He didn't mean it - he couldn't mean it. It wasn't true - it was just a cruel joke, played by her rival for his attentions.

"Dearest Storm,

I know that this must be painful, but I don't know how to put this any other way - you will never see me again. I have found someone else, someone wonderful and loving... someone like you. No, don't cry, it's not your fault - I loved you, and I still do, but we were not meant to be. We are too different. The difference in our stations, and our families, made our life together doomed from the start. You will find someone loving, caring, and befitting your title, someone that will be much better for you than I could ever be. Rest assured my future wife and I will leave town, so as not to be any inconvenience to you and your moving on with your life. Do not worry for me, I shall be fine, I have a job - no, I shall not tell you where, it will be better for us all if you don't know - and I know that your life will improve without me to drag it down. Be happy, for I love you still,

She stared at the note, at the oh-so-incriminating handwriting, and wondered how she could go on. The words fuzzed and swam as her eyesight blurred with tears. Then she dropped her head into her hands and wept violently, the note from her lover fluttering forgotten from her fingertips.

Storm awoke, starting violently up in her bed, sweat beading her forehead, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. She was shaking with the aftermath of pain, anger and sorrow, tangled tight in the blankets of her bed. After a long moment of her confused mind thinking she was still back in that long-ago garden, she slid back into reality, realizing that she was in the tavern that she had stumbled into last night, tired and dusty from the road. Storm remembered stabling her horse (without even a rubdown, poor thing), and managing to pay for a room for the night before coming upstairs and collapsing on the bed. She dropped her head into her hands tiredly, feeling the exhaustion of the past few weeks pressing in. With a groan, she lifted her head from her hands and lay back in bed. She untangled her blankets from around her legs, and tried to return to sleep.

Two hours later, Storm finally admitted to herself that she wasn't going to get any more sleep that night and rose, pulling on yesterday's grimy clothing and venturing out of her room in search of a bathhouse. Still groggy from lack of sleep, Storm accosted a late-working tavern-page, and got him to show her the way. She opened the door and wrinkled her nose at the disrepair that the owner had let it fall into. With a sigh, she filled the rickety wooden tub with a half-and-half mixture of cold water from the well pump and hot water from the kettle, thoughtfully and thankfully left simmering overnight for late-faring travelers. After bribing the page to stand guard outside of the door, Storm gratefully shed her clothes and scrubbed the road dust off of herself. All too soon, it seemed she had to force herself out of the swiftly cooling water. Still, she felt much better now that she was clean.

She dressed, paid the young tavern page, and wandered into the main room of the inn, hoping that this, like most roadside taverns, served an early breakfast. Storm's guess was correct, and she paid for a plate of greasy sausage and warm bread that appeared fresh-baked. She took it to a corner table and sat with her back to the wall. Once sitting, she glanced up to quickly scan the room before looking back down at her plate. Old habits die hard, she thought with amusement once she realized what she was doing. Sitting with your back to the wall, checking to make sure that there's no one suspicious. Storm, It's long past the time when assassins were jumping out of the shadows at you. Get over it. Suddenly, somebody over her head called her name. Storm was out of her seat with her dagger half-drawn before she realized that he wasn't attacking her.

"Storm?" He said again. "Storm the mage?"

She gave him a very obvious once-over from head to foot and back again, raising an eyebrow as if she weren't impressed, a tactic that intimidated most men. He, however, took the look with a confident smile, as if he knew that she'd like what she saw. He was tall, about six foot six, sandy brown hair, and nicely muscled, with calluses on his hands that said he knew how to use the rapier at his side, as well as the lute that hung off his shoulder.

"Not any more," she responded. "I haven't practiced magic in a long time. If you're looking for a mage, look elsewhere."

"But you haven't heard what I have to offer yet," he replied. He glanced down at the table. "Mind if I sit?"

Storm shrugged, "You can if you want, but you're not going to change my mind."

"We'll see," he said with a warm smile as he slid into the chair across from her.

He has a nice smile, she thought, before reminding herself what men were like. Can't trust any of 'em, they all turn on you. Turning her attention back to her plate, she waited to hear what he had to say.

"I've got an adventure for you," he smiled, leaning forward in his chair. "A treasure beyond imagining. The only catch are the spells that hide the entrance."

"Don't act the bad storyteller in a cheap play," she snorted. "Tell me - what do you really want?"

