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Archer had heard whisperings of the Ryerans as the battle had ended, and his comrade had been abducted, or more that Issildia had dissapeared, but Archer thought otherwise. He knew that he was on unfriendly terms with these people, as Issildia had been there intercessor. He traced the wall of the room he was in, feeling for familiar trapdoors, only ones of his race, ancient or not, would be able to open. He felt a circular groove, with a slit in it, it looked like a character in his language that meant "Feather" He plucked a feather, wincing from the slight pain, and entered one end of it. A wallshifted noiselessly, showing a hallway barely broad enough for a fullgrown Azerian. He looked behind him, and entered in, closing it as he went through the doorway. He looked around nervously, the dark finally affecting his senses. He whispered a spell long neglected, and a ball of light appeared above his head, illuminating the passage. He reached the other side, and pushed gently, the door swinging open easily, into a circular room, unable to be accessed by any other room. The smell of dust and mold almost knocked Archer off his feet, as he entered, and he covered his face with his collar. The door shut behind him, and he found himself in a small, almost perfectly circular room, with writings in recent Azerian along one half, and old Azerian on the other. He turned, examining the great words on one half he could not understand, and the other, almost like babies' talk to him. He studied it closely, to try and find an exit, but picked up a few words such as were the words of a story. He read the rest of the story quickly, and almost dismissed it as fiction, until he read the location of a "Speaking Sword" He quirked a brow at this, as these artifacts were rare, and for an Azerian to name it as an object, meant it had not been created by them. He took a mental not of where it was supposedly buried, and rose from his crouching position. He looked around the room, and forgot which way he had entered, when he noticed a slot on the ground, as if an instrument were supposed to be there. He quirked a brow again, and the slot looked very familiar, like the crest on his bow. He crouched down again, excited at the thought of being connected to this mysterious place, and drew his bow. The crest was on the handle, and had partially been worn away, but still inserted easily, and perfectly. He turned his bow clockwise, and a staircase formed, wrapping around the "Keyslot" Which was now atop a pillar. He wondered at his species ancient ways, but withdrew his bow, and lowered the staircase. He went down a passageway, long, as if a final escape route from the desert, or from the tower. He soon found himself at a staircase into a ceiling, and again quirked a brow. He noticed a similar "Keyslot" in the wall, and inserted the bow. He twisted, and in the distance he heard the stairs return to normal, and a wall rose behind him. He noticed that the Slot did not seem to turn anymore, and wondered if this was indeed an ancient way for an escape from the tower. The ceiling rose, and flipped open. He was now in the middle of the desert, nothing but dunes around him. He exited quickly, and closed the door. It lowered itself, and as if by magic, it dissapeared beneath the sand instantly. He turned, and looked at the horizon, wondering where he would go next. The moon was full, and was high in the sky, and Archer awed at its beauty for mere seconds before dissapearing in a blur, heading in the opposite direction of the Ryeran camp.

Issildia only looked at him with her normal calm demeanor, "Yes, I know what it is to be betrayed..." she said, her words melancholic in tone.
Her voice then hardened, "A comrade of mine waits little under a mile further into the desert, he needs to know what has happened...you and your friend there, prepare yourselves for travel...I need to insure that Luin has not sent any scouts to pursue us...I do not know why he would want our blood but if it is important to him then Luin will stop at nothing to get it..." Issildia then wheeled the destrier that she rode around, "I will be back in a few minutes, just be ready for travel when I return." she said critically before disappearing back into the night to do a quick sweep of their southern flank, to make sure the Ryera had not sent any to trail them.

Issilda came upon only a single Ryera scout during her sweep of the immediate area and had made the kill swift and silent with a single kunai knife embedded through the soldier's wind pipe. He had not even had the time to scream out for help. Issildia had grimly watched as he suffocated only a matter of yards from her, trying to madly remove the knife from his neck. She had grown stoic in her years in the service of Anier. She had taken the lives of many, and death no longer held any fascination for her. Reluctantly she continued on past her kill to finish the sweep.

She strayed away from the group of Ryera foot soldiers that were moving towards the north, she recognized them as Khastur's allies and preferred to remain hidden from them until they passed though the area.

When they finally moved on she returned to where she as left Khastur, she thought it rather entertaining that he believed her to be like most women of the age, who preferred modesty while taking part in conversation. Issildia had grown up within the Anierian military, being trained and taught in the male dominated realm of war, nothing surprised anyone after having to live with some of the brutes that she had come to know since the age of fifteen when she first entered Anier's ranks as nothing more than a simple foot soldier.

"Only one scout and he has been dealt with..." she said as she rode up behind Khastur. "Where did the other go...the woman?" Issildia asked noticing that Sasarai was gone.

((Oh Streak, We will all be back in the same place soon enough, no worries. Patience is a virtue)))

Issildia only shook her head slightly and smirked, "I grew up a soldier in Anier...nothing surprises me any more." she then muttered something under her breath that sent the derstier into an easy lope to the north.

"But as for Luin" she said; her voice cold and stoic in tone. "I want to know what he is to gain in taking our blood...Luin Ryera always has an personal motive, before we kill the b*****d I want to know what exactly he is after. I plan on traveling to Faltora the capital of Keirdon, there are records there that may lead to an answer..." Issildia voice then grew quiet, "Also I must know if the survivors of Anier made it to Keirdon...I suspect that many were lost on the journey...but perhaps a few of them still live..."

(((Alright then Gourou, )))

"Archer!" Issildia said in surprise, "I'm glad you made it out of the camp without any lasting damage..."
She then narrowed her eyes slightly at the knife in his hand, "Oh put that bloody thing away...not all of the Ryera wish to take our heads...Besides I think Khastur would need a reason to kill either of us...No motive, No need" She said reciting one of the first things she had come to learn after becoming a member of the Anierian assassin's unit.

Issildia only nodded at this before signaling the horse into a canter, "Come...Streak is waiting only a little farther into the desert."

It was less than half an hour later that they finally came up on Streak. Issildia immediately dismounted. "We need to get moving again Streak...The Ryera are no longer our allies...actually it seems that we are now being hunted by them." Issildia said this dryly, she was far to tired mentally and physically to delve further into the matter. "Let's just get out of here, I will explain things as we travel." she said stoically.