 
The Source

By

Dale Broda Jr

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are from the author's mind. Any resemblance to any actual person, location or event is coincidental.

Copyright © 2011, Dale Broda Jr

Smashwords Edition

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Smashwords Edition eBook License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your enjoyment. This eBook may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please do so while pointing them to the author. Thank you.

......

About this Edition.

This is the Smashwords.com edition. Although this will be formatted by the automatic file-conversion process used at Smashwords.com which can make it look odd on some e-readers, I did try to keep it as is.

......

### Author's Note

This was supposed to be a short story in the 10k word range but as you can see, it went a bit beyond that. I also had trouble finishing it. My dearest friend in the world, who was reading it for me as a first reader and life long bud, took his own life one night a few hours after I left. Always cherish your loved ones. You never know when they will be gone.

......

### 1

He watched the small figure running across the plains. His own aches and pains forgotten. Where had it come from and where was it going? There was nothing for miles around. No trees. No roads. Only grass. Grass and little hills like the one he had claimed. As the figure bounced ever closer, seeming to nearly fly, he saw it more clearly.

A girl.

I don't think she'll make it, being on foot.

The girl was small, maybe she could have hid in the grass? Maybe. It was too late at this point. Her fiery red hair streamed out behind her as she ran. She was far enough away that he could not hit her with an arrow, but he could see her well enough.

Strawberry. For some reason she reminded him of a strawberry.

A strawberry tart.

Her red hair was long. Very long. Her dress was a copper color, ripped mostly from her, exposing pale skin. She was covered in patches of dark. No telling what it was. A good guess would be mud.

Or blood.

From that direction, she must have crossed the Tharin. How far had she run? How long could she keep running?

Look at her go.

She ran on two legs, leaping and bounding with her head slightly forward. He was actually waiting to watch her drop to all fours for some reason. No way to tell how long she had been running.

At that pace...surely not all morning.

Yet here she was, running still. As fast as she was...and was she ever... it wouldn't matter. Not with those he saw in pursuit. Antia hunters. A nasty bunch.

And she's coming right for me.

Was it intentional? Could she see him? He sighed, adjusting himself to draw the small bow into position. Just in case.

Antia hunters. What are they after one small child for?

What have you done, child?

If she was a child. It was still hard to tell from here.

Damn. She does see me. The little tart is heading right at me.

It wasn't coincidence. He could see her better now. Her eyes seemed overly bright from here and they were locked on him. He knew it. She even changed her run from the bit of a random pattern to charge directly at him.

Maybe she's just coming for the hill?

Not that it would help her.

He watched one of the winged Antia hunters lift high into the clear sky and dart forward. Lifting his bow, grabbing a small yellow arrow, he waited. What could he do at this point? What was the best course?

As the hunter dropped down towards the girl she must have seen its shadow. Spinning on her heel, she screamed out in shock before dropping into the grass.

Well. So much for–

"Hells!"

A red flash erupted from the winged hunter. The beast screamed as it swerved away, crashing down into the grass and tumbling for a good hundred paces. Amongst all the thrashing, another red flare bloomed around it.

Stillness. He didn't see the rider appear.

Had she just killed them both? It looked that way. Neither mount nor hunter moved. Scanning the grass, he finally caught sight of her. The grass was parting. She was coming for him.

Still... maybe she just wants this hilltop? A last stand? One can hope.

The hunters had slowed only for a few beats, true to their nature they were soon on the hunt again. Only death would stop them and nothing would slow them for long.

And I'm right here in their path. A witness. Damn it.

Sighing, he knocked his arrow. The bow warmed in his hand. The arrow began to shimmer. He didn't want to fight an entire hecter of hunters but he would if they gave him no choice.

Maybe if I kill the girl?

As if hearing the thought, the fiery little red headed thing sprang up and bolted for him. Somehow adding more speed. That was impressive.

Maybe she's just–

He saw her eyes. Bright eyes locked on his own. Glaring. No doubts about it.

–damn you girl. You do see me. Do you think I'll help?

She didn't answer. Of course she didn't. Her continued running was straight as any arrow he could shoot. She was not veering. Was not even looking away from him. She saw him and in him she saw a savior.

So you think.

He stood. A bit of pain tightened the muscles of his leg, causing him to inhale slightly. He did not topple. That was good. Still, it was not as much as he had expected after sitting for so long. His bow was small but it was far deadlier than any normal bow and only he could draw it. A gift, from a fallen friend, so long ago.

So the real question is, do I shoot her and them, or just them.

A loud howl ripped through the morning air. The hunters had seen him at last. The girl continued to run towards him. The hunters slowed enough to allow them to spread out a bit.

They are going to–

She spun again, casting a red spear of energy at one of the mounted hunters. It was a wasted effort. A quick hand gesture from the Antia hunter caught her little spear of power and grounded it harmlessly.

While the hunter had only slowed his striped mount, she was thrown to the ground. From here, he could hear her breathing. Not as harsh as it should be for the running and magic she was casting about.

What had she used anyways?

By the Hells I saw his shield bracelet, they all have them, but what kind of weapon had she used?

As the other two mounted hunters closed on her, she cast a desperate, silent plea his way. Her eyes more than enough to call out, no words needed. He turned his eyes away.

Don't look at me girl, I'm not part of this.

One of the winged hunters swept over him, banked, came around to hover behind him. Damn it all, he wasn't a part of it.

"What be you?" The Antia asked.

At least, I think that's what he said.

The hunter had a heavily accented voice. The strange, striped beast he flew on howled.

"I'm no one."

He felt a tug on his arm. Looking down, he was surprised to see the girl. Her eyes were large aqua pools. Blue? Green? It was hard to tell really. And he didn't have time to study her. Not with a hecter of hunters ringing him. Or what was left of them at any rate.

He felt the tug again but turned his eyes upward, watching the hunters. He didn't bother to look at the little tart again.

"Sir." Her voice was like an iron toothed brush, scraping down his back. "Will you please... just...please..." Annoying.

"Shut up." He shoved her away. "I'm not anything, tart. I've nothing to do with her!" He shouted at the hunters. Would it help?

They shared a look amongst themselves. All wearing matching leathers of blue and black. The leader, a purple band on his head proclaiming him as such, stood in his saddle.

"We'n know that man. You see'n though. Now, you'n part of this and you'n armed."

He frowned at the leader before lifting his bow in the air. "This little thing? Please. Let me just go on my way and you can finish your work."

"What!?" The girl snapped. "What kind of man–"

"Shut it tart. I'm no hero and I'm not dying just so I can sleep better thinking I helped." Wait. If he died, he wouldn't need sleep. He must be tired, to be speaking like that. He laughed without meaning to.

It was a mistake. The leader raised his spear and flung it with such swiftness there was little to be done.

He was trying to decide which way to duck when the choice was snatched away.

A red flare bloomed around the spear, making it vanish in mid-air. Another red flare wrapped around the leader and began to burn. "T'hn ach'brd!!" Whatever the Hells he shouted, judging by the actions of the others, part of it must have roughly translated to 'Kill them!' as all the remaining hunters began to move at once.

With no choice at this point, he spun around, loosing arrows at the flying hunters. He only had to draw the small bow back a finger length or so and let go. The string snapped yet the arrow remained in place. Instead, a dart of yellow shot towards the hunters. Phantom arrows made from pure fire.

It ripped through the mount's head and popped out the hunter's back, continuing on, vanishing into the sky. The other exploded through the winged mount but didn't touch the hunter.

As the man fell, he drew and released. This arrow caught the hunter, silencing his strange shouts. A chant? Probably something to stop the fall.

Feeling the building pressure, he tried to duck. His leg buckled. He was down on a knee. Turning, he drew and released. And again.

Phhit!!

Phhit!

And again...

Phhiiit!!

That was the quiet sound his bow made. Not a twang or a thunk, just a phhit. A deadly whisper.

No aiming required as long as he locked his eyes on the target as he released. Flashing bolts of yellow flung out faster than the hunters could release whatever they had been conjuring.

His shots landed true, killing the two hunters where they sat.

If they had used their bracelets instead of trying to attack, but no.

As the men slipped to the ground, the mounts turned and bolted back the way they had come. Trying to focus, he shot again. And again. The first mount he caught and it tumbled. A second bolt of yellow splashed through its skull to finish it.

He wasn't so lucky on the last mount as he let fly.

The running mount somehow dodged his first shot and would not have dodged the next except for the fact that as it leapt away, he saw his bolt pop out of the air. He looked at the bow in his hands.

The arrow was dull now. Its magic spent. He looked up at the mount as it diminished in size. Hells and bloodstone ashes...

"You weren't even going to help me you great–"

He elbowed her in the gut. Whatever she had been about to say was lost after that. He rose as she fell.

Bending down over her he growled, "Thanks to you now I'm a target! I should kill you here and be done with it!" He stood back, holding the bow aimed at her. The arrow was still dull. It needed hours to replenish its energy. It was useless until then but she didn't know that.

"You..." her eyes suddenly dimmed. "...worthless..." sighing, she lost her spark. The tart was out. He stood over her, kicking her once to see if she was faking.

Damn. She was out cold. However far she had run, whatever power she had tapped into for those impossible spells, it was gone now. What had that weapon been and where was it? A quick search didn't reveal any artifact offensive related. A few dull rings on her fingers were some kind of magical devices, no doubt. They were cold to the touch so they were still recharging.

He tilted his head to look at her.

The dress barely covered her. She was young. He could see her small breasts plain as day. Small, rose tipped mounds. Since she didn't have any underclothes on, he could clearly see her bright red hair was not on her head alone. Strawberry–

So. A young woman then? How old?

He prodded her with his foot, rolling her over onto her stomach. Now what? He could kill her. That would be the easy way out. Kill her and take whatever those rings were. Not that easy now though. With one of the mounts escaping, he knew more hunters would come this way. A full hecter of them. That consisted of four winged and four mounted but if one had failed already, as this one had, would another already be on route?

He looked to the sky as he plucked the arrow away from the bow.

"What now, my friends?" He asked. "What am I to do now?" They were not talking today it seemed. Again. Were they mad at him?

After a time, he looked at the unconscious girl. He limped around her as he slid his small bow back into the black case he wore on his hip. He made another circle around her, frowning. What to do, what to do. He looked around, nothing as far as his eyes could see but he knew where a town was.

Question is, could he make it? Did he want to? If another hecter was coming, as he was sure they were, wouldn't he be better off out here? High ground and foreknowledge of the coming attack?

Damn it.

He booted her again, sadistically satisfied to hear a pitiful grunt escape her.

Why did you have to come this way on this day?

In the middle of the maze plains, what were the odds? So much nothing out here he thought he'd never have to deal with people. So much for that.

Well, no help for it now.

He looked to the west. They would come from that way. No doubts. Worse still, the mount that had escaped would cause one of them to turn back and go for even more help. The hunters would see him clearly in that mount's memories so...no help for it.

"Curse you strawberry tart." He kicked her again as he walked by, this time letting out his own grunt of pain as his still injured leg reminded him of that fact. He laughed sourly at that.

Still healing? It had been long enough, it should have healed by now. "Must be a bad sign when a wound will not heal, right?" He looked upward, waiting. No response. "Fine."

He looked down at the girl, a frown plastered on his face. He wanted to kick her. Hard. But he didn't have time. Moving as fast as possible, he cut what he could from the hunters and rolled them as best he could under the tall grass.

2

He wasn't sure how long he'd been at it. He had walked as far as he safely could from his hill before he began setting traps.

Fire traps.

Ice traps.

Simple triplines in the grass that would boom and flare.

The day was swiftly heading to night. The wind was so pleasant, it was hard to believe he was about to have a mini-war. Again.

Will I never get a rest?

He had come out here, into the middle of nowhere, just for that purpose. Look what the Gods had brought him. He glared up at the clear sky. "Good one fools. Very funny." He wasn't happy with the Gods and his gesture showed as much.

He waited. Adding yet another hand gesture in case they had missed the first one.

When he was not struck dead, he sighed tiredly and continued.

What good Gods would let a man do what he has done and not smite him?

Bah! There are no Gods. That's the simple answer.

Muttering, he continued to work his way back to his hill. When he was out of traps, he looked around. The magical devices were not very trustworthy but they would have to do.

If nothing else, at least I'll know when they are coming.

Unless, of course, they come in from behind.

No. No. None of that now. They don't know where I am and memories of me on a hill will hardly help. They will have to follow the trail left by the mount before it vanishes into the high grass and hope they catch me by surprise.

Yes. That was how it'd work.

Despite the nagging images in his mind of them swooping in from behind and those talons ripping–

Bah. He was back at his hill. Out here, the grass could kill. It did on occasion. Even now, he could see the mounts nearly vanished as the grass he had folded over them began to harden and sprout new roots to sink into their dead flesh.

The hunters were gone. Being smaller than their mounts, it was easier for the grass to consume them.

With the bodies taken care of, he scooped up the pile of rags he had cut away from them, as well as their money, travel foods, magical artifacts and potions.

No telling, if he lived, what he would find useful.

The tart was awake, watching him. He had known for some time. He could feel her eyes following him, still... it was something to see when he turned. Her outline seemed somehow...bright...against the skyline.

Am I seeing a ghost? An aura of some kind? Did one of her magical weapons recharge finally and I'm seeing it?

He walked slowly, trying to hide his limp–

Never show weakness.

–holding the bundle of blue and black leathers as well as his pouches of looted goods.

"So you live?" He asked her as he sat the looted goods onto his large, night cover. "Put these on. You're naked." He snorted. "It's turning my stomach."

"How dare you–"

"Do it tart!" He glowered at her. "Before I decide that what you're offering with that view of your tits and ass is up for grabs. We both will probably die here soon so, what's the harm in a little sweaty, grunting fun, ehm? Even if it makes me sick." He leered at her small breasts.

She suddenly burned red, trying to cover herself with her hands. She was shaking with some emotion. Rage? Indignation? "You filthy, low–"

He kicked some of the rags into her face. She instinctively caught them.

He turned back to the other newly acquired objects. "Just be ready tart. More are on their way and if we are to live through it, we'll both need to be as well equipped as possible."

She opened her mouth a few times. He could see it out of the corner of his eye. Then she turned her back and dropped the tattered rag she was wearing to try on the blue black leather of the hunters they had killed.

"Onsho would never have..." she muttered rather heatedly. "...to me! Who does this..." he tuned her out as a paper caught his eye.

What's this then?

'Tuo. Ma'oh jhe allar to. Sed tuk tuk lour–'

"Bah!" He tossed the paper aside. Whatever language the Antia hunters spoke, he could not make heads or tails of it in written form.

"It's an execution order." She looked at him over one, impossibly pale shoulder. Her aqua eyes seemed bright again. Lit from within. "Or is that, assassination order?" She shrugged. "Telling them what I look like. Who I travel with. Traveled with. The amount for my head. Things like that."

She looked away, trying to wrap the blue black shirt around herself. It was comically large on her. Aside from a hole through the middle of the back, it was in great shape. Much better than what she had been wearing. This would cover her nudity and protect her. Somewhat.

He continued to stare at her as she bent over. He blinked at the view. Turned quickly away. Was she young enough to not pay attention to such things or was she just in a hurry?

"They want me dead you know. Of course you know. You saw."

He grunted, fingering the shield bracelets. Some were still charged.

"Do you want to know why they want me dead?"

He spit on the paper as he adjusted the bracelets on his wrists, thought about it, flung one at the tart. She didn't catch it. Instead it hit her in the face and flopped to the ground.

"Use it." He dug out small, colored vials from the leader's belt. Red, green, clear. "No." He finally answered with a shrug. "And I don't care about the reasons." He inspected the vials.

I wonder what the clear one does?

He popped the cork, sniffing at it.

Two pale, smooth legs came into view. "That's anti-magic."

"What?" He frowned at the vial.

"Anti-magic. Have you never heard of it?" She squatted down in front of him, her strange eyes lighting on his own. He wasn't completely comfortable with this view either. "Not very learned are you?"

"Bah." He stood. "Maybe not, yet I'm not the one being hunted now am I? So how smart are you strawberry tart, to be on an assassination list?"

"It's Gennifer. Gen to my friends. To you," she turned her head, curious. "I'm not sure yet."

"You're a tart that has brought Antia hunters after me. Trust me, as soon as this next hecter is dead, you're on your own." She stood up then, frowning over the darkening plains.

She turned her head slowly. "Another full hecter? Do you think?" Her aqua eyes turned to the sky. "How long?"

"Soon enough. That little trick you did,"

"My magic?"

"Whatever," magic? True magic? "where is the focus? The artifact itself? Is it ready? Can you use it again? From what I saw, it pretty much wiped you out."

"The Source is near enough I think, though my fill of it has dwindled. I'm..." she shrugged. He waited. Just as he was thinking she would not continue, she trapped his eyes with her own. "Will you help me reach my goal? My destiny? If so, I'm sure the Source will help us."

"The Source?" He couldn't look away from those eyes. It was getting darker. There was no light. What was reflecting in those eyes to make them shine like that? What was he getting into if he said yes? "No. I don't want to know and no, I won't help."

She frowned. "Then why help me before? Why give me these clothes? " She stomped over to his looted goods, swiftly picking out bits he couldn't see.

"Hey! Those are–"

"I can help better with this." She drank a few vials and cast some of the powder into the air. He watched as the powder twisted suddenly, changing color and lifting up and outwards over the traps he had lain.

What was the tart? A herb witch of some kind? He forced himself to stay still as she nodded.

"That will help. If only you'd agree–"

"No!"

She frowned at him. "You say no yet here you stand! Why? You could have left me while I was unconscious."

"Listen tart, that hecter is coming for me no matter what. So I figured if you could use some more of that...whatever it was you used... I would stand a better chance of fighting them."

Or running away while you fight them.

She blinked slowly at him. Her eyes were strangely deep for one that looked, on the surface, to be so young. "Is that all? Sure you weren't going to just leave me here? Or," she lashed out, catching his sore leg. He swore under his breath, barely managing to contain it. "maybe the bum leg is keeping you here, no?"

"Magic." Time to distract. "What kind of magic weapon was that?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I use this." He pulled out his bow. As soon as the fresh air hit it, it began glowing slightly. His leather gloves were palmless so his flesh could touch it and fire it up.

I'll never get used to the feel of it taking from me. Though we've been through so very very much. Isn't that right my friends?

"With these." He rattled the few arrows he had in his quiver. "Fire. Ice. Pure energy. The basics." Although, only the pure energy one remained charged. Well, barely. He'd need them to be re-filled at the next town he visited that held a magesmith.

She looked from his quiver to his bow to his face. A small smile that had been there slipped away. "Are you serious?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have any magic weapons or focal objects or...what did you call them? Ah. Artifacts.."

"Then what–" He nearly dropped a load in his pants when a red spark erupted from her outstretched hand. Her aqua eyes danced. "That...that..." that wasn't possible! No one had been able to use magic like that since before the great cleansing. He stumbled over nothing, sitting heavily. "...not..."

"Oh? Big man scared of a little girl's talent?" She smiled gleefully, dancing towards him. Grinning wider as he scuttled away.

"Wh–" It wasn't possible. He was seeing things. One of her rings? Something implanted? No one had been able to use magic, true magic, for generations. He didn't even know anyone that had–

Well, old Grommy had told many a tale of true magic users in his youth but he was an unnaturally old man. If he had been a man. They had debated that often. He and his fellows.

In the end, turned out old Grommy could be dead as easily as the rest of us–

Don't you mean them? Since, after all, here you are. Still alive and all.

How true.

He jerked as his world turned red. A small moan escaped him. He looked up, blinking away the images of the past. The tart was standing over him, her little foot planted on his leg. The red spark was dancing in her hand. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

"Hmph!" It blinked out, leaving his world black. All he could see, her strangely bright eyes. "That is interesting. Why–" Grabbing her foot, he spun her off him as he lunged upward and over to land on her.

"What in the hells are you?" He held a knife to her throat, stopping her struggles. She stared into his eyes.

Not at them no. Into them. She's looking into me!

No

No.

He pushed that thought aside.

She blinked slowly, her eyes releasing him. "Please take that away from my throat you great moron."

Why should I?

He pulled back slightly. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were steady. She was watching his movements, studying, calculating.

"How?" He wanted to ask more. How had she evaded the purge? He stopped himself realizing what a foolish question that was. She was young. The purge had happened before either of them had been brewing in their fathers' balls.

"So it's true then? No one can use magic here without a focal object?"

"Artifact." He corrected.

"Artifact. Whatever the name they do the same thing. Hmm. Interesting." She sat up slowly, placing her hand on his chest. It felt hot. Strangely hot. Heat was literally radiating out fro–

"What are you trying to do!?" He hopped away.

"Just a bit of healing you ox." She rose easily to her feet. Her hand a strange shade. She frowned, motioning at his leg. "That's not natural. What did that to you?"

"Don't ever touch me again." He lifted his lip, snarling. How? What? Why? Where? All valid. Somehow this girl was able to touch true magic. Even though she wore magical artifacts of various kinds, they must only be for emergency use as she could call true magic from within.

True magic...what have I fallen in with?

Was that what brought on the assassins? He frowned at her unwavering stare. "Where are you from? What are you?"

"I'm from across the sea. My home was there before the Source came to me." For once, her gaze wavered. A shiver seemed to run through her. "My home...my family...everyone–" She flinched as a boom thundered across the plains.

"No time! If we live, later." Later what? He didn't want to know. Ever. Nothing good ever came from across the sea. "Get ready tart."

3

Another boom went off as they crouched down on the hilltop. It was getting darker and the grass was very tall here. When it wasn't trying to wrap around you, it was a decent hiding place.

