/Early Morning bump

The hunt has gone late in the day and finally the companions decided to retire for the night to Cornwall Station. The station sat aside the road, a two-story affair with a stable. Some of the rarest metals and woods of the realm were sold there. Tanners from the out-realm areas brought their highly desirable wares to the station for sale. It was also the last civilized place before Lyonesse except for one small trading post. The other bid Jashen, Tobyas, and Azaeli farewell and made their departures. Most took horse north toward Camelot.

Azaeli smiled as her two friends. “The chain mail suits you well, Toby,” she said quietly as Jashen made room arrangements for the night. The young cleric had gained power in the church indeed, if he were permitted to equip up with chain like this. And from the looks of it, it was crafted chain, not dungeon found. The alloy metal glinted in the light of the common room.

“Thank you, Azi,” Tobyas replied, bobbing his head shyly. He was still adjusting to Azi in armor and sporting a large sword. He had come to know her as a caster of wizard magic, and shy, even retiring. This was so different for her. He prayed she had made a good choice. “It has taken some getting used to, of course,” he found himself explaining. The newness of this armor was still evident to him, but Azaeli just smiled at him.

“I know what you mean by that, my friend,” she patted his hand in affection as Jashen made his return. He nodded them in greeting.

“Two rooms,” he motioned toward an empty table on the far side of the room. “I figured you would like your privacy, Azaeli,” he continued as he sat, indicating with a slight shake of his head that Tobyas should not join them.

“I shall take my leave then,” he said, a bit stiffly, for he too had not seen Azi in some time. But he knew that Jashen and Azi probably wanted to talk about Crispian and accepted that he was not fully in their confidences for that. “My Lady Azi, Jash,” he nodded curtly and left, going up the stairs to where the few rooms of the station were located.

As the serving girl brought them two mugs, one steaming and one frothy, Jashen favored Azaeli with a smile. He had to admit that she looked quiet good in her plate mail. It was burnished to a high shine, much like Crispian’s, but the armorer had paid attention to the curve and fitting of Azaeli’s body, for protection no doubt, Jashen mused, and the effect was stunning on her. Her blond hair fell to the shoulders of her breastplate and her eyes looked more blue than before.

Taking a short drink of his ale, Jashen broke the silence first. “Ye wished to speak with me, private like?” he said, mouthing quirking a small grin. He trucked in the work of the Shadow Guild for a profession, and applied his skills to the protection of the League. He knew that Azi was more accustomed to books, libraries, and other civil niceties.

Azaeli turned her mug of sweet tea in her hands, still so small but now callused and hardened. She met Jashen’s cool gray eyes with her own placid blue. There was no trace of a smile on her face. With a slight lean forward, she spoke. “Jashen, what do you know of this Arcalan?” Her hushed voice breathed into the space between them.

He paused for just a moment. He should have considered this topic. Azi was certain to notice the new Cabalist in their ranks, and her strange attitude. As Shadow Master of the League, Jashen had watched her already, but was surprised that Azaeli had met her so soon on her return. He lowered his ale to the table, licking his lips of the foam. “I can tell you I trust her not,” he said quietly, even as his eyes scanned the room for possible listeners.

“Indeed, you have good reason not to,” Azi said with a calm certainty. Her face betrayed nothing more, but her fingers tightened on the coarse wood of the mug. “How did she come to join the League?” she asked, voice a low hush still.

Jashen considered lying. Phalos had recruited so many new ones, it could be passed as that. But this was Azaeli, a knight of the League even as a wizard, and sure to prove her pledges of purity and honor time and again, as if she had not already. She deserved the full truth, even if Jashen was uncomfortable with that. “Cris is soft hearted,” he said quietly, drawing again from his ale mug.

The shock was more than Azi could mask. Her eyes widened slightly and her mouth almost did not work to get the next words out of it. Jashen was glad he had not waited for her to be drinking. “Crispian invited her?” she gasped, unable to keep the note of disbelief out of her voice. A Knight was supposed to know the foe, and here it seemed Crispian was oblivious to such a threat as it seemed Arcalan posed!

