Yspaddaden - Chapter 14

 Ynwfn, Anaij.

Dastra walked through the streets of the capitol city, her mind set on only one thing. Her feet waded through the filth and trash that lined the cobbles, her hands pushed others aside, making them move out of her way, and her head was constantly in motion, and yet consistently still, as her task before her was complicated and remained perpetually difficult. She did not worry, she liked to think that was one emotion that she had driven from herself long ago. She was always solid in her thinking, never wavering from a particular task. She could do without worry. She simply let her mind cycle through all eventualities and pose possible outcomes, simultaneously thinking of ways to circumvent all possible problems and ways in which to make her task happen, make it come out the way it was supposed to. Worry? No, she did not worry. She merely analyzed.

Dastra reached her destination and walked inside. The shop owner ignored her as she headed past the front counter and into the back of the shop, stepping past the tapestry that hid the place from the rest of the clients. Another man, a tall elf, hair tinted blue, stood in her way at the end of the hallway. She approached him and he stood, barring her way through the door. Instead of stating a password or something silly like that, Dastra flung her hand out and shoved him to the side, smacking his head against the wall. He crumpled and fell to his knees, holding the blood trail unsuccessfully to the side of his head. He glanced up at her as she brushed past him, grabbing the handle to the door and pushing it open. He wouldn't bother her. Security had been rather lacking of late. She only had her lover king to blame for that.

When Dastra opened the door, five things assaulted her. The first was the smell. The air was thick with the smoke that accompanied the place. Her head immediately began to feel a bit lighter, distant. She cursed. This was not what she needed tonight! She paused inside the doorway and closed her eyes, trying to calm her mind. The second and third things began to take effect. The music was loud, raucous, rebellious.  It did not help her head to have the reverberations echo through her ears. The air around her was heavy, dank, and she could almost feel it if she wiggled her hand right.  She opened her mouth and flicked out her tongue, tasting the air. The combination of the smoke, sweat and pheromones made a very interesting, if not always unpleasant, taste. She swallowed and it stuck to the back of her throat, giving her a raspy feeling. She finally opened her eyes and took a look about. The giant room was filled with people of the most amiable sort. Elves, humans, dwarves, even a few minotaurs and centaurs swamped the place, mingling, clashing, embracing. The floor in front of her was full of people writhing, flashing, dancing to the music. The balcony above was full of couples and groups, lying on beds, writhing on the floor, propped up against the walls, each oblivious to the rest, each uncaring who noticed or witnessed their lechery. The lights spun around the room and she noticed the addition of large jars, hundreds of them, all different colours, hanging from the ceiling, with dozens of faeries flitting about in each, their glow combining to give off a dancing, mystical feel to the place.

But as she sensed everything at once, her mind also remained on her task at hand. She began to wade through the crowd, placing a hand here, a foot there, all in the effort to rid the people of her path. There was no lack of young men, human and elf both, who, when seeing her walking toward them, made up in such fine clothes and jewelry as she was, would fling themselves at her, drink and drug causing them not to hold back in their efforts to obtain her body. She waylaid each with a well placed fist to the face or knee to the groin. Her trail of bodies lying on the floor caused no one to glance twice. They simply did not care. She reached the stairs and headed upward, stepping over several couples who had stationed themselves for pleasure on the steps. All the beds and couches must be taken. She silently wished she could join with several of them, but her task was too important. Maybe after, when she was done. Perhaps that young man? He looked vigorous enough to still have life in him in a bit, after he got done with the redhead. Perhaps. Dastra peeled her eyes away from him and looked all about for the one she was there to meet.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she knew which direction she was to go. An area to her left was closed off, see-through curtains surrounding a circle of lounge couches and low tables. Several elves had stationed themselves at the entrance and she could see through the barriers at the scantily clad females lying all around, the servants bringing food, and the one man who she knew was the one she had to talk to. She headed directly toward the guards, not showing fear at all. They looked quite a bit more formidable than the pissa who had been at the front door. Don't show fear, she told herself silently. She stepped up to them, ignoring their presence, reaching for the flap of the curtain. The large elf with green hair grabbed her hand and wrenched it back, pressing it painfully against her shoulderblade.

"None are allowed in there without an invitation."

Dastra grimaced and tried not to squirm too much. Her arm sat at a very painful position, yet she did not want to give this man the pleasure of knowing that she was uncomfortable. So she smiled up at him, applying her most seductive face.

"But I do have an invitation. Let me go. He will see me, I assure you."

The man would hear nothing of the sort. He nodded to his companion to take her away. Dastra knew then that no pleading or alluring would do the trick this time. So she simply removed her arm from his grasp.