The hecter was approaching cautiously. They were down one mounted man already. He was smiling at that. A common blast had been enough to take down one, now they were only left with–

A screech came from the sky. One of the winged hunters had finally spotted them.

Damn it all! Because of you! "This is all because of you tart. Why did you come this way?" He pulled his arms free of the clinging grass.

Phhit!!

The lightly glowing bolt slammed through the hunter. The winged mount spun about and tried to retreat, carrying its message to others. Another shot brought it down.

"Y'oh!! Arg loc summ'n!!" The hecter leader was standing in his saddle, pointing at them.

"That pinpointed us. He said, basically, to circle us and come in from different sides while–"

Phhit!

Another winged mount spiraled to earth. The hunter had his shield up, glowing a dull blue. As soon as he touched down, a brilliant light flashed over him.

He landed on one of the traps. Unlucky for him. Even shielded, the hunter was wiped away in that blink of light.

"I guess they said attack from the air and circle around on foot?"

"Something like that."

The remaining flying hunters banked to the left and right, as the mounted hunters began spreading out and trying to rush in. They had small beams of light hitting the ground in front of them. One of the ice traps exploded, contained itself, shrunk back to nothing.

Anti-magic of some kind? Was that the light?

Phhitt!

The bolt was stopped short of the mounted leader. Caught in the air by wires of light, vanishing into the hunter's shield. In return, the leader lifted his spear, its tip burst into a deep purple sphere that came hurtling at them.

No...not us. Her. They are just after her.

In the few heartbeats of time he had, he glanced at the little tart. She was turned around, firing red, twisting lines of whatever that power was at the flying hunters. She wasn't even paying attention to her incoming death.

Well, if she expects me to–

...damn it all!

As quick as that he fired three bolts. The first two broke the incoming attack up slightly, the third sent it spinning past them. The tart jumped as the purple ball sputtered by. She looked at him, those huge lantern eyes aglow.

Before she could thank him–

...don't ever do that you little hells tart!...

–he pushed her to the ground as one of the flying hunters came diving in. Swearing, he leapt to the side knowing he wasn't fast enough.

A grunt escaped him as the mount's talons tore into his back. Spinning away as best he could, he swung the bow at the fast moving target.

Nothing.

He hit nothing but air. However–

The mount curled into a shrieking ball as red plumes erupted from within. Spilling burning liquid, hunter and winged mount alike flamed to earth.

He sneered.

Maybe I can't hit you, but a little girl can.

That wiped the sneer from his face.

Without helping her or thanking her he concentrated on the remaining hunters. With only one still in the air, he was sure the little tart would be able to hit it. He needed to decide what to do with the land bound hunters.

I shouldn't even be here. Think fast, as there are now three bolts of different kinds of death coming right at me..

He lifted his bow to–

"Fffuuuuu..." was the only word that came to him when he saw his arrow was dull, its magic already used. Turning the bow, thinking out plans, he did the only thing left to him.

"If I can pull it off..."

He dropped into a special part in his mind. A warrior's place.

It's cold in here.

It's hotter than any fire.

I feel...nothing.

I feel....everything.

This...

...is what...

...a warrior is.

That blade of grass a hundred paces off? He could see a bright pink snail on it. That bird of the night, so far away, he could see every feather.

The world slowed around him. He looked at the slowly moving faces of the hunters. There was no fear there. They would die and more would be sent if they did not accomplish their mission.

They knew they would win in the end. Even if they, as individuals, died here.

It should have been a scary sight but in this state, he felt nothing. He moved. Even with his gimp leg he was able to easily swat the bolts from the air. As he moved forward, making sure to avoid his own traps, he could see the hunters begin to speed up. Their eyes tracking him. They were beginning to fall into his zone.

I'm not going to make it. I'm not the warrior I was.

There was certainty that cheerful thought. He knew he would die here. Normally that would be a bad thing. A blow to his mind to slow him down. Not in this state. No no. Not in his warrior place.

If I'm going, so are you.

He knew he was protected by many shield bracelets he had looted. He knew he had his own leather armor as well as the pieces he'd wrapped himself in. Thanks to the hunters. Would it be enough?

He stopped close to the hunters as they continued to speed up, tracking him and various lights beginning to slowly unwind from their weapons to form various shapes of death that would smite him.

He smiled, making a yanking motion with his hand while touching off all the bracelets he wore.

Overlapping spheres erupted from the simple bracelets, slowly wrapping up and over him as all the traps he had lain came spinning through the air.

As they came, the hunters deadly weapons also began spitting their load, the shields were slowly cocooned around him.

Too slow.

His mind knew this but he didn't feel any emotion about it.

As fast as the shields are, this will probably kill–

Everything went white.

4

It was well after dark when he opened his eyes.

Stars?

The sky was filled with stars. He felt a tug on his leg. He blinked slowly. Stars. How many were there? He began to count them.

There, in the head of Bricus. A great red star. The warrior's star. He felt another tug.

There, in the womb of Apotho. A small, bright blue star. The mother's protector.

Makes one wonder when, in our history, did we come up with these names and figures? What were they before? What were they to other races?

He frowned at yet another tug.

What are they across the sea? What is this?

He lifted his arm as best he could. Some of the grass that had been wrapped around it fell back to earth.

Am I dead then? At last?

The only sound he heard was a hum. Not only did he hear it, it was reverberating through him. Hurting as it rolled around within.

"Nice way ta try and kilt yerself lad." Old Grommy said.

"I figured it was better than dying old and alone." He answered. Not sure where the old man was in the sky above him.

"Ha. So, are ya ded then?"

"I...don't think...no. Probably not."

"Tha' so? Shame. Ye mi't be an ol' man like me then, somedays, erm?"

"You should see the little company I'm–"

"I do lad. I do. She bein' tuggin' on ya fer the entire time."

"Wha..." He blinked as he felt that tug again. No. A different tug. He looked at his legs. The little tart was trying to drag him through the grass.

"Well look at that. So the tart lived then?"

"Ah'yah. An she been draggin' ye back ta that ther blanks I gaves ya. Magics ta keeps the grass at bay."

"Is that so?" He laughed. It hurt.

He looked at the tart. Her eyes were shining, determined despite looking exhausted. Blood and dirt smeared her cheeks and her hair looked a mess. She was saying something to him. He couldn't hear it over the hum.

"Doesn't she know I can't hear her?"

"Per'haps. Per'haps not. Ye be talkin' ta me after all."

"True." He laid his head back down, staring into the sky. "I'm sorry Grommy. Tell the others I'll be there soon. Soon enough. Tell them. Make sure to tell them how much..." He couldn't finish.

Grommy never replied.

It was rare when they did. The dead were not supposed to speak after all.

"Then why bother at all? Why speak at all? If you're not–" he paused to move his arm again, getting the grass to let go. It was particularly clingy at night. "–not going to really talk, why speak at all?"

He felt another hard yank on his legs.

What does she want?

He looked at her. She was standing there, hands on her hips, eyes aflame, mouth jabbering away.

Well, I can guess what that is coming out of her mouth. Get up lazy. Walk up here lazy. Move your bruised, beaten ass. Or close enough.

He moved his arms experimentally. Nothing seemed broken. He looked. Where the bracelets were, nothing but a black singe and missing arm hair remained.

Nice.

There was no sign of the Antia leathers he had worn and his own leathers were tattered.

I must have just barely managed to–

...hmm. a draft down there?

Damn.

He was very exposed to the world like this. His lower half was completely bare. Not a stitch remained. If he were younger, he might be more upset by this fact. His little warrior hanging out like that for all to see. As it was, he just didn't care.

Hells with it.

The tart noticed him noticing he was naked and blushed slightly. At least, it looked like that in the dark. He sighed. So was she actually young or just some kind of strange witch woman?

I'm not sure which is worse.

"Doesn't matter, Bull. Get your sorry ass up and move it. To the hilltop solider. Now!"

"Yes sir! Whatever you say sir. May I bow down before you sir?"

"Funny, Bull. Now get your limping, whiny rear up that hill and onto that blanket."

"Yes sir." He frowned. "I'm sorry I didn't make it with you–oouff!"

He looked at the tart as she lifted her leg to kick him again.

That was motivation.

"I don't think so."

He caught her foot and pulled hard. Caught off guard, the tart fell onto him. She scrambled away from his nakedness, a look of shock on her face. He laughed.

"Get up there." He said. "I'm coming." If she answered, he didn't know. All he heard was the hum.

Maybe I'm deaf now? Maybe this one won't wear off?

Whenever a warrior used the strange trance state they all tried to learn, he was never the same. His hearing was gone. His senses were scrambled. Those things were normal. But for him. Ha. Add the little fact he had detonated about a dozen traps on himself.

I must have gotten them too.

He looked for signs of the hunters or their mounts. Nothing. He stood slowly, looking around. "Did I get them?"

He waited for a bit before realizing he would not hear her. He looked at her and yes, she was indeed yammering away. He shook his head. "I can't hear you, tart." Ha, that made her mouth snap shut and her eyes flare. Good! "Did I get them? Yes? No? Nod. Yes?" She nodded. If it could be called that.

Good. Good. "Did I get their mounts?" Shake of her head. "Damn all the–" She was motioning to herself. "Did you get them?" Nod. "And the last one in the air?" Nod.

I'm impressed. And, honestly, a bit frightened by this little strawberry. What uses true magic in this world? What could?

He shooed her away. She glared as she stomped through the grass towards the top. He followed more slowly.

"Think on this one, sweets." Mayla! Oh sweet, sweet Mayla. "Remember the facts. This little one is not from here. What we know of magic is not what she knows. Over there, maybe they all can use magic. Think of better questions. For example...why is she here? What does she want? What is this Source she speaks of?"

"Mayla!? Oh thank the Gods. Mayla I... I miss..." he sighed. "...you're gone aren't you?" Nothing answered back. "Gone." Head held low, he walked slowly up the hill. At the top, the little tart was sitting on the blanket, sifting through a pile of burnt things near the edge. She pulled out some leggings, holding them towards him, turned so she wouldn't have to see him.

"What? I'm not pretty enough for you?"

She cast a glance his way, her eyes slipping down, jerking away as her face reddened.

So, she really is young then? Great.

"I'll worry about your sensibilities later." Like it mattered. "I need to recover." As best I can. "Hand me that green vial." She looked through their things, dug a bit, held it out to him while keeping her eyes turned away.

He took off his tattered shirt and tossed it out into the grass. Laying down caused a few things to pop and grind and in general, hurt. He hated that about his body.

Where did you go to, my old friend? Once, we could have handled all that and been recovered by now with a mug in one hand and a tit in the other. Age. What a bitch.

He emptied the vial into his hands, rubbing them together vigorously. A slow green glow began to bloom, spreading up his arms.

I treated you well enough didn't I?

He rubbed at his feet, some of the green grow creeping out of his hands and into his legs.

I ate as much as I could. I trained nearly everyday.

He rubbed it into his thighs and up into his stomach. The green glow leaving his hands to spread through his body.

I fought in so many battles. So many. We have made it here, now, so...what more do you want from me?

Finally he rubbed it over his chest, the green seemed to pulse through him, cooling him. He relaxed, flat on his back, his eyes beginning to droop as he stared into the sky.

So many stars.

So much gone. Why? He lifted his hand to his chest, making sure the hole he felt there was not physical. "Why did you all leave me behind? Why... why am I the only one left behind?" How could they go and leave him like that? "Mayla..."

5

His eyes hurt. Throbbing in time with his heartbeat. A small sound caught his attention.

Sound?

He opened an eye slowly, knowing the sun would be a bastard. He was right. He tried to look for the source of the sound without moving. It was the tart. What was she doing?

Sitting crosslegged facing him, she had a small pot in front of her, a red fire burning under it that had no right to be there. It was burning on the war tarp he was using as his blanket. A magic thing thrown down over the grass to keep it away.

Yet there she was, defying all known...well...facts. He studied her as she did–

...what is she doing?

Steam of a strange color swirled up from whatever she was boiling. A faint wind carried the odor to him. It had a very unique smell. What was it? Spicy and sweet and very apple like all at once yet not exactly like them. It seemed as if he were smelling familiar things yet he knew they were not.

He looked into her face. She had her brow furrowed, concentrating on the task at hand. She still looked tired, though her face was clean and her hair combed out and absolutely blazing in the morning sun.

She's not unpleasant on the eyes really. If one can forget the fact an endless stream of Antia hunters has her on their list of death. Yet in the clear light, there was something different. Hard to put his finger on.

"Awake?" She asked.

"Yes." He was glad his hearing was back, even if the first thing he heard was her.

"You lied to me. I saw you call those traps to you. I thought you couldn't do magic."

"Lines."

"What?"

"Tether Lines." He held up his hand. "Every good trap layer keeps these little buggers lined to their fingers, just in case. A spell attached to this," he turned his hand, showing a small dark dot. "and the trap. A tool. Nothing more."

Smelling that strange smell made his stomach growl. "What are you making?" Not 'how are you doing that?' Not 'how is that possible?' No. Just a simple 'what are you making?'

"Just a soup with what little provisions I had left."

Provisions? He didn't recall seeing her with–

"Who's Mayla?"

Mayla. Mayla. My Mayla...

She wants to know who Mayla is? "None of your business tart." He rolled over. He could feel those strange eyes of hers following his movements. He was naked still and just didn't care. Even as her continued exanimation began to feel heated. Burning really.

Why is she staring?

"Bah." He got to his feet, stepping off into the grass. He needed to piss and he'd at least not do that in front of her. He needed to see what was left of the hunters anyway.

As he walked on, he could already see where he had been standing. The grass was doing a hell of a job filling in but the crater he left was pretty impressive.

Damn. I'm shocked the shields held.

There were strips of blue and black high in the grass, hanging motionless there despite the slight wind. And in the grass...lumps. No doubts in his mind those lumps were flesh. What was left of the hunters.

And here I stand. Surviving. Again. Good joke my friends. Very funny. Ha ha.

He glared at the sky. Nothing replied.

"As usual."

He made a sweep, enjoying the feel of the soft grass over his skin. The grass was not very powerful in the morning and weakest at noon. But, it would get touchy at night.

Could at any rate.

Eventually, he made his way back up the hill. The tart was keeping her eyes decidedly away from his nudity. He smiled at that.

"There." She pointed. "They should work." He walked over to the pile. The leggings she had tossed to him before were there but he frowned at the rest. It was a shirt and pants made from the blue and black leathers of a hunter. He also saw bits of his own, original leather in there.

It was all neatly stitched together and looked brand new. Strangely, despite being different colors and materials, it was done seamlessly. It looked like it belonged together instead of a bunch of rags thrown together.

"How..." He began before noticing she wore a strange outfit now as well. The once tattered leathers were sewn so neatly together it was hard to imagine they had ever been apart. They gave her a whole new look. The pants a bit loose to allow movement, the top not exactly skin tight but tight enough to allow free movement.

She wore it well. He tried to make out the bundle at her feet.

A thick robe?

"I made them while you slept. That was–" Her eyes locked onto him despite herself. A blush. "For the love of the Source, please dress yourself."

He smirked. Standing closer to her, he held his arms out. "What? Little tart's never seen a naked man? Is she too young to–"

"I'm not that young you fool." Her eyes sparked at him. Something else flashed there. "I didn't think it proper for you to be out in the open like that. Embarrassing yourself with your...size."

What!? Why you snot nosed little–

...that flash never left her eyes.

–oh, I see. I get it.

"As you wish, your hinass." He mock bowed as he turned, pulling the leathers on. He didn't want to turn back to her. No need for her to see the look on his face. She had just tossed a joke at him. About him. And he had stepped right into it.

As he slipped into the clothing, his annoyance began to fade. These were very well done. "How did you make these?" He kept the note of approval out of his voice.

"Took a few hours and I had to, urm–" she coughed. "measure you while you slept but, it really wasn't that hard."

Measure? Why–nevermind. "Let me guess." He looked back at her. "Magic?"

She shrugged, the pot was on the ground now, steam rising from it, an interesting looking fluid within. "Not really. Just fast needle work."

Really? Color me impressed.

He tugged at the pants. They were not too tight, not too lose. Actually, though he'd not say it to her, they were very well done. Tight enough to never worry about losing them in a fight while still being lose enough to leave him unencumbered.

He'd paid a lot of money for clothing that was not nearly so well done.

She smiled. "Faster than usual. I'd say I had help."

"Help?"

"It's the Source. Apparently, you are going to be my new companion."

What? "No. I don't think so." He took a spot near her when she offered him a bowl. Where did this stuff come from? He didn't remember seeing a bowl or pot or anything like this.

"I'm sorry, but if the Source wishes it, you can't fight it. It just sort of...happens."

He snorted, then sniffed at the liquid. "Is that so?" It didn't smell like poison. At least, none he knew of. He brought the little bowl to his lips, tilting it to sip. The taste was hard to describe. Nothing he had ever tried before. He blinked as a heat spread out from his belly.

"It's also a kind of healing brew." She sipped at her own. Another bowl? Where...

"Where are you getting these?"

She held up a little black satchel, attached to her wrist. "From here."

Why didn't I see that before? A magic satchel. "What else do you have stashed in there?"

She shrugged again. Sipping. "You know. A little of this, a little of that."

Uh huh. Yeah. "That so?" He sipped again, eyeing her over the bowl. "I hate to tell you this tart, but–"

"Gennifer."

He frowned. "Tart." He smiled into her glower. "I hate to disappoint you or this Source of yours–"

"Not mine."

"But...what?"

"It's not my Source."

"Then–"

"It's the Source." She looked at him, something was there, deep in her eyes. "It's a cursed thing that has taken everything from me. Everything!" She tossed the rest of her soup into the grass, turning away to tuck the bowl back into the satchel.

A small sound let him know it had dropped in. He sipped his soup again, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Lost everything? He could relate.

When she turned back, her strange aqua eyes were swimming. "So it takes what it wants and expects everything in return and you...you just have to..." was she going to cry? "...you'll see."

He grunted at that. "I doubt it."

I've already lost everything that matters. What else is there to take? My life? Please. No loss there.

He glowered at the bowl.

She reached for him, seeing his quick glare, she let her hand slowly return to her side. "It needs to reach its destination and it will sweep us along with it. Just like it did with the others."

Others? He wanted to ask but didn't.

"They were family. Friends. People I've met along the way."

"I didn't ask." He snapped.

"I know. And you were not asking quite clearly."

He opened his mouth and instead of any kind of rebuttal just sipped the soup again.

She smiled. "Irritating isn't it?"

He looked at her, eyeing her. "Yes it is. Very." He hoped she caught the meaning of that.

A quirk of her mouth showed that she did. "As irritating as you think I am, best get used to me. We–"

He handed her the empty bowl. "The next town is a few miles that way." He pointed. "I'll walk you out of the maze plains to there but–"

She shook her head. "I need to go that way." She pointed east. "That is the way we will go."

"Listen to me tart. There is no way out that way. No way at all."

She frowned. "Gennifer! My name's Gennifer you thick headed mule!" She stood up, moving for him.

He came to his feet, towering over her. "There is no way out that way, tart!" Without thinking, he lashed out as she continued toward him, pushing her to the ground.

"Oh ho! Look at the big man push down a little girl!" Mayla scolded. He froze, looking for her.

Mayla?

"Mule!" He couldn't avoid the kick to his shin, worse yet, it was his injured leg.

Grunting he went down.

Knocked down by a little girl...how sad.

"Sad indeed, sweets." Mayla said. Her voice was so close to him. So close. He looked up at the sky, past the little tart that was staring at him with watering eyes.

"Mayla?" He reached for the light blue sky. He just wanted to feel her skin. To touch her hair. To know that sharp, sweet smell that was her.

"Insane." His eyes focused on the girl as she stood, staring at him. Tears shimmered but she made no sound. Her head was turned, looking at him with...was that pity? "By the Source... you're insane."

If she wanted to hear him deny it, she had a long wait. He dragged himself to his feet, glowering down at her hard enough to make her shake and back up, then spun on his heel and headed off down the hill.

Screw her.

He made it nearly a hundred paces before she caught up to him. "We need...to go...that way." Why was she out of breath after that short run? No matter.

He kept walking. He knew where the town was and it would indeed let this little hell tart head east.

"Are you listening? The Source–" She yelped when he spun on her.

"To hells with you and your Source. The only way out is this way. If you're going to follow, get behind me and shut the hell up." Insane? He'd show her insanity. "BlahGrubgob able!!" He shook his head at her spit spraying to the sides. She just stared. Good. Let her.

Without another word he turned and walked on, smiling to himself.

"That wasn't very mature." Mayla whispered.

"Maybe not, but it should shut the little brat up."

"Mayhaps. Still...she has suffered. You can see that. It wouldn't hurt to act a bit–"

"Acting. That's all it would be."

"...did you cut me off?" Mayla asked all too softly.

Ah hell. "I'm...I'm so sorry. It's just this kid is driving me–"

"Insane." Mayla said at the same time as the tart. Their voices were nearly identical. He spun about, drawing a dagger. Trying to draw a dagger.

"Where's my daggers?"

"Here." She pulled them from her satchel. They appeared, one after the other. He took them, silently stashing them back where they belonged. He never let his eyes drift from hers.

"She looks so sad, sweets. So sad." Mayla said. He nodded but did not say anything. Sadness? He knew that as well. More so than this little brat could. He stood motionless as she handed over the last dagger. He didn't look away until she dropped her eyes, staring at the grass as it slowly tried to tie them down.

He stared. She continued to keep her eyes on the grass. It was not even noon yet and already his day had been bad. The sooner he got rid of her the better.

He turned and continued on his way. Wondering if she would keep up.