Jashen released a loud breath and rubbed his hands against each other, then smooth his cloak. “Aye, he did,” he explained, “but over my protestations!” He suddenly wanted to explain more to Azi, relieved to have found someone to confide in, for he sensed Arcalan was a problem waiting to happen.

“Jashen,” Azaeli murmured, then cleared her throat, taking a sip of her tea. “How may I say this,” she started, pausing as the words hung in the air. She was not one to make accusations or cast doubt on the content of another’s character. But this Arcalan...She was unsure how to proceed.

Jashen reached across the table, taking one of her hands. “Honestly, of course, Azaeli,” he said, meeting her gaze calmly.

Azi swallowed, withdrawing her hand to fold both of hers on her lap. “I happened upon her in Camelot,” she began. “As soon as I heard her voice, I felt a chill evil run through me,” she looked down a moment as she spoke, recalling Arcalan’s voice, and another voice from her past that carried that same tone.

Jashen nodded. “Aye, Cris does not trust her, but he did let her join.” He found himself still wanting to justify Crispian’s decision to admit her into the League.

Azi noted the slight fidgeting of Jashen’s hands. She knew she might be pressing into areas best left alone, but felt she had to go forward at this point. “Jashen,” she said quietly, “I do not know if Crispian told you of that night when we,” she paused, still recoiling from the memories of that horrible night, “found him in the Shadow Guild,” she paused slightly as the icy expression that came to Jashen’s face, “but when Arcalan laid her eyes on me, it was the first time I had felt that..."

“Felt what?” Jashen hissed into the silence when she paused. He knew exactly what night she was referring to.

“That icy, cold evil pressing me,” she held his gaze. “It was the first time since that night I had felt anything like that.” Her eyes reflected the memories of that night she was recalling.

Jashen nodded slowly. "Aye, I know what you mean. I saw Cris that night...I, I, well, lost control.” He chose not to continue, for there were things that even Azi should not know, especially as a sworn paladin of the Church.

Azi either did not notice or did not pursue the pause. “Perhaps,” she said, with a sly grin, “it is well to have her in the League. Easier to keep track of her.” She favored Jashen with a wry look for a moment.

He grinned in return. “Exactly!” He chuckled, taking a drink of ale. “And Tannir does love stealthing along after her.” His eyes danced with the mirth of it. Tannir, native lad to the city of Camelot, had managed to follow Arcalan without detection for weeks now.

“Well, I should like to say I’m comforted knowing that you are aware of this.” She paused, looking down briefly. But still… Could things get any worse for Crispian?” she paused, composing herself. Her look grew speculative. “What could she be up to?”

Jashen looked about, not looking at Azi for a moment’s time. “Something dark, for sure.”

Azi pressed her lips into a narrow line. “That is obvious. And yet,” she toyed with her mug, “she was so pleasant to me”

Jashen tossed his head in a small chuckle. “I don’t under how she and Achou can be the same profession!” He shook his head slight. “But, aye, she is pleasant, as she wishes to be.”

Azi felt badly for not noticing that the Saracen cabalist was not with them this hunt. “Where is Achou this night?” she asked as she looked about. “And how does he?”

Jashen shrugged. “He is well, but abed with a headache from studying his magicks.”

Azi’s face slowly lit with a shy grin. “I know that well!” She thought of the hours in the old library in Camelot, and her dear Uncle looking over her the whole time. A nostalgic look past over her face.

“Now, you just contend with sore muscles,” Jashen mused as he signal for two more mugs.

“I seem to enjoy that more, somehow,” Azi said, passing her cooled tea off for the new steaming mug.

Jashen sipped as his new tankard. “Maybe Wizardry is your real vocation,” he allowed, intentionally misunderstanding Azi’s statement to mean she enjoyed study more than physical work.

Azi shook her head. “Nay, it is my fate to be a paladin,” she said, rubbing a hand on her neck, stiff from the barrel helm she had been in all day long.

Jashen grinned wickedly. “Honest, I liked ye better in robes,” he said as his grinned widened.

“I did not choose my profession for the clothing!” Azi said, hastily and a bit harsh.