Well, maybe not so simply. She wasn't even sure the move had been witnessed by the men, she performed it so fast. In seconds her arm was free and she was twisting out of the way. As soon as the elf realised that she had escaped, he tried to grab her again, but she was much too quick. She used the curtain to her side to block his blow and wrap his arm up, applying her own fist to his face. He fell back as the second man leapt forward to the aid of his friend. She took him out with a well placed kick and swept his feet out from underneath his body. His head smacked loudly against a pole and he went still. She drew a short knife from her dress and plunged it into the mans throat for good measure. By that time though, hands grasped her waist and lifted her high, so that she could not reach the first guard with her knife. So she went limp. The weight of her was too much and he dropped her. She sprang into action at the last second, landing like a cat on her feet. She aimed the knife at his calf, but he dodged it. He was learning. Well then, time to raise the stakes. She aimed once again, this time allowing him to kick her knife out of her hands. Once they were free, she backed up a step or two, looking a bit frightened. The man smiled and advanced on her, swinging punches. She blocked them all, backing up, allowing him to gain ground. She kept her face fearful, the allusion working perfectly. The second she felt the railing of the balcony against her back, she ducked under one of his fists, grabbed his wrist, and jerked. She pulled him off balance and he hit the railing at midriff, the momentum causing him to hurtle over, falling, screaming, into the crowd. A thump, a few annoyed yells, and then nothing. Business as usual.

As she advanced on the curtain barrier once more, she noticed that the place had been emptied of slaves and the man she had come to see was standing in the middle, watching her. She pulled back the curtain and was pleased to see not a trace of fear on his face. He simply watched her as she intruded, plopping down on one of the couches and taking a handful of fruit that sat on a platter in the middle of one of the low tables. His dark eyes scanned her body and she let him look. He finally snorted in acceptance and slowly seated himself as well at an adjoining couch. He leaned toward her, his arm resting comfortably on the back of the couch. The sights, smells and sounds around them seemed to disappear in the background as they focused on each other. She gazed deep into his black pitted eyes and he scrutinized her every move. She smiled and popped a piece of the fruit into her mouth. A trickle of juice escaped her lip, dripping off her chin. She softly and deftly brushed it away. Would he speak first, or force her to?

"Dastra Verinto. Famed lover of the king. Known by all to be the wealthiest whore in Anaij."

So he knew her. Had he seen her before, or was it an educated guess? Either way, he was right and it meant her reputation was far flung indeed. That pleased her. She waited a minute more, watching to see if he would squirm under additional silence. When he did not, she finally spoke.

"Aniatgayr. Known by most as Nia. I'll admit, I don't know as much about you as you seem to know about me. May I call you Nia?"

"People usually call me master."

She ignored the jest.

"Interesting name. It means Fate of Stars in the old elvish. Nia, simply Fate. Why did you choose that name?"

He leaned forward.

"What makes you say I chose it? Why was I not born to it?"

She grinned at him.

"I have a hunch."

His stares were becoming quite disconcerting. But this time she vowed not to give him ground. She crossed her legs, allowing her dress to ride up her thigh in a very concealing manner. When he didn't even glance down at it, she began to wonder. Wasn't his kind the sort that, as the stories went, were insatiable with lust? Or did their complete control over most emotions help with concealing that? It was a conundrum she did not want to try and solve at the moment. Maybe she would have to try a more direct approach. She scooted over on the couch closer to him and laid a hand on his, brushing his wrist lightly with her fingers. He stared straight into her eyes, as if she was not effecting him at all. And she began to doubt herself, until her hand kept moving and she laid it against his chest. She could feel the rapid movement of his heart then, and she knew she was getting to him. She smiled and scooted even closer, leaning in and gently biting his ear with her teeth. His head turned slightly toward her, as if he were expecting a kiss. She instead sat up, placing her one knee on the seat next to him, and swung the other leg up and over his lap, straddling him so she faced him. She held his face in her hands then, looking down. His breathing was definitely irregular now, and she smiled in triumph. She wasn't sure if it was the smile, or the victorious chuckle that made him do it. But his eyes suddenly flashed, and he pushed upward, taking her neck in his grip, and shoving her out and down, her back connecting solidly with the low table, scattering dishes and plates everywhere, making a huge mess. She grunted in pain, but held in a cry that would have made her look weak. Her spine had slammed down on a bowl and she lay there, bent backwards, her neck on the tabletop, still enclosed within his vise grip and her legs hanging over the edge, his knee across hers, holding them in place. His other hand reached upward and gently pulled down the hem to her skirt, which had risen even further in the scuffle. Then he finally backed off, letting her go. She sat up rubbing her neck as he sat back in the position he was in before. It took her a second to gain her breath back before she could speak again.

"I take it normal negotiations wont work with one of your kind."

He grinned at her.

"Normal negotiations always work very well with my kind. But there's one thing you must learn about me, Dastra. I am not like my kind. I may look like them, I may speak like them. But I am not like them. I do not like them." He fingered the tips of his rounded ears. "You saw these. I do not wish to hide in secret, making plans that never come to fruition. My kind are slow, dim witted, scared. They believe they have power, but all they possess is what they can gather from the relics they own. Real power comes elsewhere. It comes from people. But not just any people. It's almost impossible to gain power from the powerful. No, I must have mine from the weak-minded, from the simple, the slow. Real power only comes from those who give it to you freely." He paused and looked off into the distance for a second. "But if you think about it, those people who give power, ultimately possess the power themselves. For if you give your obedience to the ones you wish, and hand them the power to rule over you, they are yours to do with what you will. Interesting isn't it? The ones you give power to are the ones you have control over. For they cannot choose who gives the power, and the powerful are powerless without the ones who give it. Fascinating." He glanced back at her. "You'll excuse me. I often become quite ruminative at times. Suffice it to say, I am not like my kind at all. But that aside, I am curious as to why you come looking for me? How do you know my name?"

