Earthfire (Let's write some new stuff!)

[charbookwyrm]

So, my old, mini summary below sums up a tiny bit of this novel-in-progress. It'd be a little more accurate these days to describe it as an old friend, who I love dearly despite its substantial flaws. (I'm rather glad not much of it has been posted yet, as some stuf in later chapters now chills me to the bone. This is being fixed.)
As for what it's about...well... There's an evil maniac trying to take over the world. A centuries-hidden school of magic is trying to stop him, and other enemies besides. There's a particuarly nasty sorcerer on the loose, and a rogue who has the misfortune to run into him. A young king is held as a puppet by his advisors. Scarily powerful individuals are involved in a plot that runs intwined and above all of this.
And in the middle of it all, there are two friends, who are generally good people, and try their best to do the right thing. They also happen to be powerful mages, and kick a** with the right weapon to hand.
Oh, and as with any good story, friendship and love play their part.
Please read, please critique, and most of all, please enjoy.

Go straight to the new Chapter One here!
And, just to make things tidy:
Chapter Two
Chapter Three (part one)

Short stories:
Dragonflies

********

This is my fantasy novel, which I've been working on for over four years now. Hope that whoever reads this likes it, though any criticism is, of course, welcome.
Oh, and please don't be scared by the mega bodies of text - I'd double space between the lines, but that would take so unbelievably long, and also make the posts a ridiculous length.


Chapter 1:

The house was quiet. Not silent, just quiet. Faint noises drifted from the centre of the village; laughter from the tavern and chatter from the people who emerged in small groups. Down the street, a baby cried and mundane talk from other houses wafted away on the night air. And then there were the night sounds few heard and fewer cared about; the hooting of an owl, then the squeak of some nocturnal rodent. The rustle of a breeze disturbed the sleep of the fresh spring leaves, causing a woman leaving the warmth of the tavern to wrap her shawl round her that bit tighter.
But from one house, there came no noise. The flicker of a sole candle on a table by the sole window was barely enough to reveal the silhouette of a girl, waiting. Without looking closely nobody would notice her, but that was the point. If she wasn’t noticed then she couldn’t be talked to, and the less people talked to her, the better. People only talked to her to goad her.
Drunken shouting ripped through the quiet, piercing her head like a knife. She moved, knowing who was shouting. It was what she was waiting for. As she left the house, not bothering to shut the door, a man staggered out of the tavern. Average height, average weight, the only thing that was not average about him was the amount of ale he drank. She knew this better than anyone (except perhaps the tavern’s owner, who made much of his profit from the money spilling from this man’s hands). Two men followed him out, quickly followed by the remainder of the tavern’s customers poking their heads out of windows or gathering in the doorway.
“Go on Inith, you can take him,” one called.
“And iif hee do I’ll rip ’is throat out,” the staggering man yelled in a drunken slur, shaking his fist.
The second of the men who had followed him out pushed lightly on the drunken man’s chest, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Seeing this, the girl groaned, and ran towards them, holding up the long skirt that village tradition required. As she reached them one of the men laughed, shouting:
“Oh look, Little Miss Sarri has arrived to save the day. Again!” Their audience cackled and the fallen man looked round from where he was lying.
“Why is it she always comes and takes poor Kif away when all he wants to do is play?” his companion asked, folding his arms in mock exasperation. More laughter.
“And why is it that when there’s trouble you’re always there, Rom Judsuril?” She snapped back, helping her father up.
“Who ‘sat?” he murmured.
“It’s me father, it’s Sarri.”
“Aww, doesn’t he know who she is?” jeered one of the women, who was almost falling out of a window in an effort to get the best view.
“Maybe he hit his poor ickle head,” suggested Rom with an innocent air. “I can’t help but admire him,” he added, watching Kif being hauled to his feet. “So manly.” That had everyone in fits of hysteria, including the people who had just appeared on their doorsteps, spilling little pools of light onto the street.
Making sure her father could stand, Sarri advanced on the group, light from the doorway falling onto her brown skin – another thing they tormented her about.
“You think this is funny, do you?” Her voice was laced with pent-up anger.
“No, of course not,” sniggered Rom.
Sarri’s fists clenched. Her palms were getting hot, and she knew what that meant. Sarri stood trembling as the laugher started again, then spat back: “You’re pathetic!”
Not waiting for a retort she turned on her heels and stalked to her father.
“Who ‘sat?”
Sighing, she replied “It’s Sarri, Father, it’s your daughter.”
“Daughter?”
“Yes.”
“But I don’ have a-a daughter.” He pushed her away like she was a stranger. Sarri stood in silence, feeling her palms getting hotter again, not knowing what to do.
Her father’s drunken rant continued: “I ‘ave a wife, a lovely wife…but I don’…I don’ ‘ave a daughter.” He looked round, puzzled. “Wh…where’s my wife? Where’s my Rosenna?”
The villagers stood in shocked silence. Kif had never before been so inebriated that he could not recognise his own kin; that he forgot his wife’s death, so many years before. Nobody knew whether to jeer or comfort the girl. Rom seemed to be about to choose the former, but one of his companions nudged him warningly.
Sarri just stood there, trembling more violently than before.
“Father,” she pleaded.
A tear rolled down her cheek. One of the kinder villagers - a plump old woman, named Mrs Hudesfea - started towards her, then backed away gasping. The fists Sarri had held so tightly had loosened; releasing the heat she had desperately tried to keep hidden. Hot, red flames danced round her hands, like something from a bard’s legend.
Seeing the terrified looks in the villager’s faces, Sarri’s despair turned to horror. She lifted her hands so she could see them. The flames were so bright that most would have flinched, but not her. Though the flames lit up the sadness on her face for all to see, and strands of her long hair were nearly touching them, she didn’t move her hands away.
“Go,” she whispered softly to the flames. And they vanished.
“You go!” roared her father suddenly, thinking the barely audible words were meant for him.
“Don’t anger her,” a voice hissed.
Contrary to their fears, Sarri showed no signs of anger. Instead, she continued to stand, silent as a statue, staring at her father. She had looked after Kif for years, since the villagers had decided that he wasn’t worth their effort. She had worked in the fields for hours, without stopping, barely earning enough to buy food, let alone fund his copious drinking. She had taken the swearing, the beatings, the blame for her mother’s death, yet still looked after her father when he returned home late at night, covered in vomit and weeping for his Rosenna.
It was her duty to love and care for her father, so she had been repeatedly told, though the village did not appear to have any duty towards the man who had dared to love a foreign woman, and produced a child with skin as brown as her dead mother.
No, the village refused to have any duty towards Sarri. When she was reduced to stealing food, they did not excuse her, as they did their children, but whipped the backs of her legs, as they would an adult. When she was younger, they refused to let their children play with her, the dark-skinned drunkard’s daughter. And now she was nearing adulthood, they refused to protect Sarri from the men who grabbed her waist and breasts and other places, but complained of her ‘wild ways’ when she proved able to defend herself.
For the briefest moment, Sarri wondered if maybe, just maybe, her powers would earn respect, even kindness from the villagers. Then she looked at Rom.
Rom Judsuril, who had once played chase with her in the back streets, but now was her most frequent abuser, and chased her for far more sinister reasons. The hate in his eyes was base and terrifying, fuelled by unexplainable prejudice.
There was nothing here except her drunkard father, and hatred. Maybe the villagers would try to drown her, as they drowned wicked sorcerers in the towns. She had to go, had to get away.
So Sarri turned away from them, and ran. There was nothing else to do now, nothing except getting away. For years she had prayed for escape, held back by a coerced sense of duty, but now…It was better this way. Better to run. And keep running.

