Session 3.2 - Gristein!

One of two stories that are so long that I've given it it's own Session, the world of Gristein continues 3.1's theme of fantasy settings. Unfortunately, I wrote Gristein while under the influence of Robert Jordan, Advanced Dungeon & Dragons, and a disturbing fascination with the two characters in Shining Force that were both named "Mae." (And both were Centaurs, and both really kicked tail if you improved them enough… *ahem*)

All that nonewithstanding… Let's get it on!

Owen stopped and looked up. Large, black clouds had been hanging over the town all day and now, in the middle of the night, they decided to release their water. The downpour quickly turned the dirt streets to mud and plastered Owen's hair to his skull.

He shook his head, spraying water, and sighed. "Every time I come here, it rains. I must be cursed." With one last annoyed look, he trudged onward.

His destination was the Old Hag Inn, where he had been staying for the past three days. Once there, he would complete his daily routine by getting roaring drunk and passing out for several hours. Tomorrow, he would see if anyone needed a mercenary again, get turned down again, and get drunk again. And he would repeat the pattern for the rest of the week. Such was the life of a mercenary.

Despite his profession, he lacked the typical marks of a mercenary. He had no scars. He wore no eyepatch. He had all of his bodyparts. And he was clean-shaven. Owen hated having a beard, it itched and was a magnet for dirt. He had no major deformities, no hunchback, no pegleg, no limp.

But he was an excellent swordsman; one of the best in Gristein. Unfortunately, in these times of peace and prosperity, no one ever needed a trained swordsman.

Sadly though, due to circumstances beyond his control, a mercenary was the only job he could, and would, hold. The pay, whenever he had a job, was good. And he got to travel a lot. He needed to travel. Every time he left a town, he moved one step closer to his destiny.

But, at his current rate, he wouldn't fulfill his destiny for another ten years. Even destiny gets bored sometimes. So, just once, destiny decided that it had had enough and set events in motion that would speed things along.

Voices stopped Owen in his tracks. Blinking rain out of his eyes, he located the source in a nearby alley. Cautious, he crept to the entrance and listened.

"What's a nice lady like you doing out on a night like this?"

"None of your business, creep. Now let go of me."

"Did you here that, guys? She wants me to let go of her." A pause as several voices laughed. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, we're bored and we intend on having a bit of fun with you. Right guys?" More coarse laughter.

Owen stepped into the alley. "I'm afraid I can't allow that." There were four men, the largest had pinned a woman against a wall. They all stared at him. The largest, obviously the leader, growled, "Who the hell are you?"

Owen shrugged. "No one of importance."

"Good." To his lackeys, "Kill him."

Owen shifted to a fighting stance as one man charged him. He waited till the last moment, then sidestepped, grabbing the thug's arm. He pivoted, swinging the man and slammed him against one wall. The thug let out a grunt and collapsed. Owen turned to the others and beckoned. One approached him more cautiously than his unconscious companion. He drew a knife and lunged at him. Owen dodged, the knife tore a small gash in his cloak. As the thug passed him, Owen slammed a knee into his stomach. The thug doubled over, clutching his stomach and moaning in pain. Owen clasped his hands together and brought them down on the back of the man's neck and he crumpled.

<Two down>, Owen thought. He went back to his fighting stance. The third thug drew a sword and advanced. Owen knew there wasn't enough room in the alley for him to dodge, so he backed out into the street. His attacker followed.

They faced one another in the center of the street. Without warning, the thug sliced at Owen. He leaped back, the blade coming within inches of his chest. The man pressed his advantage, attacking Owen with ruthless abandon. The mercenary ducked, dodged, and generally did everything to keep away from the sword.

Finally, after another near hit that resulted in another rip in his clothes, Owen became thoroughly annoyed. When his opponent paused, he drew his own sword. Undaunted, the thug attacked again. This time, Owen lifted his own blade to meet the blow, sparks flying from the clashing swords. He unexpectedly broke, his opponent lost his balance and staggered past Owen. Owen turned and brought the sword down on his opponent's back, severing his spinal cord. The man dropped to the ground, trying unsuccessfully to move his legs.

Owen grimaced and quickly put the man out of his misery. Only then did he remember the woman and the other mugger. He turned with the intention of going into the alley.

The woman leaned casually against one of the buildings. The leader lay at her feet, face down with a knife in his back. She smiled when she saw the expression on Owen's face. "A reminder," she said, "don't underestimate women." She bowed slightly in his direction. "My name is Ariana Stieln."

Owen sheathed his sword and returned the bow. "Owen McGregor."

Ariana raised one eyebrow in surprise. "Owen McGregor? As in the son of Duncan McGregor?"

"The same. Did you know of him?" She stepped over the body and joined him in the street proper. Gesturing for him to walk with her, "A little. Your father and mine were...aquatinted." She favored him with a look. "I did not know his children were still alive."

"His son is alive," Owen corrected. "I have no brothers or sisters."

"Ah," was Ariana's reply.

Owen glanced at her. In the near darkness, it was hard to judge what color her hair was. He guessed it was black. It hung wetly about her shoulders. With mild surprise, he noticed that she was wearing the breeches and shirt of a man.

She noticed his scrutiny. "What?"

"I-I was just wondering how old you were."

"Oh really? How old do you think I am?" She smiled mischievously.