Dastra stood and walked over to the curtain. She brushed it aside and peeked out at the dancers and revelers, fornicators and drunkards. It was such a strange world here. Growing up as she had, she knew of rough people. Many was the time when she had been forced to entertain and service men who were drunk or under the influence of various drugs. She had seen the darker side of the world, and the people here put them to shame. Here, there were no bounds. No rules, no laws. She had never been to the Outbound, the country of Vran, but if the stories were to be believed, she could imagine it to be much like this place here. Lawless. Uncensored. Most decent people never wanted to admit evilness in them, but these were the sort of folk who rolled in it every day. The ones who defined it. She spoke over her shoulder to Nia, hoping her words would not provoke another assault.

"Are these the people who give you your power? Are these the ones you cannot exist without? They are such contradictions. They appear to be full of life, stubborn, willful, mind of their own. But despite their unruliness, despite their practices of shunning good, they still must need people to lead them, do they not? They might not know they are following, they may be unaware of their allegiances, but all people need some sort of leader, do they not? Do they know you rule over them, and do they know they have given it to you? Or are you so good at what you do, that they are oblivious, and truly believe they live in an anarchic society? Chaos needs rules too, does it not? Are you the one that writes them?"

He had been so smooth, so silent, that Dastra had not noticed him approaching her from behind. It wasn't until his smooth hand reached around her neck that she knew where he was. She stiffened, expecting to be flung onto the floor, with possible punches this time around. But his touch was gentle, and he rubbed her neck underneath her chin seductively. His other hand went to her waist, curling around to caress her stomach. She breathed in, her chest rising and falling quickly with the short breaths that accompanied her rising libido. His touch was so soft, so gentle. He watched the crowd in front of them with her for a minute. Then his words came, gently, softly in her ear.

"You are very observant. It is a delicate matter, to allow people to give you power and at the same time to assuage them of the knowledge that they are doing it. Very delicate. I pride myself on being very intuitive. You did not come here simply to be around power. Those are the ones you kicked out earlier. No, you have some other purpose in mind for being here. Something greater. Something better. Why do you seek me? What is it you want from me?"

"It's not what I want. It's what I don't want someone else to have. I could care less about it. But I care more that someone else not have it. Call it what you will. Spite. I know my flaws. Yet I cannot let this go. I have heard tell that you are a great fighter, skilled in death. Are you also one who enjoys being challenged? I need an object sought out and brought to me, in secret. I don't care how you do it, or what it takes to find it. But I want it. Within the year, I want this to be my possession."

Nia lowered his one hand and brushed it gently against the outside of her thigh. He reached down and grabbed the hem to her skirt, lifting it and rubbing her bare leg underneath. She stood still, allowing his intrusion.

"I am not a man for hire."

"Then I shall not pay you."

Her words were meant in jest, but he seemed to become angry. He took her by the shoulders and spun her around so she faced him. She had to lift her neck to stare into his face. His steely black eyes glared down at her and she could almost feel heat emanating from them.

"I speak truth! My life is dictated by one person, me! Call me dependent on others, tell me I am ruled by the ones who give me power over them, say what you will. But do not dare presume that I will do the bidding of a woman, a whore, simply for her pleasure, for her vendetta against one I do not know nor care about! Dishonor me no more by making me a mere mercenary with your words. I will not hear of it."

Dastra listened to him speak, then reached up and stroked his cheek with her hand. The fact that he had not pushed her violently into the crowd was proof that he desired her more then he knew. He could spout all day, but she knew what men truly wanted.

"I understand, and I apologize. I did not mean to harm your reputation. To be true, the mere retrieval of this object would substantiate yourself among your people. As I said, I care not what happens to it. Keep the relic if you will. Perhaps it is not payment for a job. Perhaps it is merely one person informing the other of an opportunity that should not be missed. Perhaps, if you were to possess this thing, you would be hated by the government, possibly persecuted for it. And perhaps, the reward, with no obligations, comes before you ever are required to agree to such a quest." She traced the muscles on his chest, on his stomach, and downward, giving him no questions as to what the reward might be. "Could we be friends? I hope so. Could you think on this as a favor done for a friend? Either way, the reward is yours. The prize at the end of the quest? Mere bonus."

He wasn't looking at her anymore. His breaths had now become rapid and heavy. She smiled slightly. He closed his eyes, leaning in toward her, almost involuntarily it seemed. He whispered roughly in her ear.

"What is it you seek?"

"Have you ever heard of the Aszkastone of the minotaurs?"

No one shall ever call her powerless again.

