and other more natural courses. Dao also spent time everyday instructing the children in the ways of the various types of magic and most importantly the lore of Eldritch, as well as the lore of runes. There was even time to teach the Way of the Sword, with every day spent honing their sword forms. By the time of the first sword's completion the children had achieved Adept levels of mastery in the known manifestations of Eldritch. Dao's first sword was a simple unadorned bastard sword, with downward curved quillions, hand-and-a-half grip, and a wheel, (or ball) pommel. The blade was forged from silver star of archanite and had a double edge. The hilt was unadorned, no gem shone in the wheel pommel. It was, in all appearances, a simple bastard sword, of no great value. Infused in the bastard sword was all the power at Dao's disposal, a considerable amount. He even went so far as to imbue it with a portion of the spirit of Death. No mean feat since Death was not enthused about giving up part of itself, but Dao, as usual, prevailed. All that was required was a sentient force and his first sword would be complete. The being needed to be single-minded, unwavering, loyal to a fault, and most importantly, powerful. Its voice should instill fear, or awe, as needed. Actually, all of the swords would need an equivalent life-force. Now, where to find a worthy and most importantly, a willing entity? Where to find a being willing to give up their corporeal form, give up mortality for immortality? He reflected on the traits he required for his sword's sentience for several days before a worthy solution presented itself. He asked Melvina to accompany him and he transported them to the large landmass north of the archipelagoes. More specifically, to the top of a small rise just east of a lush valley with a large village on the banks of a meandering river. They walked down the hill toward the entrance of the village. "Be wary, Melvina and watch yourself," Dao cautioned her. "Mind your lessons and follow my lead." Melvina looked at him and smiled as they stopped at the entrance and waited for their escorts. Presently two Guthard warriors approached and after a short discussion led Dao and Melvina into the village and toward a large wooden building used as a meeting lodge. The two visitors waited outside while one of their escorts entered the lodge. The clan chieftain came out and welcomed them to the village and bid them enter the lodge. Dao and Melvina entered the lodge and sat in the offered spots. After introductory rites and homage to the chieftain Dao explained what he required. He presented it as a great honor for any warrior that volunteered. The warrior would live forever achieving even greater honor in the service of another. Dao explained that the warrior would have to give up his mortal shell and be bound within a great weapon of power. The chieftain was intrigued and would pass on Dao's request to all the clans, for which Dao thanked him. Dao gave him directions to the island and the number of warriors he would need. The chieftain offered the hospitality of the clan, which Dao and Melvina accepted. Dao and Melvina spent several days in the company of the Guthards as the word went out and candidates arrived vying for the opportunity of a lifetime; to live eternally and have an impact on events in the future. Dao had not intended to, but the opportunity presented itself so they stayed and evaluated the warriors that arrived in the village. It was determined that since Dao only required one candidate during this visit that a competition of sorts would be used to determined the best candidate for his first sword. A series of events were devised to test the volunteer's strength, stamina and mental toughness. The winner would have the great honor of exchanging their corporeal form for one of metal. The events were planned over several days and slowly whittled the field of contestants down until at the end only one warrior was left standing. Dao was surprised because the winner was not the one he had expected to win, which only went to show that looks were deceiving. He thanked all of the contestants and the clan chieftains who had arrived with their warriors and especially the local chieftain who had housed everyone. It was determined that similar games would be held every three years since that was the length of time Dao thought he would need. An unintended result of the competition was the bonds formed by the various tribes. Another result was that the tribes decided to unite under the leadership of the chieftain of the winning contestant and would change after every competition. More importantly, with the tribes united, the Guthard began to advance in their proficiency with Eldritch. Those advancements would include the design and construction of transportation platforms throughout their lands. Now the various tribal areas could not only communicate with each other but also travel from site to site in a blink of an eye. The Guthards built great edifices to their one God and sacrificed a portion of their bounty every year at high summer. In reflection Dao would marvel that with the advent of the competition the Guthards had advanced to a unified civilization with a religion. ------- The following morning Dao was ready to bring his first sword to life so he gathered Melvina and the Guthard warrior and brought them up to his forge. Dao actually felt a small amount of trepidation since what he planned to accomplished had not been done before. He understood the mechanics of what he intended but he was not sure if it would actually work. Taking the bastard sword from its resting place he set it on one half of the specially constructed altar and had the warrior lay down on the other side. Dao had Melvina begin scribing runes in the air, and chant the words of power as he tapped into the flow of Eldritch and began creating tendrils of power between the warrior and the sword. Pulsing threads of silver began attaching themselves from the sword to the warrior and from the warrior to the sword, until it seemed as if a bright pulsing ribbon of silver attached the two. The two entities, sword and warrior, began to glow with a silvery light as they became more ethereal, more transparent, except their outline, which glowed and pulsed in silvery light. Melvina paused in her chanting to watch as the two halves, sword and warrior began to draw together until they overlapped each other. The corporeal body of the warrior began to fade away as the sword's image began to sharpen until all that was left on the altar was the bastard sword. Dao concentrated his power into the fingertip of his index finger and carved only one rune into the blade, on both sides. He inscribed only the rune of making, since this sword would be above all others. The blade glowed brighter and brighter as Dao spoke words of power and lore into the sword in a language unknown to Melvina. He spoke the sword's reason for being and the purpose that Dao had for it, a purpose that he had not revealed to Melvina or her brothers. This first sword would be above the natural laws of the universe; space and time would not have rulership over it. It would be bound by only one law, a law that it would be charged to uphold: 'Death comes for us all in the end'. Dao picked the sword up off the altar he raised it high over his head. "Awaken!" he commanded as the sword burst into a silver flame and its rune glowed silver as well. "BEHOLD, I AM DEATHBRINGER, THE HAND OF DEATH!" the sword's voice, low and raspy, reverberated off the walls of the cavern. "I WILL BE THE INSTRUMENT MY CREATOR REQUIRES! I AM THE SWORD OF DOOM!" "Excellent!" Dao remarked. "Melvina, we did it!" Now that the sword was complete Dao began work on the sword's stone. The stone would be the resting place for the sword when not wielded. Since the swords would be sentient he needed to make sure that they would not act on their own behalf, the stone would see to that. When a sword was in its stone it could not leave on its own. Also, a sword would have no concept of time while there. It would be in a suspended state until removed by a potential wielder. If either the sword or the wielder rejected the other, the sword would have to return to the stone. The stone was wrought from a block of obsidian, found in the mountains to the north. Carved with the same runes that were found on the blade, the stone would have the ability to negate the power of the sword while it rested within. Dao would have to make concessions where DeathBringer was concerned, though. His thoughts concerning the relationship between stone and sword ran counter to DeathBringer's primary function. DeathBringer would have to be able to operate independently of the stone. So, he would need to allow for differences in requirements between DeathBringer and the other swords he intended to create. After the length of time it took to create DeathBringer, the stone was relatively easy and within a fortnight it was complete. Now all that was left was to attune the two. Taking the bastard sword by the pommel, Dao slowly inserted it into the stone. Sparks flew from the point of joining, accompanied by a grating noise, as the sword's blade disappeared into the stone. It was done. His first Runesword was complete! Now that DeathBringer was complete it was time to start on the rest of his swords. He proposed to forge two swords of neutrality, followed by three each of good and evil. There would be a hierarchy of sorts and he determined to create them in order of precedence. But before he could start he needed to sit down and devise the laws to which the swords would adhere. He already had the first law, the only one by which DeathBringer would be bound to. He thought about the purposes of the different swords he intended to create and that gave him the insight to create the Sword Laws. Dao moved back over to his desk and unrolled another piece of parchment, anchoring the edges with tiny weights. Melvina, his constant companion in his endeavors, took up her usual position on a stool to his right. Dipping his quill in ink, Dao began writing down the laws that would define his swords. The scribing of the laws was as significant as the scribing of the runes earlier. The procedure used was the same and the result was the same. Just like the runes previously, the laws were written into the very essence of the Mythos. The laws would stand as long as the Mythos stood, the same as the runes. Violating the laws brought on the ultimate penalty: Death. Death by the blade of DeathBringer. As it was when he drew the runes, when his quill traced the lines on the parchment, the same silvery viscous light appeared and flowed into the lettering. As it was with the runes, when each law was complete it would flash with a brilliant silver light and rise off the parchment and into the air. The words held their shape for a moment and then dissipated in a silvery glow, finally fading into nothingness. The mountain rumbled and the ground trembled with each law's creation. "Death is the ultimate arbiter and cannot be cheated," he scribed the words in an ancient language, but spoke them for Melvina's benefit. "Death comes for us all, in the end." "Time is a precious thing and should not be squandered," he wrote the second law. "It has but one master and none other may affect it." "Crystal when highly focused reveals all, nothing can hide from its gaze," Dao wrote out the third law. "It can even see into the heart of a god." "The Finger of God is as mighty as the Fist of Satan, but together, in the hands of the righteous, they will be a force to be reckoned with." "Truth is the truth, it requires no other understanding." "In the dead of night when terror is at its greatest there you will find the dark rune," Dao wrote the sixth law. "All that dwell there are its minions." "Justice is swift and its retribution final," Dao wrote down the seventh law. "The scales of justice will always try to find balance; always." "Destruction is the way of the world," Dao wrote out the final law. "It revels in its power over the weak." With the completion of the laws the real work began. The forging would be the easy part; it was the enchanting that would be the more difficult. Dao intended for each sword to bear an essence of that which it was. For DeathBringer it was a portion of the soul of Death. For the rest it would be what the sword was. A tricky thing to be sure, for Dao would have to try and obtain these essences and some were mere concepts. But in the end he was satisfied with the 'Swords of Law', as he called them. ------- Over the next thirty years Dao completed the rest of his swords. Each sword was finished before starting the next. In all, including DeathBringer, there were nine swords bound by eight laws. There were other lesser but equally significant rules or sub-laws that the swords would uphold. Probably the most important sub-law was that a sword could not lie to its wielder. There were, however, things they were forbidden to reveal. They could not reveal their powers unless specifically asked about them. They could not reveal the manner in which they were created or where. They could not reveal the individual laws unless their wielder was in jeopardy of breaking one. There were certain entities about which they might not speak, either, not the least of which were the Guthards. They could and should instruct their wielders on the lesser, yet equally important, sub-laws that they must abide by. Secondarily, they could not cause their wielder to lose his (or her) life through action or inaction, nor cause their wielder harm. Harm was a relative thing and each sword would need to determine that differently, based in some part on their wielder and his or her abilities. A wielder would always have free will to place himself or herself in danger even after being cautioned by its sword. In that case let the chips fall where they may. Thirdly, a sword might not reveal the location of another sword unless it is diametrically opposed to the other sword. There were few instances of that, however. Diametrically opposed swords would always try to instigate confrontation, to the exclusion of all else. In that case it was up to the wielder to maintain control, or not, as they saw fit. Fourthly, swords could not act on their own, except in extreme moments of danger to their wielder, and then only to the extent necessary to extract themselves from the danger, or place themselves in a defensive posture. For example, a sword might leap from its scabbard into its wielder's hand in preparation for combat of an extreme nature, to the extent of moving said hand into a defensive posture. Finally, there was the relationship between sword and stone. If a wielder died the sword must return to its stone. A sword could not reveal the location of its stone, or another's for that matter. A sword could not remove itself from its stone. Only a potential wielder might do so. There was a protocol for the sword/wielder relationship that must be adhered to at all times. When a potential wielder grasped the pommel of a sword, it must first discern the suitability of the would-be wielder before it can even be removed the stone. The sword must initiate the relationship by asking if the person grasping their hilt would be the sword's wielder. There are but two possible outcomes from the question: the sword returns to the stone or the sword accepts the wielder. The sword would provide its own scabbard and belt and removes any other primary weapon form the wielder's possession. A wielder may only possess one Runesword with only one exception. That exception falls in line with the fourth Sword Law. Most importantly the relationship between sword and wielder could not be ended by force. It began by mutual consent and could only end by the choice or death of the wielder, or by demand of the sword if the wielder acted in a manner counter to a particular sword's character. Those were the only possible outcomes to the relationship. Of course, DeathBringer being above the law, with the noted exemption of the first law, was not required to adhere to the sub-laws either. In its capacity of arbiter it might reveal what it needed to, it might remove itself from its stone if necessary, and it might act in any capacity while in its stone. It might manifest itself as an astral projection of its corporeal self if necessary to carry out its prime directive. All of this and more Dao instilled in his creations as each was wrought and enchanted and imbued with its sentience. When all was said and done he looked upon his creations with pride and approval. ------- The Swords of Neutrality he forged from silver star of archanite and each were longswords, both had rubies set in their pommels. The rubies bore the rune of control, Meldriran. They were Timekeeper, the Sword of Time, whose hilt was swept style, and Kalaban, the Crystal Sword, whose hilt was a straight cross guard. The Swords of Good he forged from white archanite; two were longswords and the other was a hybrid type, but all had the same ruby set in the pommel. They were Lightbringer, the Finger of God, Shalamar, the Sword of Truth, and Durendel, the Sword of Justice. The two longswords had minor differences in their hilts, mostly in the guards. Shalamar had curved quillons, one turning up, the other down, while Lightbringer had a straight cross guard and was unadorned save for the gem in the pommel. Durendel was a cross between a longsword and rapier. A single hand, swept hilt sword, with a blade length of three feet. It was designed for cutting as well as thrusting, with a double edged blade, a unique weapon designed for both armored and unarmored combat. The Swords of Evil were forged using black archanite. They were different types of sword but all with the same ruby. Nightbringer, the Fist of Satan, was a longsword with a basket style guard, swept hilt, wrought from silver star of archanite. The intricately wrought filigree style guard had small sharp thorns designed to pierce the hand of the wielder when gripped. Darkrune, the Sword of Night, had a straight cross guard with small fang like edges to catch and break an opponent's sword. Instead of a ball pommel inset with a ruby, it had a pommel fashioned after the head of a wolf with ruby inset eyes. Gor, the Destroyer was a broadsword, simply adorned, with a basket hilt. Every sword bore DeathBringer's rune, Meldriran, as well as the rune of making. There were other runes carved into the blade based on the sword and its purpose. Timekeeper was clearly the first 'Sword of Law' and had the most power and least constraints of the eight Runeswords. Lightbringer and Nightbringer were the most powerful of the Swords of Good and Evil. They were also the most restrictive, only the purest or blackest of heart could wield them. The other swords were powerful but limited in scope; justice, truth, things of the night, and destruction. Of all the swords only Gor was equal to Timekeeper in lack of constraint, quite literally nothing could stand against it. Of all the swords, Kalaban had the broadest scope, but required the kindest heart to properly wield it. Each sword knew the quality required to wield it and each determined its own selection process. Only Gor's rejection was fatal, while Lightbringer, Nightbringer, and Shalamar could modify their wielder. The other swords had varying ways to reject an unworthy candidate. All in all, Dao was quite pleased with the results of his forging. ------- It would be years later that Melvina would use the knowledge she gleaned at Dao's hand and forge two more Runeswords. She also used that piece of ruby to fashion an elaborately carved throne. She bound the swords to the throne and gifted them to her people as a symbol of their majesty and might. Like the rose, her people were both beautiful as well as deadly. Those swords would become a second exception to the law concerning the wielding of multiple swords. And with those swords she would add a ninth law: 'The quality of he who tends the roses shall determine whether or not they will bloom.' ------- By the time Dao had completed the swords his children, yes he thought of them as such now, were fully grown and getting restless. They had explored every bit of the various landmasses of the archipelagoes and all lands to the north and south. They were adept at weapons and magic and of the three, Melvina was strongest in Eldritch lore. They had surpassed all of Dao's expectations and so it was with a father's pride that he revealed to them the last lesson he had for them, the lesson of creation. Dao revealed to his children that he had populated this planet upon originally settling here before his trek to discover a fragment of his home world. He told them that his current body was not his original form and that he had evolved to a non-corporeal state. After showing his children the fundamentals of creation he left them to their own devices and withdrew to contemplate all that he had created. He was immensely satisfied with his efforts. Dao's three children picked different places to start their creations. They chose areas that suited their needs and their ideas on how they wanted to proceed. For all their desires for autonomy they went about the procedure identically, to the point that their creations had similar looks. Dao chalked that up to his children being triplets and thinking enough alike that they were always completing each other's sentences. Driscoll chose the forests and fertile valleys of the western reaches and created an even more fertile environment to start his creations. He loved the outdoors, the trees, shrubs, all manner of plant life. His relationship with animals was almost spiritual and those traits he instilled into his creations. Of the three, his knowledge of Eldritch lore was the weakest. That was not quite right; he was an Adept after all, but he was just more interested in how Eldritch related to plants, animals, and the natural world in general than he was in Eldritch for its own sake. He gave birth to a race devoted to the natural world and called them Elfen. The Elfen flourished in the forest environment and relished their role as stewards of the natural world. They created villages within the trees without ever changing the ecosystem. They lived in a harmonious relationship with their surroundings. They were the first-born of a host of different races through the ages, all sharing the knowledge of the lore of wood, rock, and water. All the different sub-races of elves, including the sea-faring races, and the Sidhe, as well as the children of rock, the dwarves, gnomes, and goblins, shared a common ancestor in the Elfen. Even the Shoc-Du, the dark elves, who were not elves at all. Over the millennia Driscoll would look back in pride on the mark his creation had made. Randolf chose the lands east of the great forest that the Guthards had named Thangdaema. Loosely this translated to 'Tree Spirits', but Randolf liked the name and decided to use it. His nature of rules and honor he tried to instill in his creations. He gave them a thirst for knowledge and information as well as a sense of honor and righteousness. Over time the thirst of knowledge would consume his creations and overshadow all the other traits he gave them. It was with a heavy heart that he looked back on his children and realized they had become power hungry and delved in lore best left alone. The Thangdaemons built elaborate castles throughout their home lands and delved deep into the darker lore of Eldritch. They were the ancestors of the races of man, of Orc, Ogre and Troll, as well as, the other less known nefarious races. They were strong of constitution and their traits always bred true. Melvina took a completely different tack. After conferring with Dao she explored the fifth planet from the sun and decided to start her creations there. Dao had named the planets when he first found the system and Melvina decided to name her creations after the planet of Tarra. Melvina, with Dao's help, seeded the planet with the necessary flora and fauna to support a multitude of differing life forms. After thanking Dao for his assistance she settled in an area within the central landmass and began her creations. Melvina was loyal, trustworthy, single-minded in her pursuit of her desires, and steadfast in her ideals, all of this and more she instilled in her creations. She added strength of thought, strength of heart, and will, as well as the ability to tap into the flow of Eldritch, as fundamental traits. The one thing that caused her anguish was that her creations were an evolutionary dead end. There would be no offspring races sprung from the loins of her children. In fact she would find that her most successful line would require interbreeding with one of her brothers' creations to even have viable descendants. To make up for that flaw she ensured that any coupling would be successful and would produce male offspring to continue the line. She was never able to determine why her children were so genetically flawed, but their capabilities and advancements in other areas far outweighed that disappointment. She took the remainder of the ruby that Dao had given her and wrought a throne worthy of her children. She tied the power of the rose swords to the throne and limited the potential wielder pool to only members of the royal line. Furthermore, she included the ability to draw upon great power when the ruler wielded the longsword. There were other incentives, if that was the proper word, that she included, when the longsword and the shortsword were wielded together. Although the three created the different races they were revered equally by all. There were temples dedicated to each of the three in all the major cities of each of the races. They even had oaths they used, dedicated to the three Gods; 'By the Three', being the most common. The Tarrans related more to Randolf though; they had developed into a military society with different castes of warriors that held him in high esteem as their patron. The Thangdaemons on the other hand, related more to Melvina. She being the epitome of power and magic, they revered her abilities and built great temples to her. Driscoll's Elfen due to their love of nature stayed close to their creator. That is not to say that the others did not have followers with the Elfen, because they did. Driscoll held the clear advantage within his creation, while the other two could not say the same with theirs. ------- Of all his children, Dao loved Melvina best. A thing that he would never reveal to any of them, but a parent always has a favorite. Perhaps it was because she was most like him, or that she was so eager to learn, but whatever the reason he wanted her to succeed on a scale even greater than he had. So, with that in mind he observed her diligence, her single-minded focus in her tasks, with a heavy dose of 'Father's Pride'. He might have even added a little something extra to the brew that would become her 'children'. He probably should not have, but then again he would not later have his greatest tool. That, however, was a completely different story... ------- The Orion sector, Rito III, 3158 GST (Galactic Standard Time) "Well, that is quite the story and explains a lot," Reg declared as he sat his harp down and stood up, stretching his back. "I thought you told me that the human body could not handle Eldritch in its purest form." "Melvina and her brothers were exposed over a long period of time, probably while still in their mother's womb. You are a completely different story, but that is not why I told you the story." "Why have you told it to me then?" "So you would perhaps understand why I do what I must." "So, Deathbringer was created to protect the Mythos?" Reg asked, trying to understand. "But from what?" "From aggression, both internal as well as external sources," Dao explained. "I never fully satisfied myself that the loss of my world was natural." "Which explains Deathbringer's power and autonomy." "Yes. Melvina never fully understood but I needed to insert controls that could not be overridden, even by me." "So, then why do you need Aaron, if you have Deathbringer?" "Because Deathbringer was created to only protect the Goth System and there are other systems that require assistance. Some of which I cannot personally interfere in. So a secondary solution is required. Something to maintain the balance of things, so to speak." "Then explain it to him. Ask him first, he might surprise you." "I will take your suggestions under advisement. Good day Harpist," Dao touched his forehead and vanished. "Why do I get the distinct impression that nothing I said made any difference?" Reg asked rhetorically as he shook his head sadly. "Because, My Lord, the Creator feels he knows all," Timekeeper replied to the question. "Deathbringer believes differently." "And you know this how?" Reg touched the hilt of his sword. "Because, we communicate, My Lord," Timekeeper replied as if the answer was obvious. "My Lord, there is a significant anomaly that requires our attention." A doorway slid open in the fabric of time and Reginald Ravensblade, Harpist of Time, stepped through it and disappeared as the door closed behind him. ------- Prologue New York City, New York, USA, 1999. The corners of 42nd street and Broadway in Manhattan were affectionately called One Times Square. At 11:58pm on December 31, 1999, Times Square was packed with revelers waiting to ring in the New Year. This year in particular, more people than ever before waited for the dropping of the ball. Waiting alongside the undulating mass of people was a single stranger, seemingly out of place, or more accurately, out of time. He had shoulder length brown hair, slightly greying at the temples, his hair styled to frame an oval face with cheeks that dimpled when he smiled, laugh lines permanently etched into the corners of his mouth. One brown eye and one blue still twinkled when he laughed, although the crow's feet betrayed the youthful face. And a lilting voice, now more serious than in days of old. He was of medium height, well fed but fit, clothes immaculately tailored, longsword buckled to his left hip, parrying dagger on his right, and a harp bag slung over his shoulder. That last sentence was the clue that the man was out of place. He was dressed more appropriately for 1499 rather than 1999, and certainly no one in this time period carried a longsword, or parrying dagger at their hip. He could have been an actor from one of the many Broadway plays, except there were no plays currently running of that genre. No, this man was no actor; he did not carry himself like an actor, more like a warrior. There was strength in his presence and determination as well. He had been in this time for a week, waiting for this exact moment. A slight nudge in the right place and at the right moment, and time was back on its correct path. "Timekeeper, has the error been corrected?" he asked, absently grasping the pommel of his sword. "Yes, My Lord, the New Year will be like every other," was the response in his mind. "The error in their technology has been corrected as well." "Good, then when the new year is rung in, we can leave," he sighed. "This place distresses me." His stay in this time had been difficult. The noise, the crowds, the lights, all of it bombarded his senses until his head ached with it. But it was necessary, there was an error in the symmetry of time, and if left unchecked, would have been catastrophic. While the New Year had actually already happened at the meridian, this location was important. The sentient Runesword, Timekeeper, had determined that New York City, and more specifically Times Square was the exact position on Earth, and 11:58pm was the exact moment when the alignment was perfect to nudge time back on course. "10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1 ... Happy New Year, Happy Y2K!" The noise was deafening, the screams of the revelers, the party favors, and the emergency vehicle sirens. It was pandemonium out there and it was time to find another place. It was time for peace and quiet! "Timekeeper, let us find a quieter time to relax," drawing the sword from its scabbard. "Somewhere in the British Isles during the middle ages, but after single-malt was first distilled. I find that I cannot live without it. Perhaps the Scottish Highlands, along the river Spey." "What time, My Lord?" Timekeeper asked. "Some time in the mid 1500's," he replied. "Make it near a good distillery, or monastery that produces excellent single-malt whisky." "As you command, My Lord," the sword replied. The sword's blade glowed with a bluish tint, as its runes glowed silver. Like a pocket door sliding open in a wall, an opening in the fabric of time appeared: a gateway to a different where and when. The man stepped through the doorway, and it slid closed behind him. ------- Scottish Highlands 1539. He stepped out of the doorway onto a dirt road leading toward Auchindoun Castle. His destination was not the castle, but a small town near the castle. Arriving at the town of Mortlach, he looked for an inn or tavern. The innkeeper was out front sweeping his porch when the man walked up to the inn. After identifying himself as a traveling Bard, he offered his services in lieu of payment for room and board. After negotiating a satisfactory contract the Bard sat on the front porch and lit his pipe. The innkeeper returned with a shot glass and earthenware jug, and poured an amber liquid into the glass. The man took the glass and sniffed the contents and downed the liquid in one sip. The liquid burned a little going down, "not near as smooth as Gnomish," he thought dejectedly. "Hmm, I bet they do not know to age their whisky. Perhaps I can change that." "Where is your whisky produced?" the Bard asked. "There is a Monastery just in the foothills, overlooking the valley," the innkeeper explained. "There is a spring close to it discovered by a brother years ago." "Hmm, I think I may need to visit this Monastery," the Bard thought to himself. "Maybe, I can teach them about aging their casks." ------- The dinner crowd was large after word went out that a Bard was not only staying in the town, but also would be performing after dinner. The inn was humming with trade and conversation, anticipation of the evening's entertainment hanging heavy in the air. A hush fell over the crowd as the minstrel walked to the front of the common room and picked up his harp. The innkeeper took this as his cue to toss another log on the fire, and as the taproom brightened from the blaze, the Bard began to play... "Good evening, my name is Reginald Ravensblade and this is the first in a series of stories that I like to refer to as, 'Tales from the Bard'." "Hmm, if I tell them the truth, that Andor is a planet in a completely different galaxy," he thought. "They are either going to call me a heretic, and have me burned at the stake, or call me a witch, and have me burned at the stake. Either way it will be a hot time for me. No, I need another way to describe this mystical place, hmmm." "These stories all take place in a land beyond the seas, where no man of Scotland or any of the other known lands has travelled - save only me. This distant land is called Andor, and lies beyond the New World that you may have heard has been found by the explorers of Spain. "The first few stories will center around one main character and a very dear friend of mine, but before I get into that, perhaps a little geography is in order. "The land of Andor stretches from ocean to ocean, centered along the equator, and is home to a diverse population of races and ways of life. A large mountain range bisects the continent horizontally, half-way between the equator, and the northern tip. The mountain chain is called the 'Dragon Back Mountains'. At the western end, the mountain chain splits into a 'Y'. The lower section veers to the south, and continues vertically toward the southern tip of the land-mass. The upper section tracks north, and ends at the coast. Several volcanic mountains dot the landscape in the center of the 'Y', and are called the 'Dragon Tooth Mountains'. "The western lands above the mountain chain, are called the Northern Reaches. They are home to the many mountain dwelling folk of Andor, as well as to what are left of the dragon races. The eastern lands above the mountain chain, are referred to as the Wastelands. "The Wastelands, once lush valleys, fertile plains, rushing rivers, and idyllic vales, were ripped apart, and desolated during the God Wars, for in Andor mighty beings like the Gods of old still meddle in human doings. The area is completely uninhabitable now, and few ever venture there. "The Eastern Realms, are the home of the various human kingdoms, duchies, and baronies. Once a vast empire, seated at Aithen, it is now split into small kingdoms, and city-states. The great Thangdaemon forest marks the inhabited eastern portion of the realm. East of the forest is no-man's land, unexplored. "The Central Plains are the crossroads of the continent. Merchant trade passes through there, to all Cardinal points of the five realms. Various human nomadic races call the Central Plains home, as well as several small city-states. "The Western Realms start west of the mountains, and are home to the race of Elves, and other members of the faerie, or fey races. Beautiful cities, lush forests, and majestic vales dominate the landscape. "The Southern Reaches contain the great desert, and are home to the other nomadic tribes of the region. Great monuments to a bygone age litter the landscape of the interior, and these are the permanent home to various unsavory races, chief amongst them the Orcs. Great cities decorate the coast of the Southern Reaches, home to a seafaring society and give access to the numerous archipelagos south of the continent. "The land of Andor is a magical place. Literally, magic can be found in every rock, and tree, and this power is alive. Originally, three great races were attuned to this power. They were created to live in harmony with each other, and their creators. But alas, they rebelled and were cast down by their Gods, or so the legends say. They were named: Tarran, Elfen, and Thangdaemon. "Eldritch is the name of the living power inherent in all things. It is the basis of all the magic in the land. It is found in every quarter, high and low. Every living creature has it, every plant and mineral. "The three great races I previously mentioned had an innate ability to call it forth and use it directly. Within their races certain bloodlines had the ability to not only call it forth, but also to store it and speak it, so a simple command of "silence" with power behind it would become a spell. Eldritch became word and words became magic. "Those that could speak magic within the Tarran race were called Witches or WitchLords. In the Thangdaemon race they were called Witches or Necromancers. In the Elfen race they were called Witches or Warlocks. No race since, has been so closely attuned to this power, as were the original three. "Other races used Eldritch differently. It gives Elves immortality and the ability to commune with nature and shape things of power. Dwarves there are in that land, and they have long life and can coax precious metal and gems out of pure rock and shape them into precious treasure. Gnomes, too, can coax gems and precious metals and can infuse those treasures with power. Humans who have a spark of Eldritch become sorcerers. Though their magic is weak, they can call upon the power in other things to create spells, potions and the like. Other races use it in different ways, but all access Eldritch in one form or another. "Now, when I first met Aaron Blackmoon, I thought there was something different about him. I would come to learn how truly different he was. The story we are about to embark on follows Aaron's journey of discovery of his true ancestry. So sit back, get comfortable and we'll start our own journey of discovery. I bring you the 'Thief of Roses'..." ------- Chapter 1 In a time before man rose to prominence, when magic flowed like water from every rock and plant, three great races vied for dominance. They built great cities, and places of learning. They harnessed the power innate in metal, wood, and gem; forging great weapons of beauty and power. They constructed great roads, enchanted with power to hold back the forest and field, and they built transportation platforms to make travel to different realms easier. They expanded their knowledge to include movement to other lands within their cosmos. In their arrogance they even challenged