6

The day seemed to crawl by. His leg hurt. Badly. He was limping and no matter how he tried to cover it, he knew she saw this.

It was an awkward silence they traveled in. The world around them seemed just as silent. She followed a few steps behind him, not once mentioning her desire to head east.

Maybe she finally gets it? He glanced at her. She was still keeping her eyes down. Maybe not.

"Talk to her." Mayla said.

Fine. "Once you are out of here, you can head east. But there is no way to get out of this maze by heading east right now."

She looked at him, a small frown was there as she looked around. "This doesn't look like a maze. I can see..." she trailed off at his sigh.

"That's why so many die here, tart. No one can just blindly travel in here. If you don't just wander around and starve to death, the grass will get you. Even if you have plenty of food and drink...the grass will get you. No sane person would come here." He let his hand trail through the grass. His voice lowered. "The grass will get you."

She snorted. "That explains why you're here."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Yeah. Watch your lip tart. I don't have to help you.

She frowned, her eyes looking around them. "Why are you out here? If it's an empty land, a place for death, a place you know kills...why are you out here?"

Figures she would ask that. Better that than mocking him. Still, was it any of her business? Did it hurt to tell? "I want to be left alone. I'm here to be alone. And I was for a long time. People avoid this place. Hell, most animals avoid this place."

"Yet I came right to you." She stared at him then. He almost stumbled. Between his injured leg, sore shin and the grass it was a close call. "The Source works in mysterious ways."

Her blasted Source! "Look kid, I don't–my blanket!" How could he have forgotten it!? Old Grommy would not be happy! He stopped, staring back at the hill. It didn't look as far away as it really was. That was part of the trap this seemingly normal grass plain used on people.

The grass needed to feed on flesh. Luring something in here was not easy but keeping it here...well... that was much easier.

"Here."

"What?"

She flicked the small satchel attached to her wrist. "I have it. I didn't think you'd want it left behind. When you stormed away like you did, I packed everything in here."

You little tart. You will not get on my good side. "Do not help me like that."

"Why ever not?"

Why ever not? I can't afford to get close to anyone.

Again.

Ever.

I can't.

Without answering, he walked away.

She didn't let up. "If this is so deadly dangerous, mule, how do you know your way out?"

"I just do." He shrugged.

"How?"

He was getting annoyed. "I told you."

"But how? Are you magic–"

"We already talked about that. No one here can use...use–" Staring into those strange eyes of hers, he remembered what she could do. How was it possible? "Where are you from? Exactly?"

She blinked slowly at him. Was she deciding what to tell him? "I told you. I'm from across the sea."

Bah. He knew that much. "Can people on your side use magic?" How much land was there across the sea? How many people? He had never really thought on it. No one ever did that he knew of.

She bit her lip. "Well..." so she was a freak of nature there also? "Some could. We didn't have this–what did you call it? Cleansing?"

"Yes."

"We didn't have that where I come from but..."

When she looked away he reached out to her. She jerked at that. He withdrew his hand, fighting down the urge to touch her just for the mean spirit of it. "'But'?" He prompted.

"It's a long story."

"You're not that old." Her face puckered at him. He could feel the daggers cast. Ouch. Sore spot?

"You are a fool aren't you?" She tossed her hair. "Fine. I'll talk as we walk. Deal?"

He walked away. "So be it."

7

The story she told was interesting... at least to one that wasn't bored easily. She had lead a normal life as a child, blah blah, normal normal.

Boring yet just interesting enough to take your mind off the seemingly endless grass.

Then one day when she was playing with friends, she had fallen into a deep river.

A clumsy thing that usually left one wet. Unless it was deep and you did not know how to swim. She did not. It should have been her end. But this was much more for her. This is where it began. Both for her, and a listener.

Instead of drowning, she somehow walked the bottom of the river and came out on the far side. Her parents were naturally awed and frightened by this so they took her to the nearest church.

Naturally. Phhs.

The priest had little to say until he tried to test the girl. What happened next was hard to believe.

Is she lying to me?

He stared at her as she talked. Her strawberry hair was so unnaturally bright that he didn't doubt her word on how it came to be that color. Still... "What did it say?"

She sighed, her strange eyes gazing blankly out into the seemingly unchanged plains. "You do know we are not moving, yes?" She fingered her little satchel absently. "Or is this part of the maze you speak of?"

"I told–"

They both froze at the shriek.

"Gods be damned... they really want you dead tart."

"B–but how...how did they–"

He flipped his bow into his hand, dragging her to the ground with his free hand. He frowned as he sifted through the arrows.

All dead. He cursed loudly.

"Did they see us?" She was looking in the direction of the sound. He was looking around them, his eyes pinpointing movement through the grass.

"That would be a yes, tart." He rattled his arrows. "And these are useless now." He dropped the little bow back into its case. "Gods be damned..." He took out his daggers. This was going to get touchy.

"It's not a full hecter." Her voice sounded strange. He turned to stare at her, just as her hair lifted around her shoulders. "Only two in the air and maybe...four...on foot." Why were they so few?

She turned her eyes out to something he could not see. She pointed, a small tumbling ball of red formed there. "Follow this." It shot out over the grass, shearing the tops away from the grass that did not drop out of its way.

Without a thought, he ran after it. Two daggers at the ready as he sprinted low and fast as possible.

Wait. Did I just obey that little turd?

He had. Argh! Before he could ponder it further, he was on a blue black figure. The hunter was already on fire. Apparently, he had not been fast enough in activating his shield bracelet.

That makes it much easier.

Smiling, he drove his daggers home. One to the throat, the other into the hunter's heart. The man fell dead without a sound.

He wasn't even crying out when he had been on fire. Well, they weren't the best of the best for nothing.

"Behind you!" The voice shouted.

He dropped and rolled away as the burning shaft cut the air where his head had been.

Gods! It had been so fast he wasn't sure what it was till the hunter followed it up with a lighting fast downward hack.

A spear.

He caught it in an x he made with his daggers. Sparks flashed into his face, he didn't cry out or blink. That could be deadly in this fight and he was no green chicken to pain or battle. Kicking at the hunter's feet, he caught the man on the ankle, hearing a very satisfying crunch.

Showing only a hint of pain, the hunter spun away, letting the glowing spear light the grass on fire as it cut.

"Ahru-" he leapt into the air before the man could finish his curse. The spear cut through the grass, leaving a strange blue flame that leapt after him. As he came down into it, he grabbed the dead hunter, flipped him over, using his body to block the tracking flames.

It worked, though not as well as it could have since it allowed the hunter to get a jump on him and spear his foot.

Snarling–

...same damned leg!!

–he kicked his foot free, snatched the bracelet from the corpse and hurtled into the air. No point trying to stay hidden when different colored fires were flaring around you.

Jamming the bracelet into his mouth as he lifted into the air, he activated it with his tongue as he fell towards the moving hunter.

I'm not going to land on him.

With that thought, he tossed a dagger and drew another. The hunter was fast, catching the dagger in his arm instead of his chest.

As the hunter turned, trying to get as much momentum into his swing as possible, he exploded in a brilliant red plume.

Even shielded, I feel that!

He looked for the tart. He could see shooting balls and bars of red flaring up in the air as they hit the winged hunters. They were well shielded.

Grabbing what he could off the dead hunter, he ran for her.

Green...green...green...ah! He popped the stopper and drank the contents as he ran. The world grew bright around him, his leg, for now, was painless. Sprinting, he lifted the spear he had nabbed, testing its weight.

He felt a hunter swipe at him as he ran. "Hey!" The girl looked at him, her eyes brilliant orbs of light. Taking her attention away from the mounted hunter dropping towards her, she tossed a tumbling, fluid like bubble at his attacker while he lifted the spear and flung it with all his might.

It was odd when things like this worked.

He felt the great blast of heat behind him as the hunter suddenly stopped and used his shield to no effect while at nearly the same time, the spear caught the winged mount just hard enough to spin it around and destroy its dive.

The grass and dirt exploded where it hit.

Turning, the girl tossed...something... and there was a rather thunderous sound and brilliant white.

Was that one of the vials? He raced passed her, leaping into the air as the last hunter dived. Drawing different, longer daggers, he sneered into that glowering face.

I'm not changing my course so– wha..!

A force of some kind rocketed him towards the startled hunter. They collided in a bundle of swinging weapons, curses and beastly snarls.

Bugger me!

Locking the hunter's weapon arm was only good for that one arm, he couldn't do much about the small, wicked dagger that was coming towards him.

Both of us then! His dagger was already sinking into the hunter's chest when he felt the hunter's dagger dig into his shoulder. As they fell, the world spinning, the hunter struggling, the mount desperately flapping its wings, red encased them.

Little tart just killed m–

...?

He frowned as the red flowed over him. Literally. It didn't just flow, it seemed to deliberately run over him, under his shield, seemingly taking stock of him, lightly brushing his shoulder, lingering over his leg, then driving home into the dying hunter and twisting mount.

He hit the grass, a curious frown still frozen on his face as small flakes of red floated slowly down.

It's like snow. Bloody snow...

8

His eyes barely blinked away the light red powder. He had simply lain there, feeling the after effects of...well... everything.

I'm still alive?

The pain said yes.

"Of course you are." Mayla laughed at him. "Look at you, taken down so easily. Are you getting old?"

"Yes." Damn, it hurt to talk. "I am."

"Really?" The tart asked.

"What?"

"I asked if you were going to be ok."

"She did." Mayla said.

"I'm afraid so." He closed his eyes, not able to keep the sour note from his voice. He tried to roll but found himself wrapped in the grass.

Fantastic.

"Why is that a bad thing? You sound like you'd rather be dead!"

He opened an eye. Why would that bug her? The tart was stomping around him with a spear, cutting at the grass. Her eyes were puffy, tired. Her hair was a bit less shiny. Hmm. "Mmm." Was all he could manage.

What is there for me here? Tart.... If you only knew.

He lay there, feeling the strangeness. His foot was hurt. Bad. The spear had cut all the way through and the way he had kicked it off, it had to have taken out some tendons.

Or bones.

And his leg, never healing pain that it was, was throbbing like mad. Each heartbeat. He felt them in that cursed leg.

And my shoulder. Guess I'm lucky the dagger wasn't poisoned.

"Why wasn't it poisoned?" He wondered.

"They must have been a different kind of hunter. Too few. Too fast." The tart made sense. "That had to be some kind of..." she frowned searching for the word. "Fast attack? Strike force?" She said.

"What's that?" He asked.

"It's a force that...well... they come fast on the heels of a proper hecter if it has failed."

Great. So, how many of these will be coming?

"I've not heard of this. Why do you know so much about them?" He knew of the Antia hunters. Most did. Though they were thought a myth by many. You never expected to actually run into them.

As a life long warrior and bounty hunter himself, he had seen them before. He had fought them before. Still...

She can read their language. That was another odd thing. He didn't know anyone that could. He started moving his arms about, loosening the grassy grip of the land.

She stood back, watching. "I...well... they do come from my lands you know."

Ah. That would explain why she knew–

"Even then, this is not the normal kind of contract." She looked out over the plains. Frowning at the hill they had left. He knew the look. It seemed like they had not gained any distance from it. "Are you–"

"Yes for hell's sake we are much further away than you think." He tugged on the grass one last time to free his right arm. He drew a dagger to work on the grass that clung to his left arm. She paused. "You were saying?"

"Uhm. Well, they come from my lands. So obviously I know their language. Haven't you noticed my accent?"

No. Not really.

She frowned. "Anyways, this is a contract to kill me and take–" her eyes suddenly snapped to his. "You will help me, yes?"

He cut away the last of the grass and worked the dagger along his side so he could sit up. "I am taking you to the nearest town. From there–"

"That's what Onsho said."

He paused, frowning at her. "Who?"

She smiled a sad smile. "Onsho. He was a warrior." She smirked. "Much better than you." Before he could reply to that she turned. "He was young too. And handsome. Such a magnificent warrior."

He couldn't help himself. "Yet he died and here you are, with old, ugly, wounded me. What does that tell you about this Source of yours?"

She sighed. Looking over her shoulder, her aqua eyes swam with tears. "It's not my Source fool. I told you this. Onsho was good. Very good. With my other companions, I thought...I thought–"

He sat up. The cut grass falling away. Bah! The grass had worked its way through the hole in his foot. It was probably crawling through him now, trying to work its way to his heart.

This will hurt. Once the last of that magic vial wears off...this will hurt like hell's own fury.

He grabbed it and slowly began to pull it out. You didn't want to snap it. Oh no. Any grass left in your system would work its way to your heart even faster, trying to kill you out here to feed the plains.

"Go on." He growled. Gritting his teeth he pulled inch by bloody inch. The grass was not wanting to come out.

She looked at what he was doing, paled, snapped her eyes up, into the distance. "Well, I had a full company," she glanced at him again. "that's ten where I come from." It was ten here as well but he didn't feel like talking as the grass fought every inch of the way. "Onsho was the newest and the most upbeat of them. He knew what we were doing and he believed in it with all his heart."

Breathing heavily, he pulled the last bit of grass from his wound, tossing it aside. Ah ha! He lifted his lip at it. Man beats nature. "He worshiped this Source then?"

"Yes. Yes he did. It gave him strength you wouldn't believe. Faith. He had faith we would succeed. So much faith that it infected all of us. We knew we would come through in the end."

He eyed her trembling back. This story didn't end well. That was obvious.

"Well...as we traveled, more and more hunters began to come. Soon, even Onsho began to tire." She laughed softly. "No one can stay awake forever can they?" She turned, watching him. "Can you?"

He cut the last bit away, kicking his legs as best he could. They hurt. Both of them. "No. Wouldn't want to even if I could. Being awake is pain. Being awake is cold solitude. Being awake hurts. Only sleep brings solace." He glanced at her. "And death. Death is the ultimate sleep after all. Oblivion. Never ending. Peaceful."

She frowned at him. "Do you believe that?"

He shrugged.

"That's a sad view on life and death."

"Life is pain." He grunted as he stood. She tried to help him up but he waved her off. She stood back, crossing her arms, watching him struggle. "You should know that. Life is only pain. There is nothing here but pain."

"Friendship–"

"They die."

"Family is–"

"They leave you as a babe."

"Love–"

"Fades."

She lowered her eyes. "We've not lived the same life. That much is for certain."

For once, the little tart spoke truth. "You were saying? No one can stay awake? Something...?"

He picked up his belongings, glad she was carrying most for now, and marked his location. Not much longer now. He began walking. It hurt.

She followed behind him. "Two groups came one night. It was a...a mess. Most of my companions, my friends, were killed. Onsho lived but he was badly wounded." He could hear the slight quake in her voice but he'd be damned if he looked back. He had trouble keeping this pace as it was with his leg hurting as it did.

"Night after night they came. Soon...soon..."

Now he did glance back. A few tears threatened to roll from those strangely deep eyes of hers. She did her best to control it. "He didn't make it."

She shook her head in reply. "He–he was the last to fall. Fighting them at the river."

I knew it. She ran all that way, into the maze, and somehow found me. Still. How was it possible? "The Tharin?"

She shrugged, looking up to catch him watching her. He tried to turn, those eyes of hers held him like a vice. "I'm not sure what it's called. If that is its name... he died there. I made it across and into this...this..." She looked around.

"Maze."

She shook her head. "Whatever it may be. I made it here and still they followed. I knew Onsho was dead. I knew they were all dead." She clutched her chest. "The Source diminished when they died. It's still here, oh yes, but it weakened after every death." Her eyes never blinked, never let him go. "It strengthened again when I found you. How peculiar, no?"

He just spit to the side. It did not turn her eye as he had hoped. What else did girls hate? He couldn't think of anything with those aqua traps holding him.

She ran a hand over her small breast. Her heart...her heart. "I didn't understand at first. How I made it here. Where I was. Then...then I was pushed toward you. Sitting there on that hill. Standing out like a black scar on the land."

A black scar?

"So different from my friends. So different from my family. They all glowed to me. Shone as brightly as freshly spun gold. Even Onsho glowed so very very brightly and yet... you were their equal in your blackness. In your absolute lack of any color."

"Thank you?"

"So I knew then. I knew you were my next companion. The Source guided me to you and close to you, it flared to life. Exploded! Bloomed!" She shook her head. "I can't even find the words. It was so much more than before. Did you see how I attacked those hunters?" That would have been hard to miss. "I was never able to do that before."

"You're welcome?" What do you say to that?

"So it makes me wonder, what are you? Why are you so...bleak? Dead? Are you living? Yes. Yet I can tell you are empty. I can feel the ache. The bitterness. I listen as you talk to the clouds."

That finally got him. Enough to speak at least. "I don't talk to clouds! I–"

"Lost ones?" She turned her head to look upward. "I thought you said death brought peace? Death brought oblivion?"

He was finally freed as she had looked skyward. He stared out into the seemingly endless plains. Soon. Soon...

"Insane or not...I need you. The Source has chosen you. If light and happiness can not bring me through, bring it through, then I guess it chose the opposite. Anger. Hatred. Bitterness." She sniffed. "I would question it...if it would answer." He saw red flicker in front of him. He glanced back. She was holding her hand before her, staring at the flickering, tumbling ball of red.

I wonder if that is her answer?

She met his eye, or tried to. He looked away. Something about her. What was it? "Do you think this is an answer?" She asked, the red before him brightened but he did not look back. He just shrugged. She made a thoughtful sound.

"I don't even know what this Source of yours is. Why is it coming here? What does it–" He caught his tongue. This wasn't his business!

Yet I feel strangely compelled...

"'times ya don't have a choice, lad." Old Grommy said. "'times, yer just a puppet on er string." He could hear the old man chew a wade of white grass, sucking the juice out. No doubt getting ready to project it as far as possible. It seemed fun to the old fart.

He jumped when a small hot spot lighted on his back. "Are they talking to you again?" She was staring at him, he realized he had come to a stop and had been staring at the sky. "What do they say? Who are they?"

"Tart–"

"Gennifer." She stomped her foot. Ha! No...not physically. Mentally at least. So he could still get to her. Good. Good. A warrior must try to always learn, even at the end.

He shrugged, his lips lifting into something that was not exactly a smile. "Tart..." he wasn't going to use her name. Never. It was something he didn't even want to know in the first place. "...it is none of your business. I told you, they are not your concern."

"Did you say that?" She tilted her head.

"Of course I did! I don't wa–"

"What's your name?"

"–to even...what? What do you–"

"What is your name? I can't go around calling you fool or jester or–"

"That is also–"

"–mule head. Although, maybe that last fits."

"I don't–"

"You are rather mule headed after all."

"–I–"

"She's right you know." Mayla added helpfully.

"Mayla!" He ground his teeth as those damned eyes locked onto his, trying to drill through his skull. Digging for answers. "She is also none of your concern!" He spun, moving fast.

The girl ran to catch up. Now she was beside him, beaming up at him with some kind of...what was it? What was that in her eyes? What was tha–her chest was glowing!

"What!?" He froze, almost pointing.

She looked at her chest, frowned, narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you mind?"

"I'm not–"

"You're looking at my breasts like you've never seen a pair before! Hmph!" She lifted her head and began to stalk away. He waited, not sure what to say.

I saw that. That glow. What is it? The Source? No. Don't even go there. A long slippery slope if you start wondering.

After a small, angry walk, she turned. Wait. His eyes narrowed. Wait just a minute. He didn't see any anger there. None! "You little..." her hair glowed so brightly. "...tart!"

"What was that?" She asked.

"This way." He walked a bit to the side of where she had been, she followed at his shoulder, gaze locked on his profile. Finally he glanced down at her. "What?"

"You don't understand jokes do you?"

"Of course I do."

She snorted. "I don't think so."

"A man walks into a bar, he passes the maiden a golden coin and asks for the best tramp she has to offer. The maiden calls over a beautiful blond wench. 'This the best you got?' the man asked. The maiden nods, assuring him. He takes the woman up into a room, nearly a quarter hour passes before the entire bar is frozen by a scream. The man comes running downstairs, face pale and eyes wide."

He began to smile. "'What's wrong?' the maiden asked. 'That...' the man sputters '...was a man!' She sighs, handing him his coin back and says 'Sorry. I thought you asked for a trap, I thought you liked a little shaft you know?'"

He burst out laughing.

And continued as Grommy joined in. So did Mayla with her soft, throaty laugh. The others were silent.

His laughter slowed. Slowed. Stopped. The girl was just staring at him.

"And?"

"What?"

"And then what?"

"That's the whole joke! You know. He wanted a tramp but she sent him a trap." He shook his head. "Get it?" He stared. "Thought he wanted a little shaft. You know." He motioned at his crotch. "Get it?"

She frowned. "That is funny?"

He stared at her for a few heartbeats. Just stared. Shaking his head, he began walking again.

She caught up in a few steps, looking at him closely. After a while, she made a sort of grunt. "You're serious? That's humor here?"

He frowned, feeling the need to defend, Gods, something! "If you were a man you'd get it."

She made a thoughtful frown. He could see her thinking. Finally she shook her head. "No. No I don't think I'd laugh." She looked away, pacing ahead a bit. "I mean...why trap? Why call it that?"

He opened his mouth. She didn't let him start. "Well? Trap? That makes no sense. On top of which–" He moved faster.

That is funny. Maybe she's too young?

"What is a joke from your land?"

"Eh?"

He looked at her, almost running to keep pace. He slowed a bit. "Well? Tell me one of your jokes." Slow down? What? To hells with that. He sped up. She was following him. She was bothering him. He wouldn't slow to help her.

Even if my leg is hurting...

"I'm not in much of a joke mood but...ok. Here's one I heard before they began to die." She chewed on her lower lip, thinking, then nodded. "Yes. Ok. Why did the gillzard cross the road?"