Owen shrugged. "I'm guessing twenty-seven."

For some reason, her smile widened, "Close, but not quite." She looked past him at one of the buildings. "Well, I believe this is where you were headed." Before he could do anything, she kissed him. Then she patted his cheek, laughing at the stunned look on his face. "I'll see you tomorrow, Owen." She turned and walked away, the darkness swallowing her within moments.

Owen stood there for several minutes before walking into the inn. Ignoring looks from all of the late night regulars, he headed for his room. He was so dazed that he didn't hear the bartender mention that some soldiers had been asking about him.

Ariana, humming lightly, brushed several strands of wet hair out of her face. She was in an uncommonly good mood. First she had received the summons from her old friend, then she had nearly been mugged, and now this handsome stranger. And all this time she thought Beloit was a boring place!

**Well, I still don't see what you're so happy about. For all you know, this may be a trap.**

From her position on the roof, she had a perfect view of the back of the Old Hag Inn. More specifically, she had a good view of the stables. "Good," she responded, "I'm in the mood for a trap."

The voice in her head gave a contemptuous snort. **You're in the mood to get beat up is what you are. You are in no condition to be fighting Benton's men.**

"What are you talking about? I'm in great condition." She crossed the rooftop and jumped the gap to the next building. "Besides, now I've got Owen's help so those goons will be no problem."

**And that's another thing: why this sudden interest in a total stranger?**

"Why not?"

**He's a human, that's why not! Humans are not your type.**

"Last time I checked, I was a human, too."

**Then he's too young for you. Twenty-seven indeed! Why, if he knew how old you really were he'd die of a heartattack.**

"Geez, you make it sound like I'm an old geezer." She leaped to another building and peered over the edge of the roof. The roof of the stables was directly beneath her. "Stop worrying, Zasz. I can take care of myself."

**That's what they always say.** Ariana sat on the edge. Still humming, she dropped lightly to top of the stables, crawled to the edge of that and dropped to the ground. After checking to see if anyone was watching, she slipped inside.

Several of the stalls were occupied. She could hear the horses sleeping. Above the stalls was a loft full of hay. A ladder led up to it.

"Just what I'm looking for," she said to herself.

**Really, Ariana, a being of your stature should not be sleeping in stablelofts. You deserve much better.**

"What stature? I'm exiled, remember?"

**Hmph. Excuses.**

She smiled and climbed into the loft. The roof was leaky and some of the hay was wet. She found a dry area and, after a suitable pause to see if Zasz would start complaining, she started to undress. She spread her clothes out to dry. Dressed only in her undergarments, she made a bed for herself and crawled underneath the hay.

As she was dozing off, she heard a rustle nearby. Something landed near her head with a soft thud. She peered through half-closed eyes at the small shape in front of her. It formed a small burrow in the hay and lied down. They studied each other for a moment.

"Thanks for coming," she whispered.

The thing gave a irritated grunt. **Yeah, well, someone has to watch over you while you sleep.** It paused. **Sleep well, Ariana.** Ariana didn't hear. She was already fast asleep. It sighed. **Figures,** it muttered.

Dawn rose to a gray, overcast sky. Owen pulled his cloak closer around him as a cold wind assailed him. He crossed the yard quickly and entered the stables.

He approached a large black stallion. "Hey there, Ifrit. Did you have a nice night?" The horse whinnied in response. He drew out an apple and offered to the horse, which it ate with evident delight. "Looks like this will be the last apple you'll have for awhile. Winter will be here soon." The horse kept eating. "Yeah, well I guess you wouldn't care, would you? As long as you have food, eh?" Ifrit finished the apple and nudged its master, wanting more. "Oh no you don't," he said as the horse started to pull at his belt pouch. "You've had yours. That one's mine." The horse chuffed and gave up. Owen patted its neck and saddled it. "Maybe, if you're good, I'll buy you another one later."

There was a noise in the loft above him. A rustle, a thump, and something that sounded like laughter. Owen drew his sword. "Who's up there?" He shouted. The rustling stopped.

Something dropped onto his face. Screaming, he grabbed it. The thing writhed and squawked furiously before it broke free. It spread large wings and flew out through one of the gaps in the stable roof. Owen stared at its retreating form in disbelief. What had that thing been? A loud thump sounded behind him and he turned it time to see someone sprint out the stable doors. He shouted and followed the person outside.

The stableyards was empty except for a young servant boy carrying a bucket of dirty water. The boy looked at Owen warily, then shrugged and dumped the water out. Owen approached him. "Did you see anyone come out of the stables?"

"No, sir," the boy said, staring at Owen's sword, "Just you, sir, and that was it."

Owen sighed and sheathed his sword. Placing two fingers too his mouth, he gave a sharp whistle. Ifrit trotted out of the stable. He caught the reigns and swung into the saddle. To the servant boy, "Tell Master Hahn I'll be back later tonight." With a sharp "Hey!" he galloped out of the stables and towards castle Algeron.

Castle Algeron was located at the center of Beloit, which was at the center of Gristein. It was home to King Benton Drystaf and his court. Many considered Benton to be the best king they had ever had in the history of their kingdom. Since ascending to the throne nearly thirty years ago, taxes had fallen, they had stopped warring with neighboring kingdoms, and, most importantly, dragons had stopped stealing sheep and children.