the Gods, and almost succeeded. The Gods ensured that little evidence remained of their achievements and knowledge. That however, was about to change. ------- The forest of Thangdaemon was one of the oldest on Andor. Power and magic still flowed from tree, stone, and animal; an old power, radiating out from the center of the forest. The forest also marked the eastern edge of the inhabited lands of man. What was farther east was unknown in this age. It was rumored that strange beasts walked the land that could strip a man to the bone in mere moments. Other stories told of fell things that would eat the brain turning its victim into a walking zombie. What was truth and what was fiction was hard to tell. What was known for fact was that no one who ventured into the forest returned -- ever! In a clearing, at the edge of that forest, by a section of the Old Kings' Highway, that connected the Duchy of Realto and the township of Dria, a small herd of red deer grazed. Also, in that clearing rested a large circular platform, with a slender column erected at true north, and a small tabletop, inset with gemstones. The gems were arranged in seven rows, with differing numbered columns. An emerald in the first column of each row, with sapphires filling out the rest of the columns, and finally, a ruby inset in each bottom corner of the top. Some rows had three columns of sapphires, while others had as many as seven. Even though the clearing was overgrown, and the path from the highway was completely gone, the area around the platform was clear, and well maintained. A young hart and two hind looked up as a hum began in the center of the platform. The emerald in the 5th row began to pulse and glow, followed by a sapphire in the 2nd column of the same row. Soon, the emerald in the 3rd row began to pulse as well. The air above the platform began to swirl and coalesce, as the sapphire in the 4th column of the 3rd row began to glow. The hart looked over at the larger of the two hinds, who nodded her head and bolted into the forest. The air in the clearing began to hum and vibrate with power, while the swirling mass of energy began to consume itself. When it disappeared all that was left on the platform was a small bassinet, holding an infant. Lying next to the bassinet was a scabbarded longsword. As the hart slowly approached the bassinet a large stag stepped into the clearing, followed by several other harts, and the hind. The stag was old, with a silver mane and silver velvet on his massive crown of antlers. The other deer stepped back as he approached the infant, and gazed into its eyes. The stag looked up and tilted his head toward the road. ------- Returning from Dria with a small contingent of guards, was the Lady Tara, Duchess of Realto. As the carriage approached the edge of the forest her men became alert and ready for attack. This section of the highway cut through the western tip of the forest and there was always fear of bandits attacking travelers, or worse, fell things dragging unwary travelers into the forest to consume their souls. The tips of the stag's antlers began to glow with a silvery light as the forest receded from the clearing's path. A hart bounded down the path toward the highway and crashed into the lead guardsman causing the horse and rider to go down. The captain of the guard called for a halt and went to investigate. "Is everything alright?" called out the Lady Tara as she stepped out of the carriage. "Yes milady," answered Captain Damon, "Rogers took a spill when the deer hit him, but he is fine. Lady Tara please stay in the carriage, we will be off in a moment." "Nonsense, let me see to him, he may be hurt, besides there is no one around", she responded. She moved up to look at the guardsman who had been knocked off his horse. In the clearing, the stag turned back to the infant and rose up on his hind legs, and struck the platform causing the baby to cry out. The rest of the deer faded back in to the forest, but the old stag remained to ensure his efforts bore fruit. Lady Tara looked up, "Is that a child crying? Captain bring a man and follow me." The captain hurried to catch up as she started down the path toward a clearing. Entering the clearing he looked around and got a quick look at the stag as it stepped into the forest and then he saw the bassinet and sword. Lady Tara gently picked up the infant and rocked him. "It is a boy, a baby boy, and there is a signet ring on a chain around his neck" she exclaimed. "I wonder what he is doing here?" The captain picked up the scabbarded sword and whistled as he drew the blade, "A remarkable sword, light and balanced". "Come Captain, bring the bassinet and the sword," the Lady Tara called out to him, as she took the child back to the carriage. The captain hurried to follow her, re-sheathing the sword along the way. With the Duchess back in her carriage, the entourage re-mounted and continued on their journey home. The stag stepped back into the clearing, and again his antlers glowed. The fallen hart jumped up and bounded in to the forest, and the path closed over once again. Stillness settled back over the forest, but for how long? ------- The man (far removed from the infant in the clearing), moved like a wraith amongst the trees. A slivered moon provided excellent cover for night work. The wooded area was alive with the sounds of night insects, bullfrogs calling to one another and the occasional hoot of an owl, masking the sounds of the stalker. All in all, an excellent environment for stalking prey. "I have been trailing this idiot for a week," he thought to himself. "At least my woods training did not go to waste, Father," thinking of home. "Perhaps after this mission I will go home and see him," he thought, but knowing he probably would not. Back to the work at hand: in truth he thought this particular assignment from the Guild Council was petty, even for them. There had been numerous small thefts from the merchant trains and the Merchant Guild had complained, and now here he was, tracking the thief. He was Aaron Blackmoon, Lord Inquisitor for the Guild Council of the High City Aithen. He was of medium height; a troubadour's build, but muscle underneath. An unimposing man, that is except for his eyes. The color of emeralds, specked with gold and slightly feline, devoid of emotion, the eyes of Death, staring back at you. White hair, not blonde, pulled back into a warrior's knot, a slight point of the ear and arch of the brow, giving him an almost Elvish look. Although he was not an Elf, at least he did not think so, truth be told his parentage and race were unknown. He had been found as an infant, by the woman who became his mother. He was a master of the sword, being a Warrior and a master of stealth and death, being both Thief and Assassin. That last two to the bane of his father. Truth be told, all three were an embarrassment. The House of Blackmoon had been Rangers of the Wood for generations, from father to son until now. Although Aaron started his professional life as a Ranger, his anger and his rage had ended it. But that was a story that just brought up old pains and best forgotten. "The matter at hand, Boy!" his Swordmaster used to tell him. Back to this incompetent thief. Aaron had tracked him from the site of the most recent theft, wondering all the way how the lad knew the location of the Guild payroll. "There must be someone else," he mused. "This is most definitely not the brains of the outfit". The thief had made camp in a clearing just ahead of where Aaron laid hidden. The lad looked to be waiting for someone. He did not have to wait long, for a rider approached the camp. "Well, well, well," thought Aaron. "If it is not Geoff Wheatstone, second-assistant to the Merchant Guildmaster." Aaron tested his sword in its scabbard and stepped into the clearing. "Master Wheatstone, I'm surprised to find you here." "Lord Aaron, what are you doing here?" Wheatstone stuttered. "Tracking and catching a thief and his informant apparently," Aaron replied pulling his sword. The thief pulled a dagger and threw it at Aaron, who dodged and buried one of his own in the surprised thief's throat. "Wheatstone, do not do anything stupid, I need to bring you back alive". "No, wait you do not understand," Wheatstone pulled a shortsword swinging it at Aaron. Aaron parried the haphazard attack with his dirk, bringing his sword up to prevent another thrust. Wheatstone, unbalanced by the parry, fell forward and impaled himself on Aaron's sword. "Well that went wrong," he thought, as he cleaned the blood from his sword. Aaron still marveled at the uniqueness of his sword. Made from an unknown metal and process, and Aaron had asked every armorer he crossed paths with. The only thing that all the masters agreed upon was that the sword was not guild crafted. He ran his finger over the runes cut into the metal. He often wondered what they spelled out; again multiple scholars were at a loss as to the language. Even the gem in the pommel was unique, blood red like a ruby but with a fire and brilliance that rivaled the sun. The only thing that was familiar was the embossed rose in the grip. The grip itself fashioned from some type of leather, tanned red with the rose in black relief, the blade thinner and narrower than the standard long sword but strong just the same, never needing care or sharpening. His birthright, his mother used to tell him. The sword, along with the ring on his left ring finger, was left with him when his mother found him alongside the road. Possibly fashioned from the same metal as the sword, a jeweler once told him, although said jeweler could not explain how the single rune was inscribed within the gem, also of unknown type. His musings were costing him precious time. With a silent prayer to his patron for the deaths he caused, he pulled a sack from within his cloak. After removing Wheatstone's head, he placed it in the sack and whistled for Thorn, his horse. Aaron searched the bodies and gathered up the payroll and other evidence, and left the bodies for the carrion. ------- Aaron approached the city gates of Aithen after traveling for close to a week, the last two days in a rain storm. Since it was well past dusk the gates were closed and two sentries barred his way. Once the High City of a vast empire, Aithen was now the seat of a much smaller kingdom. Built in three levels or tiers in the heart of the plains, Aithen has stood for centuries. A set of gates, the only entrance to the lower city, which was divided into quarters; Guild, Merchant, City and Central. The Guild Quarter housed the headquarters of the various Guilds of Aithen. The Merchant Quarter housed the various shops, armories, mercantiles, and finer inns of the city. The City Quarter was the residential area of the main city, while the Central Quarter was home to the underbelly of the city; houses of ill repute, taprooms and bars, and black market enterprises of all differing sorts. A short tunnel, gated at both ends gained access to the middle city, where the wealthier class lived and worked as well as the temples of the various Deities. Some smaller more affluent shops were mixed in as well. Another short tunnel, also gated at both ends led to the upper city, home of Aithen's wealthiest families both merchant and noble. And in the center of the upper city, within its own walls and gates, stood the palace, home of the King and family. The palace was the shining crown of the city, carved from giant rose quartz blocks, mined from vast deposits found in the neighboring mountains. Large carved marble columns and beautiful gardens decorated the front. The main palace was home to the politics of running the kingdom. The private quarters in the rear, housed the royal family. "What business do you have at the city gates this hour of the evening?" the guard challenged him. Aaron showed him his royal papers of entry and the guard signaled for the gate to be opened. "Let him pass, he is on the King's business," the guard hollered up. Turning to Aaron, "Milord, have a nice evening." Without replying, Aaron guided his horse up the cobblestoned streets toward the Merchant Quarter and the 'Golden Pony', the inn he currently called home. Finding the stables, Aaron removed his saddle and belongings and began to rub down his horse. "Master Aaron, you have returned," announced Brian, the young son of the Innkeeper and current stable hand. "Yes, I am home Brian. Finish with Thorn and have the Blacksmith check his right front hoof in the morning -he is favoring it," replied Aaron. "Make sure he gets oats tonight, and an apple." "Yes sir, and sir, Mother has fresh bread and Venison tonight," the boy exclaimed. Aaron ruffled his hair and left the barn toward the inn. Entering the side door to the kitchen, Aaron wiped his feet and breathed in the wondrous smells from the kitchen. "Wipe your feet, and did you remember the fire wood?" he heard. "Yes ma'am, I wiped my feet, and I did not know about the wood," Aaron chuckled. "Lord Aaron, I am sorry, I thought it was Brian," Marie replied. "Now Marie, how many times do I have to ask you, not to call me Lord?" Aaron scolded. "Master Aaron, if you must, although I would prefer just Aaron." "I am glad you are back safe and sound, Master Aaron," Marie stated. "Dinner should be ready in half an hour; will you eat in the main hall or in your room?" "Hmm, in the main hall, after I get out of these wet clothes and washed up," Aaron answered. Aaron left the kitchen, passing by the front desk toward his room on the first floor, at the end of the hall. "Welcome back, Master Aaron," Greeted the Innkeeper, Raymond. "I will see that Brian fetches your bath water." "Brian is in the stables, tending Thorn, I will carry the tub to my room if you will send the hot water, Raymond," Aaron replied. "I will send it with Brianna and she can collect your traveling clothes," Raymond turned back to the main hall. Aaron, stopping to get the tub, carried it down to his room, balancing it to open the door. Setting the tub down, he began removing his clothes and things. First the cloak; an Elvish cloak given to him by his mother on the occasion of his admittance into the Order of Rangers. The cloak provided him camouflage while he was stalking game in the woods or alleyways for that matter, as well as protection from the elements. After his occupational change he had it re-outfitted with numerous pockets and hidey-holes by an Elvish craftsman. Next the sword belt; which held his treasured sword, dirk and a pair of daggers. The daggers were located in the small of his back in quick draw fashion. The dirk was well-made, but nothing special; that could not be said about the sword. Next the leather jerkin, the main piece of armor, perhaps the only piece of armor a thief wears. It provided him a level of protection in combat, but a small level. Thieves in general try to avoid full on combat, better at sneaking and ambush. Next the dagger and sheath hidden in a sewn pocket at the back of his collared shirt. All of his shirts had the same pocketed collar. Next the forearm bracers or simply bracers. Originally intended for archers to protect the inside of their forearms; in a sword fight they would protect the wrist and forearm from a hacking blow. Next the rings; the signet ring worn on the left hand, the only adornment on the left hand. Two rings on the right: the first, found in a small treasure hoard during his adventuring days. Identified by a sorcerer as having magic, but type unknown, what Aaron knew however was that he felt better when wearing it. The second ring was found in the back of an ancient tome. Aaron's passion for reading came from his mother, so whenever a book or tome crossed his path, he scooped it up. This particular tome was again part of a treasure while adventuring, and it started him on his thieving path. A how-to book of thieving skills, engraining the information in the reader's brain, giving unbelievable skill and finesse. The companioned ring, gave him better odds of successfully foiling traps and locks. Then off came his short right-hand glove and the longer full arm sleeve of his left hand-glove, exposing the bright pristine flesh of his left hand up to his elbow, where a red, ugly scar announced the transition back to normal flesh. His arms were a contrast of normal sun darkened, weather worn and callous; against baby soft, and untouched flesh. A reminder of the contrast within himself. Continuing to strip out of the wet clothes, he removed his shirt and breeches, dropping them in a heap on the floor. Answering the knock at the door in just his loin cloth, he heard the intake of breathe, "It is just scars Brianna. Nothing more." Wondering if she meant the arm or the crisscross marks of a whip over his back, a reminder of a time spent captive with Dark Elves. "My apologies milord, I was just startled," she stuttered. Pouring the hot water in to the tub, he responded. "That is all right, I took no offense." Pointing to his clothes, "There are my clothes, and please keep the water coming." "Yes milord," she mumbled as she gathered the wet things and fled the room. "By the Gods, his back," she thought. "Just scars indeed!" Aaron slowly lowered himself in to the water hissing as he became accustomed to the heat. "Ahh," he sighed. The process was repeated several times over until he felt whole again. Dressing himself, including his weapons he made his way in to the main room for dinner. The main room was bustling; a minstrel was strumming a lyre and singing a song about lost love. Aaron made his way toward his customary table, located in the back with good vision of all parts of the room. Brianna brought him dinner and a tankard of ale. Scanning the room for threats Aaron dispatched his meal with efficiency. Setting aside his plate he lit a pipe and leaned back to enjoy the after dinner smoke. He noted the entry of a young man, late teens, early twenties heading toward him, wearing the livery of the Merchants' Guild. Aaron slowly dropped his left hand under the table to grasp his parrying dirk and eyed the youth who stood in front of him. "Lord Blackmoon," the youth began nervously, "I bear a message from His Grace, Lord Beadle." Handing the message to Aaron, the youth stepped back waiting patiently. Sighing, Aaron broke the seal and opened the letter. "Council meeting, tomorrow morning four hours after sunrise," Aaron read, "Wow, that was fast, the Thieves' Guild sure earned their fee this evening." The Thieves' Guild was the intelligence arm of the council, and must have had watchers out awaiting his return. "Tell His Grace that I have an errand first thing in the morning, but I should be done in time for his meeting," Aaron responded, reaching into his pouch for a silver piece. "Here, this is for you." "Thank you, Lord Blackmoon, I will tell him," answered the teen as he turned and left. Aaron finished his pipe and retired to his room, still pondering what he knew about the thefts, what he suspected and what he could prove. ------- Chapter 2 Aaron was up before the light knock on the door, signaling his wake-up call. Starting with his stretching and warm-up exercises, he began his normal routine of sword training and forms. It always seemed slightly off, even after adding the parrying dirk his master suggested. The weight of the dirk felt wrong, not enough to be a problem, just, not perfect. After cooling down, washing, and a light meal of cheese, fruit and mead, he was off. Making his way to the middle city, Aaron stopped first at the temple of the Goddess of Light, to pay homage to his patron, which always amused him. The head cleric always kept an eye on him, as if he would ever try to steal from "HER". His relationship with Lady Rannath, Goddess of Light was definitely strange. Normally a thief or assassin would align themselves with one of the more dark deities available, but Aaron was definitely not normal, not that he picked "HER"; more like she marked him as hers. "You chose to use that 'rod of light' to save my cleric," he heard in his head. "It didn't have to remove most of the flesh on my left arm either, but it did," he replied. "Now I have to wear this enchanted glove or my "GOOD" arm would have issues with my line of work." "You could always set that aside and become a true paladin, a Paladin of the Light," she retorted. "I am what I chose. You knew that before you marked me as yours," he sighed. "I cannot change what I've become." "Can't or won't?" she asked. "Never mind, this gets us nowhere." "I agree. You are my Lady," he declared, "and I am your sword, your servant. Bless me Lady and give me strength." "Always, my paladin," she sighed, "always." The cleric stood in awe as the brilliance that normally surrounded the kneeling man grew in intensity. "My Lady, My Goddess," he proclaimed as he fell to his knees as well. After dropping several gold pieces in the offering box Aaron left the temple with a renewed spring in his step. The feeling would eventually fade, but for now he reveled in it. ------- "What game are you playing at sister?" Malak, the God of Truth asked. "It is impolite to eavesdrop, brother dear," Rannath replied. "What business is it of yours anyway, Malak?" "He was banished and excommunicated," Malak declared. "Not by me," Rannath responded. "Rannath, he is a thing of the dark," Malak replied disgustedly. "How can you reconcile that?" "I don't, and neither should you," Rannath accused. "He is not solely of the dark, and he is mine. He saved my cleric, and risked his life in the bargain." "You sound as if you love him," Malak remarked. "You know that is forbidden." "I do not love him that way. He is mortal," Rannath responded. "Now please leave me be." And she left. "I don't think either of those two statements are true," Malak mused and left as well. ------- After leaving the temple Aaron went back down to the lower level, to the Guild Quarter and the headquarters of the Assassins' Guild, a rundown building with a nondescript door. A dagger on the door was the only clue as to the location. Aaron opened the door and stepped in to a small room with a desk and two doors behind it. Sitting at the desk, an older woman (read; hag) looked up from her knitting. "What can I do for you sonny?" she asked. Aaron flipped a token on to her desk, but said nothing. Clearing her voice she nodded, picking up the token and examining it delicately and then returned it. "The door to the left," she pointed. Tokens were calling cards used by both the Thieves' and Assassins' Guilds to identify guild members. Each guild used its own design, unknown to the other guilds, identifying an individual of a particular discipline and rank within that discipline. Tokens also identified the local hall a member was attached to. This particular token identified Aaron as a 3rd level master assassin, adept with a blade, one of only a handful of very, very deadly individuals. The token also identified Aaron as belonging to no particular hall, since Aaron was a troubleshooter with no hall affiliation. Aaron opened the door and stepped through. "Ahh, Master Aaron how good to see you," Guildmaster Darius greeted him. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" "This," Aaron responded, handing over the marker he took off the dead thief. "I want to know who was the mark and who took out the contract?" "As a master in this guild I should not have to remind you that I cannot comment on the particulars of a contract with anyone other than the person that accepted the contract," Darius countered. "Fine, since the previous contractor is dead," Aaron smiled, "then I will accept the contract and fulfill it." "Pardon me for asking," Darius stepped lightly. "Do you have proof of the demise of the previous contractor?" "But of course," Aaron smile grew, tossing a severed hand on to the desk. "Will this do?" "Um, yes," Darius replied. "It is all that is required. The contract was for 20 silver pieces to be paid on the proof of the departure of a Geoff Wheatstone, of the Merchants' Guild. It was a low threat level, hence the price and experience of the contractor." "Will his head do as proof?" Aaron asked leaning forward. "Why yes, yes of course," Darius replied. "I do not know who initiated the contract, the particulars of verifying and payments were done through a blind drop." "Hmm, makes me think that the initiator wanted to remain anonymous," Aaron stated, pulling the head from the sack. "I am going to need to keep this, but this should be verification enough for the purposes of the contract." "I will initiate contact and payment," Darius replied, "anything else?" "No," replied Aaron, "good day." Aaron stood up nodded his head (men in their profession never shake, you never know what is in the hand your shaking) and returned through the door, acknowledged the guard (for that is what she really was) and left. With barely enough time to reach the palace and the council chambers, Aaron headed off. He was passed through the palace gates with no fuss and arrived in the anteroom just as the doors were being closed. The steward spotting Aaron held the doors for him. "So nice of you to join us, Lord Aaron," Lord Colin Beadle proclaimed. "I was afraid we would have to start without you." "Never be afraid where I'm concerned, Lord Colin," Aaron responded. "I will always be where I'm supposed to." "Well, yes, very good," Colin replied, "let's get down to business." The Guild Council was made up of the heads of the major guilds in Aithen; merchant, fighter/guardsman, weapons/armor, magic/sorcery, craft, bard. The neutral Guilds, thief and assassin were not part of the policy making of the Council but still played an important role in the day-to-day operation of the Council's interests. If money and enterprise were involved, the Guild Council was interested. The Council also interacted with the other guildhalls of the Five Realms. Each Guildmaster held a spot on the Council, with an election for Council head. The head of the Council was required to give up his guild's interest and nominate a replacement to his chair. The Council head oversaw the Council's actions and directions and reports to the King who also has a spot on the council, usually filled by the Chamberlain. Lord Colin Beadle, was the current Council head. "Lord Aaron, I trust that your return means the thievery has come to an end?" Lord Colin asked. "I object milord," interrupted Briard, head of the Thieves. "My Guild is in no way affiliated with the recent loss of coin and property." "A poor choice of words, Master Briard," Lord Colin smirked. "My apologies." "Well, to answer your question Lore Colin, yes and no. I have removed the immediate threat to the trains, but I believe that there is more going on than a little robbery," Aaron explained. "I had initially thought that Master Wheatstone was involved with the passing of information, but recent information makes me rethink his involvement." "Geoff, you say," Master Gerard, the acting head of the Merchants interrupted. "I just don't believe it." "I agree with you, Master Gerard," Aaron continued, "I believe Wheatstone was duped into a meeting with the robber, who by the way had also accepted a contract to eliminate Wheatstone." "Well, where is Wheatstone?" Master Colin asked. "Show him in so we may hear his side of this story?" "Unfortunately, Wheatstone pulled a short sword and tried to skewer me with it, and I had no choice but to remove the threat, as well as Wheatstone," Aaron sighed as he set the leather bag containing Wheatstone's head on the table, "I now believe he was just trying to defend himself. He was surprised to see me and possibly thought I was there to kill him, which means I was also duped, which doesn't sit well with me. I will find out who passed the information to this cut-purse, who initiated the contract and lured Wheatstone to the meeting." Aaron sat back and crossed his arms. "Well, I'm sure no one here had a hand in this business," Master Colin paused sweeping has hand across the table. "Keep us informed of any new developments. There is another matter that will require your talents, Chamberlain Walton you have the floor." "Thank you, Lord Colin, the King sends his regards," Walton began. "There are some irregularities coming out of the Duchy of Realto. Tribute trains leaving the Duchy are short upon arrival in Aithen, with seals still intact. The King would like the Inquisitor to investigate. if seals can be bypassed then shipments are no longer safe or verifiable. The Merchants Guild and Sorcerers Guild will be affected, commerce will be affected." "Lord Aaron, can you leave in the morning?" Lord Colin asked. "I will require an extra day in Aithen," Aaron responded. "I can leave the day after tomorrow, no sooner." "This is important," Master Gerard countered. "My Guild guarantees those shipments, if word got out, it would be catastrophic, simply catastrophic. You must leave immediately!" "Master Gerard, YOU do not command me," Aaron growled, leaning forward and gripping the hilt of his sword. "I said, I will be ready to leave the day after tomorrow, no sooner." "My apologies milord, I meant no offense," Gerard backpedaled mopping his brow. "The day after tomorrow will be fine." "If there is nothing further?" Lord Colin scanned the members. "No? Good, we'll adjourn this meeting. Lord Aaron, safe travels, good day masters." "Lord Aaron?" Walton asked. "May I have a word with you please?" Aaron turned and followed the Chamberlain out through a side door and down a hall to a set of doors flanked by guards. The guards came to attention as they approached. The Chamberlain opened the door allowing Aaron to enter and followed him in closing the door. "Please have a seat," the Chamberlain offered making his way to his desk and sitting down. "There is more to this problem in Realto, that the other masters need not be concerned with," Walton began. "The Duke is sick, possibly on his deathbed. The King believes and so do I that the Duke's illness is not naturally caused and that, coupled with the tribute irregularities are the first steps in a campaign to remove the King. If his heirs die off he may be forced to name an heir from one of the other houses. Aaron, he's worried and he wants you to look in to it. I am concerned that your latest mission may have been supposed to end in a different way, if you understand me." "What, that I was a target?" Aaron laughed. "Please, it would take more than two incompetent fools to interrupt my living. I'll grant you that there are serious issues here. What with the information concerning the payroll being leaked, tribute issues and the possibility that the Duke is what, being poisoned? Well, I have some experience with poisons, so that should be easy to determine. Based on the type of poison, I should be able to find out who made it and for whom it was made." "That was what the King figured as well," Walton replied. "The King would like you to get to the bottom of this fast, before it escalates." "Fine, tell the King that I'll leave in the morning," Aaron stood up. "I have not been home for many years; apparently, I've stayed away too long. We've had our disagreements my father and I, but if he dies, there will be blood and some of it will flow from that council room." Aaron nodded to the Chamberlain, turned and left through the door. "Well, let's pray that the Duke lives," Walton whispered to the room. ------- After leaving the palace Aaron made his way down to the Central Quarter, an area of Aithen where the denizens of the city live, work and play. Aaron entered the 'Dragon's Horn', one of the rougher watering holes in area of rough inns and taprooms. After allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark interior, he scanned the tables until he saw who he was looking for. Making his way to a table in the back, he sat down addressing the lone man. "Remo, I have a job for you," handing over a small pouch of coin. "I need you to put eyes on Master Darius for the next few days. Find out who he contacts, who he meets, or where he makes drops, and who recovers them." "You want the Assassins' Guildmaster followed?" Remo raised an eyebrow, and hefted the bag of coin. "That will cost a pretty copper. It can be done though, for how long?" "I knew you were my man," Aaron chuckled, "until I tell you to stop, or the information satisfies my curiosity. I will be out of the city for a while, possibly a month. Just compile the information and I'll get with you when I return. Keep a tally and I'll settle up then also." "Good hunting milord." Remo slipped the pouch into his cloak. "You as well," Aaron responded, standing and turning to leave. After a quick lunch of bread, cheese and fruit, Aaron once again travelled to the Guild Quarter. Except this time his destination was a well maintained building and grounds. Looking the door over, he located and disarmed the trap and tripped the hidden handle. Pushing lightly on the door he entered the Thieves' Guild. "Ah, Master Aaron, I was wondering when you would stop by," Briard stepped forward in greeting. "How can this Guild serve you?" "A question, Master Briard. Would the Guild sell poisons to unsanctioned clients?" Aaron looked at him harshly, "even through intermediaries?" "Certainly not, as you rightly know," Briard replied huffily. "That would be catastrophic to our livelihood as well as our lives. Only licensed members may buy or handle potions and poisons, why do you ask?" "Just clarifying some things," Aaron replied. "So then, anyone doing so would be outside the protection of the Guild, regardless of who they where or how well they were connected?" "Master Aaron, if you have information concerning wrong doing inside of this Guild," Briard's voice rose. "I will know of it!" "No, no, nothing of the sort," Aaron raised his hands to calm down the irate master, "I am just verifying this Guild's stance on non-sanctioned trade of poisons. If I happen upon wrong doing, I will of course rectify the matter and forward the information on to you." "You are within your right to correct any irregularities, Master Aaron," Briard replied. "As masters, we have a solemn responsibility to the protection of our Guild, I should not have to remind you of that. As a member of the Council, we have an even greater responsibility to this realm and kingdom. If you find in your travels a guild member who is violating the sanctity of this Guild, then I expect you to deal with it harshly and with extreme prejudice." "Thank you, Master Briard," Aaron smiled, "that is what I intend to do. Thank you for this chat and good day to you." Aaron bowed slightly and backed out of the room. Moving up the street he muttered, "That went well, least I know that Briard isn't directly involved, I'm going to have to tread carefully with the local Guildmaster in Realto." Aaron returned to his room, and make preparations to set off in the morning. ------- Chapter 3 The Duchy of Realto was located on the eastern edge of the kingdom, a weeks journey on horseback from the capital. Realto sat on the southwestern edge of the Thangdaemon forest, and was the local seat of power. Three main villages, Dria to the northeast, Rana to the south and Mela to the northwest, provided the manpower and resources (agriculture and forestry) of the Duchy. The Old Kings' Highway, travelled easterly toward Realto and through Dria, and then entered the forest; smaller roads connected Mela, and Rana. The roads were maintained by the Duchy within its borders, and the capital everywhere else. Aaron's travel from Aithen to Realto was mostly uneventful: he stayed in inns when he could, or made camps off the highway. The third evening out found Aaron sitting in a back corner table of a roadside inn, where he had just finished dinner and was enjoying a pipe, while watching the comings and goings in the busy tavern. He watched the newest entry to the inn scan the room for a table, but being the dinner hour there were no empty tables. He briefly made eye contact with Aaron, swept his gaze around the room again and started toward Aaron's table. Aaron adopted a slightly drunken demeanor and studied the newcomer. Taller than Aaron, he wore his longsword on his right hip and carried something in a leather pack, strapped across his back, a harp maybe or some other musical instrument. The man approached Aaron, and asked, "Do you mind sharing a table? The room is full and it's been a long day." "Sure, no problem," Aaron replied a little drunkenly. "Where are you heading?" "Oh, here and there, just making my way east looking for work, but really I go where my lady sends me," he replied, doing his own study of his table mate. "I'm Reginald by the way, Reg for short, now where is that barmaid, I'm hungry and thirsty as well." "Nice to meet you," Aaron replied. "My name is Aaron. I'm a guardsman on my way to Aithen, also looking for work." The barmaid arrived with dinner and ale for Reg, and refilled Aaron's wine glass. "Guardsman, you say?" Reg looked intently at Aaron. "I would have guessed otherwise, and I'm a pretty good judge. You don't have the look of a guardsman. I'm a Harper, you probably noticed Belle, my harp." "You named your harp?" Aaron laughed. "I don't know many bards, but I've never heard of one naming their instrument." "Well, it was a gift from my lady," Reg replied. "If you keep laughing I may have to defend her honor," he smiled to show he was joking. "Are you any good?" Aaron asked. "Now I'm truly insulted," Reg huffed, pulling the harp out of the case and began to play. The noise level in the Inn faded as the patrons all turned and looked at Aaron's table, where Reg strummed the opening notes of a ballad. He was a truly gifted harpist with a voice to match: the patron's enthusiastic applause at the end confirmed Aaron's observation. The innkeeper hurried over and after negotiating payment, convinced Reg to play the room for the evening. After thanking Aaron for sharing the table, wishing him good travel, and success at finding a job, Reg left to entertain the crowd. Aaron listened for a while and finely decided to retire for the evening. He was up very early and left before light, wanting to put some distance between him and the inn, since he told the harpist he was going in the opposite direction. The weather was mild and rain free the entire trip. He made the outer borders of the Duchy after five days, and would arrive in Realto on the afternoon of the following day. He spied a small inn, called "The Border Inn" in the late afternoon and decided to stop there for the evening. After securing a room for himself and stable space for Thorn, he settled down in the main room for a mug of ale and his pipe. The main room while fairly empty when he sat down, began to fill up during the evening meal hour. After ordering his food; ham, potatoes and greens, he watched the comings and goings of travelers and locals alike. The food was good, the mead better and the pipe just started when he noticed four soldiers in an unknown livery enter the main hall. They approached his table and the leader addressed him, "State your business in Realto." "Who is asking my business?" Aaron countered. "Since when are lawful citizens of Aithen accosted as they travel?" "By the authority of the Duchess of Realto," the guardsman announced. "We check all unknown travelers in the duchy." "The Duchess of Realto died some 16 years ago," Aaron leaned back in his chair, raising his left hand up to scratch the back of his neck. "Wait, you're not referring to that chambermaid that shares the Duke's bed are you?" "Milords please," the innkeeper rushed, over wringing his hands. "The other travelers," the innkeeper swept his arms. "Please take you business outside." "Step aside, Girardy," the guardsman turned to the Innkeeper," or I will cite you for interfering." Turning back to Aaron, "the Duchess of Realto is no chambermaid! I could have you arrested, and jailed for those remarks." The guardsman stepped forward grasping the hilt of his sword, "You will come with us. I intend to bring you before the magistrate." "You could try and have me arrested and brought before the magistrate," Aaron smiled, as his left hand gripped the hilt of the dagger hidden behind his collar, and his right hand crossed over to his scabbard. "It would be better if you just backed up and left, before you interrupt everyone's dinner. I have no intentions of leaving with you. "I will be arriving in Realto tomorrow, where I will secure lodgings and then visit the local Merchant's Guild. If my business requires, I may then visit the manor house and call upon the Duke. Now you have caused my pipe to go out, do not trouble me anymore, good evening." Perhaps