DDDDD ZZZZZZ // D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE || D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 12 -=========================================================+|) D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 2 DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE || \\ \ ======================================================================== DargonZine Distributed: 2/28/1999 Volume 12, Number 2 Circulation: 686 ======================================================================== Contents Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb Fate of a Child 2 Rena Deutsch Janis 985 Talisman Zero 2 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Mid-fall, 2216 ID The Beast Mike Adams 7-8 Firil 1015 ======================================================================== DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet. We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project. Please address all correspondance to or visit us on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/. Back issues are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon. DargonZine 12-2, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright February, 1999 by the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb , Assistant Editor: Jon Evans . All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution. Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden. ======================================================================== Editorial by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb One of the most important lessons I've learned from 16 years on the Internet is the importance of reaching out to new members of whatever community you belong to. This was best illustrated for me back when I was one of "the regulars" on a particular Usenet newsgroup. Back then, I knew a woman who had been around for years and was very popular with others who had been around a long time. However, her attitude toward new members was usually arrogant and condescending. Meanwhile, another woman I knew, who had only been around for a short time, was more outgoing and welcoming to new people. Now, newsgroups are like most online communities in that there is a constant flow of new people checking them out and old members leaving or losing access. Over time, the arrogant woman's friends gradually moved on to other things until there was no one left who remembered her, and she spent all her time online grousing about how vital she was to the popularity of the group and how no one seemed to appreciate that anymore. Meanwhile, the newer, more outgoing woman had become the center of a large circle of new members that made up the bulk of the community. Understanding this -- that in a dynamic community, in order to remain popular you need to actively welcome new members, and that the price of arrogance and condescension toward "newbies" is obscurity -- was a major revelation for me. And it remains one of the most important lessons that I try to infuse in DargonZine. Every month, approximately five percent of our readership leaves, and is replaced by new readers. Think about what that means for a magazine where we're building on fifteen years of stories, and where any given story may well rely on an understanding of names and places and events depicted months earlier, or where any issue could contain "part four" of a storyline. It means we need to do a superlative job at reaching out and immediately engaging our new readers, and getting them up to speed on what they need to know in order to understand and enjoy our writing, and do that constantly. That's an enormous struggle, but one where we've made some progress in recent years. The Web site now includes a whole section called "About Dargon" that includes such features as maps of the area, a special "New Readers' Introduction" page, and our Online Glossary, which contains encyclopedic definitions of every person, place, and thing we write about. And each time something in our Glossary appears in a story on our Web site, it is hyperlinked to its description in the Online Glossary. And when we print "part four" of a storyline, we write that chapter so that it can stand alone, and include pointers to the previous chapters. Another way to establish familiarity with the milieu is to ensure that there's some overlap between stories, so that readers become comfortable with the people, places, and things that are most important. Here, I must admit that we've done a mediocre job, which I'll talk a little more about in a moment. But to address this problem we have recently revived our practice of using contests and organized writing exercises that incorporate communal events or themes, such as our 1997 Night of Souls stories, and our more recent comet stories. Look for more of these in the future! We realize that making it easy for new readers to get up to speed is our biggest hurdle to overcome if we are to survive and grow. While we've made some progress, I'm sure there's more we could do. If you have specific ideas on this topic, we'd love to hear them, because it will allow us to better serve you, and the readers whom we hope will follow. Of course, new readers aren't the only people we need to reach out to. Similarly, we need to integrate new writers and both make them feel welcome and give them sufficient understanding of what we do and how we do it so that they can immediately start producing printable fiction. This is usually where the "commonality" I mentioned above breaks down. Usually, new writers are uncomfortable writing stories that take place within the unfamiliar confines of Dargon proper, so they strike off on their own, writing a storyline that takes place on the outskirts of known territory. By doing so, they avoid having to do much research into what's already been written, and their stories are less constrained. On the other hand, their works may never integrate into or even overlap with the mainstream of Dargon work, and if this happens often the project may become nothing more than a shell surrounding a number of independent, unrelated storylines. We've tried to address this in a number of ways, including rules that require new writers to write their first story in Dargon proper, the contests and communal events I spoke of above, and our new mentoring system, which so far is showing great promise but limited capacity. So far, we're doing a good job making writers feel welcome and productive, but we still need to work on developing more commonality between storylines. But through all these struggles, the unwavering goal is to make it easier for people, both readers and writers, to enjoy DargonZine, so that it can grow and continue to contribute to the value of the Internet, as it has done since 1984. ======================================================================== Fate of a Child Part 2 by Rena Deutsch Janis 985 Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 11-10 "Tobias, Tobias! Look what I got!" Anna ran down the snow-covered hill, holding the result of this morning's hunt in her hands. She could see Tobias Held, her guardian, blowing in his hands to warm them while he was waiting for her to come down the hill. Anna stumbled, fell, and slid several feet downward. Quickly, she got to her feet and walked the rest of the way. Her face beamed with pride. "Look Tobias! I caught a rabbit! All by myself!" She held the rabbit up high and laughed. During the last years Tobias had taught her to hunt with a bow and arrow, but she was much better with a sling and stones. The rabbit she'd brought back proved it. "Look at you!" Tobias laughed and brushed the snow off Anna's cape. "Good hunting Anna!" he told her with a smile on his face. "Now go inside and warm up, I'll skin the rabbit and we'll cook it for supper." "Thanks Tobias," she replied and stepped inside the cabin. Anna still hated to skin an animal, though she had learned how to do it. She took the outer layer of her clothing off and hung it near the fire to dry. Tobias had brought the clothing back from Dargon last Ober. It was a bit big, but that way it would last her hopefully through this winter and maybe next. Anna stood near the fire and warmed her hands. The heat felt good after having spent the morning outside. Anna's thoughts drifted. She was hoping that this year Tobias would take her along to Dargon. Each year he had gone to Dargon to sell fur and furniture for the spring festival, Melrin, a five-day celebration. Each year she had been left behind to tend the goats and look after the cabin. "This year I'm going, too! I don't want to stay behind again." Anna straightened herself unconsciously as the thoughts whirled through her head. She wondered why Tobias wouldn't take her with him to Dargon. Her fair skin, green eyes, and red hair were quite a contrast to Tobias' dark skin and black hair. It would raise more than one question if she were to travel with him, but Anna didn't care. She never accompanied him when he went to one of the villages, afraid what might happen if someone recognized her. The memory of her mother's death still haunted her dreams. Up here on the hill she felt safe; no one bothered them. "I will ask him again to take me to Dargon for the spring festival. He just has to let me go!" Anna told herself, took the kettle, filled it with water, and hung it on the hook over the fireplace. She threw in some of the dried herbs they had gathered last year and added cut vegetables. Together with the meat, it would make a fine stew. It was Anna's sixth winter in Tobias' cabin. After her mother's death she had been wandering aimlessly