Jashen squinted into the rising sun over Caer Witrin. He was again on the high parapet with his trainer, who was explaining to him the nature of weilding two poisoned weapons at once. Jashen paid close attention, but he had a vague sense of unease about him. Something was deeply troubling Crispian. But what was it?

 

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Arcalan came to in her room, watched over by Crispian and Azi.

The storm that had been brewing earlier sounded in full swing now, and rain and hail poured into the streets below, washing the dirt and grime of the cobbles into the sewer channels. Great booms of thunder were heard every so often, and the air was chill and damp.

"ou've stood vigil over me?" Arcalan inquired

"Aye" Said Crispian curtly "Tell me what happened"

"Honestly Lord Crispian I know not. I merely had a fainting spell, I'm sure"

"There was some talk of Azi having touched you when you thus fell?" Crispian pushed on. Azi averted her gaze, when Arcalan turned her eyes on her.

"Really?" said Arcalan, sitting up somewhat. "No I have no recollection of that" As if that wench could fell her with a simple touch? HA! Arcalan could rend her flesh from her bones in seconds with a simple incantation. She was half angry half amused by the idea. It would cause speculation at least, and that would aid her cause. But for now, she must ensure D'Vena's defeat. Only through this could she regain the trust of the League. Some secret prepaerations must be made for the next phase of the plan, but once in place Arcalan must blend in quietly...

She quickly summoned her mind back to the task at hand. "Good friends, if you'd leave me now, I would rest a little more. perhaps it was merely the long ride I had earlier today that fatigued me" she lied, "If Tobyas wishes to speak with me though I will happily accept his visit"

Azi and Crispian saw their chance to leave, and knew Arcalan would be closely watched.

"As you wish milady Arc" said Azi, standing up and making for the door "I'm glad now it is you who are feeling better"

The two left Arcalan alone in her bedroom, where she pondered the effect of her fake fainting fit. Would they have realised she could thus control herself? Nay, naught but an Avalonian would realise the rigourous mental discipline she had. That meant she would have to be certain to stay clear of Mirashta.

But other things pressed in on the moment. D'Vena must be found, and slain; a plan that gave Arcalan no small measure of comfort when she recalled how that Academy had rejected her...

Crispian looked at Azi in shock again. “You made D’Vena do what?” His gray eyes, clear and unreddened by too much ale, held her blue. She wanted to shrink back, for he was in an intense mood and totally focused on her. They had been talking of this all night and yet he seemed to keep coming back to it.


“She blessed herself when I moved my hand.” Azi’s response was one weary from the question. “And then I cast my thoughts to you, and almost saw you. That must have been about the time that you were being released.”


Crispian sat back, his eyes never straying from Azi. “Now it makes sense. D’Vena has been distracted, and I have known that for a while now. These past few days. She must be switching her focuses. It must be that she cannot bend her mind to more than one subject at a time. Just like a field sorcerer cannot have more than one pet.”


He stood and began pacing. Azi just wanted a short nap. She was amazed at how he could drive himself, but knew that she herself had been so driven at different times. He paced the narrow chamber, turning precisely on heel, and walked back. She could almost feel his mind working the possibilities over. “Azi, there is much we could do with this information, this contact ability you seem to have. Do you think you could try to push into her mind at a fixed time?” He picked up the single tankard of ale he had been drinking from this entire time and sipped at its diminished contents. “I think, if you can, we could cause her some havoc.”


Azi closed her eyes. She did not know if she wanted to face the pain of that again, the vileness of the contact. “If it would aid, I could try,” she said quietly. Now, at least, she knew why Crispian had been acting oddly toward her earlier. Jashen had again shown a great skill for gathering and passing on information. “But, it is draining.”


“I am thinking on that as well. Perhaps Tinowan can aid us, to some extent. He too masters mind magics.” He continued to pace, forming a plan in his mind as he would if trying to subdue a keep. It was high time to bring this fight to the enemy, if at all possible. He did not know what Arcalan was playing at, but D’Vena was clearly the greater foe now. “Go back to the church and get some sleep. We can talk more on this later.”


Standing slow and smoothing her robes in the subconscious way that she did, Azi smiled slightly. “I am not sure if I will be in my own mind when next we talk,” she said sadly. “If not, forgive me what I do.” She gave a slight bow and surrendered herself to the care of Lynis, who had just recently arrived. With a sadness, he followed her down the hall.