"How about if I say I just want to spend an hour chatting with a beautiful woman?"

She glanced at him in disbelief. "Nobody seeks me out just to talk. They all want something. Spill it. And as for beautiful..."

"Well, can't blame a man for trying." He shrugged. "Well, you are beautiful," another warm smile, "and there is a treasure, if that's any consolation." His smile suddenly died, "But I'm not after it. I'm after my family's honor in vengeance for their deaths."

Storm felt a deep shock throughout her body, almost as if she had been stabbed. She leaned back in her chair and whispered, "Tell me."

He gave her a strange look in response to her reaction. "My sister Cassandra was married to a wizard - a powerful one. They were happy together, for the first two years. My family has always had a touch of the Sight, so when he started dabbling in the Dark Studies, she noticed. Unable to stop him herself, she sent a letter to our parents for help, and they set out immediately. Unfortunately, they were too late - Cas's husband had already gone too far to back out. I was on the circuit of Summer Fairs," he gestured to his lute, "and so I didn't know about the letter until I visited home a month later. As soon as I read the note, I left immediately for Cassandra's manor. I was far to late to help any of them."

He stopped for a moment, and she looked away, knowing that he didn't want her to see the sorrow in his eyes.

"When I arrived at the manor," he continued, "it was... gone. All that was left was a burned-out husk. I traveled to a near-by town to find out what had happened, but I already feared the worst. I was correct - a few servants had escaped from the fire, and the story they had to tell was not pretty." He paused to take a long swallow of ale before continuing.

"My parents had arrived, and confronted Cassandra's husband immediately. He didn't even deny the accusations - instead, he told my family he wished he could back out, but it was already too late. That's when he started an incantation. My mother had studied under a great mage when she was younger, and could See what he was calling. She yelled the name of the creature, and told my father to get Cassandra and the baby and leave, but he wouldn't leave her, and Cassandra wouldn't leave them. Cassandra gave the infant to a servant who fled the manor with the rest. The manor was silent for a few minutes, then there was an explosion. The servant I spoke to told me that a great shadow then swept over them, and they scattered, afraid. When they all regrouped in the village, my sister's nanny wasn't among them, nor did anyone know what had happened to the baby. The villagers were worried, and organized a search. Halfway between the village and the manor, the search party found the nanny. It wasn't a pretty sight."

He looked away, and Storm closed her eyes, seeing what the villagers must have seen.

"They returned to the village," he continued, "rightly frightened. I arrived shortly before her burial."

"The rest was mostly anti-climatic. The Manor was as I told you - a burnt shell. When we entered what was left of it, we discovered that the family treasury was missing, presumed taken by the creature, and," - his voice broke a little - "we found my parents and sister, as well as her husband. Not a trace of the baby did we find."

Storm opened her eyes and gazed at him across the table. "Do you know what creature the wizard summoned?" she asked softly, already knowing the answer.

"The man I spoke to said my mother called it a Dameon."

Storm took a deep breath, stunned at the stupidity of a mage who would Call such a creature. He had to have known that it would turn on him, he had to. Dameons thrive on chaos and mayhem - he knew that it was going to kill him.

"Why did you come to me?" she asked, brushing a lock of red hair away from her face.

"Simply because you're the best mage for dealing with hellspawn like the Dameons. I searched and found only your name."

She was silent, unable to deny his accusation.

"And I want," he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table separating them, "revenge. I want that creature to hurt as badly as it hurt my family. I want it to die so that it can never hurt another."

Storm had to glance away from the dark fire burning in those blue eyes, fire that threatened to pull her in and hold her in thrall.

"I can't help you," she said coldly as she rose from the table, trying not to lose herself in her own painful memories. "I'm no longer a mage."

"How?" He asked, his eyes showing his disbelief. "Once you have the Gift, you can never deny it..."

"The power is no longer there," she snapped, turning to face him. "My own stupidity assured that."

"Surely that's not true," he responded, rising to meet her as she stood over him.

"I sometimes wish that it weren't, but I don't deserve to control it after how I used it. I broke rules that were not meant to be broken." With that, she spun on her heel and strode off to her room, leaving him standing by her table.