in the forest. Only by chance, had she found the cabin and Tobias had let her stay. He had added a room for her, made shelves for the wall, and a box in which she could keep her few belongings. Each year he had brought her something from his trip: a piece of candy, a string with beads to put around her neck, a new dress, or a doll. Last year, he had brought her a cape. Anna treasured the gifts, but they also reminded her of Tobias' yearly absence. A cycle was a long time to be alone, the days passed quickly, but Anna hated to be left behind. She was dreaming of ships and big places and the market he had told her about. She wanted to see all that, too, and was determined to accompany Tobias when he left for Dargon the next time. "Did a good job with that rabbit," remarked Tobias as he walked into the cabin with a bowl full of cut up rabbit. "Thank you!" Anna smiled and her eyes sparkled. Deciding not to wait until after dinner with her question, she gathered all her courage. "Tobias?" "Hmmm?" "Will you take me with you when you go to Dargon this year?" Anna saw the surprise on Tobias' face. After a few moments of silence, he took a deep breath and responded as he had many times before. "Anna, we've been through this before. The long journey and the dangers of the road. Maybe next year." "But I want to see the market, the ships, and all ..." Anna's voice was filled with a deep longing. She clenched her fists. "And who'll take care of the goats and the cabin while we're gone?" "We could take the goats with us. You always took the goats before." She looked at him, wishing he'd give in. "That I did, but I only had two goats then, not six like we do now." "But I can help! I'm older now; I can do many of the things you do." Anna looked at her guardian and watched him prepare the meal quietly. The silence was unsettling. Pacing back and forth in the small room, Anna couldn't take the silence any longer. "Tobias, I --" "We'll see," he interrupted and Anna knew he wouldn't say anything more about it. She let out a sigh, and set the table. She wanted to go to Dargon and would not give up until she'd gotten her way. Anna ate her dinner, hardly noticing what was in her bowl, then finished her chores automatically. After her evening ablutions she went to her room and stretched out on the hay. "Please, Stevene," she prayed silently, like so many nights before, "let me go to Dargon with Tobias this year." Tobias remained sitting at the table, pulling his traps out from underneath the table and fixing them, long after Anna had gone to her room. He had seen the longing in Anna's eyes and heard the unspoken want for change and adventure. It reminded him of his own longing for adventure in his youth. The girl had brought so much joy to his life. If he took her with him, it would make her happy, but would also put her life in danger. Roadside bandits were one of his concerns, the length of the journey another. It would be more stressful to travel with Anna, and if they took the goats it was almost an invitation for raiders. And then there was the matter of being recognized on the way by the villagers who orphaned her. Anna hadn't told him what happened, but she had been plagued by nightmares for cycles after she had arrived in his cabin and had cried for her mother in her sleep. The year after her arrival, he had learned about Anna's mother and the circumstances of her death. His journey had led him through Cobbleswell and careful questioning of some of the village youngsters had revealed that Anna's mother had been accused of worshipping Arom-Nok and conspiring with the god to bring harm to the villagers. Tobias remembered the youngster's words as clearly as if he'd told him the day before: "... The men chased her all night and brought her back and tied her up real good, but they couldn't find Anna. The girl was just as evil as her mother was. The next morning some of the rope was cut and we all got scared, thought the woman was gonna just disappear. Then we all threw stones at her till she stopped breathing. She was evil you know and did bad things to us. And then the men burnt her shack. After that all was quiet and nothing bad has happened since." Tobias shuddered when he thought just how proud the boy had been about the killing. He had avoided Cobbleswell ever since, just in case. Every now and then, he heard that the villagers were still afraid the child would reappear and continue what her mother supposedly had done. Over the years, Tobias had seen nothing in Anna that would warrant the accusations of the villagers. His knowledge of the All-Creator was limited. He had read the Manifest Pantheon a long time ago and forgotten most of it. After learning about Anna's mother, he had filled in the gaps in his memory. Part of the Manifest was an explanation how everything came to be, and the All-Creator's intention for his creation. When the All-Creator realized that man needed guidance, he created eight gods. Arom-Nok was one of the gods, but despised the All-Creator's work and spread plagues and suffering among the people. Tobias believed in the teachings of Cephas Stevene, who had spread the word of one god, and had taught Anna in that manner. She was certainly not the child of an evil god. But who would believe him? Many fellow travelers avoided him because his skin was so dark. He had heard the word 'demon' applied to him more than once. Only in Dargon people were used to all different kinds of skin colors, though he wasn't so sure if Anna's red hair would not draw extra attention, or prompt someone's memory. During Melrin people from all over the duchy would visit Dargon. If he were to take her, he'd have to come up with a plan. Maybe his friends Zarit and Jerel would be willing to help him -- traveling with six goats was not something he looked forward to. With this in mind he went to bed. Spring finally arrived, melting the last ice, turning the hills green, and the meadows into a symphony of colors. The birds in the forest were chirping and building their nests. Anna was down at the creek washing her clothes and laying them in the sun to dry. She could hear Tobias hammering behind the house. He was fixing the fence and the small hand-wagon. He'd been at it all morning. Anna knew he was getting ready to travel. The spring festival was only three sennights away. Her yearning to go to Dargon with Tobias was stronger than ever and made it difficult to concentrate on her chores. He hadn't said anything since she had asked him last. Twice after her successful hunt in the winter she had tried to talk to Tobias about taking her to Dargon. Each time he had cut her off with a brief remark. A deep sigh escaped her. Anna knew better than to push the issue again, but she wanted to go so much that all her thinking circled around a way that would convince Tobias to take her with him. Anna rinsed her shirt, wrung it as well as she could, and spread it out to dry. The sun was high in the sky now and shining warmly on her. A quick bath in mind, she took her shirt off and stepped carefully into the creek. The water felt cold around her ankles. She knelt down and let the water splash onto her legs and stomach. It was icy! Anna finished quickly. By the time she was done her feet looked blue. Shivering, she put her shirt back on and ran up and down alongside the creek to warm up. A little out of breath, but finally warm, she let herself fall backward on the grass, and watched white and grey clouds move slowly over the sky. Tobias looked up from his work and stretched. He had finished the hand-wagon and packed all he needed for his trip. The fence was in a decent state. He listened for Anna. She was noisy when she did her chores, and he usually had no trouble locating her. But it was quiet and the silence was unsettling. "What is she up to?" he wondered and walked around to the front of the house. All over the grass, laundry was spread out to dry and right in the middle was Anna, asleep. He woke her up. "Anna," he began, "There's just enough time for me to walk the path and check the traps one last time. I'll be back by sundown." He saw the unspoken question in her eyes and added, "We're leaving tomorrow." Anna's face took on an expression of surprise and amazement. "I get to go? I get to go!" excitement was in her voice, then doubt. "I really get to go?" Tobias saw the worried look and nodded. Anna's reaction made him smile. She ran around, jumping and twirling, laughing and crying at the same time. In between her jumps she yelled: "I get to go! I get to go!" Watching her in all her excitement and joy, he felt comfortable with his decision for the first time. Yet, Tobias wondered if he'd done the right thing; he still wasn't sure whether his plan to disguise her would work. When Anna was out of breath, she ran back to Tobias and hugged him. "Thank you, Tobias!" Her eyes beamed with joy. "Thank you!" "Make sure you have everything ready for the journey, so I can add it on when I get back. Pack only what you need." Anna nodded; for once she was speechless. Tobias smiled at her. "I'll be back at sundown." He turned and made his way into the forest. Soon he disappeared from sight. Anna picked up the clean clothes and turned them over so they would dry faster. She ran in and out of the cabin, put the things she wanted to take in a bundle, and closed it up, only to open it up again and add one thing or take another out. The sun was beginning its downward path when Anna closed the bundle up for the last time and took it out to the wagon. She took a deep breath. "I get to go," she thought, "I really get to go." Overjoyed, she quickly picked up the now