CHAPTER ONE: A MEETING OF COMPANIONS

HEADS turned, whispers sounded, as the new girl walked into the classroom. Looking totally out of place in shredded jeans, chains dangling from every pocket, a Celtic design on her tank-top, and numerous rings on her long fingers, she tucked strands of gleaming red hair that had escaped from her two thick elbow-length braids behind her ears and sauntered on exceedingly long legs to an empty seat. She was stunning. The teacher introduced her as Shawna Hunter. Shawna pulled a leather bound book (one of those blank journals with heavy cream-colored parchment pages edged in gold) out of her book-bag and began to draw. The girl sitting next to her, Nicole Berany, could see that the pages in the book were filled with strange designs and pictures, all of which were extremely detailed and complex. As the girl found the page she was looking for, she chanced a look at Nicole. When the new girl saw what the other’s eyes were fastened on, she grinned, a quick phenomenon showing perfect white teeth, and slipped her a red business card, also gilt-edged. The paper read as follows: “Shawna Hunter ~842-9624” in golden Gothic script. Below, in the same style of writing, was written, “Call me!” The paper was encased in a border of complexly interwoven knots. Nicole put the card in her pocket, tore a piece of paper out of her binder, wrote “okay” on it, folded it, and flipped it to Shawna. Shawna unfolded it, read it, and grinned. At that moment, the bell rang. Nicole hurried over to Shawna.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Nicole Berany.” Shawna nodded.

“I suppose you know who I am,” she replied with a laugh.

“Shawna, what class do you have next?” Nicole asked.

“Math with somebody-or-other Bradley,” Shawna answered, and grimaced.

“So do I,” cried Nicole. “There’s an empty seat on my left. You can sit there if you want.”

***

The school day seemed to last forever, but eventually it ended. Shawna left the school and headed towards 14th Avenue.

“See ya!” she yelled at Nicole.

“Bye,” Nicole shouted back. When Nicole got home, she sprinted up the stairs to her room, flopped onto her bed, and pulled the note from her pocket. She glanced at it, and dialed the number. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered,

“Hello, you have reached 754-7624, the Hunter residence. Shawna Hunter speaking.”

“Hi, Shawna,” greeted Nicole.

“Oh, hi, Nicole,” Shawna replied. She sounded tense.

“What is it?” queried Nicole.

“Listen, Nicky. You better come over right now. There’s something I have to tell you that I can’t over the phone,” whispered Shawna.

“All right, I’ll be th-” Nicole’s comment was cut off as the phone went dead. Nicole stared at it for a second, then bounded down the stairs.

“Alys,” she yelled, “Is it okay if I go over to a friend’s house?” she crossed her fingers silently.

“Sure, honey,” her mom murmured.

“Thanks,” Nicole cried, and was out the door. She was halfway down the driveway when she realized that she didn’t know where Shawna lived.

“Drat,” she muttered, and headed for the school.

When Nicole got there, she headed off in the direction Shawna had gone. Nicole came to an intersection, and was about to flip a coin for a decision, when she spotted a glint of red. Shawna? She wondered. It was.

“Come on, Nicky! Hurry,” Shawna cried, and pulled Nicole up North Street. Shawna cut to the left on a winding trail, and Nicole stumbled along behind (heels are all well and good, but these are so not for hiking! she thought ruefully).

They finally came to North Boulevard. Shawna turned east, and in the distance, Nicole could see a house. As they drew closer, Nicole had a sense that something wasn’t quite right. When she mentioned this to Shawna, the girl whispered, “Shh!” and walked faster.

Nicole gasped. The house was totaled. Windows were shattered, flowers trampled, the door was ripped off its hinges, and creaked eerily in the silence. Shawna pushed it open, and they stepped inside. It was worse than before. Books were scattered across the floor, their pages fluttering in a draft (several window panes were smashed, and were undoubtedly the cause). The glass on pictures was shattered; curtains were ripped, tables and chairs were lying upturned, dishes had been broken. If the rooms had been hit by a tornado, no worse damage could have been done. Shawna, white-lipped, navigated her way across the wreckage towards a staircase, motioning for Nicole to follow. There was a deep gash in the wall, going up the stairs, down a long hallway, and ending in a door. The hilt of a dagger was sticking out of the rich maple paneling, fastening a leaf of parchment to the door. Shawna grasped the hilt, dislodged it, and, almost as an afterthought, slammed it forcibly into the doorframe. She caught the piece of parchment as it fluttered to the ground, read it, and handed it to Nicole. The parchment read as follows:

Shawna Strentyra

The IX day of Soya, year MM

—Hail and greeting, lady of valor—

It hast come to our attention that thou hast, in thy keeping, one of that that hast been named Nazgazh, one of the IX. Alas, that thou hadst not the courtesy in thine esteemed wisdom to inform us of thy course of action. That thou hadst removed this precious artifact from Arahat was a severe blow to our mind. To continue in thy present course of action is unadvisable, for by removing the ninth stone from Arahat, thou hast caused the Powers to discord and deharmonize. We sincerely hope that in thy infinite wisdom thou wilt come thyself to our presence, and return the aforementioned relic to its proper housing and usage. As an assurance that thou wilt do this immediately, we have brought thy youngest sister, Kali, with us, to our fortress on Myrna Peak in the continent of Symron. We thank thee for thy consideration.

Garth Jass

Lord and Monarch of the Realm of Symron, and all lands therein

“What the…?” began Nicole, but Shawna was already sprinting down the hallway, and Nicole’s words were lost to her. Shawna stopped about halfway down the stairs and pressed the right hand of a faery in the raised relief above the stair’s hand railing. Slowly, a panel of the wall swung inwards. Shawna ducked her head and squeezed inside, pulling Nicole in behind her. The panel shut behind them, leaving both girls in utter darkness.

There was a muttered curse from Shawna, and the sound of a match striking. By this flickering glow, Shawna was able to locate a light switch. She flipped it to the on position. Nicole gasped upon seeing the contents of the room. It was filled with shelves and tables, and these, and any other surface that could be found, were covered with paintings, books, jewels, maps, pictures, rugs, ornamental clothes, vials, bottles, chests, instruments, globes, statues, and many other strange, wondrous, and unidentifiable objects. The only bare surfaces were a hammock draped in silk and velvet, and a small marble counter with a sink in it. The illumination came from a lamp shaped like an orchid, made of what looked like milky glass shot through with rainbow and metallic streaks. Shawna grinned at Nicole’s obvious, open-mouthed wonder.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she intoned, sweeping her hands in a wide arc.

“You-you-you live here?” Nicole finally gasped.

“Yeah. Like it?” replied Shawna, hiding a smile.

“Like it?! It’s awesome!” Nicole spun slowly in a circle, taking in the details.

“Wanna spend the night?” Shawna queried. “That is, I mean, if you want to, and if it’s okay with your parents...” she trailed off, blushing, as Nicole shot her a flash-bulb bright smile.

“I’d love to!” she cried, and then, in her normal voice, added, “D’you have a phone I can call them on?” Shawna nodded, dug in her pocket, and produced a tiny red cell-phone. Nicole punched in her number, waited, and then said,

“Hi, Alys… yeah… uh-huh… yeah… Al, can I spend the night at a friend’s house? Yeah… uh-huh… just a sec,” she covered the mouthpiece with her hand, and whispered, “Do I need a sleeping bag?” Shawna shook her head, and Nicole resumed talking.

“No… yeah… okay, thanks! Bye.” She smiled. “Yeah, I can.” She absent-mindedly tucked the cell-phone in her pocket.

***

Dusk found them sitting cross-legged, facing each other, across a low table, playing poker, and gambling with some of Shawna’s jewels. Nicole had a large pile of glittering stones beside her, but Shawna’s pile was sizably smaller (probably because she couldn’t keep her emotions from showing, while Nicole had studied the Ancient Art of Poker-Face-Fu). With each turn they alternated asking questions of the other.

“What was that note all about?” queried Nicole, twisting a strand of shiny black hair around her finger.

“Oh, that,” replied Shawna. “Well, it’s a long story.”

“I love stories!” cried Nicole with a grin.

“Do you like adventures?” Nicole nodded.

“Medieval castles?” Another nod.

“Fantastic creatures?” Nicole nodded emphatically.

“Then come with me,” Shawna whispered. She went to a bookshelf at the far end of the wall, and pulled out a book titled Fortian. The bookshelf swung outwards, revealing a torch-lit chamber with a column at the center, ionic, by the look of it. The queer obelisk was made of glass, like that of Shawna’s lamp, and was about two feet across. It was pulsating with a faint aquamarine glow. Shawna opened the book to a specific page, whispered the word Omivium, and thrust the book into the column. Immediately the room blazed with white light and the monolith looked like a roaring pillar of flame.

“Come on,” cried Shawna, and thrust Nicole and herself into the shining pillar of light. Nicole screamed, but the sound was lost in the cacophony. Wailing, screeching, howling, moaning, an infinite number of feral calls pounded in her ears as she sunk into oblivion.

***

“Nicky? You okay?” A blurry picture swung sharply into focus as Nicole sat up with a groan.

“Ooh, my aching head. I think I know what a hangover feels like now.” Then, as realization dawned on her, she asked, “What was that thing?”

“A gate- a worldgate, to be precise,” answered Shawna. “Sweet Lady, I am so sorry! I didn’t stop to think of how it might affect you! The same thing happened to me on my first time through. Takes getting used to.” She helped Nicole to her feet. Nicole slowly looked around. They were in a small stone chamber. Every inch of space was covered with hangings, clothing, quilts, notions, and bolts of brightly hued, drab, and pastel fabrics; from flax and cotton to silk and chiffon. There were numerous sewing machines, all pedal powered. Nicole gasped, her voice awed,

“I’ve never seen so much cloth in my life!” She absently smoothed the wrinkles out of a scarlet tunic, fingering the gold braid at the hem. “I feel as if I’ve stepped back in time, into an ancient castle,” Nicole whispered. Shawna smiled slightly, and replied,

“You could liken it to that.” She motioned Nicole over. “Look, Nicky, the reason I brought you here is because I need your help. You saw the message- I’ve got to get back to Arahat.”