Of course, not many people actually remembered previous kings. Oddly enough, after Benton became king, there was a surge in the monster populace that killed off anyone that didn't support him. Only after his adversaries had been reduced to a significant minority did Benton get the monsters back under control. By then, nobody cared how he did it or even why he waited so long; they were just happy to get rid of all of the monsters and get back to some semblance of a normal life.

So, Benton's rule was absolute. Nobody dared cross him and nobody wanted to. The populace just wondered if his son, Prince Randall Drystaf, would be as good of a ruler as his father.

Ariana, feeling a good deal cleaner after a quick river bath, glanced around the corner of the wall. The guards was were she had seen them last, lounging against the wall at either side of the door thirty feet farther down. She was careful not to be noticed as she drew back. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. Untying a small bag at her belt, she withdrew a handful of purple dust and stepped into the hall.

At once, the two guards snapped to attention. They crossed their halberds over the door. "Halt!" One guard called out. "Who goes there? Identify yourself!"

Ariana advanced till she was within five feet of both men. She altered her voice slightly, making her sound more like a man. "I want to see the king." The guard eyed her, noting her scruffy man's clothing. "You'll just have to wait, like all of the other peasants," he said gruffly. "Now get out of here."

She smiled, "I'm afraid I'm impatient." She lifted her hand to her mouth and blew. A purple dust cloud surrounded the two startled men. They started coughing. She covered her nose and mouth with her cloak and stepped back. One guard collapsed, already asleep. The other lunged clumsily at her, missed, and crashed to the ground. Within seconds, he too had fallen asleep.

She waited until the dust cloud settled, then knelt next to one guard and searched him quickly. She found the keys to the door. "No need to get up, gentlemen. I'll just let myself in." She unlocked the door and tossed the keys next to the guard.

With the door closed behind her, she heaved a giant sigh of relief. She hadn't known how many guards would've been guarding the door. But, then again, it was only the servant's entrance. Now that she was inside the castle proper, she could breathe easier.

And currently, her breathing revealed that she was close to the kitchen. From the smells wafting down the corrider, the cooks were just starting their preparations for breakfast. "Good," she said to herself. "I'm sure they won't mind if I help myself to some of their food."

Moving cautiously down the corridor, alert to any noises that sounded like they were coming her way, she checked the doors lining either side of the hall. The fifth door on the right revealed what she was looking for, the corridor linking the storage rooms (that was what she had seen in the other rooms) to the kitchen proper. There were bound to be more people there and keeping her presence a secret was nowhere near possible. Thankfully, her clothing needed only a few minor alterations to make it seem as if she was a servant.

Her cloak was reversible, black on one side, brown on the other. She reversed it so the brown faced out. A long time ago she had realized that trying to cut her unruly black hair only made it stick out in all directions, but since no servant, especially a kitchen servant, kept their hair loose, she had to pull it back. She left enough hair in her eyes to obscure her face. She pulled her hood back over her head. That way, no one could get a clear look at her face.

Only one last change was needed to complete her disguise. She slouched, keeping her head down and making sure to shuffle her feet when she walked. She muttered a few phrases in a slow, unintelligible drawl. Convinced that her disguise was as near-perfect as she could make it, she slunk into the kitchen.

She was overwhelmed by the sudden flood of sensations, mostly noise. People hurried about their respective task. Cooks yelling at one another and at a servant or slave that didn't do something right. The dogs in one corner of the room that barked or whined, depending on how close someone was with food. The constant thwacks and thocks of things being chopped up, or the clangs and bongs of spoons and ladles hitting the sides of a giant kettle. The thunk of a slab of beef being thrown onto a table. The hiss and sizzle of a pot's contents boiling over.

And the smells! Cinnamon and sausage and bacon and garlic and thyme and onions. The sharp odor of freshly cut cheese, the indescribable scent of fresh bread baking. Someone was baking pies: blueberry, apple, and even a rhubarb pie. Oregano, basil, and chives blended together with the unmistakable (and mouthwatering) aroma of honey rolls being baked.

Ariana automatically drifted off in that direction. But, before she had taken three steps someone grabbed her by the back of her cloak. She was violently spun around to face the one who had grabbed her. Small, piggish eyes glared at her from a large, heavy set man in a grease stained apron. He was sweating heavily. And he was mad. "Where have you been, you miserable disgrace for an apprentice?" he shouted. Ariana bowed her head and kept silent. "Prince Randall has been waitin' a good five minutes for his food and he's 'bout ready to tear off my hide! Now you take that tray," one greasy finger stabbed towards a covered tray on a table, "and take it to the prince before I get really mad!" He slapped her hard enough to knock her down. "And do it NOW!"

Ariana swallowed whatever reply she would've made and got to her feet. The left side of her face stung fiercely. She gingerly pressed her fingers to her cheek and winced. <Why that overbearing, overweight, stupid, fat, PIG!> she thought. The only good thing about that man's sudden appearance was that it provided a way for her to get to the throne room without having to dodge every guard that showed up. For that reason alone, she was willing to take any punishment dealt to her.

But before she went through with her business at the castle, she intended to make sure that man had a slight 'accident'.