He waited.

She walked on.

He waited some more.

She shook her head. "You're supposed to ask me 'why did it cross the road?'."

"Why?"

"No. 'Why did it cross the road?' You are supposed to ask."

"What?"

"Why did the gillzard cross the road! Bloody Hells man! Ask me..."

He frowned. He already knew this joke. It wasn't funny. "No."

She let out an exasperated sound. "No? No! Why not?"

"I already know this one. 'To get to the other side.'" He nodded. "Yes?"

Her lips puckered in a strange way. "You don't find that funny?"

"No."

She nodded, falling a step behind him. "I'm not shocked. As black and bleak as you are..." She mumbled softly. He didn't catch what it was exactly after the black and bleak bit but, it wasn't good he was sure.

It's also in a tongue I don't understand.

Deciding he liked this silence, he plowed forward, parting the grass and moving as fast as his leg allowed.

9

It was sundown as they neared the river. The little tart had stopped him three times...three!...to, as she called it 'answer nature's call'. He could guess what that was as he watched her walk away and then, glancing at him and muttering in her own tongue, squat down so she was hidden by the tall grass.

She needed to piss. Why not just say that? Nature's call? What the hells? At first he had thought she was talking about magic or some such thing.

Regardless, they were here now. "Ahhh..." He looked at the sky. Damn it. They'd never make the town and be allowed in.

"Another river?" She asked.

"No. Same one. It circles the maze plains. Beyond that–"

"Forrest?"

"Yes."

She turned an unsteady eye on him to see if he was kidding. "This is not where I came in? You're sure?"

He shook his head. He wanted to remind her if it was the same side, she would be able to see the remains of her beloved Onsho. For some reason...he didn't.

I'm getting soft. Or tired. Yes. Very tired.

"That's not soft, sweets. She's just a child." Mayla said.

"Tell her that."

"What?" The tart asked.

Damn it. He grunted, walking closer to the river.

Limping closer actually.

Will this pain never end?

He stared at the water for a moment, visions of his lost ones danced there, watching. Some were laughing, their lips moving as they joked. No doubt berating him for his present situation. He sighed. "Nothing." She didn't need to know when he spoke to his friends.

Or maybe I'm speaking to me? Hmm.

A sound escaped him as he plopped down as close as he could get to the running water. It was a very pleasant scent here. Fresh. New. The water could wash away so much. The grass here was bent over, drawing in the water. He smiled at that. The grass in the maze plains was about the liveliest grass he knew of. Here, at least, it would focus on the water and not him.

Usually!

He kicked away a stray that had found the hole in his foot.

The tart walked around him, dropping the gear she had carried. She stretched right above him. He couldn't help but admire her. That hair. Those amazing eyes. That chest was not as small as he thought. Though, what she wore did enhance it a bit. He glanced away as he caught her catching him.

Damn. But he was a man. And she was–

"How old are you?" He blinked at her question. He was thinking that very question about her.

He let himself fall backward into the strangely bent grass. It was very soft and mostly sticking to the water to suck it in and spread across the vast field. It moved under him, undulating softly as it pulled the water in.

He remained silent. His leg hurt. His foot hurt. His shoulder hurt. His head hurt.

I wouldn't mind drifting away like this.

"Sorry sweets, not yet." Mayla whispered, taking his foot gently into her hands.

When? Was that out loud? No. No he didn't think so.

"Soon enough. Soon enough." He let her lift his leg with no protest.

This was a dangerous place. The sound of the water was pulling gently at his senses. It was hypnotic in a deep, primal kind of way. Offering cold comfort in its depths and a smooth transition into its constant motion. The grass was almost as bad. The soft movements beneath him were just begging him to let it take away his pain.

The better to lull you into oblivion.

He opened an eye. "What are you doing?" He asked quietly as he saw the girl holding his foot, his newly sewn, and newly torn, boot hanging from her arm.

"This needs to be...goodness...this needs to be fixed and your foot," she inhaled sharply. "your foot needs to be tended to. How did you walk on it like this?"

He glanced at it. He shouldn't have. His foot was nearly black. Well, at least the part that was hanging. Apparently the boots she had made him were all that had held it together.

A lesser man would probably have puked or passed out. He just blinked at the dangling bit.

Three toes hanging there? I wonder why it doesn't hurt more?

The tart was gazing at him, her eyes swimming colors in the fading light. "Is it the blackness? Does it give you this strength? Does it–"

"Curse your blackness tart!" Damn, wouldn't she let it go? "I don't know what you're talking about. Yes it hurt," why tell her? "but you just have to keep moving and put the pain aside. Bury it within. Store it. Save it. Eventually...it fades. Everything fades" He sighed. "In time."

She had dropped the boot and pulled something from that little satchel of hers. It looked like a giant pair of nail clippers. "Wait...what are you–" He bit the scream back as she clamped it onto his foot and smashed it back together. He felt the strange, twisting and tightening of the loops of magic binding as it made his foot whole.

When she was done, he looked to see what was left. His foot was split from the middle toe almost to his ankle, now it was held together by a bright blue line. Magical surgical tools? He looked at her. He was breathing much harder than she and she didn't look nearly as upset as he felt.

Where does she get this stuff? It is far too expensive here for just anyone to have that tool. He narrowed his eyes.

She noticed, shrugged. "The Source provides. When the plague swept over my lands, with so many suffering...it provided for me. So much. All to help me on my way. To guide me here to set things right. I didn't..." she blinked as she watched one of the red stars shoot across the sky.

She was quiet for awhile, waiting for more, she was not disappointed. This was a nightly thing, though it looked like she had never seen it before.

"She hasn't." Mayla said. "Not in her land."

"So?" The tart asked.

He watched a lazy blue star move slowly after a red one. "Hmm?" Seeing it for the first time? He could remember what that had been like. Magical. Back in the times when things were new and he was not as alone and cold and empty.

"How old are you?"

He sighed, thinking back. How many moons could he remember? How many wars? Battles?

I don't remember.

Was that odd? To not remember your age? He was born and left abandoned to the trainers, from there, it had been nothing but fighting. Training. Fighting. Training some more. No one had ever bothered to let him know what day it was, much less what year it was.

"I'm not even sure what year this is, tart." He said softly, watching the sky.

She watched in silence. Her eyes tracking the lights. Some were obviously man made. Made when magic was used by man himself, instead of harnessed through a focus. A twisting blue and red line danced across the sky. It was supposedly a magician's proposal to his woman. That story, like so many, did not end well.

"That's so sad."

Was it bad or good timing that she said that just as those stars danced their way across the sky? He watched her watching them. He could see it in her face. The lines. The loss. The lights from above lit her from below. Her face was a dual color mess. Half red, half blue. Switched now. Half blue, half red. Switched again as the magician made stars spiraled slowly and forever around each other.

"Yes?" She asked, not looking at him.

It was eerie how some women could feel your eye on them. He looked into the water, watching it reflect the colors of such an old tale of loss.

"Do you know the story of the lovers' stars?"

"Is that what those are called? The red and the blue? Dancing around each other like that?"

He nodded, wondering if she was looking at him or watching the stars vanish over the horizon. "Yes, those. You see, generations ago when man could use magic without an artifact, there was a young mage. He was in love with this beautiful young lass..."

"This does not end well does it?"

"No. No it does not."

She sighed. Looking at him, through him, she nodded slowly. "Please, continue while I sew your boot back together."

For some reason, despite his sudden spite to not finish the tale, he did.

10

It was the frogs that gave them away. That dead silence slamming down like a curtain over the former chorus this close to the river. The warm, strangely blue colored dream he had been in, where he had been held and loved and not lost and not left unwanted...was torn away.

We have company.

His eyes snapped open to see the stars above slightly blocked by a blackness that was man shaped dropping towards him.

No rest for the wicked?

He rolled aside as a shimmering spear thunked heavily into the ground. It hissed strangely as the dirt and grass burned. Before the shape could recover, he was on it, two of his daggers burying themselves into the dark mass. Or should have buried themselves.

What the–

He didn't finish the thought as the man shaped figure lashed out, knocking him into the air, tumbling, spinning, to finally land with a splash.

He came up coughing, gasping for air, just in time to have his hair grasped and used to yank him out of the river. As he watched the strangely glistening blade moving swiftly at his throat, red exploded around them.

Whatever held him let out a feline yowl as it sent him tumbling head over heels, spinning on its attacker.

The girl!

He flopped into the river, quickly sinking, he watched the man thing's feet pad over the water, staying on top of it like some kind of strange water bug.

What...the...?

No time for thinking. The world slowed as he sank. Not only was he going under the water, he was falling into his warrior's place. The fish that darted around him seemed to move so very slowly. The star light glittered off every scale. Each one was a sight to behold. Ripples of dark rainbows as they moved around him.

But no time to enjoy it.

When his feet touched the bottom, they found solid rock to propel himself upward. This time, his daggers were glowing a dark purple.

Let's see how you like this.

By whatever means his warrior's sense allowed, he was able to reach the water walking man thing and jab upward into one of those strangely shaped feet.

This time, he felt the blade sink in and the man thing itself sank down into the water. Almost as if it had been walking on a bubble of air that had been popped.

In the darkness, he felt more than saw weapons coming at him. They sang to him as they cut through the water. Even with his heightened senses, he knew he'd take a hit. He would be shocked by that if he wasn't under the influence of those deeper parts of his mind. His warrior state.

He could see the outcome clearly as he saw the man thing's strange face. That thing saw it as well and was accepting its fate. They both knew what was coming.

I see. A death for a death then? So be it.

He felt his daggers slam home, sinking into the thing's chest as its weapon cut into his side. Blood filled his vision. His own and that of the man thing's.

It burned. Gods it burned! Was it poison?

He inhaled water, felt it slide down his nose, cold and sharp, sliding down, down. Happily dancing as it began filling his lungs.

So this was the end? About flaming time. Life was pain. This would soon be over. Not a bad way to go at that. Going out like–

Red flared around him, gripped him like some kind of hot, liquid hand, pulling him free, tossing him high into the air.

Damn...

He crashed down into the grass hard enough to cause the water to jet out of him.

"Mule head! Muley!!" The tart shouted.

"Ow."

"Mule?" She asked. A red light hovering towards him. Casting strange shadows through the tall grass. "Are you alive?"

He saw a dark shape not far from him. Its eyes were locked on his own. The thing was definitely man like. A strange cross between man and beast. Glittering near by he could make out the spear.

So there had been two of them? I knew it. Three arms?

It blinked at him, thick blood streaming from its mouth.

"Quick." It was hard to understand. "Warrior...much faster...than thought."

"It's still alive?" She asked. The red light danced over them. He could see the man thing had a light of its own, slowly fading away from it as it bled out.

It blinked slowly. Its cat like eyes looking in the direction of the river. "Mate?" More blood spilled out. It saw the answer in his eyes. "Dead." It nodded, a small smile there. "Send me...to him–" it coughed. "...this...bad...for you. You...tricked. Brings–"

Red fire, fist shaped, wrapped around the man thing, burning it where it touched, crushing the last life from it. It lifted the limp, burning body high, flinging it toward the water.

He watched it tumble lifelessly until he heard a splash. He tried to move. He couldn't. He looked at the spear. Its light had faded away.

"Fool." The tart's voice was tight with emotion. "Mule..." He closed his eyes as she came around, bending to look into his face.

Her hair was sparked out in some comically bizarre aftermath of the magic in her. Her eyes were spots of color he couldn't manage to stare into, her clothing seemed to flutter around her as if a mighty wind was swirling.

She stood straight, hands on her hips as the wind that he could not feel continued to whip around her. As her expression softened, the wind dyed down. "Tck." She sat down next to him. He watched as her hair slowly seemed to settle. Funny the things your eyes and mind lock onto when you've been dealt a heavy enough blow.

She leaned towards him, pulling and tugging him around as best she could.

What does she think she's doing?

He tried to fight her, every step of the way. Just because he could.

"Would you settle down? Mule, you're worse than a child!" Oh how nice. Being scolded by the little tart! He wanted to come back with some biting retort. Strangely, he couldn't seem to find his voice. "My my." He couldn't exactly feel what she was doing now, nor could he see her as well as he'd like. "Look at you."

He struggled as a red mist seemed to spiral up and around her. It looked, strangely enough, like her. The mist seemed to melt back down over her, across that suddenly glowing spot on her chest, before flowing towards him. Over him. He felt his clothes move. His hair stood on end. He tried to struggle.

"Just stay still." He blinked. "This will only take..." He began to fade. His head was killing him. Such pain. "...there?" What was she talking about? He couldn't hear her.

"Jus' le' 'er go lad." Old Grommy said. "Ta sle'p is divine!" The old man laughed. "Ye 'ought ta 'ave been with us alre'dy see? Now... now..."

Drunk as usual. When the old man was drinking, he became much harder to understand. And that was saying something.

Wait...can the dead get drunk? How is that possible?

"'ey! W'hen I ter....wer... ye didn' not see ter..." Whatever the old man was saying, it was quickly lost in his garbled drunk speak.

"As opposed to his normal, easily understood tongue?" Mayla laughed.

He would have laughed if he could have. Instead...

"Sleep." One of them commanded. The tart? His friends? He didn't know. Didn't care.

Don't mind if I do.

11

When he came to this time, it was under a strange, comforting feeling. He had been dreaming. Again. A place of warm blues. Soft hands and gentle whispers keeping the pain away, healing his body.

Healing his mind?

He didn't want to leave. Such a safe, warm place. No more fighting. Finally. Finally...no more fighting. But, like all dreams, it ended.

He kept his eyes closed as he felt the heat on his face. It was so warm. Like the sun. Probably was the sun. He also felt... a tickle. He opened his eyes at that.

The little brat had his head cradled in her lap. She was stroking his hair aside as she looked around her, keeping a vigil for any other attacks. The tickle was her hair, back to its normal strawberry red. Lengths of it kept touching his face as she looked around.

His first thought was to punch her in the face.

That can't be right. What's wrong with me? Oh...right. I'm a black, bleak thing. According to her.

He mentally snorted at that.

Yet here she is, tending me like I'm a babe. Bah.

"Awake?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Those were a mated pair of catkin. Do you have them here?"

Catkin? "No."

She continued stroked his hair, running her fingers through it. He could feel his scalp tingling. Was she using magic? "I didn't think so. I wasn't sure. Both males. Both magic. Both deadly. What a duel they must have had when they were paired. To be mated, there is always a fight. From what I saw, they seemed pretty deadly. I'm assuming the other was killed in the river?"

He grunted. That was a yes.

"I can't believe..." she talked on in her own tongue for a few before looking down into his face. She blinked. A small smile touched the corners of her lips. "You like this?"

I do. Gods, more than you can imagine.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched him like that. Touched him without wanting to kill him.

"You do." She giggled.

Giggled?

Her smile remained. "I can see it. Here." She cupped his face in both hands, leaning down quickly to kiss his forehead.

I–

Her lips burned where they touched. Not in a painful way. Just... strange. He blinked at her. Her eyes were filled with laughter.

"You're lucky you survived that." Her face darkened a bit as her eyes traveled over his body. "That poison they use is very effective. When a mated pair of catkin are sent for you, you know your days are numbered. Not only are they magic, they can cancel magic. Eat it right up. And their speed? Goodness."

"I noticed."

She stared at him, face unreadable. "So you did. So you did." She chewed on her lower lip, thinking, finally she just asked. "Can you use magic?"

"No. No one here can."

She leaned closer to his face. She was still absently combing his hair back. "So you say, yet what I saw...what I saw was much faster than any normal human should have been able to react. If not magic..."

"A warrior's trance." He shrugged. "Warrior's state of mind. A warrior's place within himself. Goes by many names, some fancy, some not. In the end, it is the same thing. It costs dearly to use it, but some of us just slip in and out at will."

And I have the massive headache to go with...wait. I don't have a headache at all.

"Onsho spoke of something like this. He was fast...well, not as fast as Nilah but...but he was fast. Still, both of them were nothing compared to what you did. I saw. I've seen it twice now. I don't understand how it's not magic."

He frowned in thought. The warrior's trance was different for everyone. It was true that he had encountered few that could move faster than he could, but he had encountered them. "Not everyone can do it. Neither are they the same...same..." What words fit?

"Speed? Quality? Grace?" She added helpfully. He sighed, nodding. Those were as good as any words he could find.

"No different than art. Everyone can make art if they are trained, yet not everyone is a master craftsman at it."

She nodded at this. She looked up sharply as a caw cried out in the distance. He felt a strange sense of something...reaching...out from her. Seeking. When it returned, she relaxed.

It sounds like madness but I think that was her magic searching out for danger. What is this young thing?

He would have backed away if he could have but...damn it all...her lap, her fingers, it was so comforting. Healing. Something inside him longed for this. Longed to be home.

Home?

What was home to an orphan such as he?

"I take it you excel at this...warrior thing?"

"Yes."

She tilted her head as she looked into his eyes. "A master at death. Is that why you are alone and your friends are gone?" He felt his face start to get heavy. Literally. A frown was forming and he knew it. "You were better than they and so, you are alone? So alone."

He pushed her hands away, sitting up. Yes. Yes that was the truth. They always seemed to fall. Always seemed to die. Always left him alone. In the end.

In the end I'm always alone. In the end I'm alone. Cold. Alone.

So alone...

"Because they are weak, you are alone."

He spun on her, fist raised, snarl on his lips. She turned her cheek slightly, waiting for the blow. A blow he did not deliver.

The little bitch deserves it! Why can't I...
She watched him, her eyes told him she knew he wanted to hit her. Expected it. When he did not, something flickered there. Some inner knowledge that just looked unsettling on one so young.

How old are you, tart? There is far more in those eyes of yours, far more in this feeling around you. How old?

He stood up, limping a short distance to the river's edge. He dropped to his knees to dunk his head into the water. It was cold. Ice cold. That wasn't...

"Hello there." The little sprite whispered. Its voice was ice, freezing his brain as it ran through his head.

He couldn't move. He was completely frozen. The naked little creature held him effortlessly. Humans had lost their touch with magic, so had most humanoids. Apparently, this little sprite was still capable of magic.

Damn.

He instantly regained his calm. If this creature wanted, it could easily end him.

"I won't do that!" It giggled as it swirled its little hands through his hair. "I followed the catkin to Gennifer. I wanted to see how it was going." The creature pulled back, placing its hands on its hips as it stared at him. "I see it goes... well enough." Moving in very close, the little creature reached out and touched his eye.

It didn't hurt but, well, it's not often one has a small human like hand on their eyeball.

"Protect her brute. Know that nature's children are with her. With the girl. We will help her. Here." The sprite pushed the little hand into his eye. Magic was being used here, otherwise he knew this would be excruciating.

The world flared white, then he was free.

He pulled his head from the water, coughing. The tart was holding the catkin's spear, examining it. She looked up as she heard his cough. She hurried towards him.

Great. I still need a drink.

Looking carefully for the little sprite, he cupped water to his mouth a few times while he could.

There! He pulled back just as it reached for him. The little sprite frowned, spun a few times, slowed down, locked his eyes and began motioning him down.

Why the hells not?

He dunked his head back into the water. It grew icy cold around him again. The sprite smiled. "That was a gift from the Source."

I don't want any–

"Doesn't matter what you want brute, the Source has chosen and you will be her guide." The little sprite twirled in the water, glittering like the fish that swarmed around it. "You and she shall make it, we are all counting on you. And, if you shall fail her, we shall seek vengeance."

Do your worst runt! I've had just about–

"Help her and help yourself brute. When have you ever heard a water sprite lie? Eh? Exactly." With a smile, the little sprite planted a strange little kiss on his stunned face. "That's from me! For luck." Then it was gone. Quick as that. A silver flash, then nothing.

Was it...female? Male?

He lifted his head slowly, the water bringing his hair over his eyes. He stayed like that, looking at his dark reflection, thinking on what had happened in such short time.

"They cancel magic." The tart held the spear tip down in front of his face. "Why couldn't they stop you?"

"It's not–"

"Magic I know. You don't do magic. I know." The spear vanished as she moved by him, splashing into the river. He was going to warn her about the sprite but then what good would that do? It seemed to want to help her. That was...unusual.

It had known her name too.

"Why didn't it stop my magic?" She dipped the spear into the water, watching the current part and swirl around it. "Why didn't they stop my magic from taking them?" He just stared at her. The glow around her was new. He closed his eyes, rubbing at them. It helped.

When he looked, the glow was still there but fading.

What...ahh hells. The water sprite.

What had that little thing put into him?

How...well, magic of some kind. Why does it make her glow?

"You're asking the wrong person, tart."

"Gennifer."

He didn't respond as he moved about, concentrating on grabbing his belongings. So much he had recently acquired. The catkin might have had some interesting things on them but, they were swept away, somewhere down the river. He sighed at the loss of his daggers, still buried in the one no doubt.

Standing on the bank, he watched the little tart posed, spear raised. With a flash, she speared a rather large trout of some kind. She let out a little triumphant hoot. "Breakfast?" She asked, smiling at him. She didn't seem to realize there was a glow over her.

Then, it's probably only my vision of her that's been changed. I don't like that.

He blinked it away as best as he could, sending a glare at the water as he stepped in.

I don't like that at all...

Was that a small laugh he heard? A silvery flash just there, a little out of sight?

"Bah." He began muttering as he crossed. The tart stood there, holding her kill up proudly. When he didn't react, she let out a little puff of air and followed him. Still, she held her prize up before her.

I don't like this at all! What did that little–

"What are those?" She asked. He glanced at her, followed her pointing finger to flashing metal.

My my, isn't that interesting. I wonder?