***

Shawna sighed.

“I see your confusion. In brief, my tale is this.

“I come from a land called Arahat: a land of sorcery and science, of knights and knaves, of kings and castles; a land where nightmare and reality walk hand in hand. Arahat is a wonderful place; her life-force maintained by nine stones, the Nazgazh, and the Harmonies, a set of charms containing the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water from the nine lands, and hidden somewhere on the tenth continent.” At this, a strange look passed over Nicole’s face, almost as if she were trying to recall something. It was gone a moment later.

“Garth Jass, a sorcerer, has long harbored a desire to possess these, for with them, he would control all magic on the nine lands. In my family, and in eight others, a stone has been passed down from mother to daughter for generations untold. I hold Valamar, the scarlet stone of valor. The others were, in order of creation, Maj’nta, the rose stone of magic; Valamar, which I have told you of; Saron, the topaz stone of transfiguration; Yeo, the golden stone of youth; Myno, the jade hued stone of healing; Faret, the emerald stone of nature; Ulmrin, the indigo stone of water; Syon, the sapphire stone of sight; and Von, the violet stone of metal-craft and smithing. Jass has long held in his possession the stone of sight, (by treachery of which I may tell you later) and with this he can see me, and thus, the whereabouts of my stone, as he can all other bearers of the Nazgazh.” She drew forth from beneath her shirt a red stone like a ruby hanging from an interwoven chain of silver and gold.

“This,” Shawna said, “Is the stone Valamar, the second of nine, and I, Shawna Strentyra, am its bearer.” She closed her fist about the stone, and a wellspring of crimson light shone from beneath her fingers, casting a glow sun-bright into the room. Shawna tucked the stone back beneath her shirt.

“We gotta go now, Nicky. C’mere.” She handed the raven-haired girl a forest green tunic with breeches of the same shade, a jerkin of a slightly darker color, a broad leather belt, cream colored silken stockings that went up to her knees, and knee-high leather boots.

“You can dress in there,” she said, pointing to a door. Mystified, Nicole did as her friend had directed, putting the cell-phone in the belt-pouch. She came out to find her friend similarly attired in shades of russet and bronze, though her friend had fastened another belt sash-like over her jerkin.

“Follow me,” intoned the redhead. She led Nicole to a huge, brassbound door. Shawna took a key from her pocket and inserted it into a minute keyhole. There was a barely audible click, and the door swung open. Nicole’s eyes widened.

The room was filled with weaponry. Swords, knives, daggers, lancets, sabers, rapiers, dirks, spears, pikes, javelins, lances, axes, longbows, crossbows, maces, staffs, slings, nooses, and numerous other objects hung in a motley array on spikes protruding from a rough rock wall. At the center of the room was a forge, and a shallow stream ran from one side of the wall to drain in a grate on the floor. Nicole turned to Shawna, her eyes alight.

“May I?” she asked, and at a nod from Shawna raced to the wall and lifted from its rest a slender broadsword. When first examined, it looked delicate and flimsy, but a closer look defined the hidden strength and very fine workmanship. The hilt was shod in black leather, a finely tempered blade with a runneled blood-channel raced down to a winter-keen tip. Its pommel stone was a prism-like crystal. At a glance Shawna could tell that Nicole had handled weapons before. The redhead strode calmly to the wall and freed an enormous broadsword from its fastening. This sword was a work of beauty, the hilt shod in red leather, and the metal engraved with strange symbols. Its deadly blade set off a myriad of steely lights as Shawna swung it in an arc, crying,

“En gardé!” (Be on guard) Nicole grinned, and answered,

“Touché!” (Touch me

The fencers circled, each sensing for the other’s weaknesses. Suddenly Nicole’s blade swept downward like a scythe, neatly trimming a small scarlet lock of Shawna’s hair. The redhead countered swiftly, but was forced to jump back as the ebony-haired girl’s blade swept across her midriff. The match raged back and forth, neither opponent gaining the upper hand until Shawna did a fancy twist with her sword, sending Nicole’s flying, while she swept her blade upwards until it was fractions away from the raven haired girl’s chin. Nicole’s eyes widened with awe as she carefully knelt, placing her sword hand over her heart. Her voice quiet, she whispered,

“Je rends.” (I yield). Shawna offered her hand to Nicole and helped her up.

“Phew! Where did you learn to fence like that?” Shawna shook her head admiringly and handed Nicole the sword she had chosen. Nicole grinned, and replied,

“I learned at summer camp. I’ve gone to the same academy for as long as I can remember, and I started fencing when I began, at age 7. My mom had me down for sewing, but, well, I switched classes.” She blushed. “I learned to sew and embroider in my spare time, and I was the best in my fencing class. But I’m not nearly as good as you!” Shawna shook her head.

“You could’ve beaten me if I hadn’t done that fancy trick. I can show you if you want.” Nicole smiled her flashbulb smile, and replied,

“I’d like that!” She frowned suddenly. “But what can I do for you in return?” Shawna smiled, answering,

“Easy: come with me to Arahat.”

***

Amazingly, Nicole seemed to consider the idea. After a few minutes of careful consideration, she smiled ruefully.

“I must be either brave, or crazy, or stupid, or all of the above, probably from being exposed to you for an extended period of time” admitted Nicole with a sigh. Shawna held her breath. “I’m with you!” Shawna grabbed Nicole’s hands, swinging them around in a joyous circle, until Shawna fell from dizziness, pulling Nicole with her. When they finally stopped laughing, the Shawna faced Nicole, fiery red blending with jet-black as their foreheads touched. The redhead’s bronze eyes were wide and sincere.

“Nicole, you are the best friend a girl could have. Thank you.”

Together they walked over to where the stream formed a small pool on the rock. Shawna took from her pocket a small vial, a silken pouch, and an ornate ivory dagger. She carefully poured the contents of the pouch into the vial, then, motioning for Nicole to hold the vial, Shawna pricked her left pinky, doing the same to Nicole’s. The redhead held their fingers together, allowing their blood to mingle, then let the combined drops fall into the vial. At once the contents blazed red, with a tinge of white light. Shawna looked surprised, but shrugged, pouring a drop of the shining solution into the pool of clear water. A chasm seemed to open in the floor, and, holding hands, the girls jumped into it, sinking rapidly from sight into the depthless black void.

***

A red haze was before Nicole’s eyes, a curtain that stained her vision a bloody crimson. She was running, but the world was not moving; she appeared to be standing still. A tall figure stood on the hill she was trying to reach, and Nicole knew she had to hurry, or all would be lost. What would be lost, she didn’t know. A maddening voice chanted unceasingly in the back of her mind. Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry… it whispered, sometimes loud, sometimes soft. Suddenly a word burned into her vision, its fiery letters etched in white radiance. SWORD! it screamed. She looked down at her side. There, shining redly, was the sword Shawna had lent her back at the Castle. She drew it, and a thread of red fire ran from it and vanished into the figure. Continuing to run, Nicole reeled in the thread, winding it evenly around the hilt of the sword. The figure loomed closer. Suddenly she crested the hill. She sprinted to the figure, and threw her arms around it. There was a blazing white heat, which obliterated everything, and Nicole found herself lying facedown in dewy grass, her arms clasped tightly about a still, red-haired figure. A melodious, concerned voice recalled her to the present moment.

“Thank goodness you’re all right! I could’ve sworn you both were dead. You were almost beyond the reach of my power.” Looking up, Nicole found herself staring into riveting blue eyes that seemed to stare right through her, set in creamy skin surrounded by long, wavy golden locks. The speaker smiled warmly, and spoke. “Hello,” she said, “I am Selena Sirenas. I hold Maj’nta, stone of magic. And your companion, my longtime friend, is Shawna Strentyra, holder of Valamar, the valor stone.” Nicole grinned,

“I’m Nicole Berany. I’m not from here.” Selena nodded.

“I know.” As Nicole opened her mouth in astonishment, Selena shook her head quickly.

“No, do not ask. I will explain later. Now,” she continued, “we need to do something about your friend here.” She felt Shawna’s forehead, checked her pulse, and listened to her heartbeat. She shook her head worriedly, her face changing from grave to graver.

“You had best help me carry her to my home, it is not far from here. Hurry!”

***

Selena’s home appeared from the outside to be a cave built into a rocky cliff, not more than half a mile from where they had entered Arahat. All around the entrance, a sprawling herb, vegetable, flower and berry garden thrived. Stately elms, oaks, beeches, and walnuts alternated with peach, apple, and cherry trees, making the place beautiful, as well as useful. A narrow path paved with sandstone ran in a winding pattern to the stout, brassbound oak door. Selena rapped the door and ordered crisply,

“Open!” The door did so; making only the slightest whisper as it glided on well oiled hinges. A narrow and winding hall ran out of sight into the rack face of the cliff, leading into the numerous rooms off many honeycombing passages. Selena led them to an iron door with a strange symbol on it. “In here,” Selena whispered, and traced the rune with pink fire. They entered, and Nicole looked around.

The walls, ceiling, and floor of the room were covered in small teal colored tiles. Set into the tiles were shelves holding bottles, vials, basins, beakers, trays, boxes, and many other objects used for medicinal purposes. The shelves were fronted by doors of glass that perfectly sealed the contents inside. A bunk bed was stationed at the back wall, and a table in the center of the room. Selena motioned for them to lay Shawna on the lower bunk bed, then went back out the door. Nicole sighed. Her friend looked bad. Shawna’s face was pale, and had a bluish tint to it. Her lips were the same shade, and her hair had lost its sheen. Selena found Nicole with Shawna’s hands clasped in her own, head bowed, shoulders shaking, weeping silently. The blonde crossed over to Nicole, putting an arm around her slumped shoulders.

“Don’t worry, she will be all right. You just wait and see!” whispered Selena confidently. Nicole wiped her eyes, setting her jaw grimly as she did so.