When Sarri finally stopped, she was close to a stream, hidden deep in the forest not far from her village. She did not know how long she had been running; only that walking here normally took her half an hour. But she needed to speak to someone.
Closing her eyes she breathed deeply, settling into the sleep-like trance that helped her to concentrate. Within seconds, she was able to reach out a tendril of her consciousness to the strange realm she visited whenever she needed a friend.
She felt herself drop deep into the beautiful entwined ropes of colour that were filled with beings completely different to humans.
It was with these strange presences that she had her friends.
“Eath,” She called. “Are you there?”
“Of course I’m there. I’m never anywhere but there,” came the gentle reply.
Out of the colours whirling before Sarri’s eyes, a shape formed. It was human in form, but its body kept changing, melting away slightly in one place, after which a small bulge would emerge in another, to melt away as soon as it had appeared. If you looked hard (which it was impolite to do) you could see the shape of a tree or an animal in these changing bulges. The ‘elemental’ was neither male nor female but the spirit of the earth it protected. The small bumps represented every living thing on its area of land, no matter how insignificant. The elemental cared equally for them all.
“What is wrong, child?” it asked in a motherly tone.
“The same thing as always,” was the bitter answer. “Just a million times worse.”
“I see.” The earth elemental known to Sarri as Eath made a sound like wind rushing through trees, reminiscent of a sigh. “Has your father caused more trouble for you?”
“Does he do anything else?” Sarri groaned, forcing back sobs. “He was drunk again and upset Rom. I tried to…to sort him out, and…and…”
Eath seemed to consider this, giving Sarri a chance to fight the tears back again.
“And?”
“I got angry.”
“Even grown humans get angry. You have only fourteen years –”
“You don’t understand,” Sarri nearly screamed. “I lost control.” Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.
“You mean you lost control of your powers.”
Sarri turned her head away, not wanting Eath to see the tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of! Eath, I lost control of the one thing I’m proud of.”
“I meant you should not be ashamed of crying. I may not be an expert on human nature, but I know that it is what you call ‘natural’ to cry when events overcome you.”
Sarri sniffed. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath, calming herself. “That’s not everything though. They were so…they looked so horrified, like they wanted to kill me. And Father…he didn’t even remember me.”
Ripples shivered through the elemental, and it made a noise like a thousand different creatures growling.
“I had to leave, Eath; I didn’t know what else to do.”
The elemental frowned. “You cannot leave, not yet.”
“Well, what do you suggest?!”
The elemental seemed on the verge of replying, but paused. The small bumps on the elemental’s ‘skin’ briefly froze, giving the impression that Eath had stiffened. The elemental looked beyond Sarri, into (the girl knew) its territory in the human world.
“What is it?” Sarri asked.
“A human I do not recognise is approaching you. If you do not wish to be found talking to me, you may want to return to your body.”

By the time Eath had finished speaking, Sarri was already concentrating on her body. She had no idea what happened if something injured your body when your consciousness left it, and didn’t want to find out.
Slowly, Sarri felt herself slip back into her body, as an otter slips into water. Slowly, so as not to make noise, she stood, ready to run if needs be. Even on the southernmost borders of Hyn there was risk of attack.
Sarri could never take part in any of the villagers’ conversations, but she did listen to them. Even though she worked close by them in the wheat fields and market they hardly noticed her, thanks to her almost constant silence. So she knew as well as any about the constant attacks in the north, and the raiding parties that grew ever closer to the sleepy village. Just thinking about the tales of destruction and slaughter told by merchant parties made a shiver go down her spine. A small crunch behind her brought Sarri back to the real world with an unpleasant jolt. Sick with dread, she turned to face the sound.
A long minute passed, and another.
“Who is it?” a man’s voice called, just as she thought she could bear it no longer.
“That depends on who wants to know,” she replied, pleased that she’d managed to keep the tremor out of her voice.
Soft laughter.
“You are wise to be cautious; there are dangers around these parts.” The man paused, as if waiting for an answer. Sarri noticed he spoke Hyn (her language) with a foreign accent. When none came, he said;
“I’d be obliged if you’d drop your weapons.”
“How can I drop weapons I don’t have?” Sarri replied, and then silently cursed herself for giving away this information.
But instead of taking advantage of this, the man simply laughed again.
“Why is it I get the feeling you’re regretting saying that?”
“That’s one of those questions adults ask without really wanting an answer,” Sarri said, then groaned. Why did she never listen when Eath told her to stop saying the first thing that came into her head? It only happened when she was nervous or angry, but that was the worst time to ‘lose control of your tongue’.
“Yes, it is,” commented the man in a thoughtful manner. In a brisker tone, he continued, “You shouldn’t be out here alone. If you like, I’ll escort you back home.”
“I’d prefer to see who I’m talking to first.” Sarri said, trying to avoid admitting that nobody cared where she was, and that she could not return ‘home’.
“Meaning that you want to make sure I’m not one of the dangers.” He sounded slightly amused.
“Like you said, I shouldn’t be out here alone.” Sarri looked behind her for foliage, then softly backed away. She did not want to give another man the chance to grab her.
“No. You shouldn’t.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not then.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, sharply. A small scrape came from his direction, like metal against leather.
‘Oh Gods!’ she thought. ‘This keeps getting worse.’
“Put your sword away,” she told him hastily. “All I meant was that you’re only a few feet away so I’m not entirely alone.”
He hesitated, but another scrape signalled that his weapon was back in its holder.
“You have sharp ears.” Then, with a note of exasperation, he added, “You’re too good at distracting people; you should be in my line of work.”
Despite her wish to get away, Sarri was intrigued. “What is your line of work?”
“That isn’t for you to know.” An edge appeared in his voice, as if he’d nearly given away dangerous information.
Deciding to tread carefully, Sarri shrugged. “Fair enough.” For some reason, she moved no further.
A silence followed, only broken by the man saying: “You should be at home. It is too dangerous for a young girl to be on her own! Especially tonight.”
“I’m not that young, I’ve been fourteen for seven months,” Sarri snapped. “And why should tonight be any different to any other night? What’s going on?”

The man groaned in frustration. Why him? What was her problem with going home? Unless...
“Do you have a home?” he asked, as gently as he could.
Silence.
“Do you?”
“Why should you care?”
“Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? All I want is to get you to a safe place. There are people somewhere nearby that wouldn’t flinch at killing you.”
“I…I did have a home, but I can’t go back. Not now.”
In ordinary circumstances he would have assumed that the girl had been arguing with her parents. But an almost unnoticeable quiver in her voice aroused his interest.
“Why can’t you go back?”
“They’re afraid of me,” she whispered.
“Why would they be afraid of you?” he asked, amazed.
“It doesn’t matter!”
The girl’s sharp reply only made him more curious. But before he could ponder it any more, a sharp smell hit him.