He waded as quickly as possible to the flickering objects and, sure enough, they were daggers. His daggers. Standing upright in mocking salute. There he saw the sprite without doubt. There, a wink, a laugh, gone.

He stood for a time, looking at the daggers. How did they get back here?

"Are those yours? How did they get here?" She asked.

He frowned, scratched his chin, decided to accept this gift. "Luck?" He mumbled.

Thank you, little one.

Did he just thank the sprite?

Grumbling, he pushed on.

As they reached the far bank, a small clear patch before the woods proper, he turned and set up some cooking stones that flared with fire. He watched the girl, waiting.

She frowned, looking from the fish to him. "I'm...uhm..." her frown deepened. "I don't know..."

He whipped out his dagger and took the fish. "Watch and learn." He cut swiftly and surely. Moving as fast as possible, watching the girl try to keep track. Her face darkened as he moved even faster. A small frown. Finally, she met his amused stare.

Her frown deepened. "You're doing that on purpose. Is this fun for you? Fun to tease an innocent little–"

"If you say girl, I will slap you."

"I..." she turned away from him, crossing her arms. "Bah! Mule, have it your way. Treat me as you will. In the end, you are helping me."

Her snorted. "After we reach the village, you're on your own." He slapped the fish onto the cooking stones. "Now get over here and watch these. You can do that much, yes?"

Her angry snort assured him she could. Or at least thought she could. He let her bull her way in, beside the cooking fish. He stood, painfully, and hobbled off.

"Where–"

"No worries. I'm just going to rest against that tree there."

She stared. "More rest? Haven't you had enough?" She pulled some kind of tool from her satchel. "You'll sleep away days at this rate. How am I–"

He stopped her wit ha motion. "This is sleep, tart. Restful sleep. Not passed out from fighting or having your head bashed sleep." He glanced at her. "I need it."

She shrugged, working over the fish. "If you say so."

"Is that safe, sweets?" Mayla sounded worried.

"Of course it is. What's the worst that can happen out here? I'm across the river. The grass won't try to eat me. The water doesn't hold any mischievous little devils out to get me...again...and that looks very very soft."

"When one is close to the veil, as you are now, you never know what might come next."

He frowned. Veil? Did she mean death? He felt a small smile. "I'm not overly worried about that." He reached the tree, touching soft bark reverently. It was a rare sight, this one. Green moss, more like fur, coated the heavily crowned tree.

It was thought to have magical abilities for healing, as well as restoring sexual potency in men and women. Thus, it had been hunted to near extinction. This old one was here alone among all the other trees.

All alone.

Like me, eh old one?

"Can't really be hunted if it's a tree, my sweet." Mayla said.

"True enough. But–"

"Are you talking to yourself again?" The tart called.

Mayla let out a soft laugh. He sighed. Turning, he let his back hit the tree and his weight drag him down onto his rump. He felt relaxed at once. Opening up the bag he carried, he began rifling through the vials again. He found the one he wanted. His own vial. A bright pink liquid shimmered within.

"That will kill you, you know." Mayla said.

"Yes." He popped the topper, the smell of berries and a hint of something foul hit his nose. He inhaled deeply. Smiling, he gulped it, used his finger to clean out the vial before stashing it away. It hit at once. The burn spread through his body, carrying away all his pain and weariness. Working its way into wiping his thoughts.

Sighing, he let his head fall to his chest as his mind continued on, down down deep into the ground.

12

Dreams. Dreams of things that were. Dreams of things that might be. Dreams were the gift of the liquid he had drank. Dreams and forgetfulness all at once.

This is magic.

"...done..."

The girl? Was she talking to him?

Sorry kid, I'm not leaving this haven.

But he would, it was impossible to stay. He found himself in a world of red and blue hues. As time went on, infinite amounts of time, he began to drift away.

A smell tugged at him.

Fish.

The fish floated in front of him, held out on some kind of metal weapon.

"...ds....ertg..." whatever he said, it didn't make sense. He opened his mouth as a small laugh escaped. Before he could close his mouth, he felt something thrust in.

Fish.

The fish was good. Seasoned oddly...but good. He chewed it slowly, eyes wandering up the metal weapon to the strange creature that held it. The thing was glowing white, topped with fire. Two unblinking eyes of the strangest color he had seen narrowed at him.

A shake of its head sent bits of fire into the sky around it.

"ooo..." Smiling, he watched the little flares float around in the air, following various colors and changing others.

What is that smell?

Fish was in front of him again.

Again he took it, chewing it slowly. Smiling happily. The strange creature that was feeding him tilted its head, something came–

"...drunk?"

Why do I know that sound?

"...insane..." A snort. The beautiful creature held out another cut of that wonderful tasting fish. Smiling, he tried to thank it.

"Gah!" It felt odd to have those warm hands on him as the creature, whatever kind of being it was, wiped his chin. As it started to move, he gripped its hands in his own.

"...doing!?" He just smiled as he held the hands to his cheek. It had been so very long since anyone that was warm had been this close.

This is not a place I will be leaving. Gods let me stay here. I deserve this–

"Do you?" Mayla sounded amused. Blinking, he saw he held her hands. She was the only thing solid in this wavering world of color and sound. She smiled, shaking her head.

"What?" He was surprised the words were so clear.

"You do know how close you are to vanishing into this drug induced land, yes?"

Drug induced? Oh. Right. I forgot about the plant venom. Damn.

A sigh escaped. "What of it?"

She knelt next to him, her warm, wondrous eyes understanding. "My sweet...my poor little sweets... you know this is not the way. You know it."

"I'm tired, Mayla. So tired."

"So? Get your ass up, force your mind and body onward till you can no longer move. Once you are done, then you will be with us again." Her brow was warm as she touched his head with her own. "With me again."

Why do I have to wait? Why...

"Your time is not done yet I'm afraid." Mayla smiled as she pulled away, drifting up into the winds. "Is the way ever done?"

"No."

"Is life easy?"

"No."

"Do you want to let life end with a whimper, instead of a roar?"

"Hells no!"

"Then wake up, sweets. Wake up and help the girl."

"Who..." Oh yes. The girl. The tart.

"Help her and you will find peace at the end. What's one more day of living hell to such as us?"

What can one say to that?

Mayla slowly dissipated into the colors and winds, leaving only her smile.

And the creature. That strange pale being.

"Awake?"

Ah. The brat.

Closing his eyes, he let the drug take him through space and time until the wonderful feeling began to wear off and sleep came over him. True sleep. True dreams.

Nightmares...

13

Opening his eyes was a mistake.

When is opening your eyes ever a good thing?

It seems all I've done lately is wake up to some new pain. Getting old fast....

The light hurt. A lot. His body hurt. So much pain. The sounds of clinking were annoying. He looked around. The tart held two long, metal... somethings... and was clinking them together.

Clink. Clink. Clack

What was she doing?

Clink... clink...

"What..." He wet his mouth, trying to make the words sound like actual words. "What are you doing?"

She started, almost dropping one of the metal things. They looked like thin rods or wands. "So..." She was quick to regain her control.

Clink.

"You're alive?"

Clink.

"Yes I am. What the hell are you doing?"

Clink. Clink...

She stopped, her eyes locked on his. After a time, she nodded. "So you are awake." She stood, stretched, tucked the metal rods into her satchel. "Do you remember eating? I thought you were still lost in happy slobbering drug land."

Ah. He closed his eyes trying to remember it all.

"What was that anyways? What did you take?"

"Forget me not."

"What?" She frowned.

"It's called 'forget me not'." He snorted. "Funny."

"You poisoned yourself then? Why?"

"It's not..." well, it is a poison isn't it? "...not your business." He closed his eyes, enjoying the small pains now before he would have to move. Moving. Waking. Then... then the real pain would return. "Looks like I was out for a few hours."

"Yes." He opened an eye as he felt her weight against him. She was leaning against him now, looking up at the canopy. "I thought you had died. Even after eating the fish." She turned her curious gaze to him. "Do you even remember that?"

Oh! She had been the fire headed creature. Daaa. He snorted.

"So you do remember?"

He shrugged. "Vaguely. Bits and pieces."

He felt her nodding. "So...it's a drug then. A remedy for your leg? A drug to help your...head? A drug to–"

"Stop the pain. All pain." He touched his head. His heart. Motioned to his leg. "Forget me not."

"A drug that makes you forget all pain?" She nodded. "I can see how someone as broken as you would need it. Someone so alone. So lost."

He nodded. "Yes." It hurt to talk. Wait. As broken as me? "Wh–"

"Are you thirsty?" She was already away before he could answer. In a beat she was back. "Here." He opened his mouth. Whatever she poured in was not just water. It made his tongue tingle.

Poison?

He didn't care.

He closed his eye, never bothering to keep both open as the tart again plopped down beside him. Was she touching his hair? He was too tired to care.

"Is it really that painful for you?" Her voice was soft, resonating within his head. "I've never seen a creature as dark and bleak as you, mule. Do you have no hope? No goals?"

"..." He left his mouth open, trying to collect his thoughts. Whatever she had put into him, it was slowly numbing pains he had nearly forgotten.

"You don't need to answer." He felt something warm on his lips. His eyes open slowly. She held her finger to his lip, her eyes staring intently. When she saw he was watching, she moved a bit. Her gaze held his own, he could see wheels in there, churning up thoughts. She blinked, saying something in her own tongue.

"You're young." He said at last. "When you get to be my age–" He stopped as she pushed herself away, coming to her feet in a much more graceful way than he ever could.

"You have no idea how old I am." She crossed her arms. "Stop assuming things are so clear you thick headed madman." She snorted. "Now get up and lead the way."

Despite himself, he found his body obeying.

I just want to sleep. Is that so wrong?

With no answer forth coming, he sighed...

14

"Why don't we go that way?" She held her ground, arms crossed, eyes glinting.

"Listen to me tart." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to remain clam. "That is not the way."

She frowned down the path. It certainly looked inviting compared to the opposite one. An obvious trap.

Trap? Ha!

He laughed slightly, drawing her glower. "Are you trying to be–"

He grabbed her, moving her along the darker trail.

Her skin felt so smooth. And warm. She tried to slow him up a little, but he was having none of it. "This is my land. My woods. My knowledge. That is a trap. An obvious one that catches fools. Old magic like that in an old woods like this is not unheard of."

She was moving now, frown plastered on her face. "Old magic. Like the stars? Those colored ones?" He nodded. "Then maybe it leads to something helpful. Something interesting."

"No."

"But how do you–"

"These were lures for an enemy on a local mage's land."

"But how–"

"Damn it girl! I know!" He frowned at her.

She stared thoughtfully. Nodded finally. "I see. So you were caught down one of these paths." She placed her hand over his.

Yes. Yes, upon a time, he had been. It killed many. Yet another thing that should have been his end yet...here he stood. Still.

"No I didn't fall for it," so what is a lie? "but many a comrade did. And those that made it...well... you don't want to know."

She nodded, letting him pull her along. She didn't seem as upset as she had appeared. "You are not very good at lying." She shook her head. "I just don't understand why. I'm no threat. Honesty, with me, will not harm you in any way." She looked up at him, eyes showing strangely from under her lids. Suddenly her arm felt warm, her hand on his like fire. "I know you better than you think."

He frowned, pulling himself free. At least from her grip. Her eyes never let him go. There was kindness there. And sorrow. Sorrow for him. Even sympathy.

"Know me better than I think?" What could one say to that? On one hand, he wanted to drag her back and throw her down the path to be rid of her, on the other... he felt this urge. A strange thing. A strange feeling.

"Careful love." Mayla sounded cautious as she studied the small form. "This one is far more than she appears."

"Yes. I've noticed."

"What was that?"

"Nothing tart. Nothing."

He jumped when she brushed by, her fingers left burning marks across his stomach. He pulled away. What the...? He watched her. She didn't look back. Glancing at the emptiness around them instead. "Was that one of your dead friends?"

She was very observant for one that looked so young. Was she human? He fingered one of his daggers as he stalked up behind her. She was walking the path, looking at the surrounding fauna. She didn't seem pleased.

Maybe it'd be best to end this now?

He slipped the dagger from its hiding place. She froze. He paused,

No way she heard that. No way. He had been an assassin from time to time as needs dictated. He knew there was no way...

"Good. You'll need that." When she turned on him, her eyes were flaming. Without another word, she tossed a slicing blade of red at him. He dropped to the ground, spinning. As the blade passed over his head, the red sliced into the man that had, somehow, crept up on him.

Wha–

The girl!

He rolled to the side, tossing his dagger as he came to his knees. The man behind her let out a grunt as it took him in the chest. Two other men, one carrying a barbed, crackling net, jumped forward.

He pushed himself forward, knives flashing. One took the man with the net in the neck, he couldn't see where the other landed as a flash of red flared over him.

He didn't need to turn to know the tart had taken out another man.

Still lunging forward and low, his vision snapped on the man as he came within reach of the girl. Without thinking, he swept her aside, feeling the fire from her burn through him as he sprung onto the man.

It wasn't much of a fight from there. The man had a sword but no idea how to use it. A quick jab to the throat pretty much ended him. Rolling along with the gagging man he caught the poor sap's head just so and...snap.

This was no warrior.

He leapt to his feet, spinning quickly. Eyes. Ears. Nose. He couldn't detect any threat. His attention landed on the girl. Her burning eyes were tracking something. He yanked his dagger from the body of the man with the net and waited. Keeping one eye on the girl, while watching her track the enemy.

When she froze, he smiled. "Save your magic." As the dark cloaked man burst out from the brush, a knife took him squarely between the eyes. He flopped to the ground, jerking.

"That was...unexpected." She sounded odd. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a shiver run through her as the...whatever it was...left her. As it passed, she was just the tart again.

True magic? He didn't like the thought of it. He didn't really believe it, even now. His mind was having trouble accepting that true magic was being used through this strange girl that had somehow fallen into his lap.

She caught him studying her. She shrugged. "The Source gave me warning." She sighed. "So much killing. I just want this over with." Was that a tear? He quickly walked away, gathering his daggers, wiping them on the dead men.

What was this? An ambush? But why? These were not assassins or highly trained in the way of the warrior arts like he was. These were simply... men. Shoddy weapons. Barely sharp enough to cut through thick cloth, no way of making a mark on leather or any kind of armor.

Only one piece of armor among them and that was a breast plate on the last man he had killed. He couldn't study the ones the girl had killed because, well, they were piles of ash. Mostly. Though, he thought he'd find much the same.

Common men. Poor men. What were they doing here?

"The Source."

He stood over one of the bodies, the man's common face staring blankly upward. Was he a father? A farmer? "What do you mean?"

"This isn't random. You have to know that by now." She knelt down in front of him, searching the man.

"You need to finish this." Mayla whispered into his ear. Her voice was not as strong as it had been. And where were the others? He could really use advice right now. "I'm afraid I'm all that you have for now, my sweet. The others..." Usually he could see her. "...I know. I'm trying though. The girl... finish it."

"If you say so."

"Eh?" The tart glanced up. Her eyes narrowed. "Ah." She crawled over to the other man. "Talking to the dead again?" She shook her head at his silence. "Why talk to them? Do they actually talk to you? Do you think they are? I have lost...many. So many." She snorted, standing. "As I thought." What she showed him made no sense.

"Gimme that!" He studied it, his frown deepening. "What the hel–" he stopped to gather his thoughts. "What is this?"

"Obviously you know. I know you're insane b–" She let out a squeak as he grabbed her, dragging her off her feet to bring her eye to eye.

"How is this possible? I've only just met you. We've only been on this route for..." how long? He blinked, trying to think.

"It's already been four days you insane mule headed...mule headed..." she struggled for an insult that seemed fitting. "...fool!" That was obviously not what she wanted to say, but she looked rather frazzled dangling in the air as he held her.

He blinked. Rapidly. Four days? No. No that wasn't possible. "Sss." He turned his head at that small sound. It was the tart. He was hurting her. As gently as he could, he sat her back on her feet, catching her as she wobbled. Despite himself!

Damn. Would have been funnier if she had fallen.

She rubbed her arms where he had held her, blinking away the wetness in her eyes as she met his. "It's been four days. Are you that out of it?" She stepped forward, reaching for his cheek. He backed away. Her hand seemed like a viper ready to strike. She made a face, letting her hand drop. "I won't hurt you, you mule headed dox. Why are you so afraid?"

Not hurt him, eh? But that isn't completely true was it? Just by being with her he had already been put on an order. A death order. He found the dark paper and looked more closely.

The etchings were spot on. He looked...Gods, he looked insane... and she looked, well, like she does. His frown deepened. No names for either but their last known location, the probable direction they were headed and the reward for their heads. He stared.

In all his life as a warrior. In his dark times as an assassin. Even the short period he had tried to be something he wasn't, he'd never had a reward that large for his old, slightly jarred, slightly damaged, slightly off head.

Still. "Four days..." how was that possible?

"The enemies of the Source knew where I was going before I did. They knew my companions." She reached into her little satchel, drew out another paper. This one was similar, though definitely not from these lands. There she was, but in this picture she was smiling. And around her, as far as he could guess, her last group. Her little traveling circus of warriors and friends.

"Funny...she's the only one still here..." Mayla whispered.

"Indeed." He looked at her. Tried to look at her. "What is this Source? Why is it driving people so crazy?" Mayla did not reply. Did she refuse to reply because she did not know... or did she not reply because he did not know?

The girl tilted her head slightly, as if listening. When he said no more, she smiled. "I thought the dead would know all. Did your Mayla," did she add a bit of venom to her voice just then? "not know what the Source is?"

He sighed. "Come on." He started dragging the bodies off the path.

"What? You–"

He growled at her. "I'm helping you get to a town, you help me drag the dead." He grunted as he tossed the dead man into the thick underbrush. "Seems fair."

"Why bother dr–"

"We need to at least try to cover our tracks! What the he–" He was silenced by the thundering whoosh and blast of heat as all the remaining bodies turned bright red, quickly bursting into an eerie green bluish flame which then poofed out leaving nothing behind.

"If you had let me finish..." her voice was low. "I'd have said why bother dragging them when I can make them ash?" She sounded... weak. He looked up just as she began to slump down. The fire leaving her, draining her.

He caught her on his knees as they both went to the ground. He looked at her face as she fought and struggled against the dark. It was pointless. She was out.

Four days? How had it been so long? There was no possible way he had been traveling with her for four days. Where was he missing time? When had he eaten? Drank? Relieved himself? He stared at his hand as it carefully brushed the flaming red hair from that pale, peaceful face.

He jerked it back, feeling betrayed by his own limb.

No. Time to end this...

The dagger tip was just touching her throat. He stared at his hand. It would not move further.

I'd be better off with her gone.

His limb betrayed him yet again as the knife vanished.

Is she smiling?

This...this is some kind of dream? It must be. Days do not vanish like that. Time does not flow around one so quickly. As he looked on, her breathing deepened. She tried to sink into his lap. He sighed. As much as his leg hurt...she would be light enough.

15

As he limped down the path, his senses were in a heightened state. Half the world was a shade off. What had the little devil done to his eye? Sprites. No trusting them. The leathers he wore were incredibly light. They felt very natural. Not only that, he was pretty sure they would turn most arrows aside.

A small murmur escaped the tart. That brought her back into his mind. He had been able to pick her up and carry her on his back. He had an arm under each of her legs while her arms hung over his shoulders.

He'd used a bit of cloth to keep her hands tied like that. Every now and then, she'd moan or press against him which, while wearing the leathers, let him feel her softness against his stony old back.

Damned girl. He blew at a red hair that kept floating in front of his face.

"...focus..." Mayla's voice.

"Mayla?"

"...around."

He frowned. Why were his friends so hard to hear? "Mayla, are you leaving me? Aren't you waiting for me? All of you?" He frowned when the sound of the wind through the upper branches of the trees was his only reply.

"I don't understand." He inhaled deeply. Instead of Mayla's scent... he caught something alien. Something he had been smelling for a time and just now noticing. He paused.

What is that?

He couldn't put his finger on it. It was so different compared to anything he'd smelled before. It seemed to dull his senses, lull him into a peaceful place he was not used to. It was the reason he had missed the ambush. It was making him weak.

"What the hells? W–" He shut his mouth as more strands of hair whipped in front of him. Ah. It was her. It was the girl. As one of the strands tickled his nose, there was little doubt. Was it a hair cleaner of some kind? Magic maybe? Or was it just her?

Annoyed, he blew the hair away.

Again.

She was getting into his head. Shaking his warrior senses and trying her best to generally annoy.

"Or am I just an old troll?" But that was fair wasn't it? When you are all alone and looking to be with your lost ones, when you set up camp to die in a lovely, deserted place that will take your body into itself, you don't expect a new burden to just suddenly appear out of nowhere.

"The Source." He started. The tart's voice was so soft.

"What about it?" She didn't answer him. In fact, her breathing never changed. Did she just talk to him in her sleep? He shivered at that. "Are you awake?" No answer. Eerie. He didn't like eerie. This Source thing was too big for him at this point in his life.

Maybe when I was younger, maybe with Mayla and my friends, maybe then. But now? At the end? No. A thousand times no.

Yet here he was. One step at a time, carrying the little tart to the closest village he knew of. Fighting assassins from another land. Finding himself touched by creatures most didn't believe in anymore. Thinking on that, his eye throbbed. What had that little sprite done to him? Would he ever know?

If it was something helpful, I wish it'd make itself known.

Nothing.

Sighing, he put one foot in front of the other, trying his best to ignore the pain twisting his body, the warmth against his back and the smell in his nose as he traveled onward. It wasn't far now. Once there... well... she'd find her way.

"Just a bit more... a bit more... then I'm done with this. Easy. Then peace..."