“You’re right,” she replied evenly. “Let’s start.”

Selena nodded.

“Right,” the blonde said. “Go out the door, and turn left: the third door down leads to a kitchen. Fill that,” She instructed, pointing to a glass basin, “with water from the leftmost tap. Fill this,” she pointed to a milky white pitcher, “with water from the rightmost tap.” She glared at Nicole, and then smiled. “Well, what are you waiting for? Hurry!” Nicole picked up the basin and the pitcher, and fairly flew out the door.

***

The kitchen was massive. A chamber the size of a cathedral, its roof soared upwards, ending somewhere in the misty blackness that the light of thousands of lanterns couldn’t pierce. The outer wall was lined with taps, counters, and cupboards. Beneath these were ovens, shelves, and more cupboards. Not stopping to think of the magnitude of the place, Nicole hurriedly went to the leftmost tap. She held the basin under the faucet and had not yet turned the knob when a silvery, fizzing liquid came out. Clouds of sparkling steam rose around her, and a fresh scent like rain cleared her mind. Before she had finished enjoying the steam, the tap turned itself off. The basin was filled exactly to the brim. Being careful not to spill anything, Nicole set the basin on the counter. She walked a few paces to the right-most tap, and put the pitcher under it. Again, the tap turned itself on. A transparent liquid streamed from the nozzle, and, seeming to appear colorless at first, turned out to be constantly shimmering with an iridescent light. Nicole felt icy waves of cold penetrate her skin, and her senses sharpened. She sneezed. Sparkling dust filled the room. The tap shut itself off. The pitcher again was filled to the brim with what seemed like a pale, icy rainbow. Carefully she picked up the pitcher in one had, and retrieving the basin, miraculously balanced them both as she tiptoed to the room with her friends in it. She tapped her foot against the door. The door opened and Selena whispered, “Come in.” Nicole did so, and Selena carefully helped her to set the basins on the table. Selena gasped.

“Tell me, Nicole,” she said, her voice oddly calm, “Did you turn on the taps?”

“No,” Nicole replied, bemused, “They turned themselves on and off.”

Selena gasped. “I’ve got it! Oh-oh-it’s- never mind! I will tell you later.” She regained her composure swiftly. “Now,” she said, “In this cupboard, you will find a blue bottle, about yea high.” She approximated three inches with her fingers. “In that cupboard,” she pointed, “You will find a red glass box. Bring these both to me.” Nicole did as Selena had commanded. In the blue bottle was a solution that Nicole had to squint as to see clearly. When Selena asked Nicole for it she found the solution in bright, Nicole nodded vigorously. Selena poured a little of the shining liquid into a small pot, then added some of the silvery fizzing liquid from the crystal basin. The combination at once glowed a fiery red, which sparkled and flashed with white light. Puzzled, Selena sniffed the concoction. Her eyes widened, and she grabbed Nicole’s left hand and thrust it into the liquid. Nicole yelped, and the mixture flashed a blinding white, then, with a whooshing noise, evaporated. Nicole uttered a faint “Whoop,” and fell over on a dead faint. Selena felt her left hand, quickly drawing her fingers away as the white-hot flare of magic burned them. She shook her head and sighed. This one would be all right. Now for the other.

***

Selena opened the red box and pulled out three dried crimson leaves. The first she sliced into thin strips with an ornately carved ivory knife, much like the one Shawna had used to draw blood from Nicole and herself. The second she crushed into a fine powder. The third she steeped in boiling water, and mashed into a smooth, pasty pulp. Selena then took from the cupboard three shallow crystalline bowls, and filled them with the liquid from the blue bottle. She added the remains of the first leaf into the first bowl, the second leaf into the second bowl, and the last leaf into the remaining bowl. The first turned a murky blackish color. The third disintegrated in a puff of foul-smelling gray-blue smoke. But the second dissolved into clear water, with a constant reddish-gold-silver witchfire burning silently on the surface. Carefully, so as not to set anything on fire, (not that the witchfire would hurt anything, it was just tedious to remove) Selena poured half the contents of the second bowl into a vial and sealed it. She carried the bowl over to the bunk where Shawna lay unconscious. Selena then poured a drop of the flaming solution on Shawna’s forehead, hands, lips, and cheeks. The redhead stirred slightly and murmured something. Selena bent closer, and heard:

“This is a clue ~ to what you must do ~ do as I say ~ to cure today ~ doesn’t it seem ~ that you’re in a dream ~ beneath the moon ~ please do it soon! One of one… four of two… five of three… five of four… one of five… one of six… five of seven… one of eight.” Selena recorded the words on a sheet of parchment, scribbling furiously to keep up with the stream of speech.

Nicole sat up.

“Did you call me Selena?” Selena felt a chill ripple down her spine as she helped Nicole up.

“No,” she whispered. Selena guided Nicole over to where the parchment lay, its queer verse making no sense whatsoever to either girl. Then, suddenly, Nicole laughed.

“What is so funny?” Selena asked curtly.

“It’s a riddle- a clue! Now all we have to do is solve it!”

“That is easier said than done,” said Selena, still rather irked.

“Shh! I’m thinking!”

Nicole ran her fingers along the sheet of parchment and, after a moment, exclaimed,

“Lines! That’s it! See this?” She pointed to ‘one of one’ “I think the second ‘one’ refers to line one of the poem. The first ‘one’ might be a word.” Nicole screwed up her face and thought.

“No, that cannot be it,” Selena countered, “One of the sets of numbers says ‘five of seven,’ and there are only three words in line seven. It has to be letters. So, let’s see…” She got out a second leaf of parchment. “‘One of one,’ hmm, that would be a ‘T.’ ‘Four of two,’ that is an ‘H,’ then ‘five of three,’ that is ‘I.’ Hmm, let me see… ‘Five of four’ would be an ‘R.’ ‘One of five’ is a ‘D,’ then, hmm…‘one of six’ has to be another ‘T,’ then, hmm, an ‘A,’ then… a ‘P!’” Selena turned to Nicole, who had been copying down the letters. “Have you got that?” Nicole nodded.

“It reads, ‘T-H-I-R-D-T-A-P’, which is…’thirdtap?’ No…‘Third Tap’! Now what?” This time it was Selena’s turn to look smug.

“You know the ‘taps’ in the kitchen?” Nicole nodded. “They are numbered. Starting with one on the left, clear down to, ah…something around four hundred-seventy-six, if my reckoning is correct; on the right.” Selena found herself speaking to thin air. Nicole had left the room, taking a glass bowl with her. She shook her head, gathered a few leaves of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill pen. She quietly unlatched the door, and as she shut it, whispered a word of power and traced the powerful rune on the door in rose-colored magic. Then she strode quickly to the kitchen.

***

Upon entering, Selena spied Nicole, arms akimbo, telling the tap what she thought of it.

“Blasted, stupid, festering, insignificant piece of-” she broke off as Selena calmly placed the bowl under the faucet, and whispered, “sav, uvràsi.” At once a sparkling white liquid spattered into the bowl. The faucet made little gurgling noises as it proceeded to fill the bowl exactly two thirds of the way up. As it shut off, it made a shrill squeaking noise that set both girls’ teeth on edge.

“Now what?” demanded Nicole, still a trifle annoyed. “What’s this tap used for?” She waited.

“Illumination,” Selena replied finally. Nicole snorted.

“Which meaning? Like, light, or revealing something?”

“Revealing something,” Selena validated. “Let us say you put an ordinary leaf in the solution. The veins would be laid bare, but nothing extraordinary would happen. But,” she cautioned, “sometimes, if there is a message, picture, or other sort of mark on what you put in the solution, it will be illuminated. I have seen messages on leaves, jewelry, stone, gems; even weapons sometimes have inscriptions in their hilts or blades. What is it?” Selena asked as Nicole gasped.

“The sword! It might have an inscription!” Selena shook her head.

“When would Shawna have engraved upon it? She has owned that sword for years! I do not think she expected to create whiplash when she transported you here, let alone become unconscious from it!” Nevertheless, Nicole was shaking her head excitedly.

“In the dream I had, before you found me, the sword had a thread of red fire connecting it to Shawna! I wrapped the thread around the hilt of the sword as I went forward! I think there’s an inscription on the hilt!” Selena gasped.

“You may be right!” Nicole drew the sword, and immersed the hilt into the basin of glowing liquid. As soon as the hilt was submerged, blood red steam began rising in clouds, but strangely, the liquid stayed white. Suddenly the steam vanished. Selena brought the hilt out of the solution, and Nicole gasped- the hilt was covered in crimson characters!

***

Selena took the sword to the table where she had put her parchment and quill. She set the sword down, and hurriedly began copying down the already fading letters. When she finished writing, she began translating the queer phrases into English. This is what she wrote:

Stone of red, I lie abed

Now hearken to my words:

Way up high, I touch the sky,

Ever home to birds.

See a star, near, not far,

Hidden in plain view,

Inside me, outside me,

Scarlet stone prove true!

Nicole groaned.

“Why, why couldn’t she have just told us what to do instead of fooling with riddles?” Selena, patient as ever, replied,

“Because the only way to work powerful magic is in riddles and rhymes. If the rhyme had been plain and simple, the magic would not have worked.”

“Oh,” murmured Nicole, abashed. “Well,” she continued, regaining her injured pride, “I think I know part of the riddle!”

“Do tell!” exclaimed an excited Selena.

“Well, I think that the ‘way up high’ stuff refers to a tree. Not just any tree, but that huge fit in front of your- house? Cave? Whatever.” Looking somewhat embarrassed as Selena hugged her fiercely, she finished, “Well, that’s my idea.”

***

The fir was enormous, and, like the verse claimed, seemed to ‘touch the sky.’ Gazing upwards, Nicole mused,

“Hmm. First branch’s pretty high.” Nicole, under Selena’s curious eye, backed up about twenty-five short strides, then, in the blink of an eye, flashed forward like quicksilver, and with lightning speed executed two hand springs so fast they looked like front flips. On the second spring, Nicole slammed he hands into the ground, skyrocketed up; managing to hook her knees around the lowest branch and use her momentum to swing into an upright position. Luckily the limb was smooth, so Nicole didn’t scrape her legs. The raven haired girl turned to face Selena, who, clapping a hand to her forehead, called,

“I just remembered- there is a jackdaw’s nest at the top of the tree!”