Crispian again was once again amazed at Azi and her devotion. Her friendship had helped him so much during the darkest times of this battle. And on that one night in particular. He sighed as the door closed. He had to formulate some sort of plan, but would need help. With quill and parchment, he began to send out missive to enlist aid from some whom he knew and trusted. He could only hope the Almighty would grant him the power to pull off one desperate ploy to distract D’Vena.


It was well into the morning when he sealed the last of the missives and traded his light armor for a dressing gown. A small fire laid in by Ardy was relaxing, as was the spiced wine the young highlander brought him. Crispian smiled as he watched the window grow lighter with the rising sun. It was a new day. A new hope was dawning for those tormented by D’Vena, and those who had been touched by her in the past. Yes, a new day for them all. The Seneschal of the West leaned back into the cushioned chair and dozed. Ardy removed the goblet of wine and set it aside, placing a heavy quilt over his lord’s legs.

 

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Azi waited until they were out of earshot of Crispian, then turned to Lynis.


"Brother Lynis, I would ask a favor of you. If you refuse, I understand." Her heart pounded sadly, she prayed that he would agree to what she would ask. His eyes met hers calmly, holding a peaceful serenity as he nodded for her to continue. Azi choked back her emotions, trying to make the words come. It may be her last chance...


"Might we stop at the smith's? I would like to let Pappa know I am well." Lynis bowed his head low, as if weighing the consequences of his agreeing or disagreeing. Finally, he nodded.


"I see no harm in that, but I must be close at all times." He gestured with a slender hand to the streets that awaited them, and smiled kindly. Her heart leaping with joy for the first time in days, Azaeli rushed to the little townhouse with Lynis trying hard to keep up.


She flung open the door and breathed in deeply. Home. A low fire crackled in the hearth, a crusted stewpot bubbled quietly over it. Mamma's sword hung beside Pappa's glowing one over the mantle. Through the door on the same wall came a bellowing laugh and jovial baritone voices. Azaeli smiled widely, adjusting her collar and running her fingers through her hair. She patted her face to try and look rested, and swept through the doorway into her pappa's little shop.


Pappa stood with his back to her. Facing her was Kanna's father, a towering highland armsman, almost an uncle to her. His face lit up to see her, and Pappa turned.


"Angel!" he bellowed, his face alight with utter joy. Before she knew it, she was smothered in a deep, sweaty embrace. Pappa lifted her up and swung her around, and Azi giggled like a child.

Judan beamed at his daughter as he caught her in a great hug. He set her back down and held her at arm’s length like he had not seen her in a very long time. “My little Angel!” he said again. “Your friend, Crispian, came by. He said you were in retreat! I did not expect you home so soon!” Cort was already setting out a cup and saucer for tea. Elissabeth had been much the same way when she returned home and the gruff old highlander remembered. “What brings you back to me so soon?”


Azi hesitated. Her love for her Pappa knew few bounds, but how much did she dare to share? So close on the end of the affair in Hibernia, and so soon after Mamma’s death? “Things have been hard, Pappa,” she started quietly, but found that she could not go on. Had she been too long from Tobyas’ room? “I,” she started, only to find her tongue halting in her mouth. A quiet ‘not yet, girl’ whispered harshly in her mind and her eyes grew panicked.


“Little Azi,” Cort spoke as he moved to her side. He had seen her look so before. “T’ere be somemat wrong here, Judan!” he snapped as he took hold of her. She was stiff and awkward in her movements. “’Tis again that damned elf! Cinnae he stay dead, like he should?” Cort’s voice was a harsh snarl and his eyes near to murder. The whole matter with Corroth had cost him dearly, and here was Azi, almost a daughter to him, caught in something like it again.


Lynis was pressed into a bad situation. He knew that these two men, able warriors and still in prime form of mind and body would want some explanation, and he was the obvious explainer. Judan looked to his daughter and then to the Friar. His eyes, though calm, carried the edge of man who has seen much battle and was accustomed to making fast decision and living with the result. With great intent, Lynis folded his hands into the sleeves of this friar’s robe and bowed his head slightly.