He was still watching her as she picked up the tray and maneuvered her way through the kitchen. As she passed by one of the pots, no doubt the one that the man would eat from later, she quickly tossed a handful of her dust into the stew inside. She smiled grimly as she shoved the doors open and exited. Breathing the dust was one thing, actually eating it...

"Enjoy the next three days," she muttered as she shouldered open a door. She stepped out into the hall, growling oaths under her breath. She hadn't been paying attention to where she had been going, which was why she nearly collided with the man that had been coming in the opposite direction.

She lost her balance, the tray slipping from her hands. Quicker than a cat, the man deftly caught the tray with one hand and steadied her with the other. She looked up and found herself staring into the most intense blue she had ever seen.

Of all of the men in the castle she could've run into, she had to run into Randall Drystaf, Prince of Beloit. Benton's only son and heir. The only man that could ruin her plans.

<Dammit, why him? Why now?>

"Strange," he said. He was a tenor. "I've never noticed you before. Are you Tilmen's new apprentice?"

"Tilmen? Oh, you mean that stupid fat jerk." Randall smiled at her description. "No, I'm not his apprentice and I thank God that I'm not."

"So, what were you doing in the kitchen?" He lifted the cover from the tray. "And why do you have my breakfast?"

<Think fast, Ariana!>

"I asked one of the servants where to find King Benton. (He and I have business.) I got lost and wound up here. Then, when I tried to ask that Tilmen of yours for proper directions, he accosted me and started ordering me around like I was some sort of servant."

"And you went along with him?"

She shrugged. "That man outweighs me by at least two hundred pounds. He really knew how to throw his weight around." Randall smiled again. "Yes, so I've heard." He thought for a moment. "Well, if you don't mind having me as your guide, I'm sure I can lead you to my father without getting you lost."

"What about your breakfast?"

Randall snorted with contempt, "Tilmen's such a horrible cook that I've gotten use to going into town to eat. In fact, I was just about to tell Tilmen that he was fired. But I think that can wait." He offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"

She hesitated momentarily, then realized that this was probably the biggest break she would have all day. She linked her arm with his and smiled up at him. "Yes, we shall."

Owen studied the map. He traced a road north with his fingers until it ran into a range of mountains. "I must warn you, dragon-slaying is not one of my better skills."

"Of course, Owen," King Benton said from behind him.

"I'm going to need help."

"Anything you require will be given to you, provided you deal with the dragon."

Owen faced him. The king of Gristein was in his mid-sixties and was nothing like how Owen expected such a great man to look. He seemed nothing more than a old, feeble, bent man with a long white beard and a balding head. Even though he was old, his eyes were still a clear blue and he watched Owen's every movement like a hawk.

Owen frowned and turned back to the map. "I still don't understand. Why do you want me to kill a dragon that isn't even in Beloit?"

"I'm not paying you to question me!" Benton snapped. "If you don't want to do it, I can always get someone else. Someone that probably doesn't need the money."

"Oh, I'll do it. No question about that. I'm just curious, that's all."

"Don't be." A knock at the door. "What is it?"

Owen looked up as the door to Benton's study opened and Prince Randall strode in. Ariana followed him and stopped in surprise when she saw Owen. Randall said, "Father, this woman says she has business with you."

Because it was daytime and there was enough light coming from the windows, Owen didn't miss the look of extreme hate that passed between the woman and the elder Drystaf. Ariana smiled, but it didn't touch her steely blue eyes. Benton looked as if he was going to strangle her, despite the inhibition of his age.

Owen coughed loudly. Ariana stopped glaring, instead she adopted a smug expression. Benton said sharply, "What are you doing in my castle, Ariana Stieln?"

"The same thing Owen is doing: getting information on this dragon that's been terrorizing people."

Benton's eyes narrowed. Apparently, he didn't believe her. Randall had been watching both with mild interest, but now he looked at his father, alarmed. "There is a dragon in Gristein? Why wasn't I told of this?"

"Actually, it's not in Gris--" Owen began, but Benton cut him off angrily. "Because it's none of your business!" the aging king snapped.

"It is my business! There may be people dying because of this, and it is our job to see that this menace is properly dealt with."

"Prince Randall is right, Benton." Ariana said. She smiled mischievously, "He should be allowed to deal with it, with my help, of course."

"What?" Benton sputtered.

She said to Owen. "That is, if you don't mind us tagging along with you."

"Randall is not going anywhere!" Benton shouted indignantly. "What right have you to barge in here and poke your nose in my

business?"

"Actually," Owen said thoughtfully, "I would appreciate the extra help." To Benton, "And you did say that I could have anything as long as I got your work done."

Benton glared at Ariana, then focused on Owen. "If anything happens to my son, it will cost you your head."

"Of course, of course," Ariana said absently. "But one last thing, we need a guide. Someone that knows the land we'll be traveling to very well."

Randall snapped his fingers. "I know just the person: Mae Fallenite."

"Who's she?" asked Owen.

"My personal falconer and an expert tracker. Her father was one of the best hunters around." Ariana nodded her approval.

"We have a lot to plan and I still have other things to do," Ariana said. "I suggest we meet up at the Old Hag Inn in town tonight." She smiled coldly and bowed slightly to Benton. "A pleasure seeing you again, Benton." She left.