Taken aback, Jashen’s grin faded. “Just saying it was flattering on you,” he said, eyes downcast.

Azi immediately regretted her tone with him. “My apologies. I miss it sometimes, and so,” she shrugged her thin shoulders, “I am defensive.” She knew that many were still adjusting to this ‘new’ Azi, and not all were doing so smoothly.

Jashen smiled again. “Worry not, dearest,” he murmured. “Imagine being the younger brother of a near-legend.” He himself still found it odd that people afforded him a great deal of respect bought on the coin of Crispian’s achievements.

Azi sighed. “Better to have a brother to begin with, than none at all,” she said, her face taking on a down-turned expression. Jashen felt he had to lighten the mood a bit and laughed.

“You don’t know Cris well!” he said, his face alight with humor.

Azi took the statement a bit wrong. “Oh, I do not?” she said, a bit archly.

Jashen back-pedaled his words quickly. “Did you ever have someone steal your courters?” he asked, still smiling.

Azi turned the most pleasant shade of pink as she lowered her eyes. “You know that I do not court.”

Jashen chuckled. “But, I am sure you had callers?” He felt slightly wicked to be pressing the issue of romance with Azi, but better she be uncomfortable than dwell on what life had not gifted her with.

Her blush deepened. “Yes,” she said shyly, drinking some tea. “Often, I would be glad if someone stole them away.” Her blush drained away and she allowed a shy smile. “But I can see your side, of course.” Jashen leaned back, calmer now that they were on a safer topic than Arcalan. “And I am sure you noticed that Cris is, well,” he shrugged, “a handsome man with a thicker chest than I.” He had no discomfort with admitting Crispian had filled out more than he had.

Azi smiled pleasantly, but answered honestly. “Honest, Jashen, I cannot tell you apart,” she said into the brief pause.

“And thicker arms.” He looked at Azi, registering her comment. “Well, dear, ye saw him as the Lord brought him into the World, so to speak,” he said, with a raising of eyebrows.

Azi blushed again. “My eyes did not linger.”

Jashen smirked. “Not even a wee bit?” he asked, mildly amused that a warrior and wizard of Azi’s caliber would be so discomforted by this topic.

Azi open her mouth in shock. “No!” she said, loud enough that others glanced over briefly.

Riding the humor of the moment, Jashen rolled on. “My Lady, ye protest too much, I fear,” he said with a wink.

Azi however had turned serious. “Jashen, friend, I am quite content with my love, Ascot, and Crispian was such a fright that night,” she shuddered at the thought of his state that night in the Shadow Quarter. “My only concern was to come to his aid,” she finished gravely.

Jashen inclined his head gravely in return. “Well, I shall take it at that then,” he gave a half-bow of acceptance to her.

“You are a handsome man,” Azi said plainly. “Surely women fawn at you?” Was this young mercenary, so confident usually, about to have a self-image crisis with her?

He nodded. “But Cris is as handsome, and has more muscle. As lads in the village, he could swoon any lass,” he said with a small smile, recalling the simpler life to which he and his brother could never return.

“That was so long ago,” Azi observed, “and you are much more carefree than he.” She felt the need to point out that Jashen was more humorous to be around, even before the curse.

Jashen grinned his sly grin. “Cris has always been more serious than I, and young lasses appreciate that,” he said, even as his own eye caught that of a tavern girl.

“It depends on the lass,” Azi said, her eyes challenging. “ Some prefer a good sense of humor.”

“Oh, Cris has that too,” Jashen said, “when he wishes to show it,” he pressed on seeing that Azi was about to interrupt him. Her face turned into a frown. “What, Darlin’?” he asked as he took a drink from his ale mug.

Azi sighed, looking deep into her tea mug. “I worry about him,” he said quietly, the recent topic bringing the young Armsman to the front of her mind.

“So do I,” Jashen admitted, “but he is tough as troll.” He did not want Azi to get caught up in thoughts of Crispian.

“I suppose,” she said quietly, not sounding to convinced.