“A jack-a-what?”

“Jack-a-daw: a scavenger bird. The ‘star’ in the poem may well be something shiny our feathered friend has found.” Without further ado Nicole started climbing. It was easier than she had expected it to be. Before she knew it, Nicole was at the top, and- in the upper fork of the branches- there sat an untidy gathering of twigs, leaves, feathers, grass, mud, cloth, fur, and various other materials shaped roughly into a bowl. In the nest were coins, bits of brightly colored paper, wilted flowers, glass beads, fragments of broken pottery, and- wonder of wonders- one large, perfectly transparent crystal that glittered in the bright sunlight!

“I’ve got it!” Nicole shouted down to Selena, and gathering the coins, beads, other valuable objects and the precious crystal into the pouch hanging conveniently from her new sword-belt, Nicole proceeded to climb down. Upon reaching the bottom, she once again hooked her knees around the lowest limb, and after swinging back and forth, launched herself forwards, flipping around, and landing on her feet. Selena took her hand and led her inside. The girls went at once to Shawna, and sat facing the bed on two wicker chairs.

“Nicole, you must do as I say. Bring forth the crystal.” Nicole did so. “Place it between your palms,” she continued. “Close your eyes. Now, and this may seem strange,” the blonde cautioned, “look inside yourself. Tell me what you see.” After a long pause, Nicole spoke. Although she was right beside Selena, the raven-haired girl’s words were so low that her friend had to strain close to hear them.

“I… I see… I see a white globe of fire. It’s beautiful. I know I must touch it, but there is a gray fog surrounding it.” Selena’s voice floated down to Nicole.

“Look in your hands– use the crystal,” it whispered. And suddenly Nicole understood. She looked down. A bright light was emanating from her meshed palms. She strode up to the fog, and opened her hands. A blinding flash of light seared through the fog. It dissipated, and Nicole was rushing outwards and upwards. She came to and was about to tell Selena about what had happened, when a mental tidal wave flooded her senses, pulling her down into its murky depths.

***

“Nicole?” Selena’s anxious voice was a faint buzz in Nicole’s ears. When she became fully conscious, she was only able to collapse into a sobbing heap. Selena gathered the shaking girl in her arms, stroking her hair, and whispering words of comfort. When Nicole’s tears were reduced to shakes and the occasional whimper, all she could say was I remember. It was a long time before Selena could get anything else out of her. When she did, Selena was amazed at the tale.

“My father and mother were Jycos and Myrian of the house of Sylrin. They were keepers of the harmonies and the white magic. When they were one year married, my mother gave birth to my brother, Pyrus. She soon after gave birth to my sisters Lylian and Kyossin, and then to my brother Minyu. She then gave birth to me: Nykoliun; and five years later to the twins, a boy and a girl, named Tylos and Skylos. Because Skylos was so young, she called me simply Nicole, and soon all my family called me by that name. When I was seven, highwaymen attacked our castle, killing all they came across. My father was killed first off, but my mother was wise and tried to hide us children in a cellar. She was killed defending the door, along with Pyrus. Lylian and Kyossin were captured and sold as slaves, along with Minyu. I have no knowledge of what happed to Tylos and Skylos. I was taken before their leader, perhaps because the men that captured me sensed the presence of my magic, which none of my siblings possessed, or saw my spirit and skill of hands. The chief of the murderers told me that I would be let free if I would tell him the location of the harmonies. Of course, I spat on him, and called him a coward and a villain, and any other rude name that came to mind. He struck me with the flat of his sword blade, and told his men to drown me in the Lamanayassus, which flows close to our castle. One of the men struck my head from behind, and I was thrown, dazed, barely conscious, into the swiftly flowing river. May the hand of Taram the White be blessed, for I was in that instant saved from a deadly peril, and by the power of Arvei earth-dancer and Zalah sky-singer I fell through a gate, and onto the planet its inhabitants call Earth. I had no knowledge of the past, and I was happy enough. I had a loving family, a huge house, fashionable clothes, and many exciting opportunities. Only a lingering sense of not belonging reminded me of my obscure and unknown past.”

Brushing an unwanted tear from her cheek, Nicole whispered, “I know what to do.” Selena nodded silently, and handed her friend the crystal. Nicole cupped it in her hands, and whispered, “mynösi.” The crystal began to glow, a silvery, translucent light, like water, flooded over the room. Nicole stood and slowly walked over to Shawna. She let the light slowly drip onto the redhead’s eyelids, forehead, and mouth. As the last drop fell, the light from the crystal faded, and was gone. Shawna blinked, then sat up. She was immediately smothered in hugs from an elated Nicole.

“Hey,” she exclaimed, laughing, “what’re you crying for?” Nicole buried her face in Shawna’s thick hair as she whispered,

“I thought you were dead. And you being the most wonderful friend I’ve ever known, I couldn’t stand that.” She lifted her face, and then laughed. “I can’t believe it! I’ve known for less than a day and you’re already so my t.b.!” Selena laughed when she saw the embarrassed and slightly confused look on Shawna’s face.

“‘T.b.’ is earth slang for best friend, heart friend: ‘true blue.’” Shawna only turned redder. “It is no good,” she informed Nicole, “I have spent years trying to tell our uncomprehending fire-top how great she is, and she does not seem to get it!” Shawna had a thoughtful look on her face.

“Nicole,” she asked, “can you remember what this highwayman leader of yours looked like?”

“How did you-?” Nicole began, but Shawna shook her head.

“Just tell me,” the redhead commanded.

“Well, yes,” replied Nicole, “He was in deep contrast from his men– they were rugged and tattered and scarred, but he was well dressed and well groomed. His hair was black, and he had a goatee. I remember mostly that he had a beautiful sword. It looked something like this.”

Taking a leaf of parchment from the table, and a quill, she began to sketch. The sword that took shape on the page was curious: the hilt was fashioned in the like of a winged serpent, and the pommel-stone held in the serpent’s jaws was carved into the likeness of an open, staring eye, the insignia of the Royal House Symron. The serpent’s slender tail provided the three-quarter blood-channel. All in all, it was eerie looking.

Shawna nodded.

“As I thought.” She glanced at Selena for confirmation, who nodded. Together they spoke two words:

“Garth Jass.”

Nicole gasped.

“So now we both have reasons to ‘visit’ our well-dressed friend.” She shivered. “But it won’t be pretty, not at all.”

Shawna drew her sword, causing the beautiful but deadly blade to ring in the stillness. The copper-haired warrior swung the weapon in a sweeping arc, severing locks of golden and jet colored hair from her two friends, one old, the other new. She then lopped off one of her own fiery curls, and in a magnificent and terrifying feat of skill and strength, caused the blade to bite deep into the solid oak table in the warrior’s salute. There was a small explosion. When the dust and smoke cleared, the room was unchanged, save for the absence of the girls, a tiny four-pointed-star shaped mark where Shawna’s blade had been thrust into the table, and an elusive scent of snow, blood, and roses.

***

In a cave on a ridge far away, there was a booming crash of thunder, and an abundance of smoke. When the cave was clear once more, its startled inhabitants were once again shocked by the sudden appearance of three tall figures, two armed with long, shining objects, known by some to be ‘swords.’ The small animals scattered for the protection of burrows, dens, and such, whilst the larger ones, cats, wolves, and the like watched with unblinking eyes as the tallest being twisted a protruding rock. A section of the rock swung outwards, and none of the humans noticed a small tortoise-shelled tomcat follow them through, accompanied by a white angora queen and a black shorthaired kitten.

***

The cats glanced at each other.

Look, thought the tortoise-shell, called Marris, It is the White one.

And the Red one, commented Jilyo, the angora.

The Rose one is here, too! The voice of Ninya, the shorthaired, was a higher pitch in the minds of the elder cats. Jilyo, Ninya’s mother, buffeted her soundly with a paw.

Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, Nin! Ninya jumped away. This action caused the three humans to look down.

“Look!” Nicole whispered, pointing. She knelt down, holding out her hand for Ninya to sniff. The kitten did so, and purred, hoping for a pet. Nicole obliged, grinning as Nin tickled her fingers with her whiskers.

She is a good cat-petter, Ninya thought to her parents.

What did I just tell you, Nin?! demanded Jilyo, wagging her paw threateningly. Ninya quailed under the stern looks from her parents.

Hush! ordered Marris. The dignified tom stared into Shawna’s eyes, and, sensing the psychic link, thought,

Red one, why have you come to Symron? Shawna blinked, then bent down.

Did you speak, cat? Marris’s reply was haughty and crisp in her mind.

My name is Marris, not cat, not kitty, not tom, Marris! And yes, I did speak to you. He groomed his paw.

In that case, Marris, I am here to stock up on supplies and weapons.

What for? asked the cat.

To journey to Myrna Peak, to revenge my friend and myself. The cat appeared to ponder this, then said,

My family and I will accompany you to the Cruel One’s home. Shawna relayed their brief conversation to Selena and Nicole. The girls looked at each other.

Fine with me, Selena offered.

Ditto here, Nicole affirmed.

***

Aysimona was a crowded city, full of prosperous shops and comfortable homes. Although it was large, all the inhabitants could address their neighbors by name, and travelers were a rarity. This was the reason the three tall, armed women drew stares and murmurs like a magnet does iron filings. As soon as the three passed him by, a heavily cloaked and hooded man casually turned down a side street, and once out of sight quickly hurried into a darkened doorway. Had his cloaked not been securely fastened, his blue and silver livery would have been visible, as would have been his crest: an open, staring eye.

***

The Golden Plover was a reputable inn, run by a respectable craftsman, Ched Wylman, and his family. He was a sensible man, not given to idle thought. This night, though, his sharp mind was given plenty to chew on. This night, there were strangers in his inn.