dry clothes, jumping excitedly from shirt to shirt, took them inside, and folded them. In her excitement she didn't notice the three men who stood at the edge of the forest on the other side of the creek. The men watched as the girl ran in and out of the cabin, the long red hair following her every movement like a tail. For a long time the men seemed frozen in position, then, without a word one turned and walked into the forest -- the other two followed. "It is Arom-Nok's child!" one of the men whispered in shock, breaking the silence. "I was right! I did see her two sennights ago when I took a wrong path! And you wouldn't believe me." "No! It can't be her! The wolves ate her years ago!" the other remarked. "No child can survive in the woods by itself." "No real child, but Arom-Nok's child can!" the first man stated. "Arom-Nok even provided her with a place to live! Nobody lives up here! Don't you remember that he's responsible for plagues and sufferin'? Told you this place's evil! We shouldn't have come here in the first place!" "No, you're wrong," the second man said thoughtfully. "It was the All-Creator himself who led us here. So we can take care of the evil in these woods once and for all." "What do you intend to do?" the third man inquired. The men looked at each other. Neither of them was sure how to proceed. The first man broke the silence. "I say we burn the place down and then take her to the village where she'll join the fate of her mother." It only took a brief moment for the others to agree. "I'll go and get the girl," the first man said, "You two wait until I have her and then we'll set fire to the place." The other two nodded silently and watched as their companion approached the cabin. Anna packed her clothes in a separate bundle. She'd take them with her in the morning. When she heard a knock, she turned around in surprise. "Hello, anybody here?" a voice inquired. Anna held her breath and for a moment she didn't move. "Who would come up here?" she wondered. When the same voice spoke up again and repeated the question, Anna left her small room and stepped into the main room of the cabin. A burly man dressed in grey was standing in the doorway. "Hello," she said shyly, barely looking at the stranger. "I got lost in the woods; do you know which way's to the nearest village?" he wanted to know. "Can you show me?" "Just follow the creek downstream," Anna said softly. She didn't move. "Speak up child," the man said, "I can't understand you. I'm a little hard of hearin'." Anna repeated what she'd said. "I can't hear you child, just point me in the right direction. My hearin's really bad." He moved back into the sunlight. Anna stepped outside and walked towards the creek. The man followed her swiftly, then grabbed her, pulled her hands behind her back, and covered her mouth before she could let out a scream. She struggled as hard as she could, but the man held her tight. "Stop struggling or I'll kill you right here," the man yelled at her. Anna stopped in horror; she sensed he meant what he said. She watched, terrified, as two men appeared from across the creek and walked into the cabin. Menes later, the cabin burned. Tears ran down Anna's cheek as she remembered her first home burning. "Not again!" she cried inwardly, almost choking on the lump she felt in her throat, "Not again!" "Did you get some rope?" asked the man who was holding her. "Sure did, and some cloth to keep her quiet," answered the man grinning, binding Anna's hands behind her back, and tying the cloth so she couldn't make a sound. "Don't need her screamin' all the way." "Let's go!" the man grabbed her arm and dragged her along. She tried to resist, but got a blow to her head instead. "You walk, or you'll get more of those," the man threatened and raised his hand again. Anna's head hurt. She let herself be led away, weeping as she stumbled down the path. "Tobias, help me!" she thought, "Please! Tobias! Help me!" It was a long way up the hill to check the traps and disable them. Not much game was in the traps these days. "Damn wolves" he swore out loud when he found another trap with only a head in it. He'd have to come up with something better than the current traps when he returned from Dargon. Angry, Tobias walked on. "Three traps in one day emptied by those damn beasts! I can't believe it!" he muttered to himself. "It would have been nice to have some extra meat to take along to Dargon. What am I going to tell Anna, when I get home empty-handed? The wolves ate her dinner?" Tobias picked up a stick, slammed it against the nearest tree, breaking it in half. "I better make my way home, no sense in cleaning out more traps." Frustrated, Tobias chose another path back. When he saw smoke rising, he hurried down the hill. "Oh, Stevene! Please, don't let this be true!" Tobias called out, hoping it was not his cabin going up in flames. His hopes were crushed when he finally saw the clearing in which his cabin was located. Where his cabin stood, the flames were rising high into the sky. "Anna!" he shouted, "Anna, where are you?" Only the sound of flames consuming his cabin answered him. There was nothing he could do to stop the fire; in a few bells his cabin would be only ash. The goats were trying to get as far from the burning cabin as possible and galloped into the forest the minute Tobias released them. Tobias worked hard to stop the spread of the fire. Countless times he ran back and forth, making sure none of the falling debris would set the forest on fire. He had lost track of time and stopped to catch his breath. He was sure the fire wouldn't spread now, but his cabin was lost. He had moved his hand-wagon to safety earlier, and felt fortunate that he still had it. Everything he had packed was still on there and safe. He glanced to the spot where he'd left it. A small bundle on the side caught his eye and he walked over to the wagon and opened it: Anna's belongings. "Anna!" Tobias called her until his voice was sore, but no answer. His heart ached. The uncertainty of what had happened to her made him worry so much he had trouble breathing. He could only hope that she hadn't been trapped inside the cabin when the fire had broken out. Tobias watched as the cabin collapsed and sent more debris flying, keeping him busy preventing the spreading of the fire. Finally he had it under control and he paused, feeling tired and miserable. Not knowing what had happened to Anna was more than he could take. He searched the area around the cabin until sunset without finding her. In his sorrow, he forgot completely to search the other side of the creek. The men walked fast alongside the creek, stopping only briefly whenever Anna tripped and fell. By the time they sought shelter for the night, Anna's knees were bloody, her arms bruised, and her head hurt. She had fallen countless time, being unable to balance herself. Breathing was difficult with the cloth covering, and partly filling, her mouth. She was scared and winced in pain when one of them tied her to the tree. "Tobias, where are you? I need your help!" Only the cloth in her mouth kept her from yelling at the top of her lungs. For the first time, Anna got a good look at the men and memories of events long forgotten surfaced again. "They look like the men who took Mama away from me!" The realization was like a blow to the stomach and a wave of nausea swept over her. "They were among the people who burnt my house!" Anna swallowed hard. She watched as the men built a fire and sat down to eat. "What are they going to do to me?" she asked herself, yet was afraid to find out. "We should get her some water; don't want to drag a corpse to the village." "You give it to her then," was the swift reply. "Fine." One of the men got up and stood in front of Anna. "If you make one sound, you won't get a drop of water. Understood?" Anna nodded and he untied the gag. She took in a deep breath of fresh air and quickly drank the water he offered her. "That's enough." He took the cup and forced the gag back into her mouth. Anna winced in pain. The man ignored her and settled back down near the fire. "Tell me," he inquired as he reached for the bread, "What makes you think she is Arom-Nok's child? To me, she looks like any ordinary child." The other men looked at him as if he was a youngster who needed a lesson about the All-Creator. "I'll tell you, but only 'cause you're new around here." "Just tell him, and don't leave anything out," the other man interjected. "Well then, 'bout half score ago, this woman with her brat shows up in our village, says her husband had died and she was looking for his sister. 