“Great Sir,” he said in a calm and measured tone, “please know that neither I nor those whose patronage I have had anything to do with wronging your daughter.” He raised his head to look at Judan and saw the storm of emotions playing in the older man’s face. “Lord Crispian, my liege and cousin, has but the highest esteem and regard for your daughter.”


Cort’s head snapped up at the name. “Ye mean that drunkard of a Liard, who fawns around wit’ a young cleric boy?” he said as a scowl twisted his face. “He be no fit company for Azi, and if te King were true te his own laws, the man woul’ be in te stock!”


Judan was already shaking his head as Cort spoke. He had known Crispian before Azi had, and even before he became an important man in the Realm. Judan had observed the changes in him. Once free of his own malady, through which Azi had suffered, his observations had been even more keen. He had talked to all the merchants and masters of the crafts in town. He knew his daughter’s judgement was sound in this matter and that some affliction lay heavy on Crispian.


“What has your Liege done to aid my daughter?” he asked, even as he lifted Azi with little effort to a backed chair. Her eyes told him she had things to say, and also indicated that she could not. “What manner of remedy is he seeking?”


Lynis met the older warrior’s eyes. He, as most of Camelot, knew Judan Hammerfel by reputation. Lynis’s family had along association with the Church and so great a paladin had many tales told about him. He decided to risk it all on a gamble and trust in the Lord. Luck, like ale, could go good or bad, and the man using either had to know when he had had enough.


“Sir, I would bare you no falsehood, please know. Crispian has bent his entire will of purpose to this matter, for what aids Azi will surely also aid him. I know also that Tobyas, a young cleric in our ranks, has made arrangements to befuddle this malaise which does overlie your daughter.” Although his voice was calm, and nearly musical, he saw that not all he said sat well with Judan.


“You may not bare me false, Brother Lynis,” he said mildly, “but your Liege has. My daughter shall be under my care, as I was once in hers.” His expression was grave and Lynis knew in an instant that this fight was lost. He wondered if Azi had meant this outcome when she had brought them here. “You may go now.” So flat was the look he gave Lynis that he did not oppose him, but bowed and turned to leave. He sped a silent prayer for Azi to the Almighty and prepared himself to face Crispian, who would probably not be pleased.

 

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D’Vena sat beside the warming fire at Snowdonia Station, having completed the first stage of her pilgrimage. So far, the rouse had held and none had challenged her and her travelling companions. A small smiled played over her lips as she fingered her statuettes. She turned the small blond male figure in her hand, stroking the golden hair lightly. Then she turned to her newest, holding it up. The fine spun golden hair cascaded down its back and small opals winked blue from the eyes.


She held it to her lips and began to whisper. This one she could enjoy some. Her eyes closed as her mind pressed outward and found the formerly elusive touch. She nudged it, stopping speech. All the images she saw were immediately known to her. That was one thing she liked about touching a mind. You got to learn so much, so quickly. “Not yet, girl,” she whispered, and clasped the figurine tightly. She chuckled to herself as she watched and heard it all.


So, Crispian was preparing something? And that little boy-toy Tobyas had power in the Church now? Ah, well. Foes before had had power as well. She had dealt with most of them successfully, and would again. The death of the Briton Lord would be slow, if she could manage it. If not, a fast death suited her just as well. Once his young deceiving seducer was gone, she could resume her efforts to bring down the Red Lions and their acursed leader, Arguyle MacFadden. Oh, yes, and Carrington was indeed back in Albion. How she would enjoy his suffering. Eventually, she knew, the Cleric would find himself a new woman. And then she would strike.


As her mind turned over all of this, she noticed for the first time that so many of her problems were with golden-haired people. Maybe, when her power was full again, and the Master delivered as promised, she would just do away with them all. That should end her problems! A near hideous laugh started to erupt from her, but she stifled it when she remembered where she was.

"Not yet, girl," a harsh whisper along with a rush of foulness in her mind. Azi grasped onto it, driving herself toward it. Cort moved toward her, took hold of her. Someone spoke, Lynis, and she was lifted gently into Pappa's chair. She was aware of things happening around her, but they were distant and unfocused.


Her eyes rested on Pappa, but looked through him as she pushed toward D'vena again. It was safe here, with the people she loved. A perfect chance to test again. She closed her eyes as the men continued thier discussion, driving into the dark of her mind where she knew she would find the wicked woman.