the corporal of the guard, for that's who the leader was; realized that the situation had turned decidedly deadly, and he, as well as his men might be on the short side of the equation, or maybe he understood that Aaron had given the corporal an out by providing his itinerary. Either way, the corporal was smart enough not to push the situation. "Good enough then, have a pleasant evening," the corporal gave him a salute, all four did an about face and left the Inn. Aaron picked up and relit his pipe and blew a smoke ring at the innkeeper, "yes?" "Nothing milord," the innkeeper replied, and fled the area. "Hmm," Aaron blew another ring. "Tomorrow should be interesting." ------- The town of Realto was located on a peninsula in the fork of the River Realto. The town spread out in a triangle, from the fork down to two bridges connecting the highway, one on each tine of the fork of the river. There was no wall, or main gate to the town, accessed from many small streets connected to the highway. This was a farming community with many farms spreading out from the town. The upper section of the town was walled, housing the manor house of the Duke and the different guild halls and larger merchant houses and homes of the more wealthy townspeople. The populous of the town lived in the lower section closer to the highway and farms, sprinkled with several travelers Inns and other small enterprises that made up the lower city. Aaron had left Realto some 16 years ago, under less then ideal circumstances. Banished by his father, excommunicated by the Rangers (the warrior order of the Druids), distraught over the loss of the only mother he ever knew. Yes, definitely less then ideal circumstances. He learned later that his father took another wife, and that he had a half-brother, well not exactly, since Aaron was adopted by the Duke and Duchess years before. He wondered if he even knew anyone in the manor house. He was unsure of his welcome, the banishment long ago lifted, but still uneasiness slipped in and took hold. Well, self-reflection was standing in the way of business, best to put it aside and get on with it. Aaron reached Realto in the early afternoon. Not wanting to be "trapped" behind the stone walls of the upper city, or stay in the manor house, he found a small inn off the center square of the lower city. He boarded Thorn at a local blacksmith with a stable and made his way to the upper city. Eyeing the flow of traffic into the upper city, Aaron slid into a group of merchants on their way to the Merchant hall. He passed through the gate with little scrutiny, slipped clear of the group and made his way to the guild halls, specifically the Thieves' Guild. While the main headquarters of the Guild in Aithen was lavish and pretentious, most local guilds were small and nondescript and this one was no exception. Aaron entered the rather drab building from the rather drab door and spoke to the rather drab woman. "I wish to speak to your master," handing over a small but intricate token. "Is he in?" "Yes milord, he is in," the woman stood. "Please have a seat I will announce you." She took the token (4th level, master thief) and entered another door. Aaron leaned up against the wall and waited not more than a heart beat before the door reopened and the woman returned followed by a nervous looking man. He was short and thin, mousey in his looks and actions, even his nose seemed to twitch. Wringing his hands, his eyes darting around the room, looking at Aaron, looking around the room and finally back at Aaron. "My good Master," he squeaked. "My name is Drexil, how may I be of service? Grechen, fetch the good master some... ," looking at Aaron inquisitively. "Perhaps some wine and maybe cheese?" "That will not be necessary," Aaron replied, reaching his hand out for his token. "I am only here to inform you of my arrival, and stay in Realto." "Well yes, thank you," Drexil expelled in relief, handing back the token. "How long will you be staying in Realto?" Aaron just looked at the nervous man, before he had a chance to answer Drexil gulped. "My apologies milord," Drexil recovered. "I did not mean to meddle, the resources of this Guild are at your disposal." "Very good, Master Drexil," Aaron smiled. "I shall be around." He nodded to Grechen and left. "What was that about?" Grechen asked. "Are you in some kind of trouble?" "I don't know," Drexil clearly looked worried, "possibly. I have some business to attend to, probably for the rest of the afternoon." He turned and retreated back through the door and into his office. "Oh bother," Grechen exclaimed, "I really liked this job." She gathered up her belongings, looked the desk over for anything she might have forgot and fled the building. Aaron, still pondering the nervous man, made his way to the Merchant's Guild. Handing a piece of parchment to the man behind the desk, he turned and sat in a chair and crossed his arms. A few moments later Aaron was led through a door, down a hallway and into a large chamber room. Several men stood around a table strewn with parchment; at the end of the table an elder looking man in robes and a white beard stood over the table, making intricate hand motions over a box with a broken wax seal over the seam of the lid. Aaron stood in silence watching the hand movement, feeling a tingle in the air around him. Shaking and clearing his head, he noticed the seal began to glow with a bluish light and then fade and extinguish. "Master Aaron, it has been a long time," the bearded man smiled moving toward Aaron. "You look well." "Thank you, Ragnar," Aaron grasped his arm. "You look the same as the day I left." Nodding at the box, "Anything of value discerned?" "No," Ragnar shook his head. "The seal was not tampered with. We checked with the Manor and the box was supposedly filled and then sealed. We cannot discern how the seal was defeated, or even if the seal was defeated." "What do you mean, if the seal was defeated?" Aaron asked. "Are you suggesting that the contents were removed before it was sealed, or perhaps never there in the first place? What does the manor have to say?" "What I'm suggesting... ," Ragnar began, "how to put this delicately? There are inconsistencies with the statements provided by the manor of the individuals involved, or even the validity of the statements." "You didn't question them yourselves?" Aaron looked stunned. "What's going on here Ragnar, what does my father say?" "Your father is sick, really sick," Ragnar began, "Micah; you half-brother, is only 13, so his mother is acting regent. She provided the statements, and no, to answer your question, I have been unable to question anyone involved. I have been retired." "Do you think she is involved?" Aaron scowled. "Either with the missing tribute, or my father's illness?" "Honestly, I don't know," Ragnar shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his hands, palms up. "If I had to guess," looking over to Aaron, who nodded. "Yes, to both," Ragnar sighed. "Well, I guess I need to drop in on the manor house and pay my stepmother a visit." Aaron turned to the other men present, "where are the loyalties of the duke's men, can I trust them?" "Milord," the senior of the guild men answered. "I would trust in no one at the manor." "Business as usual then," Aaron's features hardened. "Good day to you, I should not have to remind anyone about the need to keep this discussion quiet?" Aaron searched their faces, "No? Good." As he left the hall he reflected on what he knew, which wasn't much, and on what he could prove, even less. The first order of business was to find out about his father and the nature of his illness, after that well, "we'll see where the chambermaid stands," he grinned to himself, "we'll just see. Not like any court in the realm could convict me, let alone, capture me." ------- Chapter 4 The Duke's manor house was similar in functionality to the King's palace. Enclosed within a stone wall with a single manned gate, a large courtyard served the manor house, guard's barracks, stables, servant's quarters and jail. The manor house held both private quarters for the Duke and family, as well as public areas where the business of running the duchy was held. Aaron passed through the gate into the courtyard intent on the manor house, when he observed within a marked off area close to the barracks, men at arms practicing under the watchful eyes of the Manor's Swordmaster. Master Caleb, the grizzled old Swordmaster, veteran of countless battles and skirmishes in the defense of the House of Blackmoon, put his young charges through their lessons. Using a gnarled staff to make corrections where necessary, and occasional praise when deserved. He noticed, with some interest, the stranger watching the training. "Well, well, well, the prodigal son returns," he smiled as he approached Aaron. "Have you kept in practice, how are your forms?" "It's good to see you too," Aaron laughed. "Not how's my health, or what have I been up to, but have I continued your lessons? Yes, to answer your questions, I continue to practice, if only to do you proud." "Well, get in here and show me," Master Caleb reached out, to jerk Aaron off his balance and propel him into the ring. Aaron kept his position and his balance. "Good, you still have balance," bowing and sweeping his hand, he bid Aaron to step into the ring. "What else do you remember?" Aaron did so; removing his cloak, leather jerkins, shirt, and arm bracers, everything but his gloves. He stretched and warmed up, first with the sword and then, with both sword and dirk. After a few moments of contemplation, he declared himself ready. The Swordmaster put Aaron through his paces, first at quarter-speed to judge form, and then increasing speed, to see where speed degraded form. After a half hour at full-speed he called a halt. Aaron was sweating and breathing heavily as he did his cool down exercises, but showed no signs of exhaustion. Master Caleb called for two of his students, and the sparring began. Aaron easily held his own against two, so Caleb added another, and still another. Swords flashed, thrusts pulled at the last second, parries, blocks, a ballet of swords, finally tuned, deadly, but with a certain beauty and artistry. Finally Master Caleb called for a halt in the practice. The combatants bowed to each other, and then to the master. They retired to cool down and to quench their thirst. "Well done, Master Aaron," Master Caleb congratulated him, "you haven't forgotten everything." High praise indeed, from the Swordmaster! He followed Aaron over toward the water trough and watched as Aaron untied the knot in his hair and plunged his head into the water. "The warrior's knot looks good on you," Caleb remarked, as Aaron dried his hair and retied the knot in the back, "a noble profession." "Yes noble indeed," Aaron replied and then thought to himself, "or at least a good cover profession. People are so squeamish around thieves." After leaving Realto, Aaron tested for and achieved fighter status within the Fighter's Guild, eventually earning the knot of a warrior. While he maintained his status within the guild, it was not his "real" profession. "Why do you wear that sleeved glove on your left arm," Caleb asked pointing, "I initially thought it would slow you down, but it appears not to hinder you at all." "An old battle injury," Aaron replied smiling, thinking of the Goddess. "The sleeve is enchanted to protect the arm, but not hinder motion." "How is my father?" Aaron asked, changing the subject. "I'm not really sure," Caleb shook his head. "Sick from the reports. Sick enough to not be allowed visitors." "Well, allowed or not," Aaron finished getting dressed. "I intend to see him." "The physicians and the Duchess have kept him isolated," Caleb reported. "It may not be healthy for either of you." "Doesn't matter," Aaron set his jaw. "I will see him. Thank you for the exercise, I'll stop by again in the morning." "Be careful," Master Caleb warned. "Keep your sword loose in its scabbard, and watch your back." "I always do," Aaron replied and left the arena, heading for the manor house. Aaron only made it a couple of strides before he was stopped by a squad of soldiers. "Milord, you are requested to come with us," the squad leader announced, "the Lady of the Manor is expecting you." Aaron noted that they wore the livery of the Duke. "Lead on." Aaron was led in to the house. Although it had been 16 years since he left - was ordered to leave - the main hall hadn't changed at all. He followed the squad through a side door and down a hall to a closed door flanked by guards. "Please wait here," the squad leader knocked on the door and waited. The door opened and a page ushered Aaron into an anteroom. Inside the room, more guards (in the same livery as the men from the inn) flanked the door and a desk across the room. Seated at the desk was a woman that Aaron barely recognized as a lady of his dead mother's. So not a chambermaid, exactly, more like a lady in waiting. "Forgive my memory, I don't remember your name," Aaron stepped forward, "you attended my mother, didn't you?" "I am the Lady Thalia," she replied, "and yes I did. Why have you returned?" "I heard that my father was gravely ill," Aaron watched her; "I wanted to see him. I also understand I have a brother?" "Yes he is gravely ill," she replied. "The physicians say it is contagious, he can have no visitors. My son Micah is 13 years old, I will let him decide if he wants to meet you." "Hmmm," Aaron leaned forward. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. I returned home to see my father. Either show me to him, or stay out of my way and I'll find him myself." "Fine, don't say I didn't warn you." Turning to the guard at her left, "escort Master Aaron to the Duke's chambers. Will that be sufficient?" "Yes, you are so kind," Aaron remarked and followed the guard out. A side door opened and a tall, lanky man entered, "He could be trouble." "Perhaps, but I don't perceive him as a threat," Thalia replied. "He is just a warrior, he probably thinks with his muscles. Maybe he will catch the Duke's illness." "I can probably arrange that," the tall man laughed. Aaron followed the guard to the Duke's quarters and to the door of the bed chamber. A door that should be guarded, but wasn't. "He's in there," the guard pointed, turned and left. Aaron slowly opened the door, followed it in to the left till his back was to the door and wall. Across the room in his bed, the Duke slept restlessly. His skin was ash gray and stretched tightly across his face. He was feverish and breathed heavily, laboring for air, like each breathe might be his last. Aaron closed the door and quickly crossed the room and examined his father. The Duke had lost considerable weight and looked like a bag of bones. At the bedside table a goblet of liquid caught Aaron's attention. Carefully picking it up and inspecting the contents, nothing of a poisonous nature was revealed. There was something mixed in the liquid, a stimulant of some sort, but that wouldn't cause the condition his father was in. If his father was being poisoned, the goblet was not the source. Scanning the room looking for anything out of the ordinary revealed nothing. Maybe he was just ill, but Aaron didn't think so. Something was nagging at the back of his brain, something, what was it? He sat down next to the bed and thought about his father's condition. A few moments later the door opened and a tall, rather lanky man dressed in healer robes entered the room holding a tray with various items on it. "What are you doing here?" the man asked. "This man is contagious." "What is wrong with him," Aaron asked, "how do you know he's contagious?" The man closed the distance to Aaron and at the last second blew some type of powder in Aaron's face. The rune in the center of the signet ring on Aaron's left hand flared briefly and Aaron felt a tingle throughout his body. He leaped to his feet, knocked the tray out of the healer's hand, spun him around, putting his parrying dagger to his throat, pinned his arms behind him and frog marched him to the wall. Aaron pressed the healer against the wall and searched him; finding a dagger, a vial containing a liquid, a snuff pouch and a token, the token of an assassin. "Before I end your life," Aaron began, "you need to decide if you want to die quickly or not. Answer my questions and I'll slit your throat, lie to me and I'll make your death last days. Which will it be? "Please wait," the man answered, "you misunderstood my actions. I was only giving you an preventative antidote, nothing more." "Really," Aaron chuckled, wrenching the right arm up until it popped, "that's lie number one." The healer screamed in pain, "Wait, wait, what do you want to know?" "Very good," Aaron replied, "now what did you give my father, and who are your accomplices?" "It causes his blood to not absorb oxygen," the man rasped, "and results in death by heart failure or asphyxiation. He should have been dead by now; I'm not sure why he isn't. I have no marker, I was acting on my own, there is no one else." Bingo! That was what was nagging him. The stimulant was counteracting the poison. That was why his father's symptoms were all over the place. Well that explains his father's condition, now what to do about it. Well, first things first. "Someone has been giving him a stimulant," Aaron responded, popping the other arm out of its socket. "You had to have help, that is lie number two." The healer began hyperventilating, "agh, okay, okay. I am in league with the Lady Thalia. The Duke would not name your brother Micah his heir, waiting for you to come home. She wanted him dead with no named heir, as Micah would have a greater claim to the duchy and eventually the crown. She would then have access to greater things as his regent." "Mother wanted Father dead?" Aaron spun the healer around to face Micah, who had just stepped out from a secret door by the bed. "Are you my brother Aaron?" he asked looking at both men. "You must be Aaron, you look exactly how father described you." "Milord," the healer squeaked, "please help me." "Help you, Arnod?" Micah looked at him. "Why would I help you? You have tried to murder my father. I hope he kills you." "Your wish," Aaron slit Arnod's throat, dropping him to the ground, "is my pleasure. Now, what to do with your mother?" "I can't kill her," Micah pleaded, starting to tear up, "I will have her arrested." "Are the guards loyal to you?" Aaron asked. "Father's are," Micah look over to the bed, "can you help him, Aaron?" "I'll help him," Aaron nodded, "you take care of your mother." Aaron looked down at his father, checking his pulse, eye lids, breathing; all of the vitals looked bad. He looked up to see Micah exiting the room and removed his rings from both hands, and a couple of vials and pouches from within in the folds of his cloak. He removed his cloak and sword belt, setting it within arm's reach. He removed the sleeved glove from his left hand, placed it on his father chest over his heart, and began to pray to his Lady, as intense pain coursed through his body. Lady Rannath, Goddess of Light felt the pull of power and followed it to the room, seeing Aaron's left hand on the chest of a dying man. She allowed power to flow through the conduit of Aaron's "Good" arm and into the chest of the man, "his father?" she thought. After what seemed like an eternity to Aaron, but was only several moments, the flow slowed and stopped. Staggering back Aaron looked up and into the face of his Goddess. Slowly, painfully putting the sleeve back on he asked, "Will he live?" "Yes, he will live," she replied, radiating love and healing powers. "Thank you," Aaron replied staggering over and sitting down wearily into the chair, "I could think of no other way to save him, he was far down the road." Lady Rannath slowly faded from the room, "You are welcome my Paladin, as always." Aaron sighed, "Paladin, huh," and then looked over at his possessions. The vials were melted pools of glass, the pouches were cinder and ash, and one dagger warped and now useless, as were his tokens. His sword was glowing in bluish light, but otherwise unharmed, although the same could not be said for the belt or the dirk. Well nothing of true value he thought, although he did like the dirk and would have to replace the tokens. He looked over at the body of Arnod, a smoking carcass, all of his possessions consumed by fire. No evidence remained, "Gods!" He thought he heard a feminine chuckle. Micah, accompanied by several guards, took in the scene in the room. Startled, he looked at his father who was resting peacefully and noticed the handprint on his chest, as if burnt in the skin. He turned to Aaron. "Are you all right?" he asked, "is Father all right too?" "Yes to both," Aaron replied. "Could you get me some wine or mead?" Aaron, after checking on the Duke, was helped to a bed in the adjoining room. After a small lunch of wine, cheese and bread, he surrendered to the demands of his weary body and slept. He awoke several hours later, refreshed, but slightly alarmed to find himself in a bed. Fresh clothes were laid out, including a new sword belt. Aaron quickly stretched and then dressed, answering a knock on the door, "Come in." "Milord," the servant bowed. "The Duke is awake, and asking for you." "I'm on my way," Aaron finished dressing and entered the Duke's bedchambers. ------- Thandar Blackmoon assumed the title of Duke of Realto upon the death of his uncle, at the age of 18. Thandar's father, the King, needed a strong presence on his eastern border, so he asked his oldest son to assume the title and protect the Duchy. When his father's health began to fail, Thandar instead of taking his rightful place in Aithen, convinced his father to name Thandar's younger brother heir instead. Thandar stayed in Realto, fell in love and married a local noble's daughter. Lady Tara was a loving person caring for the sick, ensuring better living standards for the poor, and always bringing home strays, so it was no surprise to Thandar, when she brought home an orphaned child. What did surprise him was the story surrounding the infant boy. Nevertheless, Tara loved the child that they had named Aaron, as if she had carried and birthed him. A strange solemn boy, even tempered to the point of dispassionate, yet single minded in his pursuit of knowledge and skill. He took to the sword and craft of a Ranger like no other, so the masters told him on many occasions. He was immensely proud of his adopted son, proud of his accomplishments, proud that Aaron embraced the Blackmoon legacy. A perfect son, up until the death of his wife. Lady Tara had been in Mela treating an outbreak of some type of fever. On her way home, her carriage was attacked by bandits, and in the confusion during the attack, she was inadvertently killed. Only one guardsman survived and returned to Realto with the news of the Duchess's death. Aaron upon hearing the news, mounted his horse and rode off after the bandits. He tracked the bandits to their village and killed them all; man, woman, and child. Afterward he burned the village to the ground, trying to remove all trace of the bandits' existence. When the Duke arrived with a company of Guardsman and Rangers, there was nothing left of the village. Appalled at the actions of his son, Duke Thandar called for an inquiry. Aaron was ultimately cast out of the Rangers, excommunicated from the Druidical order and banished from Realto, although Thandar later lifted the banishment. In the years that followed he remarried, produced an heir and felt regret over his actions concerning Aaron. Many times he vowed to make amends with his estranged adopted son. ------- The Duke of Realto was propped up in his bed awake and, more importantly, alert. His face had color, his eyes clear and his breathing light and easy. Micah sat in a chair at the side of the bed talking to him in a low voice. Aaron approached the bed and smiled slightly. "Micah tells me that I have you to thank for saving my life," Duke Thandar reached out his other hand to Aaron. "He also says that his mother is in custody for plotting my death." "I was just returning the favor you did for me, all those many years ago," Aaron smiled grasping his hand. "She apparently conspired with a man named Arnod, although Micah should be able to provide more information on him. I'm not sure who else may be involved. The King was concerned that this may be the start of an usurpation." "Thane is involved?" Thandar asked. "I don't understand, what does that have to do with you?" "Well, as I understand it," Aaron began, "your brother, thought that there might be a plot in place to remove all of his heirs, allowing another house to be next in line for succession." "I understand that part," Thandar replied. "What I don't understand is how are you involved? Do you work for the King now?" "In an unofficial capacity," Aaron nodded his head. "I actually work for the Guild Council. There were discrepancies in the last tribute from Realto, discrepancies that affected both the merchants and sorcerers. I was tasked to look in to it. The King asked that I look in to your illness and cause." "So you are doing something worthwhile, good, and I see you also wear the warrior's knot." Thandar continued, "now that you're home, I'll petition the High Druid Council to remove your excommunication, and have you reinstated in the Rangers." "What makes you think I want that?" Aaron asked removing his hand. "That life is dead to me, I can't go back even if I want to. And just so you understand, I don't want to. I came to Realto to investigate the Council's concern and the King's. I also wanted to see you, but not to return here as home. This stopped being my home a long time ago and nothing has changed that." "I'm sorry you feel that way," Thandar sighed. "Maybe you have every right to feel that way. I had hoped we could bury that past and move forward, I guess not. What are your plans now?" "That past is buried, Father," Aaron replied, "and I am moving forward, you need to as well. To answer your question: I still have to determine if there is a connection between the attempt on your life and the missing tribute, I need to tie up the loose ends and I need to question Thalia and find out what she knows. What are your plans concerning her?" "Truthfully, I don't know," Thandar turned to Micah. "What should be done with your mother?" "She conspired directly or indirectly to kill a member of the royal house," Micah stated. "Death or banishment are the only options. Could you sentence her to death? I can't, she is still my mother." "I have the authority to take that out of your hands," Aaron interjected. "I want to know what she knows and I intend to find that out. You may not like it Father, but this is who I am, who I'm comfortable being. I will be who or what I need to be, to accomplish my aims. My morals are not that simple or rigid." "Micah told me that you laid your hand on me," Thandar stated, pointing to his chest and the handprint. "He said that the room was bathed in a brilliant white light and he thought he saw a Goddess. What was that? How does that fit into your flexible morals?" "That was Lady Rannath, Goddess of Light," Aaron sighed. "We have a relationship, no that's not quite right, more like we are interwoven. She is my patron, I am her... , I was going to say sword, but that's not quite right either, I guess I am her Paladin." Aaron heard a chuckle in his head and his heart was filled with warmth. Micah gasped as Aaron's face radiated the same white light he saw in the room earlier. "Anyway," Aaron smiled, "she provided the healing power. I was merely her conduit and I'm not going to try that again for awhile. But she knows what I am, what I do. I think she feels I'm a work in progress. Anyway, the best course of action is to name Micah your heir, I will abdicate my position; he has your blood after all. I will never assume that mantle, it's not me. I'll find out what Thalia knows and deal with her after that. You need to ferret out any disloyalty quickly, starting with Thalia's loyal guards. They are a threat to you. Now you need some rest and I need some food. Micah, come, we will let father sleep, while we raid the kitchen." Micah rose and kissed his father's cheek. Aaron grasped his father's shoulder, and followed Micah from the room, noting the guards on the door. "No one enters except Micah or me," he addressed the guards, "no one." "Yes milord," the guard saluted. "Master Micah has already given that order." Aaron and Micah went to the kitchen to scrounge some food. "So tell me about yourself," Aaron started. "Have you begun your initiation into the Order of the Rangers?" "Yes, last winter," Micah replied. "Father wanted to make sure I was fully vested, in case something should befall him. I am a third level initiate and have started my first level sword forms." "Who is your Swordmaster?" Aaron asked. "I didn't noticed you in the arena with Master Caleb, when I practiced there earlier." "Master Caleb recommended another master to father and private study as well," Micah replied. "I think Master Caleb thought that his familiarity may have led to your loss of composure. He told father a more detached master might be better." "There should be no fault found with Master Caleb, concerning my actions," Aaron sighed. "My loss of composure as you put it, rests fully with me. Master Caleb was, and still is a very capable teacher. First level sword forms so soon, very good. How are you getting on with your Druidical teacher?" "Okay, I guess," Micah smirked. "Actually we spend considerable time in the forest learning trade craft. I can spot and track three day old marks. He says I have great potential, and then he spends hours reinforcing the code of the forest, as well as the Ranger Code, and the responsibility I have to the Order, on and on. Do you get the picture?" "Probably my fault as well," Aaron chuckled at the mental picture. "Learn everything you can, keep expanding your knowledge, that's a good thing, and then at some point you'll realize what is important. Look, the Ranger life was not for me, much to father's chagrin, but it's not a bad life; it could be a good life for you. You are your father's son, while we both know I am not. Actually I could be my father's son, I just don't know who he is. Anyway, the point is, remember when you're being Thandar's son, you still have to be Micah as well." "Now, new subject," Aaron began gently. "Where is your mother and what are your feelings concerning her actions?" "She is being held in the old wing and guarded by handpicked men loyal to father and me. I also took your advice and had her guard arrested, I'm just not sure what to do with them. Lady Thalia committed treason; she tried to kill the Duke and plotted against the King. Anyone else and this conversation would be unnecessary, do what you have to do. I will stand in for the Duke at her execution. What more can I say?" "You understand that I need the information she has," Aaron began. "I am going to have to learn what she knows, no matter what." "I understand what you're saying," Micah sighed. "Look, she did what she did and now you have to do what you have to do. I understand that, I will be there as the Duke's representative. Get the information you need." "It's settled then," Aaron got up. "Why don't you spend the evening with father and we'll get started after morning practice?" "Alright," Micah answered. "Why don't you come as well?" After cleaning up, they returned to the Duke's room and spent the evening with him, making plans for the upcoming days. ------- Chapter 5 The interrogation of Thalia took several hours. Micah had her sequestered in an unused part of the manor house, guarded by soldiers loyal to the Duke. Aaron learned that the local guildmaster of the Thieves, the merchant agent assigned to the manor house, the village master of Dria, and the first-assistant to Master Gerard on the Guild Council were all involved. Not only were they associated in the plot to murder the Duke, and Aaron, to his surprise, but also the theft from the merchant trains, as well as the Realto tribute trains. Aaron was unable to ascertain the name of the house that was involved in the attempted coup, or Wheatstone's involvement. Aaron put Thalia to death by the sword and had her body buried in secret, with only Micah in attendance. He planned to deal with the Guildmaster and then to journey to Dria and have a talk with the village master. Aaron returned to the Thieves' Guild to find it empty, "Gods, now what?" He searched the master's office and found nothing of value. He remembered the name of the woman that was in the outer office and went searching for her. Several hours later he had a location and hurried to her home. He learned from questioning her that Drexil had a hideout in the lower part of the duchy, in the warehouse district. After leaving her with several silver pieces and a promise to forward her name on to the Guild headquarters, he set out again to find Drexil. Aaron arrived at the warehouse district just after dusk. He slowly and silently made his way toward the building in question. The front entrance was guarded, and armed men stood across the street watching in both directions. Aaron circled around to the rear of the building, finding two roving patrols, and one guard at the rear door. He backed away from the building and weighed his options. There was an alleyway that separated the warehouse from the building next to it. If he could gain entry, make his way to the roof, he could possibly cross rooftops and enter the warehouse from its roof. The backdoor of the second warehouse was locked. Aaron, after inspecting and determining that there were no traps, picked the lock and gently opened the door and slipped inside, relocked the door and searched for a way to the roof. Climbing a stairway, Aaron found the roof access and silently made his way onto the roof. Aaron's choice of clothing made night work all that easier. Black pants, grey shirt, black leather jerkin and grey cloak camouflaged his movement in the dark. Aaron stood at the edge of the roof and looked across the narrow alley to the warehouse rooftop. After checking for movement on the roof and finding none, Aaron removed a small grappling hook and rope from his cloak. The grappling hook had cloth wrapped around the tines to lessen the noise. Finding a chimney stack, Aaron aimed and let the hook fly, landing around the stack and pulled the line taut. Aaron tied off the line on his end, tested the rope and after making sure the patrols were not in the vicinity slipped over the side of the roof. Hand over hand, Aaron slowly made his way across the space between buildings and pulled himself up on the warehouse roof on the other side. After ensuring he wasn't discovered; Aaron slowly made his way to the roof access door, finding it locked. Listening intently at the door revealed nothing. The roof access door was part of a small shack attached to the top of the roof. Aaron moved around to the opposite side of the shack from the door, and crouched low, and made a small hole in the wall close to the rooftop. Peering through the hole, across at the inside of the door revealed no guard and more importantly, no noticeable traps or trip wires. Aaron spent a few moments satisfying his senses that the area was clear. Using a small saw, he gently cut a hole large enough to slip through. Again after ensuring that he had not been discovered Aaron gently crawled through the hole and dropped quietly on to the stairs. Aaron slowly made his way down the stairs. There was bustling activity in the warehouse. Three large horse drawn wagons were being loaded by four men each, with Master Drexil supervising the load. Aaron looked around counting bodies. 