Benton was practically seething with hatred. Randall stared after her, murmuring, "An odd woman, that one. I wonder how she knows Father?" He mentally shook himself and turned to Owen. "Our lady friend has a point. I, too, have business to attend to. Not to mention informing Mae of her recruitment. Father. Owen," Owen acknowledged the prince with a nod as he left.

"With your permission, King Benton," Owen said hesitantly. Benton waved him away with one hand. He moved to stare out one of the windows. Owen turned to leave. "Owen."

"Yes, your majesty?"

Benton pinned Owen with his ice-blue eyes. "Do not trust that witch, Ariana. She is a liar, a thief, and she will stab you in the back at the earliest opportunity."

Owen was not sure how to react to that statement. The king was expecting an answer so he said, "I will be careful."

"Good. One last thing before you go: If my son or the falconer is injured or killed, you will be punished."

"Your majesty?"

"You heard me, Owen. Either they come back unharmed or you don't come back at all. Now leave."

Everyone in the Inn looked up as the door slammed open and a tall blonde-haired, blue-eyed man and his much shorter, hooded companion entered. The two newcomers glared around the room until everyone went back to minding their own businesses, then they joined Owen and Ariana at a corner table. As they sat, Owen could've sworn that the tension between the two was causing sparks.

"So," he said to the shorter of the two, "You must be Mae." Hard gray-green eyes glaring at him was his only answer.

Randall, with one final annoyed look at Mae, said, "Don't mind her. She's just a little mad."

"If this is her a little mad, I'd hate to see her furious," Ariana said.

"Keep talking," Mae said coldly, "I'll get furious."

Randall sighed. "Come on, Mae. You can't act like this the entire time." To the others, "She normally isn't like this."

"Oh yes, I believe you, Randall." Ariana favored Mae with one of her shark-like smiles. The falconer returned Ariana's gaze steadily, silently daring her to try anything.

Owen glanced from one to the other uncomfortably. He said, "It's getting pretty late. Maybe we should go to bed and discuss things tomorrow." He privately added, <Anything to get these two she-wolves away from each other before they rip each other's throats out.>

Randall jumped at the suggestion. "Good idea, Owen." He grabbed Mae's arm. "A *very* good idea. Come on, Mae." She broke away from him, snarling, "The day I take orders from you is the day I die." With one last glare at Ariana, she stalked away. Randall sighed. "I apologize for Mae's behavior. I'll see if I can calm her down." He bowed to Ariana. "Until tomorrow, my Lady Ariana."

Owen leaned back in his chair, watching Randall's retreating form. "This has been one interesting day." He glanced at Ariana. "You really didn't help make things better. Why were you so cold to Mae?"

Ariana smiled slightly. "My job isn't to make things better."

"Huh?"

"My attitude towards Mae has nothing to do with our current problem." She looked at him. "What do you think of her?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. I can't figure out why she would be mad at Randall." He thought for a moment, "I think she doesn't trust us. Or anyone, for that matter."

"Interesting observation."

He looked at her. "Well, what do you think of her?"

"It's not us that she distrusts."

"What do you mean?" Ariana didn't answer. She stared into space, a thoughtful look on her face. Owen sighed and stood. "I guess I ought to take my own advice and go to bed. 'Night, Ariana."

"Goodnight," she said absently. He went upstairs to his room.

She stared into her mug of ale, thinking hard. She jumped slightly when she heard a familiar voice speak in her mind.

**Why such a serious mood, Ariana?**

"I am puzzled, Zasz." Good thing there was no one nearby. She didn't want people thinking that she was talking to herself.

**That's a first. Why?**

She frowned into the depths of the amber liquid, hoping that some answer to her dilemma would show itself. "I did not expect this to happen. I did not know that the Duncan's son was still alive. He and Randall will surely wreck my plans if I don't find out why they are here." She took a sip of ale, thinking. "What purpose are they here for?" she said more to herself than to Zasz.

**Maybe they don't have a purpose. Maybe they're just there.**

"No. That wouldn't make sense. There is a reason they arrived when they did." She sighed wearily. "This would just be so much simpler if I hadn't been exiled."

**Well you were and now there's no use crying over it. Besides, you have more important things to do, such as what you are going to do now.** It hesitated, letting her gather her thoughts, then, **What if you give up your independence and let Fate decide what to do for you?**

She thought about that for a long time. Finally, "I do not know, Zasz. Fate has guided me before and look where I am now: exiled and powerless. But, as much as I hate to admit it, it is the best course of action that I have for now." She nodded to herself as she made her choice. "I will put my trust in Fate once again. I just hope that this time I don't get killed."

Randall pulled his cloak tighter around him. Although she was only ten feet in front of him, he could barely see the back of Mae's horse through the driving rain. Suddenly, he was worried that they might become separated and he called out to her, shouting for her to wait for the others. If she heard him, she gave no sign.

He sighed. He heard laughing to his left and turned his head in that direction. "You might as well save your breath, Prince Randall," Owen said. The swordsman was completely soaked but he didn't seem to mind being thoroughly wet. It made things worse that he rode with his hood down. Randall felt cold and wet just staring at him. Owen gestured in Mae's direction with a nod of his head. "She's been taking point for the past three days. She isn't going to stop just because you want her to."

"I really wish she wouldn't," the prince replied, peering through the steadily worsening rain, "I don't want us getting separated. We ought to find a place to wait out this storm."