16

"I knew I shouldn't have said that out loud." He stood just outside the forest, looking across the farm fields. There was a darkness there. The town that should have been the end of his journey was not easy to see.

"What happened?" He didn't look at the woman that was walking by him.

She glanced at him, her eyes drifted to the girl on his back. "I've never seen hair that color before." She smiled. "Or eyes like that. How are you little one?"

The tart snorted. "I'm not little!"

"How long have you been awake?"

She resisted his attempt to dislodge her. Was he that tired?

"Long enough." The tart sounded content about that. The woman watched the exchange, her smudged face cracked into a smile.

"How sweet. What is that accent little one?" Silence. "What? Not going to talk to me?" She snorted. "That wasn't very polite for a young lady." She looked back at the village. What was left of it. "As you can see, sir, nature happened." She shook her head. "Some people are still there but just look at it." He was.

This was not the same place he had come through a few weeks ago. No. This was a haunted place. The wind was doing something strange. Twisting smoke funnels swirled in different sections of the place and none seemed related to the other. Above the town itself, the sky was dark.

What in the hells?

"I know." The woman nodded. "Nature? Hmph! Our magic instruments tell us that is what it is but look at it. That is no natural thing I've ever seen." She turned, headed down the road to the south. "I'd take your little wife–"

"She's not my wife!" He snarled.

The woman laughed. "Oh? Did you see the glares she was sending me? No?" The woman laughed again. "Men. You know so little." He wanted to shout at her but, what was the point? As he had discovered long ago, women always thought they were the smarter sex.

"Old hag..." He glanced over his shoulder at the tart who was, indeed, sending a glare after the woman.

He shook his head. She lifted her hands up, right into his face. "Is there any particular reason I'm tied like this?"

He sneered. "I was getting ready to leave you here."

"I see." Her voice was soft. "Bound and gagged and dropped off to the safety and completely innocent hands of strangers?" He stared as the make shift ropes burned away. He didn't feel any heat at all, even that close to what had to be fire. "How thoughtful of you."

He let go suddenly, hoping she'd drop off his back like the rabid monkey she was. She didn't. She let out a squeak and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stood there, her grip tight enough to choke but no way was he letting her know this bugged him.

You will let go before I grab your legs girl.

And she did.

He turned to look down at her. "Do you think you're safe with me? Why am I, a stranger, any different from those I would have left you with?" He found himself honestly curious.

She yawned, stretching this way and that. Served her right, letting him carry her like that. She moved to get a better view of the town, not meeting his eye. He noticed her blue and black leathers had changed somehow. They were more form fitting. Something. He didn't have an eye for such things, but he did know something was different. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"The Source. It took me up into its plan and now, its taken you as well." She looked out across the horizon. "This is just another way for it to control us." After a moment, she shook her head. "No. This one is not for me." She tilted her head. "This is for you. To control you. It did not do this to force me on. You and I are not parting until my quest is done."

He snorted.

We'll see.

He strode by her to stand in the middle of the crossing.

She moved next to him. "We must go east." She stared down the empty road. He did not follow her gaze. He puzzled over the darkness to the north.

That village was the only one I knew of in these parts. And it's destroyed.

He didn't need to get closer to see the strange artifacts whipping up and around and the bizarre colors swirling through the buildings. You don't need to get close to a fire to know it's a fire. This was bad magic of some kind. Some thing he had never seen before. It was even reaching out across the fields.

The way north would be blocked. He could see a few dark shapes coming towards them but depending on the time of the...whatever the hells happened... many would have left the village in any direction they could.

He looked down at the tart. She was watching the woman quickly vanish into the distance. She looked up to catch him watching her. A small smile vanished from her face, quickly replaced with a serious glower.

"I told you. East."

He nodded. "So you did. And how far, exactly?" He didn't like this. This was a trap. Somehow. Somewhere he had been snared. When? Where? How to cut the snare?

He fingered one of his knives, studying the tart as she shrugged, looking to the east again. His vision blurred slightly. What–

She again caught him looking. This time, she shook her head as she glanced at his hand. "Are you thinking of killing me?"

Could she see through him that easily? "No."

Her lips turned into something that was less than a smile. "You lie. Again." She sighed. "Always with the lies. Why? You seemed polite enough to that old hag."

"She wasn–"

"So why is it so hard to tell me truth? Do you think I'm a child?" She frowned. "What do your dead friends have to say about that? Your dear dear friends?" She placed her hands on her hips, humphed, and began walking the eastern road.

"What do you think of that?" No answer. "Where are you?" Nothing. Where were they? He had never went this long without them popping up around him.

He stared upward, waiting. "Did you leave me at last? Called away into that blissful darkness?"

"Hey!" The tart shouted. She was a ways down the eastern road now. "Come on." No answer came from above. Grumbling, he let his gaze fall and followed.

17

"Where are we going exactly?" He growled under his breath, trying to think of what the possible destination could be. "There's...." what was out this far heading east on this road? "Nothing."

"Ah, my silly little mule man." He let that go. All day she had been pestering him for his name. When they stopped to drink or eat. Just when he had thought she would shut up it started again. Seemed she would just keep calling him different things till he finally told her his name. "The Source needs to go east. It's that simple. I'm not sure where exactly it is taking us, but I know it's close."

He sighed. "The only thing this far east, in these wild lands is nothing and more–" He stopped.

No. It couldn't be.

She froze, looking around. "What is it?" Little sparks of red began to form up around her, drifting slowly into the sky.

His leg hurt.

His body hurt.

His eye itched.

The Source.

"Souc'lla." He whispered. There was no way that could be a coincidence. He frowned at her. "An old name, girl. It was old before man was young."

"Souc'lla." It sounded strange on her tongue. "What does it mean?" Her eyes bore into his own as she took a step closer.

He felt a chill . "Source."

"What?" She frowned. "Are you teasing–"

"Souc'lla means Source in the ancient tongue." Not many knew that here, it was doubtful any across the sea would know. He only knew because of a campfire tale when they were close to it, many many years ago on a failed campaign against a magic abusing madman.

She nodded, smiling at last. "So...the Source is taking us to...the Source? Now do you see? Do you feel the ropes around you? Pulling you along. Tying you to me–"

He grimaced. "I'm not tied to–"

That's strange...

A light red cloud sprang up before him.

He watched as it slowly floated over the girl.

Her face morphed. Her smile vanished. Eyes widened. Mouth opened. Something green and black and cold as hell jumped out of her, knocking him off his feet.

It tore into his chest. No...it...what was going on?

He watched a line of yellow flash over him, splashing away from the girl. Her mouth was open, her teeth clenched in an impressive snarl as she hopped on top of him. He felt something wet leaking down from his eye.

Something the sprite had done? Is that what I feel?

It was cold. Ice cold.

More yellow lances of power splashed away around her from all sides as she began tossing magic around.

Red balls of death.

Her eyes were wild when she glanced down at him. Flecks of red sizzled away from her face. Not red like her magic. No, this was...

Blood!

As he realized that, he looked down. The front of his chest had been torn open. At least his leathers were. His flesh was sliced along his ribs. A flap of skin and muscle hung there where someone had missed their mark.

So it's My blood. Hrmph.

Whatever that green and black thing was that had left the girl, it was crawling over his wound. Stopping the blood and mending the flesh. He could see a line or purest white, cold as any winter, weaving in and out of him as well. He had no idea what was going on. Maybe that was for the best.

Another ambush. I am getting old. And look at my protector? How sad...

The girl...Gen...stood over him, the yellow lances were fewer, but they were pushing her this way and that even as she continued to toss her own magic. She refused to leave him. What was this? She had left her other companions...

Lips curving, he dropped into the warrior's trance. Everything slowed. The pain slipped away. A chill made his flesh tremble, his body hairs stand. He moved out from under Gen, rolled away into the thick grass.

A quick glance showed him all the attackers.

What are the odds of this?

"Impossible to none, sweets." Mayla whispered.

Got that right!

Behind them, swooping in and retreating were three Antia hunters. He could see a few burning spots on the ground. All that remained of the ones she had already taken out.

"And there." Mayla's voice drew his eyes around and there, ahead of them, a very well armed group of mercenaries.

How is it possible they came from both direction at once? To time it so perfectly... no way it is coincidence.

"It's not. Gennifer has the right of it, my sweet. The Source is hard at work to reach its goal and whatever opposes it is working just as hard to stop it."

"Hmm." In his warrior's trance, it all played out in slow seconds. Gen was just now realizing he was gone. He saw the yellow lances of power moving so very slowly from the Antia hunters. And the mercenaries? They were drawing weapons as they slowly moved forward.

Two dozen. Two dozen. Where did they all come from? Drawing out his daggers, he moved. The men slowly, so very slowly, turned to meet him.

They were far too slow.

Smiling, he began to cut them down. As well armored as they were, and they were fully plated, they had no chance. The last man's weapon was finally free of its sheath, a slow blue glitter beginning to run up it, when the dagger went neatly through the man's visor and into his brain.

Spinning on his heel, a bit of frosted breath escaping him, he hurried back to Gen. Though it seemed like there was no need.

He slowed to watch.

The air around her spun her leathers this way and that. Her red hair was flaming red, jetting sparks into the sky. The yellow magic that had cut through him, still washed around her, briefly highlighting some kind of barrier.

In her hands, streaks of red moved from her finger tips, into her palm, to snap out at the flying hunters. Moving as slowly as it was, he took a moment to admire it. It was strangely beautiful.

He was by her side, drawing his bow. The bolt had recharged a bit. It should not have recharged. But it did.

Somehow.

Maybe enough for him to actually help. He took aim, waited...

Phhit!!

Phhit!!

...t...

Only two shots were sure. The last simply winked out. He watched the magic drain from his weapon. He looked back to Gen. He could vaguely see the barrier still.

That's not from the bracelets.

With a screech, the last hunter fell.

Gen's head slowly turned to him. Streaks of red mixed with clear liquid under her eyes. Her mouth opened so very slowly. Her eyes were shifting colors. Shifting colors he had never seen. He probably could not see outside of the warrior trance.

And look at them go, faster than me while everything else is so slow.

Speaking of...

"Wait!" Mayla tried to stop him but to late. As the trance vanished, he fell flat on his face.

18

When he opened his eyes not much time had passed. He was sure of that. Still...he felt tired. So very tired. He watched the girl as she made a face.

"You'll be dead at this rate." She didn't meet his eye. "I thought you were this tough, wizened old warrior? Never get ambushed. Never get injured."

He laughed. "Those kinds of warriors..." his side burned. "...only exist in fairy tails kid. Real life... real life is not so easy." He closed his eyes.

"Yes? Well... this is getting repetitive you old ox. Always passing out or being knocked out. It's sad really."

What? "It's not like–" He hissed as pain shot through his leg.

"Quiet you big baby." He opened an eye. What the hells was she doing to his leg? He could faintly see that strange green and black cloud around his mid section. He didn't feel anything there but cold. But his leg? Now that hurt.

"I still can't heal it." She inhaled deeply, letting go of whatever power she had been wielding. He watched as her hair and clothes seemed to settle from a wind he had not felt. He was actually getting used to that. "Still. What made this wound? Why can't I heal it?" She crawled around, getting into his face. "Well?" Her breath smelt of berries. Irony? Or good diet.

He just smirked. "What is this wrapped around my middle?" She turned her head. A look of apprehension. "You don't know?" He reached for it. His hand passed through the strange colors to touch his wound.

Nothing. I can't feel a thing...

"I...have never seen that before. It just leapt out of me. I'm not sure...maybe the S–"

"The Source, eh? Hmm." He blinked up into the sky. Source. Could it be controlling all of this? He was beginning to think that was the case. Hell, it almost had to be the case. Painfully and plainly obvious.

Sometimes though, it's best to try and ignore things you don't understand.

If that was so, if he accepted it for truth, what exactly was it doing? What did it want here? Why did it need to come here? What was it?

"Remind me...this Source of yours... what is it exactly?"

She sighed, letting herself lean back onto the ground. "I don't really know. It's the Source." She shrugged. "Of everything maybe. Power over magic. Life and death, love and hate. Everything."

He frowned. That sounded more like a God or Devil to him. "Which one is it, that's the question." A God or a Devil?

She lifted herself to see him. "What?"

He shook his head. Bad idea. Stars. Colors swirling.

Gods I'm gonna be sick.

"You don't look so–"

Before she could finish he emptied his stomach. "Aeeyah!" She tried to move away but...well...there was some splatter. "Eww." Without another word she was on her feet and walking away while digging in her little, bottomless satchel.

He grunted. Smiled. Maybe that will help her keep her distance. He closed his eyes for what felt like a second, a small fit of laughter escaped. When he opened them again, she was standing there with a bowl of something. She looked...

"Are you worried?" He frowned at her. Holding the bowl with one hand, she shifted to place her other hand on her hip. Her look was...quizzical? Worried? Hard to tell.

"Drink this." She sat down before he could sit up, she kept him down with a hand on his chest, the bowl moved before he could object. He still tried.

"Wait. I'm a g–" As the liquid filled his mouth he had no choice but to swallow it.

He glared at her, debating on the merits of spitting it out. He noticed her leathers had been cleaned. That was fast. Not that he could blame her. He slowly chewed whatever pulp was in his mouth. It was bitter. Had to be medicine. Only something that is really good for you can taste so very badly.

When he swallowed, the bowl was there again. He simply took it in. Chewed slowly, watching her watch him. She had a curious look about her. Maybe it was just her whole body in the position it was in?

She shook her head as her bright eyes took in his wounds. "I can't believe you have lived this long. You are stubborn." She filled his mouth with more of whatever it was before he could start to protest. "Mule does suit you. But I want your real name. Why so secret about it?" Her mouth quirked. "Is it special? Magical?" She spilled a bit of the soup on him as she spread her arms out.

He remained silent.

"This is the last. Open it." He did so without protest. "That's a good pet." She dumped what was left in the bowl into his mouth. "I know I know. Tastes like crud, yes? I know. You need it though. Don't make that face. Just swallow...come on...there you go."

She turned, slipping it into her strange pouch, dug around a bit and came out with a bottle of orange liquid. She struggled with the cap for a bit before it popped off. "Stupid..." he didn't catch the rest of what she said. She sipped at it.

"Here." He let her pour it into his mouth, holding it like he was some kind of babe. This was not one of his better days. He shouldn't be put through this humiliation after the life he had lived.

"Or maybe you should after the life you've lead." Mayla's voice was so faint. Her warm laugh made him smile.

"One of your friends?" Gen turned her head. "That Maylah chick?"

He growled. "Her name's Mayla! If you're going to say it, say it right."

"Hmph." She stood up, the strangely cold liquid vanished in her bag as she crossed her arms. She seemed to be studying him. "You're a mess." She strolled around him, looking this way and that. "How long before you can travel?"

That was a good question. He moved and felt the sharp pains tear at him. He tried to fight the sound but the little brat caught it.

She shook her head. "Not good. If the enemy of the Source is already sending assassins from this land, we are running out of time." She dug around, again pulling out some form of liquid. This one actually had steam coming off it.

And pitch black. Not ever a good thing.

She hopped over him and managed to get his head into her lap. "Drink this." A sharp little funnel seemed to force its way into his mouth.

He began to sneer when the slippery wet shot down his throat. He gagged as the funnel sucked back into the bottle. "Wha–" He froze. No words came to him as everything shifted colors.

Her hands held his head, gently stroking. "Shhh. Stubborn man. This will help. You need sleep. Quick healing. The Source needs to move fast. You'll be awake in–" Everything went purple and that was all he knew.

19

He opened his eyes after what felt like a mere heart beat. "–t is that?" He finished his sentence he had begun before she had knocked him out.

"Oh good. That was fast." She let his head fall gently to the ground as she stood over him. "Seemed like forever..." she yawned, stretching her hands to the sky. "...but that was probably just me keeping watch while the warrior slept." In the near dark she smirked.

"Haha." He stood, feeling amazingly spry. "What...?" He moved about. Nothing hurt.

She laughed. "Don't get used to it old man." He frowned. "That tonic will only last a day at most. And at this rate...well...I doubt we have a day." She held up her hand. A red flare shot up and eastward.

"A guide?" What else could it be?

She stared. "You saw that?"

"I did."

At least with one eye.

The gift from the spirte again? He began to sigh when he took notice of Gen. She absolutely sparkled in the approaching darkness. He just stared. Flowing into her were small ribbons of...light? And the red line that spread outwards, he knew it would lead to the tumbling ball she had knowingly or unknowingly shot.

"What?" She crossed her arms.

"Huh?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Erm..." was he? "No reason." He started off down the road till the very faint red line left it and headed off into some farmer's devastated field. He stood for a moment.

"In for an inch along for the mile." He whispered as he left the road following the light red trail. It seemed to hover above the ground like fog.

"Where are we headed?" Gen asked. She sounded curious. "What do you see?" He glanced at her. Even as it darkened, she remained bright in his eyes. Ribbons of colors twisted up into her from the ground. Even the very air seemed to slowly brighten around her and twist into some colorful ribbons that vanished into her.

So many colors.

Did she even see them? Feel them? She frowned, pulling at her clothes to try and see. "What do you see?"

What to say? "Nothing. Come on. I want this over and done with so I can get back–"

"Get back to dying?" She sounded angry. "How sad. Giving up just because you've had a rough life. Boo hoo. Why don–" He spun on her. The look on his face must have been something considering her reaction.

"Not your concern." He mumbled. Thankfully, that kept her quiet.

20

The light in his eyes was bugging him. At least his body wasn't throbbing in agony. A strange warmth at his side seemed to be spreading out over him. It felt good. He blinked. Mayla stood in front of him, in all her dark beauty. She smiled.

When he met her dark eyes she winked.

"You sure are sleeping a lot." She said.

What? I was walking.

"Hey...I–" He closed his mouth. "Was I sleeping?"

"Oh yes. Snoring even. You just kept on walking, following the trail while that...girl...held your hand. It's not your fault sweets. It's just nearing the end. Today will be your last day."

"Really?" He smiled hopefully.

Her smile slipped away. A small star sparkled in her eye, marking a trial down her cheek. "I'm afraid so. I—shush! I'm talking." She must have been hearing his long lost friends. He couldn't hear them now. Soon though. Soon he'd be with them again. The warmth against him moved.

Mayla's eyes slowly traveled his body. "So much fun we had. So many battles. So much good food. Good drink." She licked her upper lip slightly. "And oh so many pleasures."

He laughed. It hurt.

"Enjoy your last day sw..." she shook her head, suddenly serious. "Your last day in this dream world my love."

He tried to untangle his mind to catch this. "Then I'll be with you?"

Mayla smiled. A strange smile. She opened her mouth, but he couldn't hear what she said as she began to fade.

"...mmmhurm..." The warmth mumbled.

"Wait!" He reached out to Mayla. She held her ghostly hand out for him. His fingers touched something soft and cold. A tingle went through him. His fingers slipped through. Her hand spiraled away into the wind, quickly followed by the rest of her. "Wait!" He tried to catch her but something was holding him in place. "Get off–" He realized he was holding something.

"Wha...?" He felt the warmth stir. His eyes told him what he already knew.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low. He held the girl. Gen was snuggled against him. He had been sleepwalking? And carrying her? How...the warmth rolled back over him. "No no!" He shrugged his shoulders, jarring her.

"Hey!" Eyes barely open. Strawberry red hair sticking out in every direction. A bit of drool. He started to chuckle.

He couldn't help it. "Get up Gen, time to move." He looked away. Letting his senses search. How could she have fallen asleep without waking him? Wait. More important things. How did she get into his arms? How could he be moving while carrying her? He was sure he had been asleep and Mayla has said Gen was holding his hand.

Very dangero–what the hell is that?

"You called me Gen" Her voice was soft.

"Eh? I did not...what the hell are those?" He looked from the strange glowing pillars to her. She seemed to start glowing as she became more aware. He realized the warmth had covered him again. It radiated from her. She was very warm in his arms.

"Those are sentry posts of course. Following us. You know what they are?"

"Yes" He looked at them again. It was a half truth.

We do have those, but I've never seen ones like these. Made from pure magic? Never.

She slipped out of his arms. As she moved, he felt the warmth drag off him to follow her. Was that...magic? He studied her. He could see the glow very clearly now. It was even taking care of her hair. As she rolled her shoulders, her hair seemed to come under control and straighten itself.

It looked like ghostly fingers were quickly brushing it back into place.

"Are you looking at my breasts again?" Her tone did not match the look in her eyes. He couldn't help but look and blink. She had filled out more? No. Not possible.

He grunted. "Please. What breasts?" She opened her mouth but he was already moving. As he walked by her, the warmth seemed to grasp at him. Reach for him. It felt very...clingy. Disturbing. He moved cautiously to get a better look at the nearest sentry post.

"Be careful." She said.

"Yeah. I gathered that." As he had approached, the post had begun to glow brighter, it actually seemed to be threatening him. He was full of questions. What were these exactly? Truly pure magic? How was that possible? He glanced over his shoulder. Gen was busy picking at things in her bottomless little satchel.

Did she change again?

Those were not the same blues and blacks she had on before. He glanced down. His were different as well. More heavily armored. Most wouldn't notice the extra layers. They were so light you couldn't feel the weight. But he knew. He knew. To top it off, his side was no longer exposed where the magic had sliced through. How did he switch shirts?

And what the hell is this?

He poked at the strange colors swirling around his midsection. Healing? Or...changing? "Would you drop these. I need to take a piss." He grumbled.

"You could at least try not to be so brash." The pillar before him quickly melted. He watched the glow slide along the ground to her foot and up her leg. It vanished over her chest. Her heart. She was watching him, her eyes studying. "Did you see that?" She asked softly.