'Course the sister wasn't living anymore either, so the woman moved into the empty shack. At first, all was fine, but then half the people in the village got sick and died. The year after we lost most of our goats to some sickness. First we didn't think the woman had anything to do with it, but then we noticed that she disappeared into the woods and didn't show up until days later. Said she was collecting herbs, but we found out she was conspiring with Arom-Nok, plotting how to do us more harm. She never joined in our circles, said she was praying alone. One year we caught her in the woods, but whoever was with her then, just vanished without a trace. "And then that kid of hers. Just take a look! Have you ever seen anyone with hair that red or such green eyes? No one who ever lived in our village looked like that, and the mother didn't look like that either. The year we caught the mother in the woods near the fairy circle, all the children but one got sick, many died. You can guess whose child didn't get sick! So we took action!" "What did you do?" "We made sure she couldn't do us any more harm, and then burnt her place. We just didn't know what had happened to the brat. Thought the wolves had gotten to her. Now we know, and we'll take care of her once we're back in the village." "And nothing bad happened in the village since you disposed of the mother?" "Nothing!" "Then why do you want to harm the child?" "Don't you understand? Her mother conspired with an evil god and had this child!" The man pointed with his finger in Anna's direction. "If we don't take care of the child for good, the evil will come back." The man spoken to nodded. Quietly, the three men finished their meal. "One of us should stand watch. Just in case." "Don't you think she's secure enough?" "Doesn't hurt to stand watch! Never know what happens in these woods. And there are wolves around here." "All right, I'll take first watch." "Fine, wake me when it's time for the second watch," the one sitting furthest away from Anna said. "And I wake you when it's your turn," he added and pointed to the remaining one. The man nodded and settled down beside the fire. Soon the two were asleep and started to snore. The other man sat down beside them and stirred the fire. Anna was cold and uncomfortable. She'd been trying to shift into a better position, but the ties made that almost impossible. The man on watch, the same one who'd given her water earlier, approached Anna and gestured her to be silent. Then he took the gag out of her mouth. Anna took a deep breath and licked her dry lips. Silently he put a cup to her mouth and let her drink some of the water. "Name's Drew," he whispered, "Don't make a sound. Don't want to have to put the gag back in. Understand?" Anna nodded. Drew took a sharp stone, went behind the tree, and started to tear the rope with it. Soon the rope gave and Anna quickly brushed the remains of the rope off her wrists. She rubbed her badly hurting wrists. Drew stepped in front of her and whispered: "Listen closely and remember! Name's Drew. I'm a merchant from Dargon, selling cloth. I have a stand in the marketplace there. I've been searching for you for a long time. Knew your mother. There are some things you need to know, but I can't tell you here. See that you make it to Dargon for the spring festival. You need to follow the water downstream for several days. Walk on the stones or in the water for the first days so the men can't track you. Pass the villages by night; don't let anyone see you if possible. Understand?" Anna nodded again. "Here, eat slowly." He handed her a piece of bread and watched her eat it. When she was done he gave her another. "Save that for later! And now go!" He pointed towards the creek and watched her disappear. Anna made her way to the creek, careful not to step on twigs or make a sound that could rouse the men. She felt dazed and confused, but she was free again and would go and find Tobias. It was dark, but Nochturon's light aided her in finding her way. When she finally reached the creek, Anna was exhausted and hungry. Her body ached from the exertion of the day. She sat down to eat the rest of the bread, then quenched her thirst with the water from the creek. Taking a deep breath she forced herself to go on, to get as much distance as she could between the men and herself before the other two discovered her escape. "I have to get home, find Tobias, and then go to Dargon," Anna muttered to herself. "I hope he is still by the cabin." And then she remembered, "The cabin! They burnt it down!" Gathering all her strength she pushed forward. The water in the creek was ice-cold. Anna stepped reluctantly in, but Drew was right. They wouldn't be able to trace her if she walked on the stones or in the water. Whenever possible Anna stepped onto the stones in the creek, briefly resting. It became increasingly difficult for her to see. Clouds covered the moon, and then the rain began to fall, lightly at first, but soon the rain came pouring down. Within a mene Anna was drenched. She climbed out of the creek and continued her journey upstream on solid ground. The rain would obliterate all traces of her footsteps. "I need to get home! I need to get home!" was all she could think about. Wet, cold, and tired as she was, she stumbled on, each step becoming more and more difficult. Dawn came slowly. Anna had no idea how much farther she had to go. The rain subsided. She tried to call Tobias, but her voice failed her. She leaned against a tree, shivering in her wet garments. "I. Have. To get. Home!" She dragged herself forward, but her strength was gone and the events from the night before caught up with her. The world turned black before her eyes and she collapsed. Heavy rain woke Tobias the next morning. The fire was out; only the fireplace remained of his cabin, the rest was ash. He took a long stick and moved towards the remains to find out if Anna had been in there. Slowly he probed the ashes with his stick, salvaging the few things the fire hadn't consumed. He found his knife blades and pocketed them. Tobias was both relieved and worried at the same time when he found out that Anna hadn't been in the cabin. Looking pensive, Tobias stood in front of the remains. The rain from the morning had obliterated all signs of whoever might have been there to set his place on fire. At this point it really didn't matter anymore; there was nothing he could do to change it. All he wanted was to find Anna, to make sure she was safe again. He wasn't sure where he should begin searching. The past six years had been some of the happiest in his life. To him, Anna had been a blessing. Sent from Stevene. Tobias finally moved toward his hand-wagon, looking for some dry clothes, and then remembered; he'd left them in the cabin. He sighed deeply. He would have to stay in his wet clothes, not something he looked forward to. He hoped that the sun would come out soon and dry him. His eyes scanned the edge of the forest, hoping to spot Anna, but to no avail. Tobias packed his findings into his hand-wagon. "The sooner I leave, the better!" he thought and started pulling. The soggy ground made it difficult to move the wagon. After a few steps he stopped. "If I leave and Anna shows up, she won't be able to find me." Tobias was torn inside. He paced back and forth between his wagon and the site of the fire, uncertain what to do. "Must have been those villagers who did this! First they set my place on fire and then they take Anna." He stopped momentarily to kick a stone out of the way, then continued his pacing. "I need to go and find her!" Determined, he went back to his wagon and started pulling. Tobias made slow progress. He traveled alongside the creek, stopping frequently, calling for Anna. The farther away from the cabin he got, the less hope he had of finding her. "Anna!" he shouted as loud as his voice would allow. "Anna!" but no one answered his call. Around mid-afternoon, Tobias was tired and looked for a place for the night. His eyes were searching both sides of the creek, when he noticed a movement on the other side on the ground. He left the wagon and hurried across to investigate. "By Stevene! Anna!" Tobias cried out. His eyes took it in all at once: the girl on the ground, covered with dirt, injured, and wet. Carefully, he picked her up. She felt cold and was very pale, but breathing. Tobias carried her to his wagon. He had to get her out of the wet clothing. Quickly, he unloaded the wagon, opened a bundle of fur, and spread half of it over the wagon. Then he peeled the wet clothing off the girl, laid her on the fur and covered her with the contents of a second bundle of fur. It would have to do until they reached shelter. Tobias thought for a while which direction he should go. He didn't dare speculate as to what had happened to Anna to get her in such a state. He'd seen the bruises and scrapes on her body. He wasn't sure going to Dargon was such a good idea after all. He would have to think about it. He checked on Anna. She was still very pale, but breathed more easily. The fur helped warming her up. He would have to find a place where she could recover. The small settlement near the Coldwell river, where his friends Zarit and Jerel lived, came to his mind. They would surely help. Tobias took a deep breath and began to pull the wagon. He moved away from the creek, taking the path into the forest. It would mean a detour of half a day, but he felt safer that way. He was glad to have Anna back and while he was pulling the wagon, he made plans to build a new cabin. ======================================================================== Talisman Zero Part 2 by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Mid-fall, 2216 ID Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 12-1 Kendil lay alone on Captain Eldinan's large bed, and stared listlessly around her sparsely furnished cabin. It was about half the size of the alkaehran hold, and contained only the bed, a table against one wall, a sea chest under the table, and a private bathroom behind a door in one corner. The only decoration in the main room was a glass-chip mosaic on the opposite wall, showing a scene of water crashing onto rocks. It has been made, he understood, by Eldinan herself. Aside from that one piece of art, there was nothing else fancy in the room. No extravagant trappings, no gold or jewels strewn around, only simple furnishings in a simple room for the fascinating Captain Eldinan. The captain was on deck at the moment, overseeing the crew. The _Typhoon Dancer_ had enjoyed a week of good weather since that last storm, but the captain treated every day the same, and preferred