Wylman stroked his beard. The tall, redheaded one was speaking.

“Three rooms, preferably close together, hot baths, and dinner. Whatever it costs.” Several silver coins appeared in her hand. Wylman’s eyebrows raised in astonishment. The coins the redhead so casually jangled in her hand were silva, solid silver star-shaped coins of rather large value. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, right away, miss- “ he paused expectantly.

“Shawna. Shawna Strentyra,” the redhead supplied. The girl Wylman now knew to be Shawna smacked her forehead. “I am forgetting my manners!” She gestured to the slender, elegant blonde. “This is Selena Sirenas. And this,” Shawna gestured to the willowy girl who looked to be an easterner, “Is Nykoliun of Sylrin, known by all and sundry as Nicole.” She jangled the coins again. “The price, Innkeeper, and the rooms…” Wylman smiled.

“Of course, miss Shawna. Two silva, if you please.” Shawna handed him the coins, which he pocketed. “Right this way, now, ladies.”

The three girls followed him up two flights of stairs, down a long hallway, and up several other flights of stairs before reaching their rooms. This part of the inn, they noticed, was fancier, and the doors were farther apart, signifying larger living quarters, or thicker walls, although that was unlikely. Wylman paused at the end of the corridor. Reaching into one of his pockets, he produced a ring of keys. Selecting three, he gave one each to Nicole, Selena, and Shawna.

“There are numbers etched in their backs, which correspond with the room numbers.” He gestured accordingly. “Hope you have a pleasant stay,” he finished, and hurried off. His quick pace left the girls rather breathless.

***

Upon entering their rooms, each discovered a hot bath drawn and waiting. Happily they sank into the steaming water, scrubbing away the dust and grime that comes from long travels. Each took their time, savoring the scented oils, fizzing bath crystals, aromatic soaps, and bubbles someone had thoughtfully provided. Rising reluctantly and drying, the three girls dressed in spare clothes from their packs: Shawna in vibrant scarlet breeches and shirt; Selena in gold-trimmed robes of turquoise; and Nicole in soft gray leather breeches, jerkin, and boots, with a white cotton shirt. Upon exploring her room, Nicole made a useful discovery: below her window was a sturdy iron trellis, running almost to the ground level courtyard, and all the way up to the roof. Bolt hole, she thought automatically. Upon further examination, Nicole discovered a two-way mirror, which opened onto a short passage leading to Shawna’s room. Selena, minutes later (she had immersed herself in the bath for a longer period of time), made the same discovery.

***

Dinner was a sumptuous affair: venison pasties filled with steaming vegetables and rich, dark gravy; followed by a flavorful garden salad; several different types of soup; buttery rolls stuffed with sugar, honey, and almonds; and berry tarts. All of this was washed down by strawberry cordial, (favored by Nicole), ale, (drunk solely by Shawna), and herbal tea (Selena’s drink of choice) (When Nicole was trying to choose a drink, Shawna suggested ale. Nicole consented, and was brought a small glass. She lifted it to her lips and gulped the contents, just before Selena warned her of the fiery taste. Nicole choked, coughed, and sputtered, her face turning scarlet. Shawna also choked, with muffled fits of laughter. Selena proffered her tea to Nicole, who received it with misgivings, and gingerly sipped it. Selena admonished Shawna, who was still gasping and snorting mirth. Selena then suggested strawberry cordial, which turned out to be delicious, rather like the syrups used for making Italian sodas, only richer and thicker and sweeter and far more potent.)

While collecting their dishes, Wylman remarked casually,

“There’s a party tonight, a masked ball. It’s at the Montmorency’s manor, just past the jeweler’s shop on Sage Way. Feel free to come if it pleases you to do so.” Nicole and Selena looked at each other and grinned, then turned to Shawna. The redhead threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Fine, fine, okay, whatever. We go.” Selena and Nicole whooped, whilst Shawna groaned, covering her face with her hands.

CHAPTER TWO: SEPARATION

SELENA groaned.

“Gowns!” she cried, gesturing frantically. “We cannot go without proper attire!” She thought hard. “Perhaps we could purchase some.” Nicole laughed.

“Selena! You have forgotten the rules of magic governing the ten powers: ‘As a rainbow of color is made by a colorless prism; so shall all magic be made from that which is colorless, that which is white.’ “As I am white magic, so shall I make white magic, a combination of all magic existing. Therefore, Selena, you shall have whatever gown suits you.”

***

Approximately five minutes later, three tall young women headed down Sage Way, past the jewelers, to the Montmorency manor, each in her own custom designed finery.

Selena looked like an ice faery: her ice blue strapless gown was fitted at the bodice, and ran down in smooth lines to flare in soft folds at her waist. It was covered in glittering crystal beads set in swirling patterns. Her earrings, necklace, bracelet, and ring were of silver and diamonds, as were the pins that kept her golden ringlets in their high upsweep.

Shawna’s dress was scarlet silk with gold embroidery: spirals, stars, suns, moons, planets, comets, and many runes and astrological symbols. It was puckered at the bodice, and the full skirt was in many deeply gathered curves. Her jewelry was of gold and rubies, and she had let her red hair hang loose from its customary braids, with golden ribbons twined through it.

Nicole’s dress was of silver silk, and covered with inky black netting, so it seemed that at one angle the fabric was velvety jet, and at another sparkling silver. The thin silver-beaded straps connected to a scooped neckline, the dress then falling straight to the floor. The netting was held down with silver beds at the hemline. Nicole’s ebony hair was swept back into a bun at the back of her head, and held in place by silver chopsticks. She wore only a simple silver chain around her neck, her yin-yang ring (made of white and black opal and set in a tapering silver band, which she had possessed all her life and never once taken off), and a pair of obsidian drops on her ears, which only seemed to enhance her already flawless porcelain complexion and exotically tilted eyes.

All three were lovely, each in her own aspect.

***

The Montmorency Castle, at first sight, appeared to be all turrets, towers, and spires. It would have been forbidding, if not for the many lights, and the strains of music, talk, and laughter that emanated from the open front doors. Even so, as she passed under the arch in the great stone wall surrounding the castle, Shawna had a queer feeling, almost as though she were walking into a trap. She dismissed it, but almost as an afterthought, mentally checked the small shantaba, deadly four-pointed throwing stars in their belt, the small poisoned knife concealed in her thick hair, and the larger, but no less perilous dagger in her hip sheath. Satisfied that they were intact, Shawna banished all thoughts of foreboding from her mind, or at least, as many as she could.

The ballroom was magnificently decorated. Thousands of candles, ranging from huge, pillar-like ones to smaller, delicate tapers cast a beautiful glow that illuminated long tables groaning under the weight of huge platters of food, cozy-looking couches and armchairs, and people. People! There must have been hundreds, all in various locations around the room: standing by the tables, lounging on couches, standing in small groups in niches in the walls, or simply wandering the hall.

Nicole, Selena, and Shawna meandered to an unoccupied bench, earning murmurs, and sidelong glances. A few more guests arrived, and musicians began to play soft music.

Many couples immediately took to the dance floor; sweethearts, betrothed, and married pairs soon dominated most of the ballroom. Those left were standing or sitting in designated groups: (as Nicole named them) the wallflowers, who sat on benches along the walls and stared disconsolately at nothing in particular; the talkers, who rambled on unceasingly about things no one but they had any interest in; the loners, who of course were not in a group themselves, but were scattered, and weren’t part of the other groups, and the munchers, who simply sat around, munching on the food.

Shawna leaned towards Selena and Nicole.

“I think I’ll wander around for a bit,” she said in an undertone, and did. Nicole tried to keep her eyes in the redhead, which was relatively easy; there were few other scarlet haired guests, but soon found her attention wavering. Giving into her curiosity, Nicole merged with the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, Nicole spotted something odd: a group of strangely clad people, wearing bulky cloaks that covered all signs of any insignia that would otherwise have been visible. She veered towards them, her mind so set on following the queer figures that she thought of nothing else, and did not notice that she was getting farther and farther away form her friends.

As she got closer, Nicole realized in a dark corner of her mind that the cloaks seemed to be hiding weapons, and her common sense commanded her to go far, far away form these people, and to rejoin her friends. Nicole paid it no mind, her thought centered solely on reaching the figures. She seemed almost in a trance. A tingling sensation warned the tiny fraction of lucid brain that magic was being used, of great power. Before Nicole could process this thought, let alone act on it, a black veil came over her sight, and she fell senseless to the ground.

***

Selena was examining a finely woven tapestry depicting a beautiful countryside of pink and lavender mountains, when she felt the magic shield lock into place. She immediately had a nauseous sensation, but this quickly passed as she ceased to use any of her magic. At this moment, Selena saw several dark shapes creep from a side hall, candlelight glittering off the cold steel of swords, axes, spears, and other weapons. She gasped, then mentally shouted,

Shawna!

***

The redhead paused in her conversation as Selena’s urgent yell echoed in her head. She scanned the ballroom with keen eyes, and immediately caught sight of several armed figures.

Shawna grinned wolfishly, her eyes glinting. She nudged the nearest of her companions.

“Boyos, we’ve got company!” Zachariah Xandos looked up, and soon spotted the strangers. He smirked menacingly, white teeth flashing like tiny pearls in his smooth, inky black skin. Shawna’s other companions, Alexander (Alex) Lancen, and Jonathan (Johnny) McPhearn, also spied the figures. Johnny’s face lit up, and he smiled beautifully, but in Alex’s face there flashed a brief flicker of uncertainty, which was quickly wiped away.

“What’re ye waitin’ fer?” cried Johnny, hefting a battleaxe from the gauntlet of one of the huge suits of armor. “Come on!”

Alex drew the Knight’s sword, a slim saber. Zachariah searched the wall for a crossbow, and, at a loss for that, grabbed several thin metal javelins and a spear.