Riverstone - Chapter 12

          When I got up Tuesday, I looked outside and found Jake was already gone. It made me sad that I couldn’t say goodbye to him. I went outside and noticed the sky was darker than yesterday evening, and everything sort of had an eerie feeling about it. I wanted to stay inside and read most of the day. At lunch, I ran to Dairy Queen and got two corn dogs for mom and I. I then went back to reading. 

          I had fallen asleep on the bed when mom came storming into the room. 

          “Quick, get up, son. Get your shoes on. Come with me.”

          “What’s up, mom?”

          “Tornado, son!! Get up. Start out at this end and knock on every door. I’ll start at the other end and meet you at the middle.”

          “But what do I do? What do I say?”

          “Tell…no, beg everyone to get up and run across the street to the meat packing plant. Mr. Roberts says we can stay in the vault. Tell everybody to bring a coat. It will be cold but the walls are three feet thick. It should hold up under three tornadoes. Hurry, son, hurry.”

          I grabbed my shoes and coat and quickly ran out. The sky to the northwest looked blacker than any I had ever seen. Then I saw it. It stretched all the way to heaven, it seemed. I guessed it was maybe a mile or mile-and-a-half away. I ran to #14 and knocked and knocked. Nobody came. 

          “Go son!” I heard mom yell. She was already at #4, coming my way. “Skip #13. I saw them leave earlier.” I went on till I met mom at # 9. We roused only about six of the twenty or so people who were staying there at the time. I was glad Jake was twenty miles from town, but I couldn’t find Collette. It worried me. 

          “Mom, I can’t find Collette,” I yelled. 

          “Go, son! Run to the packing plant. Quick. Everybody, Go!” 

          I waved my arms for people to follow me and started across the street. We got to the door and Mr. Roberts was just inside, ready to guide us through the maze of halls to the main cold vault. 

          “We don’t have to go in unless it is right on top of us. No use everyone freezing. I can see most everything through that window. If I give you a signal, everybody pile in. It should take just a second. There might be others coming from the office next door, but I’m not sure.”

          “Where’s my mom, Mr. Roberts?” I asked, pretty scared now. I looked up at his worried face. “I… I don’t know, son.”

          “Randy!” I knew it was mom. She ran up and gave me a huge hug. “You did a great job, son. Thanks.” I was so glad to see her.

          “Mom?” I spoke. “Mom, I haven’t seen Collette.” I had to yell this time because the sound from outside was getting louder and louder. 

          “I’m sure she is fine, son. I opened her apartment with my key and I know she is not still there.” That gave me a little bit of hope. “Maybe she is out looking for a job again. She’s probably safe inside someone’s big office or in someone’s storm shelter. She’ll be fine.” The wind got louder and Mr. Roberts went back to the front window to check on things. He came back in a panic.

          “Quick, every one in the vault. I think this is going to be the real thing,” he warned. Every one scrambled to get in. When we were finally in, Mr. Roberts latched the door shut. We all shivered in the cold. 

          “There it is,” someone shouted. “There’s the train sound.” We all stood frozen, I guess that’s a bad choice of words at the moment, but we all stood silent as we heard a roar that sounded like three train whistles roaring inside our small shelter. I had to cover my ears. Mom grabbed me tight until it hurt. She wouldn’t let me go. The sound continued to roar and the walls seemed to shake. I’m not sure if they really did or not, it’s just that the sound was so scary. The lady in #3 started screaming. It scared us all. She screamed and screamed and wouldn’t quit. 

          “We’re gonna’ die!” she yelled. “We’re all gonna’ die.”

          “Shut up,” yelled somebody, and as soon as they did, everything went pitch black. Several people started crying.

          “Hang on people,” encouraged Mr. Roberts. “This building is very solid. The electricity going out was to be expected.” Surprisingly, everyone got quiet for about a minute until we noticed that everything had gone still, even outside. “Let’s wait just one more minute, please. It might not be over. I know it’s cold…” He didn’t finish, but stood there a little longer. The door suddenly opened and startled a few people. 

          “Let me go outside and see what’s going on,” Mr. Roberts said.

          We all waited, shivering, getting more nervous as time went by. He finally returned, holding a lit flashlight. “Let’s come on out. I think it is all over. There is even some blue sky showing through. But,” he stopped, “I need to warn you. It’s not pretty out there. There has been quite a bit of damage. At least what I could see, that is.”

          I knew what he meant. What little he could see from his door was the Sunset. And that was home to everybody in the room, except Mr. Roberts. He grabbed my mom’s hand and led her out first. She got to the door and started crying. We all knew it was bad. We all made it outside, glad to be warm again. But that was little comfort. We all stood there, staring. The Sunset office, and #1 through #3 were still there. The rest was gone. Not really gone, but left there in a pile of mess. 

          We slowly made our way across the street and when we got to the parking lot, everyone stopped in unison and stared. Most were crying. “What are we going to do now, Mrs. Simpson?” someone asked.

          “I…I don’t know. I haven’t a clue. Whoa…come back here!” she yelled as she ran after the old man who lived in #7. “Stop. Everybody, stop.” She waved her hands like a football referee. “We can’t go in yet. We don’t know if the electricity is still hooked up or not. Some one could get killed. Let me go make a few calls first. 