"No. No I–" At her knowing frown, he could already hear her whining voice calling him a liar. "Yes."

"How?"

"Good question." He turned. "One I want to ask." He thumbed his new clothing. "This is far more concerning to me than watching color move."

"It was magic, mule." She still spoke very softly. "And you saw it. Not the first time I think. As for those," she shrugged. "Magic?"

"And–" He was going to point out the ugly colors that held tight to his midsection. He didn't really have much feeling there.

When did I last feel anything there?

Thinking back, he could remember the pain. Lots of pain. Then this...this...whatever it was had leapt from her and wrapped him up.

"I told you. I've never seen that before." Her hand touched him. He jumped. That he had felt. "Really?" She frowned up at him. "That scared of a woman's–"

"Child."

"Woman!" She glowered up at him. "I'm a woman!"

"Ha!" He studied her openly. "Woman my a–"

"What of Mayla?" Her question was barbed somehow. A no win situation answering that. "Is she a woman in your eyes? Does it take one to look like her? To fight like her? Only one like her is a woman to you?"

A trick question. I'm not that dumb. But what's the point?

"If I were the same age as her, would I still be a child in your eyes?"

"You're not–" He paused. How old was she? She had never answered. Then again, she didn't know Mayla's age either. "Shut up. I need to go."

"What?" Her eyes widened slightly. "You can't go! You have to he–" A flush washed over her as she caught his meaning. "Just go!" He was hurrying off to the nearest tree when she called out. "Watch out for the morning birds. They always get the smallest worm first!"

What? Oh. Haha.

He shook his head as he stood behind a tree to relieve himself. Smart ass kid. If she is a kid. In her lands, a ten year old may be considered an adult for all he knew. And her figure, budding woman at first encounter, now seemed...more?

"You still with us?" The squeaky voice stopped him mid-stream. He looked at the tree before him as two silver eyes opened. Part of the bark, shaped like a little woman, moved. "This is the day. It won't be exciting. It won't be a giant climax. Today is just the end. Are you with us?"

What the hells is this?

Was his first thought.

"Dryad?" It was partially a question. What else could this be?

"Indeed." It moved along the tree. Now that he saw it clearly, he could see it was not alone. Were they camouflaged that well or were they under the bark? It was hard to tell.

"I'm here aren't I?" Somehow, he managed to continue pissing. This time he held a grim smile as he aimed at those creatures closer to the ground. They scrambled out of the way sending up little howls.

That damn girl and her damn magic.

Who else?

Oh yes, that Gods be damned water spirte!

It was that poke in his eye that gave him this gift. Had to be.

"So you will finish what you have begun?" The silver eyes never blinked.

"Again...I'm here aren't I? I'll finish it."

Then I can finally go home to my friends. My love.

"I believe you human." The dryad moved slowly. "Never forget, you are being watched. This is a matter far more vast than you could ever–"

"Yeah yeah." Shake. "Too much for my tiny man brain. Whatever. Just leave me be." He finished in peace. Coming around the tree, Gen turned her head, face flushed.

"What?"

"I heard all that. You could have went further away." She wouldn't meet his eye.

Serves her right.

A little embarrassment for all the hell I'm going through when I should be laying out there in the plains on that hill peacefully waiting for death? Serves her right.

"Are you ready?" He asked. It was tough keeping his tone neutral.

She nodded.

"Then off we go." He took the lead down the old, overgrown and bumpy path. He knew where they were headed now. He didn't need the red magic fog near the ground to guide him. He'd get her there.

Oh yes.

And after, well, there was no after.

21

"Wow."

"Yeah." Wow being an understatement.

"And that's where we need to go?"

"Yes." He shook his head. Damn.

"Oh my." The girl looked at him. Her eyes, for the first time, unsure.

He could have said something smart. Could have mocked her. But looking at the camp around the dark well, he was pretty much out of anything witty.

"Souc'lla." The girl repeated it perfectly. "The Source. Is it," she looked unsure. "...is it this place or that...that..."

"Old Well?" He finished for her. He didn't know for sure. No one really came here, it was only spoken of by few and even then, they weren't sure. Was it just that simple looking well? "I'm not sure, but considering all the things around it," strange, it really didn't look that different. Looked like any other well he had seen. "I'd say it has to be Souc'lla." He frowned. "Source. Just call it Source I guess. Souc'... Souc'lla... is hard on the tongue."

Whatever opposed this Source of hers had already brought its forces out as fast as it could to this very place. No doubt more were quickly on their way. Maybe it was a good thing this was so far out of the way. But then...

Were all those attacks just to slow us down? Smart.

It made sense to his warrior side. But his common side was just plain anxious at this point. This seemed pretty damned important. What was the Source and, more importantly, what was its opponent? Source vs Source? What? It didn't make sense. To get this many things here in such a short amount of time seemed impossible. Yet, there they were.

The strange, three armed cat things he had fought. What were they called again?

"Catkin." She whispered. He nodded without looking.

Antia hunters? Joy. But not as many as they had already killed.

Not shocking, considering the distance they had to travel. Then again, the catkin seemed pretty numerous. Did they just move faster?

Mostly, it was men.

Oh...and those.

"By the Source," Gen whispered. "What are those?"

"Dragon Spawn." He couldn't believe how many of those were down there. More than he'd ever seen anywhere else. They towered over the lesser folk.

"Dragon Spawn?" She glanced at him.

He shrugged. "Name that seems to fit them and they, in turn, don't seem to mind." They were the unfortunate offspring of a human and dragon's pairing. Carrying the most dangerous and powerful abilities of both dragon and human. Upon a time, they were all mages. Dragons, back when they were many, used true magic. They could transform. Take human shape. Walk amongst the cattle that was man. These poor orphans were the result.

But as magic died, so did they. No more hiding. Even the cattle can overrun the wolf given time and numbers.

They stood two men tall at the least and without access to magic, they looked like dragons crunched down into human shape. No wings. No magic. No way to keep their human appearance.

Deadly and powerful and fast all the same.

And probably packing enough magical artifacts on each of them to defeat an army by themselves. I lead a blessed life...

"They are thought to be immortal." He grinned. "But they can die as easily as any mortal creature. They are just..." He paused.

"Tough?" She asked.

"You could say that." He counted at least two dozen. He'd never seen that many in one place at one time. They stayed away from most battles, trying to keep secluded until magic returned to the land and they could reclaim their former glory.

"'Die as any mortal'. So, I'm guessing you have fought them?" She shook her head. "You fought them? I'm not shocked. Is there any creature you have come across that you haven't killed?"

He looked at her, thought of mentioning the catkin and decided against it. "I haven't killed you." He slid back down the slight rise as she began muttering in her own tongue.

"Ok my mule headed, stinky footed warrior..." she crossed her arms. Was she afraid? "What now? I have to reach that well." Gen glanced up at the sky. "Today." Her eyes, when they looked into his, were awash with color. He had ignored the entire glowy thing around her for the last few hours but it was much brighter now than it had ever been.

The Source readying her for one last use?

As he watched, the light around her swirled upwards...

Is that a face?

...what had seemed a face blinked slowly at him before flowing back over Gen. He studied her. It wasn't his imagination before, she had changed. As the Source rippled over her, it was also sliding smoothly into her eyes and nose and mouth as she breathed.

Is it emanating from her? Or is it just filling her?

Sometimes it looks like she is producing it. Other times, she seems like a sponge. Sucking it into herself.

What are you Gen?

Right now, at this moment, she was no child. She had filled out like any woman. She was, as he had feared, beautiful in his eyes now. Her eyes blazing colors so warmly over him. Her hair a rainbow of dancing hues. Shades that were hard to name twisting in and out, around and around. Was she an angel or devil on a mission? And he was her companion in this madness?

Why not?

When he blinked, she was just Gen again.

"What are you looking at? Have you heard a word I've said?" She hmphed at him, shaking her head. "Keep your focus. We need to figure out how to get to–"

"We fight." He shrugged, beginning to pull out his weapons to take count. One last battle? Considering the force, it seemed likely.

Thank the Gods and Devils for this at least. I get to go out as is my destiny. Fighting.

"I–" She sounded scared.

"Did you think it'd be a walk to sou–to the well?" He laughed when he saw her answer. "Gen, things like this never end that easily. Not yet. It will be tough, bloody, brutal and then...it will just end. Just like that. That's how journey's end." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that. No drawn out and thoughtful look back. Not here. Not in a bloody battle. It just–" he shrugged. "–ends." He glanced at her. "Hells, I probably won't even live long enough to know what this Source does. That's life Gen. It ends and those left behind must come up with their own answers."

Seeing her for the girl she was. Seeing her for the being the Source was powering. He didn't know which was truly her but he felt now was his chance to join his lost ones.

Finally.

"Y–you're happy about this? You are looking forward to dying!" She sounded offended. "Leaving those that care about you–" she took a breath. "...leaving those that care about you behind?"

"Gen." He smiled sadly as he went through his weapons of choice. "No one is left for me. No one. All that did care," he sighed. "they were taken long ago girl."

He nodded towards her little satchel. "Best pull out what ya got, girl. Any weapon or potion that will get you to the well." Damn. Even the shield bracelets were gone. Not as many daggers as he had hoped either. He held his little crossbow. Nothing. Sadly, he set it aside. After so many battles together, it would just hinder here.

So...just daggers? He shrugged after a time. Wouldn't be the first time he was under equipped. One battle had ended with bony, bloody fists alone.

I wonder if I'm insane to be feeling this way?

He smiled as a familiar shiver ran through him. A battle. A no win situation. Again. How he loved them. But this time, he knew he'd not come out unharmed. This was it.

I'm fine with that.

"You are happy about this!" Gen sounded scared. Or mad? Hard to tell. "You are insane."

"No, Gen. I'm–" He stopped to think about it. "Maybe I am." He looked at her, he could see his smile reflected in those large eyes of hers. "This is what my life is, Gen. Battle. This is what I know. This is how I will go. I will go on to all those that have went before me. At last." He sighed happily. "No way we're making it through this." He calmly began lining up vials of liquid.

Everything or nothing, no middle ground here.

"I thought you said there was only black oblivion after life?" He paused. Did he say that? Sometimes he was confused...

"Yes you said it. I...I don't want to die." She sounded afraid. Sad. "I haven't lived long enough. I haven't lived! It's not fair. Why did the Source have to choose me? I don't want to die here."

"We all die, Gen. It just matters how we die. Here, at last, I get to die the way I want. In battle. You–" He reached out, catching her tear. "Have no fear, Gen. I'll get you to that well." Oh yes, he would get her there. "Maybe this Source of yours will provide for you." A little lie wouldn't hurt. "Maybe, for you, there will be an after. Life after this battle. It's brought you this far hasn't it?"

She sniffed loudly. "Oh, so now you believe?" She didn't mention the fact he had been calling her by name.

"Whatever this Source of yours is trying to do, do you think it will let you down now? At the end? With me here?" She sniffed in response trying to wipe tears before he could see them. She had never really shown this side. She had always seemed completely at ease with her fate in the hands of the Source. Whatever it was.

Good thing too, this side of her...this side could destroy my resolve.

"Have faith Gen." He lifted his lip in a snarl. "What do you see when you see me?" She blinked, looking at him. Before she could answer he nodded. "Blackness. Bleak. Lonely. Isn't that what you said? A void. A scar on the land. An empty place in a lively world. This is what I was born for girl. Death. I am death. You will reach that well. No worries, Gen. With my lack of caring and–" He stopped himself from mentioning the vials of potions he was about to ingest. A toxic soup if ever there was one.

She finally nodded, giving up to the steady, confident glare he held. "I actually believe you...mule." She turned then, pulling things from her satchel.

Good. I'll need the power she can throw around while I die out there, cutting a path to that damned, strange old well.

Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw determination set in. And faith. Faith in the Source no doubt.

She'd never have that kind of faith in me.

He paused, lightly touching the strange colors that still swirled around his middle. Ugly colors. He still could not really feel there. Whatever it was, it was keeping him whole enough to finish this.

Don't let her down.

Was he actually speaking to the Source?

Whatever you are, devil or god, at least let me get this one through.

The colors brightened in response.

Damn.

He got onto his knees, sliding daggers back into his sleeves. Sleeves she had somehow made just for this purpose. He glanced at her back. Creepy. How would she have known this was where they would go for battle? With rings of daggers around his arms they worked as a sort of shield. Stacked close enough, he could use his arms to swat aside blows.

Ok...now you, you little beauties.

He began to pick up the vials.

"Here." Without looking, she handed him a bowl. He took it without a word. Popping the vials created various kinds of colors and sounds. One even screamed!

Each one had a special purpose. Speed. Strength. Perception. Even a bit of magic resistance he hoped. Some were foreign to him. Some he had snagged from Antia hunters he could only guess at their purpose.

It didn't matter. None were poison. He didn't know how he knew this, he just did. As he poured them into the bowl, their colors swirled and fought, causing little rainbow tornadoes to spin this way and that in the liquid. Fighting for control. Before he was done, a small hand reached over his shoulder.

"This will help." The liquids she pored in looked thick, like syrup. They seemed to cause all the other colors to glow more vividly and sharply, bringing them under control.

The colors in the bowl were still chaos, but a controlled kind of chaos.

If there is such a– was her hand armored?

He spun. She was dressed in some kind of black armor. Dark blue lines swirled over her, gently pulsated. It made her look...

"A true warrior." He nodded, chewing at his lip. "How long have you had that–" armor seemed the wrong term for something so obviously magic but, what else could you call it? "–armor?"

"You like?" She smiled as she turned a slow circle. "How long have I had it?" Here she frowned. He nodded, guessing.

"It just now appeared in that little magic thing of yours, eh?" She nodded. "Good. Good." He had little doubt it would protect her from the worst of it. Maybe even–"What are you drinking?" He frowned as she emptied vials of light potions into her mouth, he could see the light sliding slowly down her throat and into her core. A little burp escaped. She blushed.

"'scuse me." The lines flared around her armor. Her eyes glassed over. Her hair...well...with the helmet he couldn't really see her hair. "You take your poison mule...I take what is given. I have faith." Her voice betrayed her. She wanted to have faith. Turning, she began to walk up the very small rise that hid them. Were her feet even touching the ground?

Hells, she looks like she's walking on the grass itself.

Her weight seemed to float from one blade to the next. As she moved, he watched red lines of power spill out of her. They whipped about, looking more like the tentacles of a kraken than anything. Whipping about her faster than he could see in this state.

"Alright Mayla. I'm coming home." He lifted the bowl to his lips and fire followed it done his throat, exploding through his body.

He wasn't sure how long he was lost in the black fire before realizing he was standing by the girl and all those below, every single one of them, turned on them. He saw them through a black veil. As the first man ran forward, screaming something, he flicked out a dagger.

He watched the black fire dancing along his arm powering the dagger faster than thought. It took the man's head off in a popping splat and passed cleanly through two that had been standing a bit behind him.

"It's been fun, Gen." He looked down into those amazing pools of color. Without thinking, he gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. "As endings go, this will be a fine one. Thank you." Turning from her blush and opening mouth, leaving before she could speak, he was lost in the trance.

It came without effort. It came without his will. It came with a chill. And so he moved. No pain. No aches. Filling himself with the darkness that he saw all around. Feeling alive for the first time in a long time. Funny that, in feeling so alive he knew he was death. One more time.

He was death.

22

The battle that raged was one unlike anything he had ever been in before. Being in a battle was usually much the same. Some good fights. Some cheap shots. But one side more or less equal at the start. Not here.

There is one thing in common, the whirlwind of flesh and armor and weapons and trying not to hit your own men while trying not be hit by them. At least here I'm lucky as they are all the enemy.

Even as good as he was, wound after wound threatened to slow him, but the strange colors around his middle seemed to break away, bits of itself covering anything that was too crippling.

Avoiding wounds was impossible. Even in his warrior trance, even with all the potions, he was only one man. One man could not hope to–

A thunderous boom rocked them all. Red black lightning slammed into the ground, taking out countless men and beasts as it spread through them, simply passing over him without a hint of pressure. He shot a glance at the girl behind him.

She stood atop the little rise, her arms held above her head, her voice calling out words in different languages. As some enemies bypassed him, he watched the red power whipping around her catch them and simply make them vanish. Her fingers twitched this way and that as a spout of twisting power shot from her up into the sky.

He studied her for a heart beat. Her core glowed bright as any sun to his eyes.

Ok, so it is more than one man fighting alone.

He turned in time to catch a blow from a glowing Dragon Spawn. The blow sent him to the ground. Dragon Spawn were having a very deadly impact on him. While most of the others were almost stop motion slow, the Dragon Spawn were as fast and deadly as he remembered.

He spun away, slashing at the thing's legs. It easily leaped aside and caught him with the dull side of a massive sword. He took the blow and used the momentum to crash into a group of men.

The Dragon Spawn came through swinging, cutting down the men without care. Its sole focus was killing him. He jumped just as the ground shook and the air crackled from another heavy bolt of magical lightning.

The Dragon Spawn had to catch its balance, smoke pouring from the wound. That was it! He flung a dagger, true to aim, catching the thing right in the eye. As it reared back, letting out a pretty decent roar, he was on it, stabbing it repeatedly in the throat. He rode it to the ground, landing to find a spear of light moving inches from his face.

He ducked, rolled, came up behind the catkin and buried the still steaming dagger into its spine. The catkin was slowly falling when another Dragon Spawn charged him.

Damn. He felt his muscles protest as he moved to meet this new foe. As he moved, he could see how the battle was flowing. How it was changing. The men, catkin and Antia included, realized they could never touch him in this state so they were converging on Gen while the Dragon Spawn began to swarm him.

Not good.

In that second of thinking he turned to find a heavy hammer thrusting forward. The only thing that slowed the hammer was his head. He felt himself lifted into the air, spun by some other attack, landing in a heap of pops and snaps. Pain should have taken him out right there but then things got... weird.

He felt the stab of countless little swords, forcing him up. A quick look showed him the grass he had fallen on was, in fact, an army of little creatures. Sprites? Fae? He had never seen their like before. They were chattering away in a language he did not understand.

When they all started pointing their sword over his shoulder, he jumped aside. The hammer smashed into the ground. If it hit any of the creatures... he couldn't tell.

As he came up from the roll, he realized he could feel...in a way. And that wasn't right. He knew he had broken bones. He'd heard them break. Yet he felt no pain. No movement was impaired.

In that second of thoughts, the hammer came whistling at him again.

Not again...

He spun under it, even as it changed direction to try and catch him, he slipped out another dagger and buried it into the Dragon Spawn's middle. The creature snarled, preparing a hard, crushing elbow when he jumped up, dragging his dagger through it.

As he flipped over and glanced back, he could see the steaming ropes of entrails falling.

A wave of red shot through him. Literally. He watched it cut through man after not man as it sped away. He looked to Gen. Her eyes were bright. Glittering red diamonds. Her glow brighter. She was tossing out death as easily as he pissed when he awoke every morning. The very air was vibrating around her. Around them all.

Why didn't she use this power before?

As he thought it...another thought hit him. With enough force to send him flying up into the air. Again. As he reached a peak of maybe three men tall, he spun around, drawing daggers and whipping them as fast as he could.

Dragon Spawn went down with daggers to the face as quickly as any man. When he landed, he was already rolling away, taking a few daggers with him. The Dragon Spawn were becoming more frenzied. More angry. More hungry for his blood.

They were part dragon after all.

He had trouble keeping track. It didn't help that the thunderous power around him was shaking the ground. Shaking his senses. Everything seemed to hum. Even as he watched the men and catkin, he noticed they were moving faster. Damn.

I'm almost used up...

Not a shock really. He was–

The polearm cracked him across the back of his skull. He was lucky it was the dull side. As he went down, he heard a sort of cry. What...ahh. Gen. The Dragon Spawn that leapt towards him...this time point first with the polearm... was wrapped up in a bundle of red. As a magic being, the Dragon Spawn dropped the polearm and grabbed for its artifacts. Its dark amber magic flared around, trying to fight off Gen's.

It looked like it would not win in the end, but he didn't leave it any chance. He jumped forward, thrusting with a dagger that sparkled white as it went into the magic bubble.

He cried out as he struck home. His arm was on fire. Pure agony swept through him. Falling back, he saw the Dragon Spawn's glittering hate filled eyes. But only for a moment. Then Gen's magic obliterated it.

He rolled away as best he could but he was still splattered with a large amount of gore. And it stank. He flopped to his side, gagging. When he landed on his arm, fresh agony shot through him. Then... nothing.

What...

He looked down to see the same sickish purple green magic swirling into and over his arm. Filling the gaps in his flesh with a viscous fluid. He had to look away. He didn't feel it...but it was in him.

What is happening to m–

"Go go go!!" A little voice shouted.

"To her to her!!" Many voices shouted. He looked up to see Gen. Arms weaving this way and that. Flickering through movements that he had trouble following. Stepping and spinning on the ground and in the air. Her body gyrating this way and that.

It's like a dance.

Yet, as much as she killed, more came. And now a few of the Dragon Spawn had turned to her.

Some of them with enough magical artifacts to fight her attacks.

"Go mule go go!!' The voices shouted. Their strength somehow pushing him to his feet. He searched for daggers as he ran. Finding only one.

Shit. This was one of those times when you realize you can never have too many daggers.

Growling, he elbowed a man out of the way while grasping his sword and yanking it free. He snarled at it.

Too long. Too heavy.

Swords were such clumsy tools. At least to him. But, it worked well enough as a spear, testing its weight, changing his grip. With a snarl he launched it at the nearest Dragon Spawn. It blasted through the back of the creature, sending a red spray before it. As it turned toward him, he ripped his dagger across its throat and moved on.