"I second that!" Ariana called out. She rode behind and to the right of Randall. "We'll catch our deaths if keep on riding."

Randall nodded. "Then it's settled. Now all we need is to find a place to set up camp."

Sometime during the discussion, Mae had joined them. "I don't know about you guys, but I checked things out up ahead. We're coming up to the village of Semin. They have an inn."

Ariana, who did not entirely like the prospect of sleeping in the rain, sighed heavily with relief and said, "Thank God!"

Randall's influence helped them to secure a private room where they could eat in peace. As the group satisfied their hunger, tension again sprang up between the prince and his falconer.

It started innocently enough. Owen had asked Randall what it was like to be a prince.

"Actually, it's rather boring," the prince replied. "I spend most days meeting with diplomats from this country or that kingdom or from wherever. Lately, I've just returned from Angsgot, a kingdom far to the north. It is a nice place, but really boring."

"Have you met any princesses?" Owen asked.

Randall laughed. "To many to count. Father keeps saying that I should consider proposing to one of them." Only Ariana noticed the stricken look on Mae's face, but she remained silent.

"Will you?" asked Owen.

Randall shrugged. "I don't know. I have met some very nice women, but it is not my desire to marry any of them. At least, not yet. I'm too young to be tied down now."

"Oh yes," Mae commented dryly, "'too young to be tied down.' If I was a princess, I wouldn't want you because you're too young to have any wits."

Randall glared at her. "Then I shall thank God that you are a falconer, and not a princess."

"Yes, I *am* a falconer!" she raged. "Which is why I should be at home taking care of *your* bloody falcons instead of on my way to kill a dragon!"

"God, aren't you over that yet? I thought you would be flattered that I actually needed you for something!"

"Flattered? Flattered?! You pompous, arrogant, self-centered-- Forget it. Forget I ever said anything." She stood. "I'm going to bed." She left, slamming the door behind her.

Randall sighed. He looked at Owen and shrugged. "I'm really sorry about that. It's just that she's upset that I made her come."

"I had gathered at least that much," replied the mercenary. Ariana added, "Care to go into detail?"

Randall rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "Mae's family is poor. Her father, Josef Fallenite, was the previous falconer. He died a couple of years ago. Since she was the oldest at the time and the only one with enough experience, she took over her father's job as the royal falconer."

"Why doesn't one of her siblings help?" Ariana asked.

"Mae has three younger sisters and one brother. The boy, Toby, is barely ten. The girls are five, six, and seven, respectively."

"Just a minute," Owen interrupted. "Mae has to be at least twenty. Why is there such a large age difference between her and Toby?"

"Let me guess," Ariana said, "She's adopted."

Randall nodded, "That's one reason. The other is that Josef had two wives. The first was the one that raised Mae. Josef had two sons by her, but both died during the civil war that had claimed Mae's original parent's lives. His wife died shortly after that. After a long time, Josef remarried his second wife. But then he died, and left Mae as the only one able to work. She does her best to help her family, but a falconer's pay is not very good."

"You know her pretty well, don't you?" asked Owen.

Randall sighed sadly. "She and I were very good friends when we were younger. When our fathers would go hunting, they usually left Mae with me. Naturally, we got into a lot of trouble." He smiled. "I never had a better friend, let alone one that could consistently talk her way out of every disaster that we engineered."

Ariana snorted. "You'd never know that by the way you two were arguing earlier."

"Yes, well... I don't know what happened to her. Everything was going fine until my eighteenth birthday. That's when Father decided that I should be taking more interest in the affairs of the kingdom. So he made me travel to other kingdoms, to meet the leaders there and to learn about diplomacy and stuff like that.

"Mae was understandably upset when she found out I had to leave, but she handled it very well. I came back as often as I could to visit, but..." he shrugged. "One day I came back and she was as you see her now. I don't understand why she's suddenly become so cold towards me." He shook his head. "I just don't get it."

They were all silent for a few minutes. Then Ariana stood. "This has been really interesting, and I'd like to hear more, but I am really tired. I'll think I'll go to bed." She bowed to Randall and smiled at Owen. The two men wished her a good night as she left.

Owen picked up his mug of ale. "The best thing to do when one is feeling down is to talk about something else." He drained it. "Let's say we talk to the innkeeper about what lies ahead of us, eh, Randall?"

Randall smiled, "Of course."

Ariana gently closed the door to her room. Due to the unexpected storm, the inn had no single rooms, and Ariana was forced to share hers with Mae. Owen and Randall were situated across the hall.

She glanced towards one of the beds, and was relieved to see that Mae was asleep in it. Quickly, she crossed to the window and opened it.

"Zasz?" She called out. There was a rustle of wings and a small, black shape landed on the sill. It had four legs, but the front half was that of an eagle while the rear had the shape and tufted tail of a lion. Its fur and feathers were entirely black, with a faint silver sheen to it. The small griffin glared at up Ariana with glowing amber eyes.

**What took you so long?** It complained and hopped to the ground. Ariana closed the window and smiled. "I didn't expect Randall to talk about something so interesting."

Zasz made its way to the blazing hearth. **For God's sake, use telepathy, girl. We don't want the human waking up and seeing me.** It sat on the rug and began preening its wings. Ariana retrieved a spare blanket and began to towel off the leonine half of its body.