Shawna searched the room for her friends, but found only Selena. Nicole was nowhere to be seen. The redhead berated herself silently, cursing her lack of judgment for letting herself become separated from the girl. She’s strong, but so naïve. If she’s lost, then the whole world’s doomed to regicide and chaos! How could I have been so careless? Sweet Lady Above, I’ve got to find her!

Selena was scanning the room with bright eyes for Nicole when Shawna ran up.

“Have you seen any sign of her?” Selena asked, anxious.

“Nary a glimpse!” Selena swore fluently in Arahi. Guests stared at her in shock, unaware of the impending disaster.

A flaming arrow whistled through the serenity of the evening, and embedded itself, flaming merrily, into one of the oaken roof beams. It was followed by several more.

***

Nicole opened her eyes. She was surprised to find that she was lying on a rather soft and yielding surface. She had a sudden, wild thought that it had all been a dream, a fantastic, terrifying dream. She sat up to get out of bed- and a hand gently pressed her back down.

“I wouldn’t do that, my lady. You ought to rest a while.” Nicole stared upward at the unfamiliar face.

Wide brown eyes, thickly lashed, stared back at her from a pale and wan face. Wavy brown hair fell to the girl’s waist. The look on the her face was concerned, and somewhat fearful, but her lips curved uncertainly into a smile, which Nicole returned warmly.

“I’m Marni, if it pleases my lady to know. And his lordship,” here she made a face, as if the title, or the man it referred to, left a sour taste in her mouth, “says your ladyship is Nykoliun Sylrin, last of that line.”

“That would be me, Marni. But who is ‘his lordship’?” Marni shuddered, and answered,

“My lord and master, Garth Jass.” Nicole started.

“Say what?” Marni looked alarmed, for Nicole had tried to launch herself from the bed, and it took all the maid’s strength to restrain her.

“Oh, do lay back, my lady! Please,” the girl begged Nicole. Nicole consented, mostly because her head was swimming, and protested motion.

“Where exactly am I, Marni?” Nicole asked, a sinking feeling in her gut.

“You, my lady, are in his lordship’s castle,” the girl replied, “on Myrna Peak.”

Nicole groaned, and sank back into unconsciousness.

***

Garth Jass observed Nicole from one of his many seeing stones, a furrow of concentration between his dark brows. She has grown, he mused. Her power is like a sun within her, shadowing mine, shadowing even that of the first, that precocious young woman of Miomasavi, Selena Sirenas.

Years had not taken their toll on Jass. His raven-black hair was still not threaded with silver, nor was his pointy goatee. Jass was as tall, his shoulders as broad, his arms as strong, his body as lean and sinewy, as he had been ten years ago, when he initiated the murder of the royal family of Symron, and brought regicide to a continent.

Only his eyes had changed, growing blacker and crueler with every passing year, until they resembled pits of malice and evil. Jycos of Sylrin had been the last man to look into those eyes, and it had cost him his life, and the lives of his wife and eldest son. The two oldest princesses and the second prince had starved to death in his mines, emancipated beyond belief. The young twins were left in the cellar as the castle was set fire, and had likely perished in the inferno. But the second youngest princess, Nykoliun…

The girl had survived. Somehow.

Jass thought back.

He looked down upon the enraged face of a young girl. She had raven-colored hair, like his own. In fact, they looked very alike: pale skin, slender figures. Even at seven years old, the girl was taller than most girls her age. The only difference was the eyes: hers black and furious, almond-shaped; his blue and cold as ice, calculating, amused.

He knew the folly and uselessness in the question, yet he asked it, for the sake of tradition.

“If you tell me where the harmonies are kept, I shall spare your life.”

It was a lie, of course; she was too dangerous to live. But it was customary, and besides, she might be foolhardy enough to trust him.

She was not.

She spat on him, fury and grief on her face.

“Coward! Bastard! Gutless craven! Spineless vulture! Murderer!” She shouted the names at him defiantly. He wiped the spittle from his cheek with the back of his hand. This was a waste of time. And he would not take insults from a mere slip of a girl!

He drew his sword, thinking to smite her, but changed his mind. He struck her on the neck with the flat of the blade, and then on her head with the pommel. She staggered, and then went limp in the grasp of her captors.

“Throw in her in the Lamanayassus,” he commanded the men holding her. “Let the river take her life. I have business elsewhere.” And they had thrown the girl into the swiftly flowing torrent.

I was careless that day, he thought. Fatally careless. That Gods-blasted whelp survived. Now I have to think of another way to kill her.

“Quentin!” he called. Almost immediately a young man appeared in the room. Jass smiled. “Very good, son. You are improving rapidly in your studies.” Quentin smiled broadly.

Quentin looked nothing like his father. His curly golden hair was thick and silky; his face tanned and his chin strong, with a dimple in it. They shared but one feature: twin blue eyes that were wide and innocent as a summer sky.

This was misleading, for Quentin was as devious and vengeful as his father; and although still not the man’s equal in sorcery, he was far more advanced than any other adept his age would be.

“What do you ask, father?” the boy queried, eyes eager, the natural suspicion in them invisible.

“I have a job for you, my son. A very important task. It is imperative that you succeed.”

“Go on.” The mistrust was now apparent in his voice as well as in his gaze. Jass smiled thinly. His son wasn’t about to promise blindly to some unknown commission. He had taught the boy well.

“You know of my dealings of the Symronese royals, do you not?” Quentin nodded. Everyone knew of his father’s murders. They were common knowledge. “And you know that the princess Nykoliun survived dealings of that sort on Tirane.” Again, the boy nodded. This was not common knowledge, although some knew it. “And you know that Nykoliun Sylrin is under my roof, so to speak.” Quentin nodded a third time. No one outside of Castle Zenith knew this, and there was no way for any of the residents to spread the word, for there was nothing outside the walls of Castle Zenith but snowy mountain slopes for many miles. Jass saw to that. “We need a different strategy this time, and I have one. It involves you, my son.”

Quentin looked at his father with open wariness. It was well known that there was no love lost between father and son, and Quentin would be just as happy should an accident render his father deceased and unable to rule Zenith. He knew that his father felt likewise, and would not be unduly dismayed should his son and heir suffer an untimely death.

“What exactly would my role be, father?” he asked warily. Jass chuckled.

“Oh, nothing dangerous, Quentin.” The boy relaxed almost imperceptibly. “The girl is strong in her magic, but naïve. She is lonely without her friends and family, and vulnerable. I would like you to… befriend her.” Quentin laughed outright.

“You want me to seduce the girl, right?” Jass nodded. “What makes you think I’d be any good?” Jass fixed Quentin with a piercing stare.

“I have it on good authority that you are rather… talented… with women, my son.” The young man snorted.

“So, what makes you think I’d be attracted to her?” As an answer, Jass conjured an image of Nicole.

Quentin whistled in appreciation.

The illusion showed Nicole in the dress she had worn to the ball, before she had been apprehended. The silver silk gleamed, its shimmer muted by the thin black veil of netting; and the silver beaded straps setting off the silver chain on her neck and the simple ring on her finger. Her long black hair hung loose from its bun, and blew in strands as if stirred by an unseen wind. Her face was amused, the crimson lips smiling laughingly, the almond-shaped eyes crinkled with mirth, a rosy flush on her porcelain cheeks. She was undeniably beautiful.

“Think you can manage her, Quentin?” Jass asked dryly. Quentin nodded absently, staring intently at the image. Jass snapped his fingers, and Nicole’s form disappeared. Quentin muttered something, flicked his own fingers, and the illusion materialized again. Jass smirked. “Well, I see you have your illusions down. How are you with simulacra?” Quentin waved his fingers; the image rippled and disappeared. He spat on the stone floor.

“Hah! I’d like to see you make a substantial golem of the girl- even her image rejects projection.” Jass smiled thinly.

“When you are my age, my son, you will learn never to question the abilities of one who exceeds you in sorcery.” Quentin shot an angry look at his father, but locked his lips. A moment later, blue smoke condensed into Nicole’s form. The simulacrum at first looked transparent, and then thickened. A startled look appeared on the figure’s face (if it is possible for simulacra to be startled), and the phantom shattered like glass. It was Quentin’s turn to smirk.

“You see, father? There is some warding spell on her whose like I have never seen before.” Jass quelled his son with a disdainful look.

“I believe I warned you against impertinence, my son. Now, my heir apparent, go to the girl before you cease to be such.” Quentin muttered something indiscernible. Jass pinned his son with an icy gaze. Quentin met it for a moment, and the similarity between them was apparent.

Then Quentin broke the contact, and exited the room.

***

A young woman screamed, pointing to the smoldering roof-beam. As if the cry had been some sort of signal, voices all over the hall were raised in a hysterical chorus.

Women shrieked, running for the gate. Men shouted in alarm, reaching for swords they weren’t wearing, or drawing flimsy dress swords. Some ran for the suits of armor that lined the walls, grabbing any weapon that came to hand.

One of the black-robed men, fitting a bolt to his crossbow, shot a burly nobleman wielding an ancient broadsword. He crumpled slowly, as if falling through deep water, blood soaking his elaborate costume.

Chaos erupted.

Selena looked to Shawna helplessly.

“This is your forté, friend. What is your appraisal of our present circumstances?” Shawna looked around the hall, sizing up the situation with an experienced eye.

“We have no chance,” she announced matter-of-factly.”

“Ooh. That is very encouraging,” Selena told her sarcastically. Shawna looked at her, surprised.

“It was my impression that you preferred truth over optimism,” the redhead began, but Selena waved her aside.

“Forget it. What can we do?” Shawna smiled, relieved.

“Well, for starters, we could shut those idiotic girls up…” Selena nodded, waving a hand in the general direction of a group of screaming women. They stopped, startled. Shawna sighed in relief. “Secondly, you could get this ridiculous thing off me!” She gestured to the dress. Selena again flapped a hand in its direction. Shawna shrieked as most of the dress disappeared, leaving only a few strips of the bodice and skirts. Johnny snickered.

“Oh. Ooops!” Selena murmured innocently. Immediately the redhead’s customary tunic and breeches fitted themselves to her. A pair of boots fixed themselves onto her feet.