          We tried to make ourselves comfortable. All the lawn chairs had been blown away. There was nothing to sit on. Most of the cars were damaged and a few had a large electric wire draped across them. About ten minutes later, a truck from the electricity company showed up. Five minutes after that, the man dressed in all yellow told us everything was turned off and safe. Mom walked out and they talked. 

          “I don’t know if this will make you upset, ma’am, or give you comfort, but it looks like your motel is the only thing to be damaged very much in the whole town. It came through that cotton field there of Mr. Smyth’s and hit here and apparently made a left turn and back out of town along where the railroad track used to be. I’m … I’m sorry folks. Ma’am, you call us immediately if you see any more problems. But everything is shut off. You should have no problems. I need to be going. We’ll have a crew out here soon to start cleaning up stuff. Poles and wires, I mean.”

          “Now what, Mrs. Simpson?” someone asked again. Mom started crying. 

          “I honestly don’t know,” mom whimpered.

          “Doesn’t the owner of this dump own another motel over in Billow Ridge? Can’t he put us up somewhere else? We can’t just sleep in our cars. Some of us don’t even have cars.”

          “The electricity is off, so if you want to scrounge through to find any valuables, go ahead. Just be careful. There will be sharp objects everywhere. I’m going to call Mr. Wilkinson and see what he says. Give me thirty minutes.” Mom slipped me two dollars and told me to go get some ice cream. I think she just wanted me out of the way. I think she was tired of crying and didn’t want me to be around if she started again.

          I timed thirty minutes just right, and as I walked back into the parking lot, the whole crowd was walking into the office. I followed. Mom had not cried anymore, but looked like she had probably put her fist through a wall. I could tell when she was mad, and now, she was mad. 

          “This will be short and sweet, everyone. That…that…” I know she wanted to say something worse until she saw me. “That wonderful landlord that we all have just informed me that he has not been able to pay the insurance for two months. He’s now got a mortgage of $200,000 to pay off, and you are all,… we are all on our own. At least ya’ll lost just your homes. I just lost my home and my job. Thank you very much, Mr. Wilkerson!” she said sarcastically. “I’m going to go get drunk.” 

          Everyone walked out muttering and cursing, but not knowing what to do. I watched as everybody wandered to where their homes used to be and pick and pull at a few loose boards. Most cried. I looked up as I heard a screech of tires and then rocks skidding in the parking lot behind me. Jake skidded to a stop and jumped out. 

          He ran up to me and hugged me. “Is anyone hurt?” I shook my head. He sighed in relief. “I am so glad. I heard about it on our company scanner and got here as soon as possible. How is your mom, and Collette?” I told him I hadn’t seen Collette, and then I told him about mom talking to Mr. Wilkinson. He looked sad. He had lost a lot also. 

          “Gotta go, kid. I’ll be back soon,” he said and left suddenly. 

          When he got back, Pastor Ron and Pastor Wiggins were both squeezed into the seat of his truck. They all got out and I ran over to Jake. Ron reached down and gave me a big hug and said he was very glad I was safe. I followed the three into the office, which was getting a little warm since the air conditioner was not working. They walked up to the counter where mom was drinking. She wasn’t drunk yet, and she made no attempt this time to hide her bottle. 

          “Mrs. Simpson,” Ron said. “Let me tell you that Pastor Wiggins and I want to let you know we are so, so very sorry about your loss. Of your home and your job.” Mom just stood there and nodded. She didn’t have much use for preachers. “In times of drastic need, ma’am, churches should be the first to step out and help. Jake said you have about twenty people living here, right?” She nodded. “That would be about ten people for each of our churches.” Mom stared at him with a puzzled look. “What I mean ma’am, is that the both of us want to open our church doors to let anyone at the Sunset to come to either of our churches and live for a few weeks. Sorry the Catholic church can’t help out just now, but as many of you know, they are in the middle of a big construction project and things just wouldn’t be safe at the moment. Charlie over at the farm co-op said they had enough fold-out cots for everyone to sleep on, no charge. We will worry about the rest of what everyone might need as time goes on. Please allow us to give you a home for awhile.”      

          Mom started to tear up again, but she was smiling this time. “I don’t know what to say, sir. I’ve never been through anything like this before. Thank you. What do we need to do?”

          “Just come. I know everybody has stuff to try to find in the rubble. We will try to get a backhoe or something over here tomorrow and try to get the big stuff out of the way. Hopefully most of you can salvage some valuables. Spread the word among your residents and see if you can split them up half and half between the Baptist and Methodist church. But Mrs. Simpson, since Randy meets with us, and since Jake and Collette have been visiting with us recently, we insist you stay with us at Riverstone. Is that Ok?” Mom nodded. 

          The pastors said goodbye and started to leave. As they got to the door of the lobby, mom yelled at them. “Jake, …sirs. We just today got back a full load of clean blankets and sheets and towels from our laundry service. Would God think it wrong if the Sunset ‘donated’ a few things?”