20 to 1 odds were not good, no matter how you split it up. It looked like the entire local guild was involved, he needed Drexil, but really wanted the wagons and their contents too. He decided to wait it out, if he lost the wagons, he lost them. Maybe the Duke's men would be able to intercept the wagons on the road, Drexil was his mission. He silently made his way to the office and waited. Sure enough after the last wagon left, Drexil returned to his office to clear it out. Aaron came up from behind him and quickly grabbed an arm pulled it up behind him and put a dagger to his throat. "Master Drexil, I've been looking all over for you," Aaron pulled the arm up tighter. "Are you leaving town?" "Master Aaron, what's going on?" Drexil replied. "I haven't done anything wrong." "Really, conspiracy and treason aren't wrong?" Aaron pulled the arm a little tighter. "Who are your accomplices?" "Master Aaron, wait," Drexil nearly screamed, "parchment, left inside upper pocket of my tunic. It's a secret commission from the King, countersigned by the Duchess. Please look at it." "If this is a trick," Aaron gently checked Drexil and found the parchment. "Drexil, I'm going to turn you loose, if you make any sudden moves, information or not, you're a dead man." Drexil nodded and stood exactly where Aaron released him. Unfolding the document, Aaron read it and re-read it. Pulling out a jeweler's loupe, he studied the royal seal and the document itself. "Well, Drexil, you're not a traitor," Aaron laughed, "just an incompetent fool. It's a forgery, pretty good, but still a forgery." "What, what do you mean forgery?" Drexil exclaimed. "Why, why would Lady Thalia do that?" "A very good question," Aaron grumbled a reply. "Unfortunately she's in no position to answer. What exactly were you doing for the Duchess? Also, what was in those wagons?" "The wagons contained my guild's property," Drexil replied. "I thought it best to move it, and hide it just in case. It is the wealth of the entire guild here. The Duchess said that the King was concerned that the tribute trains were not secure enough. That they could be intercepted. I was tasked to determine if they could be, and then try to. I came up with a pretty good plan, and it worked." "What happened to the tribute after you hi-jacked it?" Aaron asked. "I returned it to the Duchy of course," Drexil looked shocked. "I may be a thief, but I'm not stupid. I met with the Chamberlain; Arnod was his name. He took possession of the tribute." "Apparently, you're not incompetent," Aaron chuckled. "Your plan was flawless, your ability to spot a fraud, not so much." "What happens to me now?" Drexil asked. "I'm not going to kill you," Aaron replied. "You need to make a full report to Master Briard in person, as soon as possible. Do you have a trusted second? Put him in charge and leave for Aithen at once. One other thing; the Merchant Guild member assigned to the manorhouse, did you turn him or was he suggested by the Lady Thalia?" "I turned him," Drexil smiled for the first time. "Fine," Aaron replied. "Stop at the Merchant's Guildhall and inform the master there, tell him that I said that he is to deal with the traitor. Make the arrangements and leave in the morning. Any questions?" "No, milord," Drexil kneeled. "I won't forget this, I am your man before House and Guild. If you have need, you are but to call." "That isn't necessary," Aaron replied, "but I thank you for it. Now be off." "Thank you milord," Drexil saluted and left. "Why do the people with all the answers keep dying around me?" Aaron thought. "I need to start keeping them around longer." Aaron shrugged and left the office as well. Aaron left the warehouse to return to the manorhouse, having moved his possessions there earlier. As he navigated the alleyways he suddenly felt a presence near him. He immediately felt danger and ... anger? He had little time to ponder the emotions as seemingly without thought or action his sword was in his hand, blue flame traveling up and down the blade, the runes bright with a white light. He briefly looked at the sword as his senses tingled and then searched the darkness for the source of the danger. Taking a deep breath to calm his emotions, he backed away from the area, scanning for the danger. "What is going on here?" he thought. "And what is going on with my sword?" He felt the pull of the sword toward his right and pivoted in that direction, eyes scanning the darkness, finding nothing. The sword seemed to want him to move forward, toward whatever was out there, he could feel it vibrate in his hands. The air became still and sounds slipped away until all that was left was the sword and the beating of his heart and still he could not see anything in the darkness. Sure he could make out the alleyway and the sides of the buildings there, but just up ahead to his right the darkness was impenetrable. Again he backed away. "This is not a good place to be in a sword fight," he thought to himself. "Better just get moving away from here." The false dawn cast an eerie light and shadows on the buildings of the warehouse district. Stepping out of the shadows, sword in his hand; Lord Malak, God of Truth, watched Aaron disappear into the darkness. "No, no mere mortal at all," he shook his head and vanished into the cool pre-dawn air. ------- Chapter 6 "You say it burned with a bluish flame, and the runes glowed as well!" Caleb exclaimed. "That is pretty amazing indeed. And you are sure you did not draw it from the scabbard?" By the time Aaron had returned to the manor house it was well past first light. Morning training had already begun and since his nerves were still hypersensitive, he decided to forgo bed and burn off some energy. The Swordmaster noticed his energy and commented about it after the training session, which prompted Aaron's story of the events after leaving the warehouse. "Like I said," Aaron continued, "I had just left the warehouse on my way back here, when I had this feeling wash over me. Something or someone was out there, and I could feel danger and anger or rage, which I don't understand. I keep a pretty good check on my emotions, but this was almost uncontrollable. I wanted to kill whatever it was." "That sounds like the berserker rage," Caleb nodded his head, "I've seen that happen on the battle field, completely out of control attack, no thought to defense. You just keep going till you die, or the rage burns out." "But that's just the thing," Aaron countered. "I wasn't like that at all. Sure, I felt the rage, but my mind was focused, I was scanning, looking for the source, calculating attacks, escape routes, everything. And my body went into attack mode. I pulled my sword, well, I think I pulled my sword, that part is still a little sketchy, but that's when I noticed my sword was in flames. Not exactly in flames, more like that blue flame you see in a fire close to the wood, dancing and running back and forth. The runes, now that was even stranger. The light was a pure white light, and I could feel power flowing outward all around me." "And your sword has never done that before?" Caleb asked. "Ever?" "No, I think I would remember that," Aaron replied, shaking his head. Aaron thought for a minute, "wait, it did happen before, in the Duke's bedchamber, hmm, what's the connection?" "Do you remember something?" Caleb asked. "What? No, nothing." Aaron replied. "Thank you for workout, I think I'll turn in and try to catch up on some sleep. Good day, Master Caleb." "Nothing to thank me for," Caleb shook his hand. "Good day to you as well. Aaron returned to the room where he was staying and after telling a page to wake him at lunch, fell into a deep sleep. After a light lunch and checking in on his father, Aaron found himself back in the practice arena, where Micah was warming up with both Master Caleb and another Swordmaster. Micah made the introductions and Aaron grasped Master Landon's hand in greeting. After warm-ups were over, both "students" began practicing under the tutelage of their respective masters. ------- "Milord," Lord Malak, God of Truth, announced, "I request an audience." Lord Devlin, God of Destruction, patron of Sorcerers, appeared before him, "What is it Lord Malak?" Before Malak had a chance to respond a messenger Godling appeared, dropping to one knee. "Milord Devlin, we detected a transportation platform in use, and 5 Tarran warriors are on Andor." "Lord Malak, take 10 Godlings and deal with this trespass." Lord Devlin turned to the messenger, "Monitor the rest of the platforms on Andor." ------- In a certain clearing on the edge of the Thangdaemon forest, by the Old Kings' Highway, five warrior females stepped off the platform. At that very instant, eleven beings came into existence in that same clearing. A God or Godling draws his or her power from the Ethereal plane: while on the Material or Physical plane, that power gives their physical body a glow or halo. A God can hide the glow using the same power, but most like the awe effect. The weapon that a God uses is a manifestation of that power, rather than an actual weapon. Lord Malak's weapon of choice was the longsword, as were the weapons of the Godlings under him. The warrior females were dressed alike; chain mail shirts and pants with red cloaks, shortswords and shields, emblazoned with a red rose. "Protect the princess," a warrior called out, as the four split into an inverted V, with the princess in the middle. "You have violated the treaty that your ancestors agreed to," Lord Malak proclaimed. "The punishment is death, kill them." The Godlings leaped to the attack, surrounding the V and pressing the warriors backward. Thrust, parry, feint, block, the fighting raged on, with neither side gaining any tactical advantage. Eventually, a warrior went down from a mortal blow, and the princess drew her sword and entered the fray. Her sword burst forth in blue flames, as the runes carved into the blade from point to hilt glowed with a brilliant crimson red light. "Red Rose, find them!" she cried out. "We are in peril." ------- Aaron had just finished parrying a thrust from Master Caleb, when his sword began to vibrate and then burst into blue flames, as the runes glowed black. The force of power from the sword, knocked all those within the vicinity of the arena to the ground. Aaron began to vibrate and then disappeared. Master Caleb leaped to his feet and looked around, but Aaron was gone. "Master Micah, are you alright?" Caleb asked. Looking around the arena he called out, "To arms, to arms, protect the Duke, secure the manorhouse." "Where did Aaron go?" Micah asked standing up. Immediately men at arms surrounded the young lord, as more men moved to the gate to secure it. "I don't know milord," Caleb answered. "But don't worry, he knows his business. Let's get you inside, and then we can figure out our next move." Aaron appeared in the clearing, taking in the scene before him. Eight glowing men were fighting with four women, as a ninth glowing man looked on. The being noticed Aaron, and turned toward him. "You three, take him," Lord Malak commanded the nearest three. Three Godlings broke off their attack, and advanced on Aaron. "Brother, help us!" the princess cried out, and then turned to help press the attack on the five remaining Godlings. Aaron barely had time to process the word "brother", before the Godlings descended on him. With an upward slash he cleaved the closest Godling from waist to shoulder. The upper half of his body slid down off the lower half, and with a bright light, the body vanished. The remaining two Godlings split to either side of Aaron and engaged him. They tried to press their numerical superiority, but Aaron fought back, again and again. The Godlings speed was impressive and Aaron fought to match it. His speed began to increase as his body instinctively began to draw power from the surroundings, and he pushed the advantage back at the Godlings. As the Godling to his right feinted and timed a thrust to Aaron's thigh, which Aaron blocked, the one to his right took that opportunity to hack down on Aaron's left hand to severe it at the wrist. The blade hit the bracer, but instead of cleaving the wrist, the sword bounced up in a flash of white light and sparks. The Godling looked up at Aaron in disbelief as Aaron brought up his sword in a back swing and cut him in two, disappearing in a flash of light. Aaron pivoted and thrust his sword through the chest of the last adversary, who looked down at the sword and vanished as well. The warriors were down to two, including the princess, but the Godlings were down to two as well. One on one, the women held their own and slowly pressed the attack. Aaron moved forward to aid the women when Lord Malak stepped in front of him. Aaron smiled a feral grin and attacked. Malak was not prepared for the ferocity of the attack, and immediately gave ground. Aaron's goal was to push him away from the women, allowing them to deal with their opponents. Malak matched Aaron's every thrust and parry, drawing more of his power into the battle. Aaron instinctively drew more power from the surrounding area as his sword grew brighter, and brighter. Sparks scattered as blade met blade, arms throbbed from the strain of the blows. Malak began to know fear, and realized that he was in peril of losing his physical vessel, resulting in banishment to the Ethereal plane. "I require assistance," he projected mentally. "My Lords, send aid." Aaron glanced over to the women to see how they fared The princess had just killed the last of the attackers, and she and her lone remaining shield-maiden turned to see how he was. "I must end this now," he thought. Aaron's attacks increased in speed and ferocity. Each time his sword was blocked, large gouges remain in Malak's sword. Malak's power was waning, and soon would be exhausted. Aaron noticed movement to his left, and glanced over in time to see a small man appear in the clearing behind the women. "What is the God of Thieves doing here?" Aaron wondered. Malachi, God of Thieves, smiled at Aaron, and then threw a dagger at the princess. Her lone shieldmaiden saw the attack, and leaped in front of the dagger taking it in her breast. She slowly crumpled to the ground as Malachi attacked again with a dagger, hitting the princess as well. Aaron backed away from the fight, screaming, "No", as he rushed to the fallen princess. Malak moved forward to press the attack, but when Aaron disengaged and turned away, Malak lowered his sword. All of the Godlings that came with him were gone, banished back to the Ethereal plane. Malak called on the lasts of his reserves, and faded from view. Aaron knelt at the princess' side, cradling her head in his lap. The wound was deep and bled profusely, now more than before since the dagger vanished when Malachi fled the plane. Aaron tried to slow the flow of blood, and looked in to the face of the princess gasping in shock. Looking back at Aaron was his twin, with more feminine features, but still, it was his face looking back. "I finally get to see you, and now it's too late," she coughed as a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. "I am your sister, Ashanna Whiterune." "I do not understand," Aaron looked around. "Where have you come from? Why have you come now?" "What is your name?" she asked. "Aaron," he replied, "Aaron Blackmoon." "Aaron," Ashanna began. "We come from a different land in this cosmos. Our race is old, and in the height of it's advancement, revolted and challenged the Gods of the realm. As part of our punishment, our ancestors were banished back to our home land of Tarra and our society forced from patriarchal to matriarchal rule. Specifically the royal line could only produce females, it was thought that our drive and arrogance was fueled by the males of our civilization." "So, for generations our queens have only produced female heirs and ruled our land. When our mother became pregnant, it was discerned that she carried twins; one male, and one female. Since the only way to end your life would also end mine, our mother kept the knowledge of our sex a secret. She delved deeply in our old records and found out how the platforms worked." "When we were born, she placed you in a bassinet, gave you the royal signet ring and, and after removing Black Rose from the royal treasury, placed it at your side and sent you away. In her grief she did not pay attention to where you were sent." "I was raised as a Princess of the Rose, meaning the heir to the Rose Throne, never knowing I had a twin, let alone a brother. On her deathbed she revealed her deception, and I have been trying to find you ever since." "When Red Rose felt Black Rose's anger, I had my destination, but I did not think about the ramifications of coming here." The entire time Ashanna was telling her story, Aaron was treating the stab wound. Making a poultice out of healing herbs, he stripped some cloth from his shirt and using her left hand pressed the poultice into the wound. After checking her color and vital signs, Aaron concluded that the dagger must have done some internal damage, damage that he could not repair. Bowing his head in prayer, he asked for help from the Lady Rannath. Looking back to Ashanna, he remembered something she said. "What do you mean Red Rose sensed anger from Black Rose?" Aaron asked. "I do not understand." "Aaron, our swords have power," she replied coughing, "surely you have noticed that? They are more than mere swords." "Rest, save your strength," Aaron looked worried. When the Lady Rannath, Goddess of Light, appeared in the clearing, she instantly knew that something was terribly wrong. Dead Tarran shield-maidens littered the area near a transportation platform and near Aaron, who knelt on the ground cradling a fallen Tarran female; furthermore she felt the "deaths" of some ten or so Godling warriors. "What happened here?" she asked Aaron. "Nevermind that," Aaron replied. "She's dying and she's my sister, can you save her?" "I cannot, for two reasons," Lady Rannath shook her head, "For one; it is forbidden to render aid to Tarrans and I cannot violate that covenant." "Secondly, and more importantly," She sighed. "Her wounds are severe enough that my power would just kill her faster. She is the royal heir of her people, her power is in direct opposition to mine. I am sorry, there is little more I can do for her." "I do not understand," Aaron raised his left arm, "you healed me." "No, actually I did not," she replied. "My power caused that damage. Did you not ever wonder why that scar, where your flesh is different, never healed? It is because our powers are still waging a war at that site, and your powers are just in their fledgling stage. Our powers are incompatible and that is the result. Her power is much stronger, our mingling would kill her. I'm sorry." "I do not understand," Aaron replied, "I have no power." "Aaron, it is fine," Ashanna sighed. "I was able to find and see you before I die. Your fighting was magnificent, you are a true 'Prince of the Rose'. I could not go back anyway. I would be imprisoned, and charged with treason. I am more than ready to join our mother. Before I go I want you to have my ring, and Red Rose. I am glad I found you, Aaron Whiterune, Prince of the Rose." "Hail, and well met, little brother," Ashamna smiled, took one final breath, and died in his arms. "Nooo," Aaron wailed. He stood up and pulled his sword and screamed to the heavens, "Malachi, I swear vengeance! I will hunt you down and kill you slowly! I will burn every temple dedicated to you to the ground! I will put every one of your disciples and followers to the sword! You will not know a single moment of peace! This I swear on the blood of my fallen sister!" Lightning cracked from Aaron's sword toward the sky, dark clouds swirled around, and thunder boomed and shook the heavens. Aaron lowered his sword and put it away. He removed the ring from her finger, a ring very similar to one he wore on his left hand, and placed it on the chain he wore around his neck. The chain that once held the ring he know wore on his left hand. He picked up the shortsword and gently removed the scabbard from her waist, sheathed it and hooked it to his belt on his right side. He gently picked her up and arranged her on the platform along with her shield-maidens, and, using the knowledge of the platforms Ashanna gave him, he sent her home. He turned and looked around, almost no evidence remained of the battle. "This changes nothing between you and me," he looked at Lady Rannath. "I am still yours, if you want me. I will hunt Malachi down, and kill him though." "I know," she smiled. "You have to do what you have to do. I will not interfere, we are bound together, and you are my Paladin." she smiled once more, and faded from view. "I may never be a Prince of the Rose," He proclaimed as he drew both swords and crossed them above his head. "But I will be the Thief of Roses, and all who cross me best take heed. Black Rose return us to the manor." ------- In a cavern deep in the bowels of the Dragontooth Mountains she sleeps. She has slept undisturbed for a millennium, dreaming of a bygone era, when she and her brethren ruled the sky. But alas, that time, like her brothers and sisters was gone, she is the last of her kind. A catch in her breathing signals a change in her sleep pattern, even in her hibernation her awareness sensed the flow of power from the rocks surrounding her. Someone, something has tapped the ancient power. Eldritch Power has been used! Her awareness started the slow process of rousing her body, soon she will awaken and seek the source of the flow. Soon, she will need to feed and find her mate. Her time has returned. ------- Chapter 7 Aaron's sudden return to the practice arena caused as much of a disruption as his departure. The manor was on heightened alert, and men-at-arms were everywhere. After calming down a squad of guardsman that converged on his position, he was escorted to the council room. "Aaron, you are back and you are okay," Micah rushed over and clasped his hand. "We were worried, what happened, where did you go, how did you get back?" "I am fine," Aaron replied. Looking over to Caleb and the Duke, "I think I returned to the clearing where I was found as an infant, at least the location was similar to Mother's description. There are things there that happened, but I am not quite ready to relive or reveal the experience. I am not sure about everything that happened but I am back now and everything will be okay." The Duke noted the solemness of his son and chose not to ask the questions on his mind, "perhaps when you have had time to examine the experience?" Turning to one of the guardsman, "Captain, stand down the men and reopen the gate. If anyone asks, we were having a drill." "Yes, Your Grace," the captain saluted and left the room. Caleb, eyeing the shortsword on Aaron's right side that was not there when he left, nodded to the Duke in agreement and turned to Aaron, "I see you have upgraded your parrying dagger. Perhaps you would like some refreshments and then a return to the practice arena?" "But wait," Micah interrupted. "I do not understand, you all act as if nothing happened. Aaron disappeared from the arena earlier; I mean he disappeared, that is a pretty powerful spell. There is something going on here that I do not understand. Aaron, why did you return to this clearing, what happened there?" "Micah!" The Duke barked. "Aaron answered your questions, it is impolite to pester him. Leave it be." "Yes, Father," Micah answered, clearly not happy. "I will do as you ask." Turning to Aaron, "I'm sorry if I was a pest, I was just worried." "Do not fret, Micah," Aaron ruffled his hair. "All is well. Yes Master Caleb, something to drink would be great and then I will return to the practice arena. Father, I'm sorry this caused a stir, clearly I had no control over the events, but I am fine now." Turning to Caleb, "Coming?" "I have got an errand to run," Caleb replied. "Why do you not meet me in the practice arena in an hour?" "That is fine," Aaron shrugged and bid everyone good afternoon and left for the kitchens. "Your Grace," Caleb bowed to the Duke, nodded at Micah and left on his errand. "Father," Micah turned to the Duke. "With your permission I would like to go to the practice arena, as well." "Yes," Thandar replied. "The practice arena sounds like the place to be, let's both go." ------- "Lord Malak, you've lost ten warriors and there were only five Tarran warriors - explain yourself." Lord Devlin demanded. "Lord Devlin, not just five warriors," Malak began, "a Princess of the Rose, and four shield-maidens. And we would have still been victorious, except a Tarran WitchLord showed up, who happens to also be a Prince of the Rose. He is untrained in the arts, but he was still able to cut down three of my best warriors. I was hard pressed to hold him off. If not for the intervention of Malachi, I may have lost my physical vessel." "He was greatly skilled with a sword, My Lord," A Godling stepped forward, "and something else as well. I had a clean attack that would have cleaved his arm, but my sword was repulsed by a protection. A white magic protection. It greatly surprised me, and in that momentary pause, I was cut down." "What do you mean, white magic protected him?" Lord Devlin roared. "Are you saying that a supposed Tarran WitchLord, as well as a Prince of the Rose is protected by one of us? Never mind that one has not existed in an eon." "My Lord," Malak eyed his Lord warily, "Lady Rannath is his patron." "What?" Lord Devlin bellowed even louder. "And you're just now telling me this!" "My Lords," Devlin announced to the Ethereal, "I request a council." "Lady Rannath," Lord Devlin proclaimed, "Your presence is required at once." The other Gods slowly faded into view, each curious as to the reason for the Council summons. "No need to bellow, Lord Devlin," Lady Rannath smiled with a short bow. "Ah, Lord Malak, how good to see you feeling better. Yes, My Lord, you summoned?" "Lady Rannath, explain yourself," Lord Devlin replied. "Lord Malak has leveled some serious accusations against you. That you are protecting a Tarran royal male and possibly conspiring against this body. If that is true Lady, your existence could be at forfeit." "My Lords," Lady Rannath smiled, turning to the assembly, "that is the furthest thing from the truth. I admit that I have had interaction with a warrior, who I now know is a Tarran male from the royal house. However at the time that our paths first crossed, I had no idea who or what he was." "Yes, he bears a part of my power, although unintentionally," She continued. "He used a holy item of mine, and some power was transferred. I do not quite understand it myself, somehow the item reacted to him." "Yes, he is a faithful disciple," She continued. "and has never given me reason to doubt his loyalty. And yes, he is a Tarran WitchLord and a Prince of the Rose, which I too just learned." "He is also my Paladin, and my champion," Her voice hardened. "I will not idly stand by while my honor is called into question. If you feel I have intentionally violated a covenant, or conspired against this august body, then declare so, and I will call forth my champion to defend my honor. What shall it be Lords?" "No need to be hostile, Lady Rannath," Lord Devlin replied, backing down. "We are merely trying to ascertain how we came to be in this situation, and what to do with him now." "My Lords, why do anything with or to him?" Lady Rannath chuckled. "Right now he is of no danger to this body, with the exception of the God Thief. He cares not for the intrigue or the politics, he recently learned of his parentage, but even that information is sketchy at best. There are no historical records, we made sure of that. Leave him be, and I am sure he will reciprocate." "How can you be sure Lady?" Lord Devlin asked. "If he were to realize his full power, or if he were to learn our part in the Tarran downfall, then this body would be in jeopardy." "Lord Devlin, if we push him down that road," Lady Rannath replied, "he will surely reach his full potential. I say leave him alone, and do not give him a reason to search for answers. Besides, right now, are we sure we could even stop him? Lord Malak fought him and by his own words, barely escaped unscathed. Do we risk everything on so little knowledge? No, I say leave him be. Now, the God Thief is a different matter: my Paladin has called forth a challenge, will Malachi respond?" "I will do no such thing," Malachai popped into the conversation. "I was acting as a representative of this body, in response to a request of aid from Lord Malak, and at the command of Lord Devlin. I have done nothing to respond to." "My Paladin begs to differ," Lady Rannath smiled. "He will force a meeting, this I know." Turning to the rest of the Gods present, "I will look unfavorably on any outside interference, I say this is between the God Thief and my Paladin, does anyone say different?" Looking around, "No? Good." "Now, Lord Devlin," Lady Rannath smiled again, "if there is nothing further?" "No, Lady Rannath," Lord Devlin replied. "Besides, if you are wrong and he finds out about your culpability, he will come for you first." "Yes, Lord Devlin, he must assuredly will," She nodded. "Good day to you, and to all of you assembled." Lady Rannath vanished. "Lord Malak, keep an eye on this Tarran," Lord Devlin looked to the council. "We will leave him be for now, as Lady Rannath suggests, but if he places one foot on a path to a direct confrontation, we should be prepared." Turning to the God Thief, "Do not worry Malachi, he is not a God, what can he do? Thank you all for attending me, good day." ------- When Aaron arrived at the arena there were three men conferring with Master Caleb, while the Duke and Micah were standing off to the side. Aaron approached the group of men having recognized Master Landon standing with Master Caleb. Master Caleb introduced the other two men as Sir Jeffery, a Grand SwordMaster, and Sir Gerald, a SwordMaster judge. "A very nice replacement for the ruined dirk," Master Caleb pointed at the sword, "may I see it?" "Certainly," Aaron replied, pulling the shortsword from it's scabbard. Caleb inspected the sword, noting it's similarity to Aaron's longsword. It was virtually a twin, the blade carved with runes similar to the longsword, same stone in the pommel, same rune in the stone. A rose in relief in the grip, except the grip was stained black and the rose red. The balance was perfect, the blade a little thinner and narrower then a standard shortsword. All in all, a fine blade, and Caleb remarked as such. "Let us see what you can do with it," Caleb remarked, handing it back to Aaron. Master Caleb watched as Aaron practiced with each weapon individually, and then using the shortsword as the off-hand weapon. He was impressed with his old student's form and speed. The addition of the shortsword was the missing piece that had puzzled Master Caleb from the first time he observed Aaron wielding a sword. GrandMaster Jeffery called a halt to the exhibition after a half an hour, and conferred with the other masters. Again Aaron was asked to begin, with Master Jeffery observing. After another half an hour, Sir Gerald thanked Aaron for the demonstration and while Aaron cooled down, conferred with the other masters. Duke Thandar and Micah approached Aaron. "Aaron, that was really impressive," Micah remarked. "Do you know why those men are with Masters Caleb and Landon?" "Micah, they are here to observe Aaron's test for Swordmaster," Duke Thandar explained. "A successful test, if I do say so myself. Well done, Aaron." "Thank you, Father," Aaron replied, "It went extremely well, both swords felt like extensions of my arms. I hope the judges see it like you." The masters approached Aaron, "well done young man," Sir Gerald congratulated Aaron. "As you probably guessed, this was more than a simple practice session in front of a bunch of old men. A fine display of swordsmanship, and it gives me great honor to bestow upon you the title of SwordMaster. You may remove your warrior's knot cord and replace it with this SwordMaster's cord. It denotes me as your judge and Sir Jeffery as witness." "Thank you, my lords," Aaron bowed, accepting the leather cord with the silver ends. He untied his knot, removing the cord he had worn for many years, and retied the knot with the new cord. As Thieves and Assassins have their tokens to denote rank, fighters use a leather cord tied in their hair to establish rank, weapon discipline, and local guild affiliation. Most cords are decorated with bright beads and other adornments, some quite gaudy. A SwordMaster's cord is a simple leather strip dyed black, with the ends capped in silver. The silver ends are then etched in black denoting the judge, witness and level of mastery. "Well, this calls for a celebration," Duke Thandar clapped his hands. "Come, let us retire to the banquet hall, where a feast is being prepared. Let us eat, drink and celebrate this achievement." The celebration continued late in to the evening, although Aaron kept his wits about him, and only pretended to fully partake in the festivities. He reminded Duke Thandar that he would be leaving in the morning for Dria and might be there for a few days. Aaron bid everyone goodnight and retired to his room, where he waited for the celebration to quiet down. After ensuring that everyone had settled down for the night, he slipped on his cloak, and using one of many secret passages available, left the manor. Quietly creeping through the grounds, Aaron climbed and slipped over the wall. Hunting season was open. Aaron moved through the shadows of the alleyways and side streets making his way toward the seedier side of the lower city. Aaron's first stop of the evening was the Temple of the Hand, more specifically the residence of the God Thief's cleric. Aaron slipped in through the backdoor of the residence and made his way to the bedchamber and waited in the darkness. Aaron did not have to wait long, the door opened and the cleric stepped into the room, moving over to the table to light a lamp. Aaron moved up behind the cleric, clamping a hand over his mouth and placed a dagger at his throat. "I am going to ask you some questions," Aaron whispered. "If you do not answer them I will cut your throat, do you understand?" After receiving a short nod in reply Aaron continued, "I want the names of 15 of the more prominent followers of your god, names and locations. I'm going to remove my hand now, if you call out... , well I'm sure you won't." Aaron removed his hand from his mouth but kept the dagger at his throat. The cleric took several breaths to calm himself and gave Aaron the information he asked for. Aaron thanked him for his cooperation and promptly slit his throat, letting the body fall to the ground. Aaron removed a red rose, that he had previously procured from his cloak and dropped it into the puddle of blood and left the residence. Aaron made fifteen more visits thought out the city, both upper and lower and at each one he killed the named follower, sometimes sleeping right next to a spouse or loved one, and dropped a red rose in the blood. After his last visitation, he returned to the Temple of the Hand, went inside and piled some chairs and curtain remnants onto the altar, and after dousing it with creosote, lit the pile. Aaron waited several moments to ensure the fire started, and left the temple making his way back to the manorhouse, where he once again slipped over the wall, crept through the grounds, and returned to his room through a secret passageway. After undressing and washing up, he went to bed. ------- Chapter 8 Aaron was up before first light, stretching and practicing. After his morning ablutions, he packed his things and went to the kitchen in search of something to eat before heading out. he had just finished his meal when Caleb came in and sat down across from him. "Have you heard?" Caleb asked. "Last night sixteen people were killed, one of whom was a cleric, and the Temple of the Hand was burnt to the ground. Of the remaining dead, ten were members of the Merchant's Guild, including the first assistant to the local Guildmaster." "Wow!" Aaron shifted in his seat, and looked at Caleb, "I am sure the Guild is up in arms. Do they have a suspect or any clues?" "No suspects," Caleb answered. "All had their throats slit from ear to ear, and most died in their beds. The interesting thing is; they found a single rose at the scene of each murder." Caleb looked at Aaron intently, "What do you make of that?" "I don't know," Aaron replied, seeming to ponder Caleb's question. "I could tell him the truth," Aaron thought and then shook his head. "That they like roses? I'll keep my eyes open while I am traveling to Dria, and if I find someone selling red roses, I'll be sure to stop and question them." "I never said the roses were red," Caleb replied. "How did you know that?" "Hmm," Aaron replied, lost in thought, "damn I almost said too much." Shaking his head again, "I don't know, maybe I just pictured the scene and the color red just fit. Anyway, I'd love to stay and chat, but I must be off. Say goodbye to everyone again, for me. I should be back in a couple of days." "Aaron wait," Caleb put out his hand. "What are you not telling me?" "Caleb, I have known you all my life," Aaron began. "You taught me the way of the sword, taught me control, and measured response to aggression. I used to believe in that, I really did. The problem I have come to realized was that the aggressor usually does not. They only understand one thing, strength, determination, and commitment." "Aaron, it is never that simple," Caleb interrupted. "It is absolutely that simple!" Aaron replied, raising his voice. "The problem with Good is, they seem to forget that Evil is exactly that, evil. Sometimes you have to become what you fight, or do not care how you fight, as long as you fight to win." "If we devalue our ideals and virtues," Caleb replied, "then we are no better than what we fight." "I value your opinion above most people," Aaron continued, "but in this, I disagree. You, my mother, and my Lady I value above all else, but there are things I have done, and things I will do, that you won't understand, or apparently won't condone. That's okay, I understand you, all I ask for is a little understanding back." "My response to the death of my mo... , of Lady Tara was completely understandable, from my point of view," Aaron sighed, clearly in pain. "They took something... , someone very precious from me and I retaliated in kind, in my perception of an equivalent response. She saved me Caleb, rescued me as an infant, how could I do any less? It was not a measured response, it was not an eye for an eye, it was a body for an eye, a village for an eye. If you hurt me or someone I care for, I am not only going to hurt you, I am going to hurt your family, your friends. I intend to make sure that you understand, or anyone else that thinks about it, that there are consequences, severe consequences, in choosing to come at me, or mine." "Yesterday, the very same thing happened again," Aaron clenched his fists in anger. "I found out I had a sister, and now she is gone. I learned that her very existence, protected my life. Again, she saved me, never even knew me, but saved me nonetheless. And someone has taken her away from me. How should I respond to that? Should it be a measured response? NO, not going to happen! I intend to eradicate this individual and anyone associated with him. And I do not want to hear any condemnation, they have sided with Evil, they do not deserve pity, they do not deserve protection. They deserve, or rather, I require Death." "If there is a question you wish to ask," Aaron sighed, getting his emotions under control, "I will answer it. Just be sure you want to know the answer." "No, no questions, my friend," Caleb answered. "Just be careful, you may run into someone just as good or maybe even better, watch your back." "Never going to happen, but I'll remember." Aaron clapped him on the shoulder and went to the stables, where Thorn was already saddled. He secured his saddle bags in place and walked the horse to the Manor gates. He mounted his horse, saluted the guards and made his way through town and on to the highway, where he steered his horse toward Dria, some six hours away. The highway meandered northerly between fields of varying crops on the left and scrub brush on the right. Soon the fields faded from view and the area became mostly thick brush and scattered scrub trees. The forest began to thicken and solidify on the right side of the road. Aaron's nonchalant attitude changed as the surrounding forest began to close in on the road. As he rounded a bend two men jumped out from either side of the road brandishing shortswords "Good day to you, fine sir," the man to Aaron's right called out. "A fine day for travel. Are you aware that there is a toll on this road?" "No, I was not," Aaron replied with a chuckle. "I thought the Old Kings' Highway was toll free. When did this change?" Aaron looked around trying to get a sense of the number of "toll takers". "It changed this very day," The man smirked. "Why do you not just throw down your money pouch, and we will not delay your travel any longer?" "I am afraid I cannot do that," Aaron explained. "Why do you not put those pig stickers back in their sheaths and I will just forget this unfortunate incident happened?" Aaron spread his hands out and leaned back tightening his body in preparation. "If you do not hand over the coin," the thief replied, "I will put my pig sticker in you. Now what is it going to be?" Aaron sprung back and to his left, tucking his knees in, and performed a summersault, landing feet spread apart, swords in his hands, just behind and to the left of Thorn. Giving a quick whistle, he advanced on the nearest robber. Thorn backed up and to his right, clearing Aaron's fight path. The robber swung his sword in an overhead attack, which Aaron blocked with Red Rose. Metal met metal as Red Rose peeled off a hunk of steel along the length of the sword, as it travelled toward the hilt. Aaron swung Black Rose up diagonally in an under cut, catching the thief on the lower left side, and continued traveling upward across the chest, severing the spine. The thief fell to his right and Aaron's momentum carried him to his left, putting him in position to block the thrust of the second thief with Black Rose. Aaron thrust Red Rose through the studded leather jerkin, plunging the sword through his attacker's heart and out the other side. Pulling Red Rose clear, he continued his slow spin looking for more adversaries. Two other robbers advanced out of the brush, swords raised in attack. Aaron set his feet, and as the two approached swung Red Rose up, severing the sword arm of the robber on the left. Switching his attention to the next attacker he flicked Black Rose up catching the attacker on the neck below the right ear and decapitated him. Turning back to the screaming thief with the severed hand, Aaron cut his head off, putting him out of his misery. Aaron waited patiently for any further attacks but non came. After cleaning his swords, Aaron moved the bodies off the side of the road and searched them for any valuables, finding mostly copper pieces, sprinkled with a few silver. The swords were of poor craftsmanship so he left them with the bodies. He tore off a section of the cloak of one of his would be robbers and wrote, "THIS ROAD IS TOLL FREE" in blood and attached it to a staff he found and propped it up by the bodies. "I wish I had a rose," He thought with a chuckle. "I need to find a ready source of my new token. Hmm, perhaps the Sorcerer's Guild can help." Aaron whistled for Thorn, unpacked his wine skin and some cheese, and had lunch. After repacking his supplies he lit his pipe and was enjoying a leisurely smoke when he noticed a rider slowly coming around the bend. A beautiful woman, wearing a cream-colored gauze dress riding a white horse approached him. Both of Aaron's swords were in his hands, as the pipe fell from his mouth. Blue flames burst forth from both blades, as their runes glowed bright white. "Whoa, down boys," The woman laughed a rich throaty laugh. "I'm not going to hurt him, simmer down." Looking at Aaron, "you might want to pick up that pipe before you start a fire." Her voice had a musical quality, as if she sang every word. She was unbelievably beautiful; long flowing blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, full pouty red lips, large round breasts sitting up proudly under a long flowing diaphanous gown, a small waist and long legs completed the package. Breath taking beauty, coupled with raw sexuality, she oozed sensuality from every pore of her being. A goddess amongst men. The blue flame died out as the light faded from the runes. Aaron looked at the woman, and then at the swords, and finally back to the woman. "Who are you?" he asked. "What are you? You talk to them as if they are sentient beings." "What?" she asked, clearly shocked. "You mean you don't know?" "Know what?" he asked. "I know that they are more then mere swords. I know that they are tied to my birthright, connected to the Rose Throne, whatever that is, and that they have some power, but nothing else." "Ah, that's what I meant," She quickly recovered. "They were crafted many, many years ago as a symbol of your people's fidelity, loyalty and