“I’ll get you for that,” Shawna growled, red-faced. “And you, Jonathan McPhearn, will die a slow and painful death.”

“Och, come on, Shawna,” he protested, “Ah didnae see anythin’!” She looked at him darkly. He grinned, blue eyes innocent. Selena sighed impatiently.

“We do have a fight, here!” Johnny nodded, smiling all the wider at the prospect of a scrap.

“Come on, then,” he called over his shoulders to Alex and Zach. They nodded, and strode into the fray.

***

Shawna’s judgment, although pessimistic, had been correct. That was readily clear.

Within minutes, Zach had taken a thrust to the side, and was bleeding heavily, although he fought through the pain, binding the wound with a cloth hanging to stanch the blood.

Alex was surrounded by leering swordsmen, slashing past their guards with deadly skill. His fancy clothes had suffered numerous slashes, and a shallow cut on his forehead trickled blood into his eyes.

Johnny was having one heckuva time, swinging the double-headed axe as if it were a featherweight, and hacking through his adversaries like a scythe through wheat.

Shawna threw one of her shantaba with lethal accuracy, ending one attacker’s life. She quickly drew another from the sheath, sighted, and let it fly. Another attacker fell dead.

“I can’t keep this up!” Shawna yelled to Selena over the din. “I’ve only got two of these things left! Isn’t there anything you can do?”

For an answer, Selena muttered something, and waved a slender hand.

There was a blinding flash of violet light, and the blonde staggered, falling to the floor. Shawna ran to her, cursing under her breath. The redhead knelt by her friend, cradling the blonde’s head in her lap.

“Shielding spell… too strong of a whiplash… Jass’s power… growing stronger…” Selena’s voice, already faint, faded into silence.

“Now what?” the redhead muttered. She looked around the hall, thinking hard.

Zach was hurt, badly. Alex was outnumbered and surrounded. Johnny was reckless.

She had never backed down from a fight.

Selena was unconscious, unable to defend herself. Nicole was missing.

So, Shawna did the only thing that seemed reasonable. She called to her friends, hoisted Selena over her shoulder, and ran, for the first time in her life.

***

Back at the Golden Plover, Selena awoke in her bed. Good heavens, she thought to herself, there must have been far more whiplash than I accounted for- I ought only to have been unconscious for a few minutes! She swung her feet over the side of the bed, and stripped off what remained of her dress. Pulling a set of lilac robes over her head, she admonished herself sternly. What was I thinking, setting myself against Jass on his own territory?! I could have blasted myself into oblivion on his barrier! Shaking her head at her own folly, Selena exited her room, and found her way to the Inn’s main room.

What she found there put all thoughts of self-depredation out of her mind.

Shawna was seated in a big oak chair facing the roaring hearth, staring moodily into flames that matched those in her blazing brown eyes. In her right hand she held a mug full of amber liquid. She brought the tankard to her lips, and downed the fiery ale, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“What in the name of the Lady do you think you are doing!” Selena’s outburst had no effect on the redhead, who continued to gaze into the fire, showing no outward sign of comprehension, save it be a flicker in her keen eyes. “Stop this at once! Innkeeper,” Selena looked about for Wylman, and located him at the ale tap with considerable relief. “Bring me some hot water and some mint, lemon verbena, and thyme, sharpish!” Wylman scuttled off, and returned a second later with a pot of steaming water, and a basket of herbs. Selena crushed the leaves and threw them in the water, murmuring a chant over them for potency. She held the bowl below Shawna’s nose, and wafted steam at the redhead. When this evoked no response, Selena proceeded to dump the whole pot of boiling water and herbs over her friend’s head. Shawna’s eyes abruptly refocused, and she yelped as the scalding water soaked her.

“Confound it, ’Lena,” Shawna cried, “whadja do that for?” Selena looked at her with narrowed blue eyes.

“Since when do you drink, hmm?” Shawna looked at the tankard, as if seeing it for the first time. Her eyes clouded, and then cleared as the reality sunk in. He face darkened. Selena took the mug from her friend, dumping the ale in the fire. The flames that whooshed up from the alcohol were mirrored in Shawna’s eyes. “No more of that for you, my friend!” Selena looked around for Wylman, who appeared helpfully at her elbow. “Some mint tea, I think- two glasses.”

“Yes, miss,” Wylman replied gladly. He whisked off to the kitchens. A moment later, a pretty serving-maid returned with cups, teapot, sugar, and cream on a platter.

“Thank you, miss-” Selena paused expectantly.

“Annie,” the maid affirmed, “Annelise Wylman at your service, milady.”

“Thank you, Annie,” Selena murmured, pressing one of the china cups into Shawna’s hands. The redhead accepted silently, and sipped the hot liquid, inhaling the fragrant steam.

Selena looked meaningfully at Annie, who winked, and disappeared into the kitchen, tossing her sun-streaked brown hair over her shoulder. Selena turned to Shawna, facing her, and looking deep into the smoldering brown eyes, forcing the redhead to meet her gaze.

“This has got to stop,” the blonde said quietly. “I mean it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Shawna muttered, anger hardening her voice. She broke away form Selena’s piercing stare.

“Look at me,” the blonde insisted. “Look at me!” Slowly, resentfully, Shawna met her blue eyes. “Now listen: this was not your fault! Not… your… fault,” she repeated fiercely. Shawna didn’t say anything, but the disbelief was plain in her eyes. Selena sighed. “Look. You could not have known Jass was planning an ambush. And there was nothing more you could have done. What remains to us now is to go to Myrna Peak and Zenith, and find her. We are not beyond hope!”

***

Shawna looked deep into Selena’s eyes, seeing something there. A single tear trickled down her cheek, a lone softness amid harsh emotions and contours. Shawna angrily brushed it away, but another followed in its stead, and another, until she was crying, sobbing as she had not done since she was seven, and her eldest brother had died in the border dispute between her native Viden and its close neighbor Hevalra. Selena had been eleven, and had held her friend as grief overcame them both, and they poured out their hearts to an unforgiving world.

Shawna sniffed, accepting the monogrammed handkerchief Selena offered her.

“If you tell Johnny I’ll never forgive you,” Shawna muttered thickly. Selena laughed, and answered,

“I think he would understand. But I shall keep my silence, never fear.” She stood, pulling Shawna up. “Now, let’s get some rest. Or I will tell Johnny,” she threatened, but needlessly, for Shawna looked as tired as she felt, and obediently followed the blonde up the stairs and to their rooms.

“Goodnight, goodnight, and rest thee well,” Shawna murmured, yawning.

“The future only time will tell,” Selena returned the traditional rhyme. They smiled at one another, and went into their separate rooms, intent on sleep.

***

“What time is it?” Selena pushed her hair out of her eyes, blinking sleepily.

“Not nearly ‘alf past midnight, miady,” a voice whispered. Flickering candlelight illuminated the face of Annie, the Innkeeper’s daughter.

“Annie? What in Taram’s name did you wake me for?” Selena demanded, now fully awake.

“I’s dreadful sorry, milady, but papa said as to warn you,” Annie murmured nervously.

“Warn me? Of what?”

“Soldiers, my lady. ‘Is lordship’s troops, searching the town for two ladies with your descriptions!”

At that moment, a tousled red head appeared through the mirror-door. Shawna.

“What is it?” The redhead’s voice was hoarse from sleep.

“Soldiers. Searching the city for us.” Shawna groaned, running her fingers through the tangled red tresses and swiftly braiding them.

“Why couldn’t they have waited ‘till morning?” she moaned. “I was having a lovely sleep, too.” Selena chuckled mirthlessly.

“I do not think they care about your rest, friend.”

“Figures,” the redhead muttered.

“Beggin’ your pardon, miladies,” Annie broke in, “but oughtent you to be leaving?” Shawna grinned.

“Right you are, miss-”

“Annie,” Selena supplied.

“Annie,” Shawna continued. “Say- is there any way you could get us some provisions?” The girl grinned.

“Papa’s way ahead of you, milady,” she said proudly, displaying two packs fairly bulging with foodstuffs, blankets, crockery, and miscellaneous packages. Shawna sighed, relieved. “An’ there’s ‘osses awaitin’ you both.”

“Give your father our heartfelt gratitude, Annie,” Selena murmured. Annie grinned.

“’E says just to give Jass a kick for ‘im, my lady,” the girl told her, mischief dancing in her blue eyes.

“I’ll be sure to, Annie!” And Shawna’s look promised far more than that.

***

In the courtyard, Shawna and Selena exchanged farewells with Wylman.

“Good luck,” the inkeeper murmured, shaking both Shawna’s and Selena’s hands.

The two girls mounted their horses, and, just as they were almost out of sight down the road, Shawna called back to Wylman,

“If you see Johnny McPhearn, Zach Xandos, or Alex Lancen, tell them that Shawna requests their presence at the apex of the kingdom.” Wylman, bemused, saluted her, and the girls rode off into the night.

***

“Do you hear that?” Shawna’s voice was low, her eyes glinting in the moonlight as she searched the surrounding forest.

“What?” Selena asked.

“Hoofbeats. About a stone’s throw away, off to the left.”

“Your friends?” asked Selena. Shawna shook her head.

“One horse, and traveling too light to carry any of them.”

Both girls looked at each other, then urged their horses to a swifter pace.

They had been riding steadily for about one hour since they left Aysimona, swift and silent through the surrounding forest, fleeting shadows in the light of the waxing crescent moon. The forest was dense, the ancient trees blocking out most of the moonlight, but clear shafts filtered down through gaps in the verdant foliage. One such, about thirty yards off, illuminated a horse and rider, taking a course parallel to Shawna and Selena’s.

The girls looked ahead, and saw a wide meadow, almost two-hundred ells across, and at least that long. They rode through the last remnants of the forest, and into the open.

The rider halted, just out of the moonlight.

Shawna checked her mount, a fiery cinnamon gelding.

“Who are you,” she called, “and why do you follow myself and my companion? Show yourself!”

The rider slowly trotted forward, and pulled off its concealing hood.