Suddenly, she was very cold. Chill wind whipped around her. She opened her eyes to see two hands, scabbed, slender, not her own, warming over a fire. She pushed harder into D'vena's mind, felt her malice, but no thoughts came to her. Azi held her concentration and peered out at her surroundings. D'vena was outdoors! At a station! She gazed out to see a bindstone, and Albion's guards milling about in the cold. It was not a place she was familiar with.


D'vena cackled wildly, inwardly. Her body shook to hold it in. What was this woman doing? Out in public? Did she forget she is a fugitive? She certainly is mad! Azi drove herself futher, fighting to hold her control. With all of her strength, she rose and walked toward a guard, her heart thudding fiercely in her chest. She raised her hands up, and D'vena's hands lowered the hood that concealed her face as she stood before a young guard. Azi formed the words in her mind, forcing them on D'vena with everything she had.


"I am D'vena." A yelp of triumph when she actually spoke the words!


A hand was on her arm, she jolted back to the little townhouse. She was standing shakily before Pappa, who looked more worried than she had ever seen him before. Tears streamed down her face as she leaned into him.


"I did it, Pappa," she whispered, and then collapsed in his strong arms.

Tobyas sat across the square amid the smithing area at the forge. No one ever seemed to notice a cleric moving about and blessing crafters with strength. In the drab dress of any itinerant cleric, he blended in perfectly. He observed them enter Judan’s and Lynis leave alone some minutes later. He slipped away from the crafting area and met with several young lads. Some of them had been born to women at the Mermaid and others he had come to know on his own. “That’s the house, boys. Keep your eyes open for the blond beauty that just went in, alright?” They looked at him and nodded.


“But whys you wants her watched, Father Toby?” the oldest, Erich, asked. His smudged face was just starting to show signs of a downy hair and his eyes were far to serious for one so young. The battlefields were not the only places that showed one the cruelty of life, Toby reminded himself.


He smiled. Erich would be one to watch for potential, surely. “She is a dear friend to me, but has fallen under a grave spell from a wicked woman,” Toby informed him as he dolled out some silver coins “Now, don’t be getting distracted by the coin just yet, alright?” His eyes swept over them all. With a small sign of blessing, he moved off. He had other tasks to see to yet.


--


The rider almost burst into the offices of the Red Lions. The hall was quiet as it was yet early, and the rider was exhausted. Mud spattered his riding leathers and his face was streaked with dirt, cleared only where sweat had run down it. Leaving his boot prints on the flag stones he made his way quickly to the Lord General’s office, entering without pausing to knock. Arguyle looked up from the plans he had been reviewing for an upcoming campaign. “Pardon, your Lordship,” the rider said with a bow. “She moved from Barfog, crossed the border out last night.”


Arguyle scowled in thought. “You’re sure of it? Could it be someone else?” He did not like the idea that D’Vena had slipped his efforts thus far to find her.


The rider nodded. “Quite sure of it, sir.”


With a curse worthy of his peasant background, Arguyle dismissed the rider.


--


Crispian rubbed at his neck again. God, why had fallen asleep in the chair? He stretched to work out the sore muscles throughout his back and gladly accepted the mulled wine that Ardy brought him.


“Liard, is there aught ye be needin’?” the young highlander asked him, setting out fresh clothing on the narrow bed.


Crispian shook his head. “No, Ardy, I should be fine, thank you. You’ve done very well, these last couple of days.” He appreciated Ardy taking on the burden of squiring for him, although he did not really need it. “I’ll call if there is anything.” He let Ardy depart before beginning to dress for the day in the fine doublet and breeches that were laid out. One advantage to being in Camelot so much was not needing to be armored full time.


As he was fastening the last ties to the blue-gray doublet, the door opened. Tobyas entered without ceremony. “Azi did not come back to the church,” he said without preamble. “But she is with her father.” He pour himself a goblet of wine and perched on the edge of Crispian’s writing desk.


A last adjustment of a tie and Crispian turned to Toby. “I don’t think you should try to hold Azi captive, Toby. She too needs to be able to fight this as she may. D’Vena,” he paused, eyes closing in a wince, “D’Vena can be pu-pu-pushed back.” His jaw worked for a second. “Oh, God.” The pain had set on suddenly, sharply. “Toby?” Crispian croaked out as his legs went weak and he started to sink to the floor.