The man swore.
Startled, Sarri asked; “What’s wrong?”
“It’s begun early.” He thought for a second. “Follow me. Be as quiet as you can.”
At that moment she smelt something sharp and unnatural.
“Smoke,” she whispered.
Closing her eyes she felt for the fire with her mind.
“Come on,” she heard the man hiss, as if from a long way away.
As she found the flames, images flashed through her mind. Heat. Light. Hunger. Fire elementals were always hungry. She concentrated harder. Figures, some running. Tall person in black. Hand on sword. A woman clutching a child; cowering from the man. “Leave her alone! Please!” The sword swung down towards her…
Someone was screaming. Opening her eyes, Sarri realised the screams were hers. Someone was shaking her. It was the man.
“Fire,” she croaked.
“What?”
“It’s eating everything.” Sarri realised she was trembling.
“What is?” His voice was gentle, but his hands gripped tighter on her shoulders.
“The fire!” Sarri started shaking anew. “And there are people. They have swords, and black cloaks. They’re killing her!”
He swore again.
Sarri didn’t hear him. Still overwhelmed by the dreadful memory of what she had witnessed, she stood, shaking the man off.
“You should sit down,” he told her.
“Just now you wanted me to come with you,” Sarri snapped. “Make up your mind!”
Then she ran. Back to the place she’d deserted less than an hour ago, fear giving her speed. But as she reached the village, she slowed, and fell to her knees in despair.
Fire was everywhere. Flames burst through every roof, consuming wooden walls like a hawk devours its prey. As she watched, the house nearest to her gave up in its bid for survival, and caved in. The crunch and creak as it fell was momentarily louder than the fearsome roar of the ravenous flames. But louder than anything else were the screams. Blood curdling, spine chilling screams. Silhouetted by the flames, Sarri saw people running, screaming, trying to escape their deaths. None managed more than a few desperate steps before the great fire consumed them.
“No!” She screamed, filling with rage. The people in that village may have tormented her for as long as she could remember, but letting them die like caged animals went against something deep within her.
Sarri lifted her hands, palms open. They were hot, but she forced them to cool. Picturing the destructive flames sinking, she started to slowly close her hands.
“Go!” The same word that had banished the flames before. Nothing happened.
Closing her eyes, Sarri concentrated hard, harder than ever before on the writhing mass of fire. Still slowly closing her hands she shouted the word again.
“Go! Go!”
Opening her eyes a crack, she saw that nearest flames were shrinking. Sarri shouted again and again, until she was screaming the word. She walked closer.

Without Sarri noticing a figure slipped out of the shadow of the forest, sword drawn. Now Fen knew where he’d seen people act like her before – when people first arrived at Paco Magi they were usually secretive about their past lives. He looked towards the girl and raised an eyebrow. Her powers were the most advanced that he had seen in a person her age. Considering that she probably had no training…But then, he had done some amazing things as a boy; he should be the last person to say something was impossible.
Another figure caught Fen’s attention. It was tall, and wearing the black cloak of the Raiders. It could only be Ha’dar, the group’s leader. Realising where Ha’dar was headed, he sighed; something else to sort out.

Sarri could feel her energy slipping away, but didn’t dare stop until the fire was gone. Finally, as she slowly closed her hands, the house stopped burning. Keeping her hands closed, Sarri turned her energy to the next house. Focusing her powers on it, she started the slow process of putting out the fire. Her head hurt, as though she had been hit repeatedly with a heavy object. Despite this, Sarri was concentrating so hard that nothing but the flames existed for her until a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to turn and ripping her mind away from the fire.
“What’s this?” a cold voice mocked. “Have my men missed a little stray?”
The hand on her shoulder pulled back her long hair, forcing her head back. Sarri let out a short, terrified scream.
“A pity to kill you; almost.”
Sarri stared up into his face, trying to make out some facial features from underneath the black hood of his cloak.
Seeing her almost unflinching gaze, the man laughed. A loud, mocking, cold laugh. The unmistakeable sound of a sword being drawn made her flinch, then cool metal pressed hard against her throat. He laughed louder.
“Stop right there, Ha’dar.”
Sarri looked round as she recognised the voice.
“Help!” she screamed, not bothering to try and keep the terror out of her voice.
Ha’dar laughed. “What makes you think he’s here to help you?”
The man from the woods sighed. “I found her in the woods, and convinced the little fool I was trying to protect her.”
Sarri turned cold. She should not have trusted him, not even for a second. What had she been thinking?
“And she fell for it, Lieutenant Kjinli, sir?”
“Dolt!” was the snarled reply. “Did you listen to a word I said? If you had, you would have noticed that I used the word ‘convinced’.” Kjinli paused. “Maybe your ears are growing useless. I can’t help but wonder if you need them.”
“I do, sir.” There was a definite tremble in Ha’dar’s voice.
“Do not answer back! Now, to business. How many were killed, escaped, and what goods did you find?”
“One hundred and fifty nine killed, sir. None escaped my men.”
“Apart from this girl,” he interrupted.
“Apologies, sir. I will personally make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“Good. On the matter of the girl, hand her over.” Lieutenant Kjinli smiled cruelly. “The night has been disappointing; I need some fun.”
Sarri looked frantically between the two. Perhaps this was her chance to get away. But before she could think of even the most ill-judged, ridiculous of ideas, the man drew his sword, roughly grasped Sarri, and pulled her towards him.
‘Oh no, it’s happening, it’s going to happen this time!’ Sarri thought. She felt faint.
“Very eager for your…fun, sir.” Ha’dar commented.
Kjinli looked into his hooded face. “You forget your place, Captain Ha’dar,” he drawled, softly and dangerously.
Ha’dar stammered an apology as the Lieutenant positioned his sword against Sarri’s throat. She struggled weakly, whimpering, but he just held her more firmly. Realising her attempts were useless, Sarri stopped, hoping she would get chance to kick him in the crotch before it happened.
“There is just one thing, Ha’dar.” The tone of her captor had changed completely, losing that horrible, sneering quality.
“Yes, sir?”
“Lieutenant Kjinli has been dead for six months.”
With those words he pushed the Sarri down, spun round, and pierced Ha’dar’s stomach in one quick, fluid movement.
Looking at the sword protruding from his stomach, Ha’dar breathed, “But how?”
In answer, the man withdrew his sword, and muttered a few words. The blood that dripped over the hilt and over his hand vanished. Sarri, in a rather surreal fashion, now noticed curved runes engraved down the centre of the blade. Captain Ha’dar fell to his knees, clasping his hands over his stomach in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Gasping, he collapsed, and lay still.
Sarri stared at the body. “Is he…dead?” she squeaked.
The man turned. “Yes,” he replied gently. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. I had to stay in character, or he would have killed you.”
Not knowing how to respond, Sarri kept quiet. The man said something under his breath and made an odd gesture.
His face seemed to flicker; then it changed. Instead of a middle-aged, lined face, it became a young one. His hair went from a greying blond to dark brown, almost as dark as Sarri’s own hair. Pasty skin gained a tan, becoming almost olive in tone. In the light of the fire that was once her village, she could even see his eyes alter. They rapidly changed from dull green to a piercing blue, bright as the sky on a clear day.
He noticed her wide eyed stare, and laughed, softly.
“I was wearing a Glamour,” he explained. “It changes your appearance completely, when the spell is done properly.”
Though he seemed to think this explained everything, it didn’t help Sarri much.
“Oh,” she said.
An awkward silence followed.
“Who are you?” she asked eventually.
“My name is Fen Annasfen. Yours?”
“Sarri. Sarri Kifrosena.”
Another awkward silence. Sarri glanced over at Ha’dar’s body, and quickly looked away as her stomach turned. Casting about for something else to think about, she caught sight of her village. Wiping away tears she had not even noticed before, she stretched out trembling palms.
“It’s too late. You can’t do anything now,” Fen told her. When she ignored him, he added, more urgently, “You really shouldn’t do that.”
Calling on her magic, she closed her palms. Hot, burning pain shot through her body, making her gasp. It was the last thing she knew…

Seeing Sarri collapse, Fen ran the few steps to her, though he knew she wasn’t in any danger. He had seen this happen before (and done it himself as many times). She’d used up too much of her power, and her body was reacting badly to it.
“I told you so,” he muttered.
Sighing, he turned to the fire ravaged village and placed a containment spell round it. The air sparkled every time a flame came too close, pushing it back.
Very gently, he picked the girl up. The light of the flames danced across her brown skin, and highlighted dark hair. Fen realised she was tall for her age.
“Let’s get you somewhere safe,” he said to the unconscious girl in his arms. “I left my pack in the forest, so we’ll go there. Ok, Sarri.”
Slowly, he trudged off towards the forest, muttering “Looks like I’ll be taking first watch tonight.”  