to keep her eye on things in calm, steady breeze, or storm. Kendil wished she were here, though. Then he would have other things to do than think. He smiled as his thoughts turned to those other things, but the smile faded as the object he fondled recalled to him the reason for his distress. He looked down at the wooden chain he had been carving that day a week ago that the captain had decided to invite him into her bed. Thoughts of good fortune and misfortune chased each other through his brain, and he wondered whether he was mad to be feeling even the least bit unhappy at the present moment. Perhaps not unhappy, for what was there to be unhappy about? He wasn't sleeping in those confining hammocks any more. He wasn't sleeping alone, either, and the captain was quite talented when it came to bed games. They talked, too, and sometimes their conversation was as fulfilling to him as their more carnal intercourse. She was being slowly revealed to him as his perfect woman, or as perfect as he was likely to meet, given that the gods no longer walked among mortals. He felt that he might even be falling in love with her. And yet, he still found himself discontented. He ran his fingers over the smooth, carved wooden links he had made, and worried at that discontent. The wooden chain had been started as an exercise; his father had taught him the trick, and he was just keeping in practice. But then Nikkeus had mentioned in rapid-passing that he had noticed him carving, and at that moment the chain had been destined to belong to the musician. And then, Eldinan had turned her attentions on him. There hadn't been time for a choosing between the two; he had been flattered by her interest, then had accepted her invitation, and then it had been done. He hadn't expected the captain to maintain her interest in him. He had continued and finished his carving, thinking to be back in the alkaehran hold in days, and then asking one of the crew if there were someplace private he could take his music maker. But that hadn't happened. The sun crossed the yardarm again and again, he and the captain began to grow close, the chain was completed, and he found himself thinking about Nikkeus almost as often as he thought about Eldinan. He wrapped the chain around one fist and closed his eyes. He conjured up an image of both of them behind his eyelids, and tried to compare them. Tall Nikkeus next to shorter Eldinan. Chestnut haired Eldinan next to blond Nikkeus. Both fair, but Eldinan had the features of a pure Fretheodan, while Nikkeus had that Nirmalel nose. Eldinan's grey eyes were mysterious, while Nikkeus' light green eyes were lively, happy, open. There was nothing to choose between them -- Kendil found himself drawn to both images before him. He imagined that he reached out and touched both, caressed the cheeks of both, kissed the lips of both. He ran his imagined hands across both chests -- Eldinan's curved, full, soft; Nikkeus' flat and hard, each with different nipples, both kinds interesting, both kinds exciting. His phantom hands roved further, touching arms, hips, thighs, stomachs, groins. He remembered the night of the storm, lying with Nikkeus. He remembered the next night in this bed with the captain. Which had been more fulfilling? Which had been better? Which, which, which? Why did he feel the need to compare, the need to choose? Wasn't the decision made? He couldn't turn away from the captain for a young teraehra, he just couldn't; and anyway, he didn't know Nikkeus as well as he knew Eldinan. What if the musician had taken nothing but a moment's pleasure from that stormy night? What if his discontent were just some kind of false fear of worth? If only there were a priest of Reesera on board -- he needed to talk this out with someone, and an acolyte of the God of Love was the perfect person for the task. Maybe he would have to wait until landfall at Wudamund. That should only be another two weeks, after all. Surely that wasn't too long. Surely he could survive fourteen days of doubts and dreams, strange discontent in the midst of perfect contentment. Two weeks of thoughts of warm, firm flesh pressing against him, pressing against yielding flesh, grey eyes staring into his, staring into green eyes, staring down past his chest to a face with a Nirmalel nose, staring up along a flat stomach past beautiful breasts to a Fretheodan face, thinking about choices, why choose, choose, choose ... choose ... Captain Eldinan found herself whistling absently as she stood on the quarterdeck and surveyed the _Typhoon Dancer_. Knowing she was a lousy whistler, she stopped -- the crew didn't deserve the punishment -- but continued to smile. She certainly should be happy enough to whistle. Kendil was an amazing young man, full of skills, full of energy, full of stories, full of wonder. That chain he had carved -- simple, utilitarian, almost mundane, and yet so intricate when examined, so beautiful. She had seen works of art made out of wood, but that chain -- it was just amazing, just like Kendil. She had picked the alkaehra for an afternoon's diversion, but she had found far more. She had certainly found her match in bed, but his talents extended beyond carnal pleasures as well. Those magic hands were matched by an inventive mind, and a well of energy. And if sometimes he needed a little help directing his ideas, a hint of a push to get him going, well she certainly had practice in that sort of thing and she wasn't one of those who hated taking her livelihood into her off duty hours. And then she was whistling again, with a grin on her face that almost made it ache. Mooribek, who was working on some lines nearby, looked up and grinned in turn. "A happy cap'n means a happy ship, I've always heard said." she quipped. "But we've already got a musician a'playin', Cap'n, for all his notes are sadder'n a multiple funeral. So mayhap you could leave off your 'competition'?" "Second!" Eldinan called out. "Five lashes for this swab, for insulting the captain!" The smile on her face and her hearty laugh ensured that everyone knew the joke. Mooribek smiled and saluted, and went back to the ropes. Out of curiosity, Eldinan turned her attention to the musician that her crew member had talked about. And she made sure to concentrate on not whistling. Now that she was listening, she heard the melancholy notes coming from the bow. She made her way forward, and found the musician sitting atop one of the storage casks lashed into place just short of the bow. He was bent over his instrument, which was placed across his knees, intently working on the strings with the fingers of one hand, and turning a crank set into the side with the other. The music that was produced was not quite like anything she had ever heard, and she just listened for a bit to the haunting melody. As Mooribek had said, there was sadness in every note, sadness in the way his fingers moved, sadness in the droop of his shoulders and neck. If the music hadn't been so exquisite, she would have ordered him to stop immediately. Instead, she wondered at the source of the sadness, and listened, rapt. When there was a pause in the music, Eldinan shook herself a bit and said, "You play magnificently. What kind of instrument is that? I've never seen or heard its like before." The musician looked up, startled, and Eldinan found herself staring into his almost grass-green eyes. He had a handsome face, quite prominently branded as a northerner with that enormous Nirmalel nose and such light blond hair. And those eyes were just amazing! She caught a couple of different emotions crossing his face before he looked back down at his instrument. What had they been ... annoyance? For being disturbed maybe. Envy? Well, who wouldn't envy the captain. Anger? At what? "The instrument is my own, Captain," he said softly. Eldinan found herself impressed. There had to be a lot of talent in the man before her, if he could play as well as that *and* make instruments as well. She asked, "So, what may I call you, besides a most excellent musician?" Another pause, and the young man began, "I am Terant Nikkeus, Captain. The instrument is just a combination of a viol and some drone strings that are bowed mechanically by the action of this crank here. The pitch of the drones can be varied slightly with these keys here. I call it a vibrolin, but that's just what I call it but since I made it I guess I can do that --" He stopped abruptly and blushed, dropping his head again as if ashamed. Eldinan leaned against the rail and contemplated the young man. There was something about him that aroused her maternal instincts, or was it her captainly instincts, the ones that made her want to do her best for her crew? He wasn't part of her crew -- he was one of the teraehran bound for Wudamund -- but she still wanted to do something to help him. He was just *so* sad -- surely she could do something about that. "So, Nikkeus, you are a player as well as a maker of instruments. And you are a right handsome lad, as well. So why do you sit in my bow playing music to make the fishes weep?" Nikkeus looked up at her with an open expression, and said, "You." She waited for more, but nothing more came. "Me?" she asked. Nikkeus looked down again, paused, and said eventually, "Kendil." Again, nothing more came. Kendil and her? "I respect your privacy, but you make me curious. You say that I am part of the cause of your sadness, but I have never met you before today. I would appreciate some explanation of that." Nikkeus was silent for a long time, and Eldinan was about to shrug and turn away, when his voice started up. "The storm. That night, I was in the