fierceness. Just like a rose; beautiful, but with thorns. The Rose Throne was also a gift to your ancestors, and yes the swords are connected in power with the throne." "As to who I am," She smiled. "I am Melody, Goddess of Music and Love. I am the patron of bards and minstrels. I'm not going to hurt you, you can put your swords away." "What are you doing here?" Aaron asked as he sheathed his swords and bent over and picked up his pipe tapping it out. "What do you want with me?" "Oh, modest as well," she laughed. "I wanted to meet Lady Rannath's famed Paladin." "Well met, lady. I do not know about the famed part though, more likely infamous," Aaron swept his hand bowing, clearly taken by her beauty. "Has anyone ever told you fair lady, that your voice has a certain ... melody?" "Ooh, witty as well as yummy," Lady Melody cooed. "I like him already." "Back off sister!" Lady Melody heard in her head, and laughed again. "Hey, I meant no harm," she projected mentally, "I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I know he is yours." "You can look, but do not touch," Lady Rannath warned. "You have always shared your toys before," Melody laughed. "I just wanted to borrow him for awhile." "No Melody!" Rannath growled, raising her voice. "Not this time. Besides, you know what would happen if you were to lie with him, even just once." "Yuck!" Melody exclaimed. "Thanks for reminding me, that is just what I want, some screaming brat running around, tying me down." All Aaron heard was Lady Melody laugh several times while staring at him. Looking around he asked, "Lady Melody, are you all right?" "Yes, I'm fine," she answered, and then under her breathe, "Your patron is a little possessive." She continued louder, "I wanted to meet you and determine your worth for myself, so I sought you out. I like what I see and so I pledge you my aid, and the aid of my disciples if your are ever in need." "That is most kind Lady," Aaron bowed and kissed her hand. "I may have need of any and all aid, before my time is done. Again thank you." "Travel carefully," Lady Melody giggled, "you never know where danger lurks." She blew him a kiss and faded from view. Aaron relit his pipe and pondered everything that had just happened. He pulled Black Rose and inspected the blade. "What secrets do you hold Black Rose?" he wondered out loud, "and how am I going to figure them out?" He sighed, placed the sword back in its scabbard and tapped out his pipe. After taking a look around to make sure he had not forgotten or left anything, he mounted Thorn and continued on to Dria. Aaron had made this particular journey many times growing up. Intrigued by the story of how his mother found him, he tried on several occasions to find the infamous clearing, but to no avail. Now that no longer mattered, he was certain Black Rose could return him to the site of his discovery, and Ashanna's death at any time. Even though he was no stranger to this road, traveling through this small section of the Thangdaemon forest always made him anxious. He knew all the stories concerning the forest, but it was difficult to separate fact from fiction, but what he did know was; that no one left the road upon entering the forest for anything. As the road entered the forest his discomfort increased. "This is stupid," he thought. "I will not be controlled by ghost stories and old wives tales." He settled his nerves and continued on. As he travelled farther in to the forest he felt a pull, an almost uncontrollable desire to turn east, and plunge head long into the depths of the forest. "Something is pulling me," he thought. "Actually calling to my spirit, My Lady, give me strength." Immediately he felt warmth flow through his very being and the pull lessened and faded away. He thought he heard a low moan and scream of frustration coming from the forest. "I am doing this to myself," he thought, "focus Aaron, focus." He shook off the feeling got his emotions in check and continued on. Soon the road opened up as he made his way out of the forest and into the foothills of the Dragon's Back Mountains. A cold wind blew down from the mountains, as the sky began to darken. Storm clouds gathered over the forest and a cold rain began to fall. Dria was no more then a couple hours away, and Aaron quickened Thorn's pace. ------- Chapter 9 Dria was a mining town, situated in the foothills of the Dragon's Back Mountains, off the side of The Old Kings' Highway which turned easterly and entered the Thangdaemon Forest. Since no sane person would ever enter the forest, all traffic stopped at Dria. Dirt streets and shanty homes gave way to a more permanent settlement some years ago. Although the streets were cobblestone and the homes and buildings were better built now, the mining town atmosphere still permeated the town. Hard men worked the silver and gold mines and hard men filled the taverns and taprooms at night. The weather was miserable by the time Aaron reached the town. Although only early evening, the sky was completely dark and a cold drizzly rain fell, soaking to the skin anyone unfortunate enough to be out in it as Aaron was. He planned to stop at the first tavern that also had an inn, and the "Cracked Kettle" filled that requirement. Stopping at the front, he had just dismounted when a young lad appeared, seemingly out of nowhere and addressed him. "Are you staying the night, good sir?" he asked. "If you are, then I'll take your horse to the stable, rub him down and feed him. Just let me sister know." "Yes, I am staying at least one night," Aaron replied, handing the boy a silver piece. "That is a little extra, but I want good care for my horse. His name is Thorn, and he loves apples." Aaron removed his saddle bags as the boy pocketed the coin and led Thorn off by his reins. Aaron entered the tavern, stamping his feet, trying to shed some of the water off his cloak. He had just finished brushing off the droplets when a rather large drunk man bumped into him. "Watch where you are going pipsqueak," the man grumbled, "and watch where you are throwing that water around." "Watch yourself," Aaron growled, throwing back the hood of his cloak. The man spun around fists clenched, but before he could comment further or start something, Red Rose flashed out drawing a line across the man's throat. The man staggered back putting his hand to his throat, feeling the razor like wound starting to seep blood and then looked at Aaron in shock and surprise. Aaron did not give him time to ponder as he continued his pivot pulling Black Rose and placing the point at the man's adams apple, sweeping Red Rose back toward anyone coming up to help the man. "You better think quickly," Aaron growled. "You have insulted me, and I have marked you in return, so we are even in my book. If you press the issue, you will be meeting your patron this very evening." Aaron looked to his left to ensure that no one was coming to the drunk's aid, and noticed blood on the tip of Red Rose. "Damn, you have gotten blood on my sword," Aaron remarked, wiping his sword on the man's shirt. "Now back your arse out of this tavern, or die where you stand." The man's eyes grew as big as saucers as he saw the silver tipped black cord tying back Aaron's hair, recognizing a SwordMaster's knot. The man sobered fast, realizing he was as close to death as ever in his life, placed his hands palm out and slowly backed out of the tavern. Aaron watched him leave, and after making sure he would not return, sheathed his swords and made his way to the bar. "I would like a room for the next two days, possibly longer," Aaron told the woman behind the counter, "and the boy outside put my horse up in the stable." "Very good sir," the woman looked at Aaron. "I'm sorry about what happened at the front door, that is not normal in my inn. Room and board are 30 copper a night, paid in advance." "This should cover it," Aaron handled her two silver pieces. "I would like dinner and ale brought to a table." "Have a seat and I will have it sent out right away," She smiled, slipping the coins in her apron. "And sir, just a warning, but Ole' Abe does not like being made a fool of. He would not come at you directly, if you get my meaning, but he will want satisfaction." "Sara, just you mind your own business," a miner to her left remarked. "Do not you tell me what to do in my own place," Sara yelled, pulling out a cudgel from behind the bar. "You are done here, get out and find your drink somewhere else." Aaron slowly pivoted toward the miner and watched as he left the bar, turned back to Sara, "Thank you for the information." Aaron left the bar and went into the dinning room in search of a table. "Well, Guardsman Aaron, what a pleasant surprise." Reg spoke, standing up from his table. "Here, sit with me. I see you have been promoted," pointing at the cord in Aaron's hair. His eyes twinkled with mirth, "I thought you were more than a mere guardsman." Reginald Ravensblade, harpist for the Lady Melody, Goddess of music, was a well groomed, handsome man. Shoulder length brown hair framed an oval face with dimpled cheeks when he smiled, which was often. Brown eyes that twinkled when he laughed and a lilting voice. He was of medium height, well fed but fit, clothes immaculately tailored, adept with both harp and longsword. "Reginald, what a surprise," Aaron looked around and then sat down, "are you passing through or playing here?" "Now Aaron, I thought we were friends," Reg sounded hurt. "I thought I told you to call me Reg." Perking up he continued, "no, not playing or passing through, I told you I go where My Lady tells me to." His eyes twinkled again, "She said to tell you hi." He continued softly, "I am at your disposal." "Wait," Aaron replied, "so that was not a chance meeting in that inn a couple of weeks back?" "Oh, that was chance all right," Reg remarked, "or fate, providence or whatever you want to call it. No, I have been in the area for more than a week when My Lady directed me to come to this inn and wait for you. I had other business in Dria, but now I am here to help you. How may I be of service?" "You cannot," Aaron shook his head. "I do not need any help here. It was nice to see you again, but my business here is solitary in nature." "Well, nevertheless," Reg shrugged, "I will hang around for awhile, since that is what My Lady wants. If you need me then I will be available." "Suit yourself," Aaron shrugged and ate his dinner. After dinner Aaron excused himself and made his way to his room, which was at the end of the hall on the right. With only the one entry to the hall and no windows in the room, it provided good security but little in the way of escape if necessary, but Aaron had little choice. After entering the room he slid the bed over blocking the door, and cleaned up, laid out his bedroll to take a nap. After several hours Aaron was refreshed and ready for his night time excursion. Ensuring that the hall was empty, he made his way past the dining room and bar and out the front door into the darkness. The rain had stopped and the cloud cover kept the moon at bay. Aaron stopped at a mercantile and liberated a dozen red roses from the hot house in the rear, again contemplating a more permanent solution to acquiring his new token. Aaron searched for, and found, an observation point across from the local Temple of the Hand, and waited. About an hour later a cleric came out, and headed down the street, Aaron shadowing at a discreet distance. The cleric came to a small home, opened the door and went inside. Aaron observed lanterns being lit inside and after checking the street, crossed over and up to the side wall of the home. Circling around the perimeter he observed a back door as well as several windows. After waiting for the lanterns to extinguish, Aaron gently jimmied a window and slipped inside the home. Following the noise of snoring, he slipped through the partially opened door and entered the bedroom, finding the cleric asleep in the bed. Aaron silently moved over to the bed, placed his hand over the cleric's mouth, a dagger to his throat and woke him up. The cleric initially struggled until he felt the point of the dagger his eyes wide with fear staring at Aaron. "Now, you are going to tell me what I want to know," Aaron whispered, "or you will never see the light of day. Nod if you understand." After the cleric nodded, Aaron continued, "I want the names and addresses of the ten most influential members of your church." After the cleric gave the information to him, Aaron slit his throat, left a red rose on his chest, and faded into the night. The first nine visits after the cleric went exactly the same. Aaron entered their bed chambers, slit their throats while they were sleeping, and left a red rose on their bodies. The tenth visit started the same; Aaron quietly slipped in through an open window, down a hallway, through a slightly ajar door and into the bed chamber of the last victim. He place his hand over the man's mouth, woke him and was just about to drag his knife over the man's throat when a small child sat up and stared at Aaron in fear. The man who was awake by now, tried to shield the little girl with his left arm, all the while staring at Aaron with a pleading look in his eyes. Aaron's mind flashed back to the night of the massacre and he shuddered with the memory, "never again," he thought. "I am not going to hurt your Pa," Aaron sighed, looking at the little girl. "It will be alright, just lie down." Looking at the man, Aaron growled, "Take this message. I have declared vendetta against the God Thief. Any that side with him will meet the same fate as the ones before you. Do you understand?" The man just looked up at Aaron, and nodded quickly. His eyes looking over at his child, and then back at Aaron. "She is your salvation," Aaron declared, "do not disappoint her." And with that, Aaron removed his knife, dropped a red rose on the bed, and disappeared into the night. He returned to the Temple, piled objects around the altar, started a blaze and slipped out the back. A few blocks away, Aaron paused to check for pursuit and after finding none, slowly made his way back to the Inn and returned to his room. Aaron had not been back long enough to remove his swords when the door burst in and two men entered expecting to find Aaron asleep. What they found was a wide awake, armed and extremely angry Swordmaster. Aaron pulled both swords and leaped to the attack. The man to Aaron's left had no time to defend himself, as Red Rose entered his chest, passed through his heart out his back and stuck in the beams of the wall, pinning him like an insect on display. Aaron released his grip on Red Rose, pulled a dagger from his back and pivoted to face the other attacker. The man swung a club down catching Arron on the shoulder of his off hand, stunning the arm causing Aaron to drop his dagger. Aaron grimaced in pain, but still had presence of mind to slash upward with Black Rose severing the club arm at the elbow and then brought Black Rose down through the attacker's neck, killing him instantly. Aaron wiped his sword off on the dead man and sheathed it. Turning to the first attacker, he pulled Red Rose free of the wall and the man, cleaning it and sheathing it as well. As he bent to pick up his fallen dagger the Nightwatch burst into the room swords drawn. "Are you alright milord?" the sergeant asked, taking in the scene. "Miss Sara heard the fighting and fearing the worst called for the Nightwatch. We came as quickly as possible." Eyeing Aaron suspiciously, "can you tell me what happened?" "I was in bed when these two broke down my door and attempted to kill me while I was asleep," Aaron replied, trying to rub some feeling back into his left shoulder. "It's a good thing that I'm a light sleeper or the scene might have been reversed." "Yes, very good thing indeed," the sergeant replied. "I was wondering milord, do you make it a habit to sleep fully clothed, wearing arms?" "Only when I sleep in a strange bed, in a strange town," Aaron replied with a grin. "And most especially after having an altercation with a drunk miner, just hours before." "So you had an argument earlier with one of your assailants?" the sergeant asked. "Which one?" "The one on the floor there " Aaron replied pointing. "Is something the matter sergeant? You seem far more interested in me then these two." "Do you mind telling me your business in Dria?" the sergeant countered. "When did you arrived, and how long do you plan to stay?" "Yes, I do mind," Aaron replied. "I was attacked and you're asking questions as if I'm accused of something. You had better tread lightly sergeant, you don't know where this may take you." "Is that a threat milord?" the sergeant asked. "I don't take kindly to threats, no, not at all." "I really don't care what you take kindly to," Aaron growled. "If you have nothing further, I suggest you back yourself and your men out of this room. I am a patient man sergeant, but you are sorely trying." With that Aaron moved over to the doorway, and swung his shoulder back into the door frame, popping the shoulder back into joint. "You see milord, there's been a fire," the sergeant explained, "and several murders and now this. I'm just trying to determine if they are related." "I don't see how," Aaron replied. "I made an enemy earlier and he tried to seek retribution. I have no knowledge concerning anything else that may have happened this evening. I'll ask you again, is there anything further?" "No, milord. Nothing further, for now," the sergeant answered. "Although there may be more questions in the morning, Good night milord." He turned and left the room. While the sergeant was questioning Aaron, his men had removed the bodies, while several servants had cleaned up the room. The door, however, was un-repairable, and would have to be rebuilt by a carpenter. Aaron noticed that Miss Sara was waiting outside the room along with Reg. "Good sir, I have another room available for you," Miss Sara explained. "I'll have to get a carpenter in tomorrow to fix the door and then the room will have to be cleaned before it is habitable again." "That's fine, Miss Sara," Aaron replied, removing 2 gold pieces from his pouch. "This should cover any damage and any inconvenience. I'll just gather my things and you can show me to my new room." After Aaron gathered his things, he followed the innkeeper to his new room, noting that Reg tagged along. After thanking Miss Sara for her trouble and bidding her a goodnight, he turned to Reg, "Yes?" "Nothing, just making sure you're all right," Reg shrugged. "That was a pretty nice display of swordsmanship, they never stood a chance. How's the shoulder?" "Sore and tender," Aaron replied, "I have some herbs and it should be feeling better in the morning. I learned a long time ago, when you fight, fight to win. Wounded adversaries are still adversaries, the only way to stop a threat is to eliminate it." "Well, they wont be bothering you any more, that's for sure," Reg chuckled. "You're sure you don't want me to look at that shoulder, I have some small skill in the healing arts?" "No, really, I'm fine," Aaron replied, "I just need what sleep there is left tonight. I probably won't see you at breakfast, I have errands first thing in the morning. Goodnight Reg." Reg bade him goodnight as well and retired to his own room. Aaron closed the door and moved the bed over to block the doorway. After treating his shoulder with an herb poultice, he spread out his bedroll, undressed and went to sleep. ------- Chapter 10 Aaron was up at first light. The shoulder was still sore, but after a half an hour of exercise and another of sword practice it was no longer tight, and he didn't feel limited with Red Rose. After cleaning up he was out the inn door before most lodgers were even awake. "Might as well get this over with first," he thought, as he made his way to the Village Master's residence and local government seat. Upon arriving, he gave a clerk his letter of introduction by the Council and King and waited in an antechamber for the Village Master. A few moments later the door opened and two men stepped over toward Aaron. "Lord Blackmoon, so very nice to meet you," the Village Master greeted Aaron holding out his hand. After realizing that Aaron wasn't going to take it he coughed and continued. "My name is Nigel Weaver and this is Sergeant Randall." "The sergeant and I have already met," Aaron smiled. "Sergeant, how goes your investigation?" "Well, milord, it has come to a halt," The Sergeant explained. "Recent information has caused me to rethink the direction I was initially going with it." "Yes, I would imagine so," Aaron smiled again, turning to Master Weaver. "Perhaps we could continue our conversation inside?" "Yes, milord, right this way," Master Weaver pointed toward the open door, and then turned back to the sergeant. "That is all, Sergeant Randall, keep me informed if anything further is found concerning the deaths last night." The sergeant saluted them both and then left the residence still shaking his head. Master Weaver escorted Aaron into his office and bid him to sit and be comfortable, calling for refreshments. "Now, what can Dria and this office do for the Guilds Council and the King?" Weaver asked. "Certain tribute trains have been tampered with and I have uncovered a plot to overthrow the King," Aaron began, watching Weaver's expression. "Interesting enough, your name has come up in the midst of my investigation. Would you care to comment, Master Weaver?" "Milord, surely there has been some kind of mistake," Weaver replied, licking his lips nervously. "I can't imagine how I could be linked with, with treason." "No, Master Weaver, I'm fairly confident my information is correct," Aaron leaned forward, pulling Red Rose. "It was made as a dying declaration if you get my meaning? Now what I want to know is, who else is involved with you, specifically who in Aithen?" ------- Lord Beadle hurried down the hallway toward Chamberlain Walton's office. As he approached the door the guards on either side came to attention. He turned to the guard on the left and asked, "Is Chamberlain Walton in?" The guard nodded in the affirmative and Beadle knocked on the door. After hearing "Enter", he opened the door and went inside where Walton was sitting at his desk. "Lord Colin, please come in and have a seat," Chamberlain Walton stood in greeting. "How may I be of service?" His Grace, Duke Colin Beadle, was a short heavyset man with short brown hair, thinning at the temples and streaked with gray. Brown eyes set close together over a rather large, red bulbous nose, which overlooked a thin-lipped small mouth. An impeccably dressed and well fed man, whose family had made its fortune in mercantile procurement and shipment, rising to power within the Merchants' Guild. His Great-Grandfather purchased the title of Duke from the then King, and the family expanded its fortune, influence and aristocracy ever since. The current Duke had his eyes set on the ultimate prize of kingship, and nothing had better stand in his way. "Good morning, Chamberlain Walton," Lord Beadle began, "I need to see the King on a very important matter." Chamberlain Walton was a contrast to Lord Beadle. Tall and thin, with gray soft eyes set evenly apart. Long white hair pulled back in a queue banded in several places down the length, reached the middle of his back. His simple grey robe of a Sorcerer, trimmed in purple, denoted his station as advisor to the King. "What is the nature of your meeting?" The Chamberlain asked. "So that I may inform His Majesty." "It is a private matter," Beadle explained. "One that involves the King and Lord Aaron. It is important that I see the King right away." "All right, Lord Colin," Walton stood. "If you will follow me please, the King is in his residence. I'll take you to his private audience chamber, and let him know you are waiting." "Thank you," Lord Beadle stood and followed the Chamberlain. "How is the Queen feeling this morning?" "As well as could be expected," the Chamberlain replied. "She has her good days and her bad. She isn't going to get any better, the King has finally come to terms with that. The fall damaged her brain and even the best healers cannot repair that. The King has resigned himself to her ultimate fate, and with no offspring he will have to name an heir soon." "Yes, ugly business, the passing of the crown," Lord Beadle commented. After making sure that Lord Beadle was comfortable in the private chambers, Chamberlain Walton went to the bed chambers of the Queen, where the King was sitting quietly at her bed side. Thane Blackmoon was in his 20th year of reign as Aithen's king. His life until five years ago was idyllic to say the least. Married to his sweetheart, ruling during a time of prosperity and growth, war free, all that his father had strived for finally bearing fruit. All except a child; the people would have loved either a son or a daughter as heir, but Thane and his wife could produce neither. The secret whispers about putting her aside, reached his ears, but he couldn't, wouldn't betray her that way. Even after the riding accident which left her an invalid, he wouldn't hear of such talk. No, his heart was dying in front of his eyes, and with it the hope of a child. He knew he should name an heir soon, probably a while ago, but he couldn't, holding out hope that she would get better, would bear him an heir. Realizing now, that those dreams were dead, even as she lay dying. "Your Majesty?" Walton whispered, "might I have a word with you, outside?" "Is it important Walton?" the King sighed. Knowing full well that Walton would not have disturbed him if it was not. "Yes, let us step outside." "Your Majesty, Lord Colin is waiting in your private audience chamber," Walton explained. "He said it was an important yet private matter, concerning you and Lord Aaron." "Has Aaron returned?" the King asked. "No, Majesty, he has not," Walton answered. "All right, let's go and see what that pompous ass wants," the King replied. "I want you to stay even if Lord Colin pitches a fit, I don't trust that man or his intentions." "I agree, Your Majesty," Walton nodded his head. "I don't trust him either." When they entered the chamber, Lord Colin stood and bowed, "Your Majesty, thank you for seeing me on such short notice." "Nonsense, Lord Colin. I always have time for you and House Beadle," the King replied smiling. "Please be seated. Now, Chamberlain Walton says that the reason for your visit is personal and involves Lord Aaron?" "Yes, Your Majesty," Beadle looked at Chamberlain Walton before beginning. "The matter is somewhat delicate, Your Majesty, maybe we should be alone?" "That won't be necessary, Lord Beadle," the King replied. "Lord Walton is my trusted advisor." "Very good, Your Majesty," Lord Colin replied, clearly hearing his last name used. Speaking to himself, "I better tread lightly, I do not want to tip my hand prematurely." "Your Majesty," Lord Colin began, "I have received information concerning some heinous actions regarding lord Aaron, and I thought it should be brought to your attention. Lord Aaron is responsible for the deaths of two clerics and numerous people of Realto and Dria, all found with their throats slit, many still in their beds. Also two churches burnt to the ground, both Temples of the Hand. Apparently Lord Aaron is on some personal vendetta, killing some prominent citizens, including local high ranking Merchant's Guild members." "What is the nature of this vendetta?" the King asked. "I do not have those details, Your Majesty," Lord Colin replied. "The Guild would like to know what you intend to do about it?" "What I intend to do about it?" the King asked. "I do not even know if the information is accurate and you want to know what I intend to do? How reliable is your information?" "Very reliable, Your Majesty," Lord Colin replied. "We have informants in every city that the Guild operates in. This particular informant is above reproach." "We will wait until Lord Aaron returns," the King replied, "and then we will determine his involvement and proceed from there." "Very good, Your Majesty," Lord Colin remarked. "I know these allegations are certainly harsh, but given Lord Aaron's past, maybe we should not be shocked. Did he not butcher an entire village?" "He removed a brigand stronghold, his methods were severe, but they had in fact murdered his mother. You did not seem to mind when he was protecting the Council's interests," the King replied. "You have delivered your information Lord Beadle, if there is nothing more then this audience is concluded." "Nothing more, Your Majesty," Lord Colin replied. "Thank you for seeing me, one of your subjects." Lord Colin bowed, turned on his heel and left. "Your Majesty," Walton asked, "you do not think Aaron really did what Beadle said, do you?" "I am afraid, Lord Walton," the King replied, "that Aaron did exactly that and more. Lord Beadle knows that slander gets him nowhere, the truth is much more damning. Send word to Realto, I want to see Lord Aaron as soon as he returns to Aithen. I do not know all the details, but odds are that Aaron did exactly what Beadle alleges." ------- "Lord Blackmoon, please," Master Weaver cried, "if I tell you, then I am a dead man." "Master Weaver, you do not seem to appreciate the severity of your situation," Aaron smiled with that feral grin. "If you do not give me the information I want, then I am most certainly going to kill you; however, your death will be ever so slow and painful. Now which will it be, me here and now, or possibly someone else, farther down the road?" Master Weaver saw the wisdom of Aaron's argument and provided him with the names of all the co-conspirators as well as a signed document affirming his confession. It seemed that the House of Beadle was in play for the throne. Lord Colin, after maneuvering his way into the chairmanship of the Council had slowly manipulated events toward the goal of destabilizing the throne. Master Weaver was the nephew of Lord Colin on his mother's side and had enlisted the aid of Lady Thalia. Thalia thought she was conspiring with Master Weaver, to put Micah on the throne early, so she would be named regent, but actually, it was Beadle that wanted the regent title and after the demise of the young King, he would assume the throne. Some how, Master Wheatstone discovered the plot, but not the plotters and went to Lord Colin with the information and Lord Colin probably ordered his death but Weaver wasn't positive. More importantly, at least to Aaron, the Thieve's Guild was involved, specifically Master Briard's first assistant, to whom Lord Colin promised the Guildmaster title. Master Reynaldo was providing intel to Lord Colin, as well as keeping tabs on Masters Briard's and Aaron's activities. All in all, a very elaborate plot to overthrow the throne and remove the House of Blackmoon. Aaron had Master Weaver arrested and along with a copy of the signed confession sent to Realto for prosecution. He promoted Randall to Captain of the Guard and put him in charge of the village until a new Master was selected by the Duke. All in all, a long day and yet it was still morning. Bidding the new Captain a good day Aaron left the residence. Aaron's first stop was to a metalsmith, where he wanted new tokens made. Using a blank gold piece as the token, he had one side engraved with crossed roses and the other side with the guild mark of a third level master assassin. After okaying the finished design he repeated the process with the guild mark of a fourth level master thief. Pocketing the tokens he removed twenty gold pieces and had one side engraved with the crossed rose design and the other side with the rune symbol from the pommel gem of his swords. After paying the engraver both for the work and his silence Aaron left the shop. His next stop was the Sorcerers' Guild, where he described his idea for an enchanted bag that produced a specified item on demand. The Master got involved in the discussion and while the Master thought the idea had merit, the skill required to enchant the bag was beyond the local hall's ability. The Master did direct Aaron to the hall in Aithen or possibly Realto as well. Aaron then asked if a summoning spell could be placed on an item, which when used, could project danger or need to someone else. Basically what Aaron wanted was to place a spell on a gold coin, which allowed the bearer to think of Aaron and Aaron would know they were in danger or needed his help. The Masters explained that it could be done, so Aaron left ten of the newly engraved gold pieces to be enchanted. Aaron thanked them for their time and left the hall on his way back to the Inn. Aaron had only taken a few steps down the road when he was stopped by a young lad professing to be an apprentice at the guild who knew of an old Enchantress that lived north of town in one of the old mined out caves. He told Aaron that she had lived there for many years and possibly had sufficient skill and knowledge to construct the summoning-spell. He gave Aaron fairly specific directions to the cave and although leery, Aaron thanked the lad and gave him a silver piece and continued on towards the Inn. What Aaron did not notice was the lad dissolving into nothing and the silver piece falling to the ground. ------- Chapter 11 [authors note: while I was writing this chapter, one of my most favorite songs came on the radio, so I inserted a line from the song. It's not long and it's obscure, but see if you can find it] Upon returning to the Inn, Aaron met up with Reg while having lunch. During their discussion, Aaron mentioned that he was going to explore the area north of town and Reg having nothing better to do, still waiting on his Lady's direction, volunteered to accompany him. After lunch the two saddled their horses and headed north following the lad's directions. Their path ever winding north began to climb at an increasing rate until they reached a point where the horses became useless. Aaron and Reg dismounted letting the horses graze and continued on foot. The path they followed began to slowly fade from view, till it was little more than a game trail, yet still they climbed. After an hour the path leveled out toward the mouth of a cave in the distance, their destination they hoped and they picked up the pace. Reaching the mouth of the cave Aaron lit a torch and pulled Black Rose, looked at Reg for confirmation and after receiving a nod entered the cave. Reg pulled his own sword, lit a torch as well and followed in. The cave floor slanted down as they walked farther into what became a tunnel. "Aaron, is there some specific reason that we're in this cave?" Reg asked. "Not that I care over much, I just want to know what to expect." "Actually, Reg, I don't know what to expect," Aaron answered. "I was looking for someone and I was told she might be in here." "Aaron have you noticed the temperature has risen a little?" Reg remarked. "I would expect it to be cooler, not warmer." Aaron had just followed the bend of the cave to the left and began to notice runes engraved on the walls - and sure enough, it was warmer here then it was just a few paces back. "Aaron, I do not mean to complain," Reg began, "but, exactly who is this she you are looking for? This place is not normal. Did you feel that, my whole body just tingled, like standing too close to a lightning strike?" Aaron felt the tingle as well. It was exactly how Reg described it; it actually felt more like the numbing sensation he felt when he used that rod of healing belonging to Lady Rannath. Well, the feeling before the explosion of pain and the stripping of the skin and meat to the bone; now that feeling was completely different. Aaron stopped in front of door in a wooden wall across the cave, "Well I think we are about to find out." Putting Black Rose away, he searched the door and surrounding wall for traps or trip wires, not finding any, he cautiously checked the floor in front of the door. "Oh, come on in, there aren't any traps," Aaron heard from the other side of the door and then after looking over to Reg, shrugged his shoulders and opened the door. "Don't bring those filthy torches in here, they'll stink up the place and hurry up you're letting in a draft." After putting out their torches, Aaron and Reg stepped in to a fully furnished parlor. Tapestries and paintings hung from the walls, a large rug covered the floor, a fire crackling in a hearth off to their right and a bookshelf taking up the whole of one wall. In front of them a long blonde wood staff with black metal heels leaned against a cloak stand next to a large wing-backed chair, where a little old grandmotherly lady sat eyeing them curiously, holding a teacup and smoking a long clay pipe. "Well, don't just stand there gawking," she exclaimed, chuckling and taking a sip of her tea. "Sit down, sit down." "And you two," eyeing Aaron intently. "You just behave yourselves and we'll get along just fine." By now Aaron was used to comments addressed to his swords so he just shrugged. The woman was old, silver hair hung in curls framing a gentle face, once probably beautiful, but now worn by time. Grey eyes tilted upward at the outside corners, straight eyebrows following the tilt of the eye and pointy ears, clearly an Elf or of Elven blood, small of stature, yet radiating power. Aaron could feel the power tingling his skin, a different tingle than what he felt in the cave. Delicate fingers held the teacup, unadorned with the exception of a single black band on the index finger of her right hand. A simple black robe, gathered at the waist by a gold sash, enhanced a nice (at one time, long ago) bust. Aaron turned around looking for chairs and when finding none had just turned back to ask where, when two large stuffed chairs materialized out of the nowhere, actually grew right out of the floor. Looking at Reg, Aaron sat down in the most comfortable chair ever. Reg eyeing Aaron warily, waiting for something to happen; when it did not he sheathed his sword, shrugged his shoulders and sat as well. "I suppose introductions are in order," she stated. "My name is Mara, not Miss Mara, nor Lady Mara, just Mara and this is my parlor." Putting down her teacup and spreading her hands out wide, "I know who both of you are, so we can dispense with that and get down to why you are here." "First, the carrot," reaching behind her and picking up a cloth sack and handing it to Aaron. "Is this what you had in mind?" Aaron took the sack, opened it and looked inside and after finding nothing looked back at Mara, "What is this?" "You are dense, are you not, boy?" she sighed, shaking her head. "Think about what you want, and then open the sack." Aaron nodded and thought of a red rose, opened the sack and pulled out a perfect long stem red rose, freshly cut with dew still on the petals. "Better than I expected," Aaron replied. "How did you know, and what do I owe you?" "Well, boy, I'm not wanting coin, if that's what you're thinking," Mara smirked. "No, I require a trade, tit for tat. As for how I knew, well, let's just say I make it my business to know what's going on around Dria. I heard that you were looking for a specific, high value magical item, and thought we might do business together. So, are you interested?" "Well, Mara, that depends," Aaron smiled back. "The sack certainly exceeds my expectations, that is true. What is it you want, balanced against the sack?" "Now the bargaining begins," Mara smiled back. "For reasons left unasked or answered, I am unable to travel as I once did, yet I still yearn to know the events of the day, outside of Dria. There is a scrying stone that would allow me to remain here, yet able to see events as they happen. I require you to acquire said stone in payment for the sack." "Okay, bring you this stone and I get to keep the sack," Aaron tapped his chin, seemingly to ponder the task. "That sounds too simple, too easy, compared to the sack. There must be something you're not saying, what is it?" "Not as dense as I first thought," Mara replied. "Now the stick; the stone is located in a treasure room, within a dungeon below a castle in the middle of a forest. The location I'll keep to myself until we have an agreement." "Let me get this straight," Reg exclaimed, entering the discussion. "You want us to accept this task without any knowledge of the risks, compared to the reward?" Turning to Aaron, "and yes I said "us", I'll be going with you. This must be why My Lady directed me to Dria and you." "Well, I rather doubt that," Mara eyed Reg, "don't take me for a fool boy. I'm not giving up the location for you two to turn down the task and acquire