Jashen decided it might be time to tell Azi some of Crispian’s past that he knew he would not have shared yet. “You do not know of her, do you?” he asked quietly, eyes down cast, for the memories of their childhood ending were not pleasant for him, or Crispian.

“Her?” Azi asked, “D’Vena?” she asked, naturally concluding that she would be a nameless woman called simply “her.”

Jashen grinned a weary grin. “Oh, no. Not her,” he said with a slight shake of his head.

Azi sat a little forward. “Who?”

“Her name was Eirennelle,” he said quietly, eyes focusing somewhere beyond the wall of the station.

Azi sipped at her tea, waiting for him to continue. The pause grew, and finally she prodded him with a simple, “Oh? What became of her?”

“Aye,” Jashen replied, quietly. “He loved her. We were,” he looked at the ceiling, “about fourteen or so, training with Oakleif,” he paused, a slight smile on his lips, “Sir Oakleif, even then.” He turned his mug about. “Well, Cris had decided to farm the land around Donegal, our village.” He continued to wear an amused smile for a moment. “We were about to get our first swords. He proposed to her, after talking with Auntie, of course.” Azi’s eyes widen in surprise. “Well, our village was sacked a few days later, by Spriggens and other. Many died, and could not be brought back, as we had no bindstone there. Eirennelle was one of them.”

Azi seized the moment to fill her curiosity. “Wait,” she implored. “Tell me of her. How did she look?”

Jashen closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh, she was a good lookin’ lass.” His eyes were open again, but it was clear he was not seeing the room. “Reddish coppery hair, taller than either of us,” he said with a small smile. “Lean and sleek, like a good horse,” he grinned. “And with all the curves you could want.” He came back into focus on the present. “Crispian loved her, no doubt,” he finished quietly.

Azi looked down into her mug, a sadness passing over her. “Oh, Jashen,” she said in a mournful voice. “How terribly sad!” She looked to be on the verge of tears, and Jashen felt bad for having given her another cause to worry about Crispian. “How foul, cruel and evil,” she blinked back tears as she spoke.

“He has loved no other since, really,” he paused, “until, well, the curse. But, Azi, that was ten years ago.”

She nodded, composing her emotions. “Yes, but it is still sad,” she said, her face now grave rather than sad.

Jashen drained down more ale. “Cris vowed to clear the land of evil,” he said, toying with his mug again, “and until Tobyas, that was all he thought of,” he signaled for another ale.

Azi looked at him closely. “What are you saying, Jashen?” Her tone was low and full of concern.

Jashen thought on it as his ale was brought. “Cris has room in his oh-so-serious heart for few things, but Toby is one. And to be honest, I think it is not just the curse at work,” he nearly whispered, drinking his ale at the end.

“Well, that is his choice, is it not?” Azi declared. She tired of this matter of mettling in the heart.

Jashen looked up in surprise. “Ye know tis a crime, aye? And he could be stripped of office, titles, and exiled or worse?” His concern was evident in how he spoke.

Azi sighed in exasperation. “Yes, I know this. But what can anyone do if it is truly what his heart desires? Certainly, you know that the heart is one thing that cannot be commanded, or tamed,” she paused as a look of her own pain passed over her face, “or forgotten,” she finished quietly.

Jashen met her eyes, a softness showing in his own. “He is my brother, and I love him,” he said quietly, “and will support him in whatever he wishes, but the risks,” he paused. “And with his trial coming up,” he said in an explosive sigh. The look of surprise on Azi’s face startled him. She must have been very focused on her training indeed! “You did not know of that?” he asked quietly.

Azi still looked at him in near shock. “Indeed, I didn’t!” she declared, almost too loudly.

Jashen leaned in as he looked about the room. There were many people about and he felt a need to be cautious. “Cris killed an unarmed yeoman,” he whispered.

Azi’s face registered even more surprise. “What! WHEN?” she nearly shouted, then leaned in and lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “What is this you speak of?” she asked urgently. “It cannot be so!” Her knowledge of Crispian did not allow for such things.