[charbookwyrm]

*Happiness*

Ok, chapter two (finally):


Swords and fire haunted Sarri’s dreams. When she finally awoke, it was to find herself in the forest. Birds sang from their hiding places, the gentle breeze was still blowing from the south; not the slightest sign of the night’s slaughter
As she remembered, Sarri felt tears trickling down her cheeks. Why had it happened? She had been far from happy in her village, but surely no one deserved this. How could an entire village be massacred? Men, women, children; people she had known her entire life. They couldn’t all be gone.
Slowly, Sarri pulled aside the blanket. ‘Blanket?’ she thought. Where on Kenah had that come from? An image leapt into her head of a tall young man. He must have brought her here and put the blanket over her. What had he said his name was? Fin? Fem? Not quite right, but whoever he was, he didn’t seem to be around. Sarri wasn’t sure if she wanted to be alone.
“Hello?” she called, nervously.
The only answer was a soft whinny behind her. Looking round she realised she was in the company of a large, chestnut brown horse. Sarri smiled; she liked horses. Two large travelling packs sat by its hooves. The man had not left. At least she was not alone – even if she was in the company of a strange man who seemed to change his appearance as he pleased.
Thoughtfully, Sarri folded her blanket into a neat square. She had always liked to be tidy, though nobody had ever cared. When finished, she stood, and then nearly fell over. Sarri scowled. This always happened when she used too much of her powers. She would feel ill and off-balance for days now.
“So you’ve finally woken up,” said a voice from behind her.
She whirled round, then clutched her head in pain.
The man laughed, softly. Though he was fully clothed, his hair, which was just long enough to be neatly tied back, was wet. He must have been bathing at the stream when Sarri woke up. She blushed slightly at the thought.
‘Fen,’ she thought suddenly. ‘His name is Fen.’
“Weren’t you taught not to creep up on people,” she growled.
“Yes, but I never really listened.”
“Obviously,” she muttered.
“You should sit down,” Fen said, ignoring her. “That headache will last for days if you don’t rest.”
“How would you know? And how did you know I had a headache?”
“Because when you use a vast quantity of your powers in one go, it is common to pass out, and then have a headache. Does that answer your questions?”
She nodded, and then groaned as she did so.
“I’d also advise you not to move your head too much, it just makes it worse.”
The look Sarri gave him was pure evil.
Fen held up his hands in mock surrender. “Forget I said anything”
“I will,” Sarri replied, sitting down. Despite her headache, his cheerful attitude was infectious; it was almost comforting to be around him.
The horse whickered. Fen went over to him, stroking his mane fondly. “Sarri, meet Moonbeam. Moonbeam, meet Sarri.”
The horse nodded, making a small smile creep to Sarri’s lips. “Hello Moonbeam.” Turning to Fen, she added, “I think I’d better go back to sleep” and leant against a tree, closing her aching eyes.
A while later she heard him rummaging around in his travelling packs.
“What are you looking for?”, she asked, opening her eyes.
Fen turned round. “Saucepan, spoons, that sort of thing. It’s gone midday so I thought I’d better make us something to eat.”
At the thought of food Sarri’s stomach did a somersault. Fen correctly interpreted the look on her face, laughed, and added: “If you feel like eating, that is.”
“My headache’s too bad; I think I’d be sick if I ate.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough.”
Fen gestured at the ground. A small fire sprang up.
Sarri gaped at him, unable to believe what she was seeing.
“How…how did…how did you do that?” she gasped, eyes wide.
He laughed again. “The same way you do.”

She gaped at him. “You mean you’re a sorcerer, or something?”
“Mage,” he corrected. “Sorcerers deal in Aldes-fle, I don’t touch the stuff. Seeing Sarri frown, Fen quickly explained “Aldes-fle means black magic.”
“Are you a mind reader as well as a mage?”
“I wish.”
Everything was as Fen had expected. Sarri was amazed, and slightly confused. But her next question surprised him.
“Why did you talk in a different language?”
“Huh?”
“Aldest-fle, or whatever it is.”
This threw him. How many people asked about language before anything else? He smiled slightly, remembering it was one of the first questions he’d asked.
“Words associated with magic are often spoken in the Old Language, that’s the language I spoke in. Originally all people spoke in the Old Language, but after…”

Around half an hour later Fen looked up from the soup he’d been preparing (which was starting to burn) and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I tend to go on a bit at times. If it happens again tell me to shut up.”
“Gladly,” Sarri retorted, smiling to show she was joking.
“Anyway, I think, no, I know you have the ability to become a very powerful Magi-Ele.”
“Powerful? Me?” Sarri squeaked. “But I can’t even control my hands.”
“Your hands?”
“When I…when I get angry or embarrassed my hands go all hot. If I can’t control them, fire goes up my arms. My village saw it happen, that’s why I had to leave…”
Sarri trailed off. She had not meant to say this much.
“That sounds like Relan when she first arrived at Paco Magi,” Fen said thoughtfully. “Relan is a good friend of mine, and a powerful Magi-Ele. When she first arrived at Paco Magi she had that problem; she still loses control sometimes.”
Sarri frowned. It hadn’t occurred to her that even powerful mages could lose control of their powers.
“But I’m just the drunkard’s daughter,” she whispered. “How could I be a mage?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “But you have a talent that shouldn’t go to waste. I saw you extinguish flames that many more experienced mages would have trouble dealing with alone. In my mind it can only mean one thing.”
Sarri studied his sharp face carefully. It looked completely serious; even his blue eyes had turned grave and thoughtful.
Fen sprinkled some herbs into the now boiling pot of soup. “I was wondering…no never mind. You must have friends or family somewhere…”
Sarri snorted. “My mother died when I was born. All I know is she was from Tiras. I don’t have any other family.”

It was what Sarri did not tell him that said the most. Fen could picture her childhood easily: friendless, no family, apart from her drunken father. And the rueful way she’d rubbed at her skin when she said her mother was Tiran spoke fathoms about the villagers’ attitude to her. The typical Hynesse person was pale skinned, blond and blue eyed. Sarri would not have been able to forget that she was different to them in every way possible.
“It must have been hard,” he murmured.
Sarri sniffed, and blinked hard. “You have no idea,” her voice nearly inaudible.
Fen extinguished the fire with a small concentration of power.
Sarri sighed. “I wish I could do that.”
“Do what?” Fen was genuinely puzzled.
“Do what,” she repeated disbelievingly. “You just put out that fire without blinking!”
He shrugged “I am quite powerful. I’ve been a black robe since I was fifteen.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed?”
“Slightly. Actually, a lot. The colour of a mage’s robe shows how powerful he or she is.” He grinned. “Black robe is the highest you can go; and I’m the youngest living. Not that I boast about it. Well, not often anyway.”