          “Ma’am, since your owner has washed his hands of you, I don’t see much problem. If he does happen to come back for them, we’ll deal with that then. Bring all the linens you can,” said Pastor Wiggins. 

          The pastors left and Jake went from person to person trying to help them salvage what they could. He said he didn’t lose much but a few clothes, so he spent the rest of the afternoon helping others. After long, people from all over town started showing up to help sift through the mess. At 6:00, I noticed that Collette had not showed up yet. I mentioned it to Jake, and he left immediately. He was worried too.

           By the time the sun set, there were about fifty people, along with the Sunset residents there to help. Several men showed up with big trucks and carried us and our few belongings to the two churches. At almost 10:00, Jake walked in with his arm around a crying Collette. He led her over to a cot, got her a set of blankets and sheets, and then showed her where the restrooms were. When she walked out, I went over to Jake.

          “Is she going to be Ok?” I asked.

          “She will be fine, I think. She was walking around town when the storm hit and just as she heard the loud roar, she looked up and saw Margie Scott running out the door of her house toward her storm shelter. Margie waved her arms for Collette to follow her and the two rode out the storm underground. After it was over, the two went back inside Margie’s and talked the rest of the time until recently. I found her just as she and Margie pulled up in the parking lot of the Sunset. She is pretty torn up about the storm damage. Twice in two weeks she is left with nothing but one change of clothes to wear. She has nothing at all. She needs some ‘TLC’.”

          “Huh?”

          “Tender Loving Care.” Jake explained. I just nodded. Everyone was pretty wiped out by 10:30 and quietly laid down on a cot and went to sleep.

Yspaddaden - Chapter 13

 Ynwfn, Dinas Preservation.

Kady sat by herself, trying to process all that Yspaddaden had told her the night before. He had given her a lot to think about with his words. She sat quietly on the log, contemplating. Did she dare trust him? Were his words true? She still couldn't forget the fact that this was the man who had kidnapped her, not even a month ago, had taken her from her house, from her life, from her whole world. She still felt angry at him for disrupting her way of living. She had been content, happy! Now she was on the run from the government, traveling with a man who may be telling her the truth, but just as well may be lying for his own purpose. And yet she could also not help think of the times he had rescued her from imminent danger. When the soldiers had taken her. When the Dinas had cornered her. Could such a kind hearted man be capable of deception? His actions supported his words, but were both true, or neither? His tale was strange, outlandish. And yet she felt in her heart that it was not a lie.

She picked up a flower that had been growing next to the fallen log. This land was barren. The woods extended a mere hundred feet inside the compound, but after that were fields, stretching all the way to the horizon and beyond. The tall yellow grass rose above her head and it made her nervous walking through where she could not see before her. Yspaddaden's head was just tall enough to peek over the grass, but even he had a hard time navigating through the weeds. She had asked him only last night why they had to travel through the preservation, and he assured her that, while there were still numerous dangers in these parts, the soldiers that chased them would never dare to enter. They would have to travel all the way around the preservation and it would take them weeks longer than Kady and Yspa to reach the other side. She trusted his steel, that much she knew she could count on. She had seen more shows of his bravery and determination that the fear of traveling with him was lessoned greatly. But could she trust his words as much as his skill with a blade?

She rose, deciding to talk to him once more before they had to venture out again. While she was still unsure about his claims, she knew that if she left him now her life would be in danger and she would surely die within the week. So she had to stick with him, at least until they reached the other side of this place.

She backtracked a bit through the tall grass, following the trail that she had made to get to the log. Yspaddaden had reassured her that the Dinas people were nocturnal, and few of them would be out at this time during the day. And those that were would be tired from hunting all night. She walked but a little way to the makeshift campsite Yspa waited for her in. There was no campfire, for the smell of smoke attracted the Dinas more than anything. Yspa had brought a single bag of food, but he had again reassured her that hunting in these parts would be easy. There was much game to be had in the preservation.

Yspa sat on his own log, studying the parchment that he had shown her the night before. His steed stood nearby, munching at the grass complacently. He looked up when she entered the clearing and smiled. She gave a small shy smile back to him, which seemed to reassure him and he stood, stuffing the parchment inside a hidden pocket in his jerkin. She shuffled over to where he was and sat on the log next to where he had been sitting. He waited until she did, then sat as well. So chivalrous! Her emotions ran rampant inside her stomach, the turmoil being almost too much to bear. It took her a second to work up the courage, but she eventually spoke.

"You are a seamster, are you not?"

Yspaddaden looked curious.

"I know how to sew, yes, but that hardly makes me one skilled in the craft. Why do you say that?"

"You weave such fanciful tales, I assumed you were of the trade. Perhaps I was wrong."

Yspaddaden lowered his head in silent laughter. His grin made Kady feel good. He looked up at her and stared deep into her eyes.

"They are not tales if they are truth. I did not lie to you last night Kadyriath. I understand if my story may seem peculiar, but I assure you, it is all true. At least as true as I believe it to be."