The young cleric sprang across the short distance between them and get a shoulder under Crispian. He was again reminded that although just a couple of inches part five foot, Crispian carried nearly one-hundred-sixty pounds of muscle on his frame. “Easy, Crispian,” he said as he shouldered him up and over to the cot. “Is it her?”


Crispian nodded, his teeth clenched, as star swam before his eyes.


--


“Bad, bad little boy,” D’Vena crooned. “Did you think I would not come back to mind what you were doing?” He clenched her fist in the air again. A cooling breakfast was beside her, but she wanted this small moment of privacy for her own indulgences. “Soon, I will be back home, and you will come to me and beg!”


--

Azi knew in an instant that D’Vena had shifted her driving thoughts elsewhere. She went to her desk and started to write a letter, while she had the chance.

 

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/Bump because I'd much rather read this than people moaning about pygmies

One of the prime lessons that Tobyas had learned in his time at the Mermaid was that nothing was a secret if it was spoken. The second thing was that undesirable jobs were the best ways to gain information. That was how he came to know of D’Vena’s sighting within minutes of Arguyle knowing it. It gave him a moment of panic when the word was delivered to him. Crispian was still semi-comatose from whatever nature of contact D’Vena had exerted on him. Toby pondered the matter. He could hardly move Crispian from the League Hall without someone noticing. He would not ask aid, for fear that Arcalan might find out. Damn her for being the enigma she was!


Left with few options, he entrusted Crispian to the care of Ardy and made his exit. He appeared very casual as he made his way toward his parish, but every stop he made resulted in a new message or directive being sent to someone. He wished he had the realm-wide contacts that Crispian had. But, he marshaled the resources of a one-time urchin and spread word of his will to those who would do his bidding in this hour of his need. Of course, it meant that he was becoming more indebted with each visit, with each favor called on. He might have a long payoff period ahead of him, but right now it was worth it. He would not be idle while two he loved, in two different ways, were at stake.

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Witrin was not an unpleasant place, but Jashen chafed at being there. His life for months had been in Camelot, prior to becoming a mercenary and seeking the field. Now, having become an infiltrator, he found the time forced into being away that much more intolerable. If only Cris had given him his old title and job. But, he knew he would have to earn it, and the respect of his fellow League members. One could not leave a group like the League and expect to just return to it with full honors restored. They were too tight knit for that.


He paced the rampart, waiting for the call for a hunt. His leather armor, which would be the only armor he wore, creaked as he walked. He thought it had been difficult to get used to chain mail! The boil leather had very little give to it and even when he broke it in, there was still a chafing to his shoulders that was uncomfortable. He could not see how some of the smaller Saracen dealt with it. The weight was fixed, much more so than chain, were a shift in your stance would move some of the armor. The very rigidness of the reinforced leather prevented that from happening!


His hand toyed with his stilettos. He had been told to master a critical strike style, favored among the assassins. He did not wish to do so. Poison was something he was pondering as well. Mercenaries did not use such things, relying on skill with arms to win. But infiltrators, so he had been told, relied heavily on poisons and sneak attacks that did massive amounts of damage in their initial blows. Jashen was not so much concerned with his ability to kill quietly, as much as his skill at sneaking into an area. By the Almighty’s third unwashed nipple, he itched for a fight! Like his hunting before, to charge a foe and strike with his two blades. Sir Oakleif, even when he was young and in training, had said that Jashen had a skill for the blades. Cris could not fight with two weapons, he was too right-side reliant. But Jashen...he knew he was good with two blades, and now he ached to prove it so that he might get back to what he wanted to do, protect the League’s security.


Surely, the reports were still filing in. His structure of informants was well spread out and even inside some of the other private guilds. He had a good network of friends back in Camelot, and he missed many of them. If only Arcalan were not such vocal adversary! He thought for a moment in self-pity.


Bah, that’s enough Jash! He chided. Get down to work. You can hunt on your own and you’ll be fine! With that thought, he went down the stairs of the tower and out into the blustering wind. He would hunt today, and live by these new skills.

 

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