Sarri laughed. It felt strange, she had barely laughed all her life, let alone with some foreign man she scarcely knew. She did not even know what he was doing here, in Hyn. It seemed that he was following those men, but why?
When she asked, he looked away furtively. “I can’t say.”
“Why are you being so secretive? You can’t be a spy or anything like that; you don’t look older than twenty.”
“You’re right, I’m nineteen.”
Sarri looked at him carefully. “You mean…?”
He laughed.
“Yes, I am a spy. I don’t work for your government though. I actually work for” – he laughed – “well, Paco Magi is technically a school, and officially it doesn’t even exist. Suffice to say the situation is complex. Happy?”
Sarri nodded, wincing.
“Good. Now come here.”
“Why?” she asked, suspiciously.
“Because I’m going to make your headache better.”
Sarri slowly got up, and walked over to him. She grabbed a tree branch for support, and walked the few shaky steps to him. He got up, just in time to catch her as she fell.
‘He’s huge,’ Sarri thought as he helped her to sit. Her head barely reached his shoulders.
“Try to relax, it’s much easier if you do,” he told her, putting a hand each side of her head.
Breathing deeply, Sarri tried to do as he said. It was hard, as she felt very conscious of the light pressure on either side of her head. Men who came this close to her rarely had good intentions.
A strange tingling sensation spread in threads from his fingers all round her thumping head, cooling her down. The feeling then changed, and Sarri felt like huge amounts of energy were flooding back into her body.

Fen took his hands away. The dark blue fire of his magic that had surrounded Sarri’s head disappeared.
“Feel any better?” he asked, standing away from her.
“Yes. Thank you.” She hesitated, and then asked: “Could I do that one day?” She sounded hopeful, almost afraid of the idea that she might be able to heal.
“No,” Fen told her, gently. Seeing the disappointment in her face he quickly explained, “You have a different type of magic, one of the Netae-Fle, or Natural Magics. It’s much older than the common types of Human Magic. You don’t have to use spells, just concentration of the mind.”
“You don’t either,” Sarri pointed out.
“Some people need to use gestures and spells. I usually don’t .”
Sarri rolled her eyes, but said nothing.
Fen continued, “Of the Netae-Fle, I think you have the skills of a Magi-Ele.”
“You keep using that word, what does it mean?”
“Roughly translated it means Element Mage. Properly translated it means Mage of the Elements. Well, actually, there is some debate about the...”
“Fen!” Sarri interrupted.
“What?”
“Shut up!”
“I asked for that didn’t I,” he groaned, half laughing at the same time.
Sarri had told him she had nobody to go to. Maybe he should ask her. It would be breaking about fifty of Paco Magi’s rules, but he didn’t have many qualms about breaking rules…
She grinned at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Fen replied, suddenly very interested in pouring the partly burnt soup into his bowl. “Now, as I was saying, Element Mages use one of the two types of Natural Magic - the other being Animal Magic. But because they’re dealing in Natural Magic they can’t use any type of Human Magic, like healing or spell casting. Or Dream Magic for that matter,” he added, almost as an after thought.
“Dream Magic?” Sarri asked.
“The magic that seers use; the genuine ones anyway.”
“Oh. I know what you mean now,” she said, completely truthfully.
“I don’t doubt it, you seem like a very knowing sort of person,” he teased.
Sarri threw a rock at him for that. It stopped in mid-air, and fell to the ground.
“Show-off,” she muttered.
“Not really. You could do it easily with training,” he told her. “The huge advantage people like you and Magi-Anli, sorry, Animal Mages, have is that you spend hardly any energy doing things that even I would find tiring.”
“What like?” Sarri found it hard to believe that Fen found any magic difficult.
“With proper training, you could talk to elementals, whereas I couldn’t if my life depended on it. What’s so funny?”
When Fen had mentioned talking to elementals, Sarri had started to laugh. The idea of not talking to elementals was totally absurd to her. Fen’s bemused look only made her laugh more, but eventually she managed to explain: “I’ve been talking to Eath, the earth elemental that sort of lives here, since I was four!”
Fen shook his head. “I should’ve known, after seeing you handle that fire.”
With an unpleasant jolt, Sarri realised she had briefly forgotten about the fate of her village
“What happened to it?” she hesitantly asked.
“I placed a containment spell round it,” he answered, quietly. “The fire burnt out early this morning.”
Sarri turned away, her new energy deserting her. “What if someone was in there?”
“Sarri,” Fen paused, then continued, “You heard the Raiders talking. Do you think they left anyone? Do you think I would have left anyone to die like that?”
With that, the gravity of the situation finally hit Sarri.
“It’s stupid really,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks, making sad, silent streams. “I used to wish they were dead sometimes, but now…Oh gods.”

Fen watched as silent sobs racked her body. Every few minutes Sarri would mutter something unintelligible. Finally she calmed down, and lay curled up on the ground. Her breathing deepened, so he assumed she was sleeping. Gently, he placed a blanket over her, and started to eat his soup, first picking out the burnt bits.
“They’re gone, Eath.”
Fen looked towards Sarri. Eath – the elemental Sarri mentioned? How had Sarri managed to get to their realm so quickly?
“I know, I know…He seems nice? What do you mean by that?” A pause. Sarri was sounding puzzled now, with only a hint of despair left in her voice. “Eath, if you don’t tell me what that’s supposed to mean… That isn’t very helpful. Eath!”
Fen turned away – private conversations, even when technically taking place in another realm of existence, were private. He had, however, become firm in his decision to look after Sarri.
‘She is not going to be happy,’ he thought, grimacing at the thought of what Mage Alsi, second in command at Paco Magi, was going to say. Putting men and women together in a Master and Apprentice partnership was an old taboo, only broken in the most extreme circumstances.
“You never told me you could read minds!” Sarri yelled, sounding outraged.
Fen started at this. He knew that elementals had a certain amount of control over animals in their territory, and could sense people, but had never heard of one reading minds before.
“Fine,” Sarri said. “I’m going.”
Fen couldn’t help but smile, she sounded very annoyed and completely distracted from the fate of her village. Which was probably what the elemental had intended.