galley. It's a steady place, and I couldn't sleep ..." She listened to the tale of what two of the soldiers aboard her ship had got up to that storm-tossed night. As interesting as the tale was, of Kendil and Nikkeus happening on each other and ending up in each others' arms, she found herself almost captivated by the face of the young man speaking. His mouth was amazingly mobile, shaping each word perfectly. His lips danced, and she was nearly hypnotized by them. She found herself drawn to the musician, and those captainly instincts he aroused in her started to become a different sort of arousal. Handsome, talented, and full of such sadness, who could fail to be moved? But she already had a lover who fulfilled her. She didn't need another. But if only ... The tale continued to the next day, when Kendil had left the musician and later, she had come along and taken Kendil away to her cabin, where he had been ever since. Only figuratively, of course -- the alkaehra had participated in drills every day, and had free run of the ship as normal. Nikkeus finished, "... and so that's why I'm playing such sad music, because I've been left once again and I suppose I should have expected it. After all, it's the captain this time isn't it? I'm no competition for you. So I'm sorry if my playing is upsetting anyone. I'll stop if you want." Eldinan blinked a few times in the silence, marshaling her thoughts and getting her emotions under control. Finally she said, "That is quite a story, Nikkeus. I'm sorry that it seems that I've taken your man, but ... well, he said nothing to me of other ... commitments. Please, continue to play. Good music is good music, no matter what its motivation." She paused again, still flustered by the soul-baring story, and not yet certain of her reaction to it. She found herself briefly angry with Kendil for some reason, even though she knew perfectly well that no promises had been made between the two men. And yet, Nikkeus had seemingly invested their time together with more meaning than Kendil had. Or was that true? Had Kendil really felt nothing more than lust for the musician, or had he simply not had the time to express any deeper feelings? Her own part in Nikkeus' story, that she thought had been peripheral, might have been more important than she had realized. Uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking her, she said, "Ah ... I'll take my leave, now. I'm sorry for any hurt that's been done you, but thank you for giving me your tale. Good day." She turned away from the dejected musician, who hadn't looked up from his head-down position. But before she had taken three steps, the music began again, just as melancholy as before. She sighed and continued across the deck, through the door under the quarterdeck, down the short corridor, and through the door at its end into her cabin. Kendil was lying on the bed, worrying his wooden chain like Tendilask prayer beads. If he had been playing an instrument, Eldinan thought he might be able to accompany Nikkeus, so mournful was his expression. Recalling the story she had just heard, and the fact that the person on the bed in front of her had featured prominently in it, she wondered whether the source of both sadnesses might be the same. She walked across the cabin and sat down next to Kendil. She placed her hand on his thigh, and said, "And what's got you frowning so, lover?" Kendil looked at her and smiled tentatively. He put a hand over hers on his thigh, sighed deeply, and said, "Nothing. Nothing at all." Eldinan shook her head and frowned. "I don't believe that." She moved her hand to the bed on the far side of him, and leaned over him. "Don't hide things from me, Kendil. Please." Kendil looked upset at that. He said, "B-but ..." and turned away from her piercing gaze. Eldinan lifted a hand to turn his head back to face her. She looked deeply into his brown eyes, and said, "Tell me." He blinked and stared back, but didn't say anything. "I could make it an order. You may serve under Jenkil, but you're still a part of my crew." She softened her expression lightened her tone, so that he would know it was a joke -- she would never bring her rank into her bed. But maybe the joke would loosen his tongue. He smiled in response, shut his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. "I was just thinking about ... Nikkeus." "What about Nikkeus?" Eldinan asked, pretty sure of the answer. After hesitating for another moment, Kendil said, "He ... he and I spent the night of the storm together. In the galley. And it was a very -- intense -- experience. We never really got to talk about it, though, and then you came along, and ... well, I find myself wondering. Wondering about that night, and him, and what might have been." Eldinan sat up then, but maintained eye contact. She thought about these two young men, each pining for the other in their own way. She asked seriously, "Do you regret accepting my request of a week ago?" Kendil's answer was immediate. "Oh, no! I don't know if I've ever been happier than I have this past week. Well, except maybe the night of the storm. That's the difficult part of it -- I think that I could find happiness with either you or Nikkeus. I don't think I could choose between you. But, of course, I already have, I guess." Eldinan found herself surprised by the things she was thinking just then. She should have been outraged that her current lover was also equally attracted to a barbarian musical teraehra. She was a ship's captain, not to mention a Child of Aelther, a pure-blood Fretheodan, after all! But Eldinan knew that was just her upbringing talking. She knew that feelings didn't follow economic or political station, and the heart didn't care about what part of the empire one's parents came from. She knew that Nikkeus had just as much of a hold on Kendil's heart as she did. The question was, what was she going to do about it? There were only two choices ... or were there more? She found herself contemplating that last thought, wondering where it had sprung from. She mulled it over for a moment, and then decided, "Why not?" "I've got a proposal for you, Kendil, and it goes like this ..." Nikkeus felt better for having explained his feelings to the captain. He didn't think that her knowing would make any difference in the way things were, but at least someone knew about it all. Now at least someone would understand the suicide note he was contemplating writing at the end of his term of service. He continued sitting on deck playing his mournful melodies because almost anything was better than listening to his squad mates sitting around in their cabin and joking about conquests past, present, and future, both amorous and martial. His vibrolin was his second favorite instrument, and it often brought strangers up to ask him about its distinctive and unique sound. And some conversation to take his mind off of his troubles would be nice. The sun was nearing the horizon when a shadow fell over him. He didn't need to see his instrument to play it, but the shadow meant someone was near, so he looked up. Nikkeus saw Corrik standing there, looking at the instrument on his lap. He knew that Corrik was the third in command of the vessel, even though Nikkeus probably had four or five years on the man. Briefly wondering what circumstances had led to Corrik's rank, he said, "Yes?" "Your pardon, Terant Nikkeus. I was entranced by the lovely sound of your instrument. Ah, the captain asked me to request your presence in her cabin at once." "Why?" asked Nikkeus. "She didn't say. My apologies. I've got to get back to my duties. Fair sailing under Aelther's aegis." Corrik sketched a courtesy salute, and walked away. Nikkeus stretched his legs and slowly stood up. He was used to sitting cross legged for long periods, but even so it took him some time to get them used to moving again. He stood, slipped the picks off his fingertips, gathered up his vibrolin, and started walking aft, wondering the while what the captain could want. Did this have anything to do with their talk earlier? If so, what? Was this trouble? What else could it be? He reached the door that led under the quarterdeck, and walked down the short passage. He stopped before the door at the far end and knocked. He waited for a moment, and when no one answered, he opened it and stepped in. The room he entered was medium-sized for a room aboard a ship, but it was far less ornamented than he would have expected. A simple bed, table, and chest, and for decoration, only a mosaic on one wall. Nothing fancy or flashy. Not what he would have expected of a captain's cabin. And he certainly wasn't expecting what awaited him on the bed itself. Because what he saw was Kendil, arms spread wide and tied to the posts of the simple headboard, wearing only a smile and a sheet covering him from the waist down. "Ah ... what?" was all that Nikkeus could manage. Kendil opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the captain herself emerged from the other door in the room and stopped, startled by Nikkeus' presence. "By Aelther, this wasn't supposed to happen," Eldinan said. "I told Corrik to wait before asking you here, Nikkeus, to give me time to get clear. I've got to teach that man to listen to *all* of an order!" She frowned and paced for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. She said, "Well, this should have been Kendil's speech. He's tied to the bed in such a way that he couldn't have done it himself, so that you would believe that he was telling the truth about my gift, but maybe you will give it more credence to hear it directly from me. The long and short