“A few weeks ago,” Jashen sad quietly, “Cris was being heckled about, well, Toby,” he said with a heavy breath. “He sought not to kill him, I believe, but his sword is magical.” He paused at the helplessness of it all.

“Why did he strike out at them? Why did he not turn and leave?” she asked, still unable to believe it.

“His temper is as bad as mine,” Jashen said quietly, thinking of a dead innkeeper from Camelot.

Azi shook her head. “Surely, if he explains that he is cursed, it will be forgotten! He is not a man in his sane mind!” She was shaken at what this curse of D’Vena’s was doing to her friend.

Jashen sighed again. “He did not SEEK to kill. He even flat bladed them,” he finished lamely. “Lord Adribald is trying him.”

Azi grabbed his hand. “Tell me the day, I shall be there!” she vowed in an urgent tone.

“As shall many others,” Jashen said quietly, not adding that all who attended might not be friends to his brother.

“Jashen,” Azi stated in dead earnest, “the Lord knows the truth and He is just.” Jashen was not sure if she meant Adribald or the Almighty. “This will come to a good end,” she said with a clear conviction.

“He tried Jothan, the Cleric, not too long ago, and it looked very bad for him, until Arguyle and the Red Lions showed up,” Jashen reminded Azi, who had not been in attendance.

All of this was more than Azi could absorb upon her return and she need time to think. She stood, tucking her helm in the crook of her arm. “I fear the hour is late, and I should be seeking rest.”

Jashen nodded as he finished his ale. “Sleep well, Azaeli, and not a word to Cris of what I told you,” he implored with large eyes.

“Never, I swear it,” she replied with all gravity of her being.

He smiled at her. “Many thanks, Azi,” he said, lips pressed into a worrisome line. “Cris can still kick my arse,” he quipped, trying to lighten the moment.

“Promise me word of the trial. If you send it to my father’s house, I will surely get it,” she said, holding his eyes.

Jashen nodded. “I know Judan well, and shall do so,” he said quietly.

Azi was again surprised, but pleasantly this time. “Do you now?” she asked.

Jashen grinned a relieved grin. Aye, Crispian is a weaponsmith, you know,” he leaned back as he spoke. “Most people forget that I work in armor.”

Azi was a bit surprised, for she had forgotten. “Ah, then you have spent many hours beside him at the forge?”

Jashen laughed softly. “Some, not like Cris though.” He shook his head, knowing his meager skill with armor did not compare with Crispian’s weapon crafting skill.

Azi smiled. “Pappa is a good man. He and Crispian have much in common,” she said.

The comment brought to mind something that Jashen had heard. “Aye, he is,” he looked away from Azi. “I was so sorrowed to hear of your mother.”

Azi’s face grew still. “Talk not of that, Jashen. She is at peace.” She sighed a sorrowful sound.

Jashen looked at her. “I never knew my mother. I envy you yours,” he said as he examined the bottom of his mug.

Azi whispered in a pained voice, “Speak not, it is too soon still for me.”

Jashen took Azi’s hand and kissed it. “I meant not to cause ye pain,” he said.

Azi smiled sadly. “You are right though. I have memories to cling to, if only a few,” she said, slipping her hand free.

Jashen’s smile mirrored Azi’s. “My memories are all of Auntie Mir,” he said, affection for the Avalonian in his voice.

“But then,” Azi said, “I know what I have lost and you do not. And I do not know which of us is the better for that.” Her eyes were remote, sad.

Jashen looked away. “I would say you are. I think a poet once wrote ‘Tis better to have loved and loss than to not have loved at all,” he said quietly.

Azi nettled her brows for a moment. “I suppose,” she said with a small sigh. Then she shook her head. “What a melancholy visit! We should promise each other that the next time we sit and talk, it will be a happy occasion Jashen!”

Jashen had to laugh. Azi could do that for him. “The Great One willing, I know I am!” he pledged.

“And do not forget this time!” she admonished him.

He shook his head. “I shall not,” he said with a slight bow at the waist. “May it be soon for both of us!”

Azi pulled into an embrace, which startled him. “Farewell, then, Jashen,” she murmured as he returned the embrace.