Colours flashed past Sarri as she left Eath. She was determined to find out what the elemental had meant by asking if she ‘would go’.
“What did Eath mean?” she asked Fen as soon as she saw her surroundings clearly.
“What by?” he asked, not looking as surprised as she’d expected.
“I was talking out loud, wasn’t I?” she sighed. “Eath is always on about it to me.”
“If you become my apprentice I could help you with that,” Fen casually told her.
Sarri sat up sharply, pushing off the blanket.
“Did you just say what I think you said?” she asked, voice shaking.
“Yes.” Fen laughed, presumably at the astonishment on her face.
Sarri had never believed that she could become anything special. This was her chance to prove herself wrong. Then she remembered something that made her heart sink.
“What about your job?”
Fen reached up his sleeve and pulled out something in a leather sheath. He threw it to her, saying “This should help out.”
She did not need to draw the dagger’s blade to know what it was.
“I can teach you how to use a sword and bow too,” Fen told her. “That should keep you safe along with your magic.”
Sarri did not look at him, instead examining the dagger. Running her fingers along the top of the blade, she saw some engraved symbols, identical to those on Fen’s sword. She shivered, remembering the feel of metal against her skin. As the memory returned, so did her caution.
“You’ll need to tell me everything,” she told him, half expecting a refusal.
Fen, in a manner that continually contradicted most things she had come to expect of people, nodded. “What do you want to know?”
“Where do you come from? Where’s this school – Paco Magi?”
“In answer to both: Tiras.”
Sarri started. “You’re Tiran?” The same country as her brown-skinned mother.
Fen smiled in a way that suggested he understood Sarri’s look. “You’d probably fit in better than me, though nobody really cares about skin colour.” Seeing Sarri’s disbelieving stare, he explained, “it was a large empire some centuries ago, the rulers were half decent, and I suppose everyone has grown used to each other.”
Once Sarri digested this concept, she murmured, “I speak a bit of the language.”
“Why sound so ashamed about it? That’s excellent.” Fen frowned. “Don’t take offence, but where did you learn it?”
“Last winter some foreign traders got stuck at our village in a snow storm, and didn’t leave for a month. They were offering to pay for accommodation, and I was desperate for money. This woman was sorry for me, I think, because my house…it wasn’t nice. We could rarely leave, so she taught me Common to pass the time.”
Fen nodded. “Useful. It would certainly make it easier for me to teach you. Want to show me any?”
Sarri paused. She had never spoken Common to anyone but the trader woman, and did not want to look like a fool. Fen, seeing her hesitation, waved a hand dismissively.
“Another time, then. The other question was about Paco Magi?” Sarri nodded. Fen sighed a little wistfully. “What can I say? It’s my school, my home, the most beautiful place in the world, and completely secret. Magic has been banned for centuries in Tiras, but Paco Magi, has continued, hidden under spells like thick cobwebs, passing down wisdom and shelter to those who need it…”
This time, Sarri did not stop Fen from speaking, but let his words wash over her, building up a picture of the castle in her mind.
“You’re a good story-teller,” she told Fen, when he finished.
He shrugged, modest for once. “I can be poetic when I wish. I read hundreds of books at Paco, so I suppose I’ve picked up the technique.”
Sarri smiled. “It does sound amazing.” After thinking for a second, she asked, “but why are you here? What have organised bandits got to do with a Tiran school.”
Fen sighed heavily. “These aren’t just raiders, they’re Raiders. They’re an army. A secret, silent army designed to destroy the resilience of a country before all out war.”
Sarri’s eyes widened. “But, why would anyone want Hyn? It’s a tiny country…it was such a tiny village.”
“Tiny villages like yours, when added together, produce huge amounts of wealth and resources. And…Sarri, do you want me to go on?”
She nodded fiercely. “I want to know why they did this.”
“Ok.” Fen continued, but did not lose his concerned look. “Hyn is small, but it’s rich, and because few other countries care much about it, it could be used as an attack base. As for the overall why -” he shook his head “- the old story; a madman gets a throne but still wants more power. In this case, Emperor Undlik of Karkji. And if he gets near Tiras, Paco’s mages won’t just be fighting off the armed forces, but Raider sorcerers, and…I’d rather not think what the school would be turned into by Raiders.”
“So you fight them.” Sarri nodded in approval. She wanted to fight the Raiders too; to make them pay for destroying so many lives, for trying to destroy her, and for trying to destroy the image of the mage school she now held tightly in her mind.
“Of course.” Fen’s fierce tone suddenly changed to one of compassion. “You’d be safe. It wouldn’t just be your swords and magic looking after you, it would be me.”
Sarri almost gasped. He had barely known her for a few hours, yet this man was offering her greater friendship than anybody she had known her entire life.
“Why are you doing this for me?” she wondered aloud.
“I can’t abandon you, can I? Besides, I like you,” he added, smiling at her.
Sarri blushed slightly, remembering her conversation with Eath.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied, gruffly. Wanting to shift the conversation, she gestured to the hilt of the knife she held. “What are these symbols?”
“They’re Old Language runes, identifying the weapon’s origin: Paco Magi.”
A silence followed, which was broken by Sarri’s stomach loudly rumbling.
Fen looked up. “Thunder? And it was such a nice day.” He grinned; then asked if she’d like some soup. She looked at the congealing mass, and declined.
“I could always warm it up,” he told her, a small fire appearing as he did so.
Sarri looked from him to the bowl of soup to the fire. She didn’t know why, but she trusted Fen. He had told her so much, so he must trust her. And he made her laugh; nobody had ever tried to make her laugh. Sarri realised he was still holding the soup, studying her expression with a slight smile.
“Ok,” she said. “I’ll be your apprentice.”
He looked at her and grinned. “Lets celebrate! You want some soup?”
She grinned back. “Why not.”

Sarri finished her soup in record time.
“Do you always eat this fast?” Fen asked in amazement.
“I’ve always had to; I never had much time between working at the mill and in the wheat fields and looking after Father.” She fell silent, a thoughtful look in her eyes.
Fen put a cleaning spell over his cooking equipment and cutlery, and started to tidy them into his packs. Sarri silently handed him the further away objects. When he thanked her, she seemed oddly surprised.
“We should get going soon,” Fen told the girl. “I need to meet a contact, and update her on the Raider situation. She lives relatively near here.” He grinned; he had a feeling Sarri would like this surprise. “You and Relan should get on well.”
“That powerful Mage you told me about – the one like me! She lives near here?”
“Her family does. They’re nobles so own land everywhere. Paco Magi’s operatives in Hyn would be in trouble without her, as she’s got the equipment to contact Paco from a long distance.”
Sarri looked up from packing the blankets away.
“How far away is she?”
“A couple of days walking, though it would be quicker if Moonbeam could carry us both.”
Sarri nodded. “Why did you call a brown horse Moonbeam?”
“He has a tiny silver crescent moon shape behind his left ear.” Fen could never understand why people did not see it.
Sarri looked, then scoffed “It’s more of a curved line than a crescent moon.”
“It is not!” Fen replied, pretending only slightly greater outrage than he felt.

She shrugged. “If you say so.” Sarri had a feeling Fen’s was sensitive where his horse was concerned.
“Do you want a hand up?”
“A hand up where?”
“Onto Moonbeam.”
“I can walk,” she replied, trying, and failing, to sound confident.
He looked at her with some concern. “Are you sure?”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
Fen stepped back jokingly. “Apologies for defying your wishes, your ladyship.”
Sarri rolled her eyes. “Men,” she muttered darkly, as he tied the packs onto Moonbeam’s saddle. For some reason, the ritual of packing up made her feel different, as if she were part of something. Smiling, she gave Moonbeam’s reins to Fen, and started into the forest.
“Er, Sarri,” Fen called after her, amused.
“What?” she asked, turning round.
“We need to go that way.” Fen was pointing in the opposite direction.  

[charbookwyrm]

Ok, this is the first part of Chapter Three. Hope people like this too.