**Which is all the more reason why you shouldn't be hanging around these humans.**

**You know I have to,** she said/thought. It humped.

**I know, but I still don't like it.**

She decided to change the topic. **Where have you been?**

The griffin rolled onto its back and Ariana dutifully started to dry its belly. **I just got back from a High Council meeting.** Ariana stopped and stared at him in surprise.

**You weren't seen, were you?** she asked.

The griffin snorted in contempt. **Of course not, silly. I'm far more careful than that. Besides, Graze pretended that he never saw me fly in.**

Ariana smiled. **Tell him I owe him one for that.**

**I already did. He says you better remember when your exile is over.**

On the bed, Mae stirred and moaned quietly in her sleep. Ariana and Zasz froze until she slipped back into a deeper sleep.

Zasz, now dry, rolled over and spread its wings. It half-leapt, half-flew to the foot of the bed and hovered over the sleeping falconer. **Is this the one?** it asked Ariana.

**Yes, that's her.** Ariana stood, placing the towel on a nearby table.

**Hmm...* The griffin landed on the bed.

"What--?!" Ariana started then winced when it glared at her. **What are you doing?**

The griffin silently made its way to the head of the bed, where it perched and sat on Mae's chest.

**Zasz!** Ariana said/thought, alarmed. **You'll wake her up!**

**I will not,** the griffin replied haughtily. It carefully studied Mae's face. **Strange. She doesn't look at all like a Kender.**

Ariana sighed and sat down on the other bed. **How would you know what a Kender looks like, Zasz. You've never seen one.**

**But you have, and I've got your memories.**

Ariana grunted sourly and started pulling off her clothes. Zasz ignored her, studying Mae. The silver glow around it intensified till it seemed as if the griffin was radiating moonlight. Mae groaned in her sleep, suddenly restless.

**I'm telling you, Zasz, she's going to wake up,** Ariana commented as she dug through her saddlebag for a clean undershirt.

**And I'm telling you that she is not.** The griffin peered hard at Mae, then nodded, satisfied. **That's good enough,** it said/thought. It carefully made its way off of Mae. It hopped the distance between the two beds and settled down on Ariana's pillow.

**What did you do, Zasz?**

**I just put a probe in her mind. I can monitor her thoughts now, even though she won't be aware of my presence.**

**And why did you do that?** Ariana, irritated, shoved the griffin off of her pillow and climbed underneath the sheets. Zasz laid down on her stomach, its amber eyes glowing softly.

**No particular reason,** it replied. **I just think that it would be a very good idea for me to do so.**

Ariana yawned. **That was an abuse of your power, but I'll forgive you this time. Remind me to ask you about that High Council meeting...** she trailed off, asleep.

Zasz shook its head. **It never fails. She gets in a bed and is asleep instantly.** It settled itself down, preparing itself for a long night.

Thunder struck again, waking her up and making her cry in fear. An arm wrapped itself around her body, holding her protectively. This new presence soothed her gently, and she looked up and around.

She was on a horse. She dimly remembered that when she and her rider had mounted it, they had been at a large building, perhaps a castle. Now the paved stone road had given way to squelching mud and the towering walls had been replaced by trees on either side of them.

She glanced up at her rider, but the rider's hood and the driving rain made it difficult to see details. A bright display of lightening afforded her with an all too brief glimpse of long black hair and light (Were they blue? She thought so.) eyes fixed intently on their destination.

That face gazed down at her and smiled gently. "We're almost there, Mae. Soon you'll be safe. I promise."

Mae was instantly awake, her eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling of her room.

The voice... the face... Could it be?

She had had the dream many times before, and, just like before, it always seemed as if she knew the identity of the rider. It was even closer this time, hovering just beyond her consciousness. She strained, but the dream was already fading and she was growing sleepy again.

Just before she drifted off, she turned her head and looked at Ariana. The other woman was sleeping on her side, facing Mae, with half of the covers kicked off of her.

<Ariana...> Mae thought fuzzily, <Ariana knows... Ariana is... the... rider...> Her eyes closed and she slipped back into a heavy, dreamless sleep, blissfully unaware of the pair of amber eyes gazing at her with, had she been awake to notice, what seemed to be shock.

The next day was blue, cool, and extremely muddy. As their horses plodded a slow course westward, Owen and Randall talked amiably about the places they had been while Mae ranged far ahead, scouting out the land she had said. Ariana trailed behind, occasionally listening to the men's conversation but mostly deep in her thoughts.

"So," she muttered, "what was the High Council meeting about?"

She was careful not to turn her head as she heard the flutter of wings behind her. Something swept past her and into the trees to her left.

**Oh, just the same old boring human stuff,** Zasz answered. It glided effortlessly through the branches, alert for the movement of a small animal. **I'm hungry.**

"Hey, pal, that's your problem. Explain what you mean by the boring stuff."

It grunted. **You are no fun.** It saw a rustle in brush below and went lower. **Anyway, the big guy, what's his name again?**

"Isagan."

**Yeah, him. Isagan and the other three on the council were talking about recent developments concerning that Asadarn affair.**

Ariana dismissed that easily. She had more important things to think about then some floating continent. "Did they mention anything about me or the upcoming Silence?"