The summer Storm had met Jacob was an unusually warm one, with little relief from the unrelenting heat. Many people found it nearly unbearable indoors, so spent most of the daylight hours outside where at least an occasional breeze came along to relieve the stifling air. Storm's family Manor had a large garden that extended a ways into the nearby forest, with a locked gate leading out. She had taken to wandering in the garden, and when her father was away on business, to wandering the nearby woods. Of course, to do so, she had to escape the servants' watchful eyes, which was not always easy. However, they often took the Duke's absences as an opportunity to clean the Manor from top to bottom, neglecting watching Storm. Her personal maid (who also acted as her chaperone) was easily fooled by a faked fainting spell, and Storm would then have the rest of the day undisturbed.

On one such day, with her father gone and not expected back until after sunset, Storm stole away from the Manor grounds, carrying a small picnic lunch to eat in the woods. After locking the gate behind herself and stowing the little iron key on the chain around her neck, Storm set off into the forest, feeling a certain sort of justified danger and adventure in disobeying her father. She walked to the little pond where she intended to have her picnic. Once there, Storm settled comfortably on the grass with her skirts arrayed around her, and began to lay out her lunch when an unfamiliar male voice from behind her asked, "May I join you?"

Startled, and a little frightened, Storm glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on in her short, sheltered life. He was about six foot four, with dark brown, almost black, hair and a wonderful smile.

"Well," Storm blushed, naively flustered, "you can if you like...."

"Thank you," he smiled again as he bowed before her and kissed her hand in courtly fashion. "And what is the name of this most beautiful of creatures before me?"

She blushed and glanced away before murmuring her name. "And yours?" she asked, gazing up at him through her lashes.

"My name, oh heavenly Storm, is Jacob,"

Storm's reverie was broken by a sudden knock on the door of her room. Dashing the tears from her face, she sighed. What a fool I was then, she thought. How could I believe everything that he told me? The knock on her door was repeated. Storm took a deep breath to calm herself.

"Who is it?" she asked, managing to sound irritated.

"It's Jacob," came the reply.

Storm came out of her shocked trance as his worried voice called, "Storm? Are you all right?" She stared at the door in a daze, and drifted forward, shock wiping her mind clean. She reached for the doorknob, and hesitated with her hand barely an inch from it. With sudden conviction, she grabbed the door and wrenched it open, words of welcome dying unsaid on her lips as she gazed at the man standing in the hallway. Momentarily speechless, she gazed at the man who was definitely not Jacob before asking, "Who are you?"

"Storm, are you all right?" he asked. "You know who I am. You listened to me talk for almost an hour downstairs. What's wrong?" He gazed at her worriedly.

She turned away, her surge of hope dying and bringing tears to her eyes.

"I'm... I'm fine. Just a fool," she answered, keeping her face averted. "Why didn't you tell me your name was Jacob?" she asked with a flair of sudden anger.

"I thought I did," he answered. "Why? What does it matter?"

She turned farther away from the sound of genuine concern in his voice.

I'm a naive fool to think that he'd come back for me now. Storm forced a bitter laugh. What was I thinking? She turned back to Jacob, who had seated himself on the lone chair in her room and asked, "What do you want?"

"I already told you," he answered with a grin, his bright nature breaking through his worry, although his eyes still showed concern. "Don't you remember? I bored you for an hour with what was practically my life story."

She forced a smile, trying to forget her thoughts of Jacob. "Well then, why are you here?"

His smile vanished and he became serious once more. "I still want you to help me."

"I told you - I can't use my Gift. At least, not reliably. I never know when the power is going to fail. It's dangerous to travel with me."

"I don't care," he responded, his blue eyes intense. "You still have the experience and strategy to help me. Power means little without that to back it up. And," he sat up straighter, "I have a touch of the Gift as well. With your knowledge and experience, you can help me use it."

"I'm not a teacher - "

"That's okay. I'm not a learner!" He grinned.

Storm sighed. For some reason, she felt more reasonable now. She glanced away and answered, "Fine. I'll help you. But," and here she turned and fixed him with a serious glare, "I make the decisions. When I tell you to do something, do it. No heroics. Your ability to follow directions may save both our lives. Those are my rules, take them or leave them."

"I'll take them," he said with grin. "It will be a pleasure to work with you, milady!" he stood and bowed, sweeping the air with an imaginary plumed hat.

She laughed at his antics, already looking forward to his humor on the long trip she knew was ahead.

And maybe, just maybe, having some humor in my life a while will chase away those dreams.