Two years later…
The thick double doors swung open to reveal a towering, middle-aged man. His lips were thin; cruelly thin, exaggerated by a long, greasy moustache; copper red in hue. His hair was the same colour, with a small balding patch in the middle.
At his dramatic arrival, three other men sprang from their chairs, the Captain knocking over his ale. Brown liquid spilled over the solid wooden table and cascaded onto the tiled floor. Their laughter, which had previously echoed throughout the inn, was smothered in an instant.
“I see you discipline your men well, Captain,” the newcomer growled. “They’re far less clumsy than you are.” He turned his head to someone outside the room. “Clean it up, girl!”
Striding confidently into the room, he added, “Before next year or one of these gentlemen” – his voice took on a scornful tone - “will be giving you a taste of their sword!”
A stooped girl scurried after him, closing the door behind her. She wore a simple red dress, the hem of which was covered with mud. She curtsied quickly to the man; then looked around despairingly. Abruptly, she started to make shapes with her hands. Her master laughed. A low, cold laugh.
“If you cannot find a cloth then use your dress, insolent beggar!” He kicked out at her, missing, but making the girl recoil, though she didn’t make a sound. Her face was revealed for the first time. Wisps of hair emerged from a loosely tied headscarf, the dark strands framing thin, sallow cheeks. One had a brand - a bright red snake (which stood out fiercely from her nearly black skin), curled around a ball – burned into it; the brand of a slave belonging to the Raider General, Cender. Dullness in her tired eyes showed many years of misuse.
“When I address you, you will answer, or…”
Looking terrified, the poor thing made another movement with her hands, and knelt by the growing puddle of ale.
Coldly, General Cender studied the faces of the three men before him. All were frightened, and the Captain seemed to be plucking up the courage to say something. Cender glared at them as though he had caught a rabble of street children trying to pick his pocket.
“Are you going to stand there all night like gormless slaves? Or will you sit down and get on with the business that has brought me to this miserable tavern in the middle of nowhere?”
As one, the three sat.
“I suppose you are wondering why my slave doesn’t answer me back in the conventional manner,” continued Cender.
The captain nodded, then shook his head. One of his henchmen (a bald, thuggish type) looked bewildered as soon as ‘conventional’ had left Cender’s lips.
Smiling coldly, Cender took a knife out of a concealed pocket.
“When she came into my possession two years ago, her tongue was cut out.” He idly tossed the knife into the air, and deftly caught it. All three men had their eyes fixed on it.
At that moment the slave twitched her hands slightly, and the spilt ale disappeared into thin air.
“I cut it out myself.” He added threateningly “That is how I treat insolence and stupidity. Do you understand me?”
All three men nodded dumbly.
“I expect to be answered properly, dolts!”
All three men flushed at being treated like slaves, but did as he said. General Cender was one of the closest aides of High Emperor Undlik of Karkji, and he used this to his advantage.
“Yes sir,” they said as one, saluting smartly.
One by one they sat, fidgeting nervously. Cender took a swig from the nearest ale mug. His cruel eyes met those of the captain, and narrowed slightly.
“You have the documents, I presume.”
The captain licked his lips nervously. “They’re in my room, sir.”
Cender slowly lowered the mug.
“Why has a report covering your movements of the past six months been left in your room? Have you any idea what could be done with information like that?”
“Sir, yes, sir.”

The slave almost felt sorry for the captain. Almost; she could not feel sorry for anyone who slaughtered innocent people for a living. No decent person could feel sorry for one who found fun in killing children. Nobody could feel sorry for a Raider. And the ‘slave’ had a personal grudge.
She looked up, just in time to catch the thuggish henchman leering at her in a way that sent a shiver up her spine. Quickly she pulled the hem of her dress as low as it could go, and crawled backwards, away from the table.
“I’m sorry sir. It was unintentional sir. We came straight here after we arrived sir…”
“But if you had to come straight to the meeting room, why did you put the documents in the room? If you didn’t have time to do anything else then why are the most important documents to our country in your room?”
Cender was now standing, his face the picture of pure anger. He slammed the point of the knife into the table, making it shake.
“Send one of your men to the room, now.”
Cender paused, giving the captain time to point to the henchman who had been leering at the slave only a few seconds before.
“You, Barbna, get the documents from my room,” he snapped. It was obvious how used Barbna was to obeying his master’s every whim, as not many people would jump at the command of such a shaken man.
“My slave will go with him.” The tone in Cender’s voice was so different it made them all start. His eyebrow raised in an amused fashion, making her want to roll her eyes. How many times had she heard this line?
“Did you not hear me? It seems your ears are growing useless. I can’t help but wonder if you need them. Now go.”
The blanched look that came over the faces of the three Raiders was very satisfying.
“If you say so, sir.”
“I do say so, Captain Vrekdy.”
The slave quickly curtsied, so she was the only one that saw the quick movement in the ‘general’s’ hands.
Will you be ok? They asked.
She clung to the edge of her skirt, and made a slight twitching movement with her fifth finger.
Fine. A few more quick twitches, finished by a slight flick of her wrist. He won’t be if he keeps looking at me in that way.
He glanced towards Barbna.
“If you wish to keep other vital parts of your body, I suggest you stop looking at the slave like that,” he commented casually. The dark glitter in ‘Cender’s’ eyes was the real warning.
Barbna gulped. “Yes sir, General, sir.”

Fen watched them leave with growing discomfort. He knew that she could look after herself, but all the same…However, if the plan was to work, he needed to keep up the disguise, and a Glamour – even one of the most feared men in the western countries of Kenah – was not everything.
“So, captain,” he drawled lazily, constructing a spell in his head.
“Sir?”
“Do you understand the contents of the letter that you were told to pass on to me?”
“Actually, sir, no.”
A glow, only visible to Fen, lit up Captain Vrekdy’s head. When would they learn?
“Have you heard what happened to the last person to tell me three lies in a row?”
“No, General, sir,” replied Vrekdy, his voice shaking.
“That is because it was done in a place so secret that not even crows can land their droppings on what is left of his corpse. Do I make myself quite clear?”
“Yes sir.” Vrekdy’s voice was barely more than a squeak now.
The room was silent for the next five minutes.
“Now, tell me what you do know.”
“It is a letter telling you the…Sir?”
“Yes.”
“Is there any chance that someone could be listening to this?”
“There is about as much chance of that as my slave talking,” Fen laughed, adding silently to himself ‘That Rogue better be in position’.
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“I’m glad to see that you have some sense in your head, I was beginning to worry.”
Vrekdy’s already red cheeks became even redder at the insult. But he said nothing.
“Carry on,” ordered Fen.
“I know it is a letter from a spy in Tiras, confirming the positions of all the Raider groups ready to strike at a moments notice.” Vrekdy’s piggish eyes looked disgustingly thrilled at the idea. “You are to have the letter; then pass it on to the Emperor himself. From there he will send the letter back to confirm our orders, and we shall attack!”
“Anything else?”
“No sir.”
There was no glow this time. He had discovered everything he could from the Captain. Now it was only a matter of waiting…
A resounding cry made the ceiling vibrate slightly.
“What was that?” It was the first time Vrekdy’s other henchman had spoken.
“Probably nothing.”
“But my room is above us!”
Fen sighed in a dismissive manner. “Is it?”