of it, Nikkeus, is I am going to give you a chance with Kendil here." She didn't pause for Nikkeus' surprised "What?" but continued, "After hearing your story on deck, I came back here to find Kendil moping as well, for similar reasons, and that got me thinking. Being with him makes me happy, but I can't be with him every moment. Being with him makes you happy, and he tells me that being with the each of us makes him happy. So, during those times that I must be with the crew, I am willing to allow you and he to be together. "If anyone becomes uncomfortable with the arrangement, we will have to work out another solution at that time. But for now, this is it. He's my gift to you, all tied and ready. Have fun!" Nikkeus was thinking furiously as Eldinan walked toward the door. The captain had certainly surprised him with this situation, which was very generous, and the product of an open mind. But there was another opportunity waiting, one that she just might be open to. Even though he felt he might be straining her generosity, he decided to act anyway. So before the captain reached the door, he turned and said, "Stay." Eldinan stopped, faced him, and asked, "What?" "Stay, Captain. I thought that if there might be an attraction between you and I, then perhaps instead of two twos, why not one three? We could at least try. That way there won't be any jealousy. And maybe all three of us could be happy all of the time, instead of switching off between you and me." Eldinan said slowly, "I hadn't thought of that. I don't know, though ... I mean, ..." Kendil spoke up eagerly. "Nikkeus has a point, Elin. Why not give it a try? You were willing to share me after all. Why not share me in person? And I have a feeling that you are no more resistant to that Nirmalel face than I am." Nikkeus nodded, and said, "Try. Please?" After an almost interminable pause, Eldinan finally shook her head, laughed ruefully, and said, "Why not? I'm already beginning to think I'm crazy to imagine letting you two carry on together behind my back. Why not participate?" She smiled at the two of them and walked over to the bed. Nikkeus automatically walked over to the other side. Eldinan reached for the ropes at Kendil's wrists, and said, "I guess these have served their purpose. One of Kendil's best assets are his hands: it would be a shame to keep them restrained." Nikkeus smiled at the recollection that Eldinan's comment elicited. His attention was fixed on the movement of Eldinan's hands, and he was wondering how much of an asset her hands were when Kendil interrupted his thoughts with, "So, Nikk, why don't you unwrap the rest of your package now?" Nikkeus looked down into Kendil's grinning face. The alkaehra was doing his best to indicate, without the use of his hands, the sheet that was covering him. Nikkeus reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it away to reveal that Kendil *was* in fact wearing nothing but his smile. Eldinan had freed both of Kendil's wrists by that time, and said, "It looks like the rest of us need to lose some clothes. Why don't you put those hands to use, Kendil, and help us out?" As Kendil reached for him, ending up doing more teasing than undressing, Nikkeus felt better than he had since boarding the _Typhoon Dancer_. He watched eagerly as the captain began to unbutton her vest, and thought that maybe he wouldn't be writing that suicide note after all. ======================================================================== The Beast by Mike Adams 7-8 Firil 1015 "Jaaaron! Guardsman Jaron!" Sergeant Guralnik's shout echoed through the corridors of the cells below Dargon Keep. Jaron had the night duty this sennight, and Sgt. Guralnik had already caught him sleeping once, two mornings ago. The jailer had little time for layabouts, but the strange star in the sky had stretched the duke's men thinly. In the end, the veteran guardsman felt relieved to have someone with which to split the duty. "I'm down here, sergeant," came Jaron's thin, reedy voice, "At the small cell." Guralnik strolled down the wide corridor which separated the cells, four large ones on the right side, five smaller ones on the left. Jaron was standing in front of the small cell at the end of the corridor, lighting the last of the torches that relieved only a small part of the darkness that pervaded the dungeon of Dargon Keep. Guardsman Jaron was a short, slight, man whose tabard hung limply from his narrow shoulders, an unconscious parody of a typical hulking soldier. His eyes were what everyone remembered; they flitted from sight to sight, never seeming to rest. People seldom trusted him because of this tendency, since he rarely looked anyone in the eye for long. Guralnik was aware that Jaron had obtained his position through the good offices of an uncle who was owed a favor by someone in the Duke's court. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Liriss made a regular, though small, contribution to Jaron's pay packet, although the young man had done nothing, as yet, to earn the crime boss' coin. Guralnik might have been surprised at the number of payments made to persons working in the Keep, but being an honest man, he had never been approached. As he went by the cells the sergeant's eyes quickly swept the enclosures, noting new arrivals and determining whether anyone had escaped their due punishment by dying in the night. When he got to the end cell, he had to look twice. "By Ol's balls, what's a woman doing in my cells?" he shouted. "Jaron, are you mad?" He turned to Jaron, who stood grinning, looking into the cell. "Captain Koren's order, sergeant," said Jaron. "She killed her pa last night, and someone else a few years back. The city guard's full up they said, with all those troublemakers from the market square preaching against the new star, so they brought her here." He pointed into the cell, at the two men cowering in the corner farthest from the girl. "Those two won't go near her." After having heard their story, Guralnik had to agree. The two men, servants in the castle, had gotten drunk three nights ago and decided to steal the jewelry of a visiting noblewoman. The lady had woken during the commission of the crime and had immediately attacked the pair, who quickly soiled themselves and had been led to the dungeon by a pair of chuckling guards. The sergeant turned his attention to the other occupant of the cell. A young girl, he could tell: about fourteen years old. She sat cross-legged near the door, a vacant stare on her face. She wore a loose shift, so it was difficult to see much of her body. "She's a looker, sergeant, isn't she?" said Jaron, who had apparently seen more of the girl when she had been brought to the cells. "And she tells stories, good stories. I think I've seen her in the market square, telling tales for a Scrod. I listened to her most of the night. That sure enough made my shift go by fast." Guralnik shooed the bemused Jaron out of the dungeon and settled down for a quiet day. He kept an ear out for the girl, but she made no sounds while he was there. And although Sergeant Guralnik was unaware of it, the beast had awakened. "Beware the four-lipped beast, my son." The girl was telling a new story, and Jaron, who had arrived early for his shift for the first time in his life, listened eagerly. He was seated on a stool outside the small cell, staring intently at the girl. "Those were the last words my father spoke to me. After that, he was too busy trying to breathe to say any more." A slow smile spread across her lips as she remembered, but it didn't reach her pale blue eyes, which were seeing events far beyond the cell walls. "My father, so my mother told me, hated women. Why he kept her is a mystery to me, but he did, until she revealed she was with child. Believing he had been cursed to die without progeny, my father assumed she had been unfaithful. He flew into a rage, beat my mother, and then used her to pay off a debt he had incurred while rolling the bones with Tulik, a stevedore. "Tulik was a big man, with simple tastes. He would either beat my mother, or brutally use her. After a month, my mother went to my father's home, and begged him to take her back. He laughed at her, and shut the door. "That was my mother's life, and my coming changed very little for her. She said that I made her happier, and that it was easier to endure Tulik than before, but that may have just been a matter of perspective. I cannot remember a day in which my mother was not being beaten with tongue or fist. "I could not have been more than seven years old when Tulik started to take an interest in me. It was another year before he began touching me, and not long after that, he visited me in the night. I know now what happened then, but at the time it was more than my mind could bear. I am sure I went mad, at least for a while, and I remember little of that period in my life. "Repetition, however, will render even the most horrific act mundane, and I regained my senses over time. Tulik's house settled into a routine in which abuse and terror were so commonplace as not to be noticed. At times my mother or I would rebel in some small way, only to be beaten down, literally, by Tulik. "The disruption of the routine came one evening late in my twelfth year. Maybe a late ship put Tulik in such a foul mood, or the fact that my mother burned the bread, but suddenly Tulik lashed out and struck my mother with the back of his hand. Normally, that would have satisfied him, but my mother allowed a flash of defiance to appear on her face, and Tulik went berserk. I huddled in a corner, unable to help, while he punched and kicked my