Kady smiled, then grew somber. She stood and turned, hiding her frustrations from him. He simply sat patiently, waiting for her to speak. She clenched her fists and tried not to lash out at him. She had to be sure that he spoke the truth! Or at least believed it to be true. She turned back around to him, her anger still there, but her mind open, ready to accept what he told her.

"You reveal to me things that I have no knowledge of, which could be true, but also of which I cannot refute, and so my hands are tied, I am to trust you blindly. How can you expect me to believe things that I cannot find the truth of, except by your own words?"

"Trust me."

"You kidnapped me! Your story explains that very well, but I am still where I started, not knowing whether to trust you or not."

"Trust is always blind. There is nothing more I can do than to reiterate my words. They will not change. Trust is hard, I know. But there are times when one must step into the darkness, hoping that the light is there, just beyond their reach. It is only when one grasps the candle to light it, when solid evidence proves the story, that you can truly believe me. But you still must walk into the darkness. Either that or stay here, without me. Because I go on whether you come or not. I'd like you by my side, but if I can't have you there, I can't help you. I must go on. Will you be with me?"

Kady had already decided to follow him in her heart, but her stomach again got in the way of telling him.

"I'm hungry."

He grinned at her randomness, then walked over to the pack that lay on the ground next to the black unicorn. He picked it up and reached inside, pulling out a large package, revealing it to be a large piece of meat, pre-cooked, salted to preserve it. He turned back to her and presented the meat.

"Then let us eat."

"When AethelKil first learned of the Aszkastone and its possible magical powers, he became obsessed. He researched and learned all he could about it. But sadly, within a month, he had learned all there was. Not much is known for sure about the stone, and he despised the rumours that surrounded it. Not being very patient with such things, he began to travel. He went first to Idris, for that is where the earliest records of the stone lie. Then he went to the Najjans, to the Tabaris. He spent much time in Amah, a city in Tabari. He would be gone months, years. For that time, his country degraded. The men he left in his stead began to conspire against him and spread false truths that he had died in Idris. They began to rule themselves, oppressing the people, slowly so that no one noticed the changes being made. So it was that when he returned, he was furious and executed many of the conspirators. His trips did not seem to satisfy his lust for knowledge of the stone, so he dropped it. He forgot all about the Star of Aszka and focused again on ruling his people. He became a king that everyone loved and enjoyed following.

"Many years passed. The king became old. Not in the physical sense, but mentally, emotionally. His people still loved him, but again conspirators rose up to challenge his rulings and usurp him. He was very quiet about his role, but I believe our new king, AethelBald, to be very instrumental in the plannings of these men. AethelKil held onto his reign for a long time, but he eventually grew too old to deal with all the pressure. I was with him at his deathbed, so I know he was not assassinated as some rumours might say, but the stress is what killed him. He had no will to live, at the end. If he could have picked a successor he would never have chosen such a snake as Bald had become. Sometimes I wish our country did not vote on their new kings. Only sometimes.

"One day, near the end, AethelKil called me into his rooms. He was feeling strong that day and stood by the window, watching the people below him mingle in the street. He welcomed me in and told me the tale of the Aszkastone, and about his youthful obsession. I thought it a curious tale, but was happy to listen. He sounded like he needed to tell it. Then, after the telling was over, he produced a parchment. It was old, at least a thousand years or so. Written on it were three words, one inscribed in Libni, one in Salayka, and one in the human script. The two words in human and elvish had already been translated and read Popor and Prize. The other word had not been. AethelKil told me a new tale, one in which mercenaries from Kil had traveled to Uisnech and stolen the parchment from men of Tabari. The king told me that he had not spoken of the mission to me, for he knew that I would object and demand that he do no such thing. He admitted to doing wrong, but he also told me of how he did not care. He had reached a point in his life where simple thievery did not matter to him. I was saddened, but understood.

"He told me of the possible connection to the Kind, and to the stone. It was intriguing for sure. He charged me with bringing back the stone to him before he died, and I took on the mantle readily. Even though the parchment had been stolen, I understood the possible power and need for the stone. The Minotaurs were simply hoarding it, keeping it to themselves out of selfishness and greed. Maybe they haven't even discovered the full potential of the stone. Maybe it never will be known. But AethelKil's curiosity was overwhelming and infectious and I pledged my lifes quest to the retrieval of the Aszkastone, and to bring it back to him. That was when he presented me with my sword, Dreck. He told me of the rumours about the stone in the pommel, and I was instantly intrigued. But the Star was not the only thing that he charged me with obtaining on this quest."

Kady put aside the bone that had before been full of meat, and stared at him solemnly.

"Me."

Yspaddaden nodded.

"You never knew your father, did you?" Kady shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry that you will never be able to truly know him. He was a fine man. The greatest king that Ynwfn has seen in generations. A mighty warrior. One of my best friends."

Kady smiled thankfully at Yspa, then looked confused.

"But why? Why did he need you to bring me along? As you have admitted, there is no great prophecy tying me to the Aszkastone. I am not important in this."