After the slave and Barbna had left the small meeting room, they hadn’t gone directly to Captain Vrekdy's room. Barbna seemed to have other ideas. Ideas that included several drinks.
While he joined a particularly rowdy group of men at the bar, Sarri found herself being bought a drink by a man who had just entered the noisy inn.
“What’s a pretty girl like yeh doin’ in a place like this?” he asked, in a casual voice.
She pushed the drink away, rolling her eyes.
“That’s a really bad line,” she murmured, hardly moving her lips.
“Ah, I thought it was yeh under that magic. Could never mistake yeh fer no one else, Sarri.”
She looked up into the man’s face, and briefly smiled at him. Ipeth was one of the biggest Rogues in the whole of Tiras, literally. He was high up in a large thief gang (members of these gangs were called Rogues) and one of the best spies in the business; he knew a lot of useful informants and could see through any Glamour.
“You know I don’t drink. And stop talking to me. You should be back in position.”
“Me?” his quiet voice sounded so outraged that she nearly laughed.
She kicked him, hard.
“Yowch! No need fer that…”
Ipeth was cut off by the robust landlady.
“Is everythin’ alright love?”
Sarri hung her head, and pointed to her mouth. She needed to get Ipeth back to his position outside the Raider’s room.
“You, out!”
“What’ve I done?” cried Ipeth indignantly.
“I know this girl’s a slave to some foreign noble. She’s enough t’ be copin’ with without some dirty young scoundrel getting ont’ her!”
“But I…Come on, gimme a break.”
“OUT!”
The shout attracted attention from the group Barbna had joined. He seemed to remember what he was there to do; after Ipeth sloped off he came and roughly took her by the arm.
“Dumb slave,” he whispered, breath stinking of alcohol. “You should’ve reminded me to get the stuff.” He sniggered. “Oh no, you can’t.”
He dragged her off towards the stairs, leaving a scandalised landlady behind them.
When they reached Vrekdy's room, Barbna practically threw her inside.
“How’s about I find this letter of the Captain’s, then you and me have a little fun.”
Sarri raised her eyebrows, and opened her mouth.
“Now don’t be daft, I know you can’t speak a word.” He was leering at her again. Sarri spotted a pile of papers under the dressing table. She would have to take matters into her own hands.
“Maybe not a word, but I can speak several.”
Barbna gaped at her.
“But you, you can’t…” Realisation dawned. “You ain’t a slave!” He drew the sword hanging from a leather belt at his waist.
Quick as lightning, Sarri held out her hand, and formed a ball of fire. She threw it a split second too late, as her opponent dived to the side. Quickly putting out the fire, she noticed the leer on his face had completely disappeared.
“Witch!”
He launched himself at her, only just giving Sarri time to roll away. As she rolled, her hand whipped down to a throwing knife hidden in her boots. She stood at the same time as him, and was pleased to see he was gasping.
“What’s the matter,” she taunted. “Killing innocent people not keeping you fit?”
He gave a nearly strangled roar, and charged towards her again. She stood still, until he was only a foot away from her. Reaching out her knife, she ducked. Barbna ran straight into the knife, without so much as touching her.
She pulled away, shaking slightly. He looked at her; then fell to the floor.
“You b…” His voice was abruptly cut off.
Sarri stared at the dead Raider; then shook her head. Catching sight of the papers, she strode towards the desk. She made a small gesture; a breeze fluttered them into the air towards her. She caught them, leafing through until she saw what she had come for. She smiled, grimly.
CRASH!
Sarri’s head jerked up. That didn’t sound good.
“Steh,” she muttered in Hyn.
Turning on her heel, she grabbed the knife out of Barbna’s stomach, and sprinted through the doorway.

“You seem unconcerned, sir.”
Fen sighed. Most Raider captains weren’t Kenah’s brightest minds. All the ones that started to think for themselves were either promoted, or disappeared. But this man had to be one of the biggest idiots he’d met for a while. Even the second henchman had his hand on his sword.
“That,” he whispered, tossing his knife into the air, “is because I have nothing to be concerned about.”
In one swift movement he grabbed the knife out of the air and thrust forward. Vrekdy died instantly.
Hearing the unmistakeable grate of metal against metal Fen wheeled round. He found himself face to face with the other henchman, who was standing in a classic fighting pose; both his hands holding a massive broad sword.
‘Unusual,’ Fen found himself thinking. ‘Not only does he have brains, but he fights like a decent warrior.’
Seeing the muscles tense in the Raider’s left shoulder, Fen swiftly drew his sword and changed his grip on the dagger.
His opponent swiped at him, making Fen turn his back to the wall to escape the steel blade. Blocking another thrust, Fen swiped at his opponent’s chest with the dagger, narrowly missing.
The blows came swift and fast, forcing him back, but Fen could see the Raider settling into a pattern. Swipe, thrust, block. Block, swipe, thrust. Swipe, swipe, block.
Fen counted quickly, choosing the exact moment for his counter attack.
Swipe, thrust…
Bringing in the dagger as though to retaliate, Fen swerved away at the last moment, making a shallow cut along the arm of his opponent. The Raider glanced down at the cut, and Fen took his chance to get away from the wall, back into the limited area of open space; most of the room was taken up by the table, and Captain Vrekdy’s body. But he was away from the wall, and that was what counted.
The Raider suddenly wheeled round, and Fen ducked to avoid having his scalp sliced off.
“Nobody draws the blood of Ondri Yemasin!” roared the Raider.
Fen had almost no time to react as the huge broadsword, whirling round in an arc, headed straight for the centre of his head. Just as it seemed he would be hewn in two, his own smaller sword smashed into the middle of the Raider’s. The result was a loud clang that nearly burst Fen’s ear drums.
The Raider's strong arms were starting to force Fen’s down. Gritting his teeth he pushed back, feeling his arm muscles screaming in protest. Sweat broke out on his forehead, running into his eyes. But he didn’t dare to blink it away; the split second it would take could cause his death. His energy was draining quickly as he fought to keep the Glamours over him, Sarri and Ipeth, and hold off the Raider’s broadsword. If this went on much longer the Glamours would have to go; that would mean risking the safety of other people, including Sarri.
Sarri! Where was she anyway?
“What are you thinking, Mage?” growled Ondri. His face was so close to Fen’s that he could smell the rank odour of his breath.
“Nothing you’d care about, Raider,” he spat back.
“Wouldn’t be that girl of yours upstairs, would it?”
The taunt hit a nerve. Calling someone your ‘girl’ was street slang for a prostitute.
“Keep your mouth off her!” Fen yelled. With a burst of strength he pushed forwards and hurled the Raider away from him.
Ondri lost his balance, and stumbled back. At the same time Fen began a frenzied attack, swiping at every part of the Raider’s body he could reach.
A small cut across his face brought him back to his senses. He realised he was bleeding in several places, and his magical energy was draining faster than before.
The pause lost him the advantage. Ondri was now counter attacking, forcing Fen backwards. One swipe from the huge sword knocked the dagger from Fen’s hand, sending it into the wall with an almighty CRASH!
Block, swipe, swipe. Thrust, swipe, thrust. Swipe, swipe, thrust. Thrust, block, swipe.
This time there was no pattern. Only ever heavier blows.
Fen took one more step back and realised his back was against the wall again. Cursing inwardly, he blocked yet another swipe from Ondri. A clever twist nearly disarmed him. Another barely fended off thrust at his chest cut across his arm.
An unexpected change of direction brought Ondri’s sword up to Fen’s throat. At the same time he saw movement in the doorway behind his opponent.
“Say goodbye,” hissed the foul-breathed Raider.
His eyes opened wide in shock, and he fell backwards. A throwing knife was buried in the back of his head.
“Goodbye,” said Sarri from the doorway.
Fen wiped sweat from his face, breathing heavily. Sarri appeared slightly shaken, but otherwise alright.
“You ok?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. "That Barbna really didn’t need his ears; he didn’t listen to a word you said.”
“What?” If that Raider had so much as laid a finger on her…
“I didn’t give him chance to do anything,” she reassured him.
Fen sighed. Sometimes he wondered if he’d done the right thing by letting her come on ‘jobs’. Originally he’d made her stay well away but she was so persistent. In the end he let her come, on condition that she tried to stay out of trouble. Of course, being spies, trouble was their second, third and fourth names.
But he had to admit it, she was good.