“’Tis only I, Annie,” the rider answered. Shawna sighed.

“Well, come forward then, girl.” Annie obeyed, clearly with misgivings, for Shawna’s tone was stern. “Now I’ll ask you the second part of my question: why are you following us?” Annie’s reply was instantaneous.

“‘Cause you’re going to Zenith, an’ I ’as business with ’is lordship as rules the place.”

“What business, pray tell?” Shawna’s tone was less stern, and more curious. Annie’s face grew stubborn.

“Because ’is lordship took away my best friend, Marni Fletcher, from ’er home and family, and I means to get ’er back.” Selena frowned.

“What do you mean by ‘took away’?” the blonde asked. Annie took a deep breath, and launched into an explanation.

“Well, every five or so years, ’is lordship takes a trip ’round the countryside, an’ calls two boys an’ two girls from each town to serve ’im in ’is castle, Zenith, on Myrna Peak. Three years ago, on ’is last round, ’is lordship took my friend Marni Fletcher from Aysimona, along with Bremman Brandsson, the blacksmith’s son, Klaus Wheeler, the wheelwright’s son, an’ Jessa Ilwynsson, daughter of one of our weavers. I intends to bring Marni back to Aysimona, along with Brem an’ Klaus an’ Jess. Papa wouldn’t let me go alone, so I says to myself, why doncha go along with those ladies? They’s warriors! So I falls in with you, an’ we go to Zenith.”

Shawna tugged at her braids, sighing.

“Look, Annie,” she said, slowly and clearly, “there are two faults to your reasoning. Number one: Selena is not a warrior. I am. She is a mage, a sorceress, enchantress, and so on, and so forth. Number two: we do not go to Zenith to rescue a bunch of teenagers. We go to rescue one. One. There is a big difference between rescuing one seventeen-year-old and rescuing her and four fifteen-year-olds-”

“Marni’s sixteen,” Annie muttered rebelliously.

“Fine! Three fifteen-year-olds and one sixteen-year-old,” Shawna amended, breathing heavily through her nostrils. “And there’s another problem with your plan: what if we decide not to help you? What will you do then, hmm? Because I’m not feeling all that charitable right now!” Annie thrust her chin out stubbornly.

“I’ll follow you! I don’t need your ’elp! But I’s not goin’ back without Marni!” Shawna groaned, rubbing her temples.

“All right, fine, so be it. You can come with us.” Annie grinned impishly.

“Okay! Thanks!” She clucked to her horse, and trotted off towards Myrna Peak. Shawna sighed, shook her head, and followed.

***

“My lady?”

Nicole groaned, moaning something unintelligible. A hand gently shook her shoulder.

“My lady, awake! 'Tis morning, and breakfast awaits thee!”

Coming fully awake at the mention of breakfast, Nicole sat up. Her head felt much better after a night’s rest, and her stomach was growling like an angry bear. Nicole swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose, stretching her arms over her head and yawning.

“What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

“Nigh on ten o’clock in the morning, my lady, and time you were up and about, if I say so myself,” Marni replied cheerily. Nicole thought (rather grouchily) that perkiness ought to be banned this early in the morning, and asked,

“What’s for breakfast?” Marni shooed her over to a small, circular wooden table as she answered,

“Scones with fresh butter and strawberries, mint tea, and blueberry tarts hot from the oven, my lady.”

“Mmmmm! Sounds- and looks, and smells- delicious, Marni!” Nicole gazed down at the repast, her mouth watering. She was about to take a bite of one of the delicate, heavenly smelling tarts when she remembered that in Arahat one always invoked the Lady before meals. Placing her hands palms-together, and looking to the sky, she murmured the traditional verse:

We thank thee for the sunrise bright,

We thank thee for the moon at night,

We thank thee for both land and sea,

And in our hearts remember thee.

“Sentisi, na vietsi mortiem, o porro kiri,” (live, hasten not death, so may it be) Marni finished the saying.

And that done with, Nicole tucked in with a will.

When she had finished breakfast (which was delightful), Nicole asked Marni where she could find some day clothes (for at the moment she was wearing some sort of shift or night-dress, and she didn’t want to go out of the room dressed like that). Marni pointed her to a wooden door in an alcove of the bedchamber, and, sure enough, behind that door were tons of dresses, hanging in rows. Nicole (although she had never been very keen on dresses in general) took one look at the silks and velvets and taffetas and all the other fabrics she had no name to put to, and swore to herself that she would wear them, even if it killed her. Which it might, she considered, examining the extremely narrow waistline of one of the gowns. She picked one, a dress with a deep blue velvet overrobe and a silver silk shift beneath. With it on its hanger were a necklace of pearls, and two pearl earrings. On the floor below it she saw a pair of silver shoes. Gathering all this in her arms, she went back into the main room.

In a well-intended attempt to shed the nightdress, Nicole managed to completely entangle herself in the voluminous garment, and had to ask Marni (in a rather muffled voice because of the layers of cloth over her mouth and face) for assistance, which the girl willingly gave. Unwinding the shift took some tricky maneuvering on both girls’ parts, but eventually Nicole was free of the cumbersome thing. And then, totally at a loss with all the laces and buttons on her foreign underclothes, she again had to ask Marni for help (which again the girl readily obliged). Feeling very much like a mannequin or overgrown doll, Nicole submitted to having the silk and cotton crinolines and corset laced onto her (the corset was not like our corsets, which impend breathing and sometimes crack ribs, but simply another layer for warmth and tradition).

Finally, she was dressed.

“Marni, would you tell his lordship I am wandering aimlessly around his castle and attempting escape if he asks?” Nicole’s voice was wry, but her expression was decorous. Marni smothered a snort.

“Oh, I’ll do more than that, Nicky,” she replied (having long since consented to stop ‘my lady’-ing Nicole). “I’ll personally inform his lordship that you wish him a nasty stomachache, and that if you ever get the chance you’ll gladly stab his eyes out, with a fork if need be…”

“And I hope he stubs his toes and slams his fingers in a door, and that his bed is ice-cold tonight, and that he chokes on his food…”

“And that he falls off a cliff onto sharp rocks and gets eaten by vultures. Have I forgotten anything?” Marni’s question was mock serious.

“No, not that I can think of,” Nicole replied, eyes dancing. “See you later!” She opened the oaken door on ponderous hinges, and slipped out of the chamber.

Humming quietly to herself, Marni began to dust.

***

The castle, Nicole soon found out, was enormous: great cathedral-like halls with arched windows, long, airy corridors lined with pillars, high walled courtyards with sparkling fountains and vines and trees; stairs and passages creating a wondrous labyrinth of twists and turns that left the wanderer bewildered. She was soon totally lost, but she did not mind; the quiet peace and calm of the place was like a cool, soothing drink to her troubled mind. And so she wandered, farther and farther into the heart of the place.

And then, at last, when she suddenly realized that she was tired, she (quite quickly and conveniently) came upon another courtyard. This one had the highest walls she had seen of yet; they towered almost fifty feet in the air. The air was different, too; the sweet, exotic perfume of plumeria and orchid and rose was missing.

The aroma in its place was wild and free and intoxicating, and Nicole felt that when she breathed it in, she was drinking in the liquid sunlight that speared down in narrow shafts to the ground, and pooled in glades of wildflowers.

Wandering down a path paved in small white stones, Nicole came upon a little arbor covered in vines of wisteria, beneath which a marble bench rested. She started in surprise.

Sitting, no, lounging on the bench was a boy of (she guessed) about eighteen or nineteen. His golden-blond hair glinted in the sunlight, and his blue eyes glowed with happiness. His muscular arms were loosely folded across his chest, and he had stretched his long legs out in front of him, and crossed them at the ankle. He seemed completely at ease.

He looked up as she stepped forward into the light.

Goddess above, she’s beautiful! Quentin’s beguiling blue eyes took in the shining black hair, the slenderness, the delicacy and grace in her movements. So this is Nykoliun Sylrin, huh? Seems a waste of a pretty girl, killing her. Ah well.

“Hullo,” Quentin greeted Nicole warmly, “who are you?”

“Nicole. And you are?”

“Quentin. Nice meeting you, Nicole.” Nicole? Father said her name was Nykoliun. Maybe it’s a petname… “So. Are you a new recruit? I haven’t seen you around the castle before.”

“Recruit?” Nicole’s confusion was plain in her voice. Quentin grinned, white teeth sparkling.

“Sorry. I guess you’re really new. Recruits are the kids from the village his lordship brings to serve him here.” he clarified.

“Recruits… Hmm,” Nicole rolled her eyes, and continued in the same sarcastic voice, “that’s an interesting word for kidnapped teenagers. Maybe I misheard you…?” Quentin shrugged.

“It’s all the same here. So, I take it you are one?”

“I dunno. If I am, no one’s informed me of my duties so far.” Quentin’s blue eyes brightened.

“Meaning you don’t have anything to do?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Nicole answered.

“Do you know your way around here yet?” Nicole laughed ruefully.

“No; in fact, I’m not sure how I’ll get back to my rooms…” He jumped to his feet.

“I’ll take you on a tour then!” He tossed her a sidelong glance. “That is, if you want to.”

“Why not?”

***

The two spent the remainder of the day wandering about the immense fortress, from the highest battlement or pointed turret to the kitchens, boiler rooms and furnaces deep in the heart of the mountain. Courtyards, gardens, the cathedral, dining halls, the library, the stables, rookery, mews, dovecote, and kennels, and many other places, combined, made Garth Jass’s stronghold on the peak of Zenith Mountain a citadel immune to siege. The spent a particularly long time at the baths, wandering in between the towering, Romanesque columns and spring-and pipe-fed pools (where Quentin pushed Nicole in--and she pulled him after herself).

At last, when the light from the setting sun stained the halls crimson and rose, they returned to Nicole's rooms. As Quentin turned to go, Nicole caught his sleeve.

“See you tomorrow?” she asked.

He grinned, and replied,

“Sure!” Then he departed.

She failed to read the triumph in his now cold blue eyes.