“And you, dear Lady,” he managed with all the sincerity he felt, to the depth of his heart, for this was a fine woman, and a good friend.

 

-----signature-----

/bump!


Damn Crispain...you've become a much better writer than I ever will be...but don't worry...I plan on getting back into the swing of things...


Ah, and this is a fabulous thread...keep it up.

 

-----signature-----

Tobyas listend to the two of them end their conversation. Quietly, he slipped from Cornwall and paid the five silvers for his horse. He road for the swamp. He felt the dire need to meditate in prayer on many matters.

OOC- Thanks Caer! Wish I could claim credit for it all. Lots of Log editting has gone into the last few posts.


/bow the compliment is greatly appreciated.

 

-----signature-----

After unstrapping her armor and setting it lovingly in a corner of the tiny inn room, Azi kneaded her sore neck and knelt beside her bed, bowing her head in deep prayer.


After some time, she pulled herself onto the cramped straw mattress and rolled onto her back like a log of dead wood. Jashen was right, even out of her heavy armor, her body was a massive sore muscle. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, letting out a long yawn.


Her eyes flicked around behind her lids as she lay there trying to sleep. It had been two days of straight training and hunting for her, with no rest. She was overcome by exhaustion physically and mentally. Try as she might though, she could not relax enough to hope for sleep. Her thoughts raced beyond her control...


Was there a connection between D'vena and Arcalan? Why had Crispian allowed her to join the guild? Didn't he see the evil in her? Where was Crispian? Had he taken to the drink again? Would his curse ever be lifted? Who would D'vena strike against next? Would the League accept her again? As a paladin, now? Did they miss her as much as she had missed them? Had she made the right choice to give up her robes and magic? Was Ascot lying awake in Lethantis, as she was here?


The thudding and crashing of a brawl in the tavern downstairs jolted her awake just as she had begun to drift to sleep. She remembered Tobyas' sad expression as he excused himself from herself and Jashen earlier.


Was he still as smitten with Crispian as he had been that evening when the two of them watched him sleep in the Church's garden? He was so pious now, so changed...She wondered if he knew that her friendship was unconditional? That she would never tell the church, even though as Jashen had said, it was a grave crime? She sighed and blinked into the darkness, watching the moonlight flood through the thin crack in the shutters and splash onto the rough woolen blanket that covered her.


Softly, Azi whispered a prayer for peace, and was soothed. Finally, thankfully, she drifted into a deep sleep.

/bump

<holds her breath in anticipation...>

/bump right bck

 

-----signature-----

The quiet of the swamp had always been something that gave Toby a sense of peace. From earliest childhood, his family had come here to trade goods during the mild days of fall and early spring. Their Dartmoor home, now lost to Stonecallers and worse had made this tower-fortress one of two convenient spots to sell goods and purchase new supplies. Now, he came here to pray and reflect. The tower hall was mercifully empty as he entered and made his way to a window embrasure. He sat, back to the cool stones and considered all that had passed in his life.

He was now a Sargent of the League, allowed to wear the Emblem and to invite new entrants. He really had not planned that, but his exposure to the others of the company through lodging with them had made it almost inevitable. He was also a Curate of the Church, having achieved the twenty-mystery to the Divine. He spent much of his time out in the field, fighting the evil that lay on the land since the great schism between Morgana and Merlin. Days spent away from civilization and creature comforts had hardened him in body and spirit. It had also fattened his purse on his own merits, something that was new to him.

All of this was well and good, but he found that there were still things unresolved, unfinished. It was those things, which drew his attention this night. He looked at the sky, scudded with clouds that threatened rain in the morning. The pale moon slid behind a bank and the night became darker. He could hear the murmur of conversation from the group he had passed. From their looks, they were great lords and ladies of the realm, or at least rich.

Thinking of lords brought his mind to Crispian. The past weeks had gone by with barely a word between them, not that Crispian was to fault there. Toby had chosen to keep himself away and apart, and he rarely spoke in the guildhall, if ever. His time was spent praying, or sleeping, and on the hunt. The young Lord, although he did not like that form of address, was a problem for the young cleric. He had mostly stayed true to his vows to the Church of Albion, excepting that one afternoon in Ludlow, and a few times when alone. But it was not just hte physical. That would have been dealt with easily.