"You are more important than you realise. But no, AethelBald has pledged his reign to removing everything from the kingdom that Kil started. He knows of you, and your parentage. He would have you killed, even if to simply spit on the grave of a dead man. His spite knows no bounds. But I promised your father that I would take you and bring you with me, protecting you in any way I can. That was my pledge to Kil, and that is what I stand by."

Kady stood, pacing back and forth in the clearing. She had her arms folded and her feet made not a sound on the bent down grass as she walked. Yspaddaden simply sat and stared. He didn't fully understand the feelings that had arisen in him toward this strange girl. She was beautiful, that was sure. No one could deny it. And even now, with dirt on her dress and her feet dark with travel, her hair mussed and her clothes smelling of smoke and warm air, he still felt desire for her. He glanced down at the slightly less dirty circlet around her ankle. The white skin almost shone through the dirt, contrasting against the dark tan that surrounded it, reminding him always of what she was, or at the least used to be. Courtesan of Ynwfn. He had heard tales of Kady even before he ever met her. That she was the most beautiful and experienced of the girls who lived in the compound, deep in the heart of the city. Could she ever be different, could she ever choose freely to settle down with just one man, deciding to be satisfied by only one, for the rest of her life? And if she ever chose so, was it possible that he could perhaps be the lucky one? He tried to rid the crazy thoughts from his mind. For before he contemplated what she might choose, he had to first decide if that was something he wanted. Could he be with a girl such as her, just now becoming a woman, one that had been with too many men to count, one that was far more experienced than he was in the ways of the world? He had traveled much, seen many strange and wondrous things, but nothing compared to the skills she had acquired over the years. Yes, he first had to choose his own path, then, if it could possibly include her, to see if that was something she could live with as well. His thoughts were pulled abruptly from his mind as Kadyriath finally spoke.

"I will choose to trust you." Yspaddaden's heart thrilled and he smiled at her. "But, before you become too joyful, I have a few things to say myself." He nodded and bowed his head to her so that she could speak her peace. "First, I cannot just freely give you my trust. It must be earned. No more lies. No more deceptions. I don't think I could bear it if you were to continue with that. If I am to be a part of your journey, or quest, then I must know everything. All you learn, all the information you gather, share with me. I don't want to be merely the shy female that travels with you, cooking and washing your clothes. Which I'm not going to do anyway." Yspa smiled, and nodded. "I want to be a full partner in this. I know what you know, I go where you go, and if there be any reward in the end, I get equal share.

"Second, you must trust me as well. I know you think me to be nothing more than a lowly vuzhong, worthy of nothing more than satisfying the appetites of men." Yspaddaden tried to interject, tried to explain to her that that was not how he felt toward her, but she stopped him with a raised hand. "I've seen the way you glance at my bare ankle. I do thank you for taking the band from me. The life I led before, I know nothing else, and it's still hard to understand that that is not who I am anymore. But I was never just a courtesan Yspa. I have a mind. I have other skills than what simply lie beneath the hem of my dress. I will not lie to you, and if I say I know something, it's true, and you will trust it. It goes both ways. You can never give trust and not expect to be trusted the same." Yspaddaden nodded gravely, hoping that he could someday explain to her that she was more to him than simply flesh to be desired. But he also knew it was not the time for it at the moment. She still had more to say.

"Third. I wish to know more of my father. My mother never spoke of him. I never knew him. The man I knew as king was simply an unknown face, exacting laws and sitting on his throne behind veils. I wish to learn more about him. I regret that I never knew him, but maybe I can, in part, through your stories."

"I promise to tell you anything you wish to know about him. He was a good friend of mine. I know he would have liked to meet you, had he known about you."

Kady smiled, then sat once more, picking up another piece of meat.

"Good. Then I have only one more request."

She took a bite and Yspaddaden waited patiently for her plea. When she gave none, he realised that she wanted him to ask.

"And what would that be?"

She grinned mischievously. "I want you to buy me some shoes at the next town we reach."

Yspaddaden couldn't help but laugh along with her. Her laughter was infectious and melodious. He gave his word, then they spent the rest of the evening sitting there, on opposite sides of the log, not speaking. Simply being. And enjoying.

Marus

Marus reigned in his steed at the edge of the large fence that blocked his way and looked upward at the barrier. The horse underneath him snorted and he kicked it into submission. Out of all the stunts that Yspaddaden had pulled on him, taking his prized unicorn was among the worst. Marus had raised the beast from a small colt, bringing it up, rearing it. The animal he sat on now was unruly, unresponsive to his commands, unworthy. He seethed inside at the man who most assuredly sat inside the preservation even now, smugly defying him, no doubt zhonging the whore in the grass, simply to spite him. He despised Yspaddaden, and everything that surrounded him. He called to one of his men and ordered that a hole be cut in the side of the fence.

"But sir. The fence is on fire. How are we to get a hole through?"

Marus turned on his subordinate.

"Throw yourself against the fence. Hopefully your rotting corpse will burn a hole big enough for us to travel through. I don't care how you get through, just do it before the sun sets!"

He would have Yspaddaden within the week. Or die trying.