He felt a pain. Glancing down he saw an arrow in his calf.

No time.

He cut through it where it met his flesh, leaving only a bit of shaft exposed. As the Dragon Spawn moved swiftly past the men, they cut as many down as he did. In a way they were helping.

That tingle. The nape of your neck. He ducked, rolling forward with his speed. A splash of nasty yellow whipped through the air, killing a few slow motion men and splashing harmlessly off the Dragon Spawns ahead of him.

Before he could turn, a thunderous percussion pressed him flat. Knocked them all flat. He lifted his head, ears and body ringing. It was Gen. Again.

She was floating in the air now, ribbons of color whipping up from the ground into her feet. Her arms outstretched as long ropes of red death filled the air, jumping out from her fingertips. Her hair... he could no longer see her hair.

The top of her head was too bright. Like a sun. Long strands of the brightest white shot upward, twisting and twining their way as high as he could see.

A glance around showed him the men and catkin and even Antia hunters had been flattened. Some were staring around, other were slowly getting to their feet. He wondered if they saw her as he did. The Dragon Spawn? They saw. He could tell as his eyes traveled over them, some were staring skyward. He met the wide reptilian eyes of one. He imagined he looked the same.

What in all the hells is she? Those reptilian eyes asked.

I have no idea. His own wide eyes replied.

As they stared, looping ropes of red flared out and around them all, filling the sky. Now and again one would reach down and turn something... someone...Into powder. It was one of the more impressive things he had seen. He lay there...watching.

"Go go!!!" The ground yelled at him, stabbing at him.

"She's got it all– ouch! Hey!" He growled as a little sword stuck him.

"Go go you great mule!" They piped as one.

He frowned. Getting a better look at her again as she floated closer. "I think she has it under–damn it!" He sat up. "I'll crush the next one of you little turds that–"

"Look! Look!!" They chirped. He did. He saw. The fool girl. She was using all her strange powers. It looked like a magical version of the warrior's trance. She was not used to it. In her face...he could see.

No way is she going to hold that for long...

Gods damn it all!

He shot to his feet, toppling over onto his stomach.

Damn it.

His warrior's trance was gone. Blasted away by her magic. Coming more slowly to his feet, he began to go for the Dragon Spawn. Now that he was normal, more turned to him. Not just Dragon Spawn.

Ah shi...

After that thought, it was insanity and motion. If he slowed even a bit, a weapon touched him. He spun and twirled. Pirouetted away and landed to leap and roll into a jumping kick.

Each move. Every action. Landed a blow from his dagger. If he hit groin, he hit groin. If he only nicked...he nicked. The only thing that mattered was not stopping. At this point...he knew.

I stop. I die.

He could feel the excitement growing around him as he swayed and ducked and bucked his way through the mass. Hurry. He had to hurry. Gen's magic was fading. He could feel it.

Come on girl...where is this Source of yours now?

They needed help. They needed support. He watched the grass as he spun through the air off a spurting Dragon Spawn corpse that had not fallen yet. He could see the little masses of creatures. What were they waiting for?

He landed on a knee, ducked under a flash of orange and sliced the groin area of two different men as he flipped back behind a Dragon Spawn's corpse. Arrows plunked into it. He took a breath and rolled as a flash took what was left of the Dragon Spawn.

When he came to his knees he held up the artifact he had stolen from the corpse. As magic lurched towards him, a slick green shield sent it tumbling away, burning into those around him. He kept it activated as he came to his knees and drove his dagger into the lower belly of a rather fat man. Rolling away, he snagged what he hoped was a magic bullet.

Turning towards a charging Dragon Spawn, he pointed the small rod and pushed into it with his mind. A bolt of light blue indented the Dragon Spawn's chest, lifting it high into the sky, sending it sailing away. Who knew where it would land or if it would live.

And no time to ponder...

Moving as fast as he could, he lashed out with a dagger and the small rod he held. As he made his way through, the red ropes continued to poke down, lifting back into the sky with trailing bits of dust forming mini-dust devils behind.

Very few turned to him now as they focused on Gen. Which was a great help when it came to killing them. Magic still splashed off the shield so he knew some were still trying to take him down. So he had to keep moving. There was no other–

"ughf!!!" He came to a jerking halt. What the...hells? The shield sputtered away around him. He watched the men around him tilt and drop away as he was lifted into the air. He slid slowly down.

What...

He saw a large, barbed spear head lifting into the air, trailing bits of black and blue and wet, ropy rolls. He knew what those were. Oh hells yes...

Damn...it.

He grabbed the shaft as he slid down it. His hands kept slipping as he moved slowly down. He could feel it moving through him.

"Got you, you little man." He turned to his left, looking into that reptilian eye. A wet line slipping from his mouth as he began to smile. The Dragon Spawn held the spear in the air, he was face to...face...with the thing.

"Good...job..." He managed to lob a ball of phlegmy spit and blood into that reptilian eye. As it turned in disgust, he snapped his hand out, burying a dagger into its temple. He had the satisfaction of feeling the thick crunch and soft squish as he brained it.

As it fell, so did he. As he went down, he finally met Gen's eyes. Blazing red and burning blue now. A tear fell down her cheek as he lost sight of her.

Her mouth was open but he heard nothing now. Just a low hum. A low...low... hum.

This is more like it. Now I am coming home. My friends. Now–

He lost track of his thought as he hit the ground. It didn't really hurt, but as he watched, the soil darkened quickly as his fluids soaked in.

Damn. Sorry Gen...

Darken.

Ever darker.

A hint of silver...

Darkness.

At last...

23

"I'm afraid not sweets." Mayla's voice seemed far off.

"Mayla?" He tried to open his eyes.

Argh!!

It was so bright. Bright like the sun. A white sun. He blinked rapidly, letting his eyes adjust. "Where am I?" He was laying on something soft. A strange cold smell filled his nose. It was like...flowers? Freshness? Something pure that was for sure.

He tried to look around but couldn't move his head. Gray, transparent shapes leaned over him. Surrounded him. Shrouded and hidden in that dazzling glow that sent beams of light around them.

"N't where ye be lad...but where ye passin' through." He knew that voice.

"Grommy?"

"A'yup."

"You sound so far–wait..." he closed his eyes. "So I am dead then." Thank the Gods. "I never thought–"

"No my friend. Not dead." A voice said.

"Who the f–" He began.

"You know me, my fellow warrior. Well," a sickenly charming laugh. "You know me through Gen's tales at least. I'm Onsho." He peered around, trying to pinpoint the voice's shadow.

"Then I am dead." He tried to nod. He knew these people were dead. So...how could he not be dead?

"No, dark warrior. I'm afraid one such as you will never reach thi–" Onsho's voice cut off with a grunt as if he'd been thumped.

"Don't let him know he can never come..." A whispered voice faded. He saw two shapes in an animated discussion. Since all the shapes looked the same he had no idea what was going on. In fact...he couldn't even count them.

How did I miss that?

Oh yeah...the shock of dying probably.

"You are not quite dead, my sweet." One of the silhouettes began to darken as it leaned forward. Mayla's features slowly floated to the surface. As gray as the rest of them. But it was her. He tried reaching for her but still couldn't move. She reached down and caught his hand.

He gasped.

Mayla! My Mayla!

How long he had dreamed of touching her again. How long he had...were those tears on his cheeks? They were. He didn't mind. He smiled. "Mayla! We can finally be–" He cut off at the sad shake of her head.

"Not yet love." Her voice shook.

"But–"

"He will never be able to come–" A voice began.

"Shut it you simpering moron!" She snarled at someone.

She tuned back to him. A sad smile there as she ran a finger tip over his lips. Her barely seen eyes ran over him, memorizing every detail. Every wound. Every ache. Her smile widened. A soft purr escaped her.

"My man. My love. Your scars...so many." Her voice was very soft.

He laughed. "You always did like scars." His small laugh faded as he looked around. His smile fell. He could feel a tug. An ache. Something that had not been there before. He was being pulled...somewhere. "What's happening?"

"Ah...my love." She tried to keep a grip on him. "You are going back."

"What!?" He tried to sit up and found he could not. The softness that held him was actually pulling him in. "Fuck that! I'm dead. I earned this! I'm staying." He tried to fight his way out. It was like falling. No matter how hard you flapped your arms, there was no way to stop. "I'm not going back to that little–"

He was suddenly held in a grip of iron. Eyes peered at him, shifting reds. The figure spoke, but he could not hear. He watched as the others moved back into the brightness. Only Mayla tried to stay. With a light flick, the shape sent her away.

"I'll kill you, you rotten piece of–"

"Shush." The tone froze him. Stopped his lips. Stopped his thoughts. He stared defiantly into those shifting eyes. No...not just reds. He knew that color. It was a color that had saved him often enough.

Gen's power.

Was this...this thing...the Source?

"That is but one of my names." The light faded around them. Darkness began to spread out in ever expanding ripples from the thing that held him. No. Not held...pushed him. "I am taking you back to Gennifer. She needs you. She has chosen you. I have chosen you. Your darkness." The red eyes darted around as the black ripples began bouncing back, scrubbing the light from view.

Its unblinking gaze moved back to catch and hold him. "Your darkness is what we needed. I'll admit I was as shocked as the Other when she chose you. Yet you can not deny the power that you gave."

He tried to struggle as he felt himself falling faster. "I did not gi–"

His mouth was shut by hard, cold fingers.

Strange...I get a female vibe from this...thing.

"You did give, my dark warrior. You did. By helping. By hindering. By being you. She has chosen. She may not understand it yet, but you have also chosen yourself." A laugh that sounded like burning wood crackling coiled through his mind, filling it with a strange power.

He could no longer see anything aside from those glowing almond splashes of red. They moved up and down. A nod. "You are perfect. I thought her former companions a much better fit. How little I knew. Mortals..." It trailed off with a shake of its head. "She chose. I chose. You chose. In th–"

"I did not choose anything!" He snapped. "I am just–"

The finger covered his lips again to shut him up. "You will never go where they are dark warrior. Do you think a blackness as deep as yours may ever go to where they are?"

He frowned. What? "I don't–"

"Your acts were far worse than what any of them committed."

"But...warriors..." He stuttered.

"There are warriors, good and bad. And you? Even I do not know. You are darkness. You are death. Now, you will be her dark weapon. Her dark tool. Ah. Don't despair dark warrior. In following this path, in helping her, you are working for the greater good. You are working towards the light." A soft, echoing laugh. "Working your way over piles of dead to obtain your light. If you are strong enough..."

The impact drove out any thought he had.

Dark warrior....me? I don't... how can...

Thoughts slipped away as the sounds of battle began to fill him.

Damn.

24

A strange shade of red filtered through his eyelids. A dull buzzing filled his ears. Now and again he felt a wetness on him. It almost burned. He could smell...power? Magic? Fire...

"Get up get up!!" A piping voice yelled in his ear.

"The well the well!" Another just as annoying voice in his other ear.

"Get up get up!!" He grunted as a tiny sword jabbed him.

"...urm..." His mouth felt full of...something.

"Mule??" Gen's voice. "How!?" Her voice broke as tears fell on him. "Oh thank the Source...thank the Source!" Suddenly the vibrating power around him winked out. "Thank...the Source...."

He felt a hot breath on his face. Warm lips touched his own. Held his own. Then a light, warm weight slumped onto him.

His eyes opened.

Brilliant red hair was all he could see of her head. Her arms were draped around him. She was laying where the spear had impaled him. Killed him. He frowned.

What had she done? And why so much white?

He was seeing only a vast white from one eye. He frowned.

Damned sprite!

"The well the well!!" The voices on both sides piped.

"...to the well..."

"...into it..."

"Hurry!"

"Hurry hurry!!"

He sat up. Gen rolled down into his lap. Her eyes closed. Her face bloody. Some of that brilliant hair singed. He could see places where she had taken a stab or burn from magic. The Source? She looked like any sleeping girl to him now.

He brushed her hair out of her face as more noises began to creep in. He looked around. He wished he had not.

Dragon Spawn, what few remained, were inches away. The men were so very very close. As he watched, he saw they were moving. But so slowly it was almost impossible to see.

A warrior's trance? But that–

"No no!!" The voices shouted.

"The Source!!"

"And we!!"

"..we!!" One voice was a tad slow.

He looked around. From every little fae creature...from every little sword...darkness drifted from them and filled him. He felt no pain. No fatigue. The world was now a strange mix of black and white.

Strange.

"Go go!!" They shouted.

He stood with ease, holding Gen's limp body. He felt–

What the...!

He moved his hand quickly. He had thought her a girl? What he had just touched didn't belong on any girl he had known. Women yes. Girls? No.

As he moved towards the well, shrouded in a strange, flickering darkness, he watched the reptilian eyes slowly, very very slowly, trying to follow him. He laughed. As he walked, he began to lift into the air.

This is...

He didn't have words for it. When he reached the well, he was a few feet above it. Just standing on air. Ok. He was here. Now what? He waited. The Dragon Spawn were turning ever so slowly.

"Well?" He asked. "Now what?"

"Into the well you great fool!"

"Int..."

"Get her into the well!"

The voices filled his head. So he got her in with the simplest method. He dropped her. As he waited...he finally heard a splash. Then... chaos...

25

The splash did not stop. No. Instead it deepened. Rumbling far below. Water, black as a moonless night, began to spray from the ground as the very earth split. Somewhere...far below them...there was a great, thundering crack. He floated there, hanging in the air as the men and Dragon Spawn stumbled this way and that. The once solid ground now much like the deck of a boat caught in rough waters. Some fell and actually slid one way. Then another.

He laughed at that.

He felt wetness rush over him, seemingly licking and grasping at him as it flowed slowly over his body before shooting upward. He held his hands out to watch the dark water spraying up and around him. He glanced up. The water was pooling in the sky. Turning it into a dark mirror. He was staring at himself.

In the mirror above, he could see nearly every eye staring. He saw one Dragon Spawn begin to rush forward. He lowered his gaze. As his eyes touched those unblinking reptilian orbs, the Dragon Spawn let out a shriek as it burst apart. Liquid darkness tore its way free of the Dragon Spawn, lashing about as it shred the body. It coiled, like a snake ready to strike, before leaping into the nearest body. Tearing it into tiny pieces. From there, it was almost too fast to follow as it sprung from body to body.

As he watched limbs flying about, he glanced down as a great moan reverberated from the well. He tried to move as a dark shape raced towards him.

Damn.

He couldn't move. So he just watched. The black swept over him. Through him. He watched a limp little body fly by.

"Gen!?" She was gone before he could finish speaking her name. He watched as the dark pillar reached for the sky. It looked like a dark hand, formed of the blackest cords. Almost. Stretching ever higher. Almost. Stretching a twisting, churning finger to try and touch the black mirror above.

So close yet so far.

"urhg..." He tried not to fall as he felt a tug at his insides. He fought it for a moment. With all his might. He was nothing compared to the power tugging at his very core. His soul? He couldn't win. With a sigh, he relaxed.

Why bother?

He let it go. Completely giving himself to the darkness that was hooked into him. The darkness pulling at him. The pillar leapt upward, the hand touched the black mirror above. As soon as the two touched, the groaning rumble suddenly stopped. He waited. There was something in the air. He could feel it. He turned his head to look up. He was looking at himself but... no. Red eyes? No.

What the hells–

Then sound blasted across him, pushing him downward. The sky mirror suddenly exploded out in an ever widening circle that covered the sky for as far as he could see. With a great shattering sound that popped his ears, the mirror broke. Shards began to fall. They soon turned to a dark rain that hit him in the face with a much bigger impact than normal rain.

He cupped his hand, thinking to catch a few drops. It filled his hand quickly and was not just rain. No. This water had...things...in it. As he watched the small squirming things in his hand, his foot fell through. As if he were standing on ice.

Ah come o–

Before he could finish, he went through. On his way down he had to do some major stretching to reach the well.

He didn't make it.

Looking around him as he fell, he could see the inner workings of this... well. The shattering echo of sounds from above faded as he continued to fall.

He didn't mind the fall. No. It would be the landing that–

He crashed down onto something hard.

It hurt.

He bit his lip and kept his eyes closed as the strange rain fell on him. Filling the well. Lifting him. He turned over, floating on his back.

"Damn." A sigh escaped him as he floated ever higher. Floating in the dark. Nothing but darkness. The water hurt his eyes. He closed them, waiting.

26

When he opened his eyes, he felt odd. He was bobbing like a cork in water. Still in the well. He felt like he was laying on ice.

"Good job." He didn't look at the sprite as it whispered into his ear.

When he looked around, what he saw, it didn't make sense. It was a different world he looked upon. The sky was a shimmering black. Little patches of sky began to appear here and there. Beams of light passing through them to touch the ground.

Where the light touched, the black landscape literally bloomed anew. Not only new but so different. And with it...were those?

Gods. All kinds of small magical creatures were popping out with small shrieks of joy.

"Wha.."

"Ah, you're awake!" Gen? "I wondered when you'd wake up." He looked at her. That glowing red hair shown brilliantly in this darkness. Her eyes glittered like diamonds. "Are you ready to travel, Aiden?"

"How–" He began.

"We shared that power. We shared the Source. We did this. This was our work." She looked around proudly, hands on her hips. A smile on her face. Her eyes caught him. She rolled them. "What?" When her gaze met his, she frowned. "Your eye."

"What?" He blinked.

She looked at him. Staring. A shrug and she looked away, watching the land. "Your eye is white now. I had liked the green. But...one white...one green... meh." She shrugged.

"My...wait." What? A white eye? "How...wait." He frowned, trying to think. "I–" He realized he had no hole in his middle. No insides hanging out. No. It was just bare skin. He also didn't feel the pain in his leg. There was no pain. His shocked look brought him a giggle. He glared at the girl.

"Aiden, you are healed. As is this land." She hopped up onto the rim of the well. "Look at it." She motioned all around them. Beams of light were breaking through much faster now. Where they touched, things grew. Some he knew. Others he did not. And everywhere...the creatures of stories and the past emerged. "Beautiful."

"Wha..." he paused. Aiden? He frowned. His real name. Aiden. How did she know it. He glowered at her. "Gen?"

"Yes, my warrior?" She chirped.

"How is it you know my name?" He turned in the water, reaching for the well wall. The air around her began to shimmer. A hand of burning red wrapped around him, lifting him as if he weighed nothing and setting him down a distance away.

"Aiden," with a giggle, she took one step, an impossibly long step, and was standing too close, looking up at him, head tilted. "I told you already." Did she? "When we joined, when we were one, obviously I'd learn your name." She shook her head, looking at him as if he were an infant. "Come now, my dark warrior. We have many lands to save."

"What? Save?" She was already moving. He couldn't put his finger on it but she was different. She looked less like a woman now and more like the girl he had seen being chased. What was she? "Wait!"

She glanced back at him, glittering eyes dancing with laughter. "Yes?" She bounced back to him, grabbing his hand. He let her pull him along. The black ground around them was quickly turning green as the sky cleared. She looked back. "My. I'll need to fix those clothes up for you."

"What...what happened? Where are we going?" He stuttered. Feeling a strange...warmth...flowing into him from her hand.

What is this? And how am I still alive?

He heard a little snort. "We head east of course." Her hair seemed to stretch back trying to touch him. He moved back slightly, still being pulled by her.

He watched the red hairs slowly dancing in the air. "What happened to..." he looked around. "...to everything?"

"Didn't the Source tell you?"

"Not in so many words..." He could barely remember what the Source had said. In fact, it seemed more like a quickly fading dream. Had Mayla been there?

"Well...you and I are now bound." She glanced back, something in those glittering eyes he couldn't read. She turned. "All this land has been renewed. The well cap broken. Magic released!" A spark of the brightest blue spiraled around her arm, around her hand, tightened down on his own, binding them.

Before he could tug away, the blue traveled up his arm and vanished over his shoulder. He shivered as a cold finger made a slow, winding path down his back.

"You and I, we will do this for all lands." She began walking again, pulling him along.

"But–" He started

I was dead. I'm supposed to be dead.

"Come come. We have a long way to go. So many lands to free. It was wrong what they did. Cleansing magic? Cleansing! Ha! More like locking it away and letting the lands die for lack of it." She shook her head. "Fools." She tugged him along, trying to make him move faster.

"East." He mumbled. Trying to take it all in.

"Yes. But we will need to stop at the first shop we can find." His stomach grumbled. She laughed. "Exactly. I don't know about you, but I'm starved. I think you are too." He was.

"East." He repeated. So it was still east? No rest? No death? How?

She looked into his eyes, stopping his thoughts. "No worries now, Aiden. Just a quest. An adventure. A just cause and true purpose. New daggers," he felt for them and sure enough. "New shields." He saw the shimmering blue ribbons around his hands and arms. "We're all set." She nodded. "You want to do good before you leave this world...yes?" He nodded slowly. "Then come come. We have a long journey ahead."

She muttered in her own language. "What was that?" He asked.

"Nothing." She smiled. It should have been unsettling. He looked around as darkness gave way to light and the land looked new. Fresh. Vibrant in ways he had never seen.

He let her continue dragging him. "How long will this journey take?"

Her laugh was small. She shrugged. "However long it takes. The world is a big place."

He nodded. It was a big place. He glanced upward.

Don't worry, my friends. I'll be joining you as soon as I'm able.

When his head lowered, he found Gen's glittering eyes on him. A small, strange smile there. Or was that a smirk? "What?" He snapped.

She laughed, squeezing his hand. With a glance up, she turned and pulled him along. He walked on behind her, letting her lead the way. She didn't know where the towns were, but he did. So he'd let her lead till she was lost...

Then I'll help.

It was small and petty but in the end, it was the best he could do.

For now...