No, his problem was more of the heart. He found himself feeling drawn toward Crispian as a companion, a partner. He hesitated to use the word lover, but that was what his heart wanted to say. From what he had learned, there was some curse laid upon Crispian by some sorceress who now was about and free. And she was somehow able to continue this spell even over distance and time. But, more to his problem, what if the curse was lifted? Would Crispian be ashamed of what had passed between them? Would he even want Tobyas in the League?

Certainly, Crispian did pay high accolades to all within the League, using Brother and Sister to address them all and trying, unsuccessfully, to not have them address him as Lord and Liege. It was true that many felt that way toward him, and it was equally true that although he accepted it, he did not bask it. Of course, Mirashta always had a word or two to insure that he did not get over-invested in his own ego.

Tobyas clasped his hands together, praying for discernment, for courage, and for wisdom. The days ahead would be fraught with peril for him. He knew that once the curse was lifted, everything might change. He had the feeling that the curse could not last forever, or go on too long without Crispian being further harmed. He prayed for the resolve that he would need when the day came, as it must, that he and Lord Pontiff met, both unfettered by curse. He did not know how that would play out. It was for acceptance of whatever became of it that he prayed for last and more fervently.

 

-----signature-----

Arcalan emerged from the endless night of Darkness falls. Her power had grown in leaps and bounds, as though the very energy of the place fed her. She had worked endlessly, safe from that meddling Squire Crispian insisted on sending to trail after her.

It really was pitiful, but the dog did his service faithfully, on her heels from morn till night. Ah well, he'd have to have a suitable reward then.

Taking off towards Camelot to complete an errand for Sir Bors she once again noticed that Tannir had begun to follow her. She slid a sealed envelope into the hand of Magus Agyful, in order to set her plan in motion, and delivered her message to a Scribe. It seemed Sir Bors life was in danger, as those Arawnite's were to spread their philosophy by sending him to his eternal rewards. The dilema was resolved when she realised the potential for having Bors under her influence. It had been easy to gather the favours of more than a few infiltraitors in the last month, now this larger pawn would be hers. The sunset was streaming through her golden-red hair as she mounted a fine steed from Camelot, and set out for the Border. By the time she got there the Moon hung low in the sky, and light had given way to a chill Snowdonian night. Snow began to fall from the clouds, and soon the pass behind her would be difficult terrain indeed. Perfect.


Inside the Fortress her instincts came alive. She'd had little trouble getting in, but she knew she was being watched closely. In this lay her advantage. Sappy the Simulacrum stayed a faithful watch at the gate while she proceeded to the commander of the watch to deliver news of the assassin. She moved quickly through the fort, keenly aware of the presence stalking her. Tannir was more clumsy than this, and should by now have more on his mind right now. The assassin slid through the shadows close behind her...


Arcalan delivered her message and instantly all entrances and exits were sealed. Guards rushed to secure the Gates, and Arcalan took this oppertunity to loiter in a hallway to one side, alone and quite seemingly oblivious. The whisper hissed it's taunt into her ear even as a long knife flashed through the night dripping with poison.

"ou thought we'd try to kill Bors? Ha! He's too well guarded, but you will make a much more humourous trophey!"

Arcalan whirled round as the blade bounced off of her Warding spell, for she'd faced many a Shadowblade out at Thidranki faste.

Her grin was pure evil as she stepped away from the assassin and directed her gaze upwards. He glanced at the ceiling just in time to make out the form of a Simulacrum braced wall to wall, back to the ceiling, having positioned itself while the assassin busied himself stalking Arcalan. It relaxed it's hold and fell much like the two tons of rock that it was.


Arcalan stepped out of the way of the mangled remains of the assassin. His breath hissed out a final thanks for ending his life, so complete was his devotion to Lord Arawn. It pleased her greatly. The Simulacrum placed one massive hand atop the assassins head and pushed itself up. The sickening sound sent a shiver of pleasure through Arcalan. Now what might Lt. Rhodri not do for her now that the assassination was foiled by her hand?