**As a matter of fact, they did.** Zasz sounded uneasy. She kept her gaze on Owen's back. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Zasz hesitated. **I'm not sure, Ariana, but I think they've pretty much dismissed the entire idea of the Silence as nothing more than a large myth. A myth that you created.**

**That's bull-SHIT!** Ariana exclaimed mentally. **What kind of idiots are they? How on earth can they ignore what's in front of their faces? God, must another Silence happen before they believe that I'm right?** She glowered silently, clenching the reins of her horse between her hands.

**Calm down, Ariana. I know that you're right.**

She growled, "You don't really count, Zasz."

**Yeah, I know. But listen, Essence and Bane didn't exactly agree with him.**

Ariana had calmed down significantly. She sighed heavily. "I'm not surprised. Bane supported me, even if a little. Essence, however, startles me. I never thought she'd agree with me."

**She doesn't agree with you. She just doesn't think that the Council should dismiss the Silence so readily.**

She pondered that. She said, "What about Shade? What did he think?"

The griffin laughed sourly. **What do you think? He sided with Isagan, as usual.**

"As usual," she repeated moodily.

Owen and Randall turned their heads as a loud squeal sounded off to their left. She heard Owen say, "Some poor animal just became breakfast." Randall agreed, laughing heartily.

**So now what?** It asked.

Ariana smiled, "Don't send with your beak full, Zasz. It's rude."

**Ha ha.**

"But seriously, talk to Graze for me. Tell him I need to see him sometime soon."

**How soon?**

"Before we reach the dragon's lair, in the next town if possible. Tell Fate, too. I guess it's about time I talked to her."

**I'll tell --!?**

Ariana stiffened. "What's wrong?"

**Mae's returning. Fast. There are bandits following her, Ariana.**

The words had barely registered when she heard hoof beats behind her. She turned and saw three men riding towards her at a gallop. Ahead of her, Mae's horse came into view and there were three more bandits behind her, riding hard.

"Bandits!" Mae yelled.

**Ariana!** Zasz screamed in her mind, **There are at least six more surrounding you on foot.**

Ariana kicked her horse into gallop, one hand drawing one of her throwing knives. "Randall! Owen!!" She shouted, "Watch the trees!"

Owen had his sword already drawn but Randall's seemed to be caught. He was still tugging on it as Mae, still heading for them, unslung her bow and knocked an arrow. She somehow managed to hold it with one hand as she controlled her horse with the other.

She pulled back hard on the reigns, and the horse reared back on its hind legs. While its hoofs were still in the air, she turned it around, and, controlling it with her knees, loosed the arrow at the closest bandit. It struck the man in his right shoulder and he went down, screaming and clutching the wound.

The horse's forelegs struck the ground and she yanked it back the way she had been going originally, kicked it back into a gallop and raced to where the others had already engaged in fighting.

Owen had already taken out two of the men that had arrived on foot and now he whirled his horse around to parry the first strike of a bandit on horseback. The man was young and obviously inexperience with his sword because he made a lot of mistakes. Owen disarmed him easily, knocking him off of his horse in the process. The man scrambled to his feet and fled into the woods.

Owen turned, raising his sword in expectation of another attack, but the other two on horseback had fallen to the ground. One had an arrow in his sword arm. Another had sprouted a knife in his eye. Owen risked a glance behind him and saw that Randall was on the ground, holding off another bandit and trying to avoid the bodies of four others around him. While he watched, Randall dealt a fatal blow to the man's sternum. The last man was gone. The fight was over.

Owen dismounted and went up to Ariana, who was busy retrieving her knives and wiping the blood off of them. As he approached her, she froze, tilting her head to one side, like she was listening to something. Her gaze turned strange and distant, and she appeared to be looking at something very far away.

He touched her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?" She jerked, startled and pulled away from his hand. She looked at him and smiled weakly. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a little out of sorts. I guess my mind's not here at the moment."

He nodded soberly. "I know the feeling." They stared at one another for a long uncomfortable moment. Ariana coughed awkwardly and stepped past him. She said, "I think you ought to talk to Randall. His sword's stuck." Owen continued to watch her as she knelt next to another corpse and pulled free another knife, casually wiping the blood on the dead man's shirt.

Owen looked over to Randall, and saw the prince struggling to get his sword free from the dead bandit's chest. Owen headed over to him and, together they managed to get it free. Randall produced a rag from his jacket and quickly cleaned the blade.

Owen said, "That was pretty good fighting. Whoever taught you did it well."

Randall smiled and shrugged. "Yes, well, we princes have to be able to defend ourselves from low lives like these." He nudged the corpse with one foot.

Owen crouched next to the dead bandit. "Speaking of low-lives, do you recognize these clothes, Highness?"

"First of all, I'm not 'Highness' or 'Excellency' or any of that other crap. I'm not the Prince now and I expect you to treat me like I'm not."

Owen grinned, "I'm definitely beginning to like you, Randall."

"Second, I do recognize them. These men were from Dillon."

So long and yet, so unfinished… Oh well.

We'll pick back up again in 3.3 - More Originals.

All works are copyright 2003 Kristin Renee Taylor. Plagiarists will be pursued to the fullest extent of the law, and crazy ferrets will eat your eyeballs while I sing kareoke. You've been warned. This has been a production of Blueberry Enterprises. Really, you don't want to hear me sing…