mother ceaselessly, screaming senseless noises all the while. "Slowly he wound down and finally stood still, breathing heavily, staring at my mother's motionless body. Without looking around, he walked out of the house, no doubt headed to the nearest tavern. "I crawled from my corner to my mother and cradled her bloody head in my lap. I sobbed as I rocked her back and forth as she had done with me when I was only a baby. Eventually she roused, and moaned softly. I cleaned off the worst of the blood with the skirt of my dress while my mother spoke to me again of my father. How she knew I would need a place to live, I don't know, but she told me what I would have to do. "When she died only menes later I laid her in my own bed. It took some time, for even though she was a small woman, I was still only a child. Then I took the sharpest knife from the kitchen, crouched in a dark corner, and waited. "I must have dozed off, for I didn't hear Tulik until he started yelling for my mother. Maybe the drink had driven the earlier events of the evening out of his head, but apparently he assumed my mother would be in his bed as always. After a moment he fell upon the bed and started snoring almost immediately. "I had imagined this moment many times, seeing the blood spurt, hearing him beg for his life, but now that it had come I just quickly drew the blade across Tulik's neck, as deeply as I could, jumping away in case he roused. In the end, he lay there, burbling blood through his throat, too drunk to even realize what was happening to him. When the sound of his liquid breathing ceased I returned to my own bed, and crawling in beside my dead mother, I slept more peacefully than I had for many long years. "The next morning I left that charnel house and went to the market square where my real father told stories to earn his meager living. In my turn I told him the tale my mother had spun; that I was his son, named Kyl, born of the woman he had thrown in the street. I had dressed in a loose tunic, and trousers. Being young and skinny, only a close examination would have betrayed me. Tulik's path had crossed my father's only seldom, and according to my mother they were not friendly, so I had no reason to believe I would be caught out. When he took my hand, looked in my eyes, and called me son, I knew I was safe, at least for a time. "From that time I lived in my father's house, and went with him each day to the market, where he would tell his stories. I sat beside him, listening to the way he would speak, the way he would make his voice rise and fall with the tale, and how he would stop at the most exciting part and wait for a coin to ring on the stone before he finished the story. Soon I knew most of the stories he told, and he would let me tell one, when the crowds were sparse. "One dreary winter day, after too much drink the night before, he told me to go to the market on my own. I returned that evening with almost a Round's worth of smaller coins. My father was amazed, but since I didn't spend half the day in the tavern drinking the day's earnings away it wasn't difficult. "My father rarely ventured to the market after that. He devoted himself to spending our increased earnings in his favorite alehouse; rising from his bed only in time to take most of my money as soon as I had returned from my pitch. Many times he stayed away the entire night, his bed still empty when I ventured out at the suns' false rising. "It was some time before I learned the reason for my father's long nights, and though it was a shock, it explained much. Not long before my body began to truly blossom, my father returned from the tavern, the worse for drink, and morose to the point of tears. He sat on his bed calling softly for someone named Lestir, which sounded strange. As far as I knew, my father had no one close enough to him to weep over. "Then my father paused in his weeping and gave me a look which, at first, I did not understand. It was when he called me a pretty young lad, and mumbled something about moving closer that comprehension flashed into my mind. My father was a boy-lover! It explained so many things, from his hatred of my mother and other women, to his frequent, secretive nights away from home. I recovered my wits in time to elude my father's fumbling grasp, and ran out into the night. "It was several bells before I returned to our home to find my father asleep, and when he woke the next morning, it was if nothing had happened. He made no reference to the events of the previous night, and when I returned from the market, he took his usual cut of my takings and left for the tavern without a word. "From that day I lived in terror that my father would come to me in the night and try to satisfy his lust. What he would do when he found I was not his son, but his daughter, was something I tried not to think about. I slept fitfully, and both my appearance and talent suffered. I started to see movements in the shadows, and hear noises in the dark silence of the night. "It was about that time that the moving star appeared in the twilight sky over Dargon. There were many who met in the market square to talk about the star and say what they thought it portended. One priestly looking man said it was the birth of a god, but another said it was a sign of a god's death. Yet another said it signaled the end of the world, for we had displeased the gods, and they were sending a ball of fire to consume us. "It seemed that over the next few days more people came to believe that the world was going to end, and the Guard was very busy trying to keep order. During this time of increasing chaos, I could feel the shadows creeping closer to me. It was about then that I decided to give my father a special meal, for if the end of days had come surely the gods would not mind me taking some of their justice into my own hands. Their hands would be full with the rest of the world. "I went to the fishmonger's and bought a fresh popperfish, being sure to get one that had not been gutted. This wasn't unusual, as many wives preferred to fillet the fish themselves to be sure the delicately flavored flesh was not tainted by a small, but highly poisonous, gland deep in the fish. "My father, fool that he was, took my elaborate meal preparations as a sign that I finally regretted my action in rejecting him so abruptly, and he decided to forego his usual trip to the tavern, no doubt hoping to commit some lewd act upon me instead. I didn't disabuse him of the notion, even going so far as to smile at him several times. "Not long after my father had finished his meal, not noticing that I hadn't touched my portion of fish, he rose and approached me, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but just then a strong shudder tore through his body, nearly toppling him. My father looked at me, a puzzled expression on his face, but he couldn't force any words from his mouth, which was now locked tight by the next spasms. "I smiled at him, and repeated his words to me on the day we met. 'I am your daughter Kylana. Beware the four-lipped beast, my father.' And the last thing my father saw was his daughter, nude and laughing, dancing as his life ended." Suiting action to word, the girl rose, stripped, and danced wildly about the cell, laughing madly. The two ducal servants cringed in a corner, but Jaron stared intently, lust strong in his eyes, which for once never wavered from their focus. The beast had arrived. "Jaaaron! Guardsman Jaron!" Sergeant Guralnik's shout echoed through the corridors of the cells below Dargon Keep. "By Ol's balls, if you are sleeping again, guardsman, Ol's temple will have yours on the offering plate this very day!" Guralnik strode down the corridor between the cells, not even seeing the pale faces peering from the larger cells. As he approached the small cell he almost slipped in a puddle. The jailer held his lamp up low and peered at the liquid. It looked very much like blood, but even during one of the occasional fights that occurred in the cells there was not this much. His right hand quickly found the hilt of his sword. With a sense of dread about what he might see, Guralnik raised the lamp and looked into the cell. One glimpse at the part of the scene lit by the lamp was enough to cause the sergeant to turn away and vomit his breakfast into the cell next to him. He then ignored his still-protesting stomach, wiped off his mouth, and turned back to the grisly scene before him. The two castle servants, hands and feet bound, lay in the far corner of the cell. Their clothing was drenched in blood, but after a moment the guard could see their chests rise and fall in the slow rhythm of sleep. Near the cell door lay the body of Guardsman Jaron. The large pool of blood seemed to come from him, and when Guralnik saw that the guard's manhood had been removed, he knew what the blood had come from. Guralnik never knew the real sequence of events that night. The servants knew little, having been tied up and knocked unconscious before any blood had been shed. When questioned by the guard captain, he held almost nothing back; even his guess at what had actually happened that bloody night. In his mind Guardsman Jaron had gotten his due. The girl had escaped, but how long could a young girl survive on her own? One thing he never spoke of, even to his wife, occurred as he was leaving the cells to get assistance. A voice seemed to whisper in the jailer's ear, and then trailed off into laughter. What the voice said shook the sergeant to his core. "Beware, beware the beast. It is never far away." ========================================================================