___________________________


In the snow Tannir made his way half blind and freezing behind the route Arcalan took. It had become too perilous to ride through, and he greatly feared losing her. Crispian had commanded him to follow her, and little as he seemed to be able to do for his lord these days this was one task he could perform.

As he clambered onto a rock nearby and shook the snow from his cloak he became aware of a presence behind him. "'Ello Tannir"

Tannir spun round to see the snow had stood up and was poiting a crossbow at his head. A flurry of movement transformed this walking snowman into Aceramar, an infiltraitor of the League.

"Aceramr" gasped Tannir "'tis good to see you Brother, but please point that somewhere else.. it's making me nervous" he joked.

Aceramar levelled the bolt at Tannir's face "Heh seems you've not heard the news yet Tannir... I left the League quite recently" Aceramar quipped "And now I'm temporarily freelance" His grin was not pleasent. "We're goign to have a little chat, you and me"

The snow fell heavily into the mountain pass, and the two figures were lost from sight of the road.


_____________________________________


A little freedom bought for the night, Arcalan decided to make the most of it. The pass was now choked with snow, so she took off into the frontier, following the standing stones through the night towards Castle Myrridan, A Relic Keep, but currently empty. That suited her perfectly. She traversed the distance in little time and stepped through the Gateway inside the keep.. back into the Falls. Selecting the exit carefully she returned to the demon infested ruins in Camelot hills, a journey of many hours in a few short seconds. And leaving Tannir far far behind.

The night was now fading fast and she felt tired. It would be best to be in Camelot soon, to hear the news firsthand.

She slipped into Cotswald village to the house of Pompin and handed him the amulet. For nights she had quarreled with Crispian and Jashen, brought up the curse time and time again, and cast it all as though the wrathful Crispian and his brother were victimising her! Many saw through her ploy, but none guessed it's purpose.

Pompin's body held the amulet. "I can taste their hate" hissed the dual voice of Arcalan's Master. It was almost as though the emotions trapped by that pendant were sucked into Pompin's body, coursing through his veins. Their ire had been great and D'Vena's curse brought the fullest measure of Crispian's hate to the surface. Pompin drew on the energies for some time.

"Excellent. They have exposed their hearts to me through this. Easier to hate than to love, and they glut my appetite with their strength of feeling." He smiled in the torchlit room, and even Arcalan felt fear at her Master's inhuman grin. She swallowed it quickly lest it displease him.

"Now we await Ceomyr, brother to Ceowyr" he said his voice becoming one far less hideous tone. Pompin seemed to shrink somewhat, and the room began to hold more light than it had a few moments ago, as candles returned to strength.


A short while later Ceomyr the Armsman arrived from Camelot, with two guards in tow.

"I hear yehv got some accusations" he spat the word "a'gin the League? Ah'd like to hear whit ye have tae say" The guards moved to make themselves comfortable in the room, and Ceomyr cast a suspicious glance at Arcalan. "I'm here to to offer the league's voice in this matter" She said piously. She was generally respected in the League, and close to Ceomyr's brother, but Ceomyr didn't trust her as far as he could throw a Dragon.

"it's.. it's umm, delicate" said Pompin in a nervous stutter, All his menace had been replaced by a shy cowering form, and even Arcalan was utterly taken in.

"Speak of it" said Guard Braelin "I'll make sure justice is done and you need fear no reprisal. It was about the attack made on you was it?"

"e-es" stammered Pompin "But I do fear the man greatly.. he's well respected and .. ah.. of some considerable station. I risk much to accuse him, for he may seek revenge on me!"

"We are your Guardians" said the guard "ou need not fear pompin, all know you as a good and just citizen. No haughty noble will be allowed to murder, no matter what his station"

Ceomyr looked on with horror, guessing what Pompin would say next. Arcalan surpressed a sly smile, changing it to a scowl instead.

Pompin looked deadly serious, and trembled with fear

"Crispian... it was Lord Crispian who battered me to death"