the stone for yourselves, or, to try and bargain a better deal. Now what's it going to be boy? Yes or ... No. I can wait all night." "I'll accept your bargain," Aaron replied. "The sack now, and I bring you this stone at a later date. I have some unfinished business that I must attend to first and then I'll be free to start your task." "Fair enough, boy," Mara stood, extending her hand. "I'll let you take the sack now and you'll bring me the stone within three moon cycles. Oh, and the stone is a gemstone the size of a melon, perfectly round, polished and black, you should find it in a lacquered box, also black. Bring me the box and all, but don't touch the stone." Aaron reached out his hand to shake when Mara stopped him, "Uh-uh boy, remove the glove, our contract requires skin to skin to seal the deal." Aaron removed the glove on his right hand and reached out, grasping Mara's hand. Sparks flew and electricity raced up Aaron's arm. His heart raced and sweat beaded up on his forehead and he felt a stirring in his loins, yet he couldn't let go. After what seemed like hours, but was only a few moments Mara released his hand. Pulling a handkerchief from within her sleeve, she delicately mopped her brow, "I did not see that coming." Looking up into Aaron's face she giggled a rather ungrandmotherly giggle, "Was it good for you too?" Aaron still in a daze just sat back down in his chair. Reg moved over to his side and gently shook him, "Aaron are you all right?" "I will be all right, just give me a moment," he replied slowly, holding up a finger. After a moment of reflection he put his glove on, shook his head and looked over at Mara, "Alright, now where is this castle?" "It is south-west of here in the Thangdaemon forest," she answered. "Follow the Old Kings' Highway into the forest and you will find a castle there, and obviously the dungeon is underground below the castle. There is a treasure room off the dungeon, where the stone is located. Remove the box and bring it here to me, and remember, do not touch the stone, that's for your own protection. Any questions?" "Several come to mind," Reg remarked. "First and foremost; is the castle occupied?" "Was the last time I was there," Mara smiled, "but that was a long time ago. The previous occupants are all but gone. I would imagine that the place is protected and the treasure room is guarded." "What about any other treasure?" Reg asked. "What about it?" Mara replied. "It is of no concern to me. Keep it if you want. There should be valuables, priceless objects, relics and artifacts. I only want the stone. Anything else?" "No," Aaron interjected. "That answers any questions I have, concerning the castle. You obviously know who I am; can you tell me anything about that?" "Boy," she replied, "that is a discussion best left for another day. How about after you bring me the stone, we sit down over a cup of tea and I tell you the whole sordid tale? Does that sound good to you?" "Yes," Aaron replied. "I will hold you to it." "I would rather you just held me," Mara chuckled. "Now if there's nothing further, I need my nap and you should be off, do not forget the sack. And boy, do not be narrow-minded about it, you hear? Now be off with you." She picked up her teacup and stared at them. Aaron stood, thanked her, turned, opened the door and stepped out into daylight near where the horses were grazing. Looked at Reg, who was standing with his mouth open, "Why do I get the feeling, she is not some little old grandmotherly Enchantress?" "Oh, she's an Enchantress all right," Reg replied, nodding his head. "But, definitely not grandmother material, and I think her definition of enchantress might be just a little bit different than ours. The Thangdaemon forest of all places! Oh this ought to be intriguing, yes very intriguing. What do you think she meant about the narrow-minded crack?" "I do not know, Reg," Aaron just shook his head. "There is a whole lot about that entire encounter I do not understand. Look; you do not have to go with me. I mean I will take the company and the extra sword, but I get the feeling this is not just going to be in and out with the stone." "I already spoke my mind," Reg replied. "Nothing further to add, I am hungry, let us get dinner." The mounted their horses and returned to Dria. Aaron's business there was finished; the Village Master already on his way to Realto, the Captain in charge until relieved. Nothing left to do but eat dinner, enjoy a little harping by Reg, make preparations to leave for Realto in the morning and turn in for the night. ------- Chapter 12 Aaron met Reg in the dining hall early the next morning. After breakfast and settling up with Miss Sara, they gathered their things, saddled their horses and, after squaring accounts with the Sorcerer's Guild and retrieving the gold pieces, were off for Realto. Aaron intended to spend one day in Realto to say goodbye and make sure that Master Weaver was dealt with and then leave for Aithen. He was thinking of asking Reg to just stay at the duchy while he returned to the Capital when his thoughts were interrupted. "What are your plans after Realto?" Reg asked. "I figured I would tag along just in case, while you take care of your unfinished business. My Lady has given me no indication one way or the other." "Well," Aaron began, "I was going to ask you to stay in Realto and I would meet up with you after I was finished. I have to go to Aithen, and if you want you are welcome to accompany me. I have commitments there that I have to discharge and then I'll be free to head out." "They are delicate in nature," Aaron smiled, "we may have to leave Aithen in a hurry." "I get the feeling," Reg laughed, "that most things with you are going to be delicate in nature. What exactly do you do for a living, if you do not mind me asking?" "No, I do not mind," Aaron replied, "it will come out soon enough anyway. I work as an investigator and general troubleshooter for the Guild Council, but more importantly I am the adopted son of the Duke of Realto." "So... , that would make you the nephew of the King of Aithen," Reg looked at him in surprise. "Wow, you are the Crown Prince." "Well, not exactly," Aaron sighed. "I abdicated in favor of the Duke's natural son. You will meet them tonight, that is why we will be staying the night in Realto." Aaron had just reached up to scratch Thorn's ear after he whinnied, when an arrow whizzed by his left ear. Aaron sprung back and to his right performed a tuck and roll landing on his feet with swords in his hands as arrows whizzed by right and left. Smacking Thorn on the hindquarters to get him moving he turned and moved into the tree line for cover when he felt a thud and burning sensation in his left thigh. Again, the rune in the center of the signet ring on Aaron's left hand flared, longer this time and Aaron felt a tingle throughout his body. "Damn, I have been hit by an arrow," he leaned back behind a tree and looked down at the damage. The arrow was sticking through the meaty part of the thigh with the tip sticking out the other side. Putting his swords away he felt down to the tip and back along the shaft, "barbed arrows, good thing the head is sticking out." Breaking off the fletched end he pushed the shaft through the wound and out the other side. No blood pumped out of either wound site, so no arterial damage, but blood was flowing down his leg. Inspecting the arrow reveled a green sticky substance, "a Dark Elf's arrow and it is poisoned." Touching the tip of his tongue in it Aaron exclaimed, "wyvern venom, I do not have much time." Reaching into his cloak and pulling out an oilskin pouch, he removed three dried green leaves, put them in his mouth and began to chew them to extract the juice. He then removed a small vial of white powder and after slitting his pants sprinkled the powder into both sides of the wound. After ensuring that he extracted every bit of juice, he spit out the chewed leaf remains and called out to Reg, "Be careful, they are Dark Elves and their arrows are barbed and poisoned as well. Are you all right?" Several arrows struck the trunk of the tree he was hiding behind. "I am fine for now," Reg called out to Aaron's left. "They have me pinned down behind a tree. Be careful yourself, they are probably circling around to get us in a crossfire." "I have got it covered," Aaron replied, looking to his right. Removing a pouch from his cloak, he removed two sections of a finely woven spider's web, covered both sides of the wound and using a cloth strip, he bandaged the thigh tightly. Testing the thigh and leg proved that he could move on it, the pain greatly diminished. Waiting several moments to check for numbness or paralyzes, symptoms of wyvern venom poisoning, revealed neither. "Okay, time to get back into this fight," pulling both swords, he looked to his right in the opposite direction to where he thought Reg was, and seeing nothing he moved to the next tree there. Slowly making his way from tree to tree, putting some distance between him and the tree he was behind initially. Working his way to the edge of the road, he checked to make sure it was clear, darted across and hid behind a tree waiting. When no arrows came he slowly started working his way back toward where the initial attack came from. ------- Reg, hearing nothing else from Aaron moved to the next tree. "Dark Elves, just great," he thought as he sneaked to another tree, trying to shield himself. Holding still, waiting for the attack - when it did not come, moved to the next tree, working down the tree line, looking for a good location to cross the road. ------- Aaron paused and listened for any movement, pushing his senses outward, listening for any sound out of the ordinary. Wait, up ahead to his right, he heard movement and there, another and another. He tracked four different sounds moving in his direction. Silently climbing the tree he was hiding behind, he laid in wait. The name Dark Elf was a misnomer, since they were not Elves or related to Elves. Although they have certain elvish characteristics like almond shaped eyes, arched brows and pointy ears, they also have very un-elvish characteristics like fangs, talons instead of fingernails and of course the color of their skin. All known Elf races have the same smooth, pale skin, while Dark Elves are extremely dark skinned. The common tongue translation of their name is "Stealth Warrior" or "Shadow Warrior". They live underground in small clans or tribes and frequently fight amongst themselves. They do not build their own lairs, rather they routinely invade the tunnels of Gnomes and Goblins, enslaving the inhabitants. They do not interbreed or trade with the other races, although they are known to take slaves, both as sex slaves and to work in their mines. They are fierce warriors with a unique honor code and they fight to the death, never surrendering. They routinely use poison, normally wyvern venom, since they use wyvern as mounts. They do not tolerate trespass on their lands as Aaron found out several years before. While on an intelligence gathering mission for the Guild, he was caught and imprisoned for several months, enduring various forms of torture until he finally made his escape. The fact that he had penetrated deeply into their lair and later escaped, impressed the Dark Elves and they named him "Shadow Thief". Dark elves are a formidable foe, not to be taken lightly. Moments later four Dark Elves passed under the tree Aaron was hiding in, moving in the direction Aaron came from. Dropping out of the tree pulling both swords Aaron lunged forward with Black Rose stabbing the warrior to his right through the heart while slashing across with Red Rose spilling the intestines of the warrior directly in front. Spinning to his left Aaron caught the far left warrior under the chin with Red Rose slitting his throat and finally going down on his left knee skewering the warrior directly in front. After checking all four were dead, Aaron moved diagonally south-west away from the battle site. He paused behind a tree several paces away to ensure that there was no pursuit and after finding none continued on his track toward the initial ambush site. Aaron heard fighting up ahead, so he quickly moved from tree to tree trying to get closer. He came upon a small clearing were Reg was engaged with two warriors. Watching Reg wield his sword was a sight to be held; the way he jumped and spun, attacked, defended, counter-attacked was poetry in motion. Aaron had originally thought Reg a bit of a dandy, but he quickly revised his opinion. Reginald Ravensblade was a seriously deadly adversary. Reg quickly dispatched his foes and Aaron noticed another fallen warrior at Reg's feet, bringing the total of known Dark Elves to seven. Aaron quickly scouted around, thinking there might be more, motioning Reg in the opposite direction. In overlapping circles they moved back and forth covering the immediate area to no avail. Circling back around he discovered the initial ambush sight and after inspecting the signs determined that there were eight sets of tracks in the area. Aaron counted four heading north in the direction of his encounter and three south in the direction of Reg's. He also found three headed toward the base of a tree but only two headed away. Looking up he saw a female gagged and tied up on a branch. Motioning Reg to cover him, Aaron sheathed his swords and climbed up the tree. "I am going to remove your gag," Aaron told the frightened girl. "Please do not call out, I am not going to hurt you but there may be more Dark Elves around." After receiving a quick nod from the girl Aaron gently cut the gag and removed it. "Now I am going to cut your bonds, hands first so you can grab me, okay?" "Yes," she croaked. Again Aaron gently cut the bonds at her wrists and she immediately grabbed Aaron around the neck holding tight. Aaron then removed the rest of her bonds, held her by the waist and slowly climbed back down the tree. Once on the ground Aaron checked her over for injuries, finding none, told her to just rest and turned to Reg and asked him to fetch the horses and the water skin from Thorn. Reg rounded up the horses and brought Aaron his water skin, which he gave to the girl, cautioning her to only take sips. After several sips she told them her tale. Her name was Isabelle, she was 16 years old and a sorcerer's apprentice for the past 8 years. She had been traveling to Realto in the company of her master to be tested for full status in the Sorcerers' Guild. They were traveling from Mela when they were ambushed by the Dark Elves. They killed her master, captured her, and tied her up in a tree and then laid in wait for the next unlucky travelers. She had been up in the tree since yesterday noon time with no food or drink. She thought her life was over until she saw Aaron follow the tracks to the base of the tree. Over, and over, she thanked them and told Aaron that he had saved her from a fate worse than death. Thinking back on his time with the Dark Elves, Aaron had to agree. Aaron told her it looked like the Dark Elves ended up being the unlucky ones which brought a small smile to her face. After an hour passed, she was strong enough to travel so Aaron put her on Thorn and with Aaron leading his horse continued their journey. Throughout the rest of the trip Reg couldn't help but chuckle over the way that Isabelle mooned after Aaron. Great big brown doe eyes followed his every move, trying to engage him in conversation on several occasions, but he always deflected the conversation telling her to save her strength or to just rest until they reached the duchy. About two hours out from Realto they met a patrol that was sent by the Duke to escort them back to the duchy. Aaron told the patrol about the ambushes on the highway to Dria and after promising that they were going directly to the Duke, the patrol continued up the road in search of any other ambushers. They arrived at the manor house late in the afternoon. After introductions were made, Micah escorted Reg to his room to freshen up for dinner, while the housekeeper and the chambermaid took Isabelle. The Duke escorted Aaron to his private study where they discussed the situation in Dria and Master Weaver. Aaron gave his impressions of the newly promoted Captain and the type of master needed in the village. The Duke concurred with the promotion and would send the permanent paperwork with the new Village Master. "The King wants you back in Aithen as soon as possible," Thandar began, "apparently, Lord Beadle has leveled some serious allegations against you." "Well, that would make sense, Father," Aaron explained. "Since Weaver's confession implicates His Grace in treason. What exactly has Beadle alleged?" "The King did not say," Duke Thandar replied. "I got the impression that the King believes the allegations may be true, and wants to hear from you. You mind telling me what is going on? I do not want you putting this House in any more jeopardy." "Jeopardy, Father?" Aaron arched his brow. "When have I ever put this house in jeopardy? My actions have always been in defense of this House, more importantly, the people in it." "I will tell you part of what I told Caleb," Aaron continued, "when he voiced his own concerns. I do not react in kind, my actions are deliberate and methodical to produce a fear of ever coming at me or those I care for again. I will do whatever it takes... , whatever it takes, Father, to protect those I care for. And the 'whatever' includes a strong measure to prevent any reoccurrence." "I do not want to argue, Father," Aaron sighed. "I will be leaving in the morning, let us have a nice evening and talk of other things." "All right, Aaron," Duke Thandar nodded his head in agreement. "I do not want to spend what little time left arguing either. I wasted many years doing that, consider the discussion ended. Now I noticed that girl; what is her name... ? Oh yes, Isabelle, is quite taken with you. What are your thoughts concerning her?" "Good question, Father," Aaron chuckled, the mood considerably lighter. "Honestly, I have no idea. She is way too young for me, but she has nowhere to go, after or even if she passes her exams." "Well, you may not have noticed," Thandar chuckled with a gleam in his eye, "Micah was quite taken with her. What if I or we extended our hospitality to her, regardless of the outcome of her testing? It has been a long time since laughter has echoed off these walls." "An excellent idea, Father," Aaron replied. "And besides, you are not only getting a journeyman sorcerer, you may be getting a daughter-in-law." "My thoughts exactly," Duke Thandar laughed. "Why do you not get cleaned up for dinner? It should be ready in half an hour." Aaron patted his father on the shoulder and left to get cleaned up for dinner. He stopped by the healer's room to have his leg checked out. The healer cleaned, rewrapped the room and laid hands on it, pronouncing the wound in good condition. Aaron went to his room to find his formal clothes laid out for dinner. "Great," he thought. "And I was hoping for a pleasant evening for a change." After washing up Aaron dressed, buckled on his sword belt and went to the dining hall, finding Reg, Micah and his father, waiting along with other nobles and merchants of Realto. Reg was wearing a burgundy red doublet with silver hosiery and buckled boots. His sword belt was gold encrusted leather and it looked as if the sword pommel had been polished. Except for the fact that Micah kept sticking his finger under his collar trying to stretch it, he was equally as pompous looking in forest green. Duke Thandar was wearing court dress including overcoat. Aaron had chosen function over style. Putting aside his formals, he was dressed in black shirt trimmed with silver, with the same collar and back sheaths as his regular shirts. His pants were steel grey and bloused in brushed leather boots. His one concession to the evening was a shorter, more elegant cloak instead of his normal Elven traveling one. His left arm encased in a glove the same color and trim as the shirt and his right glove tucked in his sword belt. His sheaths still contained daggers and both swords rode on his hips. An elegant yet functional look. A hush fell over the room, as all eyes turned to the stunning young woman entering the dining hall. Medium height, long soft brown hair curled and pinned to one side, beautiful brown eyes, delicately enhanced with makeup, soft pink lips, cheeks flushed with excitement. Dressed in a silver court gown, long and flowing. Sue made quite the entrance as she made her way to Aaron. Micah leaped to her side, offering his arm, and with a shy smile first at Aaron and then at Micah, she thanked him. Micah by action declared himself Isabelle's escort for the evening, to the amusement of his elders, Aaron particularly. The food was excellent, the talk inconsequential, and the company priceless. After dinner there was music and dancing. Micah showed his tutors proud as he effortlessly and gracefully guided Isabelle across the dance floor. After seeing all of guests to the door, Duke Thandar asked Aaron, Reg, Micah and Isabelle to join him in his study. They discussed Isabelle's living arrangements and she was very happy with them. Her happy mood soured a little when she learned that Aaron wasn't staying, but after some discussion, agreed that perhaps it was more hero worship than actual love. Micah beamed with joy when he learned she would be staying and volunteered to help in any way to make her stay more comfortable. After bidding everyone goodnight they broke up, each going to their respective rooms. It was a couple of hours later when Aaron awoke feeling a presence enter his room and looking over saw Isabella standing by his bed. She slipped her dressing gown off revealing her body, naked in all of its glory. Her breasts were the size of oranges, pale skin with gold piece size areolas capped with bright pink nipples, stiff enough to hang a cloak from. A flat stomach gave way to soft brown hair covering the vee of her legs. "Isabelle," Aaron asked groggily, trying to fully wake up, "What are you doing?" "I just wanted to thank you," she replied, lifting the covers to enter the bed. "You do not have to do this," Aaron said, placing his hand on hers to stop her from entering the bed. "Am I not pretty enough?" she asked, voice trembling. "I do not know much but I will try, really I will try. I want to make you happy, please?" "Isabelle, you are a beautiful young woman," Aaron began, "Any man would feel privileged to share your bed. But I can't, for several reasons." "What, that I'm too young?" she asked, clearly crying now. "I thought you liked me. The chambermaid said that when a Lord likes you, you have to do everything in your power to please him. She told me things I should do, to please you. Please let me." "Isabelle, wait," Aaron sat up holding her wrists. "I do like you, just not in the way you think." Sliding over in his bed, patting it for her to sit down, "Here sit down and I will try to explain. You have a wondrous gift for the right man, but not me. I am much older than you, older in spirit as well as body. Your gift is a onetime gift and should be given to the person you want to spend your life with, again; not me. You should find someone more in common with you and you will know when you find him. Now the chambermaid should have minded her own business. If I accept your gift under these circumstances, then I am no better than the Dark Elves who tried to enslave you. Do you understand?" "Yes, I suppose," she hiccupped. "So you are saying I should wait for the right man and you are not him, right? I feel like such a fool. I will go now and will not bother you anymore." "Isabelle," Aaron grabbed her to keep her from leaving. "Now that is just ridiculous. You are not a fool, and you are certainly not bothering me. Truth is, you are lovely, truly lovely, but my heart belongs to another, and I am not even sure she knows it." Pausing for a moment, thinking of his love, "It would be wrong for me to lead you on, to use you as a substitute. Do you understand?" "Yes, I guess I do," she smiled for the first time. "You will not tell anyone about this, will you? I would feel even more foolish." "No, Isabelle," Aaron replied, "I will not tell. Now please put your gown on, I can only take so much." "Thank You, Aaron," Isabelle stood and turned to him. "Thank you, for once again rescuing me, this time from myself." She picked up her gown and put it on without closing the front, the edges of the robe held in place by her nipples. "Just one more look to remember me by," she smiled, closed the robe, turned and left. Aaron let out a rush of air, "that was close, another few moments and I might have been in trouble." He leaned back in bed just smiling. "You have a good heart, My Paladin," The Lady Rannath said, fading into view. "That proves my faith in you, more than anything else." "My Lady, what are you doing here?" Aaron replied, sitting back up. "I do not know, My Paladin," Lady Rannath replied, "I felt a force pull me and I came here. Did you not call for me?" "No, My Lady," Aaron replied, "at least not intentionally." "Aaron, let's dispense with formalities this once," Rannath began, dropping her voice. "Tonight let us not be Paladin and Goddess. I know your heart, my love, now know mine." She moved to the bed dropping her gown on the floor, "I am not a sixteen year old, awe struck, young girl, do not turn me from your bed." Aaron looked at her in awe. Perfection would fall short of a description. The Lady Rannath, Goddess of Light, was a goddess. At 5'8" she was all legs and torso. Dark brown hair fell to the small of her back. Steel gray eyes set evenly apart, smoldered with a deep fire. Large breasts set up high on her chest, with dark brown nipples. A flat stomach beckoning the eyes to the juncture of toned legs. A sparse covering of dark brown hair, and invitation of delights to come. No, Lady Rannath was no 16 year old girl. Aaron held the covers back, as she crawled in next to him, "I can only stay the night," she purred in his ears. "Love me Aaron. Love me as Rannath, for this one night." And he did. ------- Chapter 13 Lady Rannath slowly awoke to the feel of Aaron's slow breathing in her hair and his arm draped over her side, his hand gently holding her right breast. "Umm," She thought to herself, "I could get used to this." The warmth of her lover by her side, no other cares in the world. "Could I really spend my life right here? Give up my current obligations and commitments, to live the life I desired in my past?" "No, that dream is gone," She sighed. "It is time that I put those desires away, and take up the requirements of today." Gently sliding out from under Aaron's arm, causing him to roll over, Lady Rannath quietly got out of bed. Looking around for her clothes she quickly dressed. She kissed the fingertips of her left hand and placed them on Aaron's forehead, turning to leave before he woke up. She felt an odd sensation in her stomach. Stopping and placing her hands on her abdomen, she looked down and smiled as a single tear ran down her cheek, "Oh Lords this is going to be a complication." Turning back to make sure that he still slept, Lady Rannath, Goddess of Light, pregnant with the child of her people's greatest enemy faded from view. ------- When Aaron awoke at first light, Rannath was already gone, having left his bed several hours earlier. Aaron rolled over feeling the empty spot in the bed and sighed. In the cold reality of morning, he realized that no matter how special the previous night was, it could never be permanent. How do you have a long term relationship with a Goddess? It's not like she's going to keep a house or do the cooking, Aaron smiled picturing that scene. "Enough melancholy for one day," he chastised himself. "Get up and get going." Aaron washed up, dressed in traveling clothes and packed his things. After checking that he had everything, he carried his gear to breakfast finding everyone already at the table. Breakfast was unusually subdued, everyone lost in his or her thoughts. Finally the meal was over and it was time to leave. "Father, I promise to stay in touch better," Aaron grasped Duke Thandar's forearm, "even if the messages have to come through the King." "And I as well," the Duke responded, "You are always welcome here, this is still your home. Come as often as you can or like, and Reg do not be a stranger, if nothing else, I would love to hear you play." "Yes, Your Highness," Reg replied. "Although I may be traveling with your son for some time, I think." "Micah," Aaron hugged his little brother. "Listen to your masters, but ultimately you must decide your own course. I have every faith that you will grow up to be a fine man, and King some day." "Here, I want you to have this," handing Micah a gold piece. "This gold coin is enchanted, so if ever you are in need, simply hold this coin and think of me. No matter where I am, I will know you need my help, and I will drop everything and be on my way." "Isabelle, Father was not kidding," Aaron hugged her. "Stay as long as you like, the people here love you already." And he gave her a kiss on her cheek. "Well, we must be leaving, Aithen is a week away and the King is waiting." With that Aaron and Reg made their way to the stables where their horses were already saddled. As they walked their horses toward the practice arena Master Caleb approached. "I would not have left before saying goodbye," Aaron smiled while grasping his forearm. "Oh, I know that," Caleb laughed. "I figured to meet you half way. You be careful and mind your lessons. Basic sword forms have saved many a Master. I will keep an eye on the Duke and Micah, and Isabelle too, I think." "Thank you, Master Caleb," Aaron replied. "Keep your own self safe too. I do not want to be dropping everything to pull your arse out of some fire." "Do not worry none about me," Caleb laughed. "I am too old and too broken down for anyone to take notice of." "I meant what I said the other day," Aaron continued, "You are important to me, your well being is important to me, stay safe." Reg bid Master Caleb goodbye and he and Aaron led their horses toward the gate, mounted and rode toward the highway. At the highway they turned west toward Aithen and a week's journey. About midday they passed the roadside inn where Aaron stayed the evening before arriving in Realto, continuing on until dusk where they made a small camp just off the road and ate a cold dinner. Since they were west of the duchy's border they decided not to have a fire and announce their presence, taking turns at sleep and watch. The next day was more of the same as the journeyed westward toward the capital. Aaron discussed plans with Reg and concluded that their best course of action was for Aaron to slip in to Aithen and meet up with his informant before they "arrived", since there was no way of knowing if the King was going to have Aaron arrested. Aaron definitely wanted more intel before confronting Lord Beadle, more for the King's sake than anything else, since Aaron would just as soon kill Lord Beadle. They figured one more day of easy travel before they needed to worry about any action instigated by Lord Beadle, so they rode at a leisurely pace. Another cold camp and watches greeted them when they stopped for the night. There was a small clearing to the south of the road, equipped with a lean-to and fire ring, although their meal would be cold at least the evenings were cool and dry so far. After setting up camp Aaron scouted the area while Reg set out bread and cheese and a skin of wine. Finding nothing unusual, Aaron returned to camp and dinner. Aaron cleaned up after dinner while Reg removed his harp, inspecting it after the days travel. "You know," Aaron began, "while not having a fire makes sense for the night, if you want to play, I do not see why it would make any difference. I scouted the area pretty good, we should be undisturbed." "I was thinking along the same lines," Reg nodded. "I feel inspired to play and I think Belle feels left out, since I have not played since we left. If it brings unwelcomed company, then we will deal with it. I am at the point were the lack of a fire is grating on my comfort nerves as well." With that Reg began to play a mournful tune, starting softly and increasing in volume and intensity. At the end of the tune Reg launched into a more upbeat traveling tune. Aaron looked around as small lights began to cluster around the camp bobbing up and down and moving left and right in time with the music. Reg was so caught up in what he was playing he failed to notice the lights until the song was over and he looked up in time to see them stop and then scatter. "Well, that was interesting," Aaron exclaimed. "That is the first time I've seen that many of Will-o'-wisps in one place before." "No, that happens all the time when I play Belle," Reg smiled. "Actually now that they know we are here, they will provide pretty good protection. We should have no other visitors tonight." "Maybe you should play every night," Aaron laughed. "I would not have to scout around then." For the next two days that is what they did. Reg would play in the evening, bringing out the Will-o'-wisps and they would sleep undisturbed. "We cross Aithen's borders the day after tomorrow," Aaron remarked as they settled in for the night. "If there is an ambush and I am not saying there is, it would be tomorrow or tomorrow night. After that, there is too much risk involved with patrols of Guardsman, for any ambusher." The city of Aithen had its own local government to deal with the day-to-day operations within the city outside of the palace. As such the city had borders and was responsible for the area within those borders. The city had its own guardsmen that maintained the law within the gates as well as within the borders. The palace guards maintained the law within the palace as well as all areas both inside and outside of city and town borders. Obviously the area within a city's borders had more guardsmen patrols than the outlying areas, which depended solely on royal guardsmen patrols. "I am thinking tomorrow night we set up a fake camp and hide out waiting for an attack," Aaron continued. "It may not be very comfortable and probably little sleep, but at least we will be awake if something happens and I like those odds a lot better." "I agree," Reg replied putting Belle away. "Tonight however, I am going to enjoy the protection of the Will-o'-wisps and get a good night sleep." With that he stretched out on his bedroll and closed his eyes. "Entirely too trusting," Aaron thought to himself. Looking around, he also stretched out placing Red Rose across his chest and dozed lightly. True to his word they slept undisturbed all night. Aaron and Reg broke camp the next morning and continued their journey. They decided not to stop for lunch and press on to try and reach the borders of Aithen. They were unsuccessful as dusk fell with them still several hours from Aithen's borders and a day from the city's gates. The road thus far had been through gently rolling hills dotted with farms and ranches, now the landscape changed to bush and tree, slowly thickening to woods. Not to the extent of the large forbidding forests to the east and southwest, but dense enough to hide highwaymen and bushwhackers. Both Aaron and Reg sat a little straighter senses more alert, looking for the attack that was sure to come. When they stopped for the evening there was still no attack, so they ate a cold dinner, arranged the camp and faded into the brush and waited. Dusk turned to night and no attack, night faded to false dawn and still no attack. Finally at dawn after a sleepless night they broke camp, mounted and continued their journey. Maybe they would make it to Aithen unscathed. They crossed Aithen's border several hours later. The landscape began to thin out as farms sprung up here and there. Road traffic increased, travelers on their way either to the city or to one of the adjacent farms and ranches. It was just past the midday meal, which was eaten from horseback, when Aaron spied a rider coming their way. As in each case, their hands drifted down to their weapons as they scanned the area looking for ambushers. As the rider drew closer Aaron recognized Drexil the Thieves' Guildmaster from Realto. "Lord Aaron, I am glad I found you " Drexil reigned in his horse. "When I contacted the guild in Realto I was told you had left, so I rode out to intercept you." "Master Drexil, it's good to see you again," Aaron replied and turned to Reg. "Reg, this is Master Drexil an acquaintance from Realto. Master Drexil, my traveling companion, Master Reginald." They exchanged greetings and Aaron suggested they take their discussion off the road. Ahead not more than several hundred yards was a roadside Inn, where Master Drexil proposed they stop. After arriving and procuring a table in the back they sat and ordered ale and after they were served Drexil began. "Lord Aaron, I did what you asked," eyeing Reg warily. "It is all right, Master Drexil," Aaron smiled. "Master Reg knows most of my secrets. He knows that I work for the Guild Council in a private capacity. He also knows that I am a fighter Warrior, well Swordmaster now, and that in my capacity I make use of certain specialized Guilds." "Yes, very good," Drexil mopped his brow. "Congratulations on your achievement by the way. As I was saying, I contacted Master Briard as you commanded and as you probably could imagine he was livid to say the least." "The fact that the Thieves' Guild was duped and possibly involved in treason... ," Drexil looked over at Reg. "It is fine Drexil," Aaron reassured him. "I trust Master Reg with this information." "Well anyway," Drexil continued, "He was angry at me for my part, although it was unwitting. He also surmised that someone high up must be in league with the traitors. He told me that he would look in to it, and that I should return the next day." Drexil took a big swig of his mug before continuing. "The next morning I showed up at the hall and Master Briard was not there. His assistant, Master Reynaldo was in charge, and asking me all sorts of questions about Master Briard and you, Lord Aaron." "What did you tell him, Drexil?" Aaron asked. "Lord Aaron, I did not tell him anything," Drexil looked shocked. "As soon as I saw him I knew there was trouble. I made up some story about guild tribute and I got out of there." "They tried to have me followed," Drexil looked stunned. "Can you believe it, following a Guildmaster, that is unthinkable? Anyway I gave them the slip and started doing a little investigating myself." "What did you learn?" Aaron leaned a little closer. Reg was checking out the comings and goings in the inn while listening. "I think Master Briard is dead," Drexil replied solemnly. "I cannot find him and I have looked everywhere. I have had others look and he is gone, no doubt about it. Also, Master Reynaldo has met several times in secret with His Grace, Lord Beadle. I do not know what they have talked about, but they have met several times." "Well, that does not surprise me in the least," Aaron replied. "My information ties them together, and right at the heart of the treason. My source says that Beadle promised the guild head to Reynaldo for his aid." "Well, maybe this will surprise you," Drexil remarked. "There is a 10,000 gold piece contract out on you, through the Assassins' Guild. It's a bounty with several takers." "Aaron, that's serious," Reg jumped in. "The Assassins' Guild certifies it's contracts. You may be a Swordmaster, but this is bad. Perhaps you should lay low till we can get to the bottom of it." "Reg, you worry too much," Aaron smiled. "I am not the least concerned about the contract. Irritated with the Guildmaster but not worried. It's just one more thing that I will have to deal with." "How can you not be scared, or at least concerned?" Reg asked. "There is a contract on your head, a large, obscene amount of money. You are going to have some serious thieves and assassins after you." "Reg, I am not worried," Aaron replied. "Look I have shared some secrets with you, well here is some more." Aaron reached into his shirt and put a gold piece token on the table and slid it over to Reg, who picked it up. "It is a intricately engraved gold piece," Reg said, looking at Aaron. "What is it?" Aaron looked over at Drexil and nodded. "Master Reginald, that token is like the cord in Lord Aaron's hair. It denotes his status within the Thieves' Guild. Lord Aaron is a fourth level Master Thief." Reg eyed the token, and then Aaron. "Well I guess that prepares you better than most," passing the token back. "But still, you need to watch your back, thieves are one thing, assassins are quite another." "It obviously takes a lot to convince you," Aaron sighed. He put the token back and removed another and passed it to Reg. "This should put your mind at rest." "But Reg " Aaron continued, pointing at the token, "that is a closely guarded secret. Not more than a handful know." Reg heard a sharp intake of breath, and looked at Drexil, "What?" "Master Reginald, though I have never actually seen one of those," Drexil replied carefully, looking over at Aaron. "I make it my business to know as much as possible, may I see that?" Reg passed the coin over. Drexil carefully turned the coin over inspecting it. "Well, what is it?" Reg asked. "The suspense is killing me." "Good choice of words, Master Reginald," Drexil looked at Aaron, who again nodded. "It is the token of the Assassins' Guild. If my information is correct, it denotes Lord Aaron as a second level Master Assassin. I would say those that accepted that contract are in for a lot more than they bargained for." "Third level, Master Drexil," Aaron smiled. "My apologizes, milord," Drexil turned to Reg. "Apparently, my information is not as good as I thought." "Gods, Aaron!" Reg exclaimed. "Those men in Dria, they never stood a chance, and never knew what hit them. I knew you were more than a mere guardsman when we first met. Gods, you hold very high masteries in three guilds! Who are you?" "I told you, Reg," Aaron replied taking the token and putting it away. "I play for keeps. As to who I am, honestly, I don't know." "Drexil, who is your patron?" Aaron asked. "You are, my lord," Drexil answered. "No, I meant, which God do you pray to?" Aaron clarified. "What God is your patron?" "I do not have one," Drexil answered. "Never saw the point in asking for help from some Ethereal being, why do you ask?" "Just curious. How good is the man you left in charge in Realto?" Aaron asked. "Can he head the Guild there?" "Yes, milord, he can," Drexil replied. "I trained him and I trust him, why?" "Good," Aaron replied, ignoring the question. "Here is what I propose; we continue on to Aithen, Drexil with us. You two will enter the city and make accommodations at the 'Golden Pony', tell Raymond the innkeeper that I sent you ahead. Do not let anyone know that I travelled with you. I'll slip in the city over the wall after dusk, meet my contact and catch up with you later that night or first thing in the morning." "Lord Beadle will know you have left Realto, milord," Drexil replied. "That information has surely passed into the hands of anyone trying to collect that bounty. We need to be careful as we approach the city, there will be spies and informants everywhere." "I agree with Master Drexil," Reg interjected. "Just riding along the highway will attract too much attention. Is there a way to get alongside the walls without being seen?" After much discussion it was decided that they would procure a wagon loaded with hay and proceed to the city. As they got close Aaron who would be hiding in the hay, would slip out and make his way over the wall. Drexil and Reg would take the wagon to the "Golden Pony" and wait for Aaron there. Reg watched as three men entered the Inn and looked around the dining room, their eyes settling on the table where Reg, Aaron and Drexil sat. "Do not look now, but we seemed to have attracted some attention," Reg declared. "Yes, I saw them come in," Aaron replied, dropping his hands behind him gripping the hilts of his daggers. "Be ready." The men started toward the table, the two on the outside pulling crossbows, pointing at the table. "We have no quarrel with you two sirs," the middle man pointed at Reg and Drexil. "Good sir, why do we not step outside and conduct our business there," the middleman continued addressing Aaron. "Put your hands in front, where I can see them." "Certainly," Aaron replied, whipping his hands out and up, twin daggers flying into the throats of the crossbow holders, causing their aim to rise and the bolts discharged harmlessly into the wall above everyone's head. Aaron jumped to his feet pulling both swords stabbing out with Black Rose, catching the middleman in the chest driving the sword through his heart and back out. Aaron slowly rotated around checking for further threats. Reg never had the time to pull his sword before it was over. Looking over to Drexil, whose own sword was partially out, mouth hanging open. "Amateurs," Aaron spat. "Never talk, do not give your adversary time to formulate a plan." He reached down and retrieved his daggers, wiping them off on his victims and sheathing them. Doing the same with Black Rose, he put both swords away. A search of the bodies revealed no marker, but all three carried the tokens of thieves, all bearing the mark of the Hand, followers of Malachi. After putting a few silver pieces on the table for the mess, they finished their ale, left the inn and searched for the nearest farm. Reg haggled a fair price for a wagon, team of horses and load of hay. After paying the farmer more than he would have received at market, they tied their horses to the back and left. Aaron hid in the hay during the rest of their journey to the outskirts of Aithen. They met several travelers along the way, but no one paid them the least bit of attention. They sped up their rate of travel to put them close enough to dusk for Aaron to slip out but not late enough that Reg and Drexil would find the gates closed for the night. After dropping Aaron off they entered the city, made their way to the 'Golden Pony', and secured lodgings for the night. ------- Chapter 14 Aaron waited by the wall for the sky to darken sufficiently enough to be invisible and then climbed over the wall, dropping silently to the ground on the other side. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head he made his way to the Central Quarter and the 'Dragon's Horn' Inn, searching for Remo. He found Remo in the same back corner table and after pleasantries got down to business. Remo had followed Master Darius as Aaron asked. Master Darius did in fact use a blind drop, the same location Lord Beadle visited a few hours later. Darius made several trips to the drop as did Lord Beadle. Remo was never able to actually investigate the content of the drop so he didn't know what was passed. Aaron thanked him and settled up, asking one final question. "I am curious, what God do you pray to?" Aaron asked. "What God, milord?" Remo asked a little nervously. "The God Thief is my patron, why?" "Just curious, Remo, nothing more," Aaron replied slowly pulling Red Rose from it's scabbard from under the table. Looking around for backup and after noticing a man several tables over watching, he leaned in close to Remo. "Remo, you and I have worked together for a long time," Aaron said, slipping Red Rose in under his ribcage and into his heart. "It is a shame it had to end this way. Darius would never have been in league with Beadle. I know who Darius' patron is and it is not Malachi." Pulling Red Rose out and wiping it on Remo's pant leg, he guided Remo's upper body against the wall. Pulling a black rose from his sack he placed it in Remo's lap. Sheathing the sword he stood up and slowly made his way out of the taproom, checking behind him for a tail. As he left the taproom, Aaron noted the tail. It was the same man paying his table way too much attention earlier. Aaron turned left at the first alleyway, moving far into the alley before fading into the shadows. The man from the taproom slowly made his way down the alley sword at the ready, when Aaron struck out with Red Rose blocking the sword up and away while attacking with Black Rose stabbing the man, center of his chest piercing his heart. Aaron withdrew Black Rose and wiped it clean on the man's cloak. An investigation revealed nothing of value except a guild token for the Thieves' Guild, which Aaron kept. Aaron sheathed his swords and left the alleyway. "Well, now I am going to need to find a new informant," Aaron thought as he made his way out of the Central Quarter. "Who to visit first?" Aaron mused. "I need to talk to Darius, first the contract and now this Beadle thing. Someone wants me to think he is against me. Someone wants Darius dead." "Yes, Darius first," Aaron decided, "and then a long talk with Master Reynaldo." Aaron left the Central Quarter and made his way to the Merchant Quarter and the home of Darius Greystone, Master Assassin and head of the Assassins' Guild. Arriving at the Darius' home, Aaron stopped to weigh his options. Knocking on the door or trying to gain entrance by other methods, seemed to be the only options, although neither were particularly attractive. It's normally not a smart idea to show up on a Master Assassin's doorstep without making prior arrangements. Aaron needed to get Darius' attention without getting killed. "Well, either he answers the door, or he kills me," Aaron thought as he knocked on the door. The door was answered by an elderly gentleman, "Yes? Ah, Master Blackmoon, good evening, Master Darius is in the study. Shall I announce you?" "Yes, please," Aaron replied. "Thank you." Aaron watched the old man walk down the hall, stop at a set of double doors, knock and enter. A few moments later the door reopened and the butler walked back toward Aaron. "Right this way, milord," He gestured. "Master Darius is waiting." Aaron followed him down the hall and entered the double doors into a lavish room, filled with books, a large desk and a sitting area by a fireplace. The fire was lit and Darius was sitting in a large chair holding a glass of amber liquid in his left hand, his right hand down in his lap. The chair was angled more toward the double doors than to the fireplace. Darius Greystone was of similar build to Aaron's, with blue eyes and blonde shoulder length hair. Inconspicuously dressed to blend in to his surroundings, a man you wouldn't look twice at. Even tempered and a friendly smile masked a dangerous man, someone not to be taken lightly. "Aaron, what a surprise! Is this social or business?" Darius asked. "A little of both I am afraid," Aaron replied, standing in the doorway. "I know this is a bit unusual, but I needed to talk with you tonight and I am not officially in the city. There is a plot afoot that includes trying to put us at odds and I would like to discuss it, if I may?" "At odds?" Darius asked. "I am not sure what that means." "Look, Darius, can I sit down and talk?" Aaron asked. "I am feeling pretty vulnerable standing in this doorway." "All right, come in and sit down," Darius replied. "In that chair right there," pointing to a chair across from him. "Thank you," Aaron smiled sitting down. "I do not suppose you have any more of that Gnomish single malt you are drinking?" "Business first, pleasure later," Darius smiled, keeping Aaron in full view. "Now, you said that there was this plot?" "Yes, I did," Aaron nodded. "There is a contract out on me, supposedly sanctioned by the Guild. It is a bounty contract for 10,000 gold. Do you not approve every contact?" "Well, every one of high value," Darius replied. "But you should know that we would never sanction a contract on a master within our guild." "Never?" Aaron asked. "All right, it has happened in the past," Darius conceded. "But it would have to come from the palace and it would have to be authorized by the council." "Aaron, I know of no such contract," Darius continued, "nor would I approve of one. Just like you would not if the circumstances were reversed." "I know, too many repercussions if it went bad," Aaron nodded. "But the word is out; the Assassins' Guild has certified a bounty on my head. There is something else as well. But hear me out before you get upset." "Go on," Darius replied. "I am still investigating the contract on Wheatstone," Aaron explained. "I needed to know who initiated the contract, so I may have had you followed to determine the drop site and who visited it." "You had me followed!" Darius nearly screamed. "Maybe I should have authorized a contract on you. Aaron, that is almost unforgivable, you had me followed?" "Darius look at from my side," Aaron tried to explain. "I needed to know who put out the contract on the assistant to the Merchant Guildmaster. What I've uncovered since then, has made that information even more important. Look, if it makes you feel better, the person that followed you is dead." "Why is he dead?" Darius asked. "He gave me false or at least misleading information," Aaron replied. "Trying to convince me that you were in league with a plot to overthrow the King." "And how do you know I am not?" Darius asked. "For the same reason you wouldn't approve a contract on me," Aaron explained. "I would take any attempt on the King as a personal attack and retaliate. And we dear brother-in-arms, always play for keeps." "True enough," Darius nodded. "Now as to following me, I will forgive you," Darius smiled. "I am concerned about this plot. Who wants the King dead and us at odds?" "Darius, I was not asking for forgiveness," Aaron smiled back. "Just understanding." "Fine, it amounts to the same," Darius conceded. He put down his drink, reached over with his left hand and poured Aaron a drink, "Here, now who is heading this plot?" "Thank you," Aaron tilted his glass toward Darius and took a sip of the whisky. "Excellent whisky, the Gnomes do make the best. Anyway, His Grace, Lord Colin Beadle, is trying to usurp the throne. His plan is to do away with all of the heirs; I think he is trying to replace key Guildmasters as well. Along those lines, Briard is missing, do you know anything?" "No, I have not heard anything," Darius replied. "So, based on what you just said, I guess you suspect foul play." "Well, since the man in his place is part of this insurrection," Aaron spread his hands, "Yes, yes I do. I have a thought; do we even need a separate guild for thieves anymore? What if we just folded them into the Assassins' Guild and had one guild responsible for both, there is a lot of cross over." "While the idea does have merit," Darius replied, thinking about it. "No, they should be separate, I know a lot of thieves are assassins too, but keeping them separate ensures our autonomy. Most assassins would not want the publicity that the thieves get." "True," Aaron acknowledged. "It's just... , I'm going to have to remove the acting head of the Thieves' Guild and figured folding them in to this guild would be easier. I do have a person in mind to run it, contingent on the council's approval. I guess that is my option." "Darius, thank you for your time and whisky," Aaron grinned, setting the glass down and getting up. "Sorry about the nature of our meeting, it could not be helped and I did not have time to contact through the hall." "Well, I guess I will forgive you for that too," Darius stood and smiled, placing the small crossbow he was holding in his right hand on the table. "The information you have, offsets the lack of manners. I will look into the contract tonight." "All right," Aaron replied. "I will probably be at the palace tomorrow, arrested or something, not real sure yet. But let me know as soon as you have something." "I will," Darius said, walking him to the front door. "Be careful out there, bad men prowl the streets at night." Aaron laughed, "Yes, I have heard that. Good night." As Aaron moved down the street, a darkened shape moved away from the shadows across the street from Darius' home, discreetly following Aaron at a distance. Using the information gleaned from Drexil, Aaron made his way to Master Reynaldo's home. Upon arriving he checked the place out, as well as determined the number and location of guards. He hid in the shadows awaiting the return of Reynaldo. Reynaldo returned home and after checking with his guards retired for the evening. Aaron quietly slipped into the house and garroted the guard stationed near the front door. Silently making his way through the home he found and garroted three other guards, ending up outside of the door to the bed chambers. After listening intently at the door for any noise, Aaron slowly opened it slipped inside, closing it again. Aaron stayed still against the wall searching for anything out of the ordinary. He made his way over to the bed and covered Reynaldo's mouth with a cloth soaked with a knockout potion. When Reynaldo regained consciousness he found himself naked and bound to a wooden chair; arms, wrists and hands bound to the arm rests. Looking up he saw Aaron picking his nails with a dagger. "Did you have a pleasant rest Reynaldo?" Aaron asked. "I am going to ask you several questions; your willingness to answer those questions will determine how long you stay in that chair and how uncomfortable the stay will be." "I have nothing to say," Reynaldo smirked. "Wrong answer and I have not even asked anything," Aaron smiled moving over to the chair. He stuffed a strip of cloth in Reynaldo's mouth and then pressed down on his left hand and held the fingers apart and pushed the point of his dagger under the nail of the pinky finger. Reynaldo's muffled scream could be heard throughout the house as Aaron pushed the point in and pried up, popping the nail off. "Now, shall we start again?" Aaron asked, removing the gag after Reynaldo calmed down. "Where is Master Briard? "I do not know!" Reynaldo screamed, starting to hyperventilate. Aaron stuffed the gag back in and then pushed the dagger point under the ring finger nail and slowly pushed in and pried up, popping that nail off. "Two down, eight to go," Aaron said, again waiting for Reynaldo to calm down before removing the gag. "Master Briard is dead!" Reynaldo screamed. "I killed him." "Reynaldo, I do believe he is dead," Aaron smiled. "But let us be honest here, you are just not skilled enough to do it by yourself. You seem to forget that he and I joined the guild together. I know his skill level and you are just not good enough. So... , who killed my dear friend, Master Briard?" "No, I did, but I had help," Reynaldo replied. "I lured him into a trap, and then with the help of others, I killed him." "I'm going to need those names, Reynaldo," Aaron said flatly. "It will be easier on you if you just give them to me; you know eventually you will." "Fine," Reynaldo replied, breathing hard, trying to control the pain. "Two mid-level thieves, Brock and Remo who hang out in the Central Quarter and Master Elton, first assistant to Master Darius. Please, I have answered all of your questions." "Reynaldo, we are not done yet," Aaron smiled. "Who are you working for? And do not lie to me, I want names." "I am working for myself," Reynaldo replied through gritted teeth. "I saw an opportunity to advance to Guildmaster and I took it." Again Aaron stuffed the gag back in and again he pushed the dagger point under the nail of the middle finger and slowly pushed in and pried up, popping the nail off. "That is three, want to try for four?" Aaron asked. "The names Reynaldo, give me the names." It took Reynaldo several minutes to stop screaming and calm down enough before Aaron could remove the gag. Reynaldo told Aaron everything he knew. Lord Beadle's plot to overthrow the crown included replacing the heads of the more powerful guilds: Thieves, Merchants and Assassins. Reynaldo for the Thieves, Lomac (the current first assistant), for the Merchants and Elton (the current first assistant), for the Assassins. Lord Beadle was a member of the Temple of the Hand and The God Thief was his patron, which explained the heavy thief involvement. It sounded like the Gods were interfering in politics on the physical plane, or at least one God was. Aaron untied Reynaldo's right arm and had him ink out a signed confession, after which Aaron ended his pain by slitting his throat. Aaron left him in the chair and, removing a black rose from his sack, dropped it in Reynaldo's lap and left the house. As Aaron moved down the street he felt a tingle in the back of his neck. A tingle developed and fine tuned over years of stalking and being stalked. "I am being followed," he thought. "And he's good, real good." Aaron discreetly turned back several times trying to get a glimpse of who or what was following him, to no avail. He pushed out his senses, his awareness, feeling for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing, yet still there was that nagging feeling, a feeling Aaron had come to trust long ago and it had never let him down before. Aaron moved more slowly, more stealthily through the shadows trying to stay hidden, employing every bit of tradecraft to lose his tail. "Gods, my lack of concentration is going to cost me my life," He thought. "I deserve to feel the cold steel of a dagger in my ribs for my ineptness." "If I make it out of here tonight, I will never forget this feeling," He swore to himself. "I only see one option, yet I hate to waste it on stupidity, but I do not see any other choice." Reaching into one of the hidden pockets of his cloak, he removed a clear glass vial containing a milky viscous substance. Removing the stopper he drank all of the vile tasting potion. A moment later he shimmered and disappeared! The invisibility potion made him vanish, but it had its limitations. He could not pass through walls, he could still be heard or make noise, and animals could still smell him. Most importantly, the spilling of blood ended the spell. Nonetheless, for all practical purposes he was gone. Aaron flattened himself against the wall, unsheathed Red Rose and waited. Time seemed to slow down and finally stop but Aaron was a patient man, patience born of hours upon hours of practice. He could hold the same pose, the same position for hours on end, without moving, without tiring. When others gave up or cramped up, Aaron would continue to hold his position. Movement ahead registered deep in Aaron's mind, yet still he held his position. The dark shape moved from shadow to shadow, holding position for a moment and then moving on. Having lost his prey in the shadows, he was trying to catch up, balanced against staying hidden and undetected. An expert in the craft of stalking was about to meet the expert in the craft of death, and it was going to be a short meeting. The dark shape passed Aaron's position and froze, something wasn't right, something was amiss. Before the shape could ponder more, Aaron struck with the speed and ferocity of a cobra. Red Rose entered the shape's back on the left side between the seventh and eighth rib. Passing through the heart and left lung and back out between the sixth and seventh rib. The man had enough time to glance down at the sword tip before he died. Aaron remained still, awaiting a response, when none was forth coming he cleaned Red Rose and searched the body of Elton Wolfshound, first assistant to Master Darius, Guildmaster for the Assassins' Guild. The search turned up some coin, weapons, a contract marker, and a token signifying a second level Master Assassin. A new position just opened up in the Assassins' hierarchy. Aaron left the weapons, but took the coin, token and marker. He then removed the right hand and stowed it away in a leather bag, dropped a black rose on the corpse and moved away, silently checking his back trail for signs of a tail. Having satisfying himself that he was not being followed, he continued on his way, toward the Temple of the Hand. The Temple was bustling with activity, which was strange for this time of night, normally services were held later in the evening. Carriages pulled up in front, the occupants getting out with hooded cloaks looking around and then entering the Temple. Aaron noted several guards, wearing the livery of the Merchants' Guild, patrolling the front and sides. There must be some type of meeting or service going on and the Merchants were providing the protection - even stranger. Aaron decided he needed to get inside and see what was going on. The whole congregation in one place was just too good to pass up. After studying the patrol routes he noted a period where he could slip in a side door undetected. What was on the other side, he did not know, but was it worth the chance of knowing their plans? Aaron pondered the question for several moments before deciding that the risks were too great. However he intended to demonstrate just how vulnerable they were. After waiting for the patrols to pass, Aaron hurried toward the alley and the side door. Checking to make sure he was still undetected, Aaron opened the door wide enough to slip through and then closed it behind him. Once inside Aaron looked for any place that was less exposed. Spying an alcove, Aaron ducked in between the curtains. Aaron kept lookout watching several people enter guarded double doors at the end of the central room. Presently the doors were closed and only one guard stayed stationed at the doorway. The other guard moved off down an adjacent hallway. If Aaron was going to leave a message, now was the time. In the Southern Reaches lies a huge expanse of desert. In this desert lives one of the planet's deadliest vipers, the two-step cobra. Named for the speed and toxicity of the venom, the soul unlucky enough to be bitten only has two steps before it is dead. The local nomads give this cobra a wide berth. The venom is rarely used as a poison due to its high price and the high skill required to safely handle it. A single drop of venom absorbed through the skin will lead to death in mere moments. Only a handful of Assassins used the venom, Aaron was such an Assassin. After checking to be sure that only the one guard remained, Aaron removed a leather pouch from within a secure place in his cloak. Unfolding the pouch revealed three sections of hollow reed, two leather sleeves and a smaller leather pouch. Aaron assembled the arm length blow gun by fitting the reeds into the leather sleeves. Opening the smaller pouch he removed a dart from its cork sheath. The dart was a glass vial with a hollow needle on one end and a cork and feather cap on the other. Inserting the dart tip in an enchanted beeswax-stopped vial, Aaron drew out a quarter dart full of venom. After ensuring that the beeswax resealed the vial, Aaron repacked his supplies and cautiously placed the dart in the end of the gun. The dart was designed to compress on impact pushing the venom through the hollow needle into the victim, killing instantly. Aiming for the neck of the lone guard, Aaron took in a deep breath and blew out the dart, catching the guard at the base of the neck just above the collar bone. The guard had enough time to reach up and feel the dart before he died. The guard slid down the wall ending in semi-propped up sitting position. Aaron quickly broke down the gun, stowed it and hurried over to the guard, carefully removed the dart and left a red rose in his lap. Aaron carefully opened the door on the right a crack and peered inside. What he saw amazed him. Some type of service was underway. That in itself was not amazing but the fact that Lord Colin Beadle was leading the service was a revelation. Was Lord Beadle the head of some secret organization? The King needed to know this bit of information. Slowly closing the door, Aaron heard a guard coming down the hall toward him. "Hey you," the guard called out. "What are you doing there?" Aaron did not have much time, if the guard shouted out, the area would be swarming with more guards. Thinking fast, Aaron pivoted towards the guard pulling Red Rose and throwing it like a dagger. End over end the sword streaked toward the guard, catching him in the chest, killing him instantly. The guard fell to the ground with a clatter. Aaron quickly moved to the body and drug it to the curtained alcove, propping it up in a sitting position in the corner with a red rose in it's lap. Aaron hurried back to the side door, sheathing Red Rose and removing his pipe as he opened the door to the alleyway. A guard immediately converged on his location. "You cannot be outside, milord," the guard announced pulling his sword. "I was just going to light my pipe," Aaron replied holding up the pipe. As the guard came over to usher Aaron inside, Aaron drew Red Rose and stabbed him in the chest piercing his heart. Aaron led the man to the side of the door, sitting him down and after placing a red rose in his lap, faded into the shadows looking for more guards. Aaron encountered six more guards around the Temple grounds, dispatching each of them in turn, posing them in a sitting position with a red rose in their laps. After ensuring no other guards remained outside the Temple, Aaron left the area making his way to the 'Golden Pony'. Entering the crowded Inn, Aaron was met by the Innkeeper, Raymond. "Good to have you back, milord," Raymond greeted him. "Your companions have secured rooms and are in the main hall. Have you eaten?" "Thank you, Raymond," Aaron replied. "No I have not eaten yet; I will find my friends, if you will have dinner and ale brought out please?" "Very good, milord," Raymond replied, turning toward the kitchen. Aaron entered the main hall and having spied his companions made his way to their table. "How was your evening Aaron?" Reg asked. "Very enlightening, Reg," Aaron chuckled and sat down. "Drexil, tomorrow morning I need you to go to the Thieves' Guild and take charge. There currently is no master; I will have the paperwork drawn up and your place on the Guild Council confirmed. You can name your own assistants." "Thank you, Lord Aaron," Drexil smiled. "I will not let you down." "Good, I know you will not," Aaron replied. "Everyone that is associated with this plot has been identified. Tomorrow I will see the King and present him with all of the evidence and he can deal with Beadle." "Reg, we should be able to leave the day after tomorrow," Aaron said. "If there is anything we will need before we go, will you see to it tomorrow?" "Yes, I will take care of it," Reg replied. The conversation turned to other mundane things when Brianna brought dinner. Aaron ate and they finalized their plans for the next day. Aaron wanted Drexil at the Guild headquarters first thing in the morning. The Thieves' Guild was rudderless and Aaron wanted it back on track as smoothly as possible. Drexil would have his hands full determining who was loyal to Guild and Crown. Aaron meanwhile hoped to be able to see Darius in the morning before presenting himself before the King. Aaron was hoping Drexil could identify the marker he took off of Wolfshound as well as inform Darius about his assistant. Reg would be on his own, but also available if Aaron needed him. They made plans to meet back at the Inn for dinner. If Aaron did not return, Drexil and Reg were to find out what happen and proceed from there. The finished their drinks and turned in for the night. ------- Chapter 15A Aaron left the inn right at dawn, having exercised, practiced and broken his fast before most of the patrons had even stirred from their beds. He wanted to put some distance between him and the inn in case anyone knew that he was In the city. First order of business was to let Darius know about his assistant. He made his way to the Guild Quarter and that rundown building with the nondescript door adorned with a dagger. Opening the door he approached the same old lady sitting at a desk knitting. "He has been in for several hours," she said looking up from her knitting. "You know the door." and she went back to her knitting. Aaron opened the door to her left and met Guildmaster Darius coming out. "Well two visits in one day," Darius smiled, backing into his office. "You must have found something out. Please sit and tell me." "Your assistant will not be showing up for work today," Aaron replied setting the leather bag containing a severed hand on the desk. "I also have this," Aaron passed over the marker. "Wolfshound was part of the insurrection. He was tapped by Beadle to take over the Guild on your demise, either by my hand or his I figure. I will bet he was behind that marker. What can you tell me about it?" "Well it does bear his mark," Darius replied turning the marker over and over. "There should be a record of it somewhere so that it would be legal, I will check his things. Do you want to wait?" "Yes, I will wait," Aaron replied. Darius took the leather sack and the marker and left through a secondary door from his office. ------- "Your Grace... , Your Grace it's time to get up," James, Lord Beadle's manservant announced pushing a covered tray into the Lord's bedchambers. "I have breakfast here for you." "What, what, oh very well," Lord Colin answered groggily. "Thank you James. Any news of the morning?" Lord Colin was concerned over the fiasco at the Temple of the Hand last night. "Nothing new, Your Grace," James replied. "We know he is in the city, after what happened last night, but where he is right now is anyone's guess. Is there anything else?" "No James," Lord Beadle replied, lifting the lid over his food. "This looks excellent as always. I will be going to the palace today, have to keep up appearances and just in case he shows up I will need to be there to deflect any accusations." "Very good, Your Grace," James nodded. "I will have your tub prepared right away. Good morning, Your Grace." James bowed and backed out of the room. Lord Beadle finished his breakfast and reflected on events of the past few weeks. His plan was falling apart. He had maneuvered and manipulated events toward a single outcome, all to be thwarted by one man. He sorely underestimated Master Aaron's abilities. His initial appraisal of his skill certainly lacked key information. Even now having seen the results of Aaron's interference he was still not totally sure the extent of his abilities. Lord Beadle prided himself on his ability to learn and adapt to overcome his foes. Master Aaron may be skilled in sword and stealth but Lord Beadle was a master manipulator and there were still cards to play. Lord Beadle was fairly sure that all of the evidence against him was obtained by coercion and he intended to play that card and wiggle free from the noose. And he still had his trump card. The council had sanctioned his plot and they would deal with Master Aaron. Yes, Lord Beadle was sure he would still win his freedom and possibly still place his hands on the ultimate goal. Perhaps even discrediting Master Aaron enough to put the noose on him. Yes, that is the plan and with Master Aaron out of the picture, possibly for good, well then he would start over with better talent. Lord Beadle smiled to himself as he made his way to the bath and prepared himself for the day. ------- Master Drexil awoke early and began his morning exercises and practice reflecting on the events of the past few weeks. When Master Aaron showed up at his hall in Realto, Drexil knew there was trouble. You do not receive a visit from a high ranking master in your own guild and worse, the Guild Council's Lord Inquisitor without reason. Drexil thought hard over his actions and realized that he had in fact been played. Truth be told he had been flattered that the King and Duchess needed his help. He should have investigated more, the mere fact that he was supposed to keep it quiet and not inform the home office should have been a red flag. Well that was all water under the bridge. Pledging himself to Master Aaron was the best outcome from a bad situation. Now look where he was, in a few minutes he would be stepping on the path toward his life's ambition. Not that Guildmaster of the Realto hall was not a great achievement but compared to Guildmaster of the entire Guild, well there really was no comparison. He had no intention of letting his patron down. Master Aaron obviously had great faith in him and he intended to justify that faith. Yes, today was going to be a great day and he needed to be prepared. ------- Reginald stretched lazily when he heard the knock on his door and called out thanking whoever for his wake up call. Reg rolled back over and seriously thought about a few more hours of sleep, before deciding it was time to get up. Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he contemplated his morning agenda. First on the list was a nice long bath followed by breakfast. He noted that his traveling clothes were getting a little frayed around the edges, requiring a trip to a tailor. He figured the Innkeeper could point him in the right direction. Perhaps a new pair of boots as he eyed his current pair. He wanted to stop by his Lady's temple and spend a few moments in prayer and silent contemplation. He was sure that this was the path his patron wanted him on. Why else would he have been drawn towards that meeting in Dria with Aaron? He felt sure he was supposed to be on the up coming quest that Mara had initiated. That woman worried him, something was not right about her. There was definitely more going on than either he nor Aaron knew about. He hoped that what they were retrieving for her would not end up causing problems later on. Well enough musings on the future, time to get on with the present. Reg got up, exercised, bathed, got dressed and headed out for breakfast. Most of the other patrons were all ready gone for the day. Time to get his day started and make preparations for their quest. ------- Darius returned a half an hour later holding a parchment in his hands, clearly upset. "You were right," Darius spat out disgustedly. "That son of a whore put out a contract on you. I am going to have to clean house and find out how deep this rot goes. I promise you this Aaron, the guild will put a stop to the bounty and make it clear that any attempt on your life will be met with swift and decisive action by the masters of this guild." "Do not worry about it, Darius," Aaron replied calmly. "I know where the guild and you stand. It is a shame that it was Elton and not Beadle. But I am sure he put Elton up to it. I am going to have to talk to the council about the Thieves' Guild and I will pass on your findings as well. I will make sure they understand that we both were caught unawares from both guilds." "I appreciate that Aaron, maybe I will be able to keep my head," Darius replied. "Give the council my regards. Well I better get started on this mess. Good hunting Master Blackmoon." "Same to you, Master Greystone," Aaron smiled that feral smile. "Same to you." Aaron turned and left the guildhall. Aaron's next stop was to a small rundown taproom in the Central Quarter called the 'Deathmark'. Entering the taproom caused Aaron no small amount of trepidation, he always felt trapped and vulnerable in there. There were several hard men at the bar as well as more scattered throughout the tables. Making his way to the counter he nodded to the bartender. "A glass of your finest when I am finished," he said sliding his token across the bar top. The bartender nodded and picked up the token placing it in a depression under the counter causing a section of the back wall to slide open. Retrieving his token Aaron entered the opening as it slid back in place. Walking up to the door at the end of the small entryway Aaron knocked three times. "Enter, Lord Blackmoon," Aaron heard as he turned the knob and entered the chamber room. Behind every secret or semi-secret society is another society far more secretive in nature. The same was true for the Thieves and Assassins. Made up of a handful of very old, very wealthy and very deadly men, its job was to be the hand on the tiller of enterprise. King makers and deal brokers. If it was profitable then these men were involved. Nothing happened in the five realms that they did not know about and/or profit from. Kingdoms rose and fell, nations sprung up and faded away, yet the society remained. Simply referred to as "the council". The council was made up of five ruling members, although only three needed to be seated to define policy. This morning only three members were in attendance when Aaron requested an audience: Lord Gnola a Gnome, Lord Remy a Human and Lord Qatar a Dwarf. The hierarchy of masters within the Thieves' and Assassins' Guilds were setup in two tiers; upper and lower. Only the upper tier of masters (levels 4, 5, and 6) were even aware of the council, the exception being a master of the lower tier who was also a Guildmaster. Aaron's access was based on his second tier level as a Thief. More importantly, Aaron was the 'council's' troubleshooter and enforcement arm. Aaron entered the audience chamber and genuflected, head bowed, right hand on the hilt of Red Rose. "You may rise, Lord Blackmoon," Lord Gnola commanded. "Thank you, My Masters," Aaron replied rising to attention. "I come before you today to inform you that the Thieves' Guild has lost its Master and First. I have temporarily appointed Master Drexil Stabler from Realto to the post, awaiting your final approval of course." "We are aware of the demise of the previous Master," Lord Gnola replied. "Your choice of replacement is acceptable in both Aithen and Realto. Do you have the necessary paperwork?" "Yes, My Masters," Aaron replied, stepping forward and placing a rolled parchment on the table in front of him and then stepping back to his previous place. One by one the Lords placed their individual marks on the appointment letter and then rolled it back up and placed it at the end of the table facing Aaron. "Now, Lord Blackmoon," Lord Qatar began. "Information has come to our attention that displeases us. A number of prominent members of both the Thieves' and Merchants' Guilds were affected. A personal vendetta disrupts commerce, how can your disagreement with Lord Malachi be resolved quickly and amenably?" "With all due respects, My Masters," Aaron replied, "when I have his head. He has caused me personal grief, I will end this as soon as possible." "Personal grudges should not affect the overall desire of this society, Lord Blackmoon," Lord Qatar admonished him. "Personal grudges also affect judgement." "Be cautious, my young master," Lord Gnola added. "Lord Malachi was once a member of this council, long ago. He is quite powerful." "I will heed your warnings, Masters," Aaron bowed his head. "A God was a member of the council?" he thought. "Very good, Lord Blackmoon," Lord Remy replied. "Is there anything else?" "Yes, My Masters," Aaron begun cautiously. "Were you aware of a plot by Lord Beadle to usurp the throne of Aithen?" "Yes, we were aware of it," Lord Remy replied. "Aware and sanctioned. Lord Beadle came to us for our aid and while we chose to stay neutral we gave him our blessings, and promised no retaliation from this body." "I gave no promise," Aaron replied anger in his voice. "I do not understand, you knew he was going to try and kill my family and me as well, and you let him. Not only that, but you said you would not retaliate?" "Now, Lord Blackmoon, there is no reason for you to get angry," Lord Gnola replied. "We have great faith in your skill and abilities; had we not then we would never have sanctioned Lord Beadle's actions." "I do not understand, My Masters," Aaron replied, clearly confused. "You wanted to pit him against me? You must have known how I would react to his plot?" "Known, Lord Blackmoon," Lord Remy interjected. "We counted on it. Lord Beadle is ambitious, a little too ambitious. He needed to be dealt with, however it had to be handled correctly. We did not want it to look like this body had risen against him. Your greatest strength my young master is your loyalty to family and friends; however, coupled with your single-mindedness it is also one of your weaknesses. We saw an opportunity to deal with Lord Beadle's ambitions, without causing issues with his house or his influential contacts." "What if I failed?" Aaron asked clearly exasperated. "Then our faith would have been misplaced," Lord Qatar replied shrugging his shoulders. "We would then have had to find another knight to block the bishop. But our faith was not misplaced was it, Lord Blackmoon?" "No, My Masters, it was not," Aaron sighed understanding but not liking the manipulations. "I have all the evidence I need to bring him down. I intend to bring charges against him before the King. It will then be up to the King. Either way he is finished." "I do not like to be manipulated," Aaron stated flatly. "We are all manipulated in one way or another my young master," Lord Remy replied smiling. "It is the nature of things. Do not take offense where none was given. "Now that that is finished," Lord Gnola smiled. "We understand congratulations are in order. First, on your achievement as Swordmaster, well done Lord Blackmoon, well done!" "Secondly, it has come to our attention that you did dance with Master Wolfshound and came out the victor," Lord Qatar smiled. "Normally ascension in rank is based on defeating a higher ranked member. Since the difference in second and third level is subjective at best, we concluded that your actions were sufficient enough to warrant advancement. Welcome to the second tier, Master Assassin. If you pass forth your token it will be updated to reflect your current status." "Thank you, My Masters," Aaron replied placing his token on the table. Lord Qatar picked it up, stood up and walked to a door behind him. Opening the door he passed the token off, speaking to whoever was there. He closed the door and returned to his seat. "In honor of your achievement, Lord Blackmoon," Lord Gnola stood, holding a rectangular wooden box "We would like you to have this token of our esteem." "Thank you, My Masters," Aaron replied surprised at the gift. Taking the box he gently slid the top back revealing three bottles of 20 year old Gnomish single malt whisky nestled in straw. "Would it be alright if I gifted a bottle to Master Greystone?" Aaron asked. "I have had to impose on his hospitality without the benefit of an appointment and I tested our friendship. A bottle would go a long way toward repairing any damage." "That would be acceptable," Lord Qatar remarked. "Is there anything further Lord Blackmoon?" "No, My Masters," Aaron replied, genuflecting again. "Then arise, Lord Blackmoon," Lord Remy proclaimed. "Take your possessions, the day is waning and you have much to do." Aaron stood up and reached for the rolled parchment, surprised to see his token lying next to it. Collecting the token he picked up the box and backed out through the door of the audience chamber closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Turning around Aaron stepped through the wall opening which closed behind him. Aaron made his way to the bar where a glass of amber liquid was waiting. Saluting the bartender he tipped the glass back drinking all of the liquid in one gulp. The whisky was smooth as velvet going down and then spread warmth throughout his stomach. Aaron set the glass upside down on the bar, placed a gold piece on top, turned and left the taproom. Aaron returned to the Assassins' Guild hall and informed Darius of his meeting with the council including his advancement and then gifted Darius a bottle of Gnomish. He informed him of Drexil's permanent posting and the councils decision concerning them. The fact that Aaron still lived reinforced to Darius that his own position was safe for now. Darius had not only had the bounty revoked on Aaron, but also put the word out that any attempts on Aaron would be met with harsh reactions by the Guild. They bid each other good hunting and Aaron left for the Thieves' Guild. ------- Lord Beadle had only been at his office for a short time when word came in that Lord Aaron was in the city. Lord Beadle's informants had spotted Lord Aaron in the Guild Quarter but lost him and did not know where he went. Lord Beadle figured that he went into the Thieves' Guild, but not the reason why. It mattered little though, the fact that he was in the city but had not yet presented himself before the King mattered and Beadle intended to use that information. Leaving his office he went looking for Chamberlain Walton, finding him in his own office. After opening pleasantries Lord Beadle started in. "Have you seen Lord Aaron yet?" He asked casually. "No, Lord Beadle," Walton replied. "He has not made it back from Realto yet." "Well I have it on good authority that he is in the city," Beadle replied. "I would have thought that a summons by the King would have carried more weight?" "If he is in the city then that is news to me," Walton remarked. "There was no royal summons. If Lord Aaron has not seen his uncle yet then there is a very good reason. What is your interest in this matter, Lord Beadle?" "Oh, I thought the King had summoned him back from Realto," Beadle smirked. "As to my interest, as the ranking head of the Guild Council I would like to clear up these allegations regarding Lord Aaron and get back to the business at hand." "These very same allegations that you yourself brought before the throne, Lord Beadle," Walton accused. "I am sure, Lord Beadle," Walton began more calmly. "If Lord Aaron has delayed his homecoming with the King then it must be due to unusual circumstances. After that meeting if the King feels you should have certain particulars he will confide in you. If there is nothing further? Then I bid you good day." Lord Beadle returned to his office humming a little tune. "Well that went well, sow a little discontent here and there. Yes my plan has turned back on track." ------- Reg finished his shopping and after stowing his purchases, left for the middle city and the Temple Quarter. Finding the Temple of Love, he entered and spent time in communion with his Lady. Feeling refreshened he left several coins in the offering plate. After leaving her temple Reg decided to go to the palace and wait for Aaron. Arriving at the palace gates Reg entered the throng of people requesting an audience with the King and was granted entrance to the main throne room. He mingled in with the courtiers and waited on his companion. ------- Chapter 15B By the time that Aaron reached the Thieves' Guild, Drexil had already been cleaning house for several hours. Aaron gave him his new charter and charged him with living up to Aaron's faith in him. He also reminded Drexil that he would have to see the council soon to update them on the Guild's progress back to prosperity. Drexil commented that he wished he could spend the whole year without an audience, which caused a chuckle from Aaron, who understood completely. Aaron told him not to worry about the Guild Council appointment since the current leadership was about to be upset. Aaron figured that it would take time to settle the Council down and fill the vacancies. Aaron left Drexil reassured that his place was secure within the Guild. Aaron had a few more stops to make before seeing the King. He stopped at the Sorcerers' Guild and purchased a single dose of the invisibility potion to replace the one he used. He then returned to the inn and stowed his whisky, cleaned up and left for the palace. On the way to the palace he stopped at the Temple of Light to pay homage to Lady Rannath, spending several moments in prayer and silent supplication. Asking and receiving her blessings, he dropped several gold pieces in the offering box and left for the palace. The palace of Aithen was situated at the center of the third level of the city. Aaron liked to walk to the palace, preferring to leave Thorn in the lower level and closer to the city gates if a quick escape was needed. Aaron was stopped at the palace gates, which was odd and asked to wait for an escort, which was odder still. He sighed in relief when Chamberlain Walton showed up as his escort. "Chamberlain Walton, what is going on?" Aaron asked, clearly exasperated. "Not now and not here," Walton replied. "We can talk in my office, if you please, Lord Aaron?" Aaron kept his silence and followed Walton toward his office when he noticed Lord Beadle coming from the opposite direction down the hallway straight towards the both of them. "Chamberlain Walton, Lord Aaron, good day," Beadle smiled. "On your way to see the King?" "Why, yes, Lord Beadle," Aaron replied with that feral grin. "Why do you not accompany us? I am sure the King will want to talk to you after my report. Why not save everyone the trouble of finding you after, and just tag along?" "Lord Aaron, this is a private matter between you and the King," Walton interrupted. "No, no, Chamberlain Walton," Aaron replied. "I am sure Lord Beadle is well aware of what the discussion entails. No reason he should not be there from the outset. What do you say, Lord Beadle?" "I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about," Lord Beadle replied. "I am aware of certain alleged activity that I brought to His Majesty's attention, but that was to stop any idle chatter. Really Lord Aaron, the discussion should be between you and the King." "No, Lord Beadle," Aaron smiled wider, placing his hand on the pommel of Black Rose. "I must insist." "Are you sure about this, Lord Aaron?" Walton asked. "He is holding full court right now, perhaps we should wait for a more private audience?" "No, Lord Chamberlain," Aaron replied firmly, with that same feral grin causing Walton an involuntary shudder. "Now is the time and the full court should be the place, lead on." Walton just shook his head and continued down the hall. Lord Beadle knew when he was outmaneuvered, so he followed along behind them. At this time of the day the King was holding court in the main throne room, and that was where Walton led them. As they approached the closed doors the guards on either side came to attention. Opening the doors, Chamberlain Walton announced, "His Royal Highness, Prince Aaron Blackmoon, Swordmaster and Lord Inquisitor of the Guild Council." Pausing for a moment, Walton continued. "His Grace, Duke Colin Beadle, Grandmaster of the Merchants' Guild and Chairman of the Guild Council." The courtiers parted, as both men approached the throne and bowed to the King. Chamberlain Walton took a side route and stepped to the side of the throne. The main throne room of Aithen was long and wide. There were three aisles segregated by ivory columns spaced evenly apart on both sides of the main aisle. The throne sat on a platform four steps higher than the main floor. Several alcoves spaced between columns marked the side walls. Men-at-Arms holding halberds stood at attention to the sides of each alcove. "Prince Aaron, welcome home!" The King smiled. "Was your trip successful?" "If it pleases Your Majesty, Lord Aaron will do," Aaron explained cautiously. "I have spoken with my father, the Duke of Realto, and have decided to abdicate my position as heir to the throne of Aithen in favor of my brother, Prince Micah." "As you wish, Lord Aaron," the King proclaimed. "Let the records show that Prince Aaron has abdicated in favor of Prince Micah. Now, Lord Aaron, have you finished your investigation?" "I have, Your Majesty," Aaron replied. "It seems that all of the events, from the thefts from the merchant trains, to the untimely death of Master Wheatstone, to the poisoning of Duke Thandar, to the attempts on my life are all interrelated. The ambitions of Lord Beadle are lofty, Your Majesty. They include the throne you currently occupy." "Lies, lies," Lord Beadle proclaimed. "I have always been, and am now, a loyal subject to the crown of Aithen. These allegations are nothing more than a simple ruse to shift attention from the heinous acts committed by Lord Aaron. What proof, Lord Aaron, what proof do you have that I masterminded any of this?" "Lord Beadle, you are mixed up in some serious court intrigue," Aaron replied. "You have had two separate plans moving along toward a common result, the throne of Aithen and control of three of the most powerful guilds." Lord Beadle just stood there as courtiers began to move back, not wanting to be associated with him. "First, you moved into the chairmanship," Aaron begun, "thus removing yourself from the day to day operation of the Merchant's Guild. Then you had Lomac, the Merchant second assistant, provide specific details from different trains that you then passed to Reynaldo, the Thief first assistant who then had an underling steal from said trains." "The plan was to discredit Master Gerard and have Lomac replace him as head of the Merchants' Guild," Aaron continued. "But you did not count on Wheatstone finding out that Lomac was the source of the information. He came to you and then you placed a contract out on him, through Elton the Assassin first assistant, who you promised the Assassins' Guild to in exchange for his help and loyalty to you." "Here are the supporting documents," he passed them to the Chamberlain, who handed them to the King. Lord Beadle continued to stare at Aaron as the courtiers moved back again. "The second plan was to place Prince Micah on the throne with you as Regent," Aaron continued. "You enlisted your nephew, Nigel Weaver, the Village Master of Dria, and he in turn brought in Lady Thalia, the Duke's second wife." "The plan was to poison the Duke and do away with me, thereby putting Micah next in line," Aaron continued. "The King would then have an untimely death, putting Micah on the throne." "What Thalia did not know was that you intended to be Micah's Regent, not her," Aaron continued. "You had Weaver introduce a thief named Arnod, recommended to you by Reynaldo, to Lady Thalia." "Arnod's job was to poison the Duke and leave enough evidence to implicate Lady Thalia," Aaron continued. "He was also the link to the tampered tribute." "Here are the supporting documents," Aaron again handed rolled parchments to the Chamberlain, who in turn passed them to the King. Lord Beadle looked over at the King and gently shook his head as the courtiers give them more room. "My involvement concerned you," Aaron smiled. "You hoped that the contractor for Wheatstone might get me as well, but he did not. You hoped your agent at Realto would, but he did not. You had Elton put out a bounty on me, hoping it would be collected, but as you see, it has not." "Then you heard from Remo, a thief who was on Reynaldo's payroll, that I wanted Master Darius, the Assassins' Guildmaster followed to find out who put the contract out on Wheatstone," Aaron continued. "Using that information, you had Remo give me false information concerning Master Darius' involvement, not realizing that I knew that Master Darius would never be in league with you. That your patrons were diametrically opposed." "Your hope was that Darius or I would kill the other, and Elton would clean up after, but that did not happen either," Aaron smiled his trademark feral grin. "Then you would have the Crown and the three guilds; Merchants, Thieves, and Assassins." "How does that sound?" Aaron asked. "And before you try to denounce it, I have written, signed declarations from the other parties involved. An amazing plot, only four people knew you were the mastermind behind it. Each of those four ran the others." "Are you finished with this fabrication?" Beadle asked. "These statements you have, how were they obtained? Were they given freely or extracted by force or promise of death?" "Your Majesty," Lord Beadle began. "Clearly these statements were obtained under duress. Any person in their position, would say anything to delay the inevitable of Lord Aaron's wrath. Therefore, I contend that they are therefore suspect, at best." "Your Majesty, Lords and Ladies of Aithen," Lord Beadle turned to face the court. "I am and have always been your humble servant. My needs have always come second to the throne. It is shameful and untrue to disparage my character in this way. I am sure Lord Aaron in his investigation was caught up in the moment, uncovering information that took him down a false trail." "He is an imposing figure," Beadle smiled, turning toward Aaron. A murmur rose in the court. "I think even I might say anything to deflect his wrath, and the tip of his sword. I am sure that when you investigate these documents, you will find that not one person who made a statement is still among the living. That alone should tell you all you need to know." "What about the fact that you are the head of a secret society?" Aaron interrupted. "That is a boldfaced lie," Lord Beadle replied, raising his voice. "My loyalties lie with the Crown of Aithen." "The Crown you wish to wear, Lord Beadle," Aaron remarked. "I saw you leading a secret meeting at the Temple of the Hand. A meeting of like-minded individuals bent on the overthrow of Aithen." "Hearsay, Your Majesty," Beadle addressed the Throne. "I have done nothing to warrant this slander by Lord Aaron." "Lord Beadle, did you just call me a liar?" Aaron asked menacingly. "Your word against mine, Lord Aaron," Lord Beadle smirked. "I have no reason to lie." A gasp arose amongst the couriers as Aaron stepped in front of Lord Beadle and removed the right-hand glove tucked in his sword belt. The courtiers had fled the center aisle completely and were now huddled in small groups, their combined whispers a noisy droning sound in the background. "That was a mistake and your downfall, Lord Beadle," Aaron grinned. "As a SwordMaster, I may be called upon to adjudicate disagreements or displays of swordsmanship, and as such my word is my bond and is above reproach. Even in this instance, since I speak as Lord Inquisitor for the Crown and Guild Council, my word is binding as you should know." Throwing the glove down at Lord Beadle's feet, Aaron declared, "Either retract your statement or pick up the glove. I care not, either way." Lord Beadle knew he had been outmaneuvered by Lord Aaron. If he retracted his statement he would be admitting treason. If he picked up the glove he would be challenging Lord Aaron to honor combat to the death. Either way he was finished. Lord Beadle did the only thing he could. Falling to his knees, he looked up clasped his hands together and screamed, "My Lord Malachi, your servant is in peril and requires your assistance." "And I will gladly give it," a booming voice filled the court, as Lord Malachi, the God of Thieves materialized into view. The God Thief was short of stature but displayed all of the other attributes of his brethren. Glowing in ethereal light, with two gleaming shortswords in his hands. He appeared at the end of the throne room close to the double doors. Aaron spun to face him drawing both swords, blades ablaze with blue flames, runes glowing white in his hands. Lord Beadle leaped to his feet and tried to get away but he was brought up short by the tip of Reg's blade. "Not yet, Your Grace. Stay right where you are." Malachi vanished and reappeared behind Aaron slicing Aaron across his thighs with both swords and vanished again, reappearing in the same place he started from. "First blood goes to me," Malachi laughed. Aaron staggered forward from the assault to the back of his legs as Malachi leaped forward and attacked again. Aaron was able to parry the initial onslaught of blows, before a slice from Malachi penetrated Aaron's defense and scored across his left arm drawing blood. Malachi leaped back to his starting position as Aaron tried to catch his breath. "You are slow," Malachi laughed, "you need to be faster to keep up." Aaron took a moment to inspect his wounds. None were life threatening in of themselves, but they were delivered with the intent to slowly leak his strength and stamina away. More reflection had to wait as Malachi chose that time to strike again. Aaron fared much better during this attack. Attack, block, slash, parry, advance, retreat. Aaron was holding his ground much better even scoring inside Malachi's defenses on several occasions. In mid-block Malachi vanished, only to reappear behind and to the left of Aaron, and got in three clean hits before Aaron spun and pushed him back. Malachi again vanished, only to reappear once again out of Aaron's reach at the end of the aisle. "Looks like your life forces are leaking down your legs," Malachi mocked. "Did you actually believe you could best me, A GOD?" Aaron was losing more blood now; multiple wounds to his legs and sides were draining away his life force. Aaron was fighting a losing battle, Malachi was faster and his ability to disappear and reappear at will was taking its toll. Even in his pain Aaron was evaluating the fight, considering options. He noticed that Malachi returned to the exact same point in the room every time. Maybe he could use that to his advantage. He needed something or he would be finished. He did not have long to wait, for Malachi appeared in front of him and a whirl of sword blades began. A sudden slash from Malachi opened a gaping wound in Aaron's abdomen. Malachi disappeared from view; Aaron knew he had but one chance. Throwing Red Rose like a dagger at the point where Malachi should reappear he called, "Red Rose, fly straight and true for his heart." Malachi appeared as the command was uttered. Initial glee on the God Thief's face turned to horror as Red Rose interpreted the sword command in Aaron's phrase and stopped its forward spin in mid air. The sword's runes turned to blood red brilliance as all in the court heard, "AS YOU COMMAND, MY LORD!" in a deep booming bass. Red Rose flew point first directly at Malachi, who screamed, "No!" and vanished, Red Rose vanished as well. Aaron fell to one knee, leaning on Black Rose, point first in the floor to keep him upright. The court was stunned to silence, frozen in place. "My Lady," Aaron called out. "Give me strength. Your Paladin is in peril." "I cannot, My Paladin," Lady Rannath replied, the pain clearly in her voice. "We have sworn not to interfere with your feud." "Then, My Lady," Aaron sighed, "I fear I am not long for this world." "Just because I cannot help you," Rananth replied. "Does not mean that help is not at hand. There is another who may aid thee." "Who, My Lady? And quickly," Aaron struggled to stay upright. "I fear my time is short." "All I can say, My Paladin, is that your salvation is within your grasp," Rannath's voice faded. "Within your grasp." Aaron looked around, "Within my grasp? Who?" Looking at his hand gripping his sword it came to him. "Could it be that easy?" "Black Rose, give me strength," he spoke to his sword. The runes on the sword once brilliant white turned to midnight black as power flowed into Aaron's body. "BY YOUR COMMAND, MY LORD," the bass voice boomed throughout the throne room. Aaron felt like an empty vessel being filled with water, the purest, cleanest, most delicious water ever. Bone marrow produced blood cells at an amazing rate, cells grew and divided and divided again. The wounds stopped spilling blood as cells repaired themselves, slowly closing, the skin made anew. Strength returned to fatigued muscles, Aaron felt refreshed. "My Lord, you have the ability to call forth the pure power of Eldritch," Aaron heard in his head. "You did it before when you fought the other Betrayer. Feel the power deep in the rock, in the columns, all around you. Draw it forth, fill your vessel. Tap into the power, My Lord." Aaron did as Black Rose instructed. Just as he had when he fought Lord Malak, God of Truth, Aaron tapped into the pure power source and drew it in to his being. "Black Rose, how is it you can talk to me now?" Aaron asked. "You released me from my bonds, My Lord," Black Rose replied. "You spoke my name and commanded me three times. Once after fighting one of the Betrayers, again after meeting another and third just now. I may now serve you fully." "But, how was it that Red Rose spoke?" Aaron asked. "I do not remember ever speaking to it." "Tis true, My Lord, you did not," Black Rose agreed. "You gave him a command, My Lord. A high sword command, which burned through his bonds." "Speaking of which, My Lord," Black Rose continued. "Red Rose needs your strength. Reach out and feel him and send him the power you drew." Aaron did as Black Rose instructed. Feeling out with his power he felt Red Rose and pushed power toward him. A large bolt of blue energy leaped from Aaron's hands and disappeared. ------- When Malachi heard the command contained in the middle of his adversaries plea he knew he was in trouble. His only thought was to flee the streaking sword. Opening a gate to the Ethereal plane, Malachi fled through it, but Red Rose followed through as well before the gate could be closed. Malachi flew across the Ethereal plane with Red Rose hot on his trail. Malachi figured his best chance was on his own plane and he was correct as he slowly increased the distance between him and the single-minded sword. "A little farther," he thought, "and then I can turn and parry the attack." While it was technically feasible to parry a "Straight and True", the practical application was full of pitfalls. It could only be tried once and timing was of the essence. Once the sword was parried it would just re-attack, so the parry swing needed to be down toward the ground at which time the parrying party must step on the blade pinning it to the ground. Great strength was required to keep the sword pinned. Now that the sword was down, it must be held there, no mere feat and either cleaved by a higher sword or the sword's wielder slain. Yes, full of pitfalls. Malachi flew toward his temple figuring that he would make his stand there. In his temple he would be at his strongest and best able to parry the sword. Upon reaching his temple, Malachi stopped on his altar, turned toward the sword and prepared to parry. As Red Rose closed the distance a flash of blue light enveloped the sword strengthening it as it cleaved through the God Thief's parry. Red Rose pierced Malachi's body with tremendous force, driving the body backward off the altar and pinning him to a column. "I AM RED ROSE, THE REAVER," the booming bass echoed off the temple columns and across the Ethereal plane. The columns began to crack as the altar split in two and fell. Soon fissures could be seen over all of the stone and marble work. The entire temple collapsed in upon itself. The God Thief was dead. ------- "My Lord, it is finished," Aaron heard in his head. "The Betrayer is dead." "My Lord, call Red Rose home," Black Rose instructed. "Red Rose, to me," Aaron lifted his left hand, as the sword appeared there. Aaron looked around the court; courtiers were huddled in groups shrinking in fear. He noted Reg holding Lord Beadle at bay with the tip of his sword. He saw the King surrounded by his guard looking on in shocked amazement. He took it all in, realizing that Aithen could no longer be his home. He could no longer take the Blackmoon name; that life was over. He would start a new life with the name of his heritage. He would become Aaron Whiterune, and he would be no one's pawn. "Well, first things first," he thought, standing up and walking over to where Lord Beadle was being held. "Thank you, Reg," he nodded to the harpist, hopefully still his friend. Reg smiled at him and withdrew his sword, bringing it up in salute and sweeping it back down, nodding his head in return. Reg handed Aaron his glove and stepped back, scanning the room for threats. "Well, that answered that," Aaron smiled, and then turned to Lord Beadle. "I believe we have unfinished business, Lord Beadle," Aaron drove Black Rose into his heart. Lord Beadle's body shriveled up, drawing in on itself as if it was being sucked in. All heard the booming bass voice, "I AM BLACK ROSE, THE SOUL THIEF." Aaron wiped his swords on Beadle's corpse, sheathed them and turned to the throne, nodded his head, turned and walked out. Reg followed, backing out behind him. "Well, that definitely fit the definition of 'delicate in nature'," Reg laughed as they walked down the hall. "I told you we might have to leave Aithen in a hurry," Aaron replied. "Are you packed and ready?" "Of course. I took your warning to heart," Reg nodded. "I had Brian ready the horses. We can leave now if you like." "We may have no other choice," Aaron replied. ------- "My Lords and Ladies, I request a council," Lady Rannath addressed the Ethereal. Slowly and solemnly Gods and Goddesses faded into view, Lord Devlin stepped forward. "What is that you want Lady Rannath?" He asked. "We have lost a brother, now is not the time for council. Now is the time for mourning and reflection." "The loss of Malachi is exactly why I called for council," Rannath replied. "His loss is tragic, but it begs several questions. Why was a God interfering in politics on the Material plane? As the head of our council, did you know that he was meddling?" "He is dead, Lady Rannath, because your servant killed him," Lord Devlin replied. "You counseled discretion, to not interfere, and look where that took us." "My Lords and Ladies," Rannath turned to the council. "My initial counsel was sound. I said to not push him down the road to understanding, but is that just not what Malachi did? I did not know then that the God Thief was involved in a plot to upset the local politics, to establish some kind of puppet King. I cautioned against direct conflict and yet this plot directly involved family members of my Paladin. We should know by now how he would react. Now whether Lord Devlin had direct knowledge or not is immaterial. As the head of our council he should have known." "I move for a vote of no confidence in the leadership of our current head," she stated to the assembly. "I second the motion," Azrael, the God of Shadows stepped forth. "The motion has been made and seconded, what say you, brethren? Do we still have faith in Lord Devlin's leadership? Should he be held accountable for Malachi's actions and ultimately his death?" "You think to usurp me Witch?" Lord Devlin screamed. "I'll have your head!" He gathered his power and sent a bolt of white lightning toward Lady Rannath. Lady Rannath quickly cast a shield around herself and struck back with a concussion blast knocking Lord Devlin backward. Quickly, Lord Azrael bound Lord Devlin in rings of power. A murmur arose in the assembly. Once Lady Rannath restored order, she asked for a vote. The nays were overwhelming. Lord Devlin was stripped of his powers as leader of the Council of Gods. Furthermore, his aggressive actions led to the death of one of the brethren, as well as the rise of a WitchLord. His attack on a fellow God was the final straw. Lord Devlin's punishment was banishment from the Ethereal plane. Lady Rannath accepted the nomination and was voted in as the new head. She counseled against further direct interference in the politics on the Material plane. Lord Devlin was banished to the Material plane to the area his brethren once inhabited. Lord Devlin was not powerless, for he still retained the innate power of his people. He would not soon forget who caused his banishment. ------- "Lord Aaron, wait!" Chamberlain Walton hurried down the hall toward them. "Your Uncle would speak to you before you leave. Will you listen?" "Yes, Walton, I will listen to the King," Aaron sighed. "Lead on." Chamberlain Walton led them down a side hallway to a closed door. Opening the door he beckoned them enter. Standing in the room flanked by guards bearing halberds was the King of Aithen. "King Thane, may I present Reginald Ravensblade," Aaron looked to Reg. "He is my friend and traveling companion. He understands what transpired today." "Your Majesty," Reg bowed. The King inclined his head. "First I want you to know that I am grateful for all you have done," Thane spread his hands. "I think I understand why you abdicated, though I would have counseled against it. But now, it seems to have been the right move. Members of the House Beadle want your head, but I have intervened on your behalf." "That was not necessary, Uncle," Aaron growled. "Let them try to take my head, better men have and failed. My actions were well within my charter." "He is correct, Your Majesty," Walton interjected. "He may have maneuvered Beadle into it, but Lord Aaron was within his rights to kill him." "Oh, I know," Thane replied. "They are just posturing. Your investigation was concise and well presented. The fact that Weaver is still alive and corroborated everything ties it up in a nice bow. I just want you to know where I stand as your Uncle and King." "Well, I thank you for that, Uncle," Aaron breathed a sigh of relief. "For a moment I thought you were going to try and have me arrested. It matters not, though. I saw the faces in the throne room. I can no longer do my job for Crown and Council. Therefore I must formally resign my commission." "Better men have tried that as well and failed," Thane laughed. "I understand why you think you have to resign. I have a question though if you do not mind; were Beadle's accusations true?" "Did I murder innocent men and women in their sleep?" Aaron asked. "They were not innocent and I woke each and every one of them up first so they would know why. It is time for me to leave Aithen. I hope to leave in your good graces." "That was never in question, Aaron," Thane grasped his shoulders. "We are kin, even if only because of the love of your Mother. Go with my blessings nephew." "Thank you, Uncle Thane," Aaron replied. "Family is all that I have and care for. However, to protect them, I am dropping my father's name and using the one of my ancestors'; Whiterune. "Hail, and well met, Aaron Whiterune," King Thane shook his hand. "Hail, and well met, King Thane Blackmoon," Aaron replied. Aaron and Reg bowed and backed out of the room, turned and marched down the hall. "That went better than I expected," Reg laughed. "We are not out of Aithen yet," Aaron laughed as well. ------- Epilogue "Thus ends the story of the 'Thief of Roses'," the Bard announced standing up. Cries of "What? That can't be all!" sounded throughout the inn's common room. "What of Mara and the quest of the scrying stone?" a patron called out. "What of the banished God, Lord Devlin?" asked another. "What about the pregnant Goddess, Rannath?" asked another. "What happens to the baby?" "Will Aaron restore his people?" asked another. "Does he even want to?" "Who was awakened by Aaron's use of power?" by another. "Calm down everyone," the Bard commanded. "Just because I am done with this story does not mean that I am done completely. No, no, there are still sagas to be told, stories about the 'Thief of Shadows', the 'Harpist of Time' - which is one of my favorites, by the way - and many more." "Do not worry," He continued. "I am just not as young as I once was; my voice tires faster. A little wine, maybe a glass or two of fine single-malt whisky and a nap first. I will be around for a little while longer. Come back tomorrow night or perhaps the next and I will have a new story." With that he bowed to the crowded inn, picked up his harp bag and left the front heading for the bar. Sitting down at a stool, the innkeeper appeared before him setting down a shot glass and poured from an earthenware jug. "A good story, Master Bard," the innkeeper held the bottle at the ready. The Bard lifted the glass in salute and downed the amber liquid in one gulp, smiling at the memory of how he came to prefer the expensive elixir. Although, truth be told, this particular elixir didn't hold a candle to Gnomish, but he wouldn't tell his wife that. He needed to remember to instruct them to age their whisky in the barrels. Setting the glass down, he waved his hand and the bartender re-filled the shot glass. Again the Bard lifted the glass in salute and drank it all, setting the glass on the bar, upside down. Placing two gold coins on the glass in the fashion he was taught, he started to get up when the bartender reached out with his hand. "No coin, Master Bard," the innkeeper smiled. "Just pack them in again, and we will call it even." "That I can do," the Bard smiled and got up, retrieving his gold. "That I can do." The Bard went outside and pulled out a leather drawstring pouch and his bone pipe. Packing the bowl with weed, he closed the drawstring and put the pouch away. Looking to the left and then to the right, he snapped his fingers over the bowl, and a spark of blue energy ignited the leaf. Drawing deeply from the pipe, he held the smoke in for a second, and then blew concentric smoke rings into the cool clear night. "My Lord, a gate opens," the Bard heard in his head. "She comes." "Thank you, Timekeeper," the Bard replied, absently touching the hilt of his sword. He turned and watched the shape materialize, as if stepping through a door. The woman that stepped through the gate was beautiful. Medium height and weight, red flowing hair and green eyes, that sparkled when she smiled. A small nose, with freckles marching up one side, and down the other. Dressed in a simple white gown, belted at the waist. "I thought I might find you here," She smiled, stepping into his arms and kissing him. "I relate more with this time, than any other," he smiled, returning the kiss. "I guess I always will. I do miss the other races though." "Then everything worked out alright?" She asked. "Yes, the error in calculations has been corrected," he replied. "Come my husband," She stepped back and took his hand. "My brothers have created a new Mythos, and would like our opinion on its viability." "As long as we can be back by the end of the week," he replied. "I promised another story." Melvina, the handmaiden, opened a gate, and she and her husband, Reginald Ravensblade, Harpist of Time, stepped through. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2011-03-11 Last Modified: 